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skyloftian-nutcase · 9 months ago

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Blood of the Hero Ch 14 (Link's Parents Play BotW)

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

(AO3 link)

Ch 14: Fallen Knight - Carnage

Abel hadn’t slept. The night crawled agonizingly along, leaving the former knight tossing and turning. Tilieth rested peacefully in the grass beside him, the tattered, half rotted wooden stall protected them from the mild drizzle. He stared between wood planks, eyes tracing the etches of jagged edges, noticing scorch marks from when the place burned.

When it was destroyed. In the Calamity.

It was stupid, really, how much it was sinking in lately. It wasn’t like Abel hadn’t been a firsthand witness to it. But lately… everything seemed to be wrong, and it drilled into his head. Perhaps it was the thought of separating from Tilieth, the idea that once they reached the Gerudo Desert he would continue on without his family in search of solutions. The anxiety and dread of it made him sick to his stomach.

You had promised, all those years ago, to protect your family. You swore in your knighting that you would protect Hyrule.

Yet here he was, lying in dirt, shivering in the chilly night, protected by the bones of what used to be one of the most vibrant stables in the country. Here he was, with his wife starving and shivering beside him, broken and terrified and alone. Here he was, his daughter dead, his son near to it, the latter’s state being entirely his fault.

He’d separated from the boy. He’d told him to take the princess to Fort Hateno. He’d promised to be there.

He’d been unable to protect the king. Link was the only one who managed to keep the princess safe when Abel was unable to do so.

His daughter was dead.

Abel’s entire life was flashing before his eyes. His mother died of grief over the loss of his father (why wasn’t I good enough? Why weren’t my sisters and I good enough for her to stay?). His younger sister never listened to him, had said he wasn’t their father, had accused him of pretending to know more than he did (she was right). His twin sister had settled in Castle Town, had been there when it had burned (I never even looked for a body, did I? Goddess, I didn’t even look for a body—) He had been given the highest honor by becoming a knight in the royal guard, had served as the captain, a trusted protector of the king and yet he’d been unable to do his duty (the ceiling had collapsed, I tried to protect him, I tried!). He’d sworn to take care of his family, to be there as a father, and—

Abel sat up, filled with energy, chest aching, blood racing. He stood, walking to the river, wanting to run, to fight something, to scream.

He stared up at the sky, breaths rapid and shallow, and asked, Farore, why did you make me? Why did you make me??

What was he even here for, if not to repeatedly screw everything up?! Even when Link had been given a fighting chance, Abel’s stupidity had ruined it - if it hadn’t been for him disturbing that hinox, this wouldn’t even be an issue! Link would still be safe in the Shrine of Resurrection, and—

Why did you make me?! What was the purpose?! I do nothing but cause problems, I can’t get it right, I can never get it right!

It was sacrilegious to even contemplate what thought came next, but Abel already knew he was a worthless, faithless fool anyway.

You made a mistake when you made me.

The drizzle continued to fall, slowly soaking him to his core. It was a splash of reality as he shivered and fell to his knees, a cold consolation in an empty world.

Wallowing in self pity won’t help them, he reminded himself. Slowly, he dragged himself back to the stall, trying to push the intrusive thoughts out, trying to ignore the berating. He was so damn tired.

The next day brought a heavy rainfall, and though the couple would have preferred to wait it out, anxieties drove them both forward. They didn’t dare bathe in the river – it was far too close to Central Hyrule for either of their liking. Instead, they barely ate breakfast, woke Link to drink some broth, and hastily made their way back to Kakariko.

As they passed through the half-barren marsh, the tower for Lanayru teased them with its proximity. Tilieth glanced at Abel with a shrug. “It’s practically on the way. We might as well activate it; maybe it could give us some helpful information.”

Abel doubted that was the case, but he didn’t argue; he himself had suggested going to the tower as a distraction yesterday. The pair cantered across the marsh, signs of life catching Abel’s eye as they went along. The marsh was slowly coming back, the rain bringing life as puddles formed amidst the mud and debris. Pieces of guardians were slowly washed away, and much more had probably already been removed over the last decade. He tried to take comfort in that.

When the pair reached the beach, Abel saw that the tower was on the other side, which was mildly problematic. This was becoming more involved than he wished it to be, but they were too far invested in it to turn back now.

Tilieth offered to cross, but Abel didn’t trust that the other side would be safe. He’d already surveyed the beach they were on and didn’t see any threats, so he asked her to stay behind instead, taking the slate and utilizing its runes to get across with little effort on his part. Meanwhile, Tilieth bathed herself and Link.

Abel hadn’t expected to find a person on the other side of the beach.

They both stood there in the sand for a moment, frozen in time. Abel felt his body stiffen, electricity firing through his muscles. The Hylian looked equally on edge, skin and bones, dark circles under his eyes, clothes ill fitting and half rotted off him. He jerked his body, reaching for something in an instant.

Abel grabbed his bow and arrow and shot true.

The Hylian grunted as the arrow sank into his chest, his sword that had been half drawn collapsing into the sand beside him. Abel remained motionless for a moment, his mind catching up to what his body had just done. The Hylian let out a gurgling breath and then grew still.

Abel released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and slowly lowered his arms.

The world was silent, save for water lapping on the shore. Abel couldn’t hear it. He couldn’t hear anything.

Swallowing, the former knight hesitantly walked towards the fallen Hylian. When he saw lifeless eyes staring off at nothing, he finally put his bow away.

The world came crashing back down on him an instant.

You just killed a man.

Well, he was clearly going to attack first!

You’re a knight. Your job is to defend the people of Hyrule. And you just killed one.

This wasn’t the first time he’d killed someone. It was ridiculous to let it bother him. Besides, he wasn’t a knight anymore.

At least check him for supplies.

Abel recoiled at the thought. He wasn’t going to defile the dead like that. He refused.

Taking a shaky step away, he started to head towards the Sheikah tower as if nothing had happened.

A gasp sounded, and Abel whirled, reaching for his bow and arrows yet again. He readied himself, but caught sight of a woman, a young Zora female who was watching him in horror.

“P-please!” She hastily said as she raised her hands. “I’m not even a warrior, I don’t mean any harm! I—I just came down here to find some fish, I—I promise I’m n-not a threat!”

