Chapter Text
The Emperor’s right hand man, the Golden Guard, Hunter had been in possession of a scroll and a penstagram account for a total of fifteen hours, seven minutes and eighteen seconds.
Nineteen seconds.
Twenty seconds.
Twenty-one seconds.
Hunter liked to believe he was a fast learner. That is until he got a scroll and he begrudgingly accepted that he may need a little extra time before he had mastered the intricate art of being a teenager.
He also liked to believe that the alphabet was an indisputable basis for the order in which letters should be arranged. But then he was introduced to a touch screen keyboard, an incoherent pad of disarray that somebody should have reported to the authorities by now.
Who designed scrolls anyway? Somebody had to pay for inventing this atrocity of a device that got Hunter laughed at ('lol' was the textual code for laughter. Willow had been patiently explaining every acronym dropped in the group chat until Hunter was halfway fluent.) by Gus because it took him over three minutes to type out: s.orrY again. fOr the. Kidn ap.ping.
He had never understood why witchlings were addicted to these stupid little things. It was something he wondered often, usually on patrol, when his vigilant eyes would disobediently linger on a gaggle of Hexside students, all huddling around one screen and chattering among themselves.
Guess scrolls are fun, he would think as they passed him by (Not sparing him even a fleeting glance.), feeling something cold and all-consuming, which he really hadn’t wanted to deal with, so he scrunched it up, shoved it down, and reminded himself that no other kid in the Boiling Isles would ever know the joy of being the Golden Guard.
The Golden Guard didn’t need a scroll to have fun. The Golden Guard didn’t even want a scroll. And he knew for a fact that if he had one, it wouldn’t hypnotize him the way it did to other teens. If the Golden Guard had a scroll, he would barely even look at it.
“Oomph,” he grunted as a large frame bashed against his shoulder, nearly knocking him clean off his feet.
“Watch where you’re going!” Hunter snarled, eyes ripped away from the glow of his scroll. The glare he fixed on the burly witch lumbering past him was lost behind his mask, though he assumed the guy got the message. But just for good measure, Hunter called out a threat over his shoulder about severe punishment if this were to happen again. The offender was already several feet away and merged with the bustling crowd of the Bonesborough market rush, though he lazily raised a hand of acknowledgement.
Satisfied with the authority he had dished out, Hunter smoothed down his cloak and returned to his and Willow’s message thread.
So...
Uh...
The Emerald Entrails.
That was...a thing that was happening now.
Cool. Great. Awesome. He was doing fantastic, thanks, and once his fingers developed an intimate knowledge of the touch screen, it’s over for you witches.
But for now, Hunter was still finding his footing.
Gus communicated via memes. He was a self-proclaimed connoisseur of memes, but was by no means a professor, as no explanation that Gus strung together could possibly make Hunter understand what a meme was.
From what he had gathered, it was a joke and the less sense it made the better. It didn’t matter if the joke was not funny, as the inherent magic of The Meme would induce repetition…which would then....make....the joke....funny...? Somehow....?
Okay, so that last part mystified Hunter, but by the Titan, he was a prodigy. If he could wrap his head around the complexities of wild magic, he could certainly crack this one.
Y’know. Eventually.
Sixteen years under Belos’ care insisted that he not think too highly of Viney. Her history at Hexside included a huge chunk of her last semester locked up in the detention track. That was the kind of colossal rule breaking that Hunter didn’t want in his friends.
Hunter didn’t break rules.
This train of thought led to a rustle beneath his cloak and his big whopping rule breaking possession cheeped indigently, which Hunter chose to ignore. Instead he continued to march through Bonesborough on the patrol he had been forbidden from taking on, eyes locked on the scroll that he had been forbidden from owning.
Anyway, he tailored his own narrative of Viney’s past delinquency, just so it would sit easier on his conscience. Clearly she had seen the light and atoned for her crimes and would never break a rule again for as long as she lived. Boom! He could associate with her now.
(But he knew Viney. He knew that by all accounts, she didn’t click easily into that version of the story. But Hunter decided to expand his suspension of disbelief for this one. He had to, his friend was on the line.)
He wasn’t sure if they were actually covered in the beast track or if it was just one of Viney’s personal interests but she knew a ton about palismen. Flapjack would be one happy bird once Hunter followed the tips she gave him on specific treats and the appropriate bedding.
Skara refused to talk strategy with him, her reasoning being that as cool as he was, she’d prefer her epic game plans not be recycled by the Golden Guard for Emperor’s Coven business.
(Hunter resented that.)
Their main topic of conversation was music, namely that Hunter didn’t listen to it at all. This had Skara attempting to drag him into Bard Hell, sending link after link of songs she believed had ‘Hunter Vibes’.
SkaraTheStarra: will explain how to download music to ur scroll later bb ❤️
RULERZREACHF4N: what. is ,. bb?
