Hi there! It's Your Shining Light ✨ You can call me Light :) (she/her)
I love to read, write, draw, listen to music, get lost in my thoughts, yap about things I'm passionate about, and being creative in general!
On this blog I mainly post about my passions, have the occasional yap session, and whatever else I feel like doing at the moment. Like I said, I love to write, and I post fics from time to time, both on here and on ao3. My name there is YourShiningLight :)
This blog is ANTI AI, ANTI CENSORSHIP, AND PRO BEING WHOEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT TO BE AND WRITING WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU WANT TO WRITE. Just wanted to clear that up ;) I am also a really big fan of not harrasing anyone for who they are or what they write <3
Fanfic masterlist:
I will try to update as I post new fics :)
Ranger's Apprentice & The Brotherband Chronicles:
Took an Arrow to the Knee (The Side, Actually): Halt & Crowley are out on a mission to catch a dangerous group of bandits, it goes wrong. The last two chapters contain Craltine, a ship I would die defending 😌
From Crown Prince to Ranger (WIP): a series consisting of 3 parts in which I explore Halt's childhood, his time with Pritchard and how his past might have affected him throughout his life
Ranger Gathering 2025: All the fics I wrote for the Ranger Gathering 2025, organised into a series. Mostly RA, but also includes 4 BB fics.
Ranger Gathering 2026: The fics I wrote for the Ranger Gathering 2026, organised into a series. Both RA & BB fics.
The Dragon Prince:
The Moon and His Heart: a fluffy fic between Ethari and Runaan
Some 'personal' tags I use from time to time:
light answers asks: used for posts in which I answer an ask
light yaps: used for posts in which I yap about anything (could be fandom related, could also be about anything else)
celebrating queerness: I'm using this one (when I remember to, this is also a tag I implemented only recently so you won't see it that much yet) on my own posts (so normally not on reblogs) about anything queer. Mostly it's for when I yap about queer characters/ships, or when I yap about being queer <3 Cause for me yapping about anything queer is part of celebrating who I am :)
light reblogs handy things: I use this on post reblogs in which handy resources/tips/recipes/information/… are listed, mainly so they’re easier to find later on
light holds a vent session: for when I’m venting about (mostly personal) stuff. So if you don’t like to see those posts you can filter them out :)
Other tags will be added when I think of them or when I start to use a new one
If there's anything else you wanted to know about me, feel free to ask!
(Set during Oakleaf Bearers, after they all reunited.)
I cannot tell him.
Halt added two more twigs in the campfire, his hands shaking. Halt’s hands never shook, even when anxiety occupied his mind. He didn’t get anxious much anyway, but it would be a fatal habit to have as an archer.
But now, they did.
He ended up tossing the rest of the wood in haste. The flames flickered, then died out completely.
Great. He only had one job, and he failed.
Halt clamped his hands on the log he was sitting on, the rough bark digging into his palms. It felt like a punishment.
No one could see him anyway. No one knew.
Evanlyn was resting early in the tent, and Will and Horace had gone hunting.
There was a bright smile on Will’s face when he left moments ago, claiming that he would catch a deer to celebrate their reunion. Horace had tagged along and jokingly insisted on bringing Kicker despite Will’s protest that he would scare off the animals.
“You may have a slight chance of staying quiet, but Kicker? No.”
Halt could still hear Horace’s groaning and Will’s laughter after they were out of his sight.
Laughter.
Halt hated to see Will cry. He had only realised the fact today. Will had made him cry. That was another fact.
Normally, Halt liked facts — knowing whether or not it would rain today, not to feed Albelard too many apples, and that his own smile, even the tiniest one, would be the biggest validation for Will. But he was facing different kinds of facts today — how many days until he could step on the land of Araluan again, how everyone would react if they knew Halt was banished, and how much more his heart could bear witnessing his own apprentice fussing over him like a mother hen. There was nothing to be worried about. It had been necessary, a procedure. Just a procedure to get…someone important back. It was stupid.
He was so stupid.
Pain.
Halt didn’t feel the sting until his hand automatically jerked away from the log he was holding onto so desperately. It had bitten into his skin, and it was bleeding. He cursed underneath his breath and wrapped his hand around the front of his cloak. He couldn’t bother to treat the wound properly now. There were more important things to dwell upon, like dealing with the Temujai and letting everyone stay happy. His own problems would have to wait. Till when, he didn’t know, didn’t want to know.
He set up the fire once more, patiently this time. He forced himself to slow down. The twigs dragged over the cuts in his palm and left barely visible red tints on the wood before being thrown into the fire, starting to burn.
There. That was gone.
He didn’t have to wait too long for the two boys to return and bring dinner. Soon, everyone was around the campfire for the first time in months, together.
Will. Horace. Evanlyn. Himself.
He listened to everyone talk and laugh. Then the stories started to flow out. He listened, answered questions, frowned, and nodded.
Halt waited for someone to ask, or for Horace to forget his promise to not mention his situation.
“Oh, yes. Halt was banished. That’s why we’re here. Because he offended the King to look for you.”
He was prepared to lower his head, to scold Horace for being dramatic, or to stand up abruptly and declare that he needed to rest because of how loud all of them were.
But Horace didn’t mention it, so Halt kept quiet. No one would notice anyway. No one ever noticed, when he was quiet.
“What’s on your mind?”
Halt’s eyes shot up to meet Will’s concerned ones, startled. Lost in thought. He really was getting old, wasn’t he?
The campfire had been put out, and Evanlyn was cleaning up. Halt was the only one sitting there. He blinked, realising that his far-too-curious-for-his-own-good apprentice was still waiting for an answer.
“My mind?” Halt arched an eyebrow, feigning confusion.
Will didn’t speak. He just kept standing there. His arms weren’t crossed, nor did he look demanding, he was smiling even, but a hint of annoyance still managed to creep its way into Halt’s mind. He tried to shove it down, deeper.
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” he muttered.
“Tell me anyway.”
Why does he have to be so stubborn? The irritation resurfaced, and this time, he couldn’t push it away.
“You see, when I say it’s nothing to worry about, I mean I don’t want to talk about it,” his voice was stiff, and he knew that. A tiny leaf was dangling from a tree branch at the right corner of his eye. Halt fixated his gaze on it and pursed his lips. One, two, three, four…… He waited for the leaf to inevitably fall and yank itself off the tree, but it just kept clinging on. He had an irrational urge to stride up to the tree and just tug the leaf off himself.
“I don’t feel so—” he almost said belonged, but held himself back, “…authoritative these days,” he muttered, to no one in particular, staring at the dangling leaf, still.
It was after seconds did Halt realise that Will hadn’t heard him. He finally locked eyes with him and gave in. “It’s the Temujai.”
There was no need to disappoint anyone again, he thought, at least not before his return.
(This fic is about Will grieving for Alyss. CW for depression and mentions of suicide and killing.)
The first month
“You like some bread, girl?”
I looked at the piece of bread dangling close to my snout and nudged it. No, I didn’t want to eat now. As I curled up on the floor, the hand retreated. I slapped my tail, twice.
“Even you don’t want me now.” My ears pricked up. A shadow loomed over the carpet and the chair creaked. Does he want to pet me? He usually wants to pet me…at least he used to want to, but not last time. The last time my fur got wet from all the salty water dripping off him. I didn’t like getting wet. I sat up anyway and met his eyes.
“Sorry, girl. I don’t mean to sound that way.” The bread went in his mouth. “Come here.”
I edged closer, waiting for a hand to thread into my fur. Was he going to talk again? He didn’t talk last time.
Silence. Then,
“I can’t stop. I wake up every morning and I just want to be in bed, but I get hungry and I have to eat, then I get so angry about having to eat and I don’t know why.” The hand came. I flopped on his lap. “I miss her so much, so, so much. I want to remember everything, but I’m starting to forget what her face looks like, and I’m so scared one day I’ll forget everything. I want to forget everything sometimes. I don’t know.”
I purred quietly.
“Sorry, Sable. I’m boring you again. I’ll let you sleep.” He stood up and left. I lay back down on the porch.
The fourth month
“I caught one of them today.”
I hissed softly and squirmed on his lap. His touch was rougher today. A spike of discomfort crossed my mind and my fur rippled.
“I want to kill him. I know I can’t, but I want to let him pay.” He scratched the back of my ear. “I had to let him go on trial. I wish he would let me kill him. It’s just not enough.”
There was a long while of silence, then I was lifted into his arms and wrapped tightly. He didn’t let me go for a long time.
The seventh month
He came back late today, the moon had already disappeared. I fell asleep waiting before a sudden creak on the door told me he was here, at last.
“Hey, girl? I know, I know I’m late.” He scooped me up and carried me inside.
On the chair again.
“Crowley came.” I stirred a little when he finally spoke. I edged closer, waiting for him to pet me, but he didn’t, not yet. “He wants me to go on a mission and I told him I can’t. He’s disappointed. I just know. I can only hope he doesn’t expel me from the Corps. I don’t think he will.”
Silence.
I was tired of it and nudged his hand. He didn’t respond.
“Everyone pretends to understand how I’m feeling and I’m so angry about it. They keep saying Aly— she would want me to do this, she would want me to feel that… You don’t know anything! How do you know— Guess what, I don’t care anymore.”
I was still waiting for him to pet me.
The ninth month
He didn’t even touch me today. I quietly padded to his bedroom door and nudged it open. He was awake. I could tell.
I purred once, wondering why he was ignoring me. He never ignored me.
I hopped on the bed.
“Sable? Go away, please.”
I purred again and settled on the bedsheets. Some spots were wet, so I edged closer to him.
“Sable?”
I didn’t budge and closed my eyes.
“Girl.”
Time ticked away. Suddenly, his arms closed around me and pulled me tight against his chest.
I was allowed to sleep in the bed that night.
The eleventh month
“I almost caught him. He was right there. Jory, Ruhl.” I was plopped on his lap. I wondered what the last two words meant, with him pronouncing them so carefully, like he could taste the syllables. They must taste cold judging from the way he said them. My tongue darted out, lapping on his hand. Salty.
“I was too late,” his hand was gentle, rubbing the back of my ears like he used to in the quiet early mornings. He didn’t do that anymore. I missed it, “Why, Sable? I almost got him. We were closer than five metres.”
I whined in protest when his hand left my ear, but it settled on my belly and I rolled over compliantly.
“I almost drowned,” I felt his fingers pause, “when he dropped me. I wanted to just let go for a second, to not do anything and let the water take me. My body didn’t agree though.”
He started petting me again.
Why did he want to let go? I never want him to let go.
The fifteenth month
“I miss her.”
We were in bed. It was one of the rare times he would let me in his room. I pushed a paw on his arm.
“I miss her so much. Every time I go out, everything reminds me of her, and when I don’t leave, I still can’t stop thinking of her. It feels like I’m the one who left and…went into her world, but she’s not there.”
His fingers ran through my fur.
“I met Jenny this morning, and I thought I saw her. Foolish, isn’t it. They aren’t alike at all, but I just keep seeing her smile on everyone’s face and it’s driving me insane. I can’t stop wondering what she would like, what she’d think about this, what she’d say about that… it’s just not fair. Sometimes I even wish the child could’ve… Nevermind.”
His sigh blew heavily on my snout.
