Archive of Our Own ^beta

“I’m sure you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you here today,” Warriors began his soliloquy before his brothers, who were seated around the inn’s massive wood-plank dining table. The weathered surface itself seemed to bow under the substantial weight of his words.

Their attention was divided; some stared blankly at the captain, others at the neat piles of rupees in front of them. Eight tiny mountains of almost a dozen gemstones each, laid across the table, ripe for the plucking. But they dared not move while Warriors addressed them. His demeanor was deadly serious.

“It’s been unfortunately brought to my attention that your manners have been shockingly unbecoming. I would say they ‘lapsed,’ but frankly I’m not sure they were even present to begin with.” He readjusted his scarf with a haughty flip of the wrist. One eyebrow traveled upward as both eyes swept the chain with distaste, scrutinizing them the way he would vermin scuttling about the sewers beneath Hyrule Castle.

“According to who?” Wild spluttered in disbelief. This was news to him.

“According to whom,” Wars sniped. “And if you must know, the inn staff. And by, you know, common sense. I’ve seen how you all handle yourselves. Like feral moblins. Not like Heroes of Hyrule.”

“That’s offensive,” Legend barked, pouting a bit. The veteran leaned back in his chair so he could sweep both Pegasus Boots up and onto the table. He gave his brother a challenging glare, arms crossed before his chest.

“Offensive to moblins, yes,” Warriors retorted. “And that-” He pointed at Legend’s posture, despite himself. “-is exactly the kind of behavior I’m talking about.”

“We’re not that bad…” Wind muttered. He wore a petulant pout and a slight blush of embarrassment.

“Oh, you’re not?” Warriors sneered right back. He snorted, too, for good measure. “Then, pray tell, who was it who tracked all that mud in here? Because it sure as Hylia wasn’t me.”

The sailor dove under the table to track the long, winding trail of gritty brown smears. It started right at the doorjamb, snaked around the inn’s floor, over the carpet by the hearth and… ended right underneath his spot on the bench. Wind screwed up his face into an even deeper scowl, if that was indeed possible.

Wind mumbled something almost inaudible, something about a conspiracy that he’d been framed by Four, aided by the Minish. The smithy heard this and launched across the table at his brother without warning. The two locked into a boyish scuffle; Four whacked at Wind’s shoulder while the pirate grabbed Four’s headband, pulled it as far back as he could, and let go so it snapped back against the smithy’s forehead with hearty thwack. The stream of coarse language that followed flowed like Death Mountain lava until—

“ENOUGH!” Warriors roared, leaping to his feet. The table, the rupees upon it, and truth be told the whole room, rattled at the sudden movement. The chaos died down instantly as the two boys lowered back down into their seats. Their eyes were wide and wary, like those of children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. They sat motionless with their hands now politely folded on the table in front of them.

“Thank you,” Warriors breathed in exasperation. He drew in a deep, measured inhale and let it out. In through the nose, out through the mouth… 

“Now,” he began, leveling his tone back to neutral. Enthusiastic, even. “Here’s the challenge.” He swept one arm in front of them, across the table, redirecting their attention to the cash. “I’ve given each of you 10 rupees. You have to go until the end of dinner on your best behavior. And I mean it. No profanity, no fingers in noses, nothing of the sort.” He gave a narrowed-eye sweep across the table, hovering on Hyrule for a disproportionate amount of time. “Every time someone does something rude, I take one of their rupees back. Whoever has the most rupees in their pile at the end of dinner gets to keep the pot. Deal?”

“Just until the end of dinner?” Legend questioned.

Warriors nodded despite himself. He was legitimately distressed at the pitiful standard he’d laid out for the chain. If he’d set the bar any lower, they’d have tripped on it.

The Links eyed the captain, each other, and their tiny pouches bulging with emerald gemstones. Their eyes sparkled, just like the rupees. Eighty of them.

“Deal.”

“Now all of you go wash up for supper like proper gentlemen while I set the table.”

