Collapsing Truce
[Context: Hero and Villain (and Henchman) team up to fight a common enemy, or so it was agreed. Hero is content to put aside their differences but Villain’s trust is harder to earn]
The journey had been miserable, to say the least. Trekking through the snow is not typically an enjoyable activity by itself, but when you add a time crunch and lack of trust between enemies it becomes almost unbearable. Not to mention the complete lack of conversation between the three. Hero, for one, would have preferred basically anyone else to accompany them, but given the circumstances they were resigned to work with what they had. The same could not be said for their companions, however.
Hero could feel the resentment radiating off the others as they marched on towards the future battle as temporary and reluctant allies. Henchman had been eying them for the last 200 feet, and Hero was just about to call them out on it when they detected the stopping of Villain’s footsteps in the snow behind them. That was not a good sign.
Hero groaned internally.
“Tell me we’re not doing this.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Hero shifted their feet and turned around. Behind them, or now in front of them, Villain had raised their weapon.
Great.
Gritting their teeth, Hero threw their eyes up to the sky to silently ask their god for the strength to deal with this next tribulation.
“You think I’m gonna fight you?” Hero asked with a level tone. They cooled their features as much as they could, which was easy enough with how frigid it was outside. They deliberately kept their arms loose and their hand off the hilt that was hanging from their belt.
“Is that not what enemies do? Is that not the very nature of our relationship?”
Villain swept their free arm out dramatically, while Hero heaved in a breath. They fought to respond evenly, “Just because that’s what you would do, doesn’t mean that’s what I would do.”
“Right. Because heroes are so righteous as to never go against the terms of a deal.”
Hero wracked their brain, but for the life of them couldn’t determine what the villain was referring to. All they knew was that it couldn’t be anything they did.
Hero sensed Henchman stepping up behind them.
“Look, I mean it.”Hero slowly raised their arms into the air, far out of reach of any weapons. “I’m not gonna fight you.”
“Drop the sword, then. Drop everything,” Villain suggested, though they all knew it was an order.
Hero expected nothing less, though they were truly wishing for something else.
Fine. If they wanted to be like this they would let them. They had bigger fish to fry than to try and fight the clear but unexplainable vendetta being held against them.
They spoke placatingly, “Reaching for the sword first.”
They pulled their blade from its scabbard, tossing it into the glistening white around them, where it landed and left an imprint in the snow. Next, they cleared the sheaths at their ankle, and all the blades in pockets of their cloak. Each left its own smaller impression in the ground.
“If you leave those in the snow I’m gonna be pissed.”
What good were they going to be to this mission if they didn’t have any weapons left with which to fight?
To Hero’s relief, Henchman left his position at their back and stalked over to collect the array of metal in the snow.
“That all?” Hero nodded and Villain added, “Show me.”
Hero opened their cloak and did a dramatic spin in view of both boss and henchman, but the former wasn’t satisfied.
“Take it off,” he clipped.
Oh that asshole was totally pushing their luck.
They made loaded eye contact for a moment before Hero decided this was not the hill they wanted to die on, and so they unhooked their outer garment and laid it carefully in the snow off to the side. They suppressed an immediate shiver as the cold invaded and found its way through regrettably flimsy fabric. Hero hadn’t planned to be exposed to these conditions, and unfortunately their inner layers reflected that. At least they had had the opportunity and wherewithal to layer.
Villain hummed, but it was clear they wanted more. Their eyes travelled coldly from their head to their toes before they spoke again.
“Boots.”
Now that sounded more like a hill they were willing to defend.
“Seriously? I am not getting frostbite to appease your trust issues,” Hero argued, ignoring that they were already well on their way to hypothermia with the absence of their fur-lined cloak.
“I will not repeat myself.”
Hero muttered a swear under their breath, before reaching down to untie and toe off their shoes, stepping carefully out of them and onto the laid out lining of their cloak. Once they were free of all their laces, they shifted on sock-clad feet and crossed their arms over their chest to try and stave off the chill.
Gotta lose a few toes to gain some credibility around here.
“Happy now?”
Henchman approached at the villain’s nod, swiping the pair of boots off the ground and searching the sole and lining for who knows what. Hero had to look away when he retrieved a pocket knife and started to pry at some material inside.
“Hey,” they objected, “You know I still have to walk in those, right?”
Henchman didn’t stop, or even bother to look up from the task at hand.
“Trust me, that’s the least of your worries,” he commented.
Whatever that meant.
Hero’s teeth still chattered, but they were doing their best to seem unbothered by the surrender. Henchman finally tossed their shoes back towards them, so Hero knelt to put them back on. As they were tugging on their laces, they watched Henchman slip their belongings into his oversized satchel. Foolishly, Hero allowed themselves to relax, right up until they rose and saw the rope in held in his hand.
“If you attach me to a lead I swear to God-”
Henchman angled his body towards them, showing he was tying the rope around their pack to add an extra strap to distribute the new weight, creating a sort of Jerry-rigged backpack. At the same time he smirked, sharing a look with Villain who did the same.
“Oh please, don’t act like you didn’t consider it. I am currently the definition of a flight risk.”
Not that an open plain in a borderline blizzard was the smartest place to take off, but smarter people had attempted dumber in less dangerous situations.
On that note, Villain mocked, “Where would you go?”
It was rhetorical, but Hero decided to answer anyway.
“The warmest place I can think of.”
In a rare moment of cooperative conversation—or playing along—he asked, “And where is that?”
Hero blew out a breath, watching the little cloud it created rise in front their face.
“Hell.”
