#tevalink

[moonrabbitisgay]

Alright so I’m writing a Teba x Link x Revali fic, and it was originally supposed to be a 1000-2000 word oneshot, but...well, let’s just say I’m at almost 3000 words now and only about 10% of the way through the plot, so. Yeah. 

Anyway, I’m impatient and want to share, but I don’t want to break this up into sub-2000 word chapters, so...I’m just posting a big ol’ chunk of it as, uh, a really long teaser, I guess! I hope y’all enjoy :)

___

Teba knows he’s fucked from the moment he meets Link.

He’s met a few Hylians before, but this one stands out. He’s more...colorful than any other Teba’s seen before, with his golden hair and electric blue eyes and the strange hoops adorning his pointed ears. Teba can’t help but think that he’s far prettier than a Hylian male has any right being, a thought which he immediately pushes out of his mind with an angry huff.

At first, it’s easy to ignore. They have business to attend to, and if he feels a twinge of worry every single time Link narrowly dodges one of Vah Medoh’s lasers, that’s just because he can’t live with another injured warrior on his conscience. The ache in his chest when he leaves him alone on the deck of the Divine Beast is just disappointment in himself, for being foolish enough to get himself injured, and for leaving what should be the business of the Rito to a Hylian stranger. 

(The genuine worry in Link’s eyes makes him feel a little better, though.)

When Vah Medoh perches directly above the village, there’s a flurry of panic. After a few minutes, as it seems content to simply sit there with its beak pointed toward the castle, the mood turns to conspiracy, which is only elevated when Harth and Mazli fly up to investigate and return with the unconscious bodies of Link and a Rito male that no one in the village recognizes. Teba misses all of it, laying on a small cot and staring dejectedly at the crossed wooden beams of the infirmary ceiling, and by the time Link and the stranger are brought in he has fallen asleep.

He awakens the next morning to see Link curled up on a cot a few feet away from him, clutching the blankets, a hole the size of his hand burned into his shirt on the left side of his stomach and charred flesh underneath. On the other side of the room, a mess of dark blue feathers lies crumpled in a hammock. 

Saki and Harth drift in and out of the room all morning, fussing over the three of them. Link wakes around noon, bringing a hand gingerly to his wound and wincing. Teba sits up and clucks disapprovingly, and Link’s gaze swivels around to him.

“How’s your leg?,” he signs, and Teba huffs.

“Better than your side. What the hell happened in there?”

Link laughs, a breathy little sound. “There was a monster, possessing Medoh. I managed to kill it, but it was a hard fight.”

Teba nods slowly. He finds it hard to believe that this tiny Hylian single-handedly calmed the beast that had shot so many of their finest warriors (including himself, he thinks with a grimace) out of the sky, but according to Saki, it had been completely still for the roughly 16 hours since it landed. And, on some instinctive level, he trusts that Link is telling the truth.

“So who’s this?,” he asks, gesturing at the hammock, and Link looks over. His eyes widen, and he starts to push himself up before falling back onto the cot with a small whimper. A flood of worry rushes through Teba, and before he has time to think about what he’s doing he’s on the floor next to Link, carefully placing a wing on his chest.

“Hey now.” He intends it to be soft, comforting, but it comes out gruff. He tries again. “They’re gonna be okay. Saki and Harth will make sure of that.” Link relaxes a little, and Teba nods approvingly. He stays there, watching carefully, until the silence stretches on for a little too long and he coughs awkwardly and shuffles back to his cot. “...So?”

Link frowns, glancing back over at Teba. “I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me.”

Teba raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t believe you when you said you could calm Vah Medoh, and yet here we are.” 

“I suppose.” He fiddles with the hem of his tunic, looking uncomfortable. Teba watches with a slowly growing sense of trepidation, wondering what could possibly make him so hesitant to answer such a simple question. Eventually, he spells out a name.

“Revali.” 

“...Revali.”

Link nods.

“As in—”

Link nods. Teba can feel the feathers on the back of his neck rising. “This stranger had the gall to claim to be Master Revali, one of the most celebrated Rito warriors in history, who lived one hundred years ago...and you believed him?!”

“He didn’t claim anything. He was barely conscious enough to land Vah Medoh. I...recognized him.”

Teba just...stares. He recognized him? What the hell does that mean? Link swallows and looks away, and Teba starts guiltily. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Link gives him a thin smile.

“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you, I just-” He shakes his head. “You recognized him? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Link shrugs. “I could explain that too, and then you’d really think that I’m off the deep end.”

“Try me.”

Link laughs again, louder this time (and Teba’s stupid heart flutters, just a little).

