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thekingthatwrites · 1 year ago

Note

Hello tis I.. rain y day,

If you’re up to it, I would DIE for some Ned and/or Duck comforting Aubrey! I’m on ep. 19 and they make me sooooo so sick in the brain I think they all deserve big comfort and hugs and maybe even a forehead kiss…

-🌧

Yeah, I Get It.

Summary: Sometimes, having a gift like what Aubrey Little does can become... draining. Both in a literal sense and in the way that drags her down in every moment she can't seem to help the people around her. She's seen things, been told things, and can't seem to get the past out of her head. But, lucky for her, there's someone on her team that gets it more than anyone else. Duck Newton takes care of her in a familial type way.

Genere: Hurt/Comfort

Aubrey Little and Duck Newton | Familial

A/N: Thank you, Rain, for this wonderful prompt, I will indeed have a field day with this. <33

Word Count: 3,020 words

@sunnynights-rainydays

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡

It was hard. Being chosen to be something bigger than you were. Sometimes it felt as if there was no point in it. Being put in a position where one is supposed to be something more than what they were before, is hard, it's a hard thing to accept. Be it a blade that is passed down from others or a title and a gift given from another world, it's a lot of weight to be something more.

Duck Newton and Aubrey Little sit in this same exact boat. Standing back to back, they are two sides of the same coin, given something more than what they might be. Aubrey, with her magic, something unique and ... more than she might be able to handle. Duck, with literally being a chosen one to bring about destiny. Though, unlike Aubrey, Duck has been dealing with this pressure since his teenage years, without much of any break from his dance with fate, and in turn, his dance with Minerva.

He has no issue with the woman, his mentor, but with the pressure that he has dealt with, with the idea of saving the world pressed into the back of his mind, it was sometimes more than he realized he signed up for.

Aubrey, on the other hand, has ... something different weighing her down. As memories circle her mind, she's brought back and forth from the past and the present; not only that she's been remembering something that just wasn't her own. She remembered the memories of Alexandra, the young ruler of Sylvain. It was something that felt... intruding, something that she didn't realize at first wasn't her own thoughts, but when she did it felt bad. It felt bad to realize your connection to another world, even though it was slight, or at least she thought this was the case. She had no way to prove it, no way to be sure, but somewhere in her heart she just knew it. With the crystal, with the memories, all of it. It ... no, she had to be something more. Part of her loved the idea of it, she wanted to be the one to help Sylvain but ... another part of her loathed it. She already had to deal with so much, with working with her magic and helping Duck, Ned, and the rest of the Pine Guard with the monsters that infest the world; why did she have to have more on her plate?

These were the thoughts that moved through her head as she sat at one of the window sills of the lodge. She leaned on the cold window looking out on the forest, watching as snow fell from dark clouds that blanketed the sky. She had a somber look on her features with her lidded eyes watching gentle flakes of snow land on the window. A hand rested on her chin as she pushed the weight of her head onto her palm, keeping her elbow pressed on the window sill.

There was an emptiness in the air, the sound of wind passing through the trees was the only noise that was notable as she sat there. As if the lodge had been abandoned, there wasn't a soul in sight, not even Moira at her usual place sitting at the piano. Though, Aubrey didn't seem to notice, or if she did, she didn't mind the quiet. She was a very social person, everyone in Kepler who knew her knew this as a fact, but today was a little different. Solemn and almost gloomy took up the afternoon, and likewise, it took her up as well.

She hadn't known how long she had been sitting there when she heard footsteps begin to sound through the lodge. Heavy boots on wood echoed through the halls, specifically, as Aubrey noted it, through the hall on the left from Mama's office. After living in these walls for months, she, at this point, has memorized it's layout.

When her gaze shifted from the window she stared out of to the other side of the room, she expected to see Mama. Surprise entered her mind when she saw Duck walking away from the hall, noting her with a slight eyebrow raise and a tip of his hat after placing it back on his head. For whatever reason he had it off.

"Hey Duck,"

She'd say, simply, soon finding herself going back to her original position. For some odd reason, she expected him to just keep walking after a small greeting back to her, leaving the lodge; he didn't.

"Hey Aubrey. What's got you goin'? All down in the dumps, it ain't like you."

Duck raised an eyebrow as he found his way over, crossing his arms over his chest as he stood over her, just a foot or so away. Once again, she just hadn't expected it, so she found herself looking over in surprise. Duck tilted his head in response,

"What, can't a guy ask a friend what's got her goat?"

