Sorry this one was so long in coming, I had it written and just... forgot to post, sorry :(
Trigger warnings: strangulation, panic attacks
The three adults stared in a mixture of shock and disbelief. "Zhan Tiri?" Hector finally grumbled. "That musty wizard?"
"Sorcerer. Or sorceress, I suppose. But according to Demanitus's research, Zhan Tiri used to work with him. Then she turned on him and tried to find the Moonstone and Sundrop so she could use them herself. He supposedly banished her through a portal, but I don't know what happened to her after that. That could be what she meant when she said he killed her. It's been a thousand years, so maybe whatever happened with the portal killed her and bound her soul here or something."
Adira pointed to Hector. "Didn't Tromus say he was a servant of Zhan Tiri? Maybe her soul is bound to that house, then. And the Sundrop is rumored to have healing powers. Maybe they were trying to revive her!"
"That sounds disgusting," Hector quipped. "A zombie demon?"
"That doesn't explain why she wants Varian to steal the Moonstone," Edmund added. "If she is attempting to revive herself, then why have a son of the Dark Kingdom take it for himself?"
Varian's breath caught in his throat. Son of the Dark Kingdom. You have a home here in the Dark Kingdom as long as you'd like it. Another puzzle piece slid into place smoothly. Varian of the Dark Kingdom. Was that who he was? Losing his place in Corona had been bittersweet; the home he'd loved had turned its back on him, and having his citizenship revoked had been used to further abuse him, but it was like a thorn he'd gotten used to. Ripping it out hurt like the devil, but it gave him a chance to heal. Now he was in a new home, with a new title, being offered a chance that could be just as painful as back then or help him move on and find himself again.
"Varian? Hey, kid!" Hector poked his shoulder. "You good? You got lost on us."
"Sorry. Just—just thinking. But maybe Zhan Tiri needs someone to bring her the Moonstone? She can't get it now because she's dead, but maybe she's got to have someone take the Moonstone to her, if she can't get it herself. Or maybe she's just scared of y'all."
"So why not have Tromus come get it?"
"I don't know. I hate not knowing."
Hector shrugged. "Not like we can do anything about it now. We just gotta keep protecting it for now. We can find out what the crazy zombie lady wants later."
The king nodded. "That's wise. For now, the three of you should rest. Show Varian around. I'll keep vigil. And Adira, Hector, meet me in the war room tonight at moonrise. We need to talk."
With that cheerful declaration, he turned and walked away.
"We're in trouble," Adira stated bluntly.
Hector smirked. "Well, you probably are." At her glare, he held up his hands. "Hey, I already got lectured. It's your turn."
She rolled her eyes. "You're the worst. Come on, let's look around. I want to see how the place has changed."
Hector held up an arm, waiting for Varian's nod before resting it over his shoulders. "You, my miniscule nephew, are going to love this place."
O‴O‴O‴
The Dark Kingdom was, in fact, dark. Even in the day, it seemed like the very sun itself didn't want to shine here. It was a bit disconcerting, at first, but Varian found he didn't mind too much. The clouds overhead looked like an impending storm, so it was easy to ignore. Inside the castle, torches burned, casting gentle light and warmth over the cold stone walls.
The castle was half in ruins, with black rocks poking through the floors and walls and holes everywhere. Attempts had clearly been made to patch things up, but that couldn't be easy for a one-armed man by himself. Varian leaned into Hector's side as a chilling wind blasted his skin. The warrior pulled his cloak around him.
"This place needs work," he grumbled. "Last thing I need is Var getting sick again."
"I'm not going to get sick every time the weather changes," Varian huffed.
Adira nodded. "We can fix things up a bit while we're here. If I don't get banished, that is."
"Banished?" Varian yelped.
She gave him an encouraging smile. "Relax. I know what I'm doing. I'll smooth things over with Edmund. And if he is mad at me, it's not like I haven't spent the last twenty-five years away from home. It's not a big deal."
"But—I don't want to lose you!" His heart thudded painfully. Would Edmund just exile Adira like that for just trying to find a way to save them? Was that the kind of king he was?
