#cowfield | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

whump-card · 10 months ago

Text

Forged Divinity Chapter 9: Leannan Meets James

1877 words

CW: institutionalized slavery, religious themes, death, alcohol, abuse, choking

Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Titus 3:1

Remind them to be subject to rulers, to authorities, to be obedient, to be ready for every good deed.

~~~

Phineas slit the throat of a laborer walking home after a late night and took his shoes for Leannan.

They fled southward, further into Gauthier’s land, before turning back northeast as the sun rose. They stole a quick nap in the shelter of a loose-stacked stone wall around a cowfield before pressing on.

Leannan didn’t complain once. Not about his ill-fitting shoes or being stuck in one set of clothes, not about walking all night, not about sleeping rough. If Phineas had known that fucking the whore was all it would take to make him shut up they would have done it far, far sooner. Now Leannan offered only prompt little “Yes, Phineas!” and “No, Phineas!” responses to the sniper’s occasional communication, accompanied by devoted, hopeful smiles.

It was almost boring. The previous attitude was annoying, but at least Phineas had been having fun knocking him down when he got too uppity.

Now, the Iowan was downright concerned for Phineas. He piped up on the second evening, as Phineas laid out their bedroll in a grove of pines.

“You seem to have a reputation – Phineas the bounty hunter. Kaŝpafisto. Won’t everyone know that you were the one to kill the King?”

“Of course they will,” said Phineas, unbothered.

“But what if his people try to retaliate against you?”

“They won’t. Because I’m not playing the game, here,” Phineas lay down, folding their hands on their chest. “I’m a weapon, not an actor. My actions are the actions of those who hired me, and I say La Libera hired me. I’m not to blame – and besides, even if someone did blame me, they may still want me around for their own purposes. I expect I’ll be hearing from Gauthier’s underlings and La Libera, both begging to contract me.”

Leannan processed this, sitting down next to Phineas. Phineas supposed it was hard for him to wrap his head around – but then he asked an oddly prescient question.

“But you’re about to become a player. You’re joining the Council of Donda. Won’t that change things?”

Phineas squinted at him. His eyes were wide with innocence, but Phineas wasn’t buying it.

“What do you think?” they turned it around on him.

Leannan tilted his head, the bruises around his lips and on his left cheek catching the moonlight.

“I think you’ll need to be careful.”

~~~

They slept under the trees, Leannan curled up close to Phineas’ side. Like a dog, Phineas thought. Loyal and dumb.

Maybe not so dumb.

They almost ran out of food, having lost Leannan’s share in the sinkhole, but Phineas snared a rabbit and that held them over until their return to Donda Island.

They crossed the river and slunk into the city with little fanfare; the news of King Gauthier’s death had not yet arrived. They said nothing to anyone, heading straight for the Council building.

They followed the same rigmarole as their first visit, escorted to the Council hall by guards, but this time both Councilmen Brochard and Faverolle were quick to make their appearance onstage. As soon as the guards were dismissed and they had privacy, Phineas gave their report.

The King was dead. They had left La Libera’s symbol painted on a tree next to where they had shot from, and it was sure to be found. The Iowan had sustained some injuries, but would recover quickly.

The Councilmen were immediately in a celebratory mood. They called for wine and came down off their stage to drink with Phineas and Leannan.

“To a job well done!” Brochard declared once the servant had left.

“To our new Council… man.” Faverolle lifted his large wooden cup, making his best guess.

“And to your new pet.” Phineas lifted their cup, ruffling Leannan’s hair with the other hand. Leannan tilted his head into the touch with a winning smile.

The newly expanded Council got to talking about the details of Phineas’ estate. Leannan remained quiet and doe-eyed, but listened intently. Phineas would be living in the same Council building annex as the other Councilmen, had two personal servants to rotate, and had jurisdiction over five acres on the northern shore, and all the laborers who lived there.

“Uncle,” Faverolle cut in suddenly, “Why don’t you show Councilman Kaŝpafisto to his room, and I will show the Iowan to his?”

Councilman Brochard hesitated, his eyes darting between his nephew and Leannan.

“Yes, alright, but,” he lowered his voice, leaning to Faverolle’s ear, “Sois doux avec lui.”

Faverolle shrugged him off, nodding at Leannan

“Come with me – what’s your name?”

“Leannan, sir.”

“Come with me, Leannan.”

Leannan glanced at Phineas, but they weren’t even looking at him; they were already asking Brochard a question about taxes and inflation. Leannan had no choice but to follow Faverolle out of the hall, leaving Phineas behind.

“You’ll be living in the east wing, with the rest of us,” Faverolle informed Leannan as they walked the lantern-lit halls, and handed his empty wooden cup off to a servant as they passed. Leannan did the same, his cup still full – he hated the taste of alcohol and its effects more than anything.

“That’s very generous of you, Councilman Faverolle,” Leannan said earnestly.

The servant in question, a short, pale woman with frizzy hair wrestled into a tight bun, gave him a small nod. Leannan returned it. He knew from experience that having a bad relationship with his master’s servants could make his life hell. He prayed he could get along with the staff here.

“Please, call me James,” the Councilman paused, “Master James.”

“Yes, Master James,” Leannan chirped.

James led him up a broad, weathered staircase. They passed where Phineas and Leannan had bunked previously, and finally stopped at a closed door.

