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A breeze blew as Horace stepped out of the stifling hall full of aristocrats and out onto the empty balcony. He rolled his shoulders, easing the tension that had grown between them throughout the evening. While he may be trained in the do's and don'ts of walking amongst nobility that didn't mean he could tolerate it indefinitely. Even he—who was most comfortable with a set of rules and standards to follow—needed space to set courtesy aside and simply...breathe.

There wasn't space to breathe in the hall. It was one of the largest rooms in all of Araluen, and yet to Horace it had always felt cramped. Stuffy. Restricting. Not to mention, the one person in attendance tonight that he was most familiar with was also the last person he could breathe around. Which wasn't Cassandra's fault, and it's not like he was ever uncomfortable with her. Far from it. Still, she was the princess. A certain mask needed to be kept on at events like this.

Now that he was out here he let the mask drop away slightly, inhaling deeply as the breeze brushed over him again. It was cold—almost uncomfortably so with winter barely over—and it carried the crisp scent of the forest surrounding Castle Araluen. As his eyes swept over the treetops below and followed them to the horizon, his gaze grew distant; he recalled a different castle, surrounded by a different forest, with a humble cabin nestled within. He wondered if the breeze was blowing there too, and if the inhabitant of the little cabin was making sure to stay warm.

He could almost picture him now; rifling through reports and letters late into the evening, and well into the night. Since he was alone, he would have let loose and indulged with an extra log in the fireplace. Maybe even a spare blanket. He'd be curled up sideways in that old armchair with his legs dangling over the armrest. After all, he may be a disciplined Ranger who could sit still for hours, but Horace knew he almost never sat "properly" if he could help it.

"You know," someone said from the doorway behind him, startling him out of his reverie. "Usually people standing alone on a balcony at night in the freezing cold don't look like that."

The voice was familiar, and he smiled as the sound of heels clicked closer. Cassandra stopped beside him and placed her hand next to his on the railing. He could see an amused expression on her face out of the corner of his eye.

"Like what, Your Highness?" he asked.

"Warm."

That made him quirk a brow.

"...If you're cold, then I shall accompany you back inside, Your Highness."

She chuckled at that. "I wasn't referring to physical warmth, Sir Horace." She smiled fondly at him before her eyes began tracing the path his gaze still followed.

"Were you thinking about him?" she asked quietly.

"Yes," he replied. He didn't need to ask who she was talking about.

"I thought so. I do the same when I stand here. It makes me miss him." She turned to face him again. "You miss him too."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyways, finally breaking his eyes away from the horizon.

"Very much."

They stood there a moment longer before he held out his arm to her.

"You can't be away for too long, Your Highness. Please, allow me to escort you inside."

"You're too good to me, Horace," she said, dropping out of formality for a moment, hand reaching up to brush against his face.

It was a display that they could only get away with in small moments like this, away from prying eyes. He felt fondness settle into his chest...and a familiar twisting sensation along with it. The twisting had become more and more frequent over the years, and it confused him to no end. Never could he make heads nor tails of it. The few times he'd even tried to get to the source he'd gotten too lost; any hint he'd tried to follow simply tangled indistinguishably into the rest. Twisting and twisting. It would always happen in quiet moments like this and spoil an otherwise pleasant occasion. Being unable to place what it was, all he could really say was what it wasn't. Nothing like distaste or discomfort. He didn't think he could ever feel like that around Cassandra.

No. If he had to describe it then maybe...something more akin to guilt.

"Look at us," Cassandra whispered, hand on his cheek, silk soft on his skin. "Both in love with the same man, seeking comfort in each other."

Twist.

"...Pardon?"

She laughed at him. Loud. Endearing.

"Come now, Horace. You must have noticed by now. You may be a simple man, but you've never been a fool."

'Oh, I most certainly have been,' he wanted to tell her. 'Over and over.' Almost always when Will was involved in one way or another. A siege with deadly odds. Rushing off to Skandia. Challenging Morgarath. Getting in the way of that wild boar. The way he'd treated Will when they were kids. A complete fool. To the core.

He tried to tell himself that this was a different matter.

"...I'm not in love with Will," he said, sounding sure enough.

"And Will isn't a Ranger. And I'm not heir to the throne," she countered, sounding completely unconvinced. Then she pulled away and turned around to head back inside the Hall. Back to high expectations, and molds she didn't quite fit in. "...And we all lived happily ever after."

"I'm not."

As if repetition would make it more true.

She smiled at him. Small. Knowing.

- - - ➳

Horace couldn't sleep.

He'd been thinking about what Cassandra said, about him being in love with Will, and decided it was simply ridiculous. It had to be ridiculous. It must be. Because it was absolutely paralyzing to think that maybe, just maybe, it wasn't.

Something inside him whispered that he usually wasn't one to run away from anything.

He told it to shut up and let him sleep.

It didn't.

