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whumpwillow · 11 months ago

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Demon's Haven 17

they are so so comfy

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masterlist

warnings: past torture, blood, whumpee wondering when caretaker will hurt him, self-worth issues

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“Just focus on getting better. Okay? That’s how you can help.”

Envy didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t know when the witch would stop pretending to care about him. Even if she was willing to take in a random demon—an already foolish move for any witch or human alike—she couldn’t possibly be alright with the idea of taking care of a demon prince. He and his brothers had a…reputation.

He wondered when she would stop being nice to him. When it finally caught up to her that he was cruel and evil and beyond saving. That he wasn’t worth her time except to cause him pain and show him just how wrong he had been.

He knew that’s what he deserved, but he selfishly wanted to enjoy her kindness while it lasted, however long that was.

Haven helped Envy back onto the bed, which involved him not standing and instead flopping onto the mattress as if he were climbing into a boat and then floundering embarrassingly. He felt his cheeks grow hotter by the second. The witch guided him onto his back and he was grateful to relieve the pressure on his ribs. She put a hand on his head and lowered him until he was resting on a pillow, then picked up a few more off the floor. She smacked the pillows with her hand a few times to fluff them, then placed them on the bed as well, Envy sandwiched in the middle. He could hardly remember the feeling of such luxury, even when he had lived his whole life immersed in it up until the angel took him. It felt foreign to him now.

“Good night…Your Highness,” she said.

She added the title as an afterthought. He hadn’t heard it in years—his subjects had simply used “My Lord” and his brothers, well, nothing at all.

“Envy is fine.”

Haven smiled. “Good. I’m not even sure how to do a curtsy.”

He smiled at that, and for some reason, his fear dissipated. That was, until he realized he was lying in her bed and she was clearly not.

“Oh!” he exclaimed.

Envy threw the blankets off himself and was about to try another disastrous climb off the bed when Haven stopped him. She put a hand on his shoulder—the less bruised one—and gently pushed him down until he was once again nestled among the pillows.

“No, no, please, just stay there,” she said, a bit exasperated.

He looked up at her helplessly. “I can’t just take your bed from you.”

Haven crossed her arms over her chest and erected her most put-upon expression. “You can and you will. Now go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

It was all he could say before he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

…

Envy woke not knowing where he was.

It wasn’t the cell. The cell was dark and cold, made of stone, and it certainly didn’t have a bed. It smelled of iron and copper and stinging silver, not the fresh and comforting scent of chamomile and lavender. Envy lie buried in soft sheets among various blankets and pillows—not the silken quality he’d been used to at his House, but which was still leagues better than waking up in chains with blood streaming down his back from the previous night’s whipping.

He wasn’t in his cell. He wasn’t back at his House. And he wasn’t in chains.

He processed this information for the few seconds it took him to remember what had happened last night and over the past few days. The memories resurfaced blurry in his mind, a haze of activity after so long spent in nothingness. He’d been summoned at the best possible moment and subsequently spent three fearful days and nights in a summoning circle before making a soulbond with a witch.

Haven.

She saved him. She could have sent him back—and really, it would have been the logical choice. Who in their right mind would make a soulbond with a demon just because he begged for it? The angel certainly hadn’t ever cared when he begged for anything, though it didn’t stop him from trying.

She’d cut herself. Spilled her own blood into his just to save him from his personal torment. Helped him stand. Supported him on that dreadful walk through the city where he felt he might collapse into nothing but a pile of bones at any moment. She’d taken him inside her home, tended to his wounds, cleaned him, comforted him…

And now he awoke in her bed.

Envy hiccupped. A sob rose in his throat, but he swallowed it down. He sat up and drew his knees to his chest—still wrapped in bandages. The place he awoke in was a mess, but it was a lived-in sort of chaos. Not one that he was familiar with. Sunlight streamed in through gauzy curtains half-drawn over dusty windows. Plants grew from a box just outside it, and more rested in pots on the sill. Some hung from baskets attached to the ceiling with thick rope tied into mesh holders. Books lined the shelves. Clothes littered the floor.

Haven, the witch herself, had curled up in a chair that resembled a giant nest. The cushion it held was just a circle set into a wooden frame, and Haven had surrounded herself in it with blankets made of patchwork cloth scraps of all different colors sewn together.

It wasn’t a dream. It took a few moments for this thought to settle in, for Envy to realize that he was really, truly, out. He was safe, if only for the moment. It felt strange to him after so long spent in darkness, wishing for some kind of reprieve, anything, anything. He almost couldn’t believe it was real.

Haven had been so kind to him. More than he deserved.

