Archive of Our Own

“Erak, I think you should come with me.”

The Skandian warrior may be a rather simple-minded man, who likes easy solutions and straight answers. But he is not blind, and just one look at his crewmate, Axl, standing nervously to the side as he waits for his skirl to join him, his eyes failing to meet Erak's for more than a few heartbeats, tells him all he has to know. His conversation with the Araluan “delegation” forgotten, he follows Axl without wasting another moment to ask pointless questions.

Halt watches the scene with a slight tilt to his head that gets Will's attention. Before he has a chance to take a breath and ask his question, the old mentor shakes his head.

“I guess we'll learn about whatever that was later.”

“Why?”

“Because Skandians are really bad at being subtle. And I doubt that they meant to exclude us, there is just something more important to take care of at the moment.”

“More important than a foreign princess discussing very important details with you?” asks Horace with a cheeky smile, making Cassandra giggle.

The most important bit of their conversation was the question about the weather, as it would probably impact their journey back. The rest of it could easily be summed up as local gossip and little more.

“Thank the gods I have a very different definition of “important” than you,” responds Halt with an eye roll. “Otherwise, I would never get anything done.”

“Oh, it's simple. I have other people worry about the important details, this way I never have to.”

Horace's proud smile is too sure of itself to knock it off his face with a well-crafted rebuff, so Halt just huffs noncommittally. Will sends his friend a thumbs-up behind the Ranger's back, but Cassandra turns her gaze in the direction where Erak has vanished.

“Do you think it was something bad? He left really fast.” She waves her hand, as to indicate the empty space he has left. “And he didn't explain anything.”

“Oh, I'm sure it was bad. I just don't know if it's something that's gonna affect us or not.”

That sobers the two apprentices. The smiles slide off their faces just as quickly as they appeared, and they join the princess in her mullings.

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Erak throws the doors open without any regard for the people who may be behind them. He wishes he did, as he sees a small figure in the room jump at the sudden noise, but it is too late to change that particular decision.

Axl does not come inside with his skirl, which leaves Erak and the boy alone, with just the two bodies, wrapped carefully in thick cloth. One of the bodies is untouched, but the other has an uncovered face, revealing a young and undeniably beautiful woman with dark brown hair and a skin that once upon a time was a darker shade, but the sun in Hallasholm left it a bit neglected in that aspect. Not to mention that a deathly paleness has already set in, only drawing attention to that fact.

She was a foreign slave - Araluan, if Erak were to guess. He thinks he has seen her around a few times, but could not be certain of that fact, he is, after all, a jarl, a skirl of a successful brotherband, and she was no more than a property of their Oberjarl.

He wishes he had paid her more attention now, but there is no way to make that particular thing right again. The woman is dead, an arrow through her throat, painting her simple dress a horrible red, gluing her hair together. It dyed her lips and spilled on her chin, and he has not been dead for long, since the cloth covering her managed to get soaked through with it.

It also left a trail on the stone floor, to the knees of a small boy, curled up with a head on her unmoving chest, trembling but silent as he grips her blood-stained clothes in already work-ruined hands.
Her son. And if Axl is right, if the boy is not lying, if only Erak could see his face for a moment –

“Look at me. Please, could you look at me?”

Erak never says “please”. He also never uses that tone, that broken, shaking voice that makes him sound like seconds from crying – which he also never does. He did not cry when Mikkel died, bleeding out in Thorn’s lap, asking them to take care of his son – a son they did not know he had. He did not cry when Thorn got tangled in the Wolfwind's sail and drowned in the cold water, and they never even knew if he managed to keep a hold on his knife, or if he was doomed to wander for eternity.

But it is a close thing now, because as the boy obediently raises his head, Erak sees an echo of those foreign features he just observed on the woman, and blood smeared on the front of his shirt and up to his temple, but he also sees the face of his fallen brother, and the blue eyes that look at him with the same anguish Mikkel's did when he begged them to save his son.

Now he knows why he did that.

“What’s your name?”

The boy's eyes are piercing. They accuse Erak of not doing good enough by his crewmate, as he should have, even more than others as their skirl. They are afraid of Erak, of what is going to happen to him now that his mother is no longer there to protect him. And they help Erak make up his mind even before he hears the answer.

“Hal Mikkelson.”

Hal does not have a claim to that name. Erak will make sure that from now on he does, even if that would mean fighting each and every other Skandian to make that happen.

“I was your father's skirl, Hal. You know who that is, right?”

Hal does not have the strength to look offended, and he just curls up back on his mother's body, adding another coat of her blood onto his face.

“Right. So, I made him a promise – I promised to take care of his family. I didn't know of your existence until now, and I can't change what happened, but I will help you. I swear, I will make sure you're alright.”

Hal does not react. He does not struggle when Erak picks him up, but his hand is stubbornly holding his mother's, and he lets him. They stand in the badly lit room until Hal's head falls on Erak's shoulder with a wet sob, and the man hugs him with his other arm, letting him hide his tears in his sheepskin.

“You're gonna be okay. I will make sure of that.”

It's a long time before Hal is ready to leave his mother's corpse behind, but Erak does not protest. After all, it had taken him much too long to find the boy he was meant to protect in his brother's stead. This time he can be the one to wait.

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Skandians are really bad at being subtle, and so Erak does not even try to be – the next day he appears to talk through the rest of the finer details of the Araluans' journey back home, and he appears with a boy on his hip.

The clothes do not fit him, as the first thing Erak did was order him to strip off the bloodied rags that he was forced to wear as a slave, and dressed him into whatever he found in his own closet and whatever Svengal had managed to lie out of his sister. He helped the boy wash himself, making sure that not a drop of blood was left on his skin, in his hair, or behind his fingernails, and dressed him in more appropriate clothes.

Hal does not put up a fuss. He does what he is told to and little else with an apathetic look on his face, and Erak is not equipped to handle this at all. What do you tell a child that just became an orphan and was forced into the guardianship of a scary-looking seawolf that has no idea what he is doing.

Hal does not cry, and Erak almost wished he did. He does not argue, and Erak is of the opinion that anything would be better than that mask of cold stone on his face, but when has he ever gotten what he wanted? So he just keeps the boy close, makes sure he eats, and drinks, and sleeps, and stays where he can see him, and tries not to think about Svengal's very serious face and the furrowed brows of concern that he displays any time he looks at Hal.

He cannot leave the boy, and he does not think that the boy wants to be left alone. He cannot really ask, because Hal just agrees to whatever he says, and that is another thing that he is gonna have to take care of, but not right now.

So, he picks Hal up again, and feels that it might be the best thing he has done since putting him down the day before. Hal seems to want the closeness, and he easily settles against Erak with a small fist clutching at his sheepskin. That's good. He can hold him, no sweat, even if the last time he's ever been so close to someone was probably before he was Hal's age, hugging his mam's skirt. Hal is light, lighter than he should be, and the list of things to worry about grows with every moment, but just for now everything is okay, and he can work with that, one day at a time.

And this is how the Araluans see him next – carrying a child he clearly did not have just yesterday, a child that is wearing clothes that do not fit him, that is weirdly still, and obedient, and quiet.

As Erak sees Will's mouth opening to ask a question, he shakes his head discreetly. Questions can wait for when Hal is out of hearing range.

The conversation proceeds smoothly from then on. Hal does not betray any signs of boredom, content to just watch over Erak's shoulder. Will cannot help himself but look at the boy every few moments, and the rest of the teenagers are just a little more subtle. Halt takes it in stride, and soon the details are agreed on, and the date for their departure is set.

There is just one thing.

“Hal, can you do something for me?”

He can feel the heavy stares. He ignores them. Hal raises his head to meet his eyes.

“Can you see Svengal over there?” A nod. “Good. Can you ask him to come over here for a moment?”

Another nod. “Good lad.”

He sets him down and Hal walks off – does not run, does not hurry.

“Halt – a word?”

They leave the rest, deaf to their protests, to have a little privacy.

“I guess there is a story here.”

“It is, but we don't have time to go over all of that. I will tell you one day.”

“So, what do you want to talk about?”

“I have no idea what I am doing.”

The words come out before he can even think them through. He would never admit to something like that, but cannot find it in himself to be embarrassed about it. The rest spills almost as easily.

“Halt, I found him curled on his ma's body, covered in blood. He's the son of a friend, and I was supposed to take care of him, but I didn't know, and now there is no one else to take care of him, but I don't know what I'm doing!”

