Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

People say that words don't hurt. They're adamant about it, in fact - adamant to the point of making a nursery rhyme about it. Sticks can hurt, they insist, and so can stones, but words don't. Words have no power. Words can't hurt anyone.

How wrong they are. Words have the power to do anything. All you need is two to start it off. 

"Hey, Will."

The aforementioned boy was sitting on the floor in the old hunting cabin the two of them had made their shelter for the time being. He leaned against the wall, eyes half-closed, idly running his hands over a flimsy hunting bow that sat in his lap. At those two words, he forced his eyes open and glanced over at his friend, Evanlyn. 

"What is it?"

Evanlyn visibly hesitated. Whatever she was about to say was obviously a sensitive topic. Will tensed automatically. There were a lot of sensitive topics between them nowadays. Evanlyn's true identity as Princess Cassandra of Araluen was one of them. The Skandians' capture and enslavement of them was another. Will's subsequent slavery, beatings, and drug addiction was another, and probably the most sensitive topic of them all.

"I was wondering," she started slowly, "how much are you planning on telling Halt and the other Rangers about our time here?" 

Will took a deep breath. He didn't like talking about any of this - really, he'd much rather they put all of that behind them and never speak of it again. However, Evanlyn had asked a valid question. 

"Everything, I guess," he said with a shrug, eyeing her keenly. "There's no way I could lie to Halt, even if I wanted to."

Evanlyn shifted. As a Ranger's apprentice, Will had been taught to identify the uncertainty in her body language. She wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to, he guessed.

"What's wrong, Evanlyn?"

The girl hesitated again. It wasn't like her to hesitate at all. She was always confident and strong even in the midst of danger. The fact that this conversation cowed her was not good. 

"It's just," she said finally, "it...might be in your best interest to...keep some of the details secret."

Will raised an eyebrow, confused and a little defensive. This had come out of nowhere. "What do you mean?"

Evanlyn looked at him for a second. He wondered what she saw. He certainly knew he didn't feel like the same person who'd traveled through Celtica with her so many months ago. That boy back then had been cheery, naive, and honest to a fault. Now, after everything he'd been through, he was struggling to retain even the scraps of that personality.

"Even as a prin- even with my rank I wasn't privy to the secrets of the Ranger Corps. But...I'm not sure how well they'd take your story. Your, erm," she waved a hand awkwardly, "stint with warmweed." 

For another moment, Will stared at her, brain still slow from the effects of the drug, even weeks later. Then, finally, something clicked. "You think they'll expel me?" 

The sheer horror in his voice must've been too much, for Evanlyn winced. Her voice was gentle when she responded, "From what I've seen of the Rangers, they aren't a sentimental or forgiving lot. Halt might not care, but what about the commandant, Crowley? What about the other Rangers? We have no idea how they'd react to being told one of their own..."

She trailed off. She wouldn't meet his gaze.

"But..." Will tried weakly, "But it wasn't my fault. Was it?" 

Even now, weeks later, he wasn't sure. He'd been the one to take it, after all. He'd taken the warmweed of his own volition, put it under his tongue himself. Did it matter that he'd not known what he was doing? He'd still done it.

"Of course not," Evanlyn assured him vehemently, "but will the Rangers have the same point of view? They might well decide that you're...that you're not..."

She broke off awkwardly.

Will's shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right," he murmured, so quietly he barely heard himself. "But I can't keep it from Halt." 

"Will," she said softly. He saw the pain in her eyes. "If you tell Halt, he'll tell Crowley and the rest of them. You can't mention the warmweed. At all. It isn't safe."

He stared at her for a long moment. The urge to get angry, to refuse with cutting, caustic words was almost overpowering. But finally he mastered it. With a sigh, he voiced his resignation.

"Very well."

Unable to bear the conversation anymore, Will stood. He placed the now-unstrung bow against the wall and walked over to the door. "I'm going to sit outside for a bit, Evanlyn. Catch some fresh air." 

Evanlyn sighed. "I just want you to be safe, Will. I couldn't take it if something happened to you."

Will's lips tightened. He stood for a long moment in silence, before finally turning back to her. His eyes were tired. "I know."

Then he turned and left.

Will had never known deeper despair.

He was exhausted, weakened, alone, basically unarmed, and facing six armed men. The effects of the warmweed still clawed at him, clouding his mind, chilling and dulling his senses. His hands shook around the poor excuse of a bow in them - its arrows could hardly kill an animal, let alone an armed man. In the small clearing several meters away, Evanlyn sat, helpless, as her killer's curved sword began its descent. 

As he watched, shame overwhelmed him. Everything Halt had taught him had flown clear out of his head, and what little he remembered was useless with a puny bow and a bunch of sticks for arrows. He was helpless and useless. There was no way he could kill six men with a handful of sticks. The situation was hopeless.

But still he forced himself to stand on weak, trembling legs. Evanlyn deserved better than a useless Ranger's apprentice, but at the moment, he was the best she would get. He would not let her die without a fight. He would not give up.

Will took a deep breath and drew back the bow. His hands were still shaking even as he sighted, aiming for the exposed wrist of Evanlyn's murderer. Will hesitated, then released the arrow with a twang, watching as it flew across the clearing and sank into the man's flesh. He nocked another arrow an instant later, aimed, and let fly. The second one barely glanced the man's sleeve. 

Worthless, his mind muttered. If Halt were here...

But Halt wasn't. 

The third arrow was a miss. The fourth, as well. Will grit his teeth and drew his hunting dagger to face the oncoming men. He knew already he would lose, but he'd made a vow to Evanlyn to keep her safe. He would keep it or die trying.

But before the first man came within reach, a familiar, deep thrum split the air behind Will. With a resounding thud, a black arrow buried itself into the swordsman. Another thud and the next one went down, too. The third man turned and ran. 

Will stood there for a moment, unable to process what had just happened. Then, wild hope surging in his chest, he turned.

His mouth half-opened in shock.

Halt.

A rush of emotion cascaded through him, but he forced himself to more important matters. Two of the warriors were dead, and three more in hurried retreat, but Evanlyn's original attacker was still there. She now fought bravely with a stolen saber, but Will knew that wouldn't last long. She was still tied to the tree. She'd be killed in seconds. 

Entirely forgetting about greeting Halt or running towards him, he motioned wildly in Evanlyn's direction and yelled something he hoped gave away the amount of danger she was in. But Halt's view of her was blocked by the trees, and he knew the Ranger wouldn't be able to change position fast enough. 

Then hope came in the form of a tall, well-built figure wearing chain mail and a white surcoat with an image of an oakleaf on it. He seemed familiar to Will, but no matter how much he strained to remember the newcomer's name, he came up blank. Will's memories had been hazy ever since what he called the Incident. Anything past his arrival at Skandia was gone, and even memories before it had been encroached upon. 

In all honesty, he thought bitterly as the young man engaged Evanlyn's would-be killer, it was probable that the warmweed had permanently scarred his mind. After all, there was a reason drugs were highly frowned upon in Araluen. Although Will hadn't heard much about them before Skandia, there were rumors about some drugs turning people into mindless drudges. Or worse. It was little wonder the Rangers didn't like drugs. 

Of course, he reminded himself, he'd never actually heard that they didn't. But if the rest of the kingdom shamed those who wasted away to them, and those unfortunates were taken to prison, it made sense they wouldn't like it, either. Never mind that Araluen's idea of prison was reformative, not punitive. The shame was real. Those who were imprisoned were forced to beg for food and money in order to get out, while given little medical care to get better. The idea that that could be Will was revolting. 

But at the same time, if he were found out, Will would not try to run from his dues. Everything he'd done since being taken by the Skandians only threw shame onto the name of both his country and his Corps. It was the least he could do, to take it like a man.

A rapid flurry of movement forced Will back to the present. The oakleaf-bearer had rapidly gained the upper hand in the fight, with strokes that were so swift as to be completely bewildering. The other swordsman lunged clumsily with his curved blade; the younger man deflected it easily, throwing the other off balance, wide open to the retaliatory backhanded cut already on its-

"Don't kill him!" came Halt's voice from behind Will, just in time. The young man twisted his wrist so the flat of the blade slammed into the man's head, knocking him unconscious instantly.

"We want a prisoner," Halt finished mildly. 

Disaster averted, any thoughts of self-doubt or shame flew from Will's head. He ran, uncaring of anything else, straight into the Ranger's arms. He slammed into Halt with a force that made the other stagger backwards and flung his arms around his master. A sob worked its way up his throat, and suddenly he began to cry.

Halt held him as he cried, until the shame inside Will grew stronger than everything else. Then he forced himself to stop, taking deep, heaving breaths until his tears dried. His head was still buried in Halt's chest, and he could feel the Ranger's heartbeat. He forced himself to breathe with it and cursed himself for losing control like that. What was he thinking? Worse, what was Halt?

Yet Halt still held him close.

Finally, Will gathered the courage to look up at him. His shame was growing stronger by the second. He felt the instinct to shrink away from Halt's gaze and touch, but fought it.

"Halt," he said. His voice came out cracked and he winced. "I'm..."

He stopped. He wanted to apologize for everything he had done: failing to keep himself from getting captured, failing to keep Evanlyn safe, failing to keep from getting addicted. And he wanted to apologize for being someone Halt would be ashamed of, for having to lie to everyone in order to keep himself safe. But he could say none of that. So he trailed off and wished he had never spoken.

"I'm glad you're safe," Halt said quietly. A trace of a tear ran down his cheek, but a trace of a smile stood there as well.

Will had never seen Halt cry before.

It was because of that that Will realized how much Halt had missed him - how much he cared. He had traveled all the way to Skandia to find them, after all. He hadn't known about the Vallasvow; if he'd wanted the princess only, he would've just waited for her to be ransomed. No, he had come for Will.

A bitter mix of guilt and shame churned in his stomach and he felt nauseous. Yes, Halt had come alright. Come for a worthless drug addict, a useless apprentice, a broken man. How long before Halt realized it, and regretted what he'd sacrificed so much for?

"Are you all right?" Will heard a voice behind him ask. It was too far away and pointed in the wrong direction to be aimed at him, but he took the distraction to disentangle himself from Halt and turn around to see who the familiar man next to Evanlyn was. 

He still couldn't recall the name, he realized bitterly. Until Evanlyn repeated Will's earlier actions with Halt and threw her arms around the man, exclaiming, "Oh, Horace! Thank God you're here!"

Horace, he thought. The shame burrowed into his gut. That's right: his fellow wardmate, his friend he had known for over a decade. How could he not have recognized Horace? 

Behind his roiling emotions, Will felt the distinct sense he was being watched. It was probably Halt scrutinizing him: either because he was concerned Will was injured, or because something about his mannerisms was suspicious. Perhaps Will had already given too much away with his blank, unknowing stare at Horace.

Horace and Evanlyn finally pulled apart, none too soon in Will's mind. Halt stepped forward, furtively wiping his cheek with the back of a hand, and called, "If you're quite finished, we should get out of here. There's no telling when the Temujai will return with reinforcements." 

The two young people gave a start. Horace sheepishly retrieved his sword from the ground where he'd put it, wiping it off and sheathing it. He looked over at Halt and asked, "Where are we going?" 

Will felt a bit of relief that, for once, he wasn't the one asking all the questions. At least now, Halt would have to get mad at both of them. 

"I want to get some distance between us and this place. If the Temujai return or if their army starts marching, we're in for a rather unpleasant situation." Halt smiled grimly. "Let's retrace our steps and head back across the border. We should be able to find a good camping site somewhere around there." 

Halt was, as usual, correct in that assessment. At about midday they found a hilltop with a fairly large depression that would both give them shelter and a good vantage point. As soon as they set up camp, however, Horace complained how they hadn't eaten since yesterday, and Evanlyn instantly picked up the plea. Will, not really all that hungry but not wanting to draw attention to himself (or worse, the suspicion of Halt), joined in. 

Grudgingly, Halt started a fire and began to cook a stew. While he was doing so, Will drew Evanlyn off the side, out of earshot of both Horace and the Ranger. "They're probably going to want to know our story," he whispered so softly that even he could barely hear himself. "It's the perfect opportunity to hear it with minimal distraction. Have you thought of anything?" 

Evanlyn gave him a weird look. "All we have to do is leave out the part about being a yard slave and..." she glanced cautiously around, unwilling to reveal the reason for Will's state even with the other two several meters away. 

Will shook his head a fraction, in case Halt was watching. "That will leave far too many holes. It doesn't explain why I don't remember anything about Skandia. If they ask me something, I won't know it, and it'll get suspicious if you're the one doing all the talking." 

Biting her lip, Evanlyn conceded the point. Will was right. They needed a plausible story. "We'll keep in the part about you being a slave. That's something that can't be taken out. The rest, I guess I'll have to fill you in on as many details as possible."

Although she'd told Will the events of Skandia in their days in the cabin, he couldn't remember actually living through them. Because of that, it was possible that Will, knowing all that information only secondhand, could easily forget something and contradict Evanlyn's story with his made-up details. And although Horace might not realize it, Halt most certainly would. Finding contradictions in a witness's story was something all Rangers were trained for. And Halt was one of the best Rangers ever to live.

Talking as quietly as possible, she filled him in on as much as she could: the freezing temperatures, the drudgery of the yard slaves, Erak and Slagor (for the warmweed had even begun to infringe on his memories before he came to Skandia). Then as best she could, she told him all she knew about how he got addicted to warmweed. Although the knowledge was unnecessary for their scheme, she felt she owed him that much. 

Before she'd completely finished retelling their escape, Halt called them over for dinner. Will carefully reined in his urge to look guilty and startle and walked with Evanlyn walked to sit down next to Horace and Halt. 

"What were you doing over there?" Halt asked. "I'm sure you've developed a certain fondness for each other in the past months, but-"

"No!" Will squeaked, cheeks stained red with embarrassment. "Nothing like that, Halt! Honest!" 

"I was thanking him for his bravery earlier," Evanlyn said with a princess's dignity, but her face looked a little pink as well. "It was courageous of him to try and save me with what little weaponry he had at his disposal." 

"Yes, I saw that," Halt said. "He's gotten a bit slow, but nothing a few weeks of practice won't remedy." 

Will went cold, then hot again with shame. Had Halt also seen his hesitation, his trembling hands, his shots that had flown wide?

"Even with that little bow, those were great shots, Will!" Horace said, eager to try and make the apprentice feel better.

Will managed a smile, but it felt forced and fake and the humiliation he felt at how out of shape he'd gotten made Halt's words feel harsher than they otherwise would've. 

"Only one of them actually hit anything, Horace," Will reminded him quietly, taking up his bowl of stew. He suddenly felt famished. What little game he and Evanlyn had managed to scare up had not been nearly enough for Will to rebuild all the weight he'd lost. He ate the whole thing in what felt like seconds. 

Covertly, Evanlyn nudged him. He knew it as a warning to eat slower. So Will pretended the dregs of his bowl were really far more than they were, taking his time with the last few drops. 

"Seconds already?" Halt inquired after Evanlyn finished her bowl a minute or so later, holding it out. "You finished that faster than Horace, and some days he seems more like a huge stomach on legs than anything else." 

"Me, too, please," Will added, careful not to seem too eager as he gave the empty dish to Halt.

He barely restrained a sigh with the thought. The strain of putting on a show was already getting to him. Will prided himself on his honesty, and the thought of having to lie to his mentor - for years - was not one that sat well with him. But there was no other choice.

A few seconds later Horace held out his bowl as well. With a sigh Halt refilled all three, muttering something under his breath that sounded like youngsters. 

"So," Evanlyn started after she'd finished her second bowl, "what have you two been up to this past year?" 

"You really mean Horace is some kind of hero in Gallica?" 

To Will's surprise, Halt was nodding his head emphatically. "A regular figure of respect." 

Evanlyn turned to Horace and leaned forward, fingertips grazing over his own. "I can believe it. Did you see the way he took care of that Temujai soldier who was trying to kill me?"

Her eyes were alight with warmth - a warmth, Will noticed with a pang of jealousy, that she'd rarely directed at him. If ever. 

As though that wasn't bad enough, Halt then turned to Will. "We've told you our story. I want to hear yours, now." 

Will swallowed.

Thankfully, Evanlyn kept her gaze from locking onto Will's. Instead, she just took a deep breath and began, starting with the tale of their lengthy voyage to Skandia. She glossed over anything that had been particularly dangerous or that she sensed Will might not want to be told. To Will's eternal gratitude, she spent a prolonged amount of time on Slagor and Will's impressive knife throw at the keg. 

He felt he should look up from where he was sitting, gaze fixed on his hands in his lap, but the guilt and shame weighed so heavily he could barely take a breath under it. It took Halt's laying a hand on his shoulder for Will to finally look up and lock eyes with the Ranger. Halt gave him a nod. Despite everything, Will couldn't help but feel a warm sense of approval and accomplishment settle in his gut.

Of course, he reminded himself, that was before the warmweed. He probably wouldn't even be able to do that anymore.

He forced himself back to Evanlyn's story.

"Then," she was saying, "we arrived in Hallasholm. Erak decided not to sell us off as slaves, instead making us work in the capital itself. I got stuck with kitchen duty, but Will..."

She hesitated. Anxiety thrummed in Will's veins as he wondered if she would really lie to them.

"Will got assigned as a yard slave." 

"What's that mean?" Horace interjected. "You make it sound like it's a very bad thing." 

Will only barely managed to keep his face from showing any emotion, then, realizing that Halt might think his lack of expression weird, adopted a pensive look. At least, he hoped it was a pensive look. He'd never been the best actor. 

"House slaves, at least, always have the warmth of the hall," Evanlyn said slowly. "We also get more food. And although the work is still exhausting, it's not nearly as bad. We also get a warm room to sleep in at night. Yard slaves, on the other hand..."

Figuring he should speak up around this point, Will started hesitantly.

"We work in near freezing conditions - no, just plain freezing. While there are older house slaves" - he paused, hoping he was remembering what Evanlyn told him correctly - "I never once saw a yard slave older than thirty. We just don't live that long." 

Halt's expression was grim. "How did you escape?" 

Will said nothing, waiting for Evanlyn to take the lead again. She did.

"It was Erak who helped us. He realized that Will" - she hesitated for the slightest instant - "was being worn down by the conditions in the yard, and he knew Will would be dead soon if he didn't stop it."

Horace's eyes widened in horror. Halt's jaw tightened . Will just ducked his head, wishing he didn't have to be there to hear this.

Evanlyn continued on with her vastly edited version of events. When she finally finished, everyone was silent. Even without the warmweed and glossing over the worst parts, it was a dark tale. 

After a long period of quiet, Will felt Halt's gaze burning into him. He slowly looked up and then wished he hadn't. In Halt's eyes were such sadness and guilt that Will's stomach turned. For a moment he wanted to tell Halt the truth just to see that pain end. Even though Will knew it would be replaced with contempt or shame or disappointment.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," the Ranger said softly.

It was hard to meet the Ranger's eyes, but Will forced himself to do it. He nodded. He was sorry, too.

Behind Will, a warm presence made him instinctively relax. Tug. Will had missed him almost as much as Halt or Alyss. He loved the shaggy horse in the way only a Ranger could, and perhaps even more than most did. Will twisted around, reaching out a hand to stroke Tug's ears and scratch the spot between them how the little horse enjoyed. 

Tug snuffled softly. Something in his brown eyes seemed accusing, worried even. Ranger horses always seemed strangely human and Tug was no exception. Will didn't doubt that Tug knew there was something wrong with Will. That word - wrong - hurt to think, but it was true. Even thinking objectively and not self-deprecatingly, Will was a mess. He had memory problems, nightmares, tremors, anxiety attacks, and was practically skeletal. 

A prickling sensation came over Will and he realized Halt was watching him. Again. In the year since they'd seen each other last, Will had forgotten how much Halt watched him. Now that he thought about it - assuming he could even trust his mind anymore, which he wasn't sure he could - he had felt Halt's eyes on him a large part of the day, no matter if they were training or not. Not that that was wrong, but Will had forgotten how unnerving it felt to be so conscious of your every move. 

Even though he hadn't minded it back in the calm, peaceful forests surrounding Castle Redmont, a year had changed him quite a bit. Now he found that he hated the feeling of being looked at. He hated having to second guess every move in case Halt would get suspicious. He was enough of a wreck just trying to function properly, let alone keep up a perfect facade of normality as though he'd never been a drug addict or worked into the grave. 

"Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?" Halt said. His tone was severe but even Will's slow brain realized it was feigned. "Otherwise he'll wind up believing that he's one of us." 

"He's been driving Halt crazy since we first found your tracks," Horace put in. "He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn't realize it." 

Halt raised an eyebrow. To someone who didn't know him, it probably would've looked menacing.

"Halt didn't realize it?" he repeated slowly. "And I suppose you did?" 

Horace just shrugged, not taking the bait. "I'm just a warrior. I'm not supposed to be a thinker. I'll leave that to you Rangers." 

All of a sudden Will saw his vision blur. He wasn't a thinker, not anymore. His brain felt like a foreign entity to him: utterly unfamiliar and entirely uncontrollable. Worse, Will wasn't a warrior anymore, either. Being overworked and starved had stolen that from him as well.

No, Will was nothing. And he was most definitely not fit to be a Ranger. 

If Halt noticed Will's expression, he said nothing about it. "I must admit it had me puzzled. I've never seen a Ranger horse behave like that. Even when I ordered him to calm down and be silent, I could tell there was something on his mind. When you first stepped out of the trees to shoot, I thought he was going to take off after you." 

So Halt had seen everything.

Will felt disgust settle into his bones. But, he knew, it wouldn't do to let the others see it. Even Evanlyn didn't need to see that. She'd seen enough of his weakness already. She'd seen him at his lowest, and he had no right to bother her with that anymore.

So he forced a smile and looked at his three companions, and for a moment, he even fooled himself into thinking it was real. 

"Will."

It was Evanlyn's soft voice from beside him. On the huge black steed Horace had taken from Deparnieux, she towered above Will. Not that she wasn't already taller than he. Regrettably, even Halt was a half-inch taller than Will, and Halt was, by the standards of everyone, Araluen, Skandian, or otherwise, very short. Not that Will would ever tell him that, of course. 

"Yes?" 

"How are you?"

If it had been anyone else, Will would've given her his best grin and a joke. But this was Evanlyn. She was the only person who knew his secret. And although he didn't want to burden her, he sensed that if he didn't answer, their argument would get more heated and attract the attention of others - more specifically, Halt. 

"Well, one good thing about not sleeping for two days is you don't get the chance to have nightmares." 

Evanlyn gave him a sympathetic look. She'd started getting them, too, a few weeks ago. "And what about..." She raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

The gesture reminded him of Halt, and the familiar stab of guilt hit his chest. He abhorred lying to Halt, but there was no other way. He couldn't risk being kicked out of the only place he'd ever felt he belonged. He couldn't risk Halt finding out and becoming ashamed that an apprentice of his was stupid enough, weak enough, cowardly enough, to go through all the things Will had gone through. 

"I'm fine," he said quickly. Then he realized he said it too quickly and Evanlyn was giving him a skeptical look. "Really. And besides, we have bigger things to worry about right now." 

With a sigh, she conceded defeat. With Halt, Erak, and Horace only a few meters away, she couldn't risk arguing with him. 

Then Evanlyn's eyes widened. "Will, we haven't told Erak and his crew."

He realized what she meant with a surge of horror. He grimaced, frantically thinking through options. It was a much-needed exercise of his Ranger's brain, as unpleasant as the subject matter was.

"If one of us goes to ride beside Erak," he said, "it'll look suspicious. We need a plausible excuse to get close to him, but we can't wait until Hallasholm; who knows what he might say. And- oh. Evanlyn...I don't remember Hallasholm." 

"Yes," she said slowly, unsure what he was getting at, "we've been over that." 

He looked at her levelly, trying to suppress his fear. He'd been getting better at hiding his emotions lately, but they still showed at times like this one. "No, what I mean is that Halt and Horace will expect me to know my way around Hallasholm. Erak won't because he knows what I've been through, and the rest of his crew doesn't care, anyway, but those two will. And I don't remember any of it." 

She paled considerably. "You worked as a yard slave, right? You weren't allowed far off property; it'd make sense you didn't know your way around. Besides, we've haven't been there for several months. You can claim your knowledge is fuzzy. We'll just need to make sure you're not nearby Halt while you relearn the ins and outs of the buildings." 

He nodded slowly, face caught up in worry. He exclaimed softly, "Evanlyn, this is impossible! I've never been able to trick him before, not even for a moment. What's to say he doesn't already know?" 

She let out a rather unladylike curse. As silent as Halt was, it was entirely possible he'd already figured out their whole ruse, but- no. That wasn't possible. He had no reason to believe Will had taken warmweed, if he even knew the existence of the drug. Sure, he might think Will was acting weird, but he had other things on his mind right now. When she tried to tell that to Will, however, he looked less than convinced. 

"We have no idea how much Halt knows, Evanlyn."

"Well, what do you suggest?" she asked, a little acerbically. "Have a nice, open conversation with Erak about your past, right in front of Halt? Look, Will, there's still a chance he doesn't know. We need to take that chance. Plus, even if he does figure it out, there's no reason for Horace to know, too, is there? I mean, Horace probably wouldn't care, but-"

"No." Will's gaze was steely. "No one can know." 

Evanlyn reflexively shifted away from him, hands tight around her mount's reins as she stared at him.

But Will couldn't bring himself to feel bad. He knew the words weren't the ones Old Will would've used; he knew Old Will would never have used that tone or stared at her with that coldness. But he had gone this far already. He would not turn back now, and he would never let Halt know of his disgrace. 

"Alright, Will," she said very quietly. "I'll try to find an opening to talk to Erak. You occupy Halt." 

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Will instantly felt guilty. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Evanlyn had already turned away. He stared after her, feeling the shame and self-reproof inside him multiply.

As it turned out, occupying Halt wasn't difficult. A few minutes later, Halt called for a brief stop. Once they dismounted, he drew Will out of earshot of the others to speak to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Evanlyn discreetly edging Erak out of the group of his men. 

"This fellow Erak," Halt said softly. "What do you make of him?" 

Will frowned, hoping Halt would think he was considering the question and not desperately racking his mind for anything he remembered of Erak. Coming from his own memories, it wasn't much. He remembered Skorghijl and the passage to it, but after that it became increasingly harder and harder to remember anything. But from what Evanlyn had told him, he'd been instrumental in their escape. Besides, Erak had a certain rough kindness that Will found hard not to like.

So, taking a deep breath, he looked at Halt and said, "I like him." 

Halt nodded. "Yes. So do I, but do you trust him? That's a different matter to liking." 

He stiffened. He honestly had no clue. The correct answer, from what Evanlyn had told him and his vague memories, should be yes, but Will no longer trusted his own mind. It was his mind that had gotten him hooked on warmweed. It was his mind that tortured him nightly. It was his mind that disabled him with panic.

But, knowing what he should answer, he opened his mouth and said, "Yes." 

Halt nodded again, rubbing his chin. "I must say, I agree with you." 

"Well, he did help us to escape, you know, Halt," Will pointed out, thinking that was probably the right thing to say, and was relieved when Halt tilted his head in approval. 

"I know. That's what I was thinking about." 

 A little confused, he sent a curious glance at Halt, but the Ranger said nothing more. Having learned to expect that by now, Will said nothing, either, and the two stared off into the forest. It was almost peaceful and Will found himself longing for those days back at Redmont fief where everything had been so uncomplicated and right. No Skandians, no death threats, no Temujai and wars and lies. 

As they mounted back up again, Evanlyn found her way back to him.

"I filled him in," she said in a lowered voice, knowing all too well that Halt was a mere four meters away and possibly watching them. "I didn't have time to tell him why, but he understands and promised not to mention it and to help make excuses or distract Halt when necessary."

She grimaced. "Now that I think about it, asking him to help make excuses was probably a big mistake on my part." 

Despite himself, Will couldn't help but smile. It was the first genuine smile he'd made in months, albeit fairly small. "Well, what's done is done." 

There was a tiny pause. Will had just opened his mouth once more to apologize-

"And what might that be?" 

Fighting his body's instinctive freeze, he turned to look at Halt. Rapidly improvising, he said, "Evanlyn was trying to get Erak to ride a horse again so we could make better time, but he refused."

He wasn't sure if Halt's look was skeptical or accepting. He swallowed and continued, "He told her to, put politely, screw off."

Surprisingly, it worked. The barest ghost of a smile flitted across Halt's weathered face and Will knew that he'd succeeded. Torn between guilt at lying to his mentor and satisfaction that at least his mind could still work, he decided on a blank expression and continued riding. 

This could work, he thought. Just until he could get back home.

Chapter Text

"Here we are," came Erak's loud voice from behind them, "Hallasholm." 

Will's first thought was how small the city was - so much smaller than he'd expected. He stood with the Skandians and Halt, Horace, and Evanlyn on top of a rise overlooking the city. It was hard to keep from gaping at the few dozen thatch-roofed buildings that comprised the town. They were all made simply of wood and grass; the streets surrounding them were nothing more than dirt paths.

Hallasholm had grown to be a monstrous demon inside Will's overactive imagination ever since Evanlyn had told him what had happened to them there. Now all he could do was try not to make his staring too obvious. This was the place he had been enslaved in? This was the place he had gotten addicted to warmweed and nearly died in? 

In the center of the town stood a building far larger than all the rest. It had a pitched roof instead of a flat, thatched one. Icicles hung from it, some melting from the warmth of the inside and dripping in growing puddles on the ground. People milled around, stepping in and out of different doors. Will realized it must be Ragnak's hall, the Oberjarl's house and the place Evanlyn had worked. He would've stayed in one of the tiny, shed-like structures he saw nearby.

Will felt a hand wrap around his reassuringly. He looked over to see Evanlyn. She was paler than normal but still gave him a soft, encouraging smile. He forced his lips to smile back and squeezed her hand.

He looked back over the town. At least he wouldn't have to worry about navigating around it. He had to admit, though, that the small size of Hallasholm was an unpleasant shock. He couldn't believe that a town so unassuming had done such horrible things to him. 

Maybe he was even more pathetic than he'd thought.

Erak's voice interrupted Will's internal monologue. "It's time to see Ragnak. Let's pray he takes this news better than that of his son's death, eh?"

He and his men laughed at that, but Horace and Halt just looked confused. Will realized they'd forgotten to tell them about Ragnak's Vallasvow.

Hoping that his knowledge about the Vallasvow would detract from his lack of memory of Hallasholm, Will motioned Halt and Horace over. He locked eyes briefly with Evanlyn and mouthed what he was doing. She nodded. 

Once they were together, Horace asked, "What happened to Ragnak when his son died?" 

Will took a breath. "He swore a Vallasvow."

Halt's eyes narrowed. Horace still looked confused. "What's that?"

"A Vallasvow," Will said slowly, trying to gather his memories, "is a vow taken by the Skandians when they wish complete and utter vengeance on their foes. They swear on their gods, the Vallas, that they won't stop until everyone in their enemy's bloodline is dead. And...well, Ragnak swore it on King Duncan and his line."

As one, Horace and Halt's gazes fell on Evanlyn. Horace had turned very pale. "Do they know about...?"

"No." Evanlyn answered this time. "I'd already be dead if they did. If anyone finds out, they'll turn me over to the Oberjarl immediately."

Horace's mouth set. "Then we can't possibly let you go there. That's - that's like leading a lamb to the slaughter. Isn't that right, Halt?"

Halt hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "We don't have any other choice. We must stop the Temujai from conquering Skandia. Araluen is still unstable after Morgarath's defeat, and last I've heard, his lieutenant is still out there. If the Skandians are to win, they need our help."

Horace opened his mouth but Halt cut him off, anticipating what he'd been about to say. "Nor can we afford to let her stay out here. I need both you and Will to fight, and it'd be too suspicious if you turned back now."

Horace's brow creased but he didn't argue. He knew Halt was right.

Will shot him a sympathetic look. He didn't like it either: he disliked both Hallasholm and the Skandians for many reasons and would've liked to never see this place or its denizens again. He also hated the idea of putting Evanlyn in danger like that. Will just wanted to go home. But he knew that, if they didn't stop the Temujai, there would be no home to go back to. 

Before anyone could say anything else, Erak interrupted. "Are you done sitting around talking? Let's go!"

Will and Evanlyn exchanged glances. With a final glance at Hallasholm, the group began their descent.

"Do you really not remember anything?" Evanlyn asked softly.

They were in the city now. The four Araluens had dismounted and now led their horses through the streets behind their Skandian guides. Will forced his eyes straight forward, curbing the natural urge to take in a city he could not remember. 

"At first I couldn't," he said. "Then little bits and pieces started to come back, none of which were pleasant. But I don't remember enough to get me around here safely, and what little I do remember...I'm not sure I trust it anymore." 

"Here we are!" Erak called. Will fought a wince at the sheer volume the Skandian produced. "Ragnak's great hall!" 

Up close it looked even larger, a roughshod equivalent to an Araluen fortress. Will let his eyes run over it to take in as much as he could. A memory tingled in the back of his brain: being shoved in, subjected to the cold eyes of an overseer, assigned to the yard. He shook his head to dismiss it.

They stabled their horses in Hallasholm's only stable. Will would've groomed Tug, but the Skandians were growing impatient and Will knew their news was too urgent to wait. So he trudged alongside them into the building. Evanlyn stayed by his side the entire walk. 

The day was as bitterly cold as every day in Skandia. The wind whipped minuscule particles of frost into his eyes, cracked his lips, reddened his hands. Skandia was an icy, inhospitable wasteland, the opposite to Araluen's warmth.

The longer Will had spent away from his homeland, the more he'd built it up in his mind. Just as he'd built his father into a glorious knight, so he made Skandia a frozen Hell and Araluen its opposing utopia. It was entirely unconscious on his part, but it was all too likely to shatter.

They passed the yard. Will's eyes locked onto a group of slaves - poorly clothed, shambling wrecks of creatures. He shivered suddenly upon seeing them. The day had grown no colder, yet somehow its chill breeze was now inside him.

Without realizing it he had stopped. Before he could move on, a memory flashed through his mind.

Cold. 

That was all that mattered, the cold. There was nothing but the cold. Nothing but frost in his nose, his eyelids, his mouth. Nothing but ice in his hands, his fingers numb hours ago. Weeks ago. Had they ever been warm? He didn't know. He couldn't remember.

Rubbing hands together did nothing to stave off the cold. Stamping feet, pinching flesh, hitting frozen ground - pointless. The cold stayed, crawling like burrowing worms inside, digging deeper. Its jaws settled into bone marrow, its teeth set his chattering.

Once, there had been warmth. He remembered it - one of the few things he did remember. Warmth. It had burned out the cold wriggling inside him. He could feel it even now, the fading afterimages of something other than cold. Warmth. Warm. 

He needed it.

The cold settled in further. It tore into his heart; it froze his lungs. Warmth, he thought. He needed warmth. He needed it. He needed it. 

The thought became louder, faster, like the pulsing of his heart. His muscles were atrophying from cold, his lungs constricting. He reached out blindly. There was nothing but cold and that which was not cold - warm. Nothing beyond it, no reason to live except to not be cold anymore.

"Here."

His salvation.

He grabbed it, spilling it on the ground in his haste. A whine like a wounded animal spilled into the air. He didn't care. He licked it off the frozen ground, biting his fingers in his haste. 

Warmth drove out the howling cold inside him. He tried to relax, but hands shoved him to his feet. A harsh voice ordered him on. As Will hesitated, still basking in the glorious warmth, a whip cracked on his back. It sent cold stinging back into him.

He lurched forward into the cold.

In moments the warmth was gone once more.

Will shivered violently, feeling sick. He had known about his addiction for weeks. Once he'd broken out of his haze, Evanlyn had told him everything she knew about it. He had thought that was it. He'd felt ashamed of it in a detached way. He knew it would disgrace him without feeling the disgrace firsthand. To him it had been nothing more than a secret he would take to his death. 

Now he realized that being told about an addiction was one thing. Experiencing it yourself was quite another.

A hand wrapped around his arm, pulling him forward. He fought it instinctively, only to come to his senses when he saw Evanlyn's wide eyes staring at him. She motioned with her head; Will followed the motion and saw the rest of the group was far ahead of them now. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself.

That memory had been only a day. Only one day of the dozens, hundreds of days he had spent like that. Only one day of cold, one day of utter dependence on a drug. He had gone through so many more days of that same thing.

Will gagged, free hand coming up to his mouth. He watched the yard slaves through the pounding behind his ears. One glance revealed which ones were like he had been: their eyes were glazed over, their faces utterly blank, their movements mechanical.

Evanlyn jerked him forward and out of his thoughts. He stumbled and almost fought, but had just enough presence of mind to desist. They had just started moving again when Will felt eyes on him. His eyes darted around but found nothing.

He had just relaxed when a hand settled onto the shoulder opposite the one Evanlyn had grabbed. He looked around wildly to see Halt's unreadable eyes on him.

"It's over now," the Ranger said softly. "You're safe."

It was ironic how those words, words meant to comfort him, did the opposite. The closer Halt got to Will, the closer he was to finding out. Will would not, could not allow that to happen.

So he made his expression a mirror of Halt's, forced his tense muscles to relax, and said, "I know."

He realized his mistake a moment later. Old Will would not have closed off like that. Old Will didn't hide behind masks or respond to comfort with anything but a smile. But it was too late to retract it. The moment to speak had already passed.

He wanted to get out of Halt's grip but couldn't, because Old Will wouldn't have for the world. Kind words - or at least Halt's version of such - weren't unheard of anymore, but a gesture like this was unheard of. In any case, it wasn't Halt's fault he now had a damaged, broken apprentice in lieu of his former one. Will had a duty to at least pretend to be the same boy Halt had once cared for.

That thought just made Will feel worse. He had irrevocably changed from the person he'd once been. He would never again be that cheery, honest, curious boy. Two years ago, Halt had picked him for those qualities. Now he wondered how quickly Halt would regret that choice if he ever found out how much Will had changed.

The long years stretching out in front of him seemed bleak and dismal with that thought. Either he lied, or he would be cast aside for the person he'd become.

A well of despair rose in his chest. Will shoved it vehemently down as they entered Ragnak's hall.

Will kept his gaze straight forward to ward off any suspicion from Halt or Horace. He strode forward with as much confidence as he could muster. A few steps in, however, he noticed something odd. Halt's arm was still around him.

The realization made Will stiffen slightly. He couldn't remember a single time when Halt had touched him for longer than a few seconds - not counting when Will had initiated said touch himself. Halt wasn't a touchy person. The fact hadn't made his apprenticeship easy, as Will was companionable and quite tactile, but it was one he'd gotten used to. What could have caused this change?

Before he could ponder it much longer, the group had stopped in front of Ragnak's door. 

Erak knocked. "Oberjarl, we have urgent news."

Will relaxed as Halt's arm slid off his shoulder. Every kind action aimed at Will grew the guilt inside of him. Every touch or look or word made the lies Will spouted more bitter. The raised, whitened lines lashed across Will's back made it that much harder. Anyone who touched him might feel them and wonder. And Halt never wondered for long. 

Also, even vague memories of the acquisition of those scars had sullied touch for him. It was yet another thing Skandia had ruined.

"Who goes there?" came a voice. It was quiet by Skandian standards but measured and a bit cold.

"Jarl Erak, with others who carry the news." 

"Let them in," said another voice. This one was booming and strong, similar to Erak's. Will guessed that was Ragnak's.

An older, shorter, plump man who introduced himself as Borsa opened the door and let them in. He did a double-take upon seeing the Araluens, but a stern look from Erak had him stepping back.

Ragnak was just as intimidating as Will remembered.

He paused at the thought, blinking a few times. He realized it was true; he did remember Ragnak. He had no idea how. He could pinpoint no specific memories of the Oberjarl, yet he knew in his soul that he had seen this man before.

"Why did you bring Araluens into my chambers?" Ragnak asked with a menacing frown. "And free ones, by the look of it."

Horace scowled to Will's left at the last part. Meanwhile, Erak had begun to explain.

"We have just come from the mountain outpost. It was annihilated by a people known as the Temujai. We've discovered an army of at least five thousand strong marching towards us." 

Ragnak didn't give any outward indication of how he felt about that, but Borsa paled considerably. "F-Five thousand?" 

Erak nodded gravely. "At the least. We came upon these Araluens out there. This one" - Erak motioned to Halt - "is a Ranger, and he has offered to help us defend Hallasholm." 

Ragnak's face darkened, but instead of replying to that, he motioned to Will, Horace, and Evanlyn. "And who are they?" 

Erak hesitated. "Well, I don't know who the tall lad is, but these other two are escaped slaves. I have sworn to protect them." 

The Oberjarl didn't look overly happy about that, but he sighed. "If what you say is true, we have better things to do than punish escaped slaves. You say this Ranger wants to help us defend Hallasholm? Why? Surely a King's Ranger would have no love for Skandians." 

"I don't," Halt said bluntly, "but at this point in time, it'd be hard, if not impossible, to escape before the Temujai are here. The best thing I can do right now is to give my aid here." 

"I see. And how will you help us? One man more against five thousand means little." 

"I will be your strategist. I know enough about Skandians to know that your idea of a plan of attack is simply that. I lived among the Temujai for a few years. Their strategies and discipline are far above what you and your men have." 

Erak sent Halt a warning look, but surprisingly enough, Ragnak didn't seem to take offence at Halt's cold analysis. He merely seemed skeptical. "You think you can defeat an army of over five thousand with your strategies?" 

Halt shook his head. "No. That's impossible. But I know I can make it too expensive for the Temujai to keep fighting."

His gaze was harsh and unwavering as it met with Ragnak's. Not for the first time, the thought struck Will that Halt was a Ranger few could contest. Will wondered how he had garnered such attention from one so highly skilled. He knew now how undeserving he was of it. 

"I see," Ragnak said again. "Well, off with you." He gave a dismissive gesture to Erak and the Araluens. "I'd like to speak with the Ranger in private before I accept his offer." 

Erak led them out and on a tour through the whole building. Will recognized it as Erak's uncharacteristically subtle way of helping him relearn his surroundings. Halt's cleverness seemed to be rubbing off on him.

"What's over there?" Horace asked as they exited the building and stepped into the open air.

"Those are the yard slaves' quarters," Erak replied. An edge of reluctance dulled his tone. He pointedly kept from looking at Will.

Will smoothed his face into blankness. The longer he looked at the ramshackle shelters, the more memories resurfaced. Red stains on the wiry grass and he remembered the lash. Large cracks in the dilapidated wood and he remembered the cold. Scuff marks in the grass, and he didn't remember that, but he knew they were made by shuffling, shambling warmweed addicts.

A low groan split the air, side-by-side a sharp crack. Will jumped instinctively, heart erratically thudding and hands flying to cover his back. His eyes darted to the sight he already knew he'd see: a half-naked slave, hands tied to a post, blood and cries pouring from him as one. Above him stood a man that made Will's scars throb.

Horace, bless him, had already begun to run to the scene, but Erak grabbed him by the arm and jerked him backwards.

"Don't be stupid, boy!" Erak hissed. "Did you forget you're an Araluen? Chances are, he'd take you for a slave as well, and I won't be rescuing you. Even jarls know not to mess with the overseers."

Horace stopped resisting, but still grimaced. "That's not right. How- why would they do that?"

Will bit his lip. His hands were shaking, his thoughts racing. What if he recognized Will? Erak wouldn't help him, and Horace was no match for him. He needed to run, he needed to run now.

"It's considered good discipline," Erak said. He shook his head. His eyes slid off the prone figure as though he couldn't bear to watch. "It's a sight I've seen many times, but never does it seem right to me. 

Horace turned to Will, something pathetically piteous in his eyes. Will hated it. "Will, did they do that to you?"

Will tightened his jaw and his hands. The urge to bolt was growing every second, but if he did, Horace would know. "N-n-not me. B-but I saw- I saw-"

He paused, cursing himself and trying to breathe. "I saw it a lot," he managed finally. Then, to sell the lie, "It wasn't...it never gets easier to watch. A-And know you can't stop it. Not without..."

A memory washed in at that thought. At first, Will had tried to stop it. That beating was where he'd gotten most of his scars from. He'd learned, after that. He'd never rebelled again. Somehow, that was almost more shameful than the warmweed.

On Will's right, Evanlyn gave him a saddened look. Will took another breath, turned, and said, "How about we go to the kitchens?"

Over the next few days, Will did little else but train. His months of inactivity had dwindled his former skill down to practically nothing. His aim had become sloppy and slow. The intervals between shots had become lagging pauses instead of Halt's one-breath rule. His muscles were weak to the point of atrophy. Every effort was a strain.

Will watched dully as the arrow he'd just released sank into the target several inches from the bulls-eye. Given the distance - over fifty meters - it was a passable shot. For a first year apprentice. 

"Remember the golden rule?" came Halt's voice from behind him.

Will startled, then cursed himself inwardly. Halt had been there the entire training session, but when Will got lost in his head, he forgot his surroundings. It was, surprisingly, something Halt hadn't brought up yet. Will was sure it was only a matter of time. Rangers couldn't afford a lack of awareness.

Yet another reason he was unworthy of the title.

"Practice?" Will asked flatly. He mechanically reached to his quiver for another arrow and came up empty. 

"Practice," Halt confirmed. He started towards the targets to collect the arrows. Will followed.

Although he couldn't be absolutely certain as he'd never really thought about it before, Will didn't think Halt had used to walk so close to him. Actually, he couldn't remember Halt ever even going to collect arrows with him in the first place. Hadn't Halt once said something like, 'You shoot it, you pick it up'?

Halt's arm settled around Will's shoulders, right over his scars. Will tensed. A moment later he forced himself to relax. Stupid - Halt would notice if Will were uncomfortable and would get suspicious. Old Will wouldn't have cared about touch. Old Will liked touch. 

"Don't feel too bad about it," Halt said. "Your technique is still there. You simply can't expect to retain your edge after spending a winter making snowmen in the mountains."

"'Making snowmen'?" Will asked indignantly. He stopped walking and turned to face Halt. Halt's arm slipped from his shoulders briefly, but readjusted so the hand lay on Will's left shoulder. "I'll- I'll have you know-"

He stopped. His eyes slid from Halt's and moved to the ground. The familiar feeling of shame churned in his gut. No, he hadn't been making snowmen. He had been even worse - in a drugged daze, mindless, helpless. He had no right to stand up for himself.

"You'll have me know what?"

The hand on Will's shoulders had tightened slightly. Will looked back up to see Halt's searching gaze on him. He swallowed. It took a great deal of willpower to remain still and not rip away from his mentor's hold. 

"I'll have you know that there weren't any proper weapons up there, nor were there-" Will stopped again. Halt had raised an eyebrow. "You said that on purpose!"

"On purpose?" Halt inquired. Too casually. "What purpose would that be?"

This time Will couldn't stop himself. He stepped back and away and turned to the nearest target. "I-I don't know," he said, hating himself when his voice came out shaky. "You're a Ranger. How am I supposed to know what goes on in your head?"

No footsteps sounded behind him, but Will got the impression Halt had moved off. It was confirmed when Halt's voice came next, several meters away. "You are a Ranger too, Will."

No. I'm not. I could never be.

I don't deserve to be. Not after what I've done. Not after who I've become.

"An apprentice."

"A Ranger."

Will had nothing to say to that. 

They worked in silence for several minutes, when finally Halt spoke again. Another thing he hadn't used to do. Will had always been the one to start conversation, Halt always the one who never spoke unless necessary. 

Perhaps Halt's definition of 'necessary' had changed? 

"You know..." Halt started. There was a note of hesitance in his voice. "That's why I didn't come sooner."

Will paused, hand still on an arrow he had yet to pull out. "What?"

"Because you are an apprentice Ranger. The king didn't want me to come after you. I listened, at first. For too long."

Will looked over and immediately wished he hadn't. Halt wasn't supposed to look like that - sad. Regretful.

"If I could do it over, I would choose differently."

Will turned back to the target. He wanted to be angry at Halt. He wanted to blame him for everything that had happened. It would be so easy. But... Halt didn't deserve that. The only person Will could truly blame was himself. 

"I don't blame you," Will said. "I'm not mad at you."

So quietly Will barely heard it, Halt said, "Maybe you should be."

Amidst training a retinue of archers, tending to Evanlyn's now-frequent nightmares, and Will's own fears of Halt's suspicions, Will somehow managed to return to his former skill in archery. Or, at least, to its bare bones. Will was all too aware that his hands still shook at times, that his muscles sometimes went lax against his will, that his brain sometimes refused to properly calculate his aim. Every day was a battle that Will clawed his way through sheer determination. And, slowly, those battles had begun to win a war.

Halt, watching him, knew Will was better than Gilan had been as a second year, but kept quiet.

As his archery returned to par, Halt had Will bring his focus to other parts of his training, namely his knives. Getting the rust out of his knife-throwing skills wasn't terribly hard - really not much harder than it had been for archery. Will had always had a knack for target practice, and anything requiring aim was easy, or at least easier than something that did not. Something such as the double knife defense.

Unlike archery, sparring required real-time reaction to outside stimuli, something Will's brain was none-too fond of at that point in time. He sparred first with Halt; although he couldn't practice the double knife defense with him, he could at least get reacquainted with his knives, as Halt said. After a humiliating first try, Will had to agree that that was necessary. 

A few days in, once Will's bouts with Halt had become slightly less pathetic (Halt's words), Horace approached him to ask him to spar. Halt basically strong-armed Will in, and from there, there was no turning back.

Horace was good, Will quickly realized. He'd suspected as much after seeing him in action the few times he had, but fighting against Horace was an entirely new experience. What little pride Will had regained with his archery was quickly quashed, and mercilessly. Every night he would return to his room bruised in body and in spirit. No matter what he tried, Will felt, no matter what he did, he never even managed to break Horace's defense for an instant. 

It was that, along with the attention Evanlyn had begun to pay Horace, that began to grow an ugly beast of jealousy inside of Will. He was better in every way - a better warrior, a better leader, a better friend, a better man. Horace had never willingly reduced himself to a mindless travesty of a human. Horace's hands never shook around his weapons; Horace never failed. 

Before long, every lost fight caused an unbearable well of bitterness inside Will, making it increasingly hard to keep his temper when Halt or Horace forced him into a rematch. He snapped at Horace whenever Halt wasn't around to see it and couldn't find it in himself to feel bad about it. Horace had never had to deal with what Will had, after all. A few annoyed words were nothing compared to what he had been through.

"Say, Will," Horace said one day after he had defeated Will for the fourth time in a row and Will had stormed off to the other side of the practice yard to cool down. They were alone, Halt having vanished to help the Oberjarl - at least, Will hoped he had actually left and not decided to stay and watch, hidden. You never knew with Halt; one of the many reasons Will was always on edge these days.

"What?" His tone was the barest edge of civil. He was lasting longer against Horace now, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. 

"I was thinking," Horace started, then paused. Will had to bite back Halt's usual answer to apprentices voicing their thoughts. 

"What?" Will repeated, drumming his fingers against the hilt of his sheathed saxe knife. His back was to Horace, something he hadn't cared about when he'd walked away but was now regretting. He felt too much like a defenseless animal. He schooled his face into neutrality and turned around to face Horace.

"You seem...different, lately," Horace said hesitantly. "I was thinking-"

"How so?" Will interrupted, matching Horace's level volume with some degree of difficulty. He felt like a pile of dry-wood - one wrong move and he'd be aflame. 

"Well, I, you just don't seem like yourself? Like, um, you just seem upset a lot, and I don't quite know why, but I know if I had gone through all the stuff that you had I'd probably feel upset too..." Horace broke off and rubbed the back of his head. "I just want you to know that I, well, I think of you as my friend and I want you to know I'm here if you ever need anything."

Will gave him a puzzled smile. "What do you mean? I've been pretty tired lately, I guess, but that's just the stress from the whole upcoming war thing."

Horace looked unconvinced but nodded. "Still, if you ever need anything, I'm here for you, alright?" 

"Alright." Will gave Horace another smile, this one almost genuine underneath the conflict inside him. "Thank you, Horace." 

Will and Evanlyn had managed to get a room together, forcing Horace and Halt to share one of their own. Borsa had originally wanted to put Evanlyn and Will with the slaves, but Erak and Halt had talked him out of it. It had taken a lot more effort for Will and Evanlyn to convince Halt to let them share a room, instead of having Evanlyn by herself. Eventually, Will had given the argument that, given Evanlyn's status as princess, it was simply too dangerous to leave her alone. Having Halt room with her, as had been Halt's next suggestion, would draw too much attention given his status as a senior Ranger, whereas Will, as a former slave with Evanlyn, would be more expected. Halt had finally conceded, but not without a hearty bout of teasing Will about his "feelings" for the princess.

As embarrassing as it had been, Will had strangely welcomed the slight bit of normalcy in his life. He'd even reacted instinctively like Old Will would've, complete with red cheeks and stammered out defenses. Not fun to look back upon, of course, but at least it was something he could look at and say see, I'm still there deep down, I haven't completely lost myself. 

Of course, no one knew the real reason behind their rooming situation. Now that they weren't in constant danger, their nightmares had come in full force, as though their brains were trying to punish them for their laxity. Will would blow his cover in one night if he roomed with Halt and Horace; no matter how hard he tried, Evanlyn told him she could still hear him whimper in his sleep. And Evanlyn had outright screamed once or twice, only Will's quick thinking managing to keep the rest of Hallasholm from learning their secrets.

Additionally, Will was accustomed to sleeping shirtless with Halt and Horace. He didn't with Evanlyn, of course, out of respect, but had he been with Halt and Horace, they would've wondered at the change. Will didn't want to explain the whitened scars slashed across his back, nor did he want to deal with the inevitable questioning Halt would subject him to as to why he hadn't said anything sooner.

As the days passed and the Temujai army marched ever closer, both Will and Evanlyn's nightmares grew worse. Eventually they got so bad that Will finally gave into Erak's suggestion and began taking a sleeping concoction. It uncomfortably reminded him of his former dependence on warmweed, a discomfort that grew with each of the memories that returned, but he had no choice. He couldn't continue on like this and pretend to be normal, not when the entire city could see the huge bags around his eyes.

It didn't stop him from hating everything about the situation, though. 

Even though he'd never breathe a word of it to Evanlyn, Will firmly believed nightmares were a sign of weakness. As a princess, Evanlyn was weak, no matter how brave and resourceful she'd proved herself. She was not expected to fend for herself, to assassinate dangerous opponents, or to lead armies. Will was, and being subjected to what he viewed as weakness was a shame just as heavy as that of the warmweed.

Meanwhile, the corps of bowmen Will was busy training were coming along nicely. It was another of the few things Will had to bolster his spirits. Just as his dedicated weapons practice had begun to bring back his physical skills, so the task of leading his bowmen brought the return of his mental faculties. They returned much slower than his muscle memory did, but as the days passed Will felt his decision making skills sharpen and his reaction time quicken. Above all, it allowed him to pretend to be his old, cheery self once more. He found that, occasionally, there were times he didn't have to act. The idea that his old self was still there was a heartening one for Will. 

Today, training with the corps had proceeded as usual; Will would drill them for several hours, give them some corrections, and then dismiss them. Will lowered his bow from where it had been aimed at one of the targets and looked around. His men were watching him expectantly; it sent a thrill of adrenaline through him even after over a week.

"We'll break for today," he said in a raised voice. "Tomorrow we'll shoot as one group. So if I've picked any technical faults in your shooting today, practice getting rid of them before the evening meal. Then get a good night's rest." He started to turn away, then turned back, remembering one thing more. "Good work all of you. If you keep this up, we're going to give those Temujai a very nasty surprise." 

A growl of pleasure rose from the one hundred men. As they broke off, heading back to their shelters, Will realized it was later than he'd thought. Frowning a little, he went down the field to go retrieve the arrows, pleased when the half-dozen boys who'd been assigned to help began to gather the arrow bins and arrows, putting them under cover in one of the store sheds that fronted the practice field. 

Will couldn't help but notice the admiring glances every one of them cast his way as they went about their work. It was a much-needed self esteem boost, especially in his current mental state, and he smiled a little. He wouldn't have been human if he hadn't enjoyed their hero worship. 

"You look pleased with yourself." Will spun around to see Horace watching him, and shrugged.

"They're coming along quite well. It's been a good day's work." 

Horace nodded. "So I noticed." Then, worried, he added, "Evanlyn hasn't been here with you, has she?" 

Instantly defensive - the amount of time he and Evanlyn spent together, planning out their ruse and supporting each other through their nightmares, had begun to raise eyebrows everywhere - he asked, "What if she has been?" 

The worried look instantly cleared from Horace's face. "Then she has been here? That's a relief. Where is she now?" 

Will frowned. "Just a moment. Why is it a relief? Is something wrong?"

"Then she hasn't been here?"  

Will shook his head. "No, she hasn't. I just assumed you were being..." he shook his head again, trying to clear his embarrassment away.

"She's missing and nobody's seen her since mid-morning yesterday. I've looked everywhere for her, but there's no sign." 

"Missing?" Will repeated, taking a little longer to understand than normal and cursing his slow brain for it. "Missing where?" 

Horace looked at him. "If we knew that, she wouldn't be missing, would she?" 

Feeling defensive again, he put his hands up. "Alright, fine! Sorry I didn't realize, but I've been a little tied up here trying to get these archers organized." Taking a deep breath, he tried to get himself under control again. He'd gotten better about snapping at Horace, but the boy made himself too easy of a target sometimes. "Surely somebody must have seen her last night. Our room servants, for example?" 

Horace shook his head miserably. "I've asked them." He continued on with his monologue, something about patrolling, but it slid past Will's panicking brain. This was his fault. If he'd just kept a closer eye on her, a better watch, she wouldn't be missing. He could've kept her safe.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, he looked up to see that Horace was looking at him expectantly. Realizing he was supposed to say something, Will said, "I haven't seen hide nor hair of her, but it's ridiculous! Hallasholm isn't a big enough place for someone to go missing, and there's nowhere else she could have gone. Let's face it, she can't have simply disappeared." He hesitated, suddenly unsure. "...can she?" 

"That's what I keep telling myself," Horace said glumly, "But somehow, it looks as if she has."

Chapter Text

"Bring her forward!" Ragnak's massive voice boomed painfully in the low ceilings of the hall. Evanlyn shrank back instinctively, then recovered as Halt touched her arm and met her eyes with a reassuring smile. Straightening her shoulders, she stepped forward, stopping before Ragnak's raised dais. She met the Oberjarl's glower with a calm, composed expression. She'd become a very good actor, Will thought. As good as he, if not better.

Slagor, standing beside Ragnak, signaled to a pair of attendants by a side door. "Bring in the slave." In contrast to Ragnak's ear-splitting bellow, his voice was soft and silky. 

He sounds very pleased with the current turn of events, Will thought, virulent anger and disgust swirling through him. Slagor was openly sadistic in a way none but the overseers ever were. Really, Will didn't know why he hadn't become one of them instead - he was certainly suited for it.

The two men Slager had called opened the door and dragged in a protesting, weeping figure. She was a middle-aged woman, her hair graying and her face lined before its time with the strain of unending labor, poor food, and the threat of constant punishment that was the lot of a slave in Skandia. They threw her down on the floor in front of Evanlyn. Will heard a painful thud as her knees hit the hard floor, but she only crouched there miserably, head hunched towards the ground.

"Look up, slave," Slagor said in that soft voice. Will hated it more every time he heard it.

The woman continued sobbing and shook her head repeatedly, her entire body reverberating with the movement. Slagor's expression flickered and he abruptly stepped down from the platform and drew his saxe knife. The tip pressed into her throat with enough force to break skin.

