Chapter Text
Things did change after the Day of Unity.
It had been nearly a month since the Boiling Isles had been turned on its head, the Emperor’s sinister plan to eradicate witches and demons narrowly foiled by a band of feline rebels. Even so, the draining spell and the eclipse that nearly released a centuries-old being into the Demon Realm had taken its toll, physically and mentally.
Alador and his kids had been there right in the centre of it all, and he had never been more proud of them – or more scared.
He hadn’t seen it himself, as his role in the mission had taken him elsewhere in the Head where he could deactivate the army of Abomatons that Blight Industries had sold to the Emperor. But Edric and Emira had been nearby, and saw the sickly, mutated form that Belos had become – as he nearly cut down a group of children.
Alador wished he could have chained Belos and drowned him in a sea of abomination sludge. As it stood, he had to suffice with the bastard being trapped in the space between realms, caged there and left to wither away as his hunger for palismen consumed him.
He suspected Amity still had nightmares about it. But she wouldn’t talk to him about it, and Alador couldn’t really blame her. He wasn’t even entirely sure the nightmares were new – had they been going on for years, and he’d been too wrapped up in his work to notice? It wouldn’t be the first change he’d failed to notice about his children, ashamed as he was to admit it.
He was trying to do better by his kids now.
It turned out having the entire empire uprooted threw a real wrench in legal proceedings. The Boiling Isles’ political system was still in upheaval as they sought to install a better, more democratic government – evidently Tinella Nosa was a skilled stand-in-politician and ambassador for wild witches rights – and the cause had taken the time and attention of almost every lawyer in Bonesborough. This all added up to mean that his divorce with Odalia was still in-progress, though they’d been separated since the Day of Unity. Whether she would get joint-custody of the kids was yet to be determined, but Alador had been absolutely steadfast in their arguments about where the kids would live in the meantime, and all three had decided to move with him to a moderately-sized house in Bonesborough proper. Odalia still had the mansion and what remained of Blight Industries, though the company was quickly tanking without a skilled abomination engineer, and the involvement in Belos’ plans weren’t doing the company any favours, either.
It was strange for him and the kids to share such a small place, at least compared to the affluent estate they’d previously called home. There was very much an adjustment period for all of them, bumping elbows literally and metaphorically as they slowly figured out this new family dynamic.
The kids were still attending Hexside, and Alador had enough money in the bank to support their new, modest lifestyle for a good while. After being overworked for years he was welcoming the opportunity of a sabbatical to act as a stay-at-home-dad. The kids were very self-sufficient (which he was coming to realize had developed more out of necessity than desire) so there wasn’t a whole lot he had to do, so he spent a lot of his time working on becoming a better dad. He’d been reading a lot of parenting books. A lot of parenting books.
He'd also been trying to spend more quality time with them, actually engaging with them and paying attention to what was going on in their lives. Edric had a real knack for beast-keeping and potion-making alongside his already well-honed illusion skills, and under the Owl Lady’s tutelage his skill and confidence was only growing. Emira was a splendid healer, a skill that Alador had first noticed in unfortunate circumstances on the Day of Unity as she cared for allies, friends, and even Alador himself when he’d suffered a rather nasty blow from one of the coven scouts. Amity was already more skilled with abomination magic than he himself had been at her age, now that he’d opened his eyes enough to see it. But more than anything, Alador just enjoyed seeing them happy, the way Edric and Emira would light up when talking about their new academic pursuits, or as they recounted thrilling tales of the pranks they pulled with their new mentor. Amity also spent a lot of time at the Owl House, but not for tutelage. The way she spoke about her girlfriend Luz, and about Willow and her other friends, brought a smile to his own face.
The downside of all the self-reflection, free-time, and the separation was that he found himself laying awake in bed most nights, alone and unable to sleep as his mind wandered back down the path his life had taken.
He recalled when he was the age his kids were now, so full of spunk and ideas, so ready to get out there and seize the world. He reminisced on his friendship-turned-relationship-turned-partnership with Odalia, and his friendship-turned-rivalry with Darius. Titan, the winding path his closest relationships had taken made his stomach flip uncomfortably in his gut.
Part of him would always be thankful to Odalia for giving him three wonderful children. He’d always loved them dearly, but only now was he actually learning how to be a loving father.
--
When Amity excitedly told him about a human “podluk” her girlfriend was throwing, his gut reaction was to turn down the invitation – social events were Odalia’s thing. But he’d quickly realized that inviting Odalia wasn’t even on the table – it seemed Amity was still very serious about never talking to her mother again, at least not until Odalia saw the error of her ways, apologized, and tried to be a better mother. And so Alador clamped his mouth shut, swallowed down the frog in his throat, and agreed to the invitation.