“Calm down, that's first. Second, I doubt anybody does. True, your situation is complicated, but he seems to trust you. Just make sure he never has a reason to stop. Help him where you can. You're a good man.” And oh, gods, is that a sign of softness from the grumpy Ranger? The world has really turned upside down. Just call him an oberjarl already, why don't you? There are just so many other weird things that can surprise him. “And don't do it alone. It takes a village, after all.”

That's the moment Svengal chooses to crash the mood, walking up to them with Hal's hand in his, talking animatedly to the boy, who, for the first time since he pulled him off the floor in the dimly lit room that smelled of blood, looks a little more like he was alive.

He nods. Hal does not let go of Svengal's hand, even though he now looks like he wants to. Erak makes an inviting gesture to him, and the boy does not waste any more time, but lets himself be lifted back where he clearly belongs.

“You wanted me?”

“Yes. We have to go – they're gonna choose an oberjarl soon, and we better be there for it.”

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It is not easy to juggle the responsibilities of the leader of an entire country, and the ones of raising a child, but Erak does his best.

Hal does not.

He is still an eerily obedient and quiet boy, but he is beginning to test his patience.

Well, to be fair, Erak does not think Hal is doing this on purpose. Like eating for example – he often refuses to do it, and there is nothing that can convince him otherwise. But that probably stems from the fact that slaves are given just the bare minimum to survive, and as much as thinking about this boy as a former slave hurts Erak, he has to constantly remind himself that it is not his fault that he just cannot eat more, even though he really should put some meat on his bones. Another example could be sleeping. He often finds Hal awake hours after he has put him to bed, under the covers, but staring at the ceiling, and he finds him awake long before he comes to wake him up for breakfast. It is probably the nightmares that keep him awake, but there is little Erak can do about those.

During the day Hal follows him around like a lost shadow for hours on end. He sits quietly when he talks about taxes, and when he argues about the recent change in the law, and when he signs the endless amount of paperwork.

And he still does not talk. Not really, anyway. He just answers as briefly as he can, usually just nodding or shaking his head when he can get away with it. But he never asks about anything, never cries out loud, never tries to offer his own opinion.

And Erak worries.

His worry is what makes him check on the boy multiple times during the night, and tonight he finds him awake every time. His eyes are shining in the light from the hall, tired and empty, bloodshot from another sleepless night. He blinks at him, but never anything more.

Erak closes the door. He does not know what to do. He wishes he had someone to ask about something like that, but his parents are long dead, and he does not have any siblings. His crewmates do not know any better than him, even those with children, and their wives and not close enough to him to brave the indignity of asking for help.

He checks again, an hour later. Hal has his back to the door, and his shoulders are a tight line under his covers. So, either awake again, or having a nightmare.

Erak closes the door. Nothing to do about that.

He checks yet again. Hal's eyes are even more shiny and even more red. He cannot bear to walk away.
He gently sits on the floor by Hal's bed. The whole room is bare, except for the things Erak put there himself. He does not think Hal has ever touched any of them, with the exception of his clothes.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

Hal blinks up at him. He does not think any child should have a look that is this tired and defeated. He does not answer, even though he always does, but tears drip from his cheeks.

He does not make a sound. He never does.

Erak puts his hand in Hal's hair. His giant paw is scarred and rough from years of handling the helm, rowing, and swinging his ax. He does not think his hands are best to handle this, but there are no other hands willing to do that, so his will have to do.

“I have them too, sometimes. It gets better if you talk about them.”

It is a lie. Erak has never once talked about his dreams with anyone, nor he ever will. But he is at the end of his rope – Hal cannot go not talking to him, they will never accomplish anything that way. He needs something to do anything.

But Hal probably knows it. Knows that he is being lied to, and his expression closes off even more. And Erak just gives up the grown up act.

“Okay, you know what. Imma be honest – I have no idea what I am doing. You have to give me something, kid, because I don't know how to help you. Hell, I'm probably screwing you up even further, but I don't know about it, and there is no one here to tell me. Please, work with me.”

Hal does not answer. He just scoots a little closer and puts his head on Erak's shoulder.

“Okay. Okay.”

He can work with that. If it is the company Hal wants, he will get it.

And so Erak stays on the hard, cold floor for the entire night, brushing away Hal's tears whenever he wakes up from another nightmare, and tells him old Skandian stories to take his mind off of the horrible dreams and help him fall back asleep.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Things do not get better. In fact, they get worse.

Hal gets sick barely eating for a week, and Erak is about ready to rip his hair out.

“I thought we had an agreement,” he laments, when Hal pukes up the broth Erak has been attempting to feed him for the past quarter-hour.

Hal just looks up at him miserably. Erak shakes his head.

“Drink your water.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Erak has a lot of responsibilities. Some of them include traveling to far-away lands to negotiate another stupid treaty. Some of them include making sure to keep a nine-year-old alive, despite how much that nine-year-old does not cooperate.

“I can’t leave him.”

Svengal looks at him with pity. Erak fantasizes about breaking a shield on his empty skull.

“I mean, you definitely could…”

“I’m not a monster, Svengal.”

His first mate sighs.

“I will tell the boys.”

And this is how the official delegation arrives at their destination – babysitting their skirl’s kid. All of them make sure that Hal does not fall off into the water, and that he is entertained enough not to get into something he should not. The older members of the crew tell him endless stories of his dad, spinning them to make Mikkel look like a legendary hero and not just a good warrior, but that seems to be the key to Hal’s trust. He warms up to all of the boys surprisingly quickly, even those younger, who could not have known Mikkel, but it is enough that they show him a few childhood games and even teach him how to cheat at cards. Erak looks at all of this with eyes misty from that damn salt water and the harsh winds, and pretends to ignore Svengal when he makes cooing noises behind his back.

An upside – Hal is actually opening up, and it is amazing to watch.

A downside – Hal now knows several swearwords a child his age should never repeat.

An upside – Erak has half a dozen volunteers for the worst jobs around the ship for the foreseeable future.

As he quietly yells at the careless crewmembers, Svengal shows Hal how to operate the helm. The boy does not have the strength to actually steer the ship, but he seems fascinated by the mechanics of it.
But it is a few days later that Erak gets the biggest surprise of the trip – Hal starts to ask questions.

The first time it happens, Erak almost forgets to answer, so overcome with emotions he would never admit to having, and Hal takes a step back, as if concluding that he did something wrong, but the skirl immediately reassures him, answering at length.

This becomes a catalyst of change. From then on, Hal takes to trailing behind a chosen crewmember, and asking as many questions as he can. The initial ones are easy enough, and he soon gets a few mini-lectures on the basics of navigation, geography, meteorology, and everything else he can come up with. But then they get to those hard questions, those not even the most experienced seawolves know the answers to, and Hal is forced to admit defeat.

After failing to acquire the answer to the question “But how does rain know when to fall?”, he joins Erak at the helm.

“Hal, there isn’t an answer to every question. Don’t be mad at the boys.”

“Why?”

“Because we, human beings, are flawed,” he repeats a quote he heard from someone, probably that gray Ranger, with confidence. Which quickly runs out after another wave of questions.

“Why?”

“Because that’s how we were made.”

“Why?”

“Hal, go check if Svengal doesn’t have something interesting for you to do.”

The boy listens, and Erak sighs with relief. He has a feeling that keeping up with Hal’s mind as he grows up is going to become hard.

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The Oberjarl is very careful about Hal’s past as a slave. He makes sure to explain to the boy why he is to never mention that part of his history, and he spreads the version that is as close to the truth as he can make it.

“Yes, his father was a member of my brotherband… When his mother died, I couldn’t just leave him like that, it’s not what I owed Mikkel… Right, you remember Mikkel? Yes, Thorn’s best friend Mikkel, that’s right… So, I had to make sure that the boy is being looked after, you know…”
It sells. As Hallasholm does not keep slaves anymore, no one misses a small boy who never made it onto a boat to Araluen. Skandians perceive Hal as nothing more but the adopted son of their Oberjarl, traumatized by the loss of his parents at such a young age. It is close enough to the truth, and explains why the boy is so quiet and skittish around the crowds, so Erak leaves it be. Few people know the truth, only a couple of his crew, and Erak has made it very clear what is going to happen if they spill the truth. The boys are not dumb, so they keep quiet, and keep an ear out for any unwanted gossip.

