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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 years ago

Text

sounds like a bloodbath

hurt/comfort | 5198 words | vio & shadow, platonic/romantic/???

Shadow does self care. Vio does not. Takes place within the Four Swords Vampire AU by @kaitopitoo and @othervio on Tumblr.

Shadow winks—he winks!—and Vio wonders yet again what makes this kind of banter so easy between them. Probably not Hylia. Maybe there’s something in the water, like the bubbles. Maybe drinking Vio’s blood has made Shadow supernaturally attuned to his comedic stylings. Unlikely, but if so… talk about committing to the bite.

read it on ao3 or under the cut, author's note at the end:

Shadow has been in the bath for six hours.

It’s starting to concern Vio, Shadow’s absence, making him feel like he’s not meant to be inside this castle alone. He knows the vampire wants him here (or at least tolerates his presence), but without Shadow keeping him company he tends to spiral into doubt.

They do spend time apart, of course—despite cohabitating, they sleep in different rooms, and often take private time to read or nap or, in Vio’s case, bathe luxuriously. It’s something he started doing after the third time Shadow fed off him, having been carried to a spare bathroom so Shadow could retrieve more alcohol disinfectant.

Despite his wooziness, Vio had badgered Shadow about the absolutely gorgeous and completely unused bath, a large marble basin surrounded by candles that hadn’t been lit for at least a century. It’s really more of a bathing pool than the tiny tubs found in most Hylian homes, intended for multiple occupants at once. While Vio had blanched at the idea of sharing the bath with anyone, he’d also made Shadow swear to let him to use it once he wasn’t on the verge of losing consciousness.

Shadow had, at first, dismissed the bath when Vio pointed it out. But he eventually humored him as he cleaned and dressed the bite wound, and even admitted that it was strange that he’d never tried it.

“What stopped you?” Vio had asked, his words slightly slurred.

“It doesn’t sound very engaging. Maybe it would be, if I brought a book, but I don’t think you’d recommend that.”

“Hylia, no, are you insane? The whole point is to disengage. You just relax and enjoy the bubbles. When you get bored you stop, and then you’re all nice and clean for the rest of the day.”

Shadow had shaken his head. “When I need to get clean, I really need to get clean. Not an occasion for bubbles.”

“Oh, like after a hunt? Sounds like a bloodbath.”

That had made Shadow chuckle. Vio remembers being proud.

“Mmm, well,” Vio had hummed, leaning into Shadow’s touch, “you don’t need to hunt anymore.”

“What? Why not?”

“’Cuz I’m here, stupid.”

At that point, Vio hadn’t been able to see Shadow’s face. But he could picture the same inscrutable expression Shadow often wore in his presence, usually accompanied by silence. It hadn’t been a cruel reaction, or even a negative one, but it had given absolutely nothing away.

Vio had felt a sting of rejection at Shadow’s response to his outward fondness, so much so that he’d briefly considered leaving the castle entirely. And still to this day, in such moments, he finds himself considering this. Not because he wants to leave—Hylia, not at all—but because of the way he assumes he makes Shadow feel.

Because Shadow has been feeding weekly for months at this point, with no sign of letting up. He still takes excellent care of Vio, and seems to enjoy the more tender moments between them in the aftermath, but there’s a hesitation there. It’s like, no matter what Vio says, Shadow still views him as a symbol for a part of himself he resents. And as many times as Vio reassures Shadow that it’s okay, that he doesn’t mind, that he doesn’t judge him for partaking in what has been willingly given, it never fully seems that Shadow has forgiven himself for what he has no choice to do.

And that’s just the simplest way to view it, as not being a choice. Honestly, Vio thinks it’s an inaccurate conclusion to draw. He’s been reading through vampiric literature, observing Shadow’s behavior, even occasionally catching him in earnest conversations about his feelings and experiences. And his current hypothesis (not that he’d ever admit it out loud) is that Shadow could absolutely choose to feed on someone or something else. He could hunt, just as he’s done for his entire life, and leave Vio unbitten. In fact, doing so would likely cause Shadow less emotional turmoil, and while their first consensual feeding had very much been something Shadow needed for strength, they could have come up with a better plan before he next wanted for sustenance.

But, without even really discussing it, they just… hadn’t. One week later, Vio had simply visited Shadow with a scandously bare neck and a reassuring thumbs-up. And so on.

Sometimes Vio imagines his past life colliding with his present. If he was to return to the knight’s quarters in Hyrule Castle with these bruises every week, it would definitely start some rumors, especially given his reputation as the most elusive bachelor among his peers.

