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—
Hunter was six and for a while Hunter had known his cousin wasn't exactly… normal.
Hope was two years older than him. She was bright and bubbly but could turn on a whim like Uncle. She told scouts what they needed to hear to get them to do what they wanted, she was not below flattery or threats. For an eight-year old– very grown up to Hunter back then– she was a commanding presence.
She never flinched at Uncle's outbursts, she only watched him with a stony expression Hunter couldn't understand.
He thought it looked angry– he brushed that notion off.
She's worried. He corrected himself
—
Hope was kind and gentle to Hunter, she'd treat his injuries with plasters with fire bugs and painbows on them. She would write him silly songs and play them on her lute. She would race him around the castle halls whenever Uncle wasn't watching them, pranking whichever coven head they could.
Unsurprisingly being the only child his Uncle had she wasn't allowed to leave the castle unsupervised for fear of her safety. She'd argued it was unfair, nobody knew the emperor of the Isles had a daughter– he kept his life so private even from them– so she could hypothetically leave without any danger.
Uncle would not yield, neither would Hope. That made Hunter anxious.
—-
Hope and Hunter had different rules for punishment. Hope would be confined to her room– get the rare slap or slash in her direction– but the withdrawal of her privileges was enough for her. It never deterred her for long. Hunter on the other hand got dealt the most… physical punishment.
When he was ten Hunter started training, Hope wanted to start as well. She would not yield, begging day after day to just let her try one week of scout training.
Uncle, likely sick of her moping and whining, agreed. Hope flourished. She loved the schedule, the people, and the learning. Hunter did too, but he had a duty to repay uncle for his kindness. Hope did not.
When he was twelve both him and Hope along with a flurry of other scouts were left on the knee for a week, alone and in the cold.
They sat huddled around a fire inside a small hollow in the cliffside with nine other scouts. The wind whipped outside, their frail shelter from the cold storm did very little to keep them warm.
Hope had brought her lute along, a sharp carving of a sort of cat sat on the top of the instrument's neck. She had carved it from a block of wood she had found one day and attached it to her lute; she claimed to like how it changed her music. To call her instrument a lute would be dishonest, it was rounder with a longer neck and a more high and tangy sound then a lute.
“Hope, wanna play a song for us, something to cheer us up from this chill?” One of the younger scouts– a witch named Phillie only about sixteen– asked.
“Sure, why not.” Hope spun a circle with her finger and her instrument appeared in her hand. Hunter was jealous of her magic, more powerful with bard magic the rest of her skills were functionality… useless.
She strummed a few strings before playing a sad melodic tune. She took a breath, and sang.
“Little weaver bird, sitting sadly in the tree,
take my good advice and forget your misery.
Your tears are all in vain and regret can be absurd.
Little weaver bird, get weaving.”
The group fell quiet, the wind past their hollow whipping snow towards them. Hunter bundled his cloak around him and pressed closer to the fire.
“The year is going by, and the season's getting on,
don't you think it's time to build yourself a home?
She blinked her brilliant eye, I don't even think she heard.
Little weaver bird, get weaving.”
They watched her as she sang, her mask flipped up on her head, mousey brown bangs flipped up, her side ponytail resting on her shoulder, snow filtered itself into her hair and stung his face.
“Your children will arrive, and expect a downy bed,
for everything alive needs a place to lay its head.
She looked at me and sighed, but she never said a word.
Little weaver bird, get weaving.”
The wind screamed outside.
“Oh, I can sympathize with a heart that is distressed,
but every bird who's wise will build herself a nest.
She looked at me and sighed, then a miracle occurred:
the little weaver bird got weaving.”
She finished the song with a few notes and looked up at the group, still and quiet except for the wind behind them.
“Dude.” Steve said, “That was sad.”
Hope laughed and leaned her instrument against Hunter shoulder who glared out at the group from behind his mask, “Sorry! I'll sing something happier next time.”
“It was beautiful.” Phillie said– awe struck– something else in their voice, “Hope, you should be in the bard coven.”
She hummed idly and Hunter glanced at her. Something was sad in her eyes, she traced her new sigil on her arm, "Well, bit late.” She said, “How about another song?"
The group cheered but Hunter knew. Uncle would be disappointed if she wanted to join a different coven, and she could still do all the magic she wanted. Hunter brought his knees to his chest and stared into the fire.
They left the mountain torn up and bonded with their groups. Hope and Phillie seemed to become close. Hunter swore as he woke one night, bleary and knowing hope was gone from where she had curled up next to him, he could hear her singing, her haunting voice in the snow. He sat up and saw her sitting some way away from the group with Phillie.
Hunter thought this was weird. Phillie seemed far too kind to Hope, attentive and not at all focused on their mission of getting down the mountain first.
They made it anyway and Hope had a new gash along her leg and Hunter one across his forearm.
Hope was always there to wrap his wounds, tell him stories of the things she discovered while she wandered the town alone at night, unsupervised on her patrol with Phillie.