“Good night, Sable.”
The seventeenth month
“I can’t cry. I can’t cry anymore!” I jumped as his fist slammed onto the chair handle. What was happening today? I hissed irritably. I was taking a nap!
“Why can’t I cry anymore. I can’t, I just can’t—” He had started pacing. I stared as his voice cracked mid-sentence, and a dull thud as his head rested against the wall. It didn’t look like a rest though. I don’t think he’s been resting these days. Before I could crawl over, I found his eyes looking into mine.
Sad eyes.
“Am I broken, Sable? What is wrong with me?”
His eyes flickered and I couldn’t see the sadness anymore.
I couldn’t see anything in those eyes.
I walked over and pawed at his ankle. You’re not broken. Why would you say that? I’m still here.
You’re still with me.
He knelt down and buried his hands in my back, roaming through my fur.
“I love you, girl.”
I still couldn’t hear any emotion in his voice, but I nuzzled his hand anyway.
—
A/N: Hope you enjoyed it :) I wanna participate fully next year <3
It was still early in the morning when Halt walked to Wensley Village. The sun hadn’t even showed herself, the first rays of light just appearing in the sky.
Halt was glad that he didn’t pass too many people on his way. He was riding on Abelard, sending the horse in the direction of the smiths.
If anyone would have asked, he could have said he went to the black smith, or the weapon smith. He could easily say that he needed something for his uniform, or new arrow heads.
Instead, he dismounted at Ambrose Shining, the silversmith.
“What will you need to do here?” Abelard eyed him, his ears forward.
Halt petted his nose, casting a look behind him.
“That’s a secret. I can’t have you tell anyone, not even by accident.”
“You’re going to get something for your wedding with Pauline.”
The Ranger stared at his horse, completely surprised.
“How – ?”
Abelard threw his head up, shaking his manes.
“I’m your horse. There is nothing you can keep a secret from me.”
Halt didn’t even try to come up with an answer. He petted Abelard’s neck once and then headed to the silversmith.
Ambrose’s house consisted of two parts; one part for him and his family to live, the other for work. His workplace wasn’t easily entered, to prevent thieves from stealing his silver.
Halt knocked on the door and waited until Ambrose opened.
“Morning, Halt,” the silversmith greeted him. “You’re quite early.”
The Ranger shrugged.
“I rather not have people see me here and then try to guess what’s going on.”
Ambrose wouldn’t call Halt a close friend, but they were good acquaintances.
“I have to say, when you came to me a couple of weeks ago, I thought you needed me to make a new oakleaf.” In every fief, there was one silversmith who was allowed to forge a silver oakleaf for a graduating apprentice. An official request had to be sent in with the signatures of the King, the Ranger Commandant as well as the apprentice’s mentor.
“Will still has three quarter of a year left before his final assessments,” Halt said. “He first has to pass them before I can make a request for an oakleaf for him.”
The silversmith understood that. It was a bad omen to cheer too early, he thought.
“I assume you would like to see what you ordered?” he said, opening the door further.
Halt stepped inside, then followed him to his workplace. He used the trip as a quick inspection as well.
The fireplace was in the centre, surrounded by bricks on the ground as well as behind. There was a chimney that guided the smoke up. The anvil was kept in place with metal pins, securing it to the ground. And, as usual, so was the safe in which he kept his silver.
“I was just doing the finishing touch on it,” Ambrose said. He walked to his safe and opened it. He took out a small, wooden box and, before showing it to Halt, locked the safe again. “Only some polishing and then it will be good.”
He gave it to Halt to inspect it. The Ranger didn’t have much knowledge about it, but he was sure about one thing.
“You did excellent work, Ambrose.” Halt allowed the man to see one of his rare smiles.
Ambrose felt a spark of pride in his chest. He knew that Halt wasn’t a person to spread comments casually.
“Thank you,” the silversmith replied, holding out his hand. “It’ll be done within a moment. In the meantime, you can go to my wife to pay. She’s in the shop.”
After Halt had paid the agreed amount of gold, he went back to Ambrose.
“May I ask you to keep it here, until the ceremony?” he asked the man.
“Of course, that’s no problem. I’ll make sure it’ll be there first thing in the morning.”
It was probably the tenth time in less than an hour that Pauline took off the newly forged wedding band to have another look at it. During the ceremony, now hours ago, she didn’t have the time to do so. Neither during the celebration since every guest wanted to congratulate her.
And, if she was honest, she had imagined the first night with her now husband to be different than it was. Instead of talking about the day and taking the time to realise they had tied the knot – finally, after more than twenty years – he was sent away on a mission.
“Ambrose really has a talent, doesn’t he?” she said out loud.
In another room, her husband was packing his bags for the long journey. He had already changed into his standard uniform, discarding the festive gala one.
“I wasn’t sure he would get my idea behind it, nor if it would work out.”
Halt entered the room, placing his bags against the wall. His bow and quiver were already there, as was a bag with food.
Pauline turned the wedding band and twisted it, letting the light of the candle touch it. It was a slim ring, with rounded edges. On the outside, laurels were engraved, accompanied with oakleaves. There was one, small gemstone in the middle.
She turned it up so that she could see what was written on the inside. In elegant, cursive letters she read ‘Mo fhíorghra’, Hibernian for ‘my true love’.
Halt watched her silently. She hadn’t said it with many words, but he could see that she adored the ring he had given her. It was subtle enough for her to wear, easy to take off if needed.
“I apologise that this evening didn’t go as planned.” Halt had stepped forward, stopping in front of his wife. “I actually had been looking forward to spend this night together.”
Pauline slid the wedding band on her finger and stood up. She placed her hands on his cheeks, tilting his head slightly to look him in the eyes.
“Our work doesn’t stop, not even for a wedding.” She didn’t blame him. It could have been her as well.
Halt looked into her eyes, the ones that had made him fall in love with her. They were tired after a day among the people. But there was a warmth behind them, one that was only there for him.
“I promise I make it up to you once I return,” he said, placing his hands on her hips, pulling her closer. “No matter the amount of work waiting, I won’t leave your side.”
“Even if Crowley marches into the room?” she asked, a smile in the corner of her mouth. She took a step closer until she was standing against him.
Without waiting, she moved her hands from his cheeks to his neck, wrapping them around it. At the same time, she bent forward.
When their lips touched, they both tightened the hug. They had shared kisses a thousand times before, but this time was different.
It was the first time Pauline kissed her husband goodbye, wishing and hoping he would return safe and well.
Halt on his turn did the same, not wanting to leave his now wife so soon.
“Promise me to be careful,” she whispered while she hugged him.
There were too many people around. Too many people approaching him, too many people congratulating him and gushing over how nice he looked. Some people he was more familiar with would add in the classic "for once in your life" line.
It was nice that so many people were happy for him. It was a big day after all. But for the love of God he really wished they would just leave him alone. His mind was already filled with a million thoughts, he couldn't keep track of those and every single person that wanted to give him a different version of the same message. Couldn't they just talk to him at the reception? It was starting to get beyond annoying, and he really didn't want to be this annoyed on his wedding day.
"If you hate how many people are here now," Crowley said to him from his seat in the corner of the room, "then you're really going to hate when it actually starts."
"That'll be different," Halt replied, trying to ignore Crowley's grin.
"How?" Will asked next. He was standing next to Crowley, leaning against the wall.
"I don't know. It just will be."
The ceremony would start in half an hour. Him, Will and Crowley were waiting around a room that had been set aside for Halt to get ready. Crowley had already said how great Halt looked in an over exaggerated posh voice a million times over. Will had already twirled around in his short ceremonial cloak to try and see the back design a million and one times over. It didn't seem to occur to him that it would be quite difficult to see it while he was wearing the thing. Things were getting boring in the room, and time was ticking by slower than it ever had. The only interruptions were when people would barge in to give their compliments to Halt, and that did nothing to make the waiting better.
The waiting gave Halts mind more time to stress and fill itself with anxiety. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt this nervous about something. He wasn't nervous about marrying Pauline, no of course not. Never. He was more sure than anything that this is what he wanted. But he was just so nervous about something going wrong. What if he messed up his vows? He was already anxious about having to say them in front of everyone. What if someone else messed up their role? What if some unforeseen disaster occured? What if she changed her mind and said no?
The last one was the most unlikely, but in his worried state of mind he was circling through each and every possibility, no matter how insane they may seem.
He needed to see her. Just seeing her would be able to put his mind and body at ease. But first, he had to sneak away from Will and Crowley. Both of them had caught wedding fever, if you could call it that, and had insisted Halt and Pauline couldn’t see each other before the ceremony. It was bad luck. He knew Pauline’s party felt the same. But screw them and superstitions. He wanted to see her now and nothing could convince him otherwise.
“I’m going to get some fresh air,” Halt told them. Will had been tracing the thread of Crowley’s ceremony cloak as he couldn’t do it on his own and both men looked up as he spoke.
“Why?” Will predictably asked.
“Because I don’t like being stuck in here with you two,” Halt replied. “I’ll be back, don’t worry.”
“You better be,” Crowley called after him as he turned away. “I didn’t get all dressed up for nothing!”
Halt ignored Crowley’s comment and closed the door behind him. Walking down the hallway to Pauline’s assigned dressing room he passed a few people whose eyes lingered on him and his outfit. He ignored them too. He reached Pauline’s door and knocked gently on it.
“Who is it?” His fiancée’s voice called from within.
“Me.”
He heard the sound of wood scraping against the stone floor and footsteps before the door opened slightly ajar and he saw her face peek out.
“You know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” she grinned at him. Halt rolled his eyes.
“I know. I don’t care. Are you alone?”
Pauline nodded through the crack in the door. “I asked Sandra and Alyss to give me some alone time. I think they’re making sure everyone is seated and everything’s set up right.” She opened the door further to let him inside. As the door moved to reveal the rest of her he found himself speechless. He had seen her dress before – she had shown it to him the day she got it – but he hadn’t actually seen her wearing it. It was even more beautiful when it was on her.
“Wow.” It was the only word he could think of.
“Do you like it?” she asked, rather unnecessarily.
"I wouldn't have said 'wow' if I didn't like it."
Pauline smiled hugely at him and moved to embrace her future husband. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders while he wrapped his own around her waist, their height differences making this the most comfortable way for them to hug.
"I can't wait to marry you," Pauline whispered, a deep fondness settling into her voice. It was a kind of fondness she often found herself feeling when spending time with or even thinking about the man before her.
"Me too," Halt replied, his voice muffled into her chest as they held each other tightly. "But we won't have to wait that much longer."
"Mmm," Pauline hummed in agreement. "Good. But you should probably head back before someone sees us and tells us we're ruining the wedding through bad luck."
Halt didn't reply to that. Instead he took a step back, arms still holding her waist and looked up into her eyes. He wished the half hour left of waiting would hurry up and past. He wanted to marry her now. He wanted to be hers and for her to be his in that very instant. Why couldn't they have scheduled everything sooner?
"I can't be bothered to go back," he eventually said. "It's boring in that room."
"It's pretty boring here too. I just want to get to it already. Are you nervous?"
"Not about marrying you," he answered honestly. "Just if something goes wrong."
"Nothing's going to go wrong. Everyone knows what they're doing. And even if something does come up, nothing short of one of us dying will be enough to stop me from marrying you."