The problem is that Hal does not want the company of other boys his age. He is at ease among Erak’s crew, and he keeps testing more and more boundaries with Erak, and while that makes him happier than it would in normal circumstances, the lack of age-appropriate playmates is worrying him.

“I mean, how is he going to survive the brotherband training, if he does not make any friends or allies? They’re gonna reject him, or worse, use him for their own gain, and then reject him,” he whines one evening to Svengal over his beer, long after Hal has already gone to bed.

“Give him some time, will you? The boy barely started to talk, and you want him to make alliances already? Be patient, he has time for that.”

The next day Hal comes back dripping water, with a tall boy on his heels, looking half-drowned. He should have known that he was eavesdropping yesterday evening.

The boy’s name is Stig, and he explains how Hal saved his life, all while Erak tries to decide if he should be happy about it, or just die from a heart attack at the thought of his kid jumping into the sea to fish out someone heavier than him.

“I made a friend. Are you happy?” asks Hal after Erak puts him in a thick blanket in front of the fire, and Stig has already gone home in borrowed clothes.

“I am. Very.” He sighs. “Are you?”

Hal tilts his head at him. And that is the root of the problem, is it not?

“Hal, I wasn’t talking about you needing a friend because that’s something I want. I mean…” he backtracks, tangled in his own words. “I want you to make friends, but not because I want you to, but because you should want it. Do you understand?”

Hal nods, clearly not convinced.

“Listen… Do you like Stig?”

“He’s loud. And angry.” His nose wrinkles slightly, and Erak fights not to coo at the sight.

“He is,” he agrees easily. “But is it something you can overlook? Is it something you want in a friend?”
Hal shrugs. Erak decides that it is enough to ask the boy those questions. He does not have to answer him now.

“Think about that. You don’t have to decide immediately.”

“Do you think he won’t like me?”

“What?” he growls, repulsed by the mere thought. How dare anyone not like his kid?

“I don’t like talking, and Svengal says I think too much. What if he doesn’t like that?”

“Svengal just says that because he doesn’t think at all.” He makes a mental note to punch his friend later.

“And if Stig doesn’t like you, that’s nothing wrong.” Oh, how he had to force himself to utter those words, how they scratched at his throat, fighting to not be released. “And it’s okay if you don’t like him too. People don’t have to all like each other. You will find someone who likes you, and who will get along with you. It doesn’t have to be now.”

Hal nods, satisfied with the answer.

The boys, of course, become best friends almost immediately. Erak is so proud he does not know how to express it with words.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Hal’s questions become impossible to answer. So, Erak drags him to Anders.

“Please, take him. Show him all you know about ships, and everything else you can come up with. I will pay you.”

“I’m not sure about that, Oberjarl,” says the man, eyeing Hal doubtfully. Hal shrinks even more behind Erak.

“I could make that an order.”

“I think your power does not extend as much as to make me babysit your kid.”

“Please. Just, spend a day with him, and if you’re not impressed by the evening, I won’t bother you again.”

Anders agrees. When Erak comes back a few hours later, Hal has already been made his apprentice, and Erak has to promise him to bring him back tomorrow.

“Is that something you would like, Hal?”

The boy nods eagerly. Erak does not think he has ever seen him so excited about something. It absolutely does not melt his heart.

“I want to build my own ship,” he whispers to Erak after dinner, when he is being tucked in.

“I can’t wait to see that, kid.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Hal almost drowns trying to build his first ship. Erak does not know if he should run to hug him and make sure he is alright, or to run up to Anders and punch him in his stupid face.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Hal brings another friend home. This time there is no near-drowning story, but there is a getting lost in the woods story.

Erak considers putting Hal on a leash. He throws the idea out immediately, disgusted that it has even occurred to him.

“This is Edvin. He’s very smart! He told me about the birds we saw!”

Erak wants to respond that Hal is probably much smarter than Edvin, and throws the other boy a harsh look, which makes him take a step back and bow his head. But Hal is holding his hand in a strong grip, and Edvin has nowhere to run to, so he accepts his fate.

Upon consideration, Erak admits that Edvin may just be the friend he pictured for Hal – someone Hal can constantly chatter to, and get the same treatment in return. Stig gets jealous for about a quarter-hour, but then Hal begins to teach them how to cheat at cards, and the jealousy is quickly forgotten.

This is very smart on Hal’s part, thinks Erak when he takes the boy to look at the birds and tells him everything that his father once told him. Having one friend that is very much like you, and having another one that is very different. They can learn a lot from each other that way.

And, he notes with satisfaction, he still knows more about birds than a “very smart” nine-year-old.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Hal is ten years old.

Gone is the little boy who was afraid to ask a question, who was afraid to speak. Who was afraid to step a foot out of the line, whose mind was wired to follow orders and to expect punishment every moment of the day.

In his place stands a little boy who has trouble shutting up, who has an endless supply of questions. Who constantly tests how much would Erak allow him to do – and the answer is ‘a lot.’ A little boy who still flinches at quick gestures, and who hates when someone yells at him. But a little boy who had laughed for the first time since he met him, really laughed, so loud a couple of his crewmates turned their heads around to see what it was about, just a few weeks ago.

Erak is absolutely not crying.

Hal gets a little sword from Svengal, looted lovingly in Araluen back when it was still legal. He also gets a board on which he can draw all of his amazing ideas, and a set of tools from Erak. Well, the tools were from Thorn, really, but that is a story for when Erak puts him to bed this evening. His brotherband gives him a variety of toys. They are mostly used ones, belonging to the kids and siblings of his crewmates, but Hal still comes up and hugs each of them when he receives the gifts, and in return they ignore the tears on his face. He especially takes a shine to a wooden dragon with one leg and an eye missing that was gifted to him by Axl.

Axl gets the bragging rights, Hal gets a new favorite toy, and Erak gets to worry if the thing will take out his eye if he accidentally rolls over it during the night.

But perhaps the best part of the whole day for Hal is that Stig and Edvin stay overnight, and they build a fort in the dining room and force Erak to play cards with them – which he loses, every time, to the absolute delight of the kids, and he will have to have a talk with his crewmates about age-appropriate games.

And for Erak? The best part is when he wakes up in the middle of the night to two eyes shining on the threshold of his room, looking at him expectantly.

“What do you need, Hal?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he says in a small voice, clutching that awful dragon to his chest, afraid to come in.

“A nightmare?”

The boy nods. Erak nods too. He bundles him up in warm clothes and takes him to the Wolfwind. The gentle waves crash into the ship, rocking her with care. The wind is harsh, but neither of them minds. There is nowhere else they feel more at home than on a ship, looking at the stars to make sure they sail in the right direction.

“If you wanted to go somewhere, where would you go?”

“I think I like it here best.”

They stay on the deck until the sun peeks over the horizon, painting the sky pink and orange.

“Let’s go back before Stig and Edvin wake up and learn that we didn’t invite them to this party.”

Hal cannot agree or disagree, already deep asleep.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Over the years, Erak learns not to ask unnecessary questions.

Like “why are you carrying so much wood up to your room?” Or “why is my kitchen flooding?” Not even “Hal, where, for the love of Gorlog, is my second-favorite ax?”

He has to ask, though, when the boy comes back home with a swollen lip and a bloodied nose.

“Okay, whom do I have to kill?”

Hal does not answer. He has that haunted look in his eyes, the one he gets when he thinks about his mam, or about his life before Erak took him in, and Erak is about ready to spill someone’s insides on the ground and spear their head on the pickets for the rest of the world as a warning.

But that has to wait. He moves closer, slowly raising his hand to check Hal’s face, to search for other injuries, but the boy takes a step back, eyes wide with something like fear. That is how Erak concludes that whatever happened was really bad, because Hal has never reacted like this – not to him, anyway, not when he was so careful not to startle him.

Recognition draws in Hal’s eyes, and he opens his mouth – to apologize, or maybe to explain, but he cannot find his voice. It, too, happens less often the more time passes, and it is another reason to be concerned.

“You’re alright, Hal. I’m not coming closer. No one is coming in, you’re safe here. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

It is a long moment before Hal shrugs. So, almost definitely yes.

“Can I check?”

A finger up and a shake of his head. Not yet.

He can work with that, he has to remind himself not to do anything rash he is going to regret later. As he has done many times in the past.

Hal vanishes to his room, closing the door quietly. Erak feels torn. On one hand he wants to stay where he can keep an ear out. On the other, he knows Hal needs his space. He could go out, find out what happened – there is bound to be someone who has heard something – and be back when Hal is feeling better to take care of his injuries. But if he leaves, he might not know if Hal might need him.

