Chapter Text
Finral sipped his drink and sighed, trying not to look back at the party. His head throbbed, as well as his feet, but he tried to ignore it. Best not to give his father yet another thing to point out was pathetic about him; how he couldn't stand to put on a polite face for a few hours and not further embarrass his family. No. Best to stay quiet and let things pass him by without being noticed.
The band playing tonight were flawless. Lively tones opposite to Finral's inner turmoil were the only thing he was currently enjoying. It was easy to ignore all the little comments and whispers whenever someone recognised him beneath his Catwoman mask. The hair was kind of a giveaway. Everyone knew that Ledior Vaude's firstborn's personality was as defective as the rest of him, brunette roots poking out of the dyed-green mop of hair contrasted against the rest of his pure black suit.
Finral felt if it hadn't been so fast-spread after his birth that he was Ledior's son, he wouldn't be here to worry about embarrassing anyone at their party. After all, Hunters led a dangerous life, and those lucky enough to bear children were at even higher risk.
That's what happened to his mother, in the end. He missed her. But she wasn't here to wipe his tears, so he sucked it up and pretended it didn't hurt every time he heard a snide comment about how wrong he was, or every time his father and stepmother gazed burned scornful holes in his chest he thought would never heal.
His brother seemed to be the only family member who didn't outwardly dislike him. Not to say he liked him either, more like a neutral tolerance. Finral could see Langris now, dressed as the perfect Prince, dancing with Lady Finesse, coincidentally dressed as a beautiful Princess. They looked happy together, like something out of a storybook. He looked down before Langris could catch him watching. He refused to ruin that for him.
He chanced a glance over the rest of the guests attending tonight. Some he recognised, but most of the crowd were strangers. Those he did know were acquaintances of his family, some having stayed for days in the manor for business that Finral was quickly shuffled out of sight and mind at. Those he didn’t recognise must have been based further out in the city, in which case they must have travelled a long time just to be here tonight. When gathered like this, it made the Hunter population seem much larger than it was, but really, the ratio of Humans to Hunters to Supernatural Creatures was a laughable 80/10/10. Ultimately, all attendees tonight were Hunter lineages dancing in the same circles, invited here to celebrate another year of blood and trial.
The Vaudes were known for throwing the most amazing parties in Clover. It was a fact well known amongst both the Hunter crowd and the regular populace. Finral used to feel proud of that, but after his mother passed away, no party since had felt the same. They didn't have that touch Fiona Roulacase had always carried with her— that passion for all things fun. They didn’t have that exciting edge that she carried with her on hunts, that fierce loyalty and wisdom she always gave to those around her who were willing to listen to an old dog who proved that people could always learn new tricks. And gods help him should he mention such an opinion around his remaining family. He’d probably be thrown to a pack of werewolves.
All of the costumes around him were of the highest quality, not one thread out of place. One particular lady had come dressed as an angel. She had white wings decorated with real bird feathers attached to the back of her bodice, the rest of her flowing dress littered with jewels and gems that could shine to the heavens. Beautiful.
It was a shame the woman was not, at least not when it came to her attitude towards real supernatural entities, as was the case for most of the people in the room. How Hunters had changed from a legion of rare physically enhanced warriors fighting creatures that stepped out of line, to a gathering of hedonistic predators killing supernaturals for sport, Finral didn't know. It wasn't this way when he was younger, not that he'd seen. And it hurt to see the once golden, gleaming streets of his beautiful home become stained with redundant red. When had using words before blades become the second order of things?
Finral finished his drink as he finished wasting time on sentiments. This was a party. He should not be wasting it brooding in the corner. That's what bitter old men did, and he was barely twenty-six. He refused to become like that. Not yet. Finral still had a decent heart to keep.
He figured he might as well peruse the blessedly empty buffet table, everyone else busy dancing and gossiping and wishing the night away in prideful victory. He looked over the cakes and sweets set out by the kitchen staff. The profiteroles looked lovely, as always. So did the cream puffs. Which one would be less likely to end with him being pointed out as an undignified eater?
As his gloved hand reached for a profiterole, he nearly jumped five feet in the air as another gloved hand bumped into his. Finral took his hand back quickly, turning to the stranger with an immediate "So sorry" tumbling forth and his eyes on the ground.
The woman whom the gloved hand belonged to simply giggled at his sheepish apology. "Don't worry, sweetie. No harm done," she insisted.
Finral relaxed enough to understand what he was looking at on the ground. In his view, just in front of his boots, were a pair of wine-stain pink heels. Finral frowned. That was not a colour he was used to seeing on people these days. He slowly followed the long ends of the dress up the high slit and over the woman's knees where he saw the lace edge of her stocking peeking out. A fitted bodice, long gloves, and an amused face wearing a knowing smirk.
"See something you like?"
Finral squeaked as he was caught staring at her pinkified Jessica Rabbit costume. "I-I-I..."