"I said, look up."

The woman's eyes darted up, only to meet Evanlyn's and flick back down. Her sobbing grew louder.

"Shut up," Slagor said. "Stop your blubbering and tell the Oberjarl what you told me." 

Will looked over her again and realized with saddened horror that she'd been beaten, and harshly. Red marks and bruises alternated throughout her pale skin like a checkerboard. Her slumped shoulders and trembling hands spoke of her sheer exhaustion. Dried blood peeked out from one nostril and her left wrist was swollen. Will's lip curled. He wouldn't be surprised if they'd beaten her all night. 

"I'm sorry, my lady," she said, voice breaking. The entire hall grew quiet to hear her. "They beat me until I told." 

Evanlyn might've been a good actor, but even she couldn't help the involuntary step, the horrified gasp. Slagor's knife pressed in harder to the slave's throat and Evanlyn stopped in her tracks.

Beside Will, Horace's hand dropped to his sword hilt. Will sharply looked over and shook his head. Drawing a weapon now in such a tense atmosphere would invite war, and even the looming threat of the Temujai wouldn't save them from the ensuing slaughter. Will tilted his head in Halt's direction, hoping Horace would understand to wait for Halt. 

Although Will didn't see any way out of this, he'd promised Halt to stay quiet and he would keep that promise until he had no other choice. Will had once trusted Halt with his life back in Araluen, after all, and Halt had never disappointed him then. He could only hope that his trust was not misplaced.

Slagor turned back to the woman on the floor. "Tell the Oberjarl."

When she said nothing, Slagor turned to Ragnak in exasperation. "My head slave overheard her talking to some of the others. She's Araluen originally and she said she recognized this girl here-" he jerked a thumb in Evanlyn's direction "-as the Princess Cassandra, Duncan's daughter." 

Ragnak's eyes narrowed and he turned slightly to inspect Evanlyn, whose chin went up and back straightened under his gaze. "She does have something of the look of Duncan about her," he said suspiciously. 

"No! No! I was mistaken!" the slave burst out. "Now that I see her close, I realize I was wrong, Lord Slagor. I was mistaken!" 

'Lord'? Will thought in disgust. What an entitled bastard. 

"You called her 'my lady,'" Slagor reminded her.

"It was mistake, that was all. A mistake. Now I see her properly, I can tell it's not her," she insisted.

Slagor regarded her with a pained expression that would've looked real if Will hadn't known how despicable of a person the sea captain really was. "She's lying, Oberjarl. I'll have my men beat the truth out of her."

He signaled the two men again and one of them came forward, uncoiling a short, thick whip as he came. The woman cringed away from him. So did Will. 

"No! Please, my lord, please!"

Her voice, shrill with fear, penetrated deep into Will and he suddenly felt nauseous. It was too much, too close to his own experiences. He had to fight not to step backwards.

The man raised the whip. 

"Leave her alone!" Evanlyn cried, her composed facade crumbling. She seemed suddenly so much smaller. Her face was etched in defeat. "All right. You win. There's no need to torture her further. I'm Cassandra." 

The silence in the room was a death knell, and nowhere was it stronger than in Will's head. Now that her identity was revealed, there was no way that Halt could save her. There was no choice now but to watch her die, painfully, in front of him. All at once his chest felt hollowed out with grief. She was the only one who knew his secret. If she died, he would be all alone.

Around him, Will dimly registered the word Vallasvow. 

"Silence!" Ragnak roared. He rose and moved forward to confront Evanlyn, glaring down at her. "You are Duncan's daughter?" 

She hesitated. Will could sense the fear rising within her. Be strong, Evanlyn, he pleaded. He didn't know how, but he would save her. He had to. He could not bear being alone - could not bear the thought of life without her. She was the only thing keeping him sane, and if she died, he would die with her.

"I am King Duncan's daughter. Cassandra, Princess of Araluen." 

"Then you are my enemy," Ragnak replied. "And I've sworn that you should die." 

Erak stepped forward. "And I've sworn that she will be safe here, Oberjarl," he said. "I gave my word when I asked the Ranger to help us."

Will felt a sudden deep depth of gratitude for the jarl. 

"I am Oberjarl," Ragnak said angrily. "My vow is of greater importance." 

Erak folded his arms across his chest. "Not to me it isn't." 

"Erak cannot defy you like this! You are Oberjarl!" Slagor interjected. Will briefly contemplated throwing his saxe knife at him, only this time without the wooden keg in front. "Have him imprisoned! He is defying your vow to the Vallas!" 

"Shut up, Slagor," Erak told him, deadly calm. Then he readdressed himself to Ragnak. "I didn't ask you to take your death vow, Ragnak. But if you want to carry it out, I'm afraid you'll have to go through me to do it." 

Ragnak stepped down from his podium and walked closer to where Erak stood. Will noticed how alike they were in terms of height and physical proportions. If they fought, they would be an even match.

"Erak, did you know? Did you know who she was when you brought her here?" 

Erak shook his head.

"Of course he knew!" Slagor cried, then stopped suddenly as the point of Erak's dagger appeared under his nose. 

"I'll allow that once," Erak told him. "Say it again and you're a dead man." 

Wordlessly, Slagor backed away. Unlike with Ragnak, Erak dwarfed him in size. Any fight they had would not be in his favor.

Erak sheathed the dagger and turned back to face Ragnak. "I didn't know. Otherwise I would never have brought her here, knowing of your vow. But the fact remains, I vouched for her safety and my word is all-important to me, as is yours to you." 

"Damn and blast it, Erak!" Ragnak shouted. "The Temujai are only three or four days' march from here! We can't afford to be fighting amongst ourselves now!" 

"It would be a shame if you had to face the Temujai with at least one, and possibly both, of your best leaders dead," Halt put in mildly. Will had no idea how making Ragnak angrier was going to help matters, but he'd already sworn silence to the Ranger; now he just had to hope his master knew what he was doing. 

"Shut up, Ranger!" Ragnak snarled. "I'm of half a mind to believe that this is all your doing! No good ever came of dealing with your kind!"

Halt shrugged, unimpressed. "Be that as it may, it occurs to me that there might be a solution to your problem, at least for the time being."

Ragnak looked at the Ranger with narrowed eyes. Will could tell he was suspicious and most likely expecting Halt to trick him. In all honesty, Will was expecting Halt to trick him. "What are you talking about? My vow is binding upon me." 

Halt nodded. "I understand that, but is there any time factor involved?" 

It took Will longer than it should have, but in a flash, he understood. 

"Time factor?" Ragnak asked, apparently even slower than Will. The boy wondered with a hint of mirth if Ragnak had also had a stint on warmweed. "How do you mean?" 

"If we accept that you plan to do your best to kill Evanlyn, knowing that Erak will try to stop you when you do - not to mention the fact that if he doesn't, I most certainly will - have you vowed that you'll do it at any particular time?" 

The puzzled expression on the Oberjarl's face grew more intense. "No. I didn't specify any time. I just made the vow," he said finally.

Halt nodded several times. "Good. So, as far as these Vallas are concerned, they don't care whether you try to fulfill your vow today or if you choose to wait until, say, after we've sent the Temujai packing?" 

"That's right," he said slowly. Understanding was finally beginning to dawn on Ragnak's face. It was about time, too, in Will's opinion. "As long as the intent is there, the Vallas will be satisfied." 

"No!" Slagor's voice was shrill now; Will decided he liked that tone even less. "Can't you see, Oberjarl, he's trying to trick you? He has something in mind. The girl must die and she must die now! Otherwise your sworn word is worthless!" 

Will drew in a breath. Slagor had gone too far, he knew, and as Ragnak turned his furious gaze to the ship captain, everyone else in the room realized it, too. 

"Slagor," he said dangerously, "I would advise you to get rid of this reckless habit of telling your peers that they are liars." 

"Of course, Oberjarl," Slagor attempted to mend quickly, "I didn't mean-"

"My first concern is for the safety of Skandia. With these Temujai on our doorstep, Erak and I cannot afford to be fighting. If he'll agree to postpone our differences until after we've settled with them, then I will too." 

Erak nodded agreement instantly. "It sounds like a good compromise to me." 

But Will could see that Ragnak wasn't finished yet. He still looked suspicious, and as his gaze fell on Halt, the boy realized it was of the Ranger. 

"I can't help wondering what's in it for you, Ranger. All you've done is win a postponement." 

Halt inclined his head. "True, but a lot can happen in the next few days. You might be killed in the battle. Or Erak. Or me. Or all three of us. Besides that, my immediate priority is the same as yours: to see these Temujai driven back. After all, if they win here, it won't be long before they're invading Araluen as well. I have a sworn duty to try to prevent that." He smiled grimly. "That's another of those vows that we all seem to rush around taking. Damned nuisances, aren't they?" 

Apparently either unimpressed by or not understanding Halt's sarcasm, Ragnak turned and stepped back onto the dais, settling into his massive council chair.

"We're agreed then," he said. "We'll settle the Temujai question first, then we'll come back to this problem." 

With shared nods, Erak and Halt turned to leave. Halt took Evanlyn's arm and began to guide her from the Great Hall, followed by Will, Horace, and Erak. Will's brow furrowed, wondering if Halt had forgotten Slagor's betrayal, when Halt turned back to Ragnak.

"Of course," he said mildly, "there is one more question that I'd like to hear Slagor answer." 

Everyone in the room instantly looked to Slagor. Halt continued, "Perhaps he could tell us what his ships are doing at Fallkork Island?"  

"Can you, Ranger?" Slagor spat, saying the last word as if it were an insult. "Can you show some kind of proof?" 

Will saw Halt's hesitation. He didn't answer, and Will knew that he had to speak up now. Screw his vow of silence to Halt. His brain might be slower than he'd like, but he could still think up a solution well enough. He pushed through the crowd to stand beside Halt.

"There is a way." 

The entire hall fell silent. Every gaze turned to the small apprentice standing between Halt and Erak. 

"How?" Ragnak asked simply. He didn't laugh at the idea that a mere boy like Will - worse, a former slave like Will - could possibly have a solution to their problem. Despite how little Will was predisposed to like the man, that at least made him respect the Oberjarl. 

"Well, Slagor's ships at this island taken on their own may be no proof of his intention to sell out to the Temujai," he said carefully, thinking through each word and enunciating them purposely. When he got nervous, he tended to slur his speech, and that was something he definitely didn't want to do now. "But if Erak took Wolfwind to this Sand Creek Bay, and if they happened to find, say, a hundred and fifty Temujai warriors waiting there to embark...it's a fair indication that someone is planning to betray you, isn't it?" 

Ragnak frowned as he thought that through. To Will's left, Erak muttered, "Good thinking, boy." 

"That's true," Ragnak said finally. "It shows there's treachery been planned. But who's to say Slagor's involved?" 

Will was the one to hesitate this time, unable to respond. He silently cursed himself, wracking his brain for an answer.

This time, Halt was the one to reply. "Oberjarl, there's a simple way to find out. Let Erak take not one ship, but three. After all, that's the number the Temujai are expecting to see. Then he can speak with the leader of any Temujai who might happen to be there and tell them that Slagor has been detained and has sent him in his place. If the Temujai leader responds with words along the lines of 'who the devil is Slagor?' then our friend here is as innocent as he claims to be."

He paused. "On the other hand, if the name Slagor seems familiar to the enemy, then there is all the proof you need." 

"This is ridiculous!" Slagor, predictably, burst out. "I swear to you, Oberjarl, that I am not traitor to Skandia! This is a plot cooked up by these Araluens. And somehow they seem to have tricked Erak into believing it." 

"If you're innocent," Ragnak said heavily, "then you have nothing to fear from all this, do you?" 

Perspiration began to break out on the captain's forehead. "I don't see any reason why-" 

"I do!" Ragnak snapped, interrupting Slagor. "Erak, take three ships to Sand Creek Bay immediately and do as the Ranger suggests. Once you've established whether or not Slagor is involved in this plot, get back here and report.

"And as for you," he said, looking at Slagor, "don't try to go anywhere. I want you where I can see you until Erak returns. Ulfak, see to it!" Ulfak, presumably one of his senior jarls, nodded and moved to stand beside Slagor. 

"One thing, Oberjarl," Erak said, making the Skandian leader turn to him again. "Once I've established that Slagor is involved, is it all right if we reduce the Temujai numbers a little? That'll be a few less we have to fight here, at least." 

"Good idea," Ragnak said, "but don't take any risks. I need to know the traitor's identity and you can't tell me that if the Temujai kill you." 

An idea had slowly been forming in Will's head throughout that last part of the discussion, and before he could stop himself, he blurted, "Why no' go 'head withe plan they're 'specting?"

His cheeks flamed as laughter lit up the halls. Damn warmweed. His eyes flicked to Halt to see if the Ranger thought his sudden speech impediment suspicious. But Halt's expression was as unreadable as ever.

Resigning himself to think about that later, Will tried again, slower, "Why not go ahead with the plan they're expecting?" 

Now, the Skandian leader looked at him as if he were mad. "Are you out of your mind? Are you suggesting that Erak actually brings the Temujai back here as prisoners? We'd have to subdue them and guard them and that would take men away from our own battle line."

Will carefully refrained from saying that, if left to their own devices, those men would be a hundred and fifty more people that could possibly endanger that battle line, instead turning to Erak. "Not back here. Couldn't you find some pretext to make them get off the ships at this Fallkork island, then just leave them there?" 

Another silence. This time, Erak started laughing, but not the kind of laugh that made Will feel embarrassed.

"Oh, what a prize idea!" he said, grinning fondly at Will. "If we take these horsemen through the Vulture Narrows, I'm sure we can have them begging to get ashore for a few hours. The seas there are terrible at this time of year - guaranteed to make any inexperienced sailors seasick!" 

Ragnak rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I take it these Temujai are unused to sailing?" 

If they decided they had to defeat Skandia in order to even get ships, Will thought, it's probably a sign that they don't sail that much. 

Halt nodded. If he had any sarcastic remarks, he didn't say them. "Totally, Oberjarl." 

Ragnak turned from Halt to Will. "This boy of yours shows a certain talent for the sort of devious thinking we expect from you Rangers." 

Halt dropped a hand lightly on Will's shoulder and said, with a completely straight face, "We're very proud of him, Oberjarl. We think he'll go far." 

Warmth bloomed in his chest for the first time he could remember in a very long time. It didn't matter that Halt's tone was completely matter-of-fact or that his face belied his words. Will had never, never, heard such a compliment from Halt in his life. Even if part of it was just putting on a show for Ragnak, Will refused to believe that it was a lie. Halt's touch, warm on his shoulder, was too real to be a lie. If Halt weren't telling the truth, he wouldn't make it that personal. 

Then, a bitter aftertaste to the warmth followed. Halt was not lying, but Will was. Although Will doubted that Halt would ever care for him as much as Will did for Halt, Will knew they had more than the average mentor-student bond. The promise Halt had made to Will on that beach last year had been out of duty to an apprentice, but Will refused to accept that that had been all. 

And the worst part was not even that Will was hurting Halt by lying to him. No. It was that Will was a lie. 

Halt had praised, in front of the leader of a nation, in front of most of that nation's citizens, a person who didn't even exist. A person whose simulacrum spent his days pretending to be the original.

If that wasn't a reason for why Will did not deserve to be a Ranger, he didn't know what was.

"Get your ships ready and go," Ragnak was saying. Will tried to focus on his words through the pulling pain in his chest. "Then dump these Temujai on Fallkork Island and get back here."

Slagor then voiced one last, desperate objection. 

"Oberjarl! These are the people who accuse me! They're all in it together! You can't send them to verify their own charges!" 

Ragnak hesitated. "Fair point. Borsa, you go with them as an independent witness." Then, turning his gaze to Slagor, he concluded, "And as for you, you'd better hope there are no Temujai at Sand Creek Bay." 

"Position two...shoot!" 

"Shields!" Horace bellowed. Beside each archer, a foot soldier stepped forward with a rectangular wooden shield held on his left arm, positioned to cover both himself and the archer as he reloaded. It had been Horace's idea, and a damn good one at that. Will was unwilling to lose any of his hundred archers to the Temujai return fire they were sure to mount once they encountered opposition. 

He glanced around, making sure the archers were ready for the next shot, then turned back to the practice field to search for the next target.

There! As the team of men behind him hauled on a set of ropes, another flat board swung up out of the grass. But he had nearly missed the movement waiting to see if the archers were ready.

Inwardly cursing his slowed brain functions, he fought a twinge of panic. Things were moving too fast. He wasn't ready for this. "Clear! Half right! Position three...shoot!"

"Shields!" Horace called again. 

"Come on, come on," Will muttered, shifting restlessly as the men selected new arrows and nocked them to the string. For a Ranger who'd been trained to nock, aim, and release within seconds, the waiting period was interminably slow. The archers, sensing his urgency, began to hurry, but the extra haste made for clumsiness. Will kept in an exasperated sigh as three of them dropped the arrows and many others fumbled around like beginners. 

Frustrated, Will realized he'd have to go with the men who were ready. He swung his gaze back to the target, but the men on the ropes were hauling it in so that it slid toward them on its sled-like runners, matching the speed of an enemy advance. The range had closed too quickly for him to make an instant assessment. In the time that he'd been watching his men, he'd lost his concentration and his sense of the battlefield.

"Stand down!" he called. "Everyone take a break." 

He angrily flopped down to the ground, sure that a normal person wouldn't have had a problem with this. A normal person would've been able to keep going between the two groups. He had to face it: he was disabled, perhaps permanently. The thought was just as humiliating as it had been the first time it had come to him, the day after he'd woken up from the warmweed. 

"What's the trouble?" Horace asked.

Will wanted to snap at him, but held back. Instead, he shrugged, forcing a smile. He'd gotten better at channeling his old, cheery self, especially in front of his men. "Can't keep track of the targets and the men at the same time. Guess I've lost my touch. You'll have to watch the men and tell me when they're ready." 

Horace frowned. "First, now that I think about it, watching both sides would be really difficult. I don't think it's you losing your touch. And secondly, I could...but on the day, I think I'm going to be a little busy shielding you from any return shots. I really need to keep my eye on the enemy, too. Unless you want to be turned into a pincushion." 

Will felt a vague sense of amusement at the last sentence before it was swallowed up with anger - at himself, of course, but he wasn't going to say that. "Well, someone's going to have to do it! We haven't even begun to practice against the Kaijin and the whole thing's falling apart!"

Abruptly he realized that that was most certainly not a thing Old Will would say, and wished he could take it back. 

"I could do it," Evanlyn interjected. Will turned to her, surprised. He'd completely forgotten she was there.

"I could do it," she repeated. "I could keep an eye on the archers and call when they're ready." 

"But that'll put you in the battle line!" Horace objected instantly. "It'll be dangerous!"

Will said nothing, considering. Yes, it'd be dangerous, but Will needed someone to help him. There was, arguably, no one he trusted more than Evanlyn - in some ways, he trusted her more than Halt, considering Evanlyn knew much more than he was ever planning on telling Halt. 

"The archers aren't actually in the front line," Evanlyn was saying. "You'll be behind it and protected by a trench and an earth mound. You could build me a kind of a dugout at the end, beneath your command position. I'd be safe from arrows there; after all, I don't need to see the enemy, just our men." 

"But what if the Temujai break through our line?" Horace said. "You'll be right in the middle of it, then!"

Evanlyn shrugged. "If the Temujai break through, it won't matter where I am. We'll all be dead. Besides, if everyone else is taking a risk, why shouldn't I?" 

Horace looked like there was something he very much wanted to say, but refrained. Instead, sighing, he turned to Will. "What do you think, Will?"

From his tone, he obviously expected the apprentice Ranger to agree with him, and was a little surprised when Will took a while to respond. Will frowned, thinking hard. Finally he looked up, assessing Evanlyn for a long moment. She stared back, unflinching. 

"I think," he said slowly, "she may be right. Let's try it." 

Chapter Text

"Ready," Evanlyn said calmly.

"Clear!" That was Horace.

"Left left! Position one...shoot!" That was Will. The volley was ragged and Will knew that was his fault. He'd called the order to shoot too quickly and some of the men hadn't reached full draw. Through his anger at himself, he heard Horace call for shields again and saw the arrow strikes on the target- as well as the ones that didn't hit. 

But now another danger reared its head. Another, smaller target swung out from the target they had just engaged. It was supposed to represent a Kaijin. With his former skill returned, Will drew and loosed and saw his arrow slam into the target, just as Evanlyn called "ready" once more. 

"Left! Position three..." he waited, cursing their slowness in his head, then added a correction. "Down a half..." He waited again, then called, "Shoot!" 

"Shields!" Horace bellowed, and the pattern began to repeat. But now Will, exhausted from the hours of shooting, waved a hand. 

"Stand down," he said. Horace repeated the order in a louder voice. The archers and shield bearers dropped gratefully to the ground to rest. Horace grinned at Will.

"Not bad. I make it twenty out of twenty-five of those targets peppered pretty solidly. And you hit every one of the Kaijin." 

"True," Will said glumly, then quickly cheered his tone up, "but they weren't shooting back." 

In all honesty, he was fairly pleased. He'd hit the targets squarely and his men had, as well - mostly, at any rate. His estimations had, so far, proved excellent, and it was definitely a nice feeling. He grinned at Horace and Evanlyn, the expression for once not feeling all that forced. They smiled back. 

He turned to his men. "Nice work, everyone. Let's take a break for half an hour." 

Behind Will, a familiar voice spoke. "Take a break for the rest of the day. You've done enough for the moment." 

Dread and excitement stirred inside Will. The same two feelings now warred inside him every time he found himself near Halt. He dreaded every lie, every forced smile or laugh, that he forced down Halt's throat. He couldn't shake the idea that he would answer for all of them on Judgment Day. Yet, he couldn't deny that he was excited because it was Halt, his mentor, the best Ranger in all Araluen. Invariably, there was always something exciting happening around Halt. 

"Hello, Halt," he said neutrally, then swiftly forced himself to swing back into Old Will when Halt's expression shifted. "What happened? Were the Temujai there? Did you manage to fool them?" 

As he asked the questions, he felt a spark of his old curiosity begin to resurface. Good, he thought with a little sigh. At least I'm not completely broken. 

Halt's expression, however, seemed to darken the closer he got and he motioned at Evanlyn. "Why have you got Evanlyn involved in this, Will?" 

Will hesitated. But he needed her, and he couldn't back down now. "Because I need her, Halt. I need someone to keep track of the men, to let me know when they're ready. Without that, the system won't work." 

"Couldn't someone else do that?" Will saw the displeasure in his mentor's eyes and fought a wince. 

"I can't think of anyone else I can trust. I want someone who won't panic, someone who'll keep her head." 

Halt looked at him. "How do you know Evanlyn won't panic?" 

Again, he hesitated. His memories were still muddled and contradictory and occasionally nonexistent. Slowly, he said, "Because she didn't in Celtica...at the cliff."

"The cliff?" Evanlyn asked, an undertone to her voice. "You mean the bridge?"

He...didn't think so. But Evanlyn wouldn't say that without reason. He nodded. "Right, that's what I meant." 

Again, that considering gaze from Halt. It made Will feel like an animal pelt stretched on a tanning rack. Then the gaze passed from him to Evanlyn and paused. After a long moment, he said, "All right, then."

Will forced a grin. Beside him, Horace and Evanlyn's grins were anything but forced.

"But don't look so happy about it," Halt groused. "I'm the one who'll have to explain to her father if she's shot." 

Taking a deep breath to center himself, Will slipped back into the guise of Old Will. "Now what about the Temujai? Did you find them at Sand Creek Bay?" 

Beside Will, Evanlyn's face clouded, anxiety surfacing. Will's hand itched and he wished he could reach out with it to reassure her.

"They were there," Halt said kindly, looking at her, "and they made it clear that they were expecting to see Slagor. It puts a different complexion on things as far as you're concerned, Princess." 

"Ragnak still has his vow," she said dully. 

Halt nodded. "True, but at least he's agreed not to act on it until after we've driven off the Temujai."

Evanlyn still looked uncertain, and it tore at Will's heart. He felt a need to protect her and more than that, an obligation to pay her back for everything she'd done for him. He swore that if Ragnak ever tried to fulfill his vow, Will would die to stop him. 

"It's just postponing things," she said quietly. 

"Problems postponed have a habit of solving themselves, more likely than not," Halt told her, putting an arm around her shoulders. 

Evanlyn smiled, but it wasn't much of a smile. "If you say so. But, Halt, don't address me as Princess, if you would. No point in reminding Ragnak about me at every opportunity." 

The Ranger nodded again. "I stand corrected."

He drew her off the the side slightly and whispered something in her ear that Will couldn't hear, but by the smile returning to her face, Will knew it must've been something good. She looked from him over to - Will turned around to see - Erak, then kissed Halt's cheek. Will expected Halt to react with either embarrassment or annoyance, but instead he just smiled and said something else to her. 

With a last hopeful grin, she turned away from him and started to her quarters, before turning back around and heading to Will.

"Are we taking the rest of the day off?" she asked.

Will knew what she was really asking: Will you be alright if I leave now? Evanlyn had made sure to be around Will as much as possible, fearing something would set him off. In all honesty, Will found it a tad smothering. 

He nodded. "Yes. Halt wants us to, so can't really go against him, can we?" He leveled a grin at his mentor, who glared at him, then looked back at Evanlyn. He gave a slight nod.Yes, I'll be fine, that nod said. Go rest. You deserve it. 

She walked off, Horace escorting her back. Will shoved down the feelings that sight elicited as best he could. In an attempt to distract himself and also because he knew he had to, Will turned to Halt and asked once more, "What about the Temujai? How did you convince them to go ashore on Fallkork Island?" 

Erak answered from behind them with a great, booming laugh. "We would have had to fight to stop them! They were scrambling over each other to get back on solid land."

The other Skandians joined his laughter, some of them giving mocking renditions of the Temujai's seasickness complete with retching motions, much to the amusement of Will.

"I managed to find a spot where we had the wind from astern, a steep head sea on our starboard quarter, and the tide race through the narrows, all at the same time. A few hours of that and our fierce horse soldiers were like little lambs - sick little lambs." 

"They weren't the only ones," Halt said, looking about as sick as the Skandians' mocking imitations of the Temujai. "I've been through some rough seas in my time, but I've never felt anything like the plunging and leaping you had us doing." 

Erak laughed again. "Your master here went nearly the same shade of green as his cloak," he told Will, who grinned at the thought, and not a forced one, either. 

Halt raised an eyebrow in a way that said Erak was going to pay dearly for his comment. "At least I finally found a use for that damned helmet."

The smile disappeared from Erak's lips. "Yes," he said reluctantly, "I'm not sure what I'm going to tell Gordoff about that. He made me promise I'd look after that helmet. It's his favorite - a real family heirloom." 

"Well, it certainly has a lived-in feel to it now," Halt told him, a gleam of malicious pleasure in his eye that Will couldn't help but find amusing. Then the Ranger turned to Will, nodding at the group of archers who were standing by. "You seem to have this group working pretty well." 

His cheeks flushed and he felt absurdly pleased at such a small compliment - although, to be fair, even a small compliment from Halt was the equivalent of a full-on speech. He did wonder why Halt was being so kind to him, though. This was hardly the first compliment Halt had given him in the past few weeks. Perhaps Halt felt pity for him, broken travesty of a boy he was, and wanted to make him feel better? But no, no. Halt didn't know about that. 

Or did he?

Or maybe he wanted to lull Will into a false sense of security to cover up the fact that he did know and was even now planning to throw Will out of the Corps? What if his kind words were just to assuage whatever guilt Halt felt about doing so?

Will swallowed, fighting down the first flutters of panic. He barely remembered what Halt had said in the first place - didn't remember it at all until Halt raised an eyebrow and said, "Do you not agree?"

"Oh!" Will said, trying to remember what Halt had said. A compliment, right? That's what he'd been so upset about. But about what? What had Will just been doing? Training...training his archers...Halt had complimented the archers, right?

Praying that that was so, Will mumbled out, "Yeah, we're not doing too badly."

"Better than that from what I saw," Halt told him.

Will exhaled in relief - he'd been right!

Halt then continued, "I meant what I said, Will. Give them the rest of the day off. Yourself, too; you've earned a break. And unless I miss my guess, we're going to need all the rest we can get in the next few days." 

Will did not rest.

How could he? Mere days from now, they would all be fighting for their lives. Will was not ready for such a fight and might never be. He knew he was making progress: his mind processing quicker, his words coming easier, and his memories clearing up, but it wasn't nearly enough. It was never enough.

Instead of walking back to the cold, empty room he shared with Evanlyn or, worse yet, walking around Hallasholm and risking being recognized by one of the slave overseers, Will started back to Hallasholm. Then, once he had gotten far enough to avoid suspicion, he faded into the background and turned back the way he came, easily blending in with his surroundings as he moved. Once he was back at the training grounds, he stood there for a moment, eyes flicking over the area like Halt had taught him to ensure he was alone.

After a few passes, Will relaxed and started forward to set up targets. His short watch wouldn't have been nearly enough to find a stationary target such as Halt, but Will doubted that Halt was there. He would hardly expect Will to disobey his orders - Old Will certainly hadn't - and in any case, he had much better things to do with his time than watch his wayward apprentice.

Once he'd set up the targets, he reached for his bow and strung it. Seconds letter he had the first arrow flying. The next one followed soon after, and the third seconds after that. So followed the entirety of his quiver until it was empty. Once it was, Will lowered his bow and observed his handiwork.

He was, as usual, disappointed with it. The entire quiver-full of arrows had taken a little over a minute to empty. That was too long, in Will's opinion. Halt was always saying that he should be able to shoot all twenty-four arrows in order a minute, accurately. Of course Will could shoot the arrows in under a minute - if pressed, he might even be able to make 50 seconds - but being accurate was difficult. Especially the level of accuracy wanted by Halt.

Which was another one of the reasons Will was disappointed. He had fully missed - missed! - one of the targets, and several others had been far off the bullseye. It didn't matter that the particular distances hadn't been ones he had practiced often. The Temujai were hardly going to line themselves up at the precise distances Will had practiced on. 

Frustrated, Will let out an annoyed grunt, running a rough hand through his hair. He'd pushed for speed more than he had in the last several sessions, which was probably why his accuracy had fallen so horrifically. But Will needed both speed and accuracy. He couldn't afford to choose. If his brain wasn't so fucked up, he wouldn't have to, or so he thought. 

With a frustrated sigh, Will started towards the targets. He'd just have to do it over again, slower this time, and work on building his accuracy up once more. Never mind that that's what he'd been doing every single day for weeks now. Apparently Will's brain still hadn't gotten it! 

Will reached for the first arrow, muttering a choice curse word he'd learned from the Skandians as he did so. He pulled the arrow out and reached for the next one. Halfway through pulling it out, he froze.

What was that?

He paused, listening. Whatever sound he'd heard didn't happen again, but his skin prickled with the sensation of being watched. For a moment he wondered if it were just his imagination - after all, his mind wasn't always trustworthy anymore. But Will's instincts had been honed over his years as a Ranger's apprentice, and he knew to trust them. Someone was watching him. 

He turned, eyes passing over the area like Halt had taught him, and came up blank. Like with before, though, it meant little. A well-trained Ranger could be rendered invisible to anyone watching, even another Ranger. 

In any case, the sensation of being watched hadn't diminished. Will wasn't sure if that meant Halt had been watching him the entire time or if the Ranger had noticed Will's absence and come back here to check. Either way, Halt would have seen more than Will would have liked. He felt the familiar shame well up in his chest. Missing a target was one thing, but the frustration and cursing that accompanied it were not Old Will things.

"Halt, I know you're here."

He ran his eyes over the landscape. Nothing. With a little shrug, he turned back to collecting arrows. If Halt didn't want to come out, Will could hardly make him do so. Just as long as Halt knew that he knew, Will could live with it.

As Will moved onto the next target, a flash of movement in his peripheral vision coalesced into a person. Will glanced over and was utterly unsurprised to see his mentor. Halt walked over to another target and began taking the arrows out of it.

"I had wondered how long you would take to notice," Halt commented. "I must admit, you took longer than I was expecting."

There it was: that deep thrum of shame and anger and self-loathing. Outwardly, Will remained silent. He'd learned a while ago that if Halt criticized something he did, there were no excuses he could make for it.

They worked in silence for a bit longer. Then Halt spoke again. "You realize my directions to take a break included you and not just your men."

He didn't ask; he stated. Will's skin tingled with nerves. He hadn't directly disobeyed Halt like that almost ever. He had no idea what sort of punishment Halt would enact, but he knew with absolute certainty that he would not shy from it. Old Will had always accepted punishment for his misdeeds, and in that at least he had not changed. 

"There's a war coming, Halt. I can't just sit on my thumbs and do nothing." 

"I wasn't asking you to do nothing. I just asked you to take a break." When Will didn't respond, Halt said, gentler, "You need the rest. I want you in top condition for when the Temujai get here."

"I'll get in top condition from training, not from resting like a-" Will broke off, shaking his head. 

"Like a what?"

"Like a lay-about," Will said. That definitely hadn't been what he'd meant, but he was hardly going to say what he had. "I've rested enough."

Halt was watching him. "Overdoing it now will only force you to rest more in the long run."

Will sighed. He knew that logically, but that didn't stop the restlessness chewing him up from the inside. "I want - I need - to do something, Halt. And you said it yourself, my skills aren't nearly up to what they were."

"I'll admit, you were far below par your first day back," Halt said. "But you've regained your former skill quickly enough. I would say you're even beginning to surpass it a tad. Give it some time, Will. Right now, you need to focus on getting through this battle alive. That involves doing what I tell you."

Will ducked his head at the reproof. "Alright. Sorry, Halt."

They retrieved the rest of the arrows in comfortable silence. Once Will had pulled out the last one, he turned to see Halt waiting for him, holding his portion of the arrows. Will approached him warily, unsure if he was going to get punished for disobeying Halt or not. More importantly, he wanted to know if he could continue practicing.

The Ranger looked at him and sighed. "Oh, very well," he said, sounding put-out. "You may practice some more if that's really what you want to do." He shook his head as he handed the arrows to Will. "All those days you complained about my forcing you to train, but now when I tell you not to, you can't do that either?"

"Halt," said Will, wanting to clear things up, "those were house chores. Not training." 

"Doing the chores is part of your training," Halt insisted stubbornly.

Will felt the corner of his mouth tug up as they reached the spot he'd been shooting from. He drew back his bow. "Whatever you say, Halt." 

Will let his body crumple into bed with a long, bone-weary sigh. He tugged a pillow over his head and hugged it to his chest tightly. Evanlyn, who was sitting on her bed reading, looked over, her brows furrowed in familiar concern.

"Will, what's wrong?"

He didn't answer, so she tried again. After a moment, he slowly pulled the pillow away from himself and began looking at the ceiling instead. He said nothing for another long moment. Then, exhaling a small and defeated breath, he said, "I'm scared."

Those words were not ones Old Will would have said, but he was not Old Will anymore and Evanlyn was the only one who knew. She watched him now, her features set in that same expression of caring concern that made Will want to cry whenever he saw it, so he simply ignored it.

"My memories keep coming up on me unexpectedly. Today it happened during training and I- I almost couldn't keep going. And sometimes it's not even memories, it's just...I don't know what it is. Fear. What if it happens on the battlefield?"

"You have Horace," Evanlyn reminded him. "He's the best warrior we have. There's no way he'll let anyone hurt you."

Will tried not to be bitter about Evanlyn praising Horace more highly than she had ever praised Will. Instead, he continued his worried rant. "He can't call out the archers' orders and positions, though. If I'm not able to do so, they won't be able to keep going."

"Will..."

He closed his eyes. A stinging, aching pain spread through his chest the way dye spreads through water. "Evanlyn, I'm broken. I am not fit to be a Ranger's apprentice."

"Don't say that!" Evanlyn protested vehemently. "Will, you've been through hell this year. You were enslaved, you were forcibly drugged and beaten, you were worked to the brink of death. That you're back to where you are right now is something to be proud of, not ashamed of!"

Will played his trump card. "Halt would have been better."

Evanlyn let out an exasperated sigh. "You keep holding yourself up to other people. Stop it. Maybe he would have dealt with this better, maybe he wouldn't have. Who knows? But I bet he's had his own struggles, and he's had to learn to deal with them just like you."

"But a Ranger-"

"Rangers are human too." She stood and moved over to sit next to him. The bed dipped when she sat down. "Just because you haven't seen any of them struggle doesn't mean that they don't. You need to stop blaming yourself for something that was out of your control and move on. Nothing that happened to you was because you were weak."

Maybe not, Will thought, but the way he was dealing with it showed he was. He didn't say that, though. Evanlyn was trying her best to comfort him. He wasn't going to keep arguing with her about it.

Evanlyn, watching him, sighed. She wished they could tell Halt about this. Back when Halt had been nothing but the name of Will's master and the most famous Ranger in Araluen, she had feared what he might do to Will upon finding out the truth of his slavery. But now, seeing the care and concern the older Ranger held for his apprentice, she regretted having said anything to Will at all. If she hadn't, she knew Will would have told Halt everything and this whole situation would have been avoided.

Oh, how she cursed herself for it.

A sharp rap on the door made both of them jump. Will drew back from Evanlyn. She tilted her head towards the door, mouthing, Is it okay if they come in?  Will stood, moving away from Evanlyn, and nodded. She called, "Come in."

Will knew, even before the door opened, who it was. There was only one person who could enter a room with such silence. 

"What is it, Halt?" he asked. The timing of Halt's visit was uncanny - suspect, even. He tried not to think about it. He resolved to make sure Erak and the other Skandians knew not to answer any of Halt's questions.

Halt shut the door behind him silently and regarded the two of them. Before he could say anything, Will started off. In his nerves, he felt his familiar curiosity resurfacing. "Are the Temujai here already, or did something go wrong with my men, or does Ragnak want to see us, or-"

Halt cut Will's questions off with an impatient hand gesture. "I need to talk to you, Will," he said quietly. His eyes darted to Evanlyn. "Alone."

Will could hear his own heartbeat. It was a living creature, surging through all his limbs and pounding through his veins. Surely they could hear it - surely it was just as loud to them, too? A single dreaded thought wound through him on repeat: he knows. 

He didn't know how - he'd been acting normal! And Erak had sworn not to tell! 

But, he realized with a sinking feeling, Erak wasn't the only one who knew what happened.

Evanlyn stood up to leave, but Halt stopped her. "No, there's no need. We'll go to my room. Horace is still out training."

He turned to Will. "Come along, now. We haven't all night."

Will nodded obediently and followed after him. His heart had not slowed - no, it had only begun beating faster and faster. His breathing had followed. Will realized dimly that he was about to lose control of himself - one of those mental breakdowns he had mentioned to Evanlyn earlier. He took huge, gasping breaths, trying desperately to calm down. He was grateful that the noisy Skandians around them were helping to mask him. 

"Well, this is nice," Halt said as they neared his room. "For once, you're not asking any questions." 

Will said nothing. The panic was growing stronger, but he was confused. Halt didn't seem angry - if anything, he seemed uneasy, like he was the one with bad news. 

His brain jumped instantly to conclusions. "Halt?" he asked hesitantly, ignoring the older man's exasperated sigh. "Is this about Alyss? Don't tell me she's..." 

"No," Halt said quickly. "No, this isn't about her. She's fine." He hesitated. "Well, I haven't been at Redmont fief for almost a year. She might not be." Will stopped, stone-still. Halt looked back and stopped as well. "Relax," he said kindly. "I'm sure she's perfectly fine." 

Will did relax. Alyss was safe, and now the suspicion was growing that this wasn’t about the warmweed after all. As long as it's not about him finding out, he told himself, I can take it. He released a long breath.

They reached the room. Halt slipped silently in and Will followed, giving the room a habitual, cursory glance as he did. It was the same as his and Evanlyn’s room: dim, dreary, and cramped. His eyes fell on the two beds and he inspected them carefully, trying to decide which was Halt’s so that Will wouldn’t take it. Both were made, but one had unnerving precision, even down to the perfectly centered pillow and the exact distance of the blanket from the floor. Will plopped down on it without hesitation.

Halt sat down on his bed. “I keep telling him that he’s not in Battleschool anymore and no one cares if his bed linens are an extra half inch off the floor on one side, but he never listens. I suppose you really never can take the Battleschool out of the knight.”

Will huffed in amusement, before his eyes flicked down to the floor. Now that he was here, he couldn’t stop the fear from surging back. Silence had set in again, cold and oppressive.

Nothing was said for a long moment. Then Halt broke the silence. “You…remember the promise I made to you, on the beach in Celtica.”

Will nodded. It was one of the first memories to come back and the most vivid. Even now he could remember the harsh scrape of rope around his wrists; the desperate, flaring hope as Halt appeared over the horizon; the sting of salt as the Skandians shoved Will and Evanlyn into the ship and cast off.

And no matter how drugged he had been, he had never forgotten Halt’s promise to him.

I’ll find you wherever they take you.

“I am not an oath-breaker,” Halt said quietly. Will looked up, caught the earnestness of his eyes, then looked away once more, unable to bear it. “But I was slow to fulfill my oath to you, and for that I am sorry.”

Will felt a sob swell up in his throat and viciously forced it down. Halt had nothing to be sorry for. He had come, had he not?

He began to croak out the first syllables of “It’s okay.” Halt shushed him.

“I’m not done.”

Halt tipped his head back and closed his eyes. A deep sigh loosed itself from his chest. “I went immediately to the King and asked permission to track you down. Instead, I was tasked with hunting down one of Morgarath's men, Foldar. The wretched bastard... I hunted down one cheap imitation after another, wasting valuable time with each one. With each day, I knew your trail was getting colder.

“I went to Crowley; he refused me. I went to the King; he refused me as well.” Halt gave a bitter, mocking smile. “You can imagine how one might hold some pent-up resentment against the royal establishment. And as Gilan will tell you, I never have been good at holding my drink. I had a few too many in a tavern where I was heard saying some rather unsavory things about the King. And, what do you know, but there were witnesses, and they got the Watch involved.”

“Halt,” Will whispered. “Halt, you didn’t.”

For a normal citizen, slandering the King in public would earn them a fine or a few days in the stocks – maybe even prison. But for a Ranger, sworn to the King’s service by an oath of loyalty, it was no longer slander. It was treason.

There were only two possible punishments for treason.

“I was banished,” Halt said.

A burning, bloody, self-inflicted hatred welled up inside of Will. He ran an angry hand through his hair, pulling strands as he went. Tears sprang to his eyes.

Will wouldn't lie to himself: it was for him that Halt had gotten banished. It was for him – worthless, faithless, powerless Will – that Halt had left behind every trace of home, every scrap of companionship, every drop of native pride. Will did not deserve it. He was nothing – nothing – nothing! Yet still Halt had given up everything.

“Halt,” he said in a serrated knife's-tip of a voice. A wordless, animal-like howl hovered just behind his lips. He was moments away from letting it loose. How could Halt have done this for him? Why did he do this for him?

Halt moved, sitting down next to Will and scooping Will into his arms. “Shh…shh. It’s alright. It’s alright, Will. Cheer up; I was only banished for a year.”

Silence.

“What?”

Will pushed away from Halt and straightened to look up at him. The Ranger had a trace of a smile on his grizzled face.

“That was my first thought as well. That’s the first time the King’s ever outsmarted me. I’m sure he’ll still be crowing over it when we get back.”

Will jerked fully away from Halt and stood, pacing the small confines of the room agitatedly. He knew he should be relieved – should be ecstatic – but he just couldn’t. Halt hadn’t known that would happen. He had gone into it, fully knowing he could die, fully expecting to be banished.

He rounded on Halt. “What were you thinking? You could’ve been killed!”

Halt’s steady gaze did not falter. He shrugged. “The King rather likes me, if I do say so myself. I didn’t think he’d kill me.”

“You didn’t think?” Will repeated, incredulous. “Clearly! Forget about being killed, you could’ve been banished for life! I am not worth never seeing your country again, never seeing your friends, never seeing Redmont fief or your job as a Ranger again!”

The room rang with the stillness.

“I will see them again,” Halt said quietly. The stark contrast of volume between his voice and Will’s sucked all the frenetic energy out of Will. He sank back down, this time on Halt’s bed so that the two were across from each other once more. “And even if I didn’t, it would still be worth it.”

The words touched a deep, festering wound in Will’s heart. He bowed his head, eyes on the floor. His fingers itched, begged, to claw at something, to tear deep and destroy. It wouldn’t be worth it. Will wasn’t worth it.

“None of that, now,” Halt said, tone reprimanding. 

Will sucked in a deep breath, blowing it out slowly and silently. It was one of the techniques Halt had taught him to help stay calm when his cover was in danger of being blown. If he panicked, Halt had told him, that was a sure way to get caught. Surprisingly, Will had found the technique’s usefulness extended to more than just the battlefield.

What would Old Will do, he wondered distractedly. For once the answer came quickly and on impulse.

He leaped across the void between the two beds and tackled-hugged Halt, sending them backwards onto the mattress from the force. Halt let out a grunt of surprise. His arms wrapped around Will, holding him steady. Will buried his face in Halt’s chest.

“Thank you.”

Halt grunted.

Will let go first, allowing Halt to push himself back up to sitting. Will moved off of him, hesitated, and sat back down next to him. Halt regarded him quietly. His expression was as inscrutable as ever, but Will could have sworn he looked...content. At peace, even. Like a burden he had been carrying for months had finally lifted.

Halt wrapped an arm around Will’s shoulders and pulled him in for a side-hug. Will let him, resting his head on Halt’s right shoulder and breathing out a long, deep breath.

For a while they were quiet, listening to the sounds of their breathing and the gentle thuds of their heartbeats. Will’s breathing slowed and his eyes began to drift shut. He had not felt this safe since he had first left for Celtica. Besides that, it really was growing late; only occasional footsteps passed by the door, and the dim murmuring of kitchen staff was growing more and more muted. He vaguely wondered where Horace was. The next moment he decided he didn’t care, wrapping an arm around Halt’s torso and letting his eyes drift all the way closed.

Just as he was drifting off to sleep, Halt said, “Will.”

Will made a sleepy, protesting noise.

“Before you go to sleep, I want to ask something.”

Will opened his eyes just enough to remain awake. He yawned and mumbled out an assent.

“I wanted to tell you what I just did so there would be no secrets between us, especially with the battle coming up soon. If you have anything to tell me, now would be a good time to do so.”

Will – panicked. He threw Halt’s arm off of him violently and himself away from Halt, instantly wide awake and far, far too afraid. He knows, he thought, and the thought made it worse. He knows.

An instant later – an instant too late – he forced himself to calm down. If Halt actually had proof, he wouldn’t have bothered asking, would he? He would’ve simply shown it and asked for an explanation. That was what he had always done, ever since Will had known him. That meant that Halt didn’t have proof, so he had been trying to get some straight from the source: Will.

Will slowly lifted his eyes to Halt and found the man staring down at him, one eyebrow raised. With a sinking feeling, he realized he had all but confirmed whatever Halt’s suspicions about him had been.

“Do you have something you’d like to say?” Halt asked pleasantly.

Will swallowed. He’d backed himself into a corner. The only way out would be to admit the truth, or fabricate a lie believable enough to fool Halt.

It was a testament to just how much Will had changed that he did not immediately jump to the former. He definitely considered it; for a long moment the idea stretched out before him, so tempting he almost gave in. Yes, Halt would be furious; yes, Halt would kick him out of the Corps for his various sins; yes, there was a possibility Will could even be publicly denounced as a criminal and find it very difficult to ever get a job again. But at least he wouldn’t have to keep lying.

It was wearing him down. Will was honest by nature, honest to a fault, honest even to his own injury. These past few weeks of lie upon lie had worn his spirit paper-thin. He hated lies and he hated liars. By extension, he hated himself. Even though he’d get punished for it, for a long moment Will wanted to tell the truth just so it would all stop.

He opened his mouth. “Actually, yes.”

“Well, I’m all ears.”

“I…” Will swallowed again, and then what came out of his mouth was instead, “You know how me and Evanlyn spent so much time together, when we were first brought here? I, um…I think I like her.”

Halt stared at him, his mouth parted slightly in a tiny, incredulous O. Out of everything Will could’ve said, he looked like that was what he had expected the least.

“You like the Princess of Araluen.”

Will cringed. He suddenly wished he could take back everything he had just said. “Ye-es.”

Halt huffed, tracing a hand over the handle of his saxe knife. “Well, that is the kind of thing best kept under wraps. I don’t blame you for keeping it a secret from the general population – that would probably just make you even less popular with the Skandians. You know you could have told me, though.”

Will scratched his ear awkwardly. “I never really had the time – there’s always been someone else around.”

“True enough.” Halt conceded that with a nod. “Well, I trust you not to do anything stupid. It’s getting late, and Horace is probably sick of sitting next to yours and Evanlyn’s room by now. I’d better go collect him.”

Will gaped at Halt. Now that he thought back, he could remember seeing another figure in the halls as they’d gone to Halt’s room – that had been Horace? Will had been so lost in his panic that his vision had utterly tunneled.

Yet another reason he wasn’t fit to be a Ranger, Will thought, mood souring instantly.

Out loud, Will only said, “Goodnight, Halt.”

“Goodnight, Will.”

As the door clicked shut, the Ranger lowered himself back onto his own bed, his dark eyes staring grimly at where Will had been last. He recalled the startled, guilty look in Will’s eyes when he had told Will he trusted him.

“He’s still keeping something from me.”

Chapter Text

Will couldn't ever remember being more terrified. Not when he'd taken down the Kalkara - not even when he'd burned that bridge in Celtica. All that was like nothing compared to the thousands upon thousands of Temujai advancing towards him. His own force seemed infinitesimal in the face of the enemy, and he wondered how he'd ever thought they even had a chance. Surely Halt hadn't realized just how many six thousand troops were? 

Below him, the archers seemed to feel much the same as he did. Several of them reached for the arrow bins in front of them, instinctively feeling the need to arm themselves. 

"Stay down!" Will called, wishing, as ever, that his voice wouldn't crack. Halt didn't want him revealing the presence of the archers until the Skandians had made several of their usual probing attacks. 

The line of archers now turned to look up at their young commander. Will grinned at them, so used to forcing a grin that it had become second nature. Feigning a casualness he certainly didn't feel, he leaned his bow against the breastworks in front of him and forced a yawn, signifying that there would be no action required of them for some time yet. 

"Nice work," Horace said quietly beside him. "How can you stay so calm?" 

"I'm used to it," Will said before he could stop himself. He winced and hastily amended, "Anytime something went wrong during practice, I learned to keep my cool. Plus, it helps if you're terrified." 

It was true - somehow, terror calmed him down. Halt had always told him that Rangers needed to be able to keep their calm under pressure, even thrive in high-pressure environments. Will wasn't sure if he had been born that way, or if Halt's teaching had made him so, but Will never felt more alert, more grounded, more alive, than when he was in danger. The same seemed to hold true for Horace.

"I know what you mean," the apprentice replied. "I nearly dropped my sword when they rode around the bend there." 

The Temujai and Skandian lines converged for the first time. The Temujai engaged with the Skandians, then retreated, exactly as Halt had said. From his vantage point above, Will could see how feigned it was. They turned their backs on the Skandians as they ran - a clear invitation to pursue them. They also didn't have their archers or calvary cover the slower infantry - such a novice, rookie mistake that any unknowing soldier would have taken that bait in a heartbeat, only to have the entire army turn back around and annihilate them, as per the Temujai tactics. 

A deep, penetrating note sounded through the battlefield, and the Skandians instantly retreated, forming a shield wall for the incoming horsemen. Taken by surprise, the Temujai faltered, and that was when the second signal was given and a hundred more Skandians rushed out from the forests, surrounding them. Will gave a nod. It was working well. 

"Next time," Will said, "it'll be our turn." 

"What the hell do you think you're up to?" Horace yelled at him.

Will grimaced and blocked a thrust from another Tem'uj. "I'm watching your back."

"Well, next time let me know," his friend responded, grunting as he side-stepped a lance and slammed the hilt of his sword into its surprised owner's skull. "I nearly cut you in half just then!"

"There won't be a next time," Will said a little peevishly. "I'm not enjoying myself here."

Unable to use his preferred method of attack, he was stuck with his double knives, using the double-knife defense Gilan had taught him more than a year ago. Despite all the training he'd recently done with Horace, he still wasn't particularly good at it. He was still yet to win a match with Horace, and the Tem'uj he was against was nearly as good as Horace.

"When I tell you, drop to your knees."

"Fine," Will replied grimly. "I may even do it before you give the word."

He parried another few attacks, then heard Horace's now! He hastily dropped to the ground, and just in time, for Horace's sword flashed over him, stabbing the Tem'uj solidly in the gut.

"You all right?"

Will nodded, forcing himself back up. "Very impressive. Where did you learn that?"

"Made it up just now," his friend responded, grinning. With swift, calculated movements, he took down two more lancers. Horace's sheer skill at the sword was something that Will admired, knowing that even with years of training, he'd never be as good as Horace. He didn't really mind - he much preferred his bow to Horace's sword or the Skandian's axes. It was still impressive, however.

"Is that arm troubling you?" Horace asked.

Surprised, Will looked down. He hadn't even noticed the wound. "I didn't even feel it," he said.

Horace smiled grimly. "You will later."

Honestly, Will wasn't sure if there would be a later. So far, things had only gone from bad to worse, although that was to be expected. As Halt had told him, battles always got worse before they got better. Then he'd grimly added, if they get better, which hadn't been very reassuring. With a sigh, he said, "If there is a later." 

Then, from the lines behind them, they heard the thrum of bowstrings and the hissing flight of another volley. They looked at one another in amazement. "It's Evanlyn!" Will exclaimed. "She's still got them firing!"

Horace gestured to the swarming Temujai, surrounding the thin line of defenders who were keeping them out of the archer's redoubt. "She won't for much longer."

The Skandian line was already beginning to buckle, and now that Horace had pointed it out, Will saw it, too. He clutched his knives tightly and started down. 

"Come on!" Horace said. "Watch my back and yell if you get in trouble." With that, he bounded down the slope, sword rising and falling as he drove his attack into the rear of the Temujai.

Startled at the ferocity of his assault, they gave ground for a few seconds, but Will, watching, knew it wouldn't last. And he was right. After seeing that the new assault consisted of only two men - one of them armed only with knives - they rallied and drove forward again.

The two fought grimly, gathering a small group of the remaining defenders around them, but the enemy numbers were beginning to grow and now individual Temujai were bypassing the small knot of defenders and dropping into the trench itself. Will heard Evanlyn's voice raised in urgent tones as she directed some of the archers to fire point-blank at the attackers and, cursing inwardly, Will knew it was only a matter of minutes before the Temujai overran the trench and killed everyone in it. 

"Come on!" he said, leading the way toward the trench, fear for Evanlyn impelling him onwards. 

A Temujai warrior barred his way and he struck at the man with his saxe knife, wincing as the blow jarred all the way up his arm. A warning cry caused him to turn, just in time to block a savage saber cut with his crossed knives. Then Horace was there again, slashing at the man. The two friends fought side by side, but there were too many Temujai. Will's heart sank as he realized they weren't going to reach Evanlyn in time. 

Helpless, he watched, only dimly remembering to block and parry with his knives. A group of Temujai were coming into the trench, and this time, he knew, there'd be no stopping them. As they advanced mercilessly, Evanlyn's archers only managing to pick off a few of them, Will felt utter hopelessness begin to well up inside him. He realized he'd begun to shake as he watched the battlefield, unable to do anything to save Evanlyn, only able to defend himself. 

"Behind you!" Horace's urgent warning found him just in time, and through the descending haze in his mind, he leaped sideways. 

As he turned to look at Evanlyn again, he saw a Temujai officer poised over her, his sword held in two hands as he raised it high above his head. 

His heart stopped. 

"Evanlyn!" 

And, hearing him, she turned, met his agonized gaze, and smiled - a smile that knew there was no escaping this, a smile that remembered everything they'd been through in the past eleven months, a smile that spoke of the unbreakable bond between the two. 

A smile that remembered all they'd meant to each other. 

And in that moment, he knew he couldn't let her die. In one swift movement he caught his saxe knife by the point, drew his arm back, and threw it forward. It took the officer under the left arm just before he began his downward cut. With a low cry, the man toppled to the ground, dead. 

Now, armed with only one tiny knife, Will knew it was over. A Tem'uj tackled him and he went down, ineffectually slashing with his knife. He'd thought of dying often, had recently even wanted it. Now he realized just how wrong he was. It was cruel irony that there wasn't a way out. 

A mighty roar sounded by Will's ear and the Tem'uj was thrown headlong away, crashing into the ground yards away, motionless. Will bolted to his feet and gaped at his savior. It was Ragnak, a berserking fury in his eyes, routing the remaining Temujai, surrounded by a dozen more axe-men in the same state. Ragnak's armor was torn to ribbons and he was bleeding from dozens of wounds, but they didn't even slow him down. 

"Horace!" Will croaked, only then realizing that Ragnak and his men were going the opposite way of Horace - Horace who was surrounded by four warriors. And then came the comforting, deep-throated thrum of a longbow, and as Horace's attackers fell dead around him, Will finally relaxed. Halt had arrived. 

Running over to the fallen Tem'uj officer, Will recovered his saxe knife and started fighting again, but there was no need. Before he could even rejoin the battle, a silver-toned bugle sounded. As one, every Tem'uj turned and fled. They'd signaled the retreat. 

It was over. 

The Skandians let out a victory cry. A strange cross between a sob and a laugh came out of Will's mouth, and he crumpled to the ground, tears of relief leaking out of his eyes. Horace approached him, and Will saw that he was crying, too.

"It's over," Will murmured almost reverently, wiping his knives off and sheathing them. "It's finally over."

Horace bent down and offered him a hand, which Will gratefully took. As he stood up, he slowly turned around, surveying the remains of the battlefield. Bodies were heaped everywhere, some dead, some dying. Will saw far too many of his own men there, lifeless, and felt a pang of grief, but even that couldn't dull the exultation of victory. 

A thought occurred to him and he looked over towards where he'd last seen Ragnak. The huge Oberjarl was face down on the ground, motionless. Halt was standing beside him, a grave expression on his face. 

"Halt!" Will cried, hastening over to them. "Is he...?" 

"Yes," Halt replied. "He's dead." 

That took Will a second to process. Ragnak had been huge, terrifying, alive - and now he was just that: he was a had been. He was dead. Will could barely count the wounds on his back, interlaced among flesh like ribbons. Partially congealed blood was slowly dripping into the blood-stained earth. 

Around them, the remaining Skandians were beginning to pour in, some dragging the bodies of their comrades with them. All stopped as they beheld their Oberjarl. 

"He died in battle," Halt said, turning to face them. "He died with a weapon in his hand, a berserker. There is no greater honor than that."

Low murmurs of agreement echoed around the field, and now two Skandians bent down and lifted their leader up on their shoulders, solemnly carrying him back to his hall. 

Will looked at Halt, a sudden thought occurring to him. The Ranger was covered in dirt and blood, as was Will; it was impossible to tell how much was his and how much others'. A thin cut sliced across his forehead, and one arm was mottled with bruises - from catching a blow with a shield, probably. Such blows could easily break bones.

"Halt," Will said cautiously, not sure how the Ranger would receive his words, "are you all right?" 

The Ranger looked at him. "Well, I'm not the one dead, am I?" 