In the end, his curiosity wins. He leaves a cup of water by the door, just in case, and goes out for a hunt.
Hannah’s house is the first obvious place to start searching. If Hal got tangled up into something, you can surely bet that Stig did too.

“Erak,” welcomes him Hannah. She stopped using his title after the third time he brought her son back home by his hood after getting himself and Hal into trouble.

Well, to be fair, he once walked him back because it was already dark outside, and he wanted to make sure that the boy gets home safely. But only once!

“Hannah, lovely to see you, as always.”

And it is. Hal loves Hannah, and that means Erak genuinely likes her too. She keeps an eye on the boys when he is not able to, and does it successfully, something that cannot be said about his crew, for example.

“I assume you’re here because of the fight?”

“How do you always know what’s happening before I do?”

“Years of practice. And Stig has never been the best liar.”

Hannah invites him inside, where Stig, sitting by the small table, is holding a cold rag to his eye.

“I want answers, boy,” he says, but not harshly. Besides, it is much too late to try any intimidation techniques on his kid’s friends, they have heard him reading the stories and doing the funny voices.

There is no coming back from that.

“It wasn’t our fault!”

Erak shoots him a doubtful look. Stig shrinks on himself, but his face is still open and truthful.

“I’m not lying! We were minding our own business, when Tursgud–”

Oh, and that explains everything.

“–he was bothering those two other boys, and Hal told him to stop, and then he attacked Hal, and I attacked him, and it just kind of… got out of control?”

“I believe you. Hannah, can I have a word with you?”

Stig gets up to leave, but something holds him back for a moment. “Is Hal alright?”

“Yes. Why wouldn’t Hal be alright?” Has something more happened? Is he gonna have to murder someone anyway?

“It’s just… he was really quiet when we were going back. And he wasn’t answering my questions?” Stig looks up at him with perfect puppy eyes, no doubt taught by Edvin. “I just… Is Hal okay?”

“He will be, kid. Thanks for letting me know what happened.”

Stig just nods, not convinced. A moment later the front door closes behind him with a loud bang. No doubt running to Edvin to bring him up to speed, if the boy does not already know what happened.

“So, what did you want to talk about, Erak?”

Oh, they have been standing here for a while, have they not?

“Sorry about that. I actually wanted to talk about Hal.”

Hannah is immediately on high alert.

“Is he alright? If it’s something you didn’t want my son to hear…”

“No, nothing like that!” He backtracks. It is a little like that. “Well, maybe. Just, there is something about Hal’s past that I don’t want our neighbors hearing about, but… It may be good for someone else to know.”

Hannah nods silently, sensing a delicate subject. She gives him some time to gather his thoughts.

But he does not need more time. No time in the world is going to soften the blow of saying “my son was a slave, they treated him horribly, and it makes me want to burn everyone who looks at him wrong!”

So he says just that. But, without the burning part. He does not go into details, there is no need.

“Ideally I would tell something like that to Stig, so he can keep an eye on him, but they’re twelve, for Gorlog’s sake, and I don’t want to overstep saying something like that to him…”

“I understand.” She wipes her hands nervously on her apron, but her face is determined. “What do you need me to do?”

“Talk to Stig. Tell him whatever version you deem appropriate, but… Just ask him to look after Hal? I want my kid to have someone who could understand at least that much about him. Who will be able to help him if I’m not there.”

“I’ll think about it. Maybe we don’t have to go into much details, we can just focus on Hal’s reaction–”

There is a loud snap and a quiet swear word which could have been only taught by his own crew, which means one thing – either Hal has come out of his room and decided to communicate once again, or Stig is really bad at eavesdropping and Erak has to have a talk with him about that.

Hannah opens the door. To their surprise, Edvin is also there, clearly trying very hard to look as if he is not.

“So, I guess that you boys already heard all of that?”

They do not try to pretend. Their faces are drawn with worry and fear, and Erak cannot be mad at them – they only wanted to help. And this solves the problem of figuring out how to tell them.

“Come in. We have some things to talk about.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Erak has stressed to the two boys that they do not have to address any of it to Hal. That he will do it himself, and that they can just try to cheer him up if he wants the company.

He does not. Stig and Edvin leave, promising to come back tomorrow.

It takes a few hours before the door opens just a little, and Erak can breathe with relief.

Explaining all that has happened is not easy. Hal is close to tears again as he details how Stig and Edvin came to know the truth, but he still does not allow Erak to touch him, so there is really no other comfort he can provide but words.

“They are just worried about you. You picked yourself good friends.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Stig and Edvin come back before the sun has finished raising. They argue for a while in front of the doors, and Erak lets them, looking at the pale smile on Hal’s battered face with relief.

“Do you think we should let them in?”

Hal nods. Before Erak gets up and leaves the table, he quickly grabs his hand and squeezes it two times before releasing it. He is better with proximity today, but touch is still something he has been avoiding. Erak smiles at him and does not make it a big deal.

“Come in boys, you’re hardly subtle!”

Stig and Edvin spill into the house and flock to Hal. Afraid they might crowd him, Erak moves to intervene, but there is no need for that.

“Have you seen that ship in the harbor that arrived yesterday? Absolutely huge!” says Edvin, genuinely excited.

“It’s not bigger than Wolfwind!”

“It is! Henjak said he measured it, and–!”

“Henjak cannot count his own fingers half of the time, how can you trust him to–!”

“Don’t listen to him, Hal–”

“Hey, you can’t just say something like that! Don’t listen to him, Hal–”

“We can always go there and check!”

“Of course we can! Hal, what do you think…?”

They will be alright, thinks Erak as he locks himself in his office to start on the work.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

“We have to do something about that Tursgud kid,” he announces to his crew that very same evening. Hal is staying at Edvin’s with Stig, and he has heard that the boy’s Aunt is going to show them how to do stitches. He prays that they never have to use that knowledge, but it is better to know too much than too little – and with how curious Hal and Edvin are, it was just a matter of time before they tried to figure it out themselves.

“You mean something permanent?”

Erak wants to say yes. Just one word and his problem vanishes without a trace, most preferably in the other end of the Endless Ocean. He scolds himself mentally.

“I wish,” he settles on the most truthful answer he can get away with. “But we’re talking about a child. And besides, we can’t insert ourselves into Hal’s fights – they will never respect him if we do.”

It is one of the unwritten laws of Hallasholm – the adults never end the fights if they did not disturb the general peace of the town, and if the kids did not overdo it. And “overdoing it” is a very broad term in Skandia.

“It’s simple,” says Svengal, and all of the eyes in the room settle onto him. “We teach the boy how to fight. And those two friends of his too, for a good measure.”

Erak does not have any argument against that idea.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

The initial enthusiasm quickly gives way to discouragement.

The boys learn that you cannot just wave your weapon randomly. It is particularly hard for Stig, for whom fighting comes naturally – he is going to be a fearsome opponent in the future, but for now he lacks the needed strength and experience. It will come with time, but for now the boy is in for a few weeks of frustrations.

“Get yourself together, Stig!” calls Lars as he pushes the twelve-year old to the ground.

Stig is furious. He wants to throw himself at Lars with a true Skandian battle cry, but the experience has taught him that it will not work. Anger burns in his veins, and embarrassment clouds his vision. It does not matter that he is fighting against a grown man, a seasoned warrior, he wants to bring him down, wants him to taste the ground just as he has so many times already. He takes a few deep breaths and assumes the position Svengal taught them after the long weeks of strength training and learning the basics. The anger simmers down to something more manageable. Something he can use to his advantage.

“That's better! Come on, maybe you can hit me at least once today!”

The control goes out of the window. He throws himself at Lars and ends up face-first in the grass, again.

“That wasn't very smart of him,” muttered Edvin between the orders yelled at them by Axl.

Hal just hums, focused on the drills. They both jump up in surprise when Svengal appears behind them.

“Do I hear talking? If I hear talking, you can swing those swords faster! Axl, give them a challenge!”

Axl sends them an apologetic glance and picks up the pace. Soon, none of the boys have the breath to neither yell, nor whisper.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

“Can I come with you?”

Erak puts the map of Arrida down. Hal's eagerness is adorable, but he cannot say that to him.

“No. You're twelve, and there is no way I'm gonna take you on a raid.”

