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Hunter is smiling as he makes his way down the castle halls.
No one sees it, of course. All the coven scouts see as they’re passing by is the Golden Guard power walking with purpose down the hall. They step out of the way and avert their gaze, avoiding any kind of eye contact, which is just fine to Hunter. He doesn’t want to be delayed for a second longer than necessary.
It’s not every day that Emperor Belos wakes him thirty minutes early with a coven courier giving him a letter requesting his presence in his Uncle’s workshop. Hunter had barely been able to contain his excitement long enough to close the door before he was smiling ear-to-ear and rushing through his morning routine. His hair was still slightly damp, but he couldn’t be late– not today.
When he reaches the door, he straightens himself out and clears his throat before knocking.
“Come in,” Belos calls through the wood, and Hunter obeys.
The workshop is one of Hunter’s favorite places in the whole imperial palace. It’s always a cluttered tangle, with half-cooked blueprints and random tubes and bolts and pieces of scrap metal scattered across any flat surface. He’s always careful to step over the various items littering the floor, knowing that it may look like a huge mess but isn’t actually. His Uncle prefers an organized chaos just like Hunter does, and he’ll do his best to respect the space as a guest in it.
“Good morning,” Belos greets him from his seat at one of the benches, his own mask and cloak nowhere to be seen and his long hair pulled back out of his face. He’s bent over, charcoal pencil in his hand scratching away with quick strokes, but pauses his ministrations to turn to Hunter as he approaches. “I see you received my invitation.”
Hunter moves to kneel, bowing his head. “Good morning, Emperor B–”
His Uncle cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “No, none of that, if you please. I do prefer my mornings outside of court and with as little bureaucracy as possible.” He turns back to the bench, pencil in hand as he continues his sketching.
Blushing under his mask, Hunter stands and nods. “Uh. Right. Sorry.”
Belos swipes a hand over the paper he’s working on, brushing away any particles. Then with the same hand, he beckons Hunter closer without looking up. “Come, nephew. Tell me what you think of this– and take that mask off while you’re at it.”
With a practiced hand, he removes his mask and hood in a single swift motion, leaving the golden vizard on the first clear surface he sees. Belos leans back so that Hunter may look over his shoulder at the sketchbook laid on the table.
“It’s… a new artificial staff?” Hunter leans closer, putting a hand on the table to get a better look. His eyes widen as he takes it in. “No, wait, is that my staff? Are you planning another alteration to the mechanisms?”
“It is, and I am.” His Uncle confirms, pointing with the pencil at the fresh blueprint. “There’s actually quite a bit I’d like to implement, but for now– do you see this modification here? With the internal wiring? What do you make of it?”
He absorbs the page, soaking in the looping cockatrice-scratch of his Uncle’s handwriting. “Mixing metals in the wires– tonguesten, copper, and Titan’ium?” He murmurs to himself, trying to connect the dots in his head. “Using copper as the conductor instead of gold would increase power, even if the charge becomes unstable… but putting those two metals together like this wouldn’t work, right?”
Hunter looks to his Uncle, who tilts his head to one side wordlessly with a neutral expression. Seeing that he won’t be getting any hints, he hums and goes back to squinting at the page in front of him.
“This configuration would brick the staff at best, or at worst, cause it explode in your hand the second you try to use it.” He crooks a finger against his chin, running through all his knowledge of magical engineering. “Copper is leaky and Titan’ium reflects magic, which is why normally you should make an effort to avoid using them together, but… not unless… the tonguesten! ”
He straightens his back, holding back a smile as he finally makes the connection. “Using tonguesten as the barrier because of its density will prevent the leaking and keep the refractions of magic within the wire itself, which lets it flow faster and at higher concentration!”
“Very good, Hunter.” Belos nods his approval, making Hunter swell with pride. “These new wire compositions should prevent both that pesky half-second delay and make this mechanism here unnecessary. Once we can remove that eyesore, the head will become lighter and render the staff more balanced than ever. In fact, all these changes I’ve noted down should make it all feel a bit more… natural, so to speak.”
Hunter can’t stop the grin this time. “That’s so– Uncle, you’re a genius! This is incredible!” He says, turning to the elder in excitement.
Belos smiles back, but it’s tense in a way that gives Hunter pause. When he raises a single brow, Hunter suddenly realizes he’s grabbed the Emperor of the Boiling Isles by the shoulders. He pulls his hands back quickly, cheeks and ears burning like he’s just slathered firebee honey on them as he takes a step back.
