The sun blazed hot and high in the sky as Will reined in Tug at the Battleschool's training grounds and dismounted. He set an affectionate hand on his horse, patting his neck. Words could not describe how happy he was to have Tug once more. He had taken to Will just as quickly as he had the first time - maybe even quicker, but then, Will was biased this time around. In any case, it was a relief. Everything else in his life was off: his body, his training, his friends, his master, his future. Tug was Will's only solace. It had gotten to the point where Halt had begun making dry remarks about Will being part-horse, or better, Tug's long-lost brother.

Tug tossed his neck. Aren't you going to go talk to Horace? he seemed to ask.

A few days ago, Will had woken out of a dead sleep due to a nightmare: watching helplessly as Halt and Horace and Evanlyn died over and over. Will had stolen out of Halt's house and ran to Tug. Through tears, he had told his horse everything: that he was from the future, that he had already lived through all of this, that he had watched all his closest friends die and now had to act as though it had never happened. Tug now knew everything. He was the only one who knew everything.

"Of course I am," Will told him. "It's just...it's just hard. You understand, don't you?"

Tug nudged Will gently. He gave Will a slow, understanding blink. I do. You know you still have to do it, though.

Will sighed. "Yeah. I know. Hopefully he won't attack me on sight, yeah?"

Tug snorted.

Will half-smiled and turned around. He took a deep breath and strode forward.

Halt and Will had timed it right, it seemed, because the cadets were just beginning to break off and drift away from the training dummies. The instructors walked off together in a group, while the older cadets drifted off in trios and pairs and the younger ones trudged off by themselves, having not yet made close friends. Will spotted Horace easily, if only because he was the only one who was still training. Will frowned as he watched. Horace seemed distracted, glancing around him every few sword-strokes. He must be afraid that Jerome and the others are going to attack him, Will realized. A hot ember of anger burned in his chest. How he wished that he were seventeen once more. He would destroy them.

As he came to the edge of the training grounds, Will hesitated. He was still far enough away that Horace wasn't aware of his presence; if he went any closer, he risked Horace hearing him. This was Will's last chance to back out.

Should he? It would be so much easier. Will would not have to look into the younger face of his once-friend, a boy who now despised him. Will knew he could deal with Horace if the boy tried to attack him, whether with fists or with a sword. That didn't mean Will wanted to deal with that, though. If Horace attacked him, Will thought he might have a breakdown.

But no. Will steeled himself. This was the right thing to do. No matter how unpleasant Horace was right now, he was still Will's friend - even if he didn't know it yet. Will needed to talk to Horace to find out what was going on. Ideally, he would be able to get Horace to slip up and reveal something about the bullies. Then, Will could bring it up to Halt. Hopefully, the man's sense of justice was great enough that he would agree to investigate it, and then - bam - Horace would be saved and those worthless excuses of human beings would be exiled from the fief, never to return.

He nodded. Yes. That was exactly what he hoped would happen.

Will started forward towards Horace. Predictably, once he got within a few yards, Horace stopped and cocked his head, listening. Will stepped on a twig and Horace spun around, training sword raised.

"Woah!" Will reared back, lifting his hands in surrender. "It's just me."

"Will?" Horace gaped at him, but lowered his sword. "What on earth are you doing here?"

Well, Horace wasn't being actively hostile. That was something. Will relaxed and shuffled a bit. "Well...I was in the area. Halt has some business with the Baron, so I thought I would drop by and...I dunno. See what Battleschool was like."

Horace straightened up proudly. "It's wonderful."

Well, that's definitely a lie, Will thought dryly.

Horace continued, with a bit of a sneer, "Still crying about your missed opportunity, No-Name?"

Will shrugged, keeping his expression nonchalant. Being called 'No-Name' would never cease to hurt, but Will kept it from showing. "Not really. I like my master and I like training. I think I'll enjoy being a Ranger. How about you? Is training going well?"

Horace blinked, taken aback. Not only had Will not responded to Horace's jabs, he'd also asked about how Horace was doing. As far as Will could remember, in their turbulent relationship at the Ward, that had been a rarity indeed. "Um...it's alright - it's great!"

"That's good to hear," Will said easily. "Making friends?"

Horace's shoulders tensed. He instantly became defensive. "What's that matter to you? What, are you jealous? Sad that Rangers don't have any friends?"

Will laughed at that, though he quickly regretted it when Horace became even more defensive. "Halt certainly doesn't have a lot of friends, no. He seems fine with me having them, though."

"Except you don't," Horace pointed out, rather meanly.

That hurt. Again, Will shrugged it away. "There's always time to make some. Where are yours? It'd be cool to meet them. Learn about the Battleschool and all."

He'd thought that he might be able to soothe Horace with a little flattery, but instead Horace tensed further, thinking that Will was making fun of him. "They're not around right now. Why do you care? We're not friends."

