Garth released me, standing and bowing. He said nothing as he walked out. Part of me wanted to reach out, to keep him here. But the other part of me protested vehemently. I have no right to avoid this. I have no right to keep him here when I do not deserve them, when i do not deserve comfort.

As much as I wanted to stare at the ground, I didn't. I looked up, staring at the dull wall, bathed in the ambient light from the hallway. My gaze never moved, though I was deeply aware of the eyes on me.

"Kaldur," my king said, stepping towards me.  I flinched. My back pressed firmly into the corner, shoulders curling forward in a desperate attempt to make myself smaller. Pain flared, burning through every laceration still healing on my back, but it quickly dulled. It seemed as though my own body was conspiring against me, keeping the punishment I deserve just outside of my reach. 

"Please leave me alone."

"I cannot do that, my son."

"Why?" Why can he not leave me to do this? Why is everyone so convinced I do not deserve this? I have told him what I have done. He can clearly see how much I hurt Percy. She flinches when I so much as enter the room, and even then we are rarely in the same room to begin with. My entire duty as her older brother is to protect her, but I did not. I did the exact opposite of that, and yet they still believe- They still think-

"Despite everything, you are still my protege, my chosen champion. Your wellbeing is my responsibility."

I chewed my lip until the taste of copper hit my tongue. "It should not be."

"Yet it is," he said. My king knelt in front of me, a soft sigh leaving him as eyes scanned over me. His hand gripped my shoulder, fingers digging into muscle and bone; he pulled me away from the wall and into his chest. Arms settled around me. The hold was tight, but every move he made aimed to ease my discomfort. I struggled against him, weakly pushing at his chest. "Sh. Calm down, my son," Orin shushed me with one hand on my back, the other curled around my shoulders. He rested his chin on my head. "You are safe."

"Let me go."

"You know I will not, so please make this easier on yourself and stop struggling."

Soon, I had no choice. My energy, waned as it was, gave out, leaving me huddle against his chest with no hopes of escape. Curling in on myself was my only choice. Limit the amount of affection he would be able to offer me, make it a waste of his time. Make him see he should not waste it on me. 

Shuffling me around, my king gently messed with my hair. He said nothing, leaving silence to hang heavy, only broken by intermittent whines. It took too long for me to realize I was the source. After that they stopped. 

"Kaldur..." Pity lurked in every corner of his tone. Whatever reaction he was expecting, he did not receive. I curled a little tighter, dug my nails in deeper. More blood spilled down my arms, staining his clothes. "You need to talk to Black Canary about this, if not me or the others."

"There is nothing to talk about." 

"I think the fact you are trying to kill yourself is, in fact, something to talk about."

"I have not harmed myself," I mumbled. The open wounds spilling blood do not count. Had they been healed there would be no injuries to reopen.

"Yes, you have." Orin sighed. His arms tightened around me as he stood, keeping a careful grip, ever mindful of my injuries. Silent steps carried him to my bed where he laid me. "My son," he mumbled, tucking a blanket around me. "Listen to me. Do not attempt to do this again." He leaned down and hugged me. I whined,  trying to get away, but all I succeeded in was causing him to crawl onto the bed with me. By all means, it wasn't bad, just a simple hug. A tight hug from which I would not be allowed to escape. Soft words, comforting words, all words I did not want to hear. There is no reason for them. 

In the silence, words weighed on my chest suffocating me, forcing me to open my mouth and release them to the air. "I do not deserve to live, not after what I have done."  

Orin sat up, one hand resting on my arm. At this point, I had stopped trying to withdraw from his touch. What was the point? I was not going to. He was not going to let me. All sensation in my body dulled. The words my king said did not sound real, they did not feel real. And is that not a sad truth?

Despite this dream, this fallacy, I am still trapped. My body still lie on that bloodstained floor, awaiting the time I will be hauled up and handed weapons. No one would ever come for us, and that is what every single dream showed. It did not matter if I thought I was safe, every single time I would be killed by someone be it king, mother, or friend. 

The door closed, leaving me in darkness. I curled up a little tighter.

"Please...just let this be over with."

Well, if I don't get around to it

This is you Christmas/Dec 25th present

And...Im not saying you have to but

Ideas? Can you spare some ideas, please *rattles collection tin*

See yah