Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Caleb was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt about that. He was as dead as a door nail. I assume you expect me to go on a tangent about door nails, but I would rather get on with the story so I shall repeat, emphatically, that Caleb was as dead as a door.

Did Belos know that Caleb was dead? Of course he did! He was the one who killed him after all. Even if Belos hadn't killed him, the man had lived nearly four hundred years ago and hadn't had access to the same magic as Belos to stay alive so either way he'd be dead.

The point I'm trying to make is that there was no doubt Caleb was dead. This must be understood or nothing wonderful can come of the story I am going to relate.

Something else that must be understood is that Belos had never been a particularly joyous man. Even before his soul had been broken and tainted he never liked frivolous festivities. And this fact hadn't changed over the course of four hundred years. If anything, it had grown worse and stronger.

It seemed that nothing would thaw his frozen heart. Not even the sight of his nephew entering his throne room with a smile on his face and a kind word on his lips,

“Merry Titanmas, Uncle.”

“Humbug,” Belos muttered irritably, his head coming to rest in his hand.

“H-humbug? What does that mean?”

“It means that I believe the notion of a ‘Merry Titanmas’ to be frankly absurd. What reason have you to be merry? You have failed the last three missions I've sent you on. I highly doubt a ‘Merry Titanmas’ will save you,”

Hunter visibly deflated at the mention of his failures. It was then that Belos noticed the small package clutched in his nephew’s hands.

“What is that?”

“Nothing, Uncle,”

Belos sighed, rolled his eyes, and waved his hand to dismiss Hunter, “Good afternoon.”

Hunter bowed smalls and turned on his heel, swiftly exiting the room.

“Forgove me, Emperor, but I believe you may be too harsh on the boy,” Belos snapped his head in the direction of the voice. Sat at her desk in the corner of the room as Lilith. She had been working so silently until that moment that Belos had forgotten she was there.

“Too harsh?” Belos sat up and turned to face Lilith, “Too harsh? Is it too harsh to suggest that every idiot who goes about with ‘Merry Titanmas’ on his lips should be boiled with his own pudding and buried with a stake of holly through his heart! Let me hear another word about Titanmas from you and you'll lose your situation!”

”It was merely a suggestion, Emperor,” Lilith returned to her work.

Belos groaned as the doors swung open once again. Entering were coven heads Darius, Eberwolf, and Raine.

Darius cleared his throat and began to read from his report, “At this festive season of the year, Emperor, it is more than usually desirable that we should make some slight provision for the poor and destitute, who suffer greatly at the present time. Many thousands are in want of common necessities; hundreds and thousands of your people are in want of common comforts, sir.”

Belos sat up straighter, “Are there no prisons? No workhouses?”

“N-no... they are still in operation,” Darius replied

“Oh good, I was afraid they had shut down. In that case the poor may go there,”

“But many would rather die,” Raine protested

“If they would rather die, they had better do it and decrease the surplus population!”

The coven heads stood still in shock, “B-but sir-”

“You are dismissed,”

“But-”

“You are dismissed!”

***

Although there was no window or clock in the throne room, Belos knew how much time had passed and therefore that it was the end on the working day. Lilith clearly knew this too as she began to gather her papers.

Belos sighed, “You'll want the whole day tomorrow, I suppose?”

“If quite convenient, sir,”

“It's not convenient and it's not fair. But I suppose you must have the whole day. Be here all the earlier the next morning,”

Lilith promised she would and excused herself from the room. She tried to hide her joy, but Belos still noticed and rolled his eyes with a “Humbug.”

Belos waited a few minutes after Lilith had left the room to make his own way out. Strangely, as he walked to the end of the throne room the hall seemed to never ends, the door never getting any closer. Furthermore, a dense fog seemed to be growing near the floor, rising and disbursing into the endless room.

Finally, Belos reached the door, panting and gripping it with relief. Realising how undignified he looked, Belos straightened himself and prepared to open the door. His efforts were interrupted, however, by a startling sight. The doorknob had changed. The doorknob, the same doorknob, he had looked at for bourse that very day was shifting and changing, growing into a face Belos hoped to never see again.