Abel took in the sight of the Zora, memories flooding his mind of his time he’d spent in the Domain with Link. He recalled their princess, and his chest ached at the loss. The girl had been sweet and a strong warrior. She had also been the best healer in the kingdom.

Nevertheless, he didn’t lower his bow.

“P-please,” the Zora begged, beginning to cry. “I—you c-can even have my catch of the m-morning. I b-bet you’re hungry, right? You look it. Just—just please don’t hurt me.”

Abel’s gaze flicked across the river. He could vaguely see Tilieth and Link from here. If the Zora turned around and caught sight of them…

Abel. Stop. She even said she wasn’t a fighter.

Abel took another shaky breath, the adrenaline still fresh from his previous kill, paranoia heightened by the threat, blood rushing through his ears, deafening him to the rest of the world, silencing the woman’s whimpers. What difference did that make? The world had ended. Everyone was a fighter now.

“I-I’m—I’m just g-gonna put the fish down now, okay?�� The Zora said shakily, hiccuping through her words, hands still held in the air. She carefully moved to reach for a net she’d been carrying, easing it to the ground.

Abel took a threatening step closer, arrow still fixed on her head, but he didn’t release it. The Zora practically scampered into the water, hands held high again as she told him over and over she wasn’t a threat, that she wasn’t going to hurt him. When she was half submerged into the water, he narrowed his eyes, motioning upstream with his head. The woman caught his meaning and quickly fled.

As he lowered his bow, Abel grew dizzy. He stumbled forward, picking up the net of fish, and slung it over his shoulder. The balance and the way the world spun made him nearly collapse into the sand, his stomach churning. He blinked once, twice, thrice to clear his head, shaking it so he could actually hear the world again, but it was still just his heart pounding.

A chirp caught his attention next, nearly making him draw his sword, when he realized it was the slate.

A shrine was nearby?

Focusing, Abel shook his head one last time, following the slate’s guidance until he neared the entrance to the Zora trail that led to the Domain. It was blocked by fallen rocks, a piece of half decayed guardian machinery squashed underneath. The shrine was just off to the left, uphill a ways.

How could he possibly bring Link over here after what had just happened? He needed to get back, to check on Tilieth! He’d just wandered off, they were out of sight now!

But the tower was right there too. He could see everything from the tower, including threats.

The area was clearly too dangerous, though. But he’d ensured there were no monsters on the other side before leaving his family.

But the threats over here hadn’t been monsters. What if there were Zora near his family?

Abel took another shaky breath, rushing back to the beach. He could still see Tilieth, who waved cheerily at him, clearly having completely missed everything that had transpired. She looked to be dressed now, sitting on the shore with Link.

Abel heard the water lapping. He heard the flapping of bird wings, the trickle as the rain settled into a lazy sprinkling. The world came back, and he tried to take a full breath.

The tower. Just get to the tower.

Thankfully it wasn’t hard to actually reach the tower. He had to rush across the bridge and scale the cliffside, but there were very few monsters around. He picked off a few lizalfos, a moblin, and a handful of bokoblins before reaching the top.

From the top of the tower, once activated, Abel could see a good portion of the region. Zora’s Domain was just beyond his range of vision, hidden in sparkling mountains laden with luminous stones. He remembered the festivals, the nights where those cliffs would practically glow. He remembered the giggles of children as Link played with his friends.

Looking away, Abel pushed at his pant legs, which had ridden up a little since they’d shortened in length from fraying over the years, and tucked them back into his boots. He squinted at the river, catching sight of Tilieth and Link, who were still relaxing on the beach. He couldn’t see any other shrines aside from the one he’d found. He wasn’t sure if that should make him feel better or worse.

Sighing, Abel grabbed the paraglider, took a deep breath, and jumped. He wondered, for the instant before his feet left the tower, if he was beginning to overcome his fear of heights. As soon as the sensation of weightlessness hit, as soon as he was in the air, he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach as an unpleasant reminder that was not, in fact, the case. The adrenaline still lingering in his system, paired with the vertigo he felt at gliding through the air this high up, nearly made him let go of the paraglider entirely. Abel squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and then shifted his weight, tilting the glider to aim for the beach across the water. Dully, he grumbled internally that he hadn’t always been this afraid of heights, and that it was a terrible time for it to manifest so badly.

Despite not wanting to look down, Abel managed to make it across the river, but his knees gave out the instant his feet touched the sand, and he face planted. He heard Tilieth call out to him and rush over, and he slowly pushed himself up, spitting out sand.

“Are you okay?” his wife asked, dropping down beside him.

Abel swallowed, not entirely capable of speaking, and nodded with a grunt. He sat on his legs for a moment, catching his breath, and then managed to say hoarsely, “There’s a shrine over there.”

“Oh! Really? Let me see.” Tilieth reached forward, taking the slate off Abel’s hip and glancing at it. The new information provided by the tower allowed her to survey the area, and she quickly found the shrine that was marked on it. “Oh, that’s not far at all! We can cross right here—”

“No,” Abel interrupted, remembering the body. He probably should have done something with it. Buried it? He should bury it, right? Show respect for the dead?

They didn’t have time for that.

“We’ll cross further upstream,” he finally muttered.

“Upstream…” Tilieth repeated as she peered at the map before gasping. “We’re close to the Zora!”

Abel spat out some more sand, rubbing his face. “Yes. And?”

“Sheik had said something about the Zora being hostile,” Tilieth said uncertainly, lowering the slate. “Why, though? They were allies to Hyrule. And… after all the effort you and that delegation put in…and the… the princess…”

Hostile? That woman he’d encountered hadn’t been. But what if she’d told her people, and they were coming here now?

After all the effort you and that delegation put in…

Abel bit back the bitterness of yet another failure, the pain and loss of the sweet princess who had been such dear friends with his son.

The point was that apparently the Zora were enemies now.

“We need to move quickly,” he surmised, finally standing and heading towards Link. “Start working on the pillars, please.”

Tilieth nodded, walking towards the water. The family made their way across as quickly as was feasible before Abel directed them towards the shrine.

However, once they entered, they did not receive the usual greeting.

“In the name of the Goddess Hylia, I offer this combat trial.”

“A combat trial?” Tilieth repeated worriedly.

