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Hunter was a little messed up.
He knew this. His friends knew it, his family, his wife — everyone did.
Case in point: when Hunter was still the Golden Guard, he’d had dreams of the Titan.
Every night he managed to find time to sleep, he was haunted by visions of this daunting being, standing before a vision of life and death itself, staring down at him from high above in this strange in-between space.
And then, he’d sink.
He would sink into some infinite depth, and everything there ever was would flash before him, and his lungs would fill with dirt, and he would awake.
He knew it obviously wasn’t real (or at least hoped not, as those dreams usually ended pretty terribly before he was startled awake), but they were frequent. Frequent enough that he’d once brought them up to Belos, who had swiftly dismissed him.
Hunter had figured that maybe it was some divine omen (though, why a divine omen would portend his doom so often, he had no idea) — after all, as the Golden Guard, he’d been told all his life that the Titan had big, important plans for him.
What a clever lie it had been.
Looking back, maybe it truly was a warning. The fate that befell every single one of the Golden Guards before him, and the Titan trying to help him escape.
After he left the castle for good, the dreams slowly began to fade. Sometime after they had saved the Boiling Isles, they had ceased altogether. He never expected to get them again.
Until one night, years later, long after Luz had informed them that the Titan was well and truly gone.
Hunter was sinking.
It didn’t normally begin like this, but here he was, sinking into oblivion.
The expanse before him was like a void, and it felt all too familiar. He began to panic.
No. No no no no no.
He didn’t dare turn around. He feared what he would see.
The Titan is dead. It’s dead. Everything’s okay. This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t—
“Son of Ortet.”
Hunter froze. He’d never understood that name until he left the castle. It haunted his thoughts.
“It all ends the same.”
Against his better judgment, or maybe against his will entirely, Hunter turned around.
The visage of a creature long dead gazed into the depths of his being with ghastly blue eyes, and suddenly Hunter was spiraling into the hands of fate.
He felt gloved hands clawing at him, dragging him down, further and further into the memories of every single Golden Guard before him. He felt a jacket sleeve in his hand, holding on desperately as he tried to pull himself up.
Gold. Gold. Gold. A dark, golden void, threatening to swallow him whole.
And amidst it all, he saw the Titan. A blue that rivaled the undead stared back at him, and he was reminded of everything he’d ever lost, everything he’d ever been, everything he ever could have done and didn’t.
A familiar chirp echoed throughout the space.
It was quickly silenced by a sickening crack.
“What a shame.”
Despite it having been a full year since they got married, Hunter still wasn’t entirely used to sleeping beside another person.
This became evident when he shot up from under the sheets, flailing to remove any obstructions to his movement, which inevitably awoke Willow with a smack to the face.
Hunter would have noticed with guilt if he wasn’t so busy trying to get air, taking in desperate lungfuls of breath with a wheezing sound that drowned out everything but the vicious pounding of his galdorstone heart.
A light touch against his arm almost sent him rocketing off the mattress before he comprehended that it was the reassuring presence of the love of his life, Willow Park.
“Hunter,” she whispered, her soft voice cutting through his aching heartbeat. “It’s me, Willow. I’m here. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
He wanted to reply, he really did, but he could only stare, taking the whole of her in. She was like light, he thought — like harvest moonlight that revealed the stars and calmed the mind to sleep.
It usually worked like a charm, in fact. But as of right now, it only served to recall every time he ever could have lost that precious light, and the one time he almost did.
“Oh, honeybee, what’s wrong?” Willow’s face was so concerned, and Hunter belatedly realized he’d begun to cry. Big, fat tears that rolled down his cheeks like drops of rainfall. Such tears were normally of the joyous variety, and Willow had once teased him that they reminded her of the characters from those Ghibli movies they so adored, all while she had gently wiped them away.
She was always so gentle. So loving.
He didn’t deserve her, and yet here she was, opening her arms up to him, and he was helpless to do anything but bury himself away in her embrace.
