#legend tries to hide behind wild but hyrule can tell when legend is avoiding him

[rastro-writes]

Rulie has an atrocious bedside manner. He’s the main healer, having a much more potent spell for major injuries, but he will help with minor ones too, and it’s the less lethal ones he hates, and he handles horribly.

He will actively poke tender spots if you refuse treatment. And he knows exactly where it’s tender. Every. Single. Time. He calls it a “strength check” and you only need to feel, or hear one to know to never test his patience again.

Wild, as the backup and minor healer, at least will let you suffer if you’re too stubborn, he has other people to help too, and he can just make a hearty meal, or slip a healing potion into your meal if it’s a mild bruising.

Hyrule never took the hypocratic oath. Neither did wild, but the way his healing works relies on his emotions so it’s kinda baked into the spell. Hyrule can just cast his spell while he’s muttering curses and vile at you right after he just made you scream because you tried to hide a tender arm because it’s actually fractured, you idiot.

Hyrule has no patience for hiding injuries. They have two healers, and too many close calls.

[luimagines]

You Ruffle/Pat His Hair Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part 3 will include Twilight, Warrior and Hyrule.

Content under the cut!

Twilight

“Well hello there, Darlin’. Lovely day we’re having.” Twilight strides up next to you. He’s without his layers and pelt.

You snort, half tempted to push him away. “Yes, I suppose it is, honey bunch. Any particular reason the winds decided to blow you my way?”

You looks up from what you were doing and raise an eyebrow. Twilight takes a second too long to answer and your face drops. “Don’t tell me Wild did something again... I thought we agree that he was your responsibility when he was dealing with Legend and Hyrule. If he’s with Warrior or Four, then I take the burden.”

Twilight snorts and shakes his head. He sits down next to you and crosses his ankles. “Nothing like that. From what I’ve heard he’s with Wind and Sky.”

You nod. “Oh, good. Then whatever happens will fall to Time.”

“Yup!”

You decide to relax next to him since he’s taken the initiative. “In which case, I believe that puts us both in the clear. But you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Can’t it just be that I want your company without some ulterior motive?” Twilight answers with a lazy smile.

You turn to face him head on and give him your sweetest smile. “No.”

“Ouch. Tough crowd.” Twilight laughs. “Well you better start believing it. I don’t want anything from you.”

You roll your eyes. “Then you’re hiding from someone. Who is it? I’ll yell out your location.”

Twilight puts a hand over his heart and pretends to fall backwards. “You wound me. I’m only here to enjoy the nice afternoon weather. Must it be any more complicated than that.” 

You narrow your eyes playfully. “And if I still don’t believe you?”

“Well there’s not much I can about that.” Twilight grins and lays backwards. His hand lace together behind his head and he sighs. “But if you’re really curious then I’m avoiding that Captain. So if you can keep your pretty little voice down that would incredibly helpful.”

His admission shocks you and you snort in reflex. “That bad?... Alright, alright. I won’t say anything. You’re safe here with me.”

You pat him on the head and return to what you were doing prior.

“Thank you.” Twilight sounds genuine.

Wow, it must have been really bad. Or at least very awkward.

“Do I even want to know what it is?” You tease, poking Twilight with your foot. “You’re not one to shy away from anything. And here you are. Hiding.”

“I’m not hiding.” He pouts. “I’m recuperating.”

“From what?”

“A headache.”

“From what?” You grin widens.

“From thinking about the problem Warrior no doubt wants me to tackle.”

“Rancher!” Warrior calls in the distance.

You poke Twilight again. “Duty calls.”

“No way.” He frowns. You smirk and in a deep breath. Twilight jumps up and puts a hand over your mouth. He glares. “You promised.”

Shrugging, you gently push him away. “Scardy cat.”

Warrior 

“Warrior, you’re going to collapse. Sit down before you hurt yourself.” You sigh, already tired of his shenanigans.

The man in question, grunts in reply and keeps going forward. As if to prove your point, he missteps and his foot slides against the rock. He hits his knee on the way down and nearly falls over.

“Link, please.” You put your hand son his shoulders. “This is a but much, don’t you think?”

“We have to meet the others.” He says. “We have to regroup.”

“It’ll be a lot harder to regroup if you’re unconscious.” You say, poking him in the arm.

The movement sets him off course and he stumbles once more.

“That’s it.” You grab his arm and pull him the side. “Sit. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

He tries to fight you, but he doesn’t have the strength to stand up any more when you pull him down with you. He collapses like a card tower and crumples on top of you.

You didn’t expect his weight to land on top of you, but take it for what it is. You throw your arms over him. He’s going to stay there until he either takes a nap or until he feels better. Which ever comes first.

“You are impossible.” You say, beating his side like a drum. “Do you only stop when you drop dead?”

“I can’t give up like this.” He turns his head away from you. “I need to- we need to get to the others.”

His eyes begin to close against his will. You can see him fight it. He tries to jerk himself awake. He has to stay vigilant and to completely the mission. You sigh. “This is not giving up. This is making sure we’re still held together in one piece. If we’re lucky, they wouldn’t go anywhere. I bet they’re looking for us as well. There’s nothing to gain if we injure ourselves.”

Warrior hums again, succumbing to his exhaustion. You’re tired too, to be honest. but Warrior was always an early riser and he had spent the earlier portion of the day protecting you and your belongings as you slept.

You run your hands through his hair in soft soothing motions. He falls asleep in within that very second.

“Idiot.” You shake your head.

Knowing that he’s only going to wake when he gets the sleep that he’s lacking, you ruffle his hair roughly. He would have never allowed you to that while he was conscious but it feels nice to do so now.

He grunts again and you think that you’ve woken him up for one terrifying second.

You return to petting him softly, fixing the very hair you had just messed up. “Sorry, sorry.” You whisper. “There, there. Good as new. Don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t respond anymore.

You sigh and lean back. He let you sleep in earlier and he made sure that you were safe all the while.

It’s only fair that you repay the favor.

Hyrule

“So you take the flower like this and then, you move the stem this way, you see?” You move what you had in your hand to show Rulie the chain in your hands.

Hyrule looks at the one he has and tries to copy what you did. It doesn’t quite match up with what he sees, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to give up anytime soon.

“This is harder than they want you to think.” Hyrule mutters under his breath. “How do you do this so easily?”

“Practice, I guess.” You giggle. Hyrule had to stick his tongue out in concentration.

He still doesn’t get it quite right.

“Well then you’re going to have to show me again because I think I’m doing the wrong thing at this point.” Hyrule pouts, undoing what he just did.

Ever patient, you undo your just the same and scoot closer so that he can see what you’re doing with your fingers to get the pant to behave the way you want it to. “You need to grab it like this if you want it to twist without breaking. Otherwise it’s never going to bend the other way.”

Hyrule blows a raspberry. “I think it broke earlier.”

“That would make it a lot harder to get it right, yes.” You try to hold back your smile. you can see that he’s getting increasing frustrated but it’s just funny to you. “We can take a break?”

“No, no, no, I’m fine.” Hyrule grabs another flower and tries again from the beginning. “I can do it.”

“It’s not about whether you can or can’t.” You raise an eyebrow, Regardless you wait for hi t get the point where you are now before you show him for a third time. “Ready?”

“Almost.” Hyrule sighs, trying to get it right once more.

“You know it’s not really a big deal if you get it or not. My sister has tried for ages but the plants never seem to work with her.” You explain gently. “If anything, they always seem to fight her.”

“I can do it.” He says instead and you back off.

You still find yourself biting your lip to keep your grin at bay. It’s not working but it’s cute that he’s trying so hard to do this with you.

You pat his head. “There, there. You’ll get it soon enough, Link.”

Hyrule frowns as his pout deepens. “I’m not a child. You don’t need to pat my head in consolation.”

“Fine.” You snort, mussing up his hair. “This better?”

“If Warrior yells at me for lack of up keep again, I’m blaming you.” Hyrule sticks his tongue out again. he hasn’t even looked at you once. His full attention is on the little flower chain before him.

You shake your head, fixing his hair up anyway. “Stick in the mud.”

Hyrule turns, finally and sticks his tongue out at you. You return the gesture. “There. Did I do it right?”

You grin. “It’s perfect.”

It’s not. But he’s earned it at this point, don’t you think?

[oceanera12]

Linked Tri-Force (Part 1)

More Linked Universe because I’m addicted to these boys! Help.

Hyrule knew the others had secrets. That was the one secret no one bothered to hide. It was for that reason no one pressed, thank Hylia. 

Of course, that didn’t stop questions.

“Nope, not telling!” Legend made the motion of sealing his lips shut.

Wind hopped from one foot to another, clearly annoyed, “Come on! No one else has been sailing!”

“Well-” Wild started, but was quickly cut off by Wind.

“A raft plus a korok leaf does not count as sailing,” Wind glared at Wild, who just shrugged in response.

“Worth a shot.”

“It really wasn’t,” Wind shook his head. “But back to Legend--”

“Still not telling Mr. ‘Pirate’.” Legend rolled his eyes. “Honestly, not a lot happened to me at sea. Just water, then land, then water.”

Wind didn’t look like he believed him but also had enough sense to leave it alone. Legend had been in a lot higher spirits since their run in with Marin a few weeks back, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t snappy.

“Alright, alright,” Warriors called, “Other then ‘sailing stories’ what other stories do you have?”

It had been a long day of walking across the current Hyrule (Hyrule’s Hyrule, which wasn’t confusing at all) and if anyone had been disturbed by the absence of people, they hadn’t said anything. The sun had long set and instead of doing the sensible thing and sleeping, someone (Wind) had persuaded Time to allow a ‘story time’ of sorts.

There had been a total of three “scary” stories, four tall-tales, and a few clips from their various adventures (”I’m sorry, your Zelda shoved you off a floating island?” “She thought I was lying about not hearing my loftwing. It wasn’t her fault.” “She shoved you off a floating island???”).

Legend shrugged at the question. “Nothing to brag about.”

Hyrule bit his tongue to prevent the multiple questions about the various stories he had grown up with about the hero of Legend. If even a tenth of them were true, then Legend was either modest or just didn’t want to talk about it. And no way in Hyrule was he going to tattle on the hero of legend.

“I’m sure our pirate has some fun pirate stories though, right?” Legend raised an eyebrow in a silent challenge.

Wind cocked his head to the side in confusion. “Uh... like what?”

“Ever go pillaging?” Warriors asked.

“What?!” Wind shot to his feet, clearly affronted. “No! Why would you even say that?”

“Clearly the word ‘pirate’ means something different in your world,” Time pressed his hands to his mouth in thought. “Do you look for buried treasure?”

Wind wasn’t as angry at that question. “Well, I got some charts that lead me to rubies, joy pendants and tri-force shards.”

Hyrule had picked that moment to take a sip of soup, which was immediately inhaled and then spat back up in shock. “Tri-force shards?” He managed to gasp between coughs. The back of his hand suddenly felt very warm and Hyrule resisted the urge to run in the opposite direction.

Thankfully, Hyrule wasn’t the only one concerned about the sudden Tri-Force talk. Time had paled, Twilight and Legend were shifting in their seats clearly uncomfortable, Warriors and Four had leaned forward curious, and Wild looked very confused.

Which he decided to voice. “What’s the tri-force?”

