#ranger’s apprentice fanfiction

[forgedroyalseal]

Someday I’m gonna be somebody people want:

Will knew that people liked him. Not in an arrogant way, it was just the truth. A truth he had come to understand because he had spent the first decade and a half being someone that wasn’t worth liking. A poor orphan boy who got into too much trouble and whose mouth was a little too fast. But then Halt chose him. He picked him as his apprentice. He saw something worth liking. And little by little, Will grew up. He put all of his troublemaking skills to use in the Corps. He figured out how to fine tune his wit into charm. He learned when to bite down on his tongue and swallow down his true feelings whenever they weren’t convenient. He let Halt and the Corps sculpt him from a boy to a ranger. They chipped away the unsavory bits and sanded down his unfinished edges. And what was left was a full fledged ranger who Halt, who all of them, were proud of. A man that a woman like Alyss would actually be interested in. A man who a crown princess would befriend. A man who an entire fief would trust and rely on.

And Will?

Will was just happy to finally be what people wanted.

Even if he woke up every morning wondering when they’d all realize it was just a mask. Realize they had been backing the wrong man for years. Realize he was still just that scared, unwanted, useless, little boy. Some nights, he’d lay awake and wonder if they’d be more angry or hurt. If they’d hate him for fooling them all or wounded that they lost someone who had never even existed in the first place. He knew it was inevitable that someone would see behind the curtain, but he was going to do whatever it took to delay that day from coming.

So he worked harder. He molded himself into a person nearly impossible not to like. He was funny, but never in a cruel way. He was smart, but never a know-it-all. He was kind, but not condescending. He was a great ranger, but never arrogant. He worked hard to maintain his friendships and his relationship with Alyss. He became somebody people want. And that’s all he’s ever wanted.

[name-s-are-not-important]

modern AU headcanon

Horace, Will and George at least once pulled off the action of coming to school in skirts in solidarity when one of the girls got in trouble for inappropriate attire. Personally, I can see that it would be Jenny, who canonically had a unique style of dress... some overzealous 'educator' once picked up on this and the next day everyone came in furiously coloured skirts in protest.

Gilan, picking up Will from school, joined the action uninvited and made a sensation among the students. He even agreed to a spontaneous photo shoot on the lawn in front of the school.

And Crowley resented that they had not told him beforehand what they were planning.

Halt laughed at being summoned to school by the management. Pauline went instead. There were no more problems.

[theoakleafpancake]

After the celebration had finally ended, Halt decided he’d had enough of formalities and appearances. A grand homecoming to Araluen was not what he’d wanted. Now that he had Will back, all that was left to do was to return to the little cabin in Redmont and sleep for a week straight. If it weren’t for the assembly the King called for, he’d be able to do just that.

Someone knocked on the door. He gave a final tug on the straps of his pack before heading over, heaving in a silent sigh. But when the door swung open, he was met with an unexpected face.

Well, not entirely unexpected. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He’d rather it would have been later, but alas, Fate seemed to be enjoying her time with him.

“Crowley.” He stepped aside, allowing the Ranger Commandant in the room. “I thought you’d have left by now.”

“Really?” The sandy-haired man turned to look at him. “Eleven months, and that’s the first thing you have to say.”

“Eleven and one week,” he said quietly. “And I seem to recall giving you a full report earlier. So no, that is not the first thing I have said to you.”

Crowley ran a hand through his hair. “And one week.” A breathy chuckled escaped the other man. “Do you think I haven’t been counting each day?”

He raised an eyebrow. “A Ranger Commandant has more important things to do than wait for the prodigal son to return.”

“I’m sorry.” The older Ranger reached a hand towards his arm and then faltered, those light eyes desperately seeking his. “If I could go back in time, I would change everything. I would have broken you out of prison. I would have covered it all up. No one would have ever known.”

“Having everyone know was a part of the plan.”

“But why, Halt?” His voice broke. “Why would you put us through that?”

Halt raised his eyes to the ceiling. After all this time, his friend still had the nerve to ask the same question. “I don’t give you as much credit as I should. You’re not stupid, Crowley. You know the answer.”

It was the boy. Will. He would have burned the world for his apprentice if necessity demanded it of him. He had given up his life for some cheeky, over-talkative child that had somehow become an integral part of his life. Losing Will had been like losing an arm. He could have said all this and more, but he wasn’t sure if the other Ranger would ever truly understand.

“Crowley.” He laid a land on his friend’s shoulder. “You have your loyalties and I have mine. Surely you didn’t think I’d change over the years?”

“No. I never would have expected that.” The older Ranger turned away. “You always were a stubborn one.”

“And I don’t intend on changing that. I became a Ranger to help you. Not to pledge my full allegiance to a King.”

“That’s exactly what being a Ranger is.” The silver Oakleaf felt heavy around his neck. Halt knew what the Oakleaf meant. Running away from Clonmel, he was given a second chance, and that chance had been Araluen and its Rangers. He liked Duncan a great deal more than he cared to admit—certainly the Araluan was a far better King than either him or Ferris. But against all odds, that’s just what Duncan was.

