Work Text:
1. Dye your hair
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised,” Darius says, massaging another glob of red dye into Hunter’s hair. “In terms of teenage rebellion, this is usually one of the firsts on the list.”
“There’s a list?” Hunter asks, tilting his head forward. Darius gently tugs him back into position.
It had been a week since they’d stopped the Day of Unity, and two more since Hunter had learned what he really was. And now that every day wasn’t complete chaos, he was ready to try something new. Darius had been the obvious choice to help him, even though he clearly didn’t have that much experience dying his own hair—Hunter didn’t trust anyone else to stand behind so long. Luckily, Darius had no problem fulfilling that request.
“It’s an expression, child,” Darius says.
“Oh,” Hunter says. He taps his fingers on his thigh. “I mean, right, obviously. But could you… make me one?”
“I’m not sure how much following a set of rules screams teenage rebellion,” Darius says. Flapjack chirps and settles on his shoulder. “You do realize the point is more to find yourself, right? There’s not some arbitrary list of experiences you need to fill to have some kind of fulfilling childhood.”
“Flapjack says you missed a spot,” Hunter says.
“Did I?” Darius says. “Hm. Good eye.”
Flapjack chirps again, proud to have been offered praise.
“So can you?” Hunter asks. Darius sighs.
“Give me a second,” he says. “I’ll think of something.”
2. Change your look
“So… you want us to give you a make-over?” Skara asks. It’s not unusual for his teammates to hang out after practice, but because of an… incident that destroyed the field, Willow had suggested they all skip practice for a day and hang out at her house. The idea of missing any kind of training still made Hunter feel sick, even if they rarely practiced on days his teammates had off from Hexside anyway, but he comforts himself with the fact he can still use this time to accomplish something.
“Darius said that a big part of being a teenager is dressing in a way that makes your parents want to claw their eyes out,” Hunter says. “And I’m—this is my first chance to actually act like a real kid. I want to do it right! Including the rebellious teen stuff.”
“And… that means doing what Darius tells you to do?” Gus asks.
“No!” Hunter groans. “I mean—I have to start somewhere, don’t I? And I already wanted something new. Everything I used to own was stuff I was wearing as the Golden Guard and—well, it’s not like I really want to get any of that back anytime soon.”
“I kind of assumed you already replaced those,” Viney asks. “I mean, you’re not wearing Golden Guard stuff right now.”
“This is Darius’,” Hunter says, tugging at the collar of his oversized t-shirt. He gestures towards his sweatpants. “And these are from Amity’s brother. She gave them to me that night I stayed at Gus’ house. But I’m getting tired of walking around in borrowed clothes. Besides, I’m going to have to give them back eventually.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure when someone gives clothes to someone who got kicked out of their home, they don’t usually expect them back,” Willow says.
“Well, I’d still like another pair of pants,” Hunter replies.
“What kind?” Skara asks.
“Huh?”
“Like, what style are we looking for here?”
“... Red?” Hunter says.
“Caleb, that’s not really what she means,” Willow says.
“Hey, red’s a pretty good color,” Skara protests.
“Says the bard,” Viney snorts.
“You put me on the spot!” Hunter says. “I can’t just think of something off the top of my head like that.”
“You asked us first,” Viney reminds him. “Come on, I know you have some style. What about those fun socks you had on during our game?”
“Says the beastkeeper,” Skara shoots back.
“Hey, I’m a healer, too,” Viney protests. Hunter flushes. He knows exactly what socks they’re talking about. He bought them because they reminded him of Flapjack.
“I just want to try something new,” Hunter says. “I mean, there was never really a before the Emperor's Coven for me. Almost everything I’ve ever warn was some kind of regulation. And after that blew up, the only thing I cared about was not being spotted. I just want a chance to see what else there is. You know take advantage of my independence! Which, I mean, granted, might be a bit late, but it’s hard to find time to buy a new wardrobe when you’re already busy planning where you’ll even sleep at night.”
“I thought you made a chart?” Skara asks.
“Yeah, Eda said you were ‘freakishly good at being a teenage runaway,’” Willow adds.
“Not the point!” Hunter says. “The point is, I am open to suggestions!”
“Hm… how about this?” Gus asks. He snaps his fingers, and in an instant, Hunter’s in different clothes, with two-toned pants—one leg red, the other back. “It’s fashion from the Human Realm! I saw it in a magazine.”
“Why are there so many straps?” Hunter asks, pulling on what he assumed was a pair of suspenders. “What are they supposed to connect to?”
“I think it’s just supposed to look cool,” Gus says.
“Getting caught on doors doesn’t really scream ‘cool’ to me,” Hunter says.
“I don’t know, I kind of like it,” Skara says. She looks at Gus. “Can I borrow your magazine? Maybe I can find someone on the Boiling Isles who makes stuff like this.”
“Nothing would make me happier,” Gus tells her.
“If you’re trying to do something different, what about adding some wear and tear to your look?” Viney suggests. “Show everyone you don’t care if what you’re wearing isn’t dress code!”
“You mean you look like you got attacked by your griffin on purpose?” Hunter asks. Viney laughs.
