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What’s the first thing you do when you wake up from a bad dream?
It was dark. And damp. A low humming noise buzzed throughout the surroundings. Suddenly panicked, hands desperately attempted to claw through thick layers of muck, heartbeat drumming through chest and ears. Scooping away at the suffocating weight of the mulch-like tomb, finally a dim bluish light began to cut through the pitch darkness. Finally, one hand breached open air.
Welcome home, Caleb.
Hunter’s eyes shot open, pinprick pupils shooting around the dark space he found himself in. He panted and gasped as if still trying to find air, clutching one scarred hand to his chest and gripping the fabric of his shirt so tight that his knuckles whitened. He could still smell the phantom of damp earth flooding his sinuses. Where am I? Where is he?
He trembled, paralyzed and held to his upright sitting position as if he were still caked in deep layers of mud and grime. His brown gaze searched for the blue light source he had seen merely moments before, but everything was dark again. His other hand shakily grasped something soft beneath it, balling fabric up under his digits. It was in stark contrast to the gravelly sensation of dirt or concrete that he was expecting to feel instead. This wasn’t the castle.
This realization was confirmed when suddenly, a small noise at his side accompanied by the flickering on of warm lamplight blasted away the dark, bone-chilling walls of the castle basement. The yellow-orange wave that swept over Hunter almost dazed him by how strongly it contrasted the eerie blue from before. It had been a dream.
“Hunter?” A soft effeminate tone came from his right, pulling his gaze over to rest on its source, his own blurred vision not quite able to meet her eyes.
Willow, still half asleep, short hair cascading around her rounded face in messy black bundles, propped herself up on her elbows. She yawned and wiped the sleep from her peridot eyes, fumbling her hand across her nightstand until she located her round-framed glasses. After placing the spectacles across the bridge of her nose, the sleepy witch turned her attention to the stiff yet trembling being at her side. All he could muster in response was a small choked whine of sorts, letting her know that he could at least hear her somewhat between the crackling static of his brain and his heartbeat drumming erratically in his ears. She sounded to him as if they were underwater.
“Can you look at me, Hunter?” Came her voice again, somehow with an even gentler composure.
The blonde exhaled a shaky breath, bravely taking the plunge to meet his eyes with hers. He hadn’t even realized that his blurry vision was a result of tears welling up and beginning to stream down his scarred cheeks. Though the wounds had long since healed, the tears almost seemed to burn like acid as they rolled over his scar tissue.
“Good. There you are,” she offered him a gentle smile. “May I touch you?”
He offered her a curt nod, not daring to blink nor let his eyes stray from hers. He knew that if he looked anywhere aside from at her, he would see green and black ooze climbing up the walls and over his skin. He flinched only slightly as her hands gently rested over the fist that was still balled at his chest. The blonde allowed Willow to gently unknit his fingers from the fabric of his top, instead letting them lace with hers. She ran a thumb over his scarred knuckles, gently, yet with an assurance and promise that Hunter could rely on her as a sturdy support.
“Can you tell me what you can physically feel right now? If you can’t speak right now, that’s alright too, but can you at least think of two or three things in your head that you can feel?”
Hunter exhaled, not quite sure whether or not he had been breathing up until that point. He swallowed thickly, the dryness burning his throat and causing him a couple of coughs. He could feel Willow giving his hand a soft squeeze, which brought him back to her question about what he could feel. He allowed his eyes to flutter closed, squeezing waiting tears down his jawline to pool in droplets at his chin. The grimwalker focused all of his available energy into the thought of what he was feeling against his skin in that moment. He was sweating, leaving his bones chilled all the way through tensed muscles.
At first, all he could feel was mud clinging to his skin and dirt under his nails. No, that’s not real. That’s not. His brows knitted tightly inward, eyes scrunched into a contorted grimace of focus.
Skin.
He could feel the softness of Willow’s skin begin to poke holes through the fabricated earth coating his palms. She was warm; seemingly the only source of warmth against his paled body. I can feel her hands. They’re so small. Her finger is swiping over my knuckles.
His stream of consciousness narrated every moment that passed, sometimes even reminding him to breathe or to shift his weight slightly to offer relief to the arm which had been holding his entire weight up against the bed for what felt like lifetimes.
