Chapter Text
The Golden Guard has to always be ready to go at a moment’s notice, always on his toes, always ready to serve the emperor. He was awake at the crack of dawn, if he even went to sleep in the first place, alert and prepared for whatever mission he was needed for. Not to mention living in the same building as Kikimora, who was out to get him and could potentially strike at any time, and an uncle whose curse made him a bit temperamental. Safe to say, Hunter was kind of a stranger to waking up drowsy and sluggish. He’d been trained out of that years and years ago. He's better than that.
This would be the first time since becoming the Golden Guard that Hunter finds himself wrestling his eyes open, vision blurry and head cloudy, every muscle in his body weighing about a thousand pounds and threatening to sink him straight through the lumpy mattress beneath him.
Wait, lumpy? He’s the emperor’s nephew; he doesn’t sleep on a lumpy mattress. And oh. Ow. His head throbs, suddenly feeling as though it might split right open. He almost wishes it would, because maybe it would put a stop to the pain.
“Wha—” Hunter shifts, trying to sit up as he blinks rapidly. With sudden terrifying clarity, he realizes that part of the reason it’s so hard to move is the thick vine wrapped around his torso, pinning his arms tightly to his sides. It makes his ribs ache where they’re bruised from the fight with Kikimora. “Where am I? Who’s—” He cuts himself off with a groan, a sudden wave of nausea washing over him.
“Easy,” a voice says, unfamiliar hands reaching out to steady him. They help him sit up, the vine still keeping him pinned and trapped. “You were unconscious for a long time. Give yourself a minute.”
Hunter blinks up at the blurry form in front of him, colors slowly sharpening and taking shape until he can clearly see that ridiculous human girl standing over him. She keeps her arms out, extended in the space between them as though she expects Hunter to start going down again. As if he’d be that weak. The human has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. The little dog rat thing with the a skull head stands beside her, his arms folded over his chest as he stares up at Hunter, apparently trying to look intimidating. It wasn’t working in the slightest. If Hunter were anyone else, he might even consider the little thing cute.
But he doesn't. So. There.
A soft chirp catches his attention, and despite the splitting pain it causes his head, Hunter whips his gaze up to where Little Rascal is perched on the human’s shoulder. He feels a sudden pang of betrayal in the pit of his stomach at the sight of his palisman with the enemy, but it dissipates almost immediately when the bird flies over to him. Rascal settles on Hunter’s shoulder, nuzzling at his chin with a soft chirp. He’s still learning to understand when the palisman speaks to him, but he understands the sentiment—Rascal is happy to see him awake. (No one else is ever happy to see him like that.)
“Let me go,” Hunter snaps, struggling against the vines. “You’re kidnapping a member of the Emperor’s Coven. This is treason!”
“It’s not kidnapping if you come here yourself,” the human shoots back. “What are you doing here, Golden Guard?”
“How should I know?! And where exactly is ‘here?’”
The human blinks, looking confused. “Golden—Hunter, do you not remember coming here?”
Hunter glares up at her, gritting his teeth tightly. “ No. What did you do to me, human?” he sneers.
“I—I didn’t do anything,” she says slowly.
“He’s clearly lying!” the little dog rat thing cries. “Let me at him! I’ll get him to talk.” The human grabs his shoulder, holding him back.
“You just showed up here last night,” the human explains. “Hooty found you out front. I guess Little Rascal must’ve brought you here, because you were unconscious when Eda and I got out there. We brought you inside and patched you up. You were kinda bleeding. A lot.” She motions to his head, and suddenly Hunter is aware of the bandages wrapped around his head. They tug uncomfortably at his hair.
“I have no idea how I got here,” he mumbles, staring at his lap as he wracks his brain for answers. There’s nothing. The last clear memory he has is fighting with the youngest Blight over the portal key. After that, it’s just a haze of fleeting feelings—unease, discomfort, fear. None of that is unusual and offers no hints as to what he’s missing. He narrows his gaze, turning his glare back on the human. “How do I know this isn’t all a ruse? You probably brought me here yourself and did something to mess with my memory.”
