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youssefguedira · 17 days

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wrote this instead of doing any of my actual tasks <3 tw for brief mention of animal death (by hunting)

Yusuf has been dreading this since the moment they left for Akkala. He had made as many excuses as he could to stay in Goron City for as long as he could, but every one had run out in the end, and he could no longer put off the inevitable.

The first time he had walked this road, his father had accompanied him with a platoon of guards, still cautious, still reeling from the attack that had taken Yusuf's mother. The second time there had been fewer, but still many.

In the years after that, the number of people sent with him had decreased even further until it was only two or three guards, enough to keep him safe. His father stopped accompanying him on these journeys after he turned fourteen and there had been no sign of their worth.

Now, only Nicolò.

He follows, keeping a respectful distance away from Yusuf, but closer than he had walked before they had gone to meet Nile, to ask for her help. He doesn't ever ask to stop, or to slow down, letting Yusuf set the pace. He keeps a hand on the hilt of his sword and does not speak.

What is there to be said? Nicolò knows what lies at the end of this road, even if he does not know what it will mean for Yusuf.

Yusuf can feel Nicolò's eyes on his back. It is bad enough that the whole kingdom knows he is a failure: he does not need Nicolò to watch him fail and say nothing.

The sun is low, casting the landscape in burnt orange. It would be beautiful were it not so horribly familiar. There is a cabin nearby, and not far from it, the Spring. They will stay in the cabin tonight; they will leave for the Spring in the morning and spend three days there, then return to Goron City and after that, the castle.

Yusuf thinks about returning, about his father's inevitable disappointment, and feels sick.

“Yusuf,” Nicolò says, sounding uncertain. He is not yet used to calling Yusuf by his name. “We are not far, yes?”

Yusuf had forgotten that Nicolò does not know every cursed inch of this road the way Yusuf does. “No, not far. In a moment you'll see the cabin.”

Nicolò says nothing. Yusuf glances back just long enough to meet his eyes before looking away.

What is Nicolò thinking? Yusuf can never tell.

Yusuf catches sight of the cabin a moment later. Dread sits like a stone in his stomach.

When they get closer, Nicolò takes hold of his elbow, gentle. It startles Yusuf all the same - he hadn't realised Nicolò was that close to him.

“Let me go first,” Nicolò says. “To check. But stay close.”

Yusuf nods, and lingers barely a handspan from Nicolò's back while he surveys first the outside, then the inside, of the cabin. Once he's satisfied, he gestures for Yusuf to enter.

“You should rest,” he says, and he is being so gentle with Yusuf it almost hurts. Perhaps Andromache has told him what this will mean for him: she has accompanied him before.

Yusuf shakes his head, because sleep means dreams, and dreams will be worse. “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to find something for dinner,” Nicolò says.

“Let me come with you,” Yusuf says. Anything is better than sitting in this cabin alone with his thoughts.

Nicolò looks at him for a long moment. Perhaps he takes pity on Yusuf, or perhaps he thinks that it will be easier to keep Yusuf safe if he stays with Nicolò. Either way, he nods. “All right.”

----------

Finding something for dinner means that Nicolò leads Yusuf a little way into the woods, far enough that the foliage and the dying sunlight makes it difficult to see, and bids him hide beneath a tree, in a space formed by the roots, while Nicolò crouches beside him with his bow, nocking an arrow in one smooth, seamless motion. From his vantage point, Yusuf can see a small clearing with a few fallen trees.

“Do not move,” Nicolò instructs him in a whisper, “and do not make a sound.”

Yusuf rests his head against the tree and watches the leaves move in the breeze. It is quiet enough that all he can hear is their rustling, the sounds of birds and animals calling to each other, the rushing of the stream nearby. After a moment, and with nothing else to watch, Yusuf begins to watch Nicolò.

He has gone as still and as quiet as the trees around them, barely breathing, his shoulders rising and falling only slightly, like he has become a part of the forest. Faron Woods is much further south from here, but Yusuf supposes that this forest must be somewhat similar to where Nicolò grew up. He wonders who taught him to hunt; who taught him to be so comfortable in this place. Why he left it behind to travel to the castle and work for the king.