Hyrule wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry at that question. Nor was he even sure where to start on that answer.

Twilight let out a heavy sigh, resigned to his role of mentor. His hand dropped onto his gloves and gauntlets, fiddling with the straps. “The tri-force is a gift from the gods. It’s made of three pieces: The tri-force of wisdom, which is usually held by the royal family, the tri-force of power, which in my world was possessed by Ganondorf for a very, very long time,” Twi paused for a moment, closing his eyes. He pulled his glove free and held up his hand to face everyone. After a moment, the very faint, very familiar gold glow appeared.

Hyrule instinctively covered his own hand and prayed it didn’t start glowing in reaction.

You’re a coward.

“And the tri-force of courage, usually held by the hero of the time,” Twilight opened his eyes and lowered his hand, the glow fading. He looked over at Wild, “I’m surprised you don’t know this.”

Wild had his face scrunched up. It was a familiar look for him. “I think... I remember hearing that story as a kid. Maybe.” He shook his head, “I mean, I see that symbol everywhere in ruin architecture and I knew it was on the Master Sword but... I guess I never questioned what it was?” The scrunched look disappeared. “I do remember that’s what Zelda used to seal the Calamity away with so... maybe she has the whole thing?”

Wind let out a low whistle, “Well, in my world, if you bring all three pieces together then the gods will grant you a wish.”

“Well,” Legend sighed, “at least that’s one thing that’s consistent.” He leaned back against the log he was sitting against, “That thing is nothing but trouble.”

“Agreed,” Warriors had this far away look in his eyes. “Wars have been fought for control of the Tri-force. Millions have died in the attempt to wield it.” He pulled off his own gauntlets and gloves to reveal his own tri-force of courage. “All that death... for what?”

“Geez,” Sky said, “I was expecting something like that out of the Old Man, not you.”

“He’s called Warriors for a reason,” Four pointed out.

“That’s fair.”

Time was looking torn, his eyes flicking between Twilight and Wind. He almost looked... confused.

Hyrule filed that back into his mind for a future conversation, but for now... he had to tread carefully. “So... why was your tri-force in pieces?”

Wind shrugged, “Don’t know. Maybe it was a way to see if I was worthy for it? Most were hidden behind trials of courage, like the ghost ship or just mini-dungeons.” He pointed at Warriors and Twilight. “Although, my tri-force is now at the bottom of the Great Sea. How’d you get yours and why do you still have it?”

Warriors smirked, “It just kind of appeared during a particularly nasty fight. General Impa was in trouble so I just... jumped in.” He frowned, “As for the second thing... heck if I know?”

“Similar situation,” Twilight nodded at Warriors, “Some jerks kidnapped some friends of mine and I tried to fight them. Adventure ended and...” he pointed at his hand. “Still here. Ganondorf lost his though so that’s good.”

“Why isn’t it sealed away in the Sacred Realm?” Time suddenly asked.

Legend snorted, “Well, I don’t know about all of your worlds but my Sacred Realm got corrupted by Ganon. It’s called the Dark World now. Not really a good place to keep the Tri-Force.” Legend nodded at Hyrule, “Right, Rule?”

Hyrule forced a smile and kept his hands as still as he could.

You’re a coward.

“I think we can all just agree the Tri-Force is trouble and it would be best if we didn’t have to deal with it on this already weird adventure,” Warriors was pulling his glove and gauntlet back on. A chorus of agreements echoed from all the heroes and the topic was officially dropped in favor the weirdest modes of transportation they had come across on their adventures.

Hyrule only listened half-way, the back of his hand uncomfortably warm. His stomach twisted and turned in knots, the guilt screaming from within. The tri-force was already in their adventure. The others just didn’t know.

And Hyrule really didn’t want to tell them.

You’re a coward.

He had never asked for the Tri-Force, nor had he ever wanted to wield the entire thing. Actually, he had wanted to give part of it to the Royals when his adventure was over or just break it apart and leave the pieces in safe, secret locations but... It had felt wrong. Like, really wrong.

Like Hylia haunting your dreams and practically yelling, “NO!” whenever he started to think about it too much.

At this point, Hyrule had just accepted the fact that he was the guardian of the Tri-Force. He would never say he was at peace with the situation (there was only so much a person could take of monsters screaming for your blood and of people trying to kill you for it... including supposed friends), but he had gotten a hold on his life.

He didn’t hate the Tri-Force like they did (then again, the thing had saved him more times then he could count-- but it was also the reason he was alone all the time). Yes, it was powerful and yes, it was not to be taken lightly. In fact, Hyrule only used it’s magic in emergencies. His own magic was sufficient for most situations.

If anything, the Tri-Force was more like a travel companion. A very silent, strong companion that only jumped in when there was an emergency. Sometimes Hyrule even forgot he had it (only for an hour at the most, but he would take what he could get). But he could see why people wouldn’t want it around. It’s the same reason he avoided everyone in his own world:

Too much power.

Hyrule was snapped out of his thoughts at Time’s call for sleep. Hyrule made his way to his spot, his mind much to far away to acknowledge the calls of “good nights,” and “Wild, if there are frogs in my blankets again then so help me--”

He had fifth watch tonight. His watch would be followed by Time. Maybe he should talk to him about the situation. It would be good for at least one person to know about the power up his sleeve-- just in case. The heroes had been clear that they hadn’t wanted anything to do with the tri-force so Hyrule wasn’t too worried about them “trying to kill him for the golden power”.

Hyrule determined to do just that later in the evening.

Which was why he was very disappointed in himself for waking Time, wishing him a good watch, then climbing back into bed without a word about the tri-force.

You’re a coward.

---------------------------------------------------------------

I don’t think Wild knows what the Tri-Force is. I think he would have known before the Calamity, but I don’t think he remembers the legends and things like that. He knows the symbol and thinks it’s a culture thing.

Also, I don’t think most of the Links would have a positive opinion on the Tri-Force because while we know Time does not like the Master Sword or Hylia, the Tri-Force does not have an actual spirit. It’s an object. Therefore, it’s a lot easier to be annoyed at because everyone is after the “all powerful Tri-Force” and these boys are just DONE.

Poor Hyrule: he thinks he’s inadvertently been told to leave the group, the poor baby. I may make a part two that would be Hyrule “telling” everyone about that little thing on the back of his hand. Aka: ANGST/FLUFF. Let me know if you want to see it.

AND HERE IT IS

[syilcawrites]

flickering

Series: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild Type: One-shot Main pairing: Zelink (Zelda and Link) Rated: T Tags/Genre: post calamity, pre botw2, what’s the tag for his adventuring in between?? just botw?, then that’s it LOL, angst Summary: Link scouts out Hyrule Castle to see how he should prepare to fight Ganon, and stumbles upon Zelda's bedroom and her diary after he believes he sees her there. Snippet: “It was a silent vow that always lingered around in his thoughts—from when he spoke to the remainder of the Hylians to listening to the sweet melodies of a past long gone, sung by Kass.” A/N: I am terrible at summaries and was never good at them LOL. Anyway, this is just a little something for linktober Day 19: phantom/ghost! This is also loosely based off of my other fic archived memories chapter 6 :~) (which will be out tomorrow on Oct 20 haha). Hope you enjoy!! I like to spend a week editing whatever I write 'cause I tend to change it a lot but didn't have the luxury of doing it for this piece since I wrote it last night afouhgkjds.  You can also read it on ao3!

The first time Link stepped into Castletown, he was barraged with an incessant amount of echoing whispers.

Chaotic, haunting, loud and quiet, begging, pleading, bargaining. It felt like they were whispering about him, but he couldn’t decipher one word drifting into his ears.

He was by no means ready to take on Calamity Ganon—he had simply wanted to scope out the area, to see what he should expect—and he was hit with a wave of nostalgia that he didn’t understand.

Then came the nausea, and the painful throb against his head whenever he gazed upon the castle. It was different up close—the pain was worse, the stench that rifted off the malice was almost unbearable, and his eyes watered by being within ten feet of it.

But he marched onward—past the rubble and decay of a once grandiose town—or at least that’s what he assumed. It was hard to decipher what it used to look like amongst the ruins.

Link strolled up to one of the glowing eyeballs, staring into it for just a moment, before he stabbed it. It sputtered, shrinking, shriveling, before it withered away. He tightened his grip on the handle of his sword as he scanned the rest of the area.

More, his mind chanted. He wanted to see more of them crumble up into dust.

An unbearable anger always overcame him when he encountered anything inflicted by the malice—he wanted to tear at it with his own hands, rip and shred it into pieces until there was not even a speck left.

The overwhelming sense of hatred and revenge that dwelled deep within him feared him—because he couldn’t pinpoint why. He understood why, knew why, from an outside perspective. It took all of his dear friends and family one hundred years ago, but how the anger simmered within him like it ran through his veins felt unfamiliar to him.

His body remembered but his mind didn’t.

Link traversed the ruins of Castletown speedily, taking out the glowing eyeballs one by one and watching with satisfaction as they faded away—it felt like he was reclaiming the town back from the Calamity—whatever was left of it, at least. It was all he could do now.

“Okay,” he huffed out, peering at the large iron doors that stood between him and the castle. “One quick look inside, then you come right back out.” He whispered, gulping. He more frequently than not spoke to himself whenever he was alone—it grounded him, reminded him to stay focused.

“Free Zelda and all will be well,” he said quietly, his eyes trained on the various Guardians loitering the front. He would chant this before he fell asleep and it was the first thought that passed his mind when he woke up. It was a silent vow that always lingered around in his thoughts—from when he spoke to the remainder of the Hylians to listening to the sweet melodies of a past long gone, sung by Kass.

Link pulled out his shield and sprinted forward—holding his breath as he struck his sword at a stationary Guardian before it could respond to his presence.

Again—that bloodthirsty anger laughed in joy as he watched it implode, and he pushed down the desire to tear apart the ones that had long stopped working, and forged ahead.

The heavy metal doors of the entrance slammed open as Link used magnesis, echoing. His nose scrunched up as the putrid stench of the malice slammed against him at full force—causing him to double over. Link his behind a crumbling wall to hide from the wandering eyes of the Guardians as he gathered his bearings.

“Do not encounter Calamity Ganon, not yet.” He whispered, warning. He wasn’t going to go in until he was absolutely prepared—he had already failed once. Link gritted his teeth as his grasped at the small, vague memories that he’s so far recovered. They were so fragmented and confusing, full of questions and questions and questions that lingering on them for too long caused his head to split open while his mind desperately tried to remember. But he never did, and in the end it only left him feeling like a hollow and fractured version of himself.

All he knew was that he had to stay alive—stay alive long enough to seal Calamity Ganon and to free Zelda.

Zelda.

His blood ran cold at he thought of her.

“Will she fade away, too?” Link whispered to the castle, glancing up at it.

It did not respond.

He forced his way through the entrance, using the wreckage to avoid needless confrontation. He needed to be quick, no matter how much he wanted to slaughter the rest of the Guardians and the malice. Once Link was inside, he found the orange glow enveloped around the castle unsettling, as if the air around here had stayed stagnant for the past century. It felt it was holding its breath, waiting. Or maybe it was slumbering.

Zelda. She was here, waiting.