Of course his reputation now is likely one of tragedy—a fallen knight murdered, or worse, kidnapped, by the evil vampire they all seek to eradicate. And if someone like Princess Zelda could see Vio now, with the marks on his neck and willingness to subject himself to Shadow in a way he himself doesn’t fully understand, she’d probably conclude that he is a brainwashed victim. Sometimes when even Shadow looks at Vio, it’s abundantly clear that his suspicions are about the same.

Vio wishes for a way to prove, definitively, that he is very much in control of what’s going on here. That the person in this arrangement with the most choice is him, and while he may be confused by some of the feelings the situation has created, he is happy to be in it. Happier than he’s been in most circumstances throughout his life, honestly.

From childhood, Vio has been trained to serve as a knight under the Hyrulean royal family, selected solely based on appearance. It’s common knowledge among Hylians that a Legendary Hero is destined to protect the kingdom’s monarch, always resembling the short, blonde, and blue-eyed young man depicted in the castle’s stained-glass windows. In this generation’s case, four Hylian boys were chosen to fill that role, swearing to serve the equally young Princess Zelda.

Vio had only been eleven when he was pulled out of civilian life and thrust into serious training, adopting the full name “Violet” to modify the honorary title “Link” he’d been granted by the church. Even then he’d found it depersonalizing, but under the scrutiny of his parents, his rulers, and his new brothers in arms, he had accepted the call willingly.

A decade later, he can barely recall his name given at birth. In fact, if spoken aloud, it might legitimately count as blasphemy. He hesitates to share the details of his background to Shadow, all of his immense emotional baggage, even a few months into their cohabitation. It’s less pitiful, really, for him to simply be a knight by choice in the vampire’s eyes.

Because, fine: Vio cares what Shadow thinks of him. He really, really cares. It’s terrible and he hates it, and he has no idea how to stop.

It’s not the biting thing that does it for him, as much as Vio does enjoy the woozy aftermath. No, it’s the care Shadow shows him outside the context of bloodsucking: little things he says and does, observations he makes, and the calm satisfaction of silence between them. When they’re not bantering or discussing literature, they’re often doing their own things in a shared space. It may seem strange, in a castle with dozens of rooms, for the only two occupants to repeatedly end up in the same one—but strangeness, here, seems to be the norm.

Vio can’t name another person who has made him feel quite like Shadow does. Despite a relatively short time together, it just feels—and honestly, always has felt—like this is a person Vio is meant to find. It’s a kind of destiny beyond the church, beyond the Legendary Hero, beyond even Vio’s rational understanding. And that within itself is terrifying, because Vio prides himself on understanding everything he can.

Simply put, the way Shadow makes Vio feel defies rationalization. Vio is an adult person, not a child—but still, he finds himself thinking such ridiculous things as ‘it’s like we speak the same language,’ and ‘I want things to stay like this forever.’ Both notions are preposterous, and Vio fully acknowledges this. He doesn’t believe in soulmates, and finds the idea of having a ‘missing half’ insulting. He is complete on his own and always has been. Not that he’s had much of a choice in the matter, given his upbringing, but it’s what he knows.

Shadow surprises him, though. That’s the thing—the comfort he brings Vio is different from the usual comfort Vio normally feels, in controlled circumstances surrounded only by reflections of himself.

Shadow is not predictable, and feedings are basically his only routine activity. If Shadow was anyone else, Vio would hate these things about him. He’s resented the other knights for far less egregious offenses, any unexpected sentiments or disruptions to their training. But Shadow…

For some unknown reason, Vio actually likes when Shadow surprises him. Not always—but often, to the point that Vio eagerly anticipates the next strange, fascinating thing the other man will say. It’s much the same with his actions and interests, the hobbies he shares with Vio and the activites he prefers to do alone. It makes Vio want to share more of himself, and with Shadow’s encouragement, he happily does.

He never shares too much, though. Shadow can draw the blood from his veins, but he’ll never know what’s in his head.

It’s not perfect. This strange power Shadow holds over Vio goes both ways. When it’s good, it’s good—but that sting of rejection from a failed interaction is equally intense. And it’s certainly not helped by Shadow’s tendency to speak less when Vio speaks more. Maybe it’s the fact that they fit together so well that makes these communicative barriers more obvious and distressing. And maybe, just maybe, Vio simply needs to get out of his own damn head.

But he still can’t help but worry, because six hours is a really long time for a bath.

