Game of Thrones

When Danse offered to escort Ilya to Maxson's quarters, she had thought he was just being gentlemanly and feeling full of chivalry after they had just renewed their partnership. But the next few moments proved that he had an underlying agenda, and that she had severely underestimated his level of social tact.

Ilya thumped her fist once on the hatchway. "It's Harper." She wondered why Danse was still hovering on her six.

"Enter," Maxson's gruff voice ricocheted out.

She let herself in, Maxson standing from his central table to turn a tolerant look on her, only for it to then divert over her shoulder to Danse standing in the hatchway, purposefully preventing Ilya from shutting him out. The elder tilted his head with dry curiosity.

"Danse, this is a private meeting with Harper. If you would excuse us..."

Danse nodded along with his words until he could speak. "I came to offer my assistance, Elder, if this meeting is in fact in regards to the alliance with the Minutemen." When Maxson didn't deny the purpose of the meeting, Danse straightened his stance and secured his hands behind his back, much like Maxson did so often, canting his chin the slightest. "I believe my experience with both forces could be an assistance in negotiating the groundwork of strategic deployment."

Ilya gaped at him for a moment, then twisted back to see Maxson's reaction. He was carefully analysing Danse, eyes faintly narrowed as he held the silence with his unearthly calculation. No wonder Danse had braced himself like that.

"Very well," Maxson eventually granted, albeit with a wary note. His eyes were still fixed on Danse even as he pivoted back towards the table, a gloved hand gesturing to usher Ilya over. She moved around the table to peer down upon an array of paper scrolls, leather clad notebooks, several small maps, and a much larger chart splayed beneath it all. It was titled REGION VP1D, presumably in reference to Vault Prototype: 1D. Upon closer inspection, Ilya spied a secondary title in fine print beneath: Rad Land. She bit down on a smirk. Maxson really despised the dub and had obviously protested against having it labelling everything in giant, obnoxious print. She decided not to tell him that the raiders themselves called the region the Blood Lands.

Instead of trailing her eyes across the lay of the region, her peripherals followed Danse as he quietly moved across the room, taking up position at the far end of the table. Part of her recognised this as a habitual move for him, allowing him to directly face the hatchway and have clear line of sight in the unlikely event they were attacked—he was just that hypervigilant. But the other part of her recognised his overall agenda of even being here in the first place.

All three of them knew that Maxson was hailed as a brilliant tactician and didn't need a 'strategic advisor,' as Danse had played himself up as to get in here. As far as Ilya knew, the paladin was rarely involved in deployment analytics of this scale at all.

Yes, all three of them knew why he was really here: to try and keep the peace.

For whatever reason, he had decided to take it upon himself to mediate her and Maxson, and although Ilya felt a spike of irritation that she would now feel the need to censor her tongue, she also felt reassurance pooling in her stomach to ease her tension at simply being in the same room as Maxson. The elder must feel the same way about her, because his tolerance of Danse butting in on their meeting was surprising.

Secretly, Ilya was impressed by how the well-disciplined paladin had insinuated his way in here like that.

You slick devil.

She peeked up at him through her lashes as he stood silently, reviewing the charter, waiting for the tension to heat up so he could jump in and douse the two hot-headed negotiators.

Extinguisher Danse.

"As you can see, this is our cartography of the region beyond the Glowing Sea, pieced together from numerous ground-based scouting ops and vertibird surveys," Maxson supplied, plunging straight in with business. "It will be more updated from the version I installed upon your Pip-Boy. Scouts have done extensive mapping of landmarks and even cave systems, but with the area so densely overrun with raiders and unidentified wildlife, there's still a great deal to have mapped out. We've already had several KIAs and one op listed as MIA," he ended despondently, almost bitterly. It wasn't clear whether he placed that blame on the raiders, or himself. Maybe both.

Ilya nodded, though he had yet to provide her with a purpose to speak up. The Minutemen just weren't ready to gain a foothold in such territory, and they both knew that. Honestly, if she had known he was summoning her in here to talk tactics, she would have sent that soldier back to him with a denial. Dogmeat had just been revived yesterday and today had already been a rollercoaster for her, and she just wasn't up for this. Plus, there was no way in hell she was letting him manipulate her into sending her people out into the Rad Lands to be cannon fodder for his fully trained, armed, and armoured soldiers. Especially since he refused to make a public apology for using them as cannon fodder in the raid.

