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Chapter Text

Old, worn tomes cluttered the floor and shelves, sharing their space with long-forgotten, empty staves. Most would easily mistake the small room for a forgotten storage closet. Used medical kits, which once had "Steve's" written across them before an unsteady hand crossed the name out and overwrote it with "Hunter's," a torn uniform—hiding a few toys and stolen snack packs—decorated the floor. Tucked into a corner stood a beaten bed and desk. Little tally marks lined the bedframe, while one broken leg of the desk had a yellowed bandage tightly woven around it. One window, its lock so rusty that even if Belos still had the key, Hunter doubted the key could fit, let light flood the dusty room. Even with the sun slowly setting behind the Knee, scratches on the glass caught the fleeting light, breaking it into small specks of colors, which loved stealing the boy's attention.

The scratching of a feather quill stopped when the boy stretched to catch a glimpse out the window; even with several thick books added onto his chair, both the desk and window towered over him. Despite that, he managed to catch the last afternoon light slip behind the Knee, inevitably drowning his room in darkness. Magic, even as simple as a light spell, still only manifested for him with the help of the staff his uncle had made for him, though he only had access to it during training. Luckily the light in the hallway was still on; otherwise he'd have to figure out how to write without sight.

Hunter rubbed his hands, careful to not pressure the bruises. From what he could still see of his writing, Belos would not be pleased by the unintelligible scrawl, but completing the assignment took priority over how neat his handwriting was, even if he would need to rewrite it again and again.

As he opened his door, papers, quill, and inkpot in hand, a tall scout towered over him, hand still raised to a fist before falling back to their side. Neither said anything for a moment; most scouts disliked talking to Hunter, and Hunter disliked talking to most scouts. For some reason they felt awfully comfortable questioning the emperor's decisions over the boy.

"Lord Belos ordered your presence at his study." It wasn't uncommon for a coven member to be invited into the emperor's study, though commonly it wasn't after sunset or pleasant. Having watched a few such conversations to get an overview of his future duties as the Golden Guard, Hunter was acutely aware of the three outcomes this invitation could have—death, imprisonment, or, for the lucky few, only more work.

The scout left once the boy nodded, giving Hunter the opportunity to marvel at the white uniform. Training was the only time he could wear a similar cloak and mask, though Steve had had to rummage through his old attire to find some Hunter didn't drown in. On the day Hunter earns his coven brand and tailored uniform, Steve's old garb can finally get out of the boxes Hunter uses as a closet. But marveling and daydreaming were things Hunter could do during lunch and in his sleep, not when Belos was waiting.

Corridors in the emperor's castle all looked the same; they had the same green velvet rugs, the same golden banners hanging from ceiling to floor, and even similar murals and paintings decorating the walls. Lilith Clawthorne, the head of the Emperor's Coven, had been kind enough to teach Hunter where to look for hidden runes carved into each wall, letting him—sometimes—read where a corridor led. Even so, climbing the same staircases up and down, getting turned around whenever he didn't understand a rune combination, or having his path blocked by guards wasn't uncommon. Belos' study was at the top of the castle, overseeing almost the entirety of the Isles, while Hunter stayed in an annex far from the main building.

Wooden doors towered over him. Banners depicting Belos and the Titan decorated the otherwise empty hall. Despite the imposing figure, Hunter quite liked the doors leading to Belos' study. Small carvings had been etched into them from every Golden Guard since the castle's completion. One carving, the child's favorite, tucked away so low the banner beside it kept it hidden, depicted Belos tending to, presumably, a garden. Other carvings seemed to be caricatures of the Golden Guards themselves. Sadly, Hunter wasn't there to stare at the carvings again, imagining what he'd carve once Belos had the time to teach him too.

An invitation to the throne room would have been preferable; even if the chastising was the same, the throne room had witnesses, the study was regarded as sacred ground, a place where the Titan's prophet could peacefully complete his tasks. No matter how loudly someone could grovel, passersby wouldn't come to the rescue.

Hunter's ear throbbed. Only a week prior, due to him speaking out of turn, his uncle's curse had punched out a chunk of his ear. If Lilith hadn't brewed him a healing potion, most likely would the wound still be open. What use was having a medical wing if some weren't allowed inside, injured or not? Bad thought. Questioning Belos will only lead to reasons for a medical wing to let him in.

Belos wasn't reacting to knocking, and despite stretching and tiptoeing, Hunter couldn't reach the doorknob. Passing scouts walked past the boy or outright turned around if Hunter tried to speak to them. Another attempt to jump to the handle only won his fingers more splinters. His heart was beginning to pulsate in his ears, beating painfully against his chest as he weighed his options. Climb up a banner? No, he'd lose a leg if they rip. Yell for his uncle? If he wants a blue throat, sure. Just wait at the door? Making the emperor wait was a guarantee for triple training on top of his classes.