“We spent the last few days setting it up for you,” James said as he opened the door and entered, “Just a few things…”

Leannan followed, and stepped into a dream come true.

The far wall boasted two windows, glassless but filled with gauzy curtains that wafted in the afternoon breeze. The floor was covered with a pair of fine rugs. To the right was a bed, bigger than any Leannan had called his own before, pilled high with brightly patterned pillows and blankets. It was flanked by small mismatched cabinets that hosted unlit lanterns. To the left was a wardrobe, and a trunk, and a vanity with a mirror. Leannan gasped and rushed to it immediately, bending slightly to look at his reflection.

“You like it?” James chuckled, closing the door.

“This is all for me?” Leannan spun around, pressing his hands to his cheeks as he grinned.

James smiled at him. “Yes, it’s all yours. There are some clothes for you in the wardrobe as well.”

“Oh!” Leannan cried. His reaction was completely genuine; his heart soared, and he took up his talisman and pressed it to his lips. “Thank God, thank God.”

“Thank me, actually,” James quipped, “I arranged for all of this.”

“Oh yes, of course!” Leannan rushed to him, resting a feather-light hand on the Councilman’s chest and looking up at him adoringly. “Thank you, Master James.”

“You’re very welcome.” James lifted a hand, hovering it over Leannan’s bruised cheek. Leannan searched his eyes, looking for danger, and found none.

“How badly were you hurt?” James murmured.

“I’ll be alright.” Leannan smiled sweetly.

“Were you hurt anywhere else?”

“My back,” answered Leannan.

“Let’s see it.”

Leannan couldn’t complain about escaping the clothing he’d been stuck in for days. He pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor, looking up at his new master through fluttering eyelashes. He knew James’ type – the sympathetic kind, the kind that got off on bandaging his wounds while hearing about all the horrible things that he’d endured. He turned around, showing the Councilman his back.

“Merde!” James exclaimed, “Gauthier did that?”

“Yes, Master James,” Leannan made his voice timid this time. He knew how to play this character well; shy, slightly ashamed, oh-so-grateful.

James set one hand on Leannan’s shoulder while the other ran over the scabbed claw and bite marks. His breathing grew a little heavier, very subtly, but Leannan picked it up.

“As your master… What am I allowed to do to you?” James asked.

“Anything,” Leannan answered, “Anything at all.”

“Even hurt you like this?”

“If it brings you pleasure, then yes.”

“I really prefer women, but this…”

Without warning, James cruelly pinched and twisted the bite mark. Leannan yelped, half in surprise and half in pain, and James’ hands tightened on him to hold him still.

Leannan’s head spun. He’d read it wrong, somehow. James wasn’t a benign savior complex. He was something else, and Leannan needed to figure out what, fast.

James’ breathing was even faster, now. He’d enjoyed Leannan’s cry of pain. Leannan would give him more.

“Master James?” Leannan whimpered, turning his head so that James could see his trembling chin.

That was the right move. James’ hands relaxed, the one that had pinched him moving to the back of Leannan’s neck.

“Did that hurt?” James asked breathily.

“Yes, Master James,” Leannan sniffled, turning to face him.

“I can do anything at all?” James echoed.

Leannan blinked up at him with big, dewy eyes. If he overreacted to the pain, just a little bit, the simple sadist was satisfied more quickly.

“Yes, Master James.”

James’ hands circled Leannan’s neck, and Leannan took a breath in anticipation. He could see the uncertainty in James’ eyes – he wouldn’t take things too far. He wasn’t Ransom.

Leannan’s heart pounded.

He wasn’t Ransom. It would be fine.

James’ grip began to tighten, and Leannan gasped and whined appropriately. He even threw in a strained, “Master James!” reaching up and clutching at James’ wrists.

James flushed and stared, seemingly in awe of his own strength. He released Leannan quite suddenly, stepping back. Leannan sucked in a dramatic breath, pressing his hands to his chest.

“Are you alright?” James asked, as if he’d just seen Leannan get a papercut.

“Oh, of course, Master James,” Leannan said, throwing a bit of extra wheeze into his voice, “I’m made for this.”

James nodded awkwardly. “Right. I will… I’ll be going now. Enjoy your room.”

With that, James turned on his heel and swiftly exited.

Leannan stared after him, a smile creeping over his face. He rushed to the vanity, leaning down and examining his neck in the mirror. James hadn’t even choked him hard enough to bruise. Gullible, stupid man.

Leannan straightened and looked around, taking in the room once more. His room. It was all his. Compelled, he jumped to the middle of the room and spun around in joyful circles before flopping onto the bed, grinning at the ceiling. Then he clasped his hands over his chest and shut his eyes.

“Dear God. I’m very sorry for talking back to Phineas so much. I know you sent Ransom to me because of that, and I’m very sorry. But I submitted myself to Ransom, and to Phineas, and now you’ve rewarded me, and I’m really, really grateful. Like, super. Anyway, now I’m going to be the best concubine ever. I will do everything my masters want. Please, please, let me stay here for a long time. Amen.”

~~~

Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @thecyrulik

Let me know if you want on or off the taglist!

#whump #whump fic #whump writing #forged divinity #cw slavery #cw religion #cw death #cw alcohol #cw abuse #cw choking

6 notes · View notes