“S-skin.” Hunter choked out, voice raspy and broken. Willow heard what he had said, though. He knew this, because he could hear her hum softly in response and offer his occupied hand another squeeze.
“Good. That’s good, Hunter. What I else can you feel?” She prompted gently, moving carefully across the mattress to rest her body flush against his. He wordlessly accepted the invitation, allowing her body to accommodate his weight.
Though most of his body still tensed, he could feel the prickling of pins and needles begin to fade away from the side of his body that made contact with hers.
“M’ feel—blanket. Sheets.” He whispered in response to her, letting his eyes heavily pull open again to look over at her. Her eyes were so inviting, welcoming him back with the slight squint which resulted from her little smile.
“Good. That's very good. You feel skin because I’m here with you, and sheets because we’re here in bed together. Do you know where you are?”
He nodded slowly, once again not daring to remove his gaze from hers.
“Now, what can you see? When you look around you, knowing where you are and who you’re with.”
His brown eyes lingered on her for a few moments longer, not quite ready to look away from the single source of assurance. He took a deep breath, and Willow breathed it with him, ensuring that he respirated long and slow. Grinding his clenched teeth nervously, the blonde finally braved a look around the room. Though outside the room was pitch dark, the bedside lamp offered a generous exposure of what was within their surroundings. Hunter’s vision rested on the wall he could see over Willow’s head, tracing around the rectangular shapes of picture frames. Pictures from flyer derby, pictures of his friends, him and Willow, the various other people he had come to call family… Memories. Good memories.
Willow’s eyes had followed his own, and she smiled fondly as she watched him observe each photograph. “Here, let me grab something out from the nightstand drawer. I promise I’m not going anywhere, I’ll be right back.”
As if to help prove her point, she made sure that even as she leaned over her side of the bed, she kept one of her feet pressed close to his, so that they never broke physical contact once. She returned with a familiar scrapbook, scooting up against him to rest it over her lap.
“How about we look through the photo album for a little bit? Would you like that?” Her delicate voice was comforting, and he slid down weakly to rest his head against her shoulder, encircling his arms around her waist and gazing down at the cover.
“Yes, please,” he murmured into her shoulder, still trying to see if it were possible to crawl any closer to the warm body of his beloved.
Willow wrapped her free arm around his shoulders to pull him to her, using her dominant hand to open the front of the book. She thumbed her way to a page toward the middle, where memories of their time in the human realm decorated colourful pages of ticket stubs and stickers.
“Remember when you helped me in Camilla’s garden?” The plant witch rested her cheek against the top of Hunter’s head, her fingers playing with the fabric of his sleeping shirt.
“Y-yeah,” he began, pausing to breathe and clear his throat, “The flowers smelled wonderful. And everything was so colourful and alive. You did such a good job at tending everything.”
“Well, I couldn’t have done it without the assistance of my favorite little helper,” she teased affectionately, pressing a kiss into his hair.
He turned his head toward her shoulder to give his next muffled response. “I mostly just fetched things when you needed me to and watched you do all the important stuff. I also got stung by, like, five bees.”
“Oh, hush, you know you helped me plenty. You’re always so helpful toward me and the others. Always so selfless and determined to make everyone else happier. And I love you for that, so, so much, Hunter.”
“I love you too,” he sighed out, his arms holding her tighter.
They both enjoyed the comfortable silence between them for a few minutes, flipping through pages of the scrapbook and taking time to cherish each photo or handwritten note. Hunter loved Willow’s handwriting. It was just like her, so elegant and bold, neat and thoughtful. She always added little doodles of vines and flowers around each written thought. He found it endlessly endearing.
“I had another dream about the castle,” he breathed out after about ten minutes of walking through their memories. The blonde felt her hand squeeze his upper arm in a comforting motion.
“It was so dark, and the smell was overpowering, and I heard his voice, and-“ Hunter exhaled shakily, pressing his face into Willow’s shape and swallowing thickly.
“Slow down, Hunter, don’t push yourself too hard. You don’t need to say it all at once.” Her heart broke for him every time he woke up from another nightmare about his time in the Emperor’s Coven. He had suffered so much at the hands of the one person who he was supposed to be able to trust most, and even now all these years later he still had to fight for his freedom from the ghosts of those memories. He’s so strong.
