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Hunter was tired. He couldn’t tell why, couldn’t remember. He barely remembered getting out of bed.
But he was so tired. He felt weighed down and floating all at once, but it felt normal, it was a horribly confusing sensation. But he didn’t question it.
He had a job to do after all.
He couldn’t remember what his duties were exactly today, but he knew he had them. It was probably the usual patrols if he couldn’t remember something specific.
Then, after morning patrol he was expected by the emperor.
His steps got faster at that thought, he didn’t want to be late for any of his duties if he was expected by his uncle. He didn't want his uncle to know he was late.
He wanted to make him proud. And the Titan wouldn’t be proud if Hunter was slacking off, so neither would his uncle.
Early was always better than late.
Walk faster, walk faster.
Something felt wrong as he walked down the spiraling hallways, but he couldn’t place it. They felt as cold as they always did. They felt longer than they were, but that was how they had always been.
Nothing particularly out of the normal.
He probably just went to bed too late, he had to work on getting better at dealing with the lack of sleep.
The golden guard always had to be in tip-top shape. Peak performance. Never a hair out of place.
Just that information felt wrong too, but he couldn’t tell why.
He did try his hardest to always look up to that standard.
He needs not get distracted though. Distractions lead to weakness and weakness is dangerous.
He glances up.
And he can't tell where he is, that’s not good. The hallways of the castle are a labyrinth if he gets lost-
He doesn’t stop walking.
He knows better, but he keeps walking, can’t stop.
He walks. Walks and walks. Down a single hallway, it feels like it's been hours and yet only seconds as he walks and walks.
And then suddenly, he can only blink and he’s in front of the large frame holding those familiar, looming, golden doors.
He didn’t think that was at the end of this hallway.
Was it?
But with how everything else has been, Hunter thinks maybe going to his uncle is a good idea.
And, he has the feeling, that even if he wasn't planning on being here until later, he's expected , right now.
He doesn't know how, but he knows he's expected, he has to go in.
And, if he’s quick, depending on what the emperor orders, Hunter can still go on his early morning patrol at the same time.
And Belos would be so proud of him!
Hunter could feel deja-vu flood his chest.
He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and knocked. The feeling of being expected filling him.
It takes a moment for him to realize why he had to knock, there aren't guards there, why aren't there guards there?
And Hunter didn't announce who he was this time, didn't get the chance to.
But the doors opened regardless, just like they always did, and he felt like he should go, he needed to. A force felt like it was pulling him into the room.
He needed to run.
A terror that was not his clung to him suddenly. Trying to tug him out, trying to plead with him not to enter.
Somethings not right, somethings not right somethings not right somethings not right-
He didn’t listen, didn't pay attention, didn't notice. He’s expected. He needed to consult with the emperor.
He approached the throne slowly, before coming to a halt and speaking.
Except he couldn’t.
He was, but they weren’t the words he had tried to say. And he could barely hear anything through the ringing in his ears.
When did they start ringing?
Was no one else in the throne room?
Belos spoke, Hunter couldn’t hear him, he needed to but he couldn't. And Hunter tried speaking again.
But this time nothing came out. He opened and closed his mouth behind his mask to speak but nothing.
Something was wrong. Why was something wrong?
The ringing was so loud.
He took off his mask with a numb hand and lowered his gaze.
Something happened, he's sure. But everything is quiet, too quiet. And he doesn't know if anyone spoke. His uncle, or him. But he knows something happened.
He doesn't know how long it's been, but he glances up.
And his uncle looks furious.
And his curse-
Hunter watched with suddenly terrified eyes as his uncle's curse spread in real-time. Hunter didn’t know how to get to the palisman reserves quickly enough. And he didn't know what else to do.
He didn't know what to do.
Deja-vu flooded his vision but he ignored it.
He desperately rushed forward, he had to help .
“Uncle, uncle! The curse-“ he never opened his mouth, but it still came out.
Belos’s eyes flashed, and with a horrible scowl suddenly everything hurt.
Hunter could hear the cold slice and feel the slime dripping down his cheek mixed with blood before he could feel the pain or before he processed anything else.
Before he processed suddenly being across the room, thrown. And everything was ringing, everything was ringing.
He opened his mouth to scream. To plead with his uncle.
Nothing came out.
Nothing came out nothing came out nothing came out
——
Hunter shot up from his bed, his chest already stuttering as his hand flew to his cheek, cradling it in an instant.
