Chapter Text
Hunter woke up feeling like he’d been thoroughly bulldozed.
His back ached from his uncomfortable sleeping position, his chest rose shakily and wheezed upon exhaling, and his eyes felt like miniature deserts with how dry they were. Not to mention his arm. Oh Titan…
His arm was a mess of blood and bruises. Fortunately, (Or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it) most of the blood flow had been stopped via scabbing over, so only a little blood trickled freely down to the floor.
Hunter looked around groggily, distantly recalling the freak out he’d had the previous night, though why he’d shoved himself in the closet was beyond him. He tried to remember the exact cause of such an intense reaction, but that memory seemed to be firmly locked away.
He remembered his uncle, pleading with him to become better, then it just went blank. His memory did that sometimes, and it annoyed him to no end.
Grumbaling about lost memories, Hunter pushed the closet door open—how had he even closed it the previous night?—and tried to stand up. It didn’t work well. His legs shook so badly you could’ve mistaken him for someone close to complete frostbite.
Hunter refused to be weak, though, so he painfully crawled to his bed and used the hard surface to push himself to his feet. It only half worked, and Hunter had to use his staff as a cane just so he wouldn’t humiliate himself further by faceplanting.
Hobbling to the bathroom, Hunter stole a glance out his small window. It was evidently night, and a more calculated look at the moon told him it was somewhere around 2am. What? Of course he could tell time by the moon. It was a necessary survival skill for someone in his coveted position.
As soon as he stumbled into the bathroom, he fumbled around for his secret stash of cleansing liquid, sewing kit and gauze. Sitting on the toilet, he propped his staff up on the sink then braced himself for the unpleasant task ahead.
He began with the simplest, yet somehow very painful step of wiping away the excess blood. A wet rag and some annoyingly painful swipes later, he could see the 5 major slashes that had caused all the bloodflow. Grimacing, he poured the stinging substance meticulously into each cut, wincing slightly at the extreme stabbing sensation that followed. He never understood why the healers of the Isles couldn’t make a single wound-cleaner that didn’t burn like a thousand suns. He blamed the coven head, Hettie never had been good about healing without making it more painful than necessary. Or, that could just be her way of hating Hunter specifically. You never know.
After the burning passed, Hunter silently debated between stitching himself up or using the last of his precious gauze. He decided to use the stitches.
Well, that was going to be a painful hour of his life.
*-*-*-*-*-*-*
“Hey, watch it ⌿⍀⟟⋏☊⟒!”
Hunter shoved past the rude scout, having no energy to deal with immature, jealous witches. He couldn’t even bring himself to add a retort about Darius’s horrible new robes during the Coven Head’s meeting! And if he was that put off, he’d have hoped all the stupid scouts would leave him alone. Don’t they have lives? Jobs? Titan, he was their superior! He could have them fired for saying such things! But no. They still went out of their way to bother him.
He thought people would be terrified of the mere notion of firing, but nope. He had found out quickly that the coven scouts were both unruly and unfrightened by the prospect of being kicked out of the coven. Hunter had never understood where such insubordination had come from.
People were still shaken by him, though, so he let it slide. Even on his worst days when he could hardly stand, people would make a pathway for him. It was a bonus that came with such an impressive position, along with the extra jobs and frequent ‘good jobs’ from the Emperor.
It had been around a day and a half since he’d patched himself up, but his arm was still in abysmal condition, leading to poor results on a mission he’d had earlier that day. It hadn’t completely failed, but the Everblossom had a couple broken petals and he’d nearly dropped it on the flight back. That was a minor heart attack he’d probably never get over.
Considering all he had to go through to get the damned plant, he would’ve probably gotten killed for such carelessness. And as he hobbled through the incoming crowd, he wrinkled his nose at the closeness and loudness of the surrounding witches. Even with his ‘pathway’, people still got too close at times and Hunter had to shuffle to the sides to avoid contact.