She chuckled, cotton-pink hair bouncing. "It's alright. You can look," she said like she really didn't mind that he'd been directly staring at her outfit.
That's when he noticed the witch hat under her arm, the same colour as the rest of her outfit. Had... had she come as a witch?
Other than the angel woman, that would make hers the only supernatural-themed costume here. While Hunters liked to mock and joke about supernatural beings, dressing as one at a party was going a step too far in most cases. And would usually lead to an immediate escort off the premises, which was probably why the hat was taken off.
But, this outfit fit the woman so well, to the point where it looked casual, as though it wasn't a costume at all. Had this not been a costume party, Finral never would have assumed it was a costume at all. Perhaps it was the colour change that was throwing him off? Or the fact that a beautiful woman was talking to him of her own volition.
Oh, yeah. That part.
That- that was new.
Usually, beautiful women were doing anything to stop talking to him, not to engage in conversation willingly.
"Uh..." Finral said eloquently, trying not to get caught staring at the hat like he'd been caught staring at her costume. Then he remembered why they'd started talking in the first place and did a quick look back to the buffet table, stepping back and gesturing with his hands to the plate. "You- you were reaching for those, right? Please, help yourself."
The pink witch smiled. "Well, aren't you a polite one?"
Finral offered a bashful smile and rubbed the back of his neck.
"But, really, I'm not that hungry. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you," she said, leaning against the table in a way that didn't scream nobility but did subtly whisper powerful, like she owned the space itself and everything around it with ease. Even though, technically out of the two of them, that ownership was Finral’s.
"Me?" Finral asked, blinking in confusion. "Wouldn't you rather talk to my parents? Or my brother? He's dancing with Lady Finesse right now but I'm sure if you went over, he would-"
She waved her hand dismissively. "I don't want to talk to your parents or your brother. I'm perfectly happy talking to you," she insisted, resting one hand in her lap before reaching across the table and picking up a full wine glass.
She seemed completely serious. Finral was stunned. "If you don't mind me asking... why? I mean, you know who I am, right?" She nodded, casually sipping her wine. "Well then, that's surely reason enough to not want to talk to me."
Finral looked out into the party. It appeared they were attracting attention, just as he'd assumed they might. A few faces he knew were pretending they weren't looking at him but whispering behind gloves hands. This was what happened when someone interacted with the broken son. The population of Hunters was already low, why did he still have to be the odd one out by being so wrong? He winced internally, hoping wherever Ledior was, he was unaware and not waiting to burn another scornful hole in Finral's chest.
As he looked around for the family patriarch, his eyes stuttered over the crowd. There were a few guests that for some reason were standing out more than the rest. He couldn’t say why. Unfamiliarity?
There was nothing particularly different about these people than the rest, but something in his mind told him to look longer at those guests than any others. Together they were: a pirate, a bear, an ice dragon, and a firebird. He narrowed his eyes as he noticed them, like little shimmering rocks among the rough mud of a boring landscape.
Finral scratched an itch at the base of his neck, but it remained a light tingle he couldn’t quite dismiss, similar to that feeling of being watched.
"Something wrong, sweetie?" the pink witch asked.
Finral's eyes flicked between each costumed stranger that stood out.
The ice dragon and the firebird were dancing together. A young couple, most likely. The electric blue against burning red was lovely, in Finral's opinion. Both men looked happy to be here together, and were dizzily spinning around the dancefloor without another care, grinning madly at each other with a hunger for fun.
The bear girl was younger, from what Finral could make out. Maybe five or so years younger than his twenty-six-year-old self. She wasn't talking to anyone in particular, instead, she seemed to be almost skipping around the surrounding guests, munching on food she pulled out of mysterious places on her costume. She seemed to be enjoying herself on her own well enough.
The pirate was the clearest to him, a man that Finral could only really put into short words as "big", with a grumpy face that looked convincingly weathered. Rugged but handsome, he stood nursing a whiskey glass beside the open window. With some very intense eyes cutting through the crowd and straight to Finral's core. Finral quickly stopped looking.
But when he looked elsewhere, people were looking at him and the witch with that same judgemental glare. The fact remained: people were talking about them.
"I think it might hurt your reputation amongst the other Hunters if you keep talking to me," Finral continued his point, finally taking his eyes off the crowd and putting them back on the woman beside him.
"Oh, don't worry about them. They can do me no harm I wouldn't allow."
A strange choice of words, Finral thought. "Sticks and stones kind of thing?"
She chuckled. "Something like that," she said, finishing her wine.
That neck itch came back.
“What year is this?” the woman asked, looking down into her glass.
“Um… ’47, I think?”
“I thought it was,” she hummed, putting down her glass and pausing for the moment. “I was sure someone was serving a ’12 earlier.”
“That’s reserved for my father and his closest friends, I’m afraid,” Finral responded.