He'd inquire, moving to sit next to her, leaning back into the corner of the window sill, letting out a soft hum.

Aubrey would watch as he sat down, allowing her eyes to just keep on him, staring with that golden and darker color of her irises. A silence ate at the atmosphere for a solid few seconds before Duck cleared his throat, trying to get her attention.

"Oh- uh."

She'd sit up, her posture straightening out as she leaned back onto the opposite wall.

"I dunno, yeah of course you can, but-"

She'd hesitate, furrowing her eyebrows, picking at one of her nails for a moment, before continuing.

"I'm fine, I guess."

She'd shrug, moving her feet onto where she sat, pushing her legs up against her chest, and crossing her arms over her knees. She laid her head down on her arms, a natural cushioning, as her eyes would shift back to the window. The snow hadn't let up, and it didn't seem like it would for a while. As she observed the outdoors, she would note little details, from Duck's car that sat in the driveway to Jake and Barclay hanging out on the front porch, slightly out of view. It really was a quiet afternoon.

"Yeah, that's one hella load of bull there, Aubrey. You ain't someone to sulk, so what's up?"

Duck would continue to probe and prod at the girl, wanting her to open up about her troubles. Listen, he wasn't really the kind of guy to give advice, to be some sort of therapist, but Aubrey was a different case. She reminded him so, so much of his little sister; he couldn't help but try and be by her side.

She moved her head, her chin sitting on her arms as she gave the other some sort of eye contact. Duck couldn't help but note the vibrancy of the girl's eye, the bright amber color of it eating all of the brown that originally was there. He hadn't gotten the chance, really, to take note of this girl's change, but such a thing would be pushed to the back of his mind.

"I'm..."

It was all she could allow to escape her lips for the moment. Duck watched as thoughts processed through her mind, he could almost see the loading bubble floating over her head,

"It's complicated. There's just so much on my plate now, ya know? With the Pine Guard to Sylvain, I mean, my eye and everything. It's just so much... so much I don't know if I can take on. I feel like I'm being built for something more than I am! Something that I ... don't think I can really be."

She'd look down at her shoes, moving them up and down for a moment as a way of slight stimulation. She'd listen as Duck would make that familiar clicking sound with his tongue before letting out a small sigh,

"Fighting with this, uh, whole destiny thing, huh? Yeah, been there. Listen, Aubrey, whatever the future has in store for you, you're gonna fuckin' kill it, I know it. There's no doubt in your abilities, that's for sure, strongest one outta all of us, for sure."

He'd lean forward, scooting over slightly, closer to the girl as he'd place a hand on her shoulder.

"Y'er stronger than ya know."

She looked at him with this hope in her eyes that wasn't there before, or maybe it was a glossiness that coated her eyes, Duck would never tell. She'd look to the side, placing her hand on her friend's, and let out a small chuckle, leaning back once again.

"Thanks, Duck."

She'd say, letting out a small huff and an amused breath. Duck smirked, copying her actions as he too leaned back,

"Any time. You're a part of this team and, honestly, we need you not worryin' so much. Try focusing on the present."

He'd look out the window too, watching as snow fell to the ground, coating the earth, as well as his car.

"Ah, shit that's gonna be a pain in the ass. Probably gonna be stayin' here t'night."

Duck sighed in defeat, realizing that by the time he wanted to leave, his car would be covered in snow. what a pain. Aubrey seemed to chuckle at this, causing him to look over. He smirked, happy that he could bring her mood up with such simple words. While she reminded him of his sister, they were very different. If it were Jane, well, she'd probably push him away. The two siblings love one another, that's for sure, but that girl doesn't need Newton all up in her business. So why not spend some of that brotherly love on the next best thing, someone he sees as a younger sister. In turn, Aubrey sees him in a similar light. It was hard not to with the energy that he gave off to her, the way he cares about the people around him, and wants to protect him. Even if he doesn't try to, he can't help but give the feel of an older brother.

Though, even with those words, such simple words that, for a moment, put her thoughts to the side, she couldn't help but get lost in her head as soon as he stopped talking. To Duck, the silence was comfortable, not realizing, as he looked out onto the snowy forest, that Aubrey was diving head-first back into the pool of stress. For Aubrey the silence was unbearable. It was suffocating, as she began to drown in her thoughts, her eyebrows couldn't help but furrow into a deep knot. Tears formed at the corners of her eyes as one main thing floated in her mind.

