(And welcome back everyone! I'm sure everyone is anxious to see the aftermath of the Black Hound fight. For anyone that wants a refresher on Black Hounds or Hell Hounds, They are basically supernatural creatures that mean death for anyone that sees it. The battle from before was actually inspired by one of the myths about the Hell Hounds; A story about a church that was giving out refuge to people in the depths of a storm. Then A hell hound broke through and killed every one there, leaving behind a smoldering trail of paw prints and charred bodies.
This chapter will contain a lot of angst. Along with some PTSD and panic attacks. Those who are sensitive to these topics proceed with caution.
Also, I tweaked the meditation scene to show a more vivid display of Frederick's current mental state. Its no longer just his younger self in there and Whitney's voice to be kind to some of the residents there only applies to a select few. Once again feel free to comment your theories about what the some parts of the boat represent. Nothing about the design or the aspects is random. Thank you and stay tuned for the next chapter. Now that I'm on break, be prepared for more to come!)
A plump honey bee buzzed about the golden tresses of Maria as she spoke animatedly to her fiance in the Pastel Garden; A courtyard lush with blushing roses and long orchids. They were sitting on a stone bench by some blue bells, Maria's most favored flowers. When she was finished, the young lady sighed as she stared lovingly into Blaine's eyes; The man replying to her dictation with profound and astute solutions to her ease her daily difficulties. This was one of the traits that she admired the most about her future husband though she did wish that he would express his affections in a more... physical way sometimes. But that was beside the point. There had been something Maria wanted to talk to Blaine ever since Gwen brought it up. As Blaine trailed off, Maria gently placed her hand on his fingers.
"Blaine, can I ask you something?" she asked.
Blaine smiled softly.
"Of course." He replied.
Maria squeezed his hand and scooted closer to him.
"You've done nothing but listen to me and my problems and... I just think it's only fair that I hear from you for once."
"Good point. As a future couple we must feel comfortable enough to share our feelings with each other. Ask away, Maria. My heart is open only for you ."
Maria's smile grew as she began to nestle her head onto Blaine's chest.
"Well, I've just been wondering how you've been doing ever since... the ball?"
She felt the muscles in his chest turn to rigid marble. She looked up into his face and saw a flurry of dread before he turned away.
"I- I'm fine. Wh-Why are you asking?"
Maria frowned. "I just wanted to know how you and your family have been copying with everything? At the funeral they were behaving...-"
"Well? Care to finish that thought?" The man's voice had dropped to a low serious timber. The sudden bass underlined with repressed anger made a shiver go up her spine. She lifted her head from him
"Well, your Dad did turn the service into a rally for his CC unit. He even had a registration booth in the church not even three minutes after the service. And your mother had to use an onion so she could cry."
"Father is very passionate about this issue and wanted to get together as many recruits so that we can eradicate such savage beings. And I'm sorry to tell you that I'm having trouble believing that mother was using an onion to cry fake tears."
"Gwen told me that she saw-"
"Oh, so you didn't actually see it yourself. Then in that case, Gwen must have been mistaken.
"Are you calling my sister a liar?" Maria replied feeling a hot flutter in her chest.
"I did not say that. I'm simply saying that it is possible that Gwen probably mistook another object, like say a handkerchief, for an onion. All that drama probably caused her mind to play tricks on her. You know how elaborate younger sibling's imaginations can be."
Maria felt her face get hot and she brought her hands back to her lap. Normally, Maria saw Blaine as a gorgeous angel, who listened to her with an attentive ear and spoke with gentle wisdom. But this felt entirely different. His words flowed out of his mouth like honey but beneath that sticky amber river was something rotten and sickly. Was this the beastly nature her father warned her about?
"But... Blaine... your brother has passed away. I'm just worried because it didn't seem like you were allowing yourself to grieve and your parents didn't even seem to care about what happened. Don't you think that's strange?"