There are a lot of things Yusuf wonders about him. He cannot tell if Nicolò is aware of Yusuf’s watching; he must be. Still, Yusuf cannot help but watch.

It happens faster than Yusuf can track. Nicolò goes entirely still, and draws his bow swiftly, silently. Yusuf holds his breath and so does the forest.

Nicolò lets the arrow fly.

Yusuf doesn’t see whether it finds its mark, but Nicolò looks for a moment and then stands. “Wait here,” he says to Yusuf, and then heads for the clearing. When he returns he’s carrying something behind his back, the arrow in his other hand. Blood drips onto the grass.

“You can wait inside while I prepare it, if you prefer,” Nicolò says haltingly. Yusuf shakes his head, and so he sits on a log outside while Nicolò skins the rabbit, arms wrapped around his knees and chin drawn up to his chest. Nicolò keeps his back to Yusuf, shielding most of it from view.

Who taught him this? Yusuf wonders. It is a part of Nicolò he has never seen before.

When it is done, he takes it back inside to cook over the fire, and they eat it alongside the bread and cheese they brought from Goron City, across from each other at the cabin’s little table.

“When do you want to leave, tomorrow?” Nicolò asks softly.

“I don’t,” Yusuf says before he can stop himself, and then adds, “I don’t know. Early, probably.” The thought bursts the little bubble he’s been in since they arrived. He doesn’t want to leave, could stay here for the three days they’ve been allocated and return to his father without even having tried and it would change nothing.

“Just after sunrise, then,” Nicolò says. “It is not far, you said?”

Yusuf shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Not far.”

----------

The water is freezing.

It has always been freezing. But Yusuf knows well enough that if he stands in it for long enough, it will start to warm. It reaches to around halfway up his thigh; when he was younger, it felt deeper.

The stone in front of him offers nothing. No sign, no indication that anything is listening to him except for the water and Nicolò, who has been standing at the gate of the Spring for however long he has been in here. Has he been listening? Has he heard Yusuf pleading for something, anything, dreading the moment he returns to the castle and his father looks down at his left hand and sees nothing there?

What does Nicolò think of him now? If he did not see a failure before, does he see one now?

His legs may be going numb. They tremble beneath him, struggling to hold his weight. How long has he been standing here?

“Tell me what I am doing wrong,” he begs the stone. His voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else. “I know I am not the one you wanted, but I am trying. I am trying. I have given everything. I do not know how much more I have left.”

The stone says nothing.

Nicolò says, “Yusuf.”

Yusuf hears him without listening, falls to his knees in the water and does not even feel the chill.

“Please,” he pleads. “I cannot return – I cannot give anymore.”

There is a splash behind him, and then there is Nicolò, pulling him to his feet, pulling him from the water. Yusuf tries to hold fast - he cannot leave now or it will have been three days in the Spring with nothing to show for it.

“Yusuf,” Nicolò says again. His grip is gentle but unrelenting, and he is warm. Yusuf, shivering as he is, can’t help but lean into it. “You are exhausted. You are going to freeze. Come with me.”

“I can’t,” Yusuf says, even as he lets Nicolò take his weight, lets him guide Yusuf out of the Spring. “I can’t.”

There is a small paved area where their camp is set up. Nicolò has kept the fire going, or restarted it, while Yusuf was in there, and he half-carries Yusuf over to it now. Yusuf’s legs buckle under him the moment Nicolò lets him go, and he sinks onto something soft laid over the paving stones. He blinks, and there is a bowl in his hands, warming even if he does not really taste it.

“It was never supposed to be me,” Yusuf says without really meaning to.

From across the fire, Nicolò watches him.

“It was supposed to be my mother,” Yusuf whispers. The only sound between them is the crackling of the fire. Yusuf is so, so tired. He has never said this to anybody else, not even Andromache, but he cannot keep the words from rushing out of him now.