Vio places down his book and surveys the library, a room that had made him literally jump for joy at first sight. If you checked out a dictionary from the greatest library in the world, and then searched for the word ‘library’ within it, that’s where you would find this library.

He remembers Shadow’s announcement earlier this morning, over Vio’s breakfast and his own empty plate. “I think I’ll try a bath,” he’d said, causing Vio to raise an eyebrow.

“Really? Why now?”

“It seems to help you relax.”

Vio had only narrowed his eyes. “I told you that months ago. Are you feeling more stressed than usual?”

Shadow had not answered, which was basically a ‘yes’ in Vio’s mind. Hours later, his spiral of self-doubt still spins.

He’s not so self-absorbed to believe himself the sole reason for Shadow’s stress—but what else has recently changed in the vampire’s life, besides his presence? On a functional level, Vio is many things to Shadow: food source, ally, witness to his lifestyle. But those are just the good things. Vio is also his natural enemy, a liability, uninvited company within his home. Hylia, there’s an entire rule about vampires needing an invitation to enter homes, all while Vio had just walked in!

No, Vio reminds himself, you did not just walk in. He attacked you and brought you back here, to make sure you survived and healed.

But you’ve overstayed your welcome. He healed you out of obligation—he didn’t want you sticking around. He drinks your blood because you offer it willingly, but he’d probably prefer hunting like before. You’re just desperate to be needed, wanted, understood. You’re the real drain here, and the stress is only going to make both of your lives worse.

He hates that he thinks like this, all these cruel things about himself on Shadow’s behalf. It isn’t fair to Shadow, to give him that much power, that much prominence in Vio’s life and mind. How much of this is truly about Shadow, and how much lies within Vio, an ever-present poison running through his veins?

Vio must never forget that he casts his own shadow. The more he is consumed, and thereby consumes, the more his poison spreads.

In some corner of his mind, he knows he’s being melodramatic. He knows that he’s incorrect, that his perspective is not reality, that he will sabotage himself if it goes unchecked. But he’s also frustrated, because he has these feelings, and he can’t just make them go away. He should be able to figure this out, or at least suppress the feelings entirely—it’s what he’s been doing for a decade, for Hylia’s sake!

For Hylia’s sake.

Is that all Shadow means to Vio? A symbol of rebellion against the Goddess and church? He is the most unholy thing that walks on two legs, and Vio knows the Goddess would not smile on their life together. Is that, more than Shadow himself, what Vio enjoys?

Perhaps that is the poison within him. Perhaps all his joy in Shadow’s presence is false, inseparable from his own resentment and spite. What other explanation could there possibly be?

This morning was the final straw, a sign that this arrangement between them simply is not feasible. And the more time Vio spends here, the deeper he gets, the more difficult it will be to eventually leave. Or to be left—Shadow could always kick him out. Or the Princess could finally make her move, bringing the knights to the castle, bursting the perfect bubble of domestic bliss they’ve been enjoying for the past several months.

How would they hold up in battle together, if they can’t even have a conversation over breakfast without Vio having a mild panic attack? It’s not usually like this—usually, he’s too distracted by the good time he’s having to think too hard about the bad times ahead—but it’s foolish for him to pretend any longer. And Vio may not have the strongest sense of identity, but he is certainly no fool.

Vio will tell Shadow he’s leaving at once. He’ll pack a bag, grab a few weapons, a spare change of clothes, some first-aid supplies for the long trip home. Never mind that Hyrule Castle has never felt like home, while this place… again, never mind.

Six hours is a long time for a bath, and Vio can’t wait a minute longer. He walks to the master bathroom and knocks on the door.

No answer.

“Shadow,” Vio says sharply. “You’ve been in there for a while.”

Still nothing.

“Shadow?”

Vio can’t stop himself—he bursts through the door, hands over his eyes, hoping to hear a startled shriek or feel a splash of water.

Nothing.

Vio lowers his hand slowly to see a bath brimming with bubbles, the water colored charcoal and purple by the luxury products. At first he wonders if Shadow has somehow left the bath, but then he spots a tuft of purple hair, bobbing up and down.

“Shadow!” Vio shouts, rushing over to the side of the bath. He pulls the vampire up by the hair, lifting only his head up from the thick curtain of foam. Shadow’s eyes are closed and his skin is pale. He is most definitely not breathing.

“Hey,” Vio says, lifting Shadow slightly so his shoulders are revealed. He shakes him, to no success. “Shadow, hey!”

Vio’s mind races. Has he really drowned? Did he fall asleep? What kind of moron does that? Vio should have warned him, Shadow said he’d never taken a bath before—

“Uh… hello?”

