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frostycatblr-fandom-files · 8 months

Note

So I may have just realized your requests are open (my grandfather says I would be a terrible witness to a murder bc I am unobservant we love adhd lol) so here I am to beg!

I never see a ton (any?) fics exploring Din and Boba’s friendship and only that. Like, my blog IS the horny corner. Friendship fluff ain’t my usual reblogs but fuck it’s also like amazing??? Idk I just think Din and Boba and Cobb deserve to have time to be just guys being dudes and bonding. (I do love me some DinCobb tho don’t get me wrong) anyway, nothing specific other than learning more about how you see their friendship? They obvs respect each other and trust each other. I bet they have a lot of weird inside jokes.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR TIME

Beskar Buddies [Mando and Boba Fett]

Warnings and Information: Not a relationship fic. This is just a silly, not-taking-itself-too-seriously friendship fic for Boba and Din Djarin. References to canon-typical violence, drugs (spice), alcohol, and some events from both The Mandalorian and The Book of Boba Fett. Minor Star Wars and real-world swearing. We're gonna make fun of Shiny Dad who doesn't know he's in Star Wars just a little bit. Din's helmet stays on. Narrative and stylistic use of italics. Minor proofreading and editing.

Word-count: 3,880

He's supposed to be here on Tatooine for a simple bounty - it's really nothing more than a glorified errand run for some spoiled little princeling who insists on only the finest Sansanna spice from the Outer Rim. But the princeling doesn't need to know that; he'll be allowed to believe that it was necessary to spend as much time as was desired for Din Djarin to acquire enough Sansanna for this young man's birthday celebration hosted on one of the Core Worlds, if it means Din can cleverly lighten those pockets by a few more credits in order to provide for himself and the little one a little more comfortably, even if just for a while.

Din only meant to spend an extra day here at most before collecting the requested goods and taking them back to his client. But when word made its way to the new Daimyo, and he knew that it would, that another who clads himself in the armor typical to Mandalorians is sniffing around Mos Espa, how could he refuse the request from the Master Assassin and second-in-command to pay a visit.

"Shand." he greets her once he's calmed the slight tremor of his heart after being taken by surprise in an alleyway in the Worker's District of Espa, and reholsters the IB-94. "I didn't expect to run into you here. Conducting business on behalf of the Daimyo?"

"Greet every woman that way?" Fennec Shand teases him with an indicative toss of her head to the holster. "Or am I just special?"

"You surprised me." Din admits, repeating himself that he didn't expect to run into her by this point. He knows Boba is a busy man with a syndicate to operate, and what he cannot oversee himself, he often delegates the task to the bounty hunter standing in front of Din now.

"Good. Means I'm not losing my edge." Fennec answers, a playful purr of pride in her voice. "Serves the Daimyo well if I can maintain the element of surprise when I am tasked to carry out his bidding on a busy man's behalf. To extend an invitation of sorts: Lord Fett would like an audience with you."

"Very well." Din agrees, playing into the façade of formality - all part of the performance of power and command that is carried out in the halls of the Palace on the fringes of the Northern Dune Sea. He relays a short message to Peli Motto over in Mos Eisley that his return for Grogu may be a little delayed, first, for peace of mind, before Din will follow Shand back to the Palace. "Lead the way."

Boba Fett dismisses the people within the throne room of the Palace - likely members who serve as part of the gotra or those who had come to pay tributes or give offerings of sorts to one of Espa's influential figureheads - as Fennec returns with Din as she had been asked.

He wears his armor and (most of) his notable weaponry while seated on the throne, save for the cool, dark green helmet which sits neatly on the armrest. Displayed, rather than worn, now. "I hoped she would find you. I asked if she could extend my invitation once I heard there was someone who did not tell me he would be paying the fair city of Mos Espa a visit." Fett is teasing him, he knows, but Din cannot help feeling the need to apologize regardless of that. There are only chuckles in return as Boba climbs from the lordly seating and moves to greet Din like an old friend.

Warm and calloused hands find their way around the other's wrist as Din and Boba first behave as if it is a simple handshake, but remain linked for some time. Old and ancient ways of checking strangers for weapons have turned to displays of trust. The longer the link, the stronger a bond, some would say.

There both is warmth and a mischievous glint to his eyes as Boba visually takes him in, almost inspecting the gleaming beskar for imperfection or pitting that would speak to a scuffle of sorts that might make for a good story, "Your armor gleams in the light of the twin suns, Djarin, of course someone will notice you trying to skulk about my territory. Are you looking for work?" Boba had offered him payment for a place at his side once. He believed the Mandalorian to be a respectable and trustworthy fellow; Boba would gladly extend the invitation for a stable occupation once more.

Din shakes his head, slowly, calmly, in the dim light of the throne room. He's not looking for work, he explains, he is working. "Product for a client. Princeling who wants a small crate of Sansanna spice for a party before next Taungsday. Specified that he wanted it from Tatooine of all places."

That explains what brought him here to the planet, at least.

"And why come to Espa to look?" Boba asks politely, keeping the conversation flowing as he pours himself and his friend something from a carafe he's kept on hand. One that Fennec is partial to, so he is sure to offer some to her as well as a silent expression of gratitude. Asking the Mandalorian to come to the palace and entertain a silly notion was a long shot when he has a foundling in his care, so Boba had cautioned Fennec that in the event he did not agree to come, it would be of no consequence. (He would prefer what's in the decanter, but he has yet to procure more, so it is untouched as it would not be enough to split among three.) "There is not much to find of the Sansanna that once belonged to the Pyke's before it was… misplaced." Boba suggests with a mirthful smile.

"I wouldn't have come asking the mighty Daimyo first," Din retorts after a polite sip from his glass of the contents of the carafe, replacing his helmet that had been inched just high enough on his head to drink and resetting the seal, "that wouldn't have been good business, for you, or me."

"No indeed." Boba agrees, appreciative of Din's caution given his reason for being here. Din knew to act in just the right way; ways that would not tarnish a carefully crafted image Boba had made for himself since putting an end to Bib Fortuna and laying claim to all that was once Jabba's. "Did you tell your client how long it would take?"

Din's helmet bobs. "I did."

"And did you tell this princeling how long it would actually take?"

The helmet remains still, but the mouth within it must have found an upward curve as the bounty hunter implies that he was not quite so honest with his client. "It might have slipped my mind."

Boba chuckles, almost proudly. An old trick of the trade: mislead the right clients on the right details, and you can earn yourself a few more credits. Live a little more comfortably for a time if you wanted.

While Din could be a uniquely honest and humble bounty hunter at times, he was still a bounty hunter. Clever, resourceful, and cunning. Just the sort of thing he was looking for. "Well, I'm certain a crate or two will turn up to take back to this princeling in the morning, and he'll pay you handsomely for the spice brought in from rugged lands to boast at his party, my friend." he suggests promisingly to Din, patting the shoulder-bell that bares the profile of the Mudhorn as he leads him from the throne room, and into other areas of the palace before he lays out why he invited the Mandalorian to come. "In the meantime, I'd like you to come with me. Out beyond Espa."

The low hum in his throat before he speaks suggests Din feels hesitant or uncertain about this idea. "Where? And why?"

"Call it something of an impulse; I have my business to attend to here in Mos Espa as the Daimyo of course, but recently I dreamed of camping under the stars, out in the desert - " Boba answers, bringing Din to an inner chamber that is guarded at all times, where once they have passed the guards, he shows to Din two crates of spice that are contained within a vault, " - and I have not been able to shake myself of the notion since. Could I convince you to join me, my friend?"

