I still want to put Wren in a box
As you wish! Of course I ended up with more than 100 words, so it's an almost-quadruple drabble.
Set in the Berkeley's Revenge AU.
contents: recapture, muzzle, restraints, trapped in a small space, referenced carved mark and amputation.
~~~
“I could use a break from having to see you, Rackham. Your face pisses me off.”
Wren glares up at Berkeley from inside the huge cardboard box he had been pushed into. As much as he hates to admit it, there’s nothing he can do, muzzled, forced into a curled up position with his wrists cuffed behind his back and his ankles restrained. Berkeley snorts and closes the box, and Wren grimaces as the sound of pulling duct tape fills his ears. He’s never been claustrophobic, but his stomach still sinks when Berkeley seals his new temporary prison with layers upon layers of tape. He’s trapped, and he has no idea how long he’s going to be left here, and he can barely move and the muzzle makes it harder to breathe and-
Calm down. He exhales and closes his eyes. Just stay calm until he opens the box.
He can’t give Berkeley the satisfaction of hearing him protest and struggle, and that thought helps him tune out all the other ones.
He hears Berkeley sit down on a chair with a satisfied sigh, and a moment later he flinches when the top of the box sinks with a creak, as if-
Ah. So he’s being a footstool again. At least this time it’s indirect, and he doesn’t have to feel Berkeley’s boots on his back. It’s the small things.
“At least you make a decent footstool,” Berkeley laughs, and Wren frowns. “Maybe I’ll just make the box into your new home? It’s cozy and I won’t have to look at you too often. Sounds like a plan.”
Wren’s heart skips a beat, but he forces himself to relax. It’s bearable. No matter what Berkeley does to him, he can survive it. He has survived so much already; being stuck in a stupid box is nothing.
It’s just that the box is yet another thing on top of the word carved into his chest, the loss of a finger, the forced haircut, the threats, the constant reminders that he’s going to be killed. He’s going to be okay, he’s going to be saved, he is - but as he’s lying there, in darkness, sick and tired of having to stay strong and only rely on himself, he bitterly wishes that his rescuers would hurry up and find him already.
~~~
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