Summary: The aftermath of the kidnapping!
The original creator, Master of the AU's, gave me permission to write a second part! Thank you, Dua 3!
It's been two weeks, and Dun- Vale already feels like dying. Belloc is a man of few words, and the silence that follows him from the moment he wakes up to when he cries himself to sleep is starting to make him crazy. He has two siblings back at home, silence is not something he is used to, and here it's the only thing keeping him company. Well, aside from his father.
Belloc has not left him alone a second since he took him here, refusing to let him out of his sight even when sleeping. Valentine has made a conscious effort to try, though, against better judgment. Screaming, crying, kicking… Belloc simply receives the treatment with an impassive face. No anger, no shouting, no hitting. A part of him, the one that is constantly terrified of everything —of him— is thankful for that, because he doesn't really know what would actually happen if Belloc were to actually retaliate. The other one, furious with being taken away from his family, wishes the kaiju would yell back, or even hit, just so he would have more reasons to hate him.
Truth is, Valentine doesn't feel too much hatred inside of him, he is just scared. He wants to be back home, with his parents, and no matter how much he calls for them, they can't hear him. Only when he cries for his mom does Belloc show a sliver of feeling through his eyes. No matter how much Vale kicks, his father still gathers him in his arms and starts rocking him. By day four he had already given up on fighting his way out of his arms. Belloc is too big, too strong, and he has no other choice but to lay on his chest and let him pat and rub his back.
The only familiar thing in the cave, the nest, is the toys. They are all made of wood, carved with expert hands in different shapes, whether it's animals, small cars, or even tools. He is not too ashamed to admit having hit him with the toy hammer on one or two occasions, but Belloc seemed even happy with it. There is one of them, though, that he hasn't let go since he was given it on the first night.
It's a stuffed monkey. It has long legs and arms, button eyes of different colors and a stitched smile. It is also the only physical belonging he has from his biological mother. He has had it since he was born, and his mom told him they made sure to take it with them when they adopted him. At the moment of his kidnapping he had been too worried at the prospect of dying to pay any attention to it; it had been sitting at the end of his bed, watching him sleep to make sure he was safe, like always.
Apparently, Belloc had grabbed it right before taking him. He said his mother had made it for him the moment they found out she was pregnant.
That first night, it had taken Belloc close to two hours to reach the desert. With him hanging safely from his maw, where he could not fight him and hurt himself, he had kept his human form and traveled by foot. By the time they reached the nest, Valentine had lost any energy to fight he had left. He was gently released on a pool of furs inside a surprisingly small cave, carved inside a wall of a much bigger chamber that closed with a huge rock on its entrance. Valentine simply laid there, curled in a tight ball crying silent tears, when the monkey was given to him. That night he slept with the stuffed animal held tight and his back to Belloc's chest, who hugged him tight until he woke up the next day.
That had been the routine since then. It did not look like it was going to change anytime soon.
He was currently sitting against a wall, stuffed monkey clutched to his chest as if fearing it would be taken away any moment, and looking at the hulking figure laying in front of the entrance of the nest. Since his first escape attempt he hadn't been permitted to get close to it, and the kaiju would lay next to it to stop him from trying again. The fourth time that he was caught forced him to rethink his modus operandi. There was enough space for him to move around while out of reach, and the toys were scattered across the furs, both from trying to entertain himself, and from throwing them at his father. Belloc looked amused, and merely batted them away, yet did not make a move to stop him. Almost as if he was happy he had it in him to partake in violence, even if as pathetic as just flinging his toys at people.
It enraged him that nothing he did worked. Not even the silent treatment seemed to get a proper reaction out of him; he had made a conscious effort to not say a word in his direction, and for the past twelve days it had worked. Belloc had even, apparently, decided he also had nothing productive to say to him. That was going to change today, apparently.
"I recognize your dedication to ignore me is strong, but we both know it's not going to last."
Vale jumped in his seat, scratching his back against the rock wall on accident, and turned to look away from the voice. He heard him chuckle and move, the furs dipping under his weight, and out of the corner of his eye he saw Belloc had sat up on his haunches, not unlike a cat would. That was something he had noticed in the past few days; Belloc, at least in his human form, moved a lot like a cat. He very rarely stood on his legs, always on all fours with a big red tail lazing around and taking elegant steps; like the stray cat they used to pet on their way to school.
