Chapter Text
Waves come crashing over me, but I just watch them
I'm underwater but I feel like I'm on top of it
I'm at the bottom and I don't know what the problem is
I'm in a box, but I'm the one who locked me in
Suffocating and I'm running out of oxygen
-NF, Paralyzed.
Will woke with a start, wrenching the blanket off his body.
He was suffocating. He was drowning. The skin around his neck was raw already, his fingers clawing to free his throat. In his panic he tripped and fell onto the hardwood floor, trying to escape that strangling feeling. He couldn’t think clearly, but his chest hurt and there was ice-cold water in his mouth, in his ears, and in his mind.
Will wanted to feel the wind in his hair, the blood in his veins, the sun on his face –
Will wanted to feel alive.
And so, he scrambled to his feet, ripped open the door and ran, leaping up the stairs with bloody knees, tearstained cheeks and shuddering breaths. When he burst onto the deck, the cool air hit him like a wave, and he desperately gulped it down, his breath hitching every few seconds.
The sky was still dark, and it couldn’t have been four am, the sun hadn't even risen; And yet Erak’s crew moved steadily around him. Will ignored the glances, the greetings, the whispers and kept his eyes on the floor until he reached the crates at the very front of the ship. He sat down, drew his knees to his chest and buried his head in his arms. The wind was terribly cold and bit at his skin like frost, but he relished in the sway of his hair as he tried to breathe.
Besides his thumping heart his chest felt horribly hollow, and he had to bite his lip to stop the burning feeling behind his eyes. In his dream he relived possibly the worst night of his live until now.
It had been a cold night, colder than usual, anyways. And of course, Will had been forced to work a double shift of paddles. High out of his mind, he had tried to focus on taking another step, another breath, and then – then, someone had pushed him into the water. Logically, Will should’ve been fine. The water wasn’t even that deep, it barely even reached to his knees. But someone had known Will wouldn’t get up by himself, couldn’t, really. Someone had given him double of the weed he usually took, and Will hadn’t cared, hadn’t cared until he felt freezing water drown his breath, until he couldn’t see where the sky was anymore.
Someone had pushed him, tried to take Wills life. And they would’ve succeeded if it weren’t for Erak.
Will should’ve died that night.
And yet, he didn’t. Strong hands had pulled him out, dragged him to the kitchens, tore off his clothes and threw warm water on him until his lips weren’t blue anymore, until he could feel his fingertips, and until that lukewarm water hadn’t felt like it was boiling, still.
Will had survived because of Erak, because of Evanlyn, who had nursed him back to himself for weeks up in that cabin. Will was alive, and yet, deep down Will believed that a part of him had been washed a way that night – frozen and drowned to save the rest of him, or whatever that was left, anyways.
Will knew he had to focus on something else, lest he’d start crying again. He listened to the waves crash against the ship, focused on how his cotton shirt felt on his skin, relished in the gentle sway of his hair in the wind and felt comforted by the wood beneath his legs.
Will sat there until his breath didn’t hitch anymore, until he could think and see his shaking hands instead of those fucking paddles, the dried herbs, his blue fingers, all those fading stars, the faces of his overseers, the dead bodies, those whips with glass, all that torn skin, the broken bones, and the unconscious girls with bloody thighs he’d carried to the kitchens countless of times.
Something soft landed on his lap, and he hit his head on the crates he flinched so bad. Erak stood there, the sunrise lighting up his blonde hair and the heavy frown on his face.
“Shit kid, are you trying to freeze yourself again?”
Will numbly shook his head, pulling the blanket up to his shoulders and hid his shaking hands beneath– it felt kind of scratchy, but he was glad for the warmth.
“Thanks, Erak,” he said, glad his voice was steady.
The Viking nodded at him, but instead of walking away like Will had anticipated, Erak leaned against the crates and crossed his arms: “Don’t thank me yet. I woke that Ranger of yours, he’s coming to get you for breakfast. I’ll be down soon, too.”
Erak noticed the look Will shot him and pointed his finger: “Don’t you look at me like that, you wouldn’t respond to me, kid. Makes me think you’re sick again.”
Will shook his head and gripped Erak's outstretched hand, pulling himself to his feet. “I’m fine, Erak. I’ve been fine since you saved the princess and me.” He hoped those words would be enough to make Erak leave. The last thing Will wanted was for Halt to see him like this.
Instead, Erak crossed his arms and took a deep breath, his frown deepening.
“About that. I wanted to apologize to you, Ranger. I should’ve done more sooner. Alas, at least the princess was save in the kitchens.”
