#this is also going to be hella plotty like the last fic. so i gotta include some lighthearted scenes too

[non-un-topo]

Have a snippet of a longer Yusuf-centric fic I’m working on today, just because! Ah, the joys of roasting your family through song...

Bushra huffed underneath him as she walked slowly, bobbing her head with each step.

Yusuf reached down and scratched at her long hair. “Come on, old girl. We will stop for water and food soon.”

Bushra huffed her indignance.

“Yes, yes, I know. I am heavy and terrible.”

Behind him, Quỳnh laughed loudly. “She is only pretending to be tired. She’s a lazy horse, Yusuf.”

Yusuf gasped dramatically. “She is not lazy! She is…” He struggled to find the words, flexing and unflexing his fingers as he waved his hand.

“Spoiled,” Andromache said from her place at the front. Her regal horse, Metrodora, sputtered quietly and Yusuf could not help but feel like she was also mocking him.

“My love, defend my honour! They are laughing at me,” Yusuf whined. He turned to his side only to see Nicolò drooping on his horse, eyelids heavy and blinking slowly.

Quỳnh laughed again. “Aww, Nicolò, are you sleepy?”

Nicolò sucked in a breath and straightened his spine. “I am awake.” He tightened his grip on Buonamico’s reins.

“He must be exhausted after hunting all day yesterday,” Andromache mused sarcastically, casting a grin over her shoulder that could only have been directed at Quỳnh. Evidence of her hunting hung over her saddle in lumpy sacks behind her.

Yusuf looked back to see Quỳnh grinning herself. “Oh yes, that must have worn him out, truly.”

“Alright,” Nicolò said tersely. The women laughed.

Sometime later, a bird flew overhead and sang its song. Yusuf saw Quỳnh look up at the creature and smile. She whistled, imitating its call perfectly, then began to whistle her own little made-up tune.

Yusuf bobbed his head to the tune, tapping a gentle beat on the leather of his saddle.

“Quỳnh, Quỳnh, sister of my heart,” he began to sing, the words coming to him on their own.

“Sharp as a knife and cunning like a fox,”

Andromache looked over her shoulder to grin at him. She began to hum along to Quỳnh’s tune, and when Yusuf looked over to Quỳnh, she was smiling, eyes light.

“Quỳnh, Quỳnh, sister of my heart / Her confidence renders her tall, but God only gave her one metre and one half…”

He swung to the side just in time to dodge Quỳnh’s boot flying at him. It landed on the path ahead and Bushra crushed it unknowingly.

Quỳnh cursed and hopped off Vinh to grab it.

“I am actually considered tall, asshole.”

“Perhaps to children,” teased Andromache.

Quỳnh continued to riot and climbed back on Vinh as Yusuf sang without her whistling.

“Andromache, Andromache, thinks quite highly of herself for a dusty old lady…”

“Asshole!”

“But my sweetheart, oh my moonflower…”

Nicolò snorted. He watched Yusuf with fond, crinkling eyes.

“-Is rocked to sleep on his horse like a babe,” sang Quỳnh loudly and out of tune.

Andromache laughed, and the two of them chanted in tandem.

“Piccolo Nicolò, the youngest oldest man! Piccolo Nicolò, none beds like he can!”

“That old song again?!” Nicolò had gone beet-red.

Quỳnh rode close to Nicolò and extended a leg, aiming to nudge at his arse by the looks of it. “In our defense, you two used to be rather loud, if you know what I mean.”

Nicolò sighed deeply and Yusuf could not help but laugh. He was not insulted. He took great pleasure in letting his Nicolò know exactly how well he treated him.

“As soon as a new immortal comes along, I am going to make sure they suffer as I have,” Nicolò said tightly.