As it turns out being trapped in ice for thousands of years makes you pretty exhausted as evident with how Y/n had muttered a quiet "Papa.' before immediately passing out into his arms.
After a quick check of her pulse to make sure she was still alive, and the spell hadn't failed, he picked her up bridle style and with the snap of his fingers they were now in his living room.
He laid her down on his couch—though it was a little dusty on account of him not using it very often—so he could get a spare blanket.
He opened the closet door and grabbed a blanket—which most likely smelled of dust bunnies and that musky scent that comes with things stuffed into a closet for over a year. --and grabbed it.
When he got back to the living room, he spotted her squirming body rolling on the couch with her face scrunched up in terror.
He quickly discarded the blanket as she teetered over the edge and started to fall off the couch before he rushed to catch her.
The fall seemed to have woken her from her exhaustion if only to torture her with not knowing what was real and what was a dream.
It had gotten too much for the man. It pained him to have to see his daughter like this.
He sat her on the carpeted floor holding onto her shoulders so she wouldn't fall over in her panic and said, "Y/n, I need you to breath."
His words just barely pierced through her haze as her eyes shot to him though that also served to make it worse as a river seamed to
He panicked—turns out not having meaningful human contact for a few thousand years makes you pretty inept at comforting people—and quickly pulled her into a hug.
"Hush, little baby..." he lowly sang tears starting to gather in his eyes, "don't say a word."
He swallowed thickly as she continued to cry—less than before.
"Papa's gonna buy you a mockingbird." He sang with a slight crack in his voice.
He had started to remember things he'd rather keep pushed down but it seemed that wasn't going to happen.
"And if that mockingbird don't sing, papa's gonna buy you a wedding ring." He was starting to choke up now. Memories of coming home to a quiet house and checking on his daughter only to see his wife sat next to her—asleep, —the book of lullabies laid haphazardly on the bedside table.
Now was not the time to reminisce, he had a panicked daughter to calm down.
"And if that diamond ring turns brass," his voice was turning wobbly, but he ignored it in favor of his daughter, "Papa's gonna buy you a looking glass."
He choked on his breath thousands of years of tears now pouring out of his eyes.
He glanced down at his daughter, sure that if both were crying, the situation would worsen.
He was pleasantly surprised to see that she had fallen asleep on his chest—though a few tears were still leaking out of her eyes.
He sighed as he cradled her body in his arms with an exasperated expression on his face.
It was now obvious that he could not leave her alone while she slept, especially if there was a chance of this happening again.
He stood and walked to his bed—even if he never used it, it was still extremely useful—and laid her on top.
He pulled the blankets over her—maneuvering her body softly enough not to wake her—and tucked her in.
He sat up, cracked his back, and sighed.
He moved to the kitchen—keeping the bedroom door open to keep an eye on her—and searched through the cabinet for something for her to eat when she woke up.
When he found nothing of interest in the cabinet, he checked the fridge only to find a half carton of milk and a bag of grapes.
It's times like this that he wishes he wasn't given immortality.
He moved away and closed the fridge door.
He moved backwards towards the couch and limply fell onto the couch.
He sighed and glanced towards his bedroom. He would have to get food after she woke up.
He glanced at the clock on the wall and hummed. She would probably be asleep for a while, and it was early enough that the store probably wasn't closing yet.
He glanced at his bedroom again before pulling himself up and grabbed his overcoat.
So, what if he was just going to the store? He can wear a suit if he wants to!
~~
Y/n had woken up in a strange room on an even stranger bed—at least she thinks it's a bed, it's very different than the one she was used to—panicked and confused.
It seemed like it had only been a few days but the scar on her arm told otherwise—where did she even get a scar from? She wasn't injured before she went to sleep, was she?
She tried to think about what happened before she fell asleep but suddenly, she was bombarded with the thought of "NO. DANGER. STOP."
So, she did the only logical thing to do and immediately freaked the fuck out.
"Why are there voices in my head?" "Am I going crazy?" and "Fuck." We're some of the thoughts going through her head at the moment.
She calmed herself down and tried to think logically—as logical as an eight-year-old can at least.
She thought through what had just happened and tried to think about it again only to be bombarded with the same thoughts, but there was the underlying sense of something other about. them.
She focused on the feeling and tried to go further only for a spark of electricity to go through her body.
She jumped and her hair stood up straight.
She sat still for a while thinking over what she felt.
'It felt like the stuff mama did.' She thought.
She reminisced on when she had accidentally killed a chicken and couldn't stop crying. It went on for days until her mother asked if she wanted to forget about what had happened.