The woman’s lips formed a cute painted pout. “That’s a shame. I really enjoy that vintage.”
Finral was surprised about how much she looked put out that they weren’t serving the vintage publicly. Granted, wine had never been Finral's forte and the only things he knew about it were from his father, but it seemed a surprise that this woman was upset over just a drink. She shouldn’t have even really been aware they were serving it tonight at all. It was only for the most important guests that his father wanted to impress.
Ah, the life of a family with wealth and power: everyone wanted to be your friend, but only if you had the talent to impress them back. Such a prideful life he didn’t agree with. But when had his opinion mattered?
As the woman continued to watch the crowd and pout, Finral couldn’t help but think about how knew where the bottle she wanted was. Tucked safely into an invisible cupboard beside the stage, a secret little cabinet his father stocked with only the finest. Finral had been forbidden from touching anything even close to that cupboard. Not that he’d ever been interested. Finral had his own ways of getting things he wanted, namely through the kitchen staff.
But, he knew where it was.
He could…
As if hearing his thoughts, the woman looked at Finral with a curious gaze.
Finral's eyes flicked over the crowd, and he saw his father talking to Langris and Lady Finesse.
He put the thought of alcoholic espionage out of his mind.
"Hm. I might have one of those sweets now." The woman moved on from her wine pouting.
“They are very good,” Finral agreed.
"Would you hand one to me?"
Finral, almost without thinking, picked up a profiterole and held it out to her as commanded.
She smiled, pleased. "Very obedient, aren't you?"
Finral flushed. It felt like a tease, but also a genuine compliment too. "I try to please," he said, then instantly regretted it. That sounded pathetic. He could feel Ledior staring at him in disappointment already. “Stand up straight, boy. You're a Roulacase. Head up.” He followed the mental scolding voice's instruction and stood straighter, more like nobility.
A chuckle. "So sweet," she said. And then she managed to short-circuit Finral's mind by not reaching for the sweet with her fingers, but instead taking a bite of it straight from Finral's hand. She seemed oblivious to her skill in making Finral forget how to act as a human as she chewed and swallowed, dabbing away the cream on her lips with a napkin. Her lipstick remained immaculate. "So was that, come to think of it," she added.
"Y-yeah. The kitchen staff are great with sweets," Finral stammered.
"You also have a sweet tooth?"
"Yeah."
"That doesn't surprise me. You seem like you appreciate the finer things. Just looking at you, I want to spoil you all day."
She was flirting with him. She was actually flirting with him.
There was no way she wasn't. Right?
Finral was struggling to keep up, honestly. The party was becoming overwhelming, between struggling to keep up his noble image and talking to a pretty woman and being a broken Hunter and feeling like he was being watched and that damn feeling of something being off still ringing its little alarm bells in the back of his mind. He felt overwhelmed, on edge, like his nerves were suddenly being lit up for no reason. He could feel his heart starting to speed up. Was he panicking again?
He needed to breathe.
The woman leaned forward and ate the remaining sweet from Finral's hand.
Finral forgot how to breathe completely.
His eyes flicked around the room rapidly. The party was still swinging, the band still playing, the guests still talking and dancing. Ice Dragon and Firebird were still dancing, Bear Girl was still skipping around.
Everything was fine. Everything was normal. Nothing could happen when it was his family running things, they were better than him at this. He started breathing again.
He looked to where he last saw Pirate standing, and he was still standing there nursing his whiskey. But like the man had a sixth sense, the moment Finral looked over, Pirate was looking back.
Finral felt stuck under that stare, like a butterfly with its wings pinned in a frame.
Pirate's eyes ran up and down Finral before the corner of his mouth twitched up and he huffed, taking another drink from his glass.
Was Pirate… checking him out? Or what he threatening him? Finral felt as though he was good with faces and expressions most of the time, especially those of disdain and disappointment, but as he looked at this man’s neutral expression, he had no clue what thoughts were passing behind those eyes.
Finral whipped back around to the woman polishing off her second glass of wine in what could only have been ten minutes so far yet she seemed completely unaffected. She tilted her head at him as if to ask what was wrong.
"I think the man in the corner is staring at you," Finral said as calmly as he could.
She hummed, peeking around him to look with no discretion whatsoever. Then she chuckled and leaned back. "Don't worry, sweetie. He's with me."
Finral glanced back in his peripherals, trying to look again at the imposing man without making it painfully obvious.
"I can bring him over if you like."
"No!" Finral almost shouted but grappled himself at the last moment, though a few nearby guests did give him an ugly look for the outburst. Quieter, he continued, "No. Thank you, that's fine."
She reached for her third glass- third glass, of wine. "Alright, alright. Take it easy. There's enough stress going around tonight without you giving yourself a headache, too."
Finral breathed a small sigh of relief before his brow furrowed. "Stress? I wouldn't say that. It's a party after all. There shouldn't be any stress."