He was half tempted to ask his uncle for a private corridor to and from his dorm, but he knew that would be unseemly and costly. He already burdened his Emperor enough, he couldn’t add anything onto his shoulders, especially since he’d asked Hunter to be better.
Hunter arrived at the looming set of doors that led to the throne room. With a deep breath, he shoved one side open and slinked inside. His Emperor seemed to be reading something, and Hunter knew better than to interrupt his uncle when he was reading. He simply lay the flower on a table filled with knickknacks, then began to make his way out of the room. His foot had gotten crushed by a rock on his mission to the flower, so he was slower and less stealthy than he would’ve liked.
”Well done, Hunter. I knew I could count on you.”
The sudden voice made Hunter flinch violently. The Emperor hadn't moved, but a slight nod of his head signaled to Hunter that he was, in fact, the one who had spoken.
Who else would it have been?
Oh, shut up.
Hunter thought to himself before bowing to the Emperor.
“Of course, sir.”
He responded, keeping his tone neutral. Inside, though, he was beaming with pride. He loved it when his uncle complimented him. He knew there were important lessons in lectures and disciplines, but he always loved knowing he did alright. It made him feel all warm and happy inside. He was just about to leave, when the Emperor's voice turned cold.
”Hunter, come here.”
Hunter himself felt the warm feeling sink. Did he get the wrong flower? Would he have to go back? Did he do something wrong?
He stiffly walked to where the Emperor was standing, kneeling in front of him.
”This flower is supposed to have exactly 19 petals. There are 15 here, and 2 more of them are ripped.”
The Emperor sighed, disappointment radiating off of him. Hunter cursed himself silently, could he do nothing right? He was a failure. He couldn’t believe he thought he’d get away with such poor results.
“Hunter, do you hate me?”
Hunter’s head snapped up and his eyes went wide.
“No! Of course not! I could never!”
He cried, horrified at the mere thought. His uncle had taken him in when Wild Witches killed his parents! He could never repay his kindness, generosity and wisdom, no matter how hard he tried.
”Then why do you act like it? Every time you bring home these…pathetic results, it pains me Hunter. Did you know that?”
The Emperor paused, letting the words soak into Hunter’s skin. It made Hunter want to throw up. He hated causing his uncle pain, he knew he could do better, and he hated that he never seemed to do things correctly. He’d gotten so close to having a wonderful day with his Emperor's praise repeating a million times in his head, but he just had to wreck the flower. Now, his uncle was upset, and Hunter was convinced there was something wrong with him. The second time this week, too. What, with the selkidomus incident causing his uncle’s curse to flare up worse than before.
“The curse, however, does not have such pains. I’ve tried to tell you time and time again, the curse is merciless. I try to shield you, but you keep failing. The curse doesn’t tolerate failure, Hunter. You know this!”
The Emperor chided, looking into Hunter’s eyes with a resigned sadness that made Hunter’s nausea even worse. Oh, he knew the curse was ruthless. He knew his failures angered it. He knew it caused his uncle pain. His scares, both old and new, ached as a reminder.
Yeah, reminders. You have so many. You know all of this. Yet, you KEEP FAILING. What gives you any right? You're such a waste!
I know. I’m sorry.
Bullshit! If you were sorry, you’d be better. Your uncle believes you can be better.you said you’d be better. But no. You're just content to cause your uncle pain. Why? Because you're a horrible, selfish waste of air.
Hunter felt like crying. His inner voice—that sounded suspiciously like the Emperor—told him things he knew were true, yet he still couldn’t help but hate himself even more.
“I’m sorry, Hunter, but the curse demands it. Tonight meet me here. The curse will not take this lightly.”
The Emperor commanded, glowing eyes boring into Hunter’s soul almost painfully. The boy stood and bowed, knowing there was no use in just standing around. He exited the throne room, cursing himself for being such a disappointment.
“Um, hi?”
And suddenly, Hunter had his staff aimed at someone’s throat.