At the time she had said yes, and her mother put a hand on her forehead, but she had passed out before she knew what had happened.
When she woke up, she felt better but it was like she was missing something. Whenever she tried to think about the chicken it was like her mind had blocked it off from her.
After a while she had forgotten about it but one day it all had come rushing back to her and she sobbed into her mother's arms like she had done all her life.
She shook her to get rid of the memory, 'now was not the time to reminisce.'
She reached up to pat her hair back down, but something felt off about it.
She combed her fingers through her hair and found that it was shorter than it was before.
She panicked and pulled a piece in front of her face only to find that it was even shorter than she had expected.
She gaped at the sight, tears gathering in her eyes.
She removed the blanket from her legs and ran out of the room trying to find something to see her hair up close.
She ended up in a room filled with strange contraptions, but she was only focused on the reflective material above the counter with a strange hole in the middle.
She stood on her tippy toes in order to clearly see all her hair as she was rather short for her age.
She yelped at the sight of her hair; it seemed like it had been chopped clean off.
She moved away from the sink and sank to the ground, her head hidden behind her legs.
She started to sob snot dripping from her nose.
Her hair was so important to her and her culture. Who would do this to her?
Why did this happen?
She jolted as she heard a door squeak open, and footsteps echoed throughout the house.
She heard the rustle and a loud *thunk* come from the room with the large metal block.
The person in the other room cursed and hurriedly closed the door he—at least she assumed it was a he—then picked up the thing that had rustled and seemed to search through it.
She pushed a hand to her mouth to silence what was left of her crying session.
She barely heard him sigh and put stuff down on what must have been a table.
The footsteps started again, and they got closer and closer to her until they abruptly turned.
She let her hand leave her face as she sighed in relief, she was glad she had closed the door when she entered though she felt like she was forgetting—well more than she already was.
She slapped her hand back onto her face as the footsteps rushed back towards her though they moved away just as quickly.
She started to panic. He was definitely looking for her.
As she heard feet hurriedly hitting steps, she raised herself from the ground and peeked out the door.
She first spotted the items on the table and she
There was some type of bottle with a bright red liquid inside next to something equally as red with an... orange square on it?
She walked closer to it puzzled and took the bottle in her hands as it was too large to hold with just one.
She struggled to open it for a few seconds but eventually ended up opening it.
She sniffed it trying to discern what exactly it was but she couldn't smell anything, so she took an experimental sip.
The taste was so strong that she spit it out. It had tasted of nothing but un-natural garbage.
She took another bigger sip just to see if it would taste as bad the first time. —it didn't but that didn't mean it tasted any better.
She hummed and noticed that her throat wasn't as scratchy as it was before—it was especially scratchy when she first woke up but she had pushed it into the back of her mind as she had more concerning things to worry about.
She decided it wasn't worth it and put the drink back down and reached for the red package.
Though she struggled to open it for a few seconds she eventually got it open.
She reached a hand inside the bag and pulled out a few squares and hesitantly placed them in her mouth.
She bit into them and heard a loud crunch. She panicked, distressed that the loudness of the bite alerted the man of her presence.
Once she saw that the man wasn't coming back upstairs to search for her, she continued to chew though she was more cautious this time.
She savored the flavor of them, the saltiness of them was something she wasn't expecting to enjoy very much but she was pleasantly surprised.
She continued to snack on them until the bag was gone though she was still cautious and was ready to bolt at a moments notice.
Which she immediately did as soon as she heard the familiar sound of footsteps coming upstairs.
She raced towards the room she woke up in—he wouldn't search a room twice, right? —and hid under the bed her hand over her mouth like before.
She panicked even more as the footsteps got closer to the room until they were just in the doorway.
She squeezed her eyes shut and clamped her hand down harder as the footsteps neared.
'This was it. She was going to die here.'
The footsteps stopped as the bed creaked under the man's weight.
She heard him sigh as he took his shoes off and peaked her eyes open just as he tossed the shoes to the other end of the room.
She heard the sound of clothes rustling and suddenly the bed pressed down on her and creaked loudly.
She sat there for a while contemplating crawling out from under the bed and bolting out of the house—on closer inspection she probably should have spent her time more wisely.
Ultimately, she decided to wait it out until she was fully sure he was asleep.
She waited there for what felt like hours but in reality, it had only been about ten minutes.
She finally decided she was going to risk it and climb out but when only her bottom half was sticking out her foot accidentally hit the bottom of the bed.
She panicked and tried to crawl back under as the man hurriedly got up from his bed, but she knew it was futile and surrendered herself to her fate.
When the man finally got to her, she gasped and started to tear up while she choked on her breath.
"Papa?"