What if ... she wasn't good enough? What if her efforts weren't enough, enough to help the people she cares about, to help Sylvain grow as a world, be more than what these monsters escaping it were making it out to be. She was given this task, a task that pressed onto her being and hurt her chest, the pressure was something unlike she had experienced. She knew stress, she knew the pressure of expectations, but this was different. Her parents looking to her, her father expecting more than the magic she wanted to pursue, no, this was as if the world was at stake. In her head, she knelt on the ground, cradling herself as she pressed her head to the bottom of this void of a mind full of fear and distress. The worry clawed at her thoughts, and she couldn't help but let tears fall, be it one single drop moving down her dark features.

"How do you do it?"

She'd ask. The words slipped off her tongue, not really realizing what she had even said.

"Do what, Aubrey?"

Duck questioned without looking over, and for a few moments, it would stay this way. That was until he finally found himself glancing over after she would be silent for a few moments after he responded to her question. He sat up, surprised at the sight of the girl, teary-eyed, looking out the window as she refused to make eye contact with him. He was confused, at first, but it quickly set in that this girl needed more than just words. With his own eyebrows furrowing, he, once more, scooted closer to the girl, putting a hand on her knee as he hummed.

"It's alright to cry, Aubs, shit, there's no need to keep all that in. If you need to let those tears go, let them rip. kiddo"

Duck tried to make the girl laugh, and it seemed to allow a small smirk to move to her lips, but soon after she found herself melting into a puddle of tears. She leaned forward, crossing her legs as she pressed her head into Duck's shoulder, letting out sobs that echoed through the lobby. She was so relieved that there was no one else to bare witness to this tragic sight.

Duck wrapped an arm around the girl, pulling her into a hug as she just seemed to cry. She grasped tightly onto the shirt he wore, something that was more casual than his usual ranger uniform, and basked in the comfort that Duck's hold gave her.

"How... how do you handle it all... how ... how do you cope with... with being more than you ever thought you could be...? That... that isn't just me right? Right? I... I don't know what to d... do. How am... how am I supposed... supposed to do all this bullshit!"

These words were muffled as she spoke into his shirt, grasping tighter onto the cloth. Duck wouldn't care, not for a moment, as he stared down at the shaking girl. He hadn't ever seen her so... weak. So vulnerable. It was heartbreaking that a woman who had such a fire in her heart could be so easily doused into embers.

"...Time."

Duck would say. He'd move a hand to her back, rubbing it up and down, trying to give her comfort. He'd let out a low breath, looking to the side, out and over towards the rest of the lodge. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure, and when he looked over he spotted Mama, looking more than just concerned. He shook his head before nodding his head up, dismissing her from the area. Mama quickly understood before she gave a nod back, retreating back to her office to let Duck handle the situation.

At first, he didn't know what to say. He was an expert in all of this, in knowing how to deal with the stress, the intense fear that came along with being 'a chosen'. Sure, Aubrey wasn't literally one of him, of Leo, of Minerva, not at all, but she was still dealing with the same shit he had to go through. So what was he to say? What got him through the times he thought he wouldn't be able to do what was expected of him? In between his doubts, the times he declined Minerva's offering, there was still the intensity of it all. To be chosen by some figure to defend and even save the world? It was a lot … so what got him through it all? Besides his friends who stuck by his side, the people who loved him and cared for him, what really let him push through?

"It took a lotta time. Time that I thought I wouldn't have, really, but time. Listen, Aubs, every day you will find more courage in you to deal with the future, hell, even the present. It ain't gonna be easy, I know you wish it would be, I wish it was for you too. But I know you're strong, and you have not only me but also Ned and Mama right by yer side."

He'd place his hands on the side of her head, either side, and pulled up to look at her. Her face was stained with streaks of tears, her eyes red and puffy, and of course her nose was runny. She looked up to him, the tears not stopping, not for a moment, as he continued to speak.

"So don't worry your firey lil head over it, we got your back. I promise you that kiddo."

He'd give her a smile. That smile held so much warmth, so much kindness, every little ounce of hope she needed in one look. Her heart wasn't in as much pain, as the fire that was fear calmed and replaced with the usual flame that gave her that hell of a stage name. She smiled back, sitting up and retracting her face from Duck's hands, wiping her eyes and cheeks with the back of her hand.

"Okay..."

