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Hunter was sure the entire left side of his face would be swollen black by the time he woke up tomorrow. Though, if he was lucky, it would only be his eye. A bruised eye was more annoying than it was painful, and something he could deal with.
Hunter never considered himself lucky though, and Belos had hit him a lot. Knocking off his mask and going after the same side of his face. Hunter should be grateful for that, he supposed. One side of his face being swollen and tender for a week was better than if it was both. Besides, it wasn’t even a proper beating. All Belos did was slap him a few times.
What he counted as the most unlucky though, was that he still hadn't been excused. He was on one knee, his head hung low, his hands in fists. He wouldn't dare move without permission, it was just that his knee cap was starting to hurt. His neck was too, from hanging his head low. And most of his face, from the hitting.
It was generally not a good, fun time. He wanted to go to his room.
Hunter tried to comfort himself with the idea that Belos wasn’t that mad. He moved on quickly and was now sitting back on the throne staring into Hunter's soul. Hunter really, really didn’t mean to cause such disappointment. But even his best attempts proved pointless when failing was all he could do. Fail, ruin his Uncle's day, and fail again. It had to be hard, to have your only family be Hunter.
It was fine though. Hunter could do better. He wouldn’t fuck up next time, and there would be a next time. Hunter wouldn't be replaced, because when he succeeded his next mission there would be no need too. Belos would smile at him and tell him he was good.
“Hunter.” Belos’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Hunter's head shot up, his neck ached. He couldn’t tell if it was from looking down so long or the berating his head had taken. He held his breath, scared to make any noise.
“Come here.”
Hunter was good at orders. Most days it felt like it was the only thing he was good at. He was bad at making Belos proud, he was bad at not being annoying, he was bad at doing anything good. Accept orders, he did those perfectly. Without mistake and immediately.
Hunter went in such a hurry he forgot to grab his mask that was still on the floor. He hesitated when he got to the throne. Did Belos want him at his side? Was there a meeting he had forgotten about? Or was Belos too tired of Hunter's failure to bother with getting up to talk to him?
The answer was nothing like that.
Belos sighed, resting his chin in his hand. Completely and thoroughly bored with all of this. Hunter could feel the eye roll Belos gave him under the mask. “I meant on your knees.” He said, like it was obvious.
It should have been, Hunter didn’t know feeling any more stupid was possible.
Hunter fell to the floor before he could really understand what Belos just said. The second his legs hit the ground underneath him, he pulled in a sharp breath.
The overwhelming feeling of: I don’t want to, took over. Hunter tried to shake the thought, because that didn’t matter.
I don’t want to.
The idea wouldn't go away.
Controlled disassociation was an important life skill. And one Hunter took on often. Once he registered, what Belos was asking of him, he was gone. The sharp pain on the side of his face eased into a dull ache. The way his feet started to fall asleep was unnoticed. His breathing was automatic, perfectly even if not a bit shallow.
He couldn’t stay in his body for this. It wasn’t that bad, really it wasn’t. He just didn’t like it, it made him uncomfortable. A ridiculous reason to get so upset about it. So instead of crying or complaining like a child, Hunter shut off. It was easier this way.
Hunter stood outside of his body, watching the events fold out to someone else.
With numb practice, Hunter waited.
Instead of what Hunter expected to happen, Belos snapped his fingers just above Hunter's head. Hunter looked up, he did his best not to look as sick and uncomfortable as he felt, Belos rested his hand on the injured side of Hunter's face without warning. He didn’t mean to, but Hunter winced. The sharp pain of pressure was an unpleasant way to bring his mind back to his body. He was snapped out of his disassociation and back in the room. Back in his body.
“You know I don’t want to hurt you.”
Hunter wondered if anyone else in the empire had ever heard his voice so soft. Hunter tried to consider himself lucky that Belos was his uncle.
“I know,” Hunter leaned into the touch, grateful he could get it. This kind of touch was rare, and it was the kind Hunter took with greed. Even if the pressure hurt his bruising skin; it was worth it after days of not so much as a shoulder brush.
“If you were successful, I wouldn’t have to do this.” Belos tapped just under his swelling. It stung, and it was comforting. A swirling feeling of emotions Hunter didn’t have the time to think about now.