“Why would we do that? How would we even do that? As far as I know, there are no glyphs for erasing memories, and Eda doesn’t really have her magic right now. I guess there could be a potion, but—”
Little Rascal cuts her off, bumping their head against Hunter’s neck as he chirps. They sound stressed, and relieved. Whatever had happened last night, Hunter scared them.
“Sorry,” he mutters softly to the bird, although he has no idea what he’s apologizing for. It just feels like the thing to do here.
The human’s expression softens at the sight. “Little Rascal never left your side,” she assures. “They wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I really don’t think they would’ve brought you here if they thought we were gonna hurt you, so you can relax.”
“Oh yeah? If you didn’t want to hurt me, then why am I tied up?” He wrestles with the vines for emphasis.
“Uh, because you’re the Golden Guard?” the dog bird says. “We’re not just gonna let you roam free in our house!”
It hits, just then. He’s in the Owl House. He’s in the Owl House. If his uncle could see him now, surely he’d kill him for being so stupid. That thought makes his chest pang, and the sentiment feels a bit too true for comfort. Hunter shoves the thought away. He has to get out of here.
“We can probably cut you free when Eda gets back,” the human says. “She went to the market to get something for your head. You definitely have a concussion. Must be pretty bad, too, if you don’t even remember flying here.”
The Owl Lady. Perfect. So Hunter’s going to die here, in the Owl House of all places, eaten by the Owl Lady, and with a splitting headache to boot. Not exactly how he pictured it but not the worst way to go either. He can certainly think of worse, fingers absently twitching as he thinks of the scar on his cheek, pinned arms keeping him from running his fingers along the line of slightly raised skin.
“I have to get back,” he snaps. “Release me. Now.”
“Yeah, I don’t think you’ll be doing that, kid.” All three of them whip their heads toward the door at the sound of the new voice. The movement makes Hunter sway, the human’s hand grabbing his shoulder to steady him. He bites back the thank you on his tongue and glares at her instead.
The Owl Lady steps into the room, her arms laden with vials of potions, a single piece of paper clenched in one hand. Hunter can’t see what’s printed on it, but frankly he doesn’t care. Whatever weird crimes the inhabitants of the Owl House want to get up to don’t matter much to him right now. All he cares about is getting home before his uncle realizes just how replaceable he is. The thought makes him go cold.
“Release me now,” Hunter says to the Owl Lady, “and I won’t immediately turn you in to the emperor.”
The Owl Lady shrugs. “I’ll release you, since you can’t do much without that staff of yours anyway,” Hunter shoots a glare at the human, “but I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon. I’m not letting you leave this house with that nasty concussion you're sporting.”
“Do you really think any of you can stop me?” Hunter sneers. His head throbs, making it hard to think clearly, but he perseveres. He's been through worse than a little headache. “I’m the Golden Guard—”
The Owl Lady snorts in amusement. “I know who you are. Hunter, is it?”
“Can you keep anything to yourself?” he snaps at the human.
“Hey! You’re a bad guy who decided to crash land on our doorstep and sleep on our couch for two days! I think you forfeit a couple of your dumb secrets.” The human punctuates all this by sticking her tongue out at him. He finds himself returning the gesture without thinking.
“Wait.” He blinks, her words finally sinking in. “Two days?”
The human nods. “You were really out of it. You woke up a couple times, but you couldn’t really talk. And when you did, it didn’t make a ton of sense.”
“You have to let me go,” he says, and this time he knows he’s sounding desperate, but he can’t help it. “I have to get back before the emperor notices I’m gone.”
“Sorry, kid,” the Owl Lady says, and she actually looks apologetic. Hunter’s stomach rolls as she holds out the piece of paper in her hand. “I think he’s already noticed.”
It’s a wanted poster. It’s his wanted poster. The Golden Guard: Wanted for Treason. 1,000,000,000 snail reward.
“Treason?” he echoes, feeling numb. A high pitched, hysterical laugh bubbles out of his chest. “How— Wha— Treason? No. No way. I’m—I’m loyal to the emperor.”