Then, he thought of Mipha—and the way his heart dropped when he saw that cursed blueish glow around her, just like with the late King. She smiled at him with so much familiarity, but he could only stare blankly at her, mostly just confused. Her eyes gazed upon him with such love and comfort, but he could not return the same affection, even if he wanted to. He found it easier to—to detach himself a little bit. Untangle himself from the Champions when he encountered their spirits. He had one left—Urbosa—but he had to mentally steel himself to confront her, like he had to for Revali and Daruk. When he confronted the both of them after Mipha, he forced himself to reflect upon those past memories—his own past memories—as a mere spectator, and it helped.

Link shook his head, drawing himself back from the depths of his plagued mind. He circled around the ransacked interior—taking note of the blocked passages, the crumbles in the walls that acted as a makeshift pathway to another part of the castle, and attacked slumbering monsters who blocked his path with an all too personal rage.

And then he saw a tower outside from one of the windows, set a little apart from the main building. He would have to paraglide to it and climb up if he wanted to get in.

His eyes trailed up the tower, to the caved in wall and blinked—eyes widening when he saw something shift—blonde hair, green eyes, flickering.

He rubbed his eyes, shaking his head and peered again, but it was still there—she’s there—looking at him.

Link, without a second thought, jumped through broken glass window, his paraglider wide open as he headed toward the isolated tower, heart racing.

He latched onto the broken tower and glanced up—he saw her peering down at him, smiling. She was familiar and warm, and... and so close. So, so close.

Link desperately climbed up—almost slipping toward the end—but reached up just far enough to latch onto the edge of the opening, and threw himself over. He fell onto the ground of the room with a heavy thud, and found himself face to face with an alarmed moblin.

Link quickly rolled off to the side, narrowly missing getting slammed head first with its stolen weapon, and was up in a heartbeat, his own weapon drawn. He mindlessly went through the quick, precise motion of eliminating it—simply allowing his body to move on its own, because if he dwelled too much on it, he became rigid.

He hated being out of sync within his own body.

Link exhaled with the final blow, and watched the moblin scatter into thin air, leaving him alone in the room.

With no one in sight, to his dismay. He wasn’t sure how long he searched every nook and cranny for those familiar green eyes and golden hair, but there was not even a hint of her ever being there in the first place.

With a heavy heart, Link walked toward the rotten desk, observing the scattered, torn books that lay in its wake. There was a flimsy notebook—leather ripped and torn, pages missing, but some of the writing was still legible.

Link flipped to the first page, reading the barely legible text at the front.

Zelda’s Diary.

He flipped through the carefully, as to not tear the pages, and found various scribbles and sketches—then a pressed cherry blossom flower in one of the pages, now brittle and brown. When he brushed a gentle finger over it, it crumbled immediately. His eyes scanned the next pages—various face portraits of Hylians. His lips tilted up a little when he passed by some sketches of food, of pastries and breads, or at least that’s what he assumed they were. It was hard to tell since many of them had faded away into the obscurity of time.

Then he found a familiar face, a face that he knew all too well.

It was messily sketched, but it was him—smiling, laughing, sometimes stoic, and it peered back at him like a stranger. It was him, but not really him. Link wished he could talk to the person he used to be, to ask him all of the questions that had piled up, but it was a futile desire.

He sighed as he peeled his eyes away from the sketches and flipped through the pages once more.

“Bit by bit, I’ve gotten Link to open up to me…”

He paused, lifting the journal up closer than ever to his face. His eyes drank in the words—words about him, who he was, how she saw him. He stopped at the end of the paragraph and closed the journal, staring down at it with confliction.

He took out the Sheikah Slate and slipped it into his inventory, and along with it, a little hope.

“I’ll keep this journal safe for you,” he whispered into the quiet room, his eyes roving around the falling, rotting objects that Zelda once owned, “so when you return, you’ll still have something.”

He waited for a couple moments, listening to the still air around him, as particles of malice floated peacefully by. He found it foolish that he even considered the possibility of her responding back and slapped his cheeks.

“Get ahold of yourself,” he muttered tiredly. He knew coming here would prove difficult—in terms of physicality, at least. He thought with time, settling into this new world would prove easier, but the distant reminders of the past associated with the wreckage of a world he once knew seemed to nail in how... alone he was.

Even without all of his memories, his heart ached with a heavy loneliness amidst a vast and broken land, because when it mattered most, he couldn’t save a single one of them. And then he left her, he left Zelda, to suffer by herself for one hundred years.

But he could do something now, even if it couldn’t bring back the lives lost. Even if she was going to simply drift away into the sky with the others, he could at least free her from the century of pain and torment she had endured waiting for him.

[nolongerapileofashprobably]

Fates Cruelty

The soft green glow lit up Zelda’s face, pulling her from her sleep. Here eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly, though her focus was solely on the orb of light above her. A firely? No, she has seen sunset fireflies before, and this was not one of them. Her lips parted with realization, the excitement brushing off any sleep that clung to her mind. Now awake, Zelda slowly go up, careful not to wake her mother or the draw the attention of the knights protecting their camp.

Her mother turned in her sleep, causing Zelda to stop and watch her carefully. With no more movement, besides the slow rise of her mother's chest, Zelda continued her way towards the light. It had begun to move away from their camp, with Zelda not far behind. Somehow, she didn't catch anyone's attention; the thought making her heart race with excitement.

She wished she had a camera with her, so she could document this rare find. It wasn't just any day someone would find a fairy. Legend says they only appear to those who have a pure soul. The mere indication made her giddy. Then again, what harm can a six year old princess do anyway?

Distracted by the fairy, Zelda didn’t notice the movement back at the camp. She didn’t see the ambush, not while she was focused on getting the fairy to land on her outstretched hand. As the fairy slowly made its way down to her palm, her name was cried out, the voice desperate to know if she was okay.

Startled, Zelda whipped around, seeing nothing in the pale moon light. She heard grunts and screams, but never the voice that sang her lullabies at night. She never heard that voice again.

Instead, she had stood petrified as the wind blew around her. Slim figures darted around her; only one of them stopping in their paths to look at the young girl. She was lucky, since whoever it was deemed her unworthy of their time.

The fairy had rested itself on her shoulder, as though it’s presence could calm her terrified mind. She stood in that spot for hours, until she heard horses in the distance. Then, she slowly crept back towards the camp. Zelda didn’t know what was going to happen when she got there. All she knew is that something was terribly wrong.

Guards rushed to her, the familiar sign of Hyrule calming her slightly. These were friends. These were the people who she could trust.

She called out for her mother, her confusion growing as the guards hurried her over to a carriage. There was no answer, so she shouted for her mother again, this time earning looks of pity.

Zelda didn’t understand why these guards were keeping her from her mother. She didn’t know why they were talking about her father. When she arrived at the castle, it was the first time she had seen it without any of the torches lit. The sight frightened her, making her call out for her mother once more.

It was then that her father came to her, within the foyer.

It was then Zelda was told her mother was not going to come back.

—————————————————————

Ten years later, Zelda was furiously scribbling down her lastest discovery in her journal. She had finally cross referenced a traveler’s rumor with ancient texts and was able to pinpoint the possible location of a fairy fountain. Perhaps then her questions will be answered.

However, she needed the old trade route map to specify the exact coordinates, which was currently in her father’s possession. She sighed, placing the text onto the counter before getting up.

She prayed to the Goddess Hylia that her father was not in his study. Last time she tried to get something from him, he had lectured her on how she was wasting her time with pointless scholar readings. She had gotten what she wanted, but her own time was wasted with his speech about how she was wasting her time. The irony was entertaining, however.

Silence answered her knocks and shouts, letting her open the door with a breath of relief.

Zelda closed the door behind her, heading to her right once it was back in it’s frame. She knew her father kept the maps in the bottom right drawer, so she just had to hope he wasn’t using the specific one she wanted. Kneeling, Zelda pulled the handle of the desk drawer, revealing multiple scrolls and journals.

“When will you organize your research, Father?” She questioned aloud, as she pulled out multiple scrolls. “All I need is The Siela Route, or at least a map that includes the outskirts of Kankiro Village.”

She continued to mutter about her father’s messy study, when a scroll blocked her view.

“Wha-?” She began, confusion settling in as she saw who was holding the scroll.

He was a boy her age, light brown hair accompanied by startling blue eyes. He gestured for her to take the scroll, but Zelda couldn’t take her eyes off him.

How long has he been there? Why was he here? Who was he?

The questions bounced in her mind as the boy waved the parchment in front of her again. She numbly took it, with whispered questions falling from her lips.

“How...?” She managed to ask, unrolling the paper to reveal the Siela route. She spotted a distinct Circle not decorated with trees at the bottom left corner of the map. Zelda would bet her crown that that was a Great Fairy Fountain.

“It- it has the location,” She said softly, looking up at the boy. “Thank you, but I have to ask who you are. It’s not everyday I find a stranger in my father’s study, nor finding him holding the exact map I needed.”

Because Zelda was far too distracted by the boy, she didn’t notice her father coming in.

“That is Link, Zelda.” He spoke, his voice low with annoyance. Her father’s presence caused Link to kneel quickly, her attention drawn to him before she focused on her father. “Why are you in my study?”

She quickly put her arms behind her hiding the scroll from view as she stood up. “I wanted to ask you about the Ancient Hateno Lab. I read in a text about Mother’s research there and I wanted to see if I could journey there. Only because Mother always told me she put lessons in her journals for me when I grew up and started to take on a larger role in the kingdom.”

Her father’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping onto his features. “I know about your mother’s guides. For once I’m surprised you have a good idea that will help you in the real world, not the past one. You can journey to Hateno, so long as you take Link with you.”

“What?” She asked, bewildered. She looked at the kneeling boy then back to her father. “Why would I take him with me?”

Her father raised a brow. “Because he’s your newly appointed knight, as of ten minutes ago.”

“What?” She protested loudly, before she composed herself since he was kneeling right next to her. “Why didn’t you tell me you were assigning me a bodyguard? Didn’t you think I had a right to know? Or had a right to be at the ceremony?”

“Now, now, Zelda,” he told her calmly, holding a hand out for her to come towards him. She did so reluctantly, allowing him to place his hand on her shoulder. “We both know that a bodyguard and a knight are two different standards of duties. And this should not be a surprise to you. We both know the Yiga’s clan has increased their interference with our scouts. Your role as the heir to the throne means you must go out and interact with the citizens of Hyrule. Therefore, you must have someone with you at all times to protect you, if any of our enemies decide you are an easy target.”

“So I’ve been assigned a baby sitter.” She clarified with an eye roll. “Wonderful. Well, alright.”

Zelda turned back to Link, who was still patiently kneeling. “Come with me, Link. I have a route planned already. You’ll just have to prepare for a day or so’s journey.”

She made her way out of the study quickly, moving her arms in front of her, so the scroll was still blocked by her body. She assumed Link got up, as she heard her father dismiss him. His footsteps were slightly harder for her to hear, so when she turned to see where he was, she was startled to find him a few feet away.

She turned around quickly, avoiding his stare as she walked back towards her study. His silence was something that did not escape her notice. She wished he would speak, say something, instead of just carefully watching in the background.

“Do you know of Kakariko Village?” She asked, glancing back just in time to see him nod. “We will be stopping there on our way to Hateno Village, just to stock up on supplies and rest the horses. It’s only a half day journey, so if we leave at sunrise tomorrow we can get there before noon.”