- - - ➳

"Is love always a choice?" Horace asked Alyss.

It had already been a week since the conversation on the balcony, and he'd hardly slept since. Horace's own mind seemed to have it out for him. It kept him tossing and turning, pouring over if's and what if's. It was the most uncertain he'd ever felt in his life. He didn't know what to call his...emotions when it came to Will, and it was nearly driving him mad. 

That's when he'd seen Alyss. She had been walking through the halls of the castle—no doubt having just delivered a dangerously important message—and before he knew it he'd asked if she had time for a walk in the gardens.

He really did miss his childhood friend. They hadn't talked in a good while; both far too busy. However, in all honesty, he hadn't called out to her just for that. Along with being his friend she was simply a steady, insightful, and calming presence that he sorely needed at the moment.

He hadn't said any of that out loud of course, but Alyss was Alyss, and he knew that she knew that something must have happened. So she'd told him she had a bit of time when she probably didn't, and here they were.

He'd danced around the issue for a while. Asked other things he wanted to know about other people they knew.

This question wasn't about them though.

She glanced at him in that way that was simultaneously comforting and unsettling. Like she knew everything about him.

"I believe acts of love are a choice," she answered, turning back around again to looking forward as they walked. "I believe nurturing and maintaining love is a conscious commitment. I believe relationships take effort and dedication. I believe all of these things, whole-mindedly."

She paused where she stood. Horace turned to face her, and there was that comfortably unsettling look again.

"But love?" she continued, "Oh, Horace. Love is of the heart. Do you know any person who can pick and choose what emotions their heart beats out?"

He knew that she knew that he didn't have an answer.

- - - ➳

It wasn't long after that conversation that he found himself riding up to Castle Redmont. He wasn't exactly sure how he'd gotten to this point—the past few days had been a blur, truth be told—but here he was. If he concentrated he could vaguely remember that, originally, someone else was supposed to be on escort duty. After all, he was part of the King's Royal Guard. It wasn't exactly appropriate for him to be going out independently like this, even if it was to escort a Courier. He glanced at Alyss as she rode beside him, and the heavy clop of their horses' hooves on the drawbridge served to ground his thoughts a bit.

"How did you do it?" he asked suddenly.

"Do what?" she replied casually as she handed her papers to the guards at the gate. She feigned ignorance so well that—if he didn't know her—he might have believed she had nothing to do with it all.

"...Nevermind."

He was quiet a moment longer before sighing.

"Why are we here?"

"Because I have an important correspondence for Baron Arald, and needed someone familiar to act as both guard and counsel."

He just barely held himself back from raising an eyebrow. Her answer had come so smoothly that she must have known he'd ask and prepared it ahead of time.

"And that excuse worked?" he asked.

"It isn't an excuse. It is the reason we're here. It is the answer to your question."

"..."

"If you are unsatisfied with the answer," she said, reading his expression like a book, "Then perhaps you are asking the wrong question."

That made him pause to think. For a while they went along in silence; it rang between them as they handed their horses to the stablehand and then made their way to the keep. Finally, Horace opened his mouth again.

"Why am I here, Alyss?"

The corners of her mouth curved upwards ever so slightly, and he knew he'd asked the right question.

"You, my dear Horace, are here because you have friends in high places. Friends who have been...unsettled by the way you have been moping in the past couple of days. If I may be frank, you have been worrying Princess Cassandra quite sick. She is of the mind that she is at least partially to blame for this rut you seem to find yourself in."

"Wh- Moping? Rut?"

"And quite honestly," she continued, ignoring his indignant stutters, "I'm worried for you as well. Not to mention Will-"

"What?" Horace interrupted, suddenly worried himself. "Will? Why should you be worried about him? Nothing's happened, has it? Is there something urgent you haven't told me?"

They had stopped right before the entrance to the keep as the guards inspected Alyss' papers again. She simply stared at him after his outburst which had him all the more nervous.

"Well?"

"...No, Horace, Will is perfectly safe at the moment. In fact, he should be back in his cabin about now."

"Oh," Horace said as his relief left him feeling deflated. "Are you...planning to visit him?"

And there it was again. That achingly familiar twist. He was starting to realize that it wasn't happening because of Cassandra. There was only one common factor left. He would have to face it eventually.

"Perhaps another time," she answered, moving through the doorway and up the stairs after the guards let them pass. "I'll be quite busy while I'm here."

He stopped, brows drown together.

"...You're helping me," Horace realized, feeling sure in the conclusion he'd drawn. "But, uhm. Why?"

She paused in the middle of the stairway and turned to face him, staring down at him as he looked up at her in confusion.

"Because I care about you, Horace," she said, and the emotion she allowed in her voice— usually so perfectly measured—caught him off guard. "We've not always seen eye to eye. But we're family, in a way, aren't we?"

"Of course," he replied honestly. Because if he had any family left, it was the people he grew up with in the ward. Right here, in this very castle. Alyss. George. Jenny. And Will. "Of course...but..."