“Just one of the many perks of being a beastkeeper,” she says. Hunter has no idea what that means. Gus snaps his fingers and Hunter’s outfit turns into a more rugged outfit mimicking the one Viney had on currently, with a tattered shirt layered on top of a longer one. Unlike Viney’s outfit, there was no skirt help together by pins, and instead of ripped leggings, he was wearing pants torn at one knee. Hunter looks down at himself.
“I think I looked like this after I came back from being dropped on a mountain,” he says.
Immediately, the illusion vanishes.
“Ooookay!” Gus says. “Anyone else?”
“I kind of figured you’d just settle on anything that’s easiest to run around in,” Willow says. “Maybe with a secret pocket for emergency glyphs.”
“That’s a good idea,” Hunter says. “Darius has been teaching me how to sew. I should make a new cloak. It’ll be easier to organize them that way.”
“What’s with you and Darius, anyway?” Viney asks, flopping down on Willow’s bed next to Skara.
“What do you mean?” Hunter says. “We’re coworkers—well, former coworkers. He’s just giving me a place to stay.”
“I feel like you have a weird idea of what a coworker is,” Viney says.
“You’ve literally never had a job before,” Hunter tells her. Viney just shrugs.
“How about make-up?” Skara asks. “I mean, you want to be rebellious, right? I know a lot of kids who really pile on the eyeliner when they want to look tough. It’ll be like wearing flyer derby paint all the time!”
“Darius did mention something about that…” Hunter muses. Skara raises an eyebrow. “I guess I could give it a shot.”
“Cool!” Skara rolls off Willow’s bed and rifles through a bag she’d left on the floor earlier. “Okay, hold still.”
Hunter sucks in some air and stands as stiff as his body allows him to.
“... Maybe not that still.”
Hunter lets out his breath in a gasp.
“Actually why don’t you just…” Willow pulls out a chair and gently leads him to it. Skara sits back down on Willow’s bed and leans over to reach his face. “Okay! Perfect, good.”
“So… what’s next on the list?” Viney asks as Hunter feels a wet brush touches Hunter’s face.
“It might be easier to find something you like if you see it in person,” Willow says. “No offense Gus—your illusions were great. We could always go to the market together sometime.”
“A lot of people are still recovering from the Day of Unity,” Hunter says. “Things are a bit… chaotic there now.”
“Sometimes I forget you get to help out with that stuff while we’re at school,” Skara says. “If you really want to do something teenager-y, why don’t you just go to Hexside with us?”
“I wouldn’t have become the Golden Guard if there was still something I could learn from school,” Hunter says.
“Mmm, so you say, but you seemed pretty interested in the shortcuts when you stayed the night,” Viney says.
“It’s unusual magic!” Hunter protests.
“Hey, stop moving around!” Skara protests.
“Sorry!”
“It’s your face I’m messing up,” Skara jokes. Hunter stiffens. “Anyway, I follow a lot of fashion blogs on Penstagram. If you give me your scroll, I can show you some?”
“O-oh!” Hunter says, pulling out his scroll. “That sounds like a good idea. Thank you.”
“Maybe he should ask Amity for advice,” Gus suggests. “She kind of has a mean look going on.”
“What does that even mean?” Skara asks.
“No, no, he has a point,” Willow says. Skara snorts.
“Okay, I’m done!” she says.
Hunter opens his eyes as Skara snaps a picture with his scroll to show him his face.
“Oh,” he says. “You added… sparkles.”
“I just thought it’d really make your eyes pop,” Skara says. She frowns. “What’s wrong? Do you hate it?”
“No, no, that’s not it,” Hunter insists. “It was just—unexpected.”
Thinking about it now, he probably should have given a more specific request—but he does like it. Hunter’s not lying about that. It’s only a small amount of glitter, stuck around his eyelids to emphasize just how far out she’d drawn his eyeliner. The bags under his eyes had been covered up with a new set of dark circles. A few lines branched outwards, presumably to resemble eyelashes.
With his new red hair, and his scars, it makes him look a bit off-putting, and maybe even a little feminine. He’s… not sure how he feels about that yet. Belos would hate it, for sure, but the person staring back at him doesn’t really look like him, and—
Out of all the grimwalkers, you look the most like—
And that’s great! Parental disapproval achieved. Hunter marks it down as a win.
“So!” Hunter says, standing out of his chair so fast it falls behind him. “Sorry! Let me just—sorry, I—Okay! What next?”
“I could pierce your ears?” Viney suggests. Hunter laughs.
“I think my ears are pierced enough as it is,” he says, gesturing to the notch on his ear. No one laughs. Hunter snaps and points at his friends. “And that wasn’t funny! Good to know! You know what, maybe we can think about clothes later, I’m—I need to ask Luz what kind of music human teens listen to.”
“You’re going to ask her for music advice?” Skara asks, putting her hands on her hips. “And not me, your friend on the bard track?”
“It can’t be coven music!” Hunter insists. “I’m supposed to be trying something new.”
“Bards are all about new!” Skara insists.
“Why don’t we just make a playlist?” Willow suggests. “We can send a link on Penstagram when we’re done.”
