#i also want to see pritchard helping him realize the harm he’s doing and help him oit

[artsysurvivor]

(This whole rant is mostly inspired by "I'll Be Good" by James Young. Might be helpful to listen to if you want more context).

I want to see fucked up Prince!Halt tbh. Like, he allegedly grew up in a distant/emotionally neglectful household (not too mention the added fucked up™️ things some of the fandom headcanons... *coughs and looks away shamefully*).

Now, previously I made a post on how this sort of thing was kind of normal back then, at least from the parent's side because there were servants to take care of things. But the RA universe is pretty different than what actually happened back then; one example is how Duncan is pretty close to Cassandra, and how later on in the first book of TRR (I haven't read past that one) she and Horace are pretty involved in Maddie's life. It could be that their values on how to take care of a child evolved since Oswald couldn't of been that close to his son seeing that he thought he was a pillager and a murderer—but that could also be explained by Morgarath's emotional manipulation, and, as a side note, he did see a change in "Duncan's" behavior.

For the reasons stated above, we can assume that Halt's parents neglect was not seen as normal and therefore they might've not had as many precautions in place as to take care of a child in a completely healthy way.

So one: he doesn't know how to regulate his emotions well (which is part of the reason why he just... holds it in).

Two: he might've looked for attention/love elsewhere, even if he would tell himself he didn't need it—like when Will's apprenticeship is coming to an end, he marries Pauline and how, during TEY, he almost immediately went with Crowley even though months before his brother had tried to kill him for the third time. (I also kind if relate these events to Halt being with someone similar to his own age literally since birth but that’s a different subject).

Three: he still witnesses the leadership habits of his mother, father, and other nobles; him being a young child doesn't know that's wrong and internalizes it.

Four: He's shown to be very loyal to the people he sees as family in the series, and will break the law to continue his loyalty. (Coughs in how he got banished to save Will—though he did "betray" Crowley/Duncan in that sense, he did it because there was an even greater cause that out weighed the betrayal). So obviously, he'd remain loyal to the people he knew all his life.

Five: he would have at least part of the stress of having to parent his sister. (Which considering the age gap between the two would be especially detrimental—and let’s not forget the affect it would have on Caitlyn).

Six: Not to mention the self-esteem issues that would come up with Ferris very obviously being the favorite child.

Going back to leadership habits, I get the feeling that most royals don't view their citizens as people and more of a means to an end. (This is shown through Ferris when he sides with Tennyson, despite the destruction going on in the towns, just to keep his throne. And, you know, the whole killing-his-brother thing). So, how would that affect Halt's view of the townspeople, especially if he wasn't allowed to interact with them?

And, probably more likely, would he have self-destructive behavior(s)? (Not talking about physical self harm, per say, but more so self sabotaging with relationships and stuff like that. If that makes sense).

Anyway sorry if this is disjointed and hard to understand fjfb like I said this kind of just a rant.

[araluenrangerdanger]

Okay thanks for reading-but can you make a crawlt fanfic with Halt thinking that Crowley is dying, so he slowly sings "far too young to die" by Panic! At The Disco, and then makes out with him, because why the hell not?

I am so, so late with this, but: tw: head injury, blood, injury, violence

I hope you enjoy 

Halt and Crowley had been waiting for this moment the last six hours. They had info that the bandit group took this road every second week, and today was the day.

A few weeks ago, a message came to Castle Araluen. It was from the north side of the Araluen fief, a fief that, by all standards, was now Crowley’s.

It was a few weeks after Pritchard’s death. The two young Rangers were grieving, but criminals never took breaks. Crowley was still heavily burdened by the weight of all paperwork that he had to sort (it seemed as if Stilson intentionally left the office in the biggest mess he could before he was kicked out of the Corps for good) and all the other responsibilities that came with reinstating the Ranger Corps, finding new apprentices, trying to keep everything running and the crime in fiefs that didn’t have their own Rangers in check, and of course, the past weeks had been silent torture.