She opened the door to her study, setting the map on her desk before she turned towards Link. He had stopped in the doorway, his gaze sweeping the room before settling on the princess in front of him.

“I want you to know that I do not need the protection my father says I do.” She told him, her tone stern so her words would stick. “I do understand you swore to protect me, but I do not need someone trailing me wherever I go. So, I’m releasing you from your oath. You can accompany me for long trips, to appease my father, but you do not need to follow me everywhere. Am I clear?”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow and she could sense his confusion.

“I’ll take it you at least understand what I am saying,” She said harshly, turning around to pick up the map. “You are dismissed.”

Zelda didn’t turn back, instead she hoped he listened to her words. She began to switch between the three texts in front of her and confirmed that the small clearing was her best bet. It was only slightly outside of Kakariko Village’s border, so she was sure she could slip past everyone and investigate the spot by herself.

Link would probably at little more attenative than any of her previous guards, but she was sure she could find some way to have him distracted. Perhaps she could call on an old friend to talk his ear off, if she still resides in Kakariko Village.

Zelda continued to read up about Great fairy Fountains, so she could be fully prepared if she did indeed find the one in question. She had some money stashed away, so she would have to be sure to take it with her. Apparently, travelers must pay the fairy for her to help them. A small price for the fairy’s help, she guessed.

It wasn’t until late that Zelda thought it best to turn in, since she should at least get some sleep before her journey. She picked up the map, rolling it up as she walked out of her study. The cool air greeted her as she walked through its threshold with the moon illuminating the pathway.

Before she could make it across the small bridge, she saw a figure sitting on the ground by her door. Link had his back against the door frame, seemingly waiting for Zelda to come out of her study.

His presence infuriated her, and coupled with her crankiness from the late hour, she was fuming.

“Why are you here?” She questioned, her tone cruel as she crossed her arms. Unbothered by her anger, Link got up, moving to the side so he wasn’t blocking her door in any way.

I thought I made it clear that I do not need you to protect me,” She continued hotly. “Within these walls, I am well protected without you waiting for me like a dog. I know you don’t like to speak, but is listening really that hard for you?”

Zelda detected the trace of a frown growing on Link’s face, but he merely averted his eyes as he reached from something in his pack. Pulling it out, she recognized the ancient symbol that decorated most of her study texts. He held it out for her to take, something she did with a wary expression. Her anger faded into curiosity as she read the title ‘A Guide to Dealing with Fairies’.

“How did you know...?” Her words trailed off as she watched Link begin to move away. His movements were still too quiet for her to register if she wasn’t paying attention. His figure disappeared as he walked into the corridor.

All he wanted to do was to give me the book, Zelda realized. She thought about apologizing to him when they set off tomorrow, until she realized with horror that he might now even show up because of how she acted. Her father would be furious, plus Link would have even more reason to despise her.

Not only was she a princess who wanted nothing to do with ruling Hyrule, but she was rude, unforgiving, and selfish. Being a knight, Zelda knew Link had an undying loyalty to the throne and the royal family. But who would want to follow a Queen that isn’t interested in being a Queen? The answer was simple; no one.

As she finally got around to going to bed, she wondered if there was even the slightest chance she could mend the bridge she had already started to burn. Zelda wasn’t even one day in to having an appointed knight and she made him hate her already.

[punishandenslavesuckers]

She has no throne. Girls without thrones should not have knights, but hers won’t go. Princess Zelda – the girl who killed Calamity – would love to fade into legend, but Link’s bought a house, he’s fighting off monsters, and he’s selling giant horses to strangely familiar Gerudo men. She'll never have any peace now. (ao3)  

There’s only one bed in the house at Hateno and the first night there, he tries to give it to her.

It’s very normal of him. Like she’s a visitor. Like she’s just stopping by. Link shows her where she can hang her cloak (his cloak) and stow her shoes (by the door) and where the extra blankets are (in the closet). Zelda isn’t sure how to explain without embarrassing him that she already knows the layout – has ghosted these simple hallways, kept vigil on the blood moons. She knows this modest kitchen, knows the creak in the third step up. She knows the stains in whorls of the table top, which ones are wine and which are blood.

Link smells like clean cotton and grass, which seems strange.

She thought he’d smell of black powder, resins, metal – the hard scent of battle and the road. Strange that it doesn’t stick to him, or maybe he took a special effort to scrub it off before coming back into the house. His hair’s damp. He left his boots by the door. The window’s open and distant thunder almost hides the sound of his breathing. When she listens close, his breath sounds loud in her ears, a disharmonizing with the thump of his heart. If he was uncomfortable with her request to sleep next to him, it never reached his face.

Not that much does. Even at the end of things, a century past, she had trouble reading him when he didn’t try to be read.

Link sleeps for a full two days. On the third, he wakes in a panic. She must pry his fingers from the grip of a broadsword and, for ten minutes straight, convince him that the battle is over. He sleeps for another two days. She gardens, straightens up the house, sweeps, sits in the grass outside and rolls around in the wild flowers. Does laundry. Rolls in the grass again. Does more laundry. She borrows a pair of trousers and a shirt that (to her chagrin) are a little too small for her.

The man at the general store is curious about her.

“So, you came in with Link last week. That so?”

Zelda looks up from the grains in the basket, finger worrying the braid in a single head of wheat. “Oh, yes. I’m from… out of town.”

“Well that’s nice,” he says, thoughtfully stroking the brush of his moustache. “Good to see new faces. When he bought the Bolson house across the bridge, we were wondering if he intended to bring family out here.”

Zelda hesitates, not sure if that means she is family or just that the town, generally, assumed that was why Link might buy a house.

“Nice guy,” continues to shopkeep. “The shepherds on the hill pay him to keep Bobokin off the beaches and grazing lands. You also a swordhand or…?”

She’s flattered he might estimate her a co-worker of Link’s, but also not sure she should start lying without his consult. She says she’s a friend. Link is helping her with a survey she’s conducting. (That is true. They talked about that.) The shopkeeper nods.

“Ah, yeah, that makes sense. Would you do me a favor? Nothing big, I have something for Link.”

“Of course.”

The man ducks behind the counter and stands up with a basket heavy with vegetables and grain. He looks at the basket, then back at her. “Sorry. This might be a bit big for you…”

Zelda loops two arms around the basket, the weave-work creaking as she hefts it up onto her hip. “No. It’s fine. Thank you.”

“You sure?” The shopkeeper appraises her biceps for the task. “Meant to send it along the week before last, but he didn’t come by.”

Zelda pauses. “He was… busy.”

Blood on the atrium floor, ozone and fire, the blue light banked silver in the blade. There’s a window in her head that she can look through and he’s still there in that tomb: armored in ancient metal, breathing magic like heat from a kiln, lightning behind his teeth. He’s also where she left him this morning: snoring gently with terrific bedhead and a quilt tangled in his legs.

This is where she finds him when she returns to the house. She leaves the basket on the table in the living area and pads back up the steps to the loft. She avoids the creak in the third stair. A warm square of sunshine is making its way lazily across the comforter onto Link’s lower back; it sets a glow to his cotton shirt, puts sections of gold in his hair. For a moment looking down at him, Zelda is overwhelmed by a paralyzing weight behind her breast bone, sudden and vicious, taking hold of her so tight the muscles in her throat clench and burn. Then the moment passes and she clears her throat.

“Link,” she whispers, hovering near the bed.

Nothing.

“Link,” she says at regular tones.

Snores.

“Link,” she says rather loudly.

He wrinkles his nose and rolls over, taking the edge of the blankets with him and thus cocooning himself in quilts. It’s… probably the most childish thing she’s ever seen him do in their travels together and she stands there, nonplussed, for a moment.

“Well then,” she says, “I will… just make a proper breakfast without your input.”

It’s ten minutes later as she’s well into burning a trio of speckled eggs that Link – very much awake now – jumps the loft bannister to rush her and snag the smoking skillet from her hands. He gives her a look.

“I tried to wake you up,” she says.

He takes the billowing pan to the door and hucks the contents into the yard.

“I was going to fix it.”

He turns and shows her the charred bottom of the pan and gestures to it with his other hand.

“Okay. Perhaps not.”

Zelda stews over a small mug of tea (provided for her when Link became alarmed by her use of the kettle somehow) and acknowledges that food, of course, was the thing to break Hyrule’s light out of his post-battle catatonia. Obviously. Link scraps the burnt food off the cast iron and sets about making a real breakfast. The small house immediately smells of… burnt egg and aroma of grilling ham, eggs, onion, and mushrooms. The hot scent of spices from a handful of glass bottles. He drops a perfect omelet on a plate in front of her a few minutes later and, yes, there it is, gives her another look.

“I thought I had it,” she says.

He takes a seat, shaking his head.

“Oh. Hush,” she says, picking a mushroom from her plate and flicking it at him.

He eats the mushroom off the back of his knuckles where it landed and Zelda rejoices (silently) the tiny boring familiarity of it. Link dedicates the rest of his attention to eating breakfast.

“I sealed Ganon you know.”

Link looks her straight in the eyes, then rolls them.

“Hush!”

She cleans the dishes. Link goes outside to wash up. When he’s done, she listens to the faint sound of her housemate changing clothes upstairs, glances up to catch him pulling his hair into a fresh knot at the back of his neck, studying the small ritual of muscle memory as he combs his fingers from his forehead and temples and pulls back a few times, gathering it where he can tie it. Link is, according to the housewives of Hantero, ‘So pretty you don’t even want to take him home. That kind of pretty.’ Zelda isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean or why it sounded a little like an insult. He finishes with his hair, then notices her watching and tilts his head at her.

She waves his concern away. “It’s nothing.”

He leans against the banister, looking down at her, one brow arched.

“Honestly. It’s nothing. I’m glad you’re up, is all.”

His expression crinkles a little, apologetic.  

“You know,” she says, giving her attention to the dishes, “for one hundred years I didn’t have to eat anything. Or sleep. Its… so strange sitting down to a meal now.” She says this directly to the dish she’s drying. “I didn’t realize I missed it. Can you miss things retroactively? I didn’t think you could, but now it’s as though… I remember all those times I didn’t have breakfast and it makes me sad. How silly!” She stacks the plates. “Ignore me. I’m just… I don’t know…it’s not as though time was linear for me when I was… I don’t know why I’m even talking about it.”

She senses Link’s coming down the stairs to stand near her elbow, like a shadow with weight. She looks over her shoulder.

“There should be a word for that look,” she says.

Link takes the plates from the counter puts them away in a cabinet.

  She has no throne.

It goes without saying, but Zelda’s still not sure how to say it. Link saddles a horse for her at the Dueling Peaks Stable – a pure white mare so like her old horse that she momentarily believes her to be that every mount. But it’s a trick of the tableau. Somehow, against all odds, Link has recovered the purple and gold riding accoutrements of her house and a wild horse from Castle Town bloodlines. He outfits the horse for her, murmuring softly to it, and she doesn’t know how to tell him to re-tackle her mount in lesser gear. To take off the colors of Royalty. His gesture is too great. The gift too impossible to refuse.

He smiles, patting the mare’s velvety nose while she gingerly feeds it a sugar cube.

