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A hand hovered over the worn pack sitting slouched on the wooden floor, various holes dug through its leather and haphazardly-done stitches adorning the sides and straps. Its flap was open, contents collected for the upcoming journey spilling from the main pouch and gathering at Link's knees. The inventory spill went unnoticed, for Link's eyes weren't on his pack, but on his Princess.
A brief moment of silence wedged between them like a doorstop as Zelda let her words hang in the air, unanswered, and Link hadn't meant to give her such a look, really, but the question was… unexpected.
Link let his eyes flicker to the ever growing collection of scrolls and books and botany samples on the desk behind her. "I thought," Link began slowly, cautiously, "you had planned to research that sample you received from Purah yesterday."
There was something akin to nervousness in her gaze, but Link couldn't be sure if that was significant or not. Zelda gets nervous about a lot of things.
"Well, I thought that I should… get out of the house," Zelda explained, fingers playing with the fabric of her dress at her sides. "I can take a little break from my studies to indulge in some lighthearted travel. It's been a while since we've really gone anywhere together."
He supposed she was right - they hadn't gotten to travel together in what must've been a month. They've both been so busy, what with her studies and his monster slaying, that they haven't had a simple road trip is a while. Though…
"You hate my monster-clearing trips," Link stated bluntly, tone almost accusatory, and he berated himself to fix it. He went on, careful to make his tone neutral as he straightened. "It's the Great Plateau - there won't be any horses."
"I don't hate them," Zelda scoffed, as if there were a difference with her. If she disliked something, she eventually found a way to hate it. "And I can survive a day without horses, you know. I have legs; I can walk."
Zelda paused, eyes flickering across Link's face as if she suddenly realized something. "Do you not want me to go?"
Link was quick to distinguish that thought. "No, of course I… Zelda. You know I love your company. I just… it's dangerous," he bit his lip.
Zelda opened her mouth, a spark of frustration flashing in her eyes before she clamped her mouth shut and thought otherwise, for whatever reason. She crossed her arms and seemed to try and fight off the small pout playing along her lips, looking down at him with what Link thinks is stubbornness, but there's something else there. A whole slew of somethings. She seemed conflicted.
A beat of quiet tension, and then-
"If it's dangerous for me, it's dangerous for you too," she finally settled with, in a quiet, almost somber tone, looking at the pile of miscellaneous items at Link's knees to avoid his gaze.
Silence blanketed them, stretched their heartstrings out into something painful to bare, and before it could squeeze their lungs any tighter, she spoke again.
"We should really have a buddy system in place," she mumbled, and Link could see the exact moment her mind shifted from emotions to logic, well-oiled gears churning behind fern eyes. "You shouldn't be out there all alone like you are."
Link frowned. "I was capable enough to survive after awakening," he defended. "There was no 'buddy system' in place my whole journey to Hyrule Castle."
Zelda's eyes flashed with something like determination. "Exactly, and how many times did it come a little too close for your liking? How many times did you brush shoulders with death?"
The question hung in the air, heavy, deafening, and Link’s mind flickered to teal fire surrounding Zora fins. He could hear the flicker of flames from the torches on the walls of his little house. The floors creaked beneath Zelda's sandals. The horses gave some muffled whinnies from outside.
"Can you count it on your fingers?" Zelda pressed, and when Link had to look away and stare at the rim of the cooking pot in the corner, he knew she'd won.
She knew it too. "That's what I thought," she huffed, crossing her arms. "I'm coming, and there's nothing you can do about it."
She turned her chin up and whirled around in a rather odd mix of unquestionable authority and a finicky, nervous gaze. She always seemed to do that - throw out an order or demand with a strong voice, but her face and eyes betrayed her.
Still, Link was in no position to argue with her.
Accepting his defeat, Link raked the items on the floor back into his worn pack and began checking if he had enough supplies for two.
