Summary: This is a fragment from the previous three-part-shot! I may make more in the future :3

Duncan knows for a fact he is not unconscious. He feels lightheaded, eyes unfocused and just… relaxed, in a way. He is slightly aware of what's happening around him, of where he is, but it's almost like the information gets stuck on a wall of water and can't get through to his brain. He knows he is worm, and he doesn't feel really threatened, although a voice in his head —so far away he barely notices it— is telling him that he is, in fact, in a threatening situation at the moment.

Duncan is too relaxed and sleepy to really pay attention to that, though, so he just lays there, wherever that is, and lets time go by. He doesn't know if it's been long or not, if it's been a minute or a lifetime, but it isn't until there is light breaking the pitch black darkness surrounding him that his brain decides to start working properly. Suddenly, the warmth surrounding him is less calming and more suffocating, and he feels sticky and suddenly he is sitting and not laying down, and he is reaching with trembling hands for the light because he still doesn't know what's happening, but his insides tell him he does not like it. He wants out.

His fingers touch something, and his surroundings suddenly come to life, as if feeling him move, and the light starts to close. Duncan panics and, in his desperation, manages to stick his arm outside and, like a bandaid being ripped, he sees and remembers. The panic settles in in full, and he is promptly trying to pry his arm away because those are teeth and this is a mouth.

He is inside a kaiju's mouth.

He is inside his father's mouth.

Duncan doesn't know how he manages to swallow the scream that threatens to leave him voiceless; maybe it's survival instincts. What he knows is he is covered from head to toe in saliva and Belloc is not letting go of his arm. The teeth don't tear into it, but they also don't pry open, and although he just wants to pull and get his arm back, not really caring if he tears his skin apart trying, he is frozen in place. His skin tingles with disgust. His scales cover him from head to toe, an angry red, probably, given how distressed he is at the moment, and he feels tears in his eyes every time the tongue underneath him moves. He doesn't want to be touched, he doesn't want to be there, and he doesn't want to die —a voice in his head tells him he is not; that if Belloc really wanted him dead, he would have not woken up from his trance in the first place, but he is too busy being scared to listen to it—.

The world suddenly takes a turn, and he almost falls forward against the wall of teeth that keeps his arm prisoner. He stops the fall with a hand in front of his face, and tries to keep his stomach in check when touching the sticky fangs with his own sticky hands. He gives up and lets the tears run down his face. He wants out and he wants to go home. The teeth open, so suddenly that he has no time to understand what is happening before he falls face first into gold. His arms, already extended, stop him from landing on his face, but he immediately sinks into the sea of coins, and diamonds, and treasures that now surround him, and panic sets in again. He doesn't get the chance to try and get himself out of the golden sea when he feels something big sneak around his waist, like a hook on a fish, and pull.

Belloc's finger around his waist lifts him a mere foot off the ocean of coins and again sets him down, this time making sure he's standing on two feet before letting go. It all happens too fast, and Duncan can't really process what is happening around him, to him, before he is, again, sinking into the pool of gold. This time, with his brain working extra hard to understand the situation, he can get out of the gold with a few good kicks and sit on his knees. His breathing is erratic, there are tears still streaming down his face, and suddenly the warmth that encompassed him inside Belloc's mouth has been replaced with cold.

Outside is darker than he thought it would be, but there is enough light —that he doesn't really know where it's coming from— to see that the place is big. The main constant is the gold, that extends in mountains throughout the cave, and it's so overwhelming that he is left deaf to the movement behind him. There are so many thoughts running through his head that he is too slow to get away from the giant hands that appear at his sides, trying to touch him. Duncan does not want to be touched, but his mouth is not really working at the moment, and he sinks again when he tries to take a step away from the claws —the ones that not even two days ago had held him so gently— that are trying to imprison him.

Belloc's fingers sneak underneath him until they can close around him, coins and other treasures slipping away between them, and Duncan tries to jump down and disappear in the sea of gold that threatens to swallow him before his father does. He struggles the best he can, shaking from both fear and cold, eyes blurry from the tears and skin prickling from the feeling of coins and his clothes stuck to his skin because he is still covered in saliva.

His voice only comes back when he sees through Belloc's fingers, still closed around him, that he is being taken close to the kaiju's face.

"NO!" He yells loud and clear, and only then does he see his father's eyes looking back at him.

(…)

Belloc came back when already having step foot in his lair. The change from feeling in the clouds to crashing on the ground so hard he almost missteps. He is, luckily, walking on all fours, so he barely stumbles before catching himself again. His left hand is closed in a fist, and there's something soft, precious, inside it. He feels his eyes burn like they never have before, and that's how he knows it hasn't been a nightmare. The weight on his tongue, barely noticeable and at the same time impossible to miss, also confirms his worst fears.

