Work Text:
Some said that he was a wise leader, because his Father had imbued him with wisdom when He’d anointed him to lead.
Some said he led with humility, because he was still haunted by the carnage his pride had wrought when he’d declared himself a god.
Some said his reputation didn't remotely do him justice, and it was only in person that one could understand the understated charisma which drew followers to him.
He seriously doubted that he was as wise, humble, or charismatic as they said.
He wasn’t convinced that he’d even really been chosen, and was pretty sure he didn’t deserve the followers he’d somehow acquired.
But he was haunted – and there was only one being whose presence could bring him peace.
He was terrified that the weight of the trust placed on him would make him fall and fall and fall yet further than he already had – if he'd ever even stopped falling in the first place. And only the knowledge of who was there to catch and catch and catch him again kept the terror from overwhelming him.
He craved, in a dark corner of his heart, the adulation they afforded him – and he feared that this corner would gorge itself and grow until he became a monster once again. But he knew he was safe in the arms of the man who'd never been impressed by titles or honors, who understood what it was to fear one's own darkness, who could still his rage with a touch.
He wasn't sure he even knew what faith was anymore – until he gazed into green eyes, and knew nothing else.
They said that his strength to fight came straight from the Throne of Heaven. He knew that any strength he had to carry on came directly from the heart of a human.
They said he was chosen by his Father. All he knew for sure was that he was loved by his hunter.