“Good idea,” Skara says. “We can show you what real good music sounds like.”
“Aren’t you more of a prose bard?” Viney asks.
“Sure, but I didn’t take all those music theory classes to lose to a human,” Skara replies, crossing her arms.
“Thank you,” Hunter says. He opens the window and starts climbing through. “I’ll just—I’ll be going then.”
“I have a door, you know,” Willow says as he hops down onto the grass.
“My way’s quicker!” Hunter calls back.
3. Listen to loud music
“Huh? Hunter…?” Luz says as she opens the door to the Owl House. Slowly her eyes drift to his hair. “Awww, did you dye it so you could match with Flapjack? That’s so sweet.”
“Don’t patronize me,” Hunter says. “I need your help.”
“My help?” Luz says, raising an eyebrow. “With what?”
“I’m—I’m tired of living my life the way Belos told me to,” Hunter says. “I don’t want to just keep doing everything that has his approval. I need to learn how to be my own person—by doing everything he hates instead.”
Luz stares at him for a moment.
“Well, can’t fault that logic,” she says, opening the door wider. “Come in.”
“Belos called himself a witch hunter,” Hunter says as he walks inside. “What kind of music do witch hunters hate?”
Luz thinks for a moment.
“Jazz…?” she says. Hunter groans.
“Jazz isn’t rebellious,” he says. “Darius listens to it.”
“Hey, maybe it isn’t a big deal here, but there’s a lot of music genres out there that used to make Christians really mad,” Luz protests. “They used to say rock and roll was convincing kids to worship the devil!”
“There’s at least three things about that sentence I need explained to me,” Hunter says. Luz sighs and sits down on the couch.
“Yeah, explaining human stuff is starting to get pretty complicated,” she says. “It took me a really long time to get Eda to understand what a witch hunter even is.”
“It sounds pretty self-explanatory,” Hunter says. He sits down on the opposite end of the couch. Luz shakes her head. “... Right. Almost forgot you humans don’t have magic. So—who did they go after?”
“Anyone they wanted to, really,” Luz says. “Accusing someone of being a witch just meant they did something you didn’t like, so you wanted them gone. Sometimes that meant they weren’t going to church, or they didn’t get married when they were supposed to. Or you saw them flirting with your husband, and you wanted to make them pay. Or they had land you wanted, and you needed a way to steal it without looking like a totally awful person. It was never really about what they could do, it was just who you could kick out without anyone stopping you. I don’t know that much about it, honestly—I was supposed to learn about it this year, actually—but everyone in New England knows something about witch hunters. They… they hurt a lot of people.”
Luz hugs her chest.
“And if you looked like me, they probably wouldn’t even give you a trial,” she mutters.
“But… they’re gone now?” Hunter asks. “You fought them off?”
Luz laughs.
“I think it was a bit more complicated than that,” she says. “Honestly, those guys hated everyone that didn’t act just like them. If that’s all you’re trying to rebel against, I think being a grimwalker is probably enough.”
“I don’t want to hear they hate me for being born,” Hunter says. “Or, made, carved—whatever. What am I supposed to do, exist near him until he unleases his curse on me? I already tried that. Wasn’t fun, trust me.”
“Right,” Luz says.
“Did I bring down the mood again?” Hunter asks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get into all of that. I just—I just want to hear a song from the Human Realm.”
“Well, I don’t really have much to choose from,” Luz says. “Definitely not cool rebellious teen music. Most of the stuff I listen to is just from animes. I might have some merengue I listened too with my mom? You won’t be able to understand any of it, but it’s dance music, which means it’s really fun. And I’m pretty sure all Witch Hunters were Puritans, which means they automatically hate anything that could make someone actually enjoy themselves.”
“That sounds like it has potential,” Hunter says, though, honestly, he wasn’t sure how much of that he understood.
“Great!” Luz pulls her box out from her pocket and starts poking the screen. Once it starts playing music, she sets it down and stands up, moving her feet to the beat. Hunter hears… trumpets? Drums? He’d never seen music used without magic before. He doesn’t know how to tell them apart.
“And this is… typical, for the Human Realm?” Hunter asks.
“If you’re Dominican, yeah!” Luz replies. “C’mon! Dance with me! I’ve seen your fancy footwork before, I know you can keep up!”
Hunter stands up and keeps his hands close to his chest.
“Is there… a routine?” he asks. “What am I supposed to do with my feet?”
Luz grabs his hands.
“Technically, this is the kinda dance you’re supposed to do with a partner,” she says, swinging their arms. She takes a step forward, then a step back. “My mom used to play songs like this when we cleaned the house together. I’m not sure if I know how to do this without a mop in my hand.”
Luz takes a step back, touching his chest to prevent Hunter from following, and spins herself, on hand still holding his. After a moment she releases her hand and laughs.
“Wow, you’re really stiff,” she says. “You know, you can’t really do this right if you don’t move your hips.”
“My hips?” Hunter takes a step back. “Isn’t that a bit…”
“Figures you’d say something like that,” Luz says as Flapjack lands on her shoulder. “But that’s okay, we know how to have fun!”