No blood.
He paused, for just a second, breathing heavily. Before sobs took over, wracking his body, as tears started to persistently try clinging to his eyes, no matter how hard he rubbed at them.
Flapjack roused instantly, up from his little dent in the pillow and fluttering around worriedly, chirping out a little.
boy? Upset? Bad dream? What upset boy?
Hunter didn’t respond.
It hurt.
Hunter had almost forgotten it, almost forgotten that day. It's been so long. And when he does remember, it's so foggy, practically clouded over. But now it hurts.
Why does it hurt?
His lips curled as he tried repressing a particularly awful sob, and he winced in pain as he drug his ungloved hand harshly over where the scar met the other skin, feeling it.
It was long and jagged, it stretched so far. It had healed horribly, but it had healed.
But it still hurt and-
He needed to breathe. He was fine. It was fine. He just needed to breathe.
It was just a dumb dream.
It shouldn’t affect him that much.
He wasn't even in the castle anymore, he was in the owl house, he had been for months now after getting back to the demon realm.
Belos wasn't even alive.
He was fine. It was fine. Everything was fine. It shouldn't affect him so much-
It shouldn't.
He shakes his head harshly before taking a painful breath in, and out, the out making a small whistle as he does it.
He desperately rubbed at his eyes again.
It’s fine.
Flapjack does not seem to agree, in fact, he seems to be getting more nervous.
Boy? Boy, get help? Bad dream?
Hunter groans, an awful feeling washing over him as he goes to wave Flapjack off, to tell him he's fine.
Because he is. He’s fine.
He’s fine.
But he doesn’t.
He opens his mouth, once, twice. And then he closes it.
Nothing comes out.
That’s not right.
That’s not right.
He can talk- he can.
He goes to try to say something again, anything. But even opening his mouth is so much more effort than it should be. And getting something to come out-
This isn’t right.
Flapjack offers a small chirp, unknowing of what’s going on in his young witch's head.
But Hunter can’t hear him.
He should. He can usually hear him, even if his words are just aimless chitters and chirps, and not actual words being aimed for him to understand.
But he can’t hear him.
His hands are shaking, he’s sure of it, but he can’t do anything about it.
He can't speak.
And suddenly he can't breathe.
He barely notices it but his breathing is quickly coming in whooping gasps again. and he couldn’t get it under control.
He could barely even open his mouth.
He couldn't talk.
He couldn't yell.
He couldn't scream for help.
He couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t he couldn’t-
Was this a nightmare too?
He grasped desperately at his throat trying to figure out what was happening.
He couldn’t speak he couldn't-
Chick! boy, boy need help! Owl witch! Find!
Hunter could barely hear it through the hundreds of other thoughts rushing into and through his brain like a flood.
His throat felt heavy he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t speak he couldn’t speak he couldn't speak—
A sharp pain shot through him as Flapjack tugged at his cowlick insistently.
Boy! Okay! It okay! Breath boy! Go, owl witch!
Hunter tried shaking his head, but was very quickly met with a withering stare from his bird that gave him the feeling that Flapjack absolutely would force him, and it was not up for debate.
Boy get help! Owl witch! She help!
Hunter wanted to argue. He so, so desperately did.
But he couldn’t, his voice was gone and he couldn’t breathe and it hurt.
He huffed wetly and admitted defeat as he nodded slowly.
Flapjack did not seem happy with his victory as he continued anxiously looking at Hunter, before going to scratch at the door.
And Hunter didn’t know how he stood up with how much he could feel everything shake and tremble. And he felt pathetic. And frankly, he’s sure going to the head of the house in this pathetic state is an awful idea.
But with trembling legs, he still opened the door numbly and walked. He couldn't stop. Maybe he didn’t have control of his body anymore.
Was he dying? Was he fading? First his voice, then his ability to breathe, now his ability to control his limbs?
Was he still dreaming?
If he was, he couldn’t wake up.
So he kept walking.
Pretending to have the allusion of a choice.
The hallways felt taller than they usually were, and they felt so much longer than he knew they were.
And he felt lost, but he didn’t stop.
Maybe he should, but he couldn’t.
He walked, with dead feet, longer than he swore he should’ve.
He doesn’t know which way he went.
It didn’t feel like the owl house so late at night.
He usually liked the night. Even when he was strongly encouraged to actually go to bed at a ‘reasonable time’ now. He liked the night, it was quiet, and he felt just the right amount of alone.
