Chapter Text
Everyone's eyes, young or old, had seen the horrors of every kind of creature from the death announcements in the daily paper. Savage, disgusting, filthy freaks who terrorized the children in their sleep. Every day, the streets of the country, yes, COUNTRY were filled with cursed chants and citizen's vocal cords turning raw by screaming at a god that wasn't listening. But while the townspeople were wrapped around trying to solve the creature growth conspiracies, Ralph was trying to get through the day without his ears getting filled with family business nonsense.
Both of his parents died when he was a baby. Ralph never knew them personally, only that his father was a (specifically) vampire hunter and hated it. Who COULD love being a creature hunter? Unless you were a sadistic power-drunk like his uncle, or a miserable shop-keeper with a missing eye, or a strong powerful deity who kept its ears plugged to the cries of civilians. His mom used to tell every single person in the castle about how traumatized his poor husband was from being forced to murder “poor innocent” mammals. Nobody listened to her. They all thought she was crazy. Ralph knew vampires deserved to die someway. All brutes and critters died eventually. They couldn't find peace anytime soon. Then why did the pit in his stomach say it was wrong to end their misery early?
Ralph's uncle, Wallas, who had been named the Noble Man, has married a slim duchess, who had a spoiled daughter by the name of “Margaret”. The warmish-purple haired girl (who always wore her hair tied up high) was mean and crude and didn't like Ralph at all. She reminded him too much of his uncle, who bought back other's trust with gifts and jewels instead of hugs and apologies. But his uncle never liked admitting he was wrong, if you ever told him to, he'd yell and scream and make you regret you ever said anything. Over the span of the years, it became hard to not laugh at. He never PHYSICALLY hurt Ralph of course, but words spoke louder than actions. That's why Margaret and Ralph despised each other. He wanted out of this hell, and he was going to escape one way or another.
It's not like Ralph was living a bad life. Others had it worse with diseases nagging on everyone's metaphorical tail. His uncle had been known for hunting and brutally killing creatures ranging from huge snakes to Cerberus’s to vampires, whatever small and useless he could get his hands on. It sickened Ralph to think that millions cheered him on for that.
He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about how one day, he'll be that husband who's wife weeps for him and calls schizo. He didn't want to think about how one day, he'll be thrusted into the hunting business and standing in front of a mammal, begging for their life. This town held back and forth grudges for years on end, and he didn't want to think about the townspeople. He didn't want to think at ALL.
He wasn't even supposed to be wearing these forbidden clothes. A loose white button-up and cherry red vest with buttons so shiny you could mistake it for a water drop looked a bit tight on Ralph's frame. It wasn't super fancy, but he did look…. important. He was only 16, but his growth spurt hadn't been kind to him. He patted down his hair multiple times in the mirror, before succumbing to the oily hair gel his step-aunt provided. He had a long day of being dragged around in dirt, learning stupid bits and bobs that’d help him for extremely cruel reasons, but it felt weird, enjoying wearing his party clothes on a very casual gross day. His dark beige baggy pants were a huge contrast. Suddenly, the door swung open, making Ralph visibly flinch. Only one man didn't understand the concept of privacy.
“RALPHAEL!” The old man called out, his voice was grainy and he was already prepared for his teachings. His uncle. Ralph turned around, covering the vest he was wearing with his jittery arms.
“Uncle, it's RALPH. Ralphael sounds complicated.” He sighed, unbuttoning his vest, only leaving his button-up worn on his torso. His uncle rolled his eyes in response. “Yeah yeah, like it hasn't been a trophied, looked-up name for generations. Who are you wearing that for? You really think a lady is going to lay with a pale stick like you?” He obnoxiously laughed into the bedroom air. Yep, this was his way of joking with youngins. Ralph’s twisted into a mix of fury and embarrassment. “I was just wearing it…I like wearing it.” He muttered, patting down his bed. His uncle only laughed harder, then calmed down.
“HAH! Ral-ral, what pole snuck up your ass this morning? It was a gag!” Uncle Wallas let out a long breath and slapped Ralph across the back playfully, Ralph let out a short scream and collapsed on the bed. He HATED when his uncle did that. It hurt and left a light-pink bruise for weeks. But he had to suck it up, or he would yell again. His uncle was terrifying when he yelled, and Ralph prayed he'd be able to yell back twice as powerful.
Ralph fought back tears as he rolled to face the old gruff in front of him. “You better be ready in 10, we're learning about where snakes' weak parts are! Margaret is staying here again, because you know a woman’s place isn’t in churned mud!” He announced. “Yes, I know, it's at home, staying delicate and on display.” Those words felt like eating vomit to him. “Atta boy. You'll eat breakfast in an hour, when we get back!” His uncle grinned at him genuinely before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. “Yeah, I know.”