A King.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Crowley said quietly. “But it seems to me you’re doing fine in that sense.”

Halt let go of the man’s shoulder. “You thought too highly of me. That’s your mistake.”

“I think just enough of you.” The redhead sighed. “My only mistake was turning you away. I’m sorry, Halt.”

He met his friend’s eyes, and saw the pain inside them, pain he was responsible for. “I am, too.”

[areiacannaid]

Declination

I have finally been able to finish this short story inspired by this prompt/story idea from nilswolf8 where Halt joins Morgarath. Here is the final chapter.

Previous chapters

Read on AO3

Chapter 4

Halt hadn’t wanted to send him on this mission, he’d said that Will wasn’t ready for it—that he was too young. It was something which, at the time, had rankled, stung. He was fifteen now; old enough and well-trained enough to handle himself. It had made Will more determined than ever to prove that he could complete what would be his first solo mission, and complete it well. But now, with the agonizing clarity that so often came with hindsight, he had started to wonder if Halt had been right. Things had gone far worse than he could have possibly imagined and now he had no idea what he would do.

Restless energy lent itself to his muscles as he found himself pacing the length of the safe house, trying to shove aside the sense of panic that built steadily within him as the minutes passed. Gilan was supposed to meet him here after he finished his own mission, but he was already hours late. Will worried at his lower lip as he found himself wishing for and dreading his brother’s arrival. After all, Gilan, like Halt, always seemed to know what to do. But, at the same time, explaining to him just how badly he had failed, wasn’t an appealing prospect. 

The coded knock sounded suddenly on the door, shattering the eerie quiet of the room. Will finally stopped pacing, letting out his breath as he unlocked and opened the door, moving aside so Gilan could enter.

“Where have you been?” The words tore from Will’s throat with much more force and anger than he’d intended.

Gilan tilted his head to consider him a moment, eyes narrowed, before a slow smile spread across his face.

“Out,” he said finally, stepping past Will, the sarcasm in the words contradicting the smile.

Will rolled his eyes in response, despite the pounding in his heart that constricted his chest. There had been no malice in Gilan’s reply, he knew. There never was. He watched as his brother headed to the back of the room to place down his supplies. The twisted feeling in his stomach couldn’t bear the silence anymore and so he drew breath to speak, an effort that was stymied by the realization he had no idea where to begin or what to even say. He was gathering himself to try again when Gilan beat him to it.

“Something’s happened, hasn’t it?” he asked Will quietly without turning around. It was as if he was somehow privy to Will’s thoughts or, perhaps, he had merely read Will’s expression when he came in.

“Yes,” Will admitted softly.

“Are you alright?”

“For now, but not for long.”

Gilan did turn then, calculating gaze seeking answers as much as asking for them.

“I killed Morgarath’s men. The ones sent to assassinate the Courier and her apprentice.”

One eyebrow rose at that announcement.

“Why?”

The question was curious, not accusing. Gilan didn’t seem to care much that Will had just admitted to the cold-blooded murder of their allies, but he did want to know why Will had made such a glaring tactical error.

“I couldn’t let them kill her, kill either of them!”

“The Courier and her apprentice?” Gilan asked blankly, eyebrow still raised.

Will could only nod.

“Again, why?”

“I had to get close to them both for my mission: to get into Baron Arlad’s court. And I… I love her, Gilan, the Courier’s apprentice—Alyss. I couldn’t let her die.”

Gilan searched his face as if looking for there to be some sort of punchline to this. But, when he realized there was none, that Will was serious, the other eyebrow went up to join the first. He grinned, closing the distance between them.

“I have to say, I’m happy for you Will, but you certainly picked the worst way possible to fall in love.”

“This is serious, Gil!” Will protested, put out, and more than a little frustrated by his brother’s casual attitude. “Did you not hear what I said about killing Morgarath’s men?”

Gilan merely shrugged. “If they’re all dead they can hardly go informing Morgarath of what you did. It was risky, but not irreparable. We can come up with a cover story.” He began, but stopped as he became aware of Will’s expression. He narrowed his eyes. “They are all dead, aren’t they?”

“One may have gotten away.”

Gilan blinked at him, disbelieving.

Will felt a flush of anger. “The fight got a little complicated and, at the end, I had to choose between saving Alyss or killing the last man!” He took a breath, hands trembling, before adding in a small voice. “I don’t know what to do, Gilan.”

For a brief moment, Will saw his own fear reflected in his brother’s eyes and now entirely serious face.

“Morgarath won’t tolerate treason. And if you run, you know he’ll do whatever it takes to hunt you down. Revenge seems to give him a certain… pleasure.” He made a crude gesture not bothering to hide the sneer that curled that last word.

“I know,” Will said, holding his head in his hands. “He’ll never stop trying to kill me.”

“Unless you're already dead. I’ll report to Morgarath that I saw what happened after the guard fled, report that I killed you for your treason, and then completed your assassination mission for you. It will give you and the Couriers the chance to run, disappear.”

~x~X~x~

Halt made no sound as wove through the shadowed wood to the small cabin that served as their safehouse in this area of the Kingdom. He moved with the shadows of the clouds overhead so that he seemed to weave fluidly around the patches of silver moonlight. He was, for all intents and purposes, invisible to any eyes that might be watching. 