She'd start, letting out a pathetic laugh, one that dripped in obvious sadness that couldn't help but linger.

"You're right... for once, I believe you."

She joked, poking at the fact that most often he just wasn't that great with words. But lucky for her, this happened to be right up his alley, so he simply knew exactly what to say.

Duck snorted some at her words and reached up to ruffle her hair. Reluctantly, she let him, and would roll her eyes as she continued to rid them of tears.

"Thanks, Duck."

He smiled,

"Any time. Now go get yourself something good to drink, so you ain't dehydrated."

It was beyond her, as she watched as Duck tipped his hat to her once again as he stood from where he sat, bringing an end to this conversation. It seemed that he wouldn't let it go on anyway till she had done what he said. But still, it was beyond her how he could be so ... brotherly yet...

Thinking about it, the words didn't seem to come to her. Her eyes softened and, along with it, so did her features. She couldn't believe she really had an older brother, she just had to look in the right places.

#the adventure zone amnesty #Taz #taz amnesty #the adventure zone #the adventure zone fanfic #duck newton #aubrey little #ned chicane #jake coolice #Barclay taz #Mama taz #my fic #fic rec #taz fic #fic request #hurt to comfort

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thiswasinevitableid · 9 days ago

Text

Gilded Cage (Sternclay)

Tied winners of one of the whumpcember prompt polls were "collared" and "wiping tears away" . This fill is NSFW

The view from the consorts rooms in the castle are stunning. The Veridian Hills and the Stranglewood are visible, shocking emerald giving way to dusky pine. Beyond that, the kingdom of Sylvain, teeming with monsters.

Joseph is watching through one eye as he works on his chess problem. When it gets a little darker, he’ll use this telescope to scan the forest, hoping to glimpse some unknown creature stalking between or hovering above them.

For the fiftieth time that day, he wishes he could just go down and investigate.

“Joseph! Come quickly and look!” Elaine, one of the other four consorts, waves him over to where the rest of them are gathering on a balcony. He clusters in beside them as a parade of the king and his knights re-enter the citadel.

Behind them, chains across his body, around his neck, and binding his arm is an-

“Apeman!” Claudia gasps, stepping back as if the monster might break his chains and bound up the walls to carry them away.

“They’re just called Sylphs. Those names are the ones we come up with. We used to call that kind ‘Bigfoot’. Honestly I think that has a better ring to it.” Joseph keeps his gaze on the prisoner, “I wonder why they’ve brought him here. We’re not technically at war with Sylvain.”

“Maybe he did something horrible.” Claudia fidgets with her sleeves before scurrying inside.

“You just had to loan her those true crime books” Elaine gives him a pointed look

“His highness wants us to be as worldly as we can manage. From here.”

“I know” she pats his shoulder, “but there might be a thing as too worldly.”

Joseph nods, then turns his eyes back to the procession as he wonders if that’s true.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He has his talking points all prepared, but the king doesn’t need to hear them. He simply smiles

“I knew you would want to go down and see, so I’ve given orders that you be allowed to visit when you wish. Just be careful.”

“I will.”

The king sends him off with a kiss on the hand. He should want more. He does. Just not…

He shakes his head. There’s no point in dwelling on that.

The dungeon has a few chambers that are stone towers without bars, the only windows high, high, high above. They put him in mind of oubliettes.

The Sylph is held in one of these. A black collar connects to a chain in the wall, each link thicker than a beer stein. His feet are manacled as well, large hands left free but covered in dried blood, the same color as the marks by gouges in the chains.

There's a circle and glyphs carved in copper into the floor, marking the reach of the creature's chain. Even if he were to break free, the glyphs would activate a stun spell the instant he crossed it.

The guards asked if he was certain he wanted to go down alone. He insisted, knowing the two small knives he keeps hidden on his person will be enough defense until back-up arrives.

When the monster turns to regard him, eyes reflecting in the dim lamplight, he begins re-evaluating that belief.

“What do you want?” The voice is a deep, wary growl, “or are they just gonna let anyone in here to stare at the freakshow?”

“I assure you they won’t.”

“You sound pretty fucking confident, pretty boy.” He shifts almost imperceptibly away, “you the prince or something?”

“The king's consort. Or, well, one of them. The point is, I have some influence. Particularly over any guards who might try to make a sideshow out of you.”

The Sylph shifts farther back, but also turns to face him, “Doesn’t explain why you’re down here.”

