Don't Touch Me, I'm Scared
So, I've had this head-canon for awhile now and this prompt reminded me of it.
I find it highly doubtful that after being almost drowned Halt would get on a boat right away to sail to Araluen. No chance, nonzo. But I also think that his instincts would tell him to get to the docks as quickly as he could to get away from the guards and stuff.
So, he doesn't really let himself process what really happened, because 1, it would slow him down, and 2, it's painful emotionally, and frankly he didn't know how to deal with it. (Because he was never taught how to deal with emotions in a healthy manner)
Now, I also head-canon that Pritchard had trained him on the way there, and just generally did dad™️ things, or at least tried to. At that point, Halt was pretty distrustful of basically everybody, so he did what he was used to and shoved all his emotions down.
Until they actually got to the docks.
When they had entered the boarding area, the first thing they smelt* was fish and shrimp. Halt furrowed his brows and set his lips in a fine line. (Why let a little smell get to you? You're so close!) Pritchard asked if he was ok, and he replied by moving through the crowd. Pritchard sighed and tried to catch up to him, noticing that Declan was more visibly nervous than usual.
There were a lot of people hauling around supplies needed for their short and long trips ahead. Children ran, played, and screamed. Halt focused on the path ahead of him, trying to block out the people surrounding him. Before he had gone into the crowd, he got off Declan, leading him around by the reigns. While that drew less attention to him (the thought of being noticed was obviously pretty anxiety-inducing) it also made him feel more sweaty, and worse, more trapped. He grit his teeth and pressed onward, having to tug on Declan's reigns slightly to get him moving.
He finally made it to the boat, handing the captain a pouch of coins. He stared at the boat in front of him. He took in the rocking of the boat, and for the first time in a while he hesitated. He cursed himself and forced his feet to move. This time, Declan didn't, and instead neighed and kicked his feet (you know, the stereotypical freak out for a horse).
Halt paused on the deck and tried to calm him down.
As he did so, he could feel his heart pounding faster,
He smelt the shrimp, now a stronger smell than before.
and faster,
The rocking of the boat beneath his feet.
and faster,
Declan would not calm down for the life of him.
and faster.
The final nail in the coffin, so to speak, was when some of the ocean water splashed over him.
That's when he froze. His chest felt like it was going to burst open, his breathing was labored and he swore his lungs were closing up. The noise around him became blurred, as did his sight. His mind swam with disjointed memories from his past, and he was lightheaded.
Something—someone touched his hand, springing his body into motion again. He ran back to the woods.
Pritchard watches him run off, then grabbed Declan. He asked the captain for the refund, giving him a few of his own coins.
He had to do a double take when he saw him, deep in the woods, sitting next to a tree with his knees drawn up with his arms wrapped around them, his cloak almost completely sealing him from view. Pritchard got off his horse, Quinn, and knelt down beside him, hesitating. As much as he wanted to comfort him, he had no clue how to.
Hell, he didn't even know what exactly happened. Halt had gone far ahead, and he lost him among the crowd when he finally managed to get over to the ship that was heading towards Araluen, the boy's chest had already began to heave more frequently, and he seemed to become slightly more clumsy. Then, some water splashed on him, and he stopped moving, his hands resting on his chest and throat, and slightly hunched over. And, Pritchard didn't know if it was on purpose or not, but he had been staring at him. He pushed past the captain and tried to talk to him, but he didn't seem to register what was being said. He reached out his hand, making it brush against Halt's.
Panic lined his facial features, even more so than before, and he screamed something around the lines of "Don't touch me!" before bolting off.
The sun had been setting way too fast for his liking as he was trying to find him.
Quinn reacted before he did, sniffing the top of Halt's messy hair.
Halt looked up at them at the sensation, red surrounding his deep brown eyes, the source of the tear stains on his cheeks. He looked so small against the world, and Pritchard was reminded of how young he really was.
A broken voice came out of his mouth as he tried to speak. Pritchard knelt down beside him, looking up at the sky as to not stress him further. Halt swallowed and tried again, to avail. He squeezed the fabric of his pants tighter in frustration.
"It's alright, Halt. Unless you need something," Pritchard said, turning to face him. "Do you?"
Halt bit his lip and looked away.
"Listen, you're not bothering me if you do. I want to help you, I really do," Pritchard said. "So... do you need something?"
Halt shook his head.
"Are you sure? You've said this before, and-" he gestured vaguely. "It didn't turn out so well."
Halt thought for a moment, squinting his eyes. His brain was still foggy; it was hard to think straight. He nodded.
"Alright. I'll be setting up camp, so if you come up with anything, you can..." He felt pressure and warmth around his waist, the force of those things knocking him back. He had to catch his breath before putting his hand on the back of Halt's head, combing through his hair with his fingers, his other hand a securing weight among the boy's back.
After a couple of minutes, Halt pulled away slightly, taking a deep breath and swallowing.
"The boats," Halt said, his voice cracking. His eyes filled with exasperation among the already present fear. "Ferris, the guards..."
"We'll worry about all that once you've rested. For now, though, I promise you that everything will be ok."
Halt raised his eyebrow. "Promise." he said sarcastically.
"Promise."
"Over optimistic."
"What, do you doubt my skills?"
"Sometimes," Halt teased, pointing at him. "You're old with creaky joints."
Halt yawned as Pritchard stared at him. The old man sighed good-naturely. "What am I going to do with you?"
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