Ignoring History - Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction

Chapter 9

~🌾Will🌾~ 

Will sank down onto his knees, laughing. He grinned, hugging the chest that he had found laying in the dark basement. He finally found his family's financial records amongst the chests of the other families. Unlatching it, he beamed at all the old papers inside.

He found the most recent one that showed that the tax had been left unpaid. He held it up towards the dim light, glancing at the others. Now, all he needed to do was forge the baron's signature. Will breathed, closing his eyes. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the quill and inkwell he had brought from home. He got to work, leaning down over the parchment.

Will didn't know how long it took to get every curve and bend perfect to match the baron's. But by the time he had finished, his legs were asleep and his neck was sniff. He grunted, stretching out, careful not to step on anything. He yawned, but it ended as a gasp.

Light flooded his vision and he stumbled back, covering his eyes with his hands. He peeked through his fingers as his eyes adjusted to his brighter surroundings. He blinked a few times before jumping again.

There were voices. Two voices. The first, he recognized as the baron's. Will sucked in a gasp, ducking down in panic. That meant the second voice was King Morgarath's. Closing his family's chest, he gathered his quill and inkwell. He peered over a chest to find the two talking right next to the only way out. He breathed a curse, scrambling as quietly as he could for a hiding place. Vaulting over a chest, Will dove behind a shelf and began to climb up. He situated himself on the top, resting his stomach onto the wood.

Will looked over the edge, pulling himself back when they began to move deeper into the room, and closer to him. Sweat began to form on the back of Will's neck, and he looked around the room to find the torches being lit by servants. He didn't feel any relief when they left, leaving the two people he was most frightened of with him. Peeking over the edge again, Will had to pinch himself from crying out.

They were walking along the chests now. Will snapped his gaze as his own, and a feeling of dread sank into a dark pit of his stomach. He had left the forged financial record on the floor in his frenzy.

Will covered his face, nervously looking between the record and the baron with the King. He wiped the moistness away from his eyes, steadying his breathing. He couldn't even focus on their conversation. With every second that passed, they were closer to his chest.

What would happen if they found his record laying out in the open? Would they be cruel enough to arrest the culprit? Would they arrest him? Or his father? Mother? If they ever found out, they would take his place with less than a second. He couldn't let that happen, could he?

Making himself as small as possible, he watched the two walk. They seemed to be so engrossed in their conversation that they weren't looking around. No matter. They would catch him.

His breathing hitched. Will wished he could run and sob. He hated this, staying still while the nervous energy built up inside of him. It was painful in a sense to do nothing when there was so much to do.

He covered his mouth. They were three chests away.

Will squeezed his eyes shut, terror instilling itself into him. Two chests.

He couldn't take it anymore. Things may have gone differently if he hadn't done it. Maybe they wouldn't have seen him.

But he couldn't take it anymore.

He couldn't.

He just couldn't.

Letting himself fall backwards, Will rolled onto the ground. He could hear the startled exclamations of his oppressors, but he ignored it, grabbing the nearest torch. With a yell, he threw it into the shelf. Flames erupted out like a blossoming flower, and Will ran. Everything in the room was flammable. It was all wood.

He grabbed every torch he passed, sending them into the chests and shelves. Will had never ran so fast, bolting out the door. He could hear the shouts of alarm from the baron and the yells of fury from the King, and he pushed it to the back of his mind.

Will burst out of the castle. There were no guards. His fire had caught all their attention. But he didn't stop to rest. Not there at the scene of the crime. Not there where he could be caught. Will ran without pause all the way back to the little cottage he called home.

Bursting inside without knocking, his mother jumped up in surprise and dropped her sewing needle and shirt she had been fixing. "Will?"

Will didn't reply, sprinting into his room. He slammed the door behind it, slumping down against it. He locked it, bringing his knees to his chest. He waited a minute, breathing deeply. In and out. 

Just when he was about to calm down, all his barriers came loose. Floods of tears streamed down his face, and Will cried out, sobbing. Burying his face into his knees, he cried. He ignored his mother, who had tried to open the door in vain. He didn't know how, but he felt her sit behind the door against his back. He heard the small thump of her head leaning back, and he cried harder.

Guilt coiled up his arms like snakes and anxiety ran down his legs like a waterfall. Will sniffled. What had he done? He didn't know if King Morgarath and the baron had escaped. His face flushed red at the possible prospect of him having killed. Even if he hated them for the wrath that was brought upon his family, Will couldn't justify killing them. It just didn't seem right. Would he be any better than them?

Will choked on a sob, pulling his hair as if he wanted them to grow and cover himself. And what if they had managed to escape? He had committed arson, and he didn't know what would happen. He would be hunted for, and who was to say that more taxes wouldn't be placed?

"Will?" It was his father.

Will cried. He may be able to keep his mother away from what he had done, but he had always told his father everything. Bad or good, it was always him.

"Will, can you open the door? Your mother is worried sick."

He obliged, and his father slowly opened it, careful not to hit Will on the floor. He closed it behind him, sitting down next to Will.

No words needed to be said as Will leaned against his father, who wrapped him into an embrace. He cried into his shoulder and into the night. Neither spoke.