Tears began to prick his eyes, despite him grounding himself by repeatedly hitting over his heart, an imitation of how everyone saluted Belos. Crying annoys Belos; he shouldn't—couldn't make a fuss now, after all, he was six already, too old for such a tantrum.

Footsteps quickly approached the boy. A gloved hand came to rest on top of his golden hair. "Hey champ, need a boost?" Hunter stared up at Steve, trying to focus his teary eyes on the scout's smile before stretching his arms out, hands clenching and unclenching, quiet sobs breaking out of his throat. Steve didn't wait for more confirmation, quickly taking the child into his arms.

Any passerby gave them little attention; most had grown used to crying filling the halls. No one earned a nicer tone through their age, so seeing huddles of new scouts sobbing together was to be expected. A few of the established members, most of Steve's friends, had taken the duty of bringing comfort wherever they could. There was no leaving the emperor's coven after all; either you die in duty or in the conformatorium.

Steve pressed his forehead against Hunter's, one hand carefully wiping the tears away. "Y'know, to grow as tall as the Titan, you only need to eat your screamies." Hunter's face scrunched into a grimace. Screamies were foods most witchlings despised; they weren't candies nor any other sort of junk food. Every balanced diet had some, and every picky eater, Hunter, left them on their plate, no matter the chastising.

"They bite back!" His protest was accompanied by an outstretched finger; besides the other deep bruising, a faint circular discoloration had formed on the tip of his pointer finger. "One bit me yesterday."

If he should frown at the beaten hand or snort at the child's dramatic expression wasn't too clear for the scout, he settled on his worry for the munchkin's health. "Is your hand okay?" Steve examined the hand stretched towards him but let it slip out of his hand for Hunter to do the same. Small nods and two cold hands against his cheeks was all the reassurance he earned.

He snickered, watching Hunter compare the warmth of their faces by pressing a hand against either cheek. "You need to fight back sometimes. Bite the screamies," Steve spoke, faux biting at Hunter's hand. For once the corridor was allowed to reverberate laughter.

Between giggles and attempts to escape the teasing, Hunter managed to form another reason for his dislike of screamies, "But they taste baaad."

"Then you shall be short forever, bud."

Hunter let out a string of displeased no's, hands pushing against the other as he shook his head.

"Yeees," Steve cooed, grinning as he nodded.

His frowns deepened as the older pressed their foreheads together again, even with his eyes shut tightly Hunter could feel the amused grin on Steve's face. "No, no, no!"

Repeating "yes" in a mock whine finally shushed the refusals. Hunter puffed out his cheeks, crossing his arms as he admitted defeat. "I'd never lie to you, Hunter." Despite the urge to continue sulking, Hunter did stop, relaxing his posture slightly and allowing himself to see Steve's triumphant smile. "Eat your screamies, champ." Only grumbles sounded after, not confirming or denying his compliance. "You gonna grumble like that as the Golden Guard too?"

Hunter almost jumped out of Steve's arms as he threw his hands up. "No!" A quick glance at the study's door confirmed Hunter hadn't yelled loud enough for Belos to care, luckily. "When I'm Golden Guard, I'll... I." The excitement of sharing his plans faltered when Hunter realized he neglected to ever imagine anything going wrong once he earned that golden mask. Soft chuckles stopped the child from worrying about what else he overlooked; instead, the feeling of his hair being ruffled soothed the small worry away before it managed to fester.

"You still have plenty of time before I need to call you boss."

"I'll let you call me boss-champ." The declaration made Steve coo. Hunter, on the other hand, just felt his face redden from embarrassment. "But only when we're alone, so no one can think I have favorites." He paused, glancing around before somewhat whispering, "But you're already my favorite, Steve."

"Thanks, champ." A last giggle came from Hunter before both remembered that looming wooden door. Having the emperor's image on a banner, staring down at the two, almost made Steve feel like he stood before the actual witch. He quickly shook off the goosebumps that started to form. "Ready to head into the griffin den?"

No reply. Hunter's own eyes were fixed to the door, his tiny hands gripping Steve's cloak a little tighter. They had spent a fair amount of time ignoring where either needed to be, now definitely late.

"If you need something later, I got guard duty in front of the medical wing." Just a tiny nod was confirmation Hunter had heard him. Carefully, he set the boy back onto his feet, grabbing the doorknob. Shakes took hold of his hands, though he hid it as best he could; if he was scared, Hunter would be terrified.

"Good luck, Hunter." The door creaked open; Steve's head kept low as Hunter entered the dark room. Opening the doors was far easier than watching them close, watching that helpless child slowly disappear into a room he couldn't enter, couldn't come to help in. Steve hates that torture chamber masked as a study.