Sobbing into her shoulder, Hunter felt Willow’s soft fingertips gingerly carding through his hair, her other arm wrapped around his torso and holding him comfortably close. Her cheek rested against his head, and she rocked slightly back and forth in a soothing manner.
As childish as it was, it helped. He’d never truly known just how wonderful touch could be until he’d finally been touched in a loving manner. Nowadays, he found himself melting into his friends’ sides on the couch as they watched movies, sinking deep into hugs as if he’d float away, clinging tightly to Willow’s hand while they were out walking as if she were the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.
In this moment, it felt like exactly that.
“A-are you okay?” He managed to choke out. “You’re okay? You’re safe?”
“I’m safe, Hunter.” She said it with understanding, which Hunter appreciated, given that he probably sounded insane right now. “I promise. We’re both safe.”
His gaze wandered about the room, desperately searching for signs of danger, a shadow twitching in the corner, ghostly blue eyes, sludge dripping from the ceiling—
“Son of Ortet.” The words echoed in his head, and he would swear upon the Isles that he could hear it echo within the room.
He clung to Willow tighter and shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Hunter,” Willow began, gently rubbing her hand over his spine with a soothing rhythm. “Do you know where you are right now?”
He took a breath, and another, too quick, too quick. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding against his ribs.
“I— I-I can’t—”
“Take your time, honeybee. You’re okay. You’re safe.”
A chirp came from the windowsill. Devastatingly familiar, but entirely different.
Not quite like Flapjack’s mellow birdsong, but rather endearingly screechy, in a way that didn’t hurt his ears.
Managing to look over Willow’s shoulder at the window, he saw their palismen snuggled together on the handsewn cushion he’d made for them. Clover looked on, her wings twitching in worry. Waffles was beside her, and Hunter realized she must have awoken from the spike of emotion radiating from her creator.
They were okay. Safe.
“I’m… I-I’m in my room.” The words came out quietly, but Willow acknowledged them with a small squeeze.
“I’m in… our room,” he corrected, catching sight of his bedside table. Upon it was a copy of the third book in the Cosmic Frontier series, halfway finished with a tattered bookmark in the middle, sticky notes in a variety of colors poking out from nearly every other page. Beside the book were his reading glasses, red and rectangular— the color reminded him of his beloved first palisman, and Willow had expressed her love for the way the frames looked on him.
Willow.
The glasses were leaning against a photo frame — a picture from Hunter and Willow’s wedding.
He remembered the day so well. They’d held it at the entrance to the palistrom forest, near the palisman shop, where the very first palistrom tree had been planted after the end of Belos’ reign. They’d invited all of their family and friends, but it remained a small ceremony. Given Hunter’s history of being the Golden Guard, they wanted to ensure the event was low-key enough to keep unwanted press off their backs. Thanks to the combined efforts of Darius and Amity, both abomination extraordinaires, security had been no issue.
The photo depicted the two of them dancing at the reception. Despite the night sky in the background, their smiles had lit up everything around them. Framed by floating light spells and wisteria hanging from the terrace, grown by Mrs. Park herself, the two of them had pressed their foreheads together as Willow lifted him off his feet. Both of them were laughing with joy, unaware of Gus stealing Willow’s polaroid camera, which flashed to capture the moment.
It was easily the happiest moment of Hunter’s entire life. The day he’d promised to love and protect and support the witch he adored until the end of time. The day that she, gloriously, had promised to do the same.
The happy memories were slowly bringing him back to reality, and while he could still swear upon the whispering presence of a long dead god watching him, he began to regain control of his limbs, which he realized were still clinging desperately to Willow’s t-shirt as if she’d bolt at any moment. He relaxed his hold a bit before taking in a deep, shuddering breath.
“You’re okay, Hunter. You’re safe. We’re all safe at home, and I’m here with you.” Willow’s hand left his hair and instead reached down to tangle her fingers with his. “Everything’s okay. I promise.”
Much calmer now, Hunter lifted his face from Willow’s shoulder and looked her in the eyes. He was prone to staring off into space quite often, something all of his loved ones noticed, and didn’t take offense to. There was always just so much on his mind, he could hardly keep up. The most frequent of these occurrences, however, took place when he looked into the mesmerizing olive gaze of his wife.