"But?"

"I mean. That is- Weren't...you and Will...?"

"Hm...Yes, we were."

Twist.

"Then why-"

"Were, Horace."

"...Oh." He didn't know what else he was supposed to say to that, if anything. He tried for more anyways. "I'm, uh...I'm...sorry?"

She laughed genuinely at that. A soft and familiar chuckle that had him feeling both embarrassed and at ease.

"Don't be. It isn't a bad thing." Finally, she turned back around to continue up the stairs. "Will and I...we'll always be dear to each other. In the past we comforted each other and kept each other company, but at some point we both realized that that's all it really was. A familiar comfort. It was a mutual agreement. So you see, there's no need to worry about little old me, Horace."

He didn't miss the double meaning of her words, and felt a bit of heat rise to his cheeks.

"I wasn't-" he started desperately, feeling the need to clarify his good intentions and genuine concern for his friend regardless of his personal stakes in the whole issue. That is, until he noticed the corners of her mouth were turned up once again. "...You're teasing me."

"Yes, I'm teasing you. Your reactions are so very refreshing. I can see why Will has always been fond of doing it."

He didn't know how to respond to that—or the indication that Will felt any sort of fondness towards him—and so he kept quiet as they arrived at the baron's office floor.

"Speaking of Will," Alyss continued, "Why don't you go visit? I won't be needing your protection inside the castle walls."

Horace, finally, returned her smile. "Whatever happened to needing guard and counsel?"

"I believe I'll manage, Sir Horace."

"Well, as long as you're sure, Lady Alyss?"

"Off with you," she laughed, resorting to physically waving him away. "And be sure to say hello for me."

- - - ➳

Horace was planning to do just that. Honestly, he was. But as he stood at the fork in the road just after the river he hesitated. In front of him was the main road to the village, while to his right was the small road—really, it was more of a trail—leading off into the woods. It would eventually end at a small and familiar cabin. His chest felt tight at the thought of Will being so close. It had been so long since they'd seen each other...

Was he really ready to go there? He didn't even know what he was hoping to achieve; what he wanted to say or do. He still wasn't quite sure about the jumble of feelings fluttering around inside his heart. They were still far too tangled; a bundle of string that had been tossed aside and neglected for too long. Given, it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been over a week ago—on the night when he couldn't sleep it had felt like a knot he would never get loose—but it was still too hard to follow where it was all leading to.

He didn't want to face Will like that. He wanted to give Will something clear. Something sure. It's the least Will deserved, so...he wasn't avoiding him. Really. He just...needed a bit more time.

So he took the main road, and it wasn't long before he reached another place he'd been meaning to visit. As he opened the door and stepped inside, he was greeted by the jingling of bells and the loud hubbub that filled up Jenny's restaurant. For a small village like theirs the place was absolutely packed. Rather, it was packed regardless of the village being small, and he found himself wondering just where all these people had come from. Right as he was looking around for a place to sit he heard a familiar voice ringing out from the other side of the restaurant.

"Hullo, hullo! We're a bit stuffed at the moment, but pull up a chair anywhere you'd li- Horace! Horace is that you?"

Horace turned to see the bright and cheery face of Jenny as she walked out to him from behind the counter, wiping her hands on a cloth tucked into her belt.

"It is you!" she said, smile lighting up the room as her plump cheeks squished upwards. She reached him and didn't even pause before pulling him into a hug. "It's been too long!"

He had to hunch a bit to hug her properly—their heights were even further apart now than when he'd first had a growth spurt—but who was he to deny Jenny's hugs? He couldn't even if he wanted to, which he didn't. People always merely stared at him from afar, or treated him as someone to be revered and not approached. The most human contact he'd gotten in years was the occasional dance with Cassandra and firm handshakes from other knights. This was a welcome change.

"Hello, Jenny, you're as radiant as ever," he greeted, pulling away to smile down at her.

"Oh hush," she laughed, smacking him on the arm.

"You seem to be doing well? This place is packed. I may have to come back some other time."

"Another time, he says! Knowing you, that'll be ten years from now. No, I won't have it. Come, come, George is here too. I'm sure he won't mind if you sit with him. Ralph, hold down the fort!" she called over her shoulder as she nudged Horace along through the tables.

"Jenny you really don't have to-"

"Oh, yes I do! Consider this as you doing me a favor, not the other way 'round. Now, here we are. George!" she called out, grabbing the attention of the man sitting down at the table in front of them. "George, for goodness sake, take your nose out of the pages for a second! Look!"

How George managed to be reading and eating at the same time in such a noisy environment was beyond Horace. When George looked up from the dauntingly thick book in his hands a surprised smile spread across his face as he rose to greet his old friend.

