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Mere days after the Golden Guard’s abrupt death, a child appears in the castle. Emperor Belos announces he is his nephew he has taken in. And he is to be trained to become the next Golden Guard.
The boy looks up at everyone with awed eyes and looks up at the Emperor with more adoration than anyone, but nobody spends time with him. He follows around the guards and Coven Heads, but he’s ignored or shooed away. Emperor Belos holds his hand in public once, then never shows him any physical affection again.
The boy is clearly lonely.
Eberwolf decides he wants to change that. Children should be played with.
So Eber plays with him. He can’t understand him, but he doesn’t have to. Eber brings him all sorts of knickknacks he liked playing with as a kid and teaches him how to play with them. They’re not the kind of toys regular kids play with, but Hunter doesn’t know what regular kids play with and he likes the toys Eber gives him. His red eyes always light up in excitement and Eber wants him to look like that; that’s how kids should look like.
They play tag and hide n’ seek together. Eber shows him how to pull pranks on the other Coven Heads and not get caught. The boy tries to prank him sometimes too, but Eber taught him everything he knows. Still, sometimes he lets the boy think he gets away with it, just to hear his childish giggles. Eber pranks him back occasionally, but they’re silly and harmless, like the ones he pulls on Darius, not at all like the ones he pulls on some of the Coven Heads.
Some nights when it’s storming, or the boy just had a nightmare, he’ll crawl into Eberwolf’s nest and tell him, “cold”. So Eberwolf will wrap himself around him, which is easy to do since the boy is the same size as him. The boy will nuzzle into his fur, say “warm”, and eventually fall asleep.
Darius will come into Eber’s room some nights, see them like that, and look conflicted.
Eber knows the boy makes his heart sad. He looks too much like the previous Golden Guard.
Eber grunts at him.
Darius always sighs. “I know he’s just a child.”
Another grunt.
“I know it’s not his fault he’s gone. I’m not an idiot.”
Three grunts.
“No, you can’t adopt the Emperor’s literal nephew.”
Eber narrows his eyes and doesn’t have to say anything for Darius to understand.
“Perhaps… he does deserve better. He at least deserves friends his own age,” Darius admits, crossing his arms.
Eber knows it’s just for show.
He growls softly.
Darius gazes at him in surprise. He looks away quickly, clearing his throat, a faint red on his face.
“We’re not ready for a child… yet,” he mumbles.
Eber looks down at the boy sleeping against his fur and disagrees, but knows he won’t convince Darius. Not yet.
The boy starts copying everything everybody does. He waltzes like a guard through the halls. He pretends to have a cloak and flips it around, like Darius. He flails his arms around, like Adrien. He picks at his nails, like Terra.
And he sniffs everything, like Eberwolf. Sometimes, he even walks on his hands and knees to copy him. He crawls in mud puddles with Eber, until one day Eber tricks him into smelling ratworm droppings and he slaps his little hands over his little nose, and Eber chortles at him.
Sometimes, he raises his hand up like he’s about to hit something, but doesn’t. Eberwolf doesn’t know who he’s copying when he does that. He always drops his hand and giggles, not understanding what it means.
Eberwolf hopes he never understands what it means.
One day, the boy tells him, “Hunter.”
Eber woofs.
“My name is Hunter,” he replies.
Eber blinks because did he just understand him?
“What’s yours?” Hunter asks, so he must be able to understand him.
He makes a rumble, telling him.
“Ebur?” Hunter says. Eber had noticed he has a little trouble pronouncing his e’s.
Eber just nods because it was cute and he’d learn how to pronounce his name properly when he got a little older. It wasn’t like he was that picky anyway.
After that, Eberwolf hears his name a lot.
When Hunter is six, he bursts into Eberwolf’s quarters, crying, an ugly, bleeding gash on his cheek.
“I fell, I fell, I fell, I fell-“ he sobs over and over again.