Shadow’s eyes blink open and Vio finds tears in his own. He releases Shadow’s shoulders at once.

“Hi,” Vio says, still frozen at the tub’s edge. Shadow looks from Vio, to the bubbles obscuring his own body, and back to Vio.

“I fell asleep, didn’t I?”

Vio nods. “I thought you drowned. You weren’t breathing.”

The corner of Shadow’s mouth upturns slightly. “Vio… vampires don’t breathe.”

“Oh.”

“Sounds like someone hasn’t been doing their reading.”

Vio splashes Shadow, because he definitely doesn’t want him dead, but he still refuses to allow such a slanderous accusation.

“Hey!” Shadow exclaims, splashing back on cue, his smile now large and infectious. “Actually, wait, I like that shirt. No more splashing.”

Vio looks down at the loose peasant blouse. Pretty much everything he wears is technically Shadow’s—it’s not like he’d packed for the stay, and the shirt he’d been wearing during Shadow’s attack was shredded beyond repair.

“If you like the shirt,” Vio asks with a teasing lilt, “why’d you lend it to me?”

Shadow just shrugs, resting his forearms on the edge of the bath. He settles his chin on them, uncharacteristically relaxed, his eyes slightly lidded as he scans Vio up and down. “Looks nice on you. Makes you happy. And it’s purple.”

Vio frowns.

“I’m sorry, was that inappropriate to say?”

“No! Hylia, no, not at all—”

“Because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I’m not even sure why I—”

“I was going to tell you I’m leaving.”

Shadow blinks, and the relaxation is gone. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” Vio asks, creating more distance between himself and the tub.

“I’m sorry you want to leave. I must have… I must have done something wrong.”

“No,” Vio rushes to say, “it’s… it’s not you, it’s me.”

Shadow’s expression turns deadpan. “Vio, I might not get out much, but I’ve read enough books to know that phrase is always a lie.”

Vio’s fists ball up at his sides, and he so badly wants Shadow to understand. And maybe Shadow really does want to understand, but that’s only because he can’t see the poison Vio contains.

Maybe Shadow is part of the problem. Despite all of his feelings for Shadow, Vio doesn’t trust him to understand what’s in his head. But the thing is, Vio’s pretty sure that Shadow could be the kindest and gentlest person in the world, an excellent communicator and a lifetime friend, but still… it wouldn’t be enough to earn his trust. That unwillingness to trust—the real problem—truly is all Vio.

But if Vio knows he can’t let Shadow in, why has he stayed this long? Why has he researched his kind, helped him in times of need, treasured his physical and emotional company for months on end? He’s been foolish, ignoring the reality of their situation. The reality of who he is, and where he comes from, and the damage that’s been done to his mind and heart by circumstances outside his control.

Shadow makes it so easy to ignore what’s broken. Like a luxurious bath, or a soft animal, or a warm bowl of pumpkin soup.

But if Vio isn’t broken, he isn’t Vio at all.

He doesn’t want Shadow to change for him. He doesn’t want to drag him down.

And Vio, pathetic as he is, simply cannot allow himself to be changed. Even though he aches for it, even though Shadow makes him feel seen and known and maybe even loved, even though this might be his last chance to free himself from the Goddess’ chokehold that’s been suffocating his identity for a decade…

He may possess the Triforce of Courage, but Hylia, he is a coward.

“Is it because of the feedings?” Shadow asks, and he sounds hurt in a way Vio has never heard.

“No! Not at all. I don't mind that, I never have.”

“You must miss your friends, then. The other knights, the Princess.”

“Her? Definitely not. And the others... well, it's complicated, but that’s not why I—”

“There has to be a reason, Vio. I’m not going to force it out of you, or insist that you stay, but I don’t understand how you’ve made this decision so abruptly.”

You could insist I stay, Vio thinks, and he hates himself for it. What a pathetic, manipulative—

“What are you thinking?” Shadow interrupts, his hand emerging from the water to grip Vio’s arm. “You look like you’re in physical pain. You can leave, but please, make sure you’re well enough to survive the trip. The forest could be perilous, and the Princess will have questions. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Vio feels the tears in his eyes, and hates it. He feels his heartbeat, the lump in his throat, the way his breathing becomes shallow. It’s been years since he’s found himself in this place, so trapped and alone, even with Shadow just inches away.

“You’re not okay,” Shadow says, and glances towards the towel rack.

Ignore me, Vio thinks. Pretend you don’t see it—or even better, don’t notice at all.

