#Hyrule's protective instincts kick in when someone is sick

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Wind felt miserable.

Not that he hadn't felt worse, of course. Because he totally had. Getting almost killed by Ganondorf? Way worse.

But still. He felt pretty bad.

His head was pounding. His nose was all stuffed up. His throat was scratchy, and his stomach churned uncomfortably. It wasn't the end of the world, really. It just... sucked.

Wind shifted uncomfortably in the bed. He could see dull light shining through the window, an indication that the others would likely be getting up. He wasn't keen on being the last one up (not that it was possibly - Sky would likely sleep another hour at least, if allowed); the last thing he wanted was for the rest of the group to think he couldn't handle a simple cold.

Sniffling, Wind slowly sat up, wincing as he swallowed against his worsening sore throat. He remembered when he got sick on his first journey. He remembered how isolating it was, all of a sudden, not having anyone to take care of him. He remembered learning that he had to rely on himself.

He knew he didn't necessarily have that same issue here. But everyone else had been babying him enough. He didn't need to give them an excuse.

But he felt miserable.

"Sailor?"

Wind jumped, startled, looking up to see Hyrule hovering over him. His friend had a strangely wary look to him, eyebrow raised.

"Yeah?" Wind winced at how bad his voice sounded.

Hyrule's eyebrows drew downward and together, concentration written on his face as he leaned forward to put a hand to the teenager's forehead. Wind immediately reeled back, swatting him away.

"I'll be fine," Wind insisted. He felt bad for rebuffing the traveler, but stubbornness and pride overruled. He was a Hero of Hyrule just like the rest of them, he didn't need special treatment for a cold.

"It's dangerous to assume so when you can sleep somewhere safe," Hyrule noted, letting his hand fall to his side. "Get some more rest."

"I'm okay!"

"It's way too freaking early for people to be yelling," Legend snapped as he stormed over. Wind shriveled back a hair, knowing how irritable the veteran hero could be this early in the morning, but then he puffed out his chest in defiance.

"Yeah, well, Traveler's babying me when I don't need it," Wind argued.

"You sound like a goose blowing through a bugle," Legend immediately fired back, crossing his arms. "We're not leaving yet anyway."

Wind was outnumbered and he knew it. It didn't help that his own mind and heart were at war, desperate for some comfort when he felt so poorly but also trying to save face.

The door opened as Wild reentered the room, having likely woken up ages ago. He paused when he saw the trio, tilting his head to the side. "What's up?"

"Our sailor is sick," Hyrule reported.

"Oh. Want some tea?"

Wind wilted into the bed. Tea sounded great, actually. But what sounded even better was his grandmother's soup, his pillow fluffed, the sound of the ocean lulling him back to sleep, and his family's warm presence. The fight was quickly draining out of him. He just wanted to stop feeling awful.

He tried one last time, though the sound of defeat was already in his tone. "I'll be okay, guys."

Legend hummed. "Wonder what the captain of the old man would think of that."

Wind stiffened. "Don't you dare!"

The veteran laughed. "Then lay back down, you congested goose."

Huffing, Wind irritably tucked his feet back under the blanket and glared at the trio as he laid down once more. Legend smirked in smug satisfaction, while Wild gave a gentler smile, leaving to presumably make tea. Hyrule watched him the longest, expression gentle, before nodding to himself and plopping on his own bed, fiddling with his bag.

Wind wasn't sure when he had fallen back asleep. All he knew was when he woke it was to someone brushing hair out of his face, it was to the smell of peppermint, the gentle murmurs of several voices, the pitter patter of rain on the roof, the soft glow of candlelight. He peeled one eye open blearily and saw Time sitting beside his bed, gaze elsewhere while his fingers mindlessly twirled a lock of Wind's hair. Someone was talking to him, it seemed. A cup of tea was on the nightstand, nice and warm as steam curled lazily from its contents.

One last, tiny, stubborn voice protested the scenario, eager to prove himself. He ignored it. He felt miserable, and he wanted comfort. Wind let Time continue to card through his hair for a little while longer. Then he'd sit up and drink the tea Wild had made.

Then he'd let his newfound family take care of him, just like he always did back home.

[deiliamedlini]

Whumptober 2021- The Darkness I Know

Chapter 2

No. 2 - TALKING IS OVERRATED

garotte | choking | gagged

Fic Summary: After the world as she knew it was destroyed by the corruption of Malice, Zelda allies herself with her saviors from captivity: a disgruntled former governor, an alert paramedic, a cocky pilot, an excessively overt optimist, and a blind strategist. While the corrupted, malice-filled Yiga Clan looks for revenge on them, Zelda has to learn how important it is to find family in others... and how much more dangerous the stakes become if she fails to protect them.

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In the darkness, the memories of her time before finding safety in Mabe Village crept up to haunt her tenfold.

There were days when she’d been out in the world with her group, clinging to a knife in case a possessed monster felt hell-bent on attacking them with no regard for its own life and safety. She remembered all the fog that had taken over the air, alerting everyone to a concentration of Malice nearby. She remembered touching it for the first time, and the painful burn she felt from the simplest of touches.