"Let me rephrase. There will be enough stress tonight without you giving yourself a headache, too."
Finral, not for the first time tonight, mentally questioned her phrasing. That tingling feeling came again and this time, Finral was starting to believe it wasn't just his overactive imagination at work.
"What do you mean?"
The pink witch turned her attention to the dancing crowd as the music changed to something light and romantic. She hummed. "Would you like to dance, sweetie?"
Finral felt jarred by the sudden topic change. Then by the question itself. His self-deprecation overtook his common sense quickly. "Talking to me is bad enough for your reputation. Dancing with me will be even worse," he insisted.
The woman smiled. "You're very concerned for me and my reputation, aren't you?"
"I know what it's like to... be judged. And Hunters enjoy their reputations."
She seemed to consider that, taking another gulp of wine. "Well, whatever reputation you're afraid of me ruining, it is not one I'm interested in maintaining. And I must insist you dance with me before I drink myself into a state where I end up ruining it anyway." She pushed herself off of the table, putting her mostly empty glass down and offering her hand to him instead.
Finral hesitated. He still couldn't believe this was happening, and how it seemed to be with genuine intention. There was, of course, the small voice in the back of his head claiming he didn't deserve this lady's attention and affection, but, seeing her watching him with soft eyes, he silenced it and took her hand.
"If you insist. I suppose I should never leave a lady wanting."
"Good boy."
Finral's cheeks warmed. He said nothing as they moved to the dancefloor together and turned to face one another. Finral's hand hovered over her hip. "May I?"
"You may."
He put his hand on her hip and adjusted their grip together with the other before beginning to fall into easy steps of a classic ballroom style. One of the few things he'd been skilled at growing up was dancing, and he was happy to be able to finally show that off now.
It helped that his partner seemed to know how to dance just as well.
His partner...
"I just realised I never asked your name," Finral said with slight embarrassment at his lacking manners.
"Vanessa."
"Vanessa," Finral repeated. It sounded nice on his tongue, fitting.
"Does this mean I can call you Finral?" Vanessa asked.
Finral nodded. "Of course."
He was sure they made an odd picture. A Catwoman dancing with a Jessica Rabbit/Witch. Finral realised she wasn't holding her hat anymore. But he hadn't seen her put it down. Where did it..?
When he turned his head to look back at the table, he was pulled into a spin. When he settled back into position, Vanessa smiled softly. It seemed like she wanted to lead. Finral was fine with that, and gave the lead over to her. She noticed the change and smiled wider. Right call, then.
They danced together in perfect step for an entire song. Finral stared into her eyes, soft and beautiful, and felt drawn in the longer he stared. At some point, he could have sworn they glistened with something he'd attribute to magic. But that wasn't possible. There were only Hunters here. His father had gone to great lengths to protect their home from supernatural things. No supernatural being could sneak in here under any circumstances.
When the song finished, the band were applauded before moving to their next song. When Finral stopped clapping, he realised Vanessa was holding out her hand again.
Another dance? He had liked dancing with her just now. It felt so... free.
And if she was offering to do it again, who was he to say no?
They began dancing again, Vanessa taking the lead once more, and Finral found himself smiling, almost laughing. Vanessa was giggling as she spun him, and eventually, Finral started giggling too.
As the song reached the middle bridge, a melodious violin playing something hypnotic above the other instruments, Vanessa led him into another spin, but when he tried to grab her hands again, he missed. Instead, he stumbled, and bumped into something. A wall, he thought at first. Then as his automatic apology fell out, even for an inanimate object, he realised it was a bit too clothed to be a wall.
Finral had to crane his neck back to reach the piercing eyes of Pirate standing in front of him.
Oops.
Before he could open his mouth to give a better apology than the subpar one he'd mumbled, he was being offered a hand to dance.
Finral blinked.
Uh... what?
He hesitated and looked back to where Vanessa was since she had said he was here with her.
The woman stood watching the pair quietly as the rest of the room danced on, blissfully ignorant, and then she was giving him an encouraging nod.
She... she wanted him to...
Finral looked back at Pirate. This close, he could smell whiskey and smoke on his breath. It wasn't bad. necessarily, but distinct. And the man had a bedhead of raven hair, and short scruff to match his grumpy face. It was a handsome look on him. An "I don't care but I also do" kind of look.
And the eyes. The same eyes that kept cutting right to Finral's chest whenever he looked at them.
...yeah. Okay. He could dance with this man.
Finral just prayed the man didn't eat him first like he looked as though he wanted to.
Finral slowly took the offered hand: rough, powerful, but warm. And he was soon led back into a dance position with the taller man taking the lead.