Will flinched and looked away. The next words came out of his mouth unbidden. "We could be."

He was met with silence and turned back to see Horace staring at him, flabbergasted. "Why would you want to be my friend?"

Horace tried to sound angry, even disdainful, but his voice wobbled at the end. He flushed and opened his mouth to say something else.

Will beat him to it. "I like you, Horace. I know we haven't always been on good terms, but...we're apprentices now. We'll be adults soon. Can't we put our childish squabbles behind us now?"

For a moment, Horace just looked at him. His eyes were bright and disbelieving. Will felt a spark of hope flare in his chest, wondering if perhaps his words had gotten through. Horace opened his mouth to speak...

"Who's that you're talking to, Baby?"

Both Will and Horace tensed. Will whipped his head around to look. In the distance, just turning around one of the dormitory buildings, were three figures. They were too far away to make out, but Will already knew their names and faces. Them. Jerome, Alda, and Bryn. It was instinct to reach for his bow. He had nocked an arrow to it in a single breath.

"Will, you need to go," Horace hissed to him in an undertone. He set a hand onto Will's shoulders and pushed, none too gently.

Will raised his eyes to Horace's face. It was ashen white and scared. Will's blood heated. How dare these three bullies hurt his friend? He shrugged away from Horace's hand and went to raise his bow, but Horace persisted.

"Will, go," he said urgently. He swallowed. The fear was turning him sour, like milk turning rancid. "It's not like - it's not like I'd want to be your friend anyway! I don't want you around. Just leave now, before my - my real friends get here."

As angry as he tried to look, Horace's throat still caught at the last part.

"Your real friends?" Will said. His tone surprised him. It was hard and angry. "Do real friends make you scared like that?"

"I'm not scared!" Horace rounded on him and shoved him away, rougher. Will stumbled back. "You - you worthless piece of dung, just leave!"

Will regained his balance and set his jaw. "I'm not leaving. My offer of friendship stands, and I don't let my friends get hurt." He drew back his bow, aiming towards the approaching figures.

Horace stiffened in shock. "What are you - what are you doing?"

"I told you. They're hurting you, aren't they?" Will turned his head to look Horace in the eyes. "I will not let them hurt you again."

Horace swallowed, eyes bright. "Will..."

Jerome's voice cut across him. "Aw, does the Baby have a friend?"

Horace clenched his teeth, shaking his head. He grabbed Will's arm, forcing him to lower his bow. "How dumb are you? I told you to leave! Leave, Will! Leave, before - before..." He swallowed, and Will again saw the terror in him. "Before they do it to you too."

There! Will thought. It was almost a confession. He seized on it, turning to Horace, silently begging Jerome and Alda and Bryn to take just a few moments longer. "Before they do what? What are they doing to you, Horace?"

"They're-" Horace cut off. "There's no time, Will, if they see your face they'll come after you too!"

"Like I care?" Will had dealt with far worse than a trio of second-year Battleschool cadets. "Let them."

"You don't understand." Horace shoved Will again, gentler but firmer, pushing Will further and further off the training grounds. Will struggled, but like always, Horace's brute force won. "You're just an apprentice. You can't deal with them."

Will's determination wavered. He knew Horace was right. With his current level of skill, there was no way he'd be able to take on all three of them. He knew he could land a shot to one of them, but he was nowhere near fast enough to get a second one off before the others got him. He and Horace would still have to deal with the other two of them, and that was assuming Will's first shot didn't miss. Then, Will would be pitting his fifteen-year-old, scarcely muscled body against the older, larger, more powerful body of a Battleschool cadet. The odds were not in Will's favor, and he knew it.

And even if Will and Horace were able to hold their own, what would it matter? If Sir Rodney or any of the other Battleschool officers found them, they would just see a group of apprentices in a tussle. No one would believe that Alda, Jerome, and Bryn had actually been bullying Horace - especially if one of them had an arrow in their leg. No, the bullies would get away with it and only make Horace's life more miserable. As for Will...

He winced. Halt would be furious.

Seeing Will wince, Horace pressed his advantage. "Please, Will. Just go."

Will hesitated for an instant more. Another, much closer, call from Alda sealed the deal. Will replaced the arrow into his quiver and nodded reluctantly. He gave Horace an intense look. "Promise me you'll be alright."

Horace blinked, again startled, before slowly nodding. "I promise."

Will held the gaze. "You had better keep that promise."

Then he pulled the cowl of his Ranger cloak over his head and vanished, running back to Tug. His back to Horace, he failed to see the soft, grateful look on his once-friend's face before it hardened and he turned to face his bullies once more.


"So, how did your visit go with Horace?"