Abel smiled, remembering the tutorial trial in Kakariko. Honestly, he was a little eager to get some energy out. He carefully lowered Link to the ground and headed into the large room. He figured he would test out the guardian weapon he’d taken from the last combat trial, alongside the Sheikah shield.

The tiny guardian was surprisingly easy to defeat. It telegraphed its moves so easily it was almost laughable. Abel was again, bitterly, reminded that these things had be designed to aid the people of Hyrule and its Hero. This little machine was here to train Link.

Instead, his boy was covered in wounds from its larger counterparts, near comatose and helpless.

Abel shook his head, finishing off the little guardian and trying to focus. He’d been far too morose lately. He had a mission to complete.

Goddess, he’d kill for some sleep, though.

The expression hitched in his mind, and he shook his head again. He turned and waved to Tilieth, signaling the all clear, before belatedly remembering he should go back to carry Link. Til, however, tried to carry the boy herself, dragging her feet into the arena while huffing and puffing a little.

Abel took pity on his wife, heart warmed at her attempt, and walked over to her. “Let me carry him, love.”

“No, I’ve got this,” Tilieth argued through a strained voice. “I have to be able to do this.”

I have to be able to do this if you’re going to leave me, was the unspoken sentiment. Abel felt his stomach crawl. He followed his wife silently, worries eating him alive. The couple retrieved a knight’s bow (how long had this been down here? Why was it designed similarly to their bows from ten years ago? Wasn’t this shrine ancient? Who else had accessed it, anyway? Why were there so many modern trinkets hidden down here?) and Link received the spirit orb, and they were transported outside.

Naturally, it was pouring. Abel shivered and quickly took Link in his arms to give Tilieth a break. He noticed the boy had little braids in his hair now, along the sides, before it was pulled back into the usual ponytail he wore. He supposed Tilieth had been enjoying herself on the beach. Link scrunched his face against the rain, clearly uncomfortable with the cold, and Abel looked around quickly to ascertain if it was wise to use the shrine for shelter until the rain let up.

Tilieth took the opportunity to look at the map. “I guess the best way to get to the desert would be going back through Kakariko? We could get one last respite in before the journey begins.”

Technically, the best path would be taking the road to the Riverside Stable, but that required going into Central Hyrule, which was out of the question. Not to mention the bridge leading there from the Wetlands Stable was destroyed, anyway.

No, Tilieth was right. The surest path was back through Kakariko.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly, carefully sliding down slick stone with Link in his arms. He didn’t want to linger.

When they reached the water, Tilieth hastened forward, grabbing Abel by the arm and shushing him. Abel looked at her, alarmed, wondering what she’d seen, watching as she crept forward. When he followed her line of sight, though, he saw some ducks waddling ahead on the shore.

“Really?” he whispered. “Right now? We’re about to go back into town, we don’t need to hunt.”

“Oh, I’m not hunting them, I just want to watch them,” Tilieth said lightly, a sweet smile pulling at her lips.

Abel bit back an exasperated reply. He’d already snapped at her yesterday. He wasn’t going to do it again. But they needed to move. He kept his mouth shut, watching his wife creep forward before talking briefly to the ducks, who quacked in response, eliciting giggles from Til. He tried to enjoy watching it. He really did.

“Til,” he finally said, unable to bear it any longer. “Link’s going to get cold.”

This snapped her out of her distraction, and Tilieth apologized worriedly as she started to create ice pillars. Abel let her place the harness on him before he positioned Link and strapped him in. The couple slid across the river, occasionally nearly toppling over with as slippery as it was, but they managed to make it to the beach and their horses. Abel thought they were finally in the clear when something else seemed to catch Tilieth’s eye (after she’d already snagged some dragonflies), and she pulled Epona in circles. Abel let Ama slow to a halt, watching his wife aimlessly ride in a dizzying pattern. At least the rain had stopped, but…

“What are you doing?” he asked, bewildered.

“There’s—there’s this—oh, I almost had it!” Tilieth huffed, pushing Epona to move faster and reaching down until she was halfway off the saddle. His wife was a good rider, so he wasn’t particularly concerned, but her behavior still made no sense. Link sneezed, distracting Abel, who tried to remember if they’d fed the boy or not (they did, right? They had to, right?), and he jostled the teenager and coaxed him to drink some broth while Tilieth still rode in a circle.

“Til—”

“I know, I’ll be quick!”

“Til, this is ridiculous, what are you even doing?”

“There’s a light!”

“There’s literally nothing.”

Til huffed, jumping off Epona entirely, making Abel tense up, and she pounced on something. “Got you!”

Abel stared as his wife, breathless, laughed giddily and reached out her hand and said thank you and then rose, looking triumphant.

Scrunching his nose, he surmised, “This is another one of those koroks, isn’t it?”

Tilieth nodded, cheeks flushed with cheer. Abel had to smile at her in reply, even though he felt that familiar helplessness. Not that he cared about collecting seeds, but it seemed in this avenue he was fairly useless. What if these magical creatures could help them somehow, and he was making himself a liability by not being able to see them? Why could Tilieth see them?

Sighing, Abel nudged Ama with his legs. “All finished?”

“Yes,” Tilieth said, satisfied, as she climbed back into Epona’s saddle. “Let’s get to the village. We should be able to get there by midafternoon, right?”

“Correct.”

At least, that would have been the plan, except Tilieth wanted to pick some herbs, and the slate started chirping that another shrine was nearby, leading them to a little sandbar with a shrine innocently sitting at its center. Abel stared, bemused, wondering if they’d somehow missed this one, as they had to have passed it, right?

No matter. Another shrine was another shrine. At least this one was close to the village.

“Ah, the soil is so fertile here,” Tilieth noted, and Abel had to agree as he nearly sank ankle deep into the earth. A few chus led to enough damage to the guardian blade that the ancient relic shattered, and Abel irritably switched weapons, grumbling about faulty Sheikah tech as he did so.

The shrine was fairly straightforward, leaping across driftwood to make it to the other side. The final part involved destroying bomb barrels at the right time to eliminate a wall (Abel did have to wonder at the efficacy of such a thing as the bombs were floating in the water, but he supposed they would find out). Tilieth found great pleasure in retrieving every treasure chest she could find, though, according to her, none could beat the one that contained the headband Abel wore.