Hal pouts.

“Then why have we been training for the past months?”

“So you can protect yourself when someone bigger and stronger jumps you.” He pats the boy's hair, but he evades his hand and sends him a glare. “What, did you think it was so you could fight with the boys?”

Hal does not answer, but he does not have to. Erak is tempted to take him, just so he can keep an eye on him and make sure he does not get himself in any trouble, and to make sure he is fine. Despite how much he trusts Hannah, he cannot forget about Hal's troublemaking tendencies – he trusts the inevitability of that much more than he trusts any sort of responsible supervision.

“I'll take you on a raid when you finish your training, okay?”

Hal does not seem to think that is fair. Erak sighs.

“I won't even be gone for that long. Just a few weeks, and I will bring you a souvenir.”

“What kind of a souvenir?” Hal's eyes narrow as he recalculates the up- and downsides of that offer.

“Whatever you want.”

Hal takes a breath and then starts to list the items. Erak thinks he does not breathe for at least five minutes. He does not think he can remember all of that. He does not think Arrida has even a third of what Hal listed.

The deal is off when he mentions that.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

“Take me with you.”

Erak does not turn to look at his kid as he makes sure that they packed everything. It is not something he even has to consider.

“No.”

“Take me with you.”

Erak sighs deeply, trying not to slam his head on the table. His Hilfmann looks at them with confusion. He does not comment. He knows better.

“No.”

“Take me with you.”

“Hal, you know you’re not allowed to listen in on the private meetings I have with my jarls.”

“Take me with you.”

“Svengal, get him out of here.”

“Take me with you.”

Erak wakes up to see a very serious face very close to his own.

“Go back to sleep, Hal.”

“Take me with you.”

Erak pulls the blankets over his head and tries to ignore the weight on his ribs.

“Hal, do you want to come with me and Svengal hunting?”

“I want to go to Arrida.”

“Thank Gorlog, I thought you forgot how to say anything else.”

“Take me with you.”

“Hunting? Sure, go take your crossbow.”

“No. Arrida.”

“No.”

“Skirl? Hal wanted me to tell you, that you should definitely take him with us–”

“Tell Hal not to order my crew around. And have some damn self-respect, Axl.”

Erak should really pay more attention to what he is signing. He just almost signed a permission for Hal to go on a raid with them. He rolls the paper up into a tight ball and throws it into the fire.

He decides not to acknowledge the sigh of disappointment he hears at that.

“Take me with you.”

“Yes, I also think that the weather is quite nice.”

“Take me with you.”

“I will glue your mouth shut – don't test me, kid.”

“Take me with you.”

Erak thought that he would get a few more years before Hal lost the rest of his respect for him, but it turns out that was wishful thinking. Hannah pats him on the back when he comes to her to feel sorry for himself.

Hannah does not have that problem. She is much stronger than Erak. But she does empathize.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

He says goodbye to Hal in the harbor of Hallasholm early in the morning. The boy does little to hide his tears. Erak tries a little more. After embracing him briefly he feels the boy trying to free himself, and he lets him.

“Listen to Hannah. Don’t do anything stupid. Keep Stig and Edvin from doing anything stupid.”

Hal just nods against his sheepskin. And then he just walks away, leaving the ship almost ready to sail, not waiting to see them off.

“I think he’s mad at me,” remarks Erak to Svengal.

“I wonder what gave that away.”

“On which side are you on?”

“I’d rather not answer that question.”

“Traitor.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

“I think we have rats.”

Erak looks at his first mate with a worried expression.

Sure, it happens, but he would rather avoid it. You can never know if the little bastards do not bite through a very important rope or get into their food supply. You just could not risk it, no matter that he would probably get a whole lecture from Bjorn about how the rats are so smart you can train them and they know when the ship is going to sink.

Erak is not stupid. He also knows when the ship is going to sink. It gets pretty obvious at times.

“Get a few guys and check it. And for Gorlog's sake, don't tell Bjorn.”

Svengal nods and calls three men to accompany him.

They come back just a few minutes later, followed by Hal.

“So, turns out, we just have one rat.”

Erak tries to look stern. Hal looks back at him resolutely.

“You are so grounded when we come back.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

“You stay on the ship, young man, you hear me?”

“Yes. You've told me five times already.”

“I told you a thousand times not to come with us, and yet here you are. Excuse me if I'm not sure that you heard me properly.”

Hal makes a face at him. Erak makes a face back.

“I will stay,” sighs Hal, giving up. “I just wanted to be on the ship anyway.”

Erak does not let his surprise show.

“That's good. We'll be back in a few hours. Be good for Axl and don't do anything stupid.”

“You too.”

Svengal chokes on his own spit somewhere in the back where he is making sure that his ax is sharp enough. The rest of his crew is at least more subtle – he does not delude himself that they were not listening.

Erak does not dignify that with a response, just hugs Hal and gives an order to move out.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Nobody can quite look Hal in the eyes as they run away with curled up tails and a bitter taste in their mouths. His small silhouette is leaning over the taffrail in the direction of Arrida, reaching further and further, until just one of his feet is, barely, planted on the deck, and his knee is raising as if to climb up and over. Svengal leaves the helm to someone else. He does not bother to pass out any orders.

“We'll get him back, Hal. But get down before you fall out. Please.”

He obediently slides down. His eyes never leave the harsh, dry line of the land.

“He was not supposed to do anything stupid.”

Svengal sighs. He does not know how to do this. As much as he helps Erak, as much time as he spends with his self-adopted nephew, he is more of a fun uncle, and not one who you can rely on to make any possibly life-altering decisions. And he does not know how much Erak would want to tell Hal.

But Erak is not here. Svengal is, and he is gonna do the best he can for as long as he is able.

“Hal, you're not a little child. Can I talk with you like an adult?”
He finally looks at him. He clearly tries not to cry, and it breaks his heart a little, but they have to talk about it.

“We have a plan. We're going to Araluen, because it's closer, and we're gonna be back for Erak in a few weeks, and not months.”

Hal nods. “That's smart.”

“Yeah. And we're doing that because we think that someone betrayed us. They knew we were going to be there. They knew that Erak was going to be there. It's not safe to go back.”

He does not know what he has expected – not that. Not Hal narrowing his eyes, furrowing his brow. Not the calculating face he makes, not the hundreds of questions that run silently through his mind. This is not a lost child, abandoned to the cruel fate, this is someone ready to tackle the problem in front of him, ready to do whatever is necessary to get back what is rightfully his.

This is the first time Svengal thinks that Hal is going to make a terrifying foe – in the future, probably not even a far one.

“That's why I need you on your best behavior. No disrespecting orders. There is too much at stake.”

Hal nods. He is far from stupid.

“I promise. But you need to tell me what's going on. Don't leave me in the dark.”

It is a threat. It is an oath. Hal often causes trouble by accident, but rarely on purpose, and Svengal does not wish to see what that looks like.

“We have a deal, kid.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Hal is clearly charmed by Araluen. Its green shores are something that is foreign for someone who grew up in Skandia.

And this is the first time he sees the land from which his mam hailed.

They all expected questions and the demands of stories. But the boy is weirdly silent, just like in his first weeks with Erak. It is concerning. Svengal forces himself to push it to the back of his mind and focus on what he has to do – ride on a horse through the country to find someone who can help him. Hal can wait, just until he gets back. The boys will make sure he is as fine as he can be in those circumstances, and then Svengal can cede some of his duties as a skirl and take care of him like he deserves it.

He comes back a few days later with three Rangers and a knight. One of the archers laughs about something, maybe a remark about his love of horses, about how his body must have loved the journey. It is not hard to ignore it.

“Has anything happened?” he asks Lars instead, still a little breathless. He can rest after that.

Lars shrugs. To his credit, he immediately knows what Svengal means.

“There were a few arguments, and we think he's not been sleeping well, but he's okay.”

He takes a deep breath. Good. Well, not really, but about as good as he should have expected. He can almost feel the glances exchanged by the Rangers, but he ignores them too. He needs to get his eyes on the boy, and then anything else.

Hal's face peeks out just as he starts searching for him. There is a pouty twist to his lips that proves Lars's words correct, but it smooths out as their eyes meet. Hal reaches out to him, and Svengal obliges, lifting him up in a rough hug.

“You took a child with you on a raid?”

He can feel the judgment, burning at the back of his head. He releases the child, and leads him to their guests.

“He kind of took himself on a raid,” he said in an attempt at teasing, without much success on either side.