His aunt smiled confidently. "Oh, my dear, sweet nephew. You are severely underestimating my ability to get out of trouble. Nothing's going to happen to me. And besides, even if it did, I have my ways of staying in your life. You're not getting rid of me that easily!"
He reluctantly nodded. "Just… be careful, okay?"
Her smile wavered for a second as she translated his unspoken thought. "I'll be fine," she assured him. "It won't be like that. Everything's going to be fine."
"Okay," he whispered. He wanted to trust that she would be alright. She and Hector were the strongest people he knew. If she said it was fine, then he would withhold judgment on the king until after he found out for himself.
O‴O‴O‴
"I might have scared him," Adira said with a wince. Varian had run ahead to look out a window. "I wasn't thinking how that would affect him. Did we do the right thing, bringing him here? I don't want him thinking that Edmund would hurt him, especially if I do get banished."
Hector spun to face her. "I won't let that happen," he growled.
She blinked in surprise. "Didn't think you'd care," she mused nonchalantly, a hint of something deeper in her voice. Whatever it was flickered across her eyes for a second before disappearing.
He shrugged. "You're a traitor and sort of an idiot, but you're my sister."
"I'm flattered. Careful, people might think you're going soft." She gave an evil grin. "I suppose fatherhood changes a person."
"I ain't changed," he argued. "And I ain't gone soft. I can still end you any day."
"Wanna bet?" Adira crossed her arms smugly. "I bet the training grounds won't be in too bad of shape."
"You're on!" Hector pounded his fist into his palm. It had been so long since he'd gotten to have a proper spar; Varian wasn't even close to being on that level, the Tree didn't count both because he was injured and because he was aiming to kill, and he didn't even want to think about the creepy magic shell house and his doppleganger. "Hey, Varian, you ain't too fond of Adira, are you? I think she's asking for trouble."
At Varian's worried look, Adira grinned. "Don't listen to this fuzzbrain. He's just mad he can only win fights by playing dirty."
"'Ey," he huffed. "Better a dirty fighter than a dead fighter."
"The words of a cheater. You. Me. The Crucible. Five minutes."
"Bring it."
With a calculating smile, Adira left. Varian stared after her. "Should I be concerned?"
"For her? Sure. I'll be fine."
"What's the Crucible?"
"You'll see." He motioned for Varian and his rat to follow. The bearcats bounded alongside him excitedly. Artemis, the other member of their little party who hadn't seen the Crucible, fluttered her feathers nervously from her perch on Varian's arm guard.
"What did Aunt Adira mean about fighting dirty? You're knights. Don't you have to do whatever you can to win? Or is it a 'code of honor' thing?"
Hector shrugged. "We do what it takes. Sometimes that means fighting in a less than honorable manner. I learned that quicker than Adira or Quirin."
"Why?"
"It's… I wasn't like them. Adira was royalty—crap, don't tell her I told you that. She doesn't talk about it. Quirin was the son of a noble family. And then there was me, a scrappy little orphan who somehow ended up here, given a chance I didn't deserve. People like me learned the hard way that if you wanted to live, you had to outlive everyone else."
Varian nodded solemnly, something dark coming across his face. "Sounds about right. What happened to you? Before this?"
"Nothing like what happened to you, if that's what you're worried about. I grew up on the streets. Don't remember why. I just remember I was always cold and hungry and hurt. The Dark Kingdom's good at taking care of their own, but some of us live closer to the edge than others. I didn't have anyone to worry about me until Edmund picked me up and brought me here. I owe him for that." He scowled. His past had been a sore subject for years, one he'd always masked by letting his fists and teeth do the talking. He proved his doubters wrong on the training field.
Shaking his head as if to dispel bad memories, he nudged Varian. "Come on. You're gonna love the Crucible."
O‴O‴O‴
Varian waited on the catwalk ringing the Crucible as Hector and Adira knelt on either end. The warriors had made a few minor repairs to fix the machinery, but they couldn't do anything about the black rocks piercing the floor. Rather than dissuade them, that only seemed to make them more excited. "More of a challenge," Hector had laughed.