She dances a bit more, Flapjack jumping on and off her shoulder with the rhythm as she does. Hunter offers them a small awkward smile and takes a step back. Luz frowns and jumps back onto the couch, stopping the music as she does.
“You didn’t have to stop for me,” Hunter insists.
“Well, yeah, but it’s not fun if you’re not having fun, too,” Luz says. “Besides, I don’t want you to think Phillip is all there is to the Human Realm. There’s cool stuff, too.”
Even now, some part of him still wanted to berate her for referring to Belos so casually.
“You still left,” Hunter says. Luz clutches her box. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about that. Have you been working on any new glyph combinations recently? Anything I can help you with.”
“Well, I have been wondering how do abomination magic…” Luz muses. “But we’ve been doing a lot of magic together lately. I don’t mind taking a break if you want to try and find another song. Eda probably has some old record she scrounged up lying around. I can go ask her!”
“If you’re sure…” Hunter says hesitantly. “But making an abomination from scratch isn’t going to be easy. Most of their form comes from the specific materials the spell draws out from the earth, so—”
“So if I already have those ingredients on me, the spell should get way less complicated!” Luz finishes. She beams. “Thanks, Hunter! I’ll have to try that out soon.”
“That… wasn’t exactly what I was going to say,” Hunter says. “But it might work, I don’t know. I’d be more help if I had my notes.”
Granted, he could probably go find the research he’d been doing on wild magic back at the castle, but the last thing Hunter had heard about his things, it’d been Darius telling him Belos had ordered some of the guards to clear out his room. Darius had managed to save a few things—including, thankfully, his Sprig plushie. Hunter didn’t know what he’d do if Belos had taken away his only proof he’d had a real childhood—and apparently, Steve had felt guilty enough that Belos asked him to clean up, he’d saved some stuff as well, but Hunter wasn’t sure how to bring that up to him now.
“... Luz?” Hunter asks. “What, uh—Why do you like the Human Realm?”
Luz puts down her box.
“Well, my mom’s there, for one thing,” Luz says. “And everything’s a whole lot safer, which is fun. Plus, I can actually eat most of the food there! More than a lot of other humans, I’d bet—I’m really good with spicy food. I actually won a hot sauce competition once. Oh, and the books, too, of course! I don’t know where I’d be without Azura. It’s nice to think that even with all the magic that exists here, sometimes humans are just… inventing it on their own!”
“It probably hasn’t been completely on their own,” Hunter says. “If so much human junk can come to our world, I’m sure the opposite is true, too. Even if no one the witch hunters faced off against was really a witch, someone somewhere along the line had to have met one.”
Abruptly, Hunter thinks of Belos. Judging by the expression on Luz’s face, they’re on the same page.
“But I guess I could give the series a shot,” Hunter says. He clears his throat. “Apparently, when the only thing anyone wants you to do with your life is ‘go be a kid!’ you have a lot of free time.”
Luz gasps in excitement and immediately scrambles to find her books. Flapjack chirps in surprise and goes back to resting on Hunter’s shoulder.
“Just give me the first one!” Hunter calls after her. “I’m not going to read them all at once!”
“Once you start you won’t be able to put them down!” Luz insists. Hunter rolls his eyes.
“She’s forgetting I have to carry them all home with me,” he tells Flapjack. Flapjack chirps. “I know, I know. It’s her favorite book. I’ll be nice.”
Luz slaps the first two Azura novels down in Hunter’s arms.
“So, the prose might be a bit dense at times, but I figure, hey, you’ve probably sat through dozens of meetings with people way wordier than this,” Luz begins. “And it’s really meant for kids ages eight to eleven, so maybe the morality here’s a bit black and white, but I think just because something’s below your age range doesn’t mean—”
“Luz,” Hunter interrupts. “You don’t need to defend it. I said I’d read it, and I meant it. Besides, having a really clear-cut villain sounds… really nice, right now.”
“Maybe if you really like it, you can join Amity and I’s book club?” Luz says hopefully.
“Flyer derby comes first,” Hunter says.
“Of course it does,” Luz says. Hunter stiffens when he hears footsteps behind him. “Oh, hey Eda! Perfect timing! Hunter was just looking for some cool human music to listen to!”
Breathe, Flapjack chirps. Hunter does. He turns around and manages a strained smile as he watches The Owl Lady walk down the stairs.
“Human music, huh?” Eda says. “Well, I’m sure I have something. What are we in the mood for today, kids?”
“Rebellious teen music!” Luz cheers. Eda laughs and starts looking around the room.
“That’s the spirit!” she says. “Fill your ears with the validating screams of adults telling you not to listen you your parents!”
“Screams…?” Hunter repeats. Eda pulls out an album.
“How’s this?” she asks. “Luz says it’s—what’s that human music called? Ore?”
“Uh, Eda do you mean rock?” Luz asks. She looks at the album cover. “Wait, is this metal? Because that’s…”
“I can handle it,” Hunter insists.
“You haven’t heard the way Eda listens to music,” Luz says, but she lets Eda put the record on. Immediately, there’s a sound so abrupt and screeching that Hunter bolts towards the door.