Doom. Feeling his throat tighten, pressure building on his chest, and hands turning clammy was almost a perfect description of Belos' study; all that was missing was the smallest hints of awe the rows of ancient records and in glass displays locked artifacts evoked. On the day Hunter watched Belos's paperwork, he'd spent his breaks staring at the golden mask, and when it was being cleaned or used in some event, the first working brandingglove earned Hunter's undivided attention. It was old, used, almost primitive compared to the modern brandinggloves. Wires stuck out from under the metal plating on the palm, which had already started to rust and lose their shine. Still, on Belos' good days, Hunter could spend all afternoon having his uncle explain the intricacies of the device, how the Titan had helped him create it, and even how the first righteous witches had adorned their brands with pride.

To Hunter's utmost surprise, the room was not as cold as usual; the fireplace in the small reading area of the study was lit, something Hunter hadn't seen in his entire life before. Even Belos' desk was uncharacteristically cluttered, a spilled inkpot lying discarded to the side, drenched parchment carelessly left in the spill.

Belos was neither at his desk, sighing over the mess, nor sitting at his bookshelves researching. He stood at the ceiling-to-floor window at the center of the study, a mural of his ascension to the throne. Normally there was no reason to stand there; the mural didn't let you view the outside, and standing as close as Belos was wouldn't even let you admire the work.

"Uncle Belos?" Despite Hunter's voice breaking in the middle of his call, his uncle waved him closer, eyes not straying from what he was watching. A crib—that was what his uncle stood before. Neither tiptoeing nor trying to pull himself up by the rods of the wooden cage let the boy get a clear glance at the thing inside; all he managed to see was the thick mattress. Hunter tensed when Belos turned to him, even more as he was lifted by the scruff of his shirt. One quick motion of the great witch's hand, viscera sprouting from the stone floor turned into a wooden stool.

Even with the gained height letting Hunter inspect the crib's content, he first settled his gaze on his uncle. Belos didn't pay him any mind; in fact, his usually tense figure was relaxed enough to leave a hand to rest on the boy's shoulder, without his fingers digging into the bone beneath. Hunter could even fool his mind into believing there was a joyful expression breaking through what should be anything else.

All this just for the crib to contain a simple bundle of cloth wrapped around a head. "What is that?" Not a part of a corpse, clearly, since it was breathing still and no blood had touched the white mattress. If the rods of the crib weren't spaced rather tightly together, Hunter would have long snaked his hand through to poke at the face—see if it would react, but with how the crib was constructed, his fingers barely squeezed through far enough to touch a stray brown lock of hair.

"She is a baby, Hunter." Belos absentmindedly swished stray curls away from the baby's face, which, much like Hunter's forelock, would simply spring back to their previous position.

A small hum left Hunter's throat, as if he had understood his uncle. In his eyes it looked mostly like a worm. Most of the body was wrapped into a blanket, hiding any potential limbs, and the head was much larger than he'd expect, like a ratworm, with strange round ears. "Why?"

Belos chuckled, watching Hunter pull his pointy ears up and down. "She is human. There isn't much differentiating witches and humans, sadly, but the most important difference is that they have no magic, just like you." Belos' finger jabbed into Hunter's chest, where his bilesac should be. It hurt, but not enough to risk an eyerole just to rub the now agitated bruise. "She was abandoned." Hunter took in a quiet breath; the worm couldn't even open its eyes and yet had been given up on already. "I was so gracious to take you in when you had been in her position; naturally, I'll extend this kindness to her too."

Goosebumps spread over Hunter's spine. A baby can't hide from Belos' curse. "Uncle…?"

"I know, I know." Belos' hand clenched into the other's shoulder. "I... have quite a lot of work preparing you for the Titan's plan, but Hunter, my boy, you can't expect me to simply abandon this child. Do not fear; I will make sure to continue observing your training, no matter how busy I may be."

"No, no!" Hunter grabbed onto the hem of his uncle's shirt. "You won't need to waste time checking on me; I swear I'll work hard even without your super-supervision!" He earned a smile.

"Good, but I have to ask you to add to your duties too." Watching the child nod so enthusiastically was quite amusing, though Belos schooled his expression quickly, turning fully to Hunter. His back straightened, arms tucked to his sides. He was looking up at the emperor; respect needed to be shown. "You're a big brother now, Hunter. I expect you to be a good role model. Teach her how to behave, would you?"

"Yes, sir."

"View it as... an exercise in leadership." Hunter ducked his head as he felt his hair being fixed, though no matter how Belos glared, his cowlick didn't back down. Even if he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand straight, he stole a glance at the worm. How could he teach something barely sentient the intricacies of the emperor?

Chapter Text

The Isles were abuzz. A human had been found, and the emperor himself took the infant under his care. Gossip spread like wildfire; everyone from the toes to even scout's in the most remote camp at the crown of the skull, where snow and magic raged with an intent to devour, whispered of the news, their theories festering amongst the inhabitants.

"I think the Owl Lady herself stole the human during one of her hauls." Laughter surrounded the flickering campfire. "Come on, it's possible; that crazy witch would steal anything she could sell." Unimpressed gazes fell onto the young recruit. Yes, that criminal would uproot an entire human building if she believed it profitable, probably even if she just found it to be entertaining, but even the lowest scum have dignity.