“I wanted to see you. To…to meet you.” His confidence falters a moment as the sylph snorts and then rises to his feet.

He didn’t look this big in the courtyard. And not nearly this magnificent.

His short fur, matted as it is, has a noticeable auburn tint to it. His eyes are deep brown, the whole of his face unfairly handsome and painfully human.

“Enough of a look for you?” He grins, showing sharp teeth. His fingers twitch, offering a glimpse of short, black claws.

Joseph keeps his head high, voice calm, “No. To be frank, I’m fascinated by Sylphs. And by your kind in particular. I’ve been reading everything I can on you for years. If you’re open to it I’d like the chance to interview you.”

The bigfoot takes two strides forward, stopping at the edge of the circle while still looming over Joseph, “Fuck. Off.”

He holds his ground, “I didn’t put you here. I’m not sure you should even be here. What I am sure of is that no one gets put in here forever without a trial. And that a consort can have quite an influence on that.”

The Sylph holds up a finger, “One visit.”

Joseph smiles, “Deal.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay is going to go crazy well before they do whatever it is they’re planning to do to him. There’s nothing to look at, nothing to read, he’s paced the perimeter of the cell so much his feet ache. Hidden in the little cordoned off bathroom area when anyone comes down. Given up on snapping his chains.

That’s why he agreed to let that cute prince interview him. Look, he’s not going to deny the guy is hotter than a broiled pan. He can know that and still hate his guts.

(That and the way he’d looked at Barclay. Like he was trying to understand him, not just see him).

He picks up the same scent as yesterday; faintly minty over the top of some shampoo whose oils cost more than a small country's treasury. Joseph appears, clothing more formal than before, a coat and suit rather than the soft clothing and robe he wore yesterday, though both had the symbol of the kingdom on the chest.

(Had he been so excited he ran down to see Barclay in his pajamas?)

Best of all, he’s carrying a tray with a teapot and two mugs.

“I’m a bit later than I meant to be, his majesty wanted my opinion on the notes of an advisory movie.”

“Not like I’m going anywhere.” Barclay sits up, watches as the human considers the single chair in the corner of the room only to set the tray down and remove his coat so he can sit across from Barclay. He pours the tea, then sets one cup on the end of the tray and pushes it across the edge of the circle.

“Thanks.” Barclay grunts, determined to not cry in front of some fucking human noble.

“You’re welcome.” The human tips cream into his cup.

“Y’know, doing that ruins the subtler flavors.”

A slight, self-depreciating smile, “I know. I’m the same with coffee, I’m sure I’m missing out on some of the depth but I just like it better.”

“Buddy of mine once dumped half a jar of honey into his star poppy tea.”

Joseph raises an eyebrow, “Isn’t that expensive?”

“Yep, because you gotta enchant and also distill the hell outta it to keep it from being poisonous.”

“I read it’s for ceremonial purposes” Joseph sips his tea, blue eyes watching Barclay over the rim.

He chuckles, “Humans just think that because it makes you stoned outta your minds. Doesn’t do that to us.”

“Fascinating. I mean, it makes sense, there are lots of plants in Sylvain that never made it through the stranglewood. According to one of our knights, the climate is very different here, too…”

“You really dragged your cute ass down here just to ask me about gardening?”

Annoyingly, the human doesn’t react to the flirtation. Barclay had hoped he could at least wrong-foot him. Remind him his title doesn’t mean shit to a Sylph.

“If that’s what you want to talk about. I do have a list of questions” he pulls a small, black notebook from his pants pocket, “but I more wanted to get to know you. Our books are full of many accounts of Sylvain and its residents, but almost none are from Sylphs. The few that are, well, they’re over a century old. Things change.”

“No kidding. Back home you can still see the trade route signs to help humans get around.”

Joseph opens his mouth to ask another question, then clears his throat, “I’m so sorry, I was so excited I forgot my manners. You know my name, but I never asked yours.”

“Barclay.” He could lie, but he wants to hear someone say it, to be called something other than “the beast” or “that thing.”

The human nods, polishing off his tea, “Can I ask about what your home is like?”

Barclay tells him. About the Lodge, the gardens in the back, the way his family elders planted fruit trees that now grow all around town. The human listens, taking notes now and then. At one point he returns up the spiral, stone stairs, to speak to one of the guards. Barclay tenses when he comes back down, wondering if this was some kind of trick.

