Work Text:
Howie hissed as the cold iron burned into his palms. His skin sizzled as if burned and he reflexively tried to drop the rod, but Kristoff had prepared for this. He’d tied Howie’s hands to the bar preemptively. This wasn’t his first time around the block.
“Ah-ah,” tutted Kristoff from somewhere behind Howie where he couldn’t see. “Keep your hands on that iron, Howard. It’s good for you.”
The fairy grit his teeth, feeling as if his jaw would pop from the pressure. He screwed his eyes shut, brows furrowing in concentration as he focused on calming his breathing. It did little to distract from the pain and instinctive fear that coursed through his veins at the contact.
But this is what he wanted. This is what he asked for, he told himself over and over again like a mantra. Just a few moments of pain then it will all be worth it…
Kristoff took his eyes away from setting up his tools to glance at Howie, his shoulders hunched over, wings quivering, arms stretched forward, and fingers desperately trying to peel away from the metal rod he was affixed to. The nervous energy practically ebbed from him into the room. The only thing steady about the fairy was the way he planted his feet.
So there still was a little determination left in him, after all, Kristoff mused silently. Impressive.
Turning his attention back to his bag of surgical paraphernalia, Kristoff resumed sorting through the packages of unopened sterile scalpels, syringes, cauterization tools, and more. He took his time, unbothered by the groans of pain coming through bared teeth just a few feet over.
Finally, his gloved hand wrapped around what he had been searching for: iron shears.
They were old fashioned but wickedly sharp. He maintained them with near-reverence. He took pride in the tools of his trade. His real trade.
Turning back to Howie, the imp grinned to himself as he approached the bound fairy slowly.
“Now, Howie, keep it together for just a bit longer. The iron will stop burning when we’re done, okay?”
He reached up and gently traced a hand along the delicate wing in front of him. It was beautiful: nearly transparent and almost intangible with how thin it was. The tips curled in a way only fae biology could do and they seemed incredibly sensitive as Kristoff brushed his hand along their swirling lines. Howie’s wings seemed to try and curl in on themselves and his breath hitched.
“O-okay,” he responded quietly as he finally remembered to breathe.
“Don’t be scared,” reassured Kristoff. “I’ve done this before.”
Howie didn’t feel reassured. It wasn’t Kristoff’s qualifications he was worried about. He held his breath and kept his eyes squeezed shut as he braced for the first cut.
Kristoff moved incredibly slowly as he brought the shears to the base of Howie’s left wing and squeezed. The blades sliced through the wing at the speed of molasses before finally clicking shut with a snip!
Howie whimpered despite trying to hold everything in. It didn’t take a genius to sense that Kristoff was a sadist and was clearly drawing this out as long as possible. His chest heaved with deep breaths as a sweat broke out over his skin.
“Can you hurry it up, please?” asked Howie through gritted teeth.
Kristoff smiled. Howie didn’t have to see it to feel its presence.
“This isn’t a run-of-the-mills procedure, Howard,” he chastised as he positioned the shears along the next section of his wing base. “Precision … is … key.”
Snip!
Howard dropped his forehead to the wooden table underneath his torso, his long hair falling over his shoulders in a cascade. He didn’t know whether to flinch away from the burning iron in front of or behind him so instead he flinched downwards.
That was a mistake because it made Kristoff firmly grip the base of his wing to hold him in place, his fingers uncaring for the raw edge he’d just cut into.
It continued like this for some time. Howie lost track as his mind had no choice but to drift away from him. Perhaps he’d fainted from the pain. Of course, Kristoff had made the argument that anesthetic would threaten the success of the procedure, but Howard had seriously doubted the validity of that claim.
But as Howard came to and regained awareness of his body, it took him perhaps a moment too long to realize his palms rested on the iron rod affixed to the wooden table, as before. But this time the metal didn’t sizzle under him. His skin burned still, but only as if he’d just taken his hand off a hot stove. The metal felt cold under his fingertips and it soothed his burn instead.
“How does it feel? To touch iron without drawing back in pain?”
Howie turned over his shoulder to see Kristoff wiping down his iron shears with a cloth that looked to be stained with blood. His blood, Howie realized.
He turned back to his hands, still tied down to the bar with leather straps, and stared. He flexed his grip a few times to test it, wincing as he aggravated the fresh wounds still burned into his palms.
“It feels… strange. Cold, but not burning.”
The clatter of metal being placed down gently preceded Kristoff’s footsteps approaching once more. The room felt so quiet now that Howie couldn’t hear his own heartbeat in his ears anymore.
Kristoff reached over and released Howie from his makeshift restraints. He straightened up, nursing his injured palms as he turned to face Kristoff and rested back against the table again.
Now that he was looking at the small room, it was hard not to notice the glass cloche that now housed a glowing blue light. The same color as the crystal Kristoff had given Howie to wear around his neck.
“So that’s it then? I’m free? I’m…”
“Human?” Kristoff shrugged noncommittally. “More or less. Your soul resembles a human’s now, at least.”
Howie nodded gravely as he cradled his hands against his chest.
“Congratulations,” Kristoff continued with a wide smile. “Your soul is now so damaged, no one will be able to authenticate it, making you — officially — worthless. That makes you a free agent as far as you’re concerned.”
Howie nodded numbly. He felt so strange, so different, so wrong.
“Just be sure you avoid that demon you sold it to the best you can. I wouldn’t put it past them to just kill you anyway to spite you.”