This story takes place in a possible ending where Belos was beaten several months ago and Luz has stable access to the portal to visit the Boiling Isles while living with Camila and Vee. Hunter lives in the Owl House and is trying to live as a normal teen while attending Hexside.
Day 1 - Grom
Hunter stared defiantly at the slippery enemy he held grasped in his hands, one that had plagued men of all ages for generations and that threatened to overwhelm his patience, too. He looped the enemy around his neck and tried to use it properly, but even after an hour of trying, the results were the same skewed mess.
Why couldn't he get this stupid bowtie to work?!
Hunter gave a vexed hiss and threw the length of fabric at the wall of his small Owl House bedroom before stomping to his bed and laying back to ruminate, as he often did when he was stressed. He groaned and sat up to look at his reflection again, seriously considering just nixing a tie altogether.
Then his door knocked. "Hunter, you ready to go?" Luz asked from the other side.
"Uh, yeah," he sighed, standing and opening the door. He raised his eyebrows and felt just a little bit of brotherly pride at Luz's outfit. She was dressed in a high-necked lavender evening gown that reached her calves, offset by the charcoal blazer and steel-toed boots that it was covered by and covered, respectively. She wore light make-up administered by Camila and a black, thorn-patterned choker around her neck hung with a blood-red ruby. It was just like Luz: quirky, lovable, and quirkily lovable.
"No tie?" Luz asked. Granted, Hunter looked dashing enough in his honey-brown suit jacket and slacks, with a black undershirt and emerald cumberbund. A pair of brown gloves and leather loafers helped tie the look together — very college professor-style, which was perfect for a nerd like him — but without the tie it seemed a little … incomplete.
"Didn't feel like it," Hunter shrugged, going for nonchalant.
"Really?" Luz asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Or did it defeat you like so many others before you?"
"Shut up, Human," he groaned, moving past her to leave. But Luz's outstretched and surprisingly strong arm stopped him cold.
"Wait here," she said, moving into his room. Hunter grimaced and fought down an instinctive and irrational sense of wrongness at his little-sister-figure entering his room without him in it. He ran his fingers through his swept-back hair and groaned before she came back with his cursed bowtie in hand. "Hold still," she said, looping it around his neck and under his collar.
In a matter of moments, Luz had the bowtie knotted and as symmetrical as could be. She pursed her lips and smoothed the shoulders of Hunter's dress coat before humming in approval. "You clean up nice, Wittebane," Luz said.
"Damn right," Hunter smirked, adjusting the tie just a little bit. He sighed and scratched his jaw before looking away. "You look really nice, too," he admitted. "Amity might actually jump you at the door." Luz hit him lightly in the chest and strode ahead to hop down the stairs.
Eda was waiting for them in the living room, decked out in her brown suit and red dress shirt, going tieless as it turned out. She smiled as the two came down. "Hey, hey. You two are lookin' good."
"Thanks, Eda!" Luz chirped.
"Much appreciated, Owl Lady," Hunter replied, more cooly even with his faint, warm smile.
"You're gonna knock 'em dead, kids," Eda cackled. "Maybe literally for your beaus."
Hunter and Luz blushed in perfect tandem, leveling identical unimpressed looks as they summoned their staffs — Lil Rascal and Luz's bat palisman, Battholomew — to head to Hexside.
Time for Luz's second and Hunter's first ever Grom experience.
Willow was twiddling her thumbs as she stood at the foot of Hexside's main entrance steps, Clover perched on her bare shoulder. She bit her lip as she wondered what was taking Hunter and Luz so long.
"Relax, Willow," Amity soothed from beside her. "You look amazing. Hunter's going to be stunned speechless." She gave a small smirk. "And wouldn't that be terrible?"
"Amity," Willow said with a faint warning tone that dissolved into a chuckle.
Willow would freely admit that Amity looked lovely. Her hair was pulled back in a half-tail like she used to wear with green hair, and her makeup was nearly identical to her usual fare, aside from purple eyeshadow and maroon lipstick. She had decided upon a sleeveless dress that displayed her lithe arms, with a dark sweetheart bodice and a royal purple skirt that draped in folds to the ankles of her black heeled boots.