Hearing the sound of urgent voices coming from inside the cabin, he didn’t head towards the door but instead to the windows. They had only shutters and a latch to close against the chill of the night. They weren’t very well made and sound carried clearly through them.

He froze to listen and was just in time to be made aware of everything about the results of Will’s mission. But in light of everything that had happened, that outcome seemed almost trivial. Or, rather, like another log to be added to an inexorable bonfire. 

His old adage of always expecting something to go wrong in order to avoid disappointment had clearly been far too conservative of a saying. If this situation taught him anything, it was that he should have expected absolutely everything possible to go wrong all at once. 

Biting back something that was half a sigh of exasperation, and half a breath to calm a racing heart, he reached up to silently undo the latch of the cabin’s unlit back room window and slip inside.

 “So we’re set on the plan then?” Gilan’s voice carried to him as he stood in the shadow of the back room's door jam. “We will fake your death and I will report it to Morgarath.” 

“There’s only one problem with that,” Halt interposed his voice into their conversation, causing both of them to wheel around, more with surprise than fear, he knew. He was pretty certain that, even distracted as his two apprentices had been, there were very few people who could sneak up on them, of which Halt was one. 

“Halt!” Will said as he and Gilan both turned to face their mentor.

One glance at his students showed that neither had expected Halt to be here. After all, he was supposed to have still been at Morgarath’s stronghold.

“I’m sorry, Halt,” Will said, realizing a little belatedly that his mentor had obviously heard everything.

Halt’s steely gaze flicked away from Will when Gilan found his voice, caught on the substance of what their mentor had said first.

“Why can’t I fake Will’s death? It’s too late to stop the man who escaped, and I won’t let Will be hunted down for Morgarath’s pride.”     

Halt let out his breath, his arms uncrossing to hang loosely at his sides.

“It won’t work because Morgarath will sooner kill you than listen, Gilan. He found out about Malcolm’s little rebellion and it won’t be long until he finds out that you both were helping him.”

Though it hadn’t seemed possible, Will’s expression shuddered even further at that announcement.  

“Helping?” Gilan asked innocently.

Halt glared, not falling for it. “Yes, helping. Malcolm told me about your little project.”

“He did?”

“Apparently, he was under the misapprehension that I already knew about it. What he’s been doing: taking up the guise of Malkallam, stirring up the populace against Morgarath. That was never going to end well.  It turns out he was betrayed by someone he trusted, someone who was completely loyal to Morgarath. It won’t be long until it comes out that you two helped him: gave false reports to Morgarath about his movements to protect him. What were you both thinking?” He demanded.

“I was thinking that Malcolm is family,” Will admitted stubbornly.  

And Halt couldn’t argue the point. Will was right. As the years had passed, the bird-like healer had grown very close to them. 

“He needed help. I couldn’t just not help him.” 

For as long as they had known him, Malcolm had been the equivalent of a slave, captured and forced to serve at Morgarth’s whims. Halt knew that had never sat well with his two apprentices. All told, it really should not have come as a surprise that Will and Gilan had risked themselves to help him when Malcolm had managed to set himself up as Malkallam, rebellion leader among the suffering peasantry in Morgarath’s lands. Halt felt the anger slowly drain from him as he thought it. Though it just as quickly sparked again as he swung his gaze towards Gilan.  

“And I suppose that’s the same reason you decided to move past simply currying favor with the soldiers and the army?” He demanded, words scathing.

Halt saw Will shoot a confused glance between himself and Gilan. Halt knew Will was well aware that Gilan was often sent by Morgarath to lead his troops. Gilan was skilled at it, and the soldiers respected him—likely far more than they respected most of the other commanders like Foldar who cared nothing for their men’s safety and would stay behind, protected, during battle while they threw away the lives of their own men. Will, however, clearly didn’t see what Halt was upset about until he spoke again.

“I know it was you who got word to the 8th infantry and helped them escape.”

Will’s eyes widened, then widened further still when Gilan didn’t deny it. 

“I served with them for years. Their reward for those years of service and being among the most elite of Morgarath’s troops was a false accusation of treason followed by the guarantee of a painful death. And it was all for no other reason than Morgarath’s pride and paranoia at their strength.” Gilan was silent a moment before he looked Halt in the eyes. “The truth is, Morgarath was right to be paranoid—and now the 8th are indebted to me. And they aren’t the only ones. I’ve made connections and curried favor with several of the top divisions.”

“Did you ever stop to consider doing that was treason?” Halt demanded angrily.

Gilan looked genuinely confused by Halt’s fury, confused and frustrated. 

“I thought that was what you wanted me to do?”

Halt’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “You thought I wanted you to stage a military coup?”

“You can’t have expected that I would ever actually be loyal to Morgarath.” Gilan looked almost offended by the mere notion. “Especially not when you told me yourself that you weren’t loyal to him either—that you were just using him to get what you wanted.” The shadow of a vicious smile twisted his lips as he leaned forward. “Well, I wanted something too.” 