+
They'd warped to Oman Au Shrine at daybreak the next day, the sun crawling up the peak of Mount Lanayru and silhouetting Vah Ruta gorgeously. They made their way through the Forest of Spirits, Zelda hanging back as Link tossed Red and Blue Bokoblins around without much effort. They made quick work of the Temple of Time, Zelda expressing her distaste at the crumbling stone and holed roof, muttering something about getting builders up here to fix it. Going from Bokoblin camp to Bokoblin camp, Link successfully and swiftly rid of Ganon's monstrous creations, Zelda pointing out the ones he'd missed or overlooked. They fell into a nice routine, and by midday, it felt like Before; just the two of them, basking in the sunlight and each other's company.
It's been too long since Link had had that. Company.
Link didn't remember there being any monsters near Eastern Abbey other than Keese, but he still made her hang back near the little pond as he checked around. He could feel her eyes on him, just like he had felt it earlier as they'd traversed the Plateau, always watching, always tense. Link could almost hear the little sigh of relief from her every time he finished up with a group of Bokoblins - could practically feel the tension drain from her shoulders at the sight of them fall and Link still standing.
If they both flinched hard when the Guardian in the middle of the ruins came to life and swiveled around aimlessly, nobody else had to know. If Zelda gasped and Link nocked an ancient arrow at the speed of sound, only to see a bright orange illuminating its intricate designs instead of a menacing purple, nobody was there to see. And if they both speed walked out of the ruins and didn't bother to check the rest for monsters, they didn't blame themselves.
It was early evening by the time they made it up to the snowy cliffs of Mount Hylia, the sun hiding behind a cloudy sky and their breaths coming out in puffs of white. They trekked through the snow in their thick layers as Zelda rambled about types of flora that were capable of surviving the harsh conditions of winter. Link listened, admittedly pleased to have a travel companion. It got lonely traversing Hyrule by himself, and he seemed to notice his loneliness more in cold, isolated mountains like these for reasons unknown to him. He quite liked having Zelda along, even if her being near so many Bokoblins gave him a rotten, heavy feeling in his chest.
"Buddy system." Link didn't see a need for it, but Zelda claims it's a tried and true method of staying safe and working efficiently, and he couldn't exactly argue with someone who was right. He knew it was a good system, a practical one, a safe one, at that, but something about it just rubbed him wrong. Even if Hyrule functioned differently now, he was still the Princess's appointed knight. He shouldn't need a buddy system. He should be protecting the Princess without the Princess protecting him back. He's a skilled knight and an experienced adventurer, and while that doesn't mean he's immune to making mistakes, it does mean that he's capable. He knows how to make clean kills, how to sneak around enemies twelve times his size, how to aim his arrows precisely and effectively. He knows how to fix the mistakes he makes, how to retreat when things get out of hand. He's gotten himself out of trouble with minimal injuries plenty of times. He's taken down foes that move ten yards with a single step. He can handle the relatively low-level enemies on the Plateau without some watchful eye over him.
But Zelda is an avid worrier, concerned about things that even she knows is ridiculous, and Link knows she can't help it. He remembers the lessons he'd taught her some time after the Calamity was defeated - self-defense lessons, basic sword fighting, in the very off chance that he wasn't around. He remembers telling her a very important rule - do not let your guard down, even around the weakest of foes. Because it doesn't matter how much more durable your sword is, how much sharper, how much quicker your feet are. They can still hit you. And often times, that hit does more than you think it will. A simple swipe from a sword can nick an organ, a sweep at the legs can break your ankle. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn't matter how "strong," your enemy is - it matters how smart you are.