And just this once, Vio wishes Shadow was like everyone else, either too distant to notice or preoccupied to care. Back in Castle Town he is just one among four, his own personality overshadowed by the legacy of the Legendary Hero, so much so that it’s been reduced to a single color. People see what they want to see—and Vio would fucking know, because he is people, and when he looks in the mirror all he wants to see is someone who’s okay.

And then there is Shadow: his dark, distorted reflection, so similar to him in nature, but completed removed from the world Vio knows. Removed from the royal family and their Legendary Hero. Shadow is living proof, in all his sullen morally conscious glory, that they are all so fucking wrong. It’s no wonder they want him dead.

“Vio,” Shadow says, now gripping both of his shoulders. “You need to stop thinking.”

Hylia, he can’t do this. He can’t just sit here and not say anything. Shadow needs to know it’s not his fault, there’s nothing he can do, it’s always just—

“Me!” Vio gasps, freeing himself from Shadow’s grasp. “It’s me. I can’t be here and be normal about it. I am so freakishly happy here with you, and that terrifies me, because if this makes me happy, then it can also hurt me, and sometimes it does, because I have no idea what you’re thinking, and I’m constantly thinking too much, and it’s because of my shitty past that I’m like this and it’s because of your shitty past that you’re like that, and it’s not like that’s ever going to change, because people don’t change, not really, not in a way that matters. And you’re stressed too, that’s why you said you needed a bath! And I get it! I am stressful to be around! Especially since you hate drinking my blood, because I represent that part of you, the part that everyone sees as monstrous—but Shadow, I think it’s brilliant, and I can’t explain why, and I don’t think I ever could, so there really isn’t a point in trying. My point is, we need to safely end this before one or both of us gets stuck in an endless stress-loop for eternity, like for-fucking-ever eternity, because you’re a vampire and you live forever, and even if it’s totally great, even if it all works out, when I die it’ll be a whole thing for you to deal with, and that’s the best case scenario, and there are only so many bath products for me to use up before you completely run out so wouldn’t you rather just not?”

Shadow blinks.

For good measure, he blinks again.

“I don’t know, Vio,” he answers. “Would you rather just not?”

And there Shadow is again, saying the thing Vio least expects to hear. He can’t remember the last time that someone asked him, so plainly, what he wants. Not what he needs, or deserves, or sees as morally correct—what he wants.

“I want to stay,” Vio says quietly, slowly, softly. “I want this. I don’t know what this is, but I want it.”

Shadow nods. “I want you here, too. I would miss you very much if you were gone.”

“I just,” Vio sighs, looking down at his own hands. “It’s silly, but I can’t get it out of my head. I feel like… like I am poison. Like it’s not just in me, it’s inseparable from me. Melodramatic, I know, but—”

“Vio,” Shadow interrupts, and he seems genuinely shocked by the sentiment. “You are the opposite of poison.”

“What?”

Shadow considers his response for a moment, which feels to Vio more like an hour. He then gives him a small smile, settles back into the bubbles, and closes his eyes. He looks… relaxed. More relaxed than Vio’s ever seen him.

“I love this,” Shadow says, and it’s like the idea almost amuses him. “I thought I wouldn’t, but I do.”

Vio cocks his head. “The… the bath?”

“Yes,” Shadow nods, “the bath. Like I said before—I’ve never really had an occasion to use it. Didn’t want to clog the drain with entrails.”

“That’s graphic.”

“I’ll spare you the details. After all, it’s like you said: it doesn’t matter now. I’m not mauling forest creatures just to survive.”

“Yes, but that’s just—”

“And even if I was, you’d still be right,” Shadow continues, clearly pleased to cut off whatever self-loathing bullshit Vio was about to spew next. “I still would have loved this, and could have used it a very effective means of stress relief. It’s not like I didn’t wash the entrails off myself after my hunts—it’s more like, I probably wouldn’t have believed myself deserving of this kind of self-care. I acted like an animal, so I got hosed down like one.”

“That’s stupid,” Vio argues, his defense of Shadow as natural as breathing. “You’ve always deserved to feel comfortable.”

“You say that so easily,” Shadow counters, “but you refuse to offer yourself the same grace.”

“Because I know myself.”

“Don’t you think I know myself just as well?”

Vio crosses his arms, feeling like a petulant child. “Well, fine,” he grumbles, “but I’m not letting you think you’re alone.”

Shadow opens his eyes and turns to face him, seemingly satisfied with his case. “Those are not poisonous words, Vio. You are far too smart to play this dumb.”

