Prompt: Dark
Character: Leaftroll
Warning: ...okay, so it's technically no worse than the body horror that was heavily implied in canon. But I do show the process of it happening in a bit more detail, and yes, I do it to a child.
You've always been afraid of the dark.
Even after you start itching all over and your throat feels like it's been scraped raw and you're coughing until you can barely breathe and you feel too hot and too cold at the same time, your greatest fear is still being left alone in a dark room. "You need to rest," Mommy says, but still leaves the nightlight on every time she leaves the room.
Whenever Mommy and Daddy come in to sit with you or bring you soup, they always wear masks. Once, you ask Daddy why he's dressed up like a dentist.
"It's to keep us from catching what you have." He chucks you under the chin. "After all, if we're sick too who's going to take care of you?" Though his voice sounds jovial, the smile does not reach his eyes.
The first time Mommy comes in without her mask on, you ask, "Aren't you going to get sick?"
Her smile is tired. "Daddy told me you didn't like the masks." She reaches up to scratch the back of her neck as she says it.
One night, your nightlight burns out.
For what seems like hours you lie curled up whimpering and shaking under your covers, cowering away from the monsters that are part imagination, part fever dream, and part something far scarier that you still can't name. At long last, though, you work up the courage to push off the covers and go to the crack of light that you can see under the door. Your legs don't want to hold you up anymore, and you can only crawl.
"…lied to us!" Daddy sounds angry—angry and desperate. "What's going to happen to our baby? What's going to happen to you?" It's the first time you've ever heard him cry.
"There has to be something we can do. There has to." Mommy sounds worn—like she doesn't really believe what she's saying.
The next day, your chest starts to hurt.
At first, it's only a dull ache, but by lunchtime it's so bad it brings you to tears. You can't eat, not even broth. Daddy lifts up your nightshirt, and sucks in a breath when he looks at your chest.
"We have to get help."
"From whom?" Mommy is standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame; red blotches are creeping up the left side of her face. "Copenhagen is—"
"The fort at Kastellet." He's wrapping you in a blanket, lifting you into his arms. "I heard they were working on some experimental medicine. The chances aren't good, but it's better than doing nothing."
The light sears your eyes when Daddy carries you out of the door. You squinch your eyes shut and bury your face in his chest, shaking with chills and still sobbing from the pain.
The agony in your chest keeps getting worse and worse. It feels like you're being stabbed over and over again, only from the inside, and you scream with pain.
"Hold on," Daddy pleads. "I'm going to get you help, you just need to hold on a little bit longer."
As much as the light hurt, when he carries you into a place that's darker you start shaking with fear. Shadows gather around you—the shadows of monsters. Daddy screams. Then, you're ripped from his arms as the dark encloses you forever.