“Grimwalker ears are twice as sensitive as a typical witch’s!” Hunter insists, before Luz can open her mouth. It’s a lie, and they all know it. Hunter was made to be a witch, so he has the body of one, too.
“I have other records, you know,” Eda says. “So if you want—”
“Actually I just remembered I had something I wanted to speak to Lilith about!” Hunter says, trying (and failing) to keep his voice steady. “So I’m going to go to the library right now! This definitely has nothing to do with the music playing!”
“Well… okay,” Luz says. “But if you ever want to talk about the Human Realm again, let me know. It’s kind of nice to talk about this with another—with a friend.”
Another human. That’s what she’d meant to say. Hunter knows that it’s not an insult—how could it be, when Luz was human herself? But he was still getting used to the idea of being a grimwalker. Maybe one day, he’d be able to make a joke about them both being from the same endangered species, but he’d had enough people calling him half a witch to last a lifetime. The idea of being called half-human didn’t feel any better.
“Yeah,” Hunter says. “Some other time.”
4. Get a weird hobby
There’s a stack of books on Lilith’s desk when Hunter walks by.
“Oh,” Hunter says. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Just doing a bit of research on the savage ages,” Lilith says. “The emperor might be gone, but we still have a land filled with people that know nothing but his version of events. And, as a historian, it’s my job to correct those misconceptions any way I can. But it’s nothing I can’t come back to later if you need me now. I don’t think we’ve gotten anything new on grimwalkers, though.”
“Oh, no, that’s not it. I was just wondering if there was… any areas of knowledge you thought I might be lacking,” Hunter says, waving a hand. “You know, like—protests I might have missed out on by being a part of the Emperor's Coven.”
Lilith stares at him and adjusts her glasses.
“Hunter, you’re being awfully vague,” she says. Hunter groans.
“Darius and I were talking the other day,” he says. “I asked him what teenagers normally do to try and assert their independence, and he said something about changing your look, and listening to loud music, or getting really involved in a subculture no one else understands.”
“Well, I don’t know why you’re listening to Darius, of all people here,” Lilith says. “He certainly didn’t do any of those things. Not at Hexside, at least—though I did hear he was bit of an unruly recruit when we first joined the Coven.”
“He’s the only one of us who was actually a teenager,” Hunter says, pointing at Flapjack. “And all his advice is a few hundred years out of date.”
“Yes, I’d imagine a few things have changed since then,” Lilith replies dryly.
“Wait, you knew Darius as a teenager,” Hunter says. He pulls up a chair. “I always forget the two of you went to school together. What was he like?”
“Much less sarcastic, for one thing,” Lilith says. “I was in the potions track, so we really only met up when it came time to study for coven try-outs, but he always seemed to be in good spirits. Always helping other abomination students with their homework, using magic to have abominations offer us snacks during study breaks… He was exactly the student everyone wanted—at least until his falling out with Alador.”
“What happened?” Hunter asks. Lilith shrugs.
“Absolutely no idea,” she says. “I didn’t speak much to Alador then, and Darius didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Odalia did, though her bias was obvious. At the time, my only priority was getting into the Emperor's Coven, so I never looked into it any further, but it was clear it affected him quite a bit.”
“I’ve never really seen Darius hang out with anyone that isn’t Eberwolf,” Hunter says.
“Becoming a coven-head doesn’t really give you much chance to foster relationships outside the castle,” Lilith says. She sighs and leans back. “Even back then, we all expected as much. Everyone knows that the Emperor’s Coven keeps you far away from home. For one reason or another, we all decided that it was worth the cost. Still, I don’t think any of us were prepared for how… lonely it could be.”
Hunter looks down.
“Yeah,” he says. “I know what you mean.”
“Whatever teenage rebellion you’re attempting, I’m sure you’ve already far surpassed the both of us,” Lilith adds. “How long were you studying wild magic inside the castle, exactly?”
“That was different,” Hunter protests. “I was just looking for a cure for—uh, should I not have phrased it like that?”
“Oh, I don’t deny that some curses might be better off cured,” Lilith says. “But some attempts tend to be… more trouble than they’re worth.”
She shudders.
“He wouldn’t have wanted it, anyway,” Hunter mutters. “The trouble was part of the appeal.”
The fact that Hunter could never blame his uncle for what had happened was a perk, not a problem.
“You and Eda—you talk to your owlbeasts, don’t you?” Hunter asks. “And you… you get along?”
Lilith smiles to herself.
“I used to hate myself for what I did to her,” she says. “I know that cursing your sister—it’s not a forgivable thing. No matter what else happens, I’m still the reason neither of us has magic. And Eda endured so much while we were apart—the amount of snails I’d need just to reimburse her for all the potions she’s bought alone makes my head hurt just thinking about it. But every so often, my owlbeast takes me flying with her at night and I can feel the joy of a caged animal finally being let free. And somehow, I can’t help but think—well, maybe it’s all been worth it.”
“That’s all it took?” Hunter asks. “And it—it never bothers you now?”