Halt raised an eyebrow at her. "That's a bit dark."
She rolled her eyes. "I didn't say I want it to happen. I'm just saying that’s the only thing that can stop this. Because I love you."
Before he had a chance to say something back, she brought her lips down to his and kissed him lightly. That shut him up.
"Now," she said as they separated. "Are there any other worries I should know about before we go out there?"
Halt hesitated. He didn't know how she would take his next thoughts. He knew she wouldn't be offended, but he also knew it was rather untraditional. He was almost about to settle for saying nothing but her inquiring look told him she could tell he was thinking about something. She would just keep pestering him until he folded.
"I guess just one thing," he started. "The vows. I don't really feel comfortable saying them in front of everyone. I know I have to, but do I have to?"
Pauline laughed at him, not unkindly. She had a feeling he was thinking about that. It all just came down to when and if he would bring it up. Fortunately, she was quick at thinking up solutions.
"It's tradition," she replied, "but it's not a rule. I suppose they'd be nothing wrong with you just whispering them to me. And I could whisper mine to you. They are meant to be just for us after all. I don't know why everyone else has to be in on it."
Although he didn't smile, his eyes lit up. Her suggestion had been a hit with him.
"Yes," he said eagerly. "Let's do that. Screw everyone else.” That was one of the great things about her, he thought. She always came up with perfect ideas.
“Alright then,” Pauline said with finality, settling on their plan. She glanced out the window of the small room. From their position in one of the castle’s towers they could see the last of the guests trickling in from the courtyard into the great hall where the wedding would be held. Soon, the loving couple would join them.
“You should really head back to your room though,” Pauline told Halt. “Crowley and Will will be wondering where you are and Sandra and Alyss might come back at any minute. Then they’ll go on and on about bad luck.”
“Okay,” Halt said, giving Pauline another light peck on the lips. “I’ll see you down there.”
Pauline smiled and waved to him. “See you down there,” she repeated.
With most of his worries and anxieties cast to the side, Halt made his way back to his dressing room, more eager than ever to get down to that hall, start the ceremony and finally marry the love of his life.
They're enchanted by each btw. That's how I used the prompt. I didn't have much of a plan I just wrote in my plan "short Pauline and Halt love story"
Also it's my sisters birthday today
She had lost count how often the children had gotten out of their beds that night. Not that they were to be blamed. It had been hot the whole day, the humidity creeping into the usual cool and dry castle.
Clothes were glued to everyone’s skin, hair sticking on the heads likewise. It had been a long time since the summer had been this unbearable.
“Miss Beatrice, we can’t sleep.”
A girl’s voice broke through the silence, clear yet also unsure. The girl was aware that they shouldn’t be awake and wandering around.
“Who is ‘we’, Jennifer?” Miss Beatrice asked, not too unkind.
Jenny, as she preferred to be called, looked over her shoulder. Behind her, at least ten children were patiently waiting.
“We tried to be silent, but everyone was awake.”
The woman saw a few of the smallest children that were at the ward, aged from two to four years.
Understanding that none of them would be able to sleep, she let them all in the common room. It was a bit cooler than upstairs in the bedrooms, though still not ideal.
“Be quiet, please,” she warned them. “You may stay here for the night, but it doesn’t mean we should wake up everyone else in the castle.”
The children, fifteen in total, sat down on the colder tiles. They had brought blankets with them that they spread out on the floor.
One of the other caretakers had head the noise and went to have a look. When she saw the children, she didn’t even question it.
“I’ll get them something cool to drink,” she said, while turning into the direction of the kitchen.
Miss Beatrice had some of the oldest children take a cloth to clean everyone’s face. It wasn’t much, but it did help a little.
With a cup of water in their hands, the children now looked expectantly at Miss Beatrice.
The caretaker was sitting in one of the chairs, a cup of water standing on a table nearby. She had been working on a small weaving project before she got interrupted.
“What is it, children?” she asked after feeling their stares.
“Could you tell us a story?” a girl with long, blonde hair asked.
Miss Beatrice moved to look at her.
“And what kind of story would you like to hear, Alyss?”
The girl thought for a moment, a little frown on her face.
“Oh! A mythical one!” a boy with brown, curly hair exclaimed.
“Will, what did we say on talking before your turn?” Miss Beatrice asked, looking at the boy with raised eyebrows.
Will made himself small, aware of his mistake.
“That it’s impolite and one should raise their hand and wait,” he replied softly.
Next to him, a larger boy was snickering. He received an angry glare from Will.
“Horace.”
Her voice was calm, yet the warning tone underneath was more than clear. She looked at the boy until he understood her message.
“Well then, if the others are fine with it. What kind of mythical story would you like to hear? A fairy tale, a myth, a legend?”
One boy raised his hand, waiting patiently for the caretaker to notice.
“Yes, George?” Miss Beatrice asked, giving the boy permission to speak.
“How about the tale of the ‘Ignorant King and the Prophet’?”
Several children nodded in agreement. It was a tale not often told and some had only heard just a few sentences before being send to bed.
“That’s fine by me,” Miss Beatrice said, placing her weaving aside.
“Long ago, before Araluen was a Kingdom, the people lived in small settlements.
They all had their own chief who ruled over them. The chiefs had advisors to help them and warriors to protect them. Life wasn’t always easy and there was often a war between the different settlements. Sometimes, one settlement took control of another one, merging the two together until a new, bigger settlement emerged.
One of them was named Aedelric. He had won several wars and had taken over dozens of settlements. But he didn’t stop there. He dreamt of becoming more than just a chief.
During the Summer Solstice, he had himself be crowned to king. From that day on, things started to change. Some warriors were given the title of ‘noble’, and were given grounds to live on. If a family already lived there, they were chased away.
Little by little, Aedelric pulled more and more power towards himself. The borders of his settlements spread and at some point, he started to call it his kingdom.
Everyone living there, had to pay taxes. The sons had to go into his army, which was growing the more battles he won.
With these changes, Aeldelric’s personality started to change as well.
Before, he had been a humble person, kind and always there to help others. His family wasn’t wealthy nor had an important job in the settlement they lived in.
When Aelderic appointed brothers, nephews and cousins for important positions, his family was excited. Finally, they wouldn’t have to worry about their income.
But, being this close to the new King, also had a downside.
They started to see how greed was taking him over, his heart consumed with hatred and jealousy. He wanted more and more, until there was nothing left to take.
Only a forest, consisting of oak trees, was still out of his hands. Some said spirits lived there, others said there were witches. But one thing was clear: no one was allowed to take it.
Aelderic didn’t care about it. He wanted to take it and so he did. He gathered his army, marched to the forest and surrounded it. Infantry, cavalry and archers; he had them all present to conquer the forest.
Then, all of a sudden, fog started to appear around them. It was so thick, the soldiers could barely see anything through it. It was noon, but it felt like it was night.
Out of the forest, a voice, high and clear, spoke to them.
‘Aelderic, King of the people, listen to this prophecy:
Never will the emptiness in your heart be filled, no matter the amount of land you get.
The more you get, the worse it will become.
True richness cannot be found in material possession.
The true value of your Kingdom is what you must seek.
If not, Misfortune will befall on you.’
After hearing those words, Aelderic was enraged and demanded the forest to be burned. The flames turned to all kinds of colours and the soldiers who were present later on claimed that their King had sealed his fate by doing so.
Years passed by and Aelderic thought that the prophetess had been a false one.
That was until his Kingdom slowly fell apart; crops didn’t grow, cattle died, the people turned to anger and demanded his head.
His soldiers left him, the borders slowly fell apart. Enemies entered his Kingdom and took control.
And when it was his time to die, Misfortune was the one to greet him.”
This is another one with Pritchard, and another one that has to do with my headcanon/AU that Pritchard is a family friend with the O'Carrick's and lived with them for a bit when Halt was a kid. Enjoy
Small fingers grasped onto Pritchard’s silver oakleaf hanging from his neck, turning it this way and that and admiring the way the candle’s light shimmered off of it.
“Don’t pull so tight kid,” Pritchard gently scolded. “I’m still wearing it, you know.”
“Sorry,” little Halt said, and tugged less on the chain. “It’s pretty.”
Pritchard nodded in agreement. “It is pretty.”
“You should let me have it.”
Pritchard laughed and guided Halt’s hands away from the oakleaf. He shifted his position so that the child sitting on his lap could see his face better, and so that his leg wouldn’t fall asleep. “Absolutely not,” he said. “That was hard earned and it’s very special and important.”
“Am I not special and important?”
“You are,” he told the kid. “But that doesn’t mean you’re having it.”
Halt scowled at him. “Rude.”
Pritchard slipped the oakleaf off of his neck and let the silver chain drop into Halt’s hands. “You can play with it some more if you’d like. Without having to tug on my neck. But you’re not keeping it.”
“What if I trade you for it?” Halt asked hopefully. He crawled off of Pritchard’s lap onto the other side of his bed and picked up a small stuffed toy he had – a bear. He crawled back over to Pritchard, kneeling next to him and holding the bear out for the man to see. “I’ll give you Douglas.”
Pritchard raised an eyebrow at him. “Really? You’d trade Douglas for a shiny piece of metal?”
Halt nodded up and down multiple times.
“You got him for your first birthday. This necklace is not worth it. And you’d probably forget you even have it or get bored and it’ll end up down the side of your bed.”
Halt shook his head multiple times now. “No, I won’t,” he insisted. “I promise. I’ll take really good care of it and never lose it.” He held Douglas the Bear out closer to Pritchard, until the bear’s face was almost kissing Pritchard’s.
“My answer is no,” Pritchard said more firmly. “You’d regret it, even if you say you won’t. And I’d regret it. You’re not having it.”
Halt’s arms dropped to his lap as he looked down moodily. “You’re so mean,” he said. “I thought you loved me. I thought I was your favourite. You’re a liar!”
Pritchard rolled his eyes at the child. “Oh, stop being so dramatic. And stop trying to guilt me. It’s not going to work.”
“Damnit.”
“Hey, language.”
Halt looked at him confused. “Damnit isn’t a swear.”
“It is when you’re five years old. Kids as young as you shouldn’t be saying words like that. Save it till you’re at least ten.”
“But that’s ages away! I want to swear now!”
Pritchard let out another laugh, chuckling low as he wrapped an arm around the boy. “You’ll be able to one day. Don’t worry.” Halt slumped into Pritchard’s side, letting the man support him. Pritchard felt Halt’s arm moving beneath his own in a way that suggested he was trying to be subtle.
“Halt,” he said.
“Yes?” Far too innocent.
“Get my oakleaf out of your pocket.”
Halt groaned. “Fine,” he drawled out and pushed the necklace back into Pritchard’s palm. Pritchard nodded at him, satisfied the little thief had listened. He noticed Halt’s still scowling face as he leaned heavily against his side again, arms crossed like he had seen the adults in his life do when they were mad or disappointed at him. Pritchard couldn’t help his lips turning upwards again.
“Hey kid? I’ll tell you what,” Pritchard started and Halt looked at him curiously, his scowl fading a bit. “When I die you can have it.” Halt looked shocked at that.
“What?”
“I said you can have it when I die.”
“Are you going to die?” Halt’s eyes were big and wide.