It was well worth it for the way Amity’s eyes lit up in excitement, and she started throwing out ideas for the food “offering” they were supposed to bring to the communal meal-party.
Only when she insisted that he clean up and look presentable for the occasion did he suppress a weary sigh.
“What’s wrong with the way I look?” He questioned with a furrowed brow.
Amity rolled her eyes, though her voice was light with fond exasperation, “Dad, I haven’t seen you work on abominations in a week and you still have abomination gunk in your hair.”
Alador raised a hand to scratch his head, and sure enough felt a clump of dried ooze gluing the messy strands together. His lips pulled in a frown and he heaved a defeated sigh, “Okay, you’ve got a point. I’ll wash up.”
“And shave?” Amity prompted, and Alador opened his mouth to protest, before noticing the mischievous quirk to his daughter’s lips and belatedly catching the teasing lilt in her voice.
He chuckled, tempted to reach down and ruffle her lilac hair, but he was trying to respect her desire to be treated less like a little kid and so his hand stayed at his side. But he did respond with an equally teasing tone, “You’re pushing your luck, kid.”
He had a few days until the “podluk,” and the details of the event almost slipped his mind until the morning of. It was taking place that afternoon at the Owl House, and he and Amity had constructed a… passable Aboma-pudding to bring as their offering. She was headed over early to help set up, and was out the door with a smile on her face and an oversized bowl of pudding in hand. He’d planned to take it easy for the next few hours until everyone else was set to arrive, maybe watch a bit of the butterfly documentary he’d recorded, only to freeze when he turned around to find the twins smiling at him mischievously.
“…how worried should I be?” He questioned with a furrowed brow, only half-teasing.
“Not worried at all, dearest dad!” Emira replied with a smile that did nothing to ease Alador’s sudden nerves. She ducked around the corner and up the stairs before he could get another word out, dragging her brother behind her, and Alador grumbled to himself in suspicion. Those kids were too clever sometimes, and there was little doubt they were up to something.
His suspicions proved true when he trudged from the bathroom up to his bedroom, hair dripping wet and a towel around his waist. He’d even shaved the bit of scruff that always seemed to grow back before he realized it, but for the time being he was both clean and clean shaven. All he needed was clean clothes – and apparently those had already been chosen for him, laid out neatly on his bed. Illusory blue text hovered above them, For the occasion :) E&E. It disappeared as he reached down and pulled the fabric up through it, looking over the simple but sleek black jacket. Beside it was a plain purple shirt, and a pair of dark-grey pants that looked freshly ironed. He wasn’t sure where the twins even found these clothes – he’d just taken a random armful when he’d packed his things and moved out of the manor – but they seemed to still fit as he shrugged them on. He left the top button of the jacket undone, revealing a glimpse of the purple shirt beneath, but more importantly it was more comfortable than having the collar press up against his throat.
Alador was hardly the type to care about appearances, especially his own, but the finished look earned a double thumbs up from the twins so it must have been passable. With his signature goggles and a smaller, travel-sized canister of abomination ooze hidden beneath his jacket at the small of his back, he set off with the twins.
--
The Owl House had been decorated for the occasion, streamers of entrail-pink ribbon criss-crossing over the walls. A few tables had been set up in the front yard, featuring an assortment of different food offerings, including a large punchbowl of fresh apple blood that was coagulating a bit in the heat of the sun, forming a sort of “pulp.” There was, of course, the bowl of Aboma-pudding he and Amity had made, sitting next to some finger food, the monstrous digits drizzled with hot sauce.
It was busier than Alador had anticipated, and he tugged a little anxiously at the collar of his jacket. It wasn’t anywhere near as busy as some of the promotional events Blight Industries had thrown, but Odalia had handled those, and all Alador had to do was stand there as his abominations served the guests.
Emira and Edric had broken off as soon as they’d arrived, directing a cheery wave and smile at Luz. Which left Alador standing alone at the edge of the crowd, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
You’ve got this, Al, he mentally reassured himself, hyping himself up to face the social challenge that loomed in front of him. Just make small talk with Edalyn. Maybe stand by the table, people can’t talk to you if your mouth is full.
