Chapter Text
Ciar considered it very unfair that Methus had sent him to his own rooms within the hotel penthouse, just after he returned from his - successful, might he add - trip to the hunters' club to find proof of Punn's traiterous nature.
Only a moment ago Methus and Mekhin both had shown clear understanding of the situation on their faces, and Ciar had already felt triumphant, felt like he was finally getting on top of things again.
Even his fangs were itching to sink into that filthy human's flesh and tear him limb from limb for sneaking into his family in such a cruel way.
But instead of them confronting Punn, what happened instead was that Methus had told him to was what felt like sit and ponder his own misdoings, and Ciar wanted to bite him for it. Well maybe not actually bite him, that would be rude, but on the other hand... he was growing anxious, and the more time passed, the more anxious he got.
It must have been a few hours later when Methus finally returned to his rooms and Ciar immidiately jumped to his feet.
"You have some gall to make me wait this long, you impertinent-"
Methus hand clutched very suddenly over his mouth, emphasized by a terribly angry look that felt like it pierced deep into Ciar's soul.
"I do not want to hear a word from you."
Ciar made a loud noise of protest that was entirely swallowed by Methus' palm over his mouth, and the way the other man was looking at him could have probably killed a weaker mind on the spot.
"You will sit and wait until I am able to deal with you. I do not want to hear a single word from you that is anything but an apology that you actually mean."
Ciar wanted to scream at how unfair this all was. He had hoped that Ramil would kill the traitor, maybe even that Ramil would finally see again why Ciar was worthy to be his favorite, and he had at least expected that Methus would praise him for doing well, for doing the right thing, for his methods proving themselves as right.
And instead he slowly stepped backwards, like a kicked dog, with his tail between his legs.
"Sit!" Methus' voice cut into him, and his legs just toppled and he sat where he stood, his body just deciding to obey Methus' command entirely against his will.
Methus busied himself in the office part of his rooms, which just barely gave him a line of sight towards Ciar.
He didn't say anything when Ciar adjusted his sitting position but the second he made even the hint of a noise he shot a deadly glance in his direction.
Like that he left him to sit there for what felt like easily a few hours.
Ciar finally heard him make a call to Mekhin for which he closed the door to his office. He eyed the window that was left slightly ajar. If he was quick enough he would be able to make an escape. Not that he wasn't willing to obey Methus. To a degree. Sometimes. But there were limits to what he was willing to endure and he had just decided that he would now kindly fuck off.
Just to test it out he carefully leaned forward on his hand, getting ready to push himself up on one hand to just get that little bit more leverage that he would need for a quick getaway.
Breathing in, breathing out, he felt the air change around him beginning to grip his hair as it began to turn to feathers-
"Ciar."
Methus' voice was like ice, and the way his hand was buried in Ciar's hair was sudden and painful.
Fuckfuckfuck that stupid prince and his stupid fucking speed.
Methus knelt down beside him, the hand still buried in his hair, bending Ciar's head back enough that it was painful.
"Kneel. And do not move. Do not breathe. Until I tell you to you will not leave this spot."
He hissed, and his voice sounded even angrier than before.
Methus got up onto his feet and left the room, leaving a shaking Ciar behind.
Where Ciar felt like before there was some wiggling room, now that was all gone.
He knew Methus angry, but never once had he felt this level of anger leveled at himself.
There was nothing truely biding in the command, but still Ciar felt himself slowly tug his legs below his body and pull his arms around himself.
Within only a few moments his breaths had slowed down to a halt, until they ceased entirely. Like his brethren, Ciar did breathe out of habit, but technically, as a vampire, his body didn't require it, and so it just quietly accepted its fate.
---
At some point his eyes had fallen closed, and he had spent a while that he couldn't clearly describe in hours or minutes in the hazy darkness of his head.
It was finally broken by the noise of the opening door and the steps of two people.
Ciar didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to face Methus' disappointment again, he had had enough of that today already, and the dark space in his head was too tempting.
But then warm hands wrapped around his and felt along his own.
He heard voices filtering through his haziness.
The hands around his own felt nice, like they were rubbing some warmth back into them.
He felt fingers on his lips, and then a voice again, but it took a moment until he fully registered that the voice was talking to him.
Mekhin. Of course. He always had warm hands.
"Breathe, Ciar. Start slowly."
The hand from his face went to his neck where the fingers were rubbing slow circles.
That felt nice.
He nearly felt tempted to lean into the other man.
But then there was Methus' sharp voice again.
Ciar didn't even understand what he said, but it wasn't appreciating.
"Yes, he's okay. He just took it a bit too far."
Again Methus' voice somewhere in the background.
"Your guess is as good as mine. I doubt he is very used to forbidding his body to breathe."
Steps came closer.
"Get up."
Methus stupid, annoying voice again.
But Ciar did as he was told, Mekhin's hand on his lower back. Stupid Mekhin, always worrying.
"Look at me."
Ciar bared his teeth for a second, and only Mekhin's head shake out of the corner of his eye clued him in on the fact that the annoying doctor had just saved him from the consequences of his own actions.
As it was, Methus only looked at him with disapproval.
"Do not bare your teeth at me unless you want to wear a muzzle."
Mekhin softly tapped his side before he could make a snide remark.
"You left without consulting either of us. You risked your own life in a way that I struggle to find words for how stupid and enraging it was", Methus told him.
Again Mekhin tapped him before he could answer something stupid.
"This can not go unpunished. But I agree with Mekhin that you should rest first. Your body is strained from what happened earlier."
Just when Ciar felt a pinch of hurt that he couldn't fully place, Methus hand grabbed his chin, but less harsh than he had expected, even with a slight, soft press of his thumb against his cheek.
"And I know you're hurt. But I need you to understand the impact of your actions. And you will not understand that without punishment."
Ciar looked over to Mekhin.
"Look after him. He will complain. Let him."
Then he turned his eyes back to Ciar.
"I want you to stay here for the night. Listen to Mekhin in my stead. I have things to talk about with our master."