“I– uh. Um.” Keeping his eyes to the ground, he clears his throat and tries to regain his sense of professionalism. He bends at the waist, arms planted to his sides. “I apologize for my overenthusiasm, sir.”
“That’s quite alright, Hunter. I’m glad to know you’re appreciative of my work.” Belos puts a hand on his head, patting gently. “Just don’t make such reactions into a habit, hm?” Hunter’s breath catches, something warm blossoming in his chest at the gesture even when his Uncle quickly pulls his hand away.
It’s not every day that he receives so much casual affection, as his Uncle has never been very open with his touch– which Hunter understands, of course! The curse is dangerous to those around him, and Belos doesn’t like Hunter getting too close just in case he accidentally injures him. But today must be a good day, one where his curse isn’t bothering him too badly.
“Are you ready to get started?” His Uncle asks, drawing him from his mind.
Hunter blinks and tilts his head. “Started on what?”
“On your staff modifications, of course.”
“Today?” Hunter breathes, lighting up at the nod he gets. “Really? And I get to help?”
Belos chuckles, regal and dignified. “It is your staff, Hunter. You know it nearly as well as I do.” He glances to the door of the workshop, his brow raising again. “Though, I don’t imagine we can begin right this second.”
“Oh.” Something deflates in Hunter but he does his best not to frown or whine like a petulant child not getting his way. “Do you need me to gather the materials first?”
“No, I should have everything we need already.” His Uncle gestures towards his storage containers in the corner, half the lids off of the containers and several labels misplaced or illegible from age. Hunter glances from the materials back to Belos, still not understanding. “It’s just that… well, it would be rather difficult to begin when your staff isn’t here.”
Hunter gasps. “I forgot it in my room! Agh, stupid!” He hits his forehead with his fist a couple times, then turns to run out the door. “Sorry, Uncle! I’ll go and–”
“Hold a tick,” Belos grabs his own staff from where it leans against the wall to his right, using it to levitate Hunter’s mask over to him. “You don’t want to forget this as well, do you?”
“Right– Thank you!” He slips it over his face and pulls his hood up swiftly. “I’ll be right back!”
Before he can rush out of the door, his Uncle calls him back again. “Oh, and one more thing.”
He freezes and wrenches his head back into the room, buzzing with enough energy to power his staff a hundred times over. He forces his tone to stay polite and respectful, no matter how badly he wants to just take off running down the hall towards his bedroom. “Yes, Uncle?”
Belos smiles kindly at him. “Happy sixteenth birthday, Hunter.”
Hunter is so, so glad his Uncle can’t see his face anymore. The second he processes the words, he smiles so wide it makes his cheeks hurt and has to blink the sudden blur in his vision away. It feels like his chest is about to burst from nothing but pure joy.
He has an urge to run back across the room and throw his arms around his Uncle, or even just tell him for once how much he means to him, but he fights it back. No matter how much he cares for him, he can’t cross those boundaries.
His Uncle is a complicated man and has been through a lot of pain in his life– he wouldn’t be appreciative of gestures like that. It’s not in his nature, and Hunter refuses to make his Uncle uncomfortable or, Titan forbid, start putting up his walls when it’s just the two of them again like he did when Hunter was small.
(Back when his Uncle was so distant he often would go weeks without seeing him at all. When he couldn’t find a single chance to show his Uncle how helpful he could actually be to him. No, he won’t go back to that.)
(He’ll show the Emperor every single day just how much he can rely on Hunter, how useful he can be. He’s not going to become more dead weight, and he’s not going to let anyone else take his place.)
(Plus, it’s best for Hunter to remain as professional as possible in the castle. After all, he can only take so much muttering behind his back about nepotism and daycares.)
Instead, Hunter just nods quickly to show his appreciation. “Thank you, Uncle!”
He waits a second for his Uncle to wave his hand, officially dismissing him, before he closes the door to the workshop politely and takes off in a dead sprint down the hall.
Hunter grins under his mask the entire way there and back.
_________________
Hunter sniffles, drawing his knees to his chest tighter.
It’s getting colder out here by the second as the sky darkens, the sun already gone below the horizon. His back is pressed against the wall of the Owl House as he hides away in the backyard. The sounds of the birthday party still going on inside does nothing but make his heart sink even lower.