She straightened and folded her arms over her chest. "I thought you had a mission already lined up for me soon and you were just waiting on Doctor Li to finish... whatever her secret project is." They were still keeping her in the dark about that, though the giant inflated balloon down at the airport was a glaring tell that whatever was underneath was a colossal threat to their enemies. The pre-war governments had concealed secret military satellite arrays and bases just like that, but she doubted the Brotherhood was building a satellite to destroy the Institute. Not loud enough for their style. "Is there a reason for this sudden urgency to make a move in the Rad Lands?"

Maxson halted in place for a moment, clearly caught off-guard by her forward fishing. "I had expected you to be eager to advance in our negotiations, particularly after the success of your dog's revival. Surely you must be pleased with events and ready to return to productiveness."

Had he just admitted to hoping he would catch her in a good mood after that? He had purposefully waited until Dogmeat's revival to commence with negotiations, just to take advantage of her generous spirit and save himself from her temper.

Two slick devils.

Ilya let her arms fall away and concentrated vaguely down on the map. "There have been some complications with Dogmeat. He's having some trouble coping with everything."

"My condolences," Maxson offered neutrally. She nodded and spared him her eyes to accept his offering, but was surprised when she saw pity in his hardened features instead of the expected vacancy or even disappointment that his evil plan hadn't worked. Silence filled the room before he spoke again. "Do you wish to postpone this meeting for another time?"

Again with the compassion. Ilya had no idea where it was coming from and tried to get a reading from his pale blue eyes, to hash out if he was bluffing his compassion in hopes of postponing this for when she was in a good mood, but only found herself staring into an impervious forcefield. She sighed and thought hard on his compassionate question, then shook her head. "No. We need to start making some waves out there. The sooner the better. Let's get down and dirty."

His gaze levelled out and lingered, with a slight angling of his head.

Poor choice of words. He obviously took this business very seriously. She issued a quick, pacifying smile.

Maxson blinked and nodded slowly, stepping in closer to the table again to regard the map. "As you wish."

Ilya checked with Danse in a discreet glance. He was eyeing her in warning, willing her to proceed with caution. She shot him a wide-eyed sorry?

Maxson gestured tightly to the chart again. "Now, in order for the Brotherhood to gain a more secure foothold in the region, we need to shift a substantial amount of our forces from the Commonwealth—a prospect I had strong reservations about, until our recent alliance." He lifted a stark look at her, as if grudgingly thanking her, before continuing. "Our presence in the Commonwealth must remain stable if we're to purge the Institute and their synth atrocities, which is where the Minutemen will contribute. Your people will hold the fort in the Brotherhood's absence, this includes securing our established outposts," he indicated with a calloused finger to several points on the Commonwealth map, "committing to regular patrols, and responding to any reconnaissance reports of synth activity. Of course, a skeleton force of the Brotherhood will remain behind in order to oversee this arrangement."

Ilya arched her brow at him. "Please."

A confused scowl hit between his brows. "I'm sorry?"

"It would be nice if you said please before demanding all that of my people."

His scowl was etched deeper. "Would you prefer I had them deployed out into the Rad Land region with us? From what I've gleaned of their capabilities so far, they would aid only as effective cannon fodder."

Ilya had to restrain her lip from twitching with anger. He had a nerve bringing that up. "Well, you're the one with the knack for using cannon fodder as your favourite tactic."

Five minutes, not even five minutes. Danse was already grounding his jaw with irritation as the pair wound up.

"How many times do I have to tell you, that had not been my intention." Maxson's emphasis was edged in malice, already riled. It didn't take him long to rev up, as of late. Probably due to that cat incident. Or lack of sex.

"If you say so." That had been tame on her part, and she almost regretted it.

Danse was trading them both disappointed daggers. "May I suggest we get back on topic?"

They both identified his mild scolding and took it, though not before snarling at each other.

Maxson recovered his unscrupulous tack. "I consider my proposal to be fair, given the Minutemen's limited combat experience—they would be no match for the conditions in the Rad Land region. Do you agree to these terms or not?"

Chewing on the inside of her cheek, Ilya knew she was pinned down with this. At this stage in the Minutemen's rise, they had nothing else to offer the Brotherhood but baby-sitting-tier fortifications. He was right, and she was thankful he hadn't planned on dragging them out to the Rad Lands where they would be completely out of their league, but she still expected him to meet her half-way with allocating manpower and resources.

"Before you give me the rundown of what you want and where, I have conditions."

A slack brow was domed up at that. "Oh?"