“It came to her when she was nineteen,” he says, “and that’s how they knew it would happen in her lifetime. So she trained, and she mastered it, and we were ready. And then she was killed, and because I was the oldest, it came to me.”

He does not like thinking about this. He has not thought about this in years. They do not speak of it anymore.

Nicolò is still watching him.

“I was asleep when it happened,” Yusuf continues. “I dreamt it as it happened, but I didn’t know until later. The moment she died, I woke up screaming. They told me afterwards that I was– I was glowing, bright enough that nobody could look at me for long or get close enough to see what was happening to me. They just had to wait until I came out of it. It felt like I was burning.” If he closes his eyes, he is there again, twelve years old and terrified.

“That’s how we know it should be me,” he says after a moment. “Who can do it. Because I did, once, but never again, despite all of this.” He waves at the Spring, the water, the stone.

Exhaustion tugs at him. His eyes will not stay open, but he cannot let himself fall asleep, not yet.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he tells Nicolò. “There’s still time.” It cannot be late yet; the sun has gone down, but it is not quite dark. “Don’t let me.”

“You have to rest,” Nicolò says. It is the first thing he has said to Yusuf since he pulled him from the Spring, and Yusuf cannot tell what he is thinking.

“I can’t fall asleep,” Yusuf insists.

“At least let yourself warm up first,” Nicolò says. There is a pile of dry clothes in his hands - where did he get them?

Nicolò convinces him to change and to sit back down, to rest a little while longer. This time he steers Yusuf to sit down on his bedroll instead, and Yusuf’s grip on his arm goes tight.

“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he says again.

“You cannot go on like this,” Nicolò says. “Sleep, and I will wake you in a few hours’ time.”

Yes, a few hours. That, Yusuf can afford. “Promise me,” Yusuf says, but his eyes are already closing unbidden.

Nicolò says nothing.

----------

When Yusuf wakes, it is still dark outside, and there is a cloak that is not his own draped over him. Nicolò is crouched over the fire only a short distance away. He catches Yusuf’s eye, but doesn’t say a word.

It all comes crashing back at once: the water, the stone, Nicolò. Yusuf sits up.

“You didn’t wake me,” he says.

Nicolò watches him for a long moment. “You needed the rest,” he says finally.

Suddenly his consideration stings. “That wasn’t your decision to make. What time is it?”

Nicolò glances at the sky. “It will be sunrise soon.”

Yusuf’s heart sinks. Sunrise means return, means return to the castle and his father with nothing. He gets up, pushes Nicolò’s cloak aside. “You should have woken me.”

Unexpectedly, Nicolò pushes back. “You would have only made yourself ill. You were barely conscious. I would not have done it if–” “That was not your decision to make,” Yusuf snaps. “I am not a child, Nicolò. I am capable of handling myself. I have lost hours.”

Nicolò does not say anything. Yusuf almost wishes he would keep pushing, but he does not. He simply folds himself back into the same blank expression he always carries, and again, Yusuf cannot read him.

“If the sun will rise soon, there is not much use in staying here for much longer,” Nicolò says eventually, quiet. He doesn’t meet Yusuf’s eyes. Guilt twists his stomach.

Did Nicolò know? Did Andromache warn him? Or was he just worried?

Yusuf nods.

They pack up their camp in silence, side by side. By the time they set off on the road back towards Goron City, the sun has risen, and the early light turns the world around them to gold.

Yusuf walks, and Nicolò follows behind him, as always.