Unfortunately, Edalyn was already wrapped up in conversation with Lilith and Steve (or at least Alador assumed his name was Steve, seeing as it was printed in bold letters on his shirt). And so he diverted to Plan B, perusing the selection of food offerings with intense scrutiny, more for the sake of looking busy in hopes people wouldn’t talk to him. He nibbled on a shocklate-chip cookie, the tiny sparks of electricity bursting in his mouth, yellow eyes scanning the growing crowd. He recognized King, the young demon chatting animatedly with a scruffy-looking blonde kid, though his cardinal palisman seemed to be doing more talking than the witch himself was. Alador absently reached for another cookie, only to startle at the sound of a voice right behind him.
“Alador.”
He'd recognize that reproachful voice anywhere, and he turned with crossed arms and a scowl of his own, narrowed eyes fixing on the pristinely-dressed witch before him.
“Darius.” He put as much scorn into the word as he could muster, and let it carry over into his next sentence, “I’d have thought this party was too boorish for an esteemed coven head – sorry, ex-coven head.”
Darius returned his glare full-force, his abomination-infused hairstyle practically bubbling with resentment, “I quit by choice and led the rebellion against Belos. I knew the Day of Unity was bad news before you’d even launched your first putrid Abomaton.” He spit the last word out like it soiled his tongue, lip curling up in disgust.
“And yet you weren’t able to sabotage the Abomaton 2.0 even with the forewarning,” Alador replied matter-of-fact, and his lips quirked up in a cocky grin as Darius seethed in front of him. The irate witch took a step forward into Alador’s space, but he didn’t back away as the taller man loomed over him. He stared defiantly up into Darius’ faintly glowing green eyes as he jabbed a finger into Alador’s chest.
“That was-“ Darius objected, a little too fast, and he stumbled over his words for a second, “That was intentional! I couldn’t risk tipping him off.”
Alador simply raised his brows in silent question, goading the other man.
“Fine! You want to settle this?” Darius prompted stubbornly, the whites of his eyes darkening to an inky black as abomination ooze bubbled along his skin and clothes, threatening to overtake his form. He pressed further into Alador’s space, trying to cow the slightly shorter man and almost literally butting heads, “Then let’s settle it.”
“Are you challenging me to a witches’ duel?” Alador replied, brash and unwavering, eyes glowing purple as the ooze in the canister at his back twisted and surged as adrenaline and magic bile flooded his system. His heart beat hard in his ears, spurred on by the thrill of the moment in a way he hadn’t felt in years.
“Damn right I am,” Darius answered without hesitation – but the sound of his voice felt almost muted and distant. Something gnawed at his senses, and Alador focused in on the movement in his peripheral.
Mittens was watching him, brow furrowed with something like worry. It took him a beat to place the expression, but then it struck him like a punch to the gut – disappointment.
Alador swallowed back the knot that caught in his throat, eyes fading back to their usual yellow as he forced his magic to settle and unclenched his fists. This day wasn’t about him.
He turned away from Darius, shoulder bumping the taller witch’s chest as he pushed out of his space and stepped away, “Not today.”
Their little pissing match had drawn far more attention than Alador had realized in the moment, but all eyes had turned on the pair, and he felt them now like needles pricking his skin and making anxiety gnaw at his gut. Darius was left mouth agape behind him, his bravado fizzling out into confusion and frustration.
There were only three people whose opinions Alador cared about right now, and his gaze lingered anxiously on Amity. But her shoulders slumped in relief and she met his gaze without anger or disappointment, and it felt as though a weight had been lifted off his chest. She turned back to Luz as the human said something, and a small smile curled her lips.
He’d apologize to her later, for making a scene. He’d caught himself before he royally screwed up – but he still screwed up.
His gaze turned to the twins next, easily spotting their dark green hair amongst the crowd. Emira still looked a little disgruntled with second-hand embarrassment, but when he locked eyes with Edric his son shot him a thumbs up, and Alador breathed a small sigh of relief.
--
Darius was floundering.
Alador had him all wound up, taut like a spring ready to snap – and then he’d just left. Shrugged Darius off. And now the inventor seemed particularly intent on ignoring him.
Darius could strangle him.
He didn’t know what to do with the displaced frustration that sat hot and heavy in his gut, a scowl etched into his face as he glared daggers into Alador’s back.
Only the lilt of a friendly voice pulled him out of his fixation, “He really knows how to rile you up, huh?”
He turned to shoot a petulant glare down at Raine Whispers, though it did nothing to shake the amused curve to their lips.
“He does not,” Darius replied in indignation, his voice nearly cracking on the last word.