“It’s not a perfect solution,” Lilith says. “If I’m tired, or stressed, I’m still prone to getting a bit… feathery. And sometimes, it lashes out when something surprises us. But if it’s scared, I try and comfort it. I tell it that everything’s going to be okay. Sometimes it doesn’t work, and I need to find a potion. I try and keep some nearby, just in case. But after getting the opportunity to speak to it… I’ve found that I’d rather not be the one hurting a wild animal for being a beast.”
Lilith pulls off her hand and sets it on the table.
“Of course, this does make transcribing rather difficult,” she says. Hunter stares at her detached hand. “Oh, don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt.”
“Can you please put that back,” Hunter asks. Lilith does.
“In any case, I’d say that most teenage rebellion happens when a child realizes they can find a better way of living than what the adults in their life want,” she says. “But, if you’re looking for some kind of subculture to get more involved in, I’m sure we have books about flyer derby. The history of the sport is probably very interesting.”
“I… yeah, I’ll give it a shot.” Hunter stands up, tucking the Azura novels he’d been walking with under one arm. “Sorry for interrupting your work.”
“I’d be interested to get your eyes on it when I’m done,” Lilith says as Hunter begins to walk away. “Just to see if there’s anything I missed.”
“Just let me know when you need me,” Hunter tells her.
He heads towards the bookshelves and bumps into Amity, who immediately zeroes in on the books under his arm.
“You’re reading Azura?” she asks.
“I was at The Owl House earlier,” Hunter says. “I wanted to learn more about the Human Realm, and she said this was her favorite book, so…”
Hunter shrugs.
“I hope you like it,” Amity says. “It’s my favorite book, too. I don’t know how much it’ll teach you about the Human Realm, though.”
“Yeah, I kind of got that from the cover.” Hunter snorts.
“Luz and I actually had a conversation about that,” Amity says. “She said that the point of Azura was supposed to be a bit like wish fulfillment. Humans can’t do magic, so seeing someone cast spells feels new and exciting, but a witch… isn’t always going to feel the same way. If you want to read a human book, I’ve been reading a few lately that don’t have anything to do with magic. Like the story of someone solving crimes using a type of human skill called ‘forensics.’ Or the story of four sisters as they journey into adulthood! According to Luz, the musical’s better. But if you’d like, I could… bring them over sometime?”
“Sure,” Hunter says. “I guess I could come by after I finish Azura. Maybe I can find a way to make it some more interesting to other witches. I’m sure it’s a good book, you just need a different angle.”
“Well, if you find one, it’d definitely help get our book club off the ground,” Amity says. “You have my Pensta, right? Let me know when you find your favorite character.”
“I’ll do my best,” Hunter says. Even though he was getting more used to it, Hunter still hated typing on scrolls. “Uh, Blight?”
“Hmm?”
“You… told your parents you didn’t want to be in the Emperor’s Coven, right?” Hunter asks. “Before all of… this? How’d they take that?”
“To be honest, I only really told my dad,” Amity says. “I think my mom pretty much gave up on me at that point. I’d ruined a lot of her presentations with clients, and I wasn’t talking to Bosha or Skara anymore, which meant I was basically useless to her. And, well, why spend time on your bad kid when you have a pair of perfectly good twins to mess up instead?”
“So—you don’t care what she thinks about you?”
“I guess I did,” Amity says. “I mean, I’m still… sensitive about that stuff. When you started telling me about how Luz wouldn’t want me if I couldn’t find any titan blood, you really got in my head, you know?”
“Sorry,” Hunter says. Amity shakes her head.
“No, it was—I mean, obviously I don’t want you to do it again,” Amity says. “But that’s not why I brought it up. I realized after that a part of why I got so upset was because I told myself the same thing. And not just about Luz—about my parents, too. The only reason I could stand up to them was because with Luz around, I didn’t have to care about what they thought. I already knew someone loved me. But if something happened with Luz… I'd be all alone again. So, I don’t know, I started talking to Willow again. And hanging out with my siblings. And now, Dad and I are on… slightly better terms.”
“You could talk to Skara, too,” Hunter says. “She’s not as bad as you think.”
“I know,” Amity says. “But I think we might end up being bad together. I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid. She just—knew me at a different time, you know?”
“Not really,” Hunter says. “But—it never freaks you out? That you’re not doing what your parents want?”
“It did, but…” Amity shrugs. “Like I said, they’re not the only people giving me approval.”
“It was that easy, huh,” Hunter says. A surprisingly heavy feeling of jealousy pushes into his chest.
“Hey, you managed to destroy all my self confidence with one conversation,” Amity snorts. “And if you tried it again, it might still work. I think it’s pretty clear that there’s some stuff I need to work on. But… I’m getting better. And I like who I am a lot more than when I was just doing everything my mom asked me to. And… that’s something, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Hunter says. “I guess it is.”
“Are you okay?” Amity asks, stepping closer. “You look a little…”
“It’s nothing.” Hunter shakes his head. “Just… thinking of something stupid. Do you know where the books on flyer derby are?”
“Uh, yeah,” Amity says. She gives him one final look before she takes a step back. “Just follow me.”
5. Be the best you
The face staring back at him barely looks like his own.