Halt felt his blood run cold, a horrible twisting sensation racing across his scars to settle in his chest. He couldn’t believe his ears. “You would betray our position here, everything we have worked for, for the sake of the Kingdom?”

Gilan’s eyebrows rose in surprised incredulity before drawing downward in anger. He shook his head adamantly.  

“I don’t care about the Kingdom and its politics; I care about us! Growing up with King Oswald, I saw nothing much better than Morgarath and we have suffered because of it. Training under you, I realized that the only way that we can truly stay safe and free from the wars, whims, and powerplay of others is to be the ones in power. And what about the people like us, those caught up in this and left to suffer and try to stay alive while other people play games with their lives?” 

Gilan hadn’t raised his voice but Halt felt himself flinch as if he had. Truth had a bite sharper even than hatred. It was something that had been whispering in the corners of his own mind, a whisper that had grown steadily louder as the years passed by. But now that it had been given voice, it was chilling. 

How many of those innocents ruled by Morgarath and King Duncan had loved ones they cared about as much as Halt cared about his apprentices? How many of those people had been like his little sister Caitlyn, who just wanted to live in peace and carve out some small measure of happiness from the world? 

Caitlyn had cared about people… so had Crowley. Halt closed his eyes as another truth rang in his mind…. He had started to care again too. As the years passed, he had slowly started to realize that not every person was a potential threat… and that there were things worth protecting—things far more precious than his own survival and safety. 

Gilan shook his head softly. “I wanted it all to stop, Halt. I’ve been moving pieces to that end ever since I was given my first command. But if the game is up for me as well before I could finish it, then so be it. Will and I will run together.”

“No.” Halt said firmly, stepping forward and placing a hand on each of his students’ shoulders and squeezing gently. “We will do what we can to help Malcolm and then we will all run together. Morgarath no longer has anything to offer me that I would value more than I value the two of you.”

They couldn’t defect to the Kingdom, that much was certain. People like them, ones who had served the enemy for so long would never truly be trusted. Once a traitor, always a traitor after all. Besides that, Halt had no desire to put himself at the service of a King—none of them would ever be worth trusting. 

But if they left the country entirely it would do nothing to solve the problems of the people here. They would have to try something different, and Halt thought then that they might just have the connections they might need to do so. They had the network for gathering information he and Will had set up in King Duncan’s land. They also had the networks that Gilan and Malcolm had set up in Morgarath’s lands. 

~x~X~x~

Crowley urged Cropper down the wooded path, coaxing as much speed from the little horse as he dared, considering the low light of the late hour. His mission was of some urgency after all. He needed to get to Baron Douglass of Highcliff Fief before first light if at all possible. The plea the Baron had sent to the King was nothing short of an emergency. If it was wholly accurate, it could spell disaster for the Kingdom as a whole. 

Baron Douglass was many things, but he’d never been one for undue panic or exaggeration. This was why he, and King Duncan, had decided it would be safest to respond immediately. Duncan had already mobilized a small force and they were only a day behind Crowley. His task had been to ride ahead and provide any necessary immediate assistance and gather all the necessary intel to send back to the army so they would be fully ready when they arrived. 

His mouth set itself in a grim line at the thought. Things had been relatively stable for the past year and he had no desire to return to the chaos and near constant warfare of the many years before. And this news was akin to an ill omen, boding its inevitable return. 

It had seemed for a while that they were on the back foot against Morgarath. Defeat had been all but guaranteed. All they had been doing was staving off the inevitable—something Crowley had been more than willing to do… up to his last breath. But then, things began to change. Morgarath’s kingdom had begun to destabilize, piece by piece. It had started with the peasants' Rebellion in Morgarath’s lands, and then with the disbanding and would-be execution of the 8th infantry. 

The 8th were of Morgaraths most elite troops. They, along with their commander, were the only unit in Morgarath’s army that had earned his grudging respect for their skill, discipline, intelligent tactics, and shocking lack of brutal, cruel, or dishonorable conduct when compared to any other of Morgarath’s divisions or commanders. He supposed that might well be the reason Morgarath had wanted to get rid of them. However, the 8th infantry escaped Morgarath’s judgment and had, along with some more disgruntled troops, joined the peasant uprising. This left Morgarath to fight a war on two fronts, from within and without.

But the change wasn’t just in Morgarath’s lands, it was in the King’s lands too. For them, however, it wasn’t destabilization but its opposite. Key generals of Morgarath’s had been taken out before or during battles. There had been destructive raids on enemy encampments and supply trains undertaken that they had not been a party to. There had been advanced warnings of attacks and plans given, along with the foiling of several assassination attempts. The few reports given back to him of those who had done it were vague, nothing more than rumors of a ‘hooded man’.  

And not everything had been on a large scale either. He’d heard more vague reports of people being helped or saved by a ‘hooded man’ all over the King's land and even Morgarath’s. After looking at the reports of these incidents, their locations, and timing, Crowley had come to the conclusion that this… vigilante… for lack of a better word, could not be one man alone, but rather two or three men working under the guise of the ‘hooded man’ to the same end. 

