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The Golden Guard’s heart weighed heavily in his throat as he reluctantly entered the all too familiar grand throne room, eyes stinging with tears, his breathing ragged and irregular. The ceiling of the throne room was towering, and stunning gold was engraved into its very design. But the most magnificent aspect of the throne room was the breathtaking golden throne where the Emperor himself would sit.
Currently, however, Belos stood in front of the throne steps, as still as a statue, not saying a word. If he had worn his mask, it would not have made a difference. His expression was blank and hard to decipher.
Hunter could hear the pounding of the gigantic heart that throbbed behind the throne; his boots clicking against the polished floors in sync with it. He bowed down, Belos' figure towering over the Golden Guard, making the latter feel even smaller and insignificant than he already felt.
Hunter briefly glanced up at the Emperor, whose cold eyes were filled with utter disappointment, sending a pang of guilt coursing through the teenager. The Emperor made a motion with his hand, which was a signal for Hunter to stand up.
Trembling, he did.
“Uncle, I’m sor-” Hunter started to say before Belos cut him off, his cold, bony hand furiously whacking the Golden Guard mask off Hunter’s startled face, it landing on the floor with an echoing thud. The blond flinched as he quickly mustered the will to stop a pathetic whine from escaping his throat.
“You’re not worthy of that mask.” Belos spat, the words piercing Hunter like a dagger in the heart. Hunter’s whole body was frozen as he looked up at Belos with glassy eyes. He needed to justify himself; he needed Belos to know that he wasn’t useless, that he could still help.
“Uncle...Uncle! I’m...I’m sorry! I promise! I...I won’t fail...my mission next time!” Hunter stuttered desperately, grasping for straws. Belos scoffed, his hand hitting Hunter's scarred cheek. Hunter yelped, rubbing his burning cheek, which was now red. Tears that had been begging to fall finally slid down his bruised face. Hunter frantically wiped them with the back of his hand, but not fast enough for Belos to ignore. The Emperor curled his lip.
“You callow child." Belos spat in disgust. "I took you in…” He continued, his right arm morphing into an axe made of green goop, which came slicing for Hunter’s ear. Hunter’s eyes widened as he jerked to the side, the slice missing his ear by mere centimetres. Belos scowled, proceeding to slash Hunter’s arm with his axe instead, the teen screaming as the immense force sent him sliding across the floor of the throne room, leaving a trail of crimson blood in his wake. His trembling body lay collapsed on the floor, his shaking hand on his wound as his puffy, tear-filled eyes met his uncle’s. Hunter felt his arm burn with agonising pain; he felt as if it was on fire. The depth of the wound, combined with the amount of warm blood that trickled down onto the polished floor of the throne room, did not help with his panic.
Hunter's hot, wet tears were pouring freely now, but he didn’t have the strength to wipe them away. Belos’ green gooey axe retreated, his right arm returning to its normal appearance.
“I took you in…” Belos repeated, as he took a few slow steps closer, the clicking of his boots echoing across the grand room. His tall figure once again towered right over Hunter's shaking form. “I gave you a home. I gave you a future.” Belos continued, as his cold eyes glared down at Hunter. “And this is how you repay me?!” He asked, his voice rising in volume. Hunter flinched. “Nobody would want a magicless witch!” Spit flew out of Belos' screaming mouth.
Hunter looked up at his uncle and started to speak, his voice quivering as if he were in an earthquake. “Uncle! I...won’t...I won't fail my mission next time...please....please, I promise!”
“You better not.” Belos retorted, eyeing Hunter’s bleeding arm, bruised face and shaky demeanour. Suddenly, Belos’ face softens.
“You do understand why I have to do this, right? It’s for you to learn. The Titan has big plans for you, Hunter, and I don’t want you failing missions and falling behind. I care too much about you to see your potential go to waste.” Belos explained, his voice soft, almost caring. Despite all the previous malice from his tone disappearing in a matter of mere seconds, an undertone of disgust remained in the way he spoke.
“I...I understand, Uncle,” Hunter replied, taking a shaky breath.