"Why, if it isn't the Sir Horace! It has been too long, my friend, far too long. It feels as if an age has passed. My goodness, look at you! You're about ready to break through the ceiling!" George said, loud in a way he never was back in the ward. They shook hands and patted shoulders, and Horace was glad that there was very little awkwardness. He and George had probably interacted the least amongst the wards. All the same, they had grown up together and Horace was glad to see that George had come into himself.

"I wager you're seeking out a place to rest your weary vessle, hm? Look no further than this fine table here before you. Why, I'd wager it is the finest table within this already fine establishment; fit for the likes of kings! Come, join me, good sir!"

...Maybe he'd spoken a bit too soon about awkwardness. He'd forgotten that scribes tend to talk like that even in casual conversation. Well, not like there was any harm to it. He'd simply have to make sure and keep up.

"Make room for me, too!" Jenny announced as she settled in next to George and across from Horace. She turned in her seat to call over her shoulder. "Ralph! Two specials for our knight in shining armor!"

"Two?" Horace asked.

"Well, I'm assuming you still eat enough for two?" She gave him an up and down glance and laughed. "Maybe three, now!"

"I can't say you're wrong," Horace smiled back at her.

"Now that the matter of sustenance is settled; to what do we owe the pleasure of a visit from Sir Horace Altman of the King's Guard? Of course, if it's a matter of enough import to move you from Castle Araluen then it may not be wise to speak of such things to us. However! Rest assured, my dear friend, if you were to divulge anything—whether purposefully or by accident—then I shall swear an oath of silence! Why, you wouldn't hear a single peep from-"

"So what's brought you here, Horace?" Jenny interrupted while setting her chin on her hands.

"Nothing as serious as what you think, George," Horace said. He shot an appeasing smile towards George, but was a bit grateful for Jenny's less than tactful interruption all the same. "I'm just escorting Alyss on her duties."

"Ah, yes, should have guessed it, should have guessed," George said. "I'd heard word from the Scribemaster that she was to deliver a report for Baron Arald. I hadn't known you would be accompanying her, though."

"Is she well? Will we be seeing her too?" Jenny asked.

"She'll be busy at the castle the entire time we're here, but I'm sure she wishes she could see you both as well."

"Ah, that's alright then," Jenny sighed. "Still, it's been years since all five of us were in the same place! It's a shame we can't all get together again."

"Yes, I concur," George said, turning back to Horace with undeterred persistence. "Though are you sure it's nothing too urgent? If it was important enough to send one of the King's Guard, then should you not be back with Lady Alyss? If there were to be any danger...Ah! Not that I've seen anything amiss in our dear Redmont Fief-"

"No worries. She's safe at the castle now, so I've nothing to do at the moment. And it really isn't anything dangerous."

"Then that at least is a relief to my anxious heart," George said, finally seeming to relax as he took Horace's word for it.

"Isn't that even stranger though?" Jenny asked, making room on the table as Ralph came over with two steaming bowls of a thick and savory soup that had Horace's mouth watering from smell alone. "If it's nothing too serious, why send you?"

A cough.

"Ah, that...well..."

George and Jenny both perked up in their seats, sensing that there was more to the story.

"It was...decided that I needed...ah...a break? No, not a break. More like a trip? Back to Redmont."

"Oh my god, were you sacked!?" Jenny whispered dramatically.

"What!? No, I-"

"Are you injured, perhaps? Is this a way to disguise that one of our top knights is out of commission?" George asked in concern, giving him a once over.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's...uh..."

"Oooh," Jenny said as if she'd figured something out that should have been obvious.

At this point, George and Jenny looked at each other, then looked back at Horace.

"So it's got something to do with Will then?" Jenny asked, and Horace just barely avoided choking on the first bite of soup that he'd decided to take during the pause in their questioning.

"Why- What made you think it would be about Will?"

Jenny rolled her eyes and smiled. "Well it's always about Will, isn't it?"

"What do you mean? It's not- I don't. Huh?"

"Ever since we were little, when we'd listen to each other during highs and lows, it was always about Will with you."

"...Surely not always?" Horace asked, trying his hardest to suppress the warmth he felt rising to his cheeks and failing miserably.

"For the sake of accuracy," George piped in. "I believe that, at least one time, this was not the case. If I am remembering correctly, and I do believe I am, he came to you with his hopes of getting into battleschool."

"See?" Horace gestured in triumph. "Not always."

"Just the once?" Jenny asked George.

"Yes, just the once."

She fixed Horace with a very pointed stare that quickly snatched the triumph away. All he could do was avoid her eyes and eat his soup.

"If it's any consolation, Will came to me about you all the time, too."

"Yeah," Horace scoffed, "Because I was an ass."

"You really were," she said, not bothering to deny something that they all knew, and that was in the past anyways. "But he didn't always come to complain."

"Yes, he was rather taken with you for a while, Horace," George added, and this time Horace really did choke on his soup. Jenny got up to give him a solid thwack on the back, and he motioned for her to sit back down as he caught his breath again.

