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skyward-floored · 1 year ago

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“Hero, what ails you?” - Chapter 3

Last chapter! Thanks for reading (or rereading!) my fic :D

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Link awoke to the sight of a wooden roof over his head, a throat that felt like he’d gargled rocks, and the distinct and unfortunately familiar feeling of being utterly exhausted.

He laid perfectly still for a few moments while he woke up, listening to the sound of his breath rasping in his chest. Trying to ignore the pounding in his head, he stared blearily at the ceiling, but the sensation was too intense to ignore. Link felt completely drained, and was about to let his eyes slide closed again when he realized he wasn’t quite sure where he was. And that he should probably figure that out to avoid any unpleasant surprises in the near future.

So he blinked his eyes open further with a small groan, looking around where he’d ended up.

Based on the walls and ceiling’s slightly weathered state, it looked like he was in Kakariko, probably the Elde Inn if he’d have to guess. He was lying in a surprisingly comfortable bed in his underclothes, with a sheet on top just thick enough to keep him warm but not so much as to make him overheat. The room seemed familiar to Link as well, in fact... this was where Ralis had stayed when he was injured wasn’t it?

“Ah Link, you’re awake!”

Link turned his head the other way to see Renado standing nearby, looking pleased at the sight of him conscious. He gave Link a warm smile, and set down the book he’d been holding.

“You’ve been out for some time, how are you feeling?” Renado continued as he crossed over to the hero’s bedside.

Link went to answer but broke into a coughing fit instead, the reply catching in his throat and making it ache as his breath rattled painfully in his chest.

“Hm. Still getting there.”

Renado pressed a hand over Link’s chest as he continued to cough, then once he’d finished moved it to his forehead. He hummed in satisfaction, then studied Link’s face.

“Your cough is better, much better,” he said, relief evident in his voice. Link wasn’t so sure about that based on what breathing felt like. “You’re improving very well. When we found you I honestly wasn’t sure you were going to pull through, it took some doing to get you stable.”

Link stared at him, confusion making his head hurt even further.

When they’d found him?

What exactly had he been doing before now? He was sure he hadn’t been in Kakariko the last time he’d been conscious, but... how did he get here? Link tried to think back to what he’d been doing before he was asleep, but his mind came up annoyingly blank, still foggy from just waking up.

“Re...” he began, but his voice died out on him. He cleared his throat and tried again, and was pleased when the words behaved somewhat. “Renado, was there... anyone...” Link trailed off, blinking tiredly. “How’d... I get here? Did someone bring me?”

The healer raised an eyebrow at him as he continued his examination.

“You were alone on my doorstep when we found you, with a nasty fever and one of the worst coughs I’ve personally ever seen. Nobody else was there,” he explained gently, peering at Link’s eyelids.

Link frowned.

The last thing he really remembered was the Shade sending him out of the realm where he taught him the hidden skills, then telling him Kakariko would be the ideal spot for him to go. Everything after that was just a haze of coughing and muggy darkness.

And... arms.

Arms that weren’t warm but were comfortable all the same, that held him the same way Rusl used to when he was small and loved being carried about. Gentle, but solid. Safe.

Fatherly.

Link opened his mouth so Renado could check his throat, but only half-focused on whatever it was he was saying. Someone had carried him here, he was sure of it now.

But who?

Renado helped him sit up a little, handing him a cup and telling him to drink while he continued checking him over.

“I assumed you’d managed to get here yourself. Did someone take you?” the healer asked, checking his nose as he began to drink.

Link sipped the water, giving a small shrug. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened other then he’d ended up here somehow after being with the Shade. And he couldn’t exactly explain him to Renado.

“Hm.”

Renado finished his examination a few minutes later, and told Link that he should get some more rest. Then he left the room, but not before promising to bring some food up in a bit.

The moment the healer left Link’s shadow wavered, and the familiar form of Midna popped up, a hand resting on her hip. She looked down at him, face unreadable, before she flashed him an uncaring smirk.

“Well well, sleeping beauty awakens. All better wolf boy?”

Link couldn’t help the smile that tugged his cheeks. “Getting there Midna,” he rasped, “I’ll be... good to go within a day or two.”

Renado had said at least a week, but Link had always been a quick healer.

