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Hunter dips his head low. He feels so dehumanized, bowing down before Belos. Reduced to the indiscernible states of pity and victim, Hunter tries not to tremble in the dimly lit hall. Despite its ever-stretching narrow space, he has never felt so claustrophobic, wallowing in fear.
Belos stares at him with contempt; the silence is deafening, and Hunter almost pleads for anger, for it is all that he knows other than this emptiness. Patiently in his lap sits Rascal, the cardinal shielded by the shadows of Hunter’s hand. It is futile. Belos knows, and Hunter is well aware that both he and the pailsmen cannot hide against the emperor’s wrath.
Returning to the coven was only ever going to be a tragedy. Hunter is nothing but wrapped organs and sorrowful regret, fists beating for mercy.
-
Hunter is packing up what little belongings he has when he hears a soft knock on the door. His lips do not move to say “Come in”, but Edric walks in anyway. Hunter despises the way his chest twists like shrill birdsong when he sees the golden-eyed boy. He refuses to make eye contact, staring at his small knapsack.
Hunter crumbles anyway.
“Hunter”, Edric says simply. A small sniffle emerges from him. Hunter is taken aback by how the prankster has transformed, his fullness now replaced by dipped-down ears and disappointed eyes. He knows that no matter what, he cannot afford to look at Edric, because if he does, surely whatever normalcy he has left will shatter, and all left will be tears.
“This is not you, Hunter”, Edric whispers. Gingerly, the boy rests his palms onto Hunter’s hand, curling his fingers around them, until he is holding them. Hunter turns away, a fleeting memory of a stolen kiss under a thicket of tree leaves rushing through him like the last raindrops of a storm.
He feels weak. A feeble child, magicless and orphaned, with only the moon and its dust. But it is not loneliness that threatens Hunter. If this was love, veiled by vulnerability and lost moments, an everlasting reminder of his failure, so deeply entrenched into his very being, Hunter doesn’t want it. He does not deserve it.
“I know this isn’t your choice”, Edric mummers. Hunter gazes at Edric’s cheek, a long tear placed perfectly still there. He wants to wipe it away and tell the honey-eyed boy that he is sorry, but Hunter feels already too far gone. Edric’s hands, still placed neatly in Hunter’s, are shaking now, the wind’s tremble against stone.
Sitting by the windowsill, Rascal coos sadly
Hunter snatches his hand away as if Edric was made of fire, (Because Edric is the flame threatening to scorch him. He is the gleaming light of dawn, the muddled dark of midnight. The Titan must have had green hair and golden eyes because Edric seems to be the sun, moon, and sky, holy incarnate, every crevice and crack, every fragment completing. Edric only rises like a crackling flame, and Hunter can only bear to be so close to those flushed cheeks and twinkling smile. And Edric rises, he rises and shines, full of promise and hope and gold, and Hunter cannot hold on. He falls beneath his very touch, after all.
Tumbling past tainted thoughts and broken hearts and first and last kisses and electrified words, Hunter is falling)
“This is me”, Hunter’s voice cracks and Edric looks down, mumbling something Hunter cannot hear but longs to know. He hates this, how he wishes for more words, how the Golden Guard desires those golden eyes, those golden words, that golden boy.
Silence follows, carried like a heavy fog.
“I chose this”, he says. Edric stares at him. As if he can see the jaggedness of him, how sharply Hunter’s body has been constructed, limitation and coral, eroded and reborn. Eyes working to slowly twist and turn.
“When you’re ready, I’ll be here for you”, Edric says. He pronounces these words slowly, almost to savor the very last moments before Hunter’s departure.
Hunter doesn’t know what being ready means anymore. What it means to step away from the man who raised you from the ashes that you came from, a child wandering through cut-off stone paths and a lingering sense of belonging that cannot blossom. What it means to fall in love with the way your fingers run through soft emerald hair, giggling when the one yelps as you pass through a tangle. What it means to truly be at rest, to enjoy something without the ticking sense of doubt hidden inside his brain, an annoyance, a truth, a tragedy, an inherent failure.
Was Edric looking at him when he ran away? Did those starry eyes dare to hope that he’d turn back, running past fear, past doubt, past everything that once held him in what he believed was his place, a prison covered in the illusion of greatness? Did he truly believe in Hunter, that perhaps, he’d find the strength to leave the guilt that chased him at night, to live with it, to diminish it?
The Golden Guard did not look back. He never knew.
-
“You’ve betrayed me”, Belos voice thundered across the room like shattering glass, and Hunter flinched, bracing himself for THE inevitable impact. “You left me, despite all the times I’ve helped you, the life I’ve given you. You were nothing without me. A weak boy who could not do anything. And now you’ve been taking it all for granted, have you not?”.
Hunter whimpers, his body shaking through frightful spasms. He tries to speak, yet no sound comes out of his mouth, throat dry like sand.