When a very frightened looking servant appears ten minutes later, he realizes Joseph just sent for a lunch tray.

“You’re not gonna get in trouble for giving fancy food to a prisoner?” He says it more teasingly than he really means.

“No. Consorts tend to be…indulged. Odds are anyone who notices will just think I’m being strange and treating you like a pet.” He goes pale, “good lord, I hope that’s not why they captured you; I want to go to Sylvain sometime, not keep one of its citizens like a lapdog.”

“Can think of worse things. If it gets me out of here, I’ll sleep on a pillow by your bed any day. Even let you brush my hair. Already got the collar.”

A glance at the collar and finally Joseph blushes, “The point is, I wish I knew why they’d brought you here.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. One minute I was in the woods, the next I had two dozen crossbows pointed at me and was being told I was trespassing on the king's land.”

“Trespassing. Yes, that’s what they told me too.”

“Careful, blue eyes, don’t let them catch you mistrusting the kingdom.”

Joseph touches the insignia on his chest, “I’m loyal to my kingdom. But I also believe in verifying the truth. Forming my own theories.”

Barclay studies the human in the dying daylight high above them, and wonders if they made Joseph as a consort because he’d be too much trouble as something else.

—-------------------------------------------------------------

“...mom was laughing too hard to be mad, thought ma was gonna pass out when she saw the jam on the ceiling. Anyway, I wasn’t allowed to try canning for ten more years after that.” Barclay chuckles from the single cushion floor-cot he’s been given, “y’know, blue eyes, you shoulda been a spy. You’re great at getting stories outta people that they wouldn’t normally tell.”

“I almost was.” Joseph is sitting in the chair as close as he can to the glyph circle, “I was just born in the wrong order.”

“Wait really? Humans actually do that?”

“It depends on what class you’re from, but yes. The first born is meant to lead the family name, whatever that means is up to them; be a knight, a priest, a famous scholar, in government, that kind of thing. Third born inherits the family trade if there is one. Second born is put into a political marriage.”

“Seems like you kinda hit it big with that one.”

“But it’s not really a marriage. I can’t take the throne if he dies, I can’t be an advisor, I can’t even travel outside the castle. And once he learned I was a man and, more importantly, did not want to have kids, my one other door into political power was shut.” He manages a charming smile, “maybe it’s for the best. If I’d been allowed more freedom, I might have ended up wandering around Sylvain, too focused on studying everything around me until I fell into a hot spring and drowned or something like that. Or got carried off to be ravished by a sasquatch.”

Were they closer, Barclay would whack him playfully on the arm, “I told you, humans made that up! Sylphs don’t need to carry random humans away to find mates. Most of us find one or more just fine among our own kind. Uh, unless you count back when mothpeople used to randomly carry off sasquatches, but I think that was a territorial thing. Plus it hasn’t happened in, like, fifty years ago.”

“A mothperson can really lift someone your size?”

Joseph still looks a little dejected, and Barclay can’t have that. Joseph is his friend.

(He could be his mate. He’s seen how the human looks at him, at the quickly schooled but very obvious widening of his eyes when he noticed his cock through his wrap. Had they met in Sylvain, in happier times, Barclay would have asked him to dinner)

“Yeah, it’s wild. My friend Indrid did it to me once because we thought the old stories were bullshit. Startled us both so bad he almost dropped me…”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Joseph can’t sleep. This morning, he tried for the fifth time to find out when Barclay would be released, or at least when his trial would be. The king is mildly charmed by his interest, but it’s clearly annoying the minister of defense and the minister of justice.

Something isn’t right. If Barclay had done something straightforwardly wrong, they’d just tell him.

He gives up trying to sleep around one in the morning and slips out of the rooms and down the various flights of stairs until he’s to Barclay’s cell. The guards don’t even blink when he passes by; the captain of the guard is a friend, and last week he finally just gave him his own key.

Halfway down the stairs, he pauses. There’s an odd sound, strangled and raspy, and for a moment he fears Barclay is sick. Then the pieces click into place, and he feels even worse.

Barclay is crying.

Cautiously, he comes to the final step. The Sylph’s head whips up from where he’s huddled in the corner.

“Joseph?”

“Right here.” He hurries to Barclay’s side, “I’m right here, big guy. It’s okay.”

“It’s not!” It’s almost a wail, “Don’t you get it? They’re never going to let me out. I’m going to be here for the rest of my fucking life, I’m never gonna see my friends again, never see the sky or the woods or anything, I just want to go home.”

