A/N: This chapter is shorter, but it's a rough one.
Trigger warnings: Self-deprecation and internal dehumanization. Seriously, it gets bad, and the worst of it is done in the second person (using 'you' pronouns). Referenced child neglect and abuse. Suicidal imagery and discussion.
Please take care of yourself and tread with care.
Dog. Cur. Beast. Animal. A threat to himself and everybody around him. A dangerous threat to society who was either a burden, or a menace who would be better off dead before he destroyed everybody he cared about.
Hector growled and howled. So many feelings were twisting up in his chest and it was impossible to keep it contained. He wanted to get rid of these feelings in a physical way, but he was pinned to the ground and restrained from moving his arms at all. He had to resort to using his voice.
His chest hurt. His head was pounding. His ears were ringing. His throat was raw. His screaming made it all worse, but he couldn't stop. He felt like if he didn't get the feelings out then they would just bottle up until they destroyed him from the inside out. Not that he wouldn't deserve it.
Hector grew so tense that it felt like he would never be able to loosen up again. His muscles and limbs were stiff, and that wouldn't be changing any time soon. He clenched his fists, trying to dig his fingernails into his palms, but his gloves made it impossible. .
Hector squirmed and twisted to try to do something, anything, to either get his body to relax, or to hit something and try to physically get this twisted feeling out of his chest. It did little good. The only thing Hector could properly move was his head. In his struggle he slammed the back of his head harshly against whatever was pinning him down.
Hector groaned and slumped slightly, dazed and confused. It hurt, but when the pain started to fade Hector realized that the dazed feeling had completely overpowered the pain, fury, and fear that seemed to be eating him alive. Now that the ache in his head was dulling those feelings were coming back, and Hector didn't want them.
Desperate to make the pain in his chest and the noise in his head go away, Hector lifted his head off the ground before slamming it down harshly. It made everything quiet for one blissful moment before it started to creep back. Hector took in a harsh breath, clenching his teeth and smirking ever so slightly to himself. He lifted his head back again, slamming it against the ground even harsher than before. He felt a burning pain in the middle of his face as warm liquid began to drip gush from his nose.
Hector laughed, and he couldn't bring himself to stop. He just kept on laughing and laughing. It hurt, and it felt wrong, but he felt physically incapable of stopping. He tried to hit his head, but something softened the blow. It was uncomfortable, but it didn't hurt like it should. Like he deserved. Hector growled and tried to lift his head back again, but a firm hand pushed his head down, keeping it there. Hector was completely immobile.
His laughter became sharper, louder, and higher pitched until he was screaming. He felt his throat straining and cracking under the pressure. He knew he should stop before he seriously hurt himself, but he couldn't.
He could feel the rumbling of the chest of the person who was pinning him down. They were talking to him, but he couldn't understand a word that was said. His ears were ringing far too much for him to understand anything.
Hector screamed and shouted until his throat completely gave out on him. He couldn't do anything but whimper pathetically, and even that burned. Unable to get his voice or body to work for him, Hector had no way of quieting his own traitorous thoughts.
You hurt him. You hurt your own nephew! You lost control, just like you always do, and now Varian is hurt because of it, and it's all your fault. You just couldn't hold yourself back, could you? Couldn't look before you struck. No, you just had to attack blindly, like the wild animal that you are.
Why do you always hurt those that dare to get close to you? Edmund. Quirin. Adira. Varian. You've done nothing but hurt them and bring them down, and they deserve better than that. They deserve better than you.
Varian's never done anything but help you, and you just turn around and bite the hand that feeds you, like always. You really are a dog. Worse than that, you're a mongrel. A cur. A beast that should be put down!
He tried to teach you. He knew what you were from the start. He never wasted either of your time by trying to make empty reassurances and telling pretty lies. He always put you in your proper place. He knew you would always be a dog, and that would never change, but at least he tried to teach you how to be a good dog. An obedient pet. It was better than being wild and temperamental.