There’s a sudden raucous of muffled laughter and Hunter squeezes his eyes closed. Everyone is having such a good time. Why can’t he? Why does everything have to be ruined by his dumb brain? Why does he have to be ruined?
It’s not fair of him. It’s supposed to be Gus’s special day. Hunter is supposed to be inside playing games with him and teasing him for turning fourteen and still being a pipsqueak, not sitting outside in the cold and having his own little pity party.
Gus is gonna notice he’s gone soon, and then he’s gonna have to deal with Hunter’s stupid problems instead of getting sick from eating so much of the human cake Luz and Camila brought. But even though Hunter wants more than anything to just suck it up and let himself have a good time with his friends, he just… can’t .
“Stupid,” He mutters to himself, sniffling again.
“Hey.”
Hunter whips his head around, startled. Amity is standing to his right, hands folded in front of her awkwardly. He hadn’t even heard the backdoor open.
She frowns at him and Hunter quickly turns away again to wipe at his face. “Hu–” He cuts himself off and clears his throat before trying again. “Hey.”
Amity approaches carefully and sits down right next to him, not touching but still close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off of her. Ghost is conspicuously absent from the palisman’s constant post of circling her ankles, and Hunter knows it was on purpose.
His friends can’t even just hang out with their palismen near him without needing to walk on eggshells because of how stupidly sensitive he is. Like, it happened months ago, and Hunter still can’t even think about Flapjack without–
Hunter sniffles harder and scrubs at his eyes. Stupid. He’s so stupid . What’s wrong with him?
“There’s nothing wrong with you.” Amity tells him, and he realizes he was talking out loud. “You’re just having a hard time.”
“I’ve been having a hard time for seventeen years,” He says bitterly and continues to fight his own tear ducts. “I should be used to it by now. I never had these kinds of problems before– before I…”
“Before you left the Emperor’s Coven ?” She gives him a look, flat and unimpressed. “The same coven where showing an ounce of real emotion like this was– how did Luz word it? Like bleeding in shark infested waters?”
Hunter looks away without answering, frustrated over hearing such a logical comment in the face of his very illogical emotions. It makes too much sense for him right now, which makes everything about what he’s doing feel even more stupid.
Amity sighs. “Do you… wanna talk about it?”
Hunter stares ahead, eyes fixed on the edge of the forest around the Owl House. The crowd inside laughs together at something again, muffled and barely-heard through the stone walls and thick glass window next to them.
“I’m just being stupid.” He repeats, turning his head to look at her.
“I mean, when are you not?” She elbows him, smiling. He glares at her in mock-offense and elbows her back, causing a mini elbow war that ends in seconds after a mutual surrender. “Seriously, though. Spill it already.”
Hunter moves a hand down from his knees, picking at the red grass underneath him. “Swear you won’t make fun of me for it?” He asks.
“Swear. Look,” Amity makes a gesture across her chest. “Cross my heart.”
Hunter raises a brow at her. “...What does that even mean?”
“Luz did it once. It’s a human way of pledging a serious promise.”
Hunter sighs. “If Luz used it then good enough, I guess. Fine.”
There’s a long stretch of silence between them. Amity twiddles her thumbs together and Hunter tries to fit the words together in his head in a way where it possibly, just maybe, won’t actually be the stupidest thing he’s said and ever will say to another living soul.
“So…” Amity says. “Are you gonna–”
“My birthdays have always been my favorite memories.” Hunter blurts out, digging one hand into the grass and the other into his hair. Amity goes silent instantly, fixing her attention on him. “Except for– well. You know what happened during the last one.”
“...Do I?” She asks, squinting.
Hunter blinks at her in pure disbelief. “There’s no way you forgot my last birthday.”
“I’m sorry.” She does look genuinely sorry about it, which is nice but not what he was getting at.
“No, I mean, it’s actually impossible that you could forget it. You were there.”
“I’m gonna be honest… I don’t think I even know when your birthday is.” She admits, looking sheepish as if that’s her fault, somehow. “I didn’t realize you already turned seventeen until you said so just now.”
“I… Oh, Titan.” He laughs, but it’s not actually funny. He stops quickly. “I– I just remembered I never actually told anyone. I was so focused on everything else, I never…”
"When is your birthday?"
“My birthday is– Amity, it’s on Samhain." He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. "Or, well, technically last year it was on Halloween.”