And despite the surprise of Erak (a literal Viking?!) apologizing to him, a bitter feeling rose in Wills chest, and he resented himself for that. This wasn’t fair at all; And besides, hadn’t he sworn to serve his kingdom to death?
Hadn’t he earnestly wanted to protect the princess back in Skandia?
The answer was yes. He had wanted to, would’ve gladly given his life for Araluen, for its crown princess.
Now, he almost wished he had. He wished he could’ve gone down in at least a bit of glory instead of feeling like a shell of his former self all the time.
Will made himself say: “I don’t fault you, Erak. The princess and I are grateful for what you did... and I’m sure King Duncan will be as well. You might even get some riches for bringing her back.”
Just as he hoped, all the tension slipped out of Erak, and he barked out a deep laugh, boasting his fist in mock-triumph: “Just as I hoped, then. Good to know a Viking can still dream.”
Erak flashed him a toothy grin and clapped Will’s shoulder before leaving Will to his own again. Barely a minute later, which Will spent looking at the horizon again, he hurried over the deck and rounded the corner just to run into his mentor.
“Oh, hi Halt,” he said, his hands shaking, still, “I was just on my way to change.”
Halt scoffed and shook his head, clearly exasperated, “I can see why. Would you please explain why exactly, my apprentice is dressed for arridian weather?”
Will fumbled with the blanket, pulling it tighter around his shoulders. “I didn’t sleep well, so I thought—” He felt his cheeks redden, already knowing what was coming next. “You’re not ready to think, Will. Leave that to me,” his mentor interrupted, steering him gently toward his room, where Halt had him sit down on his bed while he got his own medical kit.
With practiced ease, his mentor examined Will’s scraped knees, then cleaned and dressed them efficiently. He made Will pull on warm clothes and then told him to sit once more, a familiar unease tugging at Wills gut.
“Will,” Halt said, sitting next to him, “I worry about you, you haven’t been sleeping nor eating well, have you?”
Will didn’t know what to do, what to say, and he sure as hell wasn’t ready for this conversation, so he shrugged, allowing some of that bitterness in his chest to seep into his voice: “It’s not like it was that bad-”, his voice broke a bit, “right? I shouldn’t have any troubles sleeping, Horace doesn’t.”
Halt rose an eyebrow and then Wills stomach made this funny thing where it cramped but at the same time made him feel as if he was falling.
“Will, what you experienced was terrible, and you shouldn’t have gone through that. It’s essential for you to take time to recover, and then you will get better.”
Will didn’t think Halt would let him argue on that and nodded instead. Halt wouldn’t like to hear that Will felt guilty for feeling shitty all the time. That Will thought of those other slaves a lot, that he hated that he had been saved and they had not been.
Deep down, Will knew he couldn’t ever tell Halt that he wished they would’ve left him there.
xXx
Although breakfast consisted of the usual stale bread and dried fish, everyone seemed to be of high spirits. The sun had risen perhaps an hour ago and the crew was already drinking to the nines, shoving their cups together as they laughed and sang about the welcoming feast that everyone anticipated so badly.
Halt and Will had made it to the eating hall just in time to see Cassandra get up right next to Erak, who stood at the front to greet everyone like he had done every morning. She stood there, her hair in a complicated swirl down her back and smiled brightly before announcing the feast her father would surely hold, and of course, that they were all invited personally by her.
Not for the first time, Will noted that she looked good. Pretty, even. She looked as hopeful as ever during the time he’d protected known her, and didn’t that do wonders to that bitter feeling that was still festering inside his stomach.
He couldn’t bear to think about his own future then, so he tuned out the rest she’d said, trying to nibble on some of the bread Halt had given him, duly noting that they would arrive in Araluen before nightfall.
This mean that he still had more than half a day of geography lectures from Halt and history lessons from Gilan. Yay!
xXx
After he had finally memorized all the kings and queens of Araluen and the correct order in which they’d reigned, Will had finally been able to do as he pleased.
Currently, that meant a game of cards with Gilan, Cassandra and Horace, which he was horribly losing at.
There was something about the high spirits of everyone that made will sick to his stomach. He could hear excited chattering from all over the ship – about the feast, about the food, or even the castle they were dying to see. And Will? Well, he couldn’t share that spirit at all.
Yes, he was glad to finally get home, to reunite with his friends, and shit he’d missed Alyss something fierce, and Tug, of course; At the same time, though, he was terribly nervous to face everything after a whole year of separation. Besides, a blind man would realise that Will wasn’t really himself anymore. How would that affect his relationship to Alyss? Would she still think of him the same boy she’d once kissed? Would she still-
“-Will?”, he looked up to see Cassandra staring at him in concern. She smiled slightly, then, as if to encourage him. “It’s your turn, Will.”