“Well, not now. At least I hope not. But I will eventually. Everyone does. Don’t worry, it won’t be for a long time. But when it does, you can have it as one last gift from me.”
“But I don’t want you to die!” Halt cried out and hugged Pritchard tightly around the waist.
Pritchard smiled softly at the boy, touched at how much he meant to Halt. He placed his hand on Halt’s back and began to rub up and down in light circles. “It’s alright. That’s not something you or anyone needs to worry about right now. I’ll be fine. I’m just saying when it does happen, you get my oakleaf. Okay?”
Halt nodded into Pritchard’s clothes. “Okay.”
“Good kid.”
Halt looked at him more fiercely. “But you have to promise to not die soon!”
Pritchard grinned at him, making sure he could look into Halt’s eyes. “I promise.”
← — →
The body was heavy and cold in Halt’s arms. He was surprised his face wasn’t soaked and drenched with how much he had been crying. He wanted to scream, but he knew if he tried all that would come out would be some sort of choked cry. He could feel Arald’s presence practically hovering over him, despite the fact that the baron was a couple metres away. It still felt too close. Too suffocating.
He had to move his body. He had to get up and deal with all of this. He had to tell Crowley. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand for the fifth time in the last five minutes, not that it did much. He turned his head ever so slightly to face Arald, speaking quietly.
“Can you help me pick him up?” he asked, his voice so small and broken. Arald nodded silently and walked over. Arald got a hold of the legs while Halt got a grip under his arms and they both lifted. Halt didn’t know where they were going to take him, but he felt like he had to at least carry him somewhere rather than just leave him lying there in the blood stained grass.
It seemed Arald was having similar thoughts. “Should we move him right now?” he asked hesitantly. “Maybe we should set him down and just think for a bit.”
“I’m not leaving him here,” Halt replied and Arald hastily clarified.
“I’m not saying leave him here. But we should have a proper idea of where we’re going before we do anything. And it might be better to think while not holding him.”
The grass was slightly damp. Pritchard’s cloak was already wet with the dew on the grass. He didn’t really want to place him back down on the ground and get his cloak more dirty. Why was he worrying about that? His cloak was already drenched with blood, what damage could a bit of rain water do? After a few seconds of thinking, he nodded.
“Alright.”
With slow and gentle movements, they placed the corpse back on the ground. Halt moved his fingers to brush the man’s white hair out of his face although he didn’t know why. It wasn’t going to make any difference. Arald stood behind Halt as the ranger knelt next to his mentor.
“We’ll have to take him back to the camp. The medics there will know what to do next. You know, to keep him… fresh.” Arald watched the man in front of him carefully as he said it, bracing himself for the possible explosive reaction at the poorly chosen word. But Halt didn’t move. Didn’t acknowledge that he had heard him in any way. He continued. “Then we can think about how to take him back to Araluen, tell Crowley, and I’ll gather some men to come and check this place out and see if we can track Morgarath from here.”
There was still no reaction from Halt. He wasn’t listening. He could feel the build up of tears again just behind his eyes but this time he had enough self control in him to keep them back. He had cried too much already today. He knew Arald had said something, but he wasn’t entirely sure what. Something about taking Pritchard back, something about Crowley, some mention of the word fresh? He should probably ask him to repeat himself.
He turned to do so, but something caught his eye. Something glimmering the grass, not too far from where Pritchard’s body had originally been. Something shiny. He ignored Arald for the time being and stood up, walking past him and towards the shiny thing. He sucked in a quick breath as he saw what it was.
Pritchard’s oakleaf.
The same silver pendant attached to the same silver chain, camouflaged in the long grass trying to hide from him. But he had found it. He quickly picked it up, feeling the cold metal in his hands as he held tightly to himself, vowing to never let it go. He flipped it over onto its back side. There was a line carved into it. Pritchard had once told him how that had gotten there.
“When I first got it I was so proud and wanted some way to mark it as mine. I was going to carve my name, but thought that would be too difficult, so I just settled for a P. But even that was too difficult. It was hard enough getting one line in that I just gave up.”
The same line with the same story. Pritchard had once told him he could have it when he died. Actually, he had reminded him of that a few times. Young Halt had always wanted to have it, but now that he did, he wished more than anything that he didn’t. Pritchard didn’t deserve this. In what world did he deserve to be murdered like that? None of them! The oakleaf shook in his fists as he became overcome with so many emotions he couldn’t tell them apart. Before he knew it, his knees buckled and he was on the ground again, breathing heavily as strong feelings washed over him. It turned out he didn’t have as much self control as he thought because the tears were falling again.
He heard Arald’s heavy footsteps coming up behind before the sound of the man also kneeling in the grass. A second later, he felt a big hand on his shoulder, holding him tightly. Halt made no move to shake him off, so Arald stayed, not saying anything with words, but his presence being enough.
Warning: This involves physical abuse (beatings) of a minor (teenager). So yeah, this is definetely a heavier fic.
He had to keep his mouth shut tight or else it would be the end. The second the water got inside of him, he wouldn't be able to stop the rest of it, and he would die.
He tried to swim to the surface, but every movement sent a jolt of pain down his arm, the freshly dislocated shoulder making it extremely difficult to swim. The oar would have most definitely left a massive bruise on his skin, but that was the least of his concerns. He had to get out. Now.
He didn't want to die. He did, but he didn't now. Not like this. What a horrible way to go. Drowning from the hands of your own jealous brother.
Eventually, after what felt like the most physical effort he had ever put into anything, he broke free of the water and he was greeted with the chill dry air. He gasped for breath, desperate to get as many in before he was forced back under. He turned around in the water, taking sight of his brother.
His brother was still standing on their small fishing boat, heavy wooden oar in hand. He raised it again, ready to bring it down.
Quickly, he ducked back underwater avoiding the blow. He heard the dull splash as the wood hit the water surface, but it didn't touch him. He had to get out now, he couldn't defend himself well enough like this.
Struggling, painfully, he managed to swim, making his way back to the safety of the shore. He could make it, he could make it, he could make it.
He made it. He felt the sand move under his feet until he could stand fully upright, and he ran out of the water. Hands on knees and soaking wet, he regained his breath, coughing out drops of water that had found their way into his throat.
His brother approached, gently rowing the boat towards him and stepping out. He discarded the oar and put on a concerned mask.
"Halt?" the would-be-murderer asked. "Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hit you, I swear!"
This had happened two other times – first with the poisoned shrimp, then with the roof tiles. And now this. Every time he would deny he had caused it, denied he had done it on purpose. Halt had let it slide, deciding if he acted dumb then it might work out better for him. But he had had enough.
"Shut up!" he screamed at Ferris. "Shut up you liar! Don't you dare tell me you didn't mean to when you clearly did!" His breathing was heavy, fury and fear mixing into a horrible feeling he couldn't identify.
"No!" Ferris pleaded. "I swear I didn't! I was trying to help you. I wanted you to grab on to the oar. I didn't mean to hit you!”
“Stop it! Just stop it!”
“Stop what?” Ferris said, feigning innocence.
“Stop lying to me! You know you meant to hit me so just stop lying about it!”
Ferris’ expression shifted from false worry to true anger. “You want me to stop it? Fine! I did mean to do it. God, why are you so difficult to kill?”
“Oh don't worry,” Halt gritted out snarkily. “You won't have to try anymore. I'm going to leave this damn place and you can take the stupid crown, because I don't want it anyway!”
← — →
“It'll be okay,” Pritchard whispered gently. “Just breathe through the pain. I'll get you cleaned up soon.”
“Why would he do that,” Halt choked out, ignoring Pritchard's instructions to just breathe. “How could anyone do that to anyone?”
“I don't know bub. Some people are just cruel. And you were just unlucky enough to wind up someone like that as your father.” He grabbed Halt by the shoulders, careful to not hurt the boy more than he already was, and forced him to look into his eyes. “He’s not going to hurt you anymore, okay? I’ll make sure of that.”
Halt sniffed and wiped his eyes with the back of his blood stained hand, a streak of red wiping across his face. “How are you going to do that? He’s the king. No one can do anything against him.”
“I know that, and that’s why you’re not sticking around. I’m going to help you get out of here Halt. You can get far away. To Araluen perhaps. Maybe you can find the rangers and finish some proper training and join them. I don’t know how well the corps is doing at the moment though,” he added as an afterthought, his voice trailing off.
“Will you come with me?” Halt asked, looking at his mentor with hope in his eyes.
Pritchard hesitated. “I’ll come with you as far as I can. But I don’t know if I can go to Araluen right away. I’ll come with you to the coast, until you can get a boat. Then I’ll probably stick around here, make sure that no one comes looking for you. But I promise, as soon as I think everything’s clear, I’ll come find you again.”
“Okay,” Halt mumbled, no longer feeling hope. He looked down at his scraped hands, pain of all kinds filling his mind.
“This has just been an unlucky day for you, hasn’t it, kid?” Pritchard half-joked, trying to lighten the mood. “First Ferris, now Bryan? What else do you have coming for you?”
Halt ignored the sad joke, having no energy to feel anything about it. He was barely focusing on Pritchard, barely felt his hands as he cleaned the blood off his back and disinfected the fresh wounds as well as he could. It stung, but it was now numb and dull like the rest of his body. He couldn’t stop thinking about what happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about the terrible look on his father’s face as he looked around to find something to beat his son senseless with, couldn’t forget the pure terror he had felt once his father found what he was looking for, couldn’t forget the feeling and sound of his flesh being torn apart. And only a few hours after Ferris had tried to drown him.
Pritchard was right about one thing. It had been an unlucky day.
← — →
“When you disrespect me,” his father growled in his ear, “you learn about consequences.”
Halt’s hand felt like it was going to pop off and detach from his wrist with how firm his father’s grip on him was. It hurt. It hurt so bad. Servants and knights passing by watched with confused concern as King Bryan dragged his kid down the hall, a furious look on face and terrified look on the teens. They all noticed the blood slipping down Halt’s face from a fresh cut on his cheek, courtesy of a meat knife at the dinner table, by Bryan’s hands. But he was the king. They could do nothing but step back, avoiding eye contact.
Bryan yanked harder, ignoring Halt’s screams and kicks. He turned around a corner and approached a stairwell leading down. Halt recognized where they were going immediately.
“We’ll discuss this somewhere else,” his father had said. “Somewhere more… private.”
Fear tugged in Halt's brain. What was he going to do to him down there?
Bryan kept pulling him until they were completely down in the dungeons. He dismissed some of the guards, telling them to go stand duty somewhere they couldn't be nosy. The guards hastily complied.
Halt was thrown into one of the empty cells, scraping his bare elbows painfully on the cold ground.
“You misbehave, you get punished,” his father said. He kicked Halt hard, bruising his ribs. Halt cried out a little, but mostly managed to keep silent.
“You think you can keep getting away with this! You spoiled, disrespectful little wretch!”
Another kick. Harder this time.
“You always have to embarrass our family!”
He was kicked over so he was lying on his back. Bryan pressed his boot down hard on his chest.
“Why can't you be more like your brother!”
He grabbed Halt by the shirt collar, forcing the hurt teen to his feet, before pushing him against the wall, the hardness of the concrete scraping across his back and tearing his shirt, grazing the skin. His father held him tightly by his shirt, his fists trembling as he glared at the terrified boy.