Why did you ignore his lessons? He knew better than you did. Fathers always knew best.
He had always told you that he should have had you put down as soon as he realized what you were. Not for the first time you wish that he had gone through with it. Your family, the Brotherhood, Varian, they all would have been better off without you.
There had been many times in Edmund's life when he had felt completely useless. This was probably one of the worst instances. Edmund was a king. He was supposed to be a leader. It was his duty to protect his people, and he couldn't even protect his own brother.
Edmund had hated having to pin Hector to the ground, but there was nothing else to do. When Hector was furious he got aggressive. Edmund usually didn't see a problem with the aggression, but he hated it when that fury was turned inward. He didn't mind Hector's more violent tendencies, as knights of the Dark Kingdom needed to not be afraid to do what was necessary to protect the moonstone, but he didn't like it when Hector tried to be violent towards himself.
Hector was so strong. He was the most loyal person that Edmund knew. Hector was good, and it was painful to know that Hector himself was hurting so much because he had such a hard time believing something that was so obvious to Edmund.
He wished he could do more for his brother. Hector seemed to be deaf to every word that Edmund said. Eventually he stopped talking and focused completely on keeping Hector from hurting himself, whether it be unintentionally or otherwise.
It had been heartbreaking to hear Hector scream and growl. He was carrying so much pain within him, and he didn't know how else to get it out. What was worse though was when Hector began to hit his head.
Edmund was just one man. He could pin Hector down with his entire body, and use his arm to restrain Hector's arms against his chest, but he had no way of preventing Hector from slamming his head against the ground. Hector had hurt himself, had possibly broken his nose, and had made himself bleed. He would have kept going if it weren't for the sudden arrival of Lance.
He had thought that his son's friend had left with him and Varian, so Edmund was shocked when the man dove in and shoved his arm beneath Hector's head, cushioning the blow. Lance used his other hand to hold Hector's head down, preventing him from trying to hurt himself again. Edmund didn't think he'd ever been so relieved to have his orders be disobeyed.
Hector's screams grew in intensity, and Edmund was worried that his brother would end up seriously damaging his throat. It was a relief when Hector began to grow quiet, even though Edmund knew that the only reason why Hector was calming was because he had exhausted himself and was physically unable to continue fighting.
Edmund allowed himself to relax ever so slightly. He looked up at Lance, who was staring intently at Hector. "I thought you had left."
"I couldn't just leave." Lance said. "I know what you said about Hector doing best when he's around people that he knows, which was why I stayed in the trees, out of sight. I was only going to help if I thought you really needed it." Lance glanced up at Edmund. "I'm not going to apologize for staying. I would do it again."
"...Thank you." Edmund said. If Hector had continued to try to hit his head, Edmund would have had to sit them up, but then that might have given Hector the chance to squirm away from his grip. If Hector had escaped he could have run off, and he'd always been much faster than Edmund. Or Hector could have easily used his blade to slit his own throat. Edmund didn't want to consider the worst-case scenarios.
They sat in silence for a long time. The only sound that broke the silence was Hector's own pained whimpers or low growls. Sometimes he would grow stiff or try to pull away from them, but Edmund and Lance tightened their grip on him until he eventually relaxed again. Lance took a deep breath.
"You said this kind of thing has happened before." Lance said. "Has it always been this bad?" Edmund didn't answer right away, and Lance continued. "I know it's none of my business, and you might not want to talk about such a personal matter that involves your brother, but if there's anything I can do to help-"
It didn't feel right to be talking about Hector's feelings when he was right there, unable to understand what they were saying. It felt worse than talking about him behind his back. But there was no judgement in Lance's eyes. He only looked concerned and sympathetic. Edmund couldn't say for sure, but he thought that Lance may know more than what he'd been told.