Will tried again. "No, I meant - are you injured? I mean, you were with Ragnak, right? And he's-" he motioned at the retreating body of the Skandian leader. Halt's eyes softened. 

"I'm fine; nothing that won't heal. The Skandians hardly let me do anything, with their eagerness for battle."

Will nodded. Then he automatically glanced down at his arm, just now remembering the wound he'd received. The bloodstain had seeped through a large part of his clothing, and now that the adrenaline was gone, he was starting to feel faint.

Without another word, Halt stepped forward and pulled Will's uninjured arm over his shoulder, supporting him to the infirmary. 

On the way there, it belatedly occurred to Will that, in order for the healer to treat him, Will would have to take his shirt off. The wound wasn't all that deep, but it was painful and the amount of blood he'd lost from it was substantial. Will had no doubt that Halt would end up seeing his back. That was a conversation he'd rather avoid, especially given as, after their conversation a week ago, Halt would know he'd intentionally covered up his scars. And the natural progression of thought would be to wonder what else Will had lied about.

Will chewed on his lip, eyes flicking around, trying to find a way to get Halt to leave. There was nothing he could think of that wouldn't simply make Halt suspicious, even if Halt had believed that Will's confession about Evanlyn was the only thing he was hiding. 

They were nearing one of the hastily-built huts that Halt had ordered to be set up so that there would be more space for the wounded after the battle. Will began to feel cornered. He needed to come up with something, fast.

Help came in the form of Erak. A swathe of bandages wrapped around his middle and his face was still dark with dirt and blood, but he stood steadily enough. "Ranger," he said, addressing Halt, "we need your help organizing a strategy in case the Temujai come back."

"They won't." Halt kept walking, pulling Will with him.

"How do you know?"

Halt looked up at Erak, gaze steely. "Once the Temujai sound a retreat, it means they've accepted that their losses are too great to continue. They're retreating to their homeland as we speak. All that remains now is to tend to our wounded."

Erak looked down at Will as though just now seeing him. "Ah, Will, lad! Gotten a war-wound, have you?"

Will nodded. The wound was clotting up, but the blood loss was making his vision hazy. If Halt let go, he wasn't entirely certain that he'd remain upright. "It's on my arm - you know, near the shoulder." He lifted his eyes to Erak's, pleading silently for him to understand the problem.

For once, he did. "Then I shall take you to the healers myself! It would be unseemly to not make sure that one of those I have sworn to protect gets treated."

"No. I'm taking him." 

Will frowned at the ground. He should have guessed as much. Now that he'd aroused Halt's suspicions, Halt wasn't going to let it go until Will had either proved or disproved them. There was nothing that could stop Halt now.

Erak ignored Halt's words and joined up with them, effortlessly creating a path through the now-crammed streets of Hallasholm by aid of his sheer size. It took another few minutes to reach the healer's hut. By that time, Will's stomach was beginning to tie into knots. 

"What is it?" A Skandian woman greeted them the moment they walked through the doors, her hands on her hips. Around them, a few dozen other women passed in and out of different rooms, carrying medical supplies, their aprons smudged with grime. 

"This lad here has..." Erak turned to Will, gesturing for him to tell the woman what was wrong. 

"Um, a Tem'uj caught me in the shoulder with his sword," Will said awkwardly. "It doesn't seem that deep, though, so it should be all right." 

She didn't look convinced, which didn't surprise him. Living amongst the Skandians, 'not that deep' probably meant 'near-fatal', given their berserking tendencies and general lust for war.

"All right," she said, motioning for him to follow her past a partition of curtains - the room they were currently in was filled. "This way."

All three of them made to follow, but she held up a hand to Erak and Halt. "Not so many," she chided. "It's crowded enough in here already, unless you need treatment?"

Both men shook their heads. "I want to stay," Halt said stubbornly.

"As do I."

She heaved an exasperated sigh. "Did you not hear me? We don't have room for uninjured mother hens in here! Now go wait outside, shoo." She made a shooing motion with her hands.

Halt glared and made no move to leave. His grip around Will's shoulders only tightened, to the point where Will had to fight back a wince.

"Did you hear me, Ranger?" she asked, glaring right back. Will felt a sudden deep wealth of respect and near-reverence for her. People didn't just stand up to Halt. "I'll take care of your boy, don't you worry. Not a hair of his head will be harmed."

Will flushed. Halt glared at the woman a moment longer, then grumbled something under his breath and let go of Will. Will, not expecting him to give in, staggered and would have fallen if not for Erak's hasty intervention. 

"You're light as a feather!" The jarl exclaimed, rather loudly. Will winced again and made the mistake of looking at Halt. He had turned his glare to Will, a glare that distinctly read you won't get out of this next time. Will gulped and pulled himself out of Erak's grasp, turning his back on the two men and following the healer past the partition.

"Hold still," she said once he'd sat down on the small mat they had laid out for a patient. "I'm going to cut your shirt off of you." 

"Wait! I-I don't have any other clothes. Can't I just take it off?" 

She shook her head. "No, it's already shredded in several different places, and the blood's probably making it stick to you. It'd hurt like hell to take it off. Cutting it will be much easier." 

Will fidgeted nervously. This would all be for nothing if she bandaged his shoulder, just for him to walk out and display the entirety of his scar collection for all of Hallasholm - and more specifically, Halt - to see. "Do you have any spare shirts, at least?" 

This time, she nodded. "Yes...although I've my doubts at how well they'll fit you. I suppose we have some child's clothing around here somewhere." 

A little offended at being compared to a child, Will huffed, but sat still as she picked up a small pair of scissors and carefully began to cut away at his shirt. Once that was done, she lifted the pieces off and examined the wound. 

"You're in luck," she told him. "It's just a flesh wound. Should heal up nicely within a few weeks. I'll have to stitch it up, though."

She turned around and rummaged in a cabinet behind Will to get some damp cloths and a needle and thread. When she came back, Will heard her involuntary gasp and knew what had happened. She'd seen his back. He braced himself, looking up at her warily. He knew that those lines on his back marked him a slave, and as he'd been brought here by a Skandian who in no way treated him as one, it was obvious he'd escaped. 

The woman's eyes had grown misty. "Oh, dear me. I've not seen marks that bad in years." 

"You haven't seen many slaves, then," Will said. The look of pain in the healer's eyes made him wish he hadn't said anything.

"I treat all those I can, but I don't remember you."

"You wouldn't," Will said quietly. "I was lucky if I got a bundle of rags for bandages and a day off." 

"You were a yard slave, then?" 

He nodded.  

There was a long silence. He heard her footsteps come closer and tensed, expecting a blow, but then she knelt beside him and began gently to treat his wounds. As she worked, cleaning his injury with a kindness that surprised him, he heard her murmur I'm so sorry. 

Chapter Text

In the following days after the battle, Ragnak's body was given the usual Skandian funerary honors. Translated, this meant that there were three days of drunken partying under guise of mourning their Oberjarl's death. After the appropriate time had been given, a council was held to elect the new Oberjarl. And, a few days later, the four Araluens found out to their combined shock that the new leader was to be Erak. 

Once they had a leader, Halt proposed the deal he and Will had thought up about the Araluen archers. It didn't take much convincing; Erak agreed within minutes, and Evanlyn, now called by her true name, Cassandra, stepped forward to sign the deal with him. 

Walking back to their rooms from the meeting, Will hesitated outside of Halt's door. "Halt," he said, "you mentioned leaving for Araluen in a few days." 

"I did." 

"But, you were banished." Will's expression flickered. "For a year." He still had not made his peace with that. He knew he didn't deserve it.

"I was," Halt said.

The expression on his face would've scared most people off, but not Will. He set his jaw, channeling his best impression of Halt right back at his master. "I'm not leaving you behind." 

"You say that like you have a choice," Halt said, mildly. 

"I'm not leaving you behind," Will repeated stubbornly. "After everything you've done for-" he choked and looked away, blinking rapidly. He hastily amended, "-for everyone, you deserve the most recognition of all of us." 

"A Ranger's life is not about recognition, Will. It's not the Ranger way." 

"Halt, please." His voice cracked a little and he looked down, embarrassed. 

"I've already told you, I'll come with you until we get to the border. Then I'll stay there until my banishment is passed. The Princess has been away from home long enough already." 

"So have you!" Will burst out. "You deserve to be back there more than anyone! And what about me? Don't I deserve to come back home as well? I'm not setting foot into Araluen until your banishment is up. I don't care what you say. If you're not a Ranger right now, you're not technically my master, either!"

Halt only raised one eyebrow. "Be that as it may, there are many other ways I could get you to board that ship. I suggest you don't tempt me."

Will let out an exasperated groan. "Oh, come on, Halt!"

Halt sighed, defeated. "Oh, very well. You aren't going to quit bugging me until I give in, are you?"

"Nope!"

Halt muttered something about apprentices that sounded rather uncomplimentary. He shook his head. "Fine. We'll stay in Skandia until my banishment is up."

"Yes!" Will pumped his fist in the air and gave Halt a hug so quick Halt barely registered it before Will pulled away. Halt watched him as he went on to chatter excitedly about something Evanlyn - Cassandra - had showed him. Inside, Halt felt a warm glow of pride. A year ago, Will never would have dared try to convince Halt of anything, much less stood his ground in such a fashion. It was annoying, yes, but Will would need that steadfastness later in life, especially as he matured in his job as a Ranger. 

He watched Will for a little longer. The warm glow inside him began to falter as Halt noticed something strange. 

Will was lying.

Not by his words - of that Halt was certain. Everything he was saying about his first victory against Horace in melee combat and the celebratory outing he, Cassandra, and Horace (more reluctantly, Halt would think, given how the outing celebrated Horace's defeat) had gone on afterwards was objectively true. It was in what Will didn't say; from the excitement Halt knew was at least half-feigned from its lackluster appearance, to the smile that never reached the corners of Will's eyes, Halt knew that Will was lying. He wasn't as happy as he pretended to be.

He had known that Will was lying - or at least hiding something - before; the feeling had only grown, not subsided, when Will had tried to pass it off as nothing but a crush on Cassandra. Again, Will hadn't lied. Halt would've had to have been blind not to see Will's clear preference for her. But the fear that had prompted Will to draw away from Halt in the first place was not fear over Halt's finding out about a crush. It couldn't be. 

Watching Will so blatantly pretend he was something that Halt knew he wasn't was like a slap to the face. For a moment he was angry. He had recruited Will as his apprentice precisely because of Will's honesty and integrity. Will had always been the sort of person who was honest even if it didn't benefit him to be. But now, even if Will had never directly lied to him, he had lied by omission. The knowledge felt like a betrayal. Halt had not trained Will, searched for him, given up everything for him, to be lied to. 

His hands itched to grab Will by the collar and demand to be told the truth. What was Will hiding? Why was he so adamant to pretend to be the same person he was before Skandia? Halt knew he wasn't. By lying, Will was only proving that he was even further away from who he had been before.

Halt looked at Will's too-cheery face and, for a moment, couldn't even recognize him. The thought hurt. 

"Halt?"

He looked up and all his breath came back when faced by Will's genuine, honest concern.

"Are you alright?"

He shook his head slightly, shaking away his previous thoughts. "Of course. Do continue. What happened after you tricked Horace into leaving all the pies for you and Cassandra?"

Will rattled on with an impetuousness that was so familiar to Halt that he couldn't help but relax. Yes, Will had changed - not just from the cheerful, happy boy he had one been, but also from the honest one. But he was still there at his core. He wasn't lost to Halt, not yet. 

Will was different now. Halt made his peace with it. Will was different, but he would not be lost. Whatever he was hiding, whatever he was so afraid to tell Halt that he had lied to hide it, Halt would find. This, he swore.

Halt watched Will and made a second promise to him, just as binding as the first.

Stay alive. Don't give up. I will find you. 

I will find you, Will. 

He set out the next day to do what he had promised. He had already interrogated Erak, Cassandra, and even Horace, all to no avail. He was fairly certain both Erak and Cassandra knew, but they were keeping quiet just as well as Will. At least they had the decency to tell Halt that the information he wanted had been told in confidence, and that they would not break confidence for anyone, not even Halt. Still, their silence effectively severed any trace of a trail Halt could follow.

Halt finally decided that he would gather information as best he knew: the Ranger way. He sat for hours in the dining hall of Hallasholm, nursing a tankard and listening. He had long mastered the art of unobtrusively moving closer when his target seemed close to spilling something; he put that skill to great effect.

Only to find, by the end of the day, absolutely nothing.

"How can they know nothing?" Halt asked himself in frustration as he made his way back to his room. He had hoped to hear something. Skandians were just as much gossips as any Araluen; Halt had expected to hear at least rumors about Will and Cassandra and their stay there. And he had, but nothing that was of any use to him at all. Few of them even seemed to realize that the two Araluens had been enslaved by them just a few months previously, and fewer still mentioned anything about what might have happened to Will during that period. Either the Skandians were a far bigger lot of idiots than Halt had thought, or Erak had sworn all who knew the truth to secrecy.

The next day, he decided to speak to the overseers themselves. He approached the compound with some trepidation. He looked around as he entered, brow furrowing slightly. Something about it seemed...different from how it had been under Oberjarl Ragnak, but Halt couldn't put a name to it. The slaves seemed more alive, perhaps, but Halt could make no sense as to why. 

He asked around, speaking to as many overseers as he could stomach. Slavery disgusted him, and the slavemasters even more. To his surprise, he learned that Erak had reassigned many of the overseers to long raiding voyages, including the head overseer and most of the prominent overseers under him. When he asked to speak with one of the overseers who had not been reassigned, he was directed to Trygve. 

Trygve was an imposing man, like most Skandians and all overseers. His face was grim and scar-slashed, but as Halt greeted him, he was surprised to sense no malice in him. 

"Ranger," Trygve said, inclining his head in greeting. "What's your business here?"

"I wanted to ask some questions."

The Skandian looked askance. "Questions? If one of us has done something wrong, bring the guilty man to Erak to be judged. We have no need of your questions."

Halt gave a grim little smile. "So it is usual for one of you to have done wrong?"

"And there you go, twisting my words like I've heard you Rangers do," Trygve said, glowering. Halt kept silent, not rising to the bait. After a short silence, the Skandian sighed. "You'd be right, though. It's a good thing our new Oberjarl has done, reassigning those overseers."

"Oh?" Halt said casually, a little flicker of hope flaring in his chest. "Why would that be?"

Trygve gave a look around to see if there were anyone within earshot. There was not, so he leaned in. "Our job here, as overseers, it's just to keep the slaves in line, yeah? Make sure they keep working, keep up their daily quotas, that sort of thing. At least, that's how I've always thought of it. Rather a boring job, all told. I'd much rather be out on the seas. That's not the case for all of us, though."

Trygve's expression had darkened, and Halt took the implication easily. "By which you mean, they enjoy being in control."

"Yes, and more. The Oberjarl has improved the conditions here massively. Before him, well...did you ever see the yard before?"

Halt had been too busy with preparations for war to have investigated the compound back then. He regretted it, but there was nothing to be done about it now. "I did not. What were the conditions like?"

Trygve hesitated. "Bad."

Halt raised an eyebrow, waiting for the man to continue.

He shook his head, stepping back. "Look, Ranger, that's all I can tell you. I know some of your countrymen have been slaves here, and I'm not going to be the one who endangers our entire livelihood. Skandia needs slaves to survive. That's that. We're lucky our new Oberjarl is so focused on providing them with a better life."

"If you need slaves to survive," Halt said coldly, "maybe you shouldn't survive at all."

Trygve looked away. "Maybe not. But it is what it is. I will not betray my country to you, Ranger, and I can guarantee that no other true Skandian would, either. Most would not even tell you that much. If you want more information, I suggest you talk to our Oberjarl yourself."

Halt grinded his teeth in frustration and left. 

The slaves were just as unhelpful. None of the ones he spoke to even remembered the name Will. Some of the kitchen slaves remembered Evanlyn, but no one, from the kitchen or from the yard, remembered the name Will. When Halt gave out a description instead, all he got were shrugs.

"We don't last long," one of the yard slaves finally said. He stood at a hunch, head down. Large veins stood out on arms and legs gaunt from exertion. He couldn't have been more than thirty, but he looked nearly fifty. "Or we didn't before Oberjarl Erak, anyway. I was one of the last survivors from Ragnak." He spat on the ground. "Things are better now...I might even last another few years at this rate. The new Oberjarl even stopped the Committee."

Halt held in a breath. He'd never heard of a 'Committee' before. "You still have overseers, if that's what you mean."

The slave shook his head, scoffing. "Overseers? They're nothing compared to the Committee, especially the ones we have now. No, the Committee were slaves." He made a claw gesture as if even speaking of them was an evil to ward off.

"Other slaves?" Halt asked, confused. "And these slaves had some sort of authority?"

The slave nodded. His eyes darted to a nearby overseer who was glaring at him. Halt turned his head and glared at the overseer in turn. With a huff, the Skandian turned and went to a different part of the yard. Halt fixed his gaze back on the slave.

Reluctantly, it seemed, the slave kept talking. "They were a group of slaves - yard slaves, technically, though they didn't do half the work we do. The overseers would give them time off, extra food and blankets, that sort of thing. In exchange, they kept the discipline up in the yard. Overseers would only discipline a slave themselves if they did something really bad." The slave shuddered. His eyes went to a part of the yard.

Halt followed his gaze. The ground the slave looked at seemed to be empty, nothing but a small indentation in the ground where something might once have been staked in. Halt turned back to the slave. "What kind of discipline did the Committee give?"

The slave's eyes suddenly became haunted and he hunched over further. In a mere whisper, he said, "You wouldn't want to know."

"Tell me," Halt said softly. He put a hand on the slave's shoulder.

The slave flinched - a familiar flinch, Halt realized in horror - and drew back. "Don't ask, I can't tell you. They never did it to me anyway. I-I never broke the rules. I wish...I wish I had, just that once, but I... the things they would have done to me, the thing I would have become - I couldn't. I couldn't."

"'Just that once'?" Halt questioned lowly, urgently. "If you know something, I need to know. I can help you."

The slave let out a low, hoarse laugh. "Help me? Believe me, sir, there's no help for me. You helped enough by helping us survive that battle. Look, it's really not all that bad here anymore. The new slaves will live full lives here. The Oberjarl's even talking about paying us wages and having us earn freedom, or at least better shelter. That's enough, sir. It really is. I'm not going to risk what I've gained by telling you more."

An uncommon desperation reached into Halt. This slave knew exactly what could have happened to Will, Halt could sense it. This was the closest link, the best link Halt had and probably the best one there was still alive. 

"Please," Halt said. "Tell me. I'll keep you safe, I swear it."

But the slave had backed off. "Even if I trusted you to keep your word, sir, it's better not to risk it. I've told you what I can. I need to get back to work."

The slave shambled off. Halt watched him go and withheld an angry curse. He had been so close; just a little more and Halt could have finally begun to piece together what had happened. He began to pace back towards the main hall, taking every bit of information he'd learned from Trygve and the slaves and trying to piece it all together. Erak seemed to have made a substantial overhaul of the entire system of slavery, with more reforms to come. 

He ticked off the new information on his hands. One, many of the overseers during Will's time as a slave were viewed as bad by Erak - bad enough to be reassigned. What they had done to be reassigned, Halt didn't know. Two, most of Will's slave contemporaries were dead, if not all of them. Part of that at least would be due to the battle, but Halt knew that couldn't explain all of them. Some of them had simply died from the conditions, whatever they were. Three, Erak had sworn the overseers, and possibly the slaves, to secrecy. Why, Halt again did not know. Four, the existence of 'the Committee', whatever that was.

Halt glanced between the Great Hall and the rest of the buildings in Hallasholm. He nodded to himself and started walking. He would bet that at least someone knew what the Committee was.

It was good that Halt was not a betting man, he thought dryly by the next day. He had made no progress. It had gotten to the point where Halt was genuinely wondering if some of this was simply the product of his overprotective instincts and the unabated guilt of not finding Will fast enough. He shook his head at the thought, though. He wasn't one of Araluen's best Rangers for nothing. He didn't make false observations. What he had seen of Will was true. Will was hiding something.

Added to that, Halt had gotten actual evidence from Trygve and the slaves. Just because it wasn't enough to solidify any of Halt's theories didn't mean those theories were completely made up. Yard slaves, especially those before Erak's reign, suffered enormously. 

And, most damningly, Will denied it.

Had Will agreed from the beginning - or even when Halt had questioned him, like he had after speaking to Trygve - that the lot of a yard slave was unspeakably horrible, like the yard slave had said, Halt would have let it go and hoped that Will would speak to him when he was ready. But Will hadn't. He had just given the same answer he had when he'd first told Halt about his slavery: it was cold, and difficult, and hard labor, but it wasn't that bad, and anyway he was fine now!

Will was not fine.

Halt stood silently and opened the door to his room, shutting it behind him soundlessly. They were set to leave for Araluen within the week and his agitation was only growing. Once they left, the only person Halt could ask would be Will. And previous attempts had shown how well that would go over. 

But what else could he do? He had exhausted every avenue he could think of. He had sat for days in the Great Hall, pricking his ears for any sort of rumor he could find. He had questioned the overseers, the yard slaves, the kitchen slaves, even in a last-ditch effort the chamber slaves. He had spoken with the healers, only to find out that Ragnak had not allowed them to treat slaves. He had listened down by the docks and found the rumors there just as unfruitful as the ones in the Great Hall. 

Halt had to admit it. Short of holding a knife up to someone's throat and demanding an answer, there was nothing more he could do. And Halt, for all of his failings, would not threaten the life of another for his own self-interest. That was a line he had set very early on. For the Ranger Corps, he would interrogate, he would threaten, he would kill - because, when he did so, he did it for the good of a nation. Halt had sworn never to let his own feelings dictate his morals. He would not threaten or kill an innocent civilian just to satisfy his own worry, however big that worry might be.

Muted voices reached his ears and he realized he had come to the outside of Will and Cassandra's room. He looked around, brow furrowed. Belatedly, he realized that it was three in the morning, and, under normal circumstances, Will would have been asleep and thus unable to submit to another round of interrogation.

Why were they up? He couldn't help himself. He pressed forward, hovering right outside their door, and listened.

The first thing he heard were shushing sounds, and a soft, soothing voice murmuring something too quietly to make out. Halt moved closer and pressed his ear to the door. He was a Ranger, after all - a little eavesdropping was routine.

"It felt real!" came Cassandra's voice, fragile and breaking and shrill. "I-I...you don't know how horrible it was, to see..."

"I know," Will said softly. "I know. But I'm still alive, see? If I were dead, you couldn't touch me."

"I know," said Cassandra, and then again her voice fell too soft to hear.

"Just breathe, Evanlyn," Will said. It occurred to Halt that he'd never heard Will speak that gently before, not even with Tug. "Just breathe. It's going to be okay."

Halt drew back and stepped away, feeling like he was intruding on something private. 

The last three weeks in Skandia flew by for Will. He occupied his time by carousing with his Skandian friends, practicing his skills, and helping Evanlyn. Of the three, the latter was the most difficult. 

After the battle, Evanlyn's nightmares had only increased. Will had tried to offer her some of the sleeping drug Erak had given him, but she refused to take them, adamant that she could never take drugs after what had happened to Will. He hadn't pushed after that.

However, that now meant that almost every night, Evanlyn's nightmares pierced the stillness of the night, waking Will up anywhere from two to five in the morning. He began to spend most of his nights comforting her, trying to soothe her back to sleep. It was exhausting, but she'd been there for him through the worst of his warmweed addiction. It was time to pay her back.

Night after night he rubbed her back and murmured soothing words into her ear until she fell back asleep. Night after night he pushed aside his own weariness for her needs. He paid for it every morning but refused to show it, not wanting Evanlyn to feel guilty.

However, he couldn't help but look forward to when they'd be back in Araluen and she'd be back in the castle, with servants who'd be more qualified and less broken than he, able to deal with Evanlyn's nightmares. At the same time, though, he dreaded going back. Once he was back in Redmont, he'd be with Halt 24/7 for the next three years of his apprenticeship - and that was assuming he passed all the assessments. Will knew his skills were improving, but was it enough? 

And as much as Will hated to admit it, being a Ranger involved more than just archery and knife-throwing. Being a Ranger was also about diplomacy, tactics, and - he couldn't believe he was saying this - geography. Rangers weren't meant to be solo assassins, although they could be very effective at that, if necessary. They were meant to be leaders, tacticians, and spies. Will had no idea how his unseen movement was now, and he seriously doubted he was anything close to a competent tactician. Nor did he know if he'd ever be. He had no idea what the long-term effects of warmweed were. 

So, really, he didn't actually want to go back to Redmont. Redmont meant facing the potential long-term problems in his mind and body from Skandia. Redmont meant enduring Halt's scrutiny, scrutiny that would inevitably fade into anger, betrayal, and then, worst of all, disappointment. Redmont meant facing Halt's disappointment, the knowledge that Will was not worthy to be a Ranger. The idea was utterly unbearable.

But where else could he go? Will refused to stay in Hallasholm. He much preferred the warmth and serene quiet of Redmont fief, of Araluen in general. However, if he went back to Araluen, he'd have to face his responsibilities as a Ranger's apprentice...and he was right back where he'd started.

The mere thought made his chest ache.

It was true that he had always longed to go to Battleschool to become a knight. He'd dreamed of sitting on a mighty steed, steel sword flashing as he beheaded a Wargal, but that dream had faded after Halt had become his mentor. Instead of dreams of valor, he found himself looking forward only to the calm routine of Ranger life. Instead of his wish for a mighty battle horse, he had Tug, far more loyal and true than any knight's horse could ever be. Instead of desiring a bright sword and shining, steel armor, he only wanted his bow, his knives, and his mottled green-and-grey cloak. 

Now, he was terrified that it would all be torn away from him. Will had grown up an orphan, a ward of the Baron, kept alive only by his mercy. He had never belonged, never had a family, until Halt had made him his apprentice. Now, for the first time in his life, Will belonged. He was part of the tightly-knit Ranger Corps, friends with Horace, Alyss, Evanlyn and Gilan, and his family was in Tug. And, even though he wasn't sure what Halt would think of it, his family was in Halt, too. 

If he went back to Redmont, he risked his family, his friends, his home and his life being ripped away from him once Halt realized he was no longer fit to be a Ranger. 

If he didn't, it was a surety. 

"Will, what's wrong?" It was Evanlyn - or, as Horace had begun calling her more recently, Princess Cassandra. Will realized he was lying on the floor next to his bed, curled in a ball, crying. He didn't remember the tears that now stained his face.

Yet another symbol of how unworthy he was. 

"Nothing. I'm fine." Will was a good liar now, and maybe it would've convinced her if Will wasn't sobbing in fetal position, and also if she hadn't already known that almost everything that came out of Will's mouth these days was a lie. 

"Will." 

He sighed. "Really, Evanlyn, it's nothing. Just...going to miss this place." 

She gave him a skeptical look. "You're going to miss Skandia." 

Will winced. "Maybe not Skandia. More like the people. I'll miss not being able to see Erak or Svengal." He'd also become a favorite among many of the Skandian children and consequently their parents. He'd miss the kids most of all, he thought. 

"Me, too. But that's not the real reason for this-" she motioned to Will's prone form, "-is it?" 

Unwillingly, he looked up. Evanlyn was standing over him, hands on her hips. He sighed. "No. It's not." 

There was a soft rustle of fabric as she sat down next to him. "What is it?" 

One of the things he liked about Evanlyn was that she couldn't read him all that well. It meant that, most of the time, she had no idea what he was thinking. It made for a welcome change from Alyss and Rangers like Halt and Gilan, who seemed to be able to read his mind effortlessly. With Evanlyn, Will didn't feel the need to hide.

"Just...I don't want to go back to Araluen." It was hard to admit that, when he didn't even want to admit to it himself. 

A shocked exhale. "What? Why? You don't want to see your friends again?"

"I mean..." Will racked his brain, trying to explain. "I want to see them, but...not like this. I don't want them to see me broken." He'd said that word, broken, in reference to himself several times now. It never failed to make something crack apart in his chest. 

Evanlyn sighed, sounded annoyed. "Will, you're not-"

"Then what am I?" he retorted angrily, eyes boring into hers. "What am I if not broken? I can't think, can't feel like I used to be able to - I don't feel alive anymore. I've stopped caring about things, and it's scaring me." He leaned his head back against his bed and closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears. "I'm scared that one day, I'll stop caring about being alive." 

No one said anything for a long while.

Tentatively, as if she were unsure whether he'd let her or not, Evanlyn slipped her arms around him and squeezed tight. He felt, rather than heard, her sob. "Please, Will, promise me you'll never..." 

He shut his jaw and closed his eyes. "If Crowley or Halt finds out, if they expel me, I...I can't." 

"I can plead with my father," she said. 

"No, I couldn't do that to you. You've already done so much for me, and I'll never be able to repay you for it." He looked over at her, and the barest trace of a smile flickered over his lips. "Really, Evanlyn, thank you. I'm - I'm not good with speeches, but it's - I..." he stopped, flushing. Evanlyn giggled and he gave her a good-natured glare. "What you've done for me is immeasurable. I vow to protect you to the best of my ability. With my life, if I have to." 

The kiss was slow, and neither knew who had initiated it, or if both had leaned in at the same time. As Will pulled away, the dim, flickering light of the fireplace cast shadows across Evanlyn's face. For a while more, neither spoke, unsure of what to say.

Finally, Evanlyn broke the silence. "For all that you say I've done for you, I count what you've done for me as even more. I'll never forget how you comforted me on the ship, in Skorghijl, in Skandia before we parted, and now every night. Thank you so much for that, Will." 

As Will looked into her eyes, tired and sad but still caring and warm, he began to remember everything they'd been through. He realized just how much she meant to him, and how much he meant to her. And, with a pang in his heart, he knew it would never last. He was a nobody, and she a Princess. But that didn't stop him from hugging her fiercely, head burrowed into her shoulder as he cried. As he realized that this was to be their goodbye, even if they'd see each other after this. 

And, as he sobbed into her shoulder, he felt her body against his, wracked with sobs as well, and knew she'd realized the same thing. 

"I'm sorry, Cassandra," he whispered. 

She didn't reply. 

Chapter Text

The three weeks were over. Halt's banishment still had a few more days to run, but Erak assured the annoyed Will that their voyage to Araluen would take up the remaining days easily. By the time they made landfall on Araluen, Halt would legally be able to cross over. 

In some ways, the voyage was the hardest part for Will and Cassandra. Both were all too aware of what had happened a few days prior, and both knew that they could never have a relationship like that. Their differences in station were too vast. Cassandra was to marry a prince or a nobleman, not a peasant boy like Will. Especially not an orphan who didn't even know his last name. 

Four days passed. Erak expected to arrive at Araluen by the afternoon of the next day. Will now stood at the ship's side, gazing off into the horizon. The gentle, lulling rock of the ship did little to comfort him. With every knot closer, Will's nerves ratcheted higher.

Will ran through different scenarios in his mind of what would happen when they arrived. He'd started doing that a lot lately, seeing it as an exercise in mental flexibility. In reality, it was more due his tendency to overthink and get lost in his head. 

The problem he was currently turning over in his head was his return to Redmont. Nothing simultaneously delighted and terrified him the same way that did. Redmont meant having to show his friends, his family, how scarred he was - or else having to hide it. It meant the uncertainty of his apprenticeship and the intense, endless fear that Halt would one day find out - that Will would slip up, reveal something he shouldn't, and then...

Will closed his eyes. When he opened them again, his vision was blurred. Every time he thought about it, he wanted to run more. He wanted to run to where he could start his life anew, to where no one would know him as Will the orphan or Will the apprentice or Will the slave. No one would have any unreal expectations; no one would expect him to be alright when he was broken. He could just...be. 

But, at the same time, Will also knew he could never run away. It was not in his nature. He loved Araluen, he loved his apprenticeship, he loved his friends, he loved Halt, even though he doubted Halt loved him back. Or at least, he had loved all those things.

Strangely, Will didn't feel love for them anymore. He knew he should - knew he'd once cared for them as deeply and strongly as any man - but now, there was nothing. There was something wrong with him, Will knew.

Will remembered hearing about a mental state called "melancholy" during his years in the ward. His wardmates had made it seem like a huge, scary monster living inside your brain that made you cry incessantly. Now that he was older, however, he had a more realistic view. He'd managed to snag a book titled "Abnormal States of the Spirit" from the Baron's rooms (sorry, Baron Arald) when Will had been thirteen, and a rather large part of it had been devoted to melancholy, or as the author termed it, depression. 

Remembering what the book had said about it, Will had a sudden, horrid realization that that was what was wrong with him. It made sense, horrible sense. After he had woken up from the warmweed, he had stopped caring about most things. He was tired all the time, unjustifiably irritable, and worst of all... just as the book had said, there were now long moments when Will would look over into the waves and contemplate throwing himself to them.

It was terrifying. 

And because he no longer felt love for others around him, he began to wonder if he had ever truly loved them at all. It was like he was in an isolated cave all by himself, with everyone else just senseless mirages. Just like Will no longer cared if he lived or died, so also he no longer cared about others. He knew he should - knew that that was one of the primary mandates of a human, let alone a Ranger - but he just couldn't. 

So that was why Will considered running away. He felt no connection, no real obligation, to anyone; he just felt numb and void. Although logically he knew Alyss and Halt were people he cared for, he couldn't feel it. The only thing he ever felt now was pain.

There were times when he wondered what anything else even felt like.

"Hey." 

Will ignored the voice. 

"Hey, you." 

He closed his eyes. Something jarred him, shaking him. A person. A very angry person. A Skandian. "Hey! Don't ignore me, you little twit!" 

"I'm listening," Will said, turning around. He was too tired to put up his cheery facade. 

The Skandian's face, originally angry, did a complete flip into a smug smirk. Will's heart sank when he realized this conversation was not going to be pleasant. "You're that sarcastic little know-it-all Ranger's pet, right? His little apprentice?" 

Will said nothing, knowing the man would take his silence as a confirmation. 

"Well, you see, he's been asking about you. Wants to know about slavery and how you were treated." The man sneered. "Didn't tell your master yourself? That's not a good boy." 

Will paled. Halt was asking about him? "What did you tell him?" 

The man laughed. It was a mean, cruel laugh. "Nothing...yet. But don't get your hopes up. I told the others to keep quiet, figured I could make you buy our silence. What do you say, boy?" 

Will closed his eyes, suddenly nauseous. Then a thought struck him and he opened them again. "You look familiar. Were you in Slagor's crew?" 

As the man's eyes darkened, Will knew he'd hit the mark. Will examined him, trying to pull up his name. He thought it started with a U. Undsnik? Undval? It came to him in a flash. Usnik!

Usnik snarled at Will. "Of course I was. You were responsible for my captain's execution!" 

Old Will would've rolled his eyes or made some sarcastic quip. Present Will just felt tired, lonely, and scared. His head hurt and his brain felt like it was moving through miles of molasses. If Halt finds out...Halt can't find out. He can't. "What do you want me to do?" 

Usnik laughed again, lip curling contemptuously. "Good boy," he said like he was talking to a dog. "I want you to tell your master you don't want to be a Ranger. I want you to resign from the apprenticeship. That's all. We'll have one less Ranger when this is all done, and completely bloodlessly."

Will went cold. He had to... to...

He swallowed. No, I can't. 

He hadn't expected to like what the Skandian would ask him to do, but he hadn't expected this. It was clear he wanted vengeance against Will and most likely Halt  as well. Will wouldn't be surprised if Usnik had taken a Vallasvow. He wanted Will to suffer. 

Will left without saying anything, hearing only the echo of Usnik's laughter. He found a secluded area below-deck and paced. For hours, Will paced in the small space, thinking. What Usnik wanted was impossible. Will could never look Halt in the eye and tell his own mentor that he didn't want to be a Ranger anymore. Will was a liar, but he could never sink that low. He was already dreading his potential removal from the Corps. Pretending that he wanted that? That was not simply adding insult to injury; that was mortifying it. 

He stopped, frowning down at the planks beneath him. He didn't have a choice. He had to tell Halt himself. There was a chance Will could bluff his way through the conversation with Halt enough to satisfy him. If not, well...at least Will wouldn't have to pretend he liked it when Halt expelled him. 

The floorboards creaked again as Will began to pace once more, this time furiously. Was that really his only option? Surely there was another way.

Abruptly, he wondered why Halt had only just now started asking. Will couldn't remember doing anything in particular in the last few days that could be construed as suspicious - at least, not any more suspicious than anything else he'd been doing recently. That begged the question of if Halt had been asking around before, and had decided as a last effort to ask the crewmembers. And if so, the fact that he was asking them meant that he hadn't found what he was looking for from anyone else.

Which meant that, for whatever reason, the Skandians were trying to keep the details of Will's slavery from Halt. For Halt to have asked Slagor's old men, clearly less popular and not as respected as Erak's original followers, meant that the others had refused to tell him anything.

So the question was, why was Usnik different? Would he talk about something the rest of his people wouldn't, just to spite Will? 

In all honesty, Will wasn't certain. What he was certain about was that he couldn't take the chance that the Skandian was bluffing. He squared his shoulders. Since Usnik had come by himself, it was reasonable to expect that he was acting alone - or at least that those with him were not enthusiastic about it. So, if Will could take him out and silence him until they reached Araluen... he'd be safe.

He just had to take Usnik unaware, tie him up, and lock him up somewhere no one would think to find him. Will nodded to himself. This could work.

He just needed to wait until tonight.

It went without a hitch, surprisingly. Granted, Usnik's body was harder to drag around than Will had thought, his muscles still weak despite his hours of training, but he managed to eventually drag him to a waiting crate. 

The moment he'd shut the lid over the unconscious crewman was when it went a bit sideways.

"Will? What in the Norns did you do that for?" 

Oh no. Will turned around, trying to hide the guilty look on his face. "Oh, hello Erak." 

The huge Skandian shook his head with a sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you, it's Oberjarl now? And don't deflect! I saw you stowing one of my crew inside a crate. What was that for?" 

Will winced, then glanced around to see if anyone was listening in. Once he was satisfied they weren't, he leaned in towards Erak and murmured, "He blackmailed me." He didn't specify how or why; he didn't want to. Thankfully, it wasn't necessary. Erak just nodded. 

"Who was it?" 

"He's called Usnik. He was part of Slagor's crew and wanted revenge." 

Erak nodded slowly. "Alright. Although I can't punish him outright since his actions didn't harm my people, I'll make sure he stays out of the way until we're in Araluen." 

Will nodded. "Thank you, Erak." 

"It's Oberjarl!"

When they sailed up to Castle Araluen, Will was relieved to hear that Usnik was still tied up in his crate. According to Erak, his crewmember had woken up around noon, mad as a hornet, but Erak had simply knocked him back out again before Usnik had even realized who it was. 

As they rounded the last bend in the river, there before them were the soaring spires and turrets of the grand castle. Awed, everyone who hadn't seen it before stared up at it, and even those who had could hardly take their eyes off it. Will managed to tear his away just in time to hear Halt's low warning to Erak: "You'd never make it past the moat." 

A smile flitted across Will's face. Some things never changed. 

There was a landing stage jutting out into the river, and upon it, a huge crowd had gathered, waiting for the return of their princess. The Skandians seemed just as stunned at that, if not more. 

"That's a first," Erak said mildly. 

Halt smiled slightly, looking over at his apprentice, who grinned back, eyes bright. "And there's another," he told Erak, motioning to the tall, bearded figure standing a little ways back from the water's edge. "That's the King himself, come down to welcome you, Erak." 

"More likely he's here for his daughter," the Skandian replied. Will noticed that he still looked rather pleased with himself, despite that. 

Cassandra was standing at the prow, waving excitedly towards her father. Will shoved away the ache that was beginning to grow, the knowledge that they'd be separated within days. He could honestly say he'd loved her, while it had lasted. 

"Dad!" Scarcely waiting until the ship had moored, she leaped into her father's arms, burying her face into his shirt. It was a scene too similar to when Will had reunited with Halt, and the thought made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't want to think of Halt as his father. He knew it wasn't reciprocated.

"Cassie!"

The people began to cheer. The whole kingdom had known how much he'd mourned the loss of his daughter, and they had mourned with him. Seeing them back together again was a scene that had even the Skandians smiling. 

As people disembarked one by one, Will stood back with Halt. He wasn't entirely sure what was going to happen to his mentor - if he'd be welcomed back with cheers or with silence. Despite the temptation to join the excited crowd, Will refused to abandon Halt. He nudged him with his elbow, and when Halt turned questioning eyes towards him, he tilted his head. Halt alone out of the entire cheering crowd looked miserable. His term of banishment was up, Will knew, but breaking faith like that was so antithetical to who Halt was that it was no wonder Halt wasn't happy. 

The crowd suddenly silenced. Will turned to look. Erak Starfollower, Oberjarl of the Skandians, had stepped ashore. Instinctively, Araluens around him drew back. Will started forward, not wanting his friend to be slighted, but King Duncan beat him to it. He stepped forward, and he was smiling.

"Welcome to Araluen, Oberjarl," he said. "And thank you for bringing my daughter safely home." Extending his hand towards the Oberjarl, the two men shook hands. The cheering began again, but Duncan didn't let it go on for long, signaling for silence as he scanned the crowd for the face he wanted to see. He shifted his gaze to the wolfship and found, to his surprise, not one but two Rangers there: Halt, his face miserable, and next to him, hovering protectively, his apprentice, Will. 

"Halt," Duncan said softly. "Your banishment is over. You're home now." 

Halt bowed his head. "Thank you, Your Majesty." 

Side by side, master and apprentice disembarked. The cheering resumed once more, but Will didn't care. He only felt that old sense of joy when Crowley stepped up to them and pressed Halt's silver oakleaf into Halt's hand.

"You might be needing this again," Crowley said softly. He looked over at Will, gave a nod, and turned away.

"We're home, Halt," Will said, and when Halt turned to him, his eyes were glassy and damp. 

"Yes, Will. We're home." 

"Well," said King Duncan from his throne, "I've been wanting to hear this ever since you set foot in Araluen yesterday. What happened in Skandia?" 

They were in Duncan's throne room. Duncan's most trusted councilors and advisors were seated on the benches, listening intently. Cassandra stood at his right, while Lord Anthony stood at his left. In front of them, below the dais, stood Will, Halt, and Horace. Behind them stood a few others, such as Crowley, the Ranger Commandant, and Gilan, Halt's former apprentice. Gilan had just arrived there that morning.

Unseen by the King, Cassandra stiffened at his words. Fully in view, Will stiffened as well. There was a long silence.

Finally, Will cleared his throat. "Would you like me to go first, Your Majesty?" 

Halt's eyebrows shot up. First Will had widely, genuinely smiled; now he was volunteering information? Was Will to do completely flip personalities now that he was back in Araluen? If so, that made Halt's job a whole lot easier. 

With an approving nod from the King, Will began. "We - Her Royal Highness Princess Cassandra and I - were captured by the Skandians, as you know, my King. The head of the group that caught us was a jarl named Erak." Seeing the aghast faces of the councilors and Lord Anthony, Will gave a rueful smile. "Yes, he is now the Oberjarl. We ran into a horrible storm partway to Skandia. I won't go into much detail for the sake of brevity, but Erak decided that we wouldn't make it to Skandia with the seas like that; we'd die before we got there. Instead, he charted course for an island called Skorghijl." 

Cassandra continued from there. "We spent several weeks, maybe a month or two, there. A few weeks in, a new ship came in, captained by a man named Slagor. The two crews got into a lot of fights, and at one point," she grinned, tone full of mirth, "Will ended up throwing his saxe knife at a wooden keg to prove he could've killed Slagor at any time." 

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "That's...unique." 

Unsure if he was allowed to interrupt a princess, Will continued timidly, eyeing her to see if she took offence, "After a few more weeks there, we boarded Erak's wolfship and once more set sail for Hallasholm. Once there, we knew we were to be sold as slaves. Erak, however, hoping to do us a good turn, gave us over to work in Oberjarl Ragnak's, the Oberjarl at the time, great hall. Princess Cassandra was put to work in the kitchens, and I..." he took a deep breath. "I was put to work in the yard."

Halt became still. Was Will finally going to reveal what had happened?

Several of the councilors, Lord Anthony included, murmured in outrage that their princess had been made a slave. Sensing that, Cassandra said, "It's alright. The work wasn't that bad, and it would have been worse had they realized who I was."

Halt let out an imperceptible sigh as the topic was diverted from Will's slavery. He supposed he couldn't have expected Will to tell the truth of whatever horrors he had suffered in front of all of the King's councilmen. 

"I would have ransomed you, Cassie," Duncan said quietly to her. "I kept wondering why the ransom note never came."

Cassandra sighed. "There wouldn't have been one. Oberjarl Ragnak took a Vallasvow against our entire bloodline, Father. If he had known who I was from the beginning, he would have killed me. In fact, he did find out, and it was only due to Erak and Halt that I wasn't killed."

"What?" Duncan said, half-rising from his throne. "Tell me."

"We were in the middle of doing so," Cassandra said with some humor. "Will?"

Will's eyes flew open and he looked nervously from Duncan to Cassandra, unsure of whom he should obey. Duncan sighed and waved a hand. "Do continue, Will."

"Conditions as a yard slave are much more difficult than a kitchen slave's." He backtracked, eyes wide. "Not that a kitchen slave's aren't, of course, just that, well..." He ran into awkward silence. He looked back up at the King again.

Privately, Duncan was amused. Being well-acquainted with Halt, it was surprising to see that his apprentice was so very unlike Halt - and, come to think of it, unlike even most Rangers, as taciturn and solemn as they tended to be. Will's awkward bumbling was really almost endearing.

"We understand, Will. Please continue."

Will nodded a few times and did just that. "Anyway, Oberjarl Erak saw me one day and decided I needed to escape from Hallasholm, along with Cass- Princess Cassandra. He arranged for me and the princess to escape. We made it to a hunting lodge." He gave a grin. "By this time, it was dead winter in Hallasholm. We had to sit there until the thaw hit. As I'm sure you could imagine, we didn't get much done."

Under normal circumstances, a young man remaining with the princess in a small lodge for months on end and without a chaperone would have been a cause for alarm. However, Duncan knew that if something had happened, Cassandra would have told him. There was also Will's status to consider: Halt would never have picked as an apprentice a man who would take advantage of a woman like that. Duncan quelled the uneasy murmuring among his councilors with a look.

"By the time the thaw had set in, Halt and Horace had made it to Skandia." Will looked over at Halt.

"Indeed. Horace and I traveled through Gallica. Horace-" Halt hesitated. Horace shook his head vehemently. Halt considered him for a moment, then smirked very slightly and turned back to the King. "Horace traveled under the banner of the Oakleaf Knight, or Chevalier de la Feuille de Chêne." He remained silent for a moment, waiting for a reaction, which he got. 

Rodney, sitting in a chair a few meters from Horace, gave a surprised sound and looked over at Horace, who turned very pale. "We thought it was necessary to get through Gallica quickly enough to save the Princess and Will," Horace said in a very small voice. 

"Never mind that," Duncan said impatiently. "What happened next?" 

"We got waylaid several times," Halt continued, "but after a few months, we finally reached Skandia. Once we got there, however, there were some rather strange occurrences, including an odd series of tracks. I decided to follow them. Just in time, too, because it turned out I was tracking a half-dozen Temujai who had kidnapped Princess Cassandra and were about to kill her." 

Gasps of horror. 

Will put in, "They didn't actually know she was the Princess. I'm not really sure why they kidnapped her if they were going to kill her, but two of them seemed to be arguing the night before. I would've killed them as soon as I found them, but I didn't have any weapons; the Skandians confiscated everything I had, and the hunting bow I found wasn't going to kill six armed men. Anyway, they tried to kill her, and would've, if Halt and Horace hadn't arrived in the nick of time to save us both." 

"After that," Cassandra said, "we ran into Erak again and joined forces. Halt and Erak went to scout the Temujai forces-" Halt glared at the table, muttering something about bumbling Skandians, "-and realized there were somewhere between five to six thousand men marching towards Hallasholm."

Now that they were into the war, Will relaxed, eyes on the patterned marble floor. He'd been worried that maybe Cassandra would say something about his addiction. He didn't know why, because he'd always trusted her before. Now that they were in safe territory, however, Will didn't care. He knew that the only thing Halt could bring up were his suspicions about Will's strange behavior, and the newly reinstated Ranger wouldn't breathe a word of that in the throne room. 

Will fought the urge to yawn, knowing it would be highly inappropriate in the King's presence. Now that the initial adrenaline had worn off, Will was back to his old, weary, numb self. He'd felt alive for the space of a day or so, and now that he was back to this, it felt even worse than before. He couldn't imagine what another week, month, year, decade of this was going to be like.

He zoned back in briefly to make sure they were still talking about the war. When he confirmed they were (and talking about Will's leadership skills with the archers, too!), he resumed his pensive thoughts. 

More than anything, he didn't want to face what he'd become. It hurt almost too much to think about, and his disgust at himself only grew with each passing day. Even though the logical part of his brain knew that running away from his problems wasn't possible, the other side kept whispering what if, what if, what if. What if he ran to Gallica and never came back? What if he never saw Halt again? Maybe he could start his life over again. Maybe he could find a new family. 

Then, small but powerful, a niggling thought in the back of his head. If you want to get away from all your problems, it said, all you have to do is climb to the highest tower in the castle and jump. 

"Such heroic actions from all of you," King Duncan said, interrupting Will's thoughts, "You shall all be rewarded for your actions, Halt, Horace, and Will." 

Halt bowed his head. "My King, being able to serve once more as a Ranger is all the reward I need."

Duncan grumbled. "I had thought you would say that. As an old friend, I will concede to your request, but I will at least acknowledge you publicly. What you have done merits nothing less."

Halt bowed his head again. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

Meanwhile, Horace was stammering, trying desperately to think of a way to politely accept such a thing. Will had completely opposite fears.

"I thank you for your generosity, Your Majesty," Will said, then stopped to puzzle the rest of his words out. He concluded, lamely, with, "I cannot accept such a reward, however. I am hardly deserving of such honors."

Halt gave him a hard glance. Will swallowed but stood his ground. It was true. He did not deserve it. Duncan thought that Will had actually done something heroic when he had not. It was Cassandra who should be rewarded for bringing Will back, for weaning him off warmweed, for comforting him through his nightmares. Will had, by comparison, done nothing. The very idea of recognition for it was sickening, akin to upholding yet another lie. 

Will was sick of lies.

"Now, Will," King Duncan said, "you give credit to the Ranger Corps by your humility, but you have indeed done a great thing. You deserve to be rewarded."

Will hadn't done anything. He shoved down the raging woundedness inside of him and said, "I am sorry, my King, but it...it is not the Ranger way."

Crowley coughed, covering his mouth with one hand. Gilan, next to him, choked and had to turn away, his shoulders shaking. Horace gave Will a frantic look that translated into don't back-talk to the King! Halt just gave Will another, colder, glare. Upon receiving it, Will reminded himself that there were many high-ranking officials present and it would be unbecoming, not to mention a breach of etiquette, to turn tail and flee the room.

"Crowley, Halt, is...that an actual rule? I had always thought your refusals were simply personal choice," Duncan said. 

"No, it's not a rule," Crowley said, eyes still twinkling with mirth. "We could always make it one, though."

Halt added, "Will just really hates public speaking and tries to get out of it at every opportunity. It's a bad habit for a Ranger to have, to be sure." 

Will scowled at Halt, not particularly liking what was, in fact, a genuine flaw of his to be outed like that. 

"It is good news, then," said Duncan, "that there will be very little public speaking involved on your end. This is final, Will. I am sorry to go against your wishes, but you have done a great thing for our country. You deserve to be honored for it."

Will could feel Halt's glare burning into his skull. It was unnerving to say the least, and Will was starting to wish he hadn't said anything. It didn't seem like it had made a difference, in any case. 

"If that is your will, Your Majesty," he said, knowing he'd lost the fight. 

"Excellent. Now that that's taken care of, I think that is all that was necessary. You may go." 

All who were present bowed, Will hastily remembering to do the same. He tailed after the three fully-fledged Rangers, all the way out the massive doors. When he saw Halt's still-murderous mien, he very carefully edged to the other side of Gilan. Gilan, predictably, was still attempting to stifle his laughter. 

"It wasn't that funny," Will said, elbowing Gilan in the ribs. "Stop laughing at me."

Gilan shook his head, still laughing. "Oh, I wasn't laughing at you. Halt hates it when his apprentices refuse what he thinks are their dues. Gets all overprotective. You should've learned that by-" 

Gilan hit the ground with a painful thud. Halt had stopped walking, turning his glare to his former apprentice. Laughter only renewed, the young Ranger got back up, not at all intimidated by his former master. "Should've known that was coming," he said ruefully, rolling out his ankle. "I think you bruised my shin, Halt." 

Halt muttered something under his breath.

Despite himself, Will started laughing, too. 

Chapter Text

Given the coming celebrations, Will, Halt, Horace, and Gilan were not able to be roomed separately. The entire palace would be full of guests, many being nobles who required a room to themselves; and thus, the four men were fit into one suite. As Crowley was the Ranger Commandant and thus lived in the palace, he generously offered up his suite as well, only a minute's walk down the corridor. Halt decided to room with him in order that the remaining three would be able to have their own beds. Will had, once again, escaped danger there - Halt had wanted to room with him, but no one else had wanted to take Crowley's offer.

As Will walked into the room that'd be his for the length of his stay there at the palace, he could only stare. After months surrounded by dingy, dirty surroundings, perpetually freezing and at the same time longing for a window to feel less cramped, such opulence was mind-boggling. He gaped around at the polished, marble floors, tapping the heel of his boot against it and receiving a resonant click. The far wall had a set of windows - windows! His room in Hallasholm had had none of those. These ones had glass panes and long, ornate curtains. The rich material was another novelty, and as Will looked around at the furniture, he saw the same richness everywhere.

He started towards his room, eager to see the bed. He couldn't remember the last time he'd slept on an actual bed. When he'd been enslaved, the only thing he'd gotten in the form of bedding was a piece of sackcloth. In the hunting lodge with Cassandra, he'd slept on the floor, too; even when he'd gotten back in Hallasholm, he'd never really slept on a bed. Skandian 'beds' were little more than wood frames covered in furs. Here, he would have an actual mattress! He hadn't slept on one in, he realized abruptly, almost two years.

"Ah, aren't we just living the life?" came a voice from behind him. Will turned to see Gilan, arms full of pillows, grinning down at him. "Y'know, almost makes me wish I was Ranger Commandant so I could stay in here." 

Will grinned but stopped, looking at the multitudes of pillows the Ranger was carrying. He gave Gilan a suspicious look. "Gilan, where'd you get all those pillows?" 

The older man gave him an innocent look. "Oh, from nowhere in particular!" 

"If you say so," Will said doubtfully.

Gilan dropped the pillows onto one of the couches. This room was, apparently, called the entry room, or sitting room, and thus had several couches in it. Will had never heard of such a thing. Apparently it was common in the houses of nobility.

Gilan looked up at Will mischievously. "Hey Will, can you keep a secret?"

Will looked at him suspiciously. "Would it happen to be about those pillows?"

Gilan grinned. "Maybe."

Will looked at the pillows, inspecting them. They were as well-made as one might expect from palace pillows, big and plump and covered in crisp, bright-white pillow-cases. There was nothing on them that gave away where Gilan had gotten them from, but the sheer mischief in Gilan's manner gave Will an educated guess.

"Did you, by any chance, happen to take these from Halt and Crowley's beds?"

Gilan's grin widened. "Bingo! How long do you give it until they find out?"

Will's eyes flicked to the door. He imagined he could already hear them - Crowley's bewilderment, Halt's annoyed grumble and then, once they realized who must've done it, their pounding footsteps to find Gilan. 

"They're gonna kill you," Will said.

Gilan waved a hand dismissively. "It's just a few pillows. Besides, what could they do to me, as old as they are? Their old bones couldn't take me on if they trie-" a knife whizzed by them, embedding itself into the upholstery in front of Gilan and taking a piece of his shirt with it. 

"What was that about my old bones?" Crowley, Ranger Commandant, asked. He hefted his saxe knife in his hand. If he was trying to intimidate Gilan and Will, he was certainly succeeding. "And, Gilan, why did you take my pillows? You should've taken Halt's." 

"Oh, I did. But I didn't want it to look like I was playing favorites so I took yours, too." 

Will fought a smile tugging up the corner of his lips. It was impossible to keep serious for long when Gilan was around. It made Will wonder how the fun-loving Gilan had survived five years' apprenticeship with the taciturn and withdrawn Halt. 

"I see." Crowley sheathed his knife and walked over, pulling his other out of the furniture with a sigh. "You're paying for this, by the way. And, next time, clue me in on this, alright? It would've been so much more fun to see Halt's reaction if I wasn't worrying about my pillows, too." 

"What did Halt do?" Gilan inquired eagerly. Crowley gave him a grin and sheathed his other knife. 

"He didn't do much; I heard him muttering something about his apprentices and then something about stringing them up on the nearest tree."

Gilan's smile slid off his face. "Oh. Yes, he does rather like to do that."

Crowley clapped him on the shoulder, chuckling. "I was joking. If you listen, you can still hear the terrified screams of the servants from his demands to find out who did it."

"They must be surprised," Will said, laughing himself, "seeing how they must've expected the legendary Halt to be, you know, eight feet tall and breathing fire."

"I've known Halt for years, and I've never so much as seen a spark from his mouth," Crowley said mournfully.

The three shared a laugh before Crowley sobered up. "All right, Gilan, pillows." He held out his hands and the other man begrudgingly dropped them into his waiting Commandant's arms. A second later, the door of the suite shut without the slightest sound.

Gilan turned to Will. "Uncanny, right? I thought I was good at unseen movement, but he's even better with silent movement than I am." 

Will smiled bitterly. "Then there's me, good at basically nothing."  

"Aw, Will, don't be so hard on yourself." Gilan patted Will on the shoulder comfortingly. "You're only in your second year, after all. Which reminds me; you've missed your assessment again, haven't you? Shouldn't you be coming up on your third year, soon?" 

Will nodded. 

"And you've never been formally assessed." Gilan let out a whistle. "Well, the next Gathering's coming up in three or four months or so. You'll be- Will, what's wrong?" 

It wasn't until Gilan said that that the boy realized he was gripping the edge of a sofa so tightly his knuckles were white. He refused to look up at Gilan, and in a flash, the young Ranger understood. "It's because you've been in Skandia all this time, isn't it?" 

Will nodded again, this time shakily. "Halt says my archery's progressing fine, but this will be what should've been my third assessment. I'm nowhere near a third year's skill. I...I think I'm going to have to take the entire year over." 

It went without saying that Will thought of that as the ultimate failure.

Gilan slung a comforting arm around the much shorter boy. "You still have a few more months until the Gathering. And, to be honest," he leaned in and stage-whispered, "the third year assessment isn't that hard." 

Will gave him a skeptical look.

"Honest! I mean, yeah, they change it up every year, but the final assessment's the only one to get hung up on. They just wanna see that you're making progress, and you still have a few months. Besides, I'm sure they'll go easy on you this year. It's not everyone that can say they spent a year in Skandia, after all!" Seeing that Will wasn't convinced, he tried again. "Look, Will, if you're still worried, I can teach you a little myself while we're here. Halt's a better archer than me, but I've always been better at unseen movement. Plus, I could help you with that double knife defense thing, if you want!" 