Caleb’s face.

Belos leapt back in shock. When he looked again he didn't see the face of his deceased brother, he saw a doorknob. A nice, normal doorknob.

When he was about to relax and continue his journey to his room, the doorknob began to rattle. Soon the rattling spread to the other doorknob and then to the doors themselves. The rattling turned to pounding and Belos staggered further back, eventually reaching his throne and falling onto it once again.

The pounding grew to a crescendo with then finally blowing open. Beyond the door was a bright white light. Belos squinted and raised a hand to shield his eyes. It was at that moment that Belos realised in his panicked scrambling from the door, his mask had fallen off, leaving him vulnerable to whatever was beyond that horrible light.

It didn't take long to find out as soon a shape began to emerge from the light, the sight of it caused Belos to once jump in shock, this time staying on his throne. His eyes grew wide as the figure drifted through the room, closer and closer to him.

Belos tried to dismiss it with a “Humbug,” but his mouth wouldn't cooperate, seeming to know, much like Belos himself, that this wasn't humbug.

“Who are you?” Belos demanded once the spectre reached his throne.

“Ask me who I was,” its voice came out hollowing and echoey, but it was still instantly recognisable to him.

“Who were you then?”

“In life I was your brother, Caleb Wittebane,”

Belos made a strangled noise of distress. It couldn't be. And yet he looked almost exactly the way Belos remembered him. The same blonde hair pulled back into a ponytail, the same off white shirt and dirty brown trousers. The main differences were how his cheeks and eyes were more sunken in and hollow and the bloody dagger hovering above his head.

“Why? Why must you haunt me, Caleb?”

“It is required of every man that the sport within him should walk abroad amount his fellow men, and travel far and wide; and if that spirit goes not forth in life, it is condemned to do so after death-and witness what it cannot share, but might have shared on earth and turned to happiness!”

While this certainly rattled Belos, his attention couldn't help but turn to a feature of the spectre he hadn't noticed before.

“What is that around your chest.”

Caleb looked down and held the object in his hand. It was a long chain which he was much like a sash, “I wear the chain I forged in life. I made it link by link, every sin, every innocent person I condemned sits here as a reminder of what I had done. Every spirit wears one, even you wear yours, but it cannot be seen yet.”

“Well, yours doesn't look too bad, I think I might be able to survive an afterlife of that,”

Caleb drifted closer to his throne, “Because I repented Because I showed remorse for my actions,” Caleb let out a hollow laugh, “you believe you'll end up with a chain like mine? Brother, you couldn't be more mistaken.”

A small hissing sound could be heard by Belos’ feet. He looked down to see a chain curling up from the ground and began to wrap around Belos’ leg.

“What is this? Stop It!"

Caleb looked on with a mix of amusement and pity and Belos was slowly suffocated by the chains. Soon they covered all his body apart from his eyes and mouth. More than that, the spread out through the whole room, handing like tinsel from the seedling and wrapping around the still beating heart of the titan.

“Ah!” Belos cried, “How? How do I escape this terrible fate?”

“You will have only one chance to repent and escape, if you do not see the error in your ways and correct them by tomorrow, there will be no hope for you. You will be haunted by Three Spirits. Expect the first when the bell tolls One.”

The chains once again began to move, this time covering Belos’ eyes and mouth. Just when he felt his breath run out completely, all the pressure Tom the chains disappeared and he found that he could breathe again. Not only that but he was in his bed and in his night clothes.

Belos shuddered, “Humbug,” and turned to go to sleep.

Chapter Text

Belos was woken by the chiming of a bell. A singular ringing which echoed throughout his bed chambers. Expect the first when the bell tolls one.

He sat up and drew his covers up to his chin as his head darted about, looking around for the first of the three spirits. However, it was not him who found the spirit, it was the spirit who found him. The curtains of his bed were drawn aside by a hand. Belos found himself face to face with the unearthly visitor who drew them.