Willow gently rocked him for a couple more minutes, bringing her hand up from the scrapbook to run her fingers soothingly through his scruffy hair. A solemn weight rested in her chest as her digits delicately steered clear of the scar tissue on his scalp. Two identical scars on each lateral side of his cranium, where twisted antlers had ripped through flesh and bone. The pair sat like that in silence for another period of time, Willow’s fingers tapping in a rhythm of fours to pace their breathing.
Hunter tried his best to sync his breathing to hers, shaky exhales interrupted by small hiccups and whimpers. He was trembling slightly. Even after all these years, breaking down in front of others still felt so alien. Even with Willow and Gus, the two people he trusted above all others. Guilt still sat in the pit of his stomach like a sack of stones, crushing his organs into pained knots. He knew she wouldn’t judge him or discipline him for his emotions as Belos once had, but the fear still prickled through every cell in his body.
Hunter swallowed, throat dry and burning. “Willow?”
“Yes, Hunter?” She brought her hand down from his hair to gently cup his cheek, thumbing away the wet tear tracks.
“Why me?”
The words sat stagnant in the air, causing a myriad of emotions to blossom in both of their chests. Willow knew that those words could mean any number of things, and so she waited patiently for the blonde to clarify. Hunter knew she was waiting, but wasn’t sure how to summon the courage to clarify.
“Why me,” the words came again through a wheeze, “when every one of them before me died. The previous Golden Guard was somebody very dear to Darius. According to him, one of the most intelligent and skilled witches to ever live. But, his bones are at the bottom of that pit with every other grimwalker Belos made. Every single one, except for me.”
He clenched his jaw to cut back the hot wave of emotion rising from his core, hissing out through the gap in his teeth. He screwed his eyes shut and sunk down farther against Willow, shame and anger overcoming him. Her heart felt as though it were being constricted with vines. As much as she wanted to stop him then and there to end his train of insecurity, she knew it was important for him to let everything out into the open first.
“I was a coward. I followed him like a blind man, and did his bidding. He liked me best because I resemble Caleb the most, but that was just the thing. He didn’t care about me. And yet, I cared about him . I hungered endlessly for his approval and did unspeakable things all in the name of a false prophet. Sometimes, I find it hard to look Vee in the eyes, knowing that I helped Belos resurrect and enslave her species. I sacrificed hundreds of innocent Palisman to him, almost including Clover and Flapjack. And yet, I get to be the one who survives? Past Golden Guards died honorably fighting against Belos, rebelling against what they knew was wrong. I ran. I ran because I knew he would kill me; because I was scared. ”
Hunter deflated with every word, melting down into Willow’s lap. The sound of his artificial heart pounded in his ears, coursing heated loathing through his veins. He was mad with himself. No, that was an understatement. He was enraged with himself.
“Hunter.” Her voice was soft, which directly contradicted the grimwalker’s inner monologue, which was shrieking and throwing sharp daggers through his skull. He felt her recline to curl around him, allowing his head to rest on one thigh, her own cheek adding gentle pressure to his side. “Breathe, big guy, breathe. In and out. Four and four.”
He turned his face into the soft skin of her leg, finally allowing soft sobs to break through his defenses. He wrapped his arms around however much of her body as he could, trembling and holding on for dear life as if at any moment she would slip right through his hands. She pressed small encouraging kisses over his side and his back, bringing one hand up again to comb through his locks. She rubbed small, tender circles behind his ear with her thumb, an action that she knew comforted him.
“You’re forgetting something very important in your questioning,” she said in almost a whisper, her voice a gentle hum in his ears. “You did stand up to Belos.” Her hand drifted to the large scar across the side of his face, tracing over it gently as if to emphasize evidence of her point. “And it’s okay to be scared. Normal, even. Belos was terrifying , Hunter. And you had to face him with all of your literal mind and body. You’re a lot braver than you think you are.”
Hunter sniveled. “But it was almost all for nothing. Belos still almost escaped. Again. He got the Titan blood, he escaped back into the Boiling Isles, and he almost became the Boiling Isles. He could have wiped out everyone and it would’ve been all at my own failure. And after all of that? Flapjack-“ he couldn’t finish. He didn’t have to. Willow knew how the rest of that sentence went. More quiet sobs replaced the latter half of the sentiment.