To say dancing with Pirate was different than dancing with Vanessa was an understatement. He'd spent the better part of half an hour talking and dancing with Vanessa, and being silently stared at by Pirate at most points between. It was scary, but somehow… intriguing. Finral’s thoughts had been dancing back to the Pirate a few times tonight, something about him standing out above the rest of the crowd in a way Finral struggled to describe above “strange” but he couldn’t claim it was all worrying. Even now, the man wasn't talking to him, just staring at him as they moved. He didn't seem disappointed by what he was looking at, Finral was grateful for that, but he also wasn't complimenting him or assuring him like Vanessa had been. He found he missed the attention.
The man attempted to spin Finral. Finral followed the lead and spun before returning to dancing. Then, a little while later, he was spun again. This time as he returned to find Pirate's hands, he found Vanessa's gloved ones instead.
"Hello, again."
Finral smiled shyly. "Hi."
The song ended and applause was given. Then the next song began to play.
"Want to keep going?" Vanessa asked him. “Or would you like a break, sweetie? Your cheeks are flushed.”
Finral wasn’t surprised, given all the attention. He’d been given more attention by the pair for just a few minutes than his father would in a month.
Finral glanced back to where Pirate was lingering behind him. Only when he looked this time, there was a smile tugging at the corner of Pirate’s lips, and his eyes were a little more smoky than before. It was entrancing, and Finral’s chest fluttered with the notion.
He turned back to Vanessa and nodded. "Okay."
Vanessa led and Finral followed. He was spun, led, and then spun again, landing in Pirate’s hands again.
It became a routine. A few steps and spins with one partner before he was spun towards the other for a few steps and spins, then back again.
Understanding dawned. They were sharing him.
Finral's face began to heat up again. He hoped his father wasn't watching. He hoped Langris wasn't watching. He could only imagine the looks on their faces, the disappointment in their voices. Finral was supposed to stay to the side, seen and not heard. Or better yet, not seen and not heard. The broken Hunter who would have been tossed out as a child had Fiona not still been alive to say no, and by the time she passed away, it was too late to abandon a known heir. Pity for them, lucky for Finral? If luck had anything to do with Finral or his life, it was certainly the shitty kind. While he was thankful to be alive, could fate have at least given him one good thing since he was a child?
Now, the only hope was to be killed on a hunt or in a raid. Or to be kidnapped. He doubted anyone would look for him if he was.
He wondered if his mother would be proud right now. She never would have stood for Finral standing in the corner alone, but she wasn’t here to stand for herself let alone everything else in this hall. Would she be happy he finally found one piece of happiness for himself? Even a brief one?
"Where's your mind at, sweetie?" Vanessa asked him softly.
Finral blinked out of his thoughts. "Nothing."
Vanessa gave him a stern look. "Sweetie..."
Finral squirmed guiltily under her gaze. "People are staring," he answered, which wasn't necessarily a lie.
“Is that the only thing?”
How was she able to see through him so easily? Finral should be better at lying. He came from a family of talented liars and was usually pretty good at it. So why of all times and people was it here and with her?
Finral shook his head but didn’t give her any further answer.
She didn’t demand one, instead, only saying "We can leave soon. I promise," And then, "Be patient."
Finral huffed. Perhaps Vanessa could leave, but Finral lived here. He couldn't leave without permission, and he knew if he asked, he was unlikely to get it. Ledior preferred to keep him hidden away out of sight and out of mind, because then if anything happened to him, it wasn't in a way he couldn't control. He was only grateful there was no lock on the outside of his bedroom door in the mansion. His father would have certainly made use of it by now.
Vanessa spun him while he was distracted, and Finral tripped over his own feet. He saw the ground coming but never hit it. Instead, two sets of hands caught him, two around his waist, two on his shoulders. Finral’s stomach fluttered. He was brought up, unharmed, and both the woman and Pirate were staring at him with concern. Finral didn't know how to handle it.
"...sorry."
"That your favourite word?" It was the first time he'd heard Pirate speak. And while he'd been expecting a deep voice, whoa that was deep. A rough rumbly tone that matched the rest of his tousled appearance.
Finral smiled helplessly in answer. “I guess it must be.”
Pirate huffed and pulled him the rest of the way up, and they continued their little routine together.
They'd stopped in the middle of the dancefloor. A flash of blue and red passed them, and Finral’s eyes locked onto Ice Dragon and Firebird still dancing together, though it looked more like they were showing off to each other now.
Firebird had a scar on his head with piercings on either side, wearing red-tinted glasses and his hair in a slicked-back style, would take the dragon and dip him as close to the ground as he could without making contact with it.
Then, after he was stood up, the messy blond dragon, wearing a blue tunic and matching boots, grinning madly with a manic giggle, would spin Firebird around enough times to make a ballerina jealous before they danced on.
They were leaving small bits of blue and red threads on the floor that had fallen off their wings, and Finral didn't envy the maid made to clean it up once the party was over.