"I think Liz might pass out," Willow quipped lightly.
Amity scowled affectionately as her cheeks flared red, but any further banter was halted by Luz's call of greeting from above. Luz and Hunter dismounted as their palismen reverted to their true forms, and Willow's cheeks pinked darkly while Amity blushed for all she was worth.
"Whoa, Amity," Luz gasped. "You look … amazing …"
"Y-Yeah," Amity stammered. "You look great." She actually sighed with the last word.
Neither Willow nor Hunter noticed their friends as they stepped closer and took each other in. While Willow bit her lip, this time with attraction, Hunter blinked with wide eyes at her ensemble. She wore an emerald green, naturally, off-the-shoulder gown with sleeves that stretched to her elbows and a skirt that ended at her knees. Honey-yellow tights covered her muscular calves to a pair of silvery kitten heels.
"You look magnificent," Hunter breathed, his cheeks pink.
"You look quite dashing, yourself," Willow said with a faint smirk as she reached up and adjusted his tie. "Luz's work?"
Hunter snorted and glanced to the side, the spell … not broken, but perhaps muted? "Yeah, dammit. I'm not perfect." He looked back at her with a devilish smile. "Not like you, my lovely lady."
Willow giggled girlishly and kissed his cheek. She looked at Luz and Amity, who had drawn each other into a deep embrace that looked about three seconds from getting steamy. "Ahem," she cleared her throat to get them to separate, "shall we?"
Hunter nodded and offered his elbow, a motion Luz mirrored so that Willow and Amity could take their respective arms. "We shall," they chorused before glancing at each other with surprise. And then all four of them made their entrance.
An hour of dancing and punch later found Willow in the hallway outside the Hexside gym, holding her elbows as she hugged herself. "Willow?" She turned to find Hunter standing in the doorway with two glasses of punch. "Nervous?" he asked wryly.
"You don't have to do this," Willow said, her voice raw and her eyes shining.
"I volunteered," Hunter reminded her. He grit his teeth at the memory of the news from the day before. Willow had been named Grom royalty, meaning she would have to duel Grometheus the Fear-Bringer. And while Luz and Amity had volunteered to take her place as champion, Bump had refused to let them as previously crowned victors.
And then Hunter had volunteered to take the monster on.
"I don't want you to get hurt," Willow said.
Hunter took her hand and drew her close to gently press his forehead against hers. "I'll be fine, Willow," he whispered. "You know me. There's nothing I can't handle."
That brought a smile to Willow's lips, which she lightly pressed against his. "I know. I still worry, though."
"You're like Gilbert, that way," he commented, chuckling as Willow batted at his chest with mock-affrontement.
"And now," Gus's voice echoed from within the gym, "Introducing our Grom king! You know him, you love him! The Golden Guard, Hunter Wittebane!"
Cheers erupted from the students, many of them almost lovestruck at the mention of the famed teen prodigy who had led the charge to depose the tyrannical Belos alongside the residents of the Owl House.
"Whelp, that's my cue," Hunter said as the spotlights settled on him. "Wish me luck?" he asked. Then he grunted as Willow grabbed him by the collar and crashed her lips into his for a quick, searing kiss that left him dizzy.
"Good luck," she breathed before removing his tie and helping him out of his suit jacket for ease of movement. Hunter nodded and looked around for Lil Rascal, finding him looking down worriedly from the rafters. Hunter levelled a warning gaze, telling him to keep up there and out of harm's way. With that, he removed a silvery-white cylinder capped with a blood-red gem from his pocket that expanded into the mechanized staff he'd used under Belos.
If any staff was to be broken tonight, he'd rather it be this reminder of his dark past than his dear palisman.
Hunter strode forward and slammed a fist upon the button to open the hatch. He ignored the walls of weapons that emerged to his sides, preferring a weapon he knew and trusted. The doors peeled open and he took a breath before settling one more necessity. His staff flared with magic and a mass of fleshy tentacles emerged from thin air and writhed into a thin plane, then coalesced into something painfully familiar: a replica of a golden-hued, owl-themed mask. The mask of the Golden Guard.