And if it was anyone else calling him out, Vio would be done. He’d already be gone.

But it’s Shadow. And he’s right. So Vio stops thinking, stops talking, and decides to listen instead.

“I have been alive for a very long time,” Shadow says, deliberating each word before it leaves his mouth. “I have spent the majority of that time alone. I am acutely aware of the effect isolation has on a person. However, I also know that self-isolation is an entirely different beast. While there are many odds against me—the elimination of my people, the attitudes of the royal family and their subjects—there is no reason compelling enough to justify my loneliness. Loneliness is something I have chosen, for these many decades, and it has been to my overall detriment.

But then I came upon you, purely on accident. I brought you here but did not expect you to stay. You surprised me, Vio. From the moment you arrived, you’ve surprised me. And you make me feel like I am not alone. None of that has to do with your willingness to be fed upon. It’s just you.

You are not poison. You don’t symbolize anything. You are a person—a whole, complicated person—and you are allowed to feel. You are allowed to want. You are even allowed to fail, and be forgiven, and try again.”

I hope I’m allowed to cry, Vio thinks, because he absolutely is.

It’s quiet, restrained—tears run down his cheeks, but he doesn’t sob. He tries to freeze up his face, his standard response to this nonsense, but under Shadow’s watchful eye he finds himself undone.

“Vio,” Shadow says gently, eyes returning to the towel rack on the wall. “I really want—I really want to comfort you, touch you if you’d allow it, help with anything you need… but I am currently in a compromised position.”

Vio sniffles and nods, getting to his feet. “Of course. I’ll go, so you can—”

“Thank you. And once I’m out, maybe we can discuss… what this is.”

Vio winces at his own words, but appreciates the sentiment. Shadow is offering to communicate, something he’s admitted can be difficult. It’s good. Shadow deserves to have a say in his presence within Vio’s mind.

“I’ll wait in the library,” Vio says, heading for the door. He turns back to the bath with a small grin. “Just don’t fall asleep again.”

Shadow puts up his hands. “Hey, the whole point was to relax! You should be glad it worked so well.”

“I prefer you alive, Shadow. Even if you’re already dead.”

Back in the library, Vio assumes his place in his favorite comfy chair. Shadow has gotten into the habit of perching on the armrest, sometimes even reading over Vio’s shoulder. Vio likes this closeness more than he’d like to admit, and would welcome more like it.

Maybe all he has to do is ask. And maybe Shadow will ignore the question, meet his affection with indifference, wear that inscrutable expression that torments Vio so relentlessly.

But maybe he won’t. And even if he turns Vio down, maybe he’ll do it kindly. Maybe he’ll tell Vio what he does want, which is something Vio’s longed to know for months. And if Shadow doesn’t know what he wants, well… they can be confused together. There are far more terrible fates than that.

And as for Princess Zelda, and her vendetta against the last living vampire in Hyrule?

She’ll have to do without her Legendary Hero. Or, at least, one-fourth of him. And if what she wants is a fight, Vio will oblige. And he’ll win. Him and Shadow, together, will win.

That is, if they’re forced to defend themselves. Vio has just assumed, these past few months, that Zelda would inevitably bring her forces to the castle, demanding Vio’s ‘freedom’ and Shadow’s defeat. She’d have the people of Hyrule behind her, not to mention the knights, and the Goddess herself.

But what if… what if Shadow and Vio went on the offensive first? They could start slow, even disguise themselves, traveling to smaller towns far from Hyrule Castle with armloads of vampiric lore. They could show the kingdom the truth about Shadow’s kind—their long history of coexisting and even loving Hylians, before the royal family turned everyone against them—and leave it to the people to decide which side they want to be on.

Maybe people can change, if you let them. And maybe that change can matter.

It’s a good idea, Vio thinks. At least, it has potential.

He can’t wait to tell Shadow all about it.

Author's Note:

To be loved is to be changed… or something. Thanks for sticking with me through this one, I know it was a little more melodramatic than my typical fics. It’s been… a weird month. Still, I’m pretty happy with how it came out. Writing Vio and Shadow in this AU is interesting because they’re so different from their manga counterparts (for one, Shadow is WAY classier), but so many of their emotional beats are the same.

And thank you, as always, to @kaitopitoo and @othervio for creating this very inspiring AU. I hope nothing here conflicted too hard with your vision.

#fs #my writing #four swords #four swords manga #vio link #shadow link #vidow #vio x shadow #four swords vampire au

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