There came that itch again. Finral scratched at it, and itched his nose too. He paused. Those were signals to Hunters that there was nearby magic. Finral moved his head around, looking at other guests. There was a group in the corner also itching their noses as the manic dancing pair spun past. Coincidence?
He caught sight of Bear Girl by the buffet table, looking at a pair of guests with their eyes trained solely on her, and as she said something, both guests held out their hands, offering over their full drinks and full buffet plates. They didn’t seem like they were doing it out of generosity, almost as though they were being… specifically instructed.
Something was wrong here. He knew it. He knew it. He didn't care if his father said his Trouble Sense was screwed up. He knew something wasn't right here.
Finral stumbled off of the dancefloor, quickly feeling overwhelmed by everything. His body buzzed with an unknown energy, making his limbs feel numb and oversensitive all at once. He made his way over to the tables he'd stood at before, hands slamming onto the solid surfaces to steady himself in his dazed confusion. It felt like he’d suddenly become drunk even after having had his last drink hours ago, all hitting him at once as though he’d had as many glasses as Vanessa. The band's music swelled and Finral's head throbbed as he reached for a glass, not even having the sense to check what it was before downing it in one.
Awful. Wine. Like the woman he danced with.
He looked at the spot Vanessa had occupied earlier. No hat.
He felt two people approach him from the dancefloor.
"Finral?" It was Vanessa's voice asking after him. Soft and sweet, as though nothing was wrong here.
Finral steadied himself against the table, swallowing once. "Something's wrong," he said, voice slightly garbled as he gathered his bearings, standing up straight, his body still buzzing and his head still throbbing. For the first time tonight, he wished the band would quieten down.
Vanessa sat beside him on the table. "You don't need to worry about that," she told him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Finral looked at her. "Why not?" he demanded.
Vanessa squeezed his shoulder, head tilting. "You won't get hurt."
The wording.
He knew something was up about her. He squinted at her face. That magical glimmer of her eyes he'd seen before happened again. He looked down at her lap. Her hat was back in her grasp.
He spun around to Pirate.
The man looked unbothered, raising an eyebrow as if daring Finral to find something wrong with him.
So, Finral stood up, and he looked.
That smoky, hypnotic feeling he'd gotten from him overwhelmed his senses. Finral pushed through it and stared hard, and he could just make out faint whisps of black smoke radiating off him, as though it had been being concealed to him until now in everything but his eyes.
Finral scanned the party room again. The dancing maniacs and the bear stood out again. Finral's neck and nose itched.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
A glamour. They had to be wearing a glamour. A strong one, in order to get past every trained Hunter here, but it was beginning to wear off.
And when it did...
"What do you want?" Finral asked aloud, still staring out into the party as he was bracketed by his two newest threats.
"Just a little fun. You said it yourself; parties are supposed to be fun," Vanessa answered vaguely.
Finral looked at her with big eyes. "Please don't kill anybody," he pleaded.
"Is that your only request?" Pirate asked.
Finral took that as the warning it was. If he had any chance of convincing them to not attack the Hunters, he needed to be careful. Hunters might be excellent fighters, much better than regular humans, but these creatures came here with a purpose, and they'd managed to last this long without detection. That required some serious skill already. Who knew what they were capable of, or willing to do, if they snuck in here undetected? And with the way it sounded already, they’d clearly come here with plans, and they were undoubtedly not of the friendly variety.
Plus, this was a party. Guards were let down, even for Hunters. If anyone here was armed, it had to be small weapons.
"Please don't hurt anybody," he amended.
The pair hummed together, thoughtfully.
Finral didn't know what he was going to do, but he knew he had to do something. Broken or not, defective or otherwise, he had a duty. His hand slowly drifted towards the hidden knife on his belt.
His wrist was snatched in a firm but careful grip as Pirate subtly stepped closer. "I wouldn't do that. We're negotiating right now. If you wanna move this on to something more physical, then by all means, take the knife out. But for now, let's talk, hm?"
Finral was stuck. Once again, he felt like a butterfly pinned in a frame. One wrong move would send the room into chaos. "What do you want?" he repeated.
Pirate leaned closer. "Your little Hunter gathering has been pretty damn unfair on innocent creatures recently. We wanted to... encourage you to stop doing that."
Finral swallowed. He should have known that something like this would happen with the way things were going. Even a fool could see what recent Hunter behaviour had been leading to. But Hunters were prideful things, a small population that hated feeling as small as they were, and hated when something threatened their status over regular humans. Nothing would knock them from their pedestal, they attested. And such high opinions of themselves could often blind them, and in tonight's case, it had.
"Not everyone here is like that," Finral tried to insist.
"Oh yeah? Name one person here who isn't," Pirate dared.
Finral looked at him, desperately trying to think of a good answer. "My b-" He stopped himself. If he suggested Langris, he might be putting him in danger. He quickly clamped his mouth shut again and changed direction. "What are you going to do, to "encourage" us?"
