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George Brandon (itsgeorge) wrote in isleroyaleic,

He was safe? George didn't believe it yet, but he wanted to. His body wanted to, the way it gave up and melted into his mother's arms, so tired. It filled his chest to bursting to tuck his chin after absorbing all of those kisses and tuck it into his shoulder, where it belonged. He knew just the spot he'd always gone to, right in the crook of Henry's shoulder, where he could inhale the deepest concentration of his scent. He let go of his grip on Henry's arms and wrapped them around his waist instead, fingertips tugging at the fabric along his back.

He was still shaking like a leaf, but slowly but surely, it seemed to be working. George's sobbing was evening out, every so often hiccuping his body while he left a wet spot on Henry's shirt.

“Mum...” he croaked. It felt so strange to say. He hadn't said the name in so long. It'd been a taboo for years to bring it up in the Cecil family home. Now he could say it as much as he wanted. “Mum... Mum... I'm scared. I don't want to go back. I don't ever want to go back. I don't want them to come here. I don't want that man to come here. I don't want...”

He trailed off. It was too hard to keep his adult brain working when the child in him was pushing him aside and greedily taking up everything he could get of Mum Mum Mum Mum Mum. It wouldn't let him scheme anymore, or guard himself. It twisted his face and made him stay there, right where he was, in some other moment in time where there was nothing else to sort out or question.

“I... I love you, Mum... I was so lost without you...”