Din understands that the spice is being used to sweeten him to the idea of sleeping out in the sand-sprawling seas of this arid planet, where temperatures can drop dramatically within a few hours of the suns' setting, here. Even if he declined, Din Djarin doesn't believe the spice would be withheld now when it was already offered to him.

"Why not take Shand?" he asks curiously. "Or will she be staying here at the Palace to keep an eye on things in your absence?"

"I did ask Fennec, as a matter of fact," Boba replies with a bemused expression, carefully denoting the crates with one of the guards for a moment, "and she wasn't too keen to the idea the same way I am. And, yes, she has said that if I do this she would remain with the Palace to oversee matters, should anything happen tonight."

So it appears that Boba wants to entertain this fantasy tonight. Not just "some time in the future", but now. That in and of itself isn't surprising, but Din hesitates for one reason.

One curiosity has been sated. Another remains. "And if I don't know how I feel about the idea? I have a friend watching Grogu for me in Mos Eisley, and I didn't make any mention that I would be leaving him with them past nightfall at the latest."

Boba seems to give something a little thought before he asks "And who is this friend?"

"Peli Motto." Fennec replies from the threshold, watching the two men with a cool gaze that many would perhaps find intimidating if not for a simple smile. "I did a little digging while you boys were having your fun in the vault. She's a simple mechanic."

"A good mechanic." Din finds himself insisting. He's not at all surprised that the second-in-command to the Daimyo had recalled the frequency to and found some way to find information on Peli, but calling her a simple mechanic felt like an insult to her character and he would not let it slide so easily.

"And are you paying this good mechanic to watch the little one for you?" Boba wonders. "If you are worried about giving her adequate payment for minding your foundling, don't. I would gladly help you settle it with Ms. Motto."

It takes a moment to explain that Peli will need to mind Grogu for him overnight, but Din promises to explain why in the morning. "I need you to watch Grogu for me until the morning. Something came up."

Peli sounds worried. "Trouble?"

"Only if we make it…" Boba chuckles to himself in the background, and Fennec warns him to behave in a way that suggests this is not the first, nor the last time, she's heard him make self-entertaining remarks like this.

"What was that? You say something, Mando?"

Din dodges the question with some redirection. "No trouble; I just need to spend a little extra time in Mos Espa. I can explain when I come for Grogu." He hears the way the little one perks up at the sound of his name, a bright, cooing sort of noise. Peli must have pulled him closer to the receiver, because the next time he coos and babbles inquisitively, the sound is sharper, louder, but no less sweet.

"Ha-bah?"

"Grogu, can you behave for Peli for me tonight? I'll be back early in the morning, I promise."

Boba makes no further jokes or commentary in the background while allowing Din to speak to Grogu until he is satisfied that the little one understands Din will not be back tonight, but he will be back soon. Phrasing and re-phrasing his brief explanation until with a little help from Peli, the diminutive, green lifeform seemingly makes sounds of understanding.

He can imagine the way Jango would similarly caution him and repeat himself in preparation for his absences when he was perhaps too young to accompany his father on a bounty. These are memories from so long ago, now, to Boba. At least, they feel that way. He's only entering his forties, he reminds himself. Slightly older than Din, to his belief.

But roughly similar enough in age that neither of them feels any need to take separate materials for temporary shelters. Old enough and mature enough to tolerate the shared arrangement for a single night under a canopy of stars on a bed of sand where they would lay their sleeping sacks. Din has offered to start a modest fire since Fett insists he can pitch the tent on his own. He certainly sees the influence of the Tuskens that Boba spent time with after surviving a sarlacc pit in the shelter's construction once it is firmly staked in place.

"Sturdy."

Boba nods acceptively of the compliment, settling himself beside the fire across from Din. "I learned much in my time with the tribe of Tuskens that cared for me like one of their own before I became the Daimyo. They didn't teach me everything, but you can still learn by watching and observing."

There's a knowing chuckle before the dark t-visor turns and looks off into a rather deliberate direction for just a moment. Freetown. They're not too far from Vanth's community, as it turns out. "Wondering how the sheriff's doing; will we need to pay a visit in the morning?" he offers half-questioningly to Din, trying to gauge and guess what is on the mind of the man clad in beskar before him.

"Tempting. But perhaps another time." Din replies, beginning to remove a select few parts of his armor to make himself more comfortable. He did not opt to leave it behind in favor of more appropriate desert-wear, even when offered. Fett reasoned that much like his own armor, once belonging to his father in his case, the armor made of beskar carried its own significance to Din beyond a protective shell.

"Feeling guilty for leaving the little one, again?"

His companion shakes his head in answer as he carefully sets aside what he's removed. "Not quite. Just eager to complete this bounty and lay low for a time."

"Smart. Have somewhere in mind?"

"Yes." is all Din will answer. And wisely so. Telling Fett where he plans on going would defeat the entire purpose, no matter how much they each trust and respect each other. Because they do, a simple word is all the Mandalorian glowing in the light of the fire will find necessary to say.

"Good. I wish you uneventful times when you make it there, my friend."

They listen to the stillness of the desert together following Fett's sincere wish for Din and Grogu's safety; the crackle and muted roar of the fire, distant and slow gusts of wind, and once off in the greater distance, bantha. The deep bellows of the omnivorous quadrupeds were a strange comfort as the two men listened.

"Have you ever ridden a bantha?" Din asks, noting the nostalgic smile evident on the other's face. The smile broadens as Boba answers. "I have. There was a bantha I once had for a mount, I think of them from time to time."

The helmet tilts to the right with mild concern or surprise. "What happened to it?"

"Oh, nothing bad," Boba assures his friend, giving a singular chuckle as he stokes the flame a little higher, "I simply set them free before I reclaimed my ship. Hopefully they are out there now, meeting other banthas and making baby banthas."

"Heh. I see. Is that the strangest thing you've ever ridden that isn't a speederbike?" Din asks with a laugh, once more turning his head out to look beyond the light of the fire into the desert. Perhaps with his sensors, he could find these distant herds of wild or domesticated bantha

"That would be a rancor."

"You're joking."

"I'm not." Boba laughs with some insistence. "And what about you, my friend? Find a mythosaur to ride, yet?"

"Funny… " Din replies somewhat slowly, "...there was an Ugnaught named Kuiil who claimed it should have been easy for me to learn to ride Blurrg because of my 'ancestors' who rode mythosaurs when he was trying to teach me." He grows quiet, and his body language becomes a lot less casual, less open and fluid. "I haven't thought about his remark in a while." Din admits somberly. His companion, the man who invited him for a night in the desert, under the stars, doesn't press him for anything more to say for a moment, letting the silence grow.

"You've been busy." Boba reasons with him only when he is certain Din doesn't have anything to add. "Traveling the galaxy, collecting bounties… All while you care for the little one." The words don't seem to bring him any comfort. If anything, Boba suspects he's said the wrong thing. "Was he a friend?"

"Yes. Killed by Imperial scout troopers."

"I am sorry, Djarin," he sympathizes, for a moment thinking to lay his hand on the other's shoulder in a gesture of comfort were Boba sitting beside him rather than across the fire. "To lose those we care for is no easy thing."

The Mandalorian scoffs and, jokingly, asks Boba if he's certain he's as old as he claims. "You sound and look older."

"Well, the profession ages you. And I imagine there are still a scattered few, somewhere out there, that would look just like me. Maybe even older." This is the second time Din does not seem to understand what he means judging by his silence. "Surely you've seen them. Heard about them at least, the clones?" Boba inquires, growing increasingly more confused by the lack of apparent understanding as the t-visor slowly wags in the firelight.

"Djarin."