Hunter nodded, too weak and dizzy to answer.
Then Belos pulled away, and it took everything in Hunter not to chase after his hand. “The Titan had blessed me with you as my nephew.” Belos leaned back, and Hunter brain pulled him away again. More immediate than before, as if bracing for impact. It was a blanket away from the world around him. The fog of existing somewhere far away from this room took over, Hunter let it.
“It takes a difficult strain on me, when you fail,” before Hunter apologized on instinct, Belos continued. “But you know how to help,” why the thought of Belos smiling made Hunter shiver, he didn’t know. All Hunted could tell, from where he existed far away, was that he had gotten goosebumps.
“Of course.” Hunter's voice was dry.
He knew the rest, and it was simple, really.
Be quiet, hold still. If Hunter could somehow manage to follow those instructions, it went by quickly. Be quiet, hold still. It helped when Hunter left his body to pretend the whole thing was happening to someone else. But the rare times that he couldn't force himself to a mental escape, he repeated those thoughts to keep himself calm.
Be quiet, hold still. He wasn’t often told otherwise, it was the safest bet.
His only concern now that he had detached from reality was how to get the taste out of his mouth after it was over. Hunter had long given up on feeling clean. He expected that was something he would never feel again. Washing himself and his clothes never made him feel better. He would exist as dirty until he died. It took some time before he accepted that as fact.
It was that damn taste in this throat he could never get used to. That never adjusted or became easier to deal with, he couldn’t focus again until it was gone.
Maybe, when Hunter was in control of his body again, he could try something new.
A bite out of the bar of soap in his shower could work.
When Hunter woke up, he noticed three things immediately.
The first and most uncomfortable, was that he was swimming in his own sweat. It had to be enough to soak down to the mattress, cold and gross.
The second and more comforting was that he wasn’t disacosating. He was in his own head and body. His thoughts were calm and coherent.
The third and best thing was that his face didn’t hurt. There were no bruises or black eyes, he wasn't injured.
The rest of his realizations came together, the ones natural with waking up. At some point, he had kicked all his sheets off to the bottom of the bed. His eyes and cheeks burned like he had been crying. And based on the general uspet, sad, angry, feeling in his bones, he probably had.
A stuffed nose that causes a sniff proves it. He had been crying.
Hunter took a moment to glance around the room. His room. His room that had posters on the walls and a big map of the boiling isles. He had an “accent” wall that was painted a soft red. He had pictures of his friends on his desk and a lamp on the bedside table.
Not only was it his room, it was his room in his house. Darius said it was Hunter's house. Their house.
The thought of Darius made his chest constrict painfully, and Hunter closed his eyes.
Hunter tries to sit up, at least to air off or find something to clear his thoughts. To pull himself back together and process his sleep. What he discovers though, is the inability to move. He tried to lift his arm, and nothing happened. He had heard of something called sleep paralysis, though there wasn’t any monster in the corner. This felt more like being crushed alive. Like his body weighed too much to be lifted.
Be quiet, hold still.
A whine built in Hunter's throat at the thought. But nothing came out. He tried again, to produce even a small grumble. He was silent.
Panic set in rather quickly.
The only thing Hunter could do was open his eyes and look around. Reminding himself he was home, he was home with Darius and nowhere near the castle.
Of course, he couldn't prove it. He couldn't call for Darius or touch his decorations he had picked out himself. He had no hard evidence that any of this was real. For all he knew, he was still in the throne room. On his knees. The life he had lived could all be one hell of a hallucination Hunter created to pass the time.
Hunter couldn't speak but he could hyperventilate. That too, set in quickly. His body still wouldn't let him make any loud noises, which Hunter was only now recognizing as some kind of defense mechanism. He felt like he was wheezing, gasping for air, panting, but there was no noise.
He wasn’t supposed to be too loud, he wasn’t supposed to move. He just supposed to fucking lay there and take it-
His hands didn’t move how he wanted them too, but they managed to start shaking all on their own.
All still, all quiet panic attacks are new. New and unheard of. Leave it to Hunter to have the first one. Trembling in a pool of his own sweat heaving in shallow gasps of air, unable to even call for help.