“If you insist,” he responds, and Teba nods. “One hundred years ago...I was the Princess of Hyrule’s appointed knight. I knew all of the Champions, including Revali.” He grimaces. “After we lost, I was...my body was taken to a shrine on the Great Plateau. It healed me, but took away my memories. I’m only just starting to get them back...”

“Link,” Teba says quietly, and he looks over. Teba hesitates for a moment— it feels cruel, somehow, to question what he says, as wildly unbelievable as it is. He forges ahead anyway. “Do you...do you have any proof of this? At all?”

Link gestures helplessly. “I know it sounds insane. Your Elder, he recognized my Sheikah Slate. He believes I’m a descendent of the Hylian champion, which I guess is a lot more believable.”

“I guess.”

They sit in silence. Link looks at the ceiling, then over at the hammock, then back at the ceiling. Teba thinks about his tunic, a shade of blue more vibrant than he thought possible to make fabric in, an unsettlingly similar blue to Vah Medoh’s lasers. And the eye on the back of the strange slate he carries, identical to the eyes of Vah Medoh’s cannons. 

Saki pokes her head in. “Oh, good. You’re awake. And you—” she points at Teba, “you should be lying down.”

“I’m not putting weight on it,” he counters, “and it’s healing quickly. It was a shallow wound.”

“Hm.” She doesn’t push, and he’s grateful for it. Instead, she walks over to the hammock, bending over to carefully examine the unconscious Rito. “I may have to ask Amali to make him another elixir. His external wounds seem to be mostly healed, but his breathing is still shallow.” She turns to Link. “How are you feeling?”

She dresses the wound on Link’s chest and worries over Teba’s leg before leaving, and a few minutes later Harth comes in with two plates of steamed salmon. Link insists that he can feed himself despite not being able to sit up, and it’s not until after he’s dropped three entire bites of salmon on the floor that Teba insists upon helping him. He apologizes profusely, but Teba waves it off. He’d done the same for Harth last week. Link goes back to sleep not long after eating, leaving Teba alone with his thoughts again. He watches for a few minutes, wondering at the strange sense of protectiveness he feels toward this strange Hylian he met only yesterday.

He doesn’t think Link is lying. Even to him, it’s clear as day that he believes every word he’s saying. Which means that either he actually did wake up in a strange shrine on the Great Plateau with his memory gone, or he’s horrifically delusional. Teba knows which one of those answers he prefers.

Then there was the strange tablet— a Sheikah Slate, he’d called it. On his hip, it appeared to be a plain stone slab, elaborately carved and painted but otherwise ordinary. Teba knew, though, that on the side facing inward it was not stone, but a strange, smooth surface that started off dark and lit up when touched. He hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but Link had mentioned that it let him fast-travel to any of the shrines he’d visited before.

At first, Teba had shrugged it off as some fancy adventurer’s technology, but now that he thought about it, it was...strange. He’d only ever seen two shrines, the one just outside the village and the one near the Flight Range, and they had both essentially just been elaborately carved hunks of rock for as long as he or anyone else could remember. They’d both flared up with mysterious orange light about a month ago, the same day that mysterious tower had risen in the east and Vah Medoh had appeared, circling ominously close to the village. Maybe he should ask Link what he knows about them...

He sighs and turns away, moving back to his cot and collapsing backwards, suddenly aware that he’s tired as well. He should get some more rest, hopefully be able to leave the infirmary by tomorrow and get back to training within the week. He’s not 100% convinced that Vah Medoh won’t start causing problems again, and if it does, he needs to be ready for it, with or without Link’s help.

It’s difficult to fall asleep— he’s not used to sleeping in the same room as other people, it feels weirdly invasive— but after a while of turning the same thoughts over and over in his head until they dissolve into mush, he manages.

He wakes up to dark skies and Saki holding a platter of meat skewers and three elixirs. She hands Teba and Link one each of the former and puts the platter down between them, before moving over to the hammock and carefully pouring the third into the unconscious Rito’s mouth. She briefly examines Teba’s leg as he eats and tells him that he should stay in the infirmary overnight. He nods.

“Thank you for everything,” Link signs as she re-bandages his wound. She nods in acknowledgment.

“Thank you for helping Teba,” she responds, “and our village. We are all very grateful.”

Link flushes, and Teba tries not to think about how cute it is.

He can sit up now, albeit with a bit of a pained expression. It fades as he eats, but he still collapses back into his pillow as soon as he’s done. “You guys have good food,” he signs, and Teba chuckles.

“Amali is a good cook.”

“How’s your leg?”

“Healing well.” He frowns. “You’re in much worse shape than I am, you shouldn’t worry about me.”

Link just shrugs.

“Well, I do,”

he responds, and Teba has nothing to say to that.

