Villainous Thing | The Golden Guard | The Owl House

And I Don't Think Anyone Knows

When the sun begins to set, Hunter feels something heavy drop into his stomach with it.

His hands clench around the book he's holding, the pages straining beneath his fingers. It's one Luz had lent him, and she's been muttering to herself for a while now as she tries to copy down all of the things he had told her in exchange for it.

Hunter has never been able to talk about his books with another person before. The only thing that's ever really listened to him seemed to be Rascal, who was a bird and couldn't exactly give him a substantial response.

But Luz lets him talk, even when he accidentally goes off on a tangent, or when he gets too excited and moves his hands too much. She had listened to him, and she had even shared her own ideas, had let him read her books.

His uncle would have never let him breathe a full sentence before he would snap at him. Before he would hurt him—

He's going to have to return to the coven soon.

But he knows this. He's known this since the moment he woke up, or perhaps he knew it the moment he had stepped foot out of the castle. He'll always go crawling back, because he knows it's the only thing he's good for.

His tantrum as Belos would call it had gone on long enough. He knows Belos would only grow angrier if he ever found out exactly where he was. It's already bad enough he's gone a day without attending to his duties, that he isn't where Belos can easily call for him, without adding every other insurmountable disappointment and failure of Hunter's to the list.

And he knows who he is putting in danger by being here. Knows that Luz, Eda, and their home are at risk for housing him. Hunter has no idea what Belos would do should he know that he was here, surrounded by users of wild magic.

What he would do if he knew that Hunter liked it.

Because he does. He likes Luz and Eda and their weird talking bird tube and their literal demon pet.

All of his life, he's been taught that wild magic is dangerous. That it is uncontained, the wrong way to use magic. And yet, Hunter loves this house, even if it's full of all the things that Belos hates. And, somehow, Hunter feels more safe here than he ever has his whole life in the Emperor's coven.

Just a day here, and he's already so pathetically attached.

Because Rascal and Luz and Eda haven't hurt him. They haven't even tried to since he's arrived here.

He's their enemy, the right hand to the emperor, and yet they treat him as if he is just another kid that Luz has dragged home. Like an endearing stray.

And they haven't hurt him.

Hunter doesn't know what to make of it. He tries to snuff out the light that flickers in his chest, because Belos hadn't hurt him at first either. Maybe they're waiting for something, an opening to snap like the springs of a well thought out trap.

Maybe they want Hunter to mess up. To stumble so they can be there to hurt him when he does.

Hunter breathes in and tries to banish the thought. They had ample time to kill him throughout the night, time to hurt him even more if they had wanted to. Eda didn't have to heal him and make him breakfast, Luz didn't have to lend him her clothes.

Neither of them had to let him stay.

But the doubt still lingers, and it scares him. His uncle loves him and he still hurts him when he fails, when he's been a disappointment, when he speaks out of turn. Because Hunter's supposed to be better than hastily sewn together parts, more than some weak child who needs to be coddled.