“This is Hal, Erak's son. Hal, those three are the Araluen's Rangers – Halt, Gilan, and Will. And this is Horace, a knight. They're all Erak's friends.”

He does not expect miracles, and he is not getting them. Hal spares them each a nod, and vanishes between the bodies of the Wolfwind's crew, all standing up like shields against a rain of arrows.

“Sorry about that, he's worried about Erak.” Not a lie, per se. Just an omission.

“Erak has a son? Like, someone he is responsible for?” stutters out Will, still in shock.

“We trust him to take care of the whole country, you know.”

“Sorry.” He shakes his head. “It wasn't supposed to sound like that. I'm just surprised.”

Svengal sighs. “Well, to be fair, managing the whole of Skandia is probably easier than taking care of Hal.”

“Why?” Horace seems to have taken this whole situation with his usual stoicism. Svengal knew he picked out his favorite right.

“Well, he's here, and he's not supposed to, for example. Believe it or not,” he looks straight at Will when he says that, “Erak is actually not so irresponsible as to take a twelve-year old on a raid. But Hal is stubborn enough to sneak his way in anyway.”

“Serves Erak right,” comments Halt with a barely-there twitch to his mouth.

Svengal smiles. “Oh, I know. But they are good for each other, I think. Hal is about the only one who can order him around without any consequences, and break his rules without a punishment. It's very amusing to watch.”

“Oh, I need to see that – Erak being ordered around by his own kid!”

“Yeah.” Svengal's smile falls. They all need to see that – and particularly the two involved parties.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

King Duncan arrives three days later. As Svengal swears their oath to protect his daughter, the king's attention is drawn to an irregularity in the crew's make-up.

“You took a child on a raid?” he echoes with disappointment and something harsher, as if being a father made him qualified to judge the Skandian ways of childrearing. It does not, for the record.

“We know he's not supposed to be here,” explains Svengal, already tired. Maybe that is how Erak feels basically every day of his life. He turns to Hal, and glares at him. “He knows he's not supposed to be here. He’s here anyway. Drop it.”

“And you plan to take him to Arrida?”

“It's a diplomatic mission. Besides, he will stay on the ship for the whole time.”

“You can leave him here,” suggested king Duncan. “You have to come back anyway, so it won't be an inconvenience for you – and we certainly can take care of the boy.”

No one is really prepared for the amount of troubles Hal gets into on a daily basis, Svengal thinks, but keeps that to himself.

“We tried to leave him in Skandia, and this is how it turned out. I prefer to keep my eye on him. But thank you for the offer,” he adds after a moment.

Duncan decides it is not his place to push him any further. He hugs his daughter again and they are off.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

It takes Hal about two days to ambush the first person of the Araluan delegation. It is much sooner than Svengal would expect, seeing that Hal is still not sleeping and rarely talks to him or the rest of the crew. He tells himself that he is not jealous, and that it is good to see any signs of life from the boy at all.
His victim is Horace. A good choice, in Svengals opinion, but he still lingers over Hal to make sure everything is okay.

Hal mostly asks Horace about his home country. Demands stories about his childhood, how it is to be a knight, is his sword heavy, what are his favorite games, can he play cards, is his armor heavy, why does he wear all this armor if the Skandians do not, does Araluen have the same holidays as Skandia, and so many more. He also ignores any questions Horace asks him in return, refusing to engage in a conversation, and making it an interview – or an interrogation, depending on the perspective.

He stops when Gilan comes to join them. He stands up without a word, but nods to Horace as a thanks, and goes to the helm to bug Olaf during his spell.

“Don't take it personally,” he says to the confused Ranger. “Hal has his weird quirks. It took him much longer than that to open up to the crew. He will warm up to you in his own time.”

Svengal thinks his reluctance to get close to any of the Rangers might be because of their arrows. He saw Karina's body, the mangled flesh of her throat and the blood that painted her front and the knees, hands, face, hands of her son. He remembers how long they spend cleaning it off Hal, how he was send to burn his soiled clothes, and how Hal did not look quite alive as he leaned against Erak, looking down at his hands and flexing them, like he was surprised that his fingers were not painted red, that there was nothing there – questioning if what happened was indeed real, and not just some cruel play of his mind.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

The moon is overwhelmingly bright. The tops of the waves are lit up in a silver gleam, and although it is very peaceful, Cassandra finds herself unable to fall asleep. Perhaps it is the constant movement, or the way sound carries over the water, so different to what she is used to. She sits up on her bedroll and looks over the deck.

Only about a third of the crew is still awake, ready to take action if needed. You always expect trouble on the sea, told her Erak once, many years ago. She knows that, and she does not think she can ever forget. The rest of the crew is soundly asleep, but Cassandra knows that they are also ready for anything, and in case of emergency, they will be up and wide awake. She always admired how easily they fell asleep, even in the harshest conditions. Maybe she is not your typical princess, but that was not a skill she possesses, as useful as it would be now.

Her friends are also resting. Rangers have the same ability to be ready for the unexpected. She could ask, someday, and someone would maybe teach her that. Horace sleeps without a care in the world, and it makes her smile. She could use that too.

As she continues to observe the deck, she notices a small figure at the helm, steering the ship. She blinks. Yeah, that is definitely Hal, putting his whole weight into keeping the ship on course, and when she squints hard enough she thinks she can see his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

There is someone standing behind him – Svengal, of course – holding the helm in a loose fist just behind Hal’s hold, probably to take over if needed, but he does not seem to be doing much.

She pushes her blankets away. The air is cold and salty. She tastes some of it on her lips as she stretches and comes up to them.

“Couldn’t sleep, princess?” teases Svengal with a smile.

“It’s not really something I got used to,” she says, sending a smile in return, her hand moving to indicate the ship. Then she turns to the boy. “They put you to work too, Hal? How mean of them to do it in the middle of the night.”

She does not really expect an answer. So far he just asked his own questions and did not elaborate on any of her own as she tried to start a conversation. Still, she has had better luck than the Rangers, who mostly get ignored or avoided.

“I like it. It’s peaceful.”

A sense of victory washes over her.

“I have no idea how you guys do that – just know where to point the ship. Especially when there is nothing but water around you.”

“It’s easy.” He looks up, and Cassandra does too. “See that one star next to what looks like a triangle?”

She does not. Svengal helps a little, and she finds the figure, deciding that whoever classified it as a triangle did it mostly out of politeness, as its sides are all uneven. But you cannot expect the stars to bend to the ideas of mere humans.

“We have to follow it for the next… forty minutes now. Then we change the course to follow the Eagle Constellation. See?”

She pretends she does. Svengal again clarifies that it is the one that looks like a capsized crown drawn by a child’s hand.

“The stars never fail. And we have the moon and the sun to make sure we’re going the right way. In some places you can rely on the wind, but they are your best bet.” One of his hands reaches to rub his eyes.
Svengal sees it, of course.

“Go to sleep Hal, your hour is pretty much up. Say ‘goodnight’ to the princess.”

“Goodnight, princes,” says Hal almost obediently, turning around to look at Svengal, and not Cassandra.

She hides a giggle behind her hand, pretending to yawn.

But he does say goodnight to her, and goes to wrap himself in a blanket. She sees one of the crewmen – Axl, she thinks, – making sure that he has a comfortable spot between him and another Skandian, protected from the wind.

“He knows what he’s doing,” she says, impressed. She could probably do the same, but maybe in a forest or a field, and on the sea, where the ship changes course to make the best use of the wind or to avoid something on their course. And she has seen Hal making minor adjustments, just as Svengal does now.

Another thing that came with experience she did not have.

“Yeah, he’s very good. It’s all those questions he tortures us with,” he sighs with a pretended suffering in his tone.

“Well, Halt always says it is better to know too much, than too little.”

“Of course Halt says that, nosy bastard.”

She sleeps better knowing that someone keeps an eye on the stars.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Svengal was right, in the end. Hal's endless curiosity gets the better of him about a week into the journey, and Gilan is showered in questions similarly to Horace and Cassandra. But he also has some success in getting Hal to actually talk to him. And when Will sits down with them he stays, and interrogates him too.

“He seems like a good kid,” comments Halt to Sevengal, as they watch the small group.

“The best,” agrees Svengal.

“I get that Erak overcame that particular fear of his?”

“And which is that?”

“That he would somehow mess it up.”

