The Captive Titan [ManxMan]

Chapter Three: Contrariwise

~Chapter Three: Contrariwise~

The first time I saw Atlas again After, it was while dreamwalking a few months after I regained my freedom.

Standing atop the grassy fields of the Laconian mountains overlooking the long-dead but currently thriving city of Sparta, Atlas is waiting, and when he notices me some meters away, he quickly walks over. "Ainmire," he breathes, reaching for my face before, to my confusion, suddenly freezing and taking a hurried step back, keeping his hands to himself.

Later, I would realize that it was the unconscious flinch I gave when he reached for me that caused his reaction, but in that moment, I had been too wary about his sudden appearance and afraid of what might happen if he touched me when merely talking to others made me dizzy, confused, and left me feeling a little more broken each day. This was before I knew that I could not have an episode in a dream.

Despite his obvious reluctance to reach for me again and my uncertainty about seeing him right now, he still sounds so relieved when he says, "You're alive."

Even in a dream, I was not doing well enough to really think about the best way to respond, but after a moment, I had managed to piece together a small but maybe-genuine smile, though I did not reach for him either as I reminded him:

"I'm a hard god to kill."

It was definitely not the best thing I could have said, and in hindsight, I regret that that was the first thing I said to him in over five years, but a tension I had not noticed before that moment had faded from his shoulders. The smile he gave me afterwards was small, too, but far more heartfelt than my twisted little thing.

"I would appreciate it if you would keep it that way, love. I'd hate to lose you before I can even say a proper 'hello.'"

The dream ended only seconds later for an unknown reason, not giving me the change to reply, and I did not see him again for months after because the realms of Yggdrasil have very strong shields to protect against dream invasions, which makes me wonder if the first time was little more than a fluke accomplished by Hypnos. Still, no matter the circumstances or how long we had, it was a relief to see him again, even if my recovery was temporarily set back because of it.

It did not stop a seed of doubt from planting itself in my mind as time went on, though. After all, it is hardly something I could - or want to - confront Atlas about, and the uncertainties that doubt brings slowly make way for actual fear. Because once Atlas is free...what will happen to us?

- - - - - - -

My hands want to reach down, want to claw at my throat, but they cannot move with the giant globe resting on my shoulders, held up by me but enforced by magic. If I could drop it, I would, but it would not truly be a prison if I could escape at any time. So, instead, I am here, forever lost yet present. Floating yet grounded. Feeling yet not experiencing. Hurting. Hurting. Hurting-

Wakefulness comes with the abruptness that says it is likely not actually morning, but I still roll out of bed the moment my limbs wake themselves from sleep paralysis, too afraid to return to sleep knowing what waits for me tonight. It is not every night that ends this way, after all; it is usually just the occasional night terror with days, if not weeks, in between occurrences. Yet, tonight was the second time in the row, and it only felt all the more real for it.

I blame Hades.

The temptation to retrieve the letter from my sock drawer and circle the wise choice of 'no' is present, but my forehead remains pressed against a stone brick wall that I do not remember walking up to or leaning against. The bricks are cold, and the back of my shirt has been sweat through, allowing the chill to seep in from behind by the chill of the air as well, but all this means is that I end up shivering since moving to find something warm or even just dry is too far beyond me in this moment. So, I just stand still, teeth lightly chattering despite my normal immunity to such things as chilly air, willing the fear of the dream that had no fear away.