When Halt had returned from Castle Gorlan with the news of Pritchard’s death, he already had several days to take it all in, and composed himself as much as he could before coming to Araluen. Crowley, however, didn’t have that luxury, which resulted in Halt delivering the news, and both of them broke down, remembering their mentor. It was the only time Crowley saw Halt cry.

The two of them dove into work, both silent and effective, without Crowley whistling or cracking his usual jokes. It was inappropriate. Death had always been a part of a Ranger’s job, but neither of them considered just how real it could be. At least Crowley and Halt managed to clear out some paperwork, and a month after Pritchard’s death, Farrel joined them in their work, seeing as he broke his leg when pursuing Morgarath.

Together, they managed to deal with most of the paperwork, but piles of it were still waiting for them.

However, the message came one hot summer afternoon. Crowley and Halt had been filling out forms and trying to figure out what to do with Redmont fief (as the Ranger’s spot was currently vacant since Farrel was on sick leave), the window was opened, but neither that nor the cool castle walls helped them escape the heat. Crowley got rid of his shirt altogether while Halt and Farrel only rolled up their sleeves.

“I don’t mean to order you around, Crowley,” Farrel remarked. “But maybe you should put the shirt back on. Maybe not because someone could come in, but otherwise Halt might overheat.” He told everything with a smile, watching as Crowley saw Halt’s red face as the Hibernian Ranger hid behind a pile of paperwork, and sheepishly put his shirt back on, leaving it loosely unbuttoned.

That was the ice breaking in their relationship, and the grieving atmosphere lifted. Halt and Crowley knew they were attracted to each other, but never expressed anything more than friendship gestures. If something happened to either of them, they didn’t want to experience heartbreak again in such a short period of time.

The message they got was clear. There was a group of bandits in the northern part of the Araluen fief, and therefore, they needed to be stopped. Crowley also saw this as an opportunity for Halt to show some more skills Pritchard taught him - who was he kidding, of course, he used the opportunity to spend more time with him, sharing a tent once again, just like in the good old times when they were getting the rebellious Rangers together.

The two young Rangers left the next day at dawn, travelling to the villages and gathering information about stolen goods, people who had become their targets, and the travelling routes the bandits took.

So here they were, both hidden in the bushes along a small forest clearing. Halt sat with his cowl over his head, unmoving, an arrow nocked in his bow, waiting for the bandits to come. Crowley sat a few meters away, mimicking Halt’s movements, also prepared.

Nothing happened for hours until they could hear hoofbeats. The Rangers stilled, knowing that any movement could cost them the element of surprise they had on their side. However, they planned on offering the bandits one chance to give up without a fight. They just needed to surprise them.

As soon as the group arrived at the clearing, riding mules and old horses, Crowley stepped out from the bush he was hiding in, and called in a sonorous voice: “King’s Ranger! Stop and surrender!”

The bandits stopped their horses, drawing their weapons and, in some cases, also stolen swords.

Their leader was a big, burly man whose teeth were missing in several places, and he now turned to his companions.

“Rangers aren’t what they used to be! This one must be one of those pompous idiots, can’t even harm a fly!” he laughed, mocking the Ranger Corps. Crowley gritted his teeth. Those vain insults wouldn’t make him angry, they wouldn’t. He knew that the Corps wasn’t what it used to be, and he and the others were doing everything they could to make it better again.

“I am giving you a warning, surrender, or see how fast I can be,” Crowley called again, losing patience with these guys. Fortunately, he knew that Halt and he could take them all on, and they still had the element of surprise, as the bandits didn’t know Halt was ever there.

The bandits cried with laughter.

“What are you gonna do, go to mommy to cry?” their leader asked before pointing his sword at Crowley. “Let’s get this over with. Kill him!”

In that moment, several bandits nudged their steeds and started moving. At the same time, Crowley let go of the arrow in his bowstring, hitting the leader’s calf, and another arrow came flying through the side, taking down another one of the men.