He wasn't sure what he'd expected from the Crucible itself, but this was not it. An obstacle course/maze of spikes, swinging blades, and crushing hammers, spitting sparks from some of the mechanisms that were either still broken or were halted by the rocks, was laid out before him. His aunt and uncle were on opposite ends of the deathly juggernaut, each preparing themselves for the coming challenge.
"Loser pays the winner 30 gold coins!" Hector called across to his sister. Adira lifted a skeptical brow at him.
"I only have 20 gold coins with me," she replied. "And you have none."
Hector rolled his eyes with a mischievous grin. "Darn, thought I could make some extra money when I win."
"If you win," Adira corrected with a smirk.
Varian winced. They were running a death course that could chop them to bits, and they were busy trying to make bets.
"We need a prize other than money. How about…" Adira paused to consider their options, holding her chin thoughtfully. Then she grinned. "Winner gets to decide what the evening meal will be, and the loser has to prepare it to the winner's satisfaction?"
Hector laughed. "You're playing a dangerous game sister—I accept!"
"Then let the challenge begin!"
Flames leaped up from the middle of the arena, and the siblings sprang forward into the Crucible. Hector jumped to a set of bars, swinging from one to the next while dodging the slashing axes in between. Adira disappeared into a trench leading to the lower level, which Varian hadn't gotten to see yet—and if it was as terrifying as the upper level, he wasn't sure he wanted to.
The rules of the contest were simple: each fighter's weapon was placed on the opponent's side. They had to traverse the Crucible to get to it, then get back. The winner reached their side first; the loser either didn't get back in time or got injured by their opponent or in the machines. It was a game that had death as a potential consequence. Hector and Adira had assured Varian that they'd done this dozens of times, and neither of them had died yet.
The warriors raced through the Crucible, sliding under or jumping over obstacles, as casual as if it were nothing more than a picnic. Hector, who had removed his other glove, traversed a set of bars with fire licking at his heels; Varian instinctively followed along the catwalk, staying as close as possible. The symbol of the Brotherhood stood out against the skin of Hector's left hand; Varian had only seen it a few times, as his uncle rarely took off his gloves.
Adira reappeared on the upper level, about halfway there. Hector had almost reached her side. He jumped from the bars to a platform, pausing for a second to judge the obstacle in front of him, a set of rotating blades. He twisted his head, flashing a triumphant grin as he noticed Adira's progress—or lack thereof.
SNAP!
Before Varian's eyes, a machine canted dangerously, its base half-severed. A crane arm swung around, the tangled ropes attached to the end whipping through the air. "Look out!"
Hector spun on his heel, only having time to lift an arm before the ropes latched around him. They twisted around his arm and throat, dragging him backwards and off the platform. He snarled and lashed out, trying to break loose, but the ropes seemed to knot further as he did.
"Uncle Hector!" Varian turned and ran for the stairs. He could make a rough guess about how fast the ropes had been traveling, and it was obvious they were now dangerously tight around the warrior's airway. That wasn't even considering his arm's blood circulation being cut off.
Across the room, Adira pivoted, eyes widening in horror as she saw her brother. She glanced back to the edge of the arena, where her sword lay. With a grim look, she shook her head and darted back in the direction she'd come.
Varian reached the arena and ran along the side. How the dickens was he supposed to get across to Hector? He'd die before he could get past the first obstacle! He wasn't like the Brotherhood, with their lithe limbs and iron-hard muscles, their years of training and animal-like instincts. What was he thinking?
Hector clawed at the ropes, gasping for breath. He then released them and reached for a dagger secured at his waist. His eyes widened as the rogue cords tightened once more, and he abandoned the idea to reach up and relieve the pressure on his throat. He swayed limply in the air, feet dangling over another machine's greedy jaws.
Adira reached for her weapons, only to turn up empty-handed. Drat, she'd left her knives on the edge!
In the chaos, Varian didn't notice Ruddiger leap from his shoulder until he spotted the gray blur darting into the Crucible.
O‴O‴O‴
They were wrapped around his throat, cutting off his breath, twisting and strangling and moving—no, they weren't moving, were they? It was just ropes, not… not that, it was just a couple old, half-frayed ropes that hadn't been replaced in years, and he shouldn't be panicking right now! He needed to think logically; the knife, he could cut the ropes! He reached for it—no, the ropes tightened, cutting into his skin, he couldn't breathe! He twisted his fingers into the ropes above him and pulled himself up by mere inches, getting the pressure off his throat at least slightly.
