Alright so. Y'all remember how in book 7 Duncan holds the meeting for hibernian kings? My today's take is:
Imagine Sean not being able to make it one year because some urgent problems or something.
And Halt straight bi walks up to supposed Sean's chair, dramatically drapes himself over it, his ranger cloak exchanged for the most shiny thing with rainbow sparkles and holds Duncan gaze like "well, I never officially abdicated and my nephew asked me for a favour. so let's go bitches"
I'm no @solarishashernoseinabook, but... I can give you all my attempt. heh. have some wildly ooc crack <3 @rangerthursday hope you enjoyÂ
King Duncan drummed his fingers apprehensively against his thigh, though he was careful to keep the movement subtle and under the table. He wasnât expecting any great trouble this year with the Hibernian kings, but still, it wouldnât do to appear anything but calm, confident, and collected. One could never be too careful. And, Duncan thought, his unease growing as the seconds ticked by, King Sean is late.
He and the kings of the other five Hibernian kingdoms were gathered around a table for (another) round of Araluen-hosted peace talks, as had become a common occurrence in the past half century or so. Duncan swept a casual glance over each of them, attempting to get a read on the other rulers as they waited for Sean. The King of Traloon seemed relatively unperturbed, leaning back in his chair, wineglass in hand; the Kings of Clare and Mourne were giving off a similar image of a relaxed presence, though Duncan suspected it was at least partially a front for the King of Mourne; and finally, the Kings of Dromorth and Galwegh seemed to be wary of each other, greeting one another rather stiffly. Duncan had expected as much, given their recent border disputes. He glanced toward Lord Anthony, about to ask him to send a messenger to where the Clonmel delegation was staying, whenâ
The door swung open with a sudden forceful whoosh, and Duncan blinked as the sunlight from the hallway window haloed the figure standing in the doorway, as well as highlighting the⌠glitter? in the air that had blown in with the motion. He squinted slightly, trying to make out the newcomerâs face. Duncan would normally have assumed this man was either a messenger from King Sean or the King himself, but something told Duncan that, somehow, this man was neither.
With a dazzling swirl of frighteningly bright colors, the new arrival strode silently up to King Seanâs empty chair, each stride causing the ludicrously rainbow-hued robes to billow and swish around him in earnest. Duncan watched with a pained wince as gleaming sparkles trailed after him, floating for a moment before gently settling onto every imaginable surface. This room would be glittering for months, if not years to come.
With one powerful, confident motion, the newcomer swung the shining folds of cloth off one shoulder and â still a part of the same easy, fluid movement â draped himself languidly over King Seanâs chair. Now, everyone around the table could see the rather odd juxtaposition of the extremely expensive silk of the robes and the high-quality but decidedly rough, everyday working-man wool clothing the man was wearing underneath.
But Duncan could only assess the manâs attire for so long. Heavily, he raised his head â and so, Duncan found himself gazing with despair into the pleasantly calm gaze of one Halt OâCarrick, OG drama bitch #1.
âHalt,â Duncan managed to get out.
Halt raised an eyebrow. âI wasnât aware that I was doing anything in the first place, Your Majesty.â
At that, Duncan thought he heard a strange noise, almost like a choked-off snort, come from the corner of the room. But, seeing nothing there, he dismissed it in favor of staring as hard as he could into Haltâs eyes.
âOh, right,â Halt muttered to himself, reaching lazily inside his robes and pulling out a sealed envelope with a flourish. But before he could toss it to Duncan, the King of Mourne leaned forward with a gasp, eyes widening.
âF-Ferris?â The man spluttered. âIâ I thought you were deadââ
Even reeling as he was, Duncan gave an internal eye-roll. Tactful.
At the same time, the King of Galwegh gave his closest royal approximation of slapping a hand over the King of Mourneâs mouth.
âShut up, you idiot,â he hissed. âThatâs Halt-motherfucking-OâCarrick, the lost Crown Prince of Clonmel, previously assumed dead, and now an Araluen Ranger.â
Duncan half-raised an eyebrow before controlling himself. Well, the man had certainly always had a way with words.
The King of Dromorth now paled. âWait, you mean the one Owen said came back to Clonmel, out of nowhere, then caused some ruckus around a gang of fraudulent religious fanatics, but then actually fixed the issue, and then refused the throne after Ferris was assassinated?â
âThe one and only,â Halt drawled, making everyone in the room jump â especially the assorted Hibernian Kings, who very abruptly realized that the target of their gossip was, in fact, sitting amongst them. It was uncanny how the man managed to fade into the background while wearing the most unsubtle, eye-catching, lurid set of robes Duncan had ever seen. He wondered vaguely whether the robes could serve a tactical purpose as a distraction to an enemy, before giving himself a mental shake and returning to the present situation.