Then he remembered what he’d told her. His name—and all that came with it. His identity, his past, his wickedness. He remembered the fear on her face, the way she’d jumped from the bed and backed away, the way her eyes scanned the room as if to search for a weapon. He had no illusions that she wouldn’t hurt him if he gave her aim to, so he was determined not to give her any reason. He’d make himself as nonthreatening as possible. Take up as little space in her cluttered home. He’d live like a ghost, if that was her wish.

He sat, still and motionless, until Haven awoke. He didn’t want to disturb her accidentally, for he’d already caused enough problems already and didn’t want to test how far her patience could extend before it snapped. He wondered vaguely what it would take, how far he could push until she hurt him like the angel had. What he would need to do to be punished.

He swallowed the thought. It lingered inside him, thick and heady like molasses.

He held himself still, arms wrapped around his legs drawn up to his chest. Moving through the sheets made noise, however slight, and he didn’t want to wake the very person who had given up her own bed for him to sleep in. It wasn’t bad. The morning was rather pleasant. He was clean, and not in chains, and not in pain. He hadn’t slept in a proper bed in ages so he wasn’t used to the softness and spent a few minutes just admiring the sensation. He let his eyes close and tilted his head back, feeling the warm sun on his face, sighing.

“Envy?”

He jolted. The movement sent a pillow to the floor, causing him to wince. All at once, whatever peace he had managed to gain in the previous moment had fled him during this one.

Haven shifted in her nest-chair and let out a small groan. She reached her arms up above her head and stretched, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Envy waited patiently, unmoving. The witch squinted at her resting place, momentarily confused like she didn’t know how she’d gotten there.

Haven sat up in her nest chair, a variety of multicolored pillows falling to the floor around her. A blanket slid off her shoulders to pool around her hips. She still had on the same dress from yesterday.

“I—” Envy began in a weak voice.

“You’re awake.”

He nodded.

Haven stretched again, then glided out of the nest-chair amid a tumble of pillows and blankets. She padded over to the bed, and Envy willed himself not to flinch. All she did was pick up the fallen pillow and set it back at the head of the bed.

“Sorry…” Envy began.

Haven held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Did I wake you?” he asked tentatively.

Haven shook her head and smiled. She reached toward him and Envy ducked on instinct, thinking she was about to hit him, but she merely went to touch a bandage that had come loose at shoulder, but paused when she noticed his reaction. She gave him a sheepish look.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine.”

She sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Envy eyed her movements warily. He set his hands down on the bed, but kept his legs pressed against his chest.

“How are you feeling?” Haven asked.

Envy opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. He needed to give her an answer, to not say anything would be rude, and even when he thought he could push her to hurt him, he didn’t want to, he just wanted an end to the pain. He was in so much pain.

It came back to him once he awoke, the effects of his wounds. The pleasurable feeling of being clean and sleeping on a soft mattress rather than a cold stone floor greatly lessened the effect, but the sensation was still there. The licks of the whip that cut into his back, burning fire in stripes down the skin that tore and rended the flesh. The holy water that had marked him, had turned his insides to molten gore. The weeping wounds, the dark bruises. The bone-deep exhaustion that still plagued him, no matter how much he slept.

“I—” Envy began.

He could tell her the truth. He was already pathetic enough as could be, falling all over the floor and weeping in her arms. But he could tell her he was alright, and save some face at least. It had nothing to do with him not wanting her to worry.

“I’m alright,” he lied.

“Hm,” Haven murmured.

Her eyes narrowed, like she didn’t believe him. Envy wondered when she’d gotten so good at reading him. He attributed it to his exhaustion—he was usually much better at this back in his own realm.

His old life.

Haven set a hand on the bed, an inch from his own. “You can tell me,” she said. “If you’re in pain. If you’re hurting. If you feel like you want to cry, or scream, or do whatever it is that would make you feel better.”

She looked up at him then, quick enough that it didn’t give him a single second to recover from her statement and he was caught in full view during the throes of his misery. His eyes had begun to well again with blasted tears and he cursed himself for it. He just couldn’t seem to stop.

Haven smiled gently. “I told you before. You needn’t soften your grief around me.”

A sob escaped him, one he had barely been holding back. Envy clenched his teeth, wishing it was enough to will some semblance of composure back into his expression, but the tears had already started pouring down his cheeks. Awful, wretched sounds came from deep within him, from a place he tried his hardest to bury.

“It hurts,” he whimpered.

Haven nodded, and drew him in close. Envy curled into her easily. She wrapped her arms around him, one hand on the bandages covering his back, and the other in his hair. She brought his head toward hers and their foreheads touched, and at once, all the thoughts in Envy’s mind that told him he was unworthy, were silent.

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(taglist in reblogs)

#im tricking you guys into thinking im someone who updates on a consistent basis #you fools...you are falling right into my trap /lh #whump #whump writing #my writing #willow writes #original work: demon's haven #demon whump #demon whumpee #oc envy #oc haven

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