“Oh, he messes up constantly! But Hal is pretty resilient. Otherwise I don't think you could find another kid that's as spoiled as him,” he allows himself a small joke. “But Erak cares. And we care too. And Hal's friends care. And, to be honest, most of the Hallasholm care too, probably. That's enough for Hal. He’s improved a lot. The way Erak sees it, his kid is perfect.”

Halt smiles. “It tends to be that way for parents.” His gaze lingers on Gilan and Will, bickering with each other.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

“Can I see your knife?” asks Hal about three days later, after his questions have run out, to the relief of everyone gathered.

Will looks around for someone to help him answer that question, but the only one in the earshot is Horace, who shrugs in response.

“Why not? I don't think that's gonna be the first time for him.”

Will agrees with his friend and reaches for the weapon.

“Don't cut yourself, I don't want to invoke the wrath of Erak's crew.”

Hal actually smiles at him. It has been a more recent development, but all of them were glad to see it – even those who have met him not so long ago.

The boy takes out his own knife to compare.

“Yours is heavier,” he notices.

“And harder,” adds Will. “It's inspired by Skandian knives, but we perfected the design.”

“Can you teach me how to throw it?”

“Ermm…” stalls Will, certain that he should not make that decision without Svengal.

Hal comes to a similar conclusion, and runs up to the helm, his steps as light as they would have been on land, clearly born to a life on a ship.

“Svengal, Will promised to teach me how to throw a knife, please, can I learn?”

Will does not have the time to correct his manipulative statement. Svengal shrugs.

“I don't see why not. Don't throw the knives overboard, we don't have the time to dive for them.”

Halt watches with amusement. It is not like his apprentice intends to sell the secrets of the Corps, so it should be okay.

“Careful, Will, you're still just a student yourself, too early for you to take someone on.”

Will mumbles something under his breath. Horace laughs. Hal looks innocent, as always.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Halt notices that the kid takes interest in the horses.

He keeps his distance. Smart. He does not think that even the Rangers' horses would harm him unless he tried to ride them, but you can never be too careful.

The kid thinks he is being sneaky, and that Halt has not noticed him behind the crates of supplies where he hid as the Ranger came in to check on the animals. Well, there is nothing wrong about letting him believe that. And it is not like Halt can just approach him – the kid has been going out of his way to avoid him, more nervous and uncertain about him than about any of the others. He has warmed up to everyone now, but not to Halt. He is not surprised, as most kids tend to be wary of him.

“You're not using your horses to carry things.”

He almost startles at the sound, having lost his train of thoughts. Hal has peeked out from his hiding spot, still standing at a respectable distance. The look on his face is curious, there is a yearning to understand something foreign. Halt knows of the dislike the Skandians have for this particular mode of transport, and that for them horses are mainly labor animals.

“We do not,” he confirms curtly, but Hal is not deterred.

“Why?”

Halt fights not to sigh. This is his least favorite question, thanks to Will's preference for it, but it is hardly this boy's fault. If anything, it is admirable that he tries to understand the opposite point of view.

“Just as you Skandians have your wolfships, we Araluans have our horses. They're faster on land than us humans, and tougher than we could ever hope to be. And they're better companions.”

Hal does not look like he agrees.

“But they can throw you off. And they bite.”

“Not if you treat them right.” His voice softens. He is the only one to remember the details of their first meeting with Hal, maybe because he was the only one who was told the truth about the boy. Will, Horace, and Cassandra either have forgotten about the boy on Erak's hip on the day he got chosen as the oberjarl, or haven't paid enough attention to recognize him again. Still, he knows of the boy's past – and cannot help but wonder if he draws some sort of comparison between himself and the horses. “Come here.”

Hal hesitates just for a moment, and then joins at his side. Halt pets Abelard, softer than he normally would, and looks him in the eye. The horse peeks out from behind his mane, as if to ask what is the Ranger planning. His other hand searches his pocket for an apple, and gives it to the boy.

“Give it to him, and you'll be friends for life. Don't be afraid of his teeth, he's not going to bite you. Be gentle,” he says, the last part addressing mostly to the horse.

Hal does as instructed. Abelard looks at him with curiosity, and very slowly captures the fruit before letting himself truly enjoy it. Hal takes a step back as the big teeth destroy the apple with ease. Halt waves him back over.

“See, nothing to be afraid of. I think he's gonna let you pet him now.”

Hal looks at Halt, at the horse, and then back at Halt. He raises his hand, but hesitates. Abelard takes initiative then, hugging his nose into Hal's palm, sniffing after more treats. Hal laughs a little breathlessly, surprised, but also delighted. He trails gentle fingers up to Abelard's mane, mirroring Halt's earlier actions.

“He’s nice.”

“Very. Until you try to ride him – he will throw you off, but that's because it's how Rangers' horses are trained.”

Hal nods seriously, letting his hand drop.

“Skandians kill horses when they cannot work anymore.”

Halt feels there is a silent question in this statement.

“Sometimes you have to. If a horse gets hurt and won't get better, even if you can take care of it, it might be better to save him the suffering.”

“Does that work for people too?”

Halt did not sign up for a philosophical discussion. Svengal was right, Hal is too curious for his own good sometimes.

“I've seen such cases.”

“I have too. If a slave is too hurt or cannot work, they get killed too.”

There it is.

“Hal, if you're searching to understand the reason for what happened to you, you may not ever find it. Most things happen without a real reason, just some bad luck or a slight chance. There are cruel people in this world, people who will hurt others as long as it keeps benefiting them. It's not fair, and it's wrong, but you cannot stop all what's evil in this world.”

“But Erak did. He forbade slavery. He saved me.”

“Because Erak is a good person. But good people can only do so much. And they cannot be everywhere. If he knew about you earlier, you would have never experienced what you have, but he didn't. I'm sure he regrets it very much, but he cannot change the past – nor can you.”

Hal does not meet his eyes.

“Thank you for letting me pet your horse.”

Halt lets him go.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

They arrive in Arrida. Hal does not like it.

He does not trust Selethen, and he does not trust that Erak is fine. When he hears that he cannot see him, and then that he is in a city far away from the shore, he looks like he wants to start screaming. Svengal has never seen him yell, not when they were training, nor when he was playing. Despite his tendency to talk and ask questions a lot, he is a quiet person. So he does not scream, but does something worse – hits the solid wood of the mast with a strength born from hours upon hours of training and boiling anger. Then, before anyone can stop him in their surprise, he does it again.

Svengal does not think he will ever forget the sound Hal's fist makes at the contact. It brings them out of the shock, and Svengal, along with Lars and Axl, who stand the closest, throw themselves at him. Svengal pins his arms to his torso as he gathers him into a tight hug, lifting him up as he starts to wriggle and kick. Axl tries to calm him down with words, explaining that they just have to wait a few days, that everything is fine, and they will take care of it. Lars's attention focuses on Hal's hand, dripping blood onto the deck and Svengal's boots. Even as Hal does not stay still he can say without a doubt that at least one of the bones in his hand is broken.

“Hal, listen to me. Hal!”

The boy stops struggling. He hangs limply in Svengal's hold, his breathing fast and uneven.

“We'll save him. We've made a deal. We just have to go for him.”

“I'll go with you.”

“No.”

“I–”

“Hal, you know it's not what we agreed to. It's not safe. You're gonna stay with the crew, and we'll be back as soon as we can. I promise you, we won't come back without him.”

Hal shakes his head and picks up his struggle to get out, but Svengal patiently waits him out. It is getting harder to overpower him, and it is getting harder to pick him up. This is not a body of a little boy, but of someone that is almost a teenager, someone who in just a couple of years is going to make his own crew, his own brotherband, and sail to the ends of the sea, and not one of them will be there to keep him away from danger.

But it is not that day yet, and Svengal will tie him to the mast if it means that he will not follow them.

The next day Hal sees them off with his hand immobilized in layers of bandages and dried tears on his cheeks.

“How did he take it?” Halt asks Svengal as they ride into the desert, instantly missing the cool breeze of the salty air.

“Badly.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

It takes more than a few days. It is the first thing Hal points out to them after throwing himself into Erak's arms, refusing to let go for a long, long time. The Arridi soldiers and the Araluan delegation smile at the sight, leaving them to their greetings.

“Svengal, why does my kid have a broken hand?”

“I will tell you later. He's fine.”

Erak does not look like he believes him, but drops the topic anyway to focus on Hal.

“Has something interesting happened?”

