Chapter Text
The first thing that passed through Thomas’s mind when he woke up was a desperate want to go back to sleep. Its warm embrace along with this fluffy comforter was much more preferable to whatever awaited him downstairs with his parents. Now, don't get him wrong, Thomas loved his parents. Truly.
His parents, while not being related to him, were still the only reason that he lived past infancy. He knew that whatever “memories” he recalled had to be a complete creation of his imagination as they picked him off the streets when he was what the Simmons thought was six months old. His mom had never felt a want or any specific need for children, and his dad never really liked them to begin with so they honestly had no idea what his age was.
It had been on their walk back home from a longer job that he was stumbled upon, he had been told that if it hadn't been for the golden hair that topped his head catching the thawing winter sun they might have even missed him.
And it was on the ninth of April, after an incredibly long and harsh winter, that Theseus was brought in by two caring fae hunters. And it was the cold call of harsh winds reaching out and the gentle kisses of snow that Thomas remembered when nights became mornings too slowly.
Today was yet another April ninth and the boy simply could not decide for himself if they were passing too quickly or too slowly for his liking. Specifically, this marked fourteen years since he was saved and he wished to any power to ever exist that he was younger, or older perhaps, even if by a day just to procrastinate a tad bit more.
If he was older he would know what had his parents staying off from work for once in his life, if he was old enough he could even be used to it, or out of here. As stated before, Thomas loved his little family here, they gave him everything he needed to live and for that, he was forever grateful(he was going to prove that with the rest of his life starting today), that was one of the main reasons he most desperately wanted to be younger.
The best-case scenario would be if he could be four once more. At that age, he was still young enough to hold his parents on that platform of perfection and be dependent enough that they had to see him for a good portion of every day. Theseus knew it was a selfish want, attention, but sometimes he couldn't help it.
From the day Thomas was old enough to recognize it, it had been an understanding that as soon as he could, he would follow in his parent’s footsteps. Thinking of it as a family business helps, he supposes, making it seem like he was going to run a small stall at the market or perhaps be a baker. Sweet, safe things, not become an assassin of gods.
That might be a bit of an exaggeration but could you even blame Thomas? The job of a fae hunter was just as the name suggests. As a living, you are supposed to be going around messily killing people. But they weren't people, they were fae. And not messily, because fae were crafty. Naturally mischievous(basically immortal) magic possessors that could fly.
How was he, a lanky, uneducated teenager supposed to outsmart them? Let alone kill them. Pay is quite high but even he couldn't see the appeal in risking your entire village for some extra coins and his father has got to be the most work-obsessed man to ever exist.
He's probably seen the man about three times in his life(another exaggeration mind him), even though he had an entire family it seemed that his work was all that he ever thought about. Reading a newspaper? Only the sections about the latest fae sightings. Up in his study? Probably writing yet another book about their weaknesses or his experiences. Out shopping? Using that extra pay for more iron tools most likely.
It's not like Theseus's Mom wasn't the same, she most definitely was, she just had other hobbies as well, taking care of him included. One could see it as sad to refer to yourself as a hobby for others, but he rather liked to. It meant that his mother enjoyed their time together. But she still was obsessed with her job though some things never change.
Technically, he could not become a paid fae hunter for two more years. A dangerous job required a high age requirement, he probably should be upset it wasn't higher. Fourteen was what his parents had concluded was the ideal age to start training though. And today, he was, and everything was off.
Except for his bed and that was not helping at all, that was one of the few things he knew unlike whatever the actual fuck today’s events had in store for him. His parents had been acting so much more shifty than normal, and that was saying something. Now, Theseus was no idiot, even if he had never been in a school. So it was to be expected that he immediately knew that it must have to do with this birthday. No clues as to what it was though, so he just chalked it up to excitement at having their precious son become a part of their famed life’s work.
At one point he finally decided that he had put off the inevitable long enough, him going down there with them still happy and content was much, much better than either or god forbid both of them coming up to his room pissed.