"I haven't seen it this bad since we were younger than you are now." Edmund said. He had still been a prince, and Hector and his siblings had still been in training. To this day Edmund still didn't know what had triggered it. Hector had been having a bad week, but that was nothing new, or at least Edmund hadn't thought it was. But then Hector had started panicking and acting like he had when Quirin had first found him.
Quirin had stayed by Hector's side all day, getting mad at anybody who dared to even think about stepping too close to him. It wasn't until the next day that Quirin had confided in Edmund and Adira and told them what Hector had tried to do. If Quirin knew exactly why Hector had tried to hurt himself he wouldn't say. That was the part he kept quiet.
There had been many times when Edmund had worried that things might get to that level again, but this was the first time it had gotten so bad. Edmund had no idea how a young adult Quirin had dealt with Hector on his own. Edmund could barely keep him safe, and he had assistance.
"I don't know for sure what's going through my brother's head." Edmund said. "But I have a suspicion."
Lance quietly watched and waited. He didn't demand to hear more. Edmund felt that if he chose not to betray his brother's privacy, then Lance would respect his decision. At the same time though he was willing to offer a listening ear.
"Hector has always been sensitive about being compared to animals." Edmund said. "Specifically dogs." He decided to not disclose why. Lance didn't need to know that Hector's father had, for reasons that nobody had understood, treated him like he was an attack dog rather than a son. He didn't need to know that the only reason why Quirin had found Hector in the first place, and been able to get him away from his father, was because he'd been left outside for days and had been beaten so badly that he couldn't resist or try to fight against any potential threat.
Quirin had only been trying to help Hector, but he'd had a hard time telling the difference between friend and foe. As far as Hector had been concerned, anybody that gave him attention was out to hurt him, because that was all he had ever known. If he'd been in any condition to fight Quirin, he would have, and he probably would have won.
"Sometimes, when Hector's mind is especially unkind, he will begin to believe those cruel things about himself." Edmund said. "I wish I knew how to help him." Edmund would do almost anything to help his brother, and it hurt to know just how useless he was right now.
"You're doing a lot more for your brother than you know." Lance said quietly. "If you weren't here, who knows where he might be now." Lance let out a slow, shaky breath. "At least there aren't prison bars between the two of you."
Edmund gave Lance a careful look. "Did you know someone who-"
"I didn't know them well." Lance said quietly. "They were locked in the cell across from me when I was in prison about five years ago. I didn't even know their name. They were so young, only about Varian's age. I knew they were struggling for weeks. I tried to talk to them, but nothing seemed to help. One day they were having a really hard time, and the next they were gone"
Lance sighed, his eyes distant. He was lost in the past and the thought of what should have been. "It happened slowly. It took hours, and I couldn't do anything but watch the whole time. They stopped responding to what I was saying, and the guards didn't come to investigate the shouting until the next day when it was all over."
"I swore that I would never let that kind of thing happen again. Whether I'm really close to somebody or not, nobody deserves to go out like that." Lance said. "That was why I needed to stay."
Hector whimpered beneath them. He muttered something, though Edmund couldn't understand it. He leaned closer to Hector.
"What was that?" Edmund asked.
Hector squinted his eyes open. He was looking towards Edmund, though it was impossible to say if he was actually seeing him there. "P-please."
"What do you need?" Edmund asked desperately. "What can I do?"
Hector took in a raspy breath. He seemed oblivious to the blood dripping into his mouth. "...Hurts." Hector said. "Make it stop. Please, Eddie, make it stop."
Edmund grimaced and took in a deep, slow breath. "I'm sorry, brother, but I can't." Edmund didn't know whether Hector wanted Edmund to quiet his thoughts, which he couldn't do, or if he wanted him to put him out of his suffering, and that was something that he wouldn't ever do.
Edmund tightened his grip on Hector, both to keep him from doing something terrible, and to assure himself that his brother was still there. Hector was breathing, and he was in Edmund's grip. "I would do so much for you, but not that." He held his brother close. Edmund knew that he couldn't hold onto Hector forever, but he was going to do it for as long as he could.