"Who would buy a human baby?" People of the night market. It was blossoming with a trade of illegal spell ingredients, though human remains have long been replaced by more profitable ingredients; some clung to the ancient ways. "Okay, dumb question, still the Owl Lady might be a kook with even crazier customers, but I doubt she'd get involved with that part of the night market." The demonic scout's conviction was as shaky as their voice, while they looked to their comrades for support or rejection. Grimaces and uncertain shrugs gave neither.

"Or maybe the emperor—" Aggressive shushes rose from everyone around the fire. Slander of the emperor may be without consequences amongst private homes, but in the middle of his coven's camp? No one wanted to suffer the last Golden Guard's fate.

Searches for if a superior is paying attention to the group concluded with a series of relieved sighs, but even that small peace was quickly broken by a witch's anger. "Don't you dare say anything against the emperor. The snow's attempts on my life are hard enough to survive!" Others among the group agreed, even if the culprit themselves didn't.

"Don't be so dramatic; we're at the skull." They gestured around. The raging snow outside the camp's barrier, obscuring a barren wasteland with buried corpses and lost hopes, tried to pry itself through any imperfections along the protective spell. "No scout would want to spy up here; even the superiors don't care what we say." Disbelief at the witch's audacity sparked a fight amongst the comrades.

Citizens of Bonesborough turned to gossip while on the market; day or night the place was packed to the brim with illegal products and services, distracting any patrols from gossiping bystanders. For the common witches and demons, how or why the human is on the Isles was of little interest; things simply got swept into their realm, and with the emperor guiding the human through the Titan's instructions, no harm will come to any civilians.

Mornings were quiet at the market, vendors half asleep as they waited for their goods and set up their stalls; even the few guards on duty were chatting with acquaintances, helping where they could. Steve held up a crate of sunbeetles as an elder demon sorted them by quality.

"Do you think the human will think themselves a witch once grown?" The idea was almost ludicrous; no being without magic and with rounded ears could be a witch, and such a lie would bring nothing but heartbreak to the young thing.

All Steve did was shrug; most of the castle residents hadn't seen much of this new addition to the castle. If it weren't for Hunter's excited babbling during Steve's guard duty, he wouldn't have known of the infant until the morning after her arrival. Even if he did know more, telling of the Emperor's plans was a folly nobody sane would commit. Feeling the beetles slowly melt through the wooden crate, he reinforced their sleep spell, fingers slowly circulating above the squirming, lava-spitting animals as the spell trickled onto them. "Doubtful; someone will eventually babble to the human, accidentally or intentionally."

"But if they knew of their origin, wouldn't they want to return to their realm as soon as possible? Maybe keeping them in the dark would be better." Small fires erupted from the demon's hair, worry taking control of her innate magic.

"Don't worry, the speaker of the Titan himself has taken the human in; no matter if they know their origin or not, if they can use magic or are reliant on aids, the members of the coven will at worst avoid them." Relief washed over the guard as the flames died, letting the older continue sorting.

Once finished, Steve stacked each crate onto a cart, burning the quality rating into the wood. A small chuckle escaped the older one. "Thanks, Tholomule," she sighed, handing the ratworm at the front of the cart an enchanted delivery list, after which the animal began to slither away. "The Emperor's Coven is such a great place to be; I needn't fret over them. Lord Belos himself will, after all, care for them."

"Yeah, care." Bruised hands could easily be fixed by elementary potions, but the stress and fear only dug themselves deeper into one's brain, until they have wound so tightly around every bone and nerve, even the bilesac only produces horror in magical form. There was a good side to the coin of everyone's demise: if the emperor was too occupied to read the reports of the coven spies, breathing became easy again. Steve felt bad for the rising thought, wishing such a terror on an infant was wrong no matter the reasoning, but maybe if this human had potential in the Titan's eyes, just maybe would Hunter no longer need to bear the Golden Guard legacy and demise alone.

"Can a human even eat our food?" The question roused Steve from his thoughts, quickly lowering the rising ground he stood on; last thing he needed was to go back to magic control exams; night patrols still made him fear for his partner's bones. "Maybe I should offer finding and supplying edible foods to the Emperor." Soft coos escaped the elder, hands clasped together as she could almost see herself in a pile of snails, "Could make millions."

"Don't be greedy; only a few thousand."

The castle was no place for idle gossip; anyone who dared to do so, despite the new staggering workload laid onto all, was sent to return to etiquette lessons. Hunter felt the consequences of the humans' arrival in good and bad ways; his lessons dwindled in quality, as his teachers worked day and night to develop a lesson plan for the human, which Belos would approve of, resulting in him lacking assignments and research topics to the point he began to borrow books he wanted to read. Interesting books disappeared quickly over the weeks; he did nothing but attend his classes and read to fill the time between. Hunter employed his lifelong tactic for gaining orders—waiting in front of Belos' study. Normally either Steve or Lilith would assign him some work, or, in rare cases, Belos himself found something for the future Golden Guard to improve at and adjusted his schedule to limit the time he was wasting. This time though, neither happened; instead, members of the Healing Coven tended to trip over him, whenever they tried to enter or exit the study. No matter how much they shooed him, he remained steadfast in his waiting.