The fire is smothered out with sand following the conclusion of something of a pseudo history lesson once Boba feels he's adequately explained to Din what exactly Clone troopers are. Were. (Maybe still are? Truly, he's not certain how many men who look just like him and sound just like him remain in the galaxy.) The sand is stamped down for good measure before both men enter the tent for the first time since it had been put up and prepare to sleep. The night grows stiller and serene in a way that is entirely unique to Tatooine.

The desert planet is not for the weak-willed and those who will not be prepared to adapt. If you traversed the Dune Seas, you had different tribes of nomadic Tuskens to contend with (and hope they would let you pass through their lands in peace for small tributes), or the wild animals that were not as docile as the bantha that called this planet home. It took grit and gumption, or no small amount of necessary self preservation skills, to live in places such as Mos Espa and Eisley where you would expect to find yourself brushing shoulders with bounty hunters and crime families. Things could get messy.

Boba Fett and Din Djarin are no strangers to the grime and filthier aspects of what the galaxy has to offer them. Bloodshed and banthashit that would make weaker men stumble and turn away from such a profession far sooner. Sacrifices and difficult choices have been made in each of their lives.

Tonight didn't have to be one of them. A night of simple company and some time to catch up with a friend was a welcome change for both. Boots are carefully removed before each slip into their sleeping sacks after simple ration packs are eaten in silence - backs turned to one another even in the dark - and wrappers have been taken care of.

"We'll start our return to the palace before first light," Boba explains, "that way you can return to Mos Eisley for Grogu before Ms. Motto would begin her workday after you've secured the spice for the princeling."

There is a soft laugh under the modulator to his left, where he can make out the general form of his friend's body beside him and sees he's already laying down. "Thank you. Hopefully he will have slept well when I retrieve him."

He certainly hopes the little one will too, for Din's sake, with a laugh. "I have not forgotten my offer to pay Ms. Motto either. And thank you, my friend, for entertaining this idea with me."

"Anything for the mighty Daimyo of Mos Espa." he says in all seriousness he can muster for the moment. He can't maintain the composure for long, and thankfully it's Fett who laughs first, the two of them free to laugh as loud as they would like when it's just the two of them out here for miles as far as anyone would be concerned.

Free to spend as much time as they would like "winding down" and talking in low, golden tones until they come to realize it is coming up on first light, and they have spent the whole night in conversation without meaning to.

At least it may not be just Grogu who has not gotten any sleep tonight, they joke together as they come up on the palace, and Boba gives Din what he was promised. Two crates of Sansanna spice to carve a deeper hole in the pockets of his client, and many words of thanks from Boba follow after Din as he secures some transport to Mos Eisley. "Safe travels, my friend. Remember-"

"Oh I will." Din replies with a mischievous inflection, giving Fennec Shand reason to pause and consider what unfinished communication is unfolding before her as both men, Fett once more clad in his own armor in order to properly send the Mandalorian off before assuming his seat at the throne for the day. "I take it you now have… inside jokes." she grins.

"Maybe." each reply in tandem.

Boba smiles, nodding to Din. "Or-"

"-Reminding me to get a little more sleep once I'm in a hyperspace lane." Din concludes, bidding them farewell once again. He was eager to return to Grogu, and Din could only hope the little one had gotten some sleep. But if he hadn't, then perhaps they would be napping together as they navigated hyperspace. It would certainly not be the first time Din would potentially need to doze off when he could when traveling with a child, or at least daydream while looking at the view from the cockpit of his ship.

Nor will it be the last. Hopefully the same could be said for another opportunity to present itself for nights like last where Boba Fett and Din Djarin could simply spend time with a trusted friend.

Note from Frost: The title was a placeholder name, but then it grew on me; I'm callin' them the Beskar Buddies from now on. Ideas also changed direction on me in the course of writing, so apologies for the lack of Cobb in the end. :( I have not written anything for one of my first major Star Wars crushes in a long, long time. Probably since I was 16? Poor Boba. So this was a delight, and I had a lot of fun writing it. Thank you for making the request!

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

#frostfics #Beskar Buddies #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian #the book of boba fett #tbobf #din darjin #mando #grogu #baby yoda #boba fett #fennec shand #friendship fic #fic request #your-slutty-gf

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turtleduckscribbles · 2 years

Text

Warhorse

After a long and grueling day on the road, Twilight feels like he's at the end of his rope. But before he can lose his grip, he receives a helping hand, and it comes in the form of a sharp retort and winning smile.

Read on AO3 or continue below.

~o~o~o~o~o~

Twilight wilted as he spared a backward glance at his careworn contemporaries. For a procession of divinely appointed heroes, not a single one of them was looking very heroic. Or divine. Or even appointed, for that matter.

It had been a long and arduous day of travel. Dirt, sweat, and suffering made a compelling refrain for the itinerant band of Links, and providence was sending clear signals that it wouldn’t relent anytime soon. The oppressive rays of the midsummer sun blazed hot and heavy upon their stooped backs. Though there was a conspicuous lack of infected monsters crossing their path, the frequency of attacks was no easier to bear, running them ragged from point A to point B.

Wild, adding much to Twilight’s silent consternation, sustained a considerable laceration to his side while on the road, courtesy of a large congregation of kargaroks. The razor-taloned buzzards had swooped down on them from the sky, screeching and scratching as they assailed the heroes as one murderous body. The nettlesome creatures were remarkably efficient; once Wild began mercilessly pelting them with arrows, they singled out his superior marksmanship and targeted him in earnest. The others slaughtered the giant birds of prey swiftly enough, but the damage had already been done. Such an unfortunate state of affairs earned the champion the accolade of “Most Injured Member of the Group” and a place atop Epona, where he currently sat hunched, nursing his wound.

Twilight clenched Epona’s reins as he led her on foot, wiping the slick perspiration from his brow. As fond as the rancher was of his homeland, he couldn’t claim he was in his happy place right now. His back twinged; his legs burned with lactic acid buildup. Somehow, a wayward rock had lodged itself inside his shoe, heedless of every effort he took to oust it. He squinted up with a frown. While the sun still shone brightly in the azure heavens, it was well past its zenith. Soon they would need to start evaluating where they’d settle in for the night; the plains bordering the castle walls were vast, and without any vegetation to use as cover, they were easy pickings for the next eager gang of monsters. It wasn’t wise to make camp where it was unsheltered. Twilight would rather find an overhang, a shaded thicket, a gorge: somewhere better shielded from the elements as well as potential hostile encounters.

It may also be said that he was—in every respect—dog-tired.

“What’s that?” voiced Hyrule, halting Twilight’s musings. Eight heads shot up in response.

A curlicue of black smoke stood out against a muted blue backdrop. And not just one, but four dark helixes, snaking their way up from the earth’s crust. The ribbons streaked across the land like unfurling banners, coalescing into one monstrous plume. Twilight’s stomach constricted as he eyed the horizon, revolting against the invasive stirrings of memory. Too seasoned to hope this didn’t spell doom.

“Let’s pick up the pace,” he ordered, urgent, with a short tug of the reins. “Hurry.”

They set off with renewed haste. Clopping hooves mingled with the thuds of boots as they hustled toward the tendrils of darkness. The toll of exertion blended with escalating dread and weighed heavily on Twilight’s joints; still, he ignored it, forced it down and below the threshold of his consciousness. From his position astride Epona, Wild grimaced and clutched at his bandaged side, his limbs jostled with each of the mare’s footfalls. Twilight winced in commiseration, knowing it couldn’t be helped.

Hyrule was the first to crest the hill. Winded and windswept, the traveler came to an unsteady halt atop the ridge, eyes blown wide as he took in whatever new horror spanned the abutting lowlands. Panting, Twilight stumbled over with the others, Epona chuffing noisily in his ear.

He cast his gaze out before him.