"Did you need to phrase it quite like that?" Horace glared at George, though he imagined the effect was ruined by the blush that had now spread all the way to his ears.

George and Jenny shared another look, and Horace was starting to feel like that would never be a good thing.

"Well, to be honest, there's not really another way to phrase it," Jenny began carefully. "We were all so young. It's hard to remember the exact words now, but...he really looked up to you, you know. He followed you around everywhere. I think that's why you first started getting so annoyed with him, actually."

"Yes, yes," George said. "I remember one time you had found a solid stick, and were swinging it around pretending it was a sword, and Will thought it was the most amazing thing he'd ever seen. Had stars in his eyes, he did."

"I...had no idea," Horace said, shame creeping into his lungs and throat. "I suppose I ruined that pretty quickly for him."

"Well, yes, I suppose," Jenny said, "Like you said, you were an ass back then, no two ways about it. But even still, all you two ever did was talk about each other."

"Yes, quite right, Jenny. I can't say it was the healthiest habit, but he still so strongly admired you, even if begrudgingly. No matter how things got between you two I always sensed a kind of..." George trailed off, and Horace was tempted to rub his eyes in disbelief. Because for once George seemed at a loss for words. His hands made vague circular motions in the air as if that would help him search for something to say. They both glanced at Jenny for help.

"I know what you mean. There was...well..."

"Hostility?" Horace said, figuring he may as well be a good sport and help to dig his own hole. "Antagonism?"

"Magnetism, more like it," Jenny said, turning to George. "That's a word for it, yeah?"

"Yes, very good Jenny! That sums it up quite perfectly," George said. "You two were always getting drawn into things together. It was like that in the ward, and it was like that while you were apprentices, and as far as I can see it's still like that now."

"I remember," Jenny started, "talking to Will about the boar hunt. This was a while after it happened, mind you. In fact, I think it was after that other incident. The one where those three idiots were expelled from the battleschool. Big thing that was, and...oh it's hard to remember now, it's been so long. But he said something about the two things being connected. We got 'round to talking about your part in it all, and for the first time in years I saw...what was it you said just now, George? About his eyes?"

"Stars?" George said.

"Yes, that!" Jenny clapped, remembering the phrase. "Stars in his eyes. It was just like that."

Horace had been silent throughout Jenny's story. He wasn't sure how to process everything they'd talked about. If what they were saying was true—well, if what he thought they were getting at, at least—then even back then Will had...and, Will aside, Horace had...

But how could they know about his feelings when he hadn't? Surely that's not how it worked. There had to be some sort of...awareness. Right?

With a jolt he remembered what Alyss had said. About love, and the actions needed to maintain it. He thought of everything he and Will had been through. He thought of all he'd done for Will, and all Will had done for him. And he remembered.

He remembered the boar charging. Thinking that he needed to stop it or Will would die, and how the mere thought of that had spurred him forward. He remembered the fear as tusks scraped at the tree Will had barely managed to dodge behind. He remembered the bridge. He remembered learning that Will and Evanlyn were gone—taken—and that his heart had beat so frantically in his chest he was surprised it hadn't bruised his ribs. He'd traveled across entire countries and mountains, all with the hope of finding them again. He remembered pulling Will down beneath him in fear—arrows rushing overhead, the smell of sweat and blood heavy around them, odds of battle against them—and still the grateful smile Will threw up at him had washed it all away for just a moment. He remembered Will fighting next to him, back to back, and how it made him feel like a force of nature. He remembered getting knighted, and there was only one face in the crowd he wanted to see. He remembered Will's smile when they met in Macindaw and how easy it was to fall back into step beside him. He remembered the soul-wrenching heart-rending fear he'd felt when he thought Will was bleeding out in the snow. He remembered wanting to touch him—make sure he was okay, still with him—and never let him go.

Finally. Finally he could follow each string. And as the knot in his chest slowly came undone, he wondered how long he must have been carrying it inside of him if something so simple had managed to get so twisted.

Too long.

"You look at him the same way you know," Jenny's gentle voice brought him back from his own thoughts.

"I-" he started, dry throat making him pause. "I need to go."

"You really do."

Horace got up in a daze, then remembered to ask, "The food, how much-"

"On the house."

"But-"

"Horace."

"...Right. Thank you," he said, looking between the two of them. "Both of you. I'll be sure to write more often. And I promise it won't take me ten years to-"

"Yes, yes, now go!"

And with a final, shaky smile, he turned around and nearly ran out the door.

"Well...about damn time," George said, and Jenny laughed.

