A/N: This is just a small thing that popped into my head while reading Ranger's Apprentice React to Themselves! by sky_fall_367 over on AO3. I hope you enjoy!


The evening is relaxed, and the wine plentiful; rarely do kings and Rangers and knights get such an opportunity to lay aside their duties and simply enjoy each other's company. The stories started some time ago. Crowley is just finishing a tale of the young, newly-refounded Ranger Corps, in which the Ranger involved had to make some tough decisions. Everyone nodded at that sympathetically, but everything had turned out all right—though, as the story had ends, Crowley quotes the Ranger as having lamented, "That was the worst thing I've ever done."

For a few minutes everyone sits in comfortable silence. Then Horace, from his place sprawled on a couch, turns toward Halt with innocent, inquisitive eyes. "How 'bout you, Halt? What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

The question, Halt knows, is asked mostly in jest—or, more accurately, in sincerity, but in the sincerity of a simple, honest man who expects Halt to merely begin another story in response.

There are many things I wish I had not had to do, Halt thinks, and some of them are, in fact good stories. But—

He looks at King Duncan, slumped for once in his chair and smiling at the room with a quiet, sincere pleasure, and feels a pang—recalls an action, long since forgiven but maybe, he thinks, never quite put to rest. He takes another sip of his wine, then stands, sets it down on the mantle in front of the fireplace, and leans on the mantle, staring into the distance, formulating words.

"The worst thing I ever did," Halt says at last, almost musingly, not looking at his assembled friends, "was to purposefully, intentionally, manipulate a man I trusted, and who trusted me—trusted me, when I had lied to him and in fact continued to lie; welcomed me, an enemy combatant, into his kingdom and his kingdom's secrets; and who gave me a home I never thought I could have again. The worst thing I ever did—" he turns, suddenly, to look at the King, who has sat up at the words—"was to make you to exile me, sire." He says the little-used honorific sincerely.

The room is silent except for the crackle of the fire. Halt does not move or shift his glance. Horace stares, wide-eyed, at the tableau he has just caused. Duncan stands, then slowly walks over until he is barely a yard from Halt. His eyes are inscrutable, even to the Ranger—for a king must be able to blank his face while thinking something through, until the moment his decision is made.

For a moment, Halt thinks, with a pang of unease, I should not have brought it up. But he holds Duncan's gaze.

At last, the king speaks, voice low and serious. "The worst thing I ever did, was to force a loyal man—loyal in extremity, who had earned my trust ten times over—force that man—" he reaches out and grasps his Ranger by the shoulders, grip warm—"into a position where such betrayal was the lesser of two evils. I'm sorry, Halt," he continues. "I should have let you go."

Then, in a moment that has Horace gaping in astonishment and Crowley grinning into his wine cup, and causes Will to cough around his drink in a rather undignified manner, Duncan steps forward, readjusts his grip on the Ranger's shoulders, and pulls him into a short embrace. Then he steps back, gives a single nod as if to say, let that be the end of it, and returns to his seat.

As Crowley launches into the next tale, Halt stares at the fire a few moments longer, unheeding. He thinks of trust, and kings, and a home unlooked-for. And, unseen by the rest of the room, unnoticed even by himself, the smallest quirk of a smile touches the corner of his lips.