Within an hour the table was set to the high standards of the Hyrulean Royal Family; Wars made damn sure of that. Each place setting was painstakingly aligned, with almost a dozen utensils present at each. The napkins were folded into perfect equilateral triangles: a tongue-in-cheek arrangement, the captain mused. He’d grilled (pun intended) the inn’s kitchen staff for just about thirty minutes on the proper procedures for preparing and serving such a high-class dinner. How many courses, on what side to offer the serving platters, the whole spiel. But the inn was woefully unprepared for such an event. Warriors himself dug through the innkeeper’s musty storage crates to find their fine, untouched china. Which he set himself while the nincompoop cooks scurried about the kitchen. Honestly, they wouldn’t know an hors d’oeuvre from an amuse bouche if they choked on it.

But this was going to work; it had to work. Din as his witness, Warriors would make proper Hylians out of these gremlins…

Meanwhile, the inn’s upstairs was a flurry of frantic activity. Some scurried about, dashing between rooms and clawing through knapsacks in desperate attempts to find suitable clothing. Nearly everything they owned was moth-eaten, stained, or ripped straight through. Sky cringed when he realized he did not own two socks that A. had no holes in the toes and B. matched in the first place. So he laced his boots up even tighter and hoped the captain was inattentive enough of their footwear to let that slide.

The water closet was packed full with bodies, clamoring over the wash basin and sloshing sudsy water all over the floor. The communal bar of soap that was as large as a brick paver a few minutes ago was now a nearly ineffectual nub that the boys passed around. The chain scrubbed harshly at the caul of grime they each wore without even noticing: thick smears under their fingernails, streaks of dirt across their faces, and more.

Realizing he hadn’t had a proper bath in… a long time… Hyrule ripped off his tunic top, surged through the group, and dunked his head right in the water. A chorus of groans echoed up as his floating strands of hair befouled the water into a murky, frothy brown. Half a dozen small insects scrambled out of the mats, floating up to and skittering across the surface as they gasped for fresh air.

“Fleabag, I swear to Hylia, if you don’t get your ratty mop outta that bucket, I’m gonna kick your ass all the way up and down Death Mountain!” Wild howled as he was jostled against the wall.

“BAD WORDS!” Wind cried, leaping up and down. “BAD WORDS! I’m telling Warriors!” The sailor tried to zip out of the room in his haste to narc on the champion’s salty language, but was deftly seized by the collar.

“Pipe down, you little tattletale,” Wild barked at the kid, who had to clench his fist to keep his middle finger from soaring upwards.  “Or I’m telling him it was you who stuck that wad of Epona’s manure in his pocket the other day!”

That was a dirty trick. Everyone in that washroom knew that it had been Twilight. Wind wrenched free of Wild’s grasp and fell contemptuously silent.

“Rulie,” Wild hissed. “Get your head out of that basin before I introduce my boot to your descending colon.”

The captain stepped back to admire his handiwork. Were it not for the inn’s distressed wood dining set and musty carpet, he could have imagined himself in the grand hall of Hyrule Castle. Beneath the flowing ceremonial drapery, listening to the triumphant trumpeting of the royal brass announcing the arrival of the King…

“Warriors,” came a dark voice behind him. One lowered from the weight of the words. Although considering from who it emanated, it wasn’t all that low. More of an… awkward peri-pubertal tenor. The captain jumped.

“Smithy,” he addressed when he turned to face Four. The tiny hero’s eyes flared ceil, and no smile was upon his lips. His face, normally glowing with impish amusement, was stony and hard.

“I have something to tell you.” The way he said it indicated it was a secret of deep, deep consequence.

The seriousness of his tone… it made Warriors’s blood coagulate into cold sludge. He overcame his initial hesitancy to creep forward; Warriors was all ears. He bent over a bit so the smithy could tell him this oh-so-important secret.

Four leaned in (standing on his tiptoes, of course) and cupped one hand around his lips to whisper directly into the captain’s long ear.

“I was just in the bathroom,” he began.

The captain wanted to draw back then and there. “Do I want to know the rest of this story?” He rolled his eyes. If this was another one of Four and Hyrule’s disgusting pranks, he wanted no part in it.

It was Four’s turn to roll his eyes, now an even deeper cerulean, right back. “Yes, shut up- sorry- I mean, you’re going to want to hear this.”

Am I? Am I really?

Nevertheless, he gave Four his full attention. And was glad he did, as what Four had to say had Warriors almost on the floor in shock.