___

Fuckin uhhhh yeah

Keep your eyes peeled for the rest of this in like, three months or something IDK

[moonrabbitisgay]

Y’all know that horrifically angsty fic that I’ve been talking about and preemptively apologizing for the last few days? I finished it 

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25965787/chapters/63401863

Content warnings: major character death, grieving, brief but somewhat graphic description of violence, blood.

___

At the end of the day, it’s just...bad luck.

Bad luck that Teba’s still unsteady on his horse, and the focus he has to devote to staying upright in the saddle takes away from the careful eye he’d typically have on their surroundings. Bad luck that the skies open up and send down upon them a light mist, urging their little party into a canter in a futile attempt to reach the nearest stable before they’re all soaked through. Bad luck that Revali and Link insist on bantering the whole time, because of course they do. Bad luck that thanks to this precise combination of factors, none of them hear the low thrum of galloping horses, off to the left side of the road, far away but approaching fast.

Bad luck that Link turns to face Teba at exactly the wrong moment, and the arrow that had been about to hit him in the shoulder instead lands square in the middle of his throat.

It’s over in less than a minute. Revali immediately leaps off of his horse, summons an updraft, soars into the air, and in one fluid movement takes his bow off his back, nocks an arrow, and shoots down the bokoblin as it waves its bow in the air in triumph. Teba is half a second behind him, taking a moment to assess the situation— two more bokoblin on horseback, one wielding a club and the other a spear— before springing into action, unslinging his own bow and knocking the club-wielder off its horse with an arrow to the chest. He turns his aim to the other just as Revali dives down upon it, talons digging into its shoulders, pulling it off of its horse and dragging it viciously across the ground until it goes still. Teba lands and does a quick once-over. As soon as he’s certain that they aren’t in any more immediate danger, he sprints back over to the horses, panic building rapidly in his chest. 

Link lies sprawled out on the side of the road, eyes closed, and for one long, hysterical, hopeful second, Teba thinks he might sit up and cough and wipe the blood from his tunic and give him that ridiculous little grin he puts on every time Teba frets over one of his wounds. But he doesn’t move, and his face is so white, and there’s a ragged hole straight through the middle of his throat and so much blood and a horrible weight starts to settle itself in Teba’s stomach.

This can’t be his Link. His Link is always moving, fidgeting, full of nervous energy. His Link is rosy cheeks and a smile like the sun and only ever just enough blood to make him worry. His Link is alive, and this limp, pale thing lying in front of him is...not.

Behind him, Revali screams.

Teba knows he should feel...something. Shock. Anger. Grief. Guilt. But they don’t come. All he feels is the weight. In a daze, he stands and walks over to Link’s horse, which is tossing its head and shuffling about, clearly spooked. She quiets as he approaches, and he rifles through her saddlebag until he finds bandages and Link’s cloak. 

He starts by dressing the wound, wiping away the blood as best he can and carefully wrapping bandages around Link’s neck. As he works, Revali collapses next to him, laying his head on Link’s chest as he weeps. Once Teba finishes and the ugly gash is hidden but for a small red spot in the front of the bandages, he takes Revali by the shoulders and pulls gently. 

“Revali,” he says quietly, and his lover looks up at him, eyes desperate and deeply, impossibly sad. Teba tugs at him again, and this time he comes, wrapping his wings so tightly around Teba’s chest that it nearly knocks the wind out of him and letting out a ragged wail. Teba holds him close, awkwardly patting his back in some vague, wholly inadequate attempt at comfort, and Revali buries his head in the crook of Teba’s neck, breaking off into quiet, choked sobs.

They sit there, on the side of the road. Time passes. The rain passes. Travelers pass, too, but they pay them no mind, and the few that dare to approach wither rapidly under Teba’s glare. Revali clings to him, head tucked underneath Teba’s beak and eyes tightly shut, as if he could fight off the crushing reality simply by refusing to acknowledge it. Teba just stares. He stares for so long that he very nearly convinces himself that he’s used to it. As if he could ever accept this image of Link, pale as death and motionless in a puddle of his own blood.

Eventually, Revali opens his eyes and disentangles himself from Teba. He draws in a deep, rattling breath, leaning into Teba’s side for support. 

“We should bury him,” he mutters, and Teba furrows his brow in confusion.

“What?”

Revali gestures toward Link. Towards Link’s body. “We should bury him,” he says again, louder this time, and he sounds as empty as Teba feels. “That’s what...that’s what Hylians do with their—” 

He cuts himself off before the last word, and Teba puts a wing around his shoulder. With their dead, he thinks. Link is dead. 