Eberwolf barks at him and pulls him into his arms. He lets him cry until he has no more tears left, then takes Hunter to a healer. The injury leaves a stark scar in its wake.
Eberwolf grunts.
“I fell,” Hunter says for the thousandth time, not looking at him.
He clacks his fangs.
“I fell,” Hunter says again.
Eberwolf doesn’t believe him.
That evening, Eberwolf gets Darius to lay with him with Hunter nestled under his arm. Darius settles on his free side awkwardly, but Eber just curls against him. Hunter groans in his sleep, face twisting, but doesn’t wake up, and his young, scarred face goes lax.
Darius hesitates, then pets Hunter’s hair for a moment before putting his hand on Eber’s shoulder.
Eberwolf growls, quietly so as not to disturb Hunter.
Darius sighs and punches the bridge of his nose. “This again.”
Eberwolf glares and growls deeper.
“No, we can’t run off with the Emperor’s nephew and raise him as our own. That’d be preposterous.”
Eber snarls.
Darius’ eyes widen, so slight if Eber didn’t know him so well, he wouldn’t have noticed. He scowls.
“That can’t possibly be true.”
Another snarl.
“Don’t be ridiculous. He would never hurt him. Besides, the little Prince said he fell.”
Two quiet woofs.
Darius frowns. “I’m not saying that. I do sense something off about him.”
A grunt.
“…No, I think it’s unlikely he can truly speak to the Titan. Nobody before his time claimed to. He just popped up.”
Eber nods. He holds Hunter closer to him. He’s getting big. He may be taller than Eberwolf soon. Eber will miss him being small enough to wrap up in his embrace.
He puffs.
Darius’ eyes droop sadly. “All we can do is give him this. Right now,” he says.
Eberwolf doesn’t like that. This isn’t enough. Hunter needs more. Eber wants to give that to him and he’s sure Darius does too, even if he won’t say it out loud.
But they can’t.
Hunter loves his uncle blindly.
He grows older and taller, and he stops going to Eberwolf’s quarters on stormy nights or after a nightmare. He doesn’t play anymore. He doesn’t smile or giggle much anymore, unless it’s smug.
Eberwolf doesn’t hear his name very often anymore.
Hunter is sixteen when Darius finally gets the nerve to show him affection. He calls him Little Prince to his face. He pats him on the head and ruffles his hair. He teaches him how to sew. He gives him smiles.
Hunter soaks it up.
It’s been years since the last time Hunter crawled into his nest on a stormy night.
Eberwolf grunts.
“I can leave if you want,” Hunter mumbles, but doesn’t move. He’s deliberately not looking Eberwolf in the eye, curled around his knees, scarred, young face exhausted.
Since Eberwolf can’t wrap him up in his arms anymore, he cradles his head instead. Hunter sighs into his fur.
“Thanks,” Hunter murmurs.
Eber growls softly.
Hunter smiles just a little.
Hunter’s still just sixteen when everything goes to shit.
“Where is he?” Darius is frantic, pacing back and forth.
Eberwolf grunts gently.
“How do you know?” Darius snaps, and Eber tries not to take it personally. “He could be dead for all we know!”
Eberwolf barks.
Darius stops and slumps. “I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean that.”
Eber purrs, chest warm. Darius is rarely so genuine, too prideful or whatever. But he’s gotten better at it and been getting better at it.
Maybe it’s because of Hunter. Eberwolf wouldn’t mind. He’s always known Darius’ true heart, whether he expressed it or not.
“I just wish I knew where he was,” Darius grumbles, sighing and rubbing at his head. A migraine. He’s stressed.
Eberwolf is worried too, but there’s nothing he can do but pray and hope. What he can do is soothe Darius. Distract him.
Eber smiles and grunts.
Darius scoffs and turns away, but Eber saw the faint red on his cheeks.
Eberwolf turns to the sky. He doesn’t know if it’s worth anything, but he asks the Titan to keep Hunter safe. He hopes it’s worth something.