#neon writes #the zelda au which lives only in my head #spring of power baby! if this seems vaguely familiar setup wise its because ive moved the vague plot of the mount lanayru ficlet here #this is a fairly early stage in their relationship booker is the 3rd champion they find (before andy who's the last)#so like. yusuf is warming up to him (hence him actually talking to nicolo) but is still. going through his whole deal #he'll apologise i promise hes just having a rough go of it the springs are a bit of a touchy subject #spring of power btw. nicolo on the other hand has not quite realised the full extent of whats up wrt yusuf and the springs #and his father generally. he doesnt think yusufs a failure tho thats just yusufs brain #anyway ive been replaying age of calamity and Wow botw zelda is the character of all time. for sure. obsessed with her #so i'm channeling that into this. feat. the reveal of what happened with yusufs mom #anyway. enjoy <3 #the old guard #kaysanova #fine main tag. whatever. this is for me and the 2 people who have expressed interest in this au #it haunts me daily

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softquietsteadylove · 3 months

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A newly arrived stallion arrives and Thena watches how Gil and that said stallion forming a bond

Something wholesome and cute? For the dressage AU

It was huge. Stallions were fairly large breeds, of course--well muscled and meant to be strong. But even with all that being said, there was no denying the horse was massive. It was all black, with quite a mean expression. Its long mane had yet to be trimmed or groomed because the beast wouldn't let anyone near it, let alone with shears.

Only one had been brave enough to even try.

Thena watched from around Olympia's shoulder. She had only seen the new arrival a few times, now. He had been purchased by the club for what an asset he could be, but first they needed someone willing to tame him. From what she had heard, Ikaris had tried, maybe even Eros - only the most egotistical riders, of course - but to no avail.

"Easy, boy, eyes on me."

Gil had a tight hold on the rope in his leather gloved hand. He let the horse trot in circles around him. The line was taut, the horse maintaining a distance from Gil but at his own pace. Gil walked in circles as he was led by his companion.

"That's right, it's okay," he spoke softly to the monstrous horse, keeping his eyes on it. He was the only one strong enough to compete with the horse's pull on the reins, of course. "No one's here to hurt you, pal. Just try to take it easy."

The horse glared at him, pulling back and trying to get up on his back legs.

"Ah--hey!" Gil tugged again, pulling him forward. "None of that!"

Thena watched, astonished as the stallion seemed to listen. She knew Gil had a way with the creatures, but she had never quite seen it to this degree. Maybe a way with a stubborn or fickle horse, but never taming an actual wild stallion. It was like something out of a romance novel.

Olympia bumped her shoulder.

"Hey!" Thena hissed at her impetuous horse, who flicked her ears at her. Olympia wanted to know more about the new horse as well, obviously. "Stop it!"

"Thena?"

Thena froze, nearly blushing at being caught spying on him (again). She pulled her hands behind her back to disguise her fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her white buttoned shirt. "I-I see the new recruit is in good hands."

Gil looked at the stallion, who eyed Thena with a new level of wariness. Gil snapped the rope faintly, just enough to remind the horse of the bridle in its mouth. "Be nice."

His tail flicked, but the horse didn't exactly stomp or kick up his feet at her.

"I heard he was unworkable," she murmured, eyeing the creature keeping its distance from them.

Gil also kept his eyes on the young steed, like a coach eyeing a stubborn athlete. "No horse is unworkable, some are just more stubborn than others. But I think we're coming to understand each other."

The stallion attempted to rear up again, voicing his disagreement with that.

"Hey!" Gil barked at him, moving in front of Thena to keep the horse's eyes on him. "Don't make trouble for her!"

The young horse snorted but planted his hooves down again.

Gil wound the rope around his forearm to shorten the leash, walking forward again. "Listen, buddy, I get it, okay? You don't wanna be here?--tough. But it'll be fine if you give it a chance."

Thena watched as, once again, Gil the horse whisperer approached the unsocialised steed and spoke with him on even ground. She could imagine that if they dealt with canines that the unruly new creature would be seating itself before him.

"You think I got into this business because you smell great?" Gil snorted right back at the horse, who turned its face away from the joke about horse smell in general. "I used to just make horseshoes. But I met one horse, just like you, that was way too full of itself."

The horse whinnied again, complaining about its lecture.

"Shut up and listen," Gil sighed, loosening his grip on the rope. "I had to get some horseshoes on this thing, so I spent a whole month winning it over. And do you know what happened?"

The stallion just stared at him.

Thena felt the familiar and uncomfortably moist breath of a horse leaning over her shoulder. She nudged her nose away from her ear, "sh, just listen."