Seeing Gilan's hopeful, pleading glance, Will couldn't help but feel bad. Here was one of his friends just trying to help, and the boy didn't have the heart to tell him he wasn't even sure if he'd ever even become a Ranger, so Gilan shouldn't waste his time. Instead, he just nodded and murmured, "Thanks, Gilan." 

"All right!" Gilan grinned. "Let me put Halt's pillows in a safe place, and then we'll get started." 

A few days passed. Countless celebrations went on in the King's court, but after going to the first one and realizing how boring it actually was, Will stopped attending. In the mean time, Gilan resolutely began to tutor Will in double knife defense and unseen movement. His teaching style was uncannily like Halt's, as Will had discovered in Celtica, although in some ways Will liked Halt's better. He couldn't deny, however, that Gilan's teaching in melee defense techniques were much better than Halt's. 

As for archery, there wasn't much Gilan could say other than to just keep practicing. Privately, the Ranger thought that Will was already almost as good as he'd been as a third year, despite Will's lack of training. The boy was a natural at archery and would probably end up being a fair bit better than Gilan. However, although his archery might've already been third year passing, his movement was rusty at best.  

"Will," Gilan said, "no offense, but I could probably track you with my eyes closed." 

Will huffed, obviously not taking Gilan's 'no offense' to heart. "All right," he said, annoyance leaching out of his voice suddenly, "what am I doing wrong?" 

Gilan was tempted to snark back, Halt-style, What are you doing right? He refrained. Will seemed more fragile now, less like the vibrant, curious boy he'd gotten to know in Celtica. "You're not doing anything wrong, exactly. A normal, unsuspecting person wouldn't be able to track you, but your technique is rusty. You're putting too much thought into it." He considered. "Here, this might help. I know Halt's always told you to move like you know someone's watching you, but it's making you tense up. The extra tension is being released through your body, and it's making you move stiffly. Yes, you need to be aware that someone's watching you, but if you tense up, it'll only make it easier for them to track you." 

Will nodded thoughtfully, mulling over his words. "All right, I'll try that." 

Gilan gave him a good-natured glare. "You'd better do more than just try it!" 

Will didn't reply. He took a couple long, deep breaths and Gilan saw his tension eke away. Furrowing his brow, he wondered if maybe Will's tension wasn't because he knew Gilan was watching him. He seemed to remember Will being that tense a lot. It was like Will was constantly scared of something. But what? 

He shook away the thought. He'd think about it later; right now, he needed to watch Will. 

"A little better. Look to your left."

Will hesitated and looked back at him, uncertain.

Gilan raised his eyes to heaven. "Is it really that hard?" 

The boy complied, looking over to his left. "I don't see anything special." 

Gilan held in a sigh. "That's because you're not looking. Look. What do you see?" 

Will hesitated. Unsure of whether he was right or not, he just gave a helpless shrug. Gilan frowned at the movement, then offered encouragingly, "Go on. I'm not Halt, I won't judge if you get it wrong. Well...maybe a little. But only a little." 

"I...I guess I see the grass rippling in the wind? There isn't much shade right there, so there's not really any place to hide." 

"And that," Gilan said dramatically, "is where you're wrong." Stepping forward, he motioned to the grass. "You're used to seeing patterns and ripples in light and shade, right? Well, this is the same idea. Just like you can learn to become one with the patterns, you can learn to time your movement with the wind. It's really helpful when you're going across a grassy plain or something that doesn't offer much cover." 

"What if there's no wind, though? How am I going to remain undetected, then?" 

Gilan gave him a grin. "That's why we teach you archery." 

"So, any news about when the King is going to be kind enough to reward you three and send us on our way already?" Gilan inquired. 

Halt shook his head. "Not yet. It certainly is frustrating, but we can only wait. It's already been two weeks; I doubt he'll make us wait much longer." Halt's eyes widened in a sudden realization. "Who was taking care of Redmont fief in my absence? I never asked." 

Gilan offered him a small smile. "That'd be me, Halt. I got Crowley to stick a newly-fledged Ranger on mine while I took care of Redmont. I knew you'd rather have had me than the newbie." 

"Knowing you, I'm not sure he'd have done a worse job taking care of it." Halt hesitated. "But I'm glad it was you. You at least know your way around the place." 

Gilan grinned, knowing his former mentor was trying to thank him in his own way. "That's all the thanks I get? I'll have you know, my fief was languishing without my care." 

"You should've told Crowley to retrain him, then," Halt said dryly, "if the rookie couldn't handle a quiet fief like yours." Halt scratched his beard, a trifle awkwardly. "Gil, I appreciate it. You're right in saying I would've rather you took over it than most anyone else."

The younger Ranger's grin grew wider. "I do declare, Halt, you're getting soft in your old age!" 

"If you know what's good for you..." Halt threatened. 

Gilan cut him off with a wave of his hand, suddenly done with joking around. "Enough of that, though. You probably know this already, but I've been tutoring Will in unseen movement lately." 

Halt nodded, waiting for Gilan to get to the point. Obviously, he'd known from the very first day what his two apprentices were doing. 

"I'm...worried about him." 

One of Halt's eyebrows raised. It seemed he wasn't the only one who'd noticed it, then. After such a long time trying to find out what had happened to his apprentice, he'd given up now that there was no reliable source of information left. But if Gilan had also noticed something...

"You really think Will is going to be able to pass his third year assessment?" 

Disappointment lanced through the grizzled Ranger's chest. Gilan hadn't been talking about that, after all.

"Not right now, no," Halt said evenly, "but give him five month's more training and we've a chance. It's going to be hard, making up for over a year's negligence with less than half a year's time. I know Will can do it, though. He's a smart boy."

He didn't add his fears: that the oddities he'd noticed in Will might affect his basic functions and impede his training; that Will might push forward in training but would leave a part of himself behind in the process. 

"I know that look, Halt. You always have that expression when you're about to add a but." 

"But," Halt said heavily, looking at Gilan, "Will's changed. His archery is excellent, especially for his age, and with enough time, I could bring his other skills up to par. But what concerns me is..."

"It's how quiet he's become lately, isn't it?" 

Halt stared at Gilan, surprised. "So you have noticed it." 

"At first, I thought he was just tired, but now that I've been training him for a few weeks, I can see it's not that. His natural curiosity is gone. He still asks questions, of course, but he doesn't really seem like he means them anymore. And he seems tense all the time, like he's afraid of something." 

That had been one thing Halt hadn't noticed, but it definitely didn't do anything to ease his suspicions about Will. "It's not just that," Halt added quietly. "It's gotten better, but right after we reunited in Skandia, he was extremely hesitant and slow to think. His brain was even slower than Horace's. And..." 

"What is it, Halt?" Gilan asked after a long silence. Halt hesitated a few seconds more, then spoke. 

"I overheard the Princess and Will talking one night. I probably only heard the tail-end of their conversation, but Will..." Halt sighed again. "Will seemed to think he was messed up in some way, and that I wouldn't have been, if I were in his place. Something's obviously wrong with him; I just don't know what. I asked around Skandia for weeks and got nothing. I've never met such a tight-lipped bunch. Either Erak swore them all to secrecy, or whatever happens to yard slaves is bad enough that they don't want to risk the repercussions of it ever getting out."

Gilan blew out a breath. "Well, shit. You couldn't learn anything?" 

Halt lifted a shoulder. "I learned some. Erak reassigned a bunch of the yard slave overseers to different jobs, which implies that Erak disapproved of what they were doing."

"That, or he wanted to reward them for their faithful service," Gilan put in.

Halt inclined his head. "That's a possibility, but one of the remaining overseers I talked to didn't see it that way. He said that the ones Erak had reassigned took too much pleasure in their job." He gave Gilan a significant look. "He didn't elaborate, but the implication is pretty clear. I got the same thing when I talked to one of the slaves - one of the only remaining alive ones from when Ragnak was in power. He said that Erak had made conditions for them a lot better. Given how Erak helped Will escape from being a yard slave, all these reforms seem personal. Erak cares for Will. I doubt he would've put that much effort into reforms if he hadn't seen Will in a pretty bad state, whatever it was."

Gilan nodded. They were silent for a moment. "So you know the conditions there were pretty horrible. Why not just confront Will with that? It's not like you need to know the details."

Halt gave an acerbic look to his former apprentice. "You really think I didn't try that? Even after I told him about my banishment and that I didn't want secrets between us, he didn't say anything. Worse, he tried to pass it off as something else." 

"Wow," Gilan said softly, "that's...that's not like him."

Halt nodded gravely.

"You know," Halt said, "I almost don't want to know. We've just made that treaty with Skandia, after all. If any of those overseers-" or the Committee slaves, he added silently, "-are still alive, and if what happened to Will is anywhere near as bad as I think it is...well, the King might just banish me again for attempting to obstruct a treaty." 

Gilan laid a hand on his former mentor's shoulder, his gaze intense. "When you do find out...I'll be the first one to join you."

Halt met Gilan's gaze, examining his expression carefully. Finally, he nodded once. "In the meantime," he said, "keep an eye on him, will you? I have to catch up on all my damn paperwork and I can't keep watch over him all the time."

"Of course."

Gilan turned to depart, before something occurred to him. "Halt?" he said slowly, turning back around.

Halt motioned for him to continue.

"You know...how much Will looks up to you." It wasn't a question, but Halt nodded.

Gilan wasn't an idiot. He'd been apprenticed to Halt just like Will, and he saw Halt as a second father. For an orphan who had never had a father, he knew exactly what Will's feeling towards Halt were. "Just...don't give up on him, even though it doesn't look promising right now. It would...I think it would really hurt him a lot."

Halt stared back at him with familiar, steely determination. Its mere presence made Gilan relieved, much more Halt's following words. "I made a promise to him. I will keep that promise."

"Good," Gilan said, meaning it. "Well, I'd best be off. Duty calls and all that."

Halt scoffed. "Duty? You wouldn't know duty if it hit you over the head."

Gilan clutched a hand to his heart dramatically. "You have wounded me, fair sir! I beg of you to repent from such words, that I may heal such grievous damage upon my heart."

"Oh, give me a break," Halt muttered, but Gilan didn't miss the smile lurking in Halt's beard. "You should never have been a Ranger; you should've been a bard, or one in the company of those traveling hatcha-hatcha dancers I told that whole tavern the King was born from."

Gilan snorted, completely caught by surprise, and let out a laugh. "That's certainly one of the less complimentary career changes you've suggested, but at least it's better than the time you told me my aim was so poor I'd be better off as a lumberjack, since at least if I missed the tree, the only person who'd see it was myself."

Halt grinned, enjoying the recollection far more than Gilan. "I did say that, didn't I? In any case, I'm not one to stand in the way of your duties - should there actually be any," he added. "Off with you now."

Gilan gave a mocking salute, turned around, and left.

Will hurt. That was the best way he could put it - the only way he could put it. Simple and succinct, nothing dramatic or verbose or flowery, just simple words: Will hurt. All the time. Sometimes it was better, sometimes worse.

The worse part of that was, unfortunately, right now.

Gilan had taught him from dawn until noon, like he did most days, and told Will to go off and practice by himself for the remainder of the day. Will had obediently headed off to the archery range.

The range, and the simple act of shooting, had once been a haven for Will. He had once been able to lose himself in the steady rhythm, the total concentration of nock-aim-fire-repeat. It was the comfort of an old friend, the comfort of arriving back at home. Will would not say he loved it, not with a passionate love, but he depended on it like breathing.

It was to the credit of all the horrible things he'd been through that they could twist even Will's life-breath.

In the span of five seconds, he released five arrows and watched them all fly and land with a thud, every one of them in the center of the target. He allowed himself a small smile. That was another thing he loved about archery; the sense of accomplishment after he completed a difficult or intense shooting spree with excellence. Halt spoke little about his archery anymore - even before Will had left for Celtica he had made few comments - but Will knew it was probably just because the gruff old man couldn't find anything wrong with it, so he had nothing to say. 

Will released another set of arrows. Doubt settled in as the last one found its mark. Will knew he was better than an average archer, but how much better? He'd never really seen Rangers shoot before. Utmost in his mind was when Halt had found Will and Cassandra just as the Skandians had cast off from the shore. Will remembered how Halt's hands had seemed to blur they had moved so fast, eight arrows fully into the air before the first one struck the side of the boat. Will knew without even thinking that he could not do that. Was he supposed to? Will could not ever imagine being able to do that. 

Maybe, came a mean voice, that's why he never says anything. He knows you aren't good enough; he's just waiting for a formal assessment so he can legally expel you from your apprenticeship. 

Will's hands clenched around his bow. His face contorted in pain. No...no. That was stupid. Halt was brutally honest. If he really thought Will was hopeless, he'd already have kicked Will out. More likely, he would never have picked Will in the first place. 

But...

No. He'd stop right there. Will nocked an arrow to the string and lifted his bow once more, moving to full-draw. It was like Gilan had told him in Celtica. Self-doubt was a disease, and it'd do him no good to let it fester.

But...

No. He took aim and released. It was unfortunate that, at that precise moment, a strong gust of wind blew the arrow off course and it landed several inches away from where he'd aimed. 

He stared at the arrow for a long, long moment.

Maybe Will had originally been good enough to be a Ranger. Halt had certainly seemed to think so. But now? Now that he was a liar, a coward who refused to take the punishment he deserved? There was no way Halt hadn't noticed something. He'd been asking around, after all. Will nodded grimly. It was only a matter of time until Halt discovered him. 

Right now, he was probably still Halt's apprentice out of a sense of misplaced duty - Halt had gotten banished for him, after all. He had thought he'd gotten banished for Old Will, a boy who was worthy of such things, a boy who deserved Halt's kindness. Now he at least suspected that Will was different, but Halt probably didn't want to admit it. After all, admitting that would be to admit that Halt had been banished for nothing. That he had gone through all that pain and hurt and gained absolutely nothing by it, because the person he had wanted to save was a lie.

Suddenly, he didn't feel like shooting anymore. Will went to the targets and pulled the arrows out, placing them back into his quiver. He shivered involuntarily as a flashback niggled in the recesses of his brain, and fought the urge to wrap his arms around himself. He always felt cold when he thought about Skandia. He could scarcely remember the last time he'd truly felt warm.

He started walking, bow in one hand, unsure of where he was going, just that he needed to move. His mind had become a dark thing of late. He needed to hold it back. 

More and more, a single thought kept returning to his mind. If you want everything to stop, it said, the best way would be to die. The worst part was that Will couldn't argue with the logic. It was true; if he died, this would all stop. There was a good chance it would simply be worse, affording him the eternal damnation of Hell, but... Will was a good Christian. He would most likely end up in Heaven and never suffer again. 

That, the idea of never hurting anymore, was a larger temptation than any other he'd ever been afforded. Without realizing it, Will's feet began to move towards the castle walls. 

He'd thought - briefly, at first, and then in more detail as his mind became more and more accepting of the idea - about how he'd want to die. He was not like a Skandian, wanting to die only in battle. If he had died in the battle against the Temujai, Will thought he would have been grateful. But he had not, and battles were rare enough in the now-peaceful Araluen. Mere skirmishes were much harder to die from except by intention, and Will...he did not want to lie in his own death. He would not let everyone think that he had been killed when he had let himself die. 

Heights had always held a certain appeal. He had loved heights since he was a child; it was fitting he would die from them. Will also knew that once he let go, there was no coming back. It was final. The thought of that was as terrifying as it was calming.

Yes, Will thought grimly, that is how I want to die. 

He was past the guards before they even realized he was there, moving as silently and swiftly as a will-o'-the-wisp. He began moving faster the closer he got to the walls, some strange, frantic energy rising in him. It could all be over soon - all of it. All he had to do was jump. All he had to do was get there and jump and die and it would all be over.

His pace picked up into a run. There were no guards in sight - he had passed the last a minute ago, and there were no sentries posted at this specific segment of wall. It was a definite gap in defense, but as it worked to Will's advantage, he wasn't about to complain.

Finally, he was there. He braced his hands against the cold stone and looked down...down...down. His stomach lurched. He hadn't realized how high it was. 

He half-turned, about to flee. A new instinct, unknown to him until then, screamed at him to get away. He hadn't fully realized the gravity of what he was about to do. If he fell from this wall, it was over. There would be no coming back. And although the idea had been appealing to him just minutes before, now that he stared it in the eyes, he wanted little more than to run.

But run where? Halt would find out eventually. Will had to admit that. Halt wasn't the foremost Ranger in Araluen for nothing, and he already had suspicions. All Will needed to give was an unguarded word, a flinch at an inopportune time, or a scream from a nightmare, and he was done for. Which meant, in effect, that his apprenticeship was, as well.

He closed his eyes. A single tear leaked out from them. He couldn't bear to see the disappointment in Halt's eyes. He knew exactly what Halt would say.

I thought you were better than this.

"I thought I was too, Halt," he whispered. His hands tightened around stone. He looked down again, and this time he didn't look away. "But I'm not."

Slowly, he climbed up.

Chapter Text

Will didn't know how long he stood there on top of the battlements, arms outstretched for balance, swaying in the wind, eyes down-fixed. A sickening lurch filled his stomach as he saw the ground hundreds of meters below, but he didn't turn away. His mind raced with thoughts completely out of his control, like his brain was a rabbit caught in the claws of an eagle. He felt empty in a way he'd never felt before and all he knew was he wanted it to stop. He wanted it to stop so badly, but he didn't know how, couldn't ever see an end to this, couldn't foresee anything but suffering, black and eternal. 

And it scared him to death. 

For what seemed like hours, he stared down. There was something calming about seeing his potential death, and for a while, Will was lost in it. Then, pulling himself back into reality, he shook his head and tried to refocus. As he did, the beetles in his thoughts swarmed down again, hissing everything they knew would hurt. They spoke of Halt, of how disappointed he was in Will, of how angry he would be if he ever found out.  

They spoke of his greatest shame, of his greatest guilt as a man, as a person, as a human. They hissed accusations of how weak he was, how useless, how broken. They laughed about how no one would ever miss him. Just do it, they said, gleeful. Just do it. No one will care.  

A hollow ache settled into his chest. Alyss had lived a year without him already; she would hardly miss him now. Nor would Gilan or Horace. It wasn't like they had ever been that close, anyway. And Halt...

The thought choked. 

He shook his head violently, blinking back tears. Halt wouldn't care. He wouldn't. He had never really care for Will, anyway - at least not the Will he was now. Halt might mourn, but he would only mourn for the idea of an apprentice who no longer existed, whether Will died or not. 

Liar, said another voice, quiet. Kind.

He shoved it away to the beetles. Halt would get over it, anyway. They all would. 

He refocused his attention down. He swallowed, shifting his weight very slightly. He felt stuck, like he needed something - anything - to spur him into motion. He couldn't make the choice himself, not right now at least. Should he live? Should he die?

The wind made the choice for him. A sudden, violent gust flew past. Will flailed, desperately trying to regain his balance, wide-eyed gaze on the suddenly too-close ground. 

His foot slipped.

He fell.

A high-pitched scream tore from his throat and he felt all the endless weight of the abyss encompass him at once. No, no, no! 

A hand grabbed his ankle.

Will dangled in mid-air, that single hand his only lifeline. All his blood had rushed to his head and he saw nothing but the waters of the moat and the green ground past it. His whole body swayed in another violent burst of wind and his stomach lurched.

"Pull me back, please!"

"Are you sure?" asked the owner of the hand.

Will hadn't thought the situation could have gotten worse. He said, in a very small voice, "Halt?"

Halt did not respond, but he didn't have to. Will would have recognized his voice anywhere. As seconds ticked by, his body still dangling upside-down against the wall of Castle Araluen, the sickening feeling in his stomach only grew worse. He had messed up. He had really messed this up. And worst of all, Halt had seen him. There was no going back now; Halt wouldn't rest until he learned everything.

Will looked back down. Faced with that, he almost wished Halt would just let go.

"Do you want me to let go?" Halt asked. His voice was very, very calm.

Will said nothing.

Halt's grip tightened. "You should know that when I ask a question, I want an answer, Will."

"No!" he said. "No, I don't want you to."

Nothing happened. He could sense Halt's skepticism. He couldn't blame Halt; he would've been skeptical in Halt's place. Will let out a long, defeated sigh. "I... I don't know."

Another hand grabbed onto his other ankle. With a mighty tug, Will was pulled back up the wall. The force sent him flying backwards onto the battlements, landing on the ground, on top of Halt. Will edged off of Halt as soon as possible, only to realize he'd just sat on top of someone else instead. He looked to see who it was. His face, previously red from all the blood-rush to his head, suddenly went white. 

"Gilan? Y-You're here too?"

For once, Gilan's cheer was totally nonexistent. Instead he looked furious. "What the fuck was that? You could've gotten yourself killed just now, Will! Do you have any idea how close you were to dying?"

Will's heart thudded. He bowed his head. He knew perfectly well how close he'd come to dying. 

"If we hadn't seen you heading up here," Gilan was saying, the anger leaching out of his voice, "if we'd gotten to you even a second later..."

Will said nothing. The sick feeling in his stomach had made a home there now. Just look at that, crowed the voice inside his head, the one that hated him. Look what you've done! You've hurt your friend, and there's no telling what Halt's going to do now. 

He shivered, very pointedly not looking to his right, where Halt was no doubt glaring at him. Gilan's anger was enough. He couldn't take Halt's as well. 

"Will..." Gilan's voice was entirely bleached of anger now. He just sounded distraught. Will wrapped his arms around himself. "Why would you do this?"

"I-I don't know." The words came out in a whisper. Will chanced a glance up at Gilan and regretted it. He redirected his eyes to his knees. "I didn't think...I was just going to look. I was just curious. I wasn't - I'm not like that. I'm fine, really."

A scoff came to his right. Will flinched. 

"Oh, you're fine," Halt said. His sarcasm bit into Will, an almost physical thing. "Yes, I would categorize standing on top of a castle's battlements and staring down at your death as a desirous state of mind."

"I wasn't-"

"Don't you lie to me!" Halt snapped. 

Will gasped. He had never heard Halt raise his voice like that before. He began to tremble; then he set his jaw. He had lied, repeatedly, and he would bet Halt had known that much. Now that he had been found out, there was no use in hiding, nor was there use in shying away from his due punishment. 

"Alright," he said, softly. "Alright, Halt. I won't."

Gilan set a hand on Will's shoulder. Will jerked back, eyes wide, before he found himself. He shook his head, sinking his face into his hands.

Beside him, Gilan said gently, "Come on, let's get up. I can see how much you're shivering. Let's get you somewhere warm, okay?"

Will nodded faintly. He sensed rather than heard the two Rangers get up. More timidly this time, Gilan put his hand on Will's arm to help him up. Will accepted, letting Gilan pull him to his feet. Halt was suddenly right next to him; he shied away, instinctively latching onto Gilan's left arm with both of his.

Gilan glanced back at Halt and shook his head.

"Come on, Will," Gilan said again, beginning to lead Will off. "We'll get the kitchen to brew us a nice pot of coffee, what do you say?"

Will said nothing. The soundless presence of Halt followed them all the way back. 

1 Hour Previously 

"All right," said Gilan, "I have an idea."

Halt looked at him flatly. "Do you now."

Ignoring him, Gilan continued. "I know you've already talked to Horace and the Princess about Will, but I want to give it a go myself. I sent Will off to practice on his own earlier today, so why don't you go check on him? He seemed...off today."

"Off?" Halt questioned. "Off how?"

Gilan considered his response, fidgeting with the pommel of his sword. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "There's nothing particular he did that seemed wrong, just...a feeling, I guess."

Halt nodded thoughtfully. A Ranger's instincts were usually spot-on. He would take Gilan's words seriously. "If something happens with Will, I'll be counting on you to help."

There were few people Halt trusted more than his former apprentice. Of course he trusted Crowley, but as he was the Ranger Commandant, Halt felt it would be best to keep the details of whatever was going on with Will away from Crowley. Similarly, he didn't think it right to burden Horace, as young as he was, with such responsibilities. He had gone through his own trials in Skandia, and deserved the chance to have a break. 

He abruptly wished Pauline were here. She would know how to help Will; he was certain of it. Unfortunately, her most recent job had run over and she wouldn't be arriving at the castle for another few days - when the grand celebration had been scheduled. Therefore, Gilan was the best person Halt had for the job. Halt had to admit, he was grateful for the young man's presence. He had tried to help Will for months now with little success. It was nice to finally have back-up, especially since Gilan seemed to think Will was getting worse.

Gilan gave Halt a solemn nod. "Of course. I'll be going, now." He vanished.

Halt turned and left himself, vanishing as effectively as his former apprentice. He decided he'd head first to the archery range - Gilan had told Will to practice by himself, after all, and if Halt knew Will at all, he knew that Will would go to the range first. 

He arrived minutes later, to the pleasant affirmation of his thoughts. It seemed he did know his apprentice after all. 

Will hadn't been there for long. He was currently down at the targets, moving them around so as to make them more difficult. Halt smiled slightly at that. Will had only been formally instructed for less than two years, yet he still was so far beyond the King's archers that he had to move their targets. 

Once that was done, Will started back towards his position and began shooting.

Halt watched, assessing Will's shooting carefully. It was decent, he would admit. Still not as swift as a third-year was expected to be, but highly accurate. Halt got the impression that Will was focusing more on accuracy than speed. Ideally, though, he needed both. But, for a seventeen-year-old-boy who had only had about a year and a half's worth of actual training, Halt had to say that it was fairly impressive. 

The arrows came to a stop. Halt tilted his head; there were several still in Will's quiver. He looked at Will and saw white knuckles clenched around the bow. His expression was one Halt had never seen on him before. He didn't ever want to see it again.

Halt had taken several steps towards Will before he even realized it. He forced himself to stop. If he spoke to Will now, he would realize that Halt had seen him break composure. That would just drive Will further away. He was already far enough away; Halt couldn't afford any further. No, what he needed to do was watch. He had already gathered valuable information just from these few minutes: a confirmation that Will really was putting on an act, that he was not fine, not by any stretch. No normal person stopped halfway through training with a look like that.

Will shook his head rapidly, clenching and unclenching his hands around the bow. He seemed to fight within himself; then he raised the bow again. He sighted and aimed. Halt glanced quickly at the target. He should make it perfectly. 

Will released. Right at that moment, there came a gust of wind, driving the arrow sideways. It hit the target several inches off of where it should have been.

Halt gave an internal shrug. That was too bad. Will would've hit it straight-on had it not been for the wind. Had it been a windy day, Halt would've expected Will to correct for the wind; but prior to that moment, the breeze had been gentle enough not to bother with it. The gust of wind was, really, simple bad luck.

It appeared that Will did not think the same. He stared blankly at the target for several seconds, utterly motionless. Then he caved in on himself. Whatever he was thinking, Halt thought grimly, it wasn't anything good.

Will started forward abruptly, jaw set and stony. The disgust and self-loathing were written so clearly on his expression that Halt felt sick. Partly it was because he would never want Will to feel such things. Partly, as well, it sickened him because he now knew just how far his once-honest apprentice had fallen.

He wondered, What happened to him that was so horrible, he would lie like this?

The arrows were back in Will's quiver. Halt's eyes narrowed as he saw Will shiver. It was the middle of September. The day was rather dreary and a bit windy, to be sure, but given the way Will was dressed and his recent physical exertion, there was no reason for him to be shivering like that. What was going on?

Will began to walk off. Halt followed, beginning to grow concerned. He was not going in any direction Halt would have expected him to go - not towards his room, or the fighting arena, where Horace often was, or even to the royal library, where Will would often read up on various political treatises. Worse, Will's expression had only grown darker. There was no telling what he was thinking. Halt didn't think he even wanted to know.

Halt silently followed Will through the courtyard, through the guards, and all the way up to the battlements. His heart sank lower with every silent step he took. A bad feeling pervaded him.

Calm down, he told himself. This doesn't mean anything. He could be going there to check the castle's defenses. But the cold feeling in his stomach wouldn't go away. Instinctively, he knew that this was more. For a fleeting instant he thought about getting Gilan, but he discarded the thought swiftly. He hadn't the time - who knew how long Will would sit around and deliberate about jumping? 

"What's going on?" a voice whispered next to him. 

Halt sighed imperceptibly. Speak of the devil. "He's going to the battlements," he breathed back. "And, I expect, not for sight-seeing."

"Shit," Gilan said softly. Both of them eyed Will ahead of them. He wasn't moving very fast, but they couldn't afford to stay too far back. "You don't think he'll...?"

"I think," Halt said, a bit acerbically, "that our time will be better spent following him."

Gilan accepted that with less protest than he normally would have, given the situation. "All right, what's the plan?"

Halt started moving. "Follow him. Pull him back if he jumps. Don't warn him - there's no telling what he'll do if we surprise him."

Gilan gave a nod. The two Rangers moved as one after Will, seamlessly blending in and out of the dim shadows cast by the late afternoon sunlight.

Several minutes passed by. Will moved quickly but quietly, as Rangers were trained to do, but even still, Halt guessed there were maybe around a couple hundred steps to get to the stop of the wall. It wasn't surprising that it'd take a while to get to the top. Halt couldn't say he appreciated the steady thrum of tension that only increased the closer they got to the battlements.

He didn't know what was going to happen. Before Skandia, he could have confidently said that Will would never do this. Will would never throw himself off a castle wall in a desperate attempt to end it all. But that was before Skandia. The Will he had made his apprentice and the Will he'd brought back from Skandia were different.

Halt did not know this Will.

He kept moving. 

He did not know this Will, but that did not mean he would give up on him. Halt was not inconstant. He was not attached to the idea of a person, and he would not throw someone away just because their current image no longer fit with their past.

Of course, that didn't mean that Halt wasn't upset about some of the ways Will had changed. Some things - his new sadness, his tendency to be more withdrawn now - were unfortunate, but understandable. Halt didn't like that Will had become like that, but mostly because of why he had become like that. But other things, more specifically Will's lying...

That was unacceptable. Whatever happened after this, Halt swore he would get to the bottom of Will's lies. He had chosen Will for his honesty, and for both Halt's sake and Will's, he would not let this dishonesty continue any longer.

They had reached the wall. Will moved towards the edge. He braced his hands against the wall and looked down. In a sudden spike of alarm, Halt darted forward, Gilan with him. When Will didn't climb up, Halt slowed, moving a little sideways in order to make out Will's expression.

Will stared down. His face tightened and he looked sick, half-turning away from the wall. Halt felt hope. Maybe Will had realized how bad this decision would be?

Then Will turned back. He looked down once more, then closed his eyes. A tear leaked out from behind closed eyelids. Again Halt moved forward instinctively, wishing he knew what was wrong so he could help. He and Gilan were fairly close now - less than ten meters away.

Will shook his head. In a low voice, so low Halt wouldn't have heard it had the wind not carried it to him, Will said, "I thought I was too, Halt. But I'm not."

Not what?

Then Will climbed up the wall.

Utter horror lurched through Halt's stomach. He and Gilan ran forward as one, but needlessly. Even as they got within a few meters of Will, he still stood there motionlessly, looking down. If Halt had to guess, he would say that Will was still contemplating whether it was a good idea or not.

Gilan went to grab Will, but Halt held out a hand and shook his head. He wanted Will to finish thinking it through. If Will decided to jump, they would pull him back. If he didn't, they would still reveal themselves, but Halt needed to know how far gone Will was.

Gilan glared at him. He wouldn't normally have dared to speak with a target so close, but the wind was in their favor and Will was clearly distracted. Gilan hissed, "You expect me to just watch?" 

Halt understood Gilan's anger. He wanted to bring Will back, too. Even though they were close enough to grab Will in time, there was a slight possibility that they wouldn't make it. It would certainly be better to grab Will now - but. But. In a way, he wanted Will to know what he truly wanted, as well. 

So Halt shook his head. "He needs to decide. If he jumps, then we move."

Gilan looked even more furious. It was strange to see him that way; his former apprentice was usually so cheerful and easygoing. It was a testament to just how serious this was. However, he finally subsided and stood still to wait.

For long minutes, the two Rangers stood deathly still, watching the war play out on Will's troubled face. He seemed no closer to finding a conclusion than he had when he first climbed up. Halt edged a little closer. He and Gilan were standing practically right behind Will. Should he actually climb back down, they'd have to move quickly to get out of the way.

Then, something happened that Halt would remember for the rest of his life.

Will's foot slipped. With a sickening finality, he fell forwards. 

Halt reached out so quickly his hand was a blur. His hands latched onto Will's ankle and he held onto it with all his might. His heart throbbed and he sent a fervent prayer to God for catching Will.  

Gilan reached out to help him pull Will up, but Halt once again shook his head. Rather than deal with Gilan's anger once more, he redirected his attention to Will, who was currently dangling upside-down in what Halt would bet was quite the uncomfortable position. 

Another violent gust of wind - twin to the one which had knocked Will off the wall - made Will sway. Halt's grip didn't loosen, but Will appeared to have had enough.

"Pull me back, please!"

The fear in Will's voice hurt Halt's heart. He forced out, as calmly as he could, "Are you sure?" 

Will stilled and Halt knew he'd recognized Halt's voice. 

"Halt?"

Halt didn't respond. He didn't need to. He waited, his grip on Will never faltering, for Will to say something else. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for - an apology? A confession? 

As more seconds passed and he received nothing, he decided he'd have to speak first. He took every bit of panic, of fear, of horror, of anger, and locked it away. In a voice as calm as a still lake, he said, "Do you want me to let go?" 

Will still said nothing. Irritation danced through Halt's fingertips and he tightened his grip. "You should know that when I ask a question, I want an answer, Will."

"No!" he said. "No, I don't want you to."

Halt eyed Will skeptically. That sounded like just another lie, another facade Will attempted to hide under. The anger he had locked away came back, full-force. Why did Will insist on such lies?

Seeing that Halt wasn't going to pull him back, Will sighed. He sounded defeated. "I... I don't know."

Halt took that in. That made sense - after all, he hadn't decided whether to jump or not before he had fallen off. Now he was probably in shock, unable to properly discern anything. Halt looked over at Gilan and nodded. The two men pulled Will up, but overestimated the amount of force necessary, sending them flying backwards with Will landing on top of them.

Will moved off of Halt quickly. That meant he accidentally ended up on Gilan instead. Confused, he turned around to see who he'd squashed. His expression slackened in horror.

"Gilan? Y-You're here too?"

Gilan was more furious than Halt had ever seen him. "What the fuck was that? You could've gotten yourself killed just now, Will! Do you have any idea how close you were to dying?"

Will bowed his head. His expression said it all. He knew exactly how close he had been.

"If we hadn't seen you heading up here," Gilan was saying, the anger leaching out of his voice, "if we'd gotten to you even a second later..."

Halt tightened his jaw. This entire situation was no good, he thought. He wished, with sudden intensity, that he had never let Will go to Celtica. Familiar guilt welled up in his chest. Or, forget Celtica - if he had simply left straight for Skandia, he doubted this would have happened, either. He could have hired a Gallican ship, taken it to an isolated spot on Skandia's coast, and gone straight to Hallasholm. He probably would have entered the city about the same time Will had. All of this could have been avoided.

Halt sighed. But that hadn't happened. He had been slow, putting his country before himself like he had always done before. And this was the price he had paid. 

"Will..." Gilan said. He sounded distraught. Halt's chest gave an uncomfortable throb and he set a comforting hand on Gilan's shoulder. "Why would you do this?"

"I-I don't know." Will's voice was a soft whisper. He stared at his knees. Halt considered putting his other hand on Will's shoulder, before thinking better of it. There was no telling how Will would react. "I didn't think...I was just going to look. I was just curious. I wasn't - I'm not like that. I'm fine, really."

A surge of anger bit through Halt. He scoffed. "Oh," he said bitingly, "you're fine. Yes, I would categorize standing on top of a castle's battlements and staring down at your death as a desirous state of mind."

"I wasn't-"

"Don't you lie to me!" 

Halt had never, not ever, raised his voice at Will before. Not even when Will had pranked him or disobeyed him or carelessly harmed someone had Halt shouted at him. Now, staring straight into the face of an apprentice who had become a liar, Halt did not regret it. 

Will startled, eyes wide, involuntarily intaking a breath. Halt noted morbidly that he seemed more scared of Halt's yelling at him than he did at the idea of his own death. His small frame began to tremble; then he set his jaw and seemed to accept what Halt had said. 

"Alright," he said, confirming Halt's thoughts. "Alright, Halt. I won't."

Halt released a breath. All at once, despite the panic of the last few minutes, he felt a profound sense of relief. The apprentice he had taken on would always accept punishment for wrong-doing, even if he had good reasons for it. That Will had accepted his own wrong-doing just now meant that he was still Will. 

Unexpectedly, tears stung at Halt's eyes. He blinked them away angrily, barely keeping up with what was going on between Gilan and Will. He had spent the past few months dreading what he might learn - that Will was irrevocably different, that he had become dishonest as a rule and could no longer be trusted. This proved what he had hoped, that Will was the same, deep down. 

Dear God, he prayed, standing up with Gilan and Will, I know I've made mistakes. Just please, please... let Will be okay. 

Thirty minutes later, they'd finally made it back to the corridor their rooms resided. With a quick motion of his head, Halt directed Gilan to lead Will to Crowley's room. There was no telling whether Horace would be in the room Gilan and Will shared with him, and Halt didn't think Will would want to see Horace right then. Of course, there was a good possibility that Crowley would be in his own room, but he wasn't one of the best unseen movers in the entire Corps for nothing. Crowley also had enough tact to make himself scarce when something like this happened, and Halt knew Crowley wouldn't begrudge him for taking over his room for a short time.

"Gilan," Halt said once they'd entered the room and Will had sat down on one of the couches in Crowley's sitting room, "ring the servants for a pot of coffee. Ask if they have any leftovers from supper, as well - I do believe we missed it."

Gilan nodded and went for the bell. In the meantime, Halt gave the room a suspicious once-over for any signs of Crowley. He didn't see anything, but that didn't mean much. He would bet that Crowley was listening right behind his bedroom door. He gave a mental shrug. There was nothing he could do about it. Instead, he turned his attention to Will.

Now that reality had set in, Halt could admit that he didn't have the first idea of how to deal with this. He was not good at heart-to-hearts, nor were they common for him. He was entirely out of his comfort-zone and entirely out of his knowledge base. Still, Halt was not an oath-breaker. He would do his best by Will.

Halt moved to sit across from Will, hoping that the extra distance would make Will more comfortable. Will was shivering, fine series of trembles wracking through his entire body. It seemed completely out of his control. Halt remembered seeing Will shivering in the same way down at the archery range. He had thought it strange then, given the cool but not cold temperature outside. Now, inside, with a small fire going in the fireplace, such shivering seemed absurd.

"Will," he asked, hating how his own voice seemed to shiver as well. "Are you cold?"

Will looked up, seeming confused. Halt pointed to his hands. "You're shaking."

"Oh." Will's tone wavered; he timidly glanced back up at Halt, then away. "I guess I am."

Halt's mouth tightened. Abruptly he stood and went into his room, taking off the blanket and carrying it back. He unceremoniously draped it around Will. Will met his eyes in surprise, like he hadn't expected such a basic nicety. Surely Will didn't think Halt was so angry at him that he wouldn't make sure Will was okay?

"Th-thanks, Halt," the boy mumbled out. He clutched the blanket between his hands like it was something precious.

Halt grunted noncommittally. "You might not want to do that just yet. You know I'm not letting you get away without talking this time."

Will stared down at his blanket. "I know."

Why did you do this? Halt asked him silently, not wanting to risk asking it out loud. If he and Gilan had been even an instant later, Will wouldn't be here. Halt would be staring down at his broken remains, splattered over the ground. He would have to go down there himself and see them - the fractured bones, the ruptured skull... Halt had seen the remains of those who had fallen, intentionally or unintentionally, from high places. It wasn't hard to put Will's body in their place. The thought made him want to retch. 

He clenched his hands into fists and forced himself to stay calm. Normally it was not difficult - Halt was always calm. He was famous for being unflappable, even in the face of imminent destruction. This, though... this had rattled him. 

He was thankful that, in that moment, Gilan came back in with a tray holding a coffee pot, three cups, and a plate of various meats and cheeses. Halt took up the pot and poured himself a cup of coffee, then poured one for Will. He went to hand it to Will, then thought better of it and instead placed it on the side-table beside Will's couch. 

"What," said Gilan, "no cup for me?"

"Pour it yourself, you're fully capable."

Gilan pouted but did so. He set the tray on the side-table next to Halt's couch and sat down beside Halt. "So...how are we going to do this?"

Halt ran a hand across his face. Of course he wanted to talk to Will himself, but he had trained Gilan and worked with him for years now. Gilan was better at situations that required diplomacy, simply because of his younger self and more cheery demeanor. It all depended on whether Will would willingly divulge information he'd spent several months hiding. Halt would bet on that being a no. He could still get the information out of Will, he knew. Halt was a good interrogator when he needed to be. But, given the situation, Halt would rather not have to play the interrogator. Will looked so small, so fragile, and Halt knew he was not himself, either.

"Will," he said. "Would you rather talk to Gilan or to me?"

He might as well give his apprentice some semblance of control over the situation. It'd make it easier to get the whole story, and it took the burden off of Halt for having to decide. 

Will bit his lip before answering quietly, "I want you, Halt." 

He stared, as much surprise as he'd show. He'd been expecting Will to pick the more lenient, friendly option, not the one who had kept him dangling in mid-air on a whim. "Are you sure? I won't go easy on you."

"I know. That's - I know. I-I trust you, Halt." Will curled in on himself. The misery on his face stung the newly formed scabs on Halt's heart. "I'm tired of lying. If - if this gets me..." the last part was murmured so quietly, even Halt's excellent hearing couldn't pick it out.

"What was that, Will?" he asked gently.

"If this gets me expelled from the Corps," Will said quietly, "then I deserve it." 

"Will," Gilan said, "what are you talking about?" 

Will stared at his hands. They were still shaking. "I'll start at the beginning." 

Chapter Text

Will sighed heavily. The moment of truth had come and Will had accepted the consequences. That didn't make what he had to say any easier. Everything he had to say was either a strike at his apprenticeship or, worse, a strike at his relationship with both Halt and Gilan.

And, he realized suddenly, looking around the room, Crowley. For this was Crowley's room, not Will's.

He looked at Halt in alarm, but the Ranger seemed to have already guessed what he was thinking and held up a hand. "He's not here right now," Halt told him. "And even if he is, he knows well enough when something isn't his business."

Will chewed on his lip. Technically, this was Crowley's business, given that this information could have Will expelled. Moreover, Will knew what Rangers were like. They were trained to be spies. Eavesdropping was as natural as breathing for them.

He sighed again. It wasn't like he had a choice in the matter. Crowley would find out anyway, so what was the point? Halt would hardly let Will get away with not talking again. 

"You said something about starting at the beginning," Halt reminded him, sounding impatient.

Will fought the urge to run. He knew he'd make it less than a step before Halt or Gilan caught him. He also knew that he wouldn't run, anyway. Will had lied, but he wasn't a liar. This was his chance to prove it. Hopefully, Halt would believe him. 

"Which one?" he asked, hoping to get - something. He knew there was no way he would get out of this without being damned, but did he really have to say everything? The warmweed was enough, wasn't it? That would get him expelled, and after that, well, there was really no reason Halt would have to speak to him anymore. 

Halt glared at him so intensely Will could practically feel it. He pulled his blanket a little tighter around himself, even though logically he knew that did nothing. If Will had learned anything during his apprenticeship, it was that once Halt decided he wanted to do something, there was precious little anybody could do to stop him. That was why he was currently in this situation.

Well, that and his impromptu suicide attempt.

"Will, there's no point in stalling," Gilan said. "We're not going anywhere until you tell us everything." 

Forget shivering. Will straight up shuddered at the thought. Yes, he hated lying - yes, every lie he had told was another shovelful deeper into his self-imposed grave. Yes, Will had always been one to accept his due punishment. But there was something so much worse in condemning yourself than in accepting another's condemnation.

"Is there," he tried hopefully, "anything in particular you want to know first?" He hoped that, once they heard that, they'd completely forget about everything else.

Halt eyed him with a look that said he knew exactly what Will was trying to pull and he wouldn't let Will get away with it. "Since we did just pull you back from a very certain death, how about you tell us what, exactly, gave you the impression that any of that was a good idea?"

Will cringed. "I... I don't know. I wasn't... I wasn't thinking straight." He paused, expecting a sarcastic response. Upon receiving none, he continued. "Everything just got so loud. Too much. I just wanted it to stop. It was like-"

He stopped. He had been about to say that it had felt like he was still back in Skandia. 

"It was like what?" Halt prompted.

Will shook his head. There were some things he simply couldn't say. "I thought, if I stood there, I would finally know what I wanted." 

He looked up, just in time to see a flash of pain cross Halt's expression. Will's stomach turned uncomfortably. He hadn't counted on Halt being upset. Angry, yes. Hurt? Never. 

"And now? Do you know what you want?"

Will wanted it to stop. He wanted to be able to live without the constant fear, the constant pain, the cold and dread. But that was impossible. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Halt repeated, a tinge of irritation in his tone. He could probably tell Will wasn't being entirely truthful. But how was he to say such things? He couldn't even explain them to himself. He didn't even make sense to himself. If Halt heard him, he'd ship Will off to an asylum. 

"I can't..." Will shook his head again, working his hands against the blanket. "I don't know how to explain."

He expected Halt's harsh tone, Then you'd better figure it out. 

"That's all right," Halt said gently. "You're in shock right now. It's harder to think through things properly."

Will gave a dead laugh. "Are you sure it's not just me, broken?"

Gilan sucked in air. "Will, you're not-"

A hand rested on Will's knee and Gilan's words faded to silence. Will looked to see Halt watching him, searchingly. Will swallowed and turned his face away. He didn't want to know what Halt saw in him. Nothing good, he was sure.

"Why do you think that?" Halt asked softly.

Sudden tears sprang to Will's eyes. He pulled his knee away from Halt's touch, burrowing further into his blanket and shaking his head. He couldn't get into that, not now. Especially not with Gilan-

"I can leave," Gilan offered. "I don't want to make it any harder than it has to be."

"I'm sorry, Gilan," Will mumbled. "It's nothing personal." 

"Don't worry, I get it." Gilan offered him a smile. "If you want to tell me later, you can, okay?"

Without waiting for a response, he stood and strode away. Will wanted to laugh. As though he'd ever tell anyone this of his own volition. 

"Will," Halt said, a few seconds later.

"I don't want to," Will said, a little peevishly. After all, what human really likes having to perform soul dissection on themselves, knowing that no matter what, they will get punished for doing so in the first place?

"I know you don't want to," Halt said. "But you have to. I refuse to have you lie to me any longer, and you know I can't help you if you won't tell me how."

Will barked out a rough laugh. Help him! As though Halt - as though anyone - would help Will once they found out what he had done. Who he was. What he was. 

"Is something funny?" Halt asked evenly.

"Just the idea that you'd help me," Will said. "You have no idea what I've..." He stopped.

"Then tell me." 

Will said nothing.

"Tell me, Will," Halt said. "I'm not going to watch you destroy yourself any longer."

"I'm not - I'm not-"

Halt scoffed. "What are you doing, if not that? What would you call pretending to be something you're not, refusing any and all help, letting your self-hatred rule your life - good heavens, Will, throwing yourself off a wall!"

"I didn't-"

"You could have!"

And to that, Will had no response. He could have, indeed. Even now, he wasn't sure if he would have. 

"Just..." Halt sounded tired. Exhausted, even, like he felt all his years at once. "Just tell me, Will. Please."

Will looked and saw that Halt looked as tired as he sounded. His heart hurt. He had caused this. Will nodded and braced himself. He was the one who had caused Halt this hurt; the best thing he could do for Halt was make him realize how unnecessary it was. He shouldn't care about Will.

He opened his mouth to speak and his courage failed him. As much as he had tried to convince himself that Halt didn't care about him, Halt did. How deeply, how strongly, Will didn't know, but it was there. And yes, Halt only cared for his own idea of Will, not the real one, but he thought that this Will was his Will. To show Halt the falsity of that would be to have Halt no longer care for Will. He didn't know if he had the courage to do it. 

No, Will thought, readying himself, it didn't matter if he had the courage or not. This was the right thing to do. He would do it. All he had to do was tell Halt about the warmweed, tell Halt about the lies, tell Halt that he wasn't the person Halt thought he was. Then it would be over.

He didn't let himself think about what over meant. Instead he looked Halt in the eye. "I'm not who you think I am."

Halt regarded him levelly. "I know you're not."

Once again, Will was struck speechless. He gaped at Halt. 

"I know you're afraid, as well," Halt continued. "That's part of why you're shaking. What are you afraid of, Will?"

Again, Will laughed humorlessly. "What isn't there to be afraid of? I've known from the beginning that I would lose my place in the Corps, my home, my- my...friends, if anyone ever found out. It was stupid of me to think that no one ever would."

Both of Halt's eyebrows were raised. He looked, for the first time, alarmed. What could Will have possibly done that would get him expelled and effectively banished? Was that why he'd been so upset when he'd learned about Halt's banishment?

"I...see," he said slowly. "I hope you know, Will, that you would have to do something awful to lose your home with me."

Will's chin wobbled. "That's what I did. Something awful." 

"Well, you don't know what I'll think until you tell me," Halt said mildly. "It's better to get it over with than to wallow in self-pity." 

Will closed his eyes. He took a deep, deep breath, in and out. "You have to understand that the worst part of being a slave wasn't the food, or the work, or the cold." He tugged the blanket around him tighter. "And it was very cold. All the time, with no reprieve. You saw the shelters the yard slaves sleep in, right? They're no better on the inside than they look on the outside."

Halt stayed quiet, not wanting to interrupt now that he'd finally gotten Will to talk.

"It was cold all the time," Will repeated. "Always. It was like a living thing burrowing into me. The thin blankets they gave us did nothing to ward off the cold; every gust of wind blew right in through the cracks. My lips, my hands, were always cracked and bloody from the cold. I couldn't... I couldn't feel my face. Other people realized this. Other slaves, specifically. They realized how...tired we were, how cold we were..."

He shook his head rapidly. A fisted hand went to his mouth and he scrunched up his eyes. When he opened them, they were damp.

Gently, Halt said, "The Committee?" 

Will stared at him in surprise for a moment, then gave a sardonic smile. "Yeah. The Committee. They were really the ones in charge, no matter what the overseers said. The overseers only got involved when something big happened." One hand reached to his shoulder, tracing over the skin there. He dropped it back to his lap. "The Committee arranged all our work schedules and disciplined "unruly" slaves how they saw fit."

"You got on their bad side." 

"They were bullying someone. I got in the way, told them to stop. The next day, I got my assignment. I had to work the paddles, two shifts."

Will's eyes seemed iced over. The fine tremor from before was back. His fingertips trailed the surface of his coffee cup, almost knocking it over. "You worked the paddles to keep the water from freezing over, so there'd be drinking and cooking water for everyone. It was a rule... no slave was to work more than one shift in a day, no more than a few hours at a time. They'd tried to, before, but." Will let out a cold, dry laugh. "Those slaves didn't make it back to work the next day. They knew what they were doing to me."

Halt wondered what Will was leading up to. Surely he knew that Halt wouldn't care if he had beat them up. Halt would have done more, had the yard slave he'd talked to not told him the Committee were all dead. Those slaves had made a living off of hurting the weak and vulnerable. They were vultures and deserved what they had gotten.

"I don't remember that day," Will said, quietly, like he was lost in his own thoughts, like he was trying to live it out as he spoke. "After I started the second shift, I... there's nothing. Just cold. I think... it must've been... This man put something in my mouth. He said it'd make me warm. And I was so cold. My clothes were soaked through - I couldn't feel my hands or feet. I knew I was about to get frostbite. And I... I let him put it in my mouth." He ducked his head, tears shining on his cheeks. "I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I just... I'm so sorry, Halt!"

"You're sorry?" Halt asked incredulously. "You're sorry for what?" 

Will gave him an angry, hurt glare. "For taking warmweed!" he snapped. "He got me addicted to warmweed, and I didn't even try to stop him!"

The echoes of Will's voice sounded, shrill and loud, through the quiet of the room.

"Cassandra said I was like a zombie," he continued, fervid. "I was a mindless thrall, living only to work. Erak walked by one day, saw me in the yard. He arranged to get me out because he knew I wouldn't last another month. It wasn't the working conditions, like we told you. It was the drug."

"What..." Halt forced the next words out. "What happened next?" 

"Cassandra broke me out of the yard," Will said. "Bribed the guards, dragged my body through the snow for hours. She managed to keep me on the pony Erak had gotten for us until we got to the hunting lodge. Once we got there, she spent the next several weeks weaning me off the drug. You see, warmweed's not like a normal drug. We-" Will's face contorted in disgust. "Warmweed addicts build up a physical dependence on the drug. If you cut them off all at once, they'll..."

Will shuddered. "She said... The first time Cassandra refused to give me any more, she said I went hysterical. I only stopped after she gave me more. If she hadn't, who knows what would've happened to me. It took weeks to wean me off of it. She said that, during that time, I didn't move, didn't talk, didn't acknowledge anyone or anything except it.

"Once I finally broke free, I spent the remaining time trying to build my strength back up, until the thaw came and Cassandra got captured. That's the real story of what happened." 

Halt closed his eyes. Everything made sense now. It explained Will's closeness with Cassandra and even their insistence on sharing a room. It explained Will's odd reactions to the yard slaves and why he had avoided the yard whenever possible. It explained his strangely slurred speech and slower than usual processing; it even explained his dramatic loss of muscle memory when it came to the skills Halt had taught him. Halt had no doubt this was the truth. 

Guilt seeped in through his stomach. If he had gone after Will from the beginning, none of this would have happened. 

"So..." Will said, sounding resigned. "That's the whole story."

Halt opened his eyes to see Will take hold of his bronze oakleaf and lift it up and over his head. His hand trembled as he held it out to Halt; his eyes shone with tears and he turned his head away, unable to look. His bottom lip wobbled.

Halt stared. "Was there something else that happened?"

Will shook his head. At war against tears, he was on the losing side. They trickled down his cheeks and made his shoulders shake with the effort of suppressing a sob.

"Then," Halt said, at a loss, "why are you giving me this?"

"Just take it!" Will cried, blindly jerking his hand out in Halt's direction. 

"I don't see why I need to."

Will let out a frustrated scream. He turned to Halt, glaring at him. "Are you really going to make me say it? Fine! I'm not worthy to be your apprentice!"

Halt's mouth half-opened. He looked at Will like he was finally seeing him. "So that's it," he said. 

"Yes, that's it," Will snapped. He closed his hand around his oakleaf and threw it at Halt, who caught it neatly. "So just take it, okay?"

"Oh, Will." Halt regarded him sadly.

Will scrubbed a hand over his face. His shoulders hunched inwards. "Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you care about me." His voice broke.

There was the slightest rustle of fabric and then Halt was there, next to him on the couch. "Oh, Will. Why would I do all this if I didn't?"

Will let out a guttural sob and threw himself at Halt. He crashed into him, clutching Halt like he was his salvation. Solid, strong arms settled around Will and for long minutes he simply lay there, head buried in Halt's chest, and sobbed. 

After awhile, Will's sobs began to peter out. Halt then said, "Will, you remember how I said that you would have to do something awful to lose your home with me?"

Will tensed. Reluctantly, it seemed, he nodded into Halt's chest.

"Would you like to tell me what you did that was awful?" 

"I told you already," Will mumbled. "I let him drug me. I let him make me weak and helpless, unable to guard Cassandra properly or keep her safe. I'm a failure of a Ranger." 

At Will's last words, Halt's arms tightened. From his place at Halt's chest, Will felt him release a slow, controlled breath. "I don't see anything weak about your resolve to stay with Cassandra and keep her safe in Skandia, or your unrelenting drive to keep going even while enslaved, or your determination to go back to Hallasholm to fight a war even though you could just have easily have run."

"But the warmweed-"

"That man took advantage of you," Halt said softly. "You were freezing and exhausted, and he knew that. He tricked you in your vulnerable state and that is by no fault of your own." 

Will sniffled. 

"Will, look at me."

Will slowly lifted his head up. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed; there was snot crusted around his nose and tears dried up on his cheeks. Halt looked away for a moment, taken by surprise by a rush of anger. That man and the Committee slaves had done this to Will. They had hurt Halt's apprentice. And Halt was not about to forget that.

"You are blameless in this," Halt said firmly, carefully enunciating each word. "Do you hear me?"

Will's eyes flicked away from Halt's, unwilling or unable to hold his master's gaze.

"Will. Do you hear me?" 

Will ducked his head. "Yes, Halt," he said obediently.

Frustration seethed inside Halt, but he forced it away. He knew he couldn't expect all of Will's problems to be solved immediately. That didn't mean, however, that Halt couldn't find it irritating. 

"So, Halt..." Will said, shifting away from Halt and doing the normal after-cry things such as sniffling several times, wiping your nose, and scrubbing away the remnants of tears. 

Halt raised an eyebrow.

"Does... this mean you aren't going to tell Crowley?"

"It's none of his business," Halt said, a little pointedly towards Crowley's bedroom door. 

"Oh. Okay." Will nodded a few times. He fidgeted with his blanket. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again...

"Out with it, already," Halt said grumpily. "I don't have all night."

"I'm... am I still...?" Will eyes darted down to Halt's hand, where he still held Will's bronze oakleaf. 

Halt opened his hand to reveal the necklace. He offered it out to Will; then, on impulse, he lifted it up and settled it back into its rightful place around Will's neck. He looked Will in the eye and said firmly, "You are my apprentice. You'll have to work a lot harder than that to get out of this."

Will slowly reached his hand up to the pendant. He traced its familiar edges with an almost reverent expression. After a moment, he swallowed and looked back up at Halt. "And are you... mad at me?"

"I'm not angry that you were addicted to warmweed."

Will flinched at the unabashed reference to his addiction. "But you are angry."

"I'm angry that you lied to me."

Will looked down guiltily. 

"Why did you lie?" Halt asked. He had wanted to know that since he first realized what Will was doing. "Were you that afraid?"

Will dipped his head very slightly. "It was Cassandra's idea," he said quietly. "She suggested I not tell you, in case you expelled me from the Corps. She said you wouldn't be forgiving."

Halt wasn't sure if he was more angry or more hurt. "And you believed her?"

Will cringed. "Yes! No. I don't know? I did at first, but then when you told me you'd gotten banished for me, I... but by that point I'd already gone so far. And then, it was less about the consequences, and more just... how ashamed I was. Once I'd got the idea into my head, I couldn't get it out. Even now, I..." Will again touched his oakleaf pendant. "I can't believe it."

"You'd better get used to it," said Halt dryly. "Otherwise you're in for quite a shock once we get back to Redmont."

Will smiled a little. Then he sobered. "I am sorry for lying to you, Halt. I could give excuses, but they don't change the fact of what I did. I will accept any punishment you give."

There you are. For the second time that day, Halt felt the beginnings of tears come to his eyes. Those few sentences confirmed it: his Will was really, truly still there and was back. He considered Will's words for awhile, debating whether or not it would be a good idea to punish him for lying. Finally, he turned a wry look to Will.

"I think telling me the truth was enough punishment, really."

Will flushed, but marched bravely on: "But it shouldn't be. I mean, telling the truth should be its own reward. That's what you've always told me."

Halt inclined his head. "So I have. But I didn't mean that telling the truth is always pleasurable. It's not, as you proved just today."

"But..." Will suddenly wondered why he was protesting against not being punished, and stopped. 

Halt raised an eyebrow at him. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

Will blinked. "Huh?"

