Work Text:
Being suddenly transported into a random place where the only two laws were violence and the survival of the strongest seemed to deal specifically with his own strengths. It was a way of life he welcomed, something that made the blood in his veins pump and boil.
He tended to be the top dog no matter where he went, so finding someone stronger than him caused his obsession to flare in his desire to beat him.
Han was untouchable. His eyes were pools of ice. His indifference was cutting. He lacked the warmth that most people had in their eyes. His strength was enough that even when he wasn’t fighting, it commanded and forced respect. It was everything Belkist wanted.
Somehow, someway, wanting his ease to command transformed into wanting him. His attention, his focused gaze analyzing only his form and his fights. Look at me, his mind screeched in a constant loop. Look at me, keep me by your side.
“Don’t kill them.” It was amazing how one single sentence was enough for him to stray his hand. “Any complaints?” As if Belkist could ever say something other than no. “Is this your style?” Yes, yes, yes. Anything, ask anything. He would strip himself bare, tear off his own skin and expose his organs for Han’s stare. He would show off his soul and spirit, he would hand over his still-beating heart and his brain, as long as Han looked in his direction.
The only obstacle wasn’t even an obstacle. The spearman was weak, his brain desired more than to be just a weapon in the hands of his owner, Belkist would be content just being the wild wolf sent for the hunt. Being told that he was taking the huntress and the spearman to the training camp made him feel inadequate. The spareman was no longer a spearman, he no longer belonged to team 1, why was he being given the chance to improve?
The bitterness at not even being able to prove himself the strongest in Han’s absence tasted like defeat, the beast tribe was strong and he was weak, this single fact of life weighed heavily over his shoulders. The only momentary joy he felt was when Han came back and the spearman was not with him. If the weak weapon was gone, then the space opened for the huntdog, but if the huntdog was weak it could easily be replaced back to the spear.
Feeling Han’s new energy felt like basking in front of his god, he felt small, he felt weak, he felt like prey kneeling down in front of the stronger predator. His admiration continued to grow, and the desire that sat in his gut continued to fan the flames, he would be ready to tear anyone apart as long as Han gave the command.
Staring at his back gave him a sense of security that nothing else could imitate, and knowing he could continue to try and reach out but that his hand would be ignored made him grit his teeth and stifle his growl.
A mad dog that found his owner, and an owner who couldn’t care less besides the basics of caring. The cruel irony tasted like sweets in his mouth and like blood on his tongue.