"I finally got the horse shoes on," Gil put his hands on his hips (the rope almost totally slack in his hand). "And he took a dump on me as soon as I did."

The stallion didn't even attempt to hide how much it enjoyed hearing that.

"Olympia," Thena whispered again, nudging her horse, who was also chortling behind her shoulder.

"But his hooves were in good condition for the rest of the season," Gil finished with a huff. He crossed his arms, "because he didn't have to like me, but we did have to work together."

The stallion turned its head somewhat, not wanting to concede.

"So," Gil held his hands up, dropping the rope tethering the horse to him, "I'm gonna let you think about what you want to do."

"Gil?" Thena frowned, watching the rope fall between him and the horse. She moved closer to Olympia subconsciously, and Gil took a few steps back from the horse and closer to her.

Gil stayed still in front of her, watching as the hose kicked and bucked and neighed at the top of his lungs. "He just has to get it out of his system."

Thena wasn't sure if there would be an end in sight to that. But Gil knew what he was doing, maybe more than any equestrian club member in the building. Although she had to admit that the sheer size and display put her on edge.

Gil didn't say anything - very kindly - about her clutching at his sleeve.

The stallion glared at him, panting from its display of protest. It stalked over to him slowly.

"Gil," Thena repeated, tugging at him more. The horse truly was huge, standing much, much taller than Olympia. She moved somewhat more behind him, "Gil!"

"It's okay," he said calmly, whether to her or the horse staring them down. He raised his hands openly, "you ready to give this another try?"

Thena held her breath, nearly hiding her eyes as Gil reached out to the stallion's nose. But she let it go as he actually let Gil pet him. It was slight, and after just a few pats he was sick of it, turning away and flicking his tail again. But Gil had done it, in a sense.

"It's okay," he chuckled, watching his stubborn new stablemate stomp around petulantly. "I think he's done with his temper tantrum, at least for now."

"Hm," Thena mused, unable to match his level of surety. But she did her best to pretend she hadn't been clinging to him. "I'm sure the riders will be eager to think that they can have a go at him, now."

"Well, I think he'll be reluctant to let anyone that close to him yet," Gil ruffled his hair, letting out a tense breath. He turned back to her properly, "sorry you had to get caught up in that."

She tilted her head at him, "was it true?--about you and taming that horse?"

"It is true," he rolled his eyes, "not that it's a nice story or anything. But that is how I started caring for horses and not just making horse shoes. So I guess I know how to deal with colts like him."

The stallion bellowed at him from across the pen, just to complain about being called a young colt.

"Save it, buddy," Gil chuckled back at the horse.

"You make an interesting pair, that is certain," Thena smiled, gravitating back to the side of her own lovely mare. "Should I look forward to watching you mount in the future?"

"Hm?" Gil blinked at her. "Oh, I'm no rider, I'll leave that to you guys."

Gil laughed it off, but Thena watched as he smacked the outside of his thigh, clad in blue jeans to emphasize that he wasn't a rider. But she wasn't sure about that, because he was definitely strong enough to ride if he wanted to.

Not that she had noticed such things.

"Come on," Thena murmured to Olympia as Gil went back to the steed, the boys bonding over whatever males bonded over. She tickled the nose of her prim white horse, "let's leave the men to their work."

#Thenamesh Dressage AU #Gil and a stallion #I don't know much about horses #but the one in that movie sure seemed like he didn't want to be ridden #the animation in that movie is stunning #even if I wasn't a horsegirl growing up #but Gil would know how to handle an unruly young horse trying to give him trouble #Gil is like oh I'm just a sweet mild mannered horse caretaker #but he's actually ranch daddy in blue jeans leading a horse with one arm and 'owen grady-ing' it with the other #Thena watching like hm does he always wear jeans that tight?#Olympia: yet again I am forced to witness this in front of my hay #also that new stallion is just the new kid at school #he'll be okay #Gil gets him a little more used to being here #Olympia: so what's your deal #Stallion: no one understands me

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