Amity blanches. She’s frozen in shock for a second, staring at him with wide eyes, before she nearly scrambles to take his hand in hers. The pressure is grounding, and he squeezes back just as tight. “Hunter,” She breathes in that same old tone– the one that everyone uses whenever Hunter shares anything about his life that’s less than perfectly happy. Horror, concern, and pity mixed into one single specific tone of voice.
“Don’t.” Hunter shakes his head. His free hand twists itself in the front of his shirt. “I already know. It’s– That isn’t what I wanted to talk about.”
Amity purses her lips and nods, but that doesn’t stop her from looking like she won’t be forgetting it. He just hopes she doesn’t let it slip to Luz before he can get the chance to tell her on his own– that will only end in a grievous amount of tears and yelling. Again.
“Anyways,” He clears his throat. Amity gives his hand another squeeze, encouraging him. “Um. Where was I again?”
“You said your birthdays were always your happiest memories.” She tells him, and he nods.
“Yeah. They were. Are? It’s– complicated.” His shoulders fall, and he leans his head against his knees again. “I didn’t get my birthdays off, in the Coven. No one did, really, but even when I was a kid I never had any birthday parties. Not like this one.”
“Are you upset because you… want one?” She guesses.
He shakes his head. “I– I don’t think that’s it. I think…” He hesitates, rolling the next words on his tongue before deciding to just spit them out. “I think I miss him.”
Amity doesn’t ask who ‘him’ is. She doesn’t have to. Hunter avoids looking at her face, not wanting to take the risk of seeing disgust or hate in reaction to his admission. She doesn’t stop holding his hand, which he takes as a good sign.
“He always made time in his day to spend my birthdays with me.” He keeps going, not sure if he can stop now that he’s started. “Even if it was only for fifteen minutes, even if we spent it going over budget reports, he always made an effort. For me .
“It’s stupid, right? How idiotic does someone have to be to miss him ?” Hunter growls, clenching his hands. “He was nothing but a liar and a murderer. He wasn’t even my uncle! I was only a tool to him, one that he had no problem with throwing away the second I–”
Amity quietly lets out a pained squeak, and Hunter rips his hand away from hers quick as lightning. “Sorry!”
“It’s fine,” She can’t hide the wince in her face as she rubs her palm with her thumb. She shakes her head, her purple bangs falling out of place. “Don’t worry about it, keep going.”
Hunter hesitates but with a threatening brow raise from Amity, he deflates and curls back in on himself. It takes him a second to regather his thoughts from where he’d left them.
“You know what the worst part is?” He says. “When he wasn’t actively making my life into a living nightmare, he was actually really nice to me. For example, he used to sneak me hard candies during meetings that went long. Oh, and he’d let me sit in his workshop with him and rant about my day, or ramble about magical theory while he tinkered. That’s the version of him I miss more than any other. The version who felt like… like an actual, real person.
“And I know it wasn’t ever real to him, I know that everything nice he did was just another way for him to manipulate me, but… but it was real to me.” A lump begins to form in his throat, and it doesn’t fade when Hunter tries to swallow it down.
“Belos,” He spits the name like it’s poison. “Never cared about me, but I cared about him. I– Damn it.” He scrubs at his traitorous eyes again, his breath hitching. “I- I loved him.”
His voice breaks, and so does Hunter. Unable to hold it back anymore, he wraps his arms around himself as his body begins to tremble and jolt with every sob that rips from his throat. Amity pulls him in, leaning him on her shoulder as he cries.
It’s stupid. It’s so, so stupid . He should know better. Yet here Hunter is, grieving a genocidal tyrant who wouldn’t have given his own death a second thought. Grieving the man Hunter had thought he was. Grieving a family he never even had when his new family was right inside. They’re going to smile at Hunter when he goes back in later and look at him like he’s made their lives better just by being there, but right now he’s sobbing over someone who made Hunter feel like he had to earn the right to be his nephew.
“Stupid,” Hunter chokes out through his tears. “‘m so stupid.”
“It’s okay. I- I get it.” Amity tells him quietly, one of her hands rubbing up and down his back. “I miss my mom, sometimes.”
Hunter leans against her with more of his weight. “Your mom s-sucks .”
“I know,” Amity laughs wetly, ducking her head down. “How awful is that? I still love the woman who tried to kill Luz like, twice. I’m a horrible girlfriend.”
“Shut up.” He sobs, serious despite his sniffling.
“It’s true.” She argues back, something weird in her voice. “I have dreams about my mom waltzing into my life again, completely changed and telling me how sorry she is. I always end up crying when I wake up and remember it’s not real. I’m such an idiot .”