“It’s too bad there aren’t more clothes,” she commented as Abel aimed at the barrels with a fire arrow. “Or at least materials to make some. Your clothes are a little tattered.”

Abel paused, glancing down at his attire. He wore what his wife had managed to patch together from fabric and clothes they’d found on the plateau, fashioning a warm doublet. The trousers he wore used to nearly fit him perfectly, but time and use had made them threadbare, riding up to nearly midway up his calf. His wife, on the other hand, wore an oversized green tunic that was practically a dress that went to her knees with a white undershirt, and the trousers she wore were made from the tattered remains of her dress she’d been wearing the day of the Calamity. Honestly, they both could use some new clothes, Abel supposed. He was at least grateful Tilieth had made some for Link. The boy was warmer and more protected in the Hylian tunic she’d fashioned. If only they could get the boy some shoes…

Tilieth built ice columns for them to stand on so Abel could aim better, but after three tries of missing lifting the barrels out of the water at the right time, his wife was clearly growing frustrated.

“Here,” Abel suggested gently, holding out his hand. “You’re a decent shot. I’ll make the column, you fire the arrow.”

Tilieth bit her lip uncertainly and then nodded. When Abel successfully timed the ice column, leaving the bomb barrel innocently waiting at its peak, Tilieth fired true with a fire arrow.

Link flinched at the ensuing explosion, sniffling, blinking his eyes open, but he settled back to sleep quickly.

“How did you get it?” Tilieth asked, obviously a little annoyed.

Abel smiled. “Because I’m more patient than you.”

His wife rolled her eyes exasperatedly, and the pair acquired the spirit orb. As they exited, Abel saw a familiar sight – the Riverside Stable, its framework splintering up towards the sky. That was definitely the stable he’d seen on their way to the Dueling Peaks. They’d… gotten a little off track with this other shrine.

“Which way back to Kakariko?” Tilieth questioned a little confusedly before gasping. “Abel, there’s another shrine over there!”

Abel glanced up at the sky. The sun was still high. They had time. “Let’s go.”

Surprisingly, Eagus Bridge was somehow still intact, though most of the protective siding was gone. But Abel realized something, almost too late, horribly, and he immediately blocked Tilieth’s path as they neared the next bridge.

“What?” Tilieth asked.

“This leads to Central Hyrule. The Riverside Stable is in Central Hyrule.” Abel emphasized. “We’re not going there.”

Tilieth looked torn, but also very clearly petrified.

Abel motioned with his head. “We need to get to the village.”

He was not risking his family for this. He would come later, without them, to ensure it was safe. Not that he was going to tell Tilieth that.

The smell of smoke scorched his nostrils, burned his lungs—

Abel shook his head, ridding himself of the memory, the sensation. He guided Epona and Ama ahead, holding Link more tightly.

The couple moved in silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic clomping of their steeds’ hooves. Thankfully it was an uneventful trek back to Kakariko. Their arrival caught everyone's attention, and Lady Impa moved towards them quickly.

“Any luck with the shrines?” she asked. “Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine,” Tilieth assured her with a smile. “We just need to pass through again to head for the—”

“Next destination,” Abel interrupted. He… didn’t want anyone to know where they were going. Not even the princess’ royal advisor. “We’ll stay here tonight. If that’s fine with you.”

“Of course,” Lady Impa acknowledged, her tone implying that it was obvious. Abel felt a little guilty at it, at her hesitancy and uncertainty as she looked at him. He’d never interacted with the woman much in the past, but a little voice in his mind did whisper that they were all on the same side. It sounded annoyingly like Tilieth.

Abel gently lowered Link from Ama, letting Tilieth take him and hobble over to a nearby cooking pot. He glanced towards the mountain pass once more.

He’d wait until nightfall to explore. The less fuss, the better.

Tilieth’s off-tune humming filled the air, making the former knight smile. His wife rocked back and forth where she sat, taking Link with her as he was settled on her lap. Abel took comfort in the gentle, warm cheer, watching as Tilieth started to chat aimlessly with the Sheikah chief.

“Where’s Sheik?” Tilieth asked. “I saw nearly everyone else. Oh, and how’s the little one and her mother? Mellie and Jummo, right?”

“They’re both doing great,” Lady Impa answered happily. “The plum trees we planted seem to be surviving too. This rain is certainly helping. As for Sheik, she left around the same time you two did.”

“Where did she go?”

“She’s… on a pilgrimage. She’s visiting all the sacred springs that Princess Zelda visited.”

Abel tuned out the rest of the conversation, simply watching Tilieth and Link. He sat on the stairs to the inn, leaning against a crate and feeling himself nod off. He supposed not sleeping was catching up to him. He shook his head to try and stay awake – he had to investigate Central Hyrule tonight, after all.

“Honey? You okay?”

Abel blinked again, and—when had the sun set so much? When had Tilieth moved to stand in front of him?

“Oh, Abel,” Tilieth said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. He reached up, letting his hand rest over hers to reassure her, eyes searching for Link as he confusedly tried to piece together what had just happened. “Honey, why don’t you get some sleep?”

Sleep? No, not yet. He’d just slept a little anyway, right? Time had passed.

“’m alright,” he slurred, not sounding convincing in the slightest. Damn it.

Tilieth’s eyes grew glassy with worry and unshed tears, and Abel felt even worse for it. Damn it.

Reaching forward, he pulled her close, letting her sit on his lap a moment as they held each other, and he kissed her just under her eyes, catching the tears as they fell. “I’m okay, love. I promise.”

Tilieth trembled in his arms, sniffling. “Abel, I just… it’s okay. Please, just rest. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, holding her more tightly, willing all of his love and assurance into it. Please don’t worry. She had enough to worry about. He’d caused his wife enough problems lately. “I promise I’ll sleep later tonight, okay? I just… want to pray at the statue before bed.”

Tilieth perked up, and her expression was hard to read. His wife was naturally far more trusting than him, so he hoped the lie would work (and oh how he despised having to lie to her, but she’d never let him go if he said what he was planning on doing). However, Tilieth was not a fool – she knew Abel didn’t really pray anymore. Perhaps, once in a while, in the middle of the night, in desperation or loneliness, Abel would wander to the Temple of Time before this new journey had begun, but it had been rare.

