Chapter Text
Hunter didn’t take sick days.
There was a time when he did. As a small child, he felt comfortable going to his Uncle when he felt unwell. He’d complain of his symptoms and Belos would relieve him of his studies for the day after gently feeling his forehead and tsking at the warmth. He’d tuck him into bed and make him soup and tell him stories, and young Hunter would relish in the comfort.
Those days were but a distant memory, but they were still very fond and precious to him. It was why he was so quick to pander to Belos’ every need. He knew he could be kind and caring, and he would do anything to earn that love and affection back. It was why he was so quick to believe his Uncle did everything for the greater good.
The years went by, and as Belos started gaining more expectations of him, things were not as warm and comfortable. Days he’d fall ill and come to his Uncle no longer resulted in gentle caretaking. He’d come to Belos and complain of feeling unwell, to which he’d feel his forehead and let out a long, exasperated sigh before sending Hunter off to rest as requested. But the piercing disappointment in his gaze when he turned to return to his room was more misery than any sickness ever would be.
For a while, he stopped coming to Belos when he got sick.
The next time he came to his uncle was when he was around 14. He’d tried to work, he really did, but he could only do so much before everything started to catch up with him. He bowed at Belos’ feet, terror in his trembling frame as the older man towered above him.
“What did you want, Hunter?” Belos had asked, his menacing voice piercing Hunter’s heart.
“Just one day,” Hunter had begged. “One day off.”
“Why?”
Hunter swallowed thickly. “I-I tried to work, I promise…! But I… I’m so tired, and everything hurts so much, and I can’t--”
“The titan expects a lot from you,” Belos had cut in. “He sees your potential. He said you had a strong will. That you were strong and resilient.”
“I still am, I--!”
“But by all means,” He’d interrupted, “Go abandon your duties to get some rest. I’m sure we could find someone to replace you while you recover from your… mold.”
Hunter never asked for a sick day again.
Today, Hunter was curled up on his side, his chest burning with every miserable wheeze that escaped his chapped lips. For a few days he’d had a rising fever and a festering cough that only got worse and more painful the more he pushed himself. But it’s not like there was anything he could do about that. Him? Getting a day off? Completely out of the question.
Flapjack pecked at his blankets, trying to pry them off of his trembling body. Usually Hunter could understand him, but with his current fever it all just sounded like incoherent twittering. He was either trying to coax him out of bed to get to work… or get him up to find help.
“I’ll be up soon,” Hunter said, his voice rough from all the coughing he’d been doing lately. He hadn’t been able to sleep last night, what with the ache in his chest prohibiting him from ever getting comfortable and that goddamn cough never giving him a break. So he laid there, begging his aching body to muster the strength to get out of bed.
It took a lot of willpower to bring him to his feet, but he was only standing for a few seconds before he was tumbling down and he had to catch himself with the table. A dizzy spell had him reeling in a way that knocked the wind out of him and caused him to start coughing again.
It was a long and painful fit that rumbled deep in his chest and seemed to go on for an eternity. In between choking and hacking were short and wheezing gasps in a desperate attempt to get some air. The coughing got so bad that even that became difficult, and he found himself quickly losing air.
The world started to spin as he choked and wheezed, one hand curled around his neck while the other steadied himself on his table. He was desperate for air that never came, and the breaths that escaped him had him genuinely fearing he’d suffocate all alone in his room.
Shortage of air made his head spin, and he felt his consciousness had begun to escape him as well. He was soon toppling over and hitting the floor, hard, and this time could not find the energy to get up. He was more focused on trying not to perish from dyspnea.
Flapjack began flying toward the crack in the door, and Hunter reached out an arm toward the palisman. “No, p-please, don’t leave me here,” He somehow managed to wheeze out, but his voice became lost in the coughing.
He laid there, genuinely afraid he would die if he didn’t stop. His consciousness was hanging by a thread, just barely able to keep himself breathing by tiny wheezes that came sparse and weak every few seconds. His vision was blurring, but he could just barely manage to make out the door opening.
A large figure was entering, with a red blur floating beside its head which Hunter assumed to be Flapjack. He was horrified that someone was here to witness him in such a state, to see him so weak and so helpless, but he was also desperate for help. He didn’t want to die here.
“Titan, what the hell?” Came a baritone voice that had Hunter realizing the figure was Darius. “What happened to you?”