“I’ve put up with your nonsense and your disrespect for long enough!” A fist met Halt’s face, before he felt himself being dropped back to the hard ground. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry out for help. But he knew the best way he could help himself was to keep quiet and just endure it. He wasn’t crying. Why wasn’t he? Surely he should have been sobbing more than he ever had in his life.
No more blows hit. No more pain came. Had Bryan finally had enough? Halt hesitantly pushed himself off of the ground, intending to look around the dingy dungeon. He barely raised his face a few centimetres from the ground when he felt something sharp and stinging slap across his back, forcing him back down. He didn’t know what it was, but it hurt the most. It hit again. And again. Half convinced his father was going to kill him down here, he just closed his eyes and let the blows come.
There was nothing he could do about it now.
← — →
“Thank you,” Halt said as Pritchard handed him a bag, packed with all his things he would need for the road.
“You don’t need to say that,” Pritchard replied, rather predictably. “Any decent person would do this.”
“Would I have died?” Halt spoke in a silent voice. “If you hadn’t come, would he have killed me?”
Pritchard was silent for a moment. “I don’t know bub,” he finally said. “He had left you alone didn’t he? I mean, when I found you he was gone.”
“Yeah,” Halt conceded. “But he could have come back.”
“I think he realised if you suddenly died from a beating after he said he was going to speak to you in private people would figure out he did it. Of course, there wouldn’t be anything anyone could do about it, he would still continue to rule, but he would lose quite a lot of respect if it got out. He knows this. And respect is everything to that man. Respect and fear. In his mind, that’s what solidifies that people will listen to him.”
“So you’re saying the only reason he didn’t murder his own son was because he wouldn’t be as respected by a bunch of people he doesn’t even care about?” Halt muttered darkly. “How noble of him.”
Pritchard moved to sit next to him on the bed, taking note of the bruises and blood that had now since dried on his face. And his back was even rose Red and bleeding welts across the whole thing, now covered with bandages, the most clear sign that evil really did exist in people.
“I wish I could tell you something different,” he said. “But I would be lying. It’s not your fault you got stuck in a position you don’t want, and a father and brother like them. You deserve better than that. And you might be able to find something better in Araluen.”
“I’ll be by myself,” Halt said in a broken voice, painfully drawing his knees up and wrapping his arms around them.
“You will,” Pritchard confirmed. “But you’re a strong kid. You’ll manage. And I promise it won’t be too long before you can find someone new – a good person.”
“That’s a big promise,” Halt gave him a dry look.
Pritchard spread his hands out. “And have you ever known me to break a promise?”
Halt took a moment to consider the question, flipping through the pages of his memory to every time Pritchard had ever promised something. “No,” he eventually replied. “You haven’t.”
“Well there you go.”
“But this is different,” the boy insisted. “That stuff was in your control. This isn’t! You can’t say what will happen to me there especially when you’re not even coming with me!”
Pritchard took a long time to think before saying his next words. Sometimes the kid was too smart and had too much common sense for his own good. It ruined Pritchard’s reassurances.
“Okay then,” the older man said at length. “Maybe promising was the wrong way to put it. But, I would bet that you’ll be fine. I’ve spent the last three years training you and teaching you all sorts of skills most people don’t have. You are more than talented enough to survive on your own.”
Halt didn’t say anything. If he was being honest with himself, he knew he was capable enough to survive this. He knew he could figure out what to do while in Araluen. But that wasn’t the problem, and Pritchard didn’t seem to see that. The thing was he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to leave his country, Pritchard, his mother, Caitlyn. It felt so unfair. Why did he have to leave in order to survive just because his brother and father decided to be the worst people imaginable? But he couldn’t put any of his racing thoughts into words, so he stayed silent, as he so often did.
Pritchard, sensing the conversation had reached an end, and deciding it was now or never if Halt wanted to leave, stood up and held his hand out for his son to take.
“Come on now,” he said. “If you want to get out of here we’ll need to go now. We can sneak past the guards. Are you ready?”
No.
“Yes,” Halt told him, taking his hand. He was finally going to be able to escape, flee from this dreaded place. But at what cost? He was leaving so much behind. Everything behind. He didn’t want to. But he had to.
“Well let’s go then.” Pritchard kept a tight hold on Halt’s hand as he walked with him, leading him towards the door, preparing to sneak their way past everyone and everything and finally be free, even if he couldn’t be there for him.
“I’m scared,” the former prince said, not wanting to leave the safety of his room.
“I know. But you’ll be fine. I know you will be. I promise.”
I've mentioned this before but just in case you don't know, I headcanon that Pritchard was actually friends with the royal family and lived with them when he was in Hibernia, and Halt's parents knew that Halt was being trained by him.
Crowley pinched the bridge of his nose after reading what was written on the parchment.
“I thought I had been clear the previous time this happened?” He looked up to the man standing in front of him. “What part of ‘don’t do this again’ didn’t you get?”
“In my defence, it wasn’t me who came up with the idea.”
Crowley massaged his temples, wondering how much more sandy coloured hairs he would find the next day.
“Halt, I’m serious. This is the second complaint of a noble in less than an month. You can’t just moat them whenever you like!”
Halt lifted an eyebrow as he heard the choice of word.
“To moat or not to moat, that’s up to the noble,” he remarked dryly. “But if they insult the Corps or the Diplomatic Service, I think it is allowed to show one goes too far. It’s not any different than when a commoner says such things. I’ve never had any of them complain when they were thrown onto the ground.”
Crowley got up from his chair and started pacing around. He did that more often when he was frustrated. It helped him to sort his thoughts.
“There is one difference, Halt. They’re nobles. Meaning they have a certain power in this Kingdom.”
“Are you saying you’re scared of them?” Halt scoffed. “We’re far above them. They can’t hurt us.”
The Ranger Commandant let out a groan that was a combination of anger and frustration. He sometimes wondered if having Halt be a Ranger was such a great idea.
“No, of course I’m not scared of them,” Crowley said once he calmed down a little. “Yet if this happens too often, then they can make a complaint to the King. And once that happens and it’s severe enough, the King can decide to take action. I don’t think any of us wants a repetition of a couple of years ago, do we?”
Crowley started at Halt with a meaningful glance. He saw that Halt understood what he meant.
“What do you want me to do then?” Halt asked, leaning against the Commandant’s desk. “I can’t get rid of them.”
Crowley stared at him as if he had gone mad.
“File a complaint, have it send to me,” he spoke the words slowly. “Seriously, didn’t Pritchard teach you that?”
Halt shrugged nonchalantly.
“He did, but he was also saying to be efficient. And yes, I can file a complaint, but then it will lay here for gods know how long. Not to forget, that another Ranger then has to take care of it.”
Crowley started to understand that there was no reasoning with Halt at this point about it. His friend would stay with the fact that he was obliged to do something about the insults. Yet, he failed to see, and understand, that he couldn’t just moat them.
“I give up, you’re too stubborn to understand either way.” Crowley sat down behind his desk and searched for a quill and parchment. “Here,” he said, handing it over to Halt. “You can write your own report on the matter and deliver it to the King. If I can’t bring reason into that mind of yours, maybe he can.”
Much to his surprise, as well as Crowley’s, King Duncan found Halt’s solution rather amusing. He had been aware of what had happened beforehand, also that the Ranger had been able to keep his cool for a long time. Even tried to reason with said nobles and remind them they were on thin ice.
“It doesn’t mean I give you a pass in doing this all the time. I do prefer that you inform me like you are supposed to. However, if you find yourself in a situation where reasoning doesn’t work, yet you have to make your point, I might not be too reluctant to this solution.”
Halt and Crowley had been summoned to the King’s office, a day after Halt had written and given the report. Both Rangers could see the faint smile that was forming in corner of the King’s mouth, however, his chamberlain didn’t see any fun in it.
“Have I made myself clear, Ranger O’Carrick?” King Duncan asked, using Halt’s surname to point out that he was serious about the matter.
“Loud and clear, Your Majesty,” the Ranger replied, bowing his head.
“Good,” King Duncan said, glad that this was dealt with. “Then you two may go now.”
Halt and Crowley bowed before turning around to leave the room.
“Guess moating isn’t such a terrible solution,” Halt said, testing how his friend and Commandant reacted to it.
Crowley glared at him, but then looked away. He wasn’t going to react to that. He knew Halt was trying to get to him.
They silently parted ways, Halt heading to his room while Crowley went to his office. From his room, Halt had a view on the moat. Perhaps it was a coincidence or deliberately. Either way, he could see the joke in it.
Several hours passed in which he had taken the time to read some reports – did they ever end – and also to sleep a bit. The last couple of weeks had been exhausting. Not only because of all the preparations for the war. His mind was also occupied with –
A scream from outside made him run to the window, just in time to see how someone ended up in the moat with a huge splash.
Looking up, Halt couldn’t see who exactly it had been that threw the noble in the moat. When he discussed the situation later on with Crowley, his friend’s reaction was short and avoiding.
Slowly, dots started to connect in Halt’s mind. He leaned back in his chair, a grin on his face.
Crowley tried to ignore it, his focus on the parchment in front of him. The quill in his hand was moving from left to right, from up to down.
Halt knew that Crowley knew that he knew.
“Can you remove that grin of your face?” Crowley asked without looking up. “It’s already unnatural for you to smile. This doesn’t make it any better.”
Halt shifted in his chair, moving forward so that he was at eye level with Crowley. He still grinned, his eyes trying to get to Crowley’s.
Finally, not being able to block out the feeling of Halt watching him, the Commandant sighed.
“Fine,” he said, placing the quill down. “Can you please stop looking at me that way? It gives me the ick.”
As he had thought, Halt didn’t stop. Instead, he continued until the moment Crowley was shifting in his chair.
“It’s not like I did it for fun,” Crowley tried, his voice not convincing at all.
“Really?” Halt raised an eyebrow. “Tell me, what happened beforehand then?”
Crowley looked at the door behind his friend, but Halt had already seen through that plan. He held up the key that, under normal circumstances, was in Crowley’s possession. “Guess there’s no way out then,” Crowley remarked, making himself comfortable. If he had to tell everything in detail, then he rather sat contentedly.
Halt was called in King Duncan’s office quite abruptly. He had been talking with Crowley in the commandants rooms, enjoying a once in a lifetime opportunity to actually sit back and completely relax. But then Duncan’s blasted chamberlain had to ruin that by telling Halt that the king ‘demanded his presence immediately’. So much for a relaxing evening.
Crowley had raised an amused eyebrow at him before he left. “What did you do this time?” he asked in a teasing tone. Halt had just shrugged his shoulders.
“No idea. Probably something I forgot.” The sound of Crowley’s laughter was cut off as the door closed behind him.
King Duncan was finishing up writing on what was probably an important document when Halt entered. He looked up and gestured with his quill to the chair on the other side of his massive oak desk.
“Ah, Halt,” he said without his usual smile. “Take a seat, would you? I need to talk to you.”
“So I heard,” Halt replied. Duncan didn’t say anything for a while, just finished up his sentence before shoving the papers to the side, placing the quill back in its inkwell and laced his fingers together on the desk, looking into Halt’s eyes seriously.