Scorched earth. Blackened barns. Smoldering farmland. Droves of cattle, scattered in every which direction, tailed by frantic herders. Splintered wood. Piercing cries.

Destruction had alighted rapidly upon this little community, and it wasn’t kind.

Twilight spurred himself forward, galvanizing the rest of the group. He took in the gruesome sight. It was an expansive farm—part of Hyrule’s nascent dairy enterprise, no doubt—yet despite the pleas for help that could be heard above the wind, Twilight took it as a godsend that there were no bodies strewn about the wreckage. He steered their course toward a cluster of sheds that fumed with secluded fires. An older man stood motionless on the perimeter as he absorbed the burning remains. Twilight placed a gentle hand on the man’s back, speaking the words of reassurance he had offered countless times throughout his journeyings:

“It’s okay, sir… We’ve come to help… You’re safe…”

A flurry of activity proceeded these words. Ice rods and arrows materialized into able hands. Legend, ever the stockpiler, had his magical staffs out and distributed among them in no time flat, and they got to work freezing over the skeleton of the structure. Twilight unleashed his gale boomerang on isolated pockets of fire, choking the mutinous fumes. The acrid smell of smoke was staggering, overpowering. He coughed dryly into his pelt, eyes watering from the sting.

In the midst of the commotion, someone came running at them—a man, with the look of a wild animal in his eye, clutching at his hair.

“Please, please! My wife, my child… They’re trapped inside! They’re… they’re…!”

Before Twilight could so much as take a step, two of his companions sprang into action. Without a moment’s delay, Hyrule and Warrior took off in the indicated direction, the latter’s scarf flapping about in his wake. The distraught man dogged their heels in hot pursuit.

It wasn’t long until the persisting flames were snuffed out. With the fires extinguished, a sort of stunned hush fell upon the ruined land. Sooty, noxious fumes leached from charred wood; roofs lay crumbled upon their foundations; villagers roamed aimlessly amidst the detritus, like wraiths drifting through a ghost town. Twilight looked around vacantly. A bleak numbness began infiltrating his veins. His comrades’ synergistic efforts, while certainly a boon to these citizens of Hyrule, ultimately couldn’t repair their damaged property. They couldn’t restore their crippled farms. They couldn’t save their livelihoods, nor could they save their broken homes.

They couldn’t save everything. Couldn’t save everyone.

Sounds of pounding feet reached his ears. Twilight straightened to his full height, dismissing the searing stretch in his hamstrings. He trained his expression into one of impassivity, his trusted default, praying that Hyrule and Warrior hadn’t brought bad news.

But it wasn’t them. Instead, two farmers appeared from the miasmic haze. They made a beeline toward the Hero of Time who, accoutred in the plates of his finest armor, most resembled the part of leader.

“Soldiers of Hyrule,” said the first man, speaking to Time but addressing them all, “y’all came to render us aid in our time of greatest need. Light Spirits’ blessings be upon ya.”

A pause lapsed as his words were allowed to hang in the air. Time’s eye shifted almost imperceptibly over to Twilight, his brow cocked in a way that was implicitly understood by the younger. Twilight stepped forward and accepted the mantle his motherland had thrust upon him long ago.

“We’re not… soldiers of Hyrule,” he said. “We don’t work for the Crown. We’re freelancers.”

The farmers glanced at one another. Sheepish, the first turned to Twilight, leaning heavily onto his pitchfork.

“We was ambushed by bulblins,” the man continued in subdued tones. “Came just this mornin’ when we was out in the pastures. Burned our crops, scattered our livestock… took some fer their own, too. Nobody killed, I don’t think, thank the Spirits fer that… Still got us good, though. Thievin’ devils cleared off once they had their fill, leavin’ us to burn. Someplace yonder.”

He pointed west, away from the castle borderlands. Twilight squinted against the bleeding hues of the evening sun. A handful of men on horseback were in the distance, working in tandem to corral their cattle, panicked and running rampant, back into the fold. There was no sign of Hylian soldiers anywhere.

“We ain’t have much left ’cept each other.”

Sympathy flared like a sucker-punch to Twilight’s gut. As a rancher himself, he understood how taxing farmwork was. He understood the ramifications of today’s events, that it would mean more than just a day’s loss for them in total…

He recalled the self-avowed monster boss—King Bulblin, reigning terror—and the havoc that he and his pernicious band of bandits had inflicted on the kingdom in years past. He was the catalyst that drove Twilight to heroism. It was by his hand that Twilight was first dragged onto this perpetual quest, never resting, always fighting.

But King Bulblin wasn’t supposed to be in opposition to Hyrule anymore. He wasn’t supposed to be raiding and pillaging helpless farmsteads. Twilight had seen to that personally.

Hadn’t he seen to that…?

“Can any of y’all ride?”

Twilight tore his gaze away from the skyline. “What?”

“Horses,” said the farmer. “Can ya ride ’em?”

“I… Yes. I can ride.”

“Will ya track down them bulblins fer us?”

Twilight wasn’t sure what the farmer read on his face—shock, obstinacy, perhaps even fear—because suddenly the man was wavering, stammering, pleading desperately with the assembled group of heroes to take upon themselves this role, this insurmountable task he felt constrained to present them with.

“Please, I… W-We can’t do it ourselves, see… Can’t stop them alone… They took our homes, our cattle… ’S only a matter a time ’til they’re back fer more… We ain’t got no swords like y’all’ve got… We ain’t equipped like y’all… Ain’t fighters…”

Fighters.

It was who Twilight was. A fighter. A protector, through and through, from the fire coursing in his veins to the indomitable wolf that consumed his spirit.

It’s okay… We’ve come to help… You’re safe…

And nothing—not exhaustion, not pain of death—could break that promise.

“...I’ll help. Of course I will.”

Sweet relief crested over the two defeated men. Twilight bore witness to it all: the rush from their lungs, the falling of their shoulders, the sheen in their eyes. From the corner of his own, he also bore witness to the concerned looks of his companions, whose stares seemed to bore holes into his back.

But never mind that. He’d deal with it later.

After an abundance of grasped hands and heartfelt thanks, the farmers gestured to a remote stable—one of the few buildings left intact after the assault. It served as the prime relocation site for the remainder of their cattle, and it was there where Twilight would find fresh thoroughbreds to use in his endeavors to bring the bulblins to justice. Considering the load Epona had been burdened with all day, Twilight agreed to this plan of action without reservation. He couldn’t ask his dear friend to fight all his battles for him. She was just as weary as him, if not more so. She’d worked enough for today.

As for his own strength… he’d make do.

The farmhands departed, and foreseeably, the icy prickle at the back of Twilight’s neck grew impossible to ignore. He turned and met the troubled faces of his allies. They looked at him as if he were on the verge of collapse, like a compass that had been improperly calibrated. Four rubbed at his singed elbow, his countenance one of reproach.

“So… you know that most of us don’t ride, right?”

His question sounded more like an accusation. Twilight was unmoved. “I know. But I do.”

“Well, yeah, but you’ve been working your tail off all day. We all have.”

“This farm has been working longer, I guarantee you.”

Four peered at him incredulously. Sky, dirtied and slumped against a hitching post, blew out a ragged breath and asked, “How can I help? I ride loftwings. I could try horses.”

“No, that wouldn’t be wise,” said Twilight. “You’re worn out, and the learning curve is too steep. I won’t risk it for something this serious.”

Instinctually, he locked eyes with Legend and his gaze hardened, daring the teen to contend. But even the agonistic veteran had nothing to say; he broke eye contact with Twilight, his head lowered in submission. Even Wind, usually so keen to offer suggestions, was quiet, slouched against the grubby Hero of the Skies. Their lethargy wasn’t a mystery to Twilight: like him, they had also been going at it all day. And, like him, they knew their options were limited.