Link’s own steed, a mare as well, is a stocky animal with dark coloring and mottled hide. It snorts and stomps impatiently in her stall. There are chunks missing in the spotted coat of her hind quarters. A Bokokin branding. Link explains, later, that he prefers her for travel because she won’t spook at the scent of Bokokin and is already trained for bridle-less combat. Zelda knows, only because Link told her a century ago, when they were first mounting up for travel, that he only rides horses he can break to take guidance from his knees, not the bridal.

At the time, this had only annoyed her and so… “They don’t teach that in the Guard.”

Link hesitated.

Looking back, she can see now that was a symptom of mutism, not uncertainty, but his silence irked her back then, so she’d raised her voice a little. “Why don’t you ride a stallion? You’re a knight now. They’re bigger. Better for mounted combat. Do you mean to protect me or not?” And at another hesitation, she added, “Never mind. I don’t require an escort for this outing. You should report back to the Guard.”

And then she left him in the stable.

Zelda lies awake thinking of this conversation, one hundred years in the past and still clear as the day it happened. Link dozes by the embers of their fire and the soft nickering of his mare, Epona, keeps off the quiet. She shakes her head. Tries to throw off the memory, the condescension, the slights. Petty moments she knows Link has forgotten but she cannot, even in after the war’s been won. Later, she re-saddles her horse with a sizable saddle blanket and bags. This mostly hides the house colors. If Link notices, he doesn’t comment.

  The first trouble arises in Hebra.

They’re settling in for the night at the stable in Tabintha where the locals report six killings this season – the dismembered parts of travelers found by search parties. Consumed by wildlife but killed by much worse. Lizalfos most likely. The arctic air hides their unique method of killing – a nitrogenous breath that freezes the flesh on contact, causing limbs to crack off and shatter. Too tough to be eaten by anything but the biggest mountain wolves.

“I’ve a cantrip for that,” Zelda is saying. “It will stop them even freezing your thermal wear.”

Link, doing an inventory of his combustible arrow-heads by lamp light, nods, chewing a stick of jerky while sorting through the small arsenal on the table. It’s a soothing, kind of meditative routine for him so she can tell he’s only partially listening to her. He hums a little while he does it.

“Give me your hand, I’ll put it on your sword arm.”

He stretches out his arm, absently, then whips it back when he feels her start to push his sleeve up. He gives her a suspicious eye.

“It’s not going to hurt, you big baby.”

He continues to eye her, a long blue glare.

“That was one time and it’s not my fault you didn’t listen when I told you it would sting.”

She’s about to really dig into why, honestly, it won’t even tickle this time when a largish sort of man in a heavy doublet and snow gear moves toward their table. Zelda, facing him, notes that three other men hang back but seem to be with him nonetheless, watching. Link, for his part, gives no sign that he hears the man other than to place one hand in his lap. His lap where his sword rests across his knees. He looks over his shoulder only when the man is close enough to be un-ignorable.

“Hello,” Zelda says.

The man ignores her, staring down at her companion. “You Link?” says the man.

“Yiga?” says Link. The jerky stick is still between his teeth so it’s not with any kind of… fear that he says that.

Zelda tenses, but the man just looks confused, the wind-red skin around his eyes crinkling.

“What?”

“Never mind.” Link does not take his hand from his lap.

“You Link or not?”

Link shrugs. Its kinds of infuriating from an outside perspective.

Zelda pipes up. “Sorry, sir. But what business do you have?”

“None, unless one of you is Link.” His lip curls. “Now that I’m up close, I can’t rightly tell which of you is the woman.”

“Thanks,” says Link, ripping the jerky in half between his teeth and chewing. Zelda gives him a look of her own.

“Okay, smartass, I think you’re Link.”

He shrugs again. It makes her want to laugh. It should not. There is a large person with a threatening demeanor hovering over her partner and he appears to have a large ax strapped to his back. To her younger self, this would be cause for alarm, but to this new version of herself, this situation seems exactly as laughable to her as it must to Link who has the divine blade in his lap and no interest in tavern cock fighting. The man’s friends are beginning to make their way across the room now though. Zelda sighs.

“Sir, you’ve found your man. What is it you want?”

“You always speak for him, girl?”

“No. Just right now. What’s your business?”

“My employer needs to speak with him.”

“We’re here on a task of some importance,” Zelda explains, careful with her tone. “There’s been violence and death in the region. We’re here to remedy that. If there is some specific need your employer has of him, then relay it, and we can make our own way there when our tasks are at a close.” Zelda is on her feet now, hands on the table in front of her. Link, sitting still facing her, is looking up at her through his bangs. His eyebrows are up. Zelda ignores him. “So, sir, what is your business and how does it supersede the needs of the good people here?”

It’s only then the man seems to notice the rest of the room watching. The stable hands and inn keeps and small groups of local trappers and traders all eyeing the confrontation with the idle readiness of people with a stake in the outcome. There are swords now, staves, and casual weaponry suddenly visible, on table tops, by hand where they were previously packed away.

The man hesitates then, appraises her. Link, in his seat – Zelda watches his calm blue stare rove toward the man, a dangerous stillness in his stature. The man doesn’t notice.

“What’s your name, little miss?”

“Unless you tell me your business, I see no reason to tell you.”

The man points a finger. “You’re her.” He takes a step forward. “You the one calling herself Zelda, aren’t you?”

Link hits the man. Zelda doesn’t see him do it. He’s too fast. It’s just the follow through, the aftermath – a man twice Link’s size, flying staggering backward, clutching his gut and Link on his feet. The blade is out. The naked metal one hand, the sheath in the other. He doesn’t move to raise it, only stands there, feet apart, shoulders set, directly between her and the four men sent to find them. The blade doesn’t glow. No. It only does that in the presence of evil. But the light catches in the metal, give it a purposeful shine.

“Leave,” says Link.

He barely says it above a whisper, but into the dead silence it drops like a coin into a pan.

Zelda grabs his shoulder. He glances at her. He does not relax even slightly.

“Tell us who sent you,” she says to the men. “You might as well.”

The man holds up two hands. “No trouble, little miss,” he starts to say, but one of his man blurts, “I’d be careful using that name!”

“It’s my name,” she snaps, but the men are gone into the snow outside.

Later, she will tell Link she wishes he hadn’t done that and he will just shrug. This time, it’s infuriating.

  They have a nightmare.

Zelda knows it’s ‘they’ not ‘she’ when the scream cuts out of her and, in the same instant, Link lunges up from his cot and buries a broadsword halfway through a tree. Epona, nearby, just looks up from a small bag of oats, snorts, and goes back to eating. The humans present stare at each other for a very long moment. Link is first to move. He wrenches the blade free, bracing one boot against the trunk and yanking. A sigh. He takes a seat, cross-legged next to her and plants the blade point down in the grass by her sleeping cot. He rubs two hands over his face. Then he just looks, tiredly, into her eyes with a question there.

“I dreamed that we lost,” she says. “I mean… that we lost again.”

Link shudders.

“You too?”

He nods, then kind of absently presses his palm to his throat, cupping the crushable curve of his windpipe like a ghost pain still plagues him. Zelda, watching, feels a cold prickle run up her spine and down her arms, raising the fine hairs all the way down to her aching hands. She stops clenching her fists.

“Calamity killed you in front of me.”

Link stops touching his throat, hand hovering uncertainly for a moment before he drops it in his lap. She can see him working up to saying something. He always mouths a word once or twice before pushing his voice behind it.  

“It’s okay,” she says quickly. “It wasn’t real.” She pulls her hair back from her face, re-doing the band “Maybe… maybe it was me. I had a nightmare and I, perhaps, shared it to you. That’s possible. I maintained a certain level of… awareness of you all through my time interned with the Calamity. Those paths are still open to some degree. I apologize –”

He makes a cutting motion, interrupting her. Then he raises two hands and, in terse but fluid hand motions, signs, ‘Maybe it was my nightmare.’

She blinks. If he’s signing, he must be shaken. He hasn’t done that in a while.

He shrugs and goes on, ‘I have nightmares. It was probably mine.’

“Oh… I… I suppose, but I don’t think…”

He shrugs again. She’s not sure how each shrug has a specific meaning but it does.

“It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not prophetic, I would tell you if it was.”

He nods.

“Link, we’re safe.”

He looks at her. The moonlight through the trees lays lines of silver across his forehead, misses his eyes.

“I swear it,” she says. This small panic rising… she doesn’t know it’s source but she continues, “I would tell you if we were in danger.”

His eyes widen and, after a moment, he says, “I know that.”

Link’s voice always startles her, even when Zelda has ample time to watch him work up to using it. It’s always both softer and deeper than she expects, usually rough with disuse, faintly kinked with an accent she’s only recently identified as a hybrid of eastern Lanaryian and, interestingly, the grammatical pacing in most Zora-learned Hylian. She’s not sure why, but hearing his voice now does damage to something inside her.

“You’ve done more than enough. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to fight anymore.” She shakes her head. “You know that, right?”

His expression smooths out, softens a little. He stands. Zelda watches him calmly pull the sword from the grass, wipe it on his trousers, then pick up the sheath from his sleeping cot and put it away. Then he comes back to her side, close enough to touch and he touches her shoulder, three fingertips pressed against the fabric for long enough that warmth bleeds through and sets gold lines to the roots of her. Fine wires of heat and regret.

Then, he says, very quietly, “I’m staying.”

She can’t say why that makes her want to hit him. Instead she says, “Thank you.”

  When they reach Highland Stable, the inn keep says a Gerudo woman came looking for Link. Not Link specifically, but “the owner of the red and black stallion out back”. The innkeep also mentions, somewhat warily, that they will need to charge extra in boarding fee for an animal of his size and temperament and they would greatly appreciate it if Link would ‘settle him’ before taking off again. Link agrees, pays the fee, and heads back to the stalls.

Zelda, previously unaware of this animal, is stupefied by the size of the beast Link returns with, leading it to the large corral near the front of the inn with nothing but a hand on its massive flank. She can’t say what breed it is. The towering stallion stands a monolith stature beside Link, pure black save for the impossible red of its mane and tail. Broad as a Lynel. The middle of its back so high that Link must take a short running leap to mount. Once seated, the beast is comically too large for him.

The horse tolerates Link’s presence, snorting and stomping, massive hooves cutting deep furrows in the grass.

Zelda comes forward only when Link waves her the all clear. “What’s his name?”

Link just huffs and shrugs.

She lets the huge horse nose her palms. “No name? Are you thinking about turning him loose?”

“He’ll leave if he wants,” Link says, taking a handful of deep red mane.

He clicks his tongue, taps his heels and the great black monster trots out into the corral with the air of an animal that planned to do so all along. Zelda retreats to the fence, ducking outside of the ring so she can climb onto the first horizontal bar and lean against the top most support, watching Link take the giant horse through increasingly aggressive maneuvers around the yard. It’s not a fast animal. But its every move becomes a juggernauting force, unstoppable and uncaring. In motion, Link no longer seems too small for his mount.

“A beautiful animal,” someone murmurs.