"This is an alliance, remember? Of mutual benefit? The aiding goes both ways. I'm not as endowed with intel or as strategically savvy as you, but I'm not an idiot." She ignored the way his raised brow then twitched as if to oppose that. "I want your fortifications in return."

His brow sunk to level out with the other, shading his eyes again to give her a flat look. "This defeats the purpose of ensuring the Brotherhood's presence remains stable while we relocate. I would have to pull more troops and supplies from the Rad Land campaign in order to fortify you in return. I may as well forget about this alliance and just reallocate my own forces."

"While I want these raiders dealt with as much as you do, I'm not above pulling my support because of unfair treatment. You'd lose my future support and any other advantages having an ally might get you."

"I fail to see what advantage that would be."

Jerk. Ilya cocked her head, unimpressed by his malignant tone. "How about gaining favour from the local population? Showing your endorsement to our good cause? Securing a safe and peaceful future? Here's a big one: gaining more recruits?"

Maxson, surprisingly, recast his manner and looked at her curiously, apparently impressed by the challenge she was giving him. "Do you have past experience in politics that I'm unaware of?"

Ilya almost laughed, but she let a sportive smile grow. "My husband was a lawyer."

"Hmph. That explains a lot..."

They were veering off course again, but Danse wasn't tensing up like he had been before. He was watching their sudden crosstalk in bewilderment.

Maxson picked things back up, though his attitude had mellowed slightly. "What could the Minutemen possibly need these extra fortifications for in the first place?"

Ilya shrugged and affected a nonchalant tone. "Raiders, Gunners, muties, synths, ferals, wildlife, rogue bots, you know, the usual shit. Why, what does the Brotherhood need the fortifications for?"

Her point was valid and he knew it, simmering to himself at being caught in the act of trying to rip her off in this deal. "Fine. I'll have Captain Kells run some more numbers for reinforcements... You realise this will lessen our effectiveness in the Rad Lands."

She had a plan to bolster his campaign out there, but thought she'd string him along just a little longer. She was enjoying herself now. "Mhm-hmm," she hummed to dismiss him, moving in to plop her hands on the table to lean nearer, tilting her hair over a shoulder to expose her neck, making sure not only to push her hip out to one side, but to release a long, daringly sexual sigh in an attempt to throw him off his pragmatic focus. If he was as sexually deprived as she suspected, then this might work. Though he probably thought her more a pesky obstacle than he did an attractive distraction, but a woman had to play up her assets when in doubt, just as a man could play up his brawn to intimidate. Damn, she should have worn something to flash some cleavage, too. "So, give me your rundown, Elder."

Maxson stood and glowered, eyes narrowing at her, but cooperated, showing no sign of distraction and actually also moving to lean forward over the map with her. Much like her, he braced his weight on the tabletop, slowly, as if to emphasis the weight of muscle beneath his battlecoat and the release of their tension upon stretching them out. He then also sighed deeply, broodingly, out of his nostrils, so much so that she heard a faint groan in his chest. He even flexed his bearded jaw.

Was he... outplaying her?

Their faces were so unbearably close that Ilya could smell the lingering opulence of pre-war cigar smoke on him, along with faint notes of a rich musk most likely from some pre-war deodorant. Or was it actually cologne? The fusion crafted an irritatingly seductive aroma on her senses, and she found herself momentarily flustered—a complete backfire, since she had intended on causing him discomfort with her nearness.

Had he worn cologne on purpose? A strange tactic to throw her off, but she wouldn't put anything past him, including lowering himself to her level of deviousness. It seemed he had been well prepared for this, and knew the effect his powerful presence had over women. While he was not a traditionally handsome man by her standards, he certainly wasn't unattractive with his hardened sculpture, and his allure was in his dark, brooding aura of masculinity, so much so that his age wasn't even a factor. He was older than his years in every aspect, and as a hot-blooded woman, she couldn't deny what he possessed.

Fuck, he just played me at my own game. She fought to steady herself and focus on his briefing.

Danse opted to stay out of it, keeping to his statuesque position and ogling the map from afar, safe from their shiftily sexual wargames. Though, knowing Danse, he was probably completely unaware of what they were trying to do to each other. Things were so subtle that anyone would be unaware.

Maxson dragged things on for a moment more by lifting his eyes to meet Ilya's, his brow bone a heavy ridge to shadow eyes that conveyed You like to play games, then? She almost shivered.

He went in, as if the game hadn't changed at all. "Many of these postings can be withdrawn if necessary, though I would prefer to avoid that. The airport will be strictly off limits, along with the Cambridge Police Station. You understand."