Something slammed into his leg—nononono, it was more of them, it was wrapped around him, it was crawling up his leg! Sharp claws dug into his clothes, scraping against his skin as the vines snaked higher. It was on his chest, now his shoulders, weighing him down further.
Creaking, snapping, all around him and reverberating through him. It started with a single sound and grew into a symphony of terror and fear and pain. His home was being torn apart, disintegrating before his eyes. Hector could do nothing to save the Tree, only frantically navigate the ever-growing rubble in search of his nephew—
No, he was restrained. He couldn't get to Varian, he couldn't even find Adira. He was trapped, fighting to breathe as the world went dark.
Except for an eerie, green glow that persisted in his peripheral vision.
Thorns ghosted over his scalp, almost gentle as they pressed into his hair. He shook his head, trying to get them off, but they dug in tighter, wrapping around his braids.
Then he was falling, the vines still wrapped around him no longer holding him up—
And a weight plowed into his side, ripping away what little breath was left in his lungs.
O‴O‴O‴
Varian pulled down on the lever with his whole strength, slumping against it as it slid into place and the racket from the Crucible slowly ground to a stop. Racing back to the edge, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Adira carrying a struggling Hector through the now-still maze. She was fighting to keep a grip on him and disentangle the rope around his neck, but the younger man was having none of it. Eyes widening, Varian called out, "Put him down, he's panicking!" Adira stopped moving, turning to look at him curiously. "Just, just put him down and get the ropes off!" Varian insisted as he ran. Ruddiger was making his way back down the machine that had nearly taken Hector's life. He'd bitten through the ropes right as Adira had jumped to keep Hector from falling.
She did as he asked, lowering him gently to the ground and kneeling beside him. He swatted at her outstretched hands, alternating between fending her off and yanking at the ropes. "Calm down, Hector, please! I'm just trying to help!"
Varian wound his way through the Crucible towards them, reaching Hector as he and Adira managed to get the rest of the ropes off them. Adira had gotten ahold of Hector's knife and finished cutting him free. The normally unshakeable warrior was curled up on the ground, eyes darting around in panic. He scrambled back, pressing himself up against the base of another machine.
"Hector?" Adira reached towards him. "Hector, please talk to me!"
Hector snarled and slapped at her hand.
"Don't touch him!" Varian ordered. "He's having a panic attack."
"What?" Her eyes were glazed over with fear and worry. She didn't take her eyes off her brother.
"Remember the House of Yesterday's Tomorrow? I panicked, right? And then Uncle Hector tried to touch me, and it made it worse."
She blinked, finally shaking her head and glancing over to him. "What do we do?"
"I—I'm not sure! I've never had to be the one to calm someone down."
"What does he do for you?"
He bit his lip. "He talks to me, usually. Tells me stories about the Brotherhood. And he just stays nearby so I don't hurt myself. Try talking to him!"
"About what?"
"Anything!"
Hector began murmuring to himself, trembling and laying on the ground with the machine at his back. Varian and Adira glanced at each other before looking back at him.
"Hector?" Adira asked gently.
"The vines," he whispered, a slight whine in his voice. "They're alive - the Tree's alive - that stupid handmaiden is gonna' kill us all!" he muttered, becoming more and more frantic.
"Short Hair isn't here, Hector," Adira soothed, bending down slightly and scooting a little closer to him. "The Great Tree is gone." Hector only seemed to sadden at this, closing his eyes and tucking into himself slightly.
"The Tree's gone," he whimpered as tears began escaping his eyes. "I couldn't save it, I, I-I - what is wrong with this house?!" He flailed violently for a moment before grabbing his head with both hands. "Houses don't have vines! Why is it keeping us -" He started yanking on his hair and thrashing. "Let me go - I can't breathe! Varian? WHERE IS VARIAN?"
"I'm here! Uncle Hector, it's okay!" Varian pleaded, scooting closer as well.