Suddenly, Blaine shot up from his seat and his soft red eyes deepened to a boiling hue.
"Oh, so you need to cry to show that you care about someone?" he said his voice rising
"What? That's not what I-"
"My family is in more pain then you can imagine and we are doing our best to stay strong for the kingdom. I'm well aware that my brother is gone and probably never existed to begin with. I have no love for that revolting beast and see no need to mourn someone I didn't even know in the first place. All that concerns me is that wretched creature hid among us and had intentions to harm my family and my people. Right now, the kingdom needs to see that we have this under control and that we're calm. If they see distraught parents, then they are going to panic. The Plaid Kingdom is a force made up of strong minded individuals that rule with a calm head and don't let such trivial matters cloud their judgment."
Then her lover's eyes pierced into her soul with disdain; She felt something inside her wither away like a flower in front of a flame.
"Now, I don't like it when people make wild accusations and assumptions about us. So it would be wise to keep any thoughts you have about my family to yourself, my dear."
Those pale, cold red eyes brought back memories of her meeting with Blaine's mother, whom she briefly met before all hell broke loose. Maria shrank away from his gaze as she felt the same disgusted and shamed energy radiating from her fiance. Maria took a minute before she responded, needing a moment to erase the sorrow from her voice.
"I'm sorry. I won't ask again. I promise.
-
The rushing water of the river droned in Frederick's ears as he washed his soiled shirt beside the rocky shore. He barely shivered as cold water ran through his bony fingers and thin rusty ribbons flowed down the stream from the white fabric. When he had awaken, there was no sign of Whitney. Honestly, he was relived that he wasn't there. Whitney was already going to be furious when he realized that he had broke his promise to stay put; Even more so when he sees his torn, bloody clothes and Frederick didn't want to give him anymore to worry about. After all he was fine.
Or at least he thinks so.
It was hard to explain but after everything that happened last night, he felt calm. When he goes back to the events with the Whitney's tiger form and him attacking the tree, the feelings of terror are there. They just weren't as strong as usual. But what really puzzled him was that when he tried to recall memories of the hound, some parts were blurry while others were intensely clear. The blurry memories were the one that stirred something deep in him; Something that rattled in his heart and made it thump a little faster and slowly twist in on itself. Frederick clenched his shirt as he tried to clear the fog from his mind; It was something important. It had to be if it was the only memory making him feel anything at all. The rest of the memories were deadened; The emotions they brought up were just fragile specters of themselves. There were only two clear memories that made him tremble and tenderly touch his shoulder at the thought of it.
The bulbous yellow eye and pain.
A sudden touch at his shoulder brought the boy to his feet, claws drawn out. He turned to the stranger with a growl before seeing a familiar face that had gone two shades whiter.
"Hey, easy there. It's just me. What-What's the matter? I tried calling you but you didn't seem to hear me and I-"
Whitney trailed off as his eyes traveled down to the shirt in Frederick's hand. Frederick hid it behind his back but he knew that Whitney could probably smell what was on it. Whitney went quiet for a long time as a plethora of emotions flitted through his face. His body started to tremble as his lips pursed themselves into a thin line.
"Di-D... Did I hurt you?" He asked in a strained voice.
Frederick felt his heart sink at those words, "No! No! No! You didn't do this! I-I-I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to leave. I just got worried when I sensed something scary in the woods and then the hound-"
Whitney's head jerked up. "Hound? Wait... you don't mean that-Oh my God."
The older man dashed over to him and Frederick backed away, splashing into the river. Whitney stopped at the stream's edge.
"Frederick, please...I'm not angry. Even if I was, I would never hurt you. I'm just really scared... Let me see what that thing did to you. I need to know."
