Forty Years of This [Monster Hunter World]

Chapter 47

Both the Quartermaster and the Huntsman came to confront the Commander with how openly he showed his affection.

"████," the Quartermaster began first. "The best thing about coming here is that no one knew who I was related to. No one knew anything about my family until I told you. You remain the only person here who knows, or at least the only person I've told. Because of that, I was never judged for who I was once tied to."

"Commander, if you keep showering your grandson with sickeningly sweet dopey looks and fiercely proud smiles, everyone is going to know who he is. He won't ever be allowed to be his own person. He'll only ever be the Commander's Grandson."

No sooner had the two said this than the boy himself appeared in the door of the Commander's quarters.

"Grandpa!" He looked frightened. Frustrated.

"What's wrong?" The Commander stood from the breakfast table.

"Stop doting on me!" The boy's brow had furrowed in the same way his grandfather's so often did. "I need to prove myself before the other hunters figure it out. My teammates already did, and I don't want--"

The Quartermaster looked smug, the Huntsman shook his head, and the Commander looked caught between disappointment and pride.

"Alright." His eyes seemed to droop more than ever. "I'll lay off... but you're asking a lot of me."

"No he's not," the Quartermaster snapped. "Don't guilt the boy like that."

"I was teasing him, ████████." The Commander drew his lips into a thin line. The Quartermaster had gotten snippier since their daughter announced her intent to leave the New World. There was something going on with him that he wouldn't share, and the Commander felt a rift growing between them.

The days went on like this, with the Quartermaster snippier and colder and their grandson plowing ahead. Despite the Fourth having brought another quartermaster (who even got along with the First Quartermaster), the Quartermaster rarely had time to spend on leisure. There were fewer quiet moments outside of their mornings, and the Commander had had enough.

"████████." He called the man's name as he entered the store house.

"In the back. With the dried herbs."

He found him where he said he'd be, then he took the Quartermaster by the wrist and turned him to face him.

"We need to talk." The Commander's face and voice were grave, but the Quartermaster looked forlornly at his work instead. "I'm not doing this. I'm not letting you grow cold and drift away because you won't tell me what's wrong. Our entire relationship is based on this open communication, but you're closed off."

"Commander, now is not the time. With the Fourth Fleet--"

"Then I'm ordering you, as your Commander, to take the time. Now."

A thin frustrated smile spread over the Quartermaster's lips. "As Quartermaster, I can veto you."

"We're not on a ship. Those rules don't apply here." The moment of levity passed as quickly as it came, and the Commander's shoulders fell. "I love you, but I cannot read you. I know you're hurting, but you won't tell me how or why, and it's hurting me. Each time you snap at something, each roll of your eyes..."

The Quartermaster's face fell. "I'm sorry." His shoulders sunk, and he scanned the room before dropping to a whisper. "Not now. Not here, but I will tell you." He bent down to press a kiss to the Commander's cheek before turning back to his work.

That night they took dinner alone together. It would have been a romantic dinner were it not for the melancholic overtones of a looming confession. When they were alone, the Quartermaster held out his hand for the Commander to take. His long, thin, white hand looked surreal in the Commander's.

"It's our daughter," the Quartermaster said sorrowfully. "I began to mourn her the day she said she wanted to leave, and I can't seem to stop. I know she's alive, and I know you were her real father while I was her father's boyfriend for most of her childhood, but... She's still my daughter too."

"████████..." The Commander ran his thumb over the Quartermaster's knuckles. "That's not something you're bearing alone. I'm with you in this."

"There's more." The Quartermaster closed his eyes. "There's my family. When ██ reaches the Old World, she will be surrounded by aunts and uncles she never knew outside of letters. She'll have her in-laws, she'll have your siblings, she'll have the Admiral's family, but she'll never have my family. I can't share them with her. I cannot even contact them-- they think I am dead, and if they didn't, then they would kill me. Or maybe not after forty years, but it's not something I can or would share with her. She doesn't even know what family I came from."

"You've already shared your family with her. Not the bloodties from the Old World, but your family here. Astera is your family, and you, me, and the rest of Astera adopted her."

"I know-- I know. My real family is here, but it still hurts... after all these years, it still hurts. I don't even know if my mother is still alive."

"There is one way to find out..." The Commander looked sulkily at the table. "You could return to the Old World and find out yourself. Just promise to come back."

"Return?" The Quartermaster looked horrified, but his expression began to soften. "I... I don't think that would make me any happier."

The conversation slowly shifted away, and as it did so the Quartermaster began to seem more like his old self. Stiff, unreadable, a bit cold, but no longer snappy or snide. The dinner did turn romantic, and by the next morning, both men were far happier than they had been.

The Quartermaster rolled over in the bed and slapped his hand on the Commander's chest. "In a month it's Little ████'s birthday. I think we should give him his mother's greatsword."

"Huh?" The Commander woke with a start. "Her what? That old crappy bone thing? She played with it a few times then tossed it aside to go back to the long sword."

"It's sentimental, Love. And the Forgemaster works wonders with weapons. He builds them with the intent to improve them. I'm sure he could fine tune it into a blade worthy even of the Huntsman given the time and materials. And it'll let the boy have his own weapon while knowing it was his mother's..."

"He doesn't really like knives, does he?" The Commander grinned knowing full well that while the Quartermaster wasn't really a hunter, he had favored the two blades. "We still have some pieces from my old blade, don't we?"

"Let's save those. It wouldn't do to put them in a weapon he might not like."

"Yeah. Alright. Unless I break my other leg..."