Zelda jolts a little, startled because there is a very, very tall person in a traveling cloak and hood standing beside her. She didn’t hear them approach. From this angle, she can’t make out their face beneath the hood, only a sharp line of jaw, dark skin. The road-worn cloak and trousers are patterned in interlocking red and blue right angles along the hem. Gerudo Town make. Zelda re-assesses the person standing beside her – at least seven feet tall, biceps (very visible), broad shouldered, but leaned out by their height, large hands (rough with callouses), one forearm strapped with an archer’s guard. Zelda very carefully leans back a little, still searching…

There’s a scimitar-style sword on their hip.

“Sav’otta,” Zelda says.

The Gerudo standing next to her seems surprised. Then, in very deep Gerudo-tongue, says, “Do you speak the language?”

Zelda hesitates. “I’m a little rusty.”

“You are clear enough and well met, little sister. I am Draga.”

Zelda notes, puzzled, that Draga is using slight variant in conjugation she’s not heard before. “Nice to meet you. I am Zelda. I apologize if my Gerudo is antiquated. I’m out of practice.”

Draga nods, then reaches up and pulls the hood down. Zelda blinks. In the split second between the blink and the shock, Zelda knows it’s too late to hide her surprise. Annoyed with herself, Zelda says firmly, “I love your hair. I’ve thought about cutting it short like that, but I’m too set in my ways, big brother.”

Draga smiles at her.

Zelda realizes now what it was in Draga’s grammar that confused her – not linguistic drift, but male modifiers. She’d learned it, but never heard it used in conversation; before now, she had never met a Gerudo man. Draga’s hair, red as old copper, is short for a Gerudo, braided down against his scalp and clipped with intricate gold rings. Dark complexioned even for a Gerudo, high dramatic features. Now that the hood is off Zelda can see the start of very carefully shaved sideburns only just growing along the sharp line of his jaw, deep cheekbones, a heavy brow. He’s so tall and so broad in shoulder, that he reminds her a bit of Urbosa. His eyes are the same green.

In the distance, Link shouts something and the stallion rears up, then dives back down, hooves slamming into the ground so hard the impact vibrates in the earth. Then horse and rider bolt full speed around the edge of the corral, Link’s body ducked low along the beast’s spine.

“You can speak Hylian. I understand it fine. My accent is the trouble do you know the rider?”

“Yes, we’re friends and he’s the owner, actually.”

 “Then I’d like to speak with him. I’d like to propose a sale, if possible.”

“I can flag him down.”

“I am in no rush.”

Across the corral, Link pulls the stallion out of its gallop and into a slowdown rotation. Afterward, he dismounts, patting the giant horse in a congratulatory manner and saying something to him. Zelda wonders what he says. He is always saying things, specifically just to horses. The black giant flicks its ears forward, then bends its head down to forcefully but affectionately push its gigantic head into Link’s chest, knocking him back a few steps.  

“Link!” Zelda puts her fingers in her mouth and whistles, a high ribbon of sound. “Can you come here?”

Link leaves the horse to its own devices and jogs over. The giant horse trots close behind, like the biggest dog in existence and loiters intimidatingly behind him. There’s horse hair in Link’s clothes, his bangs are stuck to his forehead, mud splattered on his pants. He wipes his hands on his tunic, eyeing the stranger

“Link. This is Draga. He’s interested in the stallion.”

Link blinks. The giant horse noses the side of his head. He looks doll-sized beside it.

“Zelda, would you mind translating?” Draga says. “I want to be clear.”

“Of course!”

Link, hesitating, taps her arm. When he has her attention, he signs, “I don’t speak Gerudo. Can you…?”

“I was just saying that. I can translate. Of course.”

Draga frowns. “He doesn’t speak?”

“He does, but it’s troublesome for him.” Then in Hylian. “You wanted to ask if the horse is for sale, right?”

Draga nods, looking at Link as he does so.

Link thinks about it, then says, aloud, “Maybe.” He signs, “I’d have to see him ride and how Asshole likes him. He’s a bastard.”

Zelda paraphrases. “Link wants to see you ride and determine how the horse likes you. It’s a very temperamental animal.”

“This is acceptable,” Draga says in warm but carefully enunciated Hylian. He unclasps his cloak from his neck. “I would prefer….” He gestures, says in Gerudo. “No point in wasting sunlight.” Then in Hylian. “Now?”

Link shrugs. “Okay.”

Draga braces one hand against the top of the corral fence and vaults it in a single slow but easy motion. The whole fence groans under the brief weight. He lands heavily, straightening to his improbable height and without the hood, Zelda can see his outfit isn’t Gerudo-made. The leather work – bracer, light armor, and gloves – are Rito despite tooling in Gerudo script. The tunic and under-shirt – Faron Highlands. A series of short blades strapped to his thigh glint Eldin-mined amber, a Goron-styled finish.

 Zelda extrapolates from this the gear he left Gerudo town with no longer suits him and he’s been on the road a very long time.

The black stallion snorts at his approach. Draga seems unperturbed. He offers one giant hand for the beast’s inspection. The stallion snorts again, shaking it massive head back and forth. Link seems relaxed, but Zelda can tell he’s primed to jump back in if the monster horse goes berserk. Draga just huffs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Hello, great king,” he murmurs. Draga’s tone is familiar. “Whoa, whoa.”

The horse eyes him.

“You know me,” he says, for some reason.

Zelda’s nose itches as he says this, her fingers too.

“Settle down. There you go.”

The giant horse picks a cautious path forward, like its navigating unsteady terrain. After another moment, it pushes its nose into Draga’s palm, lipping at his fingers like it does indeed know him. Draga runs his other hand along the beast’s jaw. His face is close enough to the stallion’s nose, that its nostrils flare a little.  Zelda thinks he’s still speaking, but she can’t understand the words. Rather, she feels she almost knows the words. Like she’s just forgotten them and is left with just… impressions of what he says.

She thinks, however, he said something like, “You know your nature now.”

Draga climbs onto the stallion’s back and, once seated, looks at his audience. Then he very casually digs his heels slightly into the beast’s flanks and it trots a tight, easy circle in front of them. Then, just for good measure, he takes two handfuls of the beast’s mane and the horse rockets forward at a clip at least twice the speed Link had it moving. Link laughs out loud, startling Zelda who looks at him with wonder.

“This,” Draga says, bringing the horse back around at a trot, “is a Gerudo horse. Certainly.”

Zelda claps. “Astonishing!”

Link gestures in that animated way that means he’s probably mouthing words, illustrating his amazement.

Draga brings the horse to a stop facing them. “If this is satisfactory, should we discuss price?”

Zelda taps Link on the shoulder. “He wants to know if he passes and if you have a price, Link?”

Link shakes his head. “No sale. He’s yours.”

Draga blinks, frowning. “I think I misheard him.”

Zelda laughs. “I don’t think you did. Link, are you sure?”

Link signs in big hyperbolic sweeps, grinning. “It’s his horse. Obviously. Right? Looks like destiny, doesn’t it?”

“He says the horse is obviously yours, Draga. He can’t sell what is not his.”

“I cannot possibly accept,” Draga says. “He should name a fair price.” He looks directly at Link and, in much louder commanding Hylian, says, “You should give a price.” He looks at Zelda. “Does he understand what this horse is worth?”

Zelda smiles. “Yes. He knows what the horse is worth. He just doesn’t care. If you’re concerned about our financial well-being, you needn’t be. And honestly, if you take the horse then we no longer need to worry for his board and care. Knowing he’s found proper ownership is more than enough.” She glances at Link who’s giving her the thumbs up. “Yes. That’s right. He insists.”

“Your friend is mad.”

“Link, he says you’re mad.”

Link laughs. It’s infectious, sending jolts of warmth through her face.

Draga, exasperated, says, “If he will not allow me to pay him for the price of the horse, then will he allow me to buy the both of you a meal tonight?”

“Oh, he will certainly tell you do that. I feel your wallet may regret it, however.”

Later, having watched Link eat an entire pot of stew, a loaf of bread, a bowl of fruit, and a whole mutton, Draga tells Zelda that he sees now where the tiny Hylian might get his impossible energy from. He says this despite the fact Link has folded his arms on their low table, laid his head down on them, and gone fast to sleep. Zelda is taking the opportunity to balance a small loaf of bread on the top of the Hero’s head, placing it painstakingly until she is certain of its stability. Then she reaches for a dinner roll. 

“He is either impossibly productive or dead to the world,” Zelda assures Draga, carefully stacking the dinner roll on top of the loaf. “I catch up when he’s unconscious.”

Draga watches her finish her tower of baked goods, then says, “Forgive me, but how old are you, little sister?”

She’s practiced this one. “I’m eighteen now.” She folds her arms on the table top. “I’m not entirely certain about Link. He grew up around Zora and they don’t value annual celebrations of birth so he always forgets.”

His brows arch. “The Zora?” He enunciates it Hylian. “That is… unusual.” And in Gerudo: “You two are… business partners?”

“Yes, but we’re friends. We’ve worked together a long time.”

“What is the nature of your commerce together?”

“We protect each other. Link does most of the jobs to do with hunting and security and I’ve taken up as a healer. Between us, we can relieve all manner of suffering and people pay for that.” She hesitates, then adds in Gerudo. “Link has a wide-spread reputation and people all over this realm trust him implicitly to accomplish what others cannot. We are on our way to handle such a task in the next few days.” She shrugs, picks up cup and pours herself some water. “You’ve caught us in an interim period.”

Draga sits forward. He’s so large, that his doing so blots out a significant part of light from across the room. In Hylian, he asks, “Do you require additional hands in this endeavor?”

Zelda thinks his accent is really not that strong.

“Link and I should be fine. It’s quite straightforward. There’s a Lynel we’re bringing down east of here.”

Draga tilts his head. “You are Lynel-hunting?” He gestures between her and Link. “You two?

“Looks are deceptive, Draga.”

Link, still asleep on the table, mutters and shoves his face deeper into the crook of his elbow. This disturbs the dinner roll which slides off his head, bouncing on his shoulder. The bread loaf just wobbles, then settles. Draga, observing this, looks back at Zelda with some incredulity.

“A dozen Lynels he’s brought down.” Zelda sips her drink. “A dozen.”

“It doesn’t seem possible,” Draga says in blunt, skeptical Hylian.

“Link exists to defy expectations.”

Draga narrows his eyes slightly and Zelda is, again, struck by the likeness to Urbosa. “Then if I were simply curious how a Hylian the size of my arm brings down Lynels? Would that be reason enough that you might allow me to accompany you?”

Zelda frowns. “You don’t know us well, Draga. I feel I should be up-front about a few aspects of what we do. The jobs we take on are usually quite dangerous and even the missions that are not martial can be unusual. Our methods are somewhat unorthodox…”

“You have Hylia’s Gift,” Draga interrupts.

Zelda frowns. “Hylia’s Gift?”

He frowns back. “Do you not say that in Hylian?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Magic,” Draga says, in Gerudo this time and Zelda can see how that might translate literally, into Hylian. “You worry I will be offended or suspicious of it. I am not. My mothers were all versed in some aspect of spellcasting, rune-craft, or ward-work. It’s not unusual to me.” He jerks his head toward Link. “Even that one, I sense it. A breath of the wild.”

“Breath of the wild?”

Draga sighs. “Do you not say that in Hylian either?”

Zelda grins. “No.”

“Wild magic.” He ponders this. “In Gerudo teachings, magic draws on three elemental kinds – breath, blood, and bone. Your semblance is blood. His is breath. Breath is rawer stuff. Harder to harness, instinctive.” In Hylian he says, “Wilder.”