Whitney's words slipped out in fragile steps that shook with every impact; Frederick felt his chest twist when he saw Whitney's normally calm eyes shimmering with worry and fear. The teen approached the man and slowly began to slip off his skin from his torso. Whitney sharply inhaled as he saw the muscles on his shoulders and abdominal region marred by white scar tissue that spread across the red surface like a system of roots. Frederick winced when he saw his hands. His palms and fingers were etched by white tendrils that wrapped around each digit like cobwebs; The damage stopped at his wrist. Whitney slowly made his way toward him, mouth agape.
"Why... Why did you hide this?" Whitney whispered.
Frederick gawks at his hands in shock. "I-I-I... I didn't think it was that bad."
Whitney turned his gaze to the teen's eyes. Little specks of concern swam in his determined bullet hued irises.
"Tell me what happened."
And Frederick two sat down on the river bank and the teen told Whitney everything that he could.
When he was done, Whitney furrowed his eye, pinching the bridge of his nose.
"So... You got into a fight with a hell hound and don't remember the majority of the fight." Whitney said.
" Yeah. The events leading to the end are all fuzzy to me." Frederick replied, scratching the back of his neck.
"Its just... You do know what a hell hound is right?
"Yes. I know-"
"It's a literal herald of death. Anyone who sees it more then once is destined to die. And... you fought it... Are somehow still alive... And you don't remember anything about it... A moment like that is pretty important."
Frederick frowned. "It doesn't matter anyway. Cause I obviously won and its all over."
Whitney sighed and made his way back to the grass, motioning Frederick to follow him. The teen followed the man a little ways till they reached a small grassy rise close to the river bed. When they came to the top Whitney sat down and the cryptid did the same. Frederick watched the older man as he gazed out onto the clear bubbling brook and lush green trees.
"When I was younger, my father used to have my brothers and I compete for his favor. One of his favorite competitions was torturing political prisoners. The rule was that whoever got the most information out of them was the winner. I will always remember my first man. His shrieks of pain... The anguish pouring out of his eyes... All of it is as clear as day to me. The fact that you fought death's pet and don't even seemed fazed by it... Is concerning; A fight like that leaves both physical and mental scars. Not being able to recall most of it means that something is wrong."
Frederick felt his stomach drop.
"But I think I know something that might help clear the fogginess."
Whitney crossed his legs, straightened his back, and closed his eyes.
"This is something that they taught me in the monastery. It's not for everyone and it is hard to do the first time but it'll help in clearing out the haziness and dealing with those memories head on. It's better to confront them now because if they get left uncheck, then memories like that will get a little crazy and start to fill your head with thoughts you don't need. To start, just sit and relax."
Frederick copied Whitney's pose and closed his eyes. He listened to gently flowing of the brook and let his body fall into its lull. The soft babble began to grow into a low thundering; The deep drone rose in crescendo with every passing second sounding like the origins of a storm. When he heard the sharp slap of water on wood, he opened his eyes. His sight was consumed by a thick gray fog.
*Huh? What-What is this?*
In front of him he saw something move in the murky air. A large black mass ducked in and out of the soupy haze like a wolf hiding from a hunter.
Frederick's eyes shot opened in real time as he let out a small yelp.
The older man turned to him. " What's wrong?"
"I-I-I don't want to do this anymore. There was fog everywhere and I think something was hiding in there... Watching me."
Whitney raised an eyebrow.
(That's never happened before when I go in my head. Maybe its just different with him.)
He peered into his eyes with gentle care.
"Try again for a minute longer. It might even help if you told me what you're seeing."
Frederick nodded. "Um... Ok."
He closed his eyes again and was once again surrounded by fog and staring at the huge dark mass.
"It's still there, Whitney."
His friend's comforting voice whispered from the back of his head.
"Look a little closer. Remember this is your mind. Nothing can hurt you here."
Frederick stared at the large mass; The sound of crashing water matched the bobbing pattern of the mass. He made his way towards the thing; The fog grew thinner with every step and the mass began to take on a familiar shape.
His breath whooshed out from his lungs.