Ilya only rolled her eyes.

"But the Cambridge area itself will need to remain secured. It's a cesspool of feral and raider activity that needs constant sweeping." He took a red marker and crossed the location for reference. His finger then trailed the map eastward, more slowly than was necessary, and Ilya found herself focusing on that large, firm finger, also more closely than was necessary.

Stop it. Now he's just pushing it and taking the piss.

"Bunker Hill, the trading outpost frequented by Wastelanders. We station patrols around the border of the region to keep raiders and super mutants at bay." He crossed that location, too. Next, his finger moved lower, slower. "Boston Commons. A gathering ground for raiders, and easy pickings for us... it's almost hard to resist." Crossed. Ilya flicked him a threat, and he hinted at a satisfied grin. When he reached the southern border, his finger rubbed a small circle on the last location. Ilya wanted to shove the table into his balls. "And the stronghold known as Gunner's Plaza. Obviously, the Gunners are fond of the location for setting up their operations. We sweep the site regularly to keep their activity contained." Crossed. Maxson then stopped cold and regarded her expectantly, eyes now conveying your move.

Ilya took the time to swallow and regroup, nodding to stall. She swept her eyes to Danse, hoping to elicit some tactical advice from him and create herself time to think on how to counter Maxson's steep demands, which she should have been focusing on doing instead of letting him distract her like that. She considered grabbing that red marker and jerking it off in front of him to get even, then imagined them running around the room molesting inanimate objects to drive each other mad, while poor Danse crumbled into a facepalm, and she decided against it. Clearly she needed to get laid just as much as Maxson did... and somehow he knew it.

At the altered path of her focus, Maxson swept his eyes to Danse, also. The paladin had been pondering the map, hand under chin, oblivious to the undercurrent of the situation, but was now finding himself the object of their attention. His eyes darted between them and his eyebrows lifted expectantly.

"Paladin, would you like to provide further synopsis on the Brotherhood's activity and offer Harper your recommendations, given your insight on the Minutemen's capabilities?" Maxson prompted him. "You know the field better than I do, after all," he added.

Danse seemed to suddenly remember his pretense for being there. "Yes, sir." As Maxson relented his nearness from Ilya and stepped back, Danse leaned over the Commonwealth map, and Ilya almost sighed in relief at the welcome switch from oppressive challenge to pleasant support. "I'm not confident the Minutemen will be up to keeping the Gunner's Plaza secured; the Gunners possess far superior weaponry and armour, not to mention their militaristic training regimes upon recruitment. I think the Brotherhood will need to maintain a strong presence here."

Thankfully, Maxson nodded his acceptance. "Very well."

Danse caught Ilya's thankful glance and subtly inclined his head before moving on. "Boston Commons I believe will be within their capability to hold, provided they're aptly briefed on known hotspots and vantage points. Harper, your snipers should be able to set up a tight perimeter from the rooftops and keep track of activity for your ground forces."

That sounded doable. She nodded. "Long-range is my largest contingent so it'll take some selection, but they'll have it down."

The three moved through the Commonwealth to delegate their forces with surprisingly smooth efficiency. Despite his bullshit pretense for being there, Danse actually proved to be the backbone of the negotiations, providing Ilya with his recommendations on how best the Minutemen could fortify their outposts, and informing Maxson of where they might need assistance from the Brotherhood. His practical manner kept the two from employing further ruses against one another, and like he had intended, he was in fact mediating them. Patrol routes were marked out, outpost locations were selected, and Maxson's finger showed no sign of making a comeback to distract Ilya again.

Still, she knew that no amount of Danse's recommendations would shift the fact that the Minutemen would be out of their comfort zone trying to police the whole of the Commonwealth, even with Brotherhood backup. People were going to die, and there was going to be one hell of a mass grave to dig once the Brotherhood returned from their campaign. Maxson must know this, and Ilya wasn't going to let him walk all over her.

Once they had hashed out a good game-plan, she dropped her bombshell. "I'm in... but if you want the Minutemen to squat in your outposts and take up all that slack, then we'll need your resources. Power armour. Vertibird clearance. Weapons and armour, meds and ammo."