“But he didn’t, did he?” She gently countered after allowing him to cry for a minute or two. “Flapjack loved you more than any other, and was willing to give everything in order for you to continue on. That’s why. He understood you on a level that no other being ever could or ever will, I think. It was always meant to be you. You were still a massive part of Belos’ defeat. And now? You celebrate Flap’s legacy in every single little thing that you do. You have a kind heart. I don’t care if that heart is made of flesh or stone, it still beats and breaks and loves. And that heart is brave. Brave enough to change and grow and survive, Hunter. You’re more than Belos’ creation. He may have created your body, but your soul is one hundred percent your own.”
He didn’t have the strength to try and argue with her, and so he simply listened. Even if he had the energy, Hunter wasn’t completely sure what he would say to her. In that moment, he just felt like closing his eyes and letting sleep take him away again. But then again, sleep also presented the risk of being plunged back into the castle basement. He wasn’t ready to face that again, and so his final decision was simply to lay in a heap on the bed, slowly blinking stinging eyes. Willow respected the silence, all the while gingerly running hand over his back in small lines and circles.
“May I hold you, Hunter? Would that be okay?” She whispered to him after a little while, feeling the tenseness in his form sink away from his obvious exhaustion. The grimwalker may not be calm or okay at the moment, but regardless, it was clear how depleted he was.
In response, all he could muster was a small mumble of affirmation, allowing Willow to then slowly pull herself up from around him. She gently coaxed him back onto his side and under the covers, taking her own mirrored position to face him. He didn’t have to be asked to shimmy in as close to her as he could, desperate to melt into her hold. There, he would be safe. The plant witch looped her arms around him, pulling the taller boy against her front, where his face nestled against her chest and his own arms found their way around her waist. Her heartbeat against his forehead comforted the blonde.
“How’s this? Are you comfortable? Do you feel too restricted?”
“No, this is good. Thank you.”
“Always and forever, tough guy.” She peppered a few kisses over the top of his head, rubbing more comforting rhythms over his upper back.
Hunter always appreciated deeply how the girl would consistently ask after his comfort levels when it came to physical contact. During his day-to-day life, the idea of being close to her sent giddy bolts of electricity through him. He had never wanted so badly to be so close to another being, save for Flapjack and Waffles. Of course, Willow’s case was a bit different than that of his palismen. During his panic attacks, touch became a double-edged sword. Sometimes, all he wanted to do was bundle his way into the safety of her embrace, where it felt as though nothing could reach or hurt him. Other times, however, it felt too intimidating, like being trapped or suffocated. At times where Hunter knew being encircled would only heighten his anxiety, he often elected instead to spoon Willow or just lay side by side, hand in hand.
During his time as the Golden Guard, he’d had no one else to offer support during his mental crises. Shedding a tear or flinching away at contact or a loud noise would only earn him judgment from his ‘uncle.’ He’d had to learn how to repress his emotions, which admittedly, he used to find humiliatingly difficult. Hunter was thankful that his mask had hidden his face most of the time even within the castle walls, lest another coven official or the emperor himself see the young boy sweating bullets or blinking back tears. The one and only place where he could feel things was his bedroom, where he would spend many nights curled up into a ball in his bed and trembling, dry heaving into his sheets and pulling at his hair.
Now, he had others that he could depend on. He had Willow, Gus, and Luz who offered him endless support and reminded him often that it was now actually safe to feel and function healthily. Even Darius had made the effort to comfort Hunter whenever the boy was down, despite the older witch having very little experience with the whole ‘touchy-feely’ sort of vibe. For sixteen years of his life, he had nobody. All of that had changed so suddenly when he’d met a quirky human with an insufferable bleeding heart. Now, that human was somebody whom he considered to be something of a surrogate sibling to him. Then, he’d met Flapjack, and then Willow and Gus, and before he’d been able to process it his entire world had opened up before him.
“I’m so thankful to have met you,” Hunter murmured into Willow’s pajama top, squeezing her in his arms gently.
She responded with a nuzzle into his hair, sliding one hand up his form to scratch gently at the back of his neck. “Me too. You mean the world to me.”
Fresh tears pricked the corners of brown eyes, though this time for a different reason altogether. “You mean the world to me, too. Willow, you’re so breathtaking.” His fingers fiddled with the fabric of her clothing, while he hooked one leg over hers to pull her closer to him. He never wanted to let her go.