“Time didn’t wash his hands before supper,” he breathed.

Not the old man! Warriors wanted to cry. Surely, the most seasoned member of the chain would know better than to let his manners lapse in such a way. And a married man, no less! The captain would have to have a serious talk with Malon the next time they all ended up at Lon Lon Ranch…

Four gave a scandalized, somber nod at justified Wars’s reaction.

I’ll have to take a rupee for that, surely, he resolved. That’s disgusting and rude and immature. Frankly, I should take three rupees.

Wait.

Unless…

Could Four be lying? Deceiving me and therefore inflating his score by prompting me to decrease someone else’s?

Warriors inspected closer. The pigments of the smithy’s irises were now swirling between colors. That could mean anything. Warriors furrowed his brow even deeper.

“Did he really?” He whispered right back.

Four broke into a frenzied nod. “Saw it with my own eyes. I was as horrified as you were just now.”

The captain gave a low sigh. He had no option but to take Four’s confession at face value. “Thank you for your honesty, smithy. Rest assured it will pay off.”

There was a tint of murky purple in his eyes as the blacksmith spun on his heels and bounced away, whistling a cheery tune.

Warriors was sure to withdraw a rupee each from him and Time before the others came down for dinner.

Which ended up being only a few minutes later. The other eight trickled down from upstairs in a single-file line, heads held high. He gave each one a cursory inspection as they filtered by. So far, he was pleasantly surprised; all the tunics were free of unidentifiable stains, the boot laces all tied snug, and hair brushed for what was, for some of them, the first time in weeks. Possibly months.

They all waited for Warriors to sit at the head of the table, so they could follow his lead. He lowered himself onto the bench, and the rest of the Chain did the same. Nobody dared speak a word. They did, however, eye the expansive spread of food before them. They discretely sucked back gobs of drool and willed their grumbling tummies into silence. Never before had the chain sat so peacefully in the presence of this much food. Without the wager, a feeding frenzy would have already broken out: main courses and side dishes alike flying through the air as the hungriest/poorest behaved of them scrambled headfirst for their serving. But not today. Today, there was cold, hard cash on the line.

Wild could wait no longer. He reached forward and grabbed a heaping, steaming bowl of fried rice. The archer used the serving spoon to dole himself a large, yet not offensively gluttonous portion. He wore a smug grin as he was sure Warriors had noticed his praiseworthy self-restraint. But still, the captain sighed and reached forward to redact one rupee from the champion.

“What’d I do?!” Wild cried out. “I literally just served myself some rice, how could I possibly have screwed that up?!” His head swiveled about, looking for a lifeline from one of his brothers. Unfortunately, they were all as lost as he was.

“It’s rude to serve yourself first,” Wars corrected. He did so gently, as this was likely the first time any of them had heard such a rule. Despite the fact that he believed it was common knowledge. “If you’re the first person to pick up a dish, pass it to your right. You’ll get a chance to serve yourself once it makes its way around the table.”

“Wait,” Wild paused as he did the mental geometry. “So that means that I’ll be the last to get a serving of this dish I specifically picked up first because I wanted it the most?” A nod from the captain. “That’s bridling stupid.”

“It’s what?” Warriors prompted with one brow raised.

The champion backpedaled. “It’s… perfectly understandable. Yeah.” With mournful eyes, he passed the grains to the Link on his right, watching the rice drift away like a future war widow would watch the departure of her husband on the eve of battle. He then turned to the Link on his immediate left, asking discretely if he would be the first to pick up the dinner rolls so that Wild would strategically get first dibs on the bread.

Eventually, all the dishes had completed their rotations around the table. And so they began to dig in. The first few bites of food had yet to be swallowed by the time the next offense was committed. 

The next to lose a rupee was none other than Time. Who balked when he saw Warriors’s hand snatch a gem from his pile.

He stared the captain down wide-eyed.

“Elbows,” Wars griped. Time glowered at the younger man. Indeed, he’d propped both arms on the table. But when corrected, he kept them there.

“My back hurts.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sprite,” he snarled, continuing to cut into his food with a bit more force than necessary. “If you consistently used proper posture, that wouldn’t be the case, now would it?”

