Chapter Text
“The emperor was not a merciful man”, a sentence said by hunter himself in order to intimidate his (former)enemies, was true. There were many things hunter lied about to accomplish his goals, that included lying to himself.
at the time, he never wanted to admit that belos,the emperor, the one who comforted him and saved him, was wrong.
Oh, the scars? The times he starved in his room? The palisman kept captive in case his “curse” acts up again? Well, that’s all just necessary for the greater good of the boiling isles! Surely he can’t be wrong? Surely, the man hunter spent his whole life following, admiring, serving, isn’t the monster everyone makes him out to be. No, it just isn’t possible, all lies and slander.
No matter what hunter thought, no matter how hard he denied the emperor’s wrongdoings, nothing could have shattered him more then finding out you are a clone, a creature made from spare parts, just another golden guard to be thrown down with the others. The feeling of pride, that his uniform and mask brought him, was gone. Disintegrated, as horror he has never felt before replaced it.
How many have died? How many of them have been killed? The sigil on his arm,was he supposed to be the last grimwalker? Was that the reason he was forgiven for his mistakes? How close was he to his demise every time he made a mistake? Was there any going back after this?.. no, the Emperor saw him, he knew that hunter saw everything. He knew. Hunter had no purpose now
“Please, be careful. Our family is gone because of wild magic. I can't let the same happen to you. Find me more Palismen. I can depend on you, right?”
There was no family, there was no titans will. There were just lies that his life was built on.
“Everyone has a use, Hunter. Kikimora has her intricate little plans, the scouts carry out orders, and you... well, the Titan has big plans for you, and it would such a HASSLE to find a REPLACEMENT.”
The titan had no will and it had no plans for him, for he was an expandable piece. Like a simple pawn in a game of chess. He was a made up, fantasy creature told to frighten kids.
He was a creature made from Caleb’s bones and molded in the image of Philip. Not a separate person, but something akin to a mirror.
“What a shame. Out of all the grimwalkers, you looked the most like him.”
Like him. The ortet. Caleb wittebane. Murdered by his own brother. One who’s bones were dug up. A witch hunter who fell in love with a witch.
“Hunter, why are you hurting me? I only wanted to help you!”
I only wanted to help you.
“I say, "The Titan has big plans for you," and he does what he's told. Unlike the previous attempts.”
One sentence was apparently all it took for him to do what he’s told. Like a trained guard dog. Subservience was etched into his stolen bones. Unlike the previous attempts. Every single grimwalker before him perished, some for treason, some for making a mistake.
Why was he the one who survived?
Why did he have to go through this?
Why was he the one to bear the burden?
Like Atlas holding up the sky, he’s forced to bear the weight of his actions, the things he had done to people, being one of the few people knowing about the shattered bones and masks hidden away from wandering eyes. The weight is heavy and he’s tired. One day he will succumb, but until then, he is condemned. For his actions, he feels he deserves worse, but there’s no denying the relief that comes with knowing that you’ll live. Maybe a peaceful life, full of happy memories, friendship and a future you never thought you’d live to see before.
No matter what he does, no amount of peacetime will soften him. His time in the human realm was one of anxious thoughts and wary looks. He avoided Camila’s anger, he avoided her in general,he most of the time, unintentionally slipped back into his ‘golden guard’ tendencies. Standing at attention, back ramrod straight, ready to spring into action(Even if that action was help wash the dishes). Camila, having been overwhelmed with so many children on her shoulders, oh so many responsibilities, so much to do, so many things to account for, had no time to “bond” with him, other than helping him with his sewing.
Over time, he started to relax a bit, no longer distancing himself, it wasn’t much, but it was honest work. Cut him some slack, alright? He was a soldier for so long.
at the time, he wished he had died, if he had simply been dead and unable to go to the human realm, maybe things would have turned out better.
The feeling of watching your body, turn and twist, grow horns and become a monster like the one you called your family, is definitely an experience. The cherry on top, was his first friend’s death. The guilt and sadness he feels for his friend eats him from the inside, his stone heart feeling more like a boulder. It feels like he will never stop missing flapjack, though he knows that maybe one day, it will get better.
But for now, he opens his eyes, and instead of seeing the ceiling of his room at the castle, he sees the glowing stars he helped put up with luz on the ceiling.