This is worse than coming back empty-handed. This is worse than just failing a mission. This is… his uncle is going to replace him. How can he think that Hunter would ever be able to betray him?
“Are you going to turn me in then?” he asks.
The Owl Lady huffs. “I don’t think the emperor is going to be giving me cash anytime soon. And I’m not really in the business of letting kids get petrified.”
“Then why am I here?” he demands. “Why did you save me? And why not just let me go, if you’re not going to kill me or turn me in?” Just the thought that he is someone who would need to be ‘turned in’ makes him wish a giant would open up beneath his feet and swallow him up.
“Well, I wasn’t about to let some kid die on my property. Even if you are Belos’s kid. And sending you out into the world right now is a great way for you to get even more hurt. You have a nasty concussion, so you’re going to stay here and rest until I can be sure that you’re not going to die as soon as you set foot outside this house. No dead kids here! Just living, breathing kids who can sleep in my living room until they get their head back on straight." She shrugs. "I guess we can go from there.”
“So you’re just going to keep me prisoner here?”
“Until that concussion of yours heals, yeah,” she says, without so much as a hint of remorse over kidnapping a member of the emperor’s coven. “But we can probably get that vine off of you, free up your arms in time for dinner.”
He eyes her suspiciously. Would they really be so stupid as to untie him? Well, he’s certainly not going to argue with that; he’ll just slip out as soon as their backs are turned.
As though reading his mind, which he’s ninety-nine per cent sure is not a human ability, the human grins smugly. “I still wouldn’t try to escape though if I were you. You don’t want to have to deal with Hooty.”
“What’s a Hooty?” he asks.
The Owl Lady just pulls out a knife and starts sawing through the vines with a grin.
Dinner is uncomfortable. The Owl Lady—Eda, the human and the rat dog call her—forces him to eat with them, saying he hasn’t eaten for at least two days, so he needs to now. Hunter has no idea if the uneasiness in his stomach is caused by hunger or the lingering nausea. Little Rascal sticks close by, perched on his shoulder or in his lap the entire time.
The criminals he’s being forced to dine with are loud and rowdy, and within minutes his headache is so bad he swears his brain is literal seconds away from leaking out of his ears. He drops his fork with a quiet thunk, struggling to concentrate on just breathing. It’s so hard, and he closes his eyes just to try and reduce some of the chaos. It helps, but only marginally.
“You okay, Hunter?”
“Yes, human, ” he snaps. His own voice shreds through his skull like a hot knife.
“It’s Luz,” she snaps back.
“I know.” How could he not, after hearing the littlest Blight go on and on and on about it.
“Alright, kid,” Eda says, and Hunter forces his eyes open to see that she’s so much closer than she was before. He jerks back away from her, nearly toppling off of his chair before he manages to steady himself. “Easy there.” Her voice is so much softer now, and he suddenly realizes that both the human and the weird little demon dog have also fallen silent.
“‘M fine,” he mumbles.
“No, you’re not. Sorry, kid. I should’ve known better. It was way too soon for you to be up and interacting with these dorks.” He jabs her thumb over her shoulder at Luz and King. “Drink this. It’ll help you feel better.” And then she’s shoving a putrid-looking potion into his hands.
“What is it?” he croaks. “Poison?”
“No, kid. That would be a little counterintuitive when I’m trying to save your sorry behind. It’s medicine. For your head. Which I know for a fact is killing you right about now.”
“I’m fine.” Pain makes you stronger, helps you learn. He doesn’t exactly remember what lesson he’s supposed to be learning right now, but that doesn’t mean he’s entitled to just ignore it.
“For Titan’s sake, kid. Just drink the potion. The sooner you get better, the sooner you can get out of here.”
Gritting his teeth, Hunter snatches the vial from her hands, uncorks it, and downs it in one go. It’s disgusting and bitter, but he chugs it before he can think too hard about the flavor. Hopefully it’s not poison, but he can’t find it in himself to really care that much. He’d been ready to dig his own grave in Eclipse Lake, and his head really is killing him. Plus, he’s suddenly so bone tired that he probably couldn’t have stayed awake much longer anyway, and the Owl Lady would probably just dump it down his throat the second he passed out from exhaustion.