Time hadn’t taken his eye off Twilight since the farmers arrived. The old man stood stock-still, unblinking, taking in every inch of his battered descendant. Twilight stared back, giving his mentor the same treatment. Decked in his distinguished suit of armor, Time was the largest and heaviest among them—much too heavy for sustained mounted combat. While he was doubtless experienced in this area… or at least to some degree… Twilight knew it wasn’t his strong suit. It was evident that he was lacking in some respects. Twilight sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

“Pup…” Time said into the stretching silence, “I know I don’t have your aptitude for horseback warfare. But with our champion incapacitated, you’ll need someone to cover for you. You shouldn’t go alone.”

Epona snorted and tossed her head, her feet shifting warily beneath her. Twilight placed a steadying hand on her broad neck and hushed her softly. He glanced up at her silent passenger. Wild looked positively green; he sat lopsided in her saddle, face screwed into a rictus, bandages nearly soaked through. Needless to say, he was out of commission. Resigned, Twilight rubbed soothing circles onto Epona’s velvet coat, sending her a wordless apology through his touch.

“I don’t want you getting hurt, Old Man,” he mumbled. “But… I have to go. Without aid from the infantry, these people won’t stand a chance against the next attack—and believe me, it will come. The bulblins can’t be left unchecked. I won’t let them.”

With steadfast resolve affixed firmly to his face, Twilight handed the reins of his beloved steed over to his mentor, not quite meeting his eyes. Wishing that the words that followed from his lips didn’t sound like a lie.

“...I’ll be fine.”

~o~o~o~o~o~

In the cramped isolation of the stable, it was relatively quiet, save for the stamping and bleating of skittish barn animals. The scent of straw mingled with the lingering residue of ash and sent the residents into a gyrating tizzy within their stalls. Shafts of skylight impaled the rafters down to the floor below, blinding in their intensity. But Twilight couldn’t see or hear any of it. Slouched on a rickety old stool, he stared down at his hands, his hair shrouding his eyes.

Of all the imprudent decisions the ranch hand had made throughout his life, this ranked highly on the list. Try as he may, he couldn’t prevent the inexorable slide of fatigue into his limbs, into joints that stiffened like rusted hinges in the winter. A craving for rest pressed down on him from all sides, stifling his stamina, making his impending task seem that much more impossible. With exhaustion serving as his helmsman, it was plain that he was destined for failure.

Twilight mindlessly picked at his nail. This wasn’t a solo man job. In the past, he’d always scraped by on sheer adrenaline and the little help he received along the way… with her help… but today the thought was unconscionable. He was just too tired. Ideally, he’d take the night to recharge and consolidate his energy so he could better serve the people around him. But today, that wasn’t an option. Today, he had to fight—even if he fought alone.

But if he just had some extra help… just a little would go a long way…

He thought back to his rejection of Time’s offer. Was it wrong for Twilight to have impugned his mentor’s competence? Should he have still sought his support, regardless of any misgivings? In the moment, it had felt like the right call. Not only was Time’s armor unfit for vigorous riding, but it had probably been years since he’d last attempted this type of combat. Twilight would never admit it to the old man, but while he wasn’t… old, exactly, he wasn’t as adaptable as he used to be. Twilight didn’t want to see him get hurt.

On the other hand… Time did have the most equestrian experience, barring Wild… he was a skilled wrangler, after all…

An abrupt clonk resounded through the stable as a nervous hoof stomped the ground. Twilight’s head jerked up. The bay horse he had just finished currying glared at him with one large eye, its tail swishing with blatant impatience.

“Hey there, bud,” Twilight soothed, rising sorely to his feet. “Didn’t mean to leave you hangin’ there.” He stroked the coarse fur under its mane. “Sorry about that.”

The bay stared coolly back at him, unswayed by his placating words. A flash of guilt surged through him. Just like Epona, this horse was obviously picking up on his agitation. He’d only meant to sit down for a minute before saddling up—his feet were killing him—but he must have lost himself. Truth be told, he wasn’t paying this horse the attention it deserved, especially considering they were supposed to be battle partners. He had already picked its feet and brushed it down to ensure it was primed for armed conflict… but they’d still only just met. He was supposed to be getting to know it, reassuring it—not sitting down on the job, feeling sorry for himself. Twilight shut his eyes and released a drawn-out sigh, picturing the tension ebbing from his body.

“Ah, here he is—the lone wolf himself.”

His eyes snapped open. Seconds ticked by before Twilight turned slowly in place. His expression leveled out, braced for the inevitable.

In the entrance, framed by the open doorway, stood the Hero of Warriors. With crossed arms, the captain rested a hip against the wooden jamb, the setting sun contouring his figure from behind; yet even with the dazzling light, it was difficult to miss his smile, that cloying grin that never failed to allure as much as it did vex.

“I’ll admit, when they told me you’d run off to the stables, I didn’t expect to find you,” Warrior said. “I thought you’d be long gone playing man of the hour by now.”

Twilight didn’t grace that with a response—only a blank stare. A brief moment passed as they stood there, sizing each other up, before something in Warrior’s mien began to change. His grin slid gradually from his face, morphing into a look of tactful discretion as he surveyed the hero across from him with a strategist’s eye.

“You look downright beat. You all right, man?”

The blunt shift of tone caught Twilight off guard. He regarded the captain skeptically. Was this Warrior’s idea of a good time? To while away Twilight’s limited daylight as a way of amusing himself? Another breath, and Twilight wrenched his gaze away, turning back to his four-legged charge.

“I don’t have time to shoot the breeze with you, Captain,” he murmured. “I have to tack up.”

The bay, sensing the mounting friction, snorted and backed away from Twilight, hooves tapping a frenzied rhythm onto the pavement. Twilight placed a stabilizing hand on one of the two ropes securing its halter in place. Despite his best efforts, he couldn’t stop the irritation from brewing in his chest. He didn’t have the mental fortitude to keep up with Warrior’s repartee at the moment. It would be best for everyone if he left.

Footsteps from behind. Twilight wrestled with the flailing lead, jaw clenched tight—only to hear a gentle clucking noise. He glanced back.

Warrior approached from the other end of the aisle, his pace slow and easy. He came at them by degrees, crooning softly, movements relaxed and deliberate as if gliding through water. From his satchel, a handful of apple slices emerged; he stopped a short distance away and proffered his open palm.

“It’s okay, big boy,” he consoled the bay in syrupy tones. “We’re all friends here, see? I’ve got treats—surely you like treats? And listen, I know he looks scary, but Wolf Boy’s actually a good guy, I promise you. He’s really a country bumpkin at heart. Major softie.”

While the content of his speech left much to be desired, it had the intended effect. Curious ears perked toward the sound of his voice. At the sight of the apples, the bay stilled entirely, held captive by Warrior’s enticing offer. Putting a tentative hoof forward, it stretched forth its neck and guzzled up the pieces, nuzzling his hand for leftovers.

“Yeah, I had a feeling,” said Warrior with a smile. He pressed some additional apples into Twilight’s hand and dipped underneath the cross ties, patting the horse’s opposite side. “Good boy.”

Twilight stood frozen with the sticky apples in hand. Reality was playing out in front of his eyes, yet his brain was having a time of computing it. In spite of everything, it seemed that the captain spoke “horse” quite well: With practiced hands, he caressed the bay’s shoulder by way of friendly greeting, his manner attentive and respectful. He spoke to it tenderly, lovingly, as if they’d known one another for years. Then—convinced at having successfully pacified it—he began to move. Gracefully, and mindfully, he trailed a lingering hand down the length of its back, so as to impart his position, circling around its rear to the other side where the tack was kept.