At first, a surge of anger rippled through Belos as he believed that Hunter had come into his room to scare him. Just as he was about to yell at the boy, he realised it couldn't be him. It certainly was a boy in the uniform of the Golden Guard, the same height and build of Hunter but it couldn't be him. The uniform of the Guard had changed from its original design, going through many iterations but this didn't seem to be any of them. In fact, it looked like a combination of all of them.

However, the thing that had stayed the same between all the designs was the mask, it was the same in every iteration in the past and now was no different. A gloved hand reached up to touch the mask. Slowly, it lifted the mask up and off its face. Upon seeing its face Belos gasped and jumped back in shock.

I realise now that saying 'face' would be inaccurate. In fact, this spirit had many faces, at least a few dozen, which it switched between in a matter of seconds. It flicked between each face like a flip book of his past. He remembered every face having both dug them up from the ground and buried them once again after their early deaths.

"W-what are you?"

"We are the Ghost of your past," It's voice was a horrifying melody of overlapping voices. At the core they were the same but varied in pitch and tone.

"What business bring you here?"

"Your welfare, as much as we hate to help you,"

"If you hate to help me, then why do you come to me concerned about my welfare?"

"Because we have been tasked to help bring about your redemption in the hopes that the pain you have inflicted upon us is never repeated," It held out its hand towards him although the look of disgust on its face never wavered, "Rise and walk with us."

He followed the spirit towards his open door which he only now noticed had a blinding white light spilling out of it. He was reminded of earlier that night when Caleb's ghost had appeared out of a very similar light. Raising his hand to his face to shield his eyes from the light, Belos stepped through.

On the other side of the door was a place all to familiar. The spirit had led him to the small town in which he grew up. It was so long ago and yet he could walk the place blindfolded.

He and the spirit made their way through the town, seeing faces Belos had forgotten in his hundreds of years. Although when, out of instinct, he tried to wave to the passers by, they didn't acknowledge him.

"These are but shadows of things that have been," the spirit answered as if it knew what he was thinking, "They have no consciousness of us."

Soon they arrived at the place Belos knew the best, his childhood home. As they approached, the door opened, allowing himself and the spirit in.

Sat on the floor in the main room were two boys he knew very well. One had long blonde hair tied back in a pony tail with a deep tiredness in his eyes. The other had short brown hair and a look full of wonder which now felt so alien to his older version stood only a few feet away.

"Merry Christmas, Pip," aid the older, handing him a messily wrapped parcel.

The younger tore into it, revealing a messily carved wooden mask of a deer. The boy's face lit up with joy and he jumped towards his brother enveloping him in a tight embrace, "Thank you!"

The older boy smiled and hugged him back, "You're welcome."

The sweet moment was interrupted by a loud bell ringing outside. Caleb's face fell, and he let go of his brother. Standing up he said, "I have to go, Pip, I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going? Why can't I come with you?"

"This is grown up stuff, you're too young,"

Caleb left the house, leaving Phillip on his own. It didn't last for long though as Philip soon got up and followed his brother, Belos and the spirit not far behind.

It seemed as though everyone was heading in the same direction: towards the town centre. Through the crowds, Philip was just about able to see the large wooden structure everyone was crowded around.

"I remember this now," Belos stared up at the structure along with his younger self.

"You do?" The spirit asked, despite already knowing the answer.

"Yes it was the day I first learnt what it really meant to be a witch hunter."

On top of the structure stood two men who were holding a struggling woman. Even from this distance, the tears on her face were visible and her screams were loud. They lead her to the end of the platform where a short rope hung over a trap door. Belos knew what was coming but still looked away at the same time as his younger self when the trap door opened.

"Really?" The spirit asked, "Even after all this time, all the things you did you can't bear to witness this?"

Before Belos could answer, the spirit spoke again, "Come, let us see another Christmas."

Belos an the spirit once again stepped into the blinding light, this time exiting into a small house. The house had a distinctly cosy warmth which directly contrasted the scene before the,. On the table was laid a small feats, barely touched and acting like cowering children watching their parents fight.