Pirate tilted his head. "What do you think?"
Finral's chest clenched painfully. He felt raw, the adrenaline of the situation starting to wear on his already fraying nerves.
"Yami," Vanessa said gently, standing up from the table to behind Finral. The two were now surrounding him. "Don't scare him so much. I like this one. You know you like him, too."
Yami grunted.
“You do. I saw you. You were making eyes at him, earlier and while we were dancing.”
“Bullshit. I don’t make eyes at anyone.”
“You make eyes at me.”
“I make eyes at you because you’re my boss. And I have to look at you to know what you’re thinking. That doesn’t mean anything else, Ness.”
“Sure it doesn’t. Just like you don’t like our boy, here.”
Finral's brow drew as his brain finally caught up with the situation. "No, you don't," he said.
A questioning hum from both creatures.
His head fell towards the floor. "You don't like me. You don't have to be cruel and pretend. I know what I am."
There was quiet for a few moments. Then Yami forcefully spun Finral around to face Vanessa. Before he could ask why, Vanessa's gloved hand cupped his cheek.
"I'm not pretending," she said, looking him straight in the eyes.
Finral should have looked away. This was how Hunters got hypnotised. In fact, he probably already was. And still he wasn't. Looking. Away. Idiot. Broken Hunter. Why was it always him?
"I like you. And so does Mr Grumpy Pants, he's just not great at admitting that kind of thing."
Yami grunted again in what was supposedly a begrudging confirmation considering their conversation a moment ago.
If he were to believe them, Finral didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing right now— to be liked by these creatures. He hoped for good. Maybe they'd listen to him if they liked him enough.
Ha. Finral was deluding himself. But, it was the only thing keeping him standing and sane right now so he would cling to whatever he could.
His eyes flicked out to the party. More Hunters' noses were itching. They would eventually realise that it wasn't just dust.
Time was running out fast. Finral had to do something.
"And what does that mean for me?"
Vanessa stroked his cheek with a gentle hand. All her touches tonight had been gentler than any he'd felt in years. He wanted to lean into it, wanted to bury himself in that touch and forget the rest of the world existed.
Wow. He really was a pathetic idiot, wasn't he?
They should have thrown him out to die as a child.
“Well, you do have one option I recommend.”
“And that is?”
Vanessa smiled. "Come with us."
Finral's mind halted its self-loathing long enough to register that Vanessa had answered.
And then screeched to a full halt as he registered the answer she gave.
"W-what?"
Vanessa smiled warmly. "Come with us," she repeated, "It will be a lot more fun for you than standing on your own in a corner all the time. We'll look after you, sweetie."
Finral stared at her like she'd suddenly morphed into a giant dragon and started breathing fire. "You're not serious."
Vanessa tilted her head, taking her hand back. "Why can’t I be?"
She was talking about essentially kidnapping Finral. Or, well, Finral willingly leaving his life for someone he'd barely known an hour. A witch and her band of magical creatures, no less. How could she even think about asking him, a Hunter, such a question?
He had to be dreaming. Or under a spell. Or drunk. All three were more likely than reality.
"You... you're crazy."
"Life needs a bit of crazy sometimes," Yami said, abruptly reminding Finral he was still here. “Sure as hell does in my opinion, at least.”
Finral looked over his shoulder at Yami with the same look he'd been giving Vanessa, mouth open and eyes wide. And either this man was used to people staring at him that way or was just incredibly emotionally dense because the stare did nothing to change his nonchalant expression.
Finral tried to take a mental step back to think about this. They were asking him to come with them. Why? Apparently, they liked him. Great. So, after they kidnap him, then what? It sounded like something out of a story— a witch and a band of magical creatures taking a Hunter with them? Stories like that never ended well for the Hunter. Especially when they were already looking at him like he was a meal to be devoured. He shivered, unpleasantly.
“What do you want with me?”
“Fun, mostly,” Yami answered.
“Could you make it sound more ominous?” Vanessa asked, tutting playfully at her partner.
“What? Is that not the goal here? Is that not why you went over to him in the first place?”
“Honestly, I just really wanted to find that wine they were serving the head guests earlier. At least, at first…”
Then again, if they were trying to convince Finral to come with them, and they'd been willing to listen to his requests earlier... perhaps he had some leverage in the situation. They valued him, to some degree. If he was a commodity they wanted, what could he ask for in return? If was worth something to them, just how much was he worth?
He glanced at the party again. He could see Langris kissing Lady Finesse's hand as they sat together, Lady Finesse looking a little tired from all the dancing but still smiling lovingly back at Langris. Finral didn't want to ruin that. He didn't want anyone here hurt, no matter how much they may have hurt him. He wasn't like that. Not yet. He still had his good heart. And if that was the only thing he had to bargain with to ensure his family's safety...
"If I come with you, will you leave without hurting or killing anybody?"