As he passed by, a few details caught Twilight’s eye: torn gloves, blotted vambraces, scorch marks that stood out like bruises on his tunic. Distracted, Twilight barely managed to salvage the apples that went tumbling from his hand due to a pair of greedy, scavenging lips; he indulged them absentmindedly.

“What… happened to you?” he asked the captain, the bay’s whiskers tickling his palm.

Warrior returned with a saddle pad from off the guard rail. Without meeting Twilight’s gaze, he gave an insouciant shrug and set the pad lightly upon the bay’s back, smoothing out the creases. “Someone’s family was stuck under a collapsed roof. They’re all fine though, don’t worry. Traveler and I got them out.” Satisfied with the pad’s alignment, he went to retrieve the saddle.

And that was that.

Interest piqued, Twilight watched the captain as he worked, pacing the hungry horse through its treat intake all the while. The thought entered his mind that he probably hadn’t given Warrior his due credit; even after confronting a harrowing situation, the man seemed just as unflappable as ever. Alongside his collected composure, he appeared to hold zero reservations about the equipment he was handling. He knew exactly how to place the saddle, exactly where to attach the girth, exactly how to fasten the breast collar. Deft hands flew through the various belts and clasps without affording them a second thought. He worked as if he were the horsemaster and Twilight the bumbling stableboy.

Perhaps it was wrong of Twilight to have pegged him as a novice straight out of the gate.

When Warrior drew near with the bridle, Twilight stepped aside to grant him room, shaking himself from his stupor. “So,” he said, unclipping the halter and its accompanying ties, “you ride? Since when?”

Warrior took the bit and coaxed it gently into the bay’s mouth. “Since you were in diapers, more likely than not.”

“Spare me, Cap. You’re not that much older than me.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

“It’s a little hard to swallow coming from someone like you, frankly.”

“Wow—‘someone like me,’ huh?” Warrior’s mouth twitched. “That’s bold talk for a goat-roper.”

“That’s a bit on the nose, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but it’s no skin off mine.”

Their words were sharp, but the smiles tugging at their lips were anything but. Warrior’s concentration never once wavered from his duty, but all the same, Twilight felt the tension evaporate from the room like steam ejected from a pressure valve. He gave the bay an encouraging pat, diverting its awareness away from Warrior’s fiddlings.

“Okay, duly noted,” he said. “So you can ride, among a few other things. Any extra tricks I should know about?”

Warrior gave a small huff of amusement. “There are more than just a few tricks up these sleeves, Farm Boy.”

“Anything else you’d like to tell me, then?”

There was a pause as Warrior finished threading the bay’s forelock through the head band up top. Then, he blinked a couple times, refocusing on the straps.

“There are lots of things I could tell you.”

Twilight studied Warrior’s face: those flawless features that harbored the faintest trace of some underlying depth. It was true that he and the captain weren’t exactly close. They didn’t dislike each other, per se, but they also weren’t the best of buds. They had no trouble exchanging witticisms and the occasional insult when the opportunity presented itself, sure—but Twilight couldn’t claim he knew the man. Until now, he had assumed they had nothing in common, that the two of them came from completely different worlds.

Maybe it was high time he changed that.

“Well, by all means, enlighten me then. I hadn’t realized you grew up around horses. I’ve never seen you so much as glance Epona’s way before. What gives?”

Warrior didn’t answer straight away. Twilight watched him meticulously tighten the bay’s cheek strap, his even expression betraying no hint of emotion. It was only after finishing these adjustments that he finally spoke.

“This might come as a shock to you, but it hasn’t always been city pomp and grandeur for me. I had a life before I enlisted—one with horses, believe it or not. So horsemanship pretty much came with the territory.” He threaded his fingers through the dark strands of the bay’s mane. “I didn’t like bringing her into battle if I could help it, but… sometimes it couldn’t be helped. She helped us turn the tide of the war more times than I can count. She’s a real force of nature.”

She?

“...I miss her.”

The revelation dawned on Twilight like sunrays between parting clouds. As someone who’d come of age outside the city’s embrace, Twilight had grown accustomed to the unsavory labels directed his way—naive, obtuse even—but now, as he listened to the captain’s reflections, the brand fit embarrassingly well. Surprising as it was, Warrior too had a cherished horse companion back home, just like he and the old man had. And Twilight had been blind to it.

The thought left a sinkhole of shame in his stomach.

“I know the feeling,” Twilight said at last, feeding the bay another apple slice. “Few things rattled me like the time Epona was stolen from me. It’s tough being separated for so long. And, well… I know she’s not yours, but… you should try making friends with Epona sometime. I think she’d like you.”

Warrior arched an eyebrow at him. “You think? Even if her rider prefers keeping me at arm’s length at all times?”

“You know that’s not true.”

“It’s sort of true.”

For an instant, Twilight almost felt cornered—that is, until he saw the playful glint in Warrior’s eye. Twilight leveled him with a weak scowl before he was overcome by the unruly grin that broke out on his face.

“All right,” he conceded, “so her rider might be a bit of a chump sometimes. I’ll make sure to knock some sense into him.”

“You do that.”

They exchanged good-humored smiles. Though the burn in his calves and magnitude of the mission at hand loomed before him, Twilight couldn’t help but feel a stabilizing peace settle into his core, as if his center of gravity had been restored. This time, he wouldn’t be alone. He had support.

“Speaking of making friends,” Warrior said, giving the bay a finishing pat and turning to the neighboring stall, “looks like we have another one to make before the day’s through.”

Twilight followed his line of sight. A chestnut stallion regarded them curiously from behind the closed gate. Warrior passed off the bay’s reins to Twilight with a roguish wink and loped his way over to the other horse, his scarf fluttering around his heels.

“Hey, Captain?”

“What’s up?”

Warrior turned back with an expectant look. Several beats slipped by before Twilight blinked away the daze.

“...Thanks. I appreciate the help.”

Even through the gritty haze of the stable, it was hard to mistake the genuine affection that crept over the captain’s features.

“You bet, Rancher.”

~o~o~o~o~o~

The sun barely kissed the horizon as they thundered west, two speeding shapes in the amber gloaming, silhouettes distending behind them like inky filaments reaching across the divide. Grasping shadows engorged themselves on the lay of the land, steadily devouring the last fragments of light; an apt memorial for a forgotten netherworld.

Twilight gripped the bay’s reins as he scanned the barren countryside, eyes narrowed against the glare. When he caught sight of a dark, moving entity not even a league out, he instantly knew the farmer’s directions were sound. A sizable entourage of bulblin archers on boarback were marching their way across the parched grasslands toward the western desert. From the steepled formation of their ranks, it appeared they were protecting something in their center—a group of somethings? Twilight licked his lips and glanced his fellow rider’s way.

Sitting astride the chestnut stallion, Warrior was the picture of the respectable cavalier. Resplendent color adorned his frame from every angle, a whirling sail of greens, blues, and golds that rippled on the wind as he worked his horse through an even canter. His fatigue must have equaled Twilight’s—surely it must have—nevertheless, there he was, right by Twilight’s side, riding in perfect form.

As if he could feel the brand of Twilight’s stare, Warrior met his gaze. A searching look; a nod of tacit agreement; a drawing of weapons… and the chase was on.

Twilight urged the bay into a full gallop, Warrior matching his gait beside him. Hammering hooves ate up the ground as they hurtled toward the convoy of unsuspecting monsters. Twilight’s blood ran hot with the thrill of the hunt, eyes streaming in the crush of air. Once within firing distance, he dropped his reins. A volley of arrows leapt from his bow, striking several of the archers from behind. Before the bulblins could react, Warrior veered left and Twilight veered right, effectively boxing them in.