"You know how I feel about answering a question with a question," Halt said exasperatedly.

"S-Sorry. Um, you mean sleep here, in this room?" 

Halt looked at him.

"I-I mean...yes."

Halt nodded a few times, standing up. "All right, so that's settled. We have a spare bedroom. We can worry about getting you a change of clothes later." Privately, Halt knew he'd probably send Crowley over as soon as Will was out of hearing, but he didn't want the boy to know how much the Ranger Commandant may or may not have overheard. He figured it was bad enough that Will had had to tell Halt what he did. 

Will nodded. He started towards Crowley's bedroom and did a double take once he got there, hastily retreating. The next one he picked was the right room, but before he set foot inside it, he turned back around to face his mentor. "Halt... Thank you."

Halt met his eyes and gave him a nod.

A few seconds later, the door closed behind Will. Halt turned to the shadow he'd identified as Crowley several minutes earlier and raised an eyebrow.

"How long have you been here?"

Chapter Text

Halt turned to the shadow he'd identified as Crowley several minutes earlier and raised an eyebrow.

"How long have you been here?"

"The whole time," Crowley told him, stepping into the light. "I didn't come out here for awhile, though. I figured Will wouldn't want me to know I'd seen him crying."

"Well," Halt said dryly, "if you're saying that, then you probably did anyway."

Crowley tilted his head. "Guilty. I didn't hear much, though. I came out when you raised your voice." He gave Halt a significant look. "I haven't heard you do that in years. Decades, maybe."

Halt gave a humorless smile. "This isn't exactly a normal situation."

"No," Crowley agreed, "it's not. Which is why I wanted to make sure you were handling it."

Halt's face darkened. Had it been anyone other than Crowley, that look would have made them back off. Crowley didn't.

"You know I have the right to talk, after everything I've been through," Crowley said. "And I hope to God you deal with Will better than you did with me. You know I don't blame you for it, but he needs you, Halt."

"It's different with him," Halt said quietly. "The situation, as well. Did you hear about...?"

"The warmweed?" Crowley finished. He nodded. "Poor boy. Even the worst of what I went through wasn't as bad as that. Which is why I'm asking - no, pleading that you take this seriously, Halt."

"I am."

Crowley met his friend's gaze for a long moment. Finally, he nodded. "All right. Have you thought about how you'll help him?"

"I have," Halt said, a trifle acerbically, "but I'm sure you'd love to give me your opinion as well."

Crowley sighed. "This is technically Will's third year, is it not?"

Halt pursed his lips. "Yes, but I doubt he'll pass the assessment. He's missed over a year of training."

"He's a damn good shot, considering everything he's been through. Not too bad at unseen movement, either."

Halt made a gesture of agreement. "True, but you know as well as I do that being a Ranger is more than combat and subterfuge. Will has missed out on over a year's worth of lessons on tactics, politics, interrogation, and geography." He made a face. "If you'd ever seen his maps, you'd know he needs every bit of help he can get."

Crowley nodded a few times like he'd been expecting that answer. "I have a proposition for you then, Halt."

"Oh, joy," the other Ranger muttered under his breath.

"Now, don't get all sarcastic on me. I'm trying to do something nice for Will. What if we moved our annual Gathering up a few months? Instead of having it in January, what if we moved it to, say, April? That'd give Will a few extra months to prepare."

Halt stared at him. 

"It'd give him a fighting chance, at least, right?" When Halt didn't respond, Crowley pushed, "What do you say?"

"The Gathering's always been in January," Halt said. "I won't have you move it for my apprentice. He can redo a year or two and it won't be the end of the world."

Crowley covered face in one hand and sighed. "Halt, did it cross your mind that Will won't take to having to do another year of apprenticeship because of something he still blames himself for?"

Halt gave him a long look. "You seem to have heard a lot more than you said you had," he said levelly, ignoring Crowley's question. 

"Well, when two Rangers enter your room after sunset with an apprentice in tow, you tend to become rather curious," Crowley told him, not at all intimidated by the glare Halt sent his way. 

"How much did you actually hear?" 

"How much do you need to hear to agree to the Gathering?" Crowley asked in the same tone. 

Halt crossed his arms. "Like I said, if Will doesn't pass in January, he'll redo the year. I'm not changing my mind." 

"Come on, Halt!" Crowley cried softly, sparing a cursory glance at Will's bedroom to make sure the door was still closed. "The boy's having a tough enough time already without you adding on the stress it'll take to get him up to a third year's skill." 

"Why do you care so much?" 

Crowley stared him down. "Why do you keep ignoring what I'm saying?" 

They stared at each other for a long moment. Halt was the first to break the stare. He heaved a sigh. "There are problems that would arise from moving the Gathering, I'd say more than if you didn't. First, how do we know that even those extra three months will enable him to pass? He's not doing well, Crowley. As badly as Will might take failing third year and having to retake, it would be far worse for him to have three extra months and still fail. You know as well as I do how high the requirements for third years are. Also to consider, if you moved this year's Gathering to April, giving Will an extra three months this year, that's three months less to prepare for his fourth year assessment. If he even passes, it'll be just barely. That would only make his fourth year even more difficult."

Crowley opened his mouth. Halt held up his hand to stop him. "And before you say anything, one final thing to consider: he'll know that you're moving the Gathering for him. You think that he won't feel guilty about that? You think he won't believe his passing the exam illegitimate?"

"You have a point," Crowley said after a moment. "I have another proposition, in that case."

Halt groaned.

"Instead of having Will take his third-year assessment in January, what if he takes his second-year assessment instead? He never took it, so it would make sense. There's no way he'll fail it, either."

Halt considered for a long moment, arms crossed. "Fine. We'll try it your way. But if this makes Will worse-" 

"It won't," Crowley said levelly. "I think you forget sometimes that I've gone through my share of tough times. I know, better than anyone else in this castle, the sort of thing Will's been through."

"If you think you're so qualified," Halt said, voice lowering into that deadly tone he'd mastered so well, "then why don't I see you helping him?" 

"Because you're his master," the Ranger Commandant said steadily, "and I know how much you care for him. Will and I do not have that same bond, so the job falls to you to take care of him."

Halt's eyes moved away from his own for a second. 

Crowley raised his eyes to Heaven. "Halt, please stop being so difficult. I understand that this isn't easy for you, considering what happened. But, God's sake, man, if anyone should be traumatized about that, it should be me! You're not the one that had to go through all of that!" 

"But I'm the one who had to watch," Halt retorted. "It's not easy to watch, either." Then he sighed. "But enough of this pointless discussion. I promised I'd find him, and I'll keep that promise." He turned, effectively dismissing his friend. "I'll go check on Will now." 

Crowley nodded and turned in the opposite direction. "I'll get his things."

Will stepped inside his bedroom and closed the door behind him as quietly as he could. A few seconds later, he heard the soft murmur of voices. Instantly, he panicked. His mind raced with questions- who was it? How long had they been there? How much had they heard? 

He tried desperately to control his breathing, leaning back against the heavy, wooden door and slowly dropping to the ground. He lay there for long minutes, everything happening much, much too quickly. The voices were a little louder now, but the thick door separating them and the fact that they clearly didn't want to be overheard meant that Will had no idea what was being said - or even who they were. He guessed that Halt was one of them, but what about the other?

Logically, he knew that it wasn't even that much of a reason to have a panic attack. Some people were talking, perhaps about him; so what? Old Will would've been curious, if anything. He would've tried to press his ear into the door or maybe even dared to crack it open.

Present Will? He was just terrified.

As breathless, panicked minutes passed and Will's lack of oxygen became more and more apparent, the room seemed to dim around him as spots floated across his vision. He knew what was happening: if he didn't start breathing again soon, he'd pass out. 

Not exactly a comforting thought. 

Will had had his share of panic attacks since Skandia, but none had ever been this bad. Will, with his remaining brainpower, surmised it was probably because of what he'd just done - what he'd just told Halt. Under normal circumstances, he might've pursued the thought further, but just thinking about it made his breath shorten even more. He belatedly stopped doing so. The hazy, tunnel vision in his eyes was only growing more pronounced with every second.

"Breathe, breathe, breathe," he murmured on repeat. It didn't work.

As a last resort, he tried the one fallback he'd used for everything that had happened to him in Skandia - and before. What would Halt do? 

But, for once, it didn't help. Halt, having a panic attack? Will couldn't even conceive the thought. He didn't think Halt even felt fear, let alone panic. Halt just didn't do panic attacks, and Will didn't think that Halt would approve of Will having one, either. 

So he switched tactics. What would Halt do if he were here right now? 

That was easy. Will could imagine the raised eyebrow, the brusque tone, the What are you doing, Will? Breathe. It's not that hard. 

Surprisingly, that helped, if only a little. Will knew that he'd do almost anything Halt asked him to without question. Even imagined commands worked like real ones.

Slowly, slowly, Will began to breathe again. He forced himself to work through his terror, reminding himself that Halt - that any Ranger - wouldn't be that weak. As his terror slowly abated, he began to feel rather silly. Now that all was said and done, it seemed a minor and inconsequential thing that had set him off. 

Halt would be ashamed, he thought. 

Will slowly picked himself up, swaying as his vision darkened and vertigo spun his world sideways. He put a hand on the wall and forced himself to take three slow, deep breaths. Once he could see where he was going, he moved to his bed, throwing himself down onto the huge, soft mattress and staring up at the ceiling. Now that he'd gotten himself under control, he could finally think over the events of the day. 

His mind flashed from event to event, carefully analyzing every moment. It was something Halt had told him to do before they'd ever gone to Skandia; he'd told Will that minds grew stronger and sharper with practice, and thinking over every action that'd been taken that day was a good way to start. Will had found that it had helped him learn how to read people much better, but at the moment, he wasn't sure that's what he wanted to think about. 

Will mused over his archery, berating himself for his poor shooting and wondering, with a flash of horror, if Halt had been watching him even then. It certainly wouldn't be out of character. He replayed every moment surrounding his near death, forced himself to go over Halt's cold, brutal words. Even now, they stung. The echo of them played round and round in his head, a tortuous loop, murmuring Are you sure? over and over again.

Had Halt wanted him to die? Had Halt wanted to let Will go? 

No, he told himself, shaking his head. Halt cares about you. He said he cares about you.

But he couldn't fight away the tiny seed of doubt. 

"Will?" A soft knock sounded at the door and he jumped guiltily, as though caught doing something wrong. "Can I come in?" 

He swallowed, pushing away his doubt-filled thoughts. "Yes, Halt." 

The door opened and the Ranger appeared before Will, regarding him with a calm, calculating gaze. Will wanted to ask him why he was there, but didn't feel like being told off for asking useless questions. Besides, he already knew the answer: Halt most likely wanted to make sure he was okay.

Again, that tiny, doubt-filled voice in the back of his head whispered, Are you sure?

"Is there something you need, Halt?" Will asked pointedly, then winced. A year and a half ago, that would not have gone over well. Will glanced timidly at Halt, but the Ranger didn't look the slightest bit affected. Odd. 

"If you'd stop asking questions, that'd be nice," Halt responded, and strangely, Will smiled. 

Halt moved forward a step, not shutting the door behind him. "How are you feeling?" 

Will's first response was to laugh, which he shoved away. How am I feeling? What an inane, pointless question. It should be obvious that he wasn't okay. He'd fallen off the castle walls, after all. "I'm all right." 

Halt raised an eyebrow. "I thought you decided not to lie anymore."

Will cringed; he had, hadn't he? "I'm sorry, I..."

"Then again," Halt said, "I suppose I wasn't expecting you to be anything but bad."

Will huffed. "Thanks."

"I sent Crowley to get you your things."

"So it was him you were talking to?"

Halt nodded.

Will worried at his lip. "What about?"

"You'll find out," Halt said cryptically. He waited, as if for Will's usual barrage of questions. They did not come. 

"Okay," Will said instead. "Goodnight, Halt."

Halt gazed at him and stepped back again, eyes flickering with something almost sad. "Goodnight, Will." 

The door shut.

"How is Will?"

Halt stabbed his fork into his breakfast meat perhaps a little too violently. "Fine."

They were in the sitting room of Crowley's suite. Rather than eat in the grand hall, the Rangers had asked the servants to bring their breakfast up to them. As the grand celebration drew closer, more and more people had flooded the palace, making the grand hall quite noisy. Rangers often had to endure noisy environments for the sake of information, but as a rule, they much preferred the quiet.

Halt could feel Crowley, who'd asked the question, and Gilan staring at him accusingly. He spared a moment to thank God that Horace wasn't there at the moment (mooning over Princess Cassandra, most likely).

"Halt, come on," Gilan said. "At least tell us why he isn't eating with us."

"He refused to come out of his room," Halt said. "Anyone's guess as to why." 

"Surely you have an idea," Crowley said exasperatedly. "You're Halt, after all." 

Halt shrugged, shoving a bite of food into his mouth. When the stares turned slowly into glares, he finally caved. "He's either going on a diet or he simply doesn't want to face us. I'm leaning towards the latter, personally." 

"But why?" Gilan wondered. "He must know we'd never look down on him for something like that!" 

It was Crowley who answered. "In his current state, I doubt he's thinking logically. He's probably too lost in himself to be able to realize that we don't think badly of him." 

Gilan gave Crowley a semi-confused, semi-horrified look. "What?" 

"Yes." Crowley's calm voice did nothing to alleviate Gilan's fears. "From what I've heard, Will's chest-deep in depression right now. That's not something that just goes away."

Gilan's brow furrowed. Crowley's words seemed a little too knowing, but that was a question for later. "How do we help?" he asked instead.

"I'd personally consider taking him to see a counselor," the Commandant mumbled around a mouthful of food, then swallowed. "Before you say anything, Halt, just think. You've seen it help before-" he gave his friend a meaningful look that had Gilan hopelessly confused "-so why not try it with Will?" 

"Don't I get a say in this?" 

Gilan and Crowley, who'd been facing away from the door to Will's new bedroom, started guiltily. Halt raised an eyebrow at them (some Rangers they were) before flicking his gaze towards Will. "Of course you do. That's why I didn't say anything." 

"I'm pretty sure that's because you realized I was already here," Will said, but he sounded amused.

"So, Will, what do you think about-" 

"No!" Will cut Crowley off instantly, then winced. "I'm sorry, Crowley! I just-"

"It's alright, Will. But at least think about it, okay? It could help." 

"I-I'm not depressed." 

Crowley gave him a level look. That was what they all said at first. With a hint of sarcasm, he responded, "Because jumping off a building isn't at all something depressed people do." 

"I didn't jump off, I-" Will stopped, flustered. It was clear he still held the Ranger Commandant in considerable awe. It was the most Will-like thing Halt had seen him do since they'd found each other in Skandia, and it made Halt's chest feel oddly lighter. 

Crowley gave him a sad smile. "Just think about it. In the mean time, we've got breakfast. Want some?" 

A smile broke out on Will's face. "I'm starving." 

"Hey Halt, do you know what's happening? All the palace servants seem like they're in a hurry today." 

"I believe," the Ranger said slowly, "that the King has finally announced the final celebration of the Princess's return."

"When is it?" 

Halt gave Will a level look. "It's tomorrow."

He pretended not to see the look of horror that crossed Will's face. He could bet what Will was thinking: Will didn't deserve whatever the King would give him. Halt, it must be said, strongly disagreed.

"Don't think you're getting out of this," he warned threateningly.

"But, I don't..." 

"Too bad," Halt told him. "It's not generally a wise idea to refuse the King's orders." 

"Are you sure he hasn't forgotten about giving me a reward?" Will asked, in a tone that said he knew very well that the King had not. 

"Unlike some apprentices, the King doesn't forget things very easily." 

Will looked offended and opened his mouth, but just as quickly shut it and looked away.

Halt frowned and continued sharpening his saxe knife. That was what had been happening the last three days. Now that Will had told him his secret, the boy had become a little more like his old self. The stress was on a little. He was asking questions again - genuine questions. He didn't lie, although there were still times he pretended to be okay when Halt knew he wasn't. Halt had also seen him smile again, genuinely. Halt did note, dryly, that that was only around Gilan or Horace. 

Will had changed. Halt knew he wouldn't get the old Will back. He'd never expected to - but neither had he expected this Will to be so drastically different from the one who had gone to Skandia. Crowley had told him once that you couldn't expect someone to be the same after a traumatic experience. Halt had disregarded the thought at the time, but now he recognized the wisdom for what it was. 

Halt's apprentice was different, and truth was, he always would be. Halt was working on accepting that, but more important was getting Will to accept it himself. Will might never be as cheerful or carefree again. He would be quieter, perhaps, and more sensitive to things like drugs and any other triggers he'd picked up in Skandia. As long as Will didn't let it, it shouldn't affect his career or his life in the long run. 

But Halt already knew that his apprentice wouldn't just accept that. Will had fairly obvious signs of depression and Halt kicked himself for having to have Will nearly jump off a tower for him to notice them. The tiredness, apathy, low self-esteem, suicidal thoughts... Will had them all. Almost exactly like Crowley had. 

"Halt?" 

The Ranger grunted, only half listening. 

"Can I wear my cloak to the ceremony?" 

Halt turned to his apprentice, scandalized. "I should think not." 

Glumly, Will resumed sharpening his own knives. He'd moved to Halt and Crowley's rooms the next day, not wanting to face Horace, who still knew nothing of Will's condition. Now, he and Halt sat on different ends of one of the couches, Will cross-legged and Halt with his feet firmly on the ground. 

Halt gave him the slightest sideways glance - more a movement of his eyes than anything. Will seemed worlds away, lost in his own thoughts, but at least his eyes weren't that glazed, hazy look he'd had those first weeks.

Halt had to admit, it wasn't all gloom and doom. Will was improving, if only a little bit. He had once again begun to distance himself from Halt, but at least he still retained a strong friendship with Gilan and Horace. Halt had his doubts on how that would work once he and Will returned to Redmont, but it was good that Will wasn't isolating himself anymore. At the very least, Will was talking now, and his training was progressing well under Gilan. 

Yes. Halt nodded to himself. Even if Will had some scars, he was confident that, one day, his apprentice would return to him. He set down his saxe knife and picked up his other one, grimacing slightly.

He just had to wait for it. 

Chapter Text

"My King," said Halt. "You asked to see me."

King Duncan cast a dismissive wave at Halt's low bow. "Do sit, Halt. We're not in court."

Halt sat down in the chair Duncan offered him, across from Duncan's own. They were in his personal chamber, where Duncan had summoned Halt to. 

"I have been thinking," Duncan began, "about the last time I saw you before you left for Skandia."

The words very carefully skirted around dangerous territory. Halt withheld a wince. "My King," he began measuredly. Duncan held up a hand.

"At the time, I didn't understand why you did it. You have never been one to put your own interests before those of the kingdom. That is why I have leaned on your advice for years now. No matter how much I pondered the question, I couldn't figure it out. Why had you suddenly lost your ability to see the whole picture? Why would you lose your temper and slander me in front of a whole tavern?"

"I am sorry I said what I did, Your Majesty," Halt said. 

Duncan looked at him levelly. "Of course you are," he said, "because you never meant it in the first place. Isn't that right?"

A brief flash of surprise crossed Halt's face. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Duncan sighed. "Why do you have to make everything harder on yourself? At the time, I was too caught up in what you had said that I also lost my ability to see the big picture: why you had said it. You went into the tavern, not to drink, but to sell your act. It would be unheard-of for a Ranger to spit treason in broad daylight. But at night, after drinking a few too many? Everyone can believe that. Everyone did."

He waited for a response. When there was none, he continued. "I asked Crowley about it. He said that he'd spoken to you not even a day before, that you'd asked to be allowed to track down Will, and that he refused you and said that I would refuse you as well. Which makes one wonder - if you were actually as angry with me as you claimed, why did you not talk about that to the tavern? Of all the awful things you could have said about me, you picked the only ones that were blatantly false."

Halt still said nothing.

"So, I came to the conclusion that you did that on purpose. You said those things, even refused all hope of a pardon, not out of anger, but because you wanted to be banished." Duncan shook his head. "No, you expected to be banished."

"After all my years of faithful service," Halt said mildly, "I had hoped you wouldn't kill me."

"Of course I wouldn't!" Duncan said. He shook his head, raising two fingers to the crease in his brow. "You did that on purpose, Halt."

"What would you like me to say, Your Majesty?"

"The truth?" Duncan asked, giving a tired laugh. "That would be nice. Why did you do it? Why would you go to all that trouble, even risk being executed, just to be banished? It-" Duncan stopped. "Oh. I see."

All of a sudden, Duncan understood. He kicked himself, wondering how he had not realized it before. Halt had even said it at his trial - that Will's safety was not guaranteed like Cassandra's was.

Halt leaned forward slightly, a little alarmed. "Your Majesty, is this really-"

"I expected a ransom note for Cassie any day. I didn't know about the Vallasvow. I thought she was safe; that she'd be well-treated until I could ransom her. You did not have the same assurance for Will. I even compared the two of them - saying that I understood, because of Cassie. Will is more than just your apprentice, isn't he?"

For a moment, Duncan genuinely wondered how Halt would respond. He first gave the look of a cornered man, then opened his mouth to defend himself. He shut it. "And what if he is?"

That was all the confirmation that Duncan needed. He nodded thoughtfully, considering. "Then I forgive you, Halt."

For once, Halt looked startled. "Pardon?"

"For the longest time, I thought your words were a simple fit of rage - maybe even a sign that 'Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks.' But you did not say what you did out of any hatred for me. You did it to save Will. I would be the biggest hypocrite on Earth were I to hold a grudge against you for doing the same thing I would have done for my child."

Halt bowed his head. When he lifted it, Duncan saw that his eyes were bright. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Again, Duncan brushed it aside. "The second matter I want to bring up also concerns Will. The celebration for the return of Cassandra and all the rest of you from Skandia is tonight, as you know. I have a few thoughts as to how I wished to reward him, but I would need yours and Crowley's approval for one of them."

Halt motioned for him to continue. In the back of his mind, a niggling thought popped up.

"I will be knighting Horace and assigning him to the Royal Guard here at the palace. I know he's young and has not finished Battleschool, but given what you have told me of his abilities, he is more than capable."

Halt nodded. "It is as you have said."

"For Will, I wanted to do something similar: waive his remaining training and declare him a fully-fledged Ranger."

But Halt was already shaking his head. "Neither I nor Crowley would allow that. Horace only needs to know how to bash and whack." Halt gave Duncan a dry look. "We Rangers need to know a little more than that. Will needs the full five years."

"I had thought you would say that. Then, in its place, I have another offer. I want to appoint Will to serve in the Royal Scouts. Do you believe he's qualified for such a position?"

Duncan was not surprised to see a hint of sadness in Halt's face as he slowly looked up. "He is." Then, as though to make up for it, he added, "Probably more qualified than the rest of the pampered nobles in the Scouts, truth be told."

"I'm not trying to take him from you," Duncan told his friend. "Cassandra... says that Will has been drawing away from her now that she's back. I'm asking for her."

Halt waved a dismissive hand. "He's old enough. He can make his own choices, surely."

"Then he has your blessing?"

Halt grunted. "I suppose."

Duncan nodded. "Very well. That is all I wanted to talk about. You are dismissed, Halt."

Halt stood. The next instant he was gone.

Gazing at the chair which had been occupied only a second before, Duncan thought, Rangers sure are strange creatures, aren't they?

Will had been to several parties in his young life. They were nothing like this one. 

The King had truly gone all-out. The entire palace was decked with floor-to-ceiling garlands of flowers, twining around marble columns and hanging from railings. The floors shone and sparkled in the light of hundreds of candles. The light also picked up all of the ladies' fine dresses and jewelry, scattering flecks of rainbow across the entire hall. 

The hall itself was crammed with people. Guests from all across the kingdom, and even a few from outside, filled the hall. Everywhere Will looked, he saw familiar, famous, or infamous faces. There was Sir Rodney, a few tables over - there was Crowley, only a few feet away from Will - there was Baron Audley of Dacton fief. And, of course, Will, Halt, and Horace were together, in the highly-coveted places of honor. Personally, Will would have much preferred being seated at the very edge of the hall. Looking at Crowley, Gilan, and Halt, he got the impression they agreed.

Master Chubb and, of course, his foremost apprentice, Jenny, had come all the way from Castle Redmont to oversee the affair. Although Will never caught sight of his former wardmate, she and Master Chubb sent many of the best dishes to him. Will reminded himself to thank both of them whenever he saw them next. 

As the feasting went on, Will couldn't help a growing nervousness. He glanced at Halt, who looked as unaffected and calm as ever, and wished he had Halt's steadiness. 

"Nervous, Will?" Gilan asked from where he sat at Will's left. 

Will looked surreptitiously at Halt, who was across the table, sitting next to Crowley. The Ranger seemed to be occupied with Horace, who sat on his other side, so Will turned to Gilan and murmured, "I don't think I should be receiving anything. I mean, I didn't do much. Halt was the one who won the battle and got us home safely." 

Gilan shrugged. "I think you're selling yourself short. You kept the Princess safe and you helped with the battle yourself." 

Will sighed, picking at his food. His appetite suddenly seemed to have vanished. "It feels dishonest for him to be rewarding me for something he thinks I did but didn't actually do." 

There was a sudden silence across the hall. Will looked up in dread. The King had stood. He was about to make his speech.

A sudden claw-like panic reached into Will's chest. He stood abruptly. "I-I need to-"

He turned, moving as swiftly and silent as only a Ranger can. He whipped past the guards, stumbling into a little-used hallway, one hand clutching the wall. He tried, futilely, to breathe.

Over the pounding in his veins, he heard King Duncan's clear, deep voice resound through the great hall. "Lords and ladies, this occasion is one of great pleasure for me. For a start, we are here to celebrate the safe return of my daughter, Princess Cassandra - an eventuality that brings me more joy than you could possibly comprehend." 

Vague cries of hear, hear! 

Will took a deep breath. No one had followed him - that was good. He had a chance to make a break for it. He could run, and...

And what? Halt didn't seem like he was going to kick Will out of his apprenticeship. Will knew quite well that running away from the celebration would be a grave insult to the King. Halt would not let him off lightly for such.

Even still, the idea of standing there, letting the entire kingdom think he was something that he wasn't, was unbearable.

"The other source of pleasure to me tonight is the opportunity to reward those who were responsible for her safe return." 

Will shut his eyes. He wanted to laugh. Was the King actually going to reward him - he, who had been a burden to Cassandra, not a help, a hindrance rather than an aid? He imagined himself in front of the King - tripping as he went forward, or stammering over his words. His anxiety grew. 

"First, would the Ranger Halt please step forward." 

Perhaps he could pretend he had suddenly become unwell. It wasn't a lie, after all. And if Halt wanted Will to be up there so badly, he could find Will and drag him up there himself. Will would no go willingly.

"Although I know that Halt would never accept any reward other than his restoration to the Ranger Corps-" he paused, and Will heard the crowd stir in surprise "-I nonetheless must say this. Halt, I owe you more than any King ever owed a man. I will never forget all you have done. Next, let the warrior apprentice Horace stand forward." 

If Horace was going next, that meant Will was last. Which meant that, if he wanted to get out of here, he didn't have much more time. Will set his jaw and started moving out of the hallway and into the main corridor that led into the great hall and, more applicably, outside. Gilan's efforts over the past month had already begun to ripen; Will's footsteps were utterly soundless on the marble floors, and even without his cloak, his form seemed to phase in and out of the shadows cast by the lit chandeliers.

"Horace, it has come to our attention that you traveled throughout Gallica in the guise of a fully qualified knight... the Chevalier de Feuille du Chene - the Oakleaf Knight." 

Will turned a smile in the direction of the hall before turning away. He would congratulate Horace later, whatever ended up happening to Horace. Right now, Will needed to get out, and he needed to get out quickly. He started down the hall.

An iron grip banded around his arm, stopping him in his tracks. "What did I say about disobeying the King?" 

Will jerked, writhing around in an attempt to dislodge Halt's grip, but the Ranger's hand stayed firm and after a few seconds, Will gave up. "I'm not going in there," he said desperately. He knew that, if this were under normal circumstances, Halt would've punished him for his disobedience, but at this particular moment Will couldn't bring himself to care. 

"I said you're going in there, so you are," Halt said lowly. The danger was clear from his tone, but Will could not, would not stand there and pretend he'd been a moral, upstanding Ranger who'd done his duty and protected the Princess like he was supposed to. 

"No." 

"Would you like to repeat that again?" Halt asked.

Will swallowed nervously. The sheer command and power Halt used in that one sentence was terrifying. But Will could not give in. Everything about this - about looking the King in the eye, listening to him prattle on about Will's (fake) courage and (fake) dedication and (fake) honor - all of it was repugnant and Will would not do that. 

"I'm not going in there, Halt," Will said quietly. "I won't - I can't - stand there and pretend to be something I'm not." 

Halt's grip tightened. "One, my apprentice is not going to commit such a grave insult to the King as this. I have insulted him enough for the both of us. Two, I don't care what you think or feel about being rewarded - you deserve it. You're going in there."

"I won't do it! You'll have to drag me."

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. 

Halt turned on his heel and moved, taking Will with him. "I'll give you two options. One, I let go of your arm and you walk in there by yourself. Two, I drag you all the way up to the King. Which will it be?"

"Halt, please, I-" he looked pleadingly at his master's back, tears springing to his eyes. "I can't stand up there and look him in the eyes and act like I saved his d-daughter o-or that I was of any use to anyone a-at any point in time during our stay in Sk-Sk-Skandia. I can't do it. Please don't make me, Halt. Please." 

The Ranger's tone softened, but his grip on Will didn't. "Will, you did do something noble in Skandia. You were honorable and you did your duty. After everything you've been through, you deserve this much." He hesitated, as though he weren't sure what to say.

They were nearly at the door. The guards hadn't seen them yet, but they would soon. Distantly, Will heard the King knight Horace.

"You're my apprentice," Halt said. He said "apprentice" like it meant something more than its definition. "I didn't get myself exiled to see you walk away without being honored for what you did. Will, whatever the King says to you, you deserve every bit of it." 

They reached the door. Halt turned to him, looking straight into his eyes. "If I take my hand off your arm, will you go?" 

Horace's heavy footsteps were retreating down the walkway. Will knew that, if he wanted to escape, it was now or never. "Halt," he whispered desperately, "please." 

"Would the Ranger apprentice Will stand forward." 

"Go." Halt's steady, quiet voice was later what Will recognized as the only thing that gave him the strength to do what he did he next. 

Will squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and started up the long aisle leading up to the throne. Partway up, he tripped over someone's foot and flailed, barely managing to regain his balance. Heat flared to his cheeks but surprisingly, no one laughed. He desperately wished for Halt to be there, or at least to have his cloak - he felt vulnerable and small, all too conscious of his lack of height and the hundreds of people staring at him. 

He could feel their judgment - This is one of the people who saved Princess Cassandra?

Finally, he stood directly in front of the King. Will had never been so close to his ruler before and it caused a nervous sweat to break out all over his face. He swallowed, carefully avoiding the King's eyes. Despite what Halt said, Will still felt dirty and dishonest, standing before his King like he deserved what was about to happen. 

"Will, your Ranger Corps have their own ways and their own regulations. I've spoken to your mentor, Halt-" a low murmur of surprise broke out and Will ducked his head "-and to the Ranger Commandant, Crowley, and unfortunately it's beyond my power to rescind your period of training and declare you a fully qualified Ranger. Halt and Crowley insist that you must complete your full period of training and assessment." 

He nodded and swallowed again, biting his lip. Will had never even participated his first year assessment - Halt had told him he was qualified enough to progress to his second year. Now he'd missed his second year assessment, too. Will had missed so much of his training. Horace's natural talent and the more... limited skillset of knights meant that he could be knighted, but Will knew that his own skills would take more time. 

"However," King Duncan continued, "I can offer an alternative. It is within my power to appoint you as a lieutenant in the Royal Scouts. Your masters have agreed that you are totally qualified for such an appointment and will release you from your apprenticeship if that is your wish." 

The assembled crowd gave one unified gasp. Will stared at the King, speechless. The Royal Scouts were an elite force of light cavalry, tasked with the responsibility of training the kingdom's archers and scouting ahead of the King's army in battle. All recruits, let alone all officers, were from the ranks of the nobility - the appointment was practically the same thing as a knighthood!

But even as he mulled it over, that seed of doubt that had been planted days before began to grow. Halt said I was totally qualified for such an appointment, did he? Is he trying to get rid of me? Did he suggest it in the first place?

Will glanced to where Halt was sitting now, in his old seat next to Crowley and across from Gilan. The Commandant and Halt were both looking, eyes downcast, at the table and Will knew he'd get no advice from them. Gilan was staring at him, shocked. 

In his heart of hearts, Will knew it was not for him. On the one hand, he knew he didn't deserve it, not after everything he'd done. On the other, Will knew that nothing could compare to the Ranger life. Nothing would give him the same quiet joy and contentment as his rides with Tug, Halt and Abelard. Nothing would interest him so much as scouting and investigating fugitives and murderers and other enemies of the crown. 

But...

Will was aware of a tense, expectant silence as his reply failed to come. 

Is this Halt's way of getting rid of me? 

"Might... might I think on it, your majesty?" 

Shocked murmurs. To ask such a thing was not quite a breach of protocol, but it came close. As a Ranger's apprentice, Will could get away with more, but an action like this would be frowned upon even for him - even for Halt or Crowley. 

Duncan looked a little surprised also, but he covered it well. He gave Will a reassuring smile. "Of course. I will allow you the length of one day to think on this offer."

He turned Will around and gave him a gentle push in the Rangers' direction - precisely the way he didn't want to go. But Will was surrounded by hundreds of people, all with their attention fixed on him. He had no choice. 

As he sat back down next to Gilan, he carefully avoided everyone's gazes, picking at his food. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to endure people's endless, questions - Why didn't you do it? Or, worse, Why didn't you stay a Ranger? 

"Wow, Will, you're certainly popular," Gilan commented brightly, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth. How he could still be eating after four hours of such, Will had no idea. The only other one who still seemed to be as hungry as Gilan was, unsurprisingly, Horace. "Didn't Baron Arald try to get you to quit the Corps, too?" 

Will nodded, forcing a grin. "Yes. Apparently shooting a Kalkara with an arrow made him think I had real potential to become a knight, so he offered to let me train in the Battleschool." 

Gilan shook his head, grinning. "Were you tempted? I wouldn't have been at all. All those ghastly drills." He grimaced, taking another bite of biscuit. 

"Uh..." acutely aware of the very real possibility of Halt watching him, Will shrugged. "I mean, I thought my dad was a knight. I wanted to follow in his footsteps." 

"Your dad was a knight?" Gilan questioned, not seeing Halt's warning look until it was too late. Misunderstanding the look, he looked at Will apologetically. "Sorry. If you don't want to talk about him, that's fine." 

Will shook his head. "That's not it. I don't even remember him. He... he died fighting Wargals. He died protecting someone. He was a hero, but not a knight. Once I found that out, well," he grinned, "I've never much liked swords anyway." 

Gilan gave him an offended look. He'd taken off his sword to attend the banquet, leaving only his double knives left on his person, like the other three Rangers - except Halt, who also refused to go anywhere without his longbow. Because of that, he didn't have a sword to wave around threateningly at Will, as the apprentice was sure he would've if he had had it. "I'll have you know, Will, swords are amazing. You can bash and whack with the best of them with one."

He gave a cheery grin in Halt's direction. Will chanced looking up, only to see that Halt didn't even seem to be listening, totally lost in his own thoughts. 

Seeing this, Gilan stuffed the last bit of his biscuit into his mouth and stood, beckoning Will to follow. Wordlessly, the boy did.

Gilan kept walking until they reached another deserted hallway, similar to the one Will had found earlier. He leaned against a column and gave Will a look. "Alright, spill. I can tell you love being a Ranger. Why would you even think about leaving us - leaving it," he corrected hastily, "for that?" 

Will moved quietly to the end of the hallway and looked out, eyes carefully scanning the shadows in case someone was listening. Once he was satisfied they were alone, he turned back to Gilan. His face was tired and worn. In a voice that was low and sad and pitiful, he spoke. "Gilan, tell me honestly. Is Halt trying to get rid of me?" 

Gilan stared at him as though he'd gone crazy. "What? You think Halt spoke to the King about this because he doesn't want you as his apprentice anymore?" 

Will nodded miserably. A few days before, he had told Gilan bits and pieces of the truth of what had happened in Skandia; now everything poured out. "It's just... I'm such a mess. I-I still don't know if I would've jumped off that tower. I feel dazed and muddled all the time, like my mind is trying to move but can't. It's the warmweed, I know it. And I keep having panic attacks and-"

"Wait, hold on. You said you're having panic attacks?" Gilan glared at Will. "Are you incapable of telling us anything?" 

The apprentice stared at his hands. 

"Will." Gilan's tone went gentler as he changed tactics. "I won't deny that you're in a bad place right now, but that doesn't mean we're just going to abandon you. I care about you. Halt cares about you. Hell, even Crowley cares for you. No one messes with one of our own and gets away with it." 

Will didn't respond. Gilan gazed sadly on his young friend, wishing he knew what to say to make him better. Will had gone through so much in his young life and he wasn't even seventeen. He'd killed a Kalkara, faced Wargals and Morgarath, gotten captured by Skandians, been forced into slavery - even trained his own corps of archers and fought in a war. Will had gone through more than most full-grown men ever did, and he wasn't even a fully-fledged Ranger.

"Will, believe me. Halt would never throw you away. He's only looking out for your best interests here." 

"And he thinks I'll do better there than as a Ranger, I suppose," Will said, a tad bitterly. Gilan let out a sigh. 

"He's giving you a choice. Halt obviously wants you to choose him, but he'd never actually say that, would he? C'mon, Will, you've spent two years with the man. Would he ever actually tell you something like that?" 

Will had to admit that Halt wouldn't. Will turned a petulant look to Gilan. "If he wanted to get rid of me, would he outright tell me that, either?" 

Gilan muttered something that had the words stupid and apprentice in it. "Do you honestly think Halt would've risked death or banishment for life if he didn't care about you, Will? Do you honestly think he'd leave the service of a King he loves and a Corps and home that means everything to him for an apprentice he was planning to ditch at the first opportunity?"

"Well..." 

Gilan wasn't finished. "When he left Araluen a year ago, I'd never seen him look more desperate and determined at the same time. Crowley told me Halt actually cried when he set foot on Araluen soil again. The oakleaf we bear means more to him than almost anything. For him to have risked giving it up for the rest of his life..." 

"He went for Princess Cassandra, too," Will muttered, but it was a weak defense and they both knew it. 

"At the time, none of us knew about Ragnak's Vallasvow. We were expecting to receive a ransom note any day. But Halt knew no one would try to ransom a Ranger, especially an apprentice. Will, face it." Gilan crossed his arms. "Halt wouldn't just throw you away because you don't fit your own standards for yourself. Halt's not the kind of person to care about what you've done, and you know what? None of us Rangers are." Gilan made a face. "Okay, maybe a few. But they're assholes, so don't listen to them." 

Will smiled a little. It was uncertain and still sad, but Gilan was relieved. The boy didn't smile nearly enough anymore. "Gil, you're - you're certain about this?" 

The older man fought back a sarcastic quip. "I'm positive." Grinning, he added, "If you want, you can go ask Halt about it yourself." 

Will grimaced. "No, I couldn't do that. That's..." 

"So, you're staying with us, then?" 

Gilan sounded so hopeful, Will couldn't help but smile. "I guess so."

That night, Gilan motioned Halt silently out of his room and into the one Gilan now shared with Horace. 

"Has Will decided yet?" Halt asked, in lieu of a greeting.

Gilan nodded, grimacing. "He also said - oh, I feel bad saying this, like I'm breaking his trust or something..."

Halt raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you first tell me what Will's decided before you get into the details." 

The young Ranger grinned. "But that'd ruin all the fun!" Halt glared. "Fine. He's staying a Ranger. He's already told the King." 

Halt's jaw tightened. He was strangely hurt that Will would've told the King before telling him - and that, when Halt was finally told, it was Gilan, not Will, telling him. "I see." 

"But..." Gilan hesitated again. "Will's reasons for hesitating in the first place were... rather unorthodox." When Halt said nothing, simply motioning for him to go on, Gilan took a deep breath and continued. "The reason he hesitated was because... well, because he..." the man muttered something too quiet to make out.

"What?" 

"He thought you suggested that whole thing to the King because you wanted to get rid of him," Gilan said heavily. 

Halt went still. "Did he now."

"Yes, he did."

When Halt didn't say anything else, Gilan huffed. "That's all you're going to say? Will's sitting here, believing you'll throw him away at the first inconvenience, and you-" he stopped, mid-sentence. Halt was staring at the ground. His expression was pained.

"Halt?" Gilan asked carefully. 

Halt looked up. No matter how well he covered it, Gilan was well-versed at reading him - that had hurt Halt to hear. "What would you like me to say, Gilan?" he asked, tone carefully neutral. 

"I don't know," Gilan said miserably. "Just- it's not right. It's not right for Will to think you don't care about him, that you'd do that to him, especially after everything you've done-" Gilan broke off with a broken laugh. "Hell, you've done more for him than you've done for anyone."

"Of course it's not right," Halt said soothingly, resting a hand on Gilan's arm. Gilan bowed his head, eyes closed in grief. "Of course it's not right, Gil. These things took time to take root in his mind, and they'll take time to weed out. All is not lost. You were able to convince him, weren't you?"

Gilan conceded that. "But still, I'm not always going to be there."

"And you shouldn't be, nor should I. We'll be there when he needs us to, when he needs us. That's all." Halt gave a grim quirk of his lips. "It really is too bad that I'm not better at this sort of thing."

If it were any other time, Gilan would've made a sarcastic quip or dry remark. Instead, he just let out a soft, pained laugh. It really was too bad. "Halt... what are we going to do?" 

Gilan expected the Ranger to look him squarely in the eyes, to state in his even, commanding voice an exact, well thought out plan. But Halt did none of those things. Instead, he just sighed and looked to the door of the rooms, where, across the hall, Will slept.

"I don't know, Gilan. I just don't know." 

And somehow, out of everything Gilan had gone through, out of all the near-death experiences and traumas he'd been part of, hearing his mentor and father and friend say he didn't know what to do...

Somehow, that was the most terrifying thing of all. 

Chapter Text

The morning after the banquet, Will was practicing his archery when the Princess passed by him, then stopped. "Will."

Her tone was one he couldn't read, so he lowered his bow and turned to her expectantly, remembering after a few seconds to bow. 

She put her hands on her hips. "Why didn't you accept the offer to become an officer of the Royal Scouts? I-I thought you'd accept it..." 

Wait. It had been Cassandra who asked the King to appoint Will to the Royal Scouts? All this time, Will had thought it was Halt! So it was true then, Halt really had had nothing to do with it. He really hadn't been trying to get rid of Will.

"Your Royal Highness, you thought up that offer?" 

Cassandra rolled her eyes. "Will, drop the title, please. After all we've been through, you can at least call me by my name. And..." she looked down a little shyly. "Yes, that was me. Who'd you think it was?" 

He just shrugged. "Thank you," he said, adding a hasty Cassandra onto it and feeling relieved when a small smile appeared on her face. "But my place is with the Ranger Corps." 

Cassandra offered him a sympathetic but skeptical look. Hastily glancing around and lowering her voice, she asked, "Is hiding something that big really what you want to do for the rest of your life, Will? Rangers are... well, they're spies, for one. It's their job to be suspicious and ask questions. You'll never have a time where you can relax around them." 

Will smiled sadly. "It's a little late for secrecy. They know about the warmweed." 

Cassandra stared at him for a moment, then slapped him. "You idiot!" 

"Ow!" He rubbed his cheek. "That hurt!" 

"Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded. 

"I only told them a week ago," Will defended, "and you've been busy since then." 

"That's no excuse!" Then, pausing, she asked, quieter, "What made you decide to tell them? Weren't you against it?" 

"It wasn't really my choice," Will muttered. "Seeing as Halt probably would've strung me up and used me as target practice if I hadn't." 

"What clued them in? I haven't told them a thing," she added hastily. 

Will winced, looking away. He kept silent long enough that the Princess uttered an annoyed Will. Finally, reluctantly, he said, "Gilan and Halt found me on the battlements. They, uh, thought I was going to jump off. Halt demanded I tell him what was going on, and I knew he wouldn't be satisfied unless I told him everything." 

Cassandra's glare was probably hot enough to burn through metal at this point. "What the hell, Will? I told you to come to me if you felt like doing something stupid!" 

Sparing a thought as to how the Princess's first sentence was rather unladylike, he muttered obstinately, "It seemed like a good idea at the time." 

"Good idea my ass," Cassandra said firmly, "that could've gotten you killed! I mean... Will, did you... is that what you wanted to happen?" 

And that was something Will did not want to answer. Indeed, it was something he could not answer. He shuffled a bit and glanced around, searching for an excuse to get him out of thie conversation. Maybe that slightly misshapen-looking shadow was Gilan? Maybe that faint sound on the ground was Halt's footsteps? It honestly wouldn't even surprise him.

"Cassandra, I'm not sure if now is a good time-" 

"Do I look like I care?" Cassandra asked scathingly. "Answer me, Will!" 

With another surreptitious glance, he tried again. "Don't you think someone might be watching us? This might not be a good idea-" 

"Answer me. Now." 

Grumbling, Will gave a weary sigh. These days, he felt like he'd exposed far too much of his broken, rotting interior. He hated feeling exposed, vulnerable, fragile. He hated it, but with Halt's searching, pointed questions and Gilan's quiet guilt, they were all feelings he was intimately acquainted with. Wearily, he answered, "Yes, Evanlyn. I wanted to die. I don't know if I would've jumped, but I wanted to." 

She pressed, "And what about now? Do you still want to?" 

Everything inside Will rebelled at the thought of having to answer. But, he thought wryly, if I don't answer her, she'll probably follow me all the way to Redmont. I'll never be rid of her. The thought of lying occurred to him, but he shoved it away. He was sick of lying. 

"Yes," he snapped. "Yes, I want to die. Right now. If we were standing on a tower, I'd be tempted to jump. Happy?" 

"Will," she started, but he interrupted. Now that he'd started, he wanted to finish. 

"I'm broken, Evanlyn! Is that what you want to hear? Or maybe that I have panic attacks daily or that I'd have nightmares if I didn't drug myself? Does hearing about how screwed up I am help you out, or are you just some sick human being?" 

For a long moment after his outburst, they just stared at each other. In vague horror, Will realized two things: one, what he'd just said, and two, that the Princess's eyes were filling with tears. 

"Eva- Cassandra, I'm so sorry," he said, mortified by his behavior. "I don't know what came over me. I-I swear I don't think of you like that, I'm just so..." he stopped. He wouldn't go around making excuses. "I'm so sorry," he said again. 

She nodded, but her eyes still looked a little hurt. "Never mind that, though. I just want to know one thing. Are you getting better?" 

Stunned at her selflessness, he could only look at her for a second. "I'm processing better, I guess. Other than that, though, not really. What about you?" 

Cassandra shook her head, a wry, sad smile tilting the corners of her lips up. "I have nightmares every night. The palace doctor keeps trying to get me to take sleeping draughts, but I refuse them. Now that I'm home, I'm starting to get panic attacks, too. They're not fun." 

"No, they're not," Will agreed. For a few seconds, no one said anything.

"Will, are you... are you leaving tomorrow? With Halt?" 

He hesitated. But there was no way around it, so he nodded. 

"Oh." She looked down, troubled. "I-I guess we should say goodbye now, then. You Rangers love getting up at the crack of dawn, after all." The joke was weak, but Will managed a smile anyway. 

"Goodbye, Cassandra." 

"Goodbye, Will." 

They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. In Cassandra's eyes, Will saw everything they could've been to each other. In Will's, she saw everything they had been. 

And both understood that this was their real goodbye. For what Ranger could court a Princess? 

They embraced, holding each other for much longer than would have been deemed proper for a Princess and subject or even for two friends. When they pulled away, both pretended the other's eyes weren't damp and glassy. 

"Goodbye," Cassandra whispered again. Her voice cracked. 

Will just nodded and turned away. A single tear slid down his cheek. 

The next few days passed in a blur. Gilan, Halt, and Will set out at dawn the next morning, Crowley the only one awake to see them off. The three of them traveled together for some time before Gilan at last had to separate from them to go back to his own fief. The parting was almost as painful for Will as the one between Cassandra and he, with the apprentice barely managing to hold back his tears. 

Gilan, for his part, promised to pay them a visit in a few weeks, to, in his words, check to make sure Will hadn't forgotten everything Gilan had taught him. But no matter how many assurances the young Ranger made, Will still felt a deep hollowness in his chest the farther apart the three of them got. 

Halt, instantly ascertaining what was going on, forced Will to tell him everything about their surroundings, from random tracks to the time of day. By sundown, Will had ended up having to tell Halt how many rabbits had crossed their path in the last day, what the time of day was in increments of a half-hour, exactly what he'd do if they were to run across a group of bandits, and the political state of every region of Hibernia (the grizzled Ranger seemed obsessed with the place). The last one, of course, he had no clue about, claiming as his excuse the fact he'd been in Skandia for a year. Halt told him that was absolutely no excuse and gave him a two-hour lecture on it. 

By the time Halt finally decided to make camp, Will was ready to curl up on the ground and fall asleep. One look at his master, however, assured him that that wasn't a possibility in the near future. 

"Gilan's been teaching you about our double-knife defense technique," Halt told him. "I've no doubt he was a competent teacher in that, but I'm also certain he neglected to teach you anything of combat without any weapons. I know I've taught you a little of this, but," he gave Will a wry look, "I doubt you remember any of it." 

Will looked away. 

Halt's mouth tightened. He'd been expecting the boy to reply with a grin and a good-humored remark, but Halt had to continually remind himself that Will wasn't like that anymore. 

"Well, come at me."

Will hesitated. Growing impatient, Halt spread his arms out and repeated his previous sentence, this time adding, "Get on with it!" 

Galvanized into action, Will lunged, directing an undercut that Halt dodged with, in Will's mind, far too much ease. He expected Halt to make some comment about Will's slowness, or something to that effect, but the Ranger just retaliated.

It continued like that for some time; Will would ineffectually attempt to land a blow on Halt, then the Ranger would respond with a swift, retaliatory blow of his own, most of which Will didn't manage to dodge. Will was knocked down more times than he cared to count, but as Halt remained silent except to mention a correction, Will didn't dare quit. 

Finally, Halt held up his hands. "That's enough," he said. "I suppose that wasn't bad, seeing as you haven't been able to practice for over a year." He nodded as if to himself and turned to Abelard, rummaging through his pack. "We won't do anything else today. Would you mind making a fire?" 

Knowing Halt really meant Make dinner for us, Will nodded obligingly and went to kindle a fire. They'd shot a brace of rabbits earlier, so Will didn't have to hunt for anything. Not really feeling like making a stew, he simply skinned the animals, put them on a stick, and set them to roast. If Halt didn't want to eat roasted meat, well, he could make a stew himself. 

As the two sat down to eat their meal, Will suddenly felt a sense of foreboding. He hadn't been alone with Halt for this long since before Skandia, and the last time he'd been alone with Halt for any length of time, Will had ended up telling his master about the warmweed. With a flash of horror, Will realized he'd completely forgotten to add in the tiny little fact that he had been whipped as a slave, mostly for - before the warmweed, anyway - standing up for the other slaves. The scars that had happened after the warmweed, even he didn't know how they'd happened.

Will hid a grimace. He actually hadn't forgotten, so much as hadn't wanted to tell Halt. But that was a foolish move on his part; Halt had been far more upset than Will had been expecting. Will knew he would never again get a better chance to tell his mentor about that than he'd already gotten. Now, Halt was more likely to whip Will himself than to accept Will's tale and never speak of it again. 

Will fought another grimace. Halt's punishments were, apparently, legendary among the Ranger Corps. As Halt's apprentice of technically three years, Will was well-acquainted with them. Halt had an ingenious mind for punishment, but he'd still stoop to the corporal side of things occasionally. When Will had told Baron Arald of Halt's threat to tan Will's backside, that hadn't exactly been an unheard of thing for Halt to threaten, even though he'd only done so a handful of times. Those handful of times had been memorable, though. Will had always been mischievous, and although he had a sneaking suspicion that Halt liked pranking other people, the grim Ranger was not at all pleased to be the subject of such things. And, well, there were only so many people to prank in the middle of the woods. 

Whereas before Skandia, the thought of being subject to something like whipping or even being hit with the intent to punish wouldn't have made Will bat an eye, now it generated nausea. Every time Will considered it, it only brought back ice-hot pain or the thought of a particularly cruel overseer's sadistic laugh as he beat Will. One especially vicious scar slicing down the length of his spine ached with the memory. 

Halt was nothing like the Skandian overseers. Will knew that. He also knew that Halt would never hurt him as badly as even the laxest overseer. Halt had never even broken Will's skin, after all. But... Will still had a feeling something very, very bad would happen if Halt ever hit him. 

Still, thinking about it would hardly help matters. If Halt hit him, Halt hit him. There wasn't anything Will could do except pray he wouldn't fall to pieces when that happened. So the boy cleaned up his dinner and curled into a ball, facing away from Halt as the Ranger took up position to start the first watch. 

The next few days passed in much the same way: riding from dawn till sundown, dismounting hourly to run beside their horses in the way that Rangers did when on a march. It was a routine none of the Corps much liked, but it saved their horses, and Will hated having to ask more of Tug than he could give. Halt continued training Will, asking him things like the best strategic positioning for cavalry in the forest; on a hill; on a plain surrounded by the enemy. Will's head started hurting more with every scenario his teacher forced him to process. Obviously, the warmweed still hadn't worn off yet. 

The more likely option was that Will simply wasn't used to thinking that way again after a year of laxity, but Will was rather too fond of blaming everything on the warmweed. Even he knew it wasn't his fault he was enslaved, but there would always be a time when he'd blame himself for getting addicted. 

At sundown, they would find a campsite and Halt would instruct Will on something - usually hand-to-hand combat, since he'd found Will was incredibly rusty and was a firm believer in being able to defend yourself always. Will's archery and knife-throwing skills were acceptable, and even though he still had Will shoot most of their food, Halt didn't make him practice that in the evenings. A week's reprieve wouldn't hurt him much.

One thing Halt couldn't practice with Will, however, was the double knife defense. Since, unlike Gilan, Halt had no sword, it was impossible to practice the moves Gilan had drilled into Will's head. Halt's saxe knife was heavy and finely made, but it could not compare with a sword; that was precisely why the double knife defense had been made to start with. 

"We'll have you practice with the second year Battleschool cadets at Redmont," Halt told him. "They should at least know which end of their sword is which. In the meantime, let's see how much Gilan's taught you of unseen movement." 

Will floundered for a moment, unsure of what that was supposed to mean. Halt sighed. "You have two minutes. Go." 

Two minutes? Gilan gave me five! But knowing that any protests would be a waste of valuable time, Will ran off, darting into the underbrush.

Will's first instinct was to climb, remembering from years before how rarely most people ever looked up... but Halt was hardly most people. He was a trained Ranger and he knew Will and his climbing skills. That meant that the Ranger would expect him to climb, which meant that climbing was out of the picture. Will had to do something Halt didn't expect.

He looked around, aware that he'd spent a minute already and hadn't much time left. His gaze fell on a patch of sunlight filtering in through a thick canopy of leaves and he remembered Gilan's words to him. Hide in plain sight, the young Ranger had told him. People never look where they're certain you won't be. Although Will once more had his doubts about Halt conforming to the same practices as the infamous 'people,' Will had been trained to remain stock-still for hours on end. He was confident he could pull it off. 

Will ran to a tree, making sure his footprints led straight to the trunk, and jumped lithely onto a nearby rock. He paused for a second, not knowing where else to jump, before leaping to another rock. In that way he made his way across the clearing until he reached the light-and-shadow filled area. In one economical motion he pulled his hood over his head and stilled. 

He couldn't hear Halt coming, but that meant nothing. When he slowly swept his gaze from side to side, he couldn't see anything, either; again, that meant nothing. At ground level in the forest, Will's vision was limited to only a few meters in radius. The Ranger could be within eyesight of the clearing or he could be all the way on the other side of the forest. Will had absolutely no idea.

Another few minutes passed. Finally, Will heard the faintest sound, imperceptible to someone who wasn't used to a forest's sounds. Will was, and he knew that the sound - the quiet crackle of a branch bending backwards - was Halt. Will was already motionless, so he had nothing left to do but wait, moving only his eyes as he tried to figure out where Halt was coming from. 

Too late, he realized the direction the sound had come from. He instinctively wanted to turn around to look behind him - where, perhaps even now, Halt was moving - but refrained. Sudden movement, he'd known since his first year with Halt, was the surest giveaway possible. Will would just have to hope that Halt hadn't spotted him. In any case, he refused to give himself away. 

There was a flicker of movement out of the corner of Will's eye. He strained his peripheral vision towards it, wishing he could move his head but not daring. Halt was as good as Gilan was: more experienced, but less talented. In a few year's time, the former apprentice would surpass the master, but right now, they were equal. 

Halt was a shimmering shadow, identifiable by his shape alone. He moved with even steps, only moving what was absolutely necessary to keep his stride measured. It was nearly impossible to track him. Unfortunately, the Ranger didn't immediately follow Will's tracks like he'd hoped, first scouring the clearing. For a moment, his eyes passed right over Will, and Will had to fight the urge to tense up. But Halt didn't even pause in his once-over. Will knew well that a Ranger, when motionless, could be virtually impossible to spot. When one factored in the strange, mottled pattern of the shadows Will stood in, it was no wonder that Halt had not spotted him. 

Halt's gaze turned finally to Will's tracks. His expression was impossible to read, so Will had no idea if Halt thought it probable that Will had scaled the tree. In any case, the Ranger turned his back on his hidden apprentice a moment later, meaning Will now had no hope of knowing what Halt was thinking. The Ranger stepped closer to the tree, head tilting up a fraction. Will knew it was now or never. 

He started towards Halt, stopping whenever he came across a good hiding spot in case Halt should suspect something and turn around suddenly. It took longer that way, but Will knew it was worth it if he didn't get caught. And indeed, Halt definitely seemed to be taking his time looking at the tracks.  

When he was close enough to his master to make out the mottling of his cloak in detail, Will jumped. Halt twisted, impossibly swift, and dodged. Caught off guard and off balance, Will fell, restrained only by Halt's grip on his collar.

"Not bad," the Ranger conceded with a slight nod. He released Will's cloak and let the boy scramble to right himself again. 

"You knew I was behind you?" Will asked, crestfallen. When his master simply nodded again, he pushed through a surge of self-loathing to ask, "How?" 

"You went quiet sooner than I'd have expected," Halt said. "If you were really climbing a tree like your tracks suggested, it would've taken you longer to reach a sufficient height to hide from me. Even as fast a climber as you are, I would've been able to get close enough to hear you with only a two minute head-start. Also." He tipped his head towards one set of footprints near the middle of the clearing. "What do you see?" 

Will hesitated. Slowly, carefully taking the questioning tone out of his voice, he said, "It looks a little deeper than the others." 

"Which means?" 

Will looked down, shame-faced. "I stood there for awhile, thinking." 

Halt nodded. "And what about the ones leading to the tree?" 

More and more ashamed by the second, Will mumbled, "They're deeper, too." At Halt's expectant look, he continued on, even quieter, "I wanted to make sure you saw them." 