There weren't any parenting books or books focused on a witchlet's developmental stages in the library, leaving Hunter to need to reference his own approximate developmental journey to know when to start teaching the human Belos' rules. Surely, at almost a month old, the simpler rules could stick in that tiny head. "Could you please let me in? I just want to teach it." Pleading with the caretakers had varying results; some budged immediately, while others remained steadfast in their disapproval. The newest of the ever-changing witches and demons was one of the more resistant kinds; even kneeling at the snake's tail didn't grant him entrance. "Please?"

"Only personnel with the emperor's approval are allowed near the—"

"I know, I know." Wanting to teach the infant how to behave wasn't reason enough for Hunter to enter without explicit approval, and lies about having been sent by Belos only have earned the boy bruises and the scouts more petrifications to organize. Empty promises and not-so-empty threats always gave Belos all he demanded, though clearly Hunter wasn't intimidating enough and had too little to offer—apparently the caretakers didn't care for his offerings of sweets Steve gifted the boy—to earn him the same treatment. "But I'm the big brother of the human; Lord Belos will be upset if I don't fulfill my duties."

"Son, you're how old? 4?"

The boy grimaced; he can't even remember ever being 4, with how long ago it was, nor did he feel like he looked childish enough to be mistaken as so young, but being the second-youngest resident of the castle must make it hard to tell. "I'm already 6."

A laugh escaped the demon as he shook his head. "Good joke, kid, but you look like you just came outta the ground."

"Witches don't come out of the ground." Angry squeaks escaped Hunter as his forehead got poked. "Let me fulfill my duties, or I will... I will tell Lord Belos you're being a disappointment!"

"You have no duties regarding the human as far as I've been informed." Frowning at the towering personnel wasn't a successful tactic with how he simply looked amused by the child's antics. A familiar sense of impending doom clawed its way up Hunter's back, suddenly his heart felt like it was a stone, lungs feeling too large for his chest. Panic felt different from this; panic was standing before Lord Belos, watching himself cower in the reflection of the old man's golden mask. Panic was being unable to help as the curse contort his uncle's limbs, while Hunter had to listen to the man's pained screams. What Hunter was the feeling now was what kept him alive, an innate sense for when something wasn't safe for him; he felt it whenever he thought of taking the Golden Guard's mask out of its display, whenever he thought about sleeping in or skipping an assignment. Danger, be it for him or the infant, oblivious to its situation, was breathing down his neck.

The sudden shift in Hunter's posture forced unease to rise in the caretaker. Belos was no tyrant; in the eyes of the witches and demons of the Boiling Isles, he was a just ruler, maybe harsh in his punishments regarding wild witches, but he was simply exerting the will of the Titan. And yet, seeing this child act like his life hung by a thread did worry the demon. Hunter might be a tad spoiled in the eyes of the common coven members, due to being the emperor's nephew, but he was the last witch on the isles willing to damage what the emperor cares for. Scratching the scales at his neck, the caretaker opened his mouth to form a compromise, but Hunter beat him to it.

"If you don't let me in, could you at least read it the rules?" Raising a folded paper towards the demon, his red eyes turned glossy. "Please?" Another attempt at pleading, this time with an audible quake in his voice as Hunter tried to hold the paper higher. Hunter had used these notes himself to learn how to behave around the emperor and his uncle. "If you can't read it, I'll write it better?"

The snake demon held his hands up, head shaking quickly enough that Hunter worried he'd snap his neck. "No, no, no!" Lowering himself to the boy's level to gently taking the paper to glance it over, only to cringe at the very first rule—no questions! Emperor Belos would likely spend the majority of the day in the throne room, giving orders, taking reports, and maybe even spend time in the basement. The basilisks were making more of a ruckus than usual, according to hallway chatter, so it would probably be fine letting the boy stay for a moment. "You can come inside, but you can't stay too long. And don't cry... Babies tend to copy the emotions of those around them." Offering a tissue like a peace offering, Hunter began to beam, the clawing dread chased away as he threw himself into the study to the human still in its crib. Not having grown much taller within the past weeks, he expected to be admiring the crib more than the baby inside, which he was, but instead of the hastily put-together wooden cage, detailed carvings had begun to appear. Rough, unfinished shapes lined the sides while an intricate pattern spelled 'Luz' at the front. Hunter knew this handiwork to be Belos' own.

"Luth?" He tried to read, which took a chuckle from the caretaker.

"Luz," he corrected, glancing to the human, having roused from her nap. "You're her big brother but didn't know her name?" It wasn't meant to be an insulting comment, just something the caretaker found surprising, but by how Hunter tugged at his worn-out sweater, feet digging into the rug below their feet, the snake seemed to have not sounded as teasing as intended.