"He's going to hurt himself if he keeps this up," Adira muttered, before reaching out and grabbing her brother's wrists. "Hector you have to let go-"
"LET ME GO!" Hector screeched, a plaintive tone to his voice. He released his hair and tried to twist out of Adira's grip.
"Don't hurt him!" Varian snapped.
"Believe me, I won't," Adira grumbled. "We can't let him hurt himself," she insisted. Hector continued panting and whimpering, jerking and trying to escape Adira's hold.
"We have to talk him through it," Varian insisted back. Adira stared pensively down at her panicking brother, eyes narrowing for a brief moment.
"Hector, listen to me," she said gently, her grip on his wrists loosening. "You're safe now; I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt." Hector shook his head with a whimper.
"I can't get out, I can't, I can't-" he murmured, tears still leaking from his closed eyes. Adira finally released him, and Hector let his arms drop to the ground. He was still shaking, but he wasn't thrashing or pulling on his hair.
"You already got out Hector, we got you out. You're safe now," she soothed. Hector brought a trembling hand to his throat, rubbing it nervously. "There are no vines, Hector. It was just a rope. It's gone now. Just breathe," Adira advised. Hector's breathing became less erratic, though he was still gasping on the inhale. He managed to reign his breathing into a regular, if over exaggerated, pattern.
She continued to speak softly, making gentle shushing noises when he started muttering. Varian bit down harder on his lip, wincing at the taste of copper. How long had it been since he'd done that? He'd been working hard to break the habit. But seeing Uncle Hector like this… the tear tracks streaking down his face, the shaking, he looked so fragile, so unlike the brash warrior Varian had come to know. And here he was, helpless, he couldn't do anything to fix it! Was this what Hector felt watching him?
Ruddiger was suddenly purring and nuzzling against his side. Varian scooped up his faithful companion and held him tight while watching his uncle continue to struggle. He'd never once suspected that Hector had internalized the traumatic run-ins they'd been having with vines recently. The man had lived happily amongst all the flora of the Great Tree for twenty-five years, and vines seemed like the last thing capable of causing the intense reaction he was having now.
Of course, what had attacked them in the Great Tree and the House of Yesterday's Tomorrow were no ordinary vines. They were either real plants taken over by the corruptive power of Zhan Tiri, or simply pure magic conjured up by Tromus. And the substance they were created from didn't seem to dictate Hector's trigger; he'd been wrapped up and restrained by a nonliving rope, and immediately his mind jumped to the conclusion that he was being attacked by magical vines all over again.
Varian was startled out of his musings by his uncle's frantic voice. "WHERE'S THE KID?"
"It's okay, I'm here! I'm right here." He reached out and rested his fingertips against the back of Hector's hand. "I'm okay, we're both okay. Just breathe, 'kay?"
Hector grabbed his hand and held it like a drowning man clung to a lifeline. Varian placed his other one on his uncle's shoulder. "Hey, breathe with me. In and out. Easy."
It took several moments for Hector to match his pace, but he did so. He tilted his head back to look at Varian. "K-kid— dang, it hurts, I can't… It hurts."
"I know. Just—just take it slow, okay? Just think about breathing. You're safe here. Me and Aunt Adira, we're right here."
Hector let his gaze drop to the floor, his tremors stopping as he slumped in exhaustion. "This… is the worst."
"Yeah, I know."
"You live like this?"
"Yeah, pretty much."
"How?"
Varian grinned, rubbing his thumb in a circle over the back of Hector's hand. "I've got you looking out for me, remember? And Ruddiger, and Aunt Adira."
"It's still the worst. I didn't think it would be…this much of a problem," Hector muttered sourly. Adira instantly perked up.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "Have you had an episode like this before?"
"At the… the house…" Hector panted tiredly.
Adira's eyes widened and she leaned closer. "What happened at the house?" she demanded gently.
Hector barely managed to make a weak shrugging motion with his shoulders, then took several seconds to catch his breath before speaking again. "Jus' the… just the room… with the table…" he mumbled.
"Table…? Wait, the altar that Rapunzel was tied to? Where Tromus trapped us?"