He closed his eyes, and did his best to calm his breathing on his own. He had to be able to move eventually. Because all of this was real. It happened, it happened to him. Hunter felt crazy most of the time, but he wasn’t that delusional. This life was real, his friends were real, his age was real. It had to be.
Hunter didn’t pray. Not unless he was having a particularly bad day or Belos asked him too. Going to the human realm, after having his entire world shattered, Hunter stopped believing entirely. He didn’t care that the Titan was a real thing he lived on, he was too angry to bother with belief in its power.
He went back and forth, to this day. Some days he felt like the Titan was the only thing in the world that could understand him. That he had to be grateful for what the Titan provided and obey it to earn its protection. Other days, it was just a corpse decaying in the water.
Hunter hadn’t decided how he felt today. So he didn’t think about it, instead, he began to pray. It was a silent one he did behind squeezing closed eyes.
He asked the Titan to keep his dream and dream. To let Darius come in and pull him out of his own head. To regain the ability to move so that he gets out of bed.
Praying to the Titan sometimes felt like asking Belos for forgiveness. It was desperate, apologetic, pathetic. Hunter was to convince the Titan he was worthy of being helped. Worthy of living this life and moving on from what happened to him.
The Titan never answered him.
At least he could hear what Belos had to say when he was done begging.
Belos wasn’t here, Hunter had just looked around the room and seen that. It was his body that hadn’t yet gotten the message, still unmoving and silent. His body didn’t matter though, Hunter knew Belos was gone. Hunter didn’t need his answers, he could pray in silence.
And the most important thing he prayed for, was Darius.
Hunter could hear Darius downstairs, faintly. Starting breakfast, making coffee, taking his hair down. Darius was so close, all Hunter needed was a morning check up. Once Darius saw Hunter, breathing heavily and shaking in his sweat, he could fix it.
Maybe the idea of Darius having some magical ability to fix all of Hunter's problems was unfair.
Whatever.
Hunter didn’t need fixing, he needed help. He needed comfort. He needed someone who could get him to move again and then maybe a body size jug of ice water. He was melting in his bed, uncomfortable and sticky. He had that after taste in his mouth, and right now the only thing he could do about it was silently cry.
It took all of Hunter's willpower to just wait. Listening to Darius move around the house unaware of Hunter's new found paralyzation. It was aganoxing, and each second passed as an hour.
It was only a few more minutes until Hunter heard Darius go up the stairs. The relief was instant, Hunter used most of his energy to glance at the door, trying to get a good view of it.
If he had been able to move, he would have burst into tears at the sound of the knock.
“Hunter?” Darius called, knocking again. “Are you awake?”
Hunter sucked in a deep breath before trying to force out a response. Even a single word he would take, all he had to say was ‘help’. He felt the words in his chest, he felt them rise to his throat. He had the air and the will to speak, he was so close. He could do it, he opened his mouth and-
Panting, the hand grabbed his jaw. It was more gentle than normal. “Be quiet, can you?” he whispered, “Just relax.”
The words died into a quiet whimper.
The door opened, just a crack. Just enough for Darius to look in. Darius’s eyes swept the room, and he almost brushed by. He leaned back to close the door before he did a double take.
Hunter widened his eyes as much as he could, locking eyes with Darius and staring hard.
Darius blinked, then came in. “Good morning little prince,” he smiled. He walked in, keeping the door open behind him. Darius made it to the side of the bed before his smile fell into a frown. He noticed Hunters shaking first, then how shallow and quick his breathing was. It was the damp bed sheets beneath Hunter that snapped his realization.
He looked at Hunter, “What's wrong?”
Even if Hunter could speak, he wouldn't have. The fact that Darius was here now was more comfort than Hunter ever needed. Darius was here for him and was giving Hunter his full attention.
Darius sat on the edge of the bed, his brows furrowed and his hands hovering. It took him a moment to decide what to do, slowly, he placed his palm on Hunter's forehead. “You’re burning up,” Darius went to stand up, before pausing. “Can you speak?” Genuine confusion etched across his face, his brows furrowed.
Hunter pushed out a sob, it came out as a choked and strangled noise. His fingers started twitching uncontrollably, under no pattern or reason.
“Okay,” Darius breathed, he was doing a good job at masking his panic. He sat back all the way, letting himself shift into the mattress. “Okay, you’re alright.” He ran a hand through Hunter's hair and his eyes flicked around to find something that would help.
