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“Is this the thanks I get for taking you in?”
They’re words he’s heard nearly a dozen times before. He knows that tone, those furious eyes, their horrifying blue glow…
But this time, he has no answer.
“Look at me, Hunter.”
Even as his mind is frozen, his body complies, neck craning to accommodate the order. He meets Belos’s - Philip’s - eyes, cold and disappointed.
“I expected better of you.”
“I’m sorry, uncle,” he says reflexively. The words almost feel natural as they fall past his lips, the obvious response to his continued failure. His weakness.
But somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice protests. He thinks, ever so briefly, of his friends, his palisman, his…
It doesn’t matter.
“The titan does have plans for you, nephew. There is still a chance for redemption, if you are willing to do as you are told.”
“Of course, uncle,” he says against a dry tongue, a sour taste in his mouth. This is wrong, all wrong, but he can’t will himself to move, to refuse. He kneels, hands still bound behind his back, face bleeding and raw.
He wants, desperately, for someone to hold him close, to dab the blood away, to tell him that everything is going to be alright.
But there is only silence.
Two abomatron soldiers approach him from either side, lifting him by the elbows and carrying him obediently through the castle halls. Belos leads them further and further from the throne room until they’re descending a winding staircase far deeper in the castle than Hunter has ventured.
He doesn’t bother asking where they’re going or why. He suspects will find out soon enough.
It feels like hours before they reach the bottom of the staircase. His arms begin to ache, and he finds he cannot quell the fear bubbling in his chest. Belos waves an arm, and the abomatron soldiers drop him unceremoniously on his knees.
“Uncle-”
“Silence,” he commands, and despite himself, Hunter listens. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but with the day of unity fast approaching… You understand I must keep you safe, Hunter.”
“Yes, uncle.”
Belos turns around to face him, and the torches posted along the hallway light up one by one, bathing the dungeon in an eerie glow. He cups a hand against Hunter’s cheek, gentle, soft, and smiles. For a moment, he can imagine things are just as they used to be. He can imagine that he’s still the Golden Guard, the emperor’s most loyal soldier, his right hand man…
“This is for your own good.”
He pulls Hunter to his feet by the hood of his dingy blue cloak, and Hunter follows him down the seemingly endless hallway. They walk past dozens of empty cells, the smell of rot increasing in intensity until they reach the very end.
Before now, Hunter hadn’t even known this place existed. How many have been forgotten down here, left to the rats? Did anyone look for them? Will anyone look for him?
Belos lets go of his hood, and Hunter lets out the slightest breath of relief. He hears the abomatons approaching from behind, and between them and Belos’s curse, there’s no chance of escape.
Besides, his knees are shaking, and his breath is coming short and shallow. He couldn’t run even if he wanted to, and for some strange reason…
He can’t bring himself to try.
Belos procures a key from the folds of his cloak, unlocking the farthest of the cells. He guides Hunter in, sitting him gently on the stained cot. To Hunter’s surprise, Belos sits next to him, carding a gloved hand through his hair.
“This is only temporary,” he says, sounding genuinely remorseful. “We will be reunited soon, on the day of unity. Be good until then, will you?”
“Yes, uncle,” Hunter croaks out, hating the way he leans into the touch, hating the way he keens when Belos rises, leaves him alone in the cell. He listens to each and every receding footstep, only allowing himself to sob when the hall has finally fallen silent.
His wrists are still bound behind his back when he drifts to sleep, hoping to wake somewhere, anywhere else.