He was standing on the edge of an old dock in front of the biggest and strangest boat he had ever seen. The structure was more house then boat with its countless levels that seemed to stretch on endlessly towards the smokey gray sky. Each story of the building jutted out at odd angles like a child's wooden tower; Balconies that had no doors leading out to them proudly flew out while others were just the slight edges of stone rooms that had doors that if opened led to a sheer drop. Other odd accessories adorn the building such as harrowing stairs that twisted around some of the rooms, tubes the arched over roofs, and even a swing set hung haphazardly on a crooked metal pole. The house was set up on a worn but sturdy hull that somehow was able to bear the weight of the massive house that bounced up and down on the dark choppy ocean.
"Frederick? Do you see what it is. Hello? Hey, talk to me. What is it?"
It took Frederick a minute to come out of his amazed reverie.
"It's... It's a boat. Well, it looks more like a house boat. But how is it staying above water like that? It shouldn't even be standing at all... How is it doing that... It doesn't-"
Frederick felt stream of goosebumps prickle his skin as a plethora of hissing whispers pierced his ears. The indiscernible arid speech surrounded him and continued to barrage his ear drums with harsh auditory jabs that made his heart spike in rhythm and his hair stand on end.
"Frederick? What's happening?"
"There's voices... coming from the ship. I can't understand most of them..."
"Ok, this is familiar. Just follow that voice and when you find the source, be kind to it."
*Huh...Be kind?*
Frederick felt his throat dry up; Something was in there. It wanted him to come inside. He swallowed hard and forced his feet to move towards the front door. His feet dragged on the wood dock, causing a chorus of cracks and scratches to play as splinters of wood popped from their grains. He came to a thick turquoise door that boasted spots of stained wood where the paint chipped. He thought about knocking but then the door slowly creaked open.
*Well, shit... That's already creepy... Was my mind always this fucked up?*
Frederick cautiously peeked over the threshold and into the house. The entrance opened up to a large foyer that was still shrouded in blackness. When Frederick stepped into the house, the room lit up from above and he let out a gasp at the interior. The room was ginormous; The ceilings extending endlessly up walls littered with doors. Thin stair cases webbed out from each door leading to one massive staircase on the ground floor. To the far left, the door closest to the floor was opened wide. A flickering white light and hushed chatter spilled from inside. Frederick made his way over to the door.
*Well... Here goes nothing... Meet the freaky voice and be kind to it...*
When he reached the door way and looked inside, he was greeted by another amazing sight.
Every inch of this room was paneled with countless books. Except for one wall that was bathed in a silvery light that projected a series of images. With some concentration, he was able to see that the visions playing on the wall were from earlier that day.
*Are these... my memories?*
In front of the wall was a stone pedestal holding an open book that flipped its thick pages every five seconds or so. Frederick came up to the book and gazed at the fresh new pages; His eyes quickly read through the the lines.
*Wow... This book is an entire account of what happened to me today... That means that every book here is a day's worth of memories... So cool... but how do I find the book that has the events of last night?*
Frederick heard a thud come from his right and turned in time to see a dark green book float over to the pedestal. Frederick leapt out of the way and the book gently landed on the pedestal. The wall went dark for a moment before lighting up again with the blue of the moonlight. The events of last night starting with his harrowing play date with his were tiger friend streamed before him. Frederick frowned as his shrieks filled the room.
*Is that how I scream? Man, I sound like a wuss.*
Then the projection flashed to the moment he was seeking. Frederick grimaced as the dark smog like dog filled the wall. Frederick saw himself jump out from his hiding place and face the black shuck. As the battle raged, the memory got hazy and eventually Frederick couldn't even discern what was happening. Frederick walked over to the book and saw that some of the script in its pages were smeared and rubbed out.
*This... This isn't right... Whole pages are just gone...How can I fix this?*
He picked up the book; His mind was assaulted by a barrage of images the moment he made contact. Frederick screamed in pain as a sharp pain jabbed its way into the front of his skull. His shoulders and hands flared with burning agony as he dropped the book to the floor; The thud echoed through the room.