Shaking his covers off ended up hurting more than he thought. Thomas rather enjoyed the cool air that greeted him but, he still much preferred the half-awake bliss that is laying in bed at 9 a.m. Slowly, the chilly wood floors met his feet with a little hiss.
Creaking stairs announced his attendance to his parents like the little snitches they were before he was properly able to prepare himself or even get a good read of the room. By the time he looked around the wall to the dining room, his parents were already staring at him with that look of theirs.
So judgmental, like he could never dream of living up to their expectations but still so assured he would. He could never understand it for the life of him but, if there was one word to describe his parents it was fucking hypocritical.
Their whole occupation was as well in his point of view. He means, killing the fae because they were killing humans? Didn't seem as if the hunters were any better than the supposed monsters.
To be honest he hated both sides of this petty war. Humans holding themselves as the epitome of good put a pit of nausea deep into his guts. Yes faes looked at humans as some kind of demented pets, turning them into statues on a whim but he knew some pretty big assholes who were a hundred percent human, and to top it off the Hunters would burn the fae with iron and salt, tear the wings off their backs and so much more without any semblance of remorse.
Not that he'd bring up any of these opinions to his parents, ever. Thomas may have a knack for trouble but he sure as hell didn't have a death wish so, no thank you.
His dad's eyes sparkled for the first time in a while, and the thought that might be because of him almost immediately put all his grievances aside though. He yearned desperately for both of their approval but, his dads is the rarest, making him be oh so much more weaker to the idea of it.
Not wasting a breath, his father spoke up, eyes sharp,” Thomas, so nice of you to join us,” an overly false enthusiasm coating his words,” We have a little surprise to show you as a welcoming present to your new career,".
Malicious smile lining his face, his adoptive father swiftly stood up to his full height, knocking off his mother’s hand which had been residing there only a second ago.
His mother did her best at giving him a reassuring smile back, but she too was obviously eager about whatever prized possession he was to be given before his hunter birthday extravaganza given the excited glint livening up her eyes for the first time in forever.
By the time the boy could even glance at his father again he had already briskly made it to the basement door haunting their dining area. Of course, he knew whatever was down there had to be somehow related to the whole business but he'd been forbidden to ever walk down those stairs before he had even known what the word ‘basement’ even was.
Logically, he knew it was probably some library or training area, neither of which was fun to have a toddler wandering through all the time so he got it, but maybe, just maybe, it is some evil layer or dungeon with cold puddles on the floors and weapons lining every wall. If it is, Thomas really has no right to be surprised at that with whatever weird facial expression his father was currently making. Kind of resembled a constipated monkey.
His father’s hand glossed over the doorknob gently but with a firmness he always seemed to carry, slowly pulling it open with a soft creek. A dark, wooden stairway was revealed and Theseus could swear that he could feel some chilly draft coming up from the doorway.
The gentle calloused hand of his mom came to rest on his back, startling him slightly. Walking forward a bit to be in line with him, she pushed him quite demandingly towards the doorway his father had already disappeared down into.
Hesitation lined his thoughts as a deep fear settled into him. These are his parents and they'd never hurt him and they had his entire trust, so why were his joints frozen over before he even realized his mom had passed him to retreat into the basement.
He watched her brown turtleneck be consumed by shadows before finally moving to follow himself, rushing a bit to catch up lest he upset them before noon.
Chilly breezes from before only increased tenfold as he made his way down the splintered stairs that stabbed him through his socks. Moving him along rows and rows of iron cages(seems his dungeon guess was right) that varied in size, his parents never spared any glances back to him.
The both of them stopped, almost in sync, standing in front of Thomas like some stiff protective barrier that he couldn't help but feel like he was on the wrong side of. He’d been an idiot to have not immediately noticed the guarded walls that had been put upon his parents, he couldn't have survived this house if he didn’t. His eyes had to leave where they had been previously trailing his parent’s shoes just to get a look at what they had kept secret for who knew how long. Did the council even know? Why wouldn't they? Would it be that bad?
Questions crowding his brain almost made him forget whatever was being presented to him, almost. Thomas would say that he's a pretty chill guy, really! He had been prepared for whatever the hell today would be, just not, this.
