Title: Trouble
Rating: T for Teens
Warning: Character death, Depression, lots of uncomfortable parental talk.
Summary:
Being a problem sometimes makes it difficult to look at yourself objectively and to not get in more trouble. Harry discovers this in a bit more personal terms.
The first time Harry Whitehorse had gotten in trouble, in Dhangrest, was when he was ten years old. Late, he knows, but he hadn't anticipated it working that way. After his parent's deaths, his mother's on the road to Dhangrest and his father's during a monster attack in Zaphias, Harry didn't have a lot of time before then to be a nuisance. So, he made up for it when he did.
Snatching a piece of bread (he'd thrown the gald at the woman's storefront, but his quick escape made him look guilty of something) and he'd gotten mightily scolded for the behavior. His grandfather, however, had been unable to stop the grin he had the entire conversation between them.
The twinkle in his eye, the bemusement of such an inexperienced child pranking someone, fully paying for their items, was just hilarious to the older man.
So Harry took the scolding with a grain of salt and he did it again. And again. And again. The retainers who looked after him called Harry a nightmare, and his grandfather just laughed them all off.
At the end of the day, his grandfather would always, always, hug him and tell him he was a good kid. That reward was enough for the blond. But, as his childish antics grew in size and complexity (all for that smile, all for that grin, to be noticed by the man's large shadow,) the harder it was to turn his eye, and the harder it was to be liked by the people around him.
Pranking people messed with a great many guildie's trusts of the young guild member, dismissing his offers or comments or ideas as just some prank.
It got so bad, Harry at one point couldn't hold himself back. Attacking someone in a bar, hot-headed and angry, he didn't think of the consequences and he was shouting. A fist slammed into his cheek, his nose, ribs, everything ached. And the next time his grandfather looked at him, there was no smile, no playful nudging, just a disappointed stare.
Harry needed to be serious.
But he still got in trouble. For different things, now. For being too serious, for not getting jokes, for being a spoilsport, for not liking the work thrust onto him and needing to loosen up. Harry thought it unfair but didn't comment, only focusing on where he could.
And when his grandfather brought up the idea of him becoming the next Guild Leader in Altosk, Harry balked.
He got in trouble for that, too. Shouting at his grandfather (he'd come home that evening, they'd actually eaten together for once,) and being told he was being a spoiled child. And for sure! Maybe he was. But, the idea of running the guilds meant that something had to happen to his grandfather, and that was not an idea Harry wanted to entertain.
Donnic "Don" Whitehorse was invincible, what could possibly happen to him to dethrone him from his rightful place helping and leading Dhangrest and the Union.
Harry.
Harry motherfucking Whitehorse could happen.
He hadn't ever done anything this reckless before, and Harry had done some very reckless things. He'd gotten intel, something big, very big, and he had to make a snap decision. If he did nothing, he was risking the lives of maybe a hundred or so people at the Coliseum.
He made his choice and took his bets.
And now here he was. Sitting inside of an empty house that would never be filled again.
Harry Whitehorse messed up a great deal, but this wasn't something he was used to. Women called him too serious and aloof, other guild members would comment how he was too unreliable and unrealistic, his family would argue he's a good kid.
Emphasis on kid.
Walking out of the house, Harry wanted to be anywhere but there. And so that happened. Harry opting out of staying at his home for Sagittarius or the Guild Hall. He ignored mistakes he made, pushed forward with treaties, and made sure that he could get his footing in the door. He had to. He had to…
Raven was back in town.
They didn't discuss what happened.
He showed up and Harry was just expected to act like it was normal. So he did. Until he got a few drinks in him and winded up punching a guy in the teeth for sneering at him for not punishing his Guild for leaving him. He didn't need the reminder. Unfortunately, Harry was caught after a few swings, and both Harry and the guy were dragged away from one another before either could get fully hurt.
The guy'd gotten a couple good shots, but Harry knew he left a good wallop of his own.
Sitting inside the infirmary, chewing idly on a gel, a sigh could be heard as a voice with a thick accent commented lightly towards someone on the other side. Harry didn't need to see who it was.
They stopped talking, and one pair of footsteps walked away, leaving the second outside his door, just beyond his sight.
"So, what's my damage, old man, or did ya run off again?"