While Maxson gawked incredulously, she thumbed over the map on her Pip-Boy, raking her eyes across the landmarks that concerned her. "Some of our outposts are within night-cycle range of some mutie and raider encampments. The Institute itself might even come out to play. Once they realise the Brotherhood have moved out, they'll want a crack at testing the new residents. Things could get scrappy." She then flicked her eyes back up to the elder, who was still glaring at her, jaw tight beneath his beard. "We'll need schematics for your stationary defences, preferably your plasma armaments, and your engineers on hand for field repairs and maintenance."

Maxson's jaw was still clamped tight, striving to conceal his livid temper. He had obviously thought he was going to get away with leaving the Minutemen with the bare minimum. Danse's infamously emotive brows were raised as he kept his eyes locked to the table to stay neutral in this, either impressed or surprised by her cheek. Or both. The Brotherhood sharing their technology? Blasphemy. He was probably trying to figure out how he could mediate this one before it turned ugly.

Maxson finished stewing. "You have our reinforcements, is that not enough? Now you want our technology?" His hand cut the air. "Absolutely not. Out of the question."

"You're asking for the Minutemen, a civilian militia, to step into your shoes and run a marathon without shoelaces. More of them will die than necessary if they don't have the firepower and defences they need to step up."

"You just highlighted my point; they're a civilian militia, untrained and undisciplined. And you want to arm them with superior technology that they do not understand and could easily lose control of. Not only that, but they lack the deference that is needed when handling such technology. They are not toys, but things of great destruction."

His enunciation was amped up and his eyes were bulging to stress his point, heavily framed by his drawn scowl. Clearly she had triggered him with this mention of sharing technology. As long as she didn't use the word synth, she might still have a chance at swaying him.

But Danse quashed any chances she had. "I'm inclined to agree, Harper," he delivered carefully, arms folded over his chest in thought. "The Minutemen will need proper training in order to use these technologies to their full potential."

Damn it. His siding with Maxson was the blow to end it. Ilya didn't bother to cover her sigh of frustration. She felt like a little girl being excluded from the big boys club of toys. They did have a point though...

If she couldn't win that battle, then she was going to win this one. Her temper was equalled and the charm backfired, so time to pull out the sentiment, and connect it with that plan she had to boost Maxson's campaign... and gain her some pull out in the Rad Lands.

"The Minutemen are going to get slaughtered out there, Maxson. Like Danse said, they need proper training. So train them. Think abou—no don't scowl at me, just hear me out." His scowl did ebb slightly and he growled a sigh. "Think about this. Your people train up mine, even just a two-week intensive basic training regime, they get out in the field and get some experience, the shiners level up to some more specialised training with power armour and a higher tech arsenal, and then they ship out to the Rad Lands to bolster your campaign. They won't be front-line capable, unless," she coughed the words, "—cannon fodder!—but they'll be decent reserves. Good reserves, if we're both willing to put in the effort."

Maxson was pondering, though his arms were crossed stubbornly over his chest. It was the first time she had ever seen him cross his arms instead of moulding himself into that regal 'at attention' stance. Then, he and Danse shared one of their weighty gazes.

The big boys were in.

Hours and coffee passed as Ilya, Maxson, Danse, and Kells sat around Maxson's table, shaping out an intensive training regime for the Minutemen; Maxson wanted this done and dusted so that his forces could deploy for their new campaign within two weeks. They went over everything from practical endurance and combat tests, to theory lessons on ranking structure and code of duty. Maxson insisted they be taught the importance of Brotherhood principle if they were to fight alongside his men and women. Ilya just hoped his idea of 'teaching' didn't involve indoctrination.

After Maxson and Kells had a one-on-one about when next to go over their battle plans for their Rad Land campaign, Kells took his leave, and it was clear by the way that Maxson lifted himself from the table and meandered over to his terminal that he expected Ilya and Danse to follow Kells' example.

Danse was well trained in his elder's nuances and rose to leave. Ilya, not so much. She reclined back in her chair and plunked her boots up on the table's rim, assuming a sharp lean. She pretended not to notice the way Danse pulled up short and gave her a wild look of warning.

"Good," she declared with an obnoxious sigh of comfort. As planned, it tugged at Maxson's attention and his head twitched from his focus on the terminal. She saw the cramp in his jaw even with his back turned. "So you can definitely expect the Minutemen to deliver on all this. If you make that public apology." She heard Danse groan quietly in the background.

The elder tightened like a vice, turned, and when his raging eyes caught on the sight of her boots upon his table, there was a snap in the air. She smiled charmingly at him. He managed to refocus. "This again. I was not waiting for your forces to thin the enemy lines in the quarry. Your sudden attack prompted my hand. We came to assist as quickly as we were able."