His parents had decided to sentence the whole village to death as sitting right in front of them, imprisoned, was one of the princes of the Winter Court, obvious enough by the emerald necklace pulled out of his mother’s shirt tauntingly. Even without the trademark gem everyone and their mother knew the royal family shared, ragged stained layers made it obvious that he must've been someone important.
The tall brunette must've been locked away for a while due to his appearance. Curled hair has been matted together, sweat sticking the bangs to his forehead. Dark bags covered too pale whitish blue skin, barely able to show any color. Thin veils of ice covered the surfaces close to him, one warm breath away from melting. His hair was a warm brown that shouldn't have matched the rest of his cold pallet yet brought it all together. It could've been his appearance or his demeanor, but something about the man before his basement seems warm in comparison.
Thomas’s breath hitched as his eyes met feral narrowed ones, freezing him over where he stood. They quickly darted back to his parents before pointy teeth were brought out into a snarl, “Is this your beloved heir?” a raspy voice dared, sending the prince into a coughing fit.
Thomas's Father yanked back chains littering the floor using his foot, making him startled at the realization of iron cuffs hampering the fae's limbs. The skin around the cuffs was red as if it had been rubbed raw and blistering. Theseus could feel the phantom ghost of sharp pains at the mere sight, he couldn’t imagine what torture the prince was and had been going through. The fact that Prince William(he thinks?) Only silently grimaced was something the teen couldn’t decide was better or worse.
His mom kicked the cage, jostling the insides and adding insult to injury. He took an affronted step back at the blatant cruelty being shown, wanting to drop to his knees then and there but didn't dare show weakness to the humans in the room.
Royal eyes only continued to further narrow, never stopping for long on either of their captors. They never did return to Thomas after that initial glance, but he credited it to the fact that he was still a minor. For whatever reason, the magical beings seemed to have a borderline obsessive fondness for human kids. No one ever really knew why but rumor has it that it was due to a seamless purity, easily corruptible in their hands.
“You’ll pay for this you scum, you've doomed your entire community,” was bitten out by the broken fae, overflowing with a stubborn venom. “When they find me, you’ll suffer through my pain tenfold after you watch everyone you love tortured first.” His father smirked a bit wider as if the suffering egged him on(which it surely did) but, the sourness left in his mouth was nothing in comparison to his heart dropping at the dark chuckle coming from his mom.
Another surprise that should’ve been expected. His mother is as bad as his father, wasn’t she? Thomas knew what she did but it was a lot easier to forget her crimes when she gave sturdy hugs and soft words. Whatever empathetic sorrow he had held turned into a selfish rage that blocked his throat. He wanted to cry, to scream, to kick at his revealed betrayal but he couldn’t do that here with them . Thomas should’ve fucking known that she wasn’t any better, how could he be so stupid . Why couldn’t he trust someone without them hurting him?
“It’s been months, if they wanted you back you would already be so,” the once reassuring voice only further festered the blonde’s pain. Months, months . They probably kidnapped him right before winter had begun. A swift turn in the corner of his eye was the only warning he got before the freezing rust of a key was shoved into his hand. He broke his staring contest with the floor to meet his father’s haughty eyes.
“Theo,” stupid fucking nickname, stupid fucking father, stupid fucking mother, stupid fucking life. Why didn’t he just fucking die before he had to go through this? Hypothermia was far more preferable to the immense pain of repeatedly stabbing and besides, the cold was far more comfortable than these people have ever been to him.
“This is now your responsibility, keep it close to you at all costs. This key is worth more than you ever were boy,”. A hand roughly pulled away, the rough edges of the metal dug into his skin. Turning away yet again today, his father retreated back up the stairs, heavy footsteps following his suffocating presence.
A set of lips burned his cheek briskly, before whispering soft words commanding him to follow after her. As his mother left his side, he glanced up one last time at the imprisoned being in front of him, watering deep ocean eyes bearing into chilled frosty ones. A quick nod was sent to the opposing set before he ran back to his parents, singing a silent song of freedom.