Joseph kneels, hovering his hands over Barclay’s shoulders a moment, weighing the choices. Then he settles on petting them lightly down his arms, reassuring without trapping Barclay more. He thinks back on the times he’s come in the early morning, bringing breakfast for them both. How Barclay’s eyes red each time.

“Every night?”

The sylph nods, then looks up slowly, “You…you came into the circle.”

“I know you’re not a fool, Barclay; you know as well as I do that if you hurt me it’ll be bad for both of us. But more than that” he sets his hands on Barclays face, “I trust you.”

Barclay makes a low, soft noise in his throat. It’s affectionate, so Joseph makes it back as best he can, brings his thumbs up to wipe away the remaining tears.

“I’m getting you out of here, come hell or high water. I promise.”

The same noise, and Barclay draws him into his arms, hugging him tight. Joseph holds him close in return, running his fingers through soft, short fur until the Sylph finally falls asleep.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You do realize that if the Sylphs find out we’re holding a civilian without cause, they’ll be within their rights to use force to come get him.”

“They have no rights in our borders.” Minister Hayes says flatly.

“You must understand, Joseph” the king smiles at him, “we need a few as collateral for they inevitably take one of our own as a captive.”

Joseph opens his mouth to point out the multiple moral and strategic flaws with that plan, but the king stands and begins guiding him out of the room, “We must move on to other matters. I will see you at our dinner tonight.”

He decides it’s best to save his arguments for now, deploy them near more open-minded ministers. And so he bows, and shows himself out of the meeting hall.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The king never stays the night after their evenings together. Joseph doesn’t take it personally anymore. Just like he tries not to mind that he seldom gets off at all when they’re in bed.

He’s too wound up to sleep, and so he dons his warmest, fur-lined blue robe over his nightshirt, slips on his shoes, and steals his way down into the dungeon.

Barclay is asleep, so Joseph settles into the (now slightly more comfortable) chair he’s stationed just out of reach of the perimeter of the circle. He’s crossed the boundary plenty this last week, but he must maintain his cover as the curious but cautious consort.

He shifts his thighs, trying to ignore the lingering ache in his cock for some kind of true attention. Maybe he should have dealt with that before coming down here-

“Hey, blue eyes.” Barclay turns his head to look at him, voice thick with sleep, “everything okay?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I decided I’d rather be down here than tossing and turning in bed.”

Barclay sniffs the air, sits up and peers more closely at him, “Seems like you got up to more than that in bed.”

A strange pang of guilt resonates up his spine, “All part of the job description.”

A deep, teasing laugh, “That bad, huh?”

“It’s not bad exactly. He’s perfectly nice and very complimentary but…well, I don’t think sleeping mainly with people who aren’t allowed to tell him when he’s doing something wrong has done him any favors.”

Barclay is watching him intently, “Y’know, if I had a husband, I’d make real fucking sure he came until he was exhausted” a sharper grin, “that way he couldn’t get away if I still wanted more.”

Joseph’s breath catches without permission.

Barclay growls, gently, “You like that, pretty boy?”

“Yes.”

“Show me.” He’s sitting back on his heels now, more confident than Joseph’s ever seen him.

He eases out of his sleep pants, lets his robe fall open as he begins rubbing his folds.

A hungry growl, “Oh, babe, look at you. All wet and hard with no one to pay attention to you.”

“From, ahn, from where I’m sitting I’d say I’m getting plenty.”

“Could give you more. Be so good for you” A slight whine on the end of his words this time, and Joseph suddenly understands the game.

“Barclay, my lover is a king, I’m not sure anyone could compare.”

“Yeah? Tell me, pretty boy, he ever bend you over the fucking breakfast table because he can’t take not having you for another second?”

“No.” He presses a finger inside, opens his legs wider, and Barclay growls.

“Ever thrown you down on the bed and sucked your dick until you cried?”

“Holyshit” he speeds up his fingers, “no.”

“Spent a whole night figuring out how to make you scream?”

“No, fuck, Barclay-”

“That’s it babe, lemme see just how much you like the idea of being mine.” Barclay tugs his wrap free and a large hand slips between hairy thighs. His cock, intimidating just as an outline, is downright heartstopping now.

“Could be all yours, you just gotta say the word.” Barclay rumbles, stroking himself lazily.