Hunter wished he could hug Darius, but he was not in control of his body.
Like being possessed.
Like when Belos reached into him and took away more than he had ever taken before. Controlling every part of Hunter and leaving him to die. Even now, just the memory of him made Hunter frozen. Because everything wasn’t enough, Belos would always find more.
It’s the connection between being paralyzed now and possessed then that snaps Hunter out of it.
Hunter didn’t know why or how, he just knew he could move again.
The first thing Hunter does with the realization that he is back in control, is call out.
“Dad-“ he sobbed, his whole body hurt. Everything ached, he had passed the line of despair. He felt crazed as he tried to sit himself up, “Dad.”
Darius caught on quick enough to help Hunter sit up and pull him into a hug. “Hey,” Darius whispered, no longer masking his panic, “What's going on?”
Once Hunter could move and speak, it was all he was able to do. His breath hitched once before he burst into tears. Hunter wriggled onto Darius to be held, which Darius reciprocated instantly. Squeezing Hunter close and rubbing his back. Hunter couldn’t form words, so he kept crying. Heaving with the weight of his cries, inconsolable and desperate. Darius kept him close.
“It’s okay,” Darius adjusted Hunter against his chest, “Was it a nightmare?”
All Hunter could do was nod.
“Oh my little prince,” Darius breathed, “It’s alright. You’re awake now, I'm here.” Darius began to rock them side to side, small soothing motions.
Darius had no idea how much the act of being here made Hunter better. The ability to move and cry under his own control was relieving like nothing else.
Hunter wanted to explain that it was more than a nightmare. It happened. He hiccuped, “It-“ his voice broke off before he could finish.
Darius pushed him back just enough so they could look at each other. He tucked Hunter's hair out of his face. “What’s going on?” Darius mumbled. He was being soft, but his face was twisted in worry, keeping both hands on Hunter as a way to ground him.
Hunter shook his head, “Memory,” He managed to gasp out.
Darius nodded, “The nightmare was a memory?”
Hunter nodded, pushing into Darius’s hand. He felt safe, leaning into Darius’s touch. It wasn’t the desperate way he used to chase after Belos’s hand, scared it could be weeks until it happened again. Darius held him constantly, there was no fear that the hand holding him would reel back to hit him.
Darius stroked Hunter's cheek with his thumb, concentrating on Hunter's words. “Do you need too- want to talk?”
Hunter shuttered, remembering that he had sweat through his shirt. He shifted uncomfortably, he tugged at the end of his shirt, shaking his head. Even with the newfound ability to speak, it was still avoiding him. There was too much going on to try and speak in full sentences.
“Too hot?” Darius asked, pulling away.
Darius had been pulling away touch at any sign of discomfort a lot quicker nowadays. At some point, ‘There is no way the isolated child soldier raised by a Puritan knows what sex is;’ turned into ‘Anything that could be taken sexualy will be taken sexualy and the kid will not point out his discomfort’ in the past few weeks. It was a learning curve Darius had been adjusting to. For months, if Hunter was sick and threw up, Darius had no issue helping him change into clean clothes. Darius had no problem walking around the house shirtless. No problem asking Hunter if he needed help bathing during a particularly bad depressive episode.
It hadn’t been much time since Darius found out, but Hunter was sure those kinds of behaviors were done for the foreseeable future. Hunter felt bad, a little, that it did help make him feel better. Feel safer. Darius was just trying to be a good dad, offer help where it might be needed. Hunter never had the guts to explain the thought of Darius seeing him naked or helping him change his clothes made him want to die. Now, he didn't have too, because Darius was hyper aware of how all of his actions could be perceived.
Even now, when Hunter was still delirious with his sobs, Darius shifted away. “Let me get you a new shirt,” he whispered. Fully turning his back once Hunter started tugging off his top. Darius found a clean shirt and threw it behind him, lucky that it landed on the bed. The moment Hunter cleared his throat, Darius was back, pulling Hunter in and hugging him close.
“I’m not mad at you,” Darius began. Which always made Hunter more stressed than if Darius just spat it out. “But why didn't you call for me? I've been up for a while. If it was something you don't want to tell me, or if you didn't want someone else there I understand. I just-”
“Couldn't,” Hunter said. He did his best to lean forward onto Darius’s chest where he was before. He wanted to minimize the amount of tear stains he left on Darius’s clothes.