While on the road, she’d taken to scavenging every piece of equipment she could find. She couldn’t breathe well, but once her coughing fit subsided, she stumbled over to every piece of debris she could find amidst the wreckage on the road until a warm water bottle rolled against her feet.

Never had she consumed anything so fast.

Until now.

It had been nearly a week since she’d been taken from her home, a home she’d made for herself, despite all odds. Now, she was in a long room with tall, vaulted ceilings, watching the red-suited Yiga pass back and forth for hours at a time each day as her only means of entertainment. Dorian hadn’t come by, and there was no one around to hear her when she called out, hoping for an answer before the Yiga could bang the bars of her glorified cage to shut her up.

She was given a small bowl of grey gruel and barely a few sips of water to sustain her each day; barely enough to satisfy her.

But not this day.

Someone set down a giant slab of meat and an incredibly large drink in a golden goblet adorned with rhinestones. Something inside her warned her against unquestioningly eating it, but her survival instincts kicked in, and she needed food and drink. So, she hastily tore into the meal and drank her drink down.

Well, until she threw up.

“Eating too fast, are we?” a smooth voice asked from the shadows cast by the angle of the tall windows.

Zelda coughed as the unfamiliar sensation of her full stomach made her immediately regret every bite. She wiped her mouth with her sleeve before backing away from the bars of her cell, despite the approaching footsteps and her burning curiosity to see who it was.

Her ragged breathing filled the silence that was only shared by the sound of boots against the ground. Heavy boots, from the sound of them; someone larger. It took everything in her not to cough; she didn’t want to seem weak, ill, or fragile, so, she held her breath and waited.

A tall man bent down and peered at her through the bars before reaching his hand inside and taking her scraps away.

Zelda had her arms crossed in an attempt to look defiant, but she merely managed to look like she was concealing her stomachache worse than she was before.

Yellow eyes peered at her from the darkness. It had been days since she saw anyone’s eyes. And the man had red hair, long and flowing down his back, untamed and unruly to a point that it was clear this was a conscious decision not to take better care of it. She could see knots balled up that would be something awful to brush out.

And when he smiled, toothy and wide, Zelda shuddered.

“Dorian has been speaking highly of you. He’s convinced me that you’re worth keeping around. You must be sick of being in here, aren’t you? I can get you a room. One of my people was living in your village and says you’re a valued member of the community, a hard worker, and someone with a skill set we’re in dire need of. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in?”

Food? A bed? Yes. Yes, she was interested. Any catch they had, any thoughts of escape… all of it could wait until she was thinking clearly, so she nodded, her throat still too dry to do her the favor of speaking.

“Come on then,” the man said, opening the cell.

Zelda cautiously made her way to the front, shaking hard as she did. The man was taller than he appeared, with Zelda barely coming to his neck. He was wide and muscular, and a threat if she’d ever seen one.

He placed his hand gently on her shoulder, leading her from the doorway and towards the hall, urging her forward when she just wanted to stop. The rocking of each step unsettled her already precarious stomach, but she became accustomed to walking again after three days of her small cell, and started to feel it less and less.

“Have you heard of us?” the man asked as they walked. “The Yiga Clan?”

She had. Almost everyone had.

The Yiga were known for their ruthless tactics, fighting skills, and stealth. It hardly surprised her to know that someone in her village was a spy for the elite organization.

The fact that it was Dorian surprised her, but not the fact that they were there at all.

They’d been around for years, but when the Malice spread, they all but threw themselves into it, succumbing to the power it held and fighting to harness it, no matter the cost. No member of the Yiga Clan was any longer affected by the substance that still spilled all along Hyrule Field and infested former towns, cities, and villages. The roads were untravellable. Small communities of survivors were mostly relegated to stay in an area they deemed safe. But not the Yiga.

That was her life. The Yiga were free from those constraints.

“Yes,” she croaked out, clearing her throat before trying again. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Zelda shuddered again, both from the sudden cold of their long walk to the eerie tone of his voice. “I’m Zelda,” she said in an attempt at building rapport with this horrifying beast of a human.

He hummed. “I know.”

Dorian. Zelda shook her head and kept her eyes down. Obviously he knew.

And with his silence, she realized he wasn’t about to offer up that same information.

“What do you have in mind for me? I can work on whatever it is you need me to.” Her throat burned, tightening up at the rasp of her words.

“Oh, this and that. You’ll rest before we put you to work. Can you fight?”

“I can survive.”

He grinned up at the ceiling and closed his eyes. “We’ll see.”

Zelda winced at his comment and looked around for danger. All she saw was a man with blue hair in a cell of his own, watching her. He was the only potential threat beside the man with her.

“Is there a test?” she choked out, needing more water.

“Everything is a test, Zelda.”

He stopped them both and moved in front of her, watching her with little more than interest. And then Zelda realized why.

Her throat, burning from its desire for water, wasn’t dry; it was swelling.

And she suddenly couldn’t breathe.