He shouldn’t. It’s a violation of both his duties and general common sense. But Barclay is looking at him like he sees him. Barclay’s affection for him has never come with conditions, with gilded bars and unanswered questions.

“Fuck it.” He stands, pulling his pants fully off and laying them on the chair before crossing into the circle.

Barclays eyes widen as he does, and by the time he settles in the Sylphs lap they’re big enough for whole worlds to float in them.

“You really-”

“Yes” Joseph kisses him, delighting in the little moan it earns him, “badly.”

“Fuckyes” Strong hands grip his hips, claws digging into his skin, “C’mon, pretty boy, lemme show you what you really deserve.”

“Ohmygod, ohmyfuckinggod” Joseph clings to Barclay’s biceps to avoid falling out of his lap from the force of the thrusts, “Yes, fuckyes, good lord how is it even bigger than it looks.”

“Think it’s more you’re a dainty little human who can only take two thirds of it. In this hole anyway.” He grins when Joseph moans, “bet I can get it all the way into the other two. Could always just force it, think you’d–fuck, move your hips like that again–like that, but it’d be more fun to go slow, build you up to it until you’re begging for the whole fucking thing.”

“Muhuh” Joseph’s face is buried in Barclay’s shoulder in a desperate attempt to muffle himself.

“Make you cum a few times, really get you relaxed” Barclay reaches one hand between them and Joseph gasps as he begins rubbing his dick, “that’s it babe, let go, wanna see you cum, wanna make you feel good.” He growls as Joseph tips his head back, kissing his neck as the most intense orgasm of his life rolls through him.

When he comes back to himself, Barclay is panting and holding perfectly still.

“Cum in me. Please.”

“You sure?” Barclay nuzzles his collarbone, “I know I talk a big game but if you’re sore or sensitive we don’t have to keep going.”

Joseph grabs the collar in shaking fingers and drags Barclay’s face up to his, “If you don’t do as I say, I will take off my contraceptive charm and go find the king.”

“Like hell you will.” Barclay kisses him hard and brings them to the floor, pinning Joseph on his back. He wraps his legs around the sylph and holds tightly to his arms as his body jolts with every thrust.

“Let’s get one thing straight, babe. If anyone gets to breed you, it’s me. Kings kept me locked up here for months, least he can do is let me knock up his consort.”

“God” Joseph bites Barclay’s shoulder to keep from crying out as he fucks him harder and faster than he thought possible.

“I won’t, though.” Barclay coos, snaking one arm beneath Joseph to trap his hips even more fully against him so that the thrusts become short and sharp, “you’re in charge, blue eyes. Do just about anything for you, be so good for you, oh, oh fuck, Joseph, Joseph, baby-” there’s a howlgrowlpurr as Barclay spills inside him. Joseph holds him close, kissing his face as he rocks his hips through the last of it.

“You okay?” Barclay kisses his forehead.

“Better than I’ve ever been.” Joseph reluctantly untangles their legs, “you’re wonderful, Barclay.”

And I think I just had an idea about how to get you free.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Uh, hi, can I help you?”

“I think so. This is Amnesty Lodge, right?”

“Yeeeah?” The dark-haired young woman looks at him like she’s expecting a trick.

“It is quite alright, Aubrey. This is the human I mentioned might come today. My, what an interesting timeline this is shaping up to be. And yes, Joseph Stern, we are very amenable to kidnapping you.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay is dumped unceremoniously at the edge of Sylvain. All they told him was that he was part of a prisoner exchange. Given that he hasn’t seen Joseph in five days, he has a bad feeling he knows who it was.

He doesn’t know whether he should be grateful to the human for making himself into even more of a political pawn for Barclay’s sake, or pissed that his solution was one where they’ll never see each other again.

A half days journey brings him to Amnesty, and after a flurry of hugs and tears, he excuses himself up to his room to collapse for a bit.

Joseph is sitting on his bed, reading.

“How did-” Barclay doesn’t finish the question, too busy clambering onto the bed to kiss the human senseless.

“I had a lot of time to read law books when I was consort. And if someone is taken prisoner during peacetime, they have the right to decide they wish to remain in the other country once freed. Very few people even know that option is there, let alone use it. But once the trade was secured, I was happy to.”

“Not bad, pretty boy.” Barclay kisses him again, “not bad at all.”

#taz amnesty #sternclay #trans agent stern #whumpcember #agent stern/barclay #monster boyfriend #terato

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