#ailesswhumptober2024day6

[whumpninja]

This is a short one but I’m gonna say it’s fine because my last one actually went over (I’m trying to keep my Whumptober pieces under a thousand words.) So it all balanced out!

Whumptober taglist: @whumperofworlds

Prompt used: AI-less Whumptober, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

Featuring: aaaaaaaangst, royal whump, emotional whump, medieval whump, references to offscreen torture

Whumptober Day Six: The Conscience of the King

"With all due respect, Your Majesty, you can't do this."

"With all due respect, Lady Saralin, I am the only one who can do this." The king picked up his sword from the waiting cushion and tested its balance in his hand. He wore no full armor, only a light mail shirt emblazoned with his crest. "Have you seen Lady Sennarose yet today?"

"Er- no, Your Majesty, not since-"

"She is in her chambers, weeping, where she has been for the last three days."

Lady Saralin sighed, sitting down in a nearby chair. "If you'll let me speak plainly, sir- Captain Tarius knew the risks. He is one of your soldiers. He knew that some day he might lay down his life for you."

"And what would that say about me? I will not be the king that sat on his throne and allowed a man to die for him. Battle is different. You cannot predict what happens on the field of war. But this? This premeditated holding prisoner my captain of the guard? This I can stop. And I will stop it, Saralin." The king took up his sword and placed it firmly into its scabbard on his belt. "It is arranged already."

"Arranged? Arranged how?"

The king sighed, knowing that his words would not please his advisor. "I made a visit to the witch's palace. We talked."

"Alone?" Lady Saralin's voice cracked. "She could have taken you prisoner too!"

"No, she couldn't have. Not unless I allowed it. But we've agreed. I will give myself up, and she will let Tarius go."

"Your Majesty-"

"I saw him." The king's voice dropped to a low, sad tone. "In her palace. She was torturing him. He can no longer walk."

Lady Saralin pressed a hand to her mouth in dismay.

"How could I tell Sennarose that I let her lover suffer for me? How could I see her treating my captain so cruelly and turn my back?" The king went to the open window, gazing out over the kingdom. "You are my regent. I know you will look after them." He drew a deep breath. "It is nearly sunset. I told her I would come at nightfall. I- I am going now, Saralin. Please watch over my kingdom, and protect my people. See that Tarius' wounds are attended to, and that he heals well." A small smile played on the king's face. "And make sure that he and Sennarose are married before too much longer." He took the crown from his head and set it on the chair. "That is yours now. I know you will wear it well, Saralin. I trust you."

The advisor's eyes swam with tears as her king turned to go. "Your Majesty, she will kill you."

The king turned, and he was smiling. "I know she will. But she will not hurt anyone else. That makes it all worthwhile. I am the only one who can do this. And so I will."

[auroragehenna]

AI-less Whumptober

Day 6 - Surprise Sunday (Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”)

TW/CW: Grim dark ending, minor character death, major character death, whumperless whump-kinda, hero(es) vs. villain whump, tired heroes Word count: 641

"Jack, watch out!", Hero screamed but it was too late. A spear out of the same black goo that they were all fighting impaled the other hero right in front of his eyes. He could only watch as Jack coughed, blood coating his lips and then collapse to his feet as the goo retracted from his body. He knew there would be no way to save him, not even with other hero's healing powers. And they had enough on their hands anyways. Their team was already struggling enough and if they themselves didn't focus on the fight happening right this instant they'd be the next to die! So they tore their eyes away from his corpse and blinked away the tears that wanted to build up. No time. Their gaze flickered over the square. Shaped liked an arena and nearly completely surrounded by taller buildings. The exit and pathway into the heart of the city behind them, the entrance in front of them-completely blocked by a wave of controlled black goo. When had Supervillain gotten such strength!? They jumped back as arrows of the substance attempted to nail their body into the marble floor. They slashed the arms down and burned them right after. That killed the substance but it was way too slow. That way they would never win. Exhaustion was already written over all their faces. In a desperate attempt Hero again shot a collum of fire towards the substance, already knowing it wouldn't be enough...And as expected the flames burned for a moment, tearing it apart until they got overpowered and swallowed by the flames.

"It will never work that way! Iz too strong!", Drew yelled over, her accent even stronger now. Her lightning crackling everwhere around her and attacking every drop of goo coming near her. "We have to find a way to kill it or break the connection to whoever iz controlling it!" She jumped back twice and dodged to the side.

Supervillain. They narrrowed their eyes in hatred. How would they have designed this weapon? This lethal weaponry designed for mass murder. Inside! The worst option would be that the only way to destroy it would be from the inside. Or kill Supervillain-which none of them were strong enough to do. I can do it. I have to. "I'm gonna destroy it, protect the city, don't give up.", they yelled to their city as they took off the amulet they always wore. Even in the shower and to bed. They would never take it off unless they were about to die...Like now. They saw the widened eyes of their team, the protests they wanted to say but gulped down. They were all tired and numb. Heroism was never as glorious as they advertised. But they could still make a difference, save the city and their people one last time.

