Moonflower #1
Prompt
Masterpost
Next
Warnings: torture, rape mention
They had stolen him in the summer, which seemed like cheating. He was a spring, and summer was for laziness and play after a strong season. He shouldn’t have had to worry about mortals trapping him in iron.
It didn’t matter now.
Moonflower had no idea where he was, except that he was far from the fae realm. The cell was unforgiving cold stone, with horrid iron bars that burnt his skin and weakened his magic. There was no sun, or clean air, or any plants at all. Not even moss.
It was suffocating.
What did they want from him? Wishes, or luck charms? Moonflower was a simple nymph, not gentry but wild. His magic was unimpressive; not suited for the miracles mortals often craved.
He could hear distant footsteps coming towards him.
___________________
Moonflower stuck his fingers down his throat, vomiting up the saltwater they forced him to swallow. The salt hurt like a thousand tiny cuts, the sheer amount of his making his tongue bleed.
The wound wouldn’t last long, but he’d rather get his mouth salted than see what it would do in his stomach.
The air stank of his burnt flesh, and the sizzling sound of iron on his skin still echoed around in his mind.
Summer was slipping through his fingers, and he was so tired. But he had to hold out.
He would not give them his name. No matter what they tried.
___________________
Stars, he was weak. Couldn’t even fight back anymore. In the beginning, he trashed and bit and clawed. It took three men to hold him down then, and now mundane rope kept him in place.
Fall was turning to winter, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to make it. Winter was hard on him; springs didn’t do well in frost. His color was fading, which had never happened, even in blizzards. His hair was graying, becoming brittle like dead leaves.
Moonflower was starving to death. He was starving for more than fresh meat and water, he needed light and air. He’d even settle for eating soil like a seedling. Just a taste of something other than cold stone and salt and iron.
He curled up on the floor the best he could, trying to stave off the cold. His clothes were long gone, and his nakedness bothered him when it hadn’t before. Plenty of fae wore nothing, but here-
He saw the way they looked at him.
He didn’t want to think about it. Moonflower closed his eyes and tried to sleep the hunger away.
___________________
“Good morning, fae boy.” Moonflower opened his eyes slowly. He had a headache, and the blood on his skin was still tacky.
“What, no snarling? Not even a little growl?” Moonflower said nothing. It didn’t matter what he said; it was only wasted energy. It was midwinter, and he just wanted to sleep.
“You look like shit,” said the mortal. He crouched down in front of him. Moonflower must look really pathetic if the mortal was so blasé about it.
“Got anything to tell me?” Moonflower stared at him. He felt numb, an aching emptiness.
“Suit yourself,” shrugged the human. He pulled out an iron knife from his belt. The mortal pressed it to his neck, searing his skin.
Moonflower whined, high in his throat. He couldn’t take this anymore. The salt, the iron, the rape.
And when he died, they’d just take another of his kin. Maybe they’d even snatch a seedling. He couldn’t let this happen to a child.
“Moonflower,” he croaked. The human pulled away, and the cool air did little to help the burning.
“What did you say?”
He dug his nails into his palms. “My name is Moonflower, and you may have it.”
The human grinned down at him, a sadistic look on his face, and Moonflower immediately regretted it.
“Moonflower,” said the human, and every muscle and nerve in his body was alight with magic, waiting for a command.
But then the human let go of the puppet strings. He sank against the cold stone, trembling.
“Now we can finally start your training.”
Of course.
It was never going to be over; it was never going to stop. No matter what he did.
Moonflower looked up at the human, and felt nothing at all.
taglist: @paintedpigeon1
36 notes
·
View notes