She giggled affectionately, happily allowing herself to be drawn into him. He was legitimately the sweetest creature in all of the realms.
They remained tangled together in a more comfortable silence for a few heartbeats, before Hunter bit his lip and swallowed. “Is it okay if I ask you something?”
“Of course it is, go on right ahead.”
“I wanted to ask the ‘why me’ question again, but a little different?” He paused to take a deep breath before continuing, “I just—you’re such an embodiment of strength and kindness to everyone around you, and everybody loves you so much for so many amazing reasons. Even to somebody like myself, with all the horrible things I’ve done, you showed nothing short of kindness and trust. I firmly believe that there is not a single witch in all of the world who is worthy of loving you, which makes me wonder how in the late titan’s name I came to end up here with you like this. Former Golden Guard, menace to the Isles, clone of a witch hunter, and literally not even technically a real person—“
She suddenly pulled him closer in order to muffle his words against her shirt, giving a small huff of amused affection. “Hunter, this time I’m gonna stop you right there before you continue down that line of thought.”
The grimwalker responded with a whine and another string of unintelligible objections.
“You are just as real of a person as I or anyone else are. I mean that. I don’t care how you were born or what you’re made of, because at the end of the day you’re still you , and you are pretty darn cool. You’re one of the most talented athletes, artists, and scholars I’ve ever met. You’re brimming with enthusiasm, filled with endless loyalty, and oh titan darn it I just can’t neglect to mention how astronomically adorable you are. I’m not embarrassed to embarrass you by reminding you how literally head over heels I am for you.”
A victorious smirk crept onto Willow’s face as she felt Hunter’s ears betray his flustered happiness, wiggling adorably and flushing red at the tips. He was also now willingly smothering his face further into her chest, as if trying to hide away from her assault of compliments. Titan, when had he become so shy? This witch had a dangerously powerful hold on him, being able to reduce the once feared and powerful ex coven official to a pile of mush. He had ‘Willow Fever’, as Luz had once coined the term of universal endearment toward her, and he had it bad.
“Captain, you’re making it really hard to wallow in my misery right now,” he groaned after she released him from her powerful grip to look him in the eyes.
He averted his gaze, face flushed red, ears folded back shyly. He was too cute. The temptation to kiss his hooked nose and make him squeak was almost too powerful to resist.
“Too bad, sad boy, but tough girl Willow is here now and she isn’t too fond of misery wallowing,” she flashed him a cheeky smile, cocking her brow in a challenging grin.
He feigned an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes and failing to repress a smile of his own. He still felt a bit ill after having a middle of the night meltdown, but Willow had this way about her of making others feel better even in seemingly dire conditions. Hunter respected this aspect of her highly. After all, she was the Captain, and any good captain knows how to raise team morale.
“Has anybody ever told you how pretty you are?” Hunter offered an exhausted smile, warmth simmering in the depth of his brown eyes.
“Has anyone ever told you how dorky you are,” she smiled wider in return, cheeks reddening a little.
“I believe one Ms Willow Park does so more times a day than I can count on all of my fingers. And also my toes. That makes at least twenty.”
Willow giggled and pressed her forehead to his, pulling him close again into an embrace. “And saying things like that is exactly why ‘Ms Willow Park’ feels the need to say that so many times a day!”
For the first time since he’d woken abruptly from his nightmare, Hunter felt relief trickling through him. Being around Willow just made him feel better.
“I love you, Hunter,” she murmured, green eyes meeting his own.
“I love you too, Captain,” he sighed back, affectionately brushing his nose against hers, “I think I’m ready to try sleeping again. Is it okay if we stay like this, though?” He bit his lip sheepishly, feeling as though he were a spellbound sixteen year old all over again.
“Of course we can, I would love very much to keep holding you like this. C’mere!” She pulled him in close again, burying her face into his hair. He gladly accepted the close contact, arms and legs clinging to her protectively. “And I’ll be right here if you have any more bad dreams, okay? I’ll always be right here for you. I’ll beat ‘em up for you, okay?”
Warmth flooded the blonde boy’s chest at her words. This girl would be the end of him. Death by heart attack. Sugar overload from how sweet she is. Systems shutting down, mayday , mayday .
“Thank you, Willow. I know you’ll protect me, you always do. And I’ll protect you, too. The only person this Golden Guard serves now, is Captain Willow Park.”