Would Belos still think he looked like his brother now, he wonders. If he’d come into the castle with his hair red as a cardinal and enough make-up to resemble the black mask around Flapjack’s eyes—would Belos be done with him then? Would that have been all it took for Hunter to join the twisted garden of Golden Guards past? Or would he finally have stopped seeing him as the ghost of a man who’d fought against him?
No, he knows the answer to that. They may have had different names, but to Belos, Hunter had never been more than another body for the other Wittebane to inhabit. One that wouldn’t care about frivolous things like being comfortable with his appearance, or having friends that cared about him, or even just—having the audacity to move away when the emperor pressed his staff to Hunter’s chest. There was never any hope making it to eighteen with Belos around. Some part of him was always going to end up as kindling.
Hunter jolts as Darius knocks on the doorframe, gripping the sink tighter to prevent him from losing his balance.
“I didn’t think you’d be home so early,” Hunter says.
“I’m sorry for startling you,” Darius replies. Hunter shakes his head.
“It shouldn’t have,” he mutters. “Kikimora tried to kill me, and I worked with her for months without even flinching. I’ve slept with broken ribs because I couldn’t get out of bed to find a healer, and now I’m getting freaked out? By a knock on the door?”
Darius’ face looks surprisingly blank. Hunter groans.
“I messed up again, didn’t I?” he says. “I shouldn’t have said any of that.”
“That’s not it,” Darius says. He leans against the doorframe. “It’s… uncomfortable to think that there could be someone suffering so much under the same roof and I had no knowledge of it. Or, worse, might have contributed to it in some way. But I’d rather you tell me about it now than feel guilty about a past you couldn’t control.”
Hunter releases his grip on the sink and turns to Darius.
“You didn’t, really,” he says. “Maybe you freaked me out a bit before you gave me my scroll, but it’s not like you made a habit of it or anything. Most of the time, you were just ignoring me.”
“Those aren’t exactly neutral actions,” Darius says. “Looking back, I think many of us assumed that you were fine because we started training for the Coven so young. Sometimes, I forget how dreadfully awful it is to be sixteen in that palace.”
“Why did you even want to join the Emperor’s Coven if you hated it so much?” Hunter asks. Darius sighs.
“I wanted to help people,” he says. “Unfortunately, it seems I chose the wrong side.”
“I don’t blame you for anything, you know,” Hunter says. He holds his hands out for Flapjack to perch on and rubs the bird’s wooden feathers when he does. “It’s not like you didn’t help me when it really mattered.”
“A broken rib really matters, too, kid,” Darius says.
“Not if you prepare for it right,” Hunter tells him. “I just always made sure I had a healing potion I could grab, just in case, or to keep things from getting worse. Especially if it was something I didn’t want anyone to know was bugging me. Kind of hard to explain that the reason you’re limping is because the great Emperor Belos ‘lost control’ again.”
Hunter gives a soft but bitter laugh, then looks down when he sees Darius’ expression.
“Please stop looking at me like that.”
“I’m sorry,” Darius says. “I wish you hadn’t gone through that alone.”
Not alone, Flapjack sings. Hunter cracks a weak smile and scratches the bird under his beak. No, not alone. Not completely.
“I keep thinking he’s going to come back for me,” Hunter admits. “I thought it’d get better after the Day of Unity, but I keep having these dreams where he finds me and every time, I ask him to forgive me but he just tells me the only thing I’m good for is to as fuel. So I take an axe, and chop off my arm. And then I build a fire to keep him warm.”
Darius has a hand covering his mouth now. It’s too much for him, Hunter knows. He always is.
“I don’t understand why I’m so scared all the time,” he says. “I never felt like this in the Emperor’s Coven.”
“Because you trusted him to keep you safe,” Darius says.
“Oh,” Hunter says. “I guess I did.”
“Sometimes, living in… certain situations helps us develop bad habits,” Darius says slowly. “I’m sure that your suspicion served you well living in that castle. Considering what you were up against, it probably helped keep you alive. And, though it may have been a decision made out of paranoia, I do think it was smart for you to have moved around so often while Belos was after you.”
“He didn’t really go after me,” Hunter mutters. “He just told everyone I was dead and expected the Titan to find a way to make it happen. I could have just stayed with Willow.”
“That doesn’t mean it hurts to be careful,” Darius says. “But all that paranoia… it’s not something you can turn off that easily. So your mind keeps searching for whatever danger it can find to prove its fear is warranted. And sometimes, the things it finds are just…”
“... People opening the door,” Hunter finishes. “So, that’s all this is? My brain’s just too stupid to realize I’m not in danger? After everything I went through, I’m getting panic attacks because I’m finally living with someone who doesn’t throw me down a pit of spikes just to test my reflexes? How is that fair?”
“It’s not,” Darius says. He steps closer to put an arm on Hunter’s shoulder. “All this time, your scars have been waiting for a chance to heal. But it wasn’t safe to slow down, so you didn’t. And now, it is. There’s no need to punish yourself for taking a moment to breathe—even if that moment takes a bit longer than you’d like.”
Hunter scowls.