Midna looked him over for a bit then nodded to herself. “Good. Sooner you get your behind out of bed the sooner we can go kick Zant’s sorry carcass into oblivion.”

He laughed at that, though it quickly turned into a coughing fit.

Midna jerked like she was about to go to his side, but stopped herself, instead zipping over to a bookshelf as if that was where she’d been headed the entire time. Link watched her scan the shelves and pick a book as he finished hacking, the imp blowing some dust off the thing and studying the cover boredly before chucking it to the side and reaching for another.

“Hey Midna...” he asked as she rifled through the books on the shelf, “how did I get here?”

The shadowy imp stopped digging and stared at him, an eyebrow raised.

“You don’t remember?”

Link shook his head.

Midna snorted, then burst into laughter, clutching her sides as she floated into the middle of the room. “You don’t? Oh you really don’t remember! Spirits that’s hilarious, he gets dragged halfway across Hyrule and owes his life to the guy, but doesn’t even remember him doing it!”

Link watched her cackle, completely unamused. “I don’t exactly see what’s so funny about that,” he rasped.

Midna wiped a tear out of her eye, still chuckling to herself. “Your sense of humor is terrible then.”

Link huffed. “Okay fine. Would you mind telling me who did bring me here?” he asked, crossing his arms. “I’m sure it wasn’t you with those skinny little legs.”

Midna’s laughter finally stopped. “Watch it wolf boy, or maybe I’ll decide to keep it to myself.”

Link rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything else, raising his eyebrows at her in a pleading sort of way. A sigh came from the bookshelf, and Midna floated back over to his bed, rolling her eyes back at him.

She landed by his feet and crossed her arms behind her head as she looked at him, then examined the sheet underneath her.

“It was your mentor guy. That gold wolf you know?” she explained, “He got all un-skeletony then carried you across most of Hyrule Field. Brought you here then left, though he was acting pretty strange the whole time. Kinda clingy. More... emotional, I guess.”

Link stared at her.

The enigmatic skeleton who taught him songs and long-forgotten sword techniques had carried him all the way to Kakariko? He was the one who’s hold had felt so weirdly familiar?

He cared enough for Link to drag him all the way here?

“He— he did?” Link rasped, though if it was from his cough or the shock he wasn’t sure. “He really did? He got... un-skeletony? Since— since when could he do that—“ his voice cracked on the last word, and he broke into another coughing fit, this one going on much longer than the others had.

Midna watched him cough for a minute before finally breaking down and floating up to his side, hesitantly thumping him on the back as his hacking continued.

“Yeah Link, he did,” she said a little quietly, voice oddly serious. “You were in bad shape, so much that teleporting you wasn’t an option. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone get that sick before, at one point you weren’t—”

She cut off and looked away.

It took a bit for her to speak again, and when she did, her voice was still unusually quiet.

“You know, I think he saved your life.”

Link’s coughs finally waned, and he leaned back on the pillow, staring exhaustedly up at the ceiling.

He hadn’t even considered the Shade had been the one to carry him here. Sure he was the skeleton’s somewhat-accidental student, but taking him all the way to Kakariko?

The Shade seemed to stick solely to certain spots, only choice locations around Hyrule, and in his own strange realm. He’d never said he couldn’t be in other areas but Link always felt like it was implied, like it was physically more difficult for him to be in the waking world so he limited his time here.

He’d gone against that for Link?

The hero rubbed a hand across his eyes, his headache growing worse. There was a piece of information he was missing here, but he was too exhausted to even try and figure out what it was right now.

He held back a yawn, and felt hands push him down the rest of the way until he was fully laying down. Link’s blanket was haphazardly tossed over him, and he felt his eyelids droop.

“Get some more rest wolf, we’ve got places to be,” Midna said lightly, the sass already back in her voice. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

Link didn’t even hear her. He was already back asleep.

(...)

Link spent the next several days recovering in Kakariko under the watchful eye of Renado, and Luda as well. He felt plenty rested by the third day and decided to get a move on, but the healer immediately stopped him and repeated his orders that he wasn’t allowed to leave for at least a week.

“Link, I’ll tell you straight; you nearly died,” he said sternly, “your body needs to recover much more before you even think about continuing on your way.”

Which was ridiculous because Link felt perfectly fine.

All he had was a bit of a lingering cough, and an on and off headache that bothered him occasionally. Maybe he tired a bit more quickly now too, but it would hardly get better if he just sat around and rested.