- - - ➳

Will looked up from the reports in his hand when he heard Tug's call from outside signalling that someone was approaching the cabin. It wouldn't be too unusual, except the sun had just set. It was rare, if ever, that he got visitors during twilight hours. There were no lamps out in the woods, and people tended to be at home by this hour regardless. Still, he wasn't alarmed. Tug's signal wasn't a warning call. In fact, it was a noise used for someone familiar, so he tried to think who it could be. Maybe the messenger they usually sent from the castle? Perhaps something urgent had come up. He had also heard Alyss was here on business, but he didn't think it would be her; not this late. Before he could deduce it on his own he heard footsteps on the porch, and he rushed to set aside his work and get to the door. The steps were too heavy to be a messenger. And moreover, they really were all too familiar. But why was he here? Was it really him? How...?

He opened the door, and couldn't stop the smile that spread over his face even if he wanted to.

- - - ➳

Horace ran all the way from the restaurant to the edge of the forest. He would've kept running, too, if it weren't for the trees and the poor lighting. Oh, well. It wouldn't be good to be out of breath when he reached Will's place, anyways. Time seemed to warp as he walked through the forest, and before he knew it he was right in front of Will's cabin. He took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock, but before his hand could even meet the door it was swinging open.

It was only when he saw the smile spreading across Will's face that he realized he still had no idea what he wanted to say.

"Horace!" Will said, and Horace's heart nearly leapt from his chest as he heard Will call his name. "You're...How..."

"Hello, Will," Horace said, feeling a bit breathless, and not just from the run. "Sorry, I know it's late. But I was in town and I...I wanted to see you."

He didn't think it was possible for Will's smile to get bigger, or brighter, but it did.

"No need to be sorry. I'm always glad to see you, Horace. Come on, come in. Be sure to take your shoes off at the door, I don't want to have to sweep again today."

While his motor skills may be trained to near perfection, it was embarrassingly difficult to take off his boots without looking at them. But he couldn't take his eyes off of Will. Thankfully, Will's back was turned so he didn't notice. That would've been an odd foot to start this conversation off on.

Conversation. Right.

He solidified his resolve, determined not to drag his feet or hesitate any longer.

"What-"

"I-"

They both started at the same time. They blinked at each other, and Will laughed.

Horace smiled. "'S your house, so you go first."

"What are you doing here, Horace? I didn't hear any news about you traveling this way. Is everything alright?"

"Something tells me that if things weren't alright you'd be hearing about it well before I did," Horace said, nodding at the stack of reports and letters on the small round table near the fireplace. Horace felt something warm in his chest when he realized it was the table right next to that old armchair he'd imagined Will sitting in just over a week ago now. And crumpled on the floor around it was the spare blanket that Horace knew was usually folded and stored in the dresser in Will's room.

"You're right about that," Will chuckled as he walked into the small kitchen area and began the process of lighting up the stove in the corner. "So why are you here?"

"Alyss says I've been in a rut, so I was told to escort her here to...get a change of scenery."

The clattering near the stove stopped.

"...Are you alright, Horace? That doesn't sound much like you."

The soft concern in Will's voice did things to his stomach that he really needed to control if he was going to try and speak coherently. He cleared his throat, hoping he sounded normal as he answered.

"I'm alright, yeah. I was...well, I figured it out."

Will hummed, likely turning over what Horace had said in his mind. He started walking towards Horace, and he felt his heartbeat pick back up again, but Will angled away and towards the armchair.

"Well, I was just about to boil some water for coffee. I'm gonna have to stay up to finish reading all of this," he said, grabbing a chunk of papers from the top of a small but dense stack of sheets and envelopes. "Do you want any?"

"No, I'd best not. Haven't been sleeping as much as I should lately."

Will glanced at him and Horace gave him a smile he hoped was reassuring. It must have been enough for now, since Will didn't comment.

"Some water then? You look a bit flushed."

"Yeah, water would be good. I, uh, kind of ran here."

Will laughed as he poured water from a jug into a wooden cup, and Horace found himself thinking that even the movement of Will's shoulders as he laughed at him was endearing.

"Did you need the exercise? Or were you just that eager to see me?"

"Second one," Horace answered honestly, doing his best not to hesitate any longer. "Like I said. I wanted to see you."

He thought he saw Will's movements stutter for just a moment, the jug clacking noisily onto the countertop.

"Ahem," Will cleared his throat, then picked up the cup and brought it over. "Well. Here I am?"

"Here you are."

Horace took the cup Will was holding out for him. There was a beat, and then Will cleared his throat again and walked back to the place where he'd left his papers on the counter. He rifled through them a bit, then switched one sheet to the top to read it while he occasionally glanced at the pot of water on the stove.

"So," Will started in an way that would have passed as casual if Horace didn't know him so well, "The change of scenery. It worked? Just like that?"

"No," Horace chuckled. "Well, wait. Yes, it did help, but not quite that quick. I've been in this..."

"Rut?"

"...Yes, that. Well, it's been over a week." At that, Will's jaw grew visibly tense while his eyebrows drew together. "I really am fine now, Will. I promise."