It was hard to believe in the love of goddesses who would allow this to happen, after all.

His wife watched him silently, her brown eyes piercing into him in a way that reminded him of Link, searching for answers unspoken. Abel broke the spell, though, by leaning in and kissing her on the forehead, brushing curls away from her face.

That night, he ate in silence. He didn’t dare speak, he didn’t dare try to reassure her any more, he didn’t wish to lie any further. Tilieth seemed to gain some of her earlier cheer back as she woke Link to feed him, as she cleaned him and tucked him in. Abel watched the pair, heart heavy, wondering if this was a mistake.

What if… what if he failed again? What if he got himself killed out there, in that goddess forsaken land? What if there were guardians out there as there had been ten years ago?

What would he find? What if he didn’t return?

What would happen to his family?

You’re being paranoid. There was no way Central Hyrule was that dangerous, or Lady Impa would have warned them about it. Right? Besides, Blatchery Plain was riddled with guardians and they were all harmless. So it had to be fine. Right?

Right?

There was a shrine there, though. He had to try.

For Link.

Abel watched Tilieth settle into the bed beside Link, leaving space for him to join her. He went outside, heading for the goddess statue.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel stared darkly back.

He didn’t pray. He couldn’t. Even if he recognized the gift that Epona was, the miracle that Link was actually improving, he couldn’t pray. How could he, after what he’d done today?

How could he, after all his failures? He blamed Hylia for the destruction of Hyrule, but he hadn’t done any better to protect it.

He’d killed a man today.

Could he have avoided it?

It didn’t matter. Whether he could’ve avoided it or not, it didn’t matter. That person would never be a threat again.

But what if he was just scared? What if you could’ve talked him down, as you had with those siblings at Proxim Bridge?

Am I a murderer?

He supposed he didn’t deserve to pray. He wasn’t a knight; he wasn’t even a good man anymore. He was just a survivor. And he would do anything to protect his family.

Besides, that Hylian had clearly been starving. He’d likely been desperate and would’ve been willing to do anything too. He’d been a threat.

Abel still didn’t think he was a good man anymore, though. He wasn’t sure he’d been one since the Calamity.

He didn’t need to be a good man. Just a good fighter.

Hylia smiled serenely at him. Abel turned away.

He paused as he passed the inn. Almost went inside to see his wife and his son. But then he kept going. He didn’t want to risk catching Tilieth’s attention. Quietly, he guided Ama out of the village before mounting her and riding into the night.

A keese or two tried to interfere as he rode, but he eliminated them easily.

Eagus Bridge seemed infinitely more foreboding as he crossed it now. Horwell Bridge even more so.

Ama’s hoofs tapped rhythmically, a familiar, comforting cadence to the pounding in his heart. His skin felt cold, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. Was he being watched? He didn’t hear the sound of the earth tearing under clawed metal feet, he didn’t hear the claps of thunder that followed the firing of lasers, he didn’t hear the ticking as the mechanical monsters prepared to destroy whatever was in their path.

His heart raced even faster. Ama nickered nervously, picking up on his energy, pausing at the edge of the bridge.

Central Hyrule stood before him.

It was hard to really see it with as dark as it was. The moon was crescent tonight, barely spilling any of its blessed light. Abel’s eyes were wide, desperate to take in every piece of information he possibly could. The wind blew innocently, bringing the scent of soil and water.

No flowers. No leaves. No trees. Dirt was carried in the breeze, loose, eroding, barren.

It was all barren.

Abel carefully bade Ama forward, and as her hooves crunched into the soil, he felt his body tense further.

What little light was available from the moon vanished, hidden behind clouds heavy laden with rain. Ama’s black hair made her practically disappear into the darkness, and thunder rumbled not too far away.

Abel urged his steed ahead, slowly and carefully. Thunder rumbled again.

Thunder. Thunder.

The sky burned.

The bells in the temple rang repeatedly, a warning and a petition, a prayer and a guide. It punctuated the screams, it harmonized the ticking of lasers as they charged and fired, shooting through the air with such intensity that it created miniature claps of thunder as the heat separated the air harshly before it returned together with a snap.

Abel’s breath caught in his throat.

The world around him was deafening.

There was so much noise, and his ears were ringing so much, he honestly couldn't tell what sound came from what source anymore. Was it a scream? Was it a guardian? Was that a child wailing or a gear grinding? Was that his heart pounding in his ears or was it a thunderclap from another beam firing?

Ama whinnied, moving in place anxiously.

Abel stared ahead, watching troops march together, some limping, others helping their comrades. Many had wagons and horses to help them.

He heard whirring. He heard gears. He heard claws, and ticking, and thunder.

Thunder rumbled again. The earth shook. Ama neighed, growing skittish, jostling him in his saddle, it was raining, when had it started raining, something was moving, something was moving—

Abel heard horse hooves galloping, he heard a battle cry, he saw mud splashing in the barren wasteland around him—

Bokoblin!

Abel gasped, coming to reality, spurring Ama into motion, and she ran ahead. He drew his sword, catching sight of the enemy, recognizing faintly the familiar motion of aiming a bow and arrow. He jerked his horse to the side as an arrow flew by his ear, and he redirected her to charge once more, stabbing the bokoblin. His blood was racing, his body soaked, his hands trembling—

His horse whinnied with panic as flames spread too close, licking at its hooves and his heels. He steered the mare around the flames as she almost bucked him off, and then the flames were abruptly disrupted by a clawed foot tearing into the earth and squelching them.

In the haze and smoke, Abel recognized the pink mechanical eye transfixed on him. He sucked in a sharp inhale, coughing harshly on the smoke in his lungs, and urged his mount to move.

Metal glinted. Lightning flashed, reflecting on a blank eye, a mirror to a past of fire and smoke.

Abel froze in his saddle. Ama ran harder, petrified, out of control.

The guardian was hot on his heels, charging its laser as he once again pushed the horse to run faster. His steed neighed in protest, her stamina draining out of her faster than it could replenish, and the guardian fired.

Go! Go, run!!!!

Abel pulled on the reins hard, making Ama neigh in protest as she tried to obey, as her hooves slipped, she lost her balance in such a sharp turn, and both horse and rider fell into the mud.

Thunder rumbled.

Thunder clapped as lasers fired.