Vanessa's eyebrows raised. Maybe she hadn't been expecting Finral to consider the request. It made Finral nervous again. Perhaps this was all just a ruse to buy time so they could launch their attack. Finral began to feel stupid again, but that itch wasn't present this time. He trusted his instincts that no, this was real. This part wasn't a trap. He hoped with all he had that it wasn't. All lives in this room depended on it.
"Is that your offer? Your life for theirs?" Yami asked.
Finral nodded without words.
“You need to think about this, Finral.” Finral. It was the first time Vanessa had properly called him by his first name. “There’s no going back after you say yes.”
He swallowed, nerves gnawing at his stomach, but deep in his heart Finral knew he had already made up his mind. So, he took a steadying breath in, set his shoulders, and stared Vanessa directly in the eyes. "Yes."
The pair went quiet for a long time, the longest since they'd started negotiating.
Finral tried to ignore the way his stomach twisted up in knots the longer the silence stretched on. He tried to listen to the band, tried to keep his breathing steady, tried to think about anything other than selling himself to what could be a den of mass murderers on the off-chance they were creatures of their word.
But that tingle wasn't going off. And so, Finral held strong and waited. He held hope to everything he could think of that he wasn’t wrong, that just this once his instincts would not fail him, that life would not fail him this once chance at making the right decision.
“One life, for all of theirs,” Vanessa said as a gloved hand returned to his cheek. "You should value yourself higher, sweetie. You're worth so much more than just this room, you know."
Finral didn't know what to say to that, so he said nothing.
Vanessa looked at him seriously. "Are you sure?"
Finral swallowed but kept her gaze. "Leave my family alone, and I'll come with you," he promised. And Finral Roulacase never broke his promises.
Vanessa smiled softly and patted his cheek. "Deal."
Yami’s hands dropped from holding Finral in place, and Finral gasped for air as if they had been around his neck instead, knees buckling. Two pairs of hands grabbed him for the second time that night as he fell, and he was disappointed to admit it felt good to have them support him. He was deluding himself, he knew, but why not enjoy the fire while it was warm? He could worry about the flames once they were all out of the way of harming his family and the rest of the party tonight.
“Are you ready to go now?” Vanessa asked him.
Finral huffed. “Do I have a choice?”
“Always,” Vanessa said.
The broken Hunter nearly burst into hysterical tears and laughter. He “always” had a choice? That was the best joke of the century.
He nodded his head to confirm that yes, he was ready to go now. Or as ready as he would ever be, given the circumstances and what he was imagining he was going to experience. Hunters did not make deals with supernaturals and walk away alive. But, better him than them, he could only hold onto that thought.
“Take a deep breath,” Yami whispered beside his ear, and Finral did as instructed.
What happened next will forever stay in Finral's memory.
He, Vanessa, and Yami vanished in a cloud of smoke from the buffet table, and onto the band's stage along with Firebird, Ice Dragon, and Bear Girl.
"Aw, we were just getting started!" Ice Dragon whined.
"Yeah, come on Captain," Firebird complained.
The party dipped in volume, then clamorous voices were shouting over each other as their attention turned to the distracted band and strangers onstage.
Yami tapped one of the microphones nearby. "Hello? Testing?" he spoke into it and the deep rumbly voice echoed around the room. "Hunters of Clover Kingdom, good evening. I'm not good at words so I'll keep it short: you're all lucky to be alive right now."
The audience mumbled and muttered to themselves at the bold declaration.
"Who are you?" Ledior called out above the crowd.
"Finral!" Langris' voice called out to the Hunter on stage.
Yami smiled, and finally, the glamour wore off. Like a seal was finally broken, or a wineglass had overflowed, magic and realisation flooded the room like a crashing wave into every Hunter standing below. They had uninvited guests at the party, and they were much more powerful than any Hunter would have liked to be caught unawares with.
The uproar was loud but expected.
"Hunting supernatural creatures that don't follow the rules is fine. But killing for sport? That's fucked up," Yami continued, demonic black smoke starting to pour out of him and around everyone on stage, including Finral.
Ledior's face twisted up with rage as he realised Finral was standing beside them and not escaping or attacking.
Langris' eyes were wider than saucers.
"How did you get in here?!" one Hunter shouted above the calamity.
"That Hunter must have betrayed us!" screamed another.
Finral barely heard them, staring guiltily at Langris who was staring back, both brothers wordless and in fear. He’d let down his family once again. And this time it had been actively his fault. Silently, he begged Langris’ forgiveness.
"A magician never reveals his secrets," Yami replied. Then, drawing his shadows in, said "Just as a Hunter never stops being an asshole. Like I said, be thankful you are alive. Your little misfit Hunter made sure of that."
Suddenly, shadows enveloped them all, and the last thing heard was Langris screaming "Finral!" as the creatures disappeared from the stage and into the night.