Hunter took the mask out of the air and placed it over his face, the familiar weight of the metal a strange comfort. Beneath it, his face was hidden in shadow. He found it easier to shut out the world, to focus … to ignore his fear. With it hiding his eyes, his scar, he wasn't just Hunter anymore … he was just the Golden Guard.
Hunter turned to face Willow and offered a two-fingered wave. "I'll be right back, my little flower," he said cockily. "Just gotta take out the trash." And with that, he faced the cavern beneath the school and descended the ramp into the darkness.
Hunter strode with as much blithe confidence as he could muster, his staff slung over his shoulders. But beneath the mask, his eyes were darting around to catch a glimpse of his enemy. "You're used to untrained kids, Grom," he taunted lightly. "Wait until you get a load of me."
He tensed imperceptibly as a faint squelching sound emanated from behind him. "Ah, sneaking up from behind," he noted wryly, "classic." Then he whirled around and blasted it with a beam of ruby magic. "And predictable."
"And Hunter shows off that famed prodigious skill," Gus commented into the mic for the crowd. "Looks like Grom's gonna have to up the ante to even keep up!"
Hunter huffed a laugh and prepared himself as fragments of the dark ooze that made up Grom swirled together and formed the shape of a Metakarpion, also called a hand-dragon. The very same beast that Kikimora had sicced on him, and Luz by extension.
"Oh, please," he groused, twirling his staff overhead before striking the winged tip to the ground. A writhing stream of artificial magic soaked into the ground and reshaped it into a massive stone fist struck out and smashed from below into the Metakarion's jaw. The force of the blow smashed apart the sludge that formed it.
"And another blow goes to Hunter!" Gus cheered. "But what form could Grom assume next?"
The battle raged on as Grom formed what Hunter could only assume were shapes and fears from previous battles, everything from scorpions and maticores to freaking creepy dolls and clowns! He distantly noted Gus's shrill cry into the microphone at that last one before he blasted it to dust with a bolt of carmine lightning. He panted behind his mask — partly from exertion, but much more so from impatience.
"C'mon, you ugly freak!" Hunter spat. "I've got a beautiful rose to return to. So let's go! Let's end it!" He braced himself and let a smear of arrogance leak into his voice. "Or are you scared?"
A high wail echoed from all around and the black slime writhed and formed into a cohesive whole, forming a massive maw with spidery legs that roared with fury. It devolved back into a pile of muck before lashing out with tendrils of ooze. Hunter teleported to the side, the use of his mechanical staff coming back with ease. He dashed around the arena with a snide laugh. "C'mon, Grom! S'that all you-?" he was cut off as he slammed into a tendril that had been waiting for him. A slimmer one branched off and rapped the center of his mask, and Hunter felt his mind being invaded for a pair of heartbeats. The Grom retreated and whorled to form something else.
Hunter gaped behind his mask as it formed … his dead uncle, Belos in his horned mask.
"Hello, Hunter," Belos said in his cold, menacing tone. "I missed you, my nephew."
Willow, watching with the other spectators, gasped at the sight of the former Emperor. She'd been a mix of frightened and jubilant at Hunter's performance so far, proud of his skills as he danced circles around the feared and reviled Grometheus. But this … she only knew a fraction of what Belos was to her Hunter.
"You're not real," Hunter said firmly, his staff shining with readied power.
"Perhaps not," Belos agreed, back muck forming a staff of his own. "But that doesn't matter, does it?" He chuckled darkly. "What does matter is that you cannot escape me." He lifted a hand and removed his mask to reveal the aged visage Hunter remembered, with the streak of putrid green pocked with small holes, softened by the fatherly smile he would sometimes give. "After all, why else would you choose to fight with the tools that I gave you?"
Hunter took a step back in shock. "T-That's not true! I just-!"
"Wanted to spare your little friend?" Belos asked. "Oh no, Hunter. Be honest with yourself." His warm smile turned cruel. "You did it because you knew wild magic," the words were spat with hatred, "could not help you. That only my power would save you." He shrugged. "Wild magic cannot be trusted, Nephew." He began to break down into that black muck. "After all …"
It reformed into a hideous monstrosity that Hunter knew all too well. A massive, muscular, humanoid form of muck with antlers and a skull-like face, its too-long arms capped in vicious claws. "… It did this to me!" It lashed out a clawed paw at Hunter, who barely teleported out of the way. "And it will destroy that little rose of yours!"