It all came back to him all at once.
Getting pinned by those fiery claws.
That sudden burst of raw fury.
Stabbing the dog using his new ability.
Gripping its trachea until that damned ghoulish light went dark and letting its cold body slip through his hands.
Frederick cried out in anguish as his wounds from last night bloomed in fresh pulses. He stumbled out of the room and slammed the door behind him, shutting away that forsaken glow. The pain subsided, leaving his legs trembling, back damp, and his lungs straining for air.
A harsh snicker caused him to look up.
A younger version of himself stood before the trembling teen with a wicked smile on his face. Behind the boy was the shadowed silhouette of someone the teen cryptid hoped to never see again.
His father.
Then the boy spoke;
"Monster! Monster! Fry! Fry! Fry! Monster! Monster! Die! Die! Die!"
The boy continued to sing his mocking ditty as the dark man behind him nodded in approval; His teen counter part frantically scanned his surroundings for a way out.
Suddenly, the form behind the boy splintered into a hoard of hands that launched out to him.
Frederick wretched his eyes open and screamed, scrambling back from the phantom hands.
"Frederick! Hey! Hey! What happened!?" Whitney asked as he took hold of the teen's hands. Frederick ripped them away and slashed out at him.
"GET AWAY!" he cried as he caught Whitney's arm with the tip of his claw. The man's eyes widen as the teen stared him down with frantic eyes, hyperventilating to the point of choking on his own saliva.
"Kid... Its ok. That wasn't real. There's nothing here that can hurt you. Just breathe. Follow my lead." Whitney said as he started to take deep slow breaths and motioned for Frederick to do the same. He did and his coughing lessened. The rogue prince then curled into a ball and started to mumble his herbs list, rocking back and forth on his haunches. Whitney felt his heart twist painfully in his chest.
"Frederick... I'm so sorry... I thought this would help but... Urgh!" The pale haired man palmed his forehead.
"I'm so stupid! What was I thinking? I shouldn't have pushed you so hard. You just went through a traumatic experience. Doing something like this... it was too much. I'm so sorry."
The boy didn't respond. He continued to mumble and rock but his breathing was slowing down.
(This is all my fault... I did this to him. I was too impatient...)
Whitney started to get up.
"I'll just make some tea to-"
He stopped when he felt something grab his hand.
"No... Please... don't leave."
Whitney turned to see the teen gripping his fingers tightly.
(Huh?)
Whitney crouched back down and Frederick obliged by scooting next to him, grip still on Whitney's fingers.
(He's never done this before... Oh, man... What he saw must have been really bad if he's actually holding my hand... But... Does this mean...)
Whitney brought up his other hand to place on his shoulder but the boy stiffens and shakes his head.
"Don't... I just... want to stay like this..."
The older man nodded and the teen leans into his chest. Frederick felt his muscles relax as he focused on the slow song of Whitney's heart beat. Whitney frowned and his brows furrowed as the shivering teen nestled into him.
(I shouldn't have forced him to do this... Getting him to recall a trauma like that... I should have went slower... I rushed him into confronting it too soon... Why did I want him to?... In the trauma ward, it takes most people years to get through their accidents... all the night terrors... the insomnia... the... copying techniques... Oh-Oh, God. I couldn't stand to see him go through all that... I just wanted to fix it... take it all away...He's just a kid... I... I just didn't want to see him suffer anymore. )
Then the teen looked up at him.
"I-I think... I'm ok, now."
Whitney sighed with relief.
"Good... Do you still want some tea?"
The teen nodded and both males rose from the ground; Frederick still holding on to Whitney's hand. Whitney stared at the teen with a quizzical tilt in his head. The boy continued to hold on, red flushing his pale cheeks.
( I'll just be there for him... That's good for now.)