Eda guides him to lie back down the couch, ignoring his weak protests. He doesn’t like having hands holding his arms, can always imagine them squeezing too hard, armor-clad fingers leaving dark bruises on his shoulder. But her touch is never too hard, and her hands are gone before he can bat her away.
“Get some rest, kid.” A blanket is tugged up over his shoulders, and when did he close his eyes? “Come on, Luz, King. Let him rest.”
Aching and tired and too confused to really think about what’s going on, Hunter lets go.
He can feel wind on his skin, air rushing past him, billowing his cloak and ruffling his hair. His head hurts like someone is twisting a rusty knife in the back of it, and his whole body feels like he’s been crushed by a selkidamas.
Blinking his eyes open with a groan, he realizes that he’s perched precariously on his staff. He has no idea how he’s staying on it, but he doesn’t dare move and risk falling off. Little Rascal is flying them somewhere, but he doesn’t know where. Even with his eyes open, the world is hazy and dark. The shapes moving in front of his eyes don’t make any sense. Or maybe they do, but his brain isn’t working well enough to make any sense of them. He tries to ask Little Rascal, but all that comes out is a croak, his mouth full of cotton. He doesn’t understand what’s going on and he hates it more than anything.
He doesn’t get any more answers before he’s slipping back into unconsciousness.
Hunter startles awake, sitting up in his makeshift bed on the Owl Lady's couch. It’s dark now, and distantly he can hear someone in this ridiculous house snoring incredibly loudly. He has no idea how long he’s been sleeping, but his head still feels groggy, like someone has cast his brain in gelatin. Time feels too slow, his limbs heavy. It’s disorienting waking up in an unfamiliar location, even more so when his head isn't working quite right.
That dream was a memory. He’s sure of it. Whatever the Owl Lady gave him for his concussion must be helping bring back his memories.
“Too bad that was a completely useless memory,” he mutters to no one, laying back down to glare at the ceiling in frustration. He already knows Little Rascal brought him to the Owl House, what he needs to know is why. What could he have done to anger his uncle so much that he would wind up here, of all places? Or that he’s being accused of treason?
He smacks his fist against the blankets, wishing his stupid head would heal faster. He needs to remember and recover enough to make the journey back to the castle. There has to be some way to fix this.
Shifting to curl up on his side, Hunter scoops up Little Rascal, letting the palisman burrow close against his neck. He needs to go back home. The pure need to run back to his uncle is eating away at him, growing into a physical ache in his bones. He feels uneasy all the time and can’t seem to be able to really settle down no matter what he does, even when Rascal try to distract him. It feels like he’s slipping away, and what’s worse is knowing that every moment he’s here, his uncle is just that much closer to replacing him.
Hunter buries his face in his pillow and tries to breathe. It even smells so unfamiliar here, less like the stone and dust of the castle but something warmer and woodsier. He feels so unfamiliar that it makes his skin crawl and he hates it so, so much. He wants to go back and erase all of this. It would be so much easier if he had never met the human at all. Or if Little Rascal had never chosen him. He could stop being Hunter and just be the Golden Guard all the time, and Uncle would be proud of him. Things would actually be good.
He’s never felt unsure like this. He used to know exactly who he was: the Golden Guard, Uncle’s right hand man, a valuable member of the emperor’s coven, someone important to the Titan’s plans. For as long as he can remember, everything he’s ever done has been to help his uncle. Even researching wild magic and disobeying his orders—he’d just wanted to help his uncle overcome his curse. What else is he supposed to do? There’s nothing else he even can do. Without his place in the castle, he is nothing.
Little Rascal cheeps softly, nuzzling against his cheek. Hunter stares at them in the dim light, and they stare back, eyes wide as they watch him. No one has ever looked at him the way Rascal does, not even Uncle.
“At least I have you, I suppose,” he mumbles.
Sleep, the little bird chirps. I’ll be here.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, letting his eyes drift closed again. Maybe he can dream up a few more memories and figure out what he’s supposed to do now.