Lord Anthony decided to break the silence, sensing that it was unlikely anyone else would. âAh, no offense meant, Your Majesty,â he said to Halt, but Halt raised a hand, cutting him off. âPlease, Lord Anthony,â Halt intoned breezily, âthereâs no need for all that formal address of âYour Majestyâ this and âYour Majestyâ that.â
âHow⌠would you like me to address you, then, Yourâ ahâŚâ
Halt shrugged, exuding nonchalance as he lounged in his chair. âI think Ranger will do, donât you?â
Lord Anthony looked rather strained, but agreed and continued on. âWell then. Again, with all due respect, we do need official documentation from King Sean stating you are his representative before we continue, Your⌠Ranger.â
Halt tilted his head consideringly at the words. âWell, Iâm his Ranger, actually,â he mused, giving a little jerk of his head towards Duncan, âbut I suppose thatâs close enough.â
The corner wheezed before hastily cutting off the sound. Duncan eyed it suspiciously.
âGood thing my nephew sent along this old thing, then,â Halt said cheerfully, and this time did toss the envelope in his hand to Duncan. Duncan caught it neatly and studied the seal, a nod from Lord Anthony confirming its legitimacy.
Duncan scanned the papers inside. The forms were all in proper order, butâ ah, here. A note from Sean. Duncan quickly read through it. Oh, very funny, Sean, he thought. Sending a âhighly capable delegate in my stead, experienced in political affairs and with the in-depth knowledge and understanding of Clonmel necessary to properly negotiate with the other five kingdomsâ now, was he? A delegate with a âfairly respectable noble lineageâ to boot? And Sean further had the gall to say his âdelegateâ would be âa diplomatic asset,â especially considering what said âfairly respectable noble lineage,â combined with his âtactful charisma,â would inspire in the other kings?
Duncan made a mental note to accidentally request for the newest Scribeschool apprentices to write the next yearâs worth of correspondence with Clonmel. The cost in postage for delivering two to three times the normal amount of paper would be well worth it, he decided. Heâd pull the necessary funds right out of his personal vaults.
But in the meantime⌠Duncan looked up at Halt and nodded his pained acquiescence. âLet us begin, then,â he said, desperately trying to piece back together the scraps of his fragmented sanity.
Dear Lord, just please donât let him toss one of the Hibernian Kings into the moat.
âââ
A very short hour later, Halt slapped two hands onto the table and pushed back his chair, standing with practiced ease. As he did so, the glaringly colorful robes fell back into place around his shoulders with a graceful swish. Duncan blinked, hard, to no avail. The garment hadnât become any easier to look at in the time he had been forced to gaze in its general vicinity while listening to Halt negotiate. Which was a whole other ordeal.
âWell then!â The look of satisfaction on Haltâs face carried a weight of somewhat terrifying assurance. âI think thatâs all there is to this, yes?â
Halt looked over to Lord Anthony for confirmation. Lord Anthony, on his part, managed to nod his agreement, even through the fascinating mix of emotions playing across his face, as he questioned his life decisions and how they had led him to this point.
Halt flicked his gaze around the rest of the room, lingering briefly on each of the five kings in turn. They all looked to be in varying states of shock, disbelief, and slight horror (though really, each one had come out of the talks with cleverly crafted and surprisingly good deals, Duncan had noted).
Satisfied, Halt turned to a corner â no, The Corner â and, lightning-fast, seemed to seize the hem of a cloak out of midair. He then appeared to drag a hooded figure into existence, pulling it out of the slight shadows cast around the room.
âWho is that?!â one of the Kings whimpered in horror, staring as the somewhat taller person was manhandled by the somewhat shorter and decidedly unimpressed Halt.
âThis oneâs with me,â Halt said blandly, dragging the mystery person toward the door. The mystery person, for their part, said nothing, though Duncan was almost entirely sure he knew exactly who it was.
âBut- this was all highly confidential-â The protests of another king dropped off at the seemingly mild glance Halt sent his way.
