Chapter Text
Late, late one night in Castle Araluen, Halt and Crowley were still awake. For once there was no crisis, no emergency, no enemies to hunt or people to save. They sat by the fire in Crowley’s chambers, empty coffee mugs on the floor by their armchairs, cloaks left on the hooks by the door. They’d been reminiscing, and despite all these years of what Halt now recognized as family, it still felt odd to have happy memories to look back on. So many of his earliest had been tainted, after all.
Silence fell after the latest story. Crowley’s eyes were half shut as he stared into the fire, and in this light Halt could almost image his hair hadn’t gone gray, that the shadows on his face were from firelight and not wrinkles, and that perhaps this peace, peace he’d never thought he could have, had come so much earlier in his life, years but not decades after he’d left his first home behind.
How was it that he never realized what he had until he’d almost lost it? He still had nightmares where a wolfship disappeared over the horizon and salt water soaked him to the bone, nothing but the wind and waves where his apprentice should have been. He’d gotten another chance there, but it had always felt a half-chance, a chance at repair but not redemption. Will was grown, now, and Halt couldn’t be more proud of the man he’d become. Yet he couldn’t help but wonder, still. Wish, and dream, and wonder, and long for the days when Will had been too small for a longbow, too young to be anywhere but right by Halt’s side, safe in his shadow.
Halt snorted to himself, or perhaps at himself. He really was becoming sentimental in his old age. The temptation to shake himself and move on, like he always would have, opened up before him. But really, what was growing old for if not to earn a little sappiness in his life? He was hardly going to start crying at weddings (unless they were particularly important) so what could a little sentiment hurt?
Crowley stirred in his chair, blinking hard and yawning harder. “Definitely not so young as I used to be,” he murmured, quiet enough to be a comment and not conversation. His eyes stayed on the fire a moment longer, and he smiled a somewhat sheepish smile.
“I’m sure you’ll laugh at me for this one,” he said, “but I’m asking anyway. If you had it all to do over again, Halt, what would you change?”
“I’d have put an arrow in Morgarath the first chance I got, honor and politics be damned,” Halt said.
Snorting, Crowley shook his head. “Should have known you’d say that.” A few moments of silence, then: “I think I’d have trained an apprentice. I always told myself there was too much work as Commandant, this it wouldn’t be fair to whoever I trained, but now…well, I can’t help but think that I could have found the time, and that it would have been worth it.”
Halt had no answer to that, and so silence fell again. His mind turned, once again, to his own regrets. Oddly enough, it wasn’t his worst failures that came to mind. Not the wolfship, this time, not conversations avoided or frustration left unchecked. Not even Pauline, and all the years he’d spent telling himself he wouldn’t be good for her.
No, no it was that first innocent year that returned to him, early summer to late spring. He’d spent all those months walking the finest line, trying to be what Will needed without usurping the place Daniel should have taken in his son’s life. It had taken too long for Halt to realize how foolish that had been.
“I would have hugged Will more, too,” he said quietly. Across the fire from him, Crowley didn’t so much as twitch. Truly asleep, then.
Halt leaned his head back and shut his own eyes, the strangest cocktail of love and regret swirling inside of him. He’d done the best he could, he knew that, so why these emotions now?
No matter. He’d blame the late hour, sleep til morning, and the new day would bring something close to new courage. Perhaps the next time he saw Will he’d say something about this, not too strong but still honest, and perhaps then, perhaps then, he could leave this lingering regret behind.