Will's brows went back to being relaxed, and he nodded as he started reading the paper again. He may be playing it cool for Horace's sake, but with his jaw still tensed it was no use. Horace could see plain as day that Will was still worried for him. He took a few sips of water, and stared into his cup.

"The thing is. I'm not like you, Will," he admitted, voice uncharacteristically quiet. "I don't really get those...sudden moments of clarity. I don't get flashes of brilliance, and can't settle on one idea too quickly. I was told once that I'm not a bad thinker, just a slow one, and I agree. I'm more methodical. I take time to weigh things. Time to make up my mind...I know it can be frustrating, but it's easier for me this way in the long run. Because once I do make up my mind, I'm very sure of it."

"So, you've come to some sort of conclusion then?" Will said, leaning back against the counter as the pot began to steam. He had his eyes fixed on the documents in his hands, and Horace had his eyes fixed on Will. It said something about how much trust Will had in him that he didn't move away when Horace walked over and stepped right up to him. Rangers were trained to keep their distance. To always be wary. Yet here he was, just a foot or so away, and Will hadn't even glanced up from the paper. It was both a blessing and—at the moment—a curse.

Slowly, gently, he took the papers out of Will's hands and set them aside. One hand lingered; held his wrist, felt his pulse.

"Yes."

Horace felt it; the spike of the heartbeat under his fingertips. Heard the small hitch of breath as Will looked first at their hands, and then up at Horace. And when their eyes met, he saw them. The stars. Bright, beautiful. How had he ever missed them before? He found himself hoping that Will could see them in his eyes, too.

"...Oh," Will whispered, and Horace had never expected that his reflexes would come in handy outside of a battle; never thought they'd be used for something so tender as tilting his head just as Will leaned up lightning quick to press a kiss to his lips.

It was over too quickly, and...why was Will making that expression? He wasn't looking at Horace anymore. His eyebrows were back to being scrunched together, and while it was cute Horace didn't like what had caused it. He didn't want him to be worried.

"Sorry, I...wasn't thinking- I just assumed-"

"Will," he called, stopping the nervous muttering of the man in front of him. He wanted to comfort him. Wanted to give words of reassurance. His hands reached up to cup Will's face and turn it back towards him. Then he repeated the most reassuring word he knew.

"Will," he whispered, hoping that the wonder and want in his voice would be conveyed. He moved closer, thumb brushing against Will's cheek as he leaned down to kiss the corner of Will's lips. His eyes met Will's again, silently asking for more.

Will sighed—releasing all his worry and unease—and gave it to him, gladly. Their lips met once. Twice. He could feel Will's hands at his hip and in his hair, and he moved his own to tilt cup the back of Will's neck. Draw him closer, closer. Nimble fingers danced through his hair and ran lightly over his scalp. He hummed into the kiss, head tilting just slightly to deepen it even further. Will responded in kind, lips moving against his, tongue running lightly against his lower lip. Horace opened his mouth in tandem, wanting in a way that only someone who's denied themselves something for years could possibly want. He didn't know how much longer they stood there against the counter. If someone had asked him just then if it had been minutes or days, he wouldn't be able to say. All he knew was that, eventually, reluctantly, they pulled apart. Their breaths came in soft pants shared between them. Will's cheeks and ears were tinted a warm pink, and his lips...definitely had more color to them than before they started. Horace felt a rush of satisfaction knowing he'd been the one to do it. His hands came down to rest on Will's hips, and the hand Will had in his hair slid down his neck and over his chest, coming to a stop just over his heart. They stayed like that, leaning into each other. It was a perfect moment.

"...You taste like coffee," he mumbled against Will's temple, and got a small laugh in return.

"Yeah, well, you're not so minty yourse-" Will started, but cut himself off with a gasp. "The water!"

He pushed Horace back so he could move over and check. Horace looked over his shoulder and unsuccessfully stifled a snort of laughter.

"Well, I'd say it's boiling," Horace said, looking at the pitiful amount of water that was still left in the pot. It had started out with enough for at least two cups, but wasn't even enough to fill half of one at this point. His commentary earned him a small glare thrown over Will's shoulder, but he just smiled and leaned down to kiss his cheek. Will tried to keep his glare up, but after another second he sighed in defeat.

"Something tells me you're going to use that to get your way as often as possible."

"Maybe," Horace smiled against Will's cheek. "But you can always do the same to me, so I'd say it's even."

"Oh, now that's a fun idea," Will said, and his tone made Horace just ever-so-slightly regret bringing the idea to Will's attention.

Will moved to throw a few more chips of wood into the stove, and set about refilling the pot with water from the jug. Horace moved over to the table and bench that helped to separate the kitchen and the sitting area and finally took a seat. He rested his elbow on the table, chin on his hand, and watched Will move about the kitchen.

"Horace..."

"Hm?"

"The, uh, conclusion you came to. How did you reach it?"

"...I may go on for a bit," Horace said. "Just as a warning."

"I'm not going anywhere."