Chaos erupted on the field as the bulblins broke ranks. Boars squealed with fright as their riders dropped like flies. Felled foes were trampled under the stampede of hooves. Warrior plunged fearlessly into the fray, lopping off horns and cleaving every obstacle that got in his way. Twilight scoped them out at range, covering the captain’s six. There was no retreat, no safe haven. Flanked by the two formidable heroes, the brutes could only flounder.

As the bulblins scattered, it was suddenly revealed to Twilight what they’d been dallying over. A horde of cattle were huddled amidst the pandemonium, dithering over which way to turn: the bulblins’ plundered spoils of conquest.

Not on Twilight’s watch.

With an inciting whoop, he spurred the bay forward, pitching violently in his seat. Limbs went flying as they plowed full steam through a cluster of toppled bulblins. Shrieks and wails were lost to the roaring clamor of his steed’s stride, its powerful legs clobbering the unfortunate beasts beneath it. Twilight rocked with the motion, quadriceps screaming in protest, feeling the animal’s heaving breaths through his thighs. Nothing was more liberating.

Without warning, his bow was knocked from his hand. Twilight lunged, but to no avail; it disappeared in the fracas. He looked back. A number of bulblins had moved behind him into his blind spot, their bows drawn and raised. A dangerous predicament. Another fired arrow, and pain lanced across Twilight’s vision as it grazed his temple. A warm trickle slid down his cheek, wetting his collar.

A rallying cry blared forth. Suddenly, Warrior was charging them from the rear, eyes blazing and his blade held aloft. With a mighty overhead spin, he cut the bulblins down, sending them sky-high, their figures twirling like tops through the air. As the boars swerved wildly, he streaked between them and drew level with Twilight. “Catch!” he yelled, tossing his bow, and Twilight did. With a flourish, Warrior dashed ahead in a shower of dust, trailed by a wave of billowing blue.

Twilight watched in wonder as the captain overtook him. The chestnut stallion was on the warpath, a flurry of racing limbs, mane and tail soaring: a raging war machine, only eclipsed by the warhorse up top. Warrior grasped his knight’s sword with both hands, muscles taut with battle-hardened energy, hacking and slashing on both sides. He rode reinless, using his legs to direct the stallion’s path, hips twisting with precision as he harnessed his momentum to drive his attacks. Synced perfectly with his steed, he was power personified; the embodiment of control.

Spirits, he’s strong.

It didn’t take long for them to eliminate the remaining bulblins. Working in unison, the two conquerors mowed them down until nothing was left except for a razed battlefield and a throng of shivering cows. Twilight slowed the bay to a stumbling halt. Bruised and breathtakingly sore, he slumped against the saddle horn, the captain’s bow dangling from his fingertips. Runnels of sweat coursed down his back beneath his clothes. The back of his throat seared with the metallic tang of dusty air; he gulped it in with an audible rasp. From across the circle of cattle, Warrior mimicked him, his sun-bleached hair in savage disarray. A few gasping breaths later, and Warrior rolled back his shoulders, sheathing his sword.

Though exhaustion was inscribed into every dirt-ridden crease of the captain’s face, his eyes shone with an undeniable glimmer of satisfaction. He gave Twilight an affirmative nod, the corners of his mouth turned up. Twilight shook his head in fond exasperation, marveling over how he could have ever doubted him.

~o~o~o~o~o~

“Well—that was a day and a half.”

Twilight huffed out a giddy breath. For all of his mentor’s gravitas, the man had a knack for delivering the understatement of the century. He hobbled over to join his stiff companions by the fire that had been prepared for them under an improvised shelter. His legs gave out from under him, unable to bear any more, his rump striking the hard ground. “Tell me about it,” he wheezed.

Something nudged his shoulder. A damp cloth was held in Time’s hand, his look one of obliging concern.

“Here. That can’t be comfortable.”

Twilight accepted it with thanks. The pungent scent of antiseptic flooded his nostrils as he pressed the rag to his smarting temple. Time squeezed his shoulder and retreated to the other side of the fire.

It had taken Twilight and the captain the better part of two hours to corral the spooked herd of cattle back to the farmstead. They arrived well after dark to find their comrades in a state of weary, orderly commotion, clearing debris and extending aid to the townsfolk. Despite the devastation surrounding them, a hero’s welcome had greeted them upon their return. The farmers, with tears welling in their eyes at the sight of their preserved livestock, thanked them profusely, singing their praises, offering oblations of gratitude from their meager supply of possessions. Twilight and Warrior had graciously declined them all. It was enough to see them safe—to restore their lives to them, even in the smallest degree.

And now, granted shelter and a generous share of food, the heroes had finally found a respite, a place to rest their tired and aching bones.

Twilight inhaled deeply through his nose. The brisk night air was a soothing balm to his flushed, salt-crusted skin. Wincing, he gingerly crossed his legs, setting his elbows onto folded knees.

“Oof… Got you pretty good there, did they?”

He glanced up. Four eyed him from a few paces away, a thick, woolen blanket drowning his little frame. Twilight shrugged and readjusted his cloth.

“Not really. Just a scratch.”

Four raised a cynical eyebrow. With a small smile, he tossed a tattered throw Twilight’s way, which the latter gratefully used as a sitting cushion.

“Hey, I’ll vouch for him,” said a gravelly voice. Warrior’s boots shuffled into Twilight’s periphery. “Rancher’s telling the truth—no heroics this time. It barely nicked him. He kicked some major monster butt out there, you should have seen it.”

Twilight—used to the captain’s backhanded compliments and far less ambiguous gibes—couldn’t believe his ears. Was this a ruse? Dumbstruck, he whipped around to gaze at Warrior, whose signature simper was nowhere to be seen.

“What?” said Warrior. “I’m serious—you were a beast.”

Ah. There it was.

And yet… notwithstanding the quip… his words lacked the usual bite Twilight had come to expect. Warrior looked at him straight-faced, eyes devoid of ridicule. An open book. It left Twilight strangely warm. He banished away the feeling, averting his eyes.

“Yeah, well… thanks. So were you.”

He wasn’t met by a response, only the sound of crackling wood. Around the fire, the circle of heroes sat in various states of repose, nursing the hurts they’d accumulated throughout the day. Twilight noticed that Warrior was the only one standing among them. The captain stood slightly apart, staring into the flames, making no move to sit. Twilight eyed the scuffed leather of his boots, the dark smudges that marred his cheeks. Bright yellow bangs hung limply on his forehead, stringy with dried sweat. He looked utterly spent. With an awkward shimmy, Twilight scooted over and waved over the captain’s attention, patting the space next to him on the blanket.

Warrior regarded him with hopeful disbelief. Then, the hint of a grin dawned on his face. He accepted the ranch hand’s offer, moving beside him on the throw.

“Ugh,” he grunted, dropping down to the ground. “Nothing like a thrashing ride after rollicking in the fields all day. Really gets the blood moving.”

Twilight snorted, massaging some feeling into his cramped calves. “Really, though. I think I’m stuck like this. Everything aches.”

A weak laugh sounded from Wild. The champion lay on his bedroll with his eyes closed, hands resting on his wrapped torso. “Very astute of you, Captain Obvious.”

“Whoa now, I’m Captain around here,” Warrior returned.

A whirl of sparks surged into the air as Time poked a stick into the fire. “You have much to be proud of, Pup,” he said softly. He looked up, the light catching his eye. “You did fine work today. Both of you.”

Twilight dragged a hand through his matted hair, conscious of the many pairs of eyes. “Um… thanks. I… Well, I couldn’t have done it without the captain. His help was invaluable.”