SkarraTheStarra: u lol
RULERZREACHF4N: ok. thaNks. w aht is u lol?
And as for the Captain, well....
She and Hunter hadn’t stuck to a specific niche in their conversations. They just sort of flowed from one subject to the next.
He had been strapping on his armour that morning when his scroll chimed. And there was Hello_willow asking how in the world he thought ‘The Toes’ would be a believable location for his fabricated backstory.
RULERZREACHF4N: it soUnds.,. like you’re. makigG fun of. me
RULERZREACHF4N: BUt you,, bougHt. It/ didn’t you?..
Even as he rushed to respond, it still took him a few minutes to successfully craft that message. Stupid scrolls, stupid thumbs not knowing where the letters were. He briefly wondered if she had gotten bored awaiting his reply and gave up on him.
He cursed the stupidly of scrolls once again.
Hello_willow is typing
Hunter’s scroll nearly dissolved to its original form of magic mist with the pressure of his tightened grip.
Hello_willow: Ok ok. I will admit I was a little too excited about potential team members to focus on how sketchy their stories might have been 😅
RULERZREACHF4N: a.little?
Hello_willow: I didn’t want to be judgy either! Whatever appendage you came from is your business
A snorty sounding laugh burst out of him, which he promptly stifled with his gloved palm. Flapjack was still snuggled up in the nest of Hunter’s cloak, deep in sleep.
Hunter stooped at the foot of his bed to observe his bird for a bit. The exact appeal of Flapjack was impossible to articulate and he could only begin to describe it in vague senseless words mumbled in awe under his breath.
He was just....
So small. Tiny.
And he liked to share his treats with Hunter.
That should be touched upon in his ongoing palisman experiment. How the Hell Flapjack managed to be the most endearing living breathing thing in the Boiling Isles and what instinct so aggressively compelled Hunter to press the bird to his cheek in a squeeze if he looked at him too long.
He itched to stroke back his feathery head but decided against it to delay the inevitable morning routine of having his hair pulled in a demand for breakfast. Instead Hunter hovered his scroll above the bird to capture the moment.
He had already mastered the camera feature last night. This had been a necessary endeavour when he needed to perfect his penstagram profile picture.
He was insanely proud of his penstagram profile picture.
And turns out, it wasn’t just a fluke. He marvelled at the shot he got of Flapack, thinking himself a pretty awesome photographer.
Then again, that might have just been Flapjack being so cute that it shone through any low quality image but Hunter decided to let himself have this.
Hunter smiled at his snoozing palisman, wondering how long he intended to sleep in today. It was already teasing six.
Huh. That reminded him. As he had learned yesterday, 6 A.M. was considered far too early for the average Hexside student to be awake. (Which Hunter was still having trouble wrapping his brain around. How did they hope to get anything done if they slept the whole morning away?) And yet, here was Willow.
RULERZREACHF4N: is. thERe a; reason , you’re* up?
He felt a squirming bundle of nerves once the message sent.
Willow’s typing bubbles appeared and Hunter slammed the scroll down on his bedside locker, brimming with jittery anticipation.
Was this how it worked?
He didn’t entirely know how teens conversed and if abruptly changing the subject was socially acceptable. Maybe he should have waited and let her take the lead. Hunter picked up fast via demonstration.
After an endless moment of pacing the length of his room, reconstructing all the other routes this exchange could have taken if he knew what he was doing, his scroll made that noise again.
Hunter was starting to associate that noise with the sound of his own heartbeat before it flatlined.
It took him a few seconds of fidgeting fingers before he picked it up, braced for the kind, politely phrased ‘You’re doing this wrong’ that Willow had delivered.
But that was not the message he received.
Hello_willow: Yeah 🙂 I like to work out for a few hours before I go about my day. Weights, sit-ups, that sort of stuff. I’ve been doing it for months now but it’s EXTRA important that I don’t slack off now that I’m a team captain. Gotta stay in tip top shape! 💪 💪 💪
Hunter’s bunched up frame relaxed, his deep exhale wobbly, as a small smile tugged at his lip.
Then a freshly awoken Flapjack landed on his shoulder and chirped, happily informing Hunter that his aforementioned smile was not small at all. It was actually stupidly big.
“The phrase ‘tip top shape’ is kinda funny, alright?” he defended, feeling a slight scorch at the tip top of his ears.
Flapjack had no more comments on the matter but Hunter muttered “Shut up,” anyway and returned to diligently navigating his way around this perfectly casual conversation that he was having with his perfectly casual friend, Willow.
RULERZREACHF4N: oh thats,. cool
RULERZREACHF4N: i do., moRNing worko uts too.,.
RULERZREACHF4N: mine are. sch/eduled for *7:30.
Hello_willow: Fitness buddies!
Whatever expression crossed Hunter’s face resulted in another chirp from Flapjack, which in turn resulted in the bird getting the Golden Guard cloak tossed over him.