"It was a dead giveaway," Halt told him. "Of course I would've seen the tracks; the ground is soft enough that tracking isn't difficult at all. When I saw your footprints suddenly become much clearer and more defined, it meant you were either throwing a tantrum, or you wanted to make sure I was following you." A hint of smile ghosted across Halt's face. "I didn't really think it was the first. That left two options: either you were in the clearing still, waiting to surprise me, or you'd somehow managed to get all the way back without a trace."

"How'd you know it wasn't the second one?" 

Halt gave him a look. "I circled all the way around the clearing, knowing you'd gone in there and wanting to see if you'd gone back out first. Even if you were avoiding making tracks as best you could, it's impossible to go even a short distance without landing on the ground once. I didn't see a single footprint, so I knew you must still be in there. Which left only one more scenario." 

"Oh," Will said, feeling remarkably stupid. He ducked his head, willing away the hot, angry tears that sprung to his eyes unbidden. Of course you couldn't fool Halt, he thought bitterly. How could you even think you could?

"Don't be too hard on yourself." Halt's tone was unexpectedly gentle as he stepped closer to Will and put a hand on his shoulder. "It was a good idea. You would've fooled most anyone, maybe even trained trackers." 

"But not everyone," Will muttered, unable to look up. "I shouldn't have even tried." 

"I don't believe you really had a choice in the matter," Halt said rather mildly. "And after all, practice makes perfect. You need to learn what you did wrong before you can do something right."

Will nodded mutely. Without another word, the two of them started back towards the campsite. 

Chapter Text

As the bright, searing light of midday washed down on them, Will and Halt rounded the final bend that brought them to the longed-for sight of Redmont. 

"We're home," Will whispered, as if to himself. "We're almost home." 

Redmont Castle had never looked so welcoming. He turned to Halt and managed a small, genuine smile that the Ranger returned. Tug and Abelard, obviously feeling the relief of their riders, tossed their heads a bit and nickered to each other, carrying on a private conversation only the two of them understood. Without needing urging from their riders, they set off towards Redmont at a gentle lope.

"Are we going to see Baron Arald?" Will asked.

Halt nodded. "The King's already been given the official report. Although Arald probably expects us to give him a report as well, at this point it's only a formality. It's not necessary for him to know anything except what's already known; Princess Cassandra is back, and so are we." Halt grimaced slightly. "However, I've not yet been reinstated into a fief. Which means we should probably pay him a visit." 

Will's heart sank. After being away from Redmont for over a year, what would people think of him? He certainly didn't want anyone to know about his enslavement, but the thought that he'd be undeservingly hailed as a hero was enough to turn his stomach. And Alyss...

Will still didn't know what he felt about Alyss. 

Over the past year, the only thing he'd thought of was survival, and occasionally, Cassandra. Will acknowledged that there had been something between he and the Princess. But he was a Ranger - a peasant Ranger. His status was as far beneath the Princess' as to make even the thought of courting her laughable. At the same time, Will could admit that he still cared for Cassandra, more than he should have. 

And anyway, he and Alyss had only kissed once, and that was two years ago. In the year he'd been away, Will was certain that she had gotten over him, and that was if Alyss had even liked him that much in the first place. 

And, he couldn't help but think, once she finds out about what's happened, it'll be ruined forever. He would've liked to think if, but he wouldn't insult Alyss like that. She was a diplomat, used to knowing and keeping secrets. If Halt didn't tell her, she'd probably figure something was off on her own and interrogate Will about it herself. At that point, Will knew the only way to keep her from finding out was simply to keep her away. 

By the time Will pulled his thoughts back to reality, they were already riding through the courtyard. The guards hailed them with much enthusiasm - more for Halt than for Will, he noted with relief, wishing he could just fade into the background and become invisible. Once they dismounted, they were surrounded by the castle staff. They wanted to know everything: about Skandia, about if Horace had really been knighted as a second year cadet, about if the Princess had really become a slave, about if-

Will shut them out. 

Halt, grim-faced as ever, rather rudely shoved through the forming crowd. Will followed, shooting apologetic looks and murmuring apologies in an attempt to make up for his master. Once they were inside, the two seamlessly moved into the shadows, their common desire not to be questioned or followed rendering them united. They made themselves known to the guards outside the Baron's study (much to the guards' surprise and Will and Halt's shared amusement) and were let in promptly. 

"Halt!" the Baron cried, upon seeing them. "And Will, my boy! How long has it been? A year, surely?" 

"Fourteen and a half for Will, thirteen for me," Halt said steadily, almost coolly. Will wondered for a second that Halt knew the exact amount of time, then tossed the thought away. It was Halt. Of course he would know.

Arald shifted a trifle awkwardly. "Oh, yes."

There were a few seconds' silence. Then Halt nodded several times. "As I have now been restored to my former status as a Ranger, I would like to ask to be reinstated here at Redmont fief." 

Arald's eyes widened. He started laughing, an action that made Halt's eyes narrow a little, and said, "God's sakes, man! You don't even have to ask. Of course I want you back. Gilan's an accomplished Ranger now, but he's not as good as you. You're the greatest Ranger in the Corps, past, present, or future."

"I wouldn't go that far," Halt said mildly, "but I do get the job done." 

Arald grinned at him broadly. "Still as modest as ever, I see. Well, welcome back Halt, and you, Will. It'll be nice to have you two back. Lady Pauline and Alyss have been quite out of sorts ever since you two left." 

"Lady Pauline?" Halt questioned, raising his eyebrows. "Out of sorts, you say?" 

Arald nodded. "Just little things here and there, usually when someone mentioned you." He grinned at the Ranger, who did not look in the least bit amused. "And young Alyss has been rather antsy as well once your return was made known." 

Will nodded vaguely at the knowing look the Baron sent his way. He just wanted to ride back to Halt's cabin - he just wanted to be back home. There was the first place he'd truly called home. The ward had been a good place to live, but it was nothing like the sheer sense of comfort and belonging he had from staying with Halt.

Even if he did have to do all the chores. 

"Well," the Baron said, obviously sensing their longing to get away, "I won't keep you any further. I'll send a courier over tomorrow to bring you all of the past year's reports." 

Halt muttered something under his breath that sounded oddly like Damn paperwork. The next moment, he was gone, Will right behind him.

The Baron watched the door shut soundlessly. "I'll never get used to that," he said to himself. 

The two Rangers passed silently through the castle again and remounted their horses, taking off in a mild canter towards their final destination. 

The last leg of their journey was, in Will's opinion, the longest. Even though Halt's cabin was hardly that far away from the castle, it felt like torture. He didn't realize he was impatiently bouncing in his saddle until Tug turned his head around and gave Will a look that told him to kindly stop doing so or he'd find himself headfirst in a mound of dirt. With that said, Will ceased all movement possible. 

Once the house was in sight, however, Will could restrain himself no longer. He urged Tug into a gallop, leaping off his horse the moment they reached the yard. Fourteen months, and he was finally, finally home. 

"Halt," he found himself saying, turning his blurred vision to his mentor, who was calmly dismounting Abelard a little distance away. "Halt, we're home." 

Without waiting for the Ranger to respond, he ran, straight into Halt's waiting arms. Halt's grip tightened around Will, one hand stroking the boy's hair, and Will, torn between tears and laughter, hugged him back just as tightly, mumbling words he would later be unable to remember. 

But Halt, a tiny flicker of a smile on his face, would know that Will was only saying I missed this so much and We're home over and over again. 

After about a minute, Tug nuzzled Will. Suddenly embarrassed, he pulled away and lifted an awkward gaze to Halt. "I'm sorry-" 

"I'm glad we're home too, Will," Halt said quietly. 

The two Rangers, master and apprentice, tended to their horses and walked back into the house side by side. The initial burst of happiness Will had felt began to fade to contentment, but it was one he could see was equal to Halt's own. 

Once they set foot through the door, Halt took one look around and then raised an eyebrow at Will. "Look at all that dust," he said conversationally. "Looks like you'll have to clean it up, won't you?" 

Will groaned. 

After two weeks back at Redmont, things went sideways.

In Halt's eyes, training had been going well. Halt had told Will about the plan for him to have his second year assessment at the Gathering, and Will had accepted, looking relieved.

Although he'd never tell Will, Halt was convinced that Will's archery and knife skills were good enough to get him through third year assessment, let alone the second year assessment. Gilan's one month tutoring session in unseen movement had helped bring Will's skill up to a second-year's. Halt felt confident that, in the remaining few months they had, he would be able to teach Will the rest of what he needed to know in terms of administrative and strategic skills. He just needed to push Will as hard as he could.

However, that was Halt's point of view. 

For Will, things were very different. Every day was a renewal of Sisyphus' torment - a never-ending climb, only to fail every day. The new, sporadic but no less damaging self-loathing he had to deal with was crippling. Will had doubted himself before, of course, but it had never been this bad. It would hit him randomly - sometimes after a failed shot, sometimes during a botched strategy exercise or even in a combat session with Halt.

Most often, however, it would hit at night. In the minutes between taking Erak's sleeping draught and falling asleep, he'd attack every failed action, every wrong word he'd made that day. The critical light he viewed himself in would accept nothing less than perfection, and Will, damaged, tired, and empty, was about as far away from perfection as it got. Sometimes, even despite Gilan's words at Castle Araluen and Halt's actions that really could not be taken in any other way than that Halt cared for Will, he still wondered. 

Over the past few days, his brain had managed to find a new way to torment him, a way that got around Halt's banishment and exile and was exacerbated by the Ranger's harsh and exacting training. Halt had cared for him. It was impossible to dispute that the man who'd purposely set himself up for possible death and, at the very least, lifelong banishment in order to save his apprentice hadn't cared for his apprentice. 

But... Will knew he wasn't the same anymore. And soon, the new thought came, What if Halt can't accept how much I've changed? 

Certainly, the Ranger didn't act much differently. But it was the little things - a harsh word after Will made a mistake, or Halt's sudden silences after Will said something he wouldn't have before Skandia - that worried Will. It made sense, too. Old Will had been cheerful, friendly, and personable. He'd been brave, resourceful, and loyal. Present Will was quiet, withdrawn, depressed, and fragile. He felt echoes of his former self rise occasionally, but they were few and far between. 

And so, as Will sat in his bed, he stared at the ceiling and doubted. Will had always heard the phrase Love your neighbor as yourself. Will reckoned it meant he was supposed to love himself, but he couldn't find the wherewithal to do anything except hate. If he couldn't find a way to love his present self, then how the hell was Halt supposed to?

What Will didn't know was Halt's harsh words stemmed merely from dealing with the unpleasantness of the piles of paperwork he'd been working through in order to catch up. And Will certainly didn't know that Halt's sudden silences were only his sadness and guilt over seeing Will in pain. But Halt, busy as he was, worried as he was for Will's assessment, only knew that Will seemed to be stable for now. And Will, burdened with trauma and depression and overwhelming guilt, was completely oblivious to the fact that Halt cared for him just as much as he always had. 

After two weeks, everything came to a head when Will came to the horrifying realization that he was nearly out of sleeping medicine. Will had two night's supply left and no conceivable way to get any more. Although Will was clueless to the true nature of Halt's actions, he wasn't a fool. His nightmares wouldn't just disappear; if anything, after having suppressed them for so long, they'd be worse than ever. He couldn't bear them again, and he couldn't bear Halt seeing them. That, most likely, would be the final straw for his mentor.

Will could only think of one place that would have sleeping medicine: the castle infirmary. But that would mean having to think up some idea to go into town in the first place. He thought for a moment, slowly pacing around his bedroom, when a sudden burst of clarity came to him and he remembered what day it was to be, two days' hence. 

"Halt," he called, directing his voice to the wall. It was possible the Ranger was asleep by now, but even if he were, Will knew the Ranger was a light enough sleeper as to be instantly awake. 

"Unless it's an emergency," a tired, grumpy voice replied, "I don't want to know." 

"It's my birthday in two days." 

A pause. "You want to see your friends, do you?" 

That hadn't been Will's plan at all, but he knew that saying no would only raise Halt's suspicions. Which meant he'd have to see Alyss. Well, as long as he got his medicine, Will could do it. After all, it wasn't like seeing Alyss was a hardship. It was simply what she might find out and how she might view Will once she did. He would have to be careful, that's all.

"Do you think they'll be free?" 

"I have no idea," Halt said, sounding even grumpier. "Do I look like a seer?" 

Will wisely kept silent. This, at least, Will knew was not because of him. Halt had always been known to get angry when woken up in the middle of the night - but then again, who wouldn't be? 

Halt sighed, loud enough Will could make it out even through the wall. "We'll find out tomorrow. Or today, rather, seeing how it's probably past midnight by now. Go to sleep, Will." 

The apprentice knew better than to argue. "G'night, Halt." 

"Goodnight." 

In moments, Will felt the sleeping drug kick in, and he was fast asleep within the next minute. He remembered nothing else until his door opened at sunrise and Halt's voice told him to wake up. He scrambled out of bed and hastily dressed, running a hand through his awful bedhead and stumbling to the table where Halt had breakfast made already.

Although Will half expected Halt to refuse him coffee as he sat down and reached for it, the Ranger didn't, offering him a cup with a grim look that said You're lucky this time. Try that again and you won't be so fortunate next time. The two silently began their breakfast, Will fluctuating between wanting to ask Halt about going to town and not wanting to anger his master. After several minutes of Will stealing glances at Halt and opening his mouth, only to shut it and look away, Halt sighed, sounding put out.

"If you can get all your chores done before noon, we'll leave for Castle Redmont." 

Despite the happiness that should've brought him, Will looked at his mentor a little distrustfully. That was too easy. Now that they'd been back two weeks, chores only took around an hour or two to do, depending on the day. Beating the rugs took awhile, but Will had just done that yesterday; he wouldn't need to for another week. 

Halt, apparently seeing the look on Will's face, continued with something almost like satisfaction, "And once you've gone through all of your archery and knife drills, tracked that fox we saw two days ago, and given me a compelling argument for how to deal with," he motioned to a paper sitting next to his plate, "this report right here." 

Will's distrust morphed into horror. "That's impossible! Halt-" he clamped his jaw shut. If he protested, Halt would simply add more on. He'd learned that the hard way.

Halt raised an eyebrow, gave him a That's what I thought look, and motioned at the door. "Well, best get started," he said mildly. 

Will abandoned his half-finished breakfast and sprinted out the door, frantic to complete his chores as quickly as possible. All of his archery and knife drills! Those drills were designed to occupy the better part of the day. Halt had only added more exercises to the total drill - the most basic ones were still there, and none of them could be rushed. There was no way he could get through them in less than three hours.  

He glanced up at the sun on the way over to the woodpile. It was about 6:30 right now. If he took two hours on chores and three on the drills, that'd take him to 11:30, which left him only a half-hour to track down that fox. Will had seen glimpses of it throughout the past few days, but tracking was not a quick task.

Will gripped the axe. Alright, let's make that an hour on chores. 

An hour later, as he traipsed to the archery range, he belatedly remembered the last thing Halt had told him to do and groaned, hitting his head against a tree. Who knew what was in that report? It could be anything from a serial killer terrorizing the villagers to a simple drunken brawl. Will had no idea how long it'd take him to plan out a strategy for that. Halt seemed to find great delight in pointing out every possible error and fault in Will's plans. Will wasn't going to be able to do this, was he?

He grimly surveyed the targets and lay down on the ground, rolling to his side and readying his bow for the first exercise. 

Will glanced up at the sky, panting. It's almost noon. I have to hope that whatever Halt's report is about, it's not hard. If it is, I'm screwed. As he rounded the bend and jogged up to the porch, Halt walked through the door, paper in hand. 

"You took longer than I expected," was the Ranger's only comment as he sat down in a chair and motioned Will to do the same. Heaving for air, Will obeyed. "You found the fox, I gather?"

Gasping for breath, Will held up the fox, an arrow stuck neatly through one eye. This particular fox had been reported to be terrorizing several nearby farms' chickens; in killing it, Will had done the people of Redmont a service.

Halt nodded in satisfaction. He motioned to the report in front of him. "This report is about a missing horse stolen by bandits. What would you do?" 

Taken aback, Will stared at his mentor. A missing horse? Is that even worthy of a Ranger's attention? 

"A... missing horse?" Too late, he realized what he'd done. 

Halt raised his eyes to Heaven. "I asked you a question. Don't answer me back with one. Come on, Will, use your brain. It can't be that slow."

That wasn't something the Ranger would've used to say to Will, surely. Will blinked perhaps a little more than necessary and nodded, wracking his brain for a response. He would've liked to argue with Halt that a missing horse was hardly Ranger business, but Will was running out of time.  

"I'd track the bandits down and apprehend them." 

A sigh. "And how, exactly, would you do that?" 

Will faltered. "Well, I'd ask the owner where the horse was seen last and track it-"

"And what if there is more than one set of horse tracks there?" 

"Then I'd match the description of the bandits, especially their numbers, with the tracks and see which tracks fit the ones I'm looking for. After I find them, if there's more than a half-dozen, I'll call for backup from the Watch; if not, I'll give them the option to surrender. If they don't, I'll do whatever is necessary for the retrieval of the horse."

"What if they already sold the horse?" Halt broke in. Will blanched. He hadn't thought of that. 

"I'd tell the new owners that they got the new horse illegally."

"But they paid for it." 

"They paid for it from thieves!" 

Halt shrugged. "They still bought it with their own money. It's very hard to convince people to give up something they paid for." 

Will groaned. "I'd threaten them?"

Halt raised an eyebrow. "You. Threaten them."

Will scowled upwards. "I have the law on my side. If they refuse, I'll just bring in the Watch."

"Well," Halt said, "I suppose that's one way to deal with it."

Glancing up at the sky again, Will asked, "Now can we go? I've done everything you asked." 

Halt stood and folded the report up. "Impatient, aren't we?" 

"I've waited all morning," Will pleaded, standing up as well and hopping from one foot to the next in a show of impatience much like his old self. For a second, he thought he saw a pleased, almost happy gleam in Halt's eyes, but Will decided he was seeing things. 

"Go and saddle Tug. I'll put this report up." 

Chapter Text

It took all of thirty minutes for master and apprentice to reach Redmont Castle. The sun had reached nigh-sweltering heat and Will grimaced uncomfortably, unused to feeling hot or even warm. He shifted uneasily, hating the sweat trickling down his forehead. If Halt noticed, he said nothing. 

As they rode through the gates, they had nearly a half-dozen greetings within a minute. "They're certainly happy to see us back, aren't they," Halt muttered as one of the guards called a Good to have you back, Ranger!

"Happy to see you back," Will corrected with a grin. Halt's eyes flicked over. The grin was forced. "I don't think they really care that I'm back." 

"You don't think?" Halt repeated questioningly. "You're an apprentice. You're not ready to think."

Will huffed, somewhere between a groan and a laugh, but stayed silent. Halt had hoped he'd be able to distract his apprentice with a little good-natured ribbing, but it was not to be. Halt had never had issues like these, so he really didn't know what to say to make it better.

Crowley would, he thought with an inward sigh. He'd know exactly how to make Will feel better. 

They pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted. Halt turned to Will. "I'll talk to Lady Pauline and Scribemaster Nigel. You can go to Master Chubb." 

Will gave Halt a pleading look. "Oh, please Halt, can't you talk to them all? I don't want to get hit with Master Chubb's ladle again..." 

"If I'm talking to all of them, then what are you going to do?" 

"Uh..." he frantically searched around for a good excuse and gave Halt a huge grin. "Climb the Baron's tower." 

"You'd better not," Halt said. "I'd hope that you wouldn't have forgotten the punishment I promised you if you ever tried that stunt again." 

Will fought down a flinch. "Just joking, Halt," he mumbled, shuffling his feet. "I haven't been here for a while. Want to revisit all my favorite places and such."

Halt looked rather unconvinced, so Will added, "After all, if we ever have to defend this castle from invaders, it'll be easier if I know it better." 

With a sigh, Halt gave in. "Fine. If you're not back here in an hour, I'll go looking for you myself." 

Will nodded obediently and set off in the opposite direction of the infirmary. An hour was plenty of time to sneak in and get the medicine, and if he set off straight for that part of the castle in the first place, Halt might become suspicious. In the meantime, he did just what he'd told Halt he would; he climbed his old favorite tree, listening to the gentle chirping of insects and feeling a warm breeze against his face, so foreign to the chill and silence of Skandia. 

Sometimes, despite the warmth of Araluen's early fall, Will still felt unbearably cold. He knew it was partially from malnutrition, partially from trauma. The malnutrition part, at least, Will was beginning to fix. The month at Castle Araluen had helped a lot, but now that they were back at Redmont, Will could feel himself weakening again. Halt had never been all that big on food, stating that a big meal could slow you down before a mission. Will generally only got two meals a day. It was fairly normal for peasants to eat even less, so Will had never complained.

And although that would've been just fine for old Will, present Will had already experienced many of malnutrition's debilitating symptoms. Will wondered if he might've filled out a little over the past year, had he been fed correctly. Instead, he'd been maltreated and fed barely enough to keep him alive. He was all too accustomed to the constant fatigue, dizziness and trembling that came from starvation, and he knew two meals a day wouldn't be enough to stave them off. Will needed three meals, three much bigger ones than he'd been getting. But he was all too aware of how Halt had been speaking to him lately and was all too unaware of the cause. Will would much rather live with his symptoms than become a burden to Halt. 

Will was no longer wracked with chills like he had been in Skandia, thank God, but he was weak and cold and tired. He could see the faint indentation of each of his ribs whenever he peeked underneath his shirt, and it disturbed him enough that he decided never to look at his bare torso if at all possible. Seeing the multitude of whip-scars across his back was bad enough. Will didn't want to have to see the evidence of his starvation as well. 

He glanced up at the sky. The sun had moved, indicating he'd spent more than a half-hour there. Will scrambled down the tree, fading into the shadows as he moved towards the infirmary. 

Over the years, Will had gotten into enough scrapes with Horace and been injured enough times during his apprenticeship that he'd become fairly familiar with the layout of the infirmary. Small lamps and a few small windows were the only sources of light for the expansive room, and the four healers seemed occupied enough that Will knew he could slip past them easily. He did, walking easily past them to where the medicine was kept. 

He knelt down in front of the arrangement of cabinets and shelves and glanced over his shoulder. No one had noticed him, and he was far enough removed that any sound he made would be hard to hear. So Will gently, quietly worked the cabinet doors open and peered inside. Each one was labeled legibly enough, so Will sifted through them, looking for anything that had to do with relaxation or sleep. But then his fingers landed on one jar and he froze, disbelieving eyes scanning the label again. And again. 

Warmweed Poultice - Painkiller

Will nearly dropped the jar. He sucked in a panicked breath and backed away from the cabinet, forgetting himself in his terror and falling over backwards. Alarmed voices flooded his consciousness and seconds, minutes, hours later a concerned face was in front of his. 

"...wrong? Ranger?" 

Ranger? He looked around. Halt wasn't there. The voice repeated its question and Will realized it was talking about him.

"Not a Ranger. Just an apprentice." 

A warm, gentle hand landed on his shoulder. He flinched. He heard instructions to breathe and forced himself to comply. 

"Young man." Will had pulled out of his panic sufficiently enough to realize it was a woman talking; worse, that it was one of the female healers talking. "Why were you looking at our medicine?" 

"I wasn't stealing!" Will said quickly, breathing quickening again. "I was going to leave money behind for it, I promise!" 

"I believe you," she said, surprisingly. The healer's face was kind and Will felt a little of his fear ooze out of him at her reassurance. "But I need to know why you suddenly panicked. Did you see something in there?" 

"I...uh..." Will floundered. There was no way he was telling this woman about his addiction, as kind as she seemed. "I was just a little surprised to see some of the things you had in there, is all." 

She didn't look convinced. Thankfully, however, she didn't press any further. "What were you looking for?" 

"Oh...well, I just wanted some, um..." Will felt his face flush red with embarrassment. "Some sleeping medicine. For my, um...for my nightmares." 

He saw pity and compassion mingled together in the woman's eyes and flushed redder.

"After the war, so many people had nightmares. It didn't seem to matter if they were peasant, warrior, statesman...the night terrors aren't picky." The healer stood and turned to the cabinet, setting some of the fallen jars back upright and picking out a single bottle. "We're running low, but I'll give this last bottle to you, Ranger. You and your kind have helped us more than anyone else." 

Will was so touched by her kindness that he didn't have the heart to correct her again on his title. "A-Are you sure? I have money, I can pay for it." 

The healer shook her head, but she was smiling. "What is it with Rangers being unable to accept gifts? It's famous throughout the kingdom that Ranger Halt refused a reward for returning the Princess, and you, Will, refused an even greater one." 

Will's heart thudded uncomfortably at the healer's knowledge of his name. He pushed it aside. "Then I thank you for your gift. How long will this bottle last? And how much am I to take?" 

"Take a spoonful every night before you go to bed. That bottle should hold..." The healer considered. "Maybe six week's worth in it." 

Will nodded, relieved. He wouldn't have to worry about this for another month and a half. "Thank you again," he said and took the bottle. 

The next moment, he was gone. 

Will's heart felt much lighter as he strode back to where Tug and Abelard waited. He tucked the bottle into his pocket, thankful for the cloak that concealed the bulge. With this, he wouldn't have to worry about having nightmares - or worse, waking Halt up because of them. Even if it made it hard to get up in the morning, Will still knew it was infinitely better than having to walk around on eggshells around Halt. Or perhaps even being told off for waking the Ranger up in the middle of the night.

Halt appeared. Will looked over at his mentor and asked dutifully, "What'd they say? Can they come? Where are we meeting up? How long-"

Halt cut Will off with a wave of his hand. "Yes, your ward-mates can come," he said. "I thought you might prefer having them back home, so they'll be there at noon tomorrow."

Will breathed out a silent prayer of thanks for his foresight in getting the medicine today; if he hadn't, he wouldn't have ever got a chance. Will would've had to try sneaking out in the middle of the night.

"How long can they stay?"

Halt shrugged dismissively, mounting Abelard. "However long they want, as long as they're back in time to get back to their duties by the next day. Oh, and Master Chubb said that Jenny would be bringing lots of food." 

Will nodded, mimicking his master's movements and mounting Tug. Although he still felt wary about seeing his ward-mates again, especially Alyss, the idea of Jenny's cooking was almost enough to dispel that. Surely, if the cheery, personable Jenny were there, it'd be alright. Will just had to set up a perfect facade for one day. 

The ride back to the cabin was mostly silent, punctuated here and there by one or the other's comments. Halt seemed more at ease than he'd been since they'd left Castle Araluen, and privately Will wondered if it had something to do with the fact that Halt had visited Lady Pauline in order to ask her permission to let Alyss off. Will was naive, yes, but not deaf; Alyss had, behind carefully covered smiles, informed him of the many rumors circulating around the two. 

By the time they were back, the sun informed them that it was around three o'clock. The two dismounted and tended to their horses, then Halt unsheathed his double knives and motioned Will to do the same. 

"I was able to speak with Rodney today about double-knife defense," the Ranger said. "He was...joyful, to say the least, about having someone who actually knew what they were doing with double knives practicing with his cadets. I arranged for you to go over to the Battleschool once a week and train with the cadets. Meanwhile, however, you'll be training with me." 

"But didn't you say it was useless to try the double-knife defense without a sword?" Will asked, confused. 

Halt gave him a look. "Did I ever say that that was what we'd be learning? It's not often you have to fight someone who has knives himself, but it does happen. It wouldn't do if you learned how to deal with a swordsman but were completely inept at fighting a knife-wielder. After all, the techniques used vary widely." 

Halt briefly described in what ways they were different, putting Will through a few practice simulations. Once he was satisfied that Will wasn't completely clueless in how to handle melee combat with his knives, they began dueling. 

When Halt had first tried to train Will in knife-wielding on their journey back to Redmont, Will had written off Halt's skill with knives as merely being average. Now he realized just how much Halt had been holding back on him. They were using practice knives - little more than sticks that Halt had whittled down to resemble the saxe and throwing knife in size - but within the first thirty seconds, Will had already felt the sting of wood thrice. Will had no idea how Halt had managed to become so adept at dual knives - didn't he have enough just learning archery and how to throw knives?

"Stop."

Halt drew back a step and ran his eyes up and down Will's form. They'd had a few bouts by then, and Will felt swelling bruises all over, ranging everywhere from his neck to his torso and even his legs - after all, sometimes an opponent simply wants to disable you quickly instead of kill you.

"That's enough for now," Halt said. "We'll practice more tomorrow. Until then, I want you to work on your throwing skills. If they're anywhere near the same as your melee combat skills, you've got a lot of work to be done." 

Will took his mentor's blunt words in stride and nodded meekly. "Yes, Halt." 

Will sheathed his knives and strode over to the range. For the next few hours, the only sound that would've been heard by any who might've been passing by would only have been the repetitive thud-thud of his two knives striking the targets one after the other. 

Once the sun set, Will walked back inside. Halt was making dinner, his famous stew that made Will's stomach rumble, loudly. Flushing, Will gave a sheepish grin as Halt turned around and raised an eyebrow.

"Hungry, are we?" 

Will nodded, still embarrassed. "I didn't have lunch." 

"We don't often have it." 

The boy shrugged. "Didn't get to finish my breakfast, either. You told me to go do chores." 

"So I did." Halt stirred the stew. "So I did." 

Will glanced at the table. When he saw it was unset, he quickly set it, then retreated to his room when it was clear dinner wasn't ready yet. Old Will wouldn't have, Will knew, but he was tired and even if Halt had seemed a little less grim than he had been for the past few weeks, Will didn't feel like talking. He was tired and drained.

Once he'd shut the door behind him, he stuck his hand in his pocket for the sleep medicine.

He froze. He looked down in disbelief, as if to confirm what his fingers had already told him: the bottle was gone. 

Will frantically searched his mind, fighting down panic. He was certain he'd had it before they'd left Redmont castle. But after that... Could it have dropped on the ride back? Could it have fallen out during Will's fight with Halt? 

He desperately wracked his memories for answers, only to come to a horrifying conclusion: he must've dropped it on their way back.

At first, Halt wasn't sure what had woken him. The Ranger didn't open his eyes, just listened; when only one sense is being used, it can often increase its strength. He was rewarded when, barely two seconds later, he heard another sound, except this time Halt knew what it was. Someone had just shut the front door.

Who? Halt could think of no reason Will would be up at such an ungodly hour, so there was only one option left: someone had broken in. But how? Halt deadlocked the door every night. In order to get in, they would have had to break the door down. And Halt knew there was no way he would have missed that. 

Climbing silently out of bed, Halt strapped his double knives to his waist and opened the door to his bedroom. His longbow was in the main room, as was his quiver, so he'd have to make do with his knives. On his way to the main room, he passed by Will's room and couldn't help but stop for a moment, a new suspicion rising.

The door was open. When he peeked in, the bed was empty, covers thrown haphazardly to one side. Will was gone. Halt intook a breath. So there was no intruder - it was Will. But why would Will go outside in the middle of the night? It didn't make sense. 

Halt opened the front door, silently stepping through and shutting it behind him. His eyes fell to the ground, picking up Will's tracks easily. They were muddled and hurried, as if Will was in distress. Halt frowned. Why hadn't Will said anything to him? Surely he knew that Halt didn't care about being woken up if Will was in pain. 

Halt hadn't gotten far when the sound of hooves reached his ears. Instinctively, he faded into the shadows, watching as Tug, Will on his back, walked past him. The horse was stealthy, as all Ranger horses had to be, but Halt knew that even quiet hoofbeats would've forced him awake. Will had clearly not thought this through. That wasn't uncommon, but this - this spoke of desperation. Halt didn't like that.

The grim-faced Ranger pursed his lips as the two passed by him. It was likely that, once they'd gotten what Will judged to be a safe distance away, he would increase Tug's pace to faster than Halt could keep up with on foot. However, Halt knew he didn't have the time to saddle Abelard.

Grimacing, Halt turned and went into the stable, coming face to face with an agitated Abelard.

"You, too?" Halt asked softly. He murmured a soft reassurance in Gallic and swung onto the small horse's back, forgoing a saddle, urging him into a walk to match Will's pace. Riding without any kind of bridle or saddle was not something Halt wanted to repeat anytime soon, but Abelard was smart, knowing exactly what his master wanted. Soon, they were trailing behind Will, using the darkness to their advantage in case Will should become suspicious and glance over his shoulder. 

Will kept on. Halt's brow furrowed once he realized where Will was heading; they were going along the very same path they'd just taken several hours earlier. What was Will doing going back to Redmont? For a moment, Halt wondered if he'd somehow arranged some kind of midnight rendezvous with Alyss, before discarding the thought. Halt had saved talking to Lady Pauline last, and she'd made no mention of seeing Will. There was no way Will could've snuck past them to see Alyss in the first place. 

Which still begged the question: what was Will doing? 

As the moon rose, shedding beams of pale light onto the pathway, Halt became aware that Will was looking down at the ground as if he were tracking something and that he had slowed Tug down. Even more confused than before, Halt had no choice but to trail behind. He'd apprehend Will when the boy either got himself into trouble or turned back. Halt wanted to know what his apprentice was up to. After Will had lied to Halt for so long, the Ranger was more than a little suspicious of his apprentice.

Last time, it'd taken a near-suicide attempt for Halt to uncover the truth. What would it take this time? 

Finally, Will stopped and dismounted. He knelt on the ground and his shoulders sagged in what looked very much like relief. When he stood up, he had something in his grasp - a bottle. Halt narrowed his eyes. What was in that bottle that Will had found important enough to do all this for? Alcohol? Medicine? 

Will remounted Tug and turned his horse around.

Lips pressing into a thin line, Halt moved Abelard directly onto the path and pushed his hood back, exposing his face to the cold moonlight. 

"Would you mind," he said softly, "telling me what is going on here?" 

Chapter Text

"H-Halt! You followed me?"

"Clearly," Halt said. "Apparently, it's the only way to find out anything about you nowadays."

Will looked down. He seemed suddenly small; small, fragile, and ashamed. "I'm sorry."

Halt ran a hand over his face. His shoulders rose and fell in a sigh. "That may be, but that doesn't change this situation. What is in that bottle, Will?"

Will mumbled out an answer so quietly Halt couldn't make out a word. Irritated, Halt said, "Loud enough I can hear it."

"...Sleeping medicine."

Halt looked at him for a long moment, expressionless. He held out a hand. "Let me see."

Wordlessly, Will dismounted, walked up to him, and handed him the bottle. Halt uncorked it and held it up to his nose, sniffing. His expression cleared and he seemed relieved. "Valerian and lemon balm," he said, as though he had expected something else. "I'd have added lavender oil as well, but that should do fine."

Will didn't respond, and Halt looked down at him. He still seemed small and fragile and ashamed, and now Halt noticed something else, as well. He was shaking, the same fine tremor that Halt had noticed in Castle Araluen when Will had first confessed to his warmweed addiction. Halt had thought then that it was strange for Will to be cold, given the warmth of the castle and the fire. Now, although fall had begun to set in, the night was still hardly cold enough to be shivering, especially as warmly dressed as Will was. Which left Halt to conclude that, perhaps, the trembling was caused by something else.

"Are you cold, Will?" Halt asked, just to be sure.

Will jumped at the sound of Halt's voice. "What?"

Halt repeated his question.

"O-Oh. I guess."

That was not nearly a strong enough affirmation of such powerful trembling. It was incessant enough to disturb Halt. He was not easily disturbed. He tried his next thought. "Are you afraid?"

Will fidgeted, toying with the bottle in his hands. He gave a wordless shrug, refusing to look Halt in the eye. Halt fought down simmering frustration. Will hadn't denied it, nor had he denied that he was cold. That could mean that both were true to an extent. Halt just needed the connecting factor.

With a sigh, Halt switched topics. "Enough of that. Why do you need sleeping medicine? No, better - why did you need to keep it a secret from me?"

"I-" Will broke off. His head had jerked up to look at Halt; now he looked back down. "I'm sorry."

Halt pinched the bridge of his nose. "I know you are," he said as calmly as he could. "What I want to know is, if you're so sorry now, why wouldn't you just tell me?"

"I-I...I don't want..." 

Halt examined Will. He still refused to look at Halt, keeping his face down or to one side, trying to hide it. Will tugged his grey-and-green cloak tighter around himself, and Halt got the sudden feeling Will wanted to hide. And he realized: Will was ashamed.

"What have you done, Will?" he asked.

Will flinched. "I'm sorry."

"We've been over that," Halt said, patience thin. "I don't care for useless platitudes. Tell me, Will: what did you do?"

"I can't-"

"You must."

Will was shaking more, so much his nails clacked against the glass of the bottle. "Halt, please, I-"

"Tell me now, Will! I'm sick and tired of your lies! If you won't tell me, I don't want you coming back inside my home."

Will stopped short from whatever protest he'd been about to make. His arms wrapped tightly around himself as he stared mutely up at his master. "You... mean that?"

Halt looked at him.

All life seemed to drop out of Will at once, like his body was suddenly too large for his soul. "Oh. Can I tell you back in... your house?"

"As long as you don't try to get out of it."

"I won't."

Will mounted back up onto Tug and the two rode back to the cabin in dead silence. As they rode, Halt reviewed the conversation in his mind and couldn't help the sinking feeling of regret. He had made a mistake, he knew. He shouldn't have lost his temper like that, and he definitely shouldn't have made Will feel like the cabin wasn't his home. 

He sighed, frustrated. How was he supposed to know what to say? How was he supposed to know how to help Will when Will didn't want to be helped? 

They reached the house. Both dismounted and led their horses back to the stable. Since Halt hadn't saddled Abelard, he watched in silence as Will untacked Tug and rubbed him down. After he finished, they walked back into the house. Will perched on the edge of the sofa like a bird about to take flight. Halt sat on the other end of the sofa to give him space - although as small a sofa as it was, it wasn't much space.

On impulse, Halt stood and grabbed the blanket off of his bed, returning to drape it over Will. Halt knew his words were lacking, but surely his actions couldn't be misinterpreted. Will received it numbly, wrapping his hands around it and tugging it around himself tightly.

"I have nightmares," Will said quietly, in the same tone one might use to admit they had deserted a comrade in war. "That's why I need the medicine. I'm sorry."

"I'm afraid I don't see why you need to apologize."

Will slumped, expression defeated. "I'm sorry... for a lot of things, I guess. I'm sorry I have to take the medicine."

"You realize I'm not angry with you for needing the medicine," Halt told him. "I was only upset because you refused to tell me what was wrong."

Will stared at the ground. 

Halt sighed. Gentling his tone, he tried, "What is in those nightmares that makes you want to forget them?"

Will looked at him nervously, like he'd been cornered. "I dream about a lot of things. Warmweed is, is a big one. I dream that I'm still addicted to it - I see myself as I must have looked, shambling about, totally mindless. And no matter what happens, no matter who I see-" 

He broke off. Tears had gathered in his eyes, along with a great pain that Halt could not fathom the depths of. Will took a deep, measured breath. Then, slowly and deliberately, he continued. "I'm forced to see the people I care about die in front of me, and I- I don't even notice. Or care. I'm just... lost."

"Will," Halt said softly. He reached towards Will, but his apprentice shook his head.

"No, I'm - I'm not done. That's not the worst part. In the dream, I'm not made that way because I was forced. I wanted to take the drug. I became that willingly."

Halt pursed his lips. His heart hurt, seeing his child like this. "Will, tell me. Where did you find that bottle?" 

Thrown off by the abrupt change in topic, Will answered slowly, "Castle Redmont infirmary." 

Halt nodded. "Thought so. And did you, by any chance, happen to spot a bottle of warmweed poultice?"

Will stiffened. "Yes." 

"And did you want to take it?"

"No!" Will's hands clenched. "No - no, I would never. I wish I never had to see it again."

Halt spread out his hands in a there you have it gesture. "If you can't even bear the sight of it," he said reasonably, "I doubt you'll be able to force yourself to take it. Will, you need to remember that that's all these dreams are - they're just dreams. They don't reflect who you are or what you might do in real life. You've already said you'll never willingly take drugs, so why believe any of the rest of it?" 

"I-I guess," Will mumbled. "But I still... I can't..." he shook his head and held up the bottle halfheartedly. "This is better."

Will hesitated, then gave a quiet, broken laugh. "Feels like I've just traded one addiction for another, doesn't it? I understand if you want me off of it. I'll... I'll try to be quiet. I'll try not to disturb you or anything."

"You'll 'try to be quiet'?" Halt said lowly. Will cringed away from him.

Halt closed his eyes, trying to steady himself. He'd always had a temper, but he couldn't afford to spook Will now. Not even when Will said the absolute dumbest shit Halt had ever heard from an apprentice - and that was saying something, considering Gilan had also been Halt's apprentice.

"Will..." Halt sighed. "Remember how I always say that apprentices aren't ready to think?"

"Um... yeah?"

"I'd be glad if I never have to hear another thought like that in my life."

Again, Will flinched, curling into himself. "S-Sorry, sir."

For the love of- Halt's temper flared again, this time at himself. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to get across just how angry he was at the wrong things Will was thinking and saying, without making Will feel that Halt was mad at him?

Summoning what gentleness he had, Halt said, "You don't need to call me that, Will."

"...sorry, Halt."

He sighed again. "You don't need to apologize, either."

"O-Oh."

And again. "Will... you know I'm not good at this sort of thing. I just want you to know..."

What? What did he even what Will to know? 

"Yes?"

"...that it'd be nice for you to stop interrupting me, for starters," Halt said, and was relieved when Will laughed a little. "But, Will, surely you realize that I wouldn't force you to do something that would cause you pain simply out of cruelty?"

"Of course I do," Will said warmly. "You're not cruel at all, Halt. I just - it's not cruelty, wanting me to not be addicted to something else, is it?"

"Setting aside whether you're even addicted - which I doubt, given that those ingredients are in no way addictive - the point is that this is something that helps you. Isn't it?"

"I-I mean, it prevents me from having nightmares."

"I think we'd both agree that that is a beneficial thing, would we not?" Halt said reasonably. Will nodded. "Then why on earth would I take that away from you?"

"But," Will said, biting his lip. "Shouldn't I- I mean, I shouldn't even need it in the first place."

"And maybe you won't, one day. But, to be quite blunt, you have enough trouble doing your duties while taking the medicine. I don't believe that now is the time to experiment."

Will breathed a sigh of relief that Halt honestly wondered if he should be offended by. "So, you don't care if I keep taking it?"

Halt nodded. "That's right. What I do care about, though, is the fact that you didn't tell me. What you did tonight was stupid and reckless, and I want no repeats of such a thing. Am I understood?" 

Will looked down at his hands. "Yes, Halt." 

He watched Will for a moment. His next question burst from him without even trying. "Will, why didn't you tell me? Have I ever given you reason to fear me or doubt me? Do you not trust me?"

"Of course I trust you," Will said. 

Halt looked at him. "You didn't answer the rest."

Will frowned viciously. In a sudden burst of agitation, he sprang up from the sofa and began pacing, eyes firmly fixed on the floor.

"Will..." Halt said slowly.

"Fine!" Will rounded on Halt with an anger born out of desperation. "Yes, I'm afraid! Of course I am! You have the power to throw me out of the Corps at any point in time - you could probably exile me, or stick me in an asylum if you wanted to - and every day I'm just trying to remember what he was like, to become like him again, because you love him!"

"What in God's name are you talking about?" Halt asked, bewildered. "Who is 'he'?"

"Me," Will said, heaving a tired laugh. "Old me - old Will, the one before Skandia. The one who never had to fake his laughs, whose hands didn't shake during training, who didn't have to take medicine to stave away nightmares, who was just so much better. You can't deny that he was - that you'd prefer him to me, if you could choose."

Halt looked up at the ceiling, counting slow seconds in his mind. "Who I would prefer doesn't matter. We don't live in hypotheticals, Will. We live in reality, and in reality, you are the Will I have, and I'm not throwing you out. Ever."

Will muttered something under his breath, too quietly for Halt to make out. He decided that he wouldn't ask. He'd had enough for one night, and he doubted he'd get anywhere if he were to press more. Instead, Halt tried another tack. 

"Your shaking - is there a reason behind it?"

Will paused. "Yeah. A couple, I think... but there's one reason I can think of. I think it's probably best if I show you."

With one deep breath, he lifted the shirt up, exposing gaunt, pale skin and sharp, defined collarbones and ribs on his torso in the pale candlelight.

Halt just stared at his chest uncomprehendingly for a second. Then his gaze hardened. "They starved you in Skandia. Will, this is getting ridiculous. How many more things are you going to hide from me?" 

There was one final thing: the whip scars. He briefly weighed the pros and cons: Halt possibly getting angrier, or Halt finding out later and definitely getting angry. But, he reasoned, if I just hide it long enough, Halt won't get as mad. Besides, it wasn't like the scars actually affected his health or anything. Halt didn't have a right to see Will's scars, seeing as they were fully healed over and had no chance of becoming infected. The only reason Will felt that Halt had gotten so angry was because Will's health had been affected by his secrets. 

"I thought I was handling it," Will muttered.

Halt gave an incredulous scoff. "You thought you were handling it?" he repeated, still incredulous. "Will, a breath from Abelard and you'd topple over! I bet that's why your concentration has been so awful lately, as well." Will made a sound of protest, but Halt was already standing up and stalking towards the kitchen.

"You're eating three square meals a day from now on," he declared decidedly, searching through the cupboards and finding them embarrassingly empty. "I'll stop by Castle Redmont tomorrow to get some decent food - vegetables, maybe, if they have any." 

Will just nodded. He had absolutely no objections there. Then Halt looked back. "And I'm stopping your combat training until your weight is back up." 

"But Halt-" 

"That's final. I won't have you working yourself to death." 

"But the Gathering-" 

"Can wait." 

Will gave his mentor his best pleading look. Unsurprisingly, it had no effect. "But what am I to do until then?" 

Halt gave Will a very innocent look. "The chores."

The next day, Halt let Will sleep in. 

He resolved never to let Crowley get wind of it; if he did, Halt would never hear the end of his friend's cackling and pointed taunts about growing old and soft. Halt was, most definitely, not growing soft. The old bit... well, that was something he'd only admit to inside the comfort of his own head. 

Halt was not growing soft. His apprentice had had an awful year, and Halt decided the boy deserved to sleep in. At least until eight. After all, it was Will's birthday. Halt supposed that could be his birthday present. It wasn't every day your apprentice turned seventeen, after all. 

Halt padded to Will's room and peeked in, watching Will's quiet breathing. Gilan had been ecstatic about turning seventeen, like he had about every other birthday Halt could remember being involved with. Will, on the other hand, just seemed uncaring. Quiet, resigned, and uncaring. It made Halt wonder what the boy would've been like if he'd never gone to Skandia, if Halt hadn't made him go to Celtica, if Halt had been just a little faster...

But no. Halt shook his head and stepped away from the bedroom. He'd allowed himself to drown in guilt and the thoughts of what could've happened for too long already. It didn't matter what Halt could've done if he'd been faster, if he'd not taken those extra two minutes to eat breakfast that morning. What mattered was that it had happened and no matter how much he wished it would change, it wouldn't. 

Will had been enslaved, starved, drugged, and beaten. He had endured a year under conditions that should've broken his spirit, his body, and his life. As much as Halt hated having to see his apprentice like this, it was a fact. Will was different. He might never be that cheerful, mischievous boy he had been. But it was Halt's job to help Will now. After all Halt's mistakes, the boy deserved nothing less. 

And so he strode into his bedroom and sat down at his writing desk, readying his quill and parchment. 

Crowley, he started. He frowned down at it, imagining what Crowley would say upon receiving a letter from him. Halt was infamous for being terrible at writing letters.

You know I wouldn't write unless it were urgent. I need everything you have related to nightmares, malnutrition, and other problems you are already familiar with.

That includes you.

Come as soon as you can. I know that look - the King can spare you for a few days. Johan's recently retired; he's more than capable of covering your position while you're out. While you're at it, why don't you send a Ranger to Meric fief as well? I'm sure you can reason out why.

- Halt

Halt signed it with his Ranger number, sealed it, and moved onto his next letter. Like with Crowley's, it was short and to the point, barely two sentences.

Gilan, 

Assistance needed with what was discussed before. Crowley will provide replacement; come as soon as you're able.

- Halt

Although Halt hated how much of a disturbance he'd have to create - Crowley would have to send a Ranger all the way to Meric fief, plus find a substitute for Castle Araluen while he was gone - Halt knew it was necessary. If he hadn't been absolutely certain that Will needed more help than Halt was equipped to give him, he never would've bothered writing the letters. 

He sealed Gilan's letter and stamped both of them with the oakleaf crest every Ranger kept in his writing box. He'd have to go to find a courier that afternoon while Will and his wardmates were together. He stood and walked back to the front room, sending a quick glance out the window to check the time. It was around 7:30; past time for Will to be waking up. He went into the boy's room, shaking his shoulder. 

"Wake up, Will." 

Without waiting to see if his apprentice had indeed woken up or not, Halt walked back out to the front room where he had breakfast cooking.

Now that Will had told him, Halt couldn't believe he hadn't realized sooner. Both Will and Cassandra had mentioned the awful conditions more than once. Neither had explicitly said they'd been starved, but Halt knew they had talked about the lack of food. Of course Will would be starved! Why had Will had to tell Halt himself? 

Halt was almost angrier at himself than Will. Almost. After all, Will was the one who'd thought he was 'dealing with it' and 'doing just fine.' Did the boy never learn? 

He huffed to himself. Will's soft footsteps padded across the floor and stopped right behind Halt. 

"Yes?" the Ranger asked without looking back. 

"My wardmates can still come over today, right?" 

"Why would you think they couldn't?" Halt asked, puzzled. He pulled open the cupboard door and frowned; they'd almost finished their last loaf of bread. That was another thing to add to his list of things to get, he supposed.

"You said I couldn't do training..." 

"Physical training," Halt pointed out. "And I wouldn't compare friends with training, at any rate. One can be a little more enjoyable."  

Will didn't say anything, but Halt assumed he'd nodded. He stepped up next to Halt and grabbed things to set the table, then stood by the table a little awkwardly as he waited for the food to finish. Halt didn't attempt to break the silence. 

Once they sat down to eat, Halt pretended not to be watching Will. As it was, he'd silently decided that Will would not be allowed up from the table unless he'd eaten everything on his plate. Even if Will said he was full, he wouldn't be allowed up. Since Will had spent a month with the rich foods of Castle Araluen, Halt saw no need to be wary of Will vomiting up his food if he ate too much too quickly; if he were going to vomit, he would've already done it a month ago. Now they were past the point of that, but Will had lost an easy twenty pounds even with the month of feasting - and he hadn't been the slightest bit overweight to begin with. Some of the weight was due to Will losing muscle through lack of exercise, but more was from his body's self-destruction from lack of nutrition. Emaciated was one very fitting word for what Will was right then. 

Again, Halt had to fight away a stab of guilt. After all, it had been he who'd told Will not to have lunch. It'd been he who hadn't noticed his apprentice was slowly turning into a skeleton. It seemed that every time Halt was close to being able to push past his previous mistakes, he made another one. He hadn't even managed to forgive himself for Will's slavery in the first place; how was he supposed to be able to forgive himself for this? 

I don't have to forgive myself, he decided, eyes flicking towards his apprentice. I just need to protect Will.  

"Will!" Setting down the large, heavy baskets she was carrying, Jenny ran straight for Will and hugged him tightly. Will hugged her back automatically, surprised.

When Jenny finally pulled away, her eyes were gleaming with unshed tears. "It's been so long... praise the Lord you're back."

After a moment of silence, Jenny smiled a little abashedly and went back for the baskets, which Will saw were heavy-laden with food. Behind her came George, dressed in Scribeschool robes and a grin, and Alyss, in her white Diplomat dress.

His heart stuttered a little when he saw her. She smiled when they made eye contact, and his returning smile was one part nerves, four parts instinct. Unlike Jenny, she didn't run up to hug him. Will wasn't sure what he felt about that.

Will greeted them a little awkwardly. He hadn't spoken to any of them in over a year and a half. Instead of the fifteen-year-olds they had been, they were seventeen. Will felt even older than that. But it wasn't in Will's nature to sulk about when there were others around him, so he put a smile on and helped Jenny set out the food, asked about everyone's life, inquired how each apprentice's Craftmaster was doing. They, in turn, asked him how Halt was doing.

"He's doing well, I suppose," Will said after a moment. "Well, I mean...he's Halt."

He looked from one face to the next as though that should explain everything. Alyss nodded as though it did indeed, but the other two just looked confused. Trying to explain, Will stammered, "I mean, he's...he's not injured or anything, or any grumpier than usual-" Alyss raised an eyebrow and he flushed- "so I think he's, you know, just fine." 

"You couldn't have just said that?" Jenny inquired, but she was smiling. Will ducked his head, grinning and blushing at the same time. He'd just opened his mouth to ask another question - to George, about the Scribeschool exams he'd been complaining about - when Jenny spoke first.

"How was it over on your end? I daresay you must've had a far more eventful year and a half than we did."

Although he'd been expecting the question - had even rehearsed a handful of answered to it - Will still tensed automatically, mind blanking. Instinctively he looked to Alyss and saw her watching him, a Diplomat's guise of polite inexpressiveness on her face. He had no doubts about what was underneath; Alyss was analyzing him carefully.

Will lifted a shoulder. "Fought a war, I guess. I didn't do anything special."

All three of his wardmates groaned as one.

"Why do you always say that?" Jenny groused. "'I diDn'T dO aNyThINg sPecIaL,'" she mocked. "You said that after the Kalkara, too!"

Will bit his lip, just wishing the three of them would give it a rest, would stop giving him those expectant looks. Abruptly he wondered why they even cared. Sure, they'd been wardmates and grown up together. But they'd been mostly apart since the beginning of their apprenticeships, and that had only been exacerbated over the last year. Surely they'd found better and more lasting friendships in the meantime - after all, Rangers were the only ones whose apprentices were trained alone. 

"I really didn't," he mumbled, ducking his head. "Look, why don't we just talk about something else?"

George opened his mouth, looking ready to protest, but a quick glance from Alyss silenced him. Then she met Will's gaze measuredly. "We understand if you'd rather not talk about it, but I know George and Jenny here must be curious about what sort of places you've been - Celtica and Skandia. Would you mind telling us a bit about them?"

Somehow, she'd found a way to give Will the option to speak only about the things that would be easy to tell - the things with no emotional baggage behind them. It was no hardship to talk about the cold tundra of Skandia when he didn't have to also mention the warmweed, or the lonely plains of Celtica when he didn't have to mention the longship that took him from there.

Will looked around from Alyss to George to Jenny and nodded slowly. He wouldn't tell them everything; no, he wouldn't tell them about the warmweed, or about the beatings or any of the details of his slavery. The day was warm and beautiful and such things did not need to be said. But he would at least tell them about Celtica, about Skorghijl, about Cassandra, about the war with the Temujai. They deserved that much. They were his friends.

"Alright," he said. "It all started when Halt's former apprentice, Gilan, showed up out of the blue..." 

Chapter Text

The air was cooling off, the humid stickiness of the September afternoon fading into the cooler evening. Will lay back, grass poking against his interlaced hands behind his head. There was something peaceful about nature that he had always loved, a calm serenity that could not be found anywhere else. A tree did not try to be; it did not strive or compete. It simply was. When there was rain, it took it in; when there was not, it withered without complaint. 

Beside him came a rustle of grass and another body lying down beside him. Will didn't need to turn his head to see who it was. 

"I thought you were going back with George and Jenny."

"I decided not to," Alyss said. There was a contentedness, a peace in her voice that echoed the peace of nature. "It's such a beautiful evening. I wanted to spend it with you."

"O-Oh," Will said. His cheeks flushed. He very pointedly did not look at her.

"Is that a problem?" There was a hint of amusement in Alyss' tone.

"N-No!" Will said quickly. "No, that's fine."

"Good," said Alyss. She was definitely laughing at him internally, Will thought, grumbling. But how was he supposed to react, with her right beside him, saying she wanted to spend time with him?

"How's Annice doing? She was still pregnant when I left; her child must be, what, a year old by now?"

Annice was one of their former wardmates, a few years older than they. Instead of a trade, she had chosen to live a quiet life with a farmer boy she'd met and fallen in love with. Especially after becoming a Ranger, Will had fallen out of touch with many people, but he tried to keep up with a few, at least by hearsay. 

"I think the child just turned a year old," Alyss said. "A boy; they named him Edmund."

"Edmund." Will tried the name out. "I don't know if I'd name my child Edmund, personally."

"You don't like the name Edmund?" Alyss seemed scandalized. "It's a nice name!"

"It's well enough, but isn't it too, I don't know, popular? Everyone names their kid Edmund these days."

Alyss laughed. "I suppose you're right about that. What would you name your son?"

Until then, Will had never considered even having a child to name. His thoughts of the future had narrowed down significantly, and the question threw him. He hesitated. "Well... I suppose I'd name him Daniel. You know, for my dad."

Alyss nodded, taking that in. Will was just about to turn the question back on her, when she asked with a hint of mischief to her tone, "And what if you had a second son? Would you name him after Halt?"

Will flushed. "I-I mean, if Halt was alright with it, I might- what kind of question is that, anyway? How am I supposed to respond to that!?"

Alyss just laughed. "Daniel is a nice name, but I'm not sure about Halt as a first name... maybe a middle name?"

She seemed surprisingly invested in this. Will looked at her, a little confused, and then shrugged it off as women's weirdness. "You know, come to think of it, it is kind of an odd name. I know he's not from around here, but-"

Even as well-trained as Alyss was, she hadn't been able to stop the involuntary raise of her eyebrows at Will's statement. He paused and gave a wry smile. "I'd thought you knew. I mean, we've never talked about it, but he has an accent."

Alyss thought for a moment. She generally had a good ear for accents, but she apparently couldn't recall hearing one in Halt's voice. "Does he?"

Will nodded. "Yeah. It's pretty faint; Hibernian, I think. Maybe Halt's a common Hibernian name?"

"Maybe," Alyss conceded. "In any case, I still don't know if it's the best first name for a son."

Will, still not sure why she cared, just shrugged. "Sure."

They were quiet for a bit, staring up at the sky. It was nearing sunset now, the sky beginning to fade, tendrils of orange and pink passing through the clouds. Will sighed contentedly, closing his eyes and taking everything in. The air was pleasantly warm, only just starting to cool off a little - a far cry from what Skandia would be like, if he were still there. The warm scents of earth and birch and rowan filled his nose. The evening chirps of crickets and frogs filled his ears. He hadn't realized how much he had missed them.

"I didn't ask how things were for you over the past year," he said after awhile. "Especially with the end of the war with Morgarath and the rebuilding that had to happen, you must have been very busy."

"As busy as could be expected," she said. "I was still in the second year of my apprenticeship when the kingdom was in the most disarray, so I didn't do as much as I might have were I a fully-fledged Diplomat. Lady Pauline took on the most dangerous tasks for herself."

Will stiffened. "Dangerous?"

"Yes, dangerous." Will looked over to see her giving him a judgmental look. "You think that just because you're the one fighting, we don't have our own dangers in our jobs?"

He had never really thought about it, honestly. He pushed himself up to his elbows to see her better. "I thought you had guards, or- or something."

"Sometimes," Alyss conceded, "but there are times when a show of force like that can make one seem domineering - or afraid. Oftentimes, it's better to go by one's self."

Will had the sudden urge to get up and pace. The cricket chirps, just seconds ago soothing, now seemed much too loud. He clenched and unclenched his hands restlessly. "I didn't - have you been in danger? Do you - can you - do you know how to defend yourself?"