It could be that the ‘hooded man’ had started as one individual and the others were copycats. However, their actions and movements were too professional, consistent, and organized for that to be the case. To what ends the ‘hooded man’, or rather 'men', were operating, he was not yet certain. And that unsettled him almost as deeply as the means behind them. To have access to the amount of intelligence needed to pull all that off suggested an information and informant network that would rival that of the Rangers and Couriers combined. And that was a terrifying prospect. His only solace was that they did not seem to be currently acting against the interest of the Kingdom. 

He was pulled from his thoughts by a warning rumble from Cropper, some scent or sound causing the little horse to warn of potential danger. Alert now, his eyes were able to pick out the obstacle of several fallen trees and branches spanning the length of the highway ahead. A trap. He pulled Cropper to an immediate stop, turning his head to his left even as he began to wheel the little horse in that direction. 

Even amateur roadside bandits would know that most warriors were right-handed, and so they would give themselves an advantage to approach from the left, where a defender would have to wheel or reach awkwardly across to defend. They likely would try to block his retreat as well. 

Sure enough, he caught sight of movement from the left and behind. Crowley had an arrow knocked and aimed at the closest shadowed figure on his left, letting his arrow fly even as Cropper pivoted gracefully around. This gave him a larger view of the area. That was when he saw it. They weren’t just coming from the left and from behind, they were coming from all sides and there were far more of them than he had anticipated. Even in the moonlight, he could see that they were also far better armed and armored than any average highwayman group had any right to be. 

These men were soldiers. Crowley’s next arrow felled another man and he had only just enough time to roll from his horse’s saddle in order to avoid the quarrel flung towards him from one of the three crossbowmen he could make out. He fell and heard the bolt hum past his ear. He hit the ground in a recovery roll and rose smoothly into a crouch, another arrow drawn aimed, and fired at his enemies, first to one side of the road and then the other. The crossbowman fell along with a swordsman. 

That was when reflective defense gave way to grim understanding. Even with a Ranger’s speed and accuracy, he knew there were too many, and he had no cover. Another bolt whizzed past his face, opening a gash across his cheek in its flight. Cropper reared and kicked in a desperate attempt to protect his master from the approaching men, but it wasn’t enough. Crowley set his teeth then, determined that if this was going to be his end, his attackers would pay dearly for it. 

Then suddenly, several of the men nearest him fell in quick succession. He could see the glisten of a broadhead arrow protruding from one of the bodies, along with the clothyard shaft from a longbow—vastly distinct from the short quarrels of his adversaries. 

It gave Crowley the space and breath he needed to rally, and move to some cover. He once more aimed and shot at blinding speed. The unseen archer that had come to his aid was dropping as many enemies as quickly as he did, if not quicker. Ranger-level shooting, his mind supplied. And it was exemplary Ranger-level shooting at that.

From behind their respective cover, he and his ally were able to take on the last of the soldiers until the clearing was once again silent. Hearing and seeing nothing of the strange ally that had come to his aid, he was about to open his mouth to address the night at large when a voice spoke first. 

“Baron Douglass of Highcliff Fief is working for Morgarath—has been for some years now, in secret.”

Crowley easily pinpointed the voice’s location in the dark, turning swiftly in that direction, bow still partially drawn for the sake of caution. Having honestly expected one of the voices of his Rangers, he was taken a little aback. The voice did strike a chord in his memory, but not enough to belong to one of the men he’d been working closely with and leading for the past 10 years. 

As he watched, he saw a figure slowly melt into view, once again unsettlingly Ranger-like in his movements. His right hand was raised in a gesture of peace, his left hand still clutching his strung longbow. His shape was reminiscent of a Ranger as well. His ally was a cloaked and hooded man… perhaps one of the ‘hooded men’. 

“Morgarath’s been getting pretty desperate lately. And all this was his idea of a trap… an assassination attempt.”

“Damn near successful too,” Crowley said with some feeling before adding, the thanks apparent in his words, “if not for you.”  

The hooded man offered a nod of acknowledgment. Despite Crowley’s genuine gratitude at the man's intervention, there was something about him that whispered in warning in the back of his mind. It was something that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Something wasn’t right. But he had precious little time to dwell on it as the man turned to make his leave. 

“How did you find out about this? Do you have any proof of what you said about Douglass and Morgarath?” he asked then, his words stopping the man’s planned retreat. 

The hooded man stopped, offering only a shrug as he turned back around to face him.

“Who else knew that you’d be on the road this late?” he asked eventually instead of answering. “These were clearly no simple highwaymen. If it's physical evidence you need, you might find it if you search the bodies for correspondence, or got a confession from one who is still alive.”

The man’s voice was quiet, the barest edge of a Hibernian burr lilting the words in a way that was… so familiar. That was when it hit him; the recognition caused a pit to open up in his stomach even as an old pain flared up near his heart.

The hooded man, the one who had been destabilizing Morgarath’s holdings, aided the kingdom, and assisted the peasantry on both sides of the war. Crowley knew him. His fingers flexed on his bow, undecided whether or not to draw it further back. This man was his enemy… but he had not always been. This man had wreaked havoc on the King's land… but he had also just saved Crowley’s life. 