The sun had set that evening. Halt and Will sat around the fireplace, fletching arrows. It was a familiar, comfortable routine. If Will weren't careful, he would let himself fall into it - let himself believe he was back home.

Will didn't glance up from his arrow, only sighed. "I thought I was getting through to him, but then...then we got interrupted and I had to leave."

The helplessness of it, of leaving Horace with his bullies, made Will's hands clench. His chest burned. How he wished that he were older, stronger, faster once more - how he wished that he had a Halt who would help him take them down!

"Don't be too upset," Halt said, turning his arrow and examining it. "After all, there's always next time."

Will shook his head, scowling down at his lap. Who knew when he'd be able to go back and see Horace again? And even then, who knew if it would actually be useful? This last visit hadn't been, and Horace would only get more and more difficult to get through to the longer he was bullied. Forget the fear over changing things too much; what if Will wasn't able to change anything at all? What if his actions had done nothing - what if Horace would suffer just as much as he had last time?

"You know, Harvest Day is coming up soon."

Will glanced up. He knew Halt would let him attend the celebrations, but he hadn't known at the time, so he asked, "I can go? You'll let me attend the celebrations? I can - I can talk to Horace and visit all my wardmates and everything?"

Halt huffed. "I suppose. I'm sure you'll forget everything you've learned, but it wouldn't do to have you going around calling me a bad master if I don't let you go."

"I would never call you a bad master!" Will said indignantly, then flushed. He had said that with a little too much passion, he realized. Indeed, Halt was looking at him, one brow raised.

"Well, it's certainly nice to be appreciated, I suppose," Halt said. "I hadn't expected that coming from the same apprentice who just spent ten minutes complaining about having to train earlier today."

"That was not training," Will said, frowning. "That was chores."

"Doing the chores is your training," Halt maintained stubbornly, and the familiarity of the conversation - one they'd often had in various forms - made Will smile.

"You know, I take it back," he said, still smiling. "On Harvest Day, I'm going up to the first person I can find and telling them you're a terrible master."

Halt turned an unsmiling gaze to Will. "You know what? You won't be going to Harvest Day after all."

Will stopped laughing and stared at Halt, wide-eyed. Did he really mean that? This Halt was still harder to read than Will's Halt, and...

"Oh, stop looking at me like that," Halt said. "You look like I just shattered your entire hopes and dreams. You can go. I suppose."

Will smiled.

They were both quiet for a moment. Will stared into the fireplace's flickering flames, his hands halting from his fletching for a moment. "Do you really think it'll work?" he asked suddenly.

"Do I really think what will work? Be more specific."

"Talking to Horace again." Will heaved a frustrated sigh. "I was so close to getting through to him, I know it. What if it's that much harder to get through to him next time?"

If Halt were surprised about Will suddenly choosing to confide in him, he didn't show it. "There's no point in worrying about it. Either it will be or it won't be, and that won't change no matter how much energy you devote to it. You need to stop worrying so much about these things."

He placed a finished arrow to one side, then said, "Besides, is it really worth putting so much effort into this? From what you've told me, you weren't ever particularly close. I wouldn't have you be enemies with him, of course, but is it necessary to worry this much for someone you've been at odds with since childhood? If you ask me, I'd say your training is far more important."

Will fought down the instinctive, indignant response wanting to flood out. Halt didn't know about Will and Horace's friendship: what it became, how they'd saved each other's lives, how they'd trained and fought and bled together, how many laughs and tears they'd shared. None of that had happened yet, and from what Halt knew, he was being reasonable. He didn't know...

Will swallowed, hard.

The blow that Horace had taken, the one that had beheaded and killed him instantly, had been to protect Evanlyn. But the one right before that, the one that had weakened Horace and made him too slow to properly block that final blow...

That, Horace had taken for Will. If Will had been just a bit faster, if he had dodged just right, then maybe...

No. It was foolish thinking. It had been the four of them against an entire army of Skandians. Horace would have died anyway. But Will couldn't stop thinking about how, if Horace had not tried to save Will, he would not have died like that.

"He is worth it," Will said quietly. "To me."

Halt had been watching him that whole time. Will wondered what he had seen on Will's face - if he could read the grief and guilt inside Will's soul. Halt just nodded, though. "Well then, that's that. You'll speak to him on Harvest Day and we'll pray it goes better this time. Until then, you'll keep your head on and focused on your training, you hear?"

Will nodded. "Alright."


A/N: Try saying "Frustrated fletching by the fireplace's flickering flames" ten times fast lol

Also - although I'm not going to commit to a consistent updating schedule (sorry), I DO want to try and update on Sundays from now on. Why, you might ask? Imma be honest, it's because I really want to be able to say #SunriseSundays. That's literally the only reason. What can I say, #FrostbiteFridays made an impression (bonus points to anyone who knows what I'm talking about).