Link admits that he breaks his own rules from time to time, and he has the scars and the memories as consequences. He remembers showing her a group of nasty scars along his right shoulder, healed over pockmarks of what had once been concerningly deep cuts speckled along his skin. He'd told her he'd gotten it from taking a hit from a Red Bokoblin of all things - the hit itself hadn't done much, just bruised his skin, but it had shook him off balance and he'd stumbled right off the edge of their little wooden treebase. He'd landed far below the platform, at the base of the cliff it was built upon, and his shoulder had taken the brunt of the fall on rather sharp rocks. He doesn't have the advantage of being ambidextrous, and moving the shoulder had shot pain through him every time it had even inched in any direction, so he hadn't been able to use weapons in the proper fashion. He'd taken to using blunt force for a while, simply using the biggest single-handed club or bat he could find and swinging it at monster's faces with his other hand.
Not the best battle strategy, but it was what he got after lowering his guard in front of a low-level enemy.
"So… even the weakest of things could kill you?" Zelda had gasped, and Link hadn't quite realized his mistake then - hadn't quite registered the look of fear in her gaze - and he'd nodded.
"If I'm not careful."
Link regretted telling her that, now.
The blue light of the Shrine atop the mountain stood out from the expanse of white, the snow around it reflecting its lively glow nicely. Zelda trekked beside him, holding the Sheikah Slate and flipping through pictures she'd taken of various flowers and ancient technology. Ahead of them, up the hill, Link could hear the crackling of a fire and a Bokoblin's signature snorts and cries. He made a motion for Zelda to stay back and unsheathed his sword, charging up the hill.
Startled noises came from the group of Bokoblins - two Reds and one Silver - as they all rushed to their weapons. Link could feel Zelda's gaze on him as he rushed to swing his sword at a Red, effectively slicing its face open and knocking it off the cliff. He didn't bother watching it roll off as he quickly ducked a club coming at his face, rolling to the side when he easily anticipated another swing. The Silver's spit flew in his face as it roared with robust, and Link easily fell in a rhythm of dodge, counter, repeat.
It was familiar, it was something his body had done nearly a million times, and it was easy for him to replicate. In a twisted sort of fashion, he enjoyed this. He enjoyed the feel of his sword's grip in his palm, he loved the storm of adrenaline, battle tactics, and pure instincts in his mind. He's never quite liked killing, but he loved defeating. His heart would soar when he could hear the whoosh of a blade inches from his face, inches from his skin, and he thrived off the times when he's able to sneak in a counter attack. He revelled in the sounds of battle - the monsters' snarls and snaps of teeth, the heavy, clumsy footfalls of the beasts, the clang of metal, the thunk of an arrow hitting its target. The feeling of the ground beneath his feet as he nimbly sidestepped and dodged, his bowstring snapping against his arm guard each time he loosed an arrow - it all gave him this strange satisfaction, like his body had been craving it for decades. Dodge, counter, repeat.
Link lost himself in the rhythm. His attention flickered to a hundred different things within seconds, strategies scrolled through his mind; he was starting to get sweaty with all these layers on. He took a nimble step back to avoid another swing of the Silver's club, he jabbed his sword at the Bokoblin's stomach, narrowly dodged another sweep-
A red barrel entered his peripherals, high in the air, and Link barely managed to jump out of the way before the ground shook and all he saw was fire.
The sudden heat made his brain short-circuit, the sudden smell of burnt Bokoblin flesh sent a wave of panic through him, and only from years of experience and training was he able to quiet the screaming in his chest. Link pushed himself to his feet as soon as he was able to, ears ringing, mind rattled as he instinctively mentally checked that Zelda had been far enough away that the explosion hadn't hurt her. He coughed into his elbow, eyes watering at the thick smoke surrounding him as he stumbled forward blindly. He was vaguely aware of his name being called - no, screamed - over the incessant ringing, and all he had to go off of that reached through the smoke was the light from the Bokoblins' fire and the blue glow from the Shrine up above.
Link's mind desperately tried to piece itself together again as he stumbled forward through the thick smoke - red barrel, Red Bokoblin, I let my guard down - but it didn't get very far. Just as the smoke cleared and the dull sunlight hit his face again, a club came from the depths. It connected with Link's head, a sickening thunk echoing off the stony cliffs.