“Halt,” he said, the name coming out tight with a painful mix of emotions he could not hold back.

“Crowley,” came the quiet reply, his words thick with an emotion of his own.

A soft breeze rustled the forest branches overhead as they faced each other, a question unanswered riding with the breath of the wind.

[that-one-enby-ranger]

For the trick or treat fic fest: a trick with Halt please :D

I'm gonna take this as an opportunity to write a shorter version of a story I've wanted to write for a while now.

Halt winced in pain as he moved his leg slightly. The wound he had gotten during his fight with the kalkara would leave him unable to do some things for a while. Good thing he had an apprentice.

Speaking of his apprentice, Will know approached him eagery seeing that his mentor was awake.

"Halt, you're awake!" Will said happily, moving to kneel beside the ranger.

"You're observation skills are as keen as ever," Halt replied dryly. He tried to move into a better sitting position but winced a second time as more pain shot up his leg. Will noticed and was immediately on alert.

"Are you alright? Do you need any help?"

"I'm fine. I've had worse you know." Willnodded and backed off a little, but only a little bit. His eyes were still filled with worry and body was tense, ready to spring into action at any sign of danger.

Halt's gaze roamed around the campsite. He noticed Baron Arald resting nearby and Sir Rodney organising some equipment but he ignored them. The only thing he really payed attention to was the ruins of castle Gorlan. For the first time since he arrived he only just seemed to process where he was.

And with the location came some memories.

"I'll be back," Halt muttered to Will, and painfully tried to stand.

"Where are you going?" Will asked. He was a little worried that Halt wouldn't be strong enough to walk and wanted to help support him, but didn't know if his teacher would accept it.

"Not far." Halt's two word reply was.

"Are you sure thats a good idea?" Will asked. Halt looked at him, annoyed, but Will continued. "You only just woke up and you're injured."

"I'll be fine," Halt said firmly. He stood up the rest of the way and steadied himself for a couple seconds. He had a headache and his vision darkened slightly but soon went back to normal. Will was right, he knew. It wasn't smart to be moving around so soon. But there was something he needed to see. He could still see that was Will was worried.

"There's a path somewhere over there," Halt explained. He pointed to an area towards the back of the ruins. Looking closer, Will could see that the bushes and trees seperated a little into somehting that looked like ti could be a path. "There's something through there I want to see," Halt continued. "If I'm not back in half an hour you can come look for me, alright?" Will nodded his agreement. He still felt anxious but calmed little at the plan.

Slowly and painfully, Halt limped his way towards the path. Rodney noticed and looked up but didn't say anything. He had heard what happened at this sight around sixteen years ago and had a pretty good idea at where Halt was going.

It took Halt about ten minutes to get to where he wanted to go, and now he had to stop to take a breath. His fucked leg really was a problem. Once more of the pain subsided, he took a couple more steps forward.

In front of him was a small log that had been embeded into the ground years ago. It was rotting away and had moss covering most of it, but there were some letters carved into that was still slightly visible.

an P tc

Anyone who didn't know what the log represented wouldn't have a clue what the barely discernible letters meant. But Halt knew what they meant. He had carved them there sixteen years ago.

Sixteen years ago in that very spot, Halt had found his mentor Pritchard, lying dead in the grass, multiple stab wounds in his body. He had been with Arald at the time and the two of them had buried his body there, knowing they couldn't move it with them. Halt had found a log and carved the words:

Ranger Pritchard

Halt sat down in front of the grave now. It had been years since he had been here. That wasn't surprising. His job was too busy to go on trips to old mentor gravesights, and he had no work to do in Gorlan. Still, it would have been nice to be able to visit at least once. To be able to pay more respects to the man who had trained him, taught him to be brave and defend himself and who Halt had grown to care about more than his own father.

Minutes seemed to pass by in a flash as halt stared at the grave. Tears started to blur his vision but none of them fell. Before Pritchard had been killed it seemed impossible to imagine a life without him. Then all of a sudden Halt had to cope with everything. At least he had Crowley. But then they had to seperate as their jobs took them different ways. That had been one of the worst parts about the entire experience. Not having Crowley there.

Halt hadn't been keeping track of time properly but he had a feeling it had been a while and Will would come looking for him soon. He slowly stood up and prepared to endure more torture as he made his way back to camp. But just as he was about to leave, some dull caught his eye.

Laying in the grass a couple of feet away lay an old battered chain, with an oakleaf attached to it. Halt ran as best as he could over to it and eagerly picked it up. The oakleaf was a bit bent out of shape and rusting from years of being exposed to the weather, but Halt knew it was Pritchard's. When they had found the body, they didn't find his necklace, but Halt never thought anything of it. Who knew it had been here the whole time?

A couple tears were falling down Halt's face now and he wiped them away, pocketing the oakleaf. He had to show Crowley when he saw him.

Halt looked up as he heard the sound of some leaves rustling and saw Will appear.

"Good, you're alright," he said.

"Of course I am," Halt replied, suddenly relieved he had wiped the tears when he did. "I said I'd be fine. I was just about to come back."

Will didn't seem to be paying attention. He was looking at the grave behind Halt with curiosity.