It was pouring.

The sky was aflame as people screamed.

It was deafening it was deafening.

Movement stirred nearby, screams—screams of civilians—thunder thunder guardian fire, they were everywhere—

Abel whirled, sword at the ready, a snarl at his lips as Ama tried to right herself. His hilt made contact, slamming something, and he looked around with crazed, terrified eyes.

Where was it where was it—

Ama finally stood. Thunder rumbled again. Lightning flashed.

Lightning flashed. Shining a light. A light. On the barren wasteland. There was—there were—what was—

Blonde curls, stained with red. A figure, lying still in the mud. Green tunic smattered in brown, the only green as far as the eye could see—

Abel felt his heart stop.

This wasn’t—this wasn’t real this wasn’t real nononononono—

Abel ran, heart racing once more. The world shook as lighting struck again. The figure remained still on the ground.

“TILIETH!”

He collapsed into the mud, shaking her shaking her begging, pleading, goddess no please no—

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and—

“NO!”

Thunder roared. The rain was deafening. But nothing could outweigh the sobs, nothing could cover the screams, nothing could stave the panic as the former knight shook his wife over and over and over and over and over.

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ihatesocialmedia45 · 15 days ago

Text

I've Cooked!

The quality of the dish remains to be seen... but we're not going out to eat!

I'm revamping and changing up a bunch of plot points in "Don't Save Her", to make it flow better, and to better personalize the Reader character. You can also check it out on AO3 - I'm Diabolica45!

Chapter 1: Homelander Versus

Homelander watched from the top of the stairs as New York's finest milled about below, the anticipation of tonight's events nearly tangible to his enhanced senses. They were excited, he noted with vague distaste, for the New Year. Ready for fresh opportunities to mingle, to rub elbows with fancier people. It was better than what ordinary people did, he conceded, smirking as Stan courted a gaggle of senators; better than believing the lie of this year being any different than the previous one.

Still, though, he thought, where the elites had succeeded in avoiding one trap, they fell prey to another. At the top of the food chain, Homelander knew, better than any of them, that their pursuits - the hobnobbing, the wheeling and dealing - were just as worthless as striving to do cardio three days a week. Some of them, he thought, knew better. And yet... they dove back in, nonetheless. It was a Chanel and Dior scented rat king, any taste of decadence long since evaporated - but to be denied entry to it was unacceptable. Homelander cleared his throat, and descended the stairs, holding his hand out for Maeve.

Maeve smiled softly as she took his hand - but found the gaze of the cameras as they made their way down, effectively avoiding his eye. Tactful, he snorted. "PR says we should look at each other, dearest..." Homelander muttered under his breath. The flash of the cameras lit his blue eyes to a near white. Maeve beamed for the cameras regardless, subtly angling herself toward NSNBC's crew - away from him. "PR's the least of your worries," she breathed, tossing her hair perfectly at another camerman. The shutters clicked furiously, highlighting the auburn wave of her hair. He felt his eyelid twitch. She'd promised not to humiliate him in public.

And, of course, she was right. PR was the least of his worries. Between the recent scandal Vought was embroiled in - an embezzlement lawsuit, how crude - his slowly declining percentages in the polls, and Maeve's disinterest, which even the tabloids were beginning to notice, Homelander had his choice of topics to ruminate on. But, still, the thought came, wheedling and, God help him, desperate: Would it kill her to try? To look at him?

They'd made their way to the bottom of the stairs, and, like clockwork, Maeve found the ear of some influencer with a microphone to talk to, blathering on about resolutions, thanking them for coming. Maybe it would kill her. Maybe it would kill him, too. Homelander parted the crowd in the opposite direction, detirmined not to follow her.

She'd been like this for who knows how long, Homelander stewed, making his way to VNN's camera crew. Truthfully, he couldn't pinpoint when it had all gone sour. Had it been after the last botched save? An interview gone awry? Maeve had sworn to him that she didn't care about these things - that the media machine was just a means to an end. He knew she'd meant it; her own lackluster performance was testament to that, Homelander sniped, lips quirking into a smirk. Her points sank faster than his on average - but then again, they were liable to shoot right back up, after an event like this, with her sober, glossy, poured into a deep burgundy dress that hugged her body in all the right ways... But if the game wasn't what mattered - if that wasn't why she jerked away from him, even in private - then what?

"Homelander! Homelander, over here!" a reporter clamored for his attention. Homelander snapped out of his reverie, training his gaze onto the man, a dark satisfaction rising in him at the sound of the instant race of his pulse. Maeve was wrong; this was what it was all about. Quickly, the reporter steeled himself, raising his mic to Homelander's face. "Homelander, this has been an eventful year, wouldn't you say? What was the best part of it all, in your opinion?"

Homelander took a brief moment to consider, though the pre-discussed points PR had drilled into him echoed in his mind.

Working With Toys For Tots. Christening the babies last June. Being the Most Requested Supe for the Make A Wish Foundation. Anything to do with children; they were good for points. Everyone loves a family man.

Do not, under any circumstances, bring up personal points.

"Well," Homelander started, taking hold of the mic, "I'd have to say... any moment with my better half here," he said - and, with that, he plucked Maeve out of the conversation she was nestled in, wrapping an arm around her waist. She quickly fixed her mouth into a smile, holding a hand to her heart. "Oh, you," she grinned. Homelander held her closer.

She almost seemed genuine, if he squinted.

"This whole year has been the best, thanks to this one - but, if I can tell you something... I've been more excited for midnight than anything else." He winked then, sending the crowd around them swooning, the chorus of 'oohs' breathy and reverent, before they left, chasing the next soundbite. Maeve smiled again. Homelander watched the muscles around her mouth twitch.

This wouldn't be so hard if she'd just play along...

Was he really so unlovable?

The question lingered, unwelcome, in his mind - before, as if on cue, a voice rang out, cutting through the darkened tangle of his thoughts.

"Your 'better half'?" it teased. "What about me?"

A slender hand curled around Homelander's forearm, and the scent of amber wove around his brain. Homelander smiled, genuinely, and turned to look.

Madelyn gracefully disentangled Maeve from Homelander's grasp, watching with a slight smirk as she danced off. She was wearing a sparkly black number, her hair curled to perfectly frame either side of her face.