âDonât worry about that,â Halt replied pleasantly. Duncan sensed a slightly dangerous undertone in his voice and tensed, watching the Ranger closely. (Not now, he thought desperately. Weâre so close to making it through. He glanced at the window â still latched, not that it would make any difference). Halt continued. âI can vouch for this idiot if need be.â
A third king, attempting to swallow his hesitation, spoke up, voice small. ââŚBut only the immediate royal families can be privy to this information â wives, and sons, and⌠suchâŚâ He, too, trailed off as Halt stared evenly at him.
âIs that so?â Halt said mildly. âHm.â
Halt paused, seeming to consider the kingâs words. Duncanâs heart lurched wildly as he realized what Halt was about to do, but he remained stuck in his seat, paralyzed by his helplessness to stop the Ranger. Because then, without warning, Halt suddenly yanked down on the mottled wool in his grip and, wrapping an arm around their shoulders to bring them closer, pulled the mystery person into a passionate kiss.
All five kings (and quite possibly Lord Anthony as well) choked. Duncan buried his face in his hands.
Just when the kiss became long and deep enough for Duncan to feel distinctly uncomfortable, Halt broke away and casually strode off again without pause, dragging the cowled and now thoroughly kissed mystery person after him. Duncan watched Haltâs robe flutter gayly around his ankles, sending even more rainbow sparkles wafting through the air.
Halt didnât look back as he left, appearing oblivious to the state he was leaving them in. Duncan stared, frozen, ears ringing slightly, watching as the door swung shut in his wake.
Dear God, he had never needed a drink more in his life.
âââ
From the hallway just outside the meeting room, the hysterical laughter of a certain red-headed Ranger Commandant could be heard spilling out onto the castle grounds from an open window, continuing in earnest even as his companion grumpily flicked sparkles into his face.
And hundreds of miles away, King Sean OâCarrick of Clonmel sat back in his chair with a pleased sigh, already eagerly awaiting mail from a certain Araluen Ranger detailing the dayâs undoubtedly⌠eventuous events, he thought to himself, grinning widely.
because itâs a puzzle no one else will ever arrange the same way as you.
because there are ideas that simply wonât come to you until you write down the wrong words.
because all the bad scenes are the bones of the wonderful scenes.
because someone will love it: someone will read it once, and twice, and thrice; someone will ramble to you about the complexity of it; someone will doodle your characters out of love; someone will find it in exactly what they were looking for with or without knowing it.
because they have things to say, your characters. theyâve told you all those secrets and they have more to tell you, if you will listen.
because you love it even when you donât; even when it drives you mad or when it accidentally turns into apathy; even when you think youâre doing it all wrong; you love it, and it loves you back.
because you can get a treasure even from things that go wrong; because if a story crumbles down you can build a shinier one on the same spot; because you wonât know where it will take you until it takes you there.
[ID: An article title from Pink News that reads âIan McKellen calls asking for birth name âas irrelevant as asking for oneâs birth weightâ and âas inappropriate as demanding details on past traumaâ /End ID]
au where Will doesnât grow up in the Ward, but instead ends up being brought up by Halt
a family can be a grumpy dad, his friend your weird uncle-dad guy and a 48 other guys that occasionally stop by
Crowley Refuses to acknowledge that heâs dad-ing Will too, but everyone else knows that he very much does
just. a scenario where Crowley, Halt and Will (and possibly Gilan) are a little strange fambly without Crowley and Halt ever getting romantically involved
you canât write this and then not say that will has 50 parents. halt didnât know what the hell he was doing, he brought that baby to the next gathering and got 50 different people stepping up to babysit, raise the kid, teach him, get everything he needed.
every gathering since halt adopted will, someone (most likely multiple someones) would have a new handmade toy for him. his favorite toy is a weak toy bow and arrows (dulled points, obviously, make out of wood).
you had me at 50 parents/uncles/guardians but now i canât help but think of the shenanigans
theyâd multiply a thousand-fold
will was already pranking everyone at redmont, but the rangers would encourage that and heâs be extra sneaky and extra chaotic and iâd imagine all the rangers would be >:( and :â) simultaneously
ranger's apprentice AU where the Rangers aren't generally short, but tend to tower over people by at least a foot (30cm)
can you imagine how cryptic that would be.
imagine you're in the middle of the forest at night hunting or whatever and someone materializes out of the woods, merging with the shadows, and they just--tower over you. and you can't even see their face to verify if they're human or not. you just see something appear from the shadows, dark and silent and--you'd be running for your life.
yea i love the Rangers being short (because i, too, am short) but just thinking about slenderman-like Rangers is hilarious to me. those poor farmers.
