Captivity Cw - Tumblr Posts

for @cruelprincae, whose muse unfortunately has certifiably the worst brother ever of all time--

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Assisting Balekin would certainly prove to be an intriguing prospect, Vepar had no doubt, if the usurper ever actually called on him. It might be enough for this brother of his to simply be kept out of the way, of course, and that was an entertaining prospect. Although the faerie had been delivered to him unconscious, Vepar was already having a wonderful time. He knew next to nothing about these beasts. A quick check in his library didn't reveal much more than that they enjoyed 'free air.' Well, ventilation was doable, of course. His manor in the mountains had an abundance of fresh air, and was in one of the rare, cold parts of Hell. One room in particular had sturdy stone lattices to make up three of the walls--surely that would be the most appropriate place to put him?

So, he settled his new pet down on the bed in there, trying not to worry. Was this enough ventilation? A cold breeze was scouring through, but he didn't want this one to overheat... Still, temperature preference might best be left up to the creature to show him, and he wasn't entirely convinced that Balekin had been honest with his caretaking instructions. "He requires a fish-based diet if you're going to feed him solid food, but I wouldn't bother; let him choke on his own foolishness" and "the only milk he's suited for comes from cats, don't try to offer him anything else" seemed... less than sincere. But, for now, it was worth trying at least. He had sent several of his servants to obtain cat milk before even bringing this one home, and while they didn't find it exactly, they did their best: a little box of 'Kitten Milk Replacer' had been left on a nightstand, along with a glass, a straw, and a warming plate.

Perfect. Vepar got the little one tucked in under a comforter--dark blue velvet, nearly black--and touched his forehead, a trifle worried at whatever had been done to him to keep him out this long... Frowning, he sent a whisper of healing energy into the young creature, to hopefully ease any pain he might be in, and help him return to consciousness.

"Come now, little one," he murmured, talons lightly stroking at those curls. "Wake when you are ready. You will be well looked-after." Vepar stood and stepped away from the bed, stretched, and sighed as he walked over to look out the stone lattice. Magic hung heavily about his manor, all the more so now that he had a pet capable of using magic himself--although according to Balekin, his powers were a paltry thing, weak, used only for ugliness. Well, whatever they were for, Vepar would keep him safely contained here--however he raged, whatever he tried to throw against the wards, he should be secure. Nothing would ever hurt him--

And he would never be able to leave.

Vepar gasped in quiet delight at the first speech from his new pet. Turning, he took him in--and that delight turned to empathy. The faerie was frightened! Well, why shouldn't he be? Waking up in a strange place would do that to anyone, Vepar imagined. Still, it was a surprising pleasure to hear him speak, and something about the timbre of his voice left the Goetia feeling oddly warm towards him, more compassionate than he usually felt towards pets.

He walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, tucking a leg under himself, smiling as he looked the little one over.

"If it is too cold, I am happy to provide you with more blankets, or to move you to a more confined room. I do not know much of your people, and my research turned up little more than that you do best when in the free air. This," he gestured towards the room around them, "is the best I can offer in that regard, my pet.

"My name is Vepar." He smiled again, touching his chest and giving a little bow of his head. "And you are in Hell. Specifically, an abyssal plane that is completely closed to travel from anyone without explicit permission to be here--or without the power and knowledge to traverse it. Your brother offered you to me as a gift, in exchange for my aid should he require it, and how could I say no? I've never had a creature as exotic as a faerie before!" This was easily the least dignified Vepar had ever been, and the little crest of feathers on his head was halfway up with his excitement--as high as it ever went. "You are my prisoner, I suppose, although pet seems a much more civilized word.

"Now. Please. I was informed that you can eat nothing but fish and cat milk? We do not have cats, at least, not the sort it seemed Balekin referred to, but I was told that," he indicated the milk on the nightstand, "would be an appropriate substitute. Please, do tell me if it is inadequate. I wish to care for you, my darling pet, and see that your health does not suffer.

"How are you feeling? You were handed to me in a rather... stuffy bag," he admitted, voice darkening with disapproval, "which did not seem to have adequate ventilation to keep anyone alive." The Goetia reached out with a gentle, careful hand to run his claws through those curls. "You need not fear. This is the home of demons and monsters--and, if Balekin is anything to go by, that means it must not be so very unlike where you are from?"

Were one to inquire about it, Cardan cannot quite remember the events leading to his current disposition; he recalls pieces, tiny fragments of memories, such as being situated upon his bed within his chambers in Hollow Hall, reading Alice in Wonderland all the whilst taking nibbles of the cheese a mortal servant delivered to his room as dinner, for Balekin wished him not in his way as he worked on something he called "finalising affairs". If he is to be frank, he does not even recall falling asleep — merely the occasional darkness of his eyelids falling heavier and heavier over gold adorned eyes, and then, gradually waking from what feels like a solid slumber into the shivering cold of winter, in a room he does not quite recognise, with a looming voice he cannot quite link to a face.