“I can’t do anything like this,” he says. “I can’t—I don’t even know how to be a teenager. And I don’t want to be the Golden Guard anymore, but even if I did, I’m not good at it anymore. I can feel myself getting rusty, and I hate it, but I don’t know if I can bring myself to fight anymore. So—who else am I supposed to be? Just… Hunter?”
“It seems to me a lot of people like Hunter,” Darius says. Hunter scoffs.
“I just don’t know who I’m supposed to be anymore,” he says. “I feel like I’m supposed to feel bad that he named me Hunter, or that I look just like the person he was trying to bring back. Maybe I’m supposed to tell everyone to just call me Caleb like the Entrails do, because at least he doesn’t own that. But the thing is, for the first sixteen—fifteen, fourteen, whatever—maybe I didn’t have a lot, but before I went into his head, those things used to just be mine.”
“They still can be,” Darius says.
“Can they?” Hunter asks. “You knew the previous Golden Guard. He probably looked like me, didn’t he? Don’t tell me you never think of him when you look at me.”
“Of course I do,” Darius says. “Just like the human reminds me of Edalyn.”
“... What?”
“Sometimes, two people just have similar personalities,” Darius says. “It doesn’t mean I’d want to replace one with the other. I didn’t want to speak too much about him—it seemed like it might be a sensitive topic. But I don’t see him when I look at you. I just see Hunter. Honestly, I would have never guessed that the two of you were copies. Cousins, yes, maybe, but by the time I knew Orion, he was well into his adult years and most of the time I saw him, he was wearing his mask. Even if I could tell the two of you had the same face, his hair was still much darker.”
“Really?” Hunter says. “Do you think he dyed it?”
“If he did, he did a good job,” Darius says. “I never got to know him as well as I wanted to, unfortunately. He was a very outgoing man, but he kept a lot hidden. I knew he knew Belos well, but I don’t think he ever explained what their relationship was outright. He seemed surprisingly comfortable making jokes about him, but never anything that would undermine his authority, not outright. For a while, it was almost a comfort to know that even the emperor had witches he considered family.”
Darius frowns.
“A lot of those jokes seem much less benign, in retrospect.”
“Do you think he knew?” Hunter asks.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d pieced something together,” Darius says. “He was the inspiration for a great deal of my spells. Orion was always going on about how we were all just different kinds of living matter. Abominations, Palismans, witches—if we were all made up of something that was keeping us alive, than surely the gaps between us weren’t as large as we might think. I assumed that the next logical step would be to combine these different kinds of living and worked on keeping my skin the same texture as the abomination sludge. Now, though, I wonder if he had been thinking of something completely different. Then again, he was fond of making himself abomination armor, so maybe that’s just nostalgia, clouding my mind.”
“Do you think… Do you know how he…” Hunter can’t say it.
“The last time I spoke to him, he said there was something he wanted to speak to Belos about,” Darius says. “I didn’t want him to go. I didn’t like the look in his eye. But he promised he’d train with me tomorrow, and so I agreed I'd see him then… Sometimes it feels like a part of me is still in that night, waiting for him to come back through those doors. I’m sure there was nothing a teenager could have done to appease the wrath of the mighty Belos, but I can’t help but wonder how differently things might have gone if I’d gotten involved.”
Darius lays a hand on Hunter’s head and looks him in the eyes.
“But just to be clear—you’re not a replacement to me,” Darius says firmly. “I’ve never helped you out of some misguided desire to rewrite the past. Saving you doesn’t save Orion. But it saves Hunter, and that’s all I’ve been trying to do. And if you decide you’d rather not be Hunter or Caleb, I’d still feel the same about whoever you choose to be next. A name doesn’t have to carry so much weight. If it’s causing you trouble, you can replace it however many times you’d like. It doesn’t have to be permanent. It can just be who you want to be now.”
“That’s the hard part,” Hunter mutters, giving Flapjack’s feathers another stroke.
“I know,” Darius says. “But if it makes you feel any better, you’re not alone. I certainly never went through everything you did, but after a life of being surrounded by backstabbing witches, and plotting the demise of the most powerful person on the Boiling Isles, sometimes I find myself surprised that the only thing I have to worry about when I speak to someone is whether or not I like them.”
“That’s not really the same as running away every time someone puts some music on,” Hunter says.
“It’s a bit easier when you know what being safe looks like,” Darius says. He looks down at Hunter and smiles sadly.
Hunter turns away.
“You don’t have to keep being so nice to me,” Hunter mumbles, pushing Darius’ hand away. “We’re just coworkers.”
“Hmm, maybe,” Darius agrees. “But I don’t think I’d dye Raine’s hair, no matter how many times they asked me. I suppose you’re just more lovable.”
“First time I’ve heard that,” Hunter says. He’s pretty sure Flapjack was the only one who’d ever even told him they loved him.
“Then I’ll say it again.” Darius ruffles Hunter’s hair. “It’s an honor to have you here, little bird.”
With that, he walks away.
“Let me know if you need any help getting that make-up off,” Darius calls behind him. “It looks very nice right now, but you’re not going to be happy with the results if you try and sleep with that on.”
Hunter runs a hand through his hair as Flapjack resettles on his shoulder.
Little bird.
Well, it was a start.