"Lord Belos has to focus on his work; I can't bother him with unnecessary questions."

Uncomfortable silence fell over them for a moment, the caretaker trying to gauge how serious the boy was being. "I'm sure, once he has more time, he'll gladly answer your questions." He paused, unsure if offering to answer the witchlet's questions was breaking some rules about secrecy. He settled on the risk being worth it. "For now, if you'd like, you can ask me about anything concerning Luz."

It was an alluring offer, being kept in the loop of things for once, but every other day at the latest, a new caretaker was appointed to the human; this one was already out of time, if Hunter had counted the days right. "No, thanks. You should concentrate on your duties; our Emperor dislikes workers who get easily distracted." His ears flushed red at the coo the demon let out, even more when they ruffled his hair.

"Are you worried about me?" Despite wanting to shout no, he remained silent, not wanting to spook the hu- Luz. Hunter didn't want to spook Luz. To the boy's confusion, picked the demon Luz up, settling her in their arms. He smiled at Hunter, carefully lowering themselves to the witchlet's height. "Do you want to hold her?" It was such a simple ask, but only hearing the words lit an excitement in Hunter he rarely felt for matters unrelated to Belos' orders.

"Yes!" The witchlet threw his arms up, hands tugging at the caretaker's uniform, urging to be handed Luz.

A soft chuckle escaped them, watching Hunter's forelock bob back and forth as he tried to get closer to the infant. "Okay, but I have to ask you to not kiss her cheek or let her poke near your face; the immune system of babies is still developing, and if you have any infection right now, she'd get very sick."

Hunter paused; he didn't feel sick right now, but it wasn't uncommon for him to be perfectly fine and then, once he got a small break, immediately have an outbreak of the common mold. It was rather harmless ailment,  outside of the delirium it caused, but that was the standard for witches; humans may have no ailment similar to the common mold. He'd be dead if Luz was harmed because of his recklessness. "Uhm... maybe I shouldn't hold her then." Backing away, hands tucked to his chest, Hunter halted when the adult chuckled.

"Nonsense, kid. The first few months of a witchlet's... and probably a human's life is the time they learn who their family is. Since you're her big brother, she'll appreciate getting to meet you now."

Hunter still felt uneasy holding him but carefully took the bundle into his arms anyway. He froze. She was heavy, warm. Big brown eyes stared up at him for a moment before darting around due to the new perspective of the world. Still, her eyes always settled back on him. Luz stretched out her tiny hands; inadvertently, her fingers grazed Hunter's forelock, which she reflexively grabbed. Hunter retaliated by gently poking her cheek, causing Luz to blow out a few spit bubbles paired with giggles as she tried to eat his finger. The smallest chuckle left Hunter, careful to not let her eat his hand. "Worm." He could feel her legs try to kick out from the blanket she was bundled into and how she tensed her muscles simply to know what would happen. For a short, quiet moment, the aches from his bandaged arms and the aggravated bruises she was lying on didn't bother him. There was no need to worry over Belos punishing him nor to think about the pressure of earning the golden mask. Only small coos from the human infant and the feeling of her tugging his hair and trying to reach his ears remained.

"She likes you."

Hunter's eyes snapped back up, surprise written all over his face. "Really?"

"If she were uncomfortable, she'd be crying or yelling. That's how babies communicate before they know how to speak. Being restless, crying, and yelling are all signs of discomfort, besides symptoms of sickness."

"Oh, you can't do that around Uncle Belos; it annoys him," Hunter informed Luz, who was busy sucking her own thumb.

"She's... probably still too young to understand you." Hunter frowned. How can he keep her safe if she doesn't understand the rules? "And I doubt Lord Belos would fault a baby for crying. She can't really help it after all." No. Belos would fault a baby for crying. Hunter may not remember his early childhood, but he has always known to not cry or whine, but slandering the Emperor, even if it was based on facts, was dumbest to do in his own study. Luz started to wriggle around, unsure what she was trying to do; Hunter simply lowered themselves to the ground in case she fell out of his arms. "Oh, she is probably hungry; I'll prepare her a bottle."

Hunter laid Luz down on her back on the carpet, though keeping a hand under her head as a cushion. She was grabbing at his bandages, luckily not coordinated enough to unravel them. "You have very grabby hands, Worm," he muttered gently, tapping at her cheeks, making her giggle again. Hunter likes the honor of being her brother.