The hand in Hunter's hair stilled, Darius hummed. “Do you know why?”
Because I need to be quiet and hold still or it hurts or he gets mad or he laughs or-
Hunter choked on a sob. This one strong enough to bring mucus into his mouth that he had to forcibly swallow back down. He was incoherent with his crying, unable to begin to explain to Darius everything that was going on. He nodded, it was all he could do.
“Okay, that’s good.” It was obvious Darius was looking for a longer explanation. A way to help Hunter fix the problem so it didn’t happen again. Hunter hoped this never happened again.
“I couldn’t-“ Hunter gasped, he grabbed fistfuls of Darius’s shirt to anchor himself in. Nothing in the world could tear him away. Darius responded well, moving them both so he could rest his head against the rest of Hunter's bed.
“Couldn't what?” It was more comfortable now. Darius leaned against the pillows and Hunter shifted to lay next to Darius better. His grip didn’t loosen, but he moved to rest his cheek on Darius’s chest and hide his face from the light shining through the window.
“I had to-“ Hunter heaved, his chest hurt. Everything did, his whole body ached. His head was starting to pound from crying so hard. “Be quiet-“ he choked.
Darius was quick to put Hunter's broken words together, “You had to be quiet?”
The next shutter that went through Hunter's body was violent. It was intense enough that even Darius stiffened. Hunter nodded, “And-and still.”
“Quiet and still,” Darius pieced together.
Hunter whimpered, involuntarily. He sounded like a kicked beast. “He - I couldn’t call for you. I wanted too-“
“It’s okay,” Darius pressed a kiss against Hunter's head and he melted.
It was weird to Hunter still; that he could take as much time as he wanted to cry. From hysterics to gentle weeping, he was never rushed or pushed. Darius had and would spend hours if that was what Hunter wanted. It made him feel guilty, it made him feel loved.
Hunter felt like a child, clinging to Darius and hiding his face. As if the world around him would hurt if he could see it. Darius didn’t call him out on his cowardice, and let Hunter hide his face in the bed.
Hunter tried to repent for being so weak by attempting to form a sentence. “Belos-“ is as far as he got before he gasped. “The nightmare he wanted-“ Bile burns at the top of Hunter's neck and the hinges of his jaw. “He wanted me to-“ Hunter cannot stand the fact he’s too ‘riled up’ and ‘panicky’ to form a simple sentence. Hunter pushes up enough so that Darius could see him, he shook his head.
“I didn’t want to.” Hunter's voice was weak. Raspy, cracking over each word. He closed his eyes, “But I did.” He wonders how obvious his discomfort is on his face. If Darius could tell Hunter still had that taste in his mouth.
By Darius’s response, he could.
“Was it…” Darius stops talking and Hunter opens his eyes. Darius looks sad enough to last a lifetime. Guilt and sorrow edged into every wrinkle on his face.
They stare at each other for a long time. It’s Darius who gets the strength for words first, “He wanted you to- '' His voice is almost as broken as Hunter is. Fragile and scared, “Be quiet and still? When-” Hunter doesn't have it in him to hear the rest of that sentence. If he hears the word sex or rape his panic attack might turn violent.
Hunter cuts off Darius with a choked, “Yeah. I only moved if he asked.” There’s a flicker in Darius’s eyes, reflective and sharp.
Darius had more time to take care of his natural hair now that he wasn't a coven head, so he stopped wearing his abominations. Hunter liked Darius’s locs more, but what he did miss was the obvious indicator of Darius’s emotions. Big bubbles and movement meant he was angry, low slow movement meant he was sad. Without it, all Hunter had was his face.
Though, even without his hair, Hunter knew Darius was mad.
Hunter had only seen Darius turn into his abomination monster once. It was sometime after they found the grave of the Golden Guards. After a small discussion of ‘what the fuck do we do about this’ Darius exused himself. Hunter went out to find him when Darius wasn’t back within the hour. Eventually, after a long time of searching, Hunter found something. That something wasn’t Darius. It was a nine foot beast, tearing through a forest, sobbing and yelling.