His world blanked. His thoughts paused, his body wasn't there for a moment, but then it creeped back in around the edges and he heard his name being screamed again. He registered himself falling back, he felt cool air rushing against him, and for some reason the sky was tilting forward and it was all he could see for a moment before-
Cold.
It enveloped him like some sick, twisted version of a hug, skin screaming, bones shivering, muscles seizing from the utter shock. He saw bubbles and the sky above him ripple and all his mind could do was supply him with one desperate word - air!! - before something came over him and his lungs were inhaling whatever they could find without his consent. A string of bubbles erupted from his mouth as his hands instinctively shot up to his throat, legs flailing as he desperately attempted to follow the dim sunlight above. He kicked and writhed and grabbed at the water uselessly, something in his muscles not working, something in his lungs taking over as he convulsed and gasped only to have more water fill his lungs like a bucket. Pure terror encased him, frigid like the water around him, and the sound of blood and river water pumping through his ears just made him all the more terrified.
Link forgot his training. He forgot the steps to take to calm his heart, he forgot how to distance himself from the emotions and the turmoil, he threw it all out the window because he couldn't breathe. He kicked and flailed - I can't breathe - and grabbed at the water and felt his chest convulse - I need out - and the water in his lungs was cold and heavy and promised death - I can't breathe!!
And it was somewhere in between those thoughts that Link had another, perhaps even more desperate one. It was something he hadn't thought of since he was a child - he didn't remember most of his childhood, but he could recall little moments of warmth, of happiness, of safety, and right now, it made him want to scream in agony, in desperation. Those memories were such stark opposites to the dreadful cold of the water he was in, to the pain that spiked in his chest as his lungs sucked in more water. And in the midst of the panic and the overwhelming need to breathe, to escape, to survive , the most desperate thought of them all was-
I want to go home.
And it was the most terrifying thought in the world to him, because he didn't even know where home was. So he imagined what a home was made of instead, and he saw kind, green eyes and neatly done blonde hair and he heard a laugh that launched a swarm of butterflies in his chest and he smelled old books and flowers. He let the thoughts consume him for once, too tired to do otherwise, and some small part of him was horrified that the rest of him was okay with that.
He had kicked and writhed and watched the bubbles rise to the surface in envy, but eventually, it was calm. His thoughts drifted as his body slowly gave up on him, bones aching, limbs numb, and so terribly, terribly tired. But that small part of him - that tiny little sliver that wanted to live more than anything, wouldn't let him close his eyes.
And just as he felt the weight of the water begin to drag him down to Hell - saw Death creeping up on him in his peripherals in the form of black dots dancing in his vision - he gave one last desperate kick, and frigid air met shriveled lungs.
The world exploded in a flash of unbearable color and noise as Link sucked in a frantic breath, coughing and spitting and hacking and breathing. Death took a step back as his senses sharpened - the loud roar of the river overtook the peaceful serenity of the snowy mountains, of his mind that had been ready to accept death seconds ago, but Link's lungs were gasping and inhaling uncontrollably and he didn't really have the brain power to find an escape route, not yet. He dimly registered that he was hyperventilating, body desperate for oxygen, and all of it - the lack of air despite it biting at his frigid skin, the loud roar of the river, the ice cold of the water - it all fed the fire of his panic and for the first time in a long while, he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to stay calm, he didn't know how to think of a way out, he couldn't think, not for the life of him, and each and every one of those thoughts fed his terror even more. It all melded together into one horribly heavy mass in his chest, in his head, overruling all logic with desperation. Overruling all half-baked plans into frantic kicking and gargled inhales.
That small part of him that had wanted to live seemed to convert the rest of him rather quickly, and he did everything in his power to keep his head above the frigid water.