Silence.
"Aw, c'mon. No, what were you thinking, or, you should know better by now."
There was a shifting of cloth. Raven's cloak. Harry could tell by the way the material moved. His grandfather had given Raven the schematics for that thing, even if he'd made some personal edits to it. Making it thicker, working more as a cover for armor. But it was unique to Raven, and the soft ticking of the knife at his belt as he shuffled with the layers of fabric said everything.
Even if Harry couldn't see him do any of it.
He just imagined Raven's face. Disgruntled, frustrated. Assuming the worst (everyone did, everyone always made assumptions now,) and thinking of what was best to punish this ignorant-
"Is that what this's all about?"
Harry kicked his feet, leaning elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor.
"You attacked someone because you were angry at me."
He sounded frustrated. As if it was such a juvenile thing to be upset about. And maybe it was, but Harry didn't care about that. Being juvenile, he was seventeen (eighteen, eighteen now.) He wasn't supposed to make all of these decisions, be in charge of all of these peoples.
His grandfather was.
Harry's fingers balled up tightly into fists, nails digging into the palm of his hand. Raven still hadn't even come into sight. Just standing there. All mightier than Harry, as if he was so much better, so much greater than Harry.
"I-"
"You're in charge of a lotta people now, Harry. You don't have time for these type of outbursts."
Harry bit the inside of his cheek sharply. It tasted like blood. Not surprising, he'd bitten the cheek that had a pretty bad bruise.
"Goddess, you're the fifth cog in the Union, how do you think that shows the rest of the world how we react when we can't even keep our Guild Leader from punching some random shmuck."
"He insulted me."
"Great, so a Guild Leader who can't take criticism-"
"He said I should have kicked you out a long time ago and found a replacement."
Silence.
There was a deep breath pulled into Raven's lungs, audible before he heard footsteps. Slowly, Harry glanced up from around long blond bangs. Looking up towards Raven.
"I was angry 'cuz he's right."
Raven was looking at him curiously now. Brows furrowed, mouth pressed together, arms crossed. He was waiting for an explanation. For why the guy was right, why should he be kicked out, if Harry was going to kick him out? Harry was, after all, still (now) the Guild Leader. He was, for all intents and purposes, The Don.
Licking chapped lips, Harry's gaze lowered again. "I thought you were dead for a while. Ya didn't 'zactly try ta come back. Or send a letter. Or make it known you were on a mission. And no report I had claimed differently." He could feel Raven's eyes, staring through his bandages, as if assessing if Harry had any right to tell him any of this.
A stupid brat who'd just gotten into a fist fight, telling him …
"Then when you did come back, no report, no words, you just were and everythin' went back to normal." Or as normal as it could be, now. "I didn' know what ta do. I thought ta ask, but you don't 'zactly seem ta stick. Hurryin' off after mission reports you need to be there on."
Whatever connection they had before. The small stupid things Harry liked to do, the randomly meeting at the house for dinner, staying close, keeping an eye on him. It was gone. All of it.
Why did he expect anything different?
Was it because of what happened to his grandfather?
Was it because Harry was so incompetent that Raven couldn't bear to watch?
Harry shuffled back, his ribs hurt, but he curled one leg up close, wrapping his arms around it and leaning his chin against it.
"So, what are ya gonna do about it?"
Harry didn't speak. He didn't have an answer. He didn't want to fire Raven, he was too instrumental, and he did his job well. He knew what he was doing because of experience and time and … well, Harry would, unfortunately, admit his emotional connection with Raven skewed his perspective. Harry didn't want Raven gone.
"Dunno." It sounded defeated, even to Harry's own ears. "Sorry to have bothered you, I guess." Sorry, only because he was supposed to say it. Raven would know that. "You don't have to be here now. I can take care of myself."
He could. Harry's been made to do so for a good chunk of time now.
"Stupid brat…" The words, despite Harry knowing that's what he thought, stung. Shuffling, Raven patted Harry's leg to move the boy over, settle down next to him. "...I figured we'd have ta do this sometime. So much trouble on these ol' bones."
But he was hoping he could avoid it.
The thought was unavoidable as Harry shifted over to allow for his mentor (that is what Raven was, in simplest terms,) and let him get comfortable for them to talk.