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The dungeon floor felt icky on his skin and had a stench in the air that Tubbo had learned to be accustomed to yet it would always make his stomach lurch. He laid on his side, unable to properly lay on his back since his wounds were still raw and new, possibly staining the floor through his blood and sweat-drenched clothing. The lashings he received were excruciating and almost made him go crazy, they've left him writhing in pain for weeks on end but the last one is just different.

It's been days since the last time he has seen something other than the same stone brick walls and Larry, the skeleton left at the opposite corner. It has stopped sending shivers down his spine whenever he lays an eye on it during one of the sessions. The cold wind that entered through the space under the iron door made him tremble, a grunt leaving his lips as he carefully curled to himself.

There were no more tears to spill, his throat was drier than the sahara desert for he wasn't allowed to drink anything but that strange potion in a vial, he'd always spit out. He would never make the same mistake before, he needs to stay conscious, who knows what the bastard will do to Wilbur and Tommy when he's knocked out. All the liquid in his system was spent by his cries at night. Nobody heard him of course, if someone did, they wouldn't say anything, horrified at the thought of crossing the dark king. Those, white eyes...

Uncontrollably, his body started to shake violently as a response to remembering the recent session. Weakly, he raised his arm before it came down to hit his good side repeatedly.

"St-Stop sha-shaking, stop-stop!" He spat out, he hated how weak he had been. He knows he's stronger than this, he has faced a vast variety of mobs and vile humans with Tommy before they got themselves captured. His previous history of mind-control must've fucked with his system.

The sound of footfalls echoing in the hall outside sent him into a frozen state, eyes widening in fear as he fixated on the approaching footsteps. It wasn't light nor heavy, not even a clack of heels. It's not the two siblings, not even the general. It's too fast to be his. He felt his stomach churn at the thought of the king coming back just after forcing the vial down his throat. Nervously, he waited in the dark, eyes darting from one block to another, unable to focus with anxiety surging through his veins.

When the door screeched open, Tubbo's breathing hitched as his body ran cold. He wished for it to be someone, the guard who brings his small portions of sustenance, or maybe Alexis who'd do nothing but clean his wounds. The orc, despite having the highest body count and being Herobrine's son, was gentle and sympathetic. Been nothing but a secret sweetheart to him ever since the punishment started. The only person Tubbo can currently trust in the castle with Tommy and Wilbur under a trance.

Slowly, he moved his head to try and peak at who his visitor might be. A gasp leaving his lips at the sight of the familiar golden blond hair, his tense shoulders easing.

"Jesus christ, you look pathetic." His voice full of disgust sent a pang through Tubbo's heart as he watched his best friend approach him.

"To-Tommy–"

"Don't talk to me, traitor." Tubbo was taken aback, jaw dropping as his brain processed his best friend's words.

"Wha-what?" He stammered out as the blond crouched in front of him. Tubbo took the moment to observe him, he looked clean and not in pain but Tubbo's eyes flickered up to meet the other's, squinting in the dark to try and find out his current state.

"To-Tommy what are you talking about?" Tubbo questioned as the male pulled out a potion from his inventory sending Tubbo into panic until he saw the red liquid in it.

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕊𝕚𝕞𝕦𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 || Karl Jacobs x ReaderWhere stories live. Discover now