The room was tinted with the colour of dark honey. Ralph winced loudly, his spine now aching. If the old man kept that up, he'd go into surgery for the next decades of his life! Ralph hated that Margaret complained so much about staying home and doing nothing but chores. She might have been looked down upon, but at least she wasn't learning about mammal guts in excruciating detail at 8 in the morning. He forced himself to change into “lazy” clothes as he called them, and he splashed his face with cold water.
The weather was so hot outside it felt like you could cook up a dinner right out on the steps, so he had to look out for heat strokes. He hated how he was so organized with everything, according to everyone around him, boys his age were supposed to be ruthless and breast-hungry. What was wrong with him, exactly? Ralph followed the rules, learned never to talk back unless he wanted a threat and a night of sobbing, and he lived day to day by a strict routine. Why did people want him to be bad in a good way?
His brain scrambled as he slipped out his room, trying to not bump the staff that was hurdled around and sweeping the floors. He didn't even bother to acknowledge Margaret, who was complaining once again about how much her feet hurt from sweeping the floors. Brat. He was living in a family of total brats. This was why Ralph was as sour as a lemon some days, there wasn't anything to be nice about with his step-cousin around. The tired brunette rolled his eyes and ran behind his uncle, afraid of being left behind.
“Why at 8 in the morning?” He rudely interrupted his uncle's whistling, he asked daily even though he already knew the answer. “Early lesson beauty is pain, Ral!” He scruffled his neat hair. It annoyed Ralph more than anything when his uncle described something painful as “beautiful”. He always had to use it in dehumanizing ways. Just get through the hour, Ralph thought desperately to himself as they exited the large house with nothing but the already forming sweat of their backs.
As they traveled through the woods, Ralph was grateful nobody ever caught them having these lessons. There were a few times when the townspeople came here to fetch water, but they didn't dare express their opinion because his uncle was well known, and they just gave us a warm smile. It was so embarrassing and he would have rather drowned upside down then experienced that again. But even in the very damp depths of the forests, he could feel burning eyes on him. Like someone or someTHING was watching him, eyeing him like possible dinner. Wallas must have noticed Ralph trembling, because he smacked Ralph's back again, which made him wince and crumble his face in pain. “Stop that!!!”
“HAH, sorry champ! But you were looking like a scared mouse! No worries Sonny, ain't nothing gonna hurt you out here. There ain't nothing out here for months!” Ralph swallowed down the lump of words in his throat, his uncle's words didn't help. He still felt like something’s eyes were watching him. Like a CREATURE’S eyes.
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The lesson wasn't all that bad, but it was still strange. There were no actual guts (which made Ralph almost jump for joy), but he did have to sit through an entire 60 minutes of his old man beating up a mossy branched stick with his large blade, made to represent a hydra-snake, and shouting out instructions on how to get rid of them quickly. First, he had to cut off the hydra’s head, like Hercules, and then burn the stump. Ralph wasn't really paying attention, but he was darn good at pretending he was. He just dipped into his imagination for some of the gross parts. It's not like he would actually need this, like his uncle said, there hadn't been a creature sighting in months. Then why did he feel stalked?
It was 9:00 when they got back, Ralph embraced the cool air that had somehow spawned in the house and he pranced to his room, ignoring all the staff trying to greet him. His uncle sighed behind him, but he could care less. At least he was back home. When he flopped onto his bed, he realized something terrifying. He WAS pretty skinny. He did have some meat on his bones, but other than that …He shook his head to get rid of his thoughts. No, it was just the old gruff being mean again. There wasn't anything wrong with him. Right? Yeah, there wasn't anything wrong. He just needed to eat more. That's all. He changed out of his sweat-filled tank top and into a comfy but modest shirt and went to breakfast.
One day, Ralph thought. One day he would prove to his uncle Wallas and Margaret and everyone who ever wronged him under breaths behind his back that he was strong. Maybe, by carefully traveling to the woods and looking for creatures to bring back to the house, without him or anyone hurting them of course. He wasn't a monster, but he WOULD be a hero and prove that the creatures weren't dangerous (somehow) and the old gruff wouldn't bother him OR them anymore! It was a brilliant delusion to a 16 year old, even if it sounded absurd. But even in his validation-hungry daze, Ralph had to think back twice.
It's not like it would ever happen anyway, maybe he was just crazy, like his mother had been. He poured some scrambled eggs onto his plate and sat at the table, glaring at his uncle and his wife, laughing and chatting while he was sitting in his own sweat, his stomach twisting despite the delicacy in front of him. He thought about it, capturing a creature without hurting it. How would it work anyway? He didn't want to go too far into it. Besides, it couldn't POSSIBLY happen with the path he was set on by everyone around him and his old man and the people of the country being obsessed with taking down any critter in sight.
Little did he know this fantasy would impact his life in the greatest but wildest way possible.