#heir!percy

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

Tatterdemalion

@gravemagicks

How long had it been?

How long since Beau’s world had narrowed to nothing but constant pain and weakness and need? To chains and stone and horrific visions which he could not escape?

Worse than the visions--hallucinations--was that he couldn’t tell the difference between them and reality. Couldn’t tell how much of his recent memory truly had happened and how much was imagined--created by the chemicals he now needed desperately, though he abhorred their effects so vehemently. While they eased his pain and need for a while, it was only ever a short-lived relief. The pain--the fire-like, throbbing agony that flared hot from the three-pronged wound which sat so very dangerously close to his lungs, his heart--always returned quickly, and the visions never ceased.

He didn’t even know if his wound had been treated in any way.

But he couldn’t give in, couldn’t let them win.

He’d had such a life ahead of him. A family. He’d been building a family.

Meant to be mated in the autumn, on the equinox, and Percival--his beautiful, fierce, strong, sweet Omega--was expecting a child. Not even mated yet, and Beau had gotten his Omega pregnant.

Gods above, was Percival even still alive? Had Hollows flock managed to do the same to Scathlier as they’d done to his own flock?

Mother Sun and Father Sky, please let it not be so.

If Scathlier had fallen, if Percival was gone, then Beau would have nothing left to hold on to; nothing for which to resist Hollows’ torturous way of breaking and training their prizes. He had to hold out hope that Percival was still alive. That he was out there, somewhere. That he wouldn’t only ever see his love, his Sun, again in the form of Gellert Grindelwald--Thuban Hollows--using Beau’s hallucinations to his advantage.

How long had it been?

When was the last time some member of Hollows had come to inject their drug into his veins or force it down his throat with some small scrap of food only big enough to keep him alive for their purposes?

How long had it been?

Much longer than the last time he’d been left alone, that much was certain.

Something smelled of infection and rot. Something near. He couldn’t tell whether the scent was real--whether it came from him, from his wound--or just an effect of the chemicals or their absence.

He felt sick. So very sick. Nauseated and dizzy and tired.

And, gods above, he hurt.

His entire torso felt aflame with agony. He could hear the gibbered, weak, quiet pleas, which were all he had the strength for, falling from his lips. The promises to be good, to behave--if he could just have what would give him the relief he so needed. He hurt so badly, felt so sick. Felt like he was dying. Maybe he was. But he needed relief--he hated how much he needed it. Needed the short-lived relief of the drug he hated but had become so dependent upon.

How long had it been?

[mostpeculiarmademoiselleetmsieur]

Reckless

@gravemagicks

Continued from here

Beau saw where Percival’s hand rested, saw how his mate was fighting tears--and the Alpha chieftain’s feathers fluffed in response. Beau reached out both with hands and wings to gather Percival to his chest.

“I’m sorry, my love, my Sun. I was only thinking of protecting you and our child, not of my own safety.” Had he thought of that rather than giving in to the Alpha instinct, he would have summoned his lightning to dispatch the enemies who had ambushed them and been done with it, never putting himself so recklessly in danger. But that was not what had happened, and he had put himself in danger.

He had nearly left Percival without a mate, nearly left him to carry and raise their expected child alone. As it was, only Percival’s quick reaction had prevented an enemy’s spear from running Beau through and caused it to instead merely glance off his ribs. A painful wound, but thankfully only a flesh wound rather than a mortal one, and one that would heal quickly.