So despite the warning, Link repeatedly tried to slip out of the village and get a move on.

But Renado knew him well by now, and had enlisted the help of the gorons and Ordon kids in keeping Link confined. He was never able get past all of them without being seen, his body too weak for him to run terribly far if he was spotted. After an attempt when one of the gorons had to actually carry him back after he’d gone into a particularly severe coughing fit, he’d begrudgingly admitted that maybe Renado had a point.

Even Midna mentioned he might want to wait a bit longer before going, stating that if he left as he was “he’d only make a mess of things,” and he was an idiot for pushing himself again.

He ended up spending a further week and a half in Kakariko recovering.

The extended rest gave him plenty of time to mull things over regarding the Shade and what exactly had happened that night he’d seen him, and though Midna continued to be dodgy about the details, he at least managed to pick up that he had stopped breathing at one point.

And apparently the Shade had gotten it going again.

He still couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he’d been the one to bring him to Kakariko. It was as if his brain just refused to believe it. He just couldn’t equate the stern skeleton who taught him deadly sword techniques with the gentle arms he remembered carrying him here.

But he did know he needed to apologize for having to be carried in the first place.

So once he was finally healthy enough to leave and he bid goodbye to the residents of the village, Link already knew exactly where he’d head first.

(...)

Link dismounted Epona and walked into the clearing where he’d met the Shade last, his heart thudding nervously in his chest.

He’d practically been stumbling the last time he’d been here, stubbornly convincing himself he was healthy enough to learn a new skill. Even despite the voice in his head that had sounded suspiciously like Uli’s reminding him not to push himself.

Link sighed. Looking back on it he felt like such an idiot.

He glanced around the clearing, scanning for the familiar wolf form and red eye of his teacher through the dappled sunlight. He wasn’t quite sure the wolf would even be there, but he was pleasantly surprised to see his gold fur shining in the morning sun, ears perked as he came into view.

Link swallowed and came forward, feeling the wolf’s eye follow him as he walked closer. He reached a certain distance away from the wolf, then pulled out his sword and faced him as he usually did.

A few seconds went by without the wolf doing anything and Link started to sweat.

He’d been so foolish, would the Shade even want to teach him more sword techniques? He’d been such a problem last time, he wouldn’t even blame him if he just left Link standing here like an idiot. He’d certainly deserve it.

But then the wolf growled and leapt at his face, and Link’s world went white.

(...)

He came back to himself gradually, the familiar sensation of what felt like a mist clearing from his head greeting him as he awoke.

Link blinked his eyes open and got to his feet, looking for and spotting the wolf who sat patiently a few feet in front of him. The beast stared at Link for a moment, then howled, changing seamlessly from a wolf to a skeleton.

The Shade stood silently in front of him, all six or so feet of large undead skeleton, and Link felt another wave of nervousness hit.

He swallowed and calmed his racing heart, not even letting the Shade start with his usual greeting before he began to talk.

“I... I want to thank you,” he said, and the Shade silently watched him. “For bringing me to Kakariko. And for... for saving my life. I’m sorry you had to drag me around, I’m incredibly grateful.”

He cleared his throat and ignored the faint urge to cough. “I... I hope I can make it up to you. For your trouble. I apologize for insisting I was fine during the last lesson.”

He bowed his head. “I understand if you no longer wish to pass your techniques on to me.”

Silence settled between them, and Link swallowed, continuing to look at his feet. He flicked his eyes up to gauge the Shade’s reaction, and gulped as he saw that he was merely continuing to stare.

Then he stalked forwards towards him, and Link shrank back, expecting a rebuke.

But he was utterly surprised when instead his teacher settled a gloved hand on his shoulder, giving it an oddly gentle squeeze as he looked at Link.

“I’m glad you are all right,” he said softly.

Link fully raised his head and blinked at him in astonishment.

“It does me good to see you on your own two feet again,” the skeleton continued, “and you do not need to repay me, nor apologize for my involvement.”

The Shade closed his good eye. “I would do it again in a heartbeat.”

Link could only gape.

Then his manners kicked in and he gave the Shade a grateful nod.

“It was foolish for you to let yourself deteriorate to the point of sickness, but you’ve certainly learned your lesson,” the skeleton continued with what Link swore was a hint of amusement. “I said I would wait for you, and I have. You are healthy enough now to learn the next skill I presume?”

