#honestly brennan just wanted to check for injuries. he didn't trust kit to tell him if he was hurt or not.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Moonflower #11

Masterpost

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Warnings: torture

“This Saturday is the monthly dinner and social. You’ll be going with me.” said Mistress, as Kit cut into his steak. His portions had gotten subtly larger, and there was a basket of bread on the table. 

He had a sneaking suspicion that Christine was to blame; either she had taken matters into her own hand after the note, or Maxus had encouraged her. 

He appreciated their discretion, but still. 

Kit took a roll anyway.

“It happens every month?” he asked.

“Mhm.” Iris swirled her wine. “Supposedly to encourage good relationships between the lords and the crown.”

The way she said it, and the set of her jaw told him that she thought it was nonsense. Yet another thing that Iris didn’t like about her job.

“I’d prepare yourself for some back-handed compliments,” she advised. “Try not to take it personally.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Kit finished his plate and reached for another roll. Iris didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

For the first time in over a year, he went to bed almost full and nearly satisfied.

___________________

The stone floor was cold; freezing against his skin. He was completely nude and kneeling, his legs apart, and his forehead pressed to the ground. His arms were stretched out in front of him, and his shoulders ached.

“C-can I pl- please move, sir?” he asked, teeth chattering. He wanted to curl up, to at least be able to lick at the clean water dripping off of his body. He was so thirsty, and he’d been forced to hold his position for hours.

“No,” said the mortal, standing over him. “And I didn’t say you could talk.”

Moonflower whimpered, his arms and legs shaking.

The mortal tossed more icy water on him, and he couldn’t help but shriek. His chest heaved trying to take in air, but the chill made it hard to do much of anything. His muscles screamed with exhaustion.

The mortal crouched next to him. “Are you cold?” he asked with a horrid grin.

Moonflower kept quiet out of trepidation, but the human gripped his hair and yanked his head back. Moonflower whined, his neck far too vulnerable for his liking.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes, s-sir. I’m c-cold.”

The human tossed the bucket across the room, and it clattered loudly on the floor.

“I guess I should warm you up,” said the human. “I can’t let my prize flower freeze.”

Moonflower hated the nickname, but said nothing. He had already learned that lesson.

The mortal let go of his hair, and disappeared from his field of view, only to come back a minute later. He wore heavy gloves, and held glowing, red-hot-

No. no. nononono-

“Moonflower,” commanded the human, and even his blood seemed to freeze, “stay still.”

The hot iron cuffs wrapped around his wrists, searing into his flesh, and Moonflower wailed-

___________________

Kit woke up screaming, the dream disappearing as fast as it had overtaken him. 

His door burst open, and a knight stormed in. Kit scrambled backwards on the bed, fear and confusion shooting through him. 

What did he do wrong?

The knight grabbed his ankle and yanked. Kit yelped as he tumbled, his spine slamming into the floor.

“Wait- please-” he pleaded, rolling to crawl away, but the knight stomped his boot on his back, forcing him to the ground.

His breath was knocked out of his lungs, and he screwed his eyes shut. He was only wearing boxers; which were so easily torn off, and he could practically feel the fingers slipping under the waistband, roaming over his skin-

“What the hell is going on?” Sir Brennan’s voice filled the room.

There were no hands on him. It was only his fear playing tricks on him.

The knight standing on top of him shifted, and Kit choked back a sob at the pressure. If the night guards wore steel instead of leather, he’d have a boot-sized burn in the middle of his back.

“I heard screaming,” said the knight, defensive.

“So your immediate thought was to attack? Instead of, I don’t know, assessing the situation? Get back to your post.”

“You aren’t my commanding officer, Brennan,” argued the knight. 

Kit opened his eyes and saw Brennan’s boots move closer. He glanced up at him, and his dark eyes were furious.

“You mean Captain Brennan. I outrank you, soldier. And you’re on guard rotation for tonight, so you report to me,” seethed Brennan. “Get back to your post, now.”

The pressure on Kit’s back vanished, and he darted under the bed, shaking as he pressed himself against the wall.

“Yes, sir,” muttered the soldier, and Kit watched his boots move out of sight.

“Jackass,” mumbled Brennan under his breath. “What happened?” he said aloud.

“Nightmare,” said Kit, curling into himself. It was so real, nearly exactly the way it had happened. He was still shaking, the mere memory of the pain making him tremble.

“I see.”

There was silence. “You can come out now. He’s gone.”

Kit hesitated. He wasn’t sure why Brennan wanted him to, and he didn’t want to find out.

“No, thank you,” he whispered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” said Brennan.

Kit closed his eyes. “You- you said-” he cut himself off with a whimper.

He heard a sigh and the sound of a buckle. He opened his eyes, and Brennan’s sword fell to the floor with a clunk. Brennan’s boot kicked it away, across the room.

It was a nice gesture, but Kit wasn't moving.

“You had a bad dream, Kit. I’m not going to strike you down for that.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Where- where’s Maxus?”

“Stomach flu. Half the guards are out with it. I borrowed a few soldiers from Captain Blake, but didn’t have time to really train them properly.”

“Oh.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry,” said Brennan. “This shouldn’t have happened. Did he hurt you?”

“I’ll be alright.” It wasn’t an answer, and he knew Brennan knew that. Kit just wasn’t sure how much of the pain was the soldier, and how much was the adrenaline leaving his body.

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

Brennan hesitated, before crossing the room to pick up his sword. “Goodnight,” he said, still soft.

“ ‘Night.”

Kit didn’t fall back asleep.

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