Valentine bit his lower lip and tightened his grip on the monkey. He felt the furs dipping close to him, on his back, and he didn't need to look around to know Belloc was sitting right behind him. He kept quiet, hell bent on ignoring the man, until he felt a familiar sticky sensation going up his back, right on the new scratch from the wall. He screeched, and scrambled to try and get away, but Belloc was fast to snatch him back. A clawed hand, big enough to engulf his head, grabbed his chest and herded him until he was forcefully sat on a scaly lap.
Belloc laughed again, and continued to lick the scratch on his back. Dun- Valentine tried to elbow him, still refusing to look at him, and Belloc caught his arm with his free hand and maneuvered his flailing limbs until he had them in just one grip. He broke his silent treatment before even knowing he had opened his mouth.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" He struggled against Belloc like a lizard burning under the sun, and he only received an even louder laugh and more licking.
"So we're talking now?" Belloc pulled him back until his back was pressed against his chest. He could feel the kaiju's scars, old and healed and weird to the touch, and then he felt another lick on his cheek, followed by Belloc rubbing his own cheek against the spot. Trying to mark him with his scent.
"Let me go!" Valentine managed to pull one of his arms free, though Belloc most likely had been the one to allow it, and tried to hit his smiling face. Belloc changed his grip on him, now holding him by his underarms and making him face him. Duncan put his feet against his father's chest, and tried to push himself away. It did not work.
"I don't think so, boy." Belloc throws him up in the air, merely a feet or two off the ground, and lets him fall into his hands again. Duncan holds onto his father's arms like his life depends on it.
"Don't do that!" He tries to resist when Belloc makes a move to throw him again. The kaiju laughs.
"And why shouldn't I?" Belloc gives him a fake shake, and Duncan tries to not break down crying.
"Because I don't like it!" The kaiju makes a humming sound, as if thinking if he feels like respecting the boy's decision or keeping on tormenting him, and finally decides to lower him down to his lap. Before Duncan can try to escape again, Belloc hugs him tight and starts bouncing him on his knee.
Belloc picks the monkey up from the ground, where it has been left forgotten after the altercation, and shakes it in front of his face like one would do to get the attention of a distressed baby. He grabs it, fearing the kaiju will take it away, and curls around it in a poor attempt at hiding it from him. Belloc nuzzles his hair, giving it a few licks that make him whine and hide his face against the red scaled chest. His father laughs again, and lays them both on the furs.
The worst part is not the isolation, the kidnapping or even the fact that he is currently living in a cave. It's the fact that, even though he is both mad and terrified of Belloc, he is the only comfort he has. When he cries at night because he wants his mom and dad to come give him a good night kiss, Belloc is the one to cradle him in his arms and rock him to sleep. When he misses his siblings and having somebody to play with, more toys appear out of nowhere in the cave. The more time that passes, the harder it is to resist his affections. Like a little voice in his head that pushes him to give in because, whether he likes it or not, it's the only option he has at the moment.
Belloc starts rumbling circles on his back, and Duncan tries to go to sleep and forget it all.
(…)
Belloc has never mourned before, but in the last nine years, merely a speck of time in his life, he has been bombarded with it. Margaret left their home to give birth to their child in human care, the safest option given how hard her pregnancy had been. After the baby came, she would come back to him so they could raise the child together. Margaret left nine years and four months ago to never come back again.
He is ashamed to say he thought his Queen had abandoned him and taken their baby with her, and for a long time he mourned their love and the child he never got to meet, and planned, while poisoned with rage, how to get back what had been stolen.
And then… and then he was put in front of a child with her eyes and his nose and golden hair with no Margaret in sight. So he mourned again, and this time the love that had been lost and the child that had been missed, and planned, in the darkest parts of his mind, to get revenge. On the people who let the mother of his child, and only woman he had ever loved, die in childbirth and abandoned his son.
Because he had a son. A boy as beautiful as his mother, and under all that human influence, a temper as terrifying as his father's. Duncan was perfect, and those… those imposters wanted to keep him away. From him. From his sire, his father, who did they think they were?
His first intention had been to kill them in the dead of night, where nobody would come to their rescue, and then take his boy home, but a part of him that sounded too similar to Margaret's voice whispered in his ear how the child would resent him. How he owed those humans for taking care of their baby when they themselves hadn't been able to. And in the child's room, filled with toys and pictures, was proof that Duncan had been loved. He had almost felt guilty for taking him. Almost.
Laying down with his boy, in their nest, any doubts lingering in his mind flew away. He knew the boy resented him, and probably would for the time being from taking him away from his so-called home. That was alright, though. Children were naive and innocent creatures.
They were too dependent on love to hold a long term grudge.