Soon, a gentle hand was coaxing him into a sitting position, and he was grateful for it, as he found it was a little easier to search for his breath this way. As he began gasping for air, the hand rubbed circles against his back, and a hushed voice was telling him to Breathe, Hunter, assuring him everything would be okay. He didn’t quite believe it.
By some miracle, the coughing had subsided enough for him to catch his breath, but the wheeze in his chest was so painful he wanted to stop breathing altogether.
“Your palisman came to get me. He was chirping frantically and pecking at my hair.” Darius removed a glove, pressing the back of his large yet gentle fingers to Hunter’s burning cheek. “Titan, that’s an awful fever. How long have you been like this?”
“F-Few days,” Hunter rasped out, his voice destroyed by the coughing. He probably looked so weak and so pathetic, but maybe he could at least save some face by the impressive feat that he’d managed to last this long working.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Darius asked softly.
I did, Hunter wanted to say. He’d been so miserable and desperate for help that he’d begged nearby scouts for some kind of support, some kind of assistance so he didn’t pass out cold on the floor but no one did. No help ever came. And now Darius had watched him almost suffocate on the floor and his voice was kind and helpful and not scolding. He didn’t call him weak or pathetic, he didn’t even seem to find him weak and pathetic.
Part of him preferred he scold and yell at him.
“Please help me,” Hunter begged in a whisper. “I c… I can’t move… I n-need to get to work, like, right now or I’m gonna be late and I can’t move-- ”
Hunter had to hush himself before he started crying. Not only would crying cause more coughing and cause him to be miserable all over again, but it would remind Darius just how pathetic he was, and he absolutely refused to cry in front of a coven head. Especially Darius.
He knew Darius expected a lot from him too, just… in a different way. Like everyone else, he saw him as a kid and wasn’t afraid to voice it. Hunter was so desperate to prove that he was so much more than that, that he was strong and useful and brought so much to the table but now… now he was a pathetic heap in Darius’ lap and there was nothing he could do.
“Breathe, little prince. I’ve got you.”
And that nickname. Little prince. It was so condescending, and he knew it. He knew it wasn’t a term of endearment, it was an accusation that he was nothing more than a child. It was mean, and it was patronizing, and…
And right now… it made him feel so warm and comforted.
“I don’t think you can work in this condition,” Darius said, stroking back the bit of hair that protruded from his bangs.
“But I have to,” Hunter whispered, keeping his voice low to avoid agitating his throat again.
“But you can’t,” Darius said oh-so-helpfully.
“But I have to.”
“But you can’t,” Darius repeated, gently lifting the smaller boy into bed and getting him situated under the covers. Hunter was too weak to resist… and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to. “The fact of the matter is, you’ve been working yourself way too hard, and now you’re suffering for it. Look, you’re just a kid, and--”
“I’m not!” Hunter said emphatically, and that started the coughing all over again. Darius produced a water bottle from a magic circle and coaxed the liquid between Hunter’s chapped lips, rubbing the small of his back until the coughing died down. “...I’m… not just a kid. I’m strong.”
Normally, Darius would just roll his eyes and cross his arms, but the way this kid so desperately shouted out his laments while miserable with a terrible fever had his expression softening. Titan, just what has Belos done to this poor kid? Why did he feel the need to impress everyone, all the time, even when he physically could not?
“Yeah, you’re strong,” Darius reluctantly agreed in an attempt to placate him into resting, “But right now you don’t have to be. Right now, you can be weak.”
“I’m not weak,” Hunter said determinedly, pushing himself up with his shaking elbows. “You’ll see. I’ll prove it. I’ll prove I’m strong. I’m not just a little prince.”
Suddenly, words of the past came crashing in all at once and a lot of things seemed to make a lot of sense. For most of Hunter’s life he’d been mocked and patronized for being so young, and that’s why he worked himself into the ground. That’s why he always worked like he had something to prove, that’s why he always went out of his way to do everything everyone asked of him with flying colours.
It hit Darius like a truck that he contributed so much to that.
Really, Darius never thought he was weak. Darius never thought he was undeserving or too young or not strong enough for his position. In fact, Hunter was probably the strongest kid he’d ever met. Darius just… had a lot of resentment. He hated Belos and everything he stood for, and seeing this kid so obediently adhere to his every word filled him with such anger that he wasn’t allowed to describe. Maybe he resented him because he couldn’t see through Belos’ sugar-coated lies.