"You had been set on leaving us to rot fending for ourselves when I first asked for your help, so I find it hard to believe that you had a sudden change of heart out of nowhere. If it wasn't to preserve your own forces, then what? We both know you don't think the Minutemen worth shit enough to do it just for an alliance."

For a tense stretch, he only glowered to meet her challenge. "This discussion is irrelevant," he ground out coolly.

Ilya wasn't so easily cast down. "Was it to make yourself look good? To play the heroes in hopes of gaining the favour of the Commonwealth?"

Again, he stalled, then deflected with cautioning grit. "Your demeaning concept of the Brotherhood is beyond insulting, Knight."

"I'm not your Knight, not yet. But if you want that to change, then you owe me your respect as your ally in this war. Starting by respecting my people and giving them the apology they deserve if you want them to man your post while you're gone."

The sigh he blew out was lengthy. "You would have to be the most stubborn, insolent, vexatious woman I have ever encountered."

"I'm flattered. Now stop bitching about it and take your balls out of your man-gina and just fucking do it."

Danse flashed a sharp look her way. "Harper."

She swallowed her growl at being scolded and poured her focus back on Maxson, the stern man now leaning his weight on the end of the table. She was wearing him down. Good. She could tenderise her assault.

"Look, I may be their general, but not all of the Minutemen are die-hard supporters. I came out of nowhere, I have ties with other factions, I have personal stakes and my own agendas, I swear more than I need to, I kill people, I blow shit up, and I walk around with a ten tonne dinosaur on my ass." They both spared Danse fleeting glances. He just hoisted up an innocent brow. "They have no reason to trust me, they're just following me because I'm the only one stupid enough to let Preston Garvey shove the hat on my head and then hightail it so he could sit at home on his ass all day. Most of the time, I have no shitting idea what I'm even doing. So if I go back to them and tell them to step into the Brotherhood's shoes and risk their lives, you think they'll do it? They'll tell me where to shove it."

Maxson was still bowed into the table, his head slung and eyes fixed on the map as he listened. Ilya leaned forward from her recline and craned to catch his eyes. "Maxson, please. I need you to give that apology, to show them that the Brotherhood does care and that you're here for the right reasons, or this isn't going to work."

"I doubt a single apology will win their trust," he murmured, resolve waning.

"It couldn't hurt."

A quick scowl reclaimed dominance over his features. "In fact, it could, by making the Brotherhood appear sly, manipulating our way into their favour in order to get what we want."

"... isn't that the truth?"

He hung off that and it somehow wounded him, his fists gathering into the table, and Ilya thought he might lash out, but instead, his fists slowly uncoiled and the muscles of his face slackened again. His murmur was even softer than before. "Do you really believe me so devoid of compassion?"

Ilya didn't answer. She couldn't answer. The odd fact that he was even asking her that aside, she honestly didn't know. He was an enigma.

"So why did you help us?" she deflected gently.

"...No matter what reason I give you for assisting with the raid, you'll just dismiss it and turn to the easy solution of anger and denial."

"Try me."

Gravely, he lifted her his pale eyes, and they were worn, swimming with feeling. Maxson could feel. They flickered to Danse, perhaps feeling insecure about divulging his feelings while another man stood in the room, and Ilya thought the moment might slip away, he might slip away, but he surprised her. "Because I remembered your very first words to me."

"I care about them, you know. The people of the Commonwealth."

"If you say so."

Ilya remembered. She had stood on the observation bridge and listened to his sermon with a grain of salt.

Maxson exhaled heavily and straightened, chin jutted to amass his resolve once more, eyes still... feeling. "I don't expect you to take my words on faith alone. I don't expect any of my people to. As I discovered for myself long ago, actions speak louder than words."

Feeling at a disadvantage before this unpredictable enigma, Ilya receded into her facade of silence. For once, she was barren of tactic, just as vulnerable as Maxson was right now, but he held all the cards in hand.

He took a long moment just to dissect what endured behind her eyes, and she was about to split the silence with some type of inappropriate wisecrack to cover her discomfort, when he spoke in defeat.

"...You're never going to let this go, are you?"

A slow grin expanded on her lips. "Nope."

The very next day, their vertibird was embarking for the Minutemen Castle, carrying a disgruntled elder, with his smiling ally at his shoulder.

A/N: Tehe...

-I don't even watch GoT, but I probably should. Not much of a tv person. Please don't kill me.

Bianca - I think this chapter pretty much answers your question lmao!