“Do you know why I called you in here?” Duncan asked.
Like he had done with Crowley, Halt shrugged. “Haven’t the faintest clue.”
“Well, it has recently come to my attention that you have been engaging in some activities that are less than acceptable. Illegal activities.” He studied the ranger before him closely, testing to see if the words made any reaction. Halt’s expression remained unchanged, save for a raised eyebrow, which could have meant anything.
“Illegal activities?” Halt repeated. “I don’t know where you would have gotten that idea from. I’m a King’s Ranger. Loyal to you and sometimes Crowley and no one else. Why would you ever think I would do something such as illegal activities?”
Now it was Duncan’s turn to raise an eyebrow. He was laying it on a bit thick, he thought. Well, if Halt was going to play along, then he would keep it going until one of them broke.
“That’s what I always thought,” the king said. “Which is why it felt so wrong when I heard about this. When my confidant came to me to tell me the news I told him, ‘No. No way. Halt would never do something like that.’ But I was shocked to hear I was wrong. You would do something like that. And you already have, haven’t you?”
“Duncan, I genuinely have no idea what you’re talking about,” Halt sighed. “You could honestly be talking about a number of things. Is this about the horses? Because I’ll tell you what I’ve already told Crowley and the others a million times: I didn’t steal them.”
Duncan waved him aside with a wave of his kingly hand. “No, this has nothing to do with that,” he said, then paused, looking back at Halt with a questioning look. “Hang on. What horses?”
“The horses I fully paid for and did not steal,” Halt said quickly.
“This is the first time I’ve heard of these horses.”
“Of course it is. It was a simple business deal. Why would you need to hear about that if nothing bad happened? I don’t tell you about everything I do, even if it’s for work.”
“Right,” Duncan said at length, giving Halt a suspicious look. He decided he’d look into that matter later – discuss it with Crowley. But for now it was time to focus on the situation at hand. “Well, either way, it has nothing to do with those. It has to do with your other less than ideal activities.”
“All of my activities are more than ideal,” Halt insisted.
“What the hell does that even mean?”
The ranger shrugged for the third time in ten minutes. “It means what it means.”
Duncan stared at him for a few silent seconds. This was not how he had planned this meeting to turn out. “You know,” he said, “you are unbelievably frustrating sometimes.”
“I know.”
“And confusing.”
“I know.”
Duncan bowed his head to the table, sighing. This conversation was getting sidetracked. He slapped his hand on the table, not hard, just enough to demand attention. “Anyway,” he said, “this is about the very illegal thing you have been doing behind my back. And it is less than acceptable. You are the second highest ranking ranger in the whole corps. Your job is to enforce the law, not break it. So, do you have anything to say for yourself?”
Halt stared at him, saying nothing for himself. Duncan made a ‘go on’ gesture to him, trying to lead him into talking. Eventually, entirely from his own choice and free will, he did.
“I still have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Duncan groaned. “The forgery!” he exclaimed. “The whole thing you’ve been doing with forging my seals. And in foreign countries no less!”
“You don’t really need to say foreign countries,” Halt muttered under his breath. “Every country is foreign.” Duncan gave him a quick look to shut him up, and he did.
“You do realise you could start a war from this, right? If someone figures out the seal is fake, that’s a breach of trust and it can put everyone in a very unlucky situation.”
“I’m pretty sure that won’t happen,” Halt told him. “I’d say I’m pretty good at it. I’ve been doing it for years and no one’s figured it out. Not even you did. Besides, most people don’t actually look that closely at the seals. They just see a similar looking shape on the front and assume it’s real. It’s not that hard.”
“That’s not the point, Halt,” Duncan said. “You can’t be forging my seals. It’s not the proper, formal way of doing things. You know, that, and it’s incredibly illegal as I may have mentioned. If you need my seal for something you know you can just ask right?”
“Well sometimes I don’t have time to ask,” the ranger replied, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in his chair. “Sometimes I’m on the other side of the country or even in a whole different country and I need your seal to get in somewhere urgently. I can’t just wait weeks for the message to get for you and for you to then respond. It would take too much time. And I’d know you’d say yes, anyway. I reassure you, if I thought you’d say no, I would never be able to do it in good conscience.”
Duncan raised an eyebrow. “But you’d still do it,” he stated.
“Of course.”
“Well, this cannot do. It’s one thing forging the seals, but it’s an entirely different thing doing it behind my back. We could have worked something out. But because you couldn’t think to simply ask, it has come to this. You need to face consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” Halt asked. He didn’t sound worried in the slightest.
“Serious consequences. You will be suspended from the corps.”
Halt sat forward at that, his manner and tone no longer unconcerned. “What? For how long?”
Now it was the king’s turn to shrug. “For as long as I see fit. Could be a week, could be a month. Could be longer. We’ll see.”
“Just because I copied your precious seal a few times?” Halt said indignantly.
“It’s a bit more serious than that Halt and you know it.”
“Why do you even care all of a sudden?” Halt asked angrily. “I’ve been doing this for years and you never bothered to talk about it.”
“Well, times have changed,” Duncan said. He held the ranger’s angry gaze for a good while, until he couldn’t keep it up anymore. Slowly, a smile began to break through his stern demeanour.
“Alright, alright,” he laughed, “you’re not actually in trouble. I just wanted to freak you out a little bit. It was fun.”
Halt let out an annoyed sigh and leaned back again. “God, I hate you, you bastard.”
“Hey,” Duncan said with mock offense, but the smile was still there. “I’m your king. You can’t talk to me that way.”
“A six year old could talk to you that way.”
“Yes, because that would be adorable.” Halt gave him a slight glare. Duncan just grinned back, completely unaffected.
“So you don’t care?” Halt asked eventually.
Duncan considered the question. “I wouldn’t say I don’t,” he said. “But you’re not in trouble. I know you’ve been doing it for good reason,” he paused, looking at Halt severely. “Right?”
“Of course.”
“And I know you’re skilled enough to not accidentally cause a war. And you are right, people barely glance at the things. It’s very unprofessional.”
“So I can keep doing it?”
“You can keep doing it,” Duncan confirmed. “Or I could just give you a spare that you can take with you on missions.”
Halt pursed his lips. “Eh. It’s not as fun.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Does doing things the legal way take the fun out of it?” Duncan asked sarcastically.
“Obviously.”
The king sighed. “You know, I started this meeting hoping to make you uncomfortable. I hoped me knowing what you've been up to would be enough to make you sweat. But you just always insist on being annoying.”
“It's what I do best.”
“I did get you nervous for a bit though.”
“Did not,” Halt insisted.
“Did so,” Duncan insisted back.
“You think I'd be nervous over the opportunity to have a possibly month-long break?”
"Yes, I do. I know you pretty well and I think you'd go crazy having nothing to do.”
Halt snorted and rolled his eyes. “I would never behave in such a manner. It's quite disappointing to see you have such little faith in me.”
“I'll start having faith in you when you start following the law,” Duncan shot back, an amused smirk plastered on his face.
“No thanks.”
Now it was Duncan’s turn to roll his eyes. “I didn't expect anything different.”
Kudos to anyone who can spot the Community reference. I also just realised it was Duncan saying the lines that Professor Duncan says in the show so that's nice.
Cassandra woke up at the sound of her daughter’s cry. She suppressed a yawn as her husband fought with the tangled sheets on the other side of the bed. The window they had left open for fresh air in this summer heat was filled with nothing but darkness, except for the milky light of the moon.
Their daughter cried out again, reminding them why they had been woken up in the dead of night.
‘Are you getting her or do you want me to go?’ Horace asked.
‘Do I really have a choice? Cause she’s calling out for me.’
‘Mom!’ Maddie’s high-pitched shriek once again rang through their quarters.
Cassandra quickly threw away her bedsheets and slipped into her nightgown. ‘I’m coming, sweetie!’
Behind her, her husband had gotten up too.
‘You don’t have to go with me, you know. Try and get some sleep.’
Horace shrugged. ‘I’m awake anyways, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to sleep until she has stopped crying. Might as well lend you a hand.’
She reached for him, giving him a tender kiss on his shoulder — the highest place she could reach without having to tiptoe. ‘Thanks.’
‘Mom! Were are you?!’
‘Almost there, honey!’
‘Are you really?’ Then Horace winced as his wife poked in his side.
‘Shut up, you.’
The second Cassandra opened the door to Maddie’s room, her daughter flung herself into her arms and started bawling her eyes out. ‘Mom,’ she managed to bring out through her sniffles. ‘Mom,’ Sniff.
Cassandra looked over to her husband, who leaned against the doorframe with an amused but tired smile on his face. ‘Don’t worry, sweetie. Dad will chase the monsters away.’
Maddie turned her head to take a peak at her dad. ‘But he doesn’t have his sword!’
It took all of her willpower to not let out a deep, exasperated sigh. ‘Then he’ll go get his sword,’ she reassured her daughter while sending a look to her husband. He got the message and left off, saluting before he disappeared out of the doorframe.
Some minutes later he came back, sword in hand. He pretended to fight the monsters away, swinging his sword left and right while throwing in some grunts and a ‘take that!’ to make it sound all the more convincing. Maddie looked at him with great interest, finally having ceased her crying, her cheeks still wet from her tears. Then her dad turned around, raising his sword in triumph and shouting, ‘The monsters are gone!’
Maddie giggled and stretched out her grabby hands. Horace laid his sword down and lifted his daughter out of her mother’s arms, who looked incredibly relieved to give her tired arms some rest. He nuzzled his nose against his daughter’s and asked, ‘Now that there are no more monsters, you think you’re ready to go back to sleep?’
‘No!’
A beat of silence followed as husband and wife stared at each other with utter exhaustion in their eyes. Then Horace forced a smile again as he looked at his daughter. ‘And why not?’
‘Cause they might come back!’
‘They won’t come back,’ Cassandra said, her voice firm. ‘Now off to bed you go.’
‘Nooo!’ Her daughter shrieked. ‘I’m scared!’ She buried her face against her father’s chest and started crying again.
Cassandra looked at her husband for help. He walked over to her, kissed her cheek and whispered, ‘I got this. You go back to sleep.’
‘You sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
°°°
When Cassandra woke up the following morning, her hand could not find her husband’s body. She cracked open her eyes and found herself alone in their room, sunlight already scorching through the window. Today would be another hot day. She got out of bed and walked over to her daughter’s room, where the door was still slightly ajar — the way she had left it last night. When she peeked through, she saw her husband curled up in their daughter’s bed, with Maddie sound asleep, held tight in his arms. Cassandra smiled. ‘I guess the monsters didn’t dare come back with daddy here, hmm?’
Halt did his best to not let out his frustration when he noticed that Will, again, was focused on something else rather than his training. He had sent the boy outside to train with his bow so that he could read a report in peace and quiet.
“Dar na déithe, cad atá ar siúl aige anois?” Halt mumbled, placing the folder on the table. He got up and walked to the veranda. Peeking around the corner, he could see that Will wasn’t training anymore.
Even more, he was nowhere to be seen. Halt took a deep breath and walked to the spot where Will had been not too long ago.
Using his tracking skills, Halt soon found out where Will had been going to. Also because he saw a tree shaking and a few branches falling down.
“You have three seconds to get down!” Halt called to the figure above him.