Belos walks towards him, his fingers now tracing Hunter's face, almost gently, and what used to be the Golden Guard begins to feel tears well up in his eyes, obscuring his vision. The emperor’s eyes pierce right through him and Hunter uncomfortably tries to retract from Belos’ touch, but his hand forcibly tilts his face up. Rascal is now shrieking, scared Cries echoing in the air.
“Remember, you chose this. Not me”, he whispers sharply.
Belos grabs Rascal, and a familiar scream that must have come from Hunter rings through the room as he lunges forward, reaching for his staff, only to realize his hand is empty. Hunter’s hands are balled into fists as he tries to attack Belos, only to be flung across the room. He hears a crack when his body hits the floor, and a sharp pain shoots up his chest. Hunter desperately crawls towards Belos, his mind still thinking of nothing but Rascal, his feathered friend, but it is no use, as a foot steps onto his hand, crushing his bones. Hunter shuts his eyes in pain, inhaling sharply, a scream rippling out, unsure if it belongs to him and Belos steps on his hand again, saying nothing as the boy softly sobs, unable to move, fingers pinned to the floor
Hunter is frozen, eyes widened as he watches the emperor begin to eat Rascal. He screams yet again, unable to look away. He tries to beg, anything, anything to keep his pailsmen alive, but words refuse to form on his tongue.
“You chose this”, the phrase echoes within his head, and Hunter cannot escape it, not when it was the truth, clawed into him, carved and nurtured, his choices, his pain, his shortcomings, and his flaws.
“You chose this”.
Hunter hears one last chirp before the silence returns. “I forgive you”, it says, sounding less like a bird’s chirp and more like a nymph.
Belos looks down at his nephew, almost pitifully. His hand nears Hunter's mouth, curled fingers holding the last bit of Rascal's remains, a cruel sight of feathers and flesh and twig-like bone. It takes a moment for Hunter to understand, and he wildly begins to shake his head no.
“P-please”, he stutters frantically. Belos shakes his head in response, grabbing Hunters’ arm. Hunter struggles in his grasp, desperately trying to wiggle away.
What happens next is a blur of tears, his lips being pried open, Rascal violently shoved down his throat, Belos covering his mouth so he had no choice but to slowly chew, him choking on the vile bitter taste, feeling every bit and piece slide down his throat when he swallowed. A metallic aftertaste. An unfamiliar feeling of hate boiled inside of him, worming its way through his body, hot and painful.
Belos drops Hunter's arm, and the boy runs, hugging his chest, lungs burning as he dashes away guilt and regret, and grief hammering inside through short bursts of the taste in his tongue and the sound of Rascal's voice.
Hunter slams the bathroom door, darkness enveloping him in the windowless room. He stumbles, grabbing the sides of the toilet. The boy vomits, heaving with blurred senses, tears trickling down his face. The taste of what happens reruns through his mouth when he does this, and Hunter sobs harder, staring into the murky remains swimming in the water, mixed with salty tears.
When he is done, Hunter is left with a burning sensation. He leans against the cold wall, gasping for air, as if salvation existed. Blood stains his tongue.
Suddenly, light leaks into the room, and the door creaks. Hunter panics when he tries to run away, his hurt hand moving too fast, and he falls in surprise at the jolt of soreness. Belos stands in the doorway, silhouette dark against the brightness that spills through. Hunter doesn’t think when he runs towards him, and Belos opens his arms into a hug, careful not to injure the boy further.
Hunter thrashes violently, screaming words that he himself can’t quite decipher in the jumbled mess of his brain. He wants nothing more than to kill Belos and then himself. Belos says nothing, only firmly holding onto him and eventually Hunter cannot help but give up, collapsing into his arms, body limp. He is starved for comfort, he realizes and that is something that no one can now give except Belos.
“I should have known you weren’t ready to help me”, Belos whispers as he strokes the boy’s hair, softly running his fingers through each strand. “You are too weak”. The emperor tightens his arms as if scared to lose him.
No, Hunter wants to say, but he only buries himself further into Belos’ embrace. He begins to sob again, his tears soaking Belos’ cloak. Hunter raises his free arm and hugs back tightly, letting himself sink.
“I can help you, my nephew. I love you”, Belos whispers into Hunter’s ear.
The torment Belos brings is everlasting, so when he is kind, Hunter latches onto it, for it is only then he knows that it is deserved, that he belongs to it and that any good should come rightfully to him.
“I’m sorry”, whispers Hunter. The words are like heavy stones in his mouth, yet the bitter taste of what he chose seems to lighten. At first, he’s not sure who he is apologizing to, Rascal, Edric, Eda, or Belos, but when he repeats the phrase, Hunter knows that only one loves him on this earth, and it is already more than he deserves.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry”.
Hunter’s heart sighs in relief when he sees Belos nodding, his uncle’s eyes softening,
Sometime along the screaming, Belos had turned the bathroom light on, and the sudden bright flare makes his vision swim; Hunter cannot see.