Archive of Our Own

Usually, he was working on the portal or in his throne room or occasionally roaming the castle halls after dark. Hunter had once seen him without his mask, staring at a mural of the Savage Ages. He’d somehow looked equally disgusted and wistful. He was saying something under his breath. It could’ve been a conversation had there been anyone around to talk to.

Hunter had left his uncle alone that night.

But today, Hunter was sitting in his room doodling Red, waiting for new orders to come in. He’d grown weirdly attached to the palisman since they had flown in his window, and they were an excellent model, sitting perfectly still while he tried to capture every detail and shadow. He wasn’t terrific, but he was sure he was improving.

That was when a gentle yet resounding knock sounded from the other side of his door, and a familiar voice asked, “Hunter, may I come in?”

Hunter’s eyes went wide, and his palisman ducked under his pillow in a flash. He stashed his drawings under the bed and said, “Come in!”

Emperor Belos pushed open the door with the care of a potionist concocting a delicate brew. He was wearing his mask, but it looked like he’d thrown it on in a hurry and hadn’t tucked his hair out of the way, instead opting to have it tied loosely up into a ponytail.

Hunter always got deja-vu when he saw his uncle with this hairstyle. The last time he’d had it up like this was when Hunter had accidentally damaged his staff, and Belos had gladly agreed to help him fix it. He wasn’t sure why his uncle had been so eager to help him repair his mistake. It seemed like every passing day made Belos’ curse worsen and his fuse shortened.

Even with his outbursts of violence (which were all perfectly reasonable considering the circumstances of each one), Belos still cared about Hunter. He trusted him with secrets he never told anyone else and appreciated and wanted him around as long as he stayed loyal and valuable. Hunter remembered the stories his uncle would tell when he was little, tales of two brothers who went on adventures and quests and sometimes messed up but ultimately cared about each other above all else.

Belos had never told the character’s names, but Hunter had always kind of imagined them in his head as himself and his uncle. He wasn’t sure why, but it was just what felt right.

Belos’ hand hovered in midair for a moment before he reached up to take off his mask. The door shut behind him, and he sat down next to Hunter, looking at the wall.

“Are you alright, Uncle?”

“Yes,” he smiled a little bit. “Thanks mainly to you. I’m proud of you for getting the Titan’s blood. You did well.”

“I almost didn’t,” Hunter replied, looking away. “I almost failed again.”

“We mustn’t dwell on would’ves and could’ves,” Belos waved a hand almost dismissively, as though he was clearing himself of those thoughts as well. “What matters is that the Day of Unity is closer than ever, and it’s because of your hard work.”

Hunter couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, Emperor Belos.” He paused, recalling a question he’d never been able to ask. The last time he’d wondered about this aloud, Belos had turned him away and said, “Maybe at a later time.”

But now seemed like as good a time as any - he’d come into Hunter’s room, most likely just to talk to him. The Titan’s plans were going smoothly, and everyone had a moment to stop and breathe. But on the other hand, if Hunter asked, his uncle might leave. He might never get a chance to sit side-by-side with him like they were brothers again. But on another hand, what use was sitting in silence?

“Uncle, I’ve been… meaning to ask you something,” Hunter admitted finally before he could chicken out. He bit his lip as Belos turned his full attention on him, already regretting his decision. Well, no turning back now. “With the Titan’s blood acquired and the portal almost ready and how everyone’s taking a little break before the Day of Unity arrives, I thought it would be a good time to ask.” He swallowed. Moment of truth. “…Who were my parents? A-and I know they were killed by wild magic,” he added, “but what were they like before?”

Belos’ expression turned from listening intently to horrified to very, very sad in less than a heartbeat.

Hunter’s back straightened. “I-I mean, y-you don’t have to-“

Belos held up a hand, silencing his nephew. “No, it’s alright. You have a right to ask. It’s only fair after the trouble I’ve put you through.” He chuckled, but it was dry in his throat. “I didn’t…” He hesitated.

“Your mother was a wonderful woman. She was always going off to slay beasts or tame small creatures. I know she loved animals and had a fiery spirit. And your father loved her very, very much.” He paused. “We didn’t part on the best of terms. I wish I could’ve told her that I was happy for her.”

“You said not to dwell on would’ves and could’ves,” Hunter pointed out. Belos smiled again.

“Yes, well, I suppose deep down we’re all sentimental old historians,” his uncle responded. “Now, I knew your father very well. He and I would always get into all kinds of trouble. It hardly mattered when one of us fell because the other would help him back to his feet. We seldom saw eye-to-eye, always butting heads, but it was the kind of friendly rivalry good friends are supposed to have. He was like a brother to me.” His expression hardened.

“I’m sorry you don’t have a sibling, Hunter.”

“I-“ the witch paused. This thought had occurred to him only once, back when he was little. It was a silly thought - who needed a sibling when your uncle was the emperor of the Boiling Isles, and your family was his entire Coven? Hunter didn’t need friends to weigh him down, not when he had big things to accomplish. “What do you mean? I have you.”

Belos visibly winced, and Hunter flinched. He’d said something wrong, and now he was going to be left alone again, or maybe worse, please don’t-

But the emperor didn’t move beyond that and instead let out a long, drawn-out sigh. “You are the spitting image of him.”

Hunter took a moment to process this. “My father?” he finally asked. Instead of replying, Belos stood up. Hunter’s worry increased. He had said something wrong. He had upset his uncle! “I’m sorry,” he stood up as well. “Whatever I said wrong, I didn’t-“

“It’s not your fault, Hunter. I must get back to work.” Belos put his mask back on, and then he was gone. The door shut behind him with a click.

Hunter buried his head in his pillow with a muffled sob. An indignant chirp startled him from his wallowing in self-pity.

“Huh?” he sat up, ramrod straight. “Red?”

“Chirp, chirp chirp chirp tweet,” the little bird palisman replied, hopping from one foot to the other.

Hunter let out a yelp of surprise. “He is not!”

The little bird cocked their head at him. “Chirp chirp tweet, chirp.”

“Alright, maybe that,” he admitted. “Did you listen to that whole conversation?”

“Tweet tweet tweet,” Red swooped down and scooped up the drawings from under the bed. “Tweet chirp chirp chirp tweet.”

“Haha, fine,” Hunter picked up his pencil. “What was the pose you were doing earlier?”

“Tweet chirp tweet tweet tweet,” Red hopped up onto his shoulder and craned their neck towards an unknown source above and in front of Hunter. Somehow he was able to draw it, and it came much simpler to him than the other poses Red had struck so far. He even added himself, with the bird on his shoulder. It looked pretty good. He held up the picture to show the little palisman. “What do you think?”

“Chirp,” the birdlike, wooden creature responded. Hunter laughed.

“Okay, but only a few more sketches.”