Hearing the underlaying threat in his voice, Will hurried to get out of the tree. He was sure he didn’t manage to do it within the given time, but at least Halt didn’t comment on that.
“Care to explain to me why you abandoned your training?”
Will fumbled with his thumbs, too afraid to look up in the Ranger’s eyes. Without his cloak and the cowl covering his head, the man’s eyes were even more frightening.
“Well?” Halt pressed, taking a step forward.
Instantly, Will took one step back, his back now against the tree. For a moment, he thought about going in there again to escape the man’s anger.
“I was curious where the noise came from.”
Halt didn’t know what Will was talking about. He looked at the boy with a frown.
“What noise?” he asked.
Will pointed in the direction of the village.
“That’s what I wanted to know,” Will replied. “But I couldn’t see anything.”
Halt moved his head until his ear picked up a faint noise. It repeated itself in the same, slow pace. Sounded like metal, he thought.
“That’s probably the preparations for the tournament that’s to be held in a couple of days,” Halt concluded. “They’re building an arena next to the castle, with a podium for the Baron and Baroness to sit on.”
Will’s face lit up when he heard the word ‘tournament’. In all of his life, he had only heard of one being held at Castle Redmont. That had been when he was just a small child.
“What will they do during the tournament?” he asked, forgetting about his fear. There were a couple of possibilities that someone could choose from.
Halt glared at him, enough for Will to understand he wouldn’t get an answer to that.
“I don’t know, nor do I think it’s of our business.” Halt pointed at the bow laying in the grass. “The only thing I care about is you getting back to your training. Now.”
Will nodded, then hurried to get back to where he had been standing. Taking the bow in his hand, he noticed that Halt moved to sit on the veranda.
“In case you get the brilliant idea to sneak away again,” the Ranger said in a warning tone.
Will blushed slightly, then focused on his training. He kept shooting arrows until the moment Halt said he could store his bow away.
The boy’s arms and shoulders were shaking. It didn’t help that Halt then put him to work on his map making.
“Didn’t know our borders were so curvy,” Halt said, casting a glance over Will’s shoulder to look at his work. “Remake it.”
Will knew better than to comment on it. So, he took another parchment and started again, taking his time to draw the lines. It was more time consuming, but in the end, his work was much better than before.
“I’ve seen better,” Halt mentioned when he inspected his map later on that day. “Yet I’ve also seen worse. You can put it away for now and continue with your other chores.”
Will hadn’t mentioned or asked anything about the tournament the following days. Any time he slightly went in that direction, Halt had him do a task or chore. By the third day, Will had given up on getting more information about it. He figured that, hadn’t he went into the tree, Halt might have told him something more.
It had even gone that far that Halt woke up early in the morning to get fresh bread from the baker, rather than sending Will to get it. The Ranger probably didn’t want him to get a glimpse of what was going on.
Will’s tracking classes were now also orientated to the south rather than the north. Anything to keep him away from the tournament.
Day after day, Will had to hear the cheering and laughter of the people that were attending the celebration. They often continued until the late evening, keeping him awake during some nights.
He already started to think that he wouldn’t get to participate at all after a week had passed. Perhaps he could ask Horace about it, he thought.
“Will, get ready to go outside,” Halt called. He had been inside in his bedroom while Will had been working at the table. “We’ll be leaving in ten minutes.”
Without answering, Will put away what he had been working on and put on his cloak. He wasn’t sure if he needed to bring his weapons.
“You won’t be needing them,” Halt said when he emerged from his room. “We’ll do tracking today.”
Will silently followed his mentor as they left the cabin, heading southeast. From time to time, he would answer Halt’s questions which animal the foot prints belonged to.
He was that occupied that he didn’t notice they had been going around in a circle. They ended up behind the castle.
“That will be your next exercise,” Halt said. “Make your way to the tournament, find yourself a spot in the crowd and make sure no one notices you. At the end, before he leaves, I want you to take one item from the Baron. Nothing that’s too important to miss, but still obvious. Then, make your way back to the cabin. If all goes well and according to plan, you pass.”
Halt looked at Will to see if he understood what had been asked of him.
“And what if I do get caught?” Will asked, his eyes scanning the area already.
“That’s up to you to prevent.”
Halt got up from his position, turning back to the cabin.
“Oh, before I forget, there is one last thing,” he said, watching how Will was preparing himself to move forward.
“Yeah?”
“There are a bunch of dogs around the Baron. Keep that in mind. They’re not friendly when it comes to thieves.”
The death of the King had brought different emotions with it. One thing they had in common; only a handful of people mourned about him as person. The majority, if not all, only mourned the soon to lose privileges that they had gotten.
Not for the first time that week did the soon to be King wake up during the night. Nights in which he cried for losing his uncle. The uncertainty that was now hanging in the air. More than ever, he understood that an impossible job was weighing on his shoulders.
And, although he lost his uncle, he did regain one back.
It wasn’t the first night that he was standing on the battlements, his eyes focused on an invisible point in the distance.
“Can’t sleep?”
Shaken out of his thoughts, the young Prince turned his head around, trying to find where the voice came from. He still didn’t understand how he managed to do it.
“It’s not the first time, uncail Darach,” the Prince said.
From behind, felt a poke in his ribs. He winced as the fingers touched a weak spot.
“How often do I have to tell you? Just call me ‘Halt’, like everyone does.” The Ranger appeared on his left side, the cowl pushed back. “Or do you want me to call you ‘prionsa’?”
“No, please don’t.” The Prince cringed at the word. “I’m a soldier in the first place.”
Halt looked at him for a moment, then turned to stare in the distance.
“It wouldn’t be a good thing to start your reign with sleepless nights, Sean.”
Next to him, Sean rubbed a hand over his face, stopping at his mouth. He only managed partly to hide the yawn that was trying to escape.
“As if I don’t know that,” he replied, more tired than annoyed. “But it’s not like I was prepared for this.”
Halt scoffed softly.
“I’m not surprised. Ferris thought he would reign forever, forgetting the fact that he too would die one day. Though that day came sooner than any of us imagined.”
Both men stayed silent for a while, not knowing what to say next. The night was colder than they had thought, as if it felt that something had happened not too long ago.
“He was aware that he would need a successor,” Sean said, his eyes now facing the moon that was above them. “But he was convinced I would take it away from him. That’s why I had to focus on my career in the army. Eventually, he would maybe see that I wasn’t going to shove him aside and take the throne.”
A bit hurt, he noticed that Halt had different ideas about it.
“Ferris wouldn’t have gotten that idea. To him, the older you became, the more of a threat you would become. Sooner or later, he would try to get rid of you.”
Sean felt a knot forming in his throat, which he tried to swallow away. It didn’t really help.
“Uncail Halt?” he tried when a couple of minutes had passed.
The Ranger gave a soft grunt, his way of saying that he was listening.
“Would it be possible for you to stay until a day after the coronation?”
Halt would be lying if he hadn’t thought of the question being asked. Preferably, he wanted to go after Tennyson now that the tracks were still there. If he waited any longer, then there was a possibility that the fake prophet had a chance to escape.
“Sean,” Halt started, now facing his nephew. “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea. It’s not seen as polite if Will and I keep our cowls up during the ceremony. Besides, Ferris and I look too much alike, even now that my beard is growing back.”
To be able to act as his twin brother, Halt had shaved off his beard. It was now solely growing back, but he still resembled Ferris.
“The ceremony is solely for those invited and since you gave your rights away to me, I doubt that anyone would want you there. At least, not without them knowing it.”
Something in the way he said it, made Halt assume that there was more behind Sean’s question.
“You want me to attend while being hidden in the forest, keeping an eye out during the ceremony.”
Sean nodded, glad that the man had caught his plan.
“May I ask why?” Halt inquired.
“It’s not that I’m scared to be killed. There will be plenty of guards and they will make sure no hidden weapons will be taken. The soldiers that I chose as my personal guards are loyal to me, have always been.”
Halt wanted to ask the follow up question, but remained silent. He was sure that the answer would be given soon enough.
“What I’m mostly worried about is the part where everyone is speaking out their allegiance to me. It’s not a secret that the lords and knights have come to rule over their own people and villages. I want you to be the silent witness to help them remind that they said it. And, in the case they forget, help me to trial them.”
Sean was now facing Halt, trying to see what his uncle had to say to that. To his relief, Halt nodded in agreement.
“I think I will be able to do that. We can make it look like we left, but I can then return.”
Now that that burden was off his shoulders, Sean suddenly felt much lighter.
“Thank you, uncail Halt,” he said, a tired smile decorating his face.
Halt looked at the man that he only recently got to know better. He could see the traces of his late sister in him. The cheerful personality, the kindness. The brown eyes that seemed to have a never-ending light behind them.
“Now that’s been taken care of, how about you go see for some sleep?” Halt placed a hand on Sean’s shoulder, gently guiding him towards the tower.
Sean yawned, nodding at the same time. He let himself be brought back to his quarters. Two guards who were standing on watch looked horrified when they found the future king and his uncle standing in front of them.
“Make sure he gets some rest,” Halt told them after saying good night to his nephew. “If anyone has an issue with that, have me send to them. Understood?”
The guards bowed their heads in reply, then stood with a straight back, crossing their lances.
While Halt walked back to his own bedroom, though the corridor opposite of Sean’s bedroom, he stole a quick glance up. He saw the silhouette of Sean leaning over a candle, blowing it out and turning the room dark. “Don’t you worry, Sean,” Halt whispered. “I think you’ll be doing just fine as king.”
Will stared at the ground, completely and utterly bored with the exercise, but he knew he had to keep going or else Halt would scold him for slacking off. It didn't help that his mentor had been in a particularly bad mood since the moment he woke up.
The tracks of the rabbits were faint in the dirt, but Will, after three years of training, was experienced enough to make them out. Three rabbits, one adult and two babies, scampering through the dirt. Will kept following on foot, Halt slightly behind him watching with his arms crossed to make sure his apprentice actually knew what he was doing and wasn't just blindly staring at the floor.
Will stopped suddenly, turning to face the treeline on the side of the road, where the rabbit tracks had led to. They disappeared behind the leaves of the bushes. He faced back towards Halt.
“They've gone into the bushes,” he said. Halt nodded slightly and Will felt a small sense of accomplishment. It disappeared with Halt's words.
“They have,” he agreed. “But what about the others?”
“What others?” Will asked stupidly and was greeted with a quick glare from Halt. Regaining his training, he looked across the dirty ground and found another set of tracks on the other side – a stoats track, glaringly obvious now that he was looking at it. He cursed himself for not noticing it before.
“When you're tracking you can't just focus on one spot. You have to follow the tracks but you also have to keep looking for anything else. If you're not fully aware of what's around you, you get killed.”
Will nodded glumly. He knew Halt was right but he also felt he was being a little drastic about it. Saying he would get killed just for not paying attention to the other side of the trail seemed a bit extreme to him. But he knew better than to argue with Halt at the moment so he kept his mouth shut. He walked over to the stoat’s footprints and examined them. They were also light, like the rabbits’, telling the apprentice that it hadn’t been in a hurry to get anywhere. They were also older than the rabbits’, so they hadn’t crossed paths. Will supposed if they had they’d be signs of an attack in the dirt.