"What is this place?"

"It's just a place. Let's go."

I don't know if Halt would be able to physically walk that well but I don't care. Hope you liked it and hoped it was angsty enough for you.

I put this shit on A03:

[forgedroyalseal]

This is precious

04: Delight

Will hikes a babbling Maddie up further on his hip, smiling softly. Maddie reaches a chubby hand up to close in a fist around a lock of Will’s hair, tugging on it.

“Ah, ah, Maddie let go.” Wills tells her as sternly as he can manage (which isn’t very stern at all)

Maddie smiles and pulls on it again, giggling. Will gently unclenches her fist and moves his hair out of her grasp.

Will sets her down on the counter for a moment to tie his hair back in a short pony tail and Maddie stares at him in betrayal.

Her face screws up as she wails and Will heaves a sigh before picking her up again. He tries gently rocking her and then offering her a bottle, but nothing works.

He tugs a strand of hair out of his ponytail and dangles it in front of Maddie, allowing her to grab it. She instantly calms down and her face lights up in delight as she squeezes.

Despite himself, Will chuckles.

[missterwild]

My current to-do list for the newest piece for the Ranger's Apprentice actors AU - it's a video-style written story

There's probably more to add, but that's what I have for now

[caffeineinducedbeing]

Ranger Gathering 2024: Mentor

TW: Drunkeness, gambling, unconventional use of alcohol, mention of vomiting

---

The knock on the door came loud and uneven, shattering the moment of rare silence that Halt was just settling into. Startled, the older ranger rose from his chair, a book slipping from his lap. An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he made his way toward the entry hall, he had been moments away from calling it a night, it had been a long day of endless negotiations with a stubborn ambassador, negotiations which probably would've been settled within hours if his wife had been here, but Pauline was away on a mission in Greenfield.

So who in Gorlog's name could possibly be bothering him at this hour...

As he opened the door, his eyes widened only slightly in surprise. Will Treaty, in all his disastrous glory, stood there, leaning heavily on the doorframe, his clothes disheveled and his eyes glassy.

"Will?" Halt began, his voice a mix of concern and confusion. "What--"

"Tadaa!" Will slurred, clearly intoxicated, but holding up a document like a trophy.

Halt stared for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his former apprentice, "You're drunk," he finally stated, eyebrows knitting together, and his jaw clenching.

"Drunk and successful," Will replied, swaying slightly as he tried to keep his balance. "I got the trades."

Halt's eyes flicked to the document Will was waving around, and his eyebrow flew up. "And how, may I ask, did you accomplish that?"

Will grinned, a lopsided, almost childlike smile. "People are willing to give you anything after a few shots of whiskey."

Halt sighed deeply, stepping aside to let Will in. "Come in before you fall over."

Will released the doorframe and probably would've fallen over had Halt's strong arms not been there to guide him inside, his feet stumbled underneath him and he plopped down on a chair with a heavy thud.

Halt sighed, "so much for an early night." he mumbled, closing the door and turning to his former apprentice, shaking his head in disbelief, in all his years...

"Alright, let's see this so-called success," Halt said, reaching for the document.

Will handed it over, his movements sluggish. Halt unfolded the parchment and scanned the contents. To his astonishment, it was indeed the trade agreement they had been trying to secure for weeks.

"I can't believe this," Halt muttered, reading through the details. "You actually got it."

Will grinned, his head lolling back against the chair. "Told you... successful."

Halt set the document on the table and looked back at Will, who was now struggling to keep his eyes open.

"Have you had water?"

"Uhhh..."

"I'll take that as a no, stay here"

Halt returned quickly with a glass filled with ice water, "drink." he said sharply.

"So demanding..." Will mumbled into the glass

"So lemme get this straight, you just went out for drinks with the ambassador who, just a few hours ago, had refused to even attempt a bargain with us 'pesky rangers' because we 'always had a knack for cutting others short for our own gain...'"

He trailed off as he watched Will nod heavily a few times, eyes still fixed on the water glass in his hand.

"But after a few shots with him--"

"--and a game of dice" Will blanched slightly as if he were about to be sick, and Halt involuntarily took a step back.

"You gambled..."

Will shrugged as the older ranger released a deep sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"Ugh, Will...."

"Whaat? It did the job, I got the trades!"

"And you lost your head doing it"

"I knew you would be mad at me..."

"Will I'm not--" He sighed in frustration, "I'm not mad at you. You're a grown man, you can get drunk if you very well feel like it, I'm just concerned because you compromised not just your reputation, but the very state of our mission here. What if you hadn't secured those agreements...?"

Will didn't say anything, his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes filled with tears.

Halt's stern expression immediately melted. "Will..."

"You didn't stick up for me. He had me backed into a corner today, and you didn't say anything. And when I tried giving you my opinion after the meeting, you didn't listen! You never listen!"

"Will--"

"you don't care about me..." Will mumbled.

"I think you're in no state to assess that right now, more water." Halt brought the glass back up to his former apprentice's lips.

"I should've listened, Will, and that was my mistake. I was wrong, and I should've stuck up for you in that meeting. I'm sorry."

the apology was blunt, but it was to the point, and precisely how Halt usually delivered things like this. And precisely the method that usually works on his former apprentice.