Maybe he resented him because he wasn’t the old golden guard.
He shook these thoughts out of his mind. No more resentment. Resentment has caused this kid pain all his life, and Darius had to do something, anything to remedy it, even just a little.
“Okay, you’re strong, you’re very strong,” Darius promised him as he cupped his burning cheek, and he would’ve sworn that his temperature was rising. “You’re one of the strongest I’ve ever met.”
“Y-yeah…! I’m strong, a-and… and I can get to work, if I can just…”
“Sometimes, strong people have weak moments,” Darius said. “People get sick, and when they do, work becomes hard. Sometimes, even strong people need rest. Even I do. Even your Uncle.”
Hunter hadn’t thought about that before.
“So… you lay down, and I’ll help you recover, okay?” Darius said quietly, continuing to stroke his hair.
“But… but… my Uncle will…”
“Oh, for titan’s sake,” Darius said under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Who cares? I’ll handle that for you. Right now, you cannot even move. I’ll cover your shift if I have to. Just. Rest. ”
This was all so foreign to Hunter. Being taken care of, being cared for at all, even silently. He didn’t know what to believe. He didn’t know if he wanted to believe it. He would much rather Darius scold him or yell at him and then give him some kind of healing potion to get him back on his feet and send him on his merry way off to work. The idea of disappointing Belos was terrifying, even if he was okay with Darius being disappointed.
“And if Belos says no…?” Hunter whispers hoarsely.
“Then he does. And I’ll give you a healing potion to temporarily suppress your symptoms.”
When Hunter still looked apprehensive, Darius let out a long sigh, mumbling something about not signing up for this. “Look, I’ll make you a deal. If you’re not better by tomorrow, you can go… work yourself into the ground again, I don’t care. But today you’re resting. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”
“....Fffine,” Hunter drawled out reluctantly, pulling the covers up to his chin. He was just so exhausted and he couldn’t help it. All he wanted was to sleep and in his hazy mind, maybe he’d let it happen.
“Good,” Darius said, ruffling Hunter’s platinum hair. “I’ll be back. You stay put.”
It wasn’t like Hunter had a choice.
When Darius returned from his not-so-fruitful encounter with Belos, he found that Hunter had indeed stayed put but was very much not sleeping. He was curled on his side, a heavy wheeze in his breath that almost made Darius’ chest ache by proxy. He rolled his eyes, half-afraid Hunter would suffocate if he didn’t do something.
“Alright, Kid. Sit up.” Darius began to coax him out of his position.
“No… ‘M dizzy… need’a lay down…” Hunter said, but despite his argument, did not resist as Darius pulled him into a sitting position.
“You’ll be able to breathe easier this way.” Darius cupped his cheek, not so pleased to find that he was still burning the hell up. Though, he wasn’t sure what else he expected. “You weren’t able to sleep?”
Hunter had nothing to say to that. He’d been in and out of consciousness in the short time Darius was gone, but he was never truly whisked away into slumber. He was always too hot, too cold, too generally uncomfortable, and he just couldn’t find a comfortable enough position to actually sleep. His chest ached and that cough still would not leave him alone. But there was really no use in complaining about it. He lifted his head. “What did my Uncle say?”
“He said you could take the day off,” Darius said… which was… frankly… a lie.
Three hours.
Belos had granted Hunter three hours to rest. Even after Darius had reported how the kid would’ve suffocated on the floor if he hadn’t found him, the best his self-obsessed uncle could grant him was three lousy hours. But who cares? How would he know if Hunter takes off a few hours longer? It’s not like he paid enough attention to his nephew anyway. If it ever came to it, Darius decided he’d take the fall.
“Really?” Hunter whispered, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wasn’t sure whether or not to believe it, but right now he wanted to rest even if it wasn’t true. He felt like he’d die if he didn’t.
“Drink some water,” Darius said, changing the subject. He, again, brought the water bottle to Hunter’s lips, cradling his head to support him as he drank. This kid needed so much help, much more than Darius ever realized in the past.
He was only 16.
It was rare that he saw him this weak and desperate, so it didn’t hit quite often, but when it did, it hit hard. Hunter was only 16, and he was treated like an adult for most of his life. He may be strong and noble, ridiculously so for his age, but he needed to be protected.
And if no one else would, Darius will.