Luz must be magical, despite her human ancestry; at least that was the only way Hunter could explain to himself how, despite sitting in his favorite lesson, history, his mind only thought of all the ways his uncle might accidentally hurt her, if his curse wills it. Any paper lying on his desk, meant for taking notes, had plans scribbled onto them for how to save her. Hiding never worked; Belos could find him within seconds, but running wasn't a long-term solution either, not only because Belos' curse made him horribly fast but also because Hunter was not the fastest runner, even less so when he was carrying something. Scratching out the hundredth attempt at a plan, as well as the annotations of possibly running to Steve or Lilith—he didn't like the thought of bringing danger to them—let hopelessness settle in his mind—a strange feeling for him to connect with his uncle. Hunter endures discomfort at the constant possibility of Belos losing control, but he never felt hopeless. Most instances, where he was at the wrong end of the curse's anger, were due to his failures and bad risk management, but for Luz it could happen simply because she was a baby, unable to regulate herself yet.

"Ah, look at the time." Hunter's head snapped up at the sound of his teacher's voice. Realizing they were ending his lesson, he quickly began to stack his papers and books. "I want you to write—hey, where are you going?" He ignored the calls for him to return, beelining to Belos' study.

The study doors opened slowly, but instead of the caretaker from the day before, Belos stood before Hunter. "Ah, hello, Lord Belos."

The old man waved Hunter inside. "Here for Luz again?" Of course he would know; the emperor knew everything.

"If I'm allowed... I'd like to tell her about my history lessons."

Belos nodded, returning to his own desk to continue working. Upon Hunter's curious expression regarding the stacks of letters, Belos let out an unamused chuckle. "The citizens of the isles are very excited about the human. The Blight family even asked if their youngest daughter and Luz could be friends once they are older."

"Did you get letters like that about me?" It felt weird to ask, as if he was forcing attention meant for Luz onto himself, but there was no chastising following his question, so at least for today it was okay to have questions.

Belos hummed after a moment, his expression turning regretful as he gently laid his hands on the boy's shoulders. "Hunter, after wild magic killed our family, I was quite protective of you, maybe even a little too much. Outside of the coven, no one knows you exist. And let's keep it like that. The emperor's nephew is someone with a constant target on his back. If it had been possible, I would have kept Luz a secret until she was old enough to keep herself out of danger too, but alas, those who found her weren't able to keep silent."

"Oh... well... She'll be safe anyway because you are here, and when you're not, I am."

"I'm sure you'll be a good older brother then." Seeing the soft smile on his uncle's face, Hunter smiled too; such lighthearted conversations were a rarity, smiles even more so. Getting both made him hope, just a little bit, that the addition of Luz to their family might make his uncle less stern.

Hunter settled with Luz at her crib; the infant wrapped in a blanket beside him was a funny sight to Hunter. He was reading out his history book, slowly and clearly, as Luz tried grabbing at his sleeves and the book's pages. Sometimes she let out little sounds, as if asking him to elaborate on what he was reading. He indulged her whenever he knew more about the topic, even if Luz had a tendency to not even pretend to listen. Her eyes flickered to any other noise in the study while Hunter talked. Belos didn't say anything when Hunter caught himself messing up information or when the boy got distracted from his little lesson to tickle and play with Luz, instead he seemed rather inclined to simply watch the pair, an almost reminiscent smile on his face.

Later that day, when Luz had started to fight off sleep in favor of reaching for Hunter, the boy felt the courage, thanks to the peaceful day, to ask a question his uncle may find unnecessary to answer. "Uncle, I wanted to ask, how did you think of calling her Luz?" Said infant whined when the older paused his gentle backrubs, prompting a string of apologies from Hunter as he continued the soothing motion.

Even with Luz distracting Hunter, he noticed how Belos tensed at the question, the relaxed atmosphere quickly turning into a looming threat. "Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

The old emperor didn't answer immediately, eyes burning into Hunter's back as he watched the boy trying to occupy himself with picking at the carpet. "Well, I've met a human before." Hunter almost dislocated his spine with how quickly he turned to his uncle. "A girl with great potential but misguided by the teachings of her wild witch guardian. I named Luz after her, for her to have the same potential, and with our guidance, fulfill it too."

"What if... she doesn't have some great potential?"

"There are only a few very distinct kinds of humans that aren't destined for greatness, and Luz doesn't seem to be one of them, so no need to worry, Hunter." There followed no relief after his uncle's words. What if Luz still turned out to be quite ordinary? Would she be abandoned? Failure to meet Belos' expectations could mean death; Hunter had to face it multiple times already and tread the careful line keeping him useful. But Luz was not old enough to even crawl. His hands got clammy; surely the Isles have a book about infant developmental stages somewhere. He could make sure she was developing well, prevent her from falling behind, prevent Belos from seeing her shortcomings.

Upon Hunter submitting a material list, claiming books about a witch's development to be for his classes, Lilith organized him a few. Any ability Luz displayed was checked off; those she did not have were goals for her to learn within as little time as possible. Luz was hanging behind in most coordinated movement-related abilities; holding her head up on her own was one of these abilities, so to save her from Belos' disappointment, Hunter created a little game. Lying on the rug at her crib, Hunter would bundle up her blanket and slowly lift her head onto it. After some time of her simply getting used to the position, he'd dangle his glove before her eyes and then lift it up; sometimes her head would slowly rise as she tried to grab at the glove, and other times she'd just drool on the blanket watching something else. They were in the middle of their lesson, Hunter gently tapping her nose while avoiding letting her eat his hand, when Belos entered the study, not nearly as relaxed as he had been the last few weeks Hunter came to visit Luz.