Darius had calmed down the second he saw Hunter, and the two of them stayed in the woods a while longer.
Now, as Hunter tried to piece together Darius' emotions, he looked at Darius’s hands. It’s the only other indication he has outside of the man’s face. He was right to look too. The tips of Darius’s fingers were going purple, his hands were twitching.
Hunter felt safe and secure in the fact Darius would never hurt him; most of the time.
Hunter pulled away “You’re mad.” He glanced between Darius’s face and the increasing purple tint on his hands. Darius followed his eyes and flinched at the color. All it took was a deep breath for Darius’s skin to go back to normal.
He had that sad guilt ridden look on him again, “Sorry little prince,” he sighed, “I didn’t mean to get angry.”
“At who.” Hunter was sure Darius wasn’t mad at him, Darius was never mad at him. But he had to be sure.
The next deep breath Darius took shuttered, he closed his eyes. “Never at you Hunter. I’m angry Belos- I’m angry he-'' Darius turned away, “I’m angry he expected that from you when-“ It’s Darius’s turn to lose the ability to form a sentence. “I’m not mad at you.”
That’s more than enough for Hunter to be glued back onto Darius’s chest. The need to be held, even if it meant he was acting like a baby, was all Hunter could think about. He wanted to find a way to fuse into Darius so he’d never have to face the world again.
“That’s cruel,” Darius said. “That-“ he squeezed Hunter, tight enough to hurt, Hunter didn’t mention it. Darius’s breath was shaky, and Hunter could feel his heart pick up. “I’m so sorry, that’s awful.”
Hunter shook his head, it was too much to even begin to explain. Being quiet and still made it easier to disassociate. What he was upset about was the post memory paralyzation that left him feeling panicky and sick. Hunter wanted complete control over his body, no panic attack should be bad enough to take that from him.
“I’m in control,” Hunter mumbled
“You’re in control,” Darius repeated, “You get to move and speak all you want.” It’s reassuring to hear someone else say it. “We’ll figure something out, so that this doesn’t happen again. I want you to be able to move when you need to.”
Hunter nodded along, he closed his eyes. The taste of tears and sweat was much better than the taste he had in his mouth before. And when he is able to get the energy to stand up, he could get some of Darius’s cooking to replace that. “Thank you, for checking up on me.”
“Oh,” Darius breathed, “Oh my boy, of course.” He squeezed too hard again, Hunter likes the pressure. “I’m glad we know what happened, I promise we can fix it,” Darius paused, “At the least make it better.”
Hunter shouldn't put anyone on a pedestal. Still, he fully believes that Darius can make anything better. Maybe he’s spoiled, but he knows Darius will give him all the love and attention in the world. The kind that keeps him warm and safe. If Darius promises to help Hunter make it better, that’s what will happen.
“Can-“ Hunter tugged on Darius’s shirt, “Can we lay here? Just- just for a bit. I don’t-“
“Yes, we can lay here all morning,” Darius leaned far back onto Hunter's bed. Resting his own eyes and putting a hand in Hunter's hair. “As long as you eat at some point, I'm tired anyway.”
Hunter didn’t bother with trying to decide if that was a lie or not. “Okay, thank you.”
“Do you need to talk about it?” Hunter felt Darius open an eye, the man’s hand still on Hunter's head. Hunter opened his mouth to try, and nearly gagged. The thought of even trying to form the words and explain what happened was beyond overwhelming.
“No-“ Hunter rasped, “No I don’t want too-“
“Shhh,” Darius closed his eye again. “It’s okay, you don’t have too.” His hand went back to running through Hunter's blond locs. “Do whatever you need.”
Apparently, permission was all Hunter was looking for to start crying again. Curled up on Darius, protected from harm, he sobbed. Darius didn’t mention it, only physical comfort. He kissed Hunter's head every few moments, rubbing steady circles on his back and squeezing his arm.
There were no calming breathing techniques or reassurance. There didn’t need to be. Hunter got all the comfort and stability he needed from Darius’s presence. Darius didn’t mention the fresh wave of sobs outside of a low hum. “I love you,” is what Darius said. So that Hunter had no room to ever forget. And if Hunter ever wanted to talk about it, Darius would still be there. As for now, Hunter cried, and Darius held him.