"She's making this difficult," Homelander pouted, looking after Maeve's retreating figure. She had her back to the two of them, and had moved further out, to ensure she wouldn't be grabbed, at least until midnight. Madelyn patted his hand, frowning sympathetically.

"I know, dear," she said. "But, you're doing all you can, at the very least. That's what matters."

"I just... I'm trying," Homelander sighed. He leaned in to whisper now, making sure no cameras watched, before taking her hand for a brief moment.

"She knows I am! But she just keeps... keeps... making it so hard to keep on. Like - you remember when she wouldn't hold my hand at the premiere of Troubled Waters II? It was embarrassing!"

Madelyn sighed as well now, quirking her lip as she thought. Homelander always loved that expression; the muscles underneath her skin created the cutest little shapes; little squiggles and wobbly patterns - once, if he squinted, a heart. She looked up at him, and furrowed her brow.

"What did I say about X-raying me," she said, raising a brow. Homelander looked away, slightly abashed. "Sorry," he said, smiling.

"Anyway..." Madelyn continued, "Maeve is... complicated... but at the end of the day, she's still a woman. Your woman, no matter what she might have to say about it. You've got to make her miss you. Pull away a bit - let her reach. She doesn't like to be fed - she likes to hunt." Homelander frowned.

"But I've done that!" he said petulantly. "She didn't call. She didn't write! She seemed glad!"

Madelyn swirled her drink in her hand as she deliberated, before taking a sip.

"Maybe, then..." she said, giving him a sly smile, "you should stop worrying about Maeve, and focus on women who invite your attention. Hmm?" Taking his hand in hers, she led him to the dance floor, just as the band began to play. Homelander tried to hold his pout.

"What am I? Chopped liver?" Madelyn teased; her smile was rueful again. Homelander rolled his eyes, but his frown gave way to a small smile in turn, and he took his place with her on the floor.

With Madelyn in his arms, he felt... not whole, but at least... not as broken. Certainly not as hollow as it would feel to be holding Maeve - but he wasn't thinking about Maeve, Homelander reminded himself. He looked down into Madelyn's face, and, noticing the light dusting of rouge across her cheeks, furrowed his brow.

"You don't wear makeup," he said, puzzled. Madelyn met his glance with a sly one of her own, tilting her head. "I'm not," she countered innocently. "Rouge doesn't count."

She leaned in then, slightly tightening her grip on his arm. "That's not the only thing I'm not wearing," she whispered. Homelander raised a brow. "Meet me on the balcony after midnight," she murmured.

Well. That was more like it, he thought, his mouth curving into a smile. If he squinted, if he tilted his head just so... it almost felt real. Almost.

"You can't go - you promised thirty more minutes! At least until midnight!"

"But New Years is on a Tuesday! You can't expect me -"

" Thirrrttyyy more minutes! Then, you can go slliink back home, an' work - an' work on your revolutions, or whatever." You looked at your assistant, politely exasperated - before sighing and patting her hand, chuckling when she snatched up yours instead. "Resolutions, Alicia. I'm going to go home and work on my resolutions. Even I can't plot a revolution in an evening," you say as good naturedly as you can.

"Same thing," she slurred, conducting you ike a wayward train, around the bar crawl you hadn't found a reasonable excuse to dodge in time.

Of course she meant well... you thought as Alicia lead you to the next bar, with you in one hand, heels in the other - but night like these never had the effect your co-worker seemed to have in mind. Being draffed out to bars on work nights only made you antsy - but, despite your no-nonsense demeanor, you never found the will to stand up, and tell her that you would rather die than go out to a bar, holiday or otherwise.

You checked your phone again, fidgeting in place as you entered the bar. It was still only 11:45 - but, it seemed that, in her haste to keep you from leaving, Alicia had chosen the wrong bar. She'd meant for the loud, overpacked place next door, you were sure... but this bar was a place you might have visited organically. The lighting was dim, with faint house music playing from the ceiling speakers; the walls, you noted with surprise, even lined with climbing ivy. You nodded approvingly, though Alicia edged towards the door, disappointment clear on her face.

"Wait a minute," you said, striding towards the bar, "I kind of like this one." Alicia groaned, though part of you felt slightly vindicated at dampening her spirits. Now both of you were annoyed. Her New Years was soured, too.

You sat at the bar, ordered an old fashioned, and watched as Alicia busied herself with the menu; she whined lightly when you plucked it out of her hands, and ducked her head when you raised a brow. "It is still a Tuesday," you said, voice matronly, "and I know for a fact that your presentation needs more work. Let's not get sloppy." Alicia rolled her eyes, but laid her head on your shoulder, conceding.

"Why can't you be a cool mom?" she slurred, settling her head into your lap. "Sso bossy..."

You absentmindedly played with her hair, smoothing down the errant baby hairs that framed her face. Not unaffectionately, you smiled down at her.

"You love it," you said, chuckling when she sighed.

"I love it..." she repeated, her voice dipping as she closed her eyes.

The two of you sat there, you with your drink in hand, Alicia and her hair tumbled over your lap - when a loud bang had the both of you whipping your heads around in the opposite direction. You caught sight of the creator of the commotion - and groaned, while Alicia immediately perked up, phone at the ready.

It was one of your main stressors at work - arguably, the reason your entire department received funding at all: a beligerent Supe, flying off the handle at the cruel realization that the world did not, actually, bend to his whims. In fact, in terms of Supes you had bones to pick with, he was top contender - one that had borne so many complaints and investigations that he practically had a wing of files dedicated to him.

"Hey! Don't leave when I'm talking to you!"

The Deep.

He was gesticulating wildly at the woman seated across from him, face curled up in rage, as she collected her purs and phone, clearly in the process of leaving this date. But Deep wasn't having it; he slammed his hand onto the table again, wincing when his palm connected with a shard of glass - he'd broken his glass in his first outburst, and hadn't realized. You felt your mouth turn up into a smirk as the first droplets of blood began to bloom.

Interesting. You'd thought Supes were invulnerable. You fished through your bag, and made a note, while Alicia continued recording, her sprawled position across her lap acting as cover.

The bartender heaved a heavy sigh, making his way to Deep, but the Supe had his hands raised, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, alright. There's no need to - hey, stop! I said there's no need to get TMZ! I'm leaving! Okay?"