"Your teachers informed me you've been rather enthusiastic about leaving your lessons quickly." The light from the open doors obscured Belos' face, but Hunter didn't need to see the angry expression to feel those blue eyes stare at him with contempt. "Is it true?"

"Yes, sir." There was no reason to try to justify himself; Belos had already judged him and chosen his punishment. Excuses would only worsen what terrible mood Hunter was facing.

Belos strode over to the pair, slow steps echoing from the floor. With every one, Hunter tensed further, eyes trained to his feet, though he could hear Luz's increasingly more uncomfortable gibberish calls. Dread clawed its way back around his heart as Belos simply lifted Luz and placed her back into her crib, which only seemed to upset her more, now that she couldn't see Hunter at all. "You've disappointed me, Hunter. I had thought you'd grown enough to understand the importance of your lessons."

"I do understand! Really, I do, sir."

"What was your latest politics lesson about?" One so very simple question made Hunter fall silent. He wasn't even sure he attended that one with how it had fallen right into the playtime he and Luz had. Oh, he was dead; he could already imagine his grave in the castle's yard. Who was he kidding? He didn't deserve a grave; Belos would throw him down the pit surrounding the castle, to be forgotten by all. "The Titan has important plans for you, Hunter. If you slack on your training, you cannot be the one to fulfill them." Hunter's hands clenched his shirt. He knew this already, of course; he always reminded himself with the knowledge that he was meant for something important whenever he felt like the training and lessons were too much. But the thought of needing to be replaced never occurred to him; death had seemed more likely than simply being tossed aside. A chill bit into his neck; his replacement might be Luz. If she was, she'd have to undergo his training and his lessons, wear the golden armor, and lose all identity outside of the golden mask. She'd be miserable because he couldn't rise to the role meant for him. "Finish your missing assignments and hand them in tomorrow morning, and stop cutting corners; the girl won't disappear just because you spend a minute longer in class." The stack of papers Belos conjured did nothing to calm the pounding in Hunter's ears; he couldn't finish all of it, despite his life depending on it. There was no room to argue, no compromise to be made, not even the possibility of a plea.

The boy was pushed out quicker than he could walk, causing him to tumble to the ground as the doors snapped shut. Breathing rarely felt so uneasy, like his throat was sealing shut as a painful cold rose from his fingertips to his arms. His legs grew numb in tandem with his chest feeling like it was being stood on; no matter how hard he tugged his hair or hit his chest, nothing was calming him. Trying to simply fight through the symptoms resulted in his legs giving way when he tried to stand, at least reminding him they were there at all.

"Why are you on the ground?"

Hunter forced his head to move in an attempt to locate the voice; it took a while before he found the woman beside him. Black curly hair framed a pale face he knew rather well. Lilith, the coven head, stood beside him, looking like he was the biggest inconvenience she'd had all day. Hunter couldn't manage to form a word, his throat barely allowing him to breathe, let alone force out a clear sound. To his surprise, did Lilith grab him by his upper arms, helping him stand and keeping him upright until his legs felt more attached to his body. She slowly dusted off his sweater, the repeating motion so rhythmic he adjusted his breathing to match, slowly feeling his throat open up again. Having her rub his hands to warm them back up made him finally notice how soaked his face was, though she didn't give him the chance to wipe his snotty nose with his sleeves, instead giving him a handkerchief. "You're a potential candidate for Golden Guard, not a street kid from the muck. Breathe and pull yourself together." The chastising wasn't anything close to how Belos would do it—no painful pressure on his shoulder, no underlying threats, only mild annoyance Lilith gave everyone as she attempted to fix his hair. Her hands combed through his tousled hair, he felt her briefly check his chipped ear, sighing afterwards. "Are you injured?"

"No." His voice was strained, but at least he could croak out words now, even if a few coughs followed.

"Good. Even as the emperor's nephew, you need to earn every privilege, Hunter. So stop crying and earn what you wish for. Even if it's a lot of work or feels unfair, you need to work hard. Only those who do and are determined can please the emperor and accept rewards for their efforts." Lilith tried one last time to fix his forelock, only for it to spring back, mocking her. One last glance, trying to gauge if he'll fall back into his panic, turned into her gently rubbing his cheeks. "If you need something, you know where my office is."

Hunter stood alone in the hallway again. His legs felt like they were out of wood, unable to bend to even pick up the papers Lilith stacked for him. He forced himself to bend down, take the missed assignments, and trek back to his room, even if just to break down in private. Despite lacking any energy to work on the towering papers, he still sat down at his desk, his trembling hands automatically reaching for his quill and inkpot as he began to write. It wasn't hard to fall back into his normal habits. Sleep didn't find him that night.