#waugh...

kai...must you attack me so...

i actually LOVE reverse bodyguard aus (i think it's so fun and i think some of my favs would be fascinating in them—see sae, for example) but with naoya. well. i simply don't think he'd accept a bodyguard in general. he's very convinced of his own skill and abilities! and i think it's ten times worse if you're a woman.

The warmth of another was something Atreus didn't really have the luxury of experiencing often, once his mother had passed. He didn't get as sick as often as he used to as he grew older, so there was seldom need for sharing body heat. Still, even in his sleep, that feeling of being swaddled and safe causes him to nose his way into Artificer's fur and drift into deeper, sweeter dreams.

--

It comes to him in flashes; bits and pieces of moments that, in the realm of sleep, seem to last for an eternity. In each fragment of time, Artificer was always there with him. Sometimes others were there as well, like Father or Mimir or Freya, and sometimes there was nobody else but him and the slugcat.

They come and go, like fond memories; sometimes they're on the Lake of Nine, paddling across the calm and unfrozen waters. Sometimes they're exploring the wilds of one of the realms beyond Midgard, perhaps Alfheim or Vanaheim. The places, people, and things would vary, but out of them all only one stood out in particular.

She's there, watching from the sidelines, and Atreus is a slugcat this time. He's tussling with something, like how he'd play with Speki and Svanna - it takes him a moment to realize they're pups. One with fur as deep and green as the lake waters, and one with fur as bright and blue as the summer sky. He's not sure why, but something about them both reminded him strongly of Artificer.

They play like they'd always been siblings, roughhousing among the summer grass and flowers of the forest surrounding his home. Sun and sea and sky, under the watchful eye of mother fire. It's a moment that Atreus wouldn't mind being lost in for an eternity.

--

But sometimes, the dreams give way to nightmares.

He's not home anymore. He's in what he could only describe as a claustrophobic hell; cramped and dim hallways, lit only by the warm light of lanterns. Packed to the brim and swarming with Scavengers. He was one too, with bright blue eyes and golden fur, but the others looked as him as though he were a demon with their burning, hateful gazes.

Atreus couldn't run, so the only thing he did was fight. Spears flew and clashed against one another; many nicked and pierced him, but for every drop of god-blood they spilled, he killed just as many of their kin. But there were so many, and they wouldn't stop coming, and his arms were getting so tired, and all of his wounds won't stop bleeding and it just hurts--

There.

He hears it first before he sees it; the crackling snap of an explosion, followed by a familiar blur of red leaving smoking bodies in its wake. He tries to call out for her but in his Scavenger throat it comes out wrong, a high-pitched squeal of distress akin to a terrified pup. Among the chaos, she sees her head snap over in his direction and her gaze lock on him. Relief floods his heart when she launches herself over to his side of the crowd, and he starts fighting his way through the Scavenger tide to try and close the distance.

What he doesn't expect is for her to slam into him, and for her jaws to sink deep into his throat.

He can't scream, he can't gasp, leaving only his eyes to go wide as plates at the sudden betrayal. Only now does his magic let him meld back into the familiar slugcat form, yet she does not relent. He reaches up to her face, blood and air seeping through his mouth and throat alike, and manages to rasp;

Why me? Why me?

His spear had sunk into the skin over her heart, yet he couldn't bring himself to drive it any deeper. He sees how her ears pin even further back, how her only good eye seemed to well up, and yet she bites down ever harder.

--

He wakes with a start, a hand pressed to his intact throat as his eyes flutter open to the dark interior of the shelter. Outside, he can hear the distant roar of the rain, but aside from the sound of his and Artificer's breathing, all is quiet. It reminds him of when he'd wake in the dead of bad winter nights, between the safety and warmth of his parents.