"Yeah…" Hector confirmed. "Too many vines out front…" His eyes fluttered and he tried to gesture at Ruddiger. "Rat was there…"
The "rat" in question clambered out of Varian's arms and curled up against Hector's chest, purring softly.
"Why didn't you say anything?" Adira asked. Her tone was gentle but exasperated.
He glanced away from her as something dark dimmed his bright golden eyes. "Didn't think you'd care."
She flinched. "You idiot," she whispered softly.
Varian watched in confusion. "Why wouldn't she care?"
"Twenty-five years is a long time," Adira answered carefully. "Things change. Hector and I still have a lot to talk about."
"Can we talk later?" Hector huffed. "I'm tired, I'm… hurt, and I'm not in the mood."
"Fair enough. Come on, I'll cook supper. Need a hand?"
He grumbled and pushed her arm away, shoving himself unsteadily to his feet; stumbling, he fell against his sister's shoulder. He started to push himself off, but she slipped her arm under his. With a dramatic groan, he gave up and allowed her to support him.
Varian hesitated. Hector always offered physical contact after his panic attacks, but would he react the same way Varian did? He let Adira help him, but he didn't seem happy about it. What was Varian supposed to do? He sometimes lashed out instinctively after his attacks. Would Hector do that as well?
Hector made the decision for him, slowly reaching out and pulling Varian to his side. "Var, if you ain't the toughest kid I know…"
"I'm the only kid you know."
He curled his arm around Varian's neck and playfully held a finger to the boy's mouth. "Shh. Take the compliment."
With the two of them half-carrying Hector, they shuffled out of the Crucible and back into the halls of the castle.
The man's boots dragged on the stone floor as he attempted to walk, and Varian began to wonder if he would make it to the kitchen. "Uncle Hector, do you wanna' maybe lay down for a little bit? Aunt Adira said she would cook supper-"
"I'm fine," Hector grumbled. "Adira'd burn down the kitchen if I left her unsupervised."
"Says the man who was almost choked by a rope," Adira shot back. Varian gasped, But Hector didn't seem to mind the pointed comment. He just rolled his eyes and shoved her—almost succeeding in sending himself plummeting to the floor. Adira deftly grabbed the furry mantle of his cloak and pulled him upright once more, letting him sink back onto her shoulder and wrapping her arm around him supportively. "That was stupid," she teased with a smirk. To Varian, she added, "He'd bust his skull up if I left him unsupervised."
Hector groaned dizzily and sagged against his sister. Adira frowned with concern and held him a little tighter, taking his arm in her other hand. "Alright, you need to take a break," she declared gently, beginning to drag him over to a decrepit bench against one wall.
"No!" Hector whined tiredly, sounding like a small child. "Stop babying me!"
"Stop talking like one."
"Shall I expound upon battle strategy? Would that be adultish enough for you?" Hector snarked as she lowered him onto the bench
Varian groaned and massaged his forehead. "You two are completely impossible, and I'm starving. Where's the kitchen? I'll ditch you guys here and do the cooking myself.
"Not likely," Adira quipped. "Hector's the one deciding what we eat, and I doubt your knowledge of Dark Kingdom recipes."
"I'm not gonna get to eat anything if I'm not allowed to go to the kitchen," Hector grumbled.
Adira crossed her arms. "Fine. We'll continue on after you decide what you want to eat. Is that satisfying?" she offered. Hector shrugged.
"Fine," he agreed, slumping against the wall. His acidic yellow eyes closed and he began breathing through his nose. Varian smiled softly, feeling a flicker of relief - at least his uncle seemed to be attempting to take care of himself now. After several minutes passed, his eyes snapped back open with the most excited gleam Varian had ever seen in them. "Curry chicken."
"With roti?" Adira asked.
Hector smirked. "Like you needed to ask," he teased.
Varian tilted his head curiously. "What's roti? And curry chicken?" he inquired. The worry and discomfort from watching his uncle's panic attack was starting to slowly ebb away.
Hector's smirk widened as he turned to look at the teen. "Delicious," he replied matter-of-factly. "Quirin ever feed you chickpeas?"