Duncan doesn't move. He is not unconscious, because his breathing is not calm enough to resemble sleeping, but he is also still as a corpse. The only explanation is terror, and Belloc can not blame him for it. A kaiju whelp would feel no fear, having engraved in their system how their parent's jaws are there to protect and not harm; Belloc himself has blurry memories of a time where his dam and sire would carry him around in the safety of their fangs to keep him away from ill intended claws and teeth. Duncan, though, is not a kaiju babe, at least he hasn't been for a while, and he definitely hasn't had the time to properly introduce him to normal kaiju interactions —or culture, or language, or anything—, so the shock that has probably taken control of him is expected.

Belloc feels guilty for thinking that will make things easier. As long as the boy is safe and warm in his maw he can think. Think about the best way to lay his wife's body —still warm thanks to his scales— so when the pup sees it, the lost look in her eyes and the blood don't break him more than the news will.

He enters his hoard chambers like he is being chased. He tells himself that right now it's not his time to grieve. To mourn. His main and only priority is Duncan, and he won't have much longer before the boy starts reacting. At least, that's what he keeps telling himself; he hasn't felt any movement in a long while, that he knows for sure, and emotional shock can be as bad as physical. He has lived long enough to see both, so he knows for a fact that, if the child doesn't start moving soon, he'll have to do something about it.

Luckily, just when he is finishing enveloping Margaret's body in some silk sheets —he can't help but to caress her body, as if expecting her to answer back with a touch of her own, and his eyes burn again when there is no reaction on her part— he feels movement. Duncan is awake. He parts his teeth, trying to get a stronger reaction from the boy, praying that he starts moving with more energy and that he is actually responding and not just reacting, and he gets his answer when a tiny arm tries to make its scape. Belloc almost cries from relief, because he doesn't believe he'd survive loosing them both, and carefully closes his mouth again around the tiny arm. He just needs a moment to place the body —if he keeps calling it anything else he risks convincing himself the mother of his child is still breathing, and he knows well that is not true anymore— in a carved shelf on the wall, concave, a little nook she liked to spend time in when he was away ruling their kingdom. It's small enough to not be noticeable and hard to reach; Belloc has to place the body on the pillows covering the floor with his fingers, and a voice in his head tells him they're gonna be spending a while inside it.

He finally turns around, away and where the smell of blood won't reach the pup, and kneeling over the gold mountains he opens his mouth. Duncan falls head first, and if he wasn't so busy liking the blood staining his left hand and his snout he would have found it endearing. He fishes him out of the sea of coins, hooking a finger around him, still doing his best to clean the blood staining his chin and hand, and places him back again on his feet. Duncan stumbles, and seeing him struggling against his treasures to stand straight, reeking of terror, and wet and so small, Belloc feels like holding him and never letting go again. He is too young for this. It's his grieve that starts to leave him lightheaded again. His eyes become too unfocused to see he has his boy in his hands again, squirming against his fingers like a lizard's tail against the grabby fingers of a curious child, and just when he is gonna fully loose himself again, Duncan speaks.

"NO!"

It's strong, although filled with fear, but it's enough for Belloc to snap out of his instinct ridden state and focus. He knows for a fact he posses no threat to the child, but he doesn't think Duncan will be able to understand that. He focuses on his tiny form cowering in his hands, shaking like a leaf in a storm and looking so miserable he feels something break inside him. Duncan looks at him with terror written in his eyes. Belloc closes his hands a little more, trying to shield him from the cold in the room, and notices that the boy hasn't said anything else. He knows Belloc is finally there again. The pup is too smart for his own good. Belloc looks at his drenched form a little longer and suddenly remembers his rough handling before leaving the human city. And although a part of him hisses at the mere thought that he'd ever hurt his own child, both consciously or unconsciously, he still needs to see for himself there are no bruises where his teeth touched him.

Duncan, as if understanding what his intentions are, starts struggling against his hold again with renewed strength. Belloc carefully switches holds, and when he is laying comfortably on the palm of his right hand, he goes to lift the wet tshirt.

"NO! DON'T TOUCH ME! LET ME GO!" Duncan's screaming engraves in his soul. It's hard to distinguish it from all the victims that have fallen before him by his hand or his teeth, so hearing such a desperate cry from his own son tears him apart. He stops just before touching him, fingers still too close for comfort given how the boy kicks at them, and purrs. The change is immediate; Duncan still looks at him, with tears streaming down his face, but the sudden noise has caught his attention, and Belloc finally speaks.

"It is alright, Duncan, I promise." Belloc keeps purring, low and rumbling, and although he knows it's going to take a while for Duncan's body to learn to react to it, he can't help himself. He knows right now there's not much that, coming from him, will be able to soothe him, but he has to try. "I know you are scared —that I scared you—, but I promise there's no need to be afraid. I would never hurt you, child, never."