RULERZREACHF4N: if you’re. suppo sed to bE working .,.out right noW
RULERZREACHF4N: why are; you.,, wriTing to. me..?
Hello_willow: Because you’re distracting me 🙄
RULERZREACHF4N: oh. sorrY.,,
Hello_willow: Ahh no no no! I’m just kidding lol I like talking to you Caleb 😊
The pause between messages had nothing to do with Hunter’s inexperienced thumbs. He felt his pinched expression soften, an odd mixture of disbelief and hope wrestling for dominance in his heart.
She liked talking to him.
RULERZREACHF4N: a. lot?
Hello_willow: A lot 💚💛
RULERZREACHF4N: good.
RULERZREACHF4N: the CoVen.heads say i /.talk a loT.
RULERZREACHF4N: at least., its workiNg for som ebody..
Willow responded with laughter.
Hunter had made her laugh.
There were pros and cons to this whole scroll and ‘connections’ situation. The cons were that, despite waking up fifteen minutes ahead of schedule, Hunter managed to be late for a coven meeting because he and Willow had been talking about their favourite season.
The pros? Hunter learned Willow’s favourite season!
(Another con that he tried not to focus on was that the Human now had a means of contacting him, as demonstrated by her harassment this morning. Hunter was mostly irritated that he accidentally sent her a picture meant for Willow and her idiot human eyes got to behold the spectacularly captured image of a sleeping Flapjack.)
It would be in Hunter’s best interest for today’s conversation to fizzle out and die. It was extremely tricky to carry out his daily duties, while discreetly thumbing away at a scroll between tasks without someone spotting him. And yet, despite the inconvenience, he found himself actively attempting to keep the flow of messages alive.
Then his afternoon patrol rolled around and Hunter could not get out of that castle fast enough.
And yeah, okay, sure, technically he was disobeying orders. Belos had forbade him from leaving the castle until after the Day of Unity. But that didn’t mean he was relieved of any of his duties, and was supposed to be holed up in his room, monitoring the many nooks and crannies of Bonesborough with a crystal ball and reporting any trouble to the scouts.
Hunter could not begin to describe how much he loathed this method of patrol.
So, it was fine! He was kept in the castle for his own safety after all, and there was no risk of danger during his afternoon rounds. The biggest threat was getting knocked out from the town’s pungent smell.
And anyway, it wasn’t like Belos had been around lately to keep an eye on him (So far, he had gotten away with Eclipse Lake and Hexside. That either said something about Hunter’s sneakster skills or Belos’ attentiveness.) and even if he found out, this wasn’t that a big of a deal.
Probably.
As hectic as this place was, Hunter was fond of strutting around, garb and all. It was here that being the Golden Guard meant something. He was respected, feared even, while within the confines of the castle he was just the Emperor’s bratty nephew.
He liked being respected. It was a decent substitute for being liked. It felt like an eternity ago that Hunter accepted that being liked just might not be in the cards for him. So, he hadn’t preoccupied himself with ever wanting it.
But then yesterday happened...
And today....
Maybe...maybe....
RULERZREACHF4N: you. dont havE school *,on th e weekends right?
RULERZREACHF4N: wh at are. you doing tODay?
Typing on his scroll was difficult to begin with, but typing on his scroll while peering through the slits of his mask and manoeuvring his way down a busy street path ought to be considered an extreme sport.
Hello_willow: I’m thinking that I might take it easy. The weather’s really nice so maybe I’ll just work on my garden! 🌱🌷🌻🌺🍄🐝
Hello_willow: Maybe later I’ll take a nap lol
An hour of Hunter’s patrol had passed and it seemed like he and Willow had managed to speak of everything and nothing. And they were still at it, turning over rocks in the depths of the everything and nothing and finding more topics to bounce back and forth.
There was this dingy outdoor eatery situated in the heart of the marketplace, where miscreants were known to slink around and conspire. Hunter usually hung around to confer with the waitress, Margie, who was always willing to share the information she had eavesdropped on, so long as she was paid suitably.
Today, she seemed angry with him for reasons that Hunter could not begin to figure out.
“Can you roll up that damn scroll already?! I swear, you ain’t payin’ a lick of attention.”
“I’m listening,” Hunter grumbled, irritated. It was hard to type when there was a lady blathering nonsense in your ear. “Snake oil saleswitches running amuck. What else is new?”
“Not snake oil, boy! Lizard oil. Them witches out there dealin’ psychedelics,”
“Psychedelics,” repeated Hunter automatically, though he did not mentally process the word. Willow was currently telling anecdotes about her palisman, Clover’s antics while drunk on pollen. “Wow. Yeah. Those scoundrels. I’ll be sure to do something about that.”
“You gonna try and smuggle some of that lizard oil for yourself?”