“Good, now go get cleaned up, you look like a mess,” Belos replied, gesturing for Hunter to exit the room. The blonde nodded, his legs struggling to hold his weight as he stood up.
Hunter flinched as Belos bent down to pick up the Golden Guard mask he had violently ripped off Hunter’s face and flung to the floor earlier. With a sickly sweet smile that managed to send shivers down Hunter’s spine, he held the mask out to Hunter. Hunter’s gloved hand still applied pressure to the other arm’s gushing wound, but Hunter’s free hand accepted the mask. His demeanour was filipendulous, daring to break down into tears at any moment.
“Thank you, Uncle,” Hunter spoke as he took the mask. With one last look at Belos, he exited the throne room.
Hunter closed the door to his room, being careful not to slam it; no, that would be disrespectful to his Emperor. After all, Hunter's anger was completely unjustified. Belos only hurt him so that he would learn. It was all for Hunter's well-being. Yes, Belos was just looking out for Hunter!
Nevertheless, his frail form gave way instantaneously as he collapsed onto the hard floor. Flapjack flew out from his hiding spot amidst the once white, now dirty and blood-stained fabric of Hunter’s Golden Guard cloak. That cloak was a suffocating reminder that he was not worthy of the title of Golden Guard. He ripped the cloak off, tossing it aside. Hunter knew he deserved what he got.
He knew he had failed and that there were consequences to his failures. His punishment was meant to be a lesson so he wouldn't repeat his mistakes. So why did his punishment feel so wrong?
Flapjack frantically chirped as Hunter broke down into a paroxysm of sobbing, his hot, wet tears racing down his face, the liquid tasting salty in his mouth. He curled up in a ball, burying his face into his knees as he let his tears flow like waterfalls that lead to a winding river he was sure he was going to drown in.
Flapjack flew up to Hunter’s hair, pecking at his forehead and tugging at his forelock. Hunter snapped out of his trance, wiping his tears with his trembling hand as he looked up at Flapjack.
“I'm...I’m fine, Flap. Don’t worry about it.” Hunter insisted, brushing off Flapjack’s concern as he stood up, walking over to a decaying wooden shelf in his room that looked like it would collapse any second. It was slanted, and Hunter feared it would fall over and crush Flapjack while they slept.
His eyes scanned over it till he found the first-aid kit he was looking for, grabbing it and plopping down onto his bed, the sheets itching at him and the mattress feeling like a concrete block. Hunter opened the first-aid kit and started tending to the wound on his arm. He winced, his eyes watering as he cared for the injury on his arm.
‘At least it wasn’t deep enough to leave a scar this time,’ Hunter thought, tightening the bandage on his arm, despite blood still seeping through the bandages. His indelible facial scar was one of many harsh reminders of his failure.
Flapjack was perched on Hunter’s head, using his messy blond hair as a nest. He watched in concern, noticing how skilled Hunter seemed to be at first aid, as if he’d been doing this all his life.
Hunter sniffled, closing the first-aid kit and returning it to the shelf before he collapsed down on his bed, feeling completely alamort.
The events that had unfolded in the throne room replayed in the boy’s mind, over and over again, like a song on repeat. Hunter knew that it was his fault Belos had shouted at him. It was his fault, and only his, that Belos felt the need to raise his hands on him.
He had failed the mission. This was simply the punishment that accompanied his failure. Hunter wished he could prove to Belos that he was still useful. No. He needed to prove he was useful. It was all he was good for, after all.
If he couldn’t help the man who took him in and gave him a future, then he was a wretched nephew, one who didn’t deserve the gift of life that his uncle had graciously saved from the disgusting grasp of wild magic. Hunter inhaled as pain jolted throughout his now bandaged arm. He took a deep breath, furrowing his thick eyebrows.
He wouldn’t let himself fail another mission again. He’ll do anything but fail, even if it kills him. If it’s for the greater good, the will of the Titan, then his sacrifice would be necessary to fulfil the Titan’s wish. To fulfil Belos’ plans. To make his uncle proud. He was bound to The Emperor’s coven, married to it. His body was confined to the prison of the coven, his very being bound by shackles, the only key to escaping it being death.
Something Hunter wished he could do to himself.