In that continuous battle of Link fighting to keep his head up, his rattled mind registered his body being pulled by the current. The river roared in his ears as he splashed around, gasping uncontrollably like his lungs had been possessed as his gaze darted every which way, utterly lost in the whirlpool of adrenaline and river water. He thought he heard his name once more, screamed out in a loud shout of panic over the roar of the river and Link angled his head to try and catch the source. Water splashed in his face and he coughed and hacked, and a spike of panic shot through him as the current seemed to pull him under again, if only for a moment before he fought against it, kicking and gasping as he breached.
It was a constant struggle to stay afloat, and Link didn't quite understand why - he knew how to swim, and he was doing it, he was swimming but his limbs didn't seem to want to cooperate and his fingers were oddly numb and- oh. Oh.
Oxygen had been his priority until now, his mind dead set on tasting that sweet, sweet air, but now, he seemed to be bombarded with two equally bad problems.
Maybe this was why it was called the River of the Dead.
That voice came back to him once the frigid water left his ears, and when he twisted he finally saw her. Zelda, hurrying down the cliff as best as she could, definitely not a climber, but that didn't seem to stop her. She was still a ways away, just a little figure in the distance to Link as he was swept away by the strong current. She was shouting after him, and Link couldn't make out the words over the rushing water, but she sounded terrified.
And then, by some wondrous miracle or maybe even a blessing from the Goddess herself, something hit his back. Something hard, and sturdy, and not moving with the rest of the river, and he twisted around the best he could and blindly held onto it with all his might, numbness in his limbs be damned. It was a log, pinned between old pieces of wood sticking up out of the water that must've held up a portion of the bridge in front of him a long time ago. A bridge! Yes! He hugged it, body pressed against it by the current and by his desperate attempts to get closer to the thing, to climb it and be out of the water and safe but- but his limbs weren't working. They felt like clunky stumps, like they were bigger than they were supposed to be, and he couldn't feel his fingers and his limbs weren't working. He tried to grip the bark of the log - his fingers barely moved. He tried to lift his leg up out of the water and throw it over the log - his legs felt like logs themselves, stiff and oddly detached from his mind, from his body. Nothing would move. Nothing would work. It's so cold.
So he settled for clumsily throwing his whole arm over the log and hooking it around one of the skinny wooden pillars. Frigid water lapped at him viciously, bitter cold air gnawed at his exposed skin as he gasped and huffed and grunted, senses on overload. Too cold. Too loud. Too much. He clawed at the log to try and gain purchase on the slippery surface, but he ended up just scraping up his fingers and palm until he was bleeding. He was so out of breath, his body exhausted, his vision dancing and doubling, and he didn't know if that was from the blow to the head or nearly drowning. And as one more try to gain purchase on the log's surface proved useless, he resigned to just lying there, his arms hooked around a log in an icy river, skin concerningly cold as he shivered uncontrollably.
His mind seemed to slow, the world around him quieting to a dull mumble, and he stared at the rocky surface of the riverbank just a few feet away. Taunting him. Laughing at him. Link let out a shaky grunt as he lowered his head, resting his cheek against the log’s slick surface, and closing his eyes for a moment.
Just a moment. He just needed a moment.
And then he'd… he'd get back to… to… what… what was he doing again? He was… he was swimming. No. He was… napping- no. That's not it. He was…
It was peaceful, in an odd sort of sense. He didn't really feel the cold anymore, and even as he vaguely registered the pain he was in, it was faraway, like a dream. In the back of his mind - in the corners of it, where rational things had been shoved aside and frozen to the walls by the cold - he knew that was bad. He knew he should open his eyes. He knew he should try again, should call out for help, should shake himself out of this trance and do something. But the rest of him knew better than to fight against the elements when they already had him pinned down. So he simply drifted.
At some point, he vaguely registered Zelda's hands on him, pulling him up, hugging him close, whispering panicked words that didn't quite reach him through the fog. That murky, cloudy mist floating around in his skull was quickly thickening, and the last thing he remembered was him thinking maybe this buddy system isn't such