"Wha-?" Hunter was blindsided by another swipe that sent him careening into the arena wall with a pained cry. He shook his head to regain his wits, but fear gripped his heart as the shape of Belos's cursed form loomed over him.
"Allow me to rid that little flower of your disease," the monster seethed, its claws growing into wicked blades and it reared back to smite him. "Goodbye, Hunter."
Hunter grit his teeth and stared down his death … but it never came. In its place, a mass of thorny vines crashed upon the beast and lashed around it to pin its limbs in place. Hunter looked backward and up to find Willow standing at the top of the ramp, her hair floating as if she were underwater, her hands glowing with magic … and her eyes shining with emerald power. To him, in that moment, she looked like more than just a powerful witchling.
She looked like an angry goddess of the forest.
"Stay away from him," Willow snapped, her voice echoing. The beast heaved and snapped some of its restraints, roaring at Willow. "You want wild magic?" she asked, lifting her arms as if supporting some great weight. "I'll show you wild magic!" She leapt and swung her arms down in a pincher motion and the vines multiplied and snaked around it, constricting it and holding it motionless despite its strains.
"Hunter," Willow groaned, sweat trailing down her face as she landed heavily on her stockinged feet. "Do it!"
Hunter hardened his heart and focused his mind, channeling every shred of magic he could into the focus gem of his staff. He leapt and teleported above the curse-beast, above Grom, and let out a savage war cry and he released it all in a single devastating spell that dug into the muck and, in a flash of red, the head of the staff shattered and ripped Grom apart from within. Bits of muck hurtled outward and squealed with agony as they trailed away in defeat.
Hunter was hurtled back by the force of his spell, wincing in preparation for a painful landing … but a clutch of soft, leafy branches caught him and gently placed him back upon the ground. Hunter grunted at the pain in his back from hitting the wall and looked at Willow as she padded forward. He removed his mask and dropped the useless shaft of metal left of his old staff, then looked back at her, each of them staring at the other with awe, relief, and honest-to-the-Titan love.
The moment was broken by a tiara fashioned with gold and pink crystals formed around Willow's head, a crown of identical materials appearing on Hunter's. "Give it up," Gus crowed to the crowd, "for this year's Grom king and queen!" At the raucous cheers of the crowd, the couple waved with wide smiles, the fingers of their lowered other hands woven in a lovers' touch.
"Would our Grom royalty join us above ground?" Principal Bump asked from the speakers, hamming it up for the crowd as he was ought to do. "So that we can seal Grom up for yet another year?!" Hunter and Willow walked together up the ramp, the trap doors closing behind them, and a purple-pink spotlight ignited and shined down upon them.
"Now, before we move on to the dance everyone is no doubt waiting for," Bump said, "I have one last announcement." He cleared his throat. "In light of the past two years, I am putting forth a change in the Grom battle. From this year hence, not one, but two champions will be called upon to duel Grom! Raise the roof, Hexside students, for your second pair of Grom royalty!"
The school seemed to shake with the force of the student body's shouts and screams of approval, only to quiet down at the sound of acoustic guitar playing over the speakers. That was their cue.
"Shall we dance, my Rose?" Hunter asked, stepping back to formally bow and offer his hand for her.
"I'd be delighted, my fearless knight," Willow replied with a curtsey before she took his hand for him to lead her to the center of the dance floor. They moved into position — Hunter's left hand clasping her right; Willow's left on his shoulder with his right on her waist — and they began to sway to the romantic music.
As the song carried on, they slowly drew closer as they were lost in each others' eyes, until soon enough — as if guided by instinct — both Willow's hands were on his shoulders and both of Hunter's were on her waist as they drew closer to slowly sway to the music. And finally, as the music rose to a crescendo, they leaned closer and their lips met in a long, chaste kiss that left them feeling warm and safe and loved.
As if all were right in the world.
As if fear were just a bad memory.