He tried his hand at an abashed smile, looking in the crowd of wide eyed patrons for a sympathetic ear. "Women - right? I take her out to this fancy bar, and she - okay! I'm going!" Muttering to himself, he snagged the cloth napkin from the table and wrapped it around his hand, before loping out the door, head hanged. You chuckled; he'd tripped on the rug on his way out, to a chorus of shuttering cameras. It seemed the bartender had called TMZ, anyway. Good.

"I thought the Seven were supposed to be at Times Square ..." Alicia mumbled, watching as Deep slammed his coat into the door of his cab and sped away.

"They changed it to the St. Regis," you replied, watching the paparazzi disperse in his wake. "Maybe they couldn't book the time slot this year," you mused.

"With antics like that, I'm not surprised," Alicia said, raising a brow. You chuckled. Alicia was almost pleasant to be around when she was like this; when she was in her element, instead of trying to play matchmaker, or hostess - or any of the other hats she wore that didn't spell out "Investigator". It was hard to square her away in your mind, sometimes - often, you just relegated her to the role of childish assistant in your mind... but, as if she knew what you were thinking, she surpised you. See, she seemed to say. You've got me all wrong. You don't have to treat me like a child.

"Where's the bathroom," she said suddenly, interrupting your thoughts. She lurched from your lap and steaded her hands on the bar. "I think I'm going to be sick."

You sighed. Maybe you hadn't been wrong. "Let me walk you," you said, gingerly taking her arm, and leading her to the stalls.

"Thanks, Mom," she hiccupped, her heels clacking in your hands.

Homelander dashed over to Maeve as the clock lurched one minute to midnight. "Sorry - gotta steal this one real quick," he told the gaggle of paparazzi, winking and grinning into their lens of their cameras.

"Homelander - "

"You promised."

Maeve scoffed. "I'm getting tired of you just snatching me up -"

"Because you keep running!"

Homelander took a deep breath, running his hands through his hair. That had sounded… desperate.

He culed his lip, disgusted, before closing his eyes, hard, and opening them to reveal a practiced resolve. He set his jaw, and stared Maeve down.

"You promised."

Maeve paused, her brow creased, before she nodded, head bowed, and sighed, offering her hand to him.

"Fine. But we're not staying longer than we have to."

"Fine," Homelander agreed, his spirits brightened. Taking Maeve into his arms, he bounded to the rooftop, where the rest of the party awaited, and the giant clock counted the seconds down.

The crowd cheered upon seeing them enter, and Homelander beamed, rising in the air as they all counted, climbing higher and higher until Maeve grabbed at his arm.

"Five!"

"This is high enough; I told you, it's cold."

"Four!"

"I want to get us centered with the Moon. Come on. Live a little."

"Three!"

Maeve rolled her eyes. Homelander shifted her in his arms, looking her over with a furrowed brow.

"Two!"

"Maeve... please?"

The world beneath them seemed to hold its breath as Maeve weighed his words in her mind; Homelander raised his brows, looking expectant.

"One!"

He leaned in, tasting her resignation in the frigid New York air - and Maeve let her eyes slide closed, as she took his face in her hands. When it was like this - when she couldn't see him, could only feel the structure of his face - she could almost pretend that he was still the man she knew, one who she wouldn't have spent the entire night ducking and hiding from. She slid closer to him, his grip secure against her body, and pressed her lips to his, just as the clock chimed midnight.

"Happy New Year!"

Homelander cupped her face in his hand, smiling against her mouth - but before he could deepen their embrace, she nudged him with her elbow, and pulled away. But Homelander wasn't finished. He drew back, boyish smile still faint on his lips, and tucked her hair behind her ear.

"Happy New Year, Maggie."

Maeve held back her wince at the use of her real name. She did promise, after all.

"Happy New Year... John."

Homelander smiled softly, and pecked her on the cheek - and, satisfied, lowered them back down to the ground.

Alicia wretched as volley after volley of vomit surged up her throat. You sighed, rubbed comforting circles into her back, your hushed murmur interspersed with the endless spray of upchuck.

"Oh, Alicia..." you fretted, holding her hair back. "I told you not to go for the Peach Schnapps..."

"I wanted to see if I could handle them this time! It's not -" she vomited again, cutting herself off. You winced, standing to refill her water at the sink. She took it gratefully, wiping her mouth.

"Thanks."

"It's not stupid," she started again, "it's... scientific."

At this, you had to laugh. She was only two years your junior... but sometimes, she really did feel more like a daughter than an assistant. But perhaps you'd been the same when you first started out. This year, you thought, you'd try a little harder to be less condescending towards her - even if her actions did warrant it.

"I'll be sure to alert Bill Nye," you said dryly. That, you told yourself, wasn't entirely fair; she had asked for that one. After this, you'd stop. Maybe.

Alicia fished through her bag, whining loudly as she checked the time. "Oh, noo! We missed the countdown! I'm sorry..." she pouted as you rose to your feet, and offered her your hand.

"It's alright," you said. "Just... don't die within the next 365 days, and we can try again next year." She took your hand, and fixed herself in the mirror.

"I would never," she said with mock seriousness. "There's so many places I have to drag you to! Did you know they're opening up a crepe shop right next to the office?"

You smiled in spite of yourself. "That sounds dreadful," you teased. "I'll be sure to find an excuse not to go."

"Oh, shut up..." Alicia mumbled, pulling you into a hug. The action shocked you into stillness; her tight embrace sending the breath from your lungs in a great whoosh. "I know you're lonelier than you let on."

You opened your mouth, trying to think of something to say - but found yourself at a loss. You tried again, only to come up blank - and so you patted her back once more, before leading the two of you back out, into the bar.

"I think you should resolve for a Dry January," you said finally - but she'd already won the exchange, you both knew. Alicia gave you a rueful expression and laughed.

"Whatever. Happy New Year. Stop being an old crone."

"Happy New Year. I wouldn't bet on it."

#diabolica writes #don't save her #Homelander Versus #Homelander X Reader #This one has a lil more sauce than the first draft!#I will never post a story before outlining the plot ever again!#I'm sorry for dragging y'all through the first time!!#Will also not update so crazy fast #that's what contributed to the burnout the first time #I hope you enjoy!!

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