Her eyes were nothing like the cold, dooming leer of his nightmare. Hers were soft, and lovely. So loving. They were the color of life itself, and in them he had long ago found his. Sometimes he wondered if he could ever hope to inspire the kind of strength in others that she instilled in him by simply existing.
She… she almost…
Hunter glanced down at Willow’s hand holding his, bearing the wedding ring he’d carved for her the year before they were married. It was formed from Human Realm oak wood, with flowers carved into the band and an emerald center set into the bloom. He still couldn’t believe he’d ever found the courage to propose, but every day that passed seeing her with that ring on her finger, matching the one on his, knowing it symbolized their devotion to each other — that she’d chosen to devote willingly — that made all the waiting worth it.
But…
“W-Willow… why…”
She looked at him patiently, all moonlight and tender care.
He met those eyes with a pained whisper. “Why did you agree to marry me?”
Silence. Willow blinked.
For a moment, she looked so startled that he wondered if she would even respond.
But then, she did, quiet and confused. “Oh, Hunter… why would you ask that?”
“I…” His breathing was picking back up again, and he was hardly aware of the panic beginning to consume him again. The fear, the fates, that golden void.
“I’m a copy.” He heaved a breath, tightening his grip on her hand.
She reached out to him with her free hand. “Hunter—”
“I know, I know I— I’m my own person. I know that. But — but bad things have always followed me. I-I’m a copy of a doomed man. First Caleb, then the other Golden Guards…” He felt a sob clawing its way up his throat. “I was supposed to end up like them, but I-I made it out.”
“You did. You made it out, Hunter, and you’re safe.” Willow tried to assure him, running her hand over his arm.
“But what if something bad happens again?!” He hadn’t meant to shout, but it was just spilling out of him now. “W-what if— what if there’s something worse than the Archivists? What if someone like Belos comes along and tries to trick everyone again? What if— what if some old enemy of mine decides to finish the job? What if Belos—”
“Hunter.”
Willow’s firm tone shut him up on the spot, and he finally saw her there again, staring intently at him with a watery gaze.
She had tears in her eyes, too. Had he made her cry?
“I… I-I’m sorry,” he said. “I just… I can’t— I can’t lose you. I don’t want to lose this. You, or anyone, or… or anything, ever again. I don’t know what I’d do…”
He reached to wipe Willow’s tears away before she stopped him, catching his hand with hers, holding both of his tightly in her assuring grip.
“I know you’re scared.” She said it as fact, and he didn’t deny it as she kept going. “I know that with everything we’ve been through — especially you — it’s hard to trust that things will be okay.”
He nodded, hanging onto every word, soaking in her moonlight like a lifeline.
“I can’t say for certain what will happen in the future.” She chuckled a bit to herself and shrugged. “I’m not an oracle!”
Despite himself, Hunter lightly laughed at the quip.
Willow continued, her tone sincere. “But what I do know is this; no matter what happens — whatever comes our way, whatever threatens us, whatever or whoever dares to try and hurt us — we’ll face it together.”
She beamed at him, holding up their intertwined grips, drawing attention to their wedding rings.
“After all, we made a promise to each other, didn’t we? To love and protect each other, just as we are.” She reached to replace her palm against his cheek, lovingly caressing his scar. “Through supernovas and solar winds.”
She placed a kiss against the larger of his scars, lingering and meaningful. “Trust me, sunshine. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”
Hunter couldn’t stifle a tear-filled laugh, desperately pulling Willow into him and tightening his arms around her in a loving embrace — one she gladly returned.
“I love you.” He nearly shouted the words, as if he couldn’t fill them with quite enough meaning to truly convey his adoration for his wife.
“I love you too.” Willow spoke it in a whisper, yet it was still nothing but reverent. Of course she could make magic bloom from words. “I’m here for you. We’ll be okay.”
Despite himself, in the arms of his beloved, he could believe that.