Danse’s voice was steady, even friendly, as he gestured you down the metal hallway of the Prydwen. “You’ve made quite a name for yourself in the Commonwealth,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “Figured it was time the Brotherhood got a proper introduction.”

You didn’t say much in response, eyes scanning the rigid, spotless steel of the airship interior. You’d been in plenty of rusted settlements, bloodied bunkers, and makeshift outposts but this? This felt like a different world.

You swallowed down the nerves clawing up your throat as Danse stopped in front of a set of tall double doors.

“The Elder’s waiting inside.”, he says, opening the door.

Then there he was… the man you heard about and knew the name of. Elder fucking Maxson.

Older. Broader. Nice coat. His features sharper than when you’d last seen him as a boy with dirt smudged cheeks and dreams too big for his own boots. The blue eyed teen who used to climb rusted rooftops with you, whose hands once knew yours better than a weapon ever would.

His expression froze when he saw you. His mouth parted slightly.

“…You.” One word, taut and quiet. Danse looked between you both, oblivious to the electricity tightening the air. “Elder Maxson, this is the mercenary I mentioned-”

“I know who they are,” Maxson cuts in, sighing.