The action started, Halt came out of his hiding spot and fired an arrow after arrow. Crowley stepped into the shadows of a tree, knowing that it would be impossible for riders to turn their horses so quickly. Furthermore, they couldn’t go after him; they had to dismount first.

While Halt was dealing with three of the bandits, successfully shooting one into his thigh and killing the other, having trouble only with the third one, Crowley had to fight off six of them. He shot three of them before stumbling backwards as one of them tried to decapitate him with a sword. The Ranger regained his balance, his bow, however, got stuck in the tree’s branches.

“Crap!” he cursed, not having the time to try and free his bow. It was stuck for the rest of the fight, and Crowley desperately reached for his knives.

The Ranger turned around just in time to see a man trying to hit him with a hammer, but Crowley was quicker. He grabbed the man’s wrist and twisted it, making him drop the hammer. With a well-aimed kick to the stomach, Crowley sent him to the ground. Then, he quickly looked at the distance the other two attackers had.

One was already charging at him and the Ranger knew he had to act quickly. In one smooth motion, he let go of his throwing knife, not waiting to watch as it sunk into the man’s chest.

The last man came in too quickly though. Crowley didn’t have time to retrieve his throwing knife or apply the double-knife defense. He was stuck, and when the bandit’s sword collided with his Saxe knife and sent it flying, he regretted the choices he made.

Crowley’s eyes widened as he realized that he had nothing to defend himself with, and he immediately ducked as the man swung the sword where his head had been just a few seconds ago. The man seemed surprised, allowing the Ranger to send him to a dream world with a good punch.

Crowley was about to go retrieve his knives when he heard Halt’s cry of “Look out!”. The next moment, an arrow flew past him. Halt had seen the man who had a hammer sneaking up on Crowley and swinging the hammer. In the next second, the man threw the hammer and let out a squeak as Halt’s arrow struck him in the chest, killing him on the spot. However, the hammer was flying and Crowley wasn’t fast enough. With a loud thud, the hammer collided with his head, sending him unconscious to the ground.

Halt gasped.

“Crowley!” he called, running to his friend. The red-haired Ranger laid on the grass, a trail of blood colouring his red hair an even darker shade of red, his eyes closed. He didn’t appear to be breathing.

“Crowley!” Halt repeated forcefully, trying to find a pulse on his neck. He panicked when he couldn’t find it, his eyes widening with a silent plea.

“No, no, no no,” he repeated frantically, trying again, but Crowley was either dead or his pulse was so weak that he couldn’t find it.

“Don’t you dare die on me, Crowley! I can’t go through this again!” he yelled. He couldn’t lose them both. He couldn’t lose Pritchard and Crowley in the span of just a few months.

Hearing no response, Halt sunk to his knees. His lips moved on their own, and he started singing, his voice raspy and filled with sadness:

“While the crown lies heavy on either side,

give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die.”

Halt closed his eyes, letting the tears fall. All the bandits were forgotten, now there was only Crowley and him.

Suddenly, a second, faint voice, said: “Well, I wouldn’t mind if you kissed me.”

Halt’s eyes snapped open. Sure enough, there he was, blood still dripping down his temple, but his hazel eyes were looking up at him, and he was grinning.

The Hibernian Ranger gasped, but then grabbed him by his shirt and leaned in to kiss him.

It lasted just several seconds, but both men enjoyed the soft lips of the other, and broke the kiss, both red in the face.

“And don’t ever do that to me again!” Halt nudged him in the arm to be clear. “Do you know how worried I was?”

Crowley smiled at him weakly.

“I won’t Halt, but if I got a kiss like this every time you were worried about me…”

Halt wiped his eyes with his sleeve, his expression dark.

“Don’t you dare,” he started before he was pulled down by Crowley for another kiss. The usually grumpy Ranger just melted into it and kissed Crowley back, happy that he was alright and would heal.

The two broke the kiss, smiling at each other before Crowley groaned in pain.

“That was great, Halt, but please help me stop the bleeding, otherwise I might really die.”

He watched, amused, as Halt panicked once more.