He didn’t like it right now though.
Every bit and bob and piece of trash the owl lady had collected felt like it was watching him. Looming over him, and about to jump out.
Everything felt too familiar.
But it was all in his head- Hunter was just overthinking it.
And then suddenly he stopped, just before impact, in front of a door.
It felt too familiar.
Flapjack followed behind him, one of the only changes.
He felt a sense of wrongness in his gut and he almost didn’t want to knock.
But he did, his body knocked even before he could decide to go back.
He could practically feel the sound reverberate through him.
Too loud too loud too loud what if you wake everyone up? Too loud too loud
He forced himself to be silent, barely breathing as he kept an ear out to see if he woke anyone unintended in the very full house.
He wished he could’ve taken solace in the silence he was met with. But it felt so devoid of life.
The door loomed over him, everything was quiet.
Maybe the owl lady hadn’t woken up.
The hallway was cold.
His hands felt numb as they hung uselessly at his sides.
He should go back- he didn’t wanna be an unnecessary burden. He could deal with this. He'd figure it out. And if he couldn’t figure it out he could just climb out his window and live in a cave until further notice.
Perfect plan!
He didn’t go back.
Why did he never go back?
He heard movement behind the door, and even though he knew who it was- he knew . His blood ran cold, as he watched, frozen.
So familiar, too familiar. He couldn’t handle it being so familiar.
Click.
creak.
“Kid- Hunter?”
And suddenly Hunter couldn’t breathe again.
He was fine, he was fine, it was fine, he could deal with it.
But suddenly, now that Eda was there, he couldn’t.
Even when he’d been fine.
He’d made it down the hallway fine. Stopped sobbing. did his best to swallow down the panic.
But now that he was where he’d been heading.
He couldn’t breathe.
And tears started pricking his eyes again and it stung.
He was too old for this! He wasn't a little kid.
He had been the golden guard, he shouldn't have even gone to the owl lady in the first place. Let alone letting his dumb emotions-
Still, he can see the owl lady’s face soften.
“Hey, bugga. Nightmare?”
His breath hitches, and suddenly he can’t even raise his hands fast enough to stop the dumb tears from pouring out against his will.
and he opens his mouth to try and tell her, something. He didn't know what.
But nothing comes out.
And a sob wracks him.
“Oh, kid,”
And Hunter sees the owl lady open her arms invitingly, beckoning him closer a little with her one hand.
And even the thoughts yelling
It’s a trap it's a trap it's a trap-
Aren’t loud enough to keep him from crumpling into her arms, like a child.
The owl lady makes a sympathetic noise, and that just encourages more tears even when it shouldn't, because he shouldn’t even be crying.
He's fine, he's fine and he shouldn't be crying like a weak little witchlet when he's not.
He shouldn't be crying. He hates crying. It hurts and stings. And it makes everything puffy and red.
But he is.
And, slowly, a tedious process he's sure, even as he's mostly unaware of it in favor of trying to breathe, the owl lady carefully helps him inside the room. A sudden blazing warmth compared to the previous cold, painfully familiar, hallway.
He can hear Flapjack follow him inside easily before the door closes gently with another soft ‘click’.
And it only takes a moment before the two of them are settled in Eda’s big nest, a blessing to his shaky, trembly, very unbalanced legs. And then, the two promptly turn to three as Flapjack refuses to leave Hunter’s side, and settles down next to him.
And all the fear, terror, and panic. Feels a little muter, a little less active, suddenly.
As he just hiccups out painful sobs, feeling far too vulnerable, and as the owl lady comforts him.
It feels a little bizarre. Just the idea. The owl lady comforting him.
The ex-criminal, the wild witch, the one who was supposed to be bad.
The one Belos had said was bad.
The one who was always so much kinder than belos was. Even when he had still been pretending to be Hunter’s uncle.
Still pretending to care.
“Wanna talk about it?”
He looked up a little at the old tired witch. Hunter quickly feeling increasingly desperate, as he attempted to communicate telepathically that he couldn’t. Well, he didn’t want to either. But he couldn’t.
He’d already woken her up. Even if she’d been saying they all could since before Hunter had started staying there. This is his first time intentionally doing that, he didn’t wanna seem difficult.
Didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
Didn't wanna give a reason for scorn.
Hunter made a vague gesture at his mouth in a desperate attempt to communicate.
Then paused. Squeezed his eyes closed real hard. Before trying to think.