Link nodded, looking the skeleton steadily in the eye.

There was still an unsolved puzzle about the Shade he had no answer to, something that connected him and Link closer then just the bond of teacher and student. But Link had time to figure it out. His quest was far from over, and the Shade still had several techniques to pass on.

He’d figure it out someday.

“Then, enough time has been wasted. Let us proceed with the lesson,” the Shade proclaimed, drawing his weapon with a hiss of steel. Link drew his own, getting into a ready position as the skeleton drew back.

The Shade turned and raised his sword, his one eye glinting almost fondly at Link.

“You have a kingdom to save.”

And Link smiled, raising the Master Sword in return.

#legend of zelda #twilight princess #loz tp #hero’s shade #link #midna #loz midna #fic #hurt/comfort #sickfic #legend of zelda fanfiction #writing from the floor #and because the entire reason I’m crossposting these is because someone reported a jokey tag I had on it on ao3 #here is the jokey tag:#if you ship them I’ll break your kneecaps they’re RELATED #which is apparently severe harassment by ao3 standards??? bruh #anyway thanks for reading <3

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just-french-me-up · 2 years ago

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Sworn Hand

Fandom : The Sandman Ship : Dreamling Rating : E | 1.3k Tags : PWP, Smut, Blowjob, Established Relationship, Knight!Hob ish Summary : Dream gave his prince consort an armour. Hob is very fond of it and has some ideas about how to break it in. Hob does look ever so good as Dream's consort and sworn armed hand. And sworn... everything else. Written for beloved @handahbear's birthday!!!!!!!!!

Hob brushed his hand against the metal and leather of his chestplate, admiring the details and the sheer beauty of it. The metal was nothing he had ever seen in 600 years, either in his waking or sleeping lives. It resembled gold, though it had a slight bronze tinge to it, and looked as sturdy as it was beautiful. Intricate designs had been carved in the metal, making it as much a piece of armour than a garment. A gift, truly.

It had been a full week since Dream had offered the whole thing to him. Hob could not say he would ever grow tired of it. He looked at his reflection in the full-length mirrors of Dream's bedchamber, almost as if catching the reflection of a stranger before remembering he was, in fact, the one wearing it, and wearing it very well, thank you very much. His husband had always had an eye for details.

"I trust you like it," Dream commented behind him, the hint of a pleased smiled hanging at the edge of his lips.

Hob inspected his left vambrace, his eyes reflecting in the shiny metal.

"It's a fine piece of craftsmanship, for sure. Could buy me a good chunk of land down in Kent."

"Do you not own one already?"

"Irrelevant," Hob dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"You have owned armours before," Dream pointed out, joining him by the mirrors, his eyes travelling down Hob's body, though Hob could not tell whether he was admiring his own work or his own work on him. If the self-satisfied glint in his eyes was any indication, it was the latter.

"Nothing that fancy. It's... a far cry from those I used to wear on battlefields."

He had been used to loose hand-me-downs then, scraps of metal vaguely welded together, heavy chain mails, rusty things. This looked almost too good to fight in. Then again, he doubted he would ever have to.

"You hardly required any armour after my sister bestowed her gift onto you," Morpheus remarked.

"Immortal doesn't mean I don't value my kneecaps, love."

Hob looked at himself once more, turning to appreciate the fluid way his cape fell from his shoulders to his ankles, almost brushing the floor. Dashing was the word that came to mind. He briefly wondered what Dream's thought process had been, upon making it.

"Still," he added, "pretty damn good for an honorary knight."

"Prince consort," Morpheus corrected, indignant at the evocation of a lower title, unfit for his husband. It did have a nice ring to it. Especially in Dream's mouth. "And Lord Protector of the Realm."

Hob chuckled, turning away from the mirrors to face him. Damn, how did this thing look so imposing and yet feel so light?

"Lord Protector," he repeated, as though testing the sound of it himself. "You made that up on the spot, didn't you?"

"I most certainly did not," Morpheus huffed.

"So I am your sworn hand, then?"

The idea was pleasant. He did swear his heart to him, marrying him. Their vows had been about body and soul, had they not? Surely that included his hands. And there were so many things to do with them. Wield a sword, sure. But that was only if you lacked imagination.