As they walked towards the goo their whole body erupted in blazing flames. It took every last drop of Hero's energy and their nose started to bleed yet they kept walking. Until they could touch the ever moving wave of black goo and then further. Burning themselves a way inside while chocking on it. With their last rasping breath, bloody nose and last energy they let out a blood curling stream and exploded into a flame inferno.

Hero would never know that their sacrifice wasn't enough. They would never find out that their friends died mourning and fighting. That their bodies were mangled and mauled by the goo until they were unrecognizable and there was nothing left anyone wanted to bury. That the city was nearly completeley wiped off the map and the ones glorified, tired heroes who gave their all were hated by the survivors. Maybe it was better that way. For them at least. For the little hero who sarcificed himself for absolutely nothing.

Taglist: @ailesswhumptober, @yourlocalgaefae33, @princessofhe11, @greatkittencloud, @bisexuawolfsalt, @shattermind-8

[teine-mallaichte]

Day 6 @ailesswhumptober - Alt Prompt : Zombies

Ben watches the other assets training and contemplates the effect of the facilities training.

CW: dehumanisation, living weapons, military themes, oppression, violence.

AiLessWhumptober List Complex 27

Ben observed the other frontliners from his vantage point, their movements a perfect blend of precision and coordination. It was impressive to witness, an almost mesmerizing display of skill and discipline, but as he drew nearer, an unsettling reality set in. The dull, lifeless gaze in their eyes struck him like a cold wave; it was as if they had become mere shells, devoid of any spark of humanity.

While he managed to cling to a semblance of individuality, he was painfully aware he was among a dwindling few. Most frontliners had surrendered their essence, their personalities meticulously stripped away until they transformed into obedient machines - faceless automatons responding only to the cold commands of their handlers. It was chilling: each moved in eerie unison, actions dictated by rigid training ingrained in them like a second skin. They were just pieces on a chessboard, manipulated by an unseen force.

He had trained alongside many of them, shared laughter and struggles, and watched as their spirits dimmed over time. Each empty stare serving as a haunting reminder of friendships he once cherished, now reduced to fading memories.

Did they even know who he was anymore? Did they even know who they were?

The thought gnawed at him, a relentless reminder of the dark path that lay ahead. Each hollow gaze echoed what he could easily become: a living weapon stripped of will and autonomy, a puppet dancing on the strings of the Facility's oppressive regime. The thought coiled tightly around his chest, constricting his breath.

It terrified him; a future where he, too, would become a mindless zombie -fighting, killing, surviving - but for what purpose?

He wrenched his gaze away from the frontliners, their vacant stares and rehearsed movements haunting him. Focusing on the other end of the training yard, where the assassins engaged in complex drills. Their movements were captivating, a deadly ballet, spinning and twisting with blades that glinted in the sunlight.

For a moment, admiration flickered within him. The assassins moved with elegance, each twist and turn telling a story of skill honed through relentless practice and instinct. They radiated an aura of intensity and purpose that the frontliners lacked. Yet beneath the surface, Ben knew the truth: even these skilled killers were not immune to the Facility’s corrosive influence.

While the frontliners operated as a cohesive unit, the assassins were thrust into a relentless cycle of rivalry. Handlers pitted them against each other, forcing fierce competition for recognition and survival. The constant pressure fostered isolation, where trust was rare, and camaraderie could quickly spiral into hostility. Like the frontliners, he had watched their eyes slowly dimming, personalities fading into the background noise of violence. Each victory coming at a cost, eroding their essence.

More mindless zombies - compliant, obedient, unquestioning.

He had seen the signs in Paul recently. The boy he befriended in C Block had turned into a stoic, intense man. But now, there were moments when his gaze drifted, distant and lost. Like his mind was detaching, shifting somewhere Ben couldn’t follow.

And that scared him more than he cared to admit.

His eyes shifted back to the frontliners. Did he look like a cog in the machine while completing drills? The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Was surrendering really easier? He tightened his grip on the railing of the observation deck. Every breath felt heavy, laden with the burden of choices he hadn’t made yet, the lines he hadn’t crossed.

What if he just gave in? What if he let the Facility strip away the remnants of his identity? The grip of the Facility tightened around his throat, squeezing the last vestiges of defiance. It was easier to follow orders, to silence the inner voice that begged for autonomy.

But the idea of surrendering to that darkness sent another shiver down his spine.

No matter how alluring the thought of being just another cog in the machine was, a flicker of rebellion sparked within him.

He didn’t want to be a zombie.