"Y-you were-" Duncan stammers, eyes wide and going from his mouth to his eyes, still crying. His chest goes up and down with each breath as fast as a mouse's, and Belloc can feel through his back his racing heartbeat.

"I know, I know." Belloc takes his chances with his paralyzed state and makes contact. He brushes his thumb against his tiny face, wiping away some of the tears that fall down his cheeks, and although Duncan flinches as if he has burned him, he doesn't pull away. The boy's confusion is eating at him. "Just close your eyes and let me see, little one. I just want to make sure you're not hurt." He keeps caressing his cheek, little eyes looking at him so intensely he feels them burn holes in his heart. Duncan doesn't acknowledge what he has said, but he is not struggling anymore, so Belloc will take what he can. He carefully slides his finger until it covers the boy's eyes, and that's all he needs to do to get the boy back to square one.

"NO, NO! LET GO!" Duncan grabs his finger and tries to pry him away, and though Belloc wants to give in and give the boy more time, he knows he doesn't have it. The sooner he finishes, the better. He covers his eyes, keeping him on his back on his palm and with a claw, careful as ever, he lifts the t-shirt. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees no bruises or teeth marks on his chest. He rubs his chest with his other thumb, trying and failing to sooth him.

Duncan kicks at him again and Belloc brings him closer to his chest. The boy doesn't look very inclined to calm down and he can't blame him. He envelops him in his fist as gently as he can, and makes his choice. He would have preferred to make this introduction in another moment; one where his pup wasn't on the verge of having a panic attack. Where his wife isn't laying, gone, and waiting for him to be brave enough to tell their son. He cradles his hand to his chest and takes a deep breath. He can feel the change before it happens. It used to be painful before, but now it's merely a twitch in the back of his head. Before he knows it his hand is not big enough to hold Duncan on its own, and Belloc has to cradle him with both. Duncan is kicking with more vehemence, now scared because he doesn't know what is happening.

Belloc keeps changing until he can feel himself standing on two human feet and with hair grazing his shoulders. He doesn't have time to be uncomfortable because of the sudden change, nor to evaluate if he looks human enough —there are times when he is still to big, or his knees are wrong, or his are limbs too disproportionate—, because what his son needs right now is familiarity, and Margaret is not here to give it anymore. He is now holding him in front of him, and by the size difference he guesses he has done a decent enough job. Duncan is now still and quiet, looking at him like he is death coming to take him. He is holding onto his arms, hands clinging to them like they're a life savior. He has a glassy look in his eyes, and his chest moves up and down so fast Belloc fears his heart will break out of his chest.

He brings him toward his chest as slowly as he can, giving the boy time to pull away if he wants to, but Duncan doesn't move. Although his eyes are directed to him, Belloc knows they are looking through him, and again he feels guilty because that makes it easier to press the kid against his chest and hug him. Even though they are closer in height, Duncan still feels too small in his arms, and he silently basks in that fact. Although for him it's more comfortable and natural to be in his true skin, there's a feeling he can not replace when being able to hug his child; a proper hug, one where the race and size are not factors to work around to. And he feels guilty. He feels so guilty because the first hug he has ever been able to give his son is not out of mere affection, but to avoid having the child suffer a mental breakdown.

Duncan is still unresponsive. Belloc presses him against his chest, a hand supporting his weight and the other holding the back of his head. He waits. The boy's breathing has calmed down significantly, but his heartbeat is still loud and fast on his chest like he's been on a race. Belloc just maintains the hug. He doesn't speak, scared it will set him off, and instead chooses to change his wait from one leg to another. He remembers doing this with Margaret in the privacy the night gave them, when Duncan was just a name and not a person growing on his Queen's belly. They would hold hands, and Margaret would insist they needed to practice because she refused to be the only bride to not have a couple's dance in their wedding. He can't really call this dancing, but he does know that children are calmed down by constant and repetitive movements. This is the best he can give at the moment —he thinks, had he been there in the boy's infanthood, soothing and calming would have been two actions more familiar and natural, but he can't dwell on those right now—, and it is, apparently, just enough.

Duncan leans his head against his shoulder, hiding his face, and then hugs him back. Belloc can't help but let out a breath of relief, and squeezes the boy as hard as he dares. Duncan doesn't say anything, but Belloc can feel tears wetting his shoulder. Luckily, his heartbeat is now close to normal, and he is no longer tense like a wood plank. Belloc keeps rocking from side to side and Duncan makes no effort to be put down, so he counts this as a victory of sorts.

They'll keep in silence for a few more mercifully long minutes, until Margaret's body is no longer able to be hidden and Belloc is lost in his head again, but until then, Belloc has been able to calm his child's fears, even he has been the instigator, and he hasn't yet broken down before Margaret's remains in despair and desperation. In his experience, that is also considered a win.