On the opposite sides of the table stood two figures. One with neat, tame brown hair pulled back into a pony tail, the other with messy, wind auburn hair. As the two of them argued, a third figure, this one with blonde hair, tried to calm them down and stop the fighting. Eventually, he was successful and the others stopped to listen to him.

The man turned to address the man to his left, "Pip, please, can't you two get along for even one day? It's Christmas or Titanmas, whatever you want to call it. But that doesn't matter, the meaning is still the same."

The younger man scoffed, "Of course it matters. One s a sacred holiday celebrated by good, honest people. The other is a heathen festival celebrated by witches!"

It was the woman's turn to scoff, "And what, exactly, makes you better than us? Your lack of powers? Your lack of a heart?"

Phillip was about to retort but Caleb once again got between them, "Please, just get along for one day. You two are the most important people in the world to me. I love you both so let's just have our meal and then you don't have to talk again."

Evelyn smiled at this, placing one hand on her swollen stomach and holding Caleb's hand with the other.

Phillip snarled, "What has become of you, brother? I'm afraid we cannot both be the 'most important people in the world' you just choose one or the other. Me, your only family and companion for twenty years or this ungodly being you met a few years ago who we swore to kill. Who do you choose?"

Caleb's hesitation gave Phillip the answer he needed, "Wrong choice," he snarled as he left the house.

"Spirit," Belos said in a broken voice, "remove me from this place."

"What about the next year in this place?"

"Remove me! I cannot bear it!"

The spirit continued, ignoring his distress, "A woman sat alone at the table, aged by grief having to raise a child on her own. Only the memory of her now murdered partner to comfort her."

"No,"

"You could have accepted them."

"No!"

"You could have been an actual uncle rather than pretending to be one to us."

"NO!"

"Instead you killed him with no remorse or love in your heart."

"Leave me! Take me back! Haunt me no longer!"

The white light came back, slowly engulfing everything around them until Belos was nearly blinded by the light.

As quickly as it arrived, the light, and the spirit, disappeared and Belos found himself back in his own bed.

Chapter Text

After a short attempt at sleep, Belos woke again. He was woken by the bell chiming One once again. Eyes darting about, he looked to each of his bed curtains, daring any of them to draw back and reveal the next spectre. When none of them did, he resolved to seek it out himself and get the whole ordeal over and done with.

Approaching the door out of his room, Belos was prepared for anything on the other side of the door. Nothing between a baby and a giraffe would have astonished him very much.

The moment Belos’s hand was on the lock, a strange voice called him by nam and bade him enter. He obeyed.

The room he now entered was certainly no room from the castle that he recognised. The walls and ceiling were so hung with living green that it looked like a perfect grove; from every part, bright gleaming berries glistened. Heaped up on the floor to form a kind of throne were all the delicious, luxurious foods any one would be lucky to have for their holiday feat, all steaming and fresh.

At upon the throne was a jolly giant, a glorious sight gesturing for Belos to enter, “Come in and know me better, man!”

Belos did so with aprehensión, especially when seeing its face. It was a face everyone on the Isles should know. The face of who Belos had been claiming to speak to for hundreds of years.

They were wearing what appeared to be a green bath robe tied loosely over a purple shirt and baggy, black pants. On their head they wore no other covering than a holly wreath, slung awkward over their horns. Their sparkly eye, open hand and cheery voice gave them a joyful air.

“I believe you know who I am?” Belos nodded silently, “Well, just for now you can forget that as tonight I am the Ghost of Titanmas present.”

“Spirit, if you are indeed the Titan like I believe you are, aren’t you always the spirit of Titanmas?”

“I suppose so but we won’t worry about that now (the author is tired enough as it is).”

The spirit rose and as he did the room around them disolved, “follow me.”

They were still int he castle but I’m a different area. It was a small corner tucked away with a long hallway leading to a singular, simple wooden door. Belos knew exactly what, or rather who, was on the other side of that door but still followed the spirit who approached it.