Zelda considers this. “In… Hylian teachings, the abilities gifted from the Goddess are of three elemental kinds, but we cite wind, water, and earth. All simply being… attitudes of magical practice all under the same divine source. Air is the most rare and volatile. I… supposed I did not categorize Link’s talents that way.” 

Draga is tearing a piece of bread in half. He looks at her. “Why not?”

She frowns at her drink. “I don’t know. I guess… I always saw him differently than a… sorcerer.”

“I am surprised you did not see it. You both seem very alike.”

“We’re not related.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Draga uses the bread to wipe stew from the inside of the bowl. “I do not think there is a proper word for it. You seem both like parts of a larger thing.” He shrugs and eats the bread. “I do not know how to explain it. When I look at you with truth, that is how you seem.”

“Do you have Hylia’s Gift, Draga?”

“Yes.” He looks at her, picking an orange from the bowl. “Does that trouble you?”

She begins to say ‘no’, then pauses.

“Why are you trusting me?”

When he doesn’t answer, just peels the fruit in his hand, she elaborates.

“In Gerudo culture, magic is… there are rules about who can use it.” She keeps her tone soft. Concerned, not accusatory. She doesn’t specify in what way he is outside their parameters. She just stares up at him, this giant man who reminds her of Urbosa in ways she can’t quite quantify, who Link gifted a priceless horse for no reason than he felt it was natural. “Why are you so sure I am a friend? If the current Chief, Riju, heard word of it, she would be compelled to act.”

Draga studies her face for a moment. “Do you think Riju should act?”

Zelda lowers her voice. “No, I don’t… but I also just met you.”

Draga’s mouth pulls a little, almost a smile, then he goes back to peeling his orange. In Gerudo, he says, “You should not fret, little sister. The Gerudo are wary of magic, but Urbosa herself commanded thunder and much more besides. I am not outside Law if I return within the year and declare myself.” He levels a very calm look at Zelda. “Hylians don’t regulate that, do they?”

“Magic doesn’t regulate every well. But there were licenses you could obtain like any other business and penalties for practicing without proper credentials.” She pauses. “But that was one hundred years ago. It’s… died off somewhat.”

Draga concedes that with a tilt of his head. “And what kind of craft do you practice, Zelda?”

She thinks of rain.

Hot and impossibly heavy, the mud sucking her sandals under. She thinks of her fingers knotted in Link’s bloody tunic. The fucking sword in his hand. Glowing, but not bright enough to stop ancient machinery running them down, racing across the country to cleave their bones from their bodies. She thinks of her prayer – Goddess, take me instead. Leave the one of us worth anything alive. – and then how the Guardians, in that exact moment, found them.

She thinks of tithing. Alters burnt with fruit and grain. Her family, her kingdom, her champions, her own knight: The blood sacrifice Hylia required. She thinks how it hurt. How hot, how infinite, how indifferent the power that screamed through her skin and how none of it hurt as much as that moment when Link stopped breathing. Her nightmares look like this: The sword never speaks. She kneels there in that field until Calamity comes to crush her from existence.

“Healing and protection,” she says. Zelda reaches across the table for Draga’s wine.

“You’re not old enough for that,” he says conversationally.

“I am,” she says and drinks directly from the bottle.

.

.

.

go to part 2

[fungus-amongus00]

Where Your Loyalties Lie 1

This is a new fic I’ll be working on with a breath of the wild oc ^^

On AO3 

Summary:

Col is a wanderer with loose ties to the Yiga clan. He questions whether the hero is really their enemy and if he deserves the fate of death. He wanders the wilderness looking for his own answers, only carrying a Yiga bandana to remind him of home. While travelling around Mt. Lanayru, he witnesses a Hylian get attacked by a lynel and rescues him without even thinking. He later finds out that that Hylian is indeed the hero of legend.

Col remembered the shouts of glee when news of the hero awakening spread through the Yiga clan. The location was unknown to anyone. All any of them could do was sit and wait. Col had never really been interested in killing, at least not as much as the others of his group. Many times, he stayed clear of the hideout in the highlands and travelled further east near Mt. Lanayru. It wasn’t that he hated them. They were his family and all he had that he could call that, but sometimes it was a little much for him. Besides, Col enjoyed travelling and seeing the different lands around Hyrule. He’d leave slaying the hero to them. They can have their glory and fame. He was content with being known as a wanderer. He wasn’t a deserter. He still stuck to the Yiga ways or at least acted like it, so at least he wasn’t known as a traitor and had his brethren out hunting him. The benefit of being in the Yiga clan was the monsters left him alone since he technically had allegiance to Ganon. Really, the only Yiga clothing he wore anymore was his bandana with the eye symbol on it. When travelling through strange lands and villages, he wore traveler’s clothes to keep a low profile. He kept his hair in a short, buzzed style to look ordinary.

I’m not anything special. Just a simple wanderer.

What was the point of being proud to be in the clan when he had nothing to show for it. His combat skills were average at best. He could defend himself when needed but nothing close to the skills the others had. He figured he was better off on his own than to be a burden to them.

It was a usual sunny day out in the hills near the great mountain. Col had just killed a deer, carrying the fresh meat in a sack to be roasted later for dinner. On the way, he stopped to pick a few Silent Princesses. He heard stories about this flower being a favorite of Princess Zelda, and they always interested him. They sparkled brilliantly in the moonlight, and Col knew there was a full moon tonight. He tucked two carefully in his pocket and continued walking among the trees. He was nearing a particular spot that he always made a point to avoid. Instead of continuing along the path, he went to the right and up along the hill. There was a frightening beast man many referred to as a Lynel. He knew better than to stray into the path of one from a previous encounter that he barely escaped from in one piece. They were nothing to mess with that was for sure. He hadn’t met any others, but they had to be just as menacing as the Lanayru one. Col didn’t want to chance being spotted by it, so he stayed out of sight, though he could hear its heavy hoofs pound the ground with each step it took. As he was sneaking, Col bolted upright when he heard the beast roar followed by the cry of someone nearby. All he could hear was light, hurried footsteps followed closely by the stomping hooves of the lynel. Col bit his lip and finally ran over to the edge of the hill. He crawled on the ground and looked out into the small valley below where the lynel usually patrolled. He blinked in surprise as he watched a person wearing a dark hood being chased by the lynel and firing arrows back at it. That only enraged the beast even more as it shot ice arrows at the other. Some barely missed the traveler, and Col was rather impressed by their quickness and accuracy. However, the lynel’s raw power was clearly superior. The traveler cried out again as one of its ice arrows plunged into their shoulder, causing them to falter and nearly fall over. Col was repeatedly telling himself not to get involved. That was a sure-fire way to just end up getting himself killed. In the last second, as the lynel was closing in on the traveler, Col teleported using his magic he learned since he was a child in the Yiga clan. He burst in front of the traveler in a burst of flame and quickly took the other into his arms and teleported towards the other side of the hill where he had been before the lynel could do any more damage. He panted as he hid behind a tree with the traveler in his arms. Sweat beaded up around his temples as he tried desperately hard to quiet his breathing even with his chest heaving up and down from nearly staring death in the face aka an enraged lynel. He could hear the heavy hoofbeats along with grunts. It wasn’t so quick to give up yet as it looked around the area. Finally, with a booming roar, it ran off elsewhere. Col waited until he could no longer hear it and breathed a sigh of relief, relaxing some but still holding the other in his arms. On his way out of there, he picked up the sword and bow that the traveler had dropped in the process of the fight. He walked to the ruins by the lake, choosing a spot that offered them shelter. Carefully, he laid the other on the stone, using his blanket as a pillow for the traveler’s head, the cloak still hiding their head. Before that, he got a fire going with some flint and warmed his hands by the flames. He glanced over as curiosity was getting the better of him. With careful hands, he removed the hood that was obscuring the traveler’s face and gasped when he saw the golden hair and fair face.

  “I’m just jumping to conclusions..he just looks like the hero is all. He’s Hylian..so what?” Col said to himself.

Just to be sure, he looked through his things. His face went pale when he pulled out a blue tunic among the traveler’s things.

   “The Champion’s tunic..the one they spoke about..”

Col glanced over at the Hylian again. He certainly did have a resemblance to the hero. Now he was left wondering what to do. Certainly, as being part of the Yiga clan, he should do the right thing and alert the others. He didn’t want to be the one to slay him. Someone else could have that glory, but now he was the one that found the hero. He gasped as the Hylian flinched and groaned in pain.

  “The arrow! How could I have forgotten?” he groaned and immediately began to warm up a piece of cloth.

Now, came the hard part. It looked like he was still unconscious, which was good since he was sure this was going to hurt immensely. He first checked to see how much the arrow had gone through. Sure enough, the tip was sticking out the backside, most likely due to the strength of the lynel. That was good. It would make taking it out much easier and less painful for the Hylian hero. What was he thinking? If anything, he should leave the arrow in. It would make him weaker and easier for another Yiga to kill him. Col bit his lip as he undid the other’s protective tunic to reveal more of his shoulder. No, this was the right thing to do for now. He couldn’t leave him in pain like this. He might not survive if he doesn’t get that arrow out. Col started by snapping the tail off of the arrow. Very carefully, he lifted the Hylian’s shoulder slightly and ever so slowly slid the rest of the arrow out. The tips of his fingers burned with the icy cold from the arrow’s head. He heard the other groan slightly while he was in the process of sliding the arrow out but that was all. Next, he took the hot cloth and pressed it to the wound and put another piece on the other side. It would at least warm up his skin and hopefully prevent any more damage from the cold magic from the arrow. What was this guy thinking just taking on a lynel like that? He was the hero and all but still. Lastly, Col dragged him closer to the fire so he’d keep warm and huddled by the glowing flames himself. He knew he wouldn’t be getting much sleep. There was too much anxiety on this whole situation for any hope of sleep.

  I’ll figure out what to do with him in the morning.

Col didn’t end up getting a wink of sleep. He was too nervous both for the well being the Hylian and what he should even do with him. Loyalty to his brethren was important, but he didn’t even want to imagine what they’d do with the Hylian when he handed him over. Most likely, he would be welcomed back with a standing ovation but at what cost? The winds on the edge of the mountain seemed to bite right through his heavy clothes. Whenever he felt the numbing cold sink through to his skin, he added fuel to the fire and scooched the other closer to it. He even went out to the nearby trees whenever he was running low on fuel. At the most, he ended up half asleep sitting up and instantly woke up whenever his head went forward too much. In the morning, it was a groan from the other that made him wake up suddenly. The Hylian was definitely stirring now. Col watched as his brows furrowed, and his eyes slowly opened. Overnight, Col had gone through this scenario over and over again in his head, but now that it was actually happening, he froze up and merely stared at the other. For a while, the two simply stared at each other. All that could be heard was the howling winds from the mountain along with the periodical distant roar of the lynel in the distance.

  “Um, don’t worry. The lynel doesn’t go beyond the area it patrols. We’re safe here,” Col said, clearing his throat nervously. “I’m glad you’re alright. I got the ice arrow out, but I expect you’re still pretty sore.”

  “Th-thank you,” the Hylian said, biting his lip as he slowly sat up. “What’s your name..if I might ask?”