With his vertebrae creaking and popping audibly, the eldest straightened with a dangerous look on his marked face. The rupees gave a devious glint in the firelight from the candle chandelier above.

From then on, offenses piled up slowly and surely like muck in the corner of an Ordon goat barn. Wind was docked for cutting himself a substantial slab of butter and spreading it right on his bread without placing it on his plate first. Sky lost a gem for taking the straw out of his drink and plopping it into his soup bowl. And Four made the unforgivable, beastly mistake of jabbing a fish fork into a cut of boar. Like some kind of uncultured brute.

And yet, under the eagle eye of Wars’s scrutiny, the dinnertime conversation was all but absent. Nobody wanted to be told off for talking with their mouths full; and rather than simply slow down their eating, the chain resolved to wolf it all down in near silence.

That is, until that silence was broken by an obnoxiously loud belch courtesy of Twilight; the rancher made only a halfhearted attempt to smother the expulsion behind one lazy fist. The captain clenched his utensil with such enraged strength he was convinced the flimsy metal would snap.

“Bless you!” Sky chimed in, chipper as ever.

Warriors pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand and reached forward to pluck one rupee each from their piles with the other.

“What?!” Twilight spluttered. He waved his fork at Sky (another offense) while the knight beamed with innocence. “Sky said ‘Bless you!’”

“The correct response would be ‘Excuse me,” Warriors seethed. “From you.”

“I’ve never heard you say, ‘Excuse me!’” Wind squawked.

“Because I wasn’t raised in a barn like him, so I don’t burp like that.” Twilight bristled when they exchanged hostile glances.

“Surprising, since you’re so full of hot air,” Wind retorted, snickering evilly. Warriors abruptly launched forward to grab a rupee from Wind’s piddling pile. The sailor would have cussed him out, were he not in grave danger of flunking out of the wager.

The captain’s attention was, thankfully, snatched away by the sound of a loud, wet splat from next to Wild. Surveying the situation, it appeared the cube of meat he’d balanced daintily upon his fork had tumbled to the floor.

Wild was going to remedy that. He dove down beneath the table to snatch up the morsel. It’d be rude to leave food uneaten on the floor. Right?

“Got it!” He exclaimed, holding the dirt-encrusted piece aloft for all to see. A few murmured their approval of his reaction time. Wasting not a second more, he popped it into his mouth. “Five second rule!” He reminded them through a mouthful of beef and dust.

Unbeknownst to him, their champion had but only one measly rupee left. He’d lost count with how many times Warriors had reminded him to hold the fork with his other hand. And that had cost him dearly. With that final spectacle, he was out of the game. The archer visibly deflated before them all, legitimately disappointed in his performance. Because he knew Flora would be disappointed in him as well. But, to be fair, Flora wasn’t here right now.

So Wild perked up, slamming both elbows onto the table and ravaging the remaining food on his plate like a lynel. Much to Warriors’s distaste, as he could do nothing about it. After all, the champion had no more rupees left to repo.

With Wild as the first to go out, Warriors did a tally of the remaining piles. Most were on their last legs, less than half a dozen each aside from…

Impossible.

One, two, three… The captain counted the green rupees stacked before Legend. Ten. Ten rupees. He’s got a whole pile. Did I miss something? There’s no way that gremlin hasn’t done something unforgivable in the last few minutes!

Warriors let his attention hone in on the veteran. The way he held his fork and knife (the correct fork, mind you), paused to take a tiny sip of wine with one pinky extended upward, how he dabbed ever so lightly with his napkin at the corner of his mouth…

In the 30 seconds that Wars surveyed Ledge, he spotted not one single breach of etiquette. Then those 30 seconds turned into a minute. And two. The whole time, Legend remained ever the picture of the high-class Hylian gentleman. He sat straight upright and moved his limbs so fluidly, almost like a dancer. The teen ate daintily, all while exuding an air of near-royalty. It was impeccable, it was admirable, it was…

Unbelievable.

The veteran’s gaze flitted up to meet that of the captain. And the teen’s snide, half-cocked grin foretold that he was 100% toying with his brother. Daring him to find one thing wrong, knowing full well that no such opportunity existed.

Warriors fumed. He’d sooner dump all the rupees in the latrine than give them all to Ledge.