Horace smiled at that.

"I followed the strings."

"...String?" Will asked with puzzled look.

"Strings," Horace repeated, emphasizing the plural. He looked out the window beside the table as he gathered his thoughts.

"For the longest time, even as a child really, I felt this messy, terrible...knot. Deep in my chest. Like a bunch of strings, see?" he explained, hand rising up to tap the spot just over his heart. "They weren't so messy at first, I think. I'm not actually sure since, well. Instead of paying attention to it and trying to sort it all out, I shoved it aside. I told myself I'd get to it eventually. Poked at it every once in a while. But mostly I'd already decided untangling it was impossible. It's...not like me, I know, but I suppose everyone's got something. So I left it there in my chest, and as time went on it got worse and worse until I couldn't tell one string from the other. I couldn't tell where any of them led to."

Will was quiet, and Horace felt his eyes on him as he talked. He felt a bit daft sitting here talking in riddles about strings in his chest, but it was a visual he could make sense of instead of making nonsense. Besides, most importantly, Will didn't seem to mind.

"Then...Cassandra. She said something to me, and it shook me. More importantly, it shook the strings. They loosened a bit, but not enough. They were still so. Tangled. I was scared and hopeful at the same time. This could be my chance to untangle them. But what if I pulled at the wrong one? What if they all tightened up again? I didn't know if I could bear it."

He heard a bit of shuffling, then smelled the scent of coffee as Will prepared it. The familiar smell helped to ground him as he continued.

"But then Alyss helped. She was at the Castle and we talked, just for a bit. The strings loosened up after that talk, too. That's about when I came here. It was probably Alyss and Cassandra coming together to arrange it. And...I was going to come see you. First thing after getting Alyss to the keep, but...I could only see a few tips really. I still couldn't separate them. I had to be careful. I had to be sure. I needed to be able to follow them to their ends. I thought you deserved a clear decision, not just a...tangled up bunch of strings."

Will was quiet. Very quiet, in that way that only Rangers can be. For just a split second, he was afraid Will wasn't even there anymore.

I'm not going anywhere.

That irrational fear left as quickly as it had come.

"So I went into town. I saw Jenny at her restaurant. George was there too. I didn't realize this back when we were kids, but they're both so...observant, in such different ways. Jenny has such a good sense for people, and George remembers so many little details...Anyways. They sat down with me. Talked with me. Helped me untangle the last of the strings. Finally, I had them all, tip to end. No more knot. No more tangles. And I felt...dizzy. It was relieving. And more than a bit overwhelming. And I couldn't imagine how they could've gotten so knotted up in the first place. How I could have ever lost sight of where they led to, because they..."

Horace took a shaky breath and looked up. Will was looking back at him. Frozen. Starry eyes wide in wonder.

"...Because they all lead to you. Every single one. You're-"

Before he knew it, Will was kissing him again, coffee cup abandoned on the counter, body leaning over the bench. Will's hand held his face like a gift. Horace reached up to cover them with his own, like a treasure.

'What was it?" he felt Will whisper against his lips.

"What was what?" he asked, just as quiet as Will spread kisses over his cheeks.

"The end of the strings. The conclusion. I want to hear you say it."

"Oh," Horace breathed, touching their foreheads together. In comparison, this part was easy.

"I love you," he said. "I've loved you for a long time now."

Will was quiet.

"Will?"

Will's hands still held him in place. It was slight, but he could feel them trembling.

"I'm sorry it took me this long."

Will shook his head against his.

"No that's...that's not it," Will got out. "I'm just happy. I love you, too."

Horace smiled and said, "That's good. I hadn't thought about what to do if you didn't."

That finally got Will to laugh.

"Wow, overconfident aren't we?"

"I told you, when I do reach a conclusion I'm very sure of it."

"...You did say that."

"Say..."

"Hm?"

"Is there any more coffee left?"

"I thought you said you needed sleep?"

"I don't want to anymore. I feel like I'm in a dream. What if I sleep, and when I wake up it's- yeow!"

Horace covered the shoulder that Will had just viciously pinched and stared at him with his mouth open.

"Hmm, seems real enough to me," Will grinned mischievously.

"You pinched me!"

"I did."

"Really hard!"

"So you felt it! That means you know you're awake. You're welcome."

"You-" Horace started, only to be interrupted by Will leaning closer, voice low in his ear.

"You can do me, too, if you'd like."

Horace froze.

"You know," Will continued, tapping on his own shoulder. "Pinch me, too."

Oh. Oh this little...He'd gone and given his heart to a devil.

"I- You. This is on purpose. You're teasing me," Horace pointed at Will in accusation.

"Mm, just a bit. It's not my fault you make it so easy."

"And here I thought you'd never be so cruel to the man you love," Horace said dramatically.

"Oh, Horace," Will said, fondness dripping from every word as he placed another kiss on his lips. "What made you come to that conclusion?"