“There’s only one,” he said over his shoulder to Halt. “Wasn’t running anywhere, just strolling along.” He hid a grin as the image of the stoat ‘strolling along’ flashed in his mind. Despite how dangerous stoats could be to rabbits and other fuzzy creatures Will was fond of, he thought stoats could look quite cute, with their long bodies and small beady black eyes. He wouldn’t mind a pet one, he thought absently.
Halt’s irritated voice snapped him out of his stoat fantasies. “Anything else?”
Will looked back at the tracks, peering closer to see if there was anything he missed. Fairly confident there wasn't, he turned to Halt and shook his head. “No.”
Halt nodded. “Right. But you still should have noticed them earlier. I’m not always going to be around to point out the obvious to you.”
Will didn’t have a response to that. He would never say it out loud, but he kind of hated doing training exercises with Halt when he was in a mood like this. He was always more harsh on the boy and was never open to any jokes or slacking. But Will supposed it couldn’t be helped.
“We’ll go on a little further,” Halt said, “and if there’s nothing else we’ll head back. You’ve got some map work to do.”
Will suppressed a groan as he continued along the trail, being careful to pay extra attention to what was before and around him. They walked for five minutes with no more tracks to be seen, and Halt hadn’t pointed any out so Will assumed he was correct. Of course, there were the occasional scuffles and prints from birds, along with some human footprints, but Halt said to ignore them. They weren’t what they were focusing on today.
“That’s enough for today,” Halt said, stopping Will in his tracks. “We can head back.” He was about to turn back the other way, when something seemed to catch his eye and he looked back down the track. Will followed his gaze and saw a bump towards the side of the trail, hidden by some bush. It appeared to be brown and… feathery?
Without saying another word to his apprentice, Halt walked towards the mysterious clump, dropping to his knees beside it. Will followed, and let out a little gasp.
A falcon lay, feathers surrounding it and a mangled leg sticking out from under its body. He stared at the injured bird as Halt gently touched its feathery head. Then he turned and glared at Will.
“Can you stop hovering over me like that?” he snapped. “It’s annoying.”
“Sorry,” mumbled Will and he moved to kneel next to his mentor, no longer hovering. “Is it dead?”
“I don’t think so,” Halt muttered. He turned the birds head slightly and both ranger and apprentice saw two black eyes staring back at them. They blinked. Then the bird made a tiny fearful sound at the back of its throat and tried to squirm away from Halt’s gentle hand.
“Oh no,” Will said softly. “It’s hurt.” He sensed Halt was about to say some moody sarcastic response but opted to stay silent instead. Moving slowly and with a soft touch, Halt moved the falcon’s wing, inspecting any damage that had been done. The bird squirmed some more, its small scared squawks more pronounced. Halt shushed it calmly and moved to look at its leg, moving some feathers out of the way to do so. Will watched as he worked with soft touches, admiring how careful he was being with the animal. It was a real contrast to how he had been not even a minute ago. There was something off about the injury that seemed off to Will. They seemed too unnatural.
His unasked question was answered shortly after as Halt produced a small stone from under the falcon’s body, holding it for his apprentice to look at. The stone was a nicely rounded one, and caked in a thin layer of blood. Looking at it closer, Will could see it resembled the shots Evanlyn would use on her sling, and the realisation hit him. The falcon has been hit by a human.
“Someone did this to it,” Halt said, voice angry and low as his eyes darkened.
“Who?” Will asked, another stupid question.
“That’s what I want to find out.”
“I mean, who could even do something like this? Who would even think of this?”
“A lot of people, Will,” Halt said, not unkindly. “I thought you knew that by now. People kill people and people kill innocent animals. Some people just don’t care.”
Will nodded. He understood that. He didn’t like it, but he understood that was how some people lived their lives – by taking away others. He was slightly curious though. Halt had witnessed people being murdered. He had seen people take lives and found dead innocents, yet the sight of the injured falcon seemed to anger him more than any of that. It made a little sense. Over their years spent together, Will had seen little hints here and there that the grumpy ranger was an animal person, and cared more for their company than a human’s. Especially when it came to Abelard.
“Will it survive?” Will asked anxiously.
“Not if we leave it here,” Halt replied. “Its wing and leg are damaged. I’d say it got hit in the wing and then crashed and broke its leg. If we leave it on its own it won’t be able to fly or walk away and it’ll either starve or get eaten by another animal.”
Will looked at the falcon, a deep sadness for the poor thing welling up in his chest. It was going to die, alone and in pain on the side of a dusty trail.
“I don’t get why they just left it here,” Halt gritted out. “What sick person hurts an animal and just leaves it to die? They didn’t even kill it for food!”
Will didn’t have an answer to that, but he didn’t think anyone would.
Halt took his cloak off from around his shoulders and bundled it up, placing it on the ground next to the falcon. Then, very carefully and with extreme caution, he lifted the falcon, trying his best to block out the bird’s cries of pain. He placed the bird on the make-shift pillow made from his cloak and made sure it was as comfortable as it could be – which wasn’t very in its current state.
“What are you doing?” Will asked, watching his mentor curiously.
“Do you really think I’m just going to leave it here?” Halt challenged scathingly. “I just told you it would die if we did that.”
“So… we’re taking it with us?”
“Yes,” Halt sighed, exasperated. “We’ll need to give it some food and shelter and then we can find a doctor and see if they can do anything for it.” He picked the bird and cloak up carefully, trying to keep his movements to a minimum so as not to disturb it. It tried to squirm in his arms slightly, but couldn’t move much without more stabs of pain shooting through its body. Every time it cried out the two ranger’s hearts would break a little bit.
They walked slowly back to the cabin, where Halt had decided to keep a small fire going. The main room was warm as they entered, and Will swung his cloak off and tossed it through the open doorway of his room onto his bed. Halt moved over to the fireplace and kneeled next to it, placing the falcon on the ground. He kept it a fair distance away from the fire, close enough to warm it up, yet far enough so its feathers wouldn’t begin to sizzle.
Will took a seat on the other side of the falcon as Halt stood up and walked to the kitchen area of the cabin. He pulled a small wooden bowl and took it outside to the water pump. He returned shortly after with a bowl of mostly fresh water, which he placed in front of the bird.
The falcon didn’t move, which was to be expected, so Halt moved the bowl a little closer to its beak, so the tip of it was just touching the water. Still, it made no effort to drink. Halt sat back, leaning against the arm chair right behind him and sighed.
“If it’s not going to drink we can’t really make it,” he said and Will nodded in agreement. Halt brought the bowl back away from its beak, placing it a little distance away.
“What do we do now?” Will asked.
Halt shrugged. “No idea. I’ve never had to deal with an injured bird before. Only Abelard.”
“Oh,” Will said, eyes downcast. He was expecting a little more from his mentor. It was times like these that he had to remind himself that Halt was human just like him, and wouldn’t have the answer to every question Will’s energetic mind could think up of. Even after three years, he still sometimes forgot that.
The falcon blinked up at them, its body trembling. Both rangers looked at it, feeling completely helpless.
Will's map work was cancelled. The falcon’s appearance pretty much put a hold on everything they had planned for the rest of the day. Halt stayed by the bird for a few hours, making sure it was comfortable and every now and then putting the bowl of water back near its beak, never forcing it to take a drink if it didn't want to.
Will decided to make himself useful and without being asked busied himself with doing some chores around the cabin. He swept the floor and made sure the tables were nice and clean. Halt stayed by the bird, watching it carefully for any change in condition. He had placed it up on one of the armchairs – Will’s unofficial one, and had taken a seat on his own.
Will made up a couple mugs of coffee and brought one over to the focused ranger. Halt gave a small grunt of appreciation and kept up his job of watching over the falcon. Even though he hadn't said much in a while, Will could tell his bad mood had lifted quite considerably, being distracted with the cute bird. Although the thought of what cruel person hurt it in the first place still antagonized both of them a good bit.
The rest of the day passed quietly. At one point in the afternoon Will took himself off to his room and relaxed on his bed, dozing off for a short nap.
The short nap ended up being longer than he anticipated. When he woke up he could see the dark of night out his window. What time was it?
He walked softly to his door and opened it, the slightly rusty hinges making the usual soft creaking sound. There was no light inside the cabin, the shadows stretched out, making every object and piece of furniture blend in with each other. He could hear Halt’s soft breathing through his door as he slept. He wondered where the falcon had gone. Was it still near the fire? The fire had mostly gone out but there was still a bit of ember burning amongst the wood.
He approached the fire and as he walked closer he realized Halt’s breathing wasn't coming from his room. His eyes adjusted and he could see the form of the ranger curled up in the chair, asleep. He could also see the falcon, still cushioned on Halt’s folded cloak on the other chair, also asleep and seemingly doing okay.
He glanced back at Halt, taking note of his somewhat uncomfortable position, with his arm serving as a pillow against the chair’s arm, and decided that in the morning after a night spent like that, Halt could possibly be in an even worse mood than he had been previously. But that was tomorrow’s problem.
With the fire out, and the night chilly as it was, Will decided Halt could do with some warmth. He couldn't grab his cloak as the falcon was using it, and disturbing the animal was the last thing Will wanted to do. He supposed he could grab Halt’s spare cloak from his room. It had been a while since he had been in there, as he wasn't usually allowed, but surely this could be an exception.
Halt’s room was pretty much the same as the last time Will had seen it: plain with a bed against one corner and a small table next to it, then a chest of drawers against the other wall. He opened it up and found Halt’s other cloak almost immediately. Then he bought it back out and carefully and quietly, trying not to wake him, he placed it over the sleeping ranger.
Halt stirred, his eyes opening briefly before closing and settling back down again. He mumbled something in a language Will didn't understand and whispered so quietly he wasn't even sure if he imagined it. Then he slipped fully back to sleep.
Will checked on the bird again, making sure it was still comfortable and actually breathing. It was, so he left it. What to do with it would be a problem they could face in the morning.
Headcanon that is going into one of my gathering fics:
Halt's shy as fuck and dint really want to say his vows to Pauline out loud in front of everyone including a bunch of strangers he doesn't know so he and Pauline talked about it before the ceremony and they agreed to just whisper their vows to each other so it can be between them and screw tradition and what everyone else thinks
I randomly saw this on my dash, and I wanted to try it out- I'm terrible at coming up with superpowers but I'll give it a shot.
themodernmontecristo- How do I turn this into a superpower? My name is a reference to The Count of Monte Cristo so that could be something to bounce off?
Many characters already compare The Count to a vampire and in the Count of Monte Cristo anime (Gankutsuou) he just is a vampire. Maybe I could take something from that?
It could be wealth manipulation or literally just Edmond's manipulation/mastermind shenanigans in superpower form?
It could be either one of those so that's what I've got. I guess. I said I was bad at making superpowers/abilities and I meant it. 😭
I guess mine would be a love based power? Maybe kinda like how Poison ivy can control people by kissing them? Or maybe using a camera/video to make someone fall in love? Idk bro mine is weird.
My ability is a super sonic chicken scream that can level Brooklyn, and everybody that hears it turns to their neighbor and says, "There goes that little bantam rooster again. Better call the Coast Guard."
I'd be an antihero. I wreak havoc and am a public enemy but I'm also nice and have a moral compass (it just spins all the time like it's at the poles)