“Yeah, I will. I said I’ll handle it, didn’t I?”
Margie scoffed. “Knew you weren’t listenin’.”
Hello_willow: Hey Caleb? Are you alone right now?
Hunter quirked an eyebrow, intrigued. He assumed that Willow intended to share something confidential, and she wouldn’t appreciate a nosey Coven Head hovering over his shoulder and reading her secrets.
And so, okay, he was out in public, in the middle of a crowded space, with Margie standing right next to him, but now his curiosity was piqued. If he just drew his scroll close to his chest where nobody could see, it would be fine.
RULERZREACHF4N: yeah., ,
He acknowledged the squeak squeak of Margie aggressively polishing a nearby table, muttering about kids these days.
Hunter vaguely wondered what kid had gone and pissed her off so much, but most of his attention was locked on his screen, which was noticeably void of the Hello_willow is typing signal that had, since this morning, become a comfort.
Three seconds.
Four seconds.
Five seconds.
Six sec—
His scroll suddenly exploded in a burst of red.
Hunter screeched, dropping the device as he landed in a startled heap on the ground, scrabbling away from the object of commotion. He gazed up with stunned horror as sparkling streaks of light blasted into the air, erupting with a poof, poof, poof. It wasn’t just red but white and various shades of pinks.
And gold. Glittering gold.
Hearts. Dozens and dozens of magical heart shapes crackling above his head.
And, what felt like the entirety of the Boiling Isles was here to witness it.
Thankfully nobody could see the dropped jaw under his mask, nor the blotchy heat that pooled across his face. A part of him suddenly itched to throw back his hood, as he felt the pointed tips of his ears would singe the fabric.
Oh, yeah, but he was still crumpled up on the ground, heaving with shock and looking like a real idiot. He quickly climbed to his feet, snatching up his scroll as he did so. It had thankfully stopped shooting out fireworks, but the hearts had not yet faded away. They hung there like neon lights, directing every eye in the vicinity to the mortified boy in the Golden Guard uniform, holding himself even straighter than usual in order to cling to whatever semblance of dignity he had left.
There were mutters and whispers and even exclamations that Hunter could not tune out if he tried.
“Whoever they are, they managed to bag a real loudmouth but the highest ranking coven official on the Boiling Isles so...you win some, you lose some, I guess.”
“They fancy him an awful lot if they’re sending him lovegrams. Guess they’re into bratty and annoying.”
“D’aww, but look at him! You can tell he’s embarrassed by the way he’s standing. You know, sometimes I forget that he’s only a witchling.”
“Sweet mother of Titans, Lenora! See, this is why you’re so easily fooled by the Emperor’s propaganda. The second you find out he has a sweetheart, you’re cooing over the Golden Guard of all people. Get it together, witch!”
The word ‘Sweetheart’ sent a streak of fire up his neck. Because....no! No, that wasn’t...he didn’t....
Clearing his throat, Hunter turned his mask in their direction and their gazes predictably drifted the other way, pretending they hadn’t been gawking at him. He plucked up a little more confidence, tilted his chin up and made to stride away, only to collide with Margie, who was glowering at him.
“What?!” Hunter demanded.
“I’ve been on more dates this year than all the years you been alive and I can’t get one of ‘em to text me back,” she said, now looking more exhausted than angry. “And now I’m seeing that you got somebody? This world ain’t fair, Golden Guard.”
When Hunter opened his mouth to deny these baseless(?) accusations, all that came out was an “A--” and he stopped short, floundered silently before stammering out, “I—I should go.”
“Yeah, you should. You shouldn’t be doin’ this job in the first place. Go out there and be a dumb teenager like you’re s’posed to be.”
Margie bid him farewell with a slap of her dish towel against his upper arm and Hunter nodded curtly, stepping out from under the halo of hearts still glowing faintly, like a joke that refused to die.
Once he had broken away from the gathering of patrons around the little eatery tables, he had to process all the other witches lingering by the nearby stalls that had been given front row seats to the impromptu fireworks display.
Fantastic.
Hunter was no stranger to being embarrassed. He was born an embarrassment after all....
He was currently decked out as the Golden Guard so he flat out refused to let the boy underneath the mask usurp his current persona. He was cool, he was collected, he was doing awesome.
But then his eyes snagged on something so startling that his heavy booted footsteps halted and his stomach jumped to his throat so abruptly that Hunter almost threw up.
She was standing a distance away, both thumbs still locked over the screen of the scroll pressed against her chest. Hunter predicted she had frozen in place once she set off the explosion, stunned to see the impact of her work right in the middle of town. Her wide eyes fluttered in disbelief, her bottom lip slightly agape.
Of course she had to be here to witness this. Of course.
She mouthed something in astonishment and though Hunter couldn’t hear, he knew the word. He observed how her tongue touched the roof of her mouth and soft pop of her lips.
Caleb?