He cleared his throat and nodded, trying to refocus on the game. He could feel his friend’s eyes on him as he contemplated his cards and what his next move could be. Will didn’t quite manage – everything itched, and he couldn’t centre his thoughts at all. Defeated, Will threw down his cards and shook his head, “I don’t feel like playing anymore, it’s a shitty game anyways.”
He stood and tried to ignore his former wardmates irritated scoff, Gilan’s raised eyebrow and the disappointment that shone crystal clear on Cassandras honest face.
“I’m gonna go to my room, maybe sleep a bit, since we’re arriving soon. And pack,” he crossed his arms and faced Horace: “You should too, your stuff’s a mess.”
He tried to ignore Horace’s good-natured eyeroll and Cassandra, who snickered, but then shot him one of her looks. He was sure she was going to talk to him later, perhaps she’d planned another motivational speech. Will nodded and waved slightly before turning to leave, jogging down the stairs and plopping on his bed once he was in his room.
Today had been a lot, and boy was he glad to finally have time to relieve some of that heaviness he carried within his chest. He resolved to go a bit deeper this time, as he wouldn’t be able to do anything for a few days at least. Halt had said they would probably stay at the castle for a night or two, so he really couldn’t risk it.
Once he got everything laid out on his bed he sat and rolled up his left sleeve. His hand trembled as he pressed the blade above his elbow, slicing slowly toward his stomach. Blood pooled immediately, and he was careful not to get it on the sheets as he threw the blade beneath his bed and grabbed a piece of gauze to dab at the cut.
He leaned back and put some pressure on it, the feeling of pure euphoria making him see stars. It felt good – even better than the trip warmweed had sent him on, and Will wanted to feel that ecstasy again. He got to his knees and reached beneath his bed to get his knife just when someone knocked on his door, calling his name.
Honestly, Will should be proud, he’d never reacted to anything so fast before. In a second his blanket was thrown over himself, covering both the knife in his hand and the gauze on his arm. A moment later Cassandra entered, holding a small, wooden tray. By the look in her eyes, she knew immediately, yet she smiled at him sweetly:
“Hi Will, good to see you up. I brought you tea,” she said, and took a deep breath, “We also need to talk.”
Will nodded and swallowed his panic, slowly releasing the blanket he’d tucked up to his neck, but making sure it covered his elbow, still: “Sure, thanks Cassandra.”
She sat at the foot of his bed and set the tray down, offering him a cup. Will tried to ignore her gaze, which lingered on his arm as they both drank their tea. They didn’t talk again until both of them had finished, and after setting down her cup, Cassandra gestured for him to do the same. After he did, she pulled down the blanket to reveal his left arm and the blade on his thighs.
“Oh Will,” she said, gently grabbing his left arm and inspecting his newest cut. Wills eyes burned then, and he hung his head against her shoulder, so very glad for her comfort. Cassandra brought her hand through his hair and hugged him close while she rubbed small circles on his skin.
“Where’s your medical kit?” she softly asked after a while, still holding him.
Will knew Cassandra didn’t care - she’d seen him lower already, but he couldn’t help the deep shame lodged in his stomach. He cleared his throat and tried to stop crying as he lifted his head:
“Uhm, under the bed, I think?” She nodded and let him go to grab the kit, allowing him to shift and sit up properly. Their knees were touching when she’d found the kit and pulled out everything she needed.
She guided his arm across their laps and picked the bloodied bandage off his skin, crumpling it and tucking it into the pockets of the kit. It stung like hell when she poured alcohol over the cuts which yet had to heal, wiping at the dried blood on his skin, but the pain eased instantly when she wrapped it with soft gauze.
“Will, please listen to me now,” she urged after she’d finished, her hands on both of his shoulders,” You need to stop, Will, this isn’t healthy for you – you need to tell someone. I’m sure Halt would-,” he interrupted her with a scoff and drew away, hoping his voice wouldn’t break:
“Absolutely not, Cassie. I don’t even want to know what Halt would do if he found out, and he sure as hell wouldn’t let me near a training ground ever again.”
Will was aware that he probably shouldn’t talk to a princess this way, but at the moment he couldn’t have cared less, that familiar panic back in his lungs:
“Please don’t tell him, Cassie, I don’t wanna get locked up in one of those asylums!”
“Alright, Will, I won’t tell anyone. But you have to promise to send me letters, I want to know how you’re doing - monthly, at least,” she said, looking close to crying herself. He nodded, trying to smile at her, “I will, Cassie, I promise.”
She smiled hugged him one last time and stood, picking up the tray and opening the door. “We’ll dock in about an hour. Father already sent his raven – the feast will begin as soon as we arrive.”