"Amongst other things."

"Oh."

A wide grin spread on Hob's lips, his eyes going from Dream's eyes to his mouth. He took a step forward, causing Dream to step back.

"Pray tell," he said, his voice lower, warmer. "What other parts would you have me pledge to you? Sworn hand, we've covered that."

His hands reached for Dream's sides, wrapping them around his waist, bringing him closer. He heard his husband's needless, futile breath catch in his throat. Oh, to steal the breath of a being who did not require it. Hob always relished the sound.

Dream let himself be led backward, mirroring Hob's darkened, roguish gaze. His faint smirk had Hob tighten his grip. God, the things he'd do for that smile.

"Sworn lips, perhaps?" Hob teased, his own lips brushing Dream's, breathing him in, touching the soft edge of him, pulling away the moment Dream leant in to meet him.

Dream's dissatisfied expression only grew as Hob pushed him onto the bed, Hob's hands leaving his sides. He did seem mollified, however, when Hob lowered himself onto his knees. A knight in front of his king. Hob dragged his thumbs along his thighs, digging slightly into his flesh, delighting in Morpheus' expectant gaze. He had always looked so beautiful above him, the soft curve of his lips contrasting with the sharpness of his jawline and cheekbones. This, too, Hob could never grow tired of.

Hob's hands were swift in pulling Dream's trousers down, though the damn thing resisted him at first. All the fashion in the world and beyond, and skinny jeans were his first choice. Baffling. One of his hands palmed the outline of Dream's hard cock through his underwear, teasing the length of it with a light stroke. Hob could feel the muscles of Dream's thighs tense at the touch, expecting more.

"Sworn tongue?" he looked up to meet Dream's eyes, his mouth a head tilt away from his arousal.

His lips wrapped themselves around him through the fabric, eliciting a frustrated groan. Not enough, he knew. Hob pulled the black underwear down, dragging his lower lip along the shaft.

"Those have proven quite serviceable indeed," Dream admitted, his voice low, raspy.

"Serviceable?" Hob raised an eyebrow at him. That would not do. Methodically, his tongue swirled around the head of Morpheus' cock, earning a low moan and a slight shiver in his husband's thighs.

"Pleasing," Dream corrected himself.

Hob smirked, settling properly between his thighs, sparing a thought at the way the poleyns didn't dig into his knees. He did think of everything while making it.

"My king's pleasure is my command."

His next ministrations were more improvised, swallowing Dream down at a leisurely pace, humming gently around him at each gasping breath and pleased moan. He could feel his hair failing in front of his eyes until Morpheus raked a hand through it, a gentle grip settling on his scalp. His hips rolled slightly under Hob, lightly pushing his cock deeper with a low grunt of unrestrained pleasure. Hob welcomed it, bracing his free hand around Morpheus' upper thigh, to ground himself.

By the time Dream pulled up on his hair for him to breathe, Hob's chin was mess he didn't bother to wipe away. He kept his lips against Morpheus' cock, his breath blowing erratically over its sensitive head. The look on Morpheus' face was to die for, and Hob almost regretted he couldn't. Flushed cheeks, dark eyes, slack jaw, the slightest hint of a bite that had strained his lower lip...

"My sworn knight," he whispered, stroking his hair.

"Sworn throat?" Hob teased, the movement his lips playing against him, making him shiver again.

"You say such things..."

"And you listen to them so well."

He took him again, Morpheus holding his hair rather than guiding or pushing him down, his grip only tightening under the effect of increasing pleasure. He was getting louder, closer. Hob quickened his pace, breathless, ignoring the pressing need for air. Morpheus' hips rolled against him, demanding, seeking release. God, he always made such beautiful, imperious sounds when he was about to come.

Dream came with a strangled shout, his hips stopping at once. The grip around Hob's hair loosened, though he didn't let go. Hob swallowed around him, before lifting his chin, satisfied.

"I do hope I fulfill my duties as―what was it?―ah yes, Lord Protector of the Realm," he panted with a smile, pressing a kiss against Dream's hip bone.

"Admirably," Dream smiled, drowsy and drunk on pleasure, his hand still playing in his hair.

"Such a shame those are a hassle to take off."

Hob gestured towards his armour, the presence of which he had nearly forgotten, in the heat of the moment.

"That could be dealt with."