“You know, I went to the night market” She said coolly one night, when Hunter was fourteen and freshly the Golden Guard. She had just been appointed the duty of Uncle's personal assitant– just ranking above kikimora and Lilith. She was lying on Hunter's bed, a new charm from the market dangling from one of her ears, “Some guy offered me teeth.”
“What.” Hunter said, glancing back at her from his desk, ‘Teeth?”
She tapped her new earring, tangled in her sloppily done ponytail, “Dragon tooth, third molar, female apparently."
“Uncle won't be happy with you.” He turned back to his paperwork, worrying gnawing at his gut.
“Are you going to tell Dad?” her voice came, sing-song and teasing.
He paused, “No.”
Hope hummed warmly, then picked up her lute from the side of his bed and began to sing and play softly, “You take what is given, do as you're told. Take what you can, do what you should.”
“Do what you should?” Hunter scoffed, “Did you eat something from the night market too?”
“Im working on it– and no– I may be rebellious but I don't mess around with food” Hope snorted, “Came to me in a dream.”
“Uh-huh.”
Hunter had known hope all sixteen years of his life and he still couldn't figure her out. Still, he loved her and Uncle, and they loved him back. Hunter could handle the snide remarks from the coven heads because Hope would always strut by at just the right moment, head held high and giving him a look he knew was mischievous.
“Golen Guard. Thank you again for your hard work, keep it up please,” She would say haughtily, and then turn towards whoever was mocking him– mostly Lilith– and say “You could learn a thing or two about work ethic from him.”
This, without fail, would leave Hunter grinning under his mask, smug and no longer hurt by any insults thrown his way and Lillith sputtering and red-faced.
For all her faults, she and Hunter were close, she was more of a sister than a cousin.
When Lilith betrayed Uncle and the coven Hope had the loudest reaction of the room. She was supposed to be quiet, watching Uncle break the news of Liliths… early retirement… to the rest of the coven heads.
Someone had asked why and Hope had laughed and then looked massively embarrassed as Uncle slowly turned towards her and hissed out, “Hope. Quiet.”
“Sorry.” She had said, bowing her head and stepping back next to Hunter, she leaned down and whispered, “You are so promoted. That woman was stupid, you'll do much better, I know.”
Her defense and clear favoritism had become a hot topic of gossip in the castle. Of course no one mentioned Hope ever outside of the castle but since she had turned sixteen Uncle had been talking about announcing her existence as his daughter to the Isles– she was old enough to protect herself.
This would do nothing to quell the gossip mill. One of Hunter's favorites is that his promotion to golden guard and then coven head was because of her favoritism towards him. He considered gossip a waste of time so didn't pay attention to anything other than that. His least favorite was Hope's new position was nepotism– he dealt out the harshest punishments for that.
Hunter had been coven head for all of two months when he met flapjack. He didn't tell Hope about it. She had always been fond of the little things and he didn't want her fawning all over it for fear of getting caught.
With his new palimen– not his Hunter was only taking care of flap for a bit– Hunter missions began to go well.
Until they didn't. Eclipse lake had been… an experience. Hunter considered himself lucky that Uncle hadn't torn his other cheek for disobeying him. Hope thought the same as she plucked at her instrument, watching Hunter's ceiling with a sort of sad look.
“You fought the human girlfriend?”
Hunter nodded and she scoffed.
“Well at least she didn't suck.”
Hope didn't talk to Phillie anymore, that Hunter knew of, but suspicious prose in her songs would appear. Phillie had deserted– attempted to bring Hope with him when they ran from the coven. Hope had been heartbroken– she had sung their praises to Uncle– until they had freed the basilisks and ran off.
Uncle had set a firm hand on their shoulders, and squeezed, “See this is why we can only trust each other, our family is the last. Hope I am so sorry your friend fell to the temptation of wild magic. I hope one day we can help them.”
Hope nodded, tears in her eyes, “Me too.”
—
The coven day parade was eventful. Hunter had been sent on patrol and Hope had been told to stay behind. Uncle was going to announce his daughter to the isles. Hunter was very hesitant, he worried for her sometimes.
He stood on a rooftop and watched as the massive projection on his uncle appeared.
“Children of the Isles.” He said in the voice he gave orders to the coven heads in. It felt nice to know how he truly was under the mask, a righteous man who loved his family.
The speech went as planned. Until after he revealed his face. Hunter was worrying about where Hope was, had they backed out of the idea.
“Finally, You all know how important my people– my citizens are to me. But there is one thing that goes above my citizens.” He turned– vaguely off screen and held his hand out.
He heard mutters and confused chatter from below that halted as Hope appeared. She looked more well-dressed than usual. A robe to match Uncles but her same hairstyle and goofy smile.
“My daughter, my pride” Uncle said with affection, a soft smile Hunter rarely saw anymore, “Hope.”
There was a little pang of jealousy in Hunter's chest. He wanted to be known as his Uncle's pride. It couldn't be helped, his job needed anonymity. Hope was to be a poster child for the day of unity according to her.
Still, Hunter's gut squirmed as the murmurs turned to cheers and he flew away on flapjack, back to the castle, back to his family.