"Of course I do." Alyss looked at him for a long moment. She seemed to be examining him carefully. Her expression softened. "I have never been in any serious danger, Will. You don't need to worry about me."

"Serious?" he cried. "What's 'serious' supposed to mean?"

"Will! Will, look at me." 

He did.

"It's okay, Will. I'm safe. I have a knife and I've been trained to use it. I'm not defenseless." Alyss spoke softly, gently, with a tenderness he'd never heard before.

"I know that," he said, running a frustrated hand over his face. "I just... I'm worried."

"I know you are," she said. She was quiet for a bit. Then she said, "Halt helped train me, you know. Before you left for Celtica and a little after, too. He was thorough - although I'm sure you know what he's like."

Will huffed out a laugh. "Do I ever."

"So you see, I know what I'm doing. Of course I'm not ever going to be completely safe, but neither are you, Will. You... you have no idea how... how worried I was, the entire time you were away. Every day, I'd pray to the Lord that you'd be safe, that he would bring you back here safely." 

Will turned to her, and something in his heart cracked when he saw the tears shining in her eyes. A great urge to embrace her, to comfort her, came over him which he forcefully suppressed. 

"But he answered my prayers. He brought you back."

Will blinked away tears of his own, biting his lip. He felt the tips of words flood to his tongue, the urge to tell her everything rising up within him. She still cared about him, that was clear. Those were not the words of a woman who no longer cared. But... but. Yes, God had brought him back. But he had brought Will back different. It wasn't fair for Alyss to be saddled with a broken man like Will. 

"Alyss," he said, his voice cracking. He tried to think of a way to get her to stop, to tell her that he wasn't worth this. "Just... stop."

Alyss pulled back, brows furrowing. "Stop? Stop what?"

"Just..." he made a vague hand gesture. "I can't... just. Just stop this. Please."

Alyss kept staring at him, confused, until suddenly her face lit up in understanding. She pulled back, away from Will, and sat up abruptly. "Oh," she said, and her voice was suddenly calm, polite, and distant. "Of course. I apologize; I must have let my emotions get the better of me. It will not happen again."

Wait. Will hadn't meant for that to happen. He sat up too. "Wait, Alyss-"

"I need to get going; I have a lot of work back with the Diplomats. Thank you for inviting us all; it was nice to see everyone. We should have more group outings."

She stood, grabbing her things and starting to leave. 

"Wait!" Will scrambled to his feet, eyes wide. This wasn't what he'd wanted. He'd wanted to hurt her less - this was hurting both of them more. "Alyss, I-"

He cut off abruptly. She was looking at him expectantly, he realized, like she wanted to give him a second chance.

"Yes?"

"I didn't- mean... that. What I said. The way I said it."

"What did you mean, then?" Alyss pressed, not gently, but not harshly either.

He breathed out; in and out. Searched for the right words. They flew by him. He bowed his head, nervously drumming his fingers against his thigh. "I don't- nothing. I'm sorry."

She looked at him for a moment longer, still hoping he would continue. When he didn't, she blew out a slight but noticeable breath of disappointment. Her face clouded briefly, then faded into a Diplomat's familiar guise of impassivity. "I forgive you. Well, have a good night, Will."

She turned and left, and this time Will let her. 

"Halt, I think I screwed up."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," Halt said reasonably, setting a consoling hand on his apprentice's shoulder. They were sitting out on the porch, watching the sunset fade into twilight. Alyss had left minutes ago; Will had sulked for a few minutes before seeking Halt out. Halt had to admit that if it took a failed date to get Will to talk to him, he'd take it. 

Will grimaced, staring out at the ground.

"Well?" Halt prompted, when seconds passed by with nothing.

"She told me she prayed every night for my safe return."

Halt's eyebrows rose. He hadn't realized it was that serious. "That sounds like a good thing."

Will made a small, distressed sound. "Well, it seems like it now, but back then I-I, I dunno, freaked out!"

"It's alright to be embarrassed, Will," Halt said consolingly. "She probably even took it as a compliment."

"Well, but- it wasn't just that," he eked out, haltingly. "I... may or may not have..."

Expectant silence.

"...told her to stop doing that."

"You what?"

Will nodded miserably.

Halt took a deep breath. "Yes, I'd say you screwed up pretty nicely."

"What was I supposed to say?" Will asked mournfully. "She's intelligent, and beautiful, and has a bright career ahead of her in the Diplomats - she shouldn't waste her time on a guy like me. I mean, seriously. I can't believe she didn't find one already - I was gone for over a year."

"Presumably," said Halt blandly, "it was because she was waiting for you."

"She shouldn't have!"

"And why not?"

"We- we didn't even make any sort of, of agreement or anything," Will said, distressed. "There was no reason for her to... especially..."

Halt's eyes narrowed slightly at the addendum that Will began and then let fade into silence, but decided he'd address that later. Instead, he said, "Did you think about her over the last year? Did you miss her? Were you excited at the idea of seeing her again?"

Will was silent for awhile. His brow furrowed, expression turning pensive. After a minute, Halt looked down and- yep. Will's hands were shaking. He sighed minutely. It seemed the tremors were a consequence of Will's time in Skandia. Whenever he got lost in thought, or was reminded of what he'd been through, they seemed to start. Halt hoped, both for Will's career as a Ranger and for his own life, that such shaking would not occur during battle - or at least would not hinder his aim. Most likely, the adrenaline of battle would take care of such things, but Halt still worried. 

"I did think of her," Will said finally. "Not often, though. Not nearly as much as she said she thought of me. Partially because - well."

There was a time I couldn't think at all.

"But... what I told you about Cassandra, it wasn't just to cover my skin. And, well, I've been afraid of seeing Alyss again."

"'Afraid'?" Halt repeated, incredulous. "Whatever for?"

Will looked at him, frowning. "You can't guess?"

"I could, but I'd rather just be told," Halt said mildly.

"She's a Diplomat, Halt. She's trained in keeping secrets." Will looked down. "And in finding them out."

Oh. So that was Will's problem.

"Will..."

"I know she'll find out eventually," he said quietly. He shifted, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on top. "But I can't bear to tell her myself. What would... what would she think of me? I know whatever... admiration, or affection, or whatever she holds for me would be gone. I thought it'd be a better idea to just get it over with."

"And how do you feel about that now?"

Will sighed heavily. "Pretty awful."

Halt said nothing for a little while, pondering it over in his mind. He couldn't help but think about how Will had very little difficulty divulging everything that had happened with Alyss. The way he'd immediately come to Halt and spoken to him was a far cry from the two times Halt had forcibly cornered Will into talking about Skandia.

"Well," Halt said finally, "what are you planning to do now?"

"I don't know," Will groaned. "I was hoping you'd know."

"Me?"

"Yes, you," Will groused. "See anyone else around here I'd ask? Tug or Abelard, perhaps?"

"Now, Will," Halt said warningly, and his apprentice subsided, though still pouted. "If you were to ask me, I'd say just be honest with her. Lies are never a good thing for any kind of relationship - I'd hoped you'd learned that lesson already."

Will winced, then said defensively, "It's not like I'm lying to her, I'm just-"

"Just not telling her anything, I know," Halt said calmly. "But you realize that's what you did with me too. It all started out with lies of omission, and then it grew from there. Not only is it wrong, it's only going to hurt both of you the longer you keep it up."

Will balked, lip curling at the very idea of telling Alyss the truth. "I can't."

Halt sighed, deciding to switch tactics. He put an arm around Will - tentatively at first, wondering if Will would shrug him off. But besides stiffening, Will kept still. Halt took that as a sign to continue. "You're just going to be more miserable if you let this go unresolved."

Will looked away. "I'll be miserable no matter what."

Halt had nothing to say to that. He pursed his lips, then tried, "Will..."

Will shrugged off his arm and stood, turning to go back inside. "It's fine. I'll deal with it. I always have before. Goodnight, Halt."

Halt turned to watch his apprentice go, something sad in his expression that Will would've seen, had he looked. "Goodnight, Will."

As his apprentice's footsteps faded into the house, Halt stared out at the dark horizon and hoped that Crowley and Gilan would come soon.

Chapter Text

It was October, three months before the Gathering, and things were not going well. Only a few days had passed since Will's wardmates had visited and he and Alyss had last spoken. True to his word, he had not spoken to her since, refusing to even entertain the idea. And, Halt thought darkly, his training was much worse for the wear because of it.

The letters Halt had sent to Gilan and Crowley had still not been answered, and Halt was beginning to get more and more antsy. Firstly because the information he had written was confidential - Will would be extremely upset if the contents were ever found and read by someone else. But secondly because it was not like his friends to not reply. Had something happened to them? Or were they, for some unknown reason, suddenly unwilling to help Will? It seemed out of character, but Halt wasn't sure what else it could be. 

He had mentioned the letters to Will a few days ago out of the desire to keep up communication between them. Will had seemed pleased to hear that Gilan would be coming back, but wary when he heard Crowley would be coming as well. Even once Halt had assured him that it had nothing to do with Will's training, Will had seemed unconvinced. Halt had had to resort to a cryptic statement about Crowley's past and the similarity between himself and Will. That had caused a stream of questions from Will (which, despite Halt's best efforts, he had smiled to hear), and when Halt had summarily ignored them, Will had seemed content enough to shrug and try once more to get out of mucking the stalls.

Sighing, Halt stood up from his chair and checked the coffee pot, glancing at the door to Will's bedroom as he did so. It was past sunrise, time for Will to be getting up, but he hadn't heard a stir. That had been happening more and more often, especially recently. In the four days since the Alyss Incident, Will had woken up late on two. Halt had let it slide - it had only been a few minutes, less than a half hour - but if this were to continue, Halt would need to nip it in the bud. A Ranger could not afford to sleep in. 

"Will," he called, raising his voice slightly to be heard. "It's time to get up."

A few seconds passed. Finally, the door opened to reveal a bedhead-ridden apprentice with a scowl. He slogged his way over to the table and sat down without even glancing at Halt, much less greeting him.

Halt raised his eyebrows. He could never be called a stickler for manners - that was for royalty, which Halt had definitively eschewed in the early years of his life - but he had at least expected an acknowledgement of his presence. 

"Good morning," Halt said.

In a very Halt-like move, Will grunted.

Halt examined him for a moment, then turned back to breakfast. People were allowed to have off days, and Will was a teenager. Halt set the table himself and brought the food out once it was done - more food for Will than for himself, like usual.

Will kept his silence throughout the meal, eating his food with almost mechanical precision. Halt didn't attempt to break the silence, instead reading through some reports. There were an increasing number of bandits nearby, just far enough from Redmont fief to not bother most of its people, but close enough to be worrisome. Halt filed the knowledge into the back of his mind for later. 

When Halt next glanced at Will, he was staring moodily at his now-empty plate. Halt pushed his own away from him and leaned back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. "Alright, time for morning chores."

It had always been Will's job to clean up after breakfast and then do the rest of the chores Halt had assigned him: chopping wood, sweeping, mucking out the stalls, grooming and feeding Tug and Abelard, bringing water, the works. Will often sighed or gave a wry glance to Halt as if to say while you'll be doing what, exactly? But never seemed upset, except the occasional complaint that Halt was quite good at ignoring.

Today, Will's scowl only deepened. He stood up, shoving back his chair with such force it almost toppled, and snatched up his and Halt's dishes, stalking off towards the washbasin with a mutter Halt suspected was untoward. As Will washed the dishes with such clattering and clanging it was a wonder they didn't break, Halt sent a matching frown in his direction. What had gotten into him? This temper wasn't like Will at all. Like any adolescent, Will had his moody days, but his temper had always burned like a torch held to a trail of oil - blazing hot but quickly burnt out. 

"Mind the dishes," Halt called out mildly. "You'll be paying for them if you break them." 

Will muttered something that Halt could not make out, but it did not sound complimentary.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." 

Halt hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should call Will out or let it lie. Finally he decided to let it go. Will wasn't normally like this, after all. And like Halt had thought earlier, everyone was allowed an off day. Halt was hardly a paragon of etiquette and politeness himself, after all. It would be hypocritical of him to reprove Will for something he did himself. 

Will finished with the dishes and left the house, presumably to chop wood or do one of the other myriad outdoor chores he had to do. His footsteps were heavy and purposefully loud, and as he left, the door slammed behind him powerfully enough to rattle the entire house.

"Watch it, Will," Halt said warningly, loud enough to be heard outside. He did not receive a response.

Uneasy, Halt returned to his reports and hoped that, like Will's moodiness had in the past, it would soon subside.

It continued like that all day. Whenever Halt encountered Will, Will purposefully made every action of his as irritating as possible: scowling and muttering under his breath, stomping around, and completing every task as loudly and inefficiently as possible. Halt began to wonder what the purpose of doing such even was, for it was surely just expending more energy on Will's part. Was Will truly just that angry? Why? Will had always brought up any issue he had with Halt within a day or two before. Why wasn't he doing so now?

Of course, Halt reflected, Halt had sometimes had to press him for it, even back then. Will had been painfully shy around Halt, especially at first. He had always been hesitant to bring up any matter of true importance with his master. Halt had never pried, but he personally thought it had something to do with how Will was an orphan who had only survived due to the goodwill of Baron Arald and, later, Halt. Will cared for Halt and was - had been, at least, before Skandia - happy living with him. But perhaps it only went so far. Perhaps - and this thought Halt had never been able to shake - Halt could never match up to Will's true parents, and so Will would never afford him the trust and love he would gladly have given them.

Halt pushed the thought away like he always did whenever it came to him. He scowled up at the sky, feeling just as annoyed as Will for a moment. Then he forced it down, breathed, and looked back at his damn paperwork. He'd almost caught up by now. There were just a few things left, the sort of things that required a lot of back-and-forth between the Scribes and Diplomats and who knows who else, but after they were finished, Halt would finally be free to spend his days doing what he loved: everything but paperwork. 

Will stomped to a stop in front of him a few minutes later. The sun had peaked and begun to descend, casting its light onto the veranda where Halt sat with his papers. "I'm done with chores."

Even his speaking voice was irritated and disrespectful. Not for the first time that day, Halt considered the thought that Will was intentionally trying to make him angry. The idea was ludicrous - Will had never been that kind of person, and Halt was not exactly pleasant to be around when angry - but he couldn't think of any other explanation that made sense.

Halt grunted. "Nice to see that all those years of silent and unseen movement training have gone to good use."

Will gave a condescending-sounding sniff. It would almost have been provoking, had Will been any good at sounding condescending. As it was, it came out sounding more like Tug than anything. 

"So you've finished, have you?" Halt asked, not particularly wanting a reply. It was fortunate, since he was not given one. "Well, let's get down to work, then. I expect you've an answer to give me about that scenario I introduced to you yesterday?"

Since Will was still gaining back weight, Halt had taken off physical training for the time being, deciding that his chores were enough physical labor for now. He was expecting to add some back in soon - running, stretching, some basic drills and exercises - but for now, Will's training consisted purely of the mental. Fortunately for Will, he had a keen, although rather unconventional, mind for strategy and tactics. Unfortunately for Will, he had a dull and completely uninterested mind for geography and history. 

As Will hesitated, Halt raised an eyebrow. Halt had come to look forward to these exercises. Especially in the past few weeks, Will had begun showing a skill for these things that made hearing his answers interesting. He was no longer a beginner tactician whose every strategy had to be dissected and corrected. Now, he often expressed ideas or strategies that Halt found half-way decent, and once or twice he'd even come up with a plan a little better than Halt's own. 

"Don't be too eager now," Halt said dryly. "Too much faster and I won't be able to make it out."

Will shifted, looked down, and then suddenly looked Halt straight in the eye and smirked. "I have a plan."

"I would hope so, given that that's what I asked you to have yesterday."

Will's smirk widened. Keeping his eyes locked on Halt, he proceeded to lay out...

...the most asinine, idiotic strategy Halt had ever heard from anyone, man, woman, or child. For the first time Halt could remember, he actually had to fight back the urge to let his mouth drop open in utter shock. Even Salt Peter, the idiot who'd brought a message to Arald about the boar hunt back in Will's first year, could've come up with a better plan than this.

"So," Will said once he'd finished, still giving Halt the same smirk, "what do you think?"

What did he think? Halt very seriously considered if his apprentice had somehow been cloned and replaced last night - perhaps a changeling type situation? He didn't believe in such superstitions, but the behavior was so very unlike Will it baffled him. 

"What do I think?" Halt said slowly. "Will, why are you trying to anger me?"

There - he saw it. Will winced, shifting from one foot to the other. He was still standing in front of Halt, forcing the Ranger to look up at his apprentice. Normally, he would've gestured for Will to take the chair next to his so they could discuss the exercise in-depth, but today Halt hadn't offered, and Will hadn't taken it. 

"What," Will said, instantly defensive, "am I not allowed to have an off day?"

That he'd immediately sprung to that defense, rather than backing down and admitting fault like he usually did, showed Halt that Will must have planned this out, at least to an extent. Again, he was utterly confused. Why on earth would Will do this? 

"You are," said Halt, still evenly, "which is why I let it go until now. But I am not an imbecile. It's not difficult to realize you're doing this on purpose. Under different circumstances, I might punish you for being so blatantly disrespectful, but I'd really rather just know why."

Will's face twisted into a sneer - an expression Halt did not remember ever seeing on his face before, and one that certainly did not belong. "You're so generous, how could I ever thank you? But of course you'd expect that, wouldn't you? Of course poor orphan Will is supposed to fall on his knees in gratitude in front of you."

Halt's eyes twitched. He was struggling to rein in his irritation. He was short-tempered on his best day, and that was without an apprentice who knew all his buttons and was pushing every single one. 

"Will, drop it. This isn't like you at all. Drop the act and speak to me like an adult, or at least a boy. You're acting like a child." 

"'This isn't like you'?" Will repeated, all pretense of mockery suddenly gone. "Like you would even know what I'm like now!"

"I know what you were like," Halt said, tone lowering as Will's rose, "and I have openly invited you to share with me what you are like now."

Halt's words, though not intended to do such, clearly threw Will on the wrong foot, an opponent's verbal trip. He faltered but recovered before Halt could dive in for the final blow. 

"Yeah? Like you could ever actually mean that. All you are is some man who took me in just to get another member for his Corps."

Halt carefully set down the quill he'd been using into its stand and folded his hands into his lap. He turned his head away from Will, not wanting his apprentice to see the pain those words had caused him. 

"You know that's not true."

"Do I?" Will scoffed. Every word of Will's was sharp and painful, swift arrows that struck hard and deep. "Don't pretend like, if I hadn't had potential to be a Ranger, you would've taken me in. No, I'd have gone off to live as a farmer, drudging my life away in menial labor and subsistence. You only took me in because I could benefit you and your Corps, and you'll only keep me-"

He broke off suddenly, but it was too late. Halt's eyes narrowed as he gazed up as Will. It wasn't hard to complete Will's sentence: You'll only keep me as long as I benefit you. Was that true? Did Halt only keep Will with him because he knew that, one day, Will would help him in return?

He knew the answer immediately. Of course not! He had taken Will in because of his potential to be a Ranger. Of course he had; why else would he bring in a total stranger? Will was fully able to provide for himself, even if just as a farmer - if Halt had not taken him in, Will would still be alive and well, if bored and disillusioned with life. But now that he had taken in Will, now that they had lived together, worked together, bled together, the idea that Halt would throw away the bond that had been forged between them because Will's presence might not materially benefit him anymore was absurd. 

He loved Will. He loved him more than he had ever loved a person, even Pritchard, even Gilan, even Pauline. 

Sometimes, he really did wonder what it would take for Will to get that. Had risking his own life for Will not been enough? Had being banished? If he had only kept Will for his and the Corps' own benefit, Halt would long ago have cut his losses. It wasn't like it'd be that hard to find another apprentice. But Halt didn't want another apprentice. He wanted Will. 

Did Will truly not understand, or was he just pretending not to? 

"That's not true."

"What isn't?" 

"What you just said." Halt looked at him searchingly. "Or rather, what you didn't just say."

Will closed his eyes and leaned against one of the veranda's columns. "You were about to kick me out just a few days ago. Don't pretend now."

Halt's eyes widened and for a moment the realization of why Will was doing this hovered just beyond his reach. It faded before he could grasp it. He opened his mouth to refute Will's statement - he had spoken hastily in an attempt to get Will to talk, never intending to actually throw Will out - but Will barreled onwards.

"Don't," Will said, "pretend that we're anything more than master and apprentice, that you want me here for any reason other than that I benefit you - that I - that you... Don't, just stop pretending that you actually care about me, and don't you ever try to pretend you're my dad. Cause you're not."

Whatever expression Will wore on his face during and after these words, whatever tone he used, whatever gestures and mannerisms employed, all of that was lost to Halt. Nails dug into palms, teeth into teeth, and he stood abruptly, chair falling to the ground with a clatter. He stood there for a moment, utterly still except for a long, deep breath. Then he turned on his heel and disappeared into the house.

And so, there was no one there to see when Will's expression crumpled like a discarded paper napkin and he collapsed to the ground, covering his face with trembling hands as he cried.

Chapter Text

Will was still out on the porch when the sound of hoofbeats drifted into his ears. He uncurled from his fetal position and sat up, wiping his face and frowning in the direction of the hoofbeats. The sun had set an hour before, and he squinted in the haze of the descending twilight, unable to make out anything except the silhouettes of the trees outlined by greying pink and orange. The hoofbeats came from the direction of Castle Redmont, but that meant very little. No one ever came from any other direction, for that was the only path to get to Halt's house.

The hoofbeats neared. It was two horses, Will could tell, and as they got closer still he frowned. The hoofbeats were not the plodding ones of farm or packhorses, nor were they the heavy ones of the battle horses used by knights. No. These were light, quiet, and closely in sync with each other - close enough that Will could only tell there were two of them from his training. There was only one type of horse that moved like that. These were Ranger horses.

He remembered Halt telling him about the letters he'd sent to Gilan and Crowley. He grimaced, dread descending over him in the form of a cold sweat, made worse by the growing chill of the early October night. 

Gingerly, Will stood, facing the path. He was far from ready to receive them in his current state. He was sure his face was still red and puffy and covered in the tell-tale signs of tears - Will always had been an ugly crier. Today was not the day he'd wanted his Commandant to find that out. His head had taken up a dull pound and his lungs weighed heavy. If he hadn't just spent the past two hours crying, he would've run off into the forest to do just that.

Will pulled the cowl of his cloak over his head and faded into the shadows as the first of the horses breached the clearing. It was taller than any other Ranger horse, as was its rider. The second, smaller horse was several paces behind. Both the riders had their faces exposed, and what Will could make out of them was exhausted. Will was familiar with that type of exhaustion. They must've been doing the Ranger's marching tactic of jogging alongside their horses every few hours. But Rangers only did that when they were traveling long distances without pause. Had Halt's letter really seemed that urgent?

At that thought, Will's face scrunched up and he was grateful for his cowl. Traitorous tears burned in his eyes at the thought of his master going to the trouble of asking them for help. Halt did not ask for help unless it were urgent - a matter of life and death. Yet this time he had, for Will.

Knock it off, he told himself, gritting his teeth. It's just because he couldn't manage you. 

That refrain seemed more sour the longer he chanted it, but it was all he had.

Crowley and Gilan reined their horses in in the middle of the yard, dismounting with limbs stiff from exertion and fatigue. They led them into the stable next to Abelard and Tug. Will saw them glance back at the house and exchange looks. Gilan murmured something too quiet to make out, but from his pinched expression, Will could guess what it was. As a former apprentice to Halt, Gilan would know that Halt usually spent his evenings out on the porch. Even with the sky rapidly darkening, Halt would have been out there still. 

But he wasn't.

The two Rangers rubbed their horses down quickly but thoroughly, giving them a few apples (and one or two to Tug and Abelard as well, for good measure), before exchanging glances once more and heading towards the house. Will fought the urge to tense as they got closer, reminding himself that that was the surest way to give himself away. For a moment he could've sworn Crowley's dark eyes flicked towards where Will stood, hidden behind a beam, but Crowley kept moving and Will relaxed.

"It's really quiet," Gilan murmured as the two Rangers got within ten feet of the house. "I don't like this. Halt never goes to bed this early, and Will doesn't either."

"They're - well, Halt is - a pretty quiet person," Crowley pointed out. "And it's not too late, one or both of them might be out still."

"Both their horses are here, though. It'd be odd for them to go so far away without their horses."

Crowley conceded that with a bare nod. They were almost to the porch now.

They stopped just in front of the steps. They paused, eyes searching the house, heads slightly cocked as though trying to hear any sound from within. Will grimaced. On a normal day, they would've been able to hear something: the clinking of a coffee mug on a table, the soothing rasp of a knife on a whetstone, the soft murmur of conversation. But tonight the entire house was blanketed in silence.

"I can't hear a thing," Gilan said, brow tightening. "What's going on?"

"Could be they're asleep already," Crowley said, lifting a shoulder. "But you're right. Something feels off. Maybe they had a fight?"

The guess made Will flinch and he promptly cursed himself for it. He held his breath, waiting for one of them to call him out on it, but they said nothing and appeared to not have seen him move. He let out a silent breath of relief. 

"Well, let's try the door."

Crowley brushed past where Will stood and put his hand on the door to knock. It eased open as soon as he put his hand on it; Halt hadn't closed it behind him when he'd left, and Will hadn't bothered to shut it either. 

"There's light on inside," Crowley murmured to Gilan. "Why don't you go see who it is and tell him we're here? Maybe ask him to welcome us properly while you're at it. I'll tend to the horses."

Gilan nodded and entered the house, closing the front door silently behind him.

Will had just breathed a sigh of relief when Crowley suddenly faced him directly.

"Alright, Will. You can come out now."

"C-Crowley!" Will flushed and hastily babbled, "I-I mean, C-Commandant Crowley, sir!"

Crowley's weathered face usually held some sign of good humor in it, much like Gilan. Tonight, however, it was bereft of it, in its place something heavy and serious. "You gave yourself away when you startled as soon as we came within ten feet of you. It was so slight I doubt you realized it, but it was enough for an experienced tracker like me to see it. You'll need to work on that."

Will opened his mouth, then shut it, awestruck as usual when faced with Crowley, as well as uncertain and dreading what was to come.

"Halt's inside, I take it?"

Will nodded mutely. When Crowley remained silent, waiting for him to continue, Will reluctantly did so. "He left a couple hours ago."

Crowley considered him. Something sad flashed across his face. "By 'left,' you mean that you had a fight and he walked away before he said something he'd regret."

Will gasped. Crowley regarded him with a sad smile, then tipped his head towards the forest. "Let's talk away from any prying ears."

Crowley moved without waiting for Will's response, leaving Will to bumble down the stairs and trot after his Commandant awkwardly. He couldn't help but admire Crowley's skill at silent movement: he seemed to glide over the ground like a ghost or winged creature. Will was quiet, but even his years of training hadn't made him silent. 

They stopped a little ways into the forest, far enough that they wouldn't be able to hear or be heard by Gilan and Halt, yet close enough to still make out the fringes of Halt's house. Will bit his lip, shifting from foot to foot as his stomach knotted up in dread. The crickets had set up a soothing chorus in the background, but Will barely heard it. There were few things Will feared more than pissing off his Commandant - Crowley's disapproval had been a big reason he'd lied about the warmweed in the first place - and now that he'd admitted to fighting with Halt, Crowley's close friend, Will wished he could be just about anywhere else but here.

Crowley plopped down on the forest floor with a sigh and leaned back against a the trunk of a thick, sturdy tree, stretching his arms out with a yawn. "That Ranger's march truly never does get easier, no matter how many times I've done it," he commented ruefully. He looked up at Will. "Sit down, and don't look so scared. I promise I'm nicer than Halt."

Will winced. He sat down warily a few feet from Crowley, sitting up straight and poised, ready to run if he had to. Not that he thought it'd do any good, trying to run from a Ranger like Crowley, but he was too on-edge to act at ease.

"I-I know I shouldn't have fought with him, sir," Will started quickly, staring down at his hands. "I don't usually fight with him - I'm not a troublemaker, I swear, sir - I just-"

"Has Halt ever told you about our mentor, Pritchard?" 

Thrown off by the abrupt change in subject, Will lifted his head to stare blankly at Crowley. The man cocked a brow at him, movement reminiscent of Halt's impatient expression. Will quickly scrambled to answer. "A little."

"As Halt might've told you, Pritchard is the one who trained both of us to become Rangers. As is usually the case between masters and apprentices, we were quite fond of him. You could say he was like a father to us."

Crowley trained his eyes up at the sky. The stars were beginning to come out now, and Crowley looked up at them like each of them held the words he was about to speak. Will watched, uncomfortable for several reasons. He wasn't sure he could take any more comparisons between Ranger master-apprentice relationships and father-son relationships, especially not after what he'd just told Halt. More than that, his Commandant suddenly saying something so personal was weird enough that his skin crawled with it.

"Pritchard trained me first in Araluen, before he was banished and fled to Hibernia. There he met Halt and trained him. We worked together, the three of us alongside the rest of the Rangers, to stop Morgarath. We drove him out, as you know, but Pritchard lost his life in a skirmish."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Will said softly.

Crowley tipped his head. "It was a long time ago. I've gotten used to it now. Back then, though, it was hard to bear. I became Ranger Commandant shortly after, and both Halt and I had so much to do to get the kingdom back together that we didn't give ourselves time to grieve. Halt especially. He never has been able to let himself rest."

Crowley sighed. He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "There'll be a time for the full story later. Suffice to say, Halt kept all of his pain about Pritchard's death bottled up for a long time. Months. Years. And then - something happened that made it so he couldn't take it anymore."

Will fidgeted. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Will," Crowley said quietly, "I've seen my friend in pain before. And it looks like this. I can tell from the way you're acting that your fight today - it was your fault, wasn't it? You started it."

Will bowed his head, unable to answer.

"I'm not angry at you," Crowley said. "On the contrary, I probably understand how you're feeling better than anyone. But just because you're in pain, that doesn't give you the right to bring it out on everyone else around you. That's selfish, Will."

Will bristled. Crowley didn't even know what they'd fought about. What gave him the right to lecture Will on his behavior? "I wasn't bringing it out on Halt, I was just-"

"Trying to drive him away?" Crowley finished dryly. When Will gaped at him, Crowley just sighed. "I told you, I know what you're going through. I've been there. I'm telling you all this so you don't make the same mistakes I did. Halt might not act like it, but he's a person. He has feelings. He can be hurt just like you. He can feel guilty just like you."

"What would he even feel guilty for?" Will asked, staring down at his hands, calloused and rough, scarred with frostbite from the paddles. "He's not the one who... who got addicted and- and- or, or the one who captured me or hurt me."

"He's the one who allowed it to happen."

Will flinched. Somehow, Crowley had perfectly voiced the deep, hidden anger within him that Will hadn't even known existed. 

"I thought so. You're angry at him."

"Who else can I be angry with?" Will asked after a long, long pause. "The ones who hurt me - they're dead and gone. And the ones who're left are untouchable."

"I know. It's not just or right." 

Will had nothing to say to that, because Crowley was correct. It was not. Will stared at his hands, at the ground, at the trees around them. 

After a few moments, Crowley sighed. "It's not just or right for Halt either, though."

Will lowered his head even more, and again could make no response. 

"Alright, I think my job is done for now. Let's go back." Crowley heaved himself up with a grunt, and Will followed, albeit hesitantly. "Your master better have prepared a place for me to sleep. These old bones of mine can't take the hard ground anymore."

"Mr. Crowley, sir?"

Crowley huffed out a laugh. "None of that 'mister' stuff, if you please. I feel old enough already. Besides, you're a Ranger. We don't put on airs with each other."

Will swallowed. "Uh, Commandant Crowley, sir?"

Shaking his head in amused exasperation, Crowley nevertheless waved him on. They had come back up to the house now; they had only a few seconds left before entering. Will fidgeted and took a quick breath.

"Does - do you think that Halt-" he stopped in his tracks, both word-wise and step-wise, ending up exactly four feet from the porch. 

Crowley tilted his head, waiting for Will to continue. It was an oft-used Ranger tactic, waiting out the other person. People, as a rule, hated silence in social settings, and would often do anything to fill it. By not responding verbally, Crowley was putting more pressure on Will to speak. Unfortunately, just knowing about the reason behind it did not make it any easier for Will to bear. He hated awkward silences.

"Would he ever..." 

Again, Will paused. He chewed on his lip nervously, nails digging unconsciously into flesh as he turned over his words in his head. He had never used to care so much about his words. He had only had to start when he'd started lying. Now he couldn't stop.

"Would Halt ever...?" Crowley finally said as the silence stretched on for longer, raising an eyebrow in such an exact imitation of Halt that it was unnerving. 

Will opened his mouth, then rapidly shook his head. He switched topics. "Do you think, um, as a rule, that Ranger apprentices are - uh - replaceable?" 

Crowley looked at him for a long moment. It was the same sort of careful, analytical gaze Will was used to from Halt. Getting it from the Commandant was, unsurprisingly, even worse. Will fought the urge to squirm. 

"Rangers do not pick just anyone to be their apprentice, Will. We scout out all of our potential apprentices before they're ever asked. No Ranger would take on an apprentice that they did not think would succeed in the Corps."

Will shifted, mouth turning down at the corners. "But can they be easily replaced?"

Again, that searching look. Crowley took a fractional step closer, his expression softening in concern. "Will, are you afraid that Halt might-"

The front door to Halt's house cracked open, spilling soft, golden light onto the porch. Will whipped his head around to see Gilan standing there, expression the exact sort of awkward you get from realizing you've just interrupted something you shouldn't have. 

"Sorry, sorry, my bad," Gilan said quickly, making to shut the door again. "You can go back to whatever you were saying, I'll just leave-"

"No it's fine," Will said just as quickly, jumping up the steps and grabbing the door before it could fully shut. "We were just finished talking, right?"

He looked back at Crowley pointedly and a bit pleadingly. Crowley sighed, shrugging defeatedly. "Sure."

The two of them stepped into the house. The sky had fully darkened in the time they'd been outside, so Will blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden influx of light coming from the fireplace and the two lamps Halt had lit. Will gave the room a quick perusal. Everything was exactly how it had been earlier in the day, save for the lamps being lit. Halt was nowhere to be seen. 

Despite how little Will had wanted to see Halt again so soon after their fight, Halt's absence still made his stomach drop. Of course, it could have just been for some simple, reasonable cause such as Halt being tired, but Will couldn't help but think that Halt just didn't want to see him. 

He looked up at Gilan, hoping his friend would understand his problem. Gilan smiled a little sadly and motioned him and Crowley closer to himself, leaning in to speak to them softly. "I talked with him and I think it's best if you both get some time away from each other to cool down."

Crowley nodded at that, but Will just felt more miserable. Did that mean Halt was really angry at him? 

You wanted this to happen, his brain reminded him. You're the one who started it. You wanted Halt to get angry, but now you can't take it when he is? 

No. No, he couldn't. Hypocrite that he was.

"You don't need to worry," Gilan said softly, putting a hand on Will's shoulder. Will didn't quite flinch, but it was close. He wasn't used to touch any more. "Halt isn't angry."

"Then why?"

Gilan closed his eyes briefly, considering how to respond. "I didn't know where you were at, and quite honestly, Halt needed the rest. You know how he gets when something upsets him."

No. No, Will didn't. Halt had never really been upset around Will. Annoyance over training or frustration at paperwork or even the terror of the Kalkara or I will find you, Will! None of that was the same as now. 

"He doesn't let himself rest," Gilan said, seeing Will's confusion. "Halt never likes to rest until whatever's upsetting him is over. It takes a lot to get him upset, but once he is..."

The sickening feeling was only growing. Will stared at the floorboards. They could use a good mopping, he thought absently. For once, he was actually eager to do it, if it would get Halt feeling better again. 

"What he needs right now is rest, not more stress. Looking at you, I think you're the same. You need to sleep, Will. Things are usually better after a good night's rest."

That, or they're just the same, Will thought morosely, but nodded anyway. "Where will you two be sleeping?"

At that, Gilan grimaced. "Well, there's a couch."

Crowley shook his head, looking exasperated. "After all these years, Halt still never prepares when he has guests coming over. I'll take the couch, you can sleep on the floor. I'm your senior, after all."

Gilan glared good-naturedly at him. "In more ways than one," he said, nimbly dodging Crowley's foot when it came for him. 

"You're lucky you're a halfway decent Ranger, you know that?" Crowley muttered. "Otherwise I'd have expelled you long ago."

Gilan clutched a hand at his heart. "And all this time, I thought you were keeping me for my pretty face!"

Will laughed. Gilan gave him a cheeky grin and tilted his head in the direction of Will's bedroom. "Go get some rest, Will. Everything'll be better come morning."

Will grimaced but moved off to his room. "Sure. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," Gilan and Crowley called, before returning to their discussion about who would sleep where.

Will closed his door to shut out their voices, shucked off his shoes, and fell into bed. Despite how weary he was, sleep eluded him for hours after.

Chapter Text

There were few things worse, Will was convinced, than the crippling, inescapable awkwardness that besieged him and Halt the next day. It started from the moment Will walked into the main room for breakfast the next morning, and it only got worse from there. Because as soon as he walked in, he immediately made eye contact with Halt.

The two of them stared at each other for several uninterrupted seconds. Will frantically contemplated if it would be better to speak or say silent. What would I even say? Good morning? How are you? Wait, of course I can't say that! He looks awful, I can't ask 'how are you'!

As Will opened and shut his mouth a few times, feeling sickeningly like a suffocating goldfish and wishing more than anything that he had never woken up that morning, Gilan finally broke their standoff with a cheery,

"Morning, Will! Sleep well?" 

The relief that ran through Will was heady. He nodded several more times than were needed and responded, in a tone that was too high-pitched and eager to be anything but fake, "G'morning! I slept just fine, thanks! How about you?"

Gilan groaned theatrically. "Downright terrible. This one over here-" Gilan jerked his thumb over at Crowley, who Will only then noticed, "decided to take not just the couch, but all the pillows and the spare blanket to boot!"

"Think of it as field training," Crowley offered from his spot at the table where he sat, sipping coffee. "You'd have to sleep on the ground just like that on a mission."

"Okay, but consider: this is not a mission."

Will snorted.

"Don't snort, Will, you sound like Tug."

Halt's automatic, absentminded reproof - one Will had heard a dozen times over by now - would have gone by with nothing more than a good-natured huff and an obedient "Yes, Halt" on any other day. Today, though, Will froze, wide-eyed gaze darting over to his master as the room fell completely silent. For his part, Halt stiffened a fraction of a second later, his eyes flicking to Will and then back to his coffee cup in the only show of tension he would give.

The room vibrated in silence.

Finally, Gilan again came to the rescue. He swooped over to the coffee pot and poured himself a cup. "Hey Will, want some coffee?"

"Y-Yes, please."

There was again a beat of silence as Gilan poured Will a cup, then thrust it into Will's hands before taking a draught of his own. He sighed in pleasure, closing his eyes as he swallowed. "Ah, Halt always has the good stuff. Hey Halt, where'd you get this from? It sure as hell beats the swill that passes for coffee over in my fief."

"The Turks have a particularly fine brand of it, I've found," Halt said, and then said nothing more - despite Gilan's repeated attempts to get him to elaborate on that. In the midst of it all, Crowley got up to tend to breakfast and served it. They all sat down around the table and began eating.

As he ate, Will couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched, but whenever he looked up, no one was looking at him. He began growing more antsy as the meal progressed and the feeling continued, making him unable to take part in the tepid conversation going on between Crowley, Gilan, and occasionally Halt. As he got down to his last bite and the feeling increased, Will swiftly looked up from his meal and straight across the table. Then, for the second time that morning, he locked eyes with Halt.

It was just as awkward as the first time around.

"Would you like seconds?" Halt asked after a moment, nodding towards Will's almost empty plate.

Caught off guard, Will stammered incoherently before finally managing, "N-No, uh, sir. No, I'm - that's - fine. Thanks."

Halt examined him a moment longer before nodding and looking back towards Crowley and Gilan. Will loosed a sigh of relief. He frowned down at his plate, dreading the rest of the day. If it were already this awkward, just how much worse was it going to get? 

After breakfast was finished and cleaned up, Crowley made the executive decision to take Will outside for training himself. When Halt made a protest that Will was supposed to do the chores, Crowley rolled his eyes, made a comment about Halt needing to do his fair share for once, and ushered Will outside. 

"So, Will," Crowley said once this had been accomplished, "what does Halt have you doing these days?"

Will looked entreatingly to Gilan, who had followed them out, but received nothing except a raise of an eyebrow. Will shrugged a little helplessly. "Archery?" he offered.

"'Archery'?" Crowley repeated, raising an eyebrow in turn. "Yes, I should dearly hope that Halt would have a Ranger's apprentice practicing archery. I meant, what exactly does he have you practicing? Surely he has certain exercises?"

"Oh, yes," Will said, flushing a little. He quickly outlined some of them, Crowley listening attentively and nodding along, with the occasional skeptical look or grimace when some detail didn't quite fit his liking. Once he was done, Crowley set him on a few of the lighter ones, gracefully bypassing all of the more physically taxing ones so well that Will was halfway through an exercise before he even realized it.

He turned towards Crowley as soon as the thought hit him, lowering his bow. Crowley tilted his head inquisitively from where he sat on the porch. He was in Halt's chair, and his posture and expression were so like Halt that it was eerie.

"Did Halt-" Will began, then winced as he abruptly decided mentioning Halt was probably not a good idea.

"Probably," said Crowley dryly.

"No, I meant - oh, never mind." Will huffed and turned back to his exercise.

From where he sat next to Crowley, Gilan's called, in a comedically terrible imitation of Halt: "Put some back into it, boy!"

Will started laughing, and before long Gilan and Crowley joined in. 

"So," Gilan began, tapping his fingers on his thigh nervously, "we should probably... talk. About everything."

Will remained where he was, sitting with his back against a tree, gazing mindlessly at the forest around him. They were a little ways from Halt's house; Gilan had taken Will out into the forest to train him in unseen movement several hours ago. It was now past midday, the sun just beginning to descend towards the horizon. Gilan had finally allowed Will to take a break after several hours of uninterrupted training, and Will was extremely grateful for it. His body was still far from peak condition, still undernourished and out of shape. 

"Is it really so hard to go a single day without talking about my problems? I'm sick of having to have these kinds of conversations."

"Alright," said Gilan easily, stretching his arms out from his place beside Will. "We don't need to talk about it. I'm sure whatever Crowley said last night was enough."

Will twitched. "You could say that."

Gilan nodded. He was quiet for a bit, eyes wandering around their surroundings, picking up all the little things that Rangers were trained to see: the flittering of birds, the miniscule shifting of leaves, the slanting of the sunlight, dappling leaves and branches. Will breathed in, taking in the peace of their silence. It had been a long time since he had felt comfortable with another, let alone at peace. His relationship was Halt was far from peaceful, and there was no one else that he was close with who even knew what he had been through. With Gilan, Will was finally at ease.

"You know..." Gilan said some time later - ten, twenty, or even thirty minutes later. "Do you... how much have you forgotten about yourself, Will?"

Having expected something to do with his fight with Halt, or even the usual well-meaning questions about how he was doing, Will was thrown. He paused, trying to think up a response. How much had he forgotten?

"Would I even know?"

Gilan nodded slowly. "You might not," he said. "Then, how's this. Let's play a game."

A grin sparked on Will's face. It had been awhile since he'd last played a game. He had always loved them at the Ward, and the years had not changed that. "What are the rules?"

Gilan laughed at that. "Don't get your hopes up, it's not competitive. It's simple, we just ask each other questions."

Although dubious, Will decided he would give it a go. "Alright, who starts?" 

"Why not you? Ask whatever you'd like. I can't promise an answer, but I'll do my best," Gilan said cheerfully.

Will thought for a moment, chewing on his cheek in concentration. "Um... have you ever thought about getting married?"

"Married?" Gilan gasped. "For shame, Will! I'm not that old." 

Although Will did not know Gilan's exact age, he was obviously over 20. Many people married as teenagers - Gilan was certainly not too young. Will gave him an unimpressed look. "You didn't answer the question."

"I'd hoped you wouldn't notice. Fine. I have thought about it, yes. But, well, there's only been two girls I've ever considered that with, and it just... it would never have worked." Gilan lifted a shoulder. "If I find a good woman in my own fief, who knows? Maybe you'll wake up one morning to a wedding invitation. My turn! Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Will, taken aback both by the abrupt whiplash of Gilan's statements and the sudden question, floundered for a moment. Finally, he managed, "You couldn't have come up with something original?"

As taken aback as he was, it came out more exasperated than he had intended. Gilan seemed to take offense, narrowing his eyes at Will. "Listen here, Will, I might not care about a little teasing, but there's no need for disrespect. I don't have to bring Crowley in, do I?"

"No, no!" Will said quickly, holding his hands up. "Sorry, Gilan, I just- hang on, why are you laughing!?"

Gilan was indeed laughing, and quite hard at that. "Sorry, sorry, I just couldn't resist. You are way too easy to trick like that, Will."

Will's mouth fell open, betrayed. "Look, I'm not going to risk it! I hear Crowley's name, I-"

"What's that about my name?" came a new voice, followed by a new body appearing right in front of them. Will jumped, startled, and even Gilan flinched a little. Crowley shook his head in mock dismay. "You really call yourselves Rangers? If I were your enemy, you'd be dead now."

"If you were our enemy," Gilan shot back, "we'd be dead anyway, so there'd really be no point in even trying."

Crowley sighed. "The things I put up with..."

"Um, Mr. Crowley, sir? Did you want something?"

Crowley and Gilan both gave Will exasperated looks, albeit for different reasons.

"Oh, so him you'll call sir, but not me?" Gilan said. "I see how it is."

"Look, only one of you is my Commandant here, so-"

"So that gives you leave to disrespect one of your Commandant's Rangers?" Crowley asked, frowning at Will. "I didn't think I would see an apprentice addressing an experienced Ranger so flippantly."

Will jerked. "Sorry, sir! And, um, Gilan, sir- wait."

Just as he'd thought, Crowley and Gilan were once again laughing at his expense. He glared at them, but it was half-hearted. "Do you really have to keep doing that?"

"It's funny!" Gilan defended, still laughing. He wiped a hand over his eyes. "Seriously, it's new every time."

"Well it's certainly not for me," Will grumbled. 

"Sorry, sorry," Gilan said, smiling. "Well, Crowley, was there something you came over here for?"

Crowley heaved himself down onto the ground next to them, leaning back against a tree and tipping his head back to look at the interlacing of foliage above them. He took a few seconds to respond, most likely enjoying the scenery around him. As the Ranger Corps' Commandant, he had to live and work in the palace; as a Ranger, being confined to a building like that must be frustrating, Will thought. He could understand why Halt had refused the position. He would have, as well. 

"Not particularly. I just finished having a conversation with Halt so I thought I'd get out here and see what trouble you were getting up to."

"Unfortunately not much," Gilan said, sighing. "It's pretty limited when I haven't had the time to stock up on my usual troublemaking supplies."

"Troublemaking supplies?" Will echoed, a little dubiously.

"Yeah," Gilan said. He cocked a brow. "What, you don't have any?"

"Why are you asking that like it's abnormal not to have them?"

"Because it is! Right, Crowley?"

Will rolled his eyes, knowing Crowley would never agree with Gilan, but Crowley responded without even missing a beat, "Of course."

Will stared, mouth open and fully expecting the two of them to once again crack up and reveal the joke. After a full five seconds without that happening, he finally asked incredulously, "Are you serious?"

Crowley finally cracked a grin. "Oh, I'm not. I have no idea what Gilan's talking about. Knowing him, though, he probably actually has 'troublemaking supplies,' whatever that means to him."

"I usually have them at my home fief," Gilan said. "When I was apprenticed to Halt, that was here, but now of course they're at my own fief. What I wouldn't give to have them now..."

Will pursed his lips, still tempted to find out what, exactly, the term 'troublemaking supplies' actually meant, but Crowley's words from earlier came back and he found himself focusing on them instead. "Crowley, sir - you said you just spoke with Halt?"

Crowley made an affirming sound. "I did. Why?"

"Um, if it's alright... what about?"

He wondered if Crowley would simply dismiss him, but the Ranger nodded at him in understanding. "Just catching up, for the most part."

"Is he..." Will hesitated. He stole a glance at Gilan, who was watching him sympathetically. "Um, is he, y'know, upset?"

Crowley blew out a breath, swinging his jaw from side to side as he thought. He seemed to be contemplating something, and Will wondered if he was trying to decide whether he should tell Will the truth or not. 

"He is," Crowley said at last. He spoke carefully, like he was measuring each word. "But he's not holding a grudge against you. Mind you, you should still apologize."

Crowley gave Will a gaze full of intent. Will ducked his head, averting his eyes to stare at a beetle crawling across the ground in front of him. Not for the first time, he remembered that Crowley and Halt were best friends. Crowley cared about Halt's well-being, probably more than he cared about Will's. 

"I will," Will said, meaning it. 

"Good." Crowley closed his eyes, shifting his sitting position. He risked a furtive glance behind them and lowered his voice, despite them being more than a mile away from Halt's house. "Mostly, Halt is upset because he doesn't know how to help you."

"That's not - that's not his job," Will said quietly. "He's not obligated to do that."

Crowley shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Whether Halt sees it as his duty or not, though, he wants to help."

"He's not the only one," Gilan broke in. "We do, too."

Will turned away, his chest roiling uncomfortably with emotion. He raked sharp nails over his arm, using the pain to keep in control. "You don't need to."

"One, we kind of do. You're not doing too great," Gilan said bluntly. "Two, we want to, Will."

Will's nails dug in deeper. You don't, he thought. You think you do, but once you start - once you realize what I'm really like, how hopeless I really am - you'll regret it. I'll just be a burden to you, another obligation you feel you have to fill.

"Come on," Crowley said, setting a hand on Will's shoulder. "I know there's no convincing you right now. The sun's set, I know Halt was preparing dinner for us. Let's go in and eat, shall we?"

Will nodded mutely, allowing himself to be led back to the house. 

Dinner was another tense, awkward affair. Will had eaten lunch outside with Gilan in the middle of their unseen movement training, so he had nearly forgotten how bad breakfast had been. This, if his memory was correct (which he honestly wasn't sure about anymore), was only slightly better. 

Halt was still quiet, barely speaking at all. Even when Crowley brought up Gallican politics, which always got Halt's ire up ("They're complete fools!" he would rant. "They're going to fall into anarchy in half a decade if they continue to allow their parliament to reign unchecked!"), Halt only gave a severe frown and muttered something into his beard. Crowley and Gilan ended up carrying most of the bulk of the conversation once more, with Will only daring to make the most timid of attempts to join in. Every time he spoke, Halt's eyes would flick over to him, making Will more and more reluctant to speak again. 

When they had finished eating, Crowley casually announced that he was going to go check the horses and left. Gilan hesitated, looking between Will and the door. Will made a quick, instinctive motion with his hand to attract Gilan's gaze and looked at him beseechingly. Please don't leave me alone with Halt.

Gilan half opened his mouth, hesitating, before finally giving a minute shake of his head. He met Will's eyes, gave a regretful half-smile, turned around, and was gone.

Leaving Will and Halt alone.

It was almost exactly 24 hours since the fight, Will thought distractedly, fiddling with his spoon and poking at the few drops of broth left in his bowl. If you had asked him before this happened, he would never have thought that 24 hours could create such a gap between two humans. Yet it was there now, a yawning abyss of guilt and shame and anger. Will knew he should make the first advance - he was the one who had wronged Halt, after all - but his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and he was silent.

The abyss gaped wider.

"Are you still hungry?" Halt asked. "There's some more stew if you want it."

Will jerked, torn from his thoughts. For a brief moment he met Halt's eyes, then he tore his gaze away and went back to staring at the table. He shook his head; then, remembering that Halt liked to be answered with words, he stammered out a "No thank you, sir."

The distant sound of cricket chirps filled Will's ears. His fidgeting became more pronounced, his nerves surging higher. All of his guilt over what he'd done and how he'd treated Halt was beginning to suffocate him. The horrible way he'd treated Halt that entire day, the contemptuous way he'd gone about Halt's teaching, the awful words he'd spoken... the entire day was a day of nothing but remorse and shame. Those final words he had spoken to Halt, the ones that had made Halt leave, were so terrible Will could scarcely even think about them.

And as to how Halt must have felt hearing them... Will didn't even want to think about that. His own shame was enough.

As the silence stretched on, Will fidgeted with his spoon a little more before finally daring to look at Halt. As he did so, his soul twinged, as if in remonstrance. Look, it seemed to say. Look at this man you have hurt, yet are too self-centered to even think of. Look at him.

Will looked.

Halt was watching him. As their eyes met, Halt maintained the gaze. His face held its usual façade of inexpressiveness, but today Will could see it wavering. He examined Halt's face and realized, for the first time, how tired Halt looked. The lines on Halt's face were etched in even deeper, his skin a filigree of exhaustion. There were bags under Halt's eyes - eyes that were narrow and half-closed with weariness - and his hair had not been that grey before Skandia.

"Halt," Will blurted, "I'm so sorry!"

Halt's eyebrows raised, mouth partially opening, but Will barreled on.

"I should never have done those things, or said any of what I said to you, it was so, so rude and - and disrespectful, and - and just - just horrible, and I was like that the whole day and I never should've done it at all but I just couldn't stop and I know it's no excuse but I'm just so sorry, Halt! I-"

Halt had abruptly stood, facing Will, and Will's impromptu monologue fizzled out into silence. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyes wide as he watched Halt. Was Halt angry? Was he going to punish Will now? 

"Come here," Halt said softly.

Swallowing, Will stood, wiping his hands on his pants. He straightened, bracing himself, and took one step, two steps, three steps towards Halt-

And was swept into Halt's arms. 

Will froze, brain struggling to compute what was going on. Halt's arms tightened, pulling him closer. 

"I forgive you, Will."

A sob tore out of his throat before Will could think to stop it. He tried to turn away, his every instinct rebelling against being seen, being heard like this - open, unguarded, vulnerable - but Halt didn't let him go. He kept Will close, his hand running through Will's hair soothingly, his heartbeat steady as Will cried. As Will choked out more broken, stammered apologies, Halt only responded with forgiveness, over and over again, until at last Will's sobs petered out into nothing more than occasional hiccups. 

"Will," Halt said as Will sniffled against his chest, "do you love me?"

Will stiffened. "I..." 

He did. He didn't. He hated Halt and loved him at the same time, and yet there were days when he felt nothing other than indifference. He was ashamed and guilty and angry all at once, he was heartbroken and infuriated and so, so longing for Halt that the whiplash caught even Will in its crossfire. 

There was only one answer that Will knew with certainty. It was the only answer he was terrified to give. He opened his mouth, set to lie, but his soul twinged again and he shut his mouth against it. His heart was pounding. He knew he had to answer - knew what he had to answer - but the strength to answer was missing.

Halt's hand stroked over his hair. "Will," he said. His voice was gentle.

"I don't know," he admitted, half a whisper. "But I do know..."

His voice failed him. His courage failed him, too, and he floundered. How could he say this? How could he?

Halt was still holding him. Somehow, Will took strength from that, and he found the courage to say what he must.

"I do know that you're my- my d-dad. Even though Daniel had me, you're my real father. And I'm your son. If you'll... if you'll have me."

He closed his eyes, waiting for Halt to release him, to throw him away and cast him out, just as he'd been waiting for months now. 

Halt released him. Will fell back, humiliated, tears springing to his eyes as all his fears were proved right. He turned, ready to run from the house and never come back, but a hand stopped him. It settled onto his shoulder, pulling him back around to face Halt. Will kept his head down, eyes averted.

"Will, look at me."

Mutely, Will shook his head. He could not bear to.

That same hand took his chin and tilted it upwards to look at Halt. Will's eyes stubbornly refused to follow. Halt moved his hand from Will's chin and set it on Will's cheek instead, his thumb wiping away a tear with infinite gentleness. Startled, Will's eyes met Halt's.

"I already thought of you as my son," Halt said quietly. "Did you think I committed treason for an apprentice? No, Will. I committed treason for my son." 

"But I, I... I don't deserve that," Will whispered.

"What does that matter?" 

Will hesitated. Of course it mattered. "It-"

"What does it matter what you deserve," Halt said steadily, "when I have decided that you are my son anyway?"

Will's eyes were filling with tears. "Halt..."

"Oh, come here," Halt said, tone gruff. He tugged Will into another hug, holding him tightly.

There was quiet for awhile. After the past two day's turbulence, Will finally was able to breathe. His head was spinning with everything that had just happened. He had been so terrified to tell Halt that, and for nothing? Halt thought of him as his son? Despite everything Will had been through and had done, both to Halt and to others? Despite all his mistakes, despite how difficult he was to be around, despite how terrible he had acted - despite saying something he had known, deep down, would hurt Halt more than anything else? 

"Well," Halt said dryly, interrupting Will's thoughts, "I hope this is enough to finally get into your thick head that I'm not throwing you out." 

Will gave a watery chuckle. "Y-You might have to remind me a few times."

"Remind yourself," came Halt's deadpan response. "I've had more than enough heart-to-hearts lately." 

Will huffed, but didn't take offense. "Crowley?"

"Who else?"

"Um, Gilan?"

"That wasn't an actual question," Halt grumbled, "but yes. Him, too. I swear, the entire Ranger Corps is going to become a bunch of emotional softies."

"You say that like you aren't one yourself," Will said, venturing a smile.

Halt glared. "This 'softie' is about three seconds away from having you scrub the entire floor twice over."

"Sorry, sorry," Will said, but wasn't able to keep his smile from growing wider. Halt was back, being his normal, gruffly threatening self once more. Will hadn't realized how much he had missed it. "Say, Halt?"

Halt groaned. "Don't tell me we're back with the questions, now."

"Just the one, I promise."

"Fine. Just one."

"Does this mean I get to call you dad?"

Chapter Text

Unfortunately, the next day was not less awkward. In fact, it was more awkward. 

Will spent that night and the first few minutes of the next morning in two polar-opposite states. The first: disbelieving joy that Halt forgave him, loved him (?), and thought of him as his son (!). The second: all-encompassing embarrassment that he had cried all over Halt like a five-year-old and told Halt that he thought of him like a dad. Who said stuff like that!? Apparently Will, but the recollection of it was so embarrassing that he spent most of the night trying to block it out. 

Once he got up the next morning and realized he actually had to go out and face Halt and the others again, he felt even worse, not least of all because he had no idea how to act. Will had never been in a situation like this. Orphans were not used to love - even the idea that Will was loved was hard to believe. Orphans were not used to the idea of home, much less family - much less parents. 

The thought made him bury his face into his pillow. Parents. He had a parent. He had a dad.

Holy shit.

"Will, get up. Breakfast is ready."

Will jumped at the sound of Halt's voice outside his door. Unhelpfully, his brain supplied: Your dad's voice. 

He was ten minutes into the day and he already wanted to strangle himself. 

Groaning, Will lifted his face from his pillow and sat up, rubbing his eyes and staring down at the floor. He tried to mentally prepare himself. His chest was a tight knot of anxiety. His hands, damp with sweat, trembled from it, that fine tremor that happened anytime he was under mental stress. He had thought it was only triggered by memories of Skandia. Apparently plain old anxiety did the trick, too. Great. Just great.

Logically, he was aware of how stupid this was. There was no reason to be afraid. Halt had just told Will he was his son. By all accounts, he should be totally unafraid, secure, and happy. He should be. Instead, he just felt nauseous.