Halt finished, "Although just a note for next time, this is not the best way to get my attention, nor to prove me wrong."

"Ok, I'm sorry Halt."

"Don't apologize" Halt said, purposely trying to be as gentle as possible, Will seemed incredibly fragile right now, as if his drunken state had only heightened his sensitivity to any harsh spoken word.

"You also do realize this isn't exactly the method we usually employ for negotiations, right?"

Will chuckled, his voice slurred. "Worked, didn't it?"

Halt couldn't help but smile wryly at the young man. "Yes, it appears that it did. This time. But next time, let's try to get the job done without the whiskey, and without the gambling, alright?"

Will nodded, his eyelids drooping. "Sure thing, Halt."

Halt shook his head again, running his hand through the young man's hair, and checking his forehead for any possible signs of fever, alcohol poisoning was no joke, and something that Halt definitely did not want to deal with tonight.

But although Will was flushed, he was fever-free.

So Halt stood and made his way over to the couch, grabbing the wool blanket that was always hung over the top. He crouched by the chair which Will had flung himself in and draped the quilt over him.

"Sleep it off," Halt said softly. "We'll talk more in the morning."

Will, who was already half asleep, mumbled something incoherent, as Halt stood and walked toward his own bedroom, turning back around at the last second to say, "And don't be sick on the chair please, Pauline will kill me."

But the young ranger was already out.

Halt continued to watch him for a moment, a mixture of fondness and exasperation in his expression.

"Drunk and successful, what am I gonna do with you?" Halt muttered to himself, shaking his head with a wry smile.

He picked up his book from the floor, glancing once more at Will before he snuffed out the candles and picked his way in the dark toward his room, the wry smile still on his face as he listened to the soft snores of his former apprentice filling the room.

[peithopathos]

I made crack-treated-seriously catboy Will sickfic where more than half of the content is just Halt flipping out because his apprentice just grew fucking cat ears.

an illustration

Its 5000 words and growing.

[name-s-are-not-important]

He's perfect! Love the freckles and his style!

Tbh I’m thinking about making him Pritchard's family/close to him in some other way, so Crowley and Halt wouldn’t be brothers if Pritchard unofficialy adopted Halt... but the idea of Crowley being adopted as well is very good, it would be something new for sure as well!

He's amazing, thank you!

(Also sorry for the late response, it was a middle of the night lol)

@name-s-are-not-important Crowley has been designed!! Gonna take a break to hang out with my dad, but I quite like this one!

I realized I had kinda assumed that Crowley had been adopted by Pritchard, and that you never actually said that, but I liked the idea so I put it on there

I'm thinking of making Pauline from America but in England on an exchange student program for college, but idk yet

[forgedroyalseal]

Ranger’s Apprentice Social Media AU

Season Five

pt One

[name-s-are-not-important]

I saw someone doing it so I’m joining with the memes for my fanfiction, and here is 'the Iron Song' in memes (spoiler free or out of context enough to not count them as spoiler)

[musings-of-a-maladaptive-dream]

I’m curious about stuff again specifically for people who like to read.

I put both girls and boys just to see if there’s a difference. And if you are trans or genderqueer please do think as to what gender you considered yourself at the age you started reading and not your current chosen gender.

[halts-sassy-ass]

RANGERS! I have written a one-shot fic based off a prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting 's February daily prompt list <3 I love your prompt lists sooo so much!!!! Thank you for always putting the effort and time and love that you do into your master lists and prompts! They always get my imagination rolling.

The prompt was "love letters," and it's about horace and Cassandra and how they write each other love letters. That's all.

@lancelitttle thank you for being my beta reader <3 I will always pester you with my obsessions!

Behold! A link!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63173629

[iwanttobepersephone]

I HAVE AN IDEA FOR A FANFIC CAN SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE IT

Ok, so, we all kinda agree that Crowley grew up on a farm, right? Everyone I've mentioned that to agrees that he gives off those vibes, and I do love that idea.

Imagine Crowley going back to help on his parents farm for a week or something and Halt tags along too

#1 the difference between farm boy and crown prince would become even more obvious and hilarious

#2 Halt would be DROOLING any time Crowley handles live animals of any kind

And also here's some concept doodles to convince people even further. I came up with this concept doing yardwork and almost immediately went "Oh the people would love that"

[rangergathering]

Welcome to the second Ranger Gathering Assessment

This is a short, two week challenge that every person in the fandom is encouraged to participate in. You are allowed to post Ranger's Apprentice or Brotherband content to the tag #gathering assessment, and we will share your work here! Make sure you follow each assessment's guidelines carefully, and post by the deadline.

Assessment Two: Location Challenge

Your job is to write a piece of fiction regarding the location provided below:

Seacliff

You may write a one shot, chapter fic, or any other genre of fanfiction you choose. You may include any characters or tropes, but it must include the location in some way to be included in the challenge. Feel free to post on tumblr or AO3, as long as you let us know in some way that you've posted for this challenge. Good luck, apprentices!

Submission Deadline is November 15