He doesn’t say that. Instead, he says “we don’t have a shovel,” because maybe focusing on these kinds of petty material concerns will help the both of them turn their minds away from the horrible pit of darkness rapidly opening up beneath their feet. Another thought occurs to him, and he grabs onto it with all the desperation of a drowning man to a rope. “Shouldn’t we bring him to the castle? We’re nearly at Tabantha Bridge, and it’s only a couple days’ travel from the stable there.”

Revali shakes his head, and Teba notes with relief that he seems grateful for the distraction. “He wouldn’t— I don’t think he’d want all the ceremony. I suppose we could bring him back to the village, but…” He trails off, sagging a little, and Teba tightens his grip on his shoulder. “I can’t bear it, Teba, the thought of...of fucking carting him around for a whole day, I just can’t.”

“Yeah.” The telltale sting of tears pricks hard behind Teba’s eyes all of a sudden, but some ridiculous urge to hold himself together, for Revali’s sake if nothing else, has him blinking them back. “I...I could fly over to the stable, see if I can get us a shovel.” He sees Revali’s eyes widen in alarm, and he quickly amends the statement. “Or you could, and I’ll wait here. You’re faster than me anyway.”

“OK.” Revali exhales shakily and bows his head. “OK. OK, I can do that,” he says quietly, and it sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than anything. Teba squeezes his shoulder once more before letting go, and he reluctantly pulls himself away from Teba’s side and to his feet. He takes in a deep breath, crouches, summons another updraft, and spirals off into the sky.

Teba watches him glide away, until he’s nothing but a small speck on the horizon. Then he turns his attention back to Link. He carefully slides one wing underneath his neck and the other behind his knees, ignoring the sickening feeling of blood soaking into his feathers, and lifts him up, cradling the limp body to his chest. Leaning down, he presses his forehead to Link’s, gently rubbing his beak against Link’s nose as he had used to do every night as they settled into bed. The thought hits him like a ton of bricks. Had used to. He would never say goodnight to Link again.

“I’m sorry, love,” he whispers into Link’s ear, and the last of his composure crumbles. He dissolves into tears, clamping his beak shut and rocking back and forth, trying desperately to swallow his sobs until it’s too much and they burst out in short, painful gasps. The weight in his stomach vanishes, replaced by the awful, vertiginous feeling of free-fall, spiraling down and out and his wings are slick and wet and saturated with red and bile starts to rise in his throat and—

“Oh, Teba,” is all he hears Revali say, before the shovel clatters to the ground and the dead weight in his arms is carefully lifted away and placed gingerly on the ground. He collapses forward, into Revali’s wings, feels his lover rest his head on his shoulder and feels his tears fall softly onto his neck. Revali says something else, inaudible over the blood pounding in Teba’s ears. He just shakes his head, pressing his face into Revali’s chest and wills himself to find his composure again, to ground himself, to save this debilitating grief for nights back home.

They fall into autopilot, eventually. They take turns with the shovel to dig a shallow grave, and Teba wraps Link in his cloak before lowering him into the fresh, damp dirt. He watches numbly as Revali slowly covers him, staring at his face, trying to affix every last detail of it in his mind before it’s covered up as well. Gone forever. No sign left of him but a pathetic little mound of overturned earth.

At Tabantha Bridge Stable, Revali returns the shovel and turns in their horses. They rent a single bed, a good foot and a half too short for Teba, but he spends the night curled around Revali anyway because letting him out of his sight for even a moment is utterly unthinkable.

In the morning, there are no words, just despairing glances and blinked-back tears. They fly back to the village, and by some unspoken agreement land not there but at the Flight Range, which is mercifully empty. It’s saturated with Link’s absence, more than anywhere in the village proper, but it is their sanctuary and nothing, not even this calamitous emptiness, can take that away from them.

Teba cooks dinner. He burns the fish to hell, and neither of them have any appetite anyway, so he just throws it away. They sit and stare at the fire, Revali’s head in Teba’s lap. Link sits across from them, a ghost neither of them thinks the other can see, and his smile is worth all of the words he can no longer say.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Teba says quietly, and Revali sits up. He wraps a single wing around the back of Teba’s neck and pulls him in close, pressing their foreheads together, and gently rubs their beaks together.

“I know,” he responds. “Me neither.”

[moonrabbitisgay]

after nearly a year since i last posted any kind of original content on this blog and nearly TWO YEARS since i last posted a fic...i am pleased/apprehensive/slowly filling with existential dread to tell you all that the fanfiction gremlins have once again taken up residence within my brain

[moonrabbitisgay]

(sips contemplatively on a chalice of aromatic wine as I stare pensively out through the draperies from my spot reclining in my nightgown upon my chaise lounge) Ah, dear muse...when will you return from the war...