"Chickpeas?" Varian repeated. "No, never heard of 'em. Dad grew green peas and sweetpeas, but-"
"It's not actually a pea," Hector interrupted, waving a tired hand to cut him off. "It's a kind of bean. You'll like it. Probably."
"Okay…what's roti?"
"Roti," Hector and Adira murmured simultaneously, as if sharing the same mouthwatering memory.
"It's literally been twenty-five years since I've eaten that," Adira noted. "It's a type of bread once commonly eaten in the Dark Kingdom. You'll also like it. Definitely."
"Can we go now?" Hector huffed. "I did the sitting and the decision making."
"Fine." She held out a hand. He glared at it but accepted the offer and let her pull him to his feet. They started their awkward shamble once more, on towards the promise of life-changing food.
O‴O‴O‴
The smell of the food cooking wafted through the air as Adira stirred the contents of the pot. The kitchen had been stocked with everything they needed, remarkably; apparently spending twenty-five years in an abandoned castle gave the king plenty of time to grow a garden. No one asked where the chicken came from. Varian leaned against the counter near her, alternating between watching her throw ingredients in and watching Hector, who had thrown himself to the floor with his bearcats. Kiki and Riki had been less than thrilled to see their human's current state; they lay curled around him, hiding him almost completely from sight.
Artemis swooped in through the open window, landing on Varian's shoulder and nearly knocking Ruddiger off. He hissed at her. The hawk ignored him, turning her head haughtily. Upon seeing Hector, she gave an anxious screech. Varian stroked her back.
Adira hummed and lifted the cooking spoon, holding it out to Varian. He tilted his head. "Huh?"
She rolled her eyes. "Go on, taste it. Careful, it's hot."
"Oh." He took a careful bite, swatting Ruddiger's paw away from the spoon. "It's… oh, wow. That's insane!"
"Told you so. I can't believe Quirin never made this for you! That's practically a crime."
Varian smiled sadly. Aunt Adira very seldom talked about Quirin, at least not in the… had it only been two and a half weeks that he'd known her? She seemed to dance around the subject, probably out of respect for the dead or for Varian's grief. But like Hector, she always seemed happy talking about him. It was odd, compared to what he was used to. Quirin had very rarely talked about Varian's mom. He handled loss differently from his siblings. Upon realizing that Varian didn't mind hearing about Quirin, Adira had started opening up a bit and sharing her own stories about him.
Adira tasted the food and hummed thoughtfully. "Needs garlic." She reached into the cabinet above her head and pulled out a spice container.
Hector's head instantly popped into view. "What did you just say?" he growled lowly, eyes narrowing to slits.
"I said 'needs garlic'."
A stick flew across the room, hitting her in the back. She stilled and set the spoon down. Turning slowly, she hissed, "Is there a problem?"
Hector glared at Adira unrepentantly. "You don't put garlic in curry chicken."
"Yes, you do," she hissed, dangerously quiet.
Varian stood frozen, eyes darting back and forth between his aunt and uncle.
Hector shoved himself off the floor, ignoring his bearcats' whines. "Garlic does not go in curry chicken, it never has, and it never will."
"I'm doing the cooking, remember? And I say it needs garlic."
"Yes, but the deal was to the winner's specifications, remember?"
"Yes, and neither of us won. I agreed to cook because you nearly died. That doesn't mean we have to have unseasoned food. This is a compromise; you choose the food, and I make it how I want to."
"Garlic will ruin the whole taste! We never used to make it that way; where the crap did you pick that up?"
She crossed her arms. "Look, I spent twenty-five years traveling the world, and you spent twenty-five years in a tree. I think I know a little bit more about cooking than you do. I've learned how to make recipes from every culture in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. Trust me on this."
"I don't need to travel the world to know that you don't put garlic in curry chicken! Besides, my cooking's good enough for Varian."
"That's not a good test; he lived with Quirin."
"That's—yeah, that's fair, actually."
King Edmund poked his head into the room as they argued. "Oh, curry? An excellent choice!"
Hector whirled to face the king, tripping over his feet and catching himself on the nearby table. "Your Majesty! Please tell Adira that putting garlic in curry chicken is an abomination!" he demanded before Adira could say a thing.