What if Halt regrets it one day? 

What if Halt regrets it now?

What if...

"Will, are you awake? The coffee's getting cold."

Will's head jerked up to the door. The voice wasn't Halt's this time, but Gilan's. "Coming!"

He stood and quickly dressed, stepping out into the main room where the three Rangers were once again gathered. Halt stood at the hearth, stirring something in a pot that smelled like porridge. Nearby, Crowley lounged on the couch, and Gilan busily poured a cup of coffee. He looked up when Will appeared and grinned.

"Good morning, Will!" he said cheerfully, passing Will a smile and the cup he had just poured.

"G'morning," he mumbled, forcing a smile in return. He took the coffee, almost dropping it as he did due to the trembling of his hands. He swore inwardly. "How, um, how'd you sleep?"

"The same," Gilan said with a wry look to Crowley, who sent an innocent smile back. "Blanket hog over there still won't - hey! Don't touch my coffee!"

"Finders-keepers," said Crowley, hands now wrapped around Gilan's coffee mug. He looked down, examining it. His brows rose. "Wait, what's this on your cup? Is this-"

"No, nope, nuh-uh, whatever you think it is, it's definitely not that," Gilan interjected hurriedly. "My cup would never have a-"

"It actually is!" Crowley pursed his lips like he was trying really hard not to laugh. He glanced at Halt, who was still standing at the hearth with his back turned. "Halt, did you carve this?"

Will looked back and forth between them, totally lost like he often was around them. "Does someone mind telling me what's going on?"

"Yes," said Halt, deadpan. "We all conspire to keep you in the dark as much as possible."

"Wait, really? All this time I thought it was just coinciden-" he stopped. "Oh, come on! Not you, too!"

Halt had turned to look at Will, his face lit up by a rare, fond smile. "You make it too easy. Go, sit down, son. We'll tell you. Or Gilan will, given it's his story to tell."

Will almost tripped as he went, his coffee sloshing alarmingly in its cup. His cheeks burned. He stole a glance at Gilan and Crowley, who had faithfully watched the interaction between Will and Halt and looked far too interested in what it implied. 

He sat down obediently, fingers nervously running over the rim of his cup. His leg jiggled underneath the table. The whole room was silent, too silent. He imagined Crowley and Gilan were probably exchanging looks, thinking about-

"So, are either of you going to explain why you went to the trouble of carving a fox into Gilan's cup?" Crowley inquired lightly.

"No reason," said Gilan quickly.

"The same reason Gilan here decided to let a pair of them loose on the King during his tour of Redmont," said Halt wryly. "I'm sure you remember the incident quite well, Crowley."

"Wait, what?" Will blurted.

Crowley started laughing, and quite heartily at that. "I'd be hard-pressed to forget something like that!"

"Wait, wait - Gilan, you let a pair of foxes-"

"I was an apprentice!" Gilan interjected pitifully, burying his face in his hands. "I thought Halt told me to drive the two of them east, not west-"

"Why would I have told you to drive them towards the village instead of away-"

"I don't know!" Gilan said miserably. "I was an apprentice, I wasn't ready to think!"

"You didn't have to think, you just had to follow directions," Halt said, exasperated. He sighed, shaking his head. "Anyway, Will, that's the story. There was a pair of foxes that had been stealing some of the farmers' chickens and generally being nuisances. It was Gilan's first year, so I didn't trust him to take them both out by himself. I told him to take Blaze to the foxes' den early that morning, when they'd be asleep, and scare them out of their den. He was supposed to drive them towards me so I could finish them off. Instead, he drove them straight into Redmont - right as the King was touring it."

"Man," Gilan sighed, "that's still one of the worst mistakes I've ever made and it's been years now."

"At least you haven't made more like that," Crowley said. 

Will went to say that at least he had never made a mistake quite that bad, but froze midway through. No, he hadn't made one that bad - he'd made one worse. He lowered his gaze to his coffee, shame sinking into his lungs. 

A bowl clinked onto the table in front of him. He looked up. Halt was setting bowls down at each place, each warm and steaming. The three Rangers sat down with Will and began to eat.

Will thought about Gilan's unfortunate accident and tried not to smile as he ate - not out of malice, but simply because, well, it'd be hard not to. Gilan's cup had been in the cupboard since Will had begun his apprenticeship and Will had used it on occasion. He'd always wondered if there were a story behind the carving, but whenever he'd asked Halt, the Ranger had sent him off on another chore. Will had very quickly learned not to ask.

"So that's the story of why my cup has a fox carved on it," Gilan said, breaking into Will's thoughts. "Halt never wants me to forget, I swear."

"If by forget you mean I never want a repeat of that, then that is certainly the case," Halt told him. "I'm the one who had to talk to the King about it afterwards, you know. You should have seen his face."

"I did see it," Gilan said gloomily. "Just, right when one of the foxes clawed at his robes and tried to attack him." 

Will giggled a bit at the thought of the King, such a serious and exalted person, having his royal robes clawed at by a fox of all things. 

"Speaking of foxes," Crowley said, looking at Halt, "what do you say about me taking Will out for a tracking lesson after breakfast?"

Halt flicked a hand dismissively. "Do whatever you want, I have a bunch of paperwork to get through today anyway. That reminds me, though. Gilan, there's a leak that's developing in the roof of the stable. I've been meaning to fix it for awhile but haven't had the time. Could you take a look at it?"

"Sure," Gilan said. "You know I'm hardly the best at carpentry, but if it hasn't gotten too bad, I should be able to repair it."

"Well, just examine it for now. If it's too big for us to fix, I'll have to call in the carpenter."

Will set his spoon down next to his now-empty bowl and looked at Crowley, hoping the man would take him out for the lesson right away. Despite the others carrying the bulk of the conversation, Will's anxiety and unease had not abated, and his nervousness was still making his stomach unsettled. He desperately needed to get outside.

Thankfully, Crowley met his eyes and nodded, seeming to understand Will's silent plea. He set down his own spoon and stood, stretching. "Well, we'll be heading off, then," Crowley said, heading to the door and jerking his head at Will to tell him to come. Will scrambled up and followed. 

"Have fun!" Gilan called after them. 

"Thanks," said Will dryly, shutting the door behind him and following Crowley down the porch steps. Will could not recall a time he had ever considered tracking "fun."

Will stepped down off the porch and into the morning sunlight, tilting his head up to the sky and closing his eyes. The soft warmth of the sun, the crisp bite of an October morning, the early-morning mist spiraling around the trees...Will loved it all. He would have loved to be a painter, he thought, if he had had the skill. But that required far more skill than Will had, and besides, a orphaned peasant boy was hardly going to get the education necessary for such a career. 

"Are you done trying to become one with nature, or would you like a few more minutes?" came Crowley's dry voice from a few yards ahead. 

Will jerked, snapping his eyes open and realizing how ridiculous he must have looked. "S-Sorry, sir!"

Crowley waved it off, smiling a little. "You looked pretty tense in there, it's understandable you'd need a moment to calm down. Now that you have, though, let's get moving. I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to take you tracking. Halt told me your skills could use some work."

Will nodded. He followed Crowley into the woods, awed as always with Crowley's utter silence of movement. "I'm a bit out of practice with some of the animals here, since...well. I couldn't exactly practice on skunk tracks in Skandia." 

"True. One of the most difficult parts of tracking is when you're in an area with different animals or environmental conditions than you're used to. Makes it easy to confuse tracks. It's a damned nuisance."

They walked on for a bit. The day was just a beautiful as Will had first thought, and he enjoyed it for several minutes. Crowley was busy scanning the ground, probably looking for something to test Will on.

Soon, he stopped, crouching down and pointing at the dirt. "Ah, here we go. What's this?"

Will approached and squatted next to him, peering down at the set of tracks etched into the dirt. "Three deer - a mama deer with her two babies, looks like." He gave Crowley a look, a little offended. "Even a first year would be able to tell what this was."

"What else can you tell me?" Crowley asked, unperturbed.

Will went back to looking at the tracks, chewing on his lip in thought. The tracks were a bit deep, he thought - deeper than they should have been, especially for two fawns. "Something was chasing them - they're hurried, even muddled, and deeper than they would be if they were just grazing."

He frowned right after he said that and looked to Crowley, who was already nodding as though he knew what Will was about to say. "But we're out in the middle of the woods, with no humans around other than us. The only animals that could scare a deer would have to be...wolves, or maybe a bear."

"Or a boar," Crowley said, expression pinched in distaste at the idea. "I heard you had a run-in with a couple of them two years ago."

Will nodded absently, then stopped. Wait - had it really been two years? He could hardly believe it. Yet it had indeed actually been two years since he had first begun his apprenticeship. How little of that had he actually spent training! 

"I did. It wasn't pretty. If it hadn't been for Horace and Halt, I would have died."

"They're nasty things," Crowley agreed, "and quite dangerous. If there's one in these woods, we need to track it down and alert Baron Arald."

They spent the next half-hour scouring their surroundings for tracks and clues to cue them in on what had been chasing the deer. It didn't take long to figure out what it was: a pack of wolves. That wasn't especially good, either. In fact, it could be more difficult to take out a pack of wolves than a single boar. 

"Do we have to kill them, though?" Will asked. "I mean, it seems like they're minding their own business. There's no point in risking our lives if they aren't even going to bother us."

"I would agree, if they weren't so close to town already," Crowley said heavily. "Their tracks might have been several miles from Halt's house, but the deer they were chasing ended up less than a mile away. I'm surprised none of us have heard their howls. If we'd found them further out - ten miles away, maybe, or more - then it might be alright to leave them be. But as close as they are? It's too dangerous to risk. We don't want to hear about a wolf attack a few weeks from now and know it's our fault for not preventing it."

"It's weird that they'd be this close to begin with," Will said, frowning down at the tracks. "I thought wolves didn't like being this close to humans."

"They don't. Normally wolves stay inside their own territory and only kill humans who stray inside that. That they're coming this close to a place that's clearly not theirs could only mean that something's pushed them out of their own territory, or that they couldn't find enough food and got desperate."

"Should we go back and tell Halt?"

Crowley nodded. "We've gathered enough information. I'd rather not track them down without backup."

"What, I don't count as backup?"

"Compared to Halt?" Crowley asked, raising an eyebrow.

Will winced. He had a point. 

They walked for a little in comfortable silence, their ears filled only with the peaceful sounds of the forest. The sun had nearly reached its zenith and Will was starting to feel hungry. He hoped Halt had lunch ready when they got back. 

"Speaking of Halt," Crowley said, breaking the silence. Will instantly stiffened, jerking his head over to look at his Commandant. Crowley's lips quirked. "Relax, I'm not trying to interrogate you. I was just going to say that you two seemed more comfortable around each other today."

Will hunched his shoulders, fidgeting with his fingers as they walked along. Finally, he gathered his courage. "Yeah, we...made up, I guess."

He glanced over to see that Crowley's grin had widened. His stomach abruptly sank and he opened his mouth to stop whatever Crowley was about to say, but it was too late - Crowley was already speaking. "I'd say more than that. Didn't I hear Halt call you-"

"No!"

Will froze mid-step, eyes wide, to see Crowley looking at him with a raised eyebrow, and scrambled to recover. "I-I mean - I'm sorry for interrupting you, sir!"

Crowley looked like he was trying quite hard not to laugh. That just made Will feel worse. "Come now, I've already told you to drop the formalities. Halt's like a brother to me, I think his 'apprentice' can drop the sir, don't you think?"

Will hunched his shoulders more. He got the sudden urge to run, despite knowing it was pointless. "What would you like me to call you?"

That was a mistake. Will realized it as soon as he saw the glee in his Commandant's expression. He opened his mouth to backtrack, but Crowley once again beat him to speaking.

"Hmm," he said, rubbing his chin as though in deep thought. "'Crowley' seems rather too boring, wouldn't you say? Everyone calls me that - well, everyone who doesn't call me 'Ranger,' anyway, and I should dearly hope you'd be past that. Perhaps a nickname?"

A nickname? Will thought in horror. 

"No, I don't think so," Crowley decided after a moment, much to Will's relief. That relief vanished the next moment. "Ah, I've got it! You can call me uncle."

There was really no other way to describe it: Will's brain whited out. He stopped completely in his tracks, sputtering, all computational power in his brain abruptly gone. "I-I can - I can call you what!?"

"Uncle," Crowley repeated, completely serious. "After all, Halt and I always agreed we'd be uncles to each others' kids, if we ever had any."

To each other's kids?! 

"But - but I'm - I'm not..." 

All his anxiety from that morning had returned and he couldn't think properly. He vaguely realized he must be on the verge of a panic attack, which was ridiculous - why on earth would something like this be the thing that set him off?

"Alright, alright, I take it back," Crowley said, tone suddenly much softer and gentler. "Don't worry about it, I thought you wouldn't mind. C'mon, let's sit down for a bit."

Shakily, Will sat with his back against a tree, putting a hand against the rough bark to try and keep himself grounded. Despite Crowley taking back his words, it still took Will a few minutes for his body to calm back down. As it did, he began to feel more and more humiliated. Some warrior he was - he couldn't even call someone a name without freaking out. 

"Sorry," he mumbled, wishing more than anything that he could erase this entire incident from both his and Crowley's minds.

"I don't know if I'd apologize, given that wasn't really your fault," Crowley said. "I doubt it was mine, either. You've been tense all day - this was just the last straw for you, wasn't it?"

Will hadn't thought of it that way, but now that Crowley said it, it made sense. It wasn't necessarily that Crowley's statement had been so terrifying - it was just that Will had been anxious all day, and all he needed was just a little more stress to tip him over. Strangely, that made him feel a little better. 

"I guess so."

Crowley paused for a moment. Will stole a glance at him. He sat with his back against a tree a little ways from Will, casually slumped against it as a sharp contrast to Will's perfect posture. His expression was contemplative as he gazed out into the trees. 

"I can relate to you in a lot of ways, but I've never felt...fear like you seem to feel," he began. "I have seen it in others, though. It's not uncommon to see it in soldiers - or Rangers - who just came back from the battlefield. Or at least, whose bodies come back from the battlefield. Their minds don't always come with. I've talked to some of them. They say there's certain things they learned to do that help them out when they went back to fighting, or even everyday life. You might want to talk to one of them about it. It could help."

"No thanks." Will stared at the ground. Accepting help for this would mean accepting that it was a problem - that it wouldn't just go away on its own. Will wasn't ready to accept that yet. His other stuff he begrudgingly agreed needed to be worked on. His physical issues - his malnutrition, mental processing, analytical skills, and combat skills - were the easiest things to focus on. Will did also know that there were other things that couldn't be overlooked forever. His nightmares were currently stymied by medicine, but his hand tremors were getting worse.

And one day, he knew, he was going to have to take a serious look at whatever had made him want to jump off that wall. 

"Alright," Crowley said, "but just know that the option is there if you ever change your mind. In the meantime, do you want to talk about what just happened? I've been told I'm a good listener," he added wryly.

Will let out a huff that was almost a laugh. "All Rangers are good listeners. We're literally trained to be."

"Which is why it's good that I am, since you wouldn't exactly want your Commandant to have been trained improperly."

Will snorted. 

"So...?" 

Will leaned his head back against the tree, relaxing a little. His body had calmed down now, his pulse slow and his hands still. The peace of the woods was getting to him again. He found himself more ready to talk than he had yet been with anyone, even Halt or Gilan. 

"I was anxious a lot last night, and when I woke up today, well, it was still there. It didn't go away until after breakfast, but I guess even then it was just waiting to attack me again." Will heaved a frustrated sigh. "It's completely illogical! There's no reason for it! Hell, if this were two years ago, I'm sure I wouldn't be anxious at all. It's only fucking Skandia that's made me like this, and - oh! I didn't mean to swear! Sorry, sir!"

Crowley groaned. "You're still on with the 'sir' business? Just call me Crowley, kid. Please. Tell me you don't have a problem with that."

Other than it feeling really uncomfortable and awkward to address his Commandant by first name? No, not really. Will meekly shook his head. 

"Good. And I don't care about swearing - be pretty hypocritical of me to since I do, too."

He kept quiet for a few seconds, waiting for Will to continue. Rangers, as have been said previously, are quite adept at waiting out their targets, both in war and in conversation. Will figured he should just go on ahead and keep talking, since Crowley certainly wouldn't. 

"Anyway, it's just frustrating. Especially when it's set off by things like this. It would make sense if it was only when like, like, I dunno, when I saw-" he cut off abruptly. "Um, when I saw something that reminded me of Skandia. This wasn't connected at all. It's infuriating."

"What was it?"

Will stared at his legs, embarrassment crawling back up his cheeks. He had no idea how to say this without humiliating himself more. He briefly considering refusing to talk about it, but. Crowley was the only person who really seemed to understand him. This might be the only real chance he had.

"That comment you heard Halt make earlier today," Will finally mumbled, as quietly as he could get away with. "It...last night, we...talked. About it. And...yeah."

That surely was not enough information for Crowley to make sense of anything, yet somehow he said, "Are you worried that, whatever he said, he'll regret?"

"Um...yeah, actually. How did you...?"

"Like I said, I'd say I understand you pretty well. I'm also pretty good at putting things together. Will, I can say from my years of knowing Halt that he's not the type of person to say things rashly. He doesn't say things he doesn't mean."

"I know that. But...he's got to grow tired of this eventually. I'm not exactly fun to be around. Eventually he's going to realize he got himself into more than he thought."

"So, you think that Halt doesn't know what you're really like? That, if he did, he wouldn't want to be around you?"

Will nodded miserably.

Crowley sighed. "Damn. We really are alike. Look, kid. I'm going to be honest here. It's tough to hear, but I needed to hear it and I think you do, too. That's pretty arrogant of you to think."

Will jerked upright. "What? How?"

"To rephrase, you're basically saying that you're somehow so bad that it's impossible, for anyone, to care about you. Right?"

"Well...yeah, I guess. But-"

"Sure, I'd say it's impossible for Halt to care about you perfectly. That's something only God can do, because, in the end, all of us will care about ourselves more than even the person we love most in the world. Maybe not for a short period of time - maybe not for years, even - but for the rest of our lives? We aren't capable of perfect love, interminably. We'll make mistakes. We'll hurt people, unintentionally or intentionally. Still, though, that doesn't mean that we can't care about others. We can. We do. It's in our nature to love, however badly. 

"And saying that you're somehow outside of that, that you're the exception, that there's something about you that is incapable of being loved...it's prideful. It's wanting to be the best at something. Even if it's at being unwanted."

Will stared at Crowley. He wasn't sure how to respond to that other than ouch. 

"All human beings - even the worst ones - have in their nature something that is lovely and deserving of love. It's the simple reality of how we were created. Not everything in us is, mind you, and yes, there are parts of you that aren't pretty. There are parts of you that are downright ugly. All of us have those parts, some natural and some, well, man-made. Yes, there are things that have hurt you and yes, they can make it harder to be around you. But those things aren't you, and they're not your fault, and you can still be loved."

Will looked down. "That doesn't mean it's easy to love me, though."

"You're right," Crowley said, bluntly but not unkindly. "What you've been through can make you harder to love. People don't always want to touch someone when they know their hand will come away bloody. Like I said, we're all selfish. We often care less about others than we do ourselves. But assuming that he is like that when he's already said he's not is denial, it's pride, and - honestly, Will - it's fear. You're afraid he'll abandon you."

"Couldn't he?"

"He could," Crowley said, heavily stressing the second word. "But then, he could also decide to murder you tonight. Will, there's a difference between possibilities and probabilities. You can't just live your life assuming that everyone around you is one instant away from leaving."

"That's what my parents did," Will said softly, before he even realized what he was saying. 

"I know. But that doesn't mean he will."

Crowley shifted, pushing himself to standing. He motioned for Will to get up, too. "You need to stop living in the 'what if's,' Will. There are a very few things in this life that are certain, so there's no point in stressing about the things that aren't. You don't know what will happen. Stop wondering. I can say with confidence that it never helps."

Will wasn't sure what to say to that. Really, he wasn't sure how to respond to anything Crowley had just said. He stood there awkwardly, opening and shutting his mouth a few times as he tried to find something to say. After several seconds of silence, he heard Crowley laugh a little.

"Don't worry about it. You don't have to say anything. All I ask is that you think about what I've said. Now, shall we head back? I'm hungry, and we really do need to get Halt and Gilan's help for these wolves."

Will nodded mutely and melted into the forest with Crowley. 

Chapter Text

It was indeed lunchtime when Will and Crowley got back and Halt had lunch prepared for them. Crowley teased Halt about being a housewife which resulted in Halt tossing Crowley's food on the floor while maintaining eye-contact. Crowley poured at least two tablespoons of salt in Halt's coffee as revenge. It only escalated from there.

Gilan and Will stood in the background, exchanging glances of do you see what I'm seeing right now? and This is our Commandant here? 

Once that calmed down and the four of them had finally sat down to eat, Crowley revealed the situation. Halt had recovered his usual gravity by then and nodded seriously as he took the news in. "You're right. Wolves that are that close in need to be dealt with, and quickly. How many are there?"

"About eight."

Halt cursed. "That's too many to handle safely on our own. We'll need to notify the Baron. We should go as soon as possible."

"No objections here," Gilan said. "We need to get materials to fix the stable roof, anyway."

"Oh, 'we' need to do this, do we?" asked Crowley, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, 'we' always need to do the chores, so I think I'm allowed the use of the plural pronoun myself just this once," Gilan retorted, with a pointed look at Halt.

"Are all of you set on bullying me today?" Halt asked grumpily.

"It's not our fault you're easy to bully," said Will.

Halt glared. "Really, now?"

Will laughed. All the tension he'd been holding around Halt subsided, just a little bit. "Don't you mean, 'et tu, Brute'?"

"Do I look like a dictator?"

Gilan and Will exchanged looks.

"I can and will string you up on the nearest tree if you-"

"No, no, not at all!" Gilan said hastily. "You definitely aren't at all like Caesar, Halt!"

"Yeah, definitely!" Will added on quickly. "Not even a little bit of likeness!"

Halt stared at them. Finally, he closed his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. And Crowley, you can stop holding it in. I know you're dying to laugh at my expense, as you always are."

"Thanks for the permission, O great Caesar," Crowley said, before finally dissolving into laughter.

Halt looked around at the three of them like he couldn't decide who to kill first. He stood, pointedly gathering his dishes and taking them to the washbasin. "Shall we get going? Or would you rather let wolves roam about our lands and kill our citizens?"

Crowley rolled his eyes but stood as well. "You're right, this situation needs to be dealt with. Let's go."

They made decent time to Redmont, the sun still high in the sky as they dismounted in front of the castle gates. They intended to be there for a short time only, so they didn't bother to lead their mounts to the stables, nor did they tie them. Ranger horses knew to stay put. 

The four of them had kept up an amiable conversation on the way, each of them contributing more (Gilan) or less (Halt) to it. As solitary as Rangers often were, they still had an appreciation for company. That even Crowley and Halt could be social was a bit surprising to Will, but it eased his insecurity a little. In his first year of apprenticeship, Halt's seemingly solitary ways had made Will think all Rangers must love being alone all the time. Will did not, so he had thought that perhaps he was ill-suited. Seeing Crowley and Halt discuss current diplomatic relations between Araluen and Gallica, though, Will thought that maybe Rangers weren't as solitary as he had initially believed.

As they made their way to the Baron's room, Will let his gaze wander around the castle. The Scribeschool building was nearby, quiet with the occasional student or servant bustling in or out. George would be in there, studying away or giving speeches or debating his fellow students. The thought made Will grimace; such a life most certainly was not for him. It had been scarcely a week since Will had seen George last, a thought that was startling. It felt like much longer than a week. 

Redmont's Diplomatic Corps building stood next to the Scribeschool. As closely as Scribes and Diplomats worked together, the proximity of the two buildings made sense. Will had always wondered what exactly their training was like. Alyss was never forthright in her explanations (nor was she ever in most anything, truth be told), leaving much to the imagination. His eyes lingered on the door.

"She's not going to walk out just because you want her to," Halt said dryly from several feet away. 

Will jerked. "I wasn't waiting on Alyss!"

He froze, wide-eyed, realizing his mistake a moment too late. Unfortunately, all three of the other Rangers realized it at the exact same time.

"Alyss?" Halt inquired innocently. "I don't recall ever saying her name."

"I-I mean, you said 'she' - who else would I be waiting on?" 

"So this Alyss is the only person you'd wait for? Sounds pretty special," Gilan said, grinning.

"G-Gilan!"

"Oh, lay off him," Crowley interjected amiably, setting a hand on Gilan's shoulder. "We can tease him about his childhood crush later. Right now, we have a job to do."

"She's - she's not my childhood crush!" Will exclaimed, face hot. She actually, very definitely, was, but that was beside the point.

"...Anyway," Crowley said, "let's get going. These wolves aren't going to sit still for us."

The Rangers moved as one to the castle. They appeared in front of the guards, startling them as badly as they always did (to their shared amusement), and informed them that they had an urgent matter for the Baron. The guards told them he was up in his chamber but unable to see them currently. When they asked why, the guards replied that Arald was busy speaking to someone. Who, the Rangers asked. Lady Pauline and Master Nigel, came the response. The Rangers exchanged glances and nodded at each other. None of them cared much about interrupting those two. In fact, given Nigel's habit of hour-long monologues, Arald and Pauline might even welcome the interruption. 

They made quick time to the Baron's chambers, where they once again alerted the guards to their presence. After a bit of arguing between Crowley and the guards, they were let in. 

The Baron's personal office was pretty much the same as Will remembered. Granted, he had not had a whole lot of time to examine it his first time around, given Choosing Day and his later break-in and capture by Halt. Still, the same portraits that Will remembered as staring judgmentally down at him were still there. Their gazes were just as unimpressed two years later.

As they stepped into the Baron's room, all the occupants turned to them. Arald, Pauline, and Nigel were all there, along with several others. Two Scribeschool students stood next to Nigel, and next to Pauline was Alyss. Will noted with amusement that everyone except Nigel looked strangely relieved at the Rangers' presence. Nigel was the only one who looked irritated. 

Looks like we did interrupt one of his monologues, Will thought, hiding a grin.

The Rangers made their greetings to Arald and the others. As Will straightened from his bow, his eyes - of course - met and locked with the only person in the room he wished they wouldn't have: Alyss. She gave him a small, polite smile. Will forced his lips to smile back. Inwardly, his heart sank further and further every second. Why did she have to be there? 

"Crowley! And Gilan, too! Good God, what catastrophe has happened that there's four of you here?"

"No need to get too worried," Crowley said. "Although there is a problem, I'd hardly term it a catastrophe. Gilan and I just happened to be here at the same time."

"Knowing our luck, you're probably the reason it's even here in the first place," Halt said to Crowley. Crowley gave him a look at the same time that Pauline very subtly yet pointedly cleared her throat.

"So, what is the problem?"

"Wolves," Crowley said, sighing. "Will and I tracked them down just a few hours ago. They were a bare few miles from Halt's cabin - who knows how close they've been getting to our citizens. From the tracks, there's eight of them, all adults."

Concerned murmurs came from the two Scribeschool students. Pauline's gaze had softened to concern, and Alyss was once more looking at Will. He tried his hardest not to look back. Arald muttered a curse. He quickly apologized to Pauline and Alyss, who of course accepted it graciously. 

"We'll have to organize a hunt immediately," Arald said. "I can have the knights mobilized and prepared today."

Halt shook his head. "There's no need to move that quickly. Spend tonight and tomorrow making preparations. I'd suggest you send out some of your men to dig traps near where the hunt will take place. We'll scout a place out tonight and show your men where to dig. Let's hold the hunt tomorrow afternoon."

Arald nodded. "Very well. I'll send out the orders at once." Turning to Pauline and Nigel, he said, "I apologize, but given the matter at hand, I must go and issue these orders straight away. I'm afraid we'll have to continue our conversation another time."

Despite his words, he definitely doesn't seem that apologetic, Will noted, trying not to laugh. Especially when Arald's gaze lingered on Nigel as he spoke.

Nigel and Pauline nodded, assuring the Baron that they understood. Nigel added that he would make sure to save the rest of his thoughts for their next meeting, which Arald just nodded, very unenthusiastically, to. Pauline lifted a hand to her mouth and turned away. 

Everyone filed out at once, Pauline and Alyss falling into step with Nigel and the Scribeschool students. The Rangers followed. Will tried to edge past them and failed miserably. There was no way to get past them without appearing very rude, and Will wasn't so desperate to get away from Alyss that he was willing to be rude. 

Although, as he and Alyss somehow ended up walking side-by-side, he did start to wish he'd found a way to escape after all.

The other three Rangers, traitors that they were, had fully abandoned Will. All three of them were now next to Pauline and Nigel, several paces in front. Once again, Will knew he couldn't just leave Alyss without being rude. Besides, as much as he wished he could avoid the awkward situation he was in now, it did at least give him a chance to...apologize, he guessed? 

So, he turned his head to look at her. She was already looking at him. Their eyes met.

"Hi," he said, very awkwardly. 

He swore he could see her smile. "Hello, Will. How have you been?"

It was very polite. Too polite. Alyss had always been formal, but she was never that formal to him. Will tried to hide the pain that caused him. He opened his mouth, searching for words to say. What ended up coming out was, "I've been better. Uh, you?"

Great. You sound even dumber than you normally do.

"I have been better as well."

What was Will supposed to do with that? He floundered for a moment. "Oh, is- did something happen?"

Alyss hesitated. Her eyes flicked to him and she opened her mouth as though to speak. Then she looked away and closed her mouth. "Oh. Not really. There is simply...some stress from the upcoming exams at school."

Will got the distinct impression that she was not being entirely honest. 

"What about you?" she asked after an awkward stretch of silence.

"Oh, uh, me?"

Alyss smiled slightly. "There is no one else."

Will was abruptly seized by a dilemma - the same one he suspected Alyss had had. Should he tell the truth or not? Surely, if he were honest, that would not only be awkward but possibly even worsen things between them? 

"Just some stuff," he said vaguely. "The Ranger's yearly gathering is coming up in a few months, and with it my exam." He paused. Then, without quite knowing why, he went on. "It's been hard, readjusting to life here. There's been some...issues."

Was it just his imagination, or had Alyss moved closer? She was close enough now that he could reach out and take her hand in his. He swallowed. 

"I'm sorry you've had to go through that," Alyss said softly. Will turned his head to look at her and for a moment he forgot to worry, to think, to breathe. Her eyes...

He pulled himself back abruptly and looked away. "U-Uh. Thanks. Um. I-I'm sorry about your, uh, your exams, too."

A low, gentle laugh filled the air. Will went hot and turned to Alyss, opening his mouth defensively, but her smile stalled him.

"Thank you for the sentiment," she said, still laughing a little. "But I think my school exams don't quite compare to your situation, do they?"

"I-I mean," Will stammered, "it's not my place to judge someone else's difficulties or anything! You might be having difficult stuff going on too!"

She smiled again, eyes laughing at him. "Of course. Thank you for your consideration."

Had it come from anyone else, Will would have thought she were making fun of him. As it was, he fidgeted nervously, raising a hand to scratch his head. "You're, uh. You're welcome." 

They were almost to the exit out of Redmont Castle now. Halt and the others passed through the door into the sunshine, and Will and Alyss followed shortly after. A swirl of autumn leaves blew around them as they stepped out into the cold, bright day. Will stretched his arms out and breathed in deeply, grinning as Alyss did the same - albeit more subtly.

"I wish I was able to get outside more," she admitted as they walked. They were heading towards the Diplomats' building now, where Alyss and Pauline would go in. "Especially with my exams coming up, I have had to stay indoors and study for hours on end."

Will made a face. "I would not be able to do that. Even a day without being outdoors is horrid for me."

Alyss gave him a fond look. "I suppose it is good that you are a Ranger then, is it not?"

He laughed a little. "You're not wrong."

They were almost to the door of the Diplomat headquarters now. Will knew they didn't have much longer. He bit his lip, then all at once he blurted, "I wanted to apologize for the other day."

Alyss faltered. It was quick, barely an instant's hesitation in her stride, but it was there. She caught back up to Will quickly. "I cannot remember anything that has passed between us that you would need to apologize for."

Will breathed in through his nose. He knew she most certainly did remember. She just didn't want to talk about it. Well, he didn't want to talk about it either! Unfortunately for both of them, though, Will was pretty sure he had learned a lesson from the past several months, from the warmweed and everything that came after it. The lesson? Fucking talk to people you care about.

"Well, I can," Will said. His tone came out more aggressive than he'd intended, but he kept going. If he stopped, he didn't think he'd be able to start again. "When you and George and Jenny came over - afterwards - I said some things I didn't mean."

"Will," Alyss said. "Like I said, there is nothing to apologize or forgive."

Her expression was unreadable but her tone was firm, the message clear. Leave it.

Will hesitated. He didn't want to make the situation worse, but he had to set things straight. "Please, Alyss, just listen. Please?"

He felt her eyes on him. He glanced over to see her about to respond-

They stopped. They were at the door.

Dammit! 

Will almost swore out loud from frustration. If he had just come to the point quicker! Alyss was already stepping towards the door, opening her mouth to give a polite farewell. The others were watching expectantly. There was no way they could finish their conversation now. 

"Alyss, wait."

She turned.

In a move that surprised even him, Will stepped up to her, took her hand in his, and - as he'd seen the knights and noblemen do to their ladies at court - pressed a kiss to the back of it. Then, in a voice he failed to recognize as his own, he said, "Farewell, Alyss."

He drew back and was met with the rare sight of Alyss absolutely gaping, as though he were an alien lifeform she had never before seen in her life. She blinked several times and looked down at her hand and back. "Goodbye, Will."

Her voice was low and shocked. She stared at him for a moment longer before turning and vanishing into the Diplomat building.

Will watched as Pauline followed and the door clicked closed. Then, and only then, did he turn to look at Gilan, Crowley, and Halt, who had witnessed the entire thing.

"What," Gilan said slowly, "and I mean this as kindly as possible - the fuck, Will?" 

Chapter Text

Preparations for the hunt were done by the next day. Will, Crowley, Halt, and Gilan had ridden out to inspect them that morning, Halt taking the opportunity to instruct Will in such things as trap placement, construction, and use. He also went over the basic structure of the hunt and how they would all attempt to lure the wolves into the traps. Ideally, they would at least thin the wolves' numbers with the traps before ever engaging them in actual combat.

Well - ideally, Halt had said, and Will had heartily agreed, they would never have to engage the wolves in actual combat. Ideally, they would all be picked off by trap or arrow before they ever reached the participants. Usually, though, situations were less than ideal. 

Will felt that now as he fiddled with his bowstring and looked around. Twilight's tendrils had just begun to grip the sky, transforming blue to grey-pink. It would be sundown in a little over an hour. Halt had ensured that everyone there had a flint and torch, but everyone would rather not have to use it. Will wasn't sure if they would be able to catch the wolves in time, though.

In front of Will, a line of mounted knights waited, hands on swords, eyes intent on the trees around them. He and Halt were poised behind, waiting for when the wolves would break into view. They would have time enough to get off several shots before the wolves made it to the knights. 

A lone wolf howl split the air about a mile off. Will exchanged a quick glance with Halt.

"Not bad," Halt said. "Sounds damn near to the real thing."

Will nodded. "I hadn't thought Gilan would be so good at imitating wolves."

Halt grunted. "He certainly eats like one."

The howl came again, a little closer by. After a moment, several answering - challenging - howls followed. Good. The wolves had believed Gilan's howls. Initially, they had been wary of using the method. Howling to attract wolves certainly worked, but it was hardly infallible. They hadn't the time to hunt deer for bait, though, and no wolfhounds to help herd them. 

Gilan's howl came again, still closer. The knights straightened in their saddles. 

In the distance, they could hear branches crunching and rustling. The dull thud of hooves on earth came to Will's ears, a split second before he saw Gilan, crouched over the neck of Blaze. Snarls and growls accompanied him, as did eight dark, hungry shapes. Gilan had managed to get all eight of the wolf pack to follow him. Good.

Now that Gilan was in the clearing, though, he had to be careful. The Baron's men had spent the better part of a day digging the area full of traps of all sorts. If Blaze fell into one of them, he would be done for. Gilan had carefully inspected the ground before the hunt and he now urged Blaze forward towards the dangerous ground ahead. The wolves snapped at Blaze's heels and Gilan urged Blaze faster.

He was nearing a trap, Will saw, drumming his fingers nervously on his bow. Could Gilan tell? 

Gilan glanced down. The next instant, his leg shifted slightly. Blaze gathered herself and gave a mighty leap. She cleared the trap and then she was free - she raced behind the line of knights waiting to combat the wolves.

The moment Gilan and Blaze were out of the way, Will and Halt let their arrows loose. Both struck true, Halt's hitting the lead wolf in the heart and Will's hitting another in the shoulder. Halt's wolf went down. Will's wolf kept running, now heavily injured.

Snarling and howling, the wolves kept coming. One of them hit a trap, letting out an agonized yelp as it hit the spikes at the bottom. Will and Halt let loose another arrow. Will's missed, but Halt's hit another wolf. It went down. 

There were only four left now. Unfortunately, the wolves realized that. They saw the line of humans waiting for them and froze, intelligent eyes scanning their surroundings. Halt, Will, and Gilan drew back again, but right as they released, the wolves turned and ran. Halt hit one of them in the shoulder, but the other three escaped.

"Dammit!" Will hissed. "They're getting away!"

"And heading right for Crowley," Gilan said grimly. 

"Let's go," Halt said. He spun Abelard around and nudged him into a run, following the wolves. "Three's too many for Crowley to deal with alone. We need to help."

The Rangers had anticipated that the wolves might try to flee. After all, wolves were not stupid: they would not blindly charge into a situation that they knew would kill them. They had set two groups of knights about a quarter of a mile away from the clearing, one on each side. One group was lead by Crowley. That was the group the wolves were heading straight towards.

Together, the three Rangers dove into the forest after the three wolves. Gilan, like Halt, already had an arrow nocked to his bow and was riding with just his knees. Will had not yet mastered such riding techniques and held his bow in one hand, the reins in the other.

Up ahead, the wolves grew further and further away. The three Rangers urged their horses faster. 

They burst into a clearing. Will saw the gleam of armor, heard the distressed whine of a horse, saw one of the knights' horses crumple to the ground, heard the twang of a bow, the pained howl of a wolf-

Gilan and Halt released their arrows one after the other, but they had both picked the same target - the wolf that had just taken down the knight's horse. The other two wolves went for the remaining two knights' horses as well, biting and clawing at the delicate tendons on the horses' legs. Their riders slashed at the wolves, but their horses' panic made them miss.

Will drew his bow back but let it down once more, watching helplessly. If he released, he might very well hit a horse instead of a wolf. 

"What do we do?" Will asked urgently. "Those horses-"

Gilan drew his sword, urging Blaze forward. The moment he did so, one of the knights landed a stunning blow to the wolf attacking him. It backed off for an instant. At that moment three arrows sank into it at once. It died instantly.

But the last wolf was still alive and uninjured. While the Rangers had focused on the other wolf, it had successfully downed the second horse by biting through the tendons of one of its forelegs. The horse screamed and lashed out frantically, dealing a blow that sent the wolf backwards. The wolf recovered quickly. The horse did not. Unable to stand properly, it stumbled and nearly collapsed. The knight on top of it teetered precariously, holding on desperately with one hand. 

"Hey!" Crowley yelled, releasing an arrow into the wolf's rump.

The wolf snarled, spinning around to face Crowley. Crowley had been waiting for that. He sent a waiting arrow straight to its heart. Halt, Gilan, and Will released their arrows as well.

But the wolf lunged right as they released, and the arrows whizzed by its thick, grey fur. It snarled and gave a mighty leap.

"Crowley!"

Claws extended, fangs gleaming, it clawed up Crowley's leg and tackled him off of his horse. Crowley hit the ground with a thud, wide-eyed and helpless, the wolf on top of him, jaws snapping towards Crowley's throat-

The wolf fell limp, a black-shafted arrow deep inside its left eye.

The whole clearing seemed to sigh in relief. Will closed his eyes, exhaling slowly and relaxing his bow from full draw. Woodenly, he dismounted from Tug. He nearly collapsed as soon as his legs hit the ground, his knees weak. A hand grabbed his shoulder, steadying him. Will looked up. 

"Thanks."

Gilan released his hold on Will as Will slowly stood up on his own. "Of course."

He tilted his head towards the rest of the clearing, where the pained whimpers of the injured horses mixed with the concerned voices of the knights. Will nodded at the silent request and followed Gilan over, straight to Crowley.

Crowley was still on the ground, although he had sat up now. The dead wolf lay next to him, its jaws frozen open, Halt's black-shafted arrow sticking out of its left eye like a tower. Crowley looked up at Gilan and Will as they came up to him.

"He certainly didn't go down easy, did he?" He laughed. It was shaky and high-pitched. "I swear, those jaws were less than an inch away from my throat when you shot it, Halt. You couldn't have been a little quicker?"

Halt, who had been the first to Crowley's side and was now hovering over him, grunted. "If you'd wanted me to risk shooting Cropper, I could have."

Will took a long look at Halt. He got the feeling that, if Halt could try again, he would've risked exactly that. 

"I'm glad my horse's life means so much to you," Crowley said, a little sarcastically. He shifted his weight forward to get up and promptly fell back with a wince. "Urgh. Damn wolf. Clawed me up good."

"What happened?" Gilan asked, leaning down. His eyes fell on Crowley's right leg and he sucked in a breath. Will followed his gaze.

Crowley's right leg had three nasty claw-marks extending from the side of his calf to halfway up his thigh. The wolf's claws had sliced through Crowley's pants and skin, and now trickles of blood welled up and dribbled down into the earth.

Halt made a small, pained sound like he'd just been punched in the gut. Will's eyes darted to him, alarmed. He examined his master's expression carefully. Halt was a master at being hard to read, but for once, Will knew exactly what Halt was feeling. Will was unendingly familiar with it, after all. Halt's expression was guilty.

But before Will could even begin to decide what to do or say, the expression was gone and Halt was in action. He knelt beside Crowley and barked out a series of commands. "Will, go to my saddlebag and bring the medical kit. Gilan, go inform the other groups that the hunt is over. Help them take care of the bodies and take apart the traps."

"Got it." 

Will and Gilan paced back to their horses. Gilan swung up on Blaze, tapped his heels to her side, and trotted off back towards the rest of the knights. Will rummaged around in Abelard's saddlebags until he found the medical kit. He jogged back to Crowley and Halt.

"Here."

Halt took it from him. "Go check on the knights and their horses. Figure out what needs to be done there."

Will nodded and headed over there. The clearing was wreathed in shadows at this point, twilight settling into nightfall. Now that the fight had abated, the forest life had gathered back its courage and begun its nighttime chorus. Will could only make out the silhouettes of the knights and their horses from a distance. He had to step closer to make out what was happening. When he did, it was a grim sight.

Both of the horses who had collapsed were in bad shape. Their legs were badly damaged to the point where it looked as though neither might be able to walk again. Their riders stood beside them with pain in their eyes. One of them gently stroked his horse's mane in silence, the other murmured soothing words. Both of their expressions were resigned.

"We might have to put them down," the third knight said quietly to Will, as Will walked up. His horse and Cropper, Crowley's horse, had escaped relatively unscathed. His eyes traced regretfully over the injured horses. "Orwen tried to get Stoneheart to stand just now. The poor thing couldn't even move his foot, and not for lack of trying. I think that damned wolf completely severed the tendon. There's no way that'll ever heal."

Will swallowed a lump in his throat. "Is there any way for them to retire, at least?"

The knight sighed. "If they can't even walk, what kind of life is that to live? Horses are meant to run. They'd be miserable, lad. No, it'd be best to...to ease their suffering. It's the least we can do for 'em."

Will turned away. The thought of Tug being in one of those horses' places was too much to bear. He blinked a few times and stepped away, walking back towards Crowley. The knights seemed like they had it under control. They were already decided on what they were going to do. Will didn't need to be there.

"What's their status?" Halt asked without looking up as Will approached him and Crowley. Halt had cut Crowley's pants with his saxe knife in order to get at the wound. He had mostly cleaned it now and was preparing to stitch it. Will made a face as he looked at it. The marks were long, jagged, and ugly. Crowley was lucky that the wolf had mostly gotten the side of his leg; otherwise, he might have ended up much like the horses. As it was, Will didn't think it looked too bad. The cuts didn't look too deep and he didn't think they'd cut through anything important.

"The knight I talked to, he said..." Will swallowed. "They're going to - they might need to - the horses are...they can't walk."

Both Crowley and Halt's expressions saddened. Rangers loved their horses fiercely and they readily sympathized with other horses. "That's too bad," Crowley said, wincing halfway through the sentence as Halt tugged at a stitch. "Are the knights alright?"

Truthfully, Will hadn't even thought to check if they were alright. "None of them seemed injured. They were tending to their horses instead of themselves."

"Well, that's good at least. I'm glad we didn't have any casualties. Wolf hunts are dangerous at best - that nearly got out of control there, at the end." 

Will hummed, not sure what to say. He was glad for his sleeping draught. If not for that, he was certain he would have nightmares tonight. Seeing that wolf tackle Crowley, seeing its snapping jaws closing in on his throat...

"Will, start loading the wolf carcasses onto our horses. The knight whose horse can still walk can have one of them. Put the others on Abelard and Tug. We'll skin them and dispose of them tonight."

"Alright." He moved off. 

About ten minutes later, he had finished tying the last wolf to Tug's saddle. Its limp body hung down awkwardly. Tug eyed him reproachfully, as if he were saying why do I need to carry around this awful, heavy corpse? 

"Wolf skins are useful," he told Tug, "and we can always use tallow. Besides, after all the trouble it took to kill them, we can't just let them stay here."

Tug tossed his head. We certainly could.

"Well, we could, but Halt wouldn't be happy."

Tug had nothing to say to that. Although he and Halt disagreed on several issues - apples being foremost among them - he, like everyone else, knew better than to get on Halt's bad side. Will ran his hand down Tug's neck and breathed in his familiar, horsey scent. He sent a silent prayer to God for sparing Tug. He didn't know what he would've done if Tug had been attacked, if his legs had been shredded by wolf teeth...

Will shook the thought away. He needed to stop thinking about it. He drew away from Tug and strode back towards Crowley and Halt. He stopped a few feet away from them, opening his mouth to ask how it was going.

He froze. His skin prickled. Vomit rose in his throat.

That familiar sharp, sickening scent...

Cold, trembling hands grappling desperately for it. Warmth. Warm. I need it. I need it I need it I need it IneeditIneedit-

Will staggered backwards, hand flying over his mouth. It was shaking. He was shaking. He wrenched his eyes open - when had he closed them? - forcing himself to look at what was going on. This isn't Skandia, this is Araluen - this isn't Olgar, this is Halt - come on, Will, breathe!

Halt was still crouched beside Crowley, his gaze fixed on his friend. He hadn't even noticed Will's presence. He had finished stitching Crowley's wounds now and was applying a salve to the top. That must be what Will was smelling. Faintly, he recalled when Halt had first explained a Ranger's medical kit to him. There had been a specific salve in there, a salve for pain. Warmweed salve.

A gentle breeze swept the clearing, carrying the scent even more strongly to Will's nose. He dug his nails into his flesh and forced himself to breathe. He would not get sick. He wouldn't. He wouldn't. 

It was then that, before the situation could devolve further, Will's ears picked up on rapidly nearing hoofbeats. Gilan and Blaze burst into view. He reined Blaze in and dismounted, sliding a quick smile at Will before going up to Crowley and Halt.

"Everything's settled over there. No injuries and they've set to work filling in the pits. They'll be heading back to the castle as soon as they're done. How's it going here?"

"Fine," said Halt. "Will said that the two horses those wolves injured are in bad shape. They aren't able to walk anymore."

Gilan sucked in a breath. "Shit."

The Rangers all nodded in agreement.

"Well, how's the wound?"

"Missed all arteries, which is good. I can still move my leg so I'm hoping it missed everything important. It'll definitely leave a nasty scar, though. Should endear me with the ladies."

"Unless you plan to take off your pants anytime you want to woo a lady, Crowley, I'm not sure how it's going to endear you to them," Halt said dryly. 

Crowley snorted. "Court ladies would love it."

"Every day, I become more convinced that you have not held a single conversation with any lady of the court."

"Like you have?"

With great dignity, Halt said, "I have no need to speak to women when it does not regard a mission."

Crowley wheezed. "Just say you're terrible with women and be done with - ow! That's low, Halt - hurting a man when he's down?"

"You make it too easy. And I am not bad with - why are we even talking about this," he muttered into his beard.

"Y'know," Gilan broke in, "I think Halt's actually right. He's not bad with women."

Halt gave Gilan a slightly gratified look. Unfortunately for Halt, Gilan continued.

"You see, he refuses to talk to women, not because he's bad at it, but because he's already in love with-"

Unsurprisingly, Gilan hit the ground before he could finish his sentence. Halt's favorite method of preventing people from saying things he didn't want to hear had prevailed once more. Gilan groaned from his spot on the ground.

"How the fuck did you trip me," he lamented. "You're sitting down!"

Crowley laughed, a full, hearty laugh that made Gilan and Will laugh along with him. Even Halt cracked a smile at it - and when Will watched him, he saw Halt's shoulders drop in relief. 

By that point, Halt had finished with Crowley's wound. Still exchanging quips here and there, Halt helped Crowley stand and called Cropper to them. Then, the next few minutes involved a concerted effort on all their parts to get Crowley up on his horse. Eventually, they succeeded. From there, the other Rangers quickly mounted up. The one knight whose horse was uninjured mounted up as well, saying that he was going to Castle Redmont to bring back "what was necessary." Will did not like the sound of that.

The moon had fully risen by the time Will, Halt, Crowley, and Gilan arrived back home. The three Rangers helped Crowley dismount and hobble into the house, where Halt gave Crowley his bed. He stayed behind to tend to Crowley, and something in his expression told Gilan and Will to leave him and Crowley alone.

"Well," Gilan said, as the two of them tended to the four Ranger horses. "That could have gone better."

Will nodded. Again, the sickening scent of warmweed washed over his nose - only this time, he knew it was fake. He breathed in and out. "It definitely could have."

He swallowed an extra half-dose of his sleeping draught that night as he got ready for bed. 

Chapter Text

The next several days passed by relatively peacefully after the hunt. Will was glad for it. The last week had been such a whirlwind, and the last months before that so full of life-altering events, that having a few days of quiet was wonderful. 

Crowley's injury, although by no means serious, was enough to put him down for a while. He sent a message to Castle Araluen the next morning after the hunt, describing what had happened and telling them that he would be unable to ride back until his leg was fully healed. Then he settled into Halt's cabin to recover. 

Since Crowley needed to keep off his feet for at least a week or two, Halt gave Crowley his bed. He still refused to leave his own room - perhaps stubbornness on his part - and had his bedroll put on the floor. It could not have possibly been that comfortable, but for some reason Halt preferred it over Will's bed or even the couch. Unsurprisingly, the sleeping arrangements only made Halt grumpier than usual.

Now that the aftermath of their fight was over, Will began to finally ease back into his training routine. Halt oversaw most of it, but Gilan still taught Will unseen movement every day, as well as the double-knife defense that Will had been getting so rusty at. Like most things in Will's life, it went pretty terribly at first. Will was still far from peak condition and he had lost a great deal of muscle memory in the past year. It took several days for Will to start getting the hang of it once more. 

Still, Will was making progress. Halt was being careful not to overtax Will's body, gradually adding back portions of his training and focusing first on strengthening Will's muscles and stamina. Will could feel it paying off. Every day he felt steadier and more in control of his body. 

Additionally, Will couldn't help but think back to the wolf hunt. A warm feeling of satisfaction, if not pride, came to him every time he did. It was his first combat situation since Skandia. Will had been worried that something might go wrong - or rather, that he might go wrong. Yet he had kept his head and fired several decent shots. 

When he shyly confided this to Gilan one night, a week and a half after the hunt, Gilan agreed. They were both sitting on the roof of Halt's house (don't ask), swinging their legs off the side. Thickening twilight glimmered through the clearing and around the trees. 

"See? Not so bad of a Ranger after all, are you?"

Will let a flicker of a smile run across his face. "Not a Ranger."

Gilan rolled his eyes. "Semantics."

"Bold of you to assume I know what that means," Will said dryly.

"...Do you seriously not know what the word 'semantics' means?"

"Do I look like I know?"

"Well, I thought you did, hence the question." 

Will groaned. "You are way too much like Halt."

Both of them laughed. 

"You know..." Will started slowly, after a few seconds' silence. He hadn't yet mentioned this to anyone. Once, the idea of someone not knowing something had been thrilling. Now it was just lonely. It was truly horrible, Will thought, how much about himself - how many of the thoughts and experiences inside his mind - would never be known by another human. The mortifying ordeal of being known? No - the horrifying ordeal of being unknown.

It was times like these he most loved the existence of God. 

"Hmm?"

"Our medical kits," he said, stumbling a little over his words. "Rangers' medical kits, that is."

"What about them?"

"They have, um." Will paused. Somehow he had expected Gilan to realize. He hadn't thought he would have to spell it out. "Their contents? It's, um. They have a pain-relieving salve in them, yeah?"

Gilan tilted his head, confused. "Yes...?"

Did Gilan actually not know? "Well, the salve. It's, um. There's...warmweed in it."

"It has what?"

Will nodded. He stared down at the ground, a mere fifteen or so feet below him. He idly wondered when Halt was going to get back. He'd been gone a lot, lately. "Yeah."

"I had no idea," Gilan said. "Wait. If I didn't know, how did you figure it out?"

Will sighed. "The hard way. I smelled it when Halt was using it on Crowley, right after the hunt. It...that really sucked."

"I can imagine." 

Will stared at his hands. They were shaking, but not as bad as they normally would. "I didn't freak out. It was close, but I didn't. I'm...I'm glad. At least I can stand smelling it without going mental."

"You should tell Halt to take it from your kits," Gilan said. "It's not like it's necessary. It doesn't clean the wound or anything, just helps with pain."

But Will was already shaking his head. "You know as well as I do that that's a bad idea. I can't control what I might come across on any given day. I might run into it anywhere, at any time. At least now I'll be prepared whenever there's an injury to treat. If we get rid of it entirely, that's not going to help me at all. It's just going to be postponing the inevitable. I will run into it at some point, it's just a question of when. Shouldn't I try to be prepared?"

"Not if it's going to hurt you."

Will shrugged. "The training I'm doing right now - all those muscle exercises, all the stamina building stuff - is hurting me. I wake up every morning sore and tired. But it's making me stronger."

"There's a difference between pushing yourself and breaking yourself."

Will considered that. "You're not wrong, I guess. But still. I think that incident proved I won't be breaking myself. I can't baby myself all the time, Gilan. We're Rangers. We're needed on the battlefield. We need to be reliable in life-or-death situations. If warmweed could hinder me from acting well, then I need to make it so it doesn't anymore."

Gilan didn't try to protest again, but Will could see he wasn't happy. Will honestly wasn't happy about it either, but he was convinced of his idea's correctness. 

"At least bring it up with Crowley," Gilan said.

Will frowned. "Crowley? What's he got to do with this?" He'd been expecting Gilan to say Halt.

"Well, it's not like I know that much, but he's got more experience with this sort of thing than the rest of us." Gilan shrugged. "He might be able to tell you if that's a good idea or not. Run it by him, will you?" 

Will doubted it would do much good, but why not? He nodded. 

"In the mean time..." Gilan grinned. He nodded at the forest. "I can't wait til Halt comes back."

Will grinned back. "He's gonna be so mad."

Halt was, indeed, quite pissed to find his front door booby-trapped with molasses that hit him full in the face the moment he tried to open the door. Will and Gilan perched on top of the roof, watching with glee. Halt stood motionless for a long second.

Then he said, very very quietly, "Will and Gilan." 

Will swallowed. He exchanged a quick glance with Gilan. Gilan's gleeful smile had wavered slightly. Obviously they had known Halt would be pissed - that was the whole point of the prank - but actually seeing Halt pissed was a different matter from knowing it. 

"...Are you sure this was a good idea?" Will whispered very, very quietly to his friend.

Gilan gave a strained smile. "No?"

Of course, because Halt apparently possessed preternatural hearing, he heard. His head tipped up, and then his gaze met the nervous ones of both Will and Gilan.

It was just to their luck that the proverbial "people do not tend to look up" did not to apply to Halt. 

"H-Hi, Halt," Gilan said, valiantly attempting courage. "That's a...weird situation you've gotten yourself into, huh?"

"Yeah, it sure is strange how something like that could've happened," Will added, laughing nervously. 

"It is, is it?" Halt asked, very calmly. He looked down at his Ranger's cloak, completely covered in the sticky residue. "This wouldn't happen to be something you two had known something about?" 

"Oh, no!"

"No, of course not!"

"Mm." Halt grunted at them. "You mean to tell me, then, that Crowley did this, I suppose?"

"Uh..." Will threw a glance to Gilan. 

"Well, not exactly..." Gilan said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It must've been someone else."

Halt raised an unimpressed brow. "Someone else?"

"Yeah!" Will said, quickly coming to Gilan's defense. "Yeah, definitely! One of the village boys came by earlier this afternoon and set it!"

Halt nodded a few times. "I see," he said. "And you saw this, I suppose? And must have watched it, given how clear the details of the matter seem to be in your mind?"

Will gave Gilan a frantic look. Gilan just offered him a helpless shrug. "Well..."

Halt sighed. "You really are terrible liars," he told them. "Especially you, Will. How you managed to lie to us all for months, I really don't know." 

"Well I-" Will closed his mouth, cutting himself off abruptly. He didn't think it'd be a good idea to say anything to that.

"You're clearly the ones who set this up. You left your cutting knife down here, Gilan. Right next to the trap." 

Gilan's shoulders sagged. "Shit, really? I could've sworn I-"

"No, you didn't." Halt eyed him with an air of triumph. "But now you've admitted to being near it." 

Will and Gilan exchanged glances of resignation. Slowly, they uncurled from their spots and descended down to the ground to face their consequences.

"Well, you got us there, Halt," Gilan told him ruefully. 

"Yeah," Will agreed, rubbing the back of his head. He sighed defeatedly, and Gilan echoed him. They came to stand in front of Halt, shoulders drooping guiltily. The thrill of a good prank was always in the possibility of getting caught. Unfortunately, Halt was smarter than they'd thought - although looking back, Will wasn't sure how he hadn't thought this would happen. Halt always saw through his pranks. After all, it's not like some random village boy would be brave enough to prank a mystical Ranger - especially not one as forbidding as Halt. 

"So, uh, any trees in our near future?" Gilan asked a bit nervously. Will swallowed. 

There was a beat of silence.

Then Halt sighed. He seemed tired, Will noted, exhausted in a way that surely couldn't be simply from the prank. Halt waved a hand dismissively. "Just clean up this mess."

He took off his cloak, thrusting it towards Will. "That includes this. It better be spotless, you hear?"

"Halt," Will said slowly. "Our cloaks are mottled." 

Halt blinked. "Oh. So they are. Well, whatever. Just clean the damn thing."

Turning, he strode into the cabin and shut the door behind him. Unlike usual, it shut with a slight click.

Frowning, Will and Gilan exchanged looks.

"I thought for sure he'd string us up, or at least give us a bunch more chores," Will said, staring at the shut door. 

"Yeah. Is it just me or is Halt acting...different?"