The door didn’t need to open for them as they simply passed through it, coming to the bedroom on the other side of the door. It was remarkably small with just enough space for the bed, a few shelves and drawers and the dismal heater in the corner. At on the bed was Hunter. He had removed most of his armour but had opted to keep his cloak on. The room was rather cold considering that Belos only permitted him to burn one lump of coal a day.

In the young boys hands he held the same package Belos recalled him having the previous day. Only now did he see it was a wrapped present addressed to him.

“How could I be so stupid? Of course he wouldn’t want this thing!” He took the package and threw it into the heater. Rather than catching fire and warming up the room even slightly more, it extinguished the small flame, causing him to shiver more.

Belos’ face fell into a frown. He’d felt sympathy for the boy in the past, of course he had. But it was only now, seeing the direct effect he had on him that his heart softened.

“Come,” the Spirit urged him, “There is much to see.”

The titan walked him through the streets of the Isles. People were out and about celebrating, decorations, wising each other a good health. Belos had never seen the people like this, only viewing them as pawn in the giant game of chess he played.

Soon, they reached a house far outside any town. Belos gasped and stopped upon approaching. It was Evelyn’s house. Of course she didn’t live there now but it was still a shock to see.

Once again, the door simply allowed them to pass through and into the house. They traveled through the house until they reached the kitchen where they saw the Owl Lady cooking a feast. Similarly, the human girl was helping her by setting the table.

“What’s taking them so long?” The Owl Lady asked no-one in particular.

Just then, the door opened, revealing Lilith carrying a small fury child on her shoulders and crutch in her hand.

The human ran towards them, grabbing the fury child and dragging him into the kitchen, blabbering to him about something or other. They were slowed down by the boy’s limp but soon the two sisters were left alone.

“How did he behave?”

Lilith smiled, “As good as gold and better.” Despite her smile Lilith looked sad as she said this and trembled more when she said that Tiny King was growing strong and hearty.

While the portions of the meal appeared meagre, nobody said or thought it was a small feast. It would have been flat heresy to do so.

As Belos observed the family, his gaze drifted to the Spirit beside him who looked upon the young boy with a bittersweet sadness.

He opened his mouth to ask why but he was interrupted by Lilith proposing, “A merry Titanmas to us all, Titan bless us!”

“Titan bless us, every one!” Said Tiny King. However after this he broke into a loud coughing fit which rattled his tiny lungs.

“Spirit,” said Belos with an interest he had never felt before, “tell me if he will live.”

The spirit sighed, “I see a vacant seat and a crutch without an owner, carefully preserved. If these shadows remain unaltered by the Future, the child will die.” Their words were quite choked by the end of their sentence.

“No, oh no, kind Spirit! Say he will be spared.”

“If these shadows Ema in unaltered by you the child will die,” they emphasised. “What then? If he be likely to die, he had better do it and decrease the surplus population.”

Belos hung his head to hear his own words quoted by the Titan. His attention returned to the family.

Lilith raised her glass, “To emperor Belos, the Founder of the Feast.”

“The Founder of the Feast indeed!” Cried the Owl Lady, “I wish I had him here. I’d give him a piece of my mind to feast upon and I hope he’d have a good appetite for it!”

“Edalyn, please, it’s Titanmas day!”

The owl Lady grumbled, “I’ll drink his health for your sake and the Day’s, not for his. A Merry Titanmas and a happy new year.”

As day turned to evening, the spirit and Belos ventured out to another house he wasn’t familiar with. It was filled with plants and greenery. In the living room was a group of people, clearly having finished their meal and had now moved into a game. The game involved the participants having pieces of paper stuck to their foreheads and asking yes or no questions to determine who they are.

“Spirit, I don’t know anyone at this place, why have you brought me here?”

“You don’t recognise anyone in that corner?”

Belos looked and sure enough, tucked away in a corner was Hunter. He was sat with a girl with black-green hair and glasses to his right and a young, brunette boy on his left. Belos moved closer to hear their conversation.

“I’m so glad you could make it Hunter,” the girl smiled

Hunter blushed and rubbed the back of his neck, “I-I’m glad too, I just hope my uncle doesn’t find out.”