He frowned in consideration. "Garlic? I'm not sure; I don't recall ever doing that." Hector turned to Adira with a triumphant grin, but Edmund continued, "I have, however, mastered a version that uses chocolate!"
Both warriors turned to look at him, twin gleams of fury in their eyes. "Chocolate?" Adira half-whispered, half-snarled.
"Get. Out." Hector growled.
"I just—"
"Out," they ordered, their former spat set aside in order to defeat this new evil that had arisen before their very eyes. "Now."
"Take one step closer, and I'll bury you alive," Adira warned.
He raised his hand in defeat and wisely retreated.
Adira leaned back against the counter and sighed. "No garlic, fine, but I'm putting it in mine."
"Fine by me. You can be a heathen."
O‴O‴O‴
Hector couldn't sleep.
He tossed and turned, the mattress that hadn't been used in twenty-five years annoyingly uncomfortable. The stone floor, with its soft rug, might be a better option. But he didn't feel like moving.
Kiki and Riki shifted slightly, snuffling in their sleep. The soft noise, ordinarily soothing, only served to wake Hector up further. With a groan, he rolled over again. This was his old home, his old room. He shouldn't have trouble sleeping here! He couldn't even blame the stupid mattress; he'd slept in far worse places.
Maybe he could drink some tea. Yeah, that might help. But that meant getting up, which he still didn't want to do, because he was so tired, but he couldn't sleep! He sighed and rested his hands over his eyes. How did Varian do it? He was always fairly corpse-like after his attacks. Did the racing of his mind eventually tire him out until he just couldn't stay awake?
He slid one hand down to his throat; ghostly whispers of pressure echoed there, tightening and cutting. Adira had bandaged him up, and the medicine would remove any trace in a few days. But still the pressure persisted, making it hard to breathe. If he found himself panicking again, would Adira and Varian hear him? Were the walls too thick? Would Riki and Kiki be able to calm him down? And Kubwa couldn't come inside the castle—he had to stay in the specially-crafted stable that Hector had made for him—so he couldn't help either.
They'd gone back to the Brotherhood's rooms, three sleeping quarters around a circular common room. Varian had hesitated to go inside Quirin's room at first, but he was desperate to know more, and he'd reverently explored the space and last remaining mementos that had been so hastily abandoned. Hector didn't blame him for choosing to spend the night in there—besides, if Hector did panic, he wasn't confident in his ability to not lash out. Hurting Varian was a risk he couldn't take.
Was this going to keep happening? The House. The Crucible. What next? He was supposed to be strong, unshakeable, a wall between what he was protecting and any who would threaten that. And yet he was reduced to a quivering mess because of a rope. Not even an actual vine! How could he keep protecting Varian, protecting the Moonstone, if he couldn't stand? If he couldn't breathe? If he couldn't handle the slightest little pressure?
The bandages around his throat, loosely wrapped though they were, felt a bit tighter.
His eyes stung. Nothing was here, nothing was attacking him! Was just thinking about it enough to make it worse? It wasn't even supposed to happen! He never had panic attacks. He tugged at the bandages gently; maybe he could loosen them without removing them. What sort of warrior was he, anyway? Couldn't even handle getting his injuries wrapped.
He was so weak. Varian was decades younger, and he'd been through a Hell that Hector could never even imagine; what right did he have to panic over something as trivial as this when Varian was suffering so much worse?
He was a warrior of the Dark Kingdom, the loyal protector of the Moonstone! He was Varian's uncle and guardian! What use was he to either of them if he was weak? He couldn't protect them, he couldn't uphold his oath, he was useless—
The door creaked open. Varian peeked inside, Ruddiger half-asleep in his arms. He looked around the room nervously, visibly relaxing when he saw Hector. He slipped inside and shut the door behind him, creeping over to Hector's bed and crawling up next to him. "'S cold in Dad's room. Can I stay here?"
Hector pulled the blanket over him. "Yeah, that's fine, kiddo," he rasped. Varian settled against his side, falling asleep almost instantly. Hector sighed and ran a hand through his nephew's hair.
He would deal with this. He had to. Nothing could happen to his kid, not ever.
As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thank you and God bless!