Villainous Thing | The Golden Guard | The Owl House

And We Can't Have You Living A Lie

I feel like I don't know how Wattpad works anymore 😭 but if ur reading thank you <333
_______

Hunter urges Rascal to land about a mile away from the palace.

He's unwilling to get any closer while he's riding Rascal, not when it's possible they could be spotted if they were to fly too close to the castle. Hunter only hopes he was far enough into the tree line that he wasn't seen escaping on Rascal yesterday.

Rascal isn't happy, tweeting in annoyance when Hunter hops off. They chirp at him indignantly, pecking lightly at his fingers when he tries to pet them. Eventually, they calm down, hastily burying their feathered head into his chest despite their anger.

"I'll come see you again soon, I promise." He tells them, his fingers trailing down their back in what he hopes is as soothing to them as it is to him.

They titter unhappily, but they seem to believe him as they hesitantly take back towards the sky, leaving Hunter with the hilt of his staff. They didn't have to leave him a piece of them, their hilt, but Hunter doesn't question it. Strangely, it's comforting.

He breathes out heavily and begins the trek back to the castle.

_______

By the time Hunter reaches the palace entrance, his side is aching fiercely and the sky is pitch black even with the rise of the moon. He can practically feel how loose his stitches are, the trickles of blood that join the already stained fabric of his shirt.

Unbidden, he imagines the scolding Eda would have given him should she find out that he ruined her hard work. The thought isn't as frightening as it would have been had he been thinking of Belos.

Hunter doesn't know what to think of that, so he doesn't think about it.

He pushes the doors open, ignoring the stares of passing guards, and instead focuses on the thought of his bed and medkit, the relief of finally being in his own bedroom again.

Making it up the stairs is a hell of its own, but it's not long before he makes it to his private quarters. He stops himself from audibly sighing in relief when his door comes into view, but the euphoria is short lived.

His door is cracked open.

That in itself typically wouldn't inspire panic, but Hunter never leaves his door open. He locks it every morning and every night, every time he leaves, every time he enters. The thought of someone being in his safe space, his tiny sanctuary, makes his skin crawl and his stomach roil.

His steps speed up even if they strain his injuries even more, and he shoves his door open, the hilt of his staff held out in front of him as if it could possibly protect him.

He stops in his tracks, his heart choking him as his eyes take in his room.

It's been completely destroyed.

His mattress is overturned, the bed frame in splinters and his bed clothes torn to scraps. His bookshelves have been shoved over, barren of all his tombs and books and scrolls. His plushies lay ripped to shreds on the ground, devoid of stuffing. His drawers have been pulled out, every little knick-knack he owns strewn across the floor along with his meager amount of clothes.

His medkit is flipped on its side by his door, cream squished out of their tubes, bandages rolled out and potion bottles cracked.

The only thing still completely intact is his staff, the one Belos had given him, laid still at his feet. It feels like a sick joke, somehow.

The wooden hilt of his staff slips out of his grasp, clattering loudly to the floor. The noise rattles in his ears, deafened by the ringing that feels like it's filling his head. It becomes lost in the wreckage that has become Hunter's sanctuary.