The ex-head bard simply raised an eyebrow, a knowing look in their eyes. Their hands were crossed lightly on their lap, settled where they wouldn’t tremble. They were still very much in recovery from the Day of Unity. Darius hadn’t been there to see it, but he’d heard about the heavy hit they’d taken, pushing Eda out of the line of fire – sacrificing themself to save her. They’d survived, but only just. The healers said they’d likely never fully recover, their strength and magic only a portion of what it once was. The wheelchair helped with that, because although they could still walk, doing so quickly fatigued them and worsened their chronic pain. Darius did what he could to help their recovery, creating a couple abominations to dote on them – not that he’d ever willingly admit how he worried for them. It turns out overthrowing a tyrant made for quite the bonding exercise.
Darius huffed and crossed his arms defiantly, looking away from the bard and their teasing look. And yet they waited, silent and expectant, and it wasn’t long before Darius’ frustration won out once more.
“He just-“ He makes a vague, frustrated motion with one hand, “I had him! What happened?” Raine chuckles, and he turns his glare on them sharply, “What’s so funny?”
“Sorry,” The bard replied, raising a hand to hide their grin as they try and fail for a bashful expression, “Please, continue.”
Darius grumbled, unconvinced. But the desire to vent was too strong, and words are spilling from his lips before he knows it, “What’s he even doing here? He’s supposed to be a recluse, not-“ He waves vaguely at Alador where the other man is now caught up in conversation with King and Steve, “Social. And that outfit! Since when does Alador clean up, let alone have any fashion sense? But he actually looks good in that jacket!” His eyes narrow as he looks the engineer up and down, jaw clenched as he hisses out a noise of frustration. Raine is still listening quietly, and so he continues his rant, “It’s not fair. If he’s going to show up with this whole new persona, he could at least show me the time of day! He thinks he’s so hot with his, his-“ He makes a strangled noise, “Everything!”
His chest is heaving by the end of the rant, but at least he can feel his tense muscles beginning to relax after venting. But then he looks at Raine and his guard is immediately up once more, glaring down at them with suspicion, “What?”
“It’s just, well, people said I was obvious,” They reply with faux innocence, a mischievous gleam in their green eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” He retorts dubiously, eyes narrowed.
“Nothing,” Raine answered with a smile, shifting their hands to the wheels and shooting him a quick, perplexing wink before they wheeled off to check in with Eda.
Darius needed a drink. Maybe the Owl Lady had something stronger stashed inside the house.
--
The owl— worm— bird-tube-demon got all up in Darius’ business when he started poking around the kitchen, asking what he was doing and chattering incessantly. He tried to leave, only for the house demon to get right in his way again and continue on like nothing happened. After fifteen minutes of this, Darius’ head was pounding and he was very over it. Calling on his magic, a cocoon of abomination ooze surged up from the ground and encircled him, and in an instant he was rematerializing outside. He’d put some distance between himself and the house, in hopes the house demon wouldn’t immediately trap him once more, and so he was now standing at the edge of the treeline.
His eyes quickly scanned over the crowd, searching for a mop of messy pale-blonde hair – ah, there he was.
Darius strode over with purpose, and the teen in question looked over with a curious, hesitant expression.
“Hunter. I’m going to make my leave now – I hear a bubble bath and pedicure calling my name. Will you be fine travelling home with Flapjack?”
Hunter smiled, wariness melting away at his words, “Yeah! Yeah, we’ll be good.” He hesitated, looking at his friends, and then over at the assortment of dishes laid out over the tables, “You’re sure you don’t want to stay longer? It’s still pretty early, I think.”
Darius’ gaze followed Hunter’s, tracing over the dishes – before fixing on the brown-haired engineer who’d gone back to sampling the food. “I’m sure,” He replied staunchly.
The teen nodded with a smile, “Okay, see you at home.”
Darius bid farewell to Hunter and his friends with a respectable nod, stepping away where he had space to teleport. But first he pulled a scrap of paper from the pocket of his tailored, royal purple suit jacket, the golden bracelet on his wrist sliding over the fabric of his white lace gloves as he held the blank page up. Abomination ooze radiated out from his fingers, seeping into the paper and forming fine cursive. The remaining ooze collected around the base of the note, coalescing into a tiny abomination, just big enough to carry the note. It hopped down onto the ground and waddled away as Darius spun on his heel, pristine white cloak whirling around him, his form shifting as he teleported away.
Left behind, the little abomination waddled up to it’s intended recipient, stepping up onto the toe of his boot and holding the note up in offering. And when he reached down and took the note from it, its form liquified back into the ground, mission complete.
Alador held the note up with a furrowed brow, eyes curiously scanning over it.
My challenge still stands. One week from now, noon, the site of the Bonesborough Brawl. -D.