Hyrule took heed of how Wars corrected Wind’s buttering by carefully slicing his own pat. The captain’s heart soared as he watched Hyrule ever-so-daintily carry the chunk atop his fork and towards his plate. The pride was short-lived as the traveler dumped the fat on his steaming pile of veggies and stirred it into a creamy oblivion.

Four trafficked a forkful of his own vegetables into his mouth. He chewed once before his irises swirled like a kaleidoscope and he tipped forward to spit the entirety of the bite into his hands. Hyrule cocked his head in curiosity at the display before leaning over to inspect the mush that Four now cupped in his palm. In the center of the mashed mound was a green pepper with a tiny tooth mark in it. The smithy calmed his shaken nerves before handing the material to the traveler, who gulped it down with fervor.

Warriors just about retched.

Without warning, Legend gave a huff and pushed back from the table. Of course, his attempted departure was anything but discrete and was immediately noticed by the captain.

Oh? Wars perked up. I knew he wouldn’t last. Time to knock this bunny down a notch.

“And where are you going?” He prompted.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want to the answer to,” Legend replied, a smirk eking across his lips. Which, the captain noted with some amount of pleasure, had been appropriately wiped clean of crumbs.

“I demand to know why you are so rudely leaving the dinner table without helping to clear the dishes,” Warriors barked.

“You suuuuure you wanna know?” He cooed.

“Tell me, or I’m taking two rupees for this unbecoming attitude of yours.”

“Well, since you ‘demand’ to know,” Legend sneered. He drew in a grandiose sigh, humming until he was sure that everyone else at the table was paying complete attention. Rest assured, they were. Then, he opened his mouth to speak.

“I have to go take a shit.”

There was stunned silence for only a second before the chaos. The table exploded in laughter, fists pounding the wood planks as they howled in hysteria. All but one.

Wars was as red as a Hylian tomato. Every vein that snaked through or around his temples was raised and bulging, ready to pop. His fists clenched so hard he was about to snap all the spindly bones in his hands.

“DISQUALIFIED!” Warriors bellowed. The captain launched forward and snagged Legend’s entire pile as the boy cackled in his abhorrent… repugnant… objectionable immaturity. Legend added insult to injury by jamming his middle finger up at Wars as the veteran sauntered up the stairs.

NEGATIVE rupees. I’m taking a red one from his bag when he’s not looking, so help me Hylia.

When the raucous laughter died down, they came to a weighty realization.

All the plates were empty. Normally, several of them would have been literally licked clean, but by the grace of Hylia Herself, they’d shown a modicum of restraint and not engaged in such behavior.

But that meant that dinner was over. It was time to settle the wager, once and for all.

“So, who has the most rupees then?” Warriors sniffed, regaining his composure.

Before he could even finish counting one measly pile, a single hand slithered upwards. A tiny, and formerly very grungy one that had since been scrubbed impeccably clean.

That hand was attached to none other than Hyrule. Who himself wore an expression of unfiltered amazement.

“You’re kidding,” Warriors deadpanned. “There’s no way. There’s no way. Seriously, someone cut a deal with him and slipped their rupees to him. Now who was it?”

“Accusing us of cheating?” Time crowed. “That’s in poor taste, captain. Careful we don’t take a few gems from you…”

Seeing as Warriors had reclaimed almost every single rupee he’d doled out, he was fine with that. Across the eight of them, only 12 rupees were spread out. And indeed, with a humble pile of three glistening gems, the traveler had won.

The captain drew in the deepest breath of the evening before letting it out in a prolonged sigh. He schooled the twitch in his eyelid to a mere jitter before offering the traveler a semi-sincere congratulations. Hyrule clawed at the pile of gems and plopped them into his satchel.

“But that means the game is over, right? Because Rulie is the official winner?” Wind squeaked. The captain turned to their youngest

Warriors found his innocence endearing. Poor kid must be crushed that he lost, he thought.

“Yes, sailor,” he sighed. “Game’s over, you can all go back to your uncivilized selves.”

“Cool,” Wind beamed. He jumped to his feet and jabbed a finger right in Wars’s face. “Fuck you, scarf boy.” The sailor didn’t even wait for Warriors to leap at him hands first, just let out a devilish squeal and dashed up the stairs after Legend.