  “Oh! Uh, it’s Col,” he stammered, barely getting the words out. “Wh-what’s yours?”

  “I’m Link. Sorry to cause you such trouble. I thought I’d be able to get away from that thing, but even I make mistakes sometimes,” he chuckled, though it sounded a bit sad.

  “Link,” Col thought to himself.

He found that he was saying that name over and over again in his head. He had only ever known the other as either “the Hylian” or “hero.” Well, it was only natural that a hero had a name.

  “Link..you’re the hero legends speak of, right?”

  “That’s right. I’m supposed to be the one to stop the Calamity..so the legend speaks.”

  “Wow, you’re pretty young for being what…like one hundred seventeen,” Col said with a bit of a chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.

  “Heh, yeah. Well, I was put into a deep slumber for one hundred years, but it seems things have only gotten worse since then.”

  “Well..that’s not entirely true. Many towns have been rebuilt. And sure, there are crazy monsters out there, but many are learning how to fight them, so there is a bright side.”

Col looked to the east, watching the sun slowly make its way up the mountain. It was dawn and soon to be morning. He wasn’t sure how well of a healing job he did for Link. It’d be a good idea to seek further medical attention since he wasn’t a healer. The Yiga clan was still well in his mind as he helped Link to his feet. The other was still rather wobbly on his feet. Going to the nearest town on foot wasn’t ideal, but it’s all they had for now.

  “You’re still not well. We should get you to Hateno Village. They have an inn where you can take it easy and better food than we’ll find out here.”

Link complied with a nod. As they walked down the path, he leaned heavily onto Col at times. During the journey, Col prayed that they wouldn’t run into any disguised Yiga clan members. He didn’t know if he had the heart yet to pick to either defend Link or side with the Yiga. For now, all that was on his mind was getting him to the village safe and sound.

[luimagines]

Maybe you caring for the chain? Like doing small things like helping tend to their wounds or brushing their hair. Love the blog btw!

Masterlist

A little TLC?

A little Fluff?

That's my JAM! You got it hun!

It's gonna be in bullet point list because I can.

Content under the cut!

Time

Can you imagine this guy?

It's late at night and you wake up unexpectantly.

It was supposed to be your shift but it's way past that

It's even past the shift after yours

Time is still by the fire pit

Awake

You get up

You walk over to him

Place a hand on his shoulder

He looks up at you, tired as hell

He knows he's been caught.

"It's past your bed time Old Man"

"I just wanted to give everyone a little break."

And like?!

You push him aside gently and he lets you sit next to him.

You pull him towards you and you place his head on your lap

"What am I going to do with you?"

"It's not your job to take care of me."

"Someone has to. Malon will have our heads if you come back home any less than how you left."

You start running your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes in bliss.

It's quiet and neither of you say anything.

Time quickly falls asleep from your touch and you stay up to take your watch.

You take the next watch after as well.

Soon enough the sun rises.

And you let Time sleep in.

Twilight

What about Twilight?

Twilight was mid battle, fighting multiple bokoblins at once.

At some point he had lost his sword.

This boy hunkers down and starts swinging.

It's a one on five boxing match.

Twilight, to say the least, is not unharmed by the end of it.

You notice that he's not stable on his feet and has a few bloodied patches on his clothes, not to mention the (hopefully) small cut on his forehead.

It's more blood than you'd like to see.

You're quick to help and let him lean into your side.

You bring to the side of the fire, quickly taking out your personal med pack and begin to clean his face.

He's not seeing straight so he starts to speak nonsense.

"Twilight honey, please, don't." You try not to laugh.

"Have you seen them though?"

He's talking about you.

"They're so amazing. Did you know that? They're so cool. They know so much about history and animals and plants."

"Twilight please, I can't reach the cut. I need to disinfect it."

"And animals and Epona and Epona likes them so much. I want to show them my home and my family. Colin would love them. And I think they and Illia would be best friends."

You're blushing but it's soft and you're smiling because Twilight is smiling and he looks so happy at the thought.

You wave away Hyrule when he comes to check on The Rancher, letting him know that you've got it covered.

It's sweet.

Wild

His is a little more obvious

"Wild, what on earth?"

He comes back from an afternoon adventure.

He's absolutely filthy.

There's at least three sticks in his hair.

At least those are the ones that you can count because they're sticking out.

Multiple leaves.

You think you see something move.

"What?"

He doesn't care.

You sigh and stalk up to him.

You grab his arm.

"You're my prisoner now"

Wild tries to fight you but you're determined.

You sit him and take out a brush, taking his pony tail down.

It's a long battle.

But after at least thirty minutes of fighting the branches and leaves and what might have been a tiny mouse like creature.

The mouse thingy just ran away.

You're trying to be as gentle as you can but Wild has a hard time sitting still.

Some leaves leave easier than others and there were actually seven separate branches in his hair that you take out one by one.

But when you get past the battle and clear the foliage, Wild relaxes.

Soon you're only brushing his hair.

He needs to wash it.

But you're not anywhere near any body of water so it'll have to wait.

Wild hums every time you pass the brush pleasantly through his hair.

Within moments his hair is soft and tangle free.

You look around him to look at his face.

He's calm and blissful.

You smile and go back to brushing his hair.

It's a calm afternoon from then on out.

Warrior

Warrior isn't one to accept TLC in public but-

It's after a battle.

And you look over to Warrior who's taking off his armor at a painstakingly slow pace.

It takes him a while.

He grimaces in pain and begins to rub his neck and shoulder.

You bit your lip and sigh.

You make your way over to him.

"Need a hand, soldier boy?"

"What?"

He's confused.

"If you got pain, I can help with that."

You don't want to make it a big deal or weird.

"How?"

"I want your permission first. I'd have to touch you."

"Sure. Why not? Do it."

You nod and get behind him.

Soon enough you start kneading his shoulders and lower neck.

He grunts at the pressure you put on it but otherwise lets you continue.

He's stiff as a brick.

So you're there for a while.

But when you get tired or when he's better off than how you started (whichever comes first) you let him go.

He rubs absentmindedly where your hands just were and smiles in relief.

"Thanks."

You grin.

"Any time."

Sky

Now Sky is a bit different

He's not shy about TLC

He's frequently the one to take care of the others

You however notice something off one day

His hand was always in a fist and you pulled him aside.

"You ok? What happened?"

Sky sighs, and opens up his palm

A large cut down the middle

It cut through his leather and gloves and was bleeding through the cloth Sky was holding.

You gasp and begin to help him out then and there.

"How did this happen?"

"It's not that big of a deal."

"It's your hand!" You take off the gloves as gently as you can and bring out your med pack. "You kind of need that."

You sit him down and clean it off.

He's quiet as you work, watching you tend to his wound.

He flinches slightly at the disinfectant and hisses.

You begin to wrap his hand with a clean bandage.

You're meticulous in wrapping it up completely.

It's slow and you're losing progress in travel time but neither of you care.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to. You can't stop me."

"I'm pretty I could if I did."

"Yeah, probably."

More silence.

You take moment to study your work and gently turn his hand over.

You give it back to him.

"How did you even manage that? You're usually so much better at this."

"It's... embarrassing..."

"Do I even want to know?"

"...No... Thank you... For helping."

"Of course."

Legend

"Legend, sweetheart, what are you doing?"

He's the kind to avoid public soft and gentle actions

Even if he's the kind to desperately want them

He'll push people away and fail to satisfy himself by yearning from a distance.

One day, you have enough.

He's trying to sit next to you and he's fidgeting, internally fighting himself over something but it's too close to you to not notice.

You sigh and pull him close to you, wrapping both of your arms around him even as he tries to fight you off.

He's trying to struggle out of it but you just snuggle into his shoulder.

He doesn't fight you for long.

Legend borderline melts into your embrace and he hugs your arm in return.

"You've got a weird sense of pride, you know that?"

You start to run your hands through his hair.

Legend scoffs

"You're the one being weird."

"Mh-hm."

"You are."

"Just say you want a hug."

"....No."

"Well I guess I have to hug you more often then."

"........No."

"Yes."

"Ok."

Hyrule

Now, you're pretty sure that The Traveler's love language is touch, so he's not shy about keeping his hands to himself.

There's always a hand on your shoulder, a comfortable hug when your sad, gentle fingers to wipe away your tears and he's doesn't mind when one (or three) members fall asleep on him.

"Oh my- Hyrule" You drop your defensive stance from being startled and stare at him.

He's bleeding from at least three different areas.

"Hyrule, sugar, sit down!" You rush over to him and help him get into a sturdy position.

You're quick to pull out a potion and help him drink it.

His hand makes its way onto your shoulder as he settles himself down.

You push his hair out of his face with frantic but gentle fingers.

"Hellllllloooo." Hyrule attempts to smile but his head swoops to the side, too heavy for him to keep it up.

"Oh, what happened?" You push up his sleeve and begin to treat the nasty scrape on his forearm.

You know the potion will eventually take care of the injuries

But you're impatient.

"I... Got caught up in a cave."

"Why did you go alone?" You stress as you begin to clean the blood off.

"...Couldn't find Wild."

"Oh my goodness, take me with you next time." You nearly shake him. "Don't go alone."

Hyrule nods and sighs in relief, as the potion begin to effect.

"That sounds like fun."

"Can you not get hurt, for just like... five minutes..."

"I can't make that promise."

"Promise me, you'll at least tell someone that you'll be going somewhere."

"I can do that."

Wind

Wind is down for anything.

He's not afraid of any sort of TLC.

You're sitting next to each other one day for dinner

You both eat until you're full and lean up against each other.

The warmth of the fire heats both of you like a comfortable blanket.

Wind leans up against you and sighs.

You smile and wrap one of your arms around him.

Wind then snuggles closer and hums happily.

You set your plate aside and begin running your fingers through his hair.

Within moments Wind starts to fall asleep against you and he lets himself fall even more against you.

"Sleep hon, I got you."

" 'mkay." Wind adjusts himself one more time and lets his breath even out.

You let him sleep against you for a while until you also decided to hit the hay.

One of the others sets up his bed roll and you pick up Wind.

You begin to make your way over and set him down but your resident pirate holds onto your arm

"-Don't." Wind whines.

You hide your snickers and try to get him to let you go.

He doesn't.

Welp...

You bite the bullet and ask Hyrule to bring over your own bed roll.

With the help of some of the other boys, you get it set up as close as you can get it.

Adjusting your grip, you lay on your side and pull Wind close.

It's bedtime.

So you fall asleep next to him.

Four

Four is actually little more like Legend in terms of initiating contact than he cares to admit.

He's not going to push anyone away if they come to him.

Even if he wants something as simple as a hug, he won't be the one to go and hug someone.

Someone will have to hug him.

But this boy yearns.

And he's bad at hiding it.

You take it upon yourself when he's being a little off to talk to him

Brush his hair

Hold his hand

Hold him close with your arm over his shoulders, a side hug when your both walking.

He lets you.

He leans in closer and tilts his head in your direction.

A silent request for pats.

If you've been playing with his hair for long enough, he'll let you braid it.

You take the time to keep it out of his eyes and occasionally put flowers in it when there's more down time.

Four won't say it but it's one of his favorite times

He wears his flower braids with pride

It's not something that he would do for himself but he wouldn't change it for the world.

It makes him feel special.