“Aw shucks, Rancher,” said Warrior, putting a theatrical hand to his chest. “You flatter me.”

“It’s true, though. I owe you one.”

An abrupt stillness fell as Warrior’s expression shifted from impish to solemn in the blink of an eye. He lowered his hand, his face set in stone.

“You don’t owe me anything. Not you, not anybody. Not ever. That’s the purpose of a team: to have each other’s backs.”

Then, like the breaking of a spell, the cloud passed. Warrior turned his attention to his shoulder armor, commencing its systematic removal. “Besides, I told you already—these sleeves hold all the aces. This baby’s got some moves.”

Twilight gave him a sideways look. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Weren’t you watching? I’m no one-trick pony.”

“You don’t say.”

“I do. And you should have seen the look on your face when I busted them out, too. Priceless.”

“Your humility’s on point, Captain.”

“Perhaps, but not as much as your bullheadedness, Goat Boy.”

Twilight scoffed. As if to drive home his case, Warrior was suddenly adopting Twilight’s plaintive drawl, the cadence of his voice uncannily accurate:

“Now, Captain, I ain’t got time to chew the fat with you, so you’d better skedaddle. You’re crampin’ my rustic style. And don’t you be comin’ after me either, you hear? I’m a big strong boy, with big strong muscles. I can shoulder the world by myself, and then some.”

Ripples of laughter swept around the circle. Twilight scrubbed the cloth over his face, tamping down the heat rising to his cheeks. “Just for the record, I never said any of that. Not even close.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you didn’t.” Smirking, Warrior leaned over and gently elbowed his side. Twilight looked away to hide his smile, refusing to give the other man the satisfaction.

Git.

“Okay, you two, that’s enough of your dog and pony show,” droned a hoarse voice. On the fringe of the firelight, Legend lay curled on his side, sleep sack pulled up to his nose, peering out at them with sleepy irritation. Warrior set the last component of his arm guard down with a jolting clank.

“I was wondering when you’d speak up, Vet,” he said, flexing his wrist. “We’ve missed those dulcet tones of yours. You’ve been quiet as a lamb all day.”

It was unnerving to Twilight how much venom could be contained within a single look. Legend glowered at Warrior something fierce before he quickly turned his back to them, kicking at the sheets. “Shut up,” he grumbled, voice muffled by his covers. “I’m tired.”

Warrior swapped a shrewd smile with Hyrule, who shook with restrained laughter. Twilight watched this transaction play out with guarded interest. Thankfully, he had enough experience with Legend’s peculiarities by this point to know that the affected air he put on was only a front—harmless, really. Even so, they left the veteran to his beauty sleep, and soon, Sky and Wild joined his ranks, drifting off into the realm of a fitful slumber.

Silence fell. With the townsfolk retired to their provisional lodgings, the nighttime song of the plain filled their place. The gentle susurration of the encircling weeds and shrubs hypnotized and lulled the enervated mind. Twilight watched the steady movements of Wild’s bandaged chest with unseeing eyes. Though he yearned to follow his companion’s lead, he knew sleep wouldn’t be finding him in his sorry state. The tendons in his arms felt on the verge of snapping and his legs cramped and spasmed incessantly. He needed a diversion, something to distract himself from the nagging pain. He rolled out his stiff neck, peeking over at the captain.

Warrior’s eyes were shut to the world, his hands resting lightly on bent knees. He appeared meditative; straight-backed and grounded, his chest rose and fell with the rhythmic pulse of his breaths, as if each exhale were relinquishing the aches from his body. Twilight frowned. Oddly, the idea of abandoning their earlier conversation wasn’t sitting well with him. Besides, he needed some answers. He cleared his throat, setting down his rag.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he began, voice diminished so as to not wake the others. “So… your ‘moves,’ as you call them. What’s the story behind those?”

Warrior cracked an eye open. He thought for a moment before he stretched out his legs, leaning back delicately onto his elbows.

“So much to say, and still you jump straight to horsey talk.” He grinned. “Is that always where your mind runs to, Farm Boy?”

“Hey, it’s a fair question,” countered Twilight. “With all those tricks hidden away in your sleeves, can you blame me?” With a wince, he lowered himself to the captain’s level, mirroring his reclined pose. “Close quarters combat on horseback isn’t easy, even for people who’ve been riding their whole lives. Where’d you learn, the army?”

“Partly. They schooled us in the art of war, but I’d already been riding for years by then. The military only facilitated the transition.”

Twilight hummed. “You ride well. What tack do you use—modern, classical?”

“More classical-cutting, actually. Not as hardy as your discipline, but I find it more versatile on the battlefield.”

“Makes sense.” A vivid image from earlier that evening flashed across Twilight’s recollection. “That spin finisher you did today? That takes a lot of strength, not to mention coordination. Nicely done.”

“Thanks, man.” Warrior shot him a winning smile. “I took a leaf from your book on that one, believe it or not. You and your girl brought down those aeralfos last week like pros. You’re a natural.”

The unexpected praise sent childish delight swirling in Twilight’s chest. He felt himself flush. “Oh… well, I’m honored. I shouldn’t take all the credit, though. Epona’s the real MVP.”

“Huh, what’s that? You’ll need to crank up the modesty a little more, I couldn’t hear you.”

Twilight rolled his eyes, feigning apathy but failing miserably. Fortunately, he was saved from a reply.

“If we’re telling horse stories, then you should hear about the time Captain stormed Ganon’s stronghold,” interjected Hyrule with a sly grin. The traveler sat warming his hands over the fire as he listened in. “Ganon holed himself up in Hyrule Castle and was all smug about it. He thought he’d won, but Captain and his horse kicked down the keep door and rode roughshod over his troops. Ganon was pretty peeved, right Captain?”

Twilight, who had never heard any such story, raised a quizzical eyebrow. Time too looked over with intrigue, as did Wind and Four. Warrior dipped his head with a smirk, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.

“Yeah, he wasn’t too thrilled about that,” he said. “When a single rider and his mount prove mightier than the entirety of your armed forces, you know you’ve got problems. Serves him right for hiding away, though. Any martial tactician worth their salt could tell you that one of the most essential precepts in military leadership is leading from the front. Ganondorf’s powerful, but he doesn’t know the first thing about commanding an army—and that’s mutual respect and collaboration. He throws his troops around like they’re cannon fodder, not equals, and I’ll tell you what, that’s the wrong way to lead. When we raided his base in the desert…”

With a captive audience wrapped around his finger, there was no stopping the eager captain’s deliberations. Warrior beamed with pride, gobbling up the attention like it was his last meal on earth, gesturing fervently as he regaled them with the sensational details of his triumphs. Clearly, he was in his element. Twilight smiled down at the ground, feeling that familiar fondness blooming within. In days past, such histrionic displays from the captain would have likely sent the rancher packing. Back then, he was too caught up in their differences, too distracted by the impassable gulf between them that existed in his mind. But now? Twilight thought he understood. To Warrior, this time of merrymaking was a reprieve. It was a rejuvenating breath of air after an endless, taxing day; a joyous reunion with the people who mattered most to him… and Twilight could respect it. Histrionics or not, Warrior was a good horseman. He was a good fighter, a good leader. A good friend, whom Twilight could always count on to have his back, through thick and thin.

And Twilight wouldn’t change that for anything.

~o~o~o~o~o~

A/N: Warrior's love language is Acts of Service and nobody can convince me otherwise >:3

Thanks for reading!

#turtle scribbles #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu warrior(s)#lu fanfiction #friendship fic #brotherly bonding #brotherly banter #heroics & horsemanship #canon-typical violence #i love these strong men so much

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