The Prince strains to chase awareness, falling short just about every time he begins to climb the wall back to consciousness — and yet, it is not until he feels the couple of digits lightly touch his brow that the easiness finally sinks in, and the next times he attempts, he manages to come to. Black eyes rimmed with a halo of gold are unfocused for a brief second of time, seeing the world around him as a mosaic of blurred colours and shapes, the sounds distorted in his sharp, elongated ears as though a cacophony of voices each speaking over the other and none making sense. The Fae's brows furrow and his lips curl to release a pained groan as the landscape before him dawns clear and clearer, until all he can see is a lattice stone wall with a snowed-in window, and a night stand with a white liquid inside — could it be milk ? —, stirred with a stripped thing he cannot quite put a name to.

Although Cardan's mind is swimming like an aggravated group of sprites, one thought dawns clear in his head; he is not in his room, and he is not in Hollow Hall. And, though habit had it that whilst attending his brother's revels he would wake up disoriented and naked amongst many bodies of courtiers he has no recollection of the night before, this has a different feel to it; A feel of danger and panic, as he can feel his heart plummeting from his torso right into the darkness of his stomach.

Where in the Mab foresaken earth is he ?

Jolting into a sitting position, the Fae's eyes grow double their size in panic as they feveredly take in his surrounds; the glass of milk, the snowed windows, the iron-made door leading to the outside. . . And then the tall looming figure of what he can assume to be a bird staring out of one of the lattice stone windows, as though contemplating the fate of the world — or, well, some thing equally as important. Cardan knows him not, and he does not wish to know him; in fact, the only conversation he wishes to have with him is one that provides him with directions as to the fastest, swiftest way he can go back to his brother's estate in the Hollow Hall.

❛ Where am I ? ❜ Inquires Cardan, his words dragged together and barely audible, as though his tongue has yet to come awake like the rest of his body has. Swallowing hard, he can almost feel the dryness of his throat as well as the still growing heaviness of his eyes as they pierce through the Falcon's back. Did he take him from Hollow Hall, or is this yet another one of his reckless, careless antics while under the influence of Faerie Powder ? ❛ Who are you ? And why is it so cold in here ? ❜

Eris hadn't expected him to yield so quickly.

He wasn't sure what he had expected, but not this. Defiance, useless hissing and posturing, threats, or maybe weeping? But the way Hans simply gave in, agreed and gave himself over? That struck a chord in the High Lord, because he recognized it. With a sudden pang of pain--familiar pain, old, a memory that left its secret scars--he recognized that adaptability, the drive to do whatever it took to survive.

He knew--he had been there.

Eris immediately absorbed the heat that had begun gathering in Hans's chest, easing away any trace of the burn that might have been starting, and rested his palm against the now-bare skin instead, standing far too close to him.

Mine. My human. The realization was a sobering one, for even as the human now belonged to him, if Eris accepted him? He would belong to the human in return. He would be bound to protect him, should someone else threaten him--although, in a darkly twisted irony, Eris himself would be able to do whatever he pleased to the human.

His human.

His survivor.

"Remove the chains," he told a guard, without ever looking away from the human's eyes. "And very well. Tell me your name."

As long as you belong to me, I will defend you. Let the monsters come for you; I will fight for you. But I will never, never tell you that.

Stay ever at my side, and you will be safe. So long as you are mine.

"Yes" The man didn't even hesitate.

20 seconds was an awfully short time and everything that had happened to him had happened so quickly it felt surreal. He wished now he had listened to his brother and read more stories about the mythos out there, he had been a nonbeliever in anything and everything magical until he met Elsa and was somehow struck by lightning twice in life running into magic twice it had to mean something, right?

But he was aware no god or deity would come to his aid, at least he was consistent that way. He knew was on his own, always has been, and unknowingly he echoed the lord's thoughts.

What was he to do? In the face of bounds and magic?

Choosing to live now, he swallowed hard hoping he would at least have that decision in his hands later if he came to regret his decisions but Hans knew, he just knew the world wasn't the fastest or the strongest, it was of those who could adapt themselves better to the circumstances, and that was Hans' strongest suit, he had survived Ulrich, his father, he had survived Arendelle. He would survive this somehow.

"I give myself to you, uh... my lord" he tries with the first title that comes to his head.

His palms were sweaty, his heart beating a thousand miles a minute and he was sure his eyes were wide like saucers.

He was terrified. Yet Hans' will was that of the strongest steel. He would do what it takes to survive. Even if at this moment, it was painful or demeaning.