“You’ll be fine!” The boy assured him.

“Oh guys! Look! It’s Papa’s turn, he’s great at this game!”

A man, presumably this girls ‘Papa’, stood and began to guess his person. From this distance, Belos couldn’t see what was written on the paper but listened anyway.

From only a few minutes of guessing, the man discovered he was an animal, a liv animal, a rather disagreeable animal, a savage animal, an animal that growled and grunted and lived on the Isles. It wasn’t sen in the streets, didn’t live in a menagerie, not milled at market and wasn’t a snorse, a slitherbeast, a selkidomus, a fairy or a stonesleeper.

At last the man clicked his fingers and declared, “I’ve got it! Am I Emperor Belos?” He was right. The party broke into laughter, even Hunter gave a small chuckle before regaining composure.

Belos didn’t even notice they had left the hou#e and where now at the cold empty streets of Bonesborough which was slowly filling with fog.

He did, however, notice the spirit before him slowly fading.

“What is happening?”

“I must leave you now,”

“Why?”

“It is the end of the present, all that is left for you is the future.”

Soon the Spirit was consumed as well by the bright light. The clock struck again and, when he lifted his gaze, Belos saw the final Spirit, hooded, coming like a mist along the ground towards him.

Chapter Text

The Phantom slowly, gravelly, silently, approached. Int he very air through which this spirit moved, it seemed to scatter gloom and misery.

It was shrouded in a deep black garment, which concealed its head, its face, its form and let nothing of it visible, save one outstretched hand.

He felt that it was tall and stately when it came beside him and that its mysterious presence filled him with a solemn dread. He knew no more, for the spirit neither spoke not moved.

“I am in the presence of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?”

Spirit did not answer, but pointed its hand.

“You will show me shadows of the things that will happen?”

The spirit gave no answer.

“Ghost of the Future! I know your purpose is to do me good, and I hope to live to be another man from why I was, I am prepared to beat your company, and do it with a thankful heart. Will you not speak to me?”

The spirit only pointed onwards. Belos filled his point.

It led him to a deep part of the Isles. One of the dingiest spots in all of Latissa. The place seemed to be in ruins, as if a tremendous force had destroyed it.

Conversing in one street were two well dressed demons.

“You think it’s true?”

“I’d rather believe it is more than worry it isn’t,”

“I agree, I thought he’d never die!”

“Thank the Titan he did.”

“Do you think they’ll hold a funeral?”

The other laughed, “I highly doubt it, as if anyone would attend!” They both laughed and walked off.

Belos turned to ask the Spirit a question but it only pointed onwards.

Soon they reached another street, this one hosted only darkness and three figures. They all held items of luxury, items vaguely familiar to Belos.

One of the figures was a woman holding bedsheets. Another figure, a man, examined the sheets.

“Are these what I think they are?”

“They are indeed,” the woman answered.

“So you went in and took the sheets right off his bed?”

“Well he won’t be needing them now, will he?” All three laughed.

“Spirit, I see. I suppose this man they speak of is me, am I right?”

The spirit gave no answer.

“Just tell me! Show me my grave if out must. I need to know!”

He recoiled on terror, for the scene had changed and he found himself in an empty, abandoned part of the Isles near the Skull. A place no resident would ever come. There was no grave, no marking, only a small puddle of green goo.

Belos shuddered. He was forgotten, mocked and dead, what could be worse?

“Spirit, if there is any person who mourns me, show them to me!”

The Spirit took him nowhere and Belos felt as if he could weep.

“Please, I must know, are these the shadows of what will be or the shadows of what may be?”

The spirit gave no answer but at last, its hand moved. It no longer pointed onwards but moved towards its good. As this happened, the white light returned and began to surround them , closing in slowly. The Spirit reached its hood and it fell back, revealing a face that horrified him. A face so resembling of his own but corrupted and corroded but he same green goo of his curse.

At his point, the light enveloped them completely and Belos once again found himself in his bed.