“Shut up.” Hunter repeats, shifting his neck to look her in the face. He barely blinks at seeing Amity with tears streaking down her face, too. “Don’t– don’t say that. You aren’t an idiot for missing the person who– who raised you.”
“I know I’m not,” Amity agrees breezily, tears all but forgotten in the blink of an eye. “And neither are you.” She pokes him in the forehead, and Hunter stops crying out of pure shock.
“You…” He trails off, pulling back from her even more.
“Now, if you say you’re stupid for missing your Uncle, you’re calling me stupid, too.” Amity flutters her still-wet lashes, as if she’s one of those innocent little angel baby statues that sit on the shelves in the Noceda living room, and not what Camila calls el diablo .
Hunter stares at her, mouth gaping like a fish. She giggles and the sound makes him scowl. He crosses his arms, glaring at her. “I’m– I’m changing my mind; you also suck.”
“Gotcha.” She grins wickedly, taking a second to wipe her face. Her eyeliner had run when she was crying, painting black streaks down her pale cheeks before her hands smeared it all into an even bigger mess.
He groans and pushes her away, rubbing at his own eyes and nose. “I can’t believe you. You can’t just– trick someone into not calling themselves stupid over something that is objectively stupid!”
“I just did, though.” Amity leans her chin on her hand.
“That’s not how it works!” Hunter argues, throwing his hands up. “I’m not gonna stop doing it just because you– you think you trapped me!”
“What if I blackmail you?” She says it so sweetly, like she’s asking to give him a hug and not attempting to threaten him into being nice to himself. Honestly, Hunter is ninety percent sure she doesn’t actually have anything to blackmail him with, but that ten percent is making him nervous.
“I know for a fact that you don’t have anything on me.” He calls her bluff.
“Do Camila and Mr. Deamonne know when your birthday is?” Amity asks, checking her nails casually.
Hunter reels back, eyes widening. “You wouldn’t. I told you in confidence!”
“Hmmm,” She rolls her eyes up to look at the stars in the fully darkened sky, tapping a single finger to her cheek. “I really wonder what they'd say if they found out.”
“This is low, Blight.” He shakes his head. “Even for you.”
“All you have to do to guarantee my silence is agree to my terms.” She smiles at him, waiting for what she knows is inevitable.
Hunter plants his face into his hands and groans into them. “FINE!” He bursts, throwing his hands up. “ Fine! I won’t call myself stupid. You happy now?”
“Very.” She nods primly, a smug little smirk on her face. “Though, I would be happier if you went back inside, hugged Camila, and had some cake.”
“You’re so bossy.” He rolls his eyes, using the wall as leverage to lift himself up. His legs take a second to solidify under him, but he manages.
“Hunter, you’re the only one who lets me boss them around like this.” She tells him bluntly as she holds out her arm in a wordless command. He sighs and pulls her to her feet in a single smooth motion. “I have to capitalize on that. Where else am I gonna get the same rush of power and superiority now that I’m not a total bitch?”
“You’re just taking advantage of my brainwashing from being a child soldier.” Hunter sniffs.
“You can’t keep pulling the child soldier card.” Amity argues. “It’s so unfair!”
He doesn’t actually care that he was a child soldier or whatever– it was quite honestly the least of his worries. He’s just echoing the words that Darius or Raine or Eda have said to him after witnessing one of his more unnerving habits. Like the compulsive kneeling.
“Whatever. I know when I’m not wanted.” Hunter raises his nose at her as he says it, brushing past towards the door leading into the kitchen. “And, for the record, you still are a total–”
He yelps in a very dignified manner as something trips him and he falls face first towards the ground. Before he can hit the ground in a way that definitely could have broken his nose, he’s caught in a levitation spell.
“You wanna finish that sentence?” Amity asks from behind him.
“...no.” Hunter grunts, struggling in the grip of the magic.
“I thought so.” She says happily, helping him to his feet.
“That’s cheating.” He huffs, brushing himself off. “I can’t do magic like that.”
Amity breezes right past him and to the door. “And I can’t use my childhood trauma as a trump card to win every argument. We all have our strengths.”
He grumbles under his breath but follows her. Before she opens the door to rejoin the party, she pauses, as if realizing something.
“Did my makeup get smeared?” Amity asks, looking up at him.
Hunter blinks. “No. Not at all.”