Hal shakes his head.

“No, we stayed on the ship, mainly. Took her out to the sea a few times. Axl taught me a magic trick, and I trained with Lars every day. But it was pretty boring.”

They laugh at the boy's rapport. It is mostly a thing born from relief, as their adventures are still fresh in their mind. Just thinking about Hal anywhere near the executioner makes Erak want to throw up. Svengal reaches out to mess up his hair as he leads them onto the deck.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

They do not wait long to come back. After gathering necessary supplies and making sure all of the formalities have been finished, they pack their things and get ready to leave.

After all of that, both countries find themselves with a new, unexpected ally, and what is more – a friend. The only one not convinced of that development is Hal, eyeing Selethen with mistrust every time the Wakir came to see them. It gets marginally better towards the end of their stay, when curiosity, once again, wins with whatever reservations Hal had about him. He gets the usual treatment from him, an interrogation, which he finds very amusing – a detail which he does not share with Hal. When they all say their goodbyes, Selethen gets a wave from the boy, which he mirrors. Hal runs to the ship and does not turn back, happy to leave the place behind him.

Erak gives the man an order to move out, but, to his surprise, the crew ignores him completely. Svengal tries his luck too, but to no avail. The men pretend not to hear them. Two yawn, and Olaf looks like he is cleaning his nails on his rowing bench. They both know he is pretending. Olaf's nails are never clean.

“Oh, I completely forgot!”

Erak and Svengal look at Hal, who looks very proud of himself, immediately putting them on high alert.

“There was a mutiny. I am now the skirl of the Wolfwind.”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Stig and Edvin are one of the firsts to welcome them back to Skandia, both immediately demanding answers from Hal, begging him to share the details.

Hal looks at Erak for permission to leave with his friends. He hasn't left his side since they reunited in the Arridi port, following him less like a shadow, and more like a minder, making sure that he does not do anything stupid.

“Go on, kid. I'll be here when you get back.”

Hal does not wait for him to change his mind.

“Be sure to apologize to Hannah when you see her!” Erak calls behind him, but he doubts that Hal has heard him, already running off to cause trouble, probably.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

That night Hal comes into his bedroom at night – something he has not done in a while.

“A nightmare?”

“No.”

He crawls under the blankets and puts his head against Erak's arm.

“I'm sorry I worried you.”

“I thought I would never see you again.”

Erak cannot see Hal's face, his body is completely hidden under the covers. But he feels him trembling, and the sleeve of his shirt quickly grows damp from the tears.

“Hal, I cannot promise you that I will never do anything dangerous. Just like you cannot promise that to me. But I assure you, there is nothing I wouldn't do to come back to you.”

There is no answer. The tears do not stop. Erak hugs the boy close to him and does not let go for a long time.

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Hal is fifteen.

He is not a boy anymore. He is almost an adult, but Erak cannot help but worry about him just as much as he has so far.

He is not worried about scraped knees and childish tantrums anymore. Hal is a capable young man, and Erak trusts him with many things nowadays – he does not have a curfew, he does not have to tell him where he is every minute of the day, and he does not have to ask for permission to do whatever he wants.

Erak is so proud of him. He still worries.

He worries that he will not be able to protect him for much longer. The brotherband training is just a year away, and then his kid will be out of his reach, somewhere off to do his own thing, while Erak will stay in Hallasholm to play a beaurocrat.

He also worries about the training itself. He always has.

It is not that Hal is bad at fighting – on the contrary. Erak and his crew trained him themselves, and he is as good as they were able to make him, all of his basics flawless, his instincts sharp, his reflexes fast. He is strong, and he is smart.

But Erak worries about how the other boys will treat him. Will they hurt him to show that they are better than the Oberjarl's son? Will they try to win his favor letting him off easily so that he never faces a real challenge? Will they manipulate him to their own advantage?

He shudders at the thought.

Luckily, there are those two friends of his – Stig and Edvin.

Under the Wolfwind's crew watchful eyes, they became excellent warriors themselves – as excellent as one can be without any real experience.

Stig is a true Skandian. Fast and strong, Erak does not think there will be anyone who will be able to stop him in a few years. Maybe he will even become a Maktig. This is not a mere fantasy, he certainly has every characteristic he is going to need for that – he just needs to polish his skills and wait until he stops growing.

He thinks of Thorn, an amazing warrior, a legend among Skandians. The best warrior they ever had.

“You would be proud of him.” He smiles. “You would probably take him as your student.”

And Edvin is not so bad himself. He blossomed from an average at everything to a capable warrior. He is never going to have the advantage of height or weight, but he is almost as fast as Hal, and the constant training made him resilient. Along with his natural resourcefulness he is a tough opponent.

Of course, during the years this number has only grown. Those two still remain his best friends, his brothers, but there are others now.

The next one was Jesper. Hal saw him steal a bracelet from someone's wrist while talking to them, and thought that it was a skill he had to have – Hal thinks that about most of the skills he notices, for better or for worse. So Jesper taught him how to divert someone's attention, and Hal taught him how to throw a knife. He still does not know where he learnt that, and Svengal's jokes that it was the Rangers who taught him stopped being funny after the first two times.

And then there was Ingvar. Hal gave him the time of his day when no one else wanted to, and Ingvar did the same. There was no transaction involved this time, just genuine friendship that started with Hal describing birds to Ingvar and drawing them on a piece of paper to show him how they look, and Ingvar teaching him the sounds they make. Hal annoyed him for weeks after he learned the first one, walking after him and whistling a tune he learned at the docks.

The twins were another annoyance that Hal brought into his life. He is almost certain that he actually hired them to make his life miserable, but he cannot prove anything. But Ulf and Wulf became occasional playmates during the games Stig organized sometimes behind Erak's house, and like it or not, Erak could never refuse Hal something he wanted.

Hal knows that too well. He abuses it only sometimes.

Stefan was drawn into the group by Ingvar, stumbling into him one day and showing him his own mimicking skills, not only of animals, but also people. Hal used that particular ability to annoy him, more than once. But from then on Stefan was invited to play too, and he quickly befriended Jesper.

Erak hopes that at least a few of them would end up in the same brotherband. Stig and Edvin have to, he sees no other way. Pity that Hal does not want to be a skirl. No matter how many times Erak tells him that he would be perfect, he argues that he does not want to be responsible for so many lives – that he is not someone who should give orders.

“This is not a game,” he said once, during another argument. “Not like when I was pretending to be the skirl of Wolfwind. The training is something real. And I can't do that.”

Erak stopped pressuring him after that, feeling like he was making a mistake.

But Hal still loves being at the helm, and loves navigation, and loves learning geography. Erak has seen plenty of good helmsmen, but very few who could make it into an art.

Hal is someone like that.

And what is more, Hal is an inventor. Erak has heard from Anders about the ship Hal bought from him, but has not heard a word about it from Hal himself. Every time he asks, he gets told that he will show him after everything is done, that he will not show him an unfinished project.

So Erak waits.

He is rewarded for his patience some time before Hal's sixteen birthday, a few weeks before the brotherband training.

Hal's ship looks like it is flying, cutting through waves like they are not there, turning towards the wind more than any ship he has ever seen. He hears the cheering of his crew as they sail into the harbor without oars, stopping just a few meters away from Wolfwind in a perfectly executed maneuver.

He does not think he has ever seen Hal quite as happy as he is now.

“What do you think?” asks Hal as they go back home, barely able to contain his excitement and nervousness at Erak's reaction. As if he could be anything but proud of him.

“Brilliant boy,” responds Erak. “I always knew you were gonna be great. I just didn't know how much.”

Hal smiles at him , and if that is how Hal's achievements are going to feel like, maybe Erak can somehow learn to live with the disappointing fact that Hal is no longer a little boy he can easily lift up in his arms and carry away from the danger.

He ruffles his hair and laughs loudly, throwing an arm around Hal's shoulders.

“Come on, son, this calls for a party! I'm sure the crew is already waiting!”

⋆｡°✩ ⎈ ✩°｡⋆

Preview of the next part:

“We have the perfect number for three brotherbands. Come on, one more candidate.”

“Hal!” pipes up a voice from the crowd.

It was not Stig. Stig wishes it was him, but Hal still has his hand on his mouth, silencing him almost as effectively as a knife, which Hal definitely does not have in his other hand.

“Seconded!” sounds another voice.

Stig shoots Hal a winning smile. Hal shoots Stig a death glare.