Hunter took a breath, before putting a finger in front of his mouth like Luz did when King was sleeping, and shaking his head.
And hoping she understood.
“Can't?”
Oh, thank titan.
He nodded, holding on a little tighter. Very possibly embodying the look of a sad wet kitten in the rain.
“Oh, Hunter” she breathed out sympathetically “Guessing you woke up feeling like that? That must’ve been scary”
Yeah.
Flapjack chirps an agreement to the statement as well. Even though like him, Eda either cannot hear. Or understand.
Still, she winced, as if she could hear, and did understand.
And maybe she could, she had once mentioned having the superpower of being able to read her kids like a book.
And even if Hunter wasn’t a part of that, not really. She could probably still pick some things up.
Regardless he didn’t really worry about it.
The owl lady hummed, very clearly in thought, and Hunter waited. Not quite with bated breath, but still interested.
“Did you know I used to have times like that too?” She told him. Settling against the wall as she looked absentmindedly at the opposite side of the room.
Hunter blinked.
Eda?
The owl lady?
The supposed most powerful witch on the boiling isles?
But ultimately, he shook his head and waited for her to continue.
The owl lady chuckled, “well I did, hell- err- crap- heck“ Hunter repressed a laugh. “I’d say when I remember starting, I was probably just a little younger than you. Like, what? Fourteen? Fifteen?”
“And I didn’t really understand it. But suddenly in spurts, it would just be significantly harder to talk than it normally was, or, I just wouldn't be able to talk at all. It was a pain ”
“And honestly, it kinda freaked me out, after all, I was just a tot like you,” she rasped before taking a pause. “Yes I can feel the death glare, because you're tired and grumpy, but yer’ one of my kids, gotta deal with it, sorry bud.”
He had been the golden guard. He wasn't a kid!
He was seventeen, almost an adult.
He death glared harder out of spite.
Because he, frankly, was exhausted.
Even if it was pointless anyway because she couldn’t see in the dark.
“Anyway, where was I?” The owl lady hummed, “ ah, yes. So I was kinda freaked out, which is fair. But , then I met this wonderful, wonderful, bard track kid, named Raine”
He really wanted to make a very loud noise of disgust, he was coming here for comfort not to hear a sappy love story, especially when he had known Raine.
And he knew that she could do and say what she wanted. And he didn’t want to sound ungrateful. But he’d already tested the waters of what he could’ve said. And
Yuck.
“And, this bard kid. We became fast friends. And soon, when I felt like that around them, they gave me a word for it, selective mutism - which despite its name is not a choice. Or, a little different, feeling nonverbal,”
There were words for it?
“And while it is a little different because mine would act up worse often randomly. Often worse when I was particularly stressed I’ll give you, but still unpredictable, but I think it would still help to know-“
-“That it’s alright, you're okay. I don’t know if this-” Hunter could feel her shoulder move to gesture her arm at him -“is a common thing, or only because of the nightmare, but either way, it’s alright.”
And Hunter could feel every little anxiety that he’d carefully shoved deep down multiple times since he’d woken up, ease, just a little.
Because it did help.
It helped to have it verbalized, to have that confirmation.
To have that comfort.
Eda carefully lowered the both of them until they were laying down in a practiced move, before pulling a blanket- Hunter had decidedly not known about- over the two and a half of them with a displeased trill from flapjack.
And okay, he wasn't completely free. Hunter knew he’d likely be asked about the nightmare again in the morning.
but Hunter also knew he wouldn’t be forced to talk about it.
He would be encouraged, but not forced. And if he said no, nothing would happen.
No punishment, no shame.
And because of that, maybe he would talk about it.
Maybe not the next day. Or that week. Hunter was frankly far too worn out for any more emotional anything.
But still, maybe he’d talk about it.
And maybe Hunter would accept the comfort. The comfort that he’s almost certain they’d provide no questions asked.
Because they always did.
He yawns, but he’s not afraid of falling asleep.
Because, right now, he’s certain the nightmares wouldn't try and come back for him.
And so with his eyelids growing heavy. Heavier and heavier as he blinked them open, once, twice, before they won the battle at three. He settled into the nest against Eda and flapjack.
It was warm.
And safe.
And he was right, the nightmares didn’t dare come back that night. Didn’t dare try and remind him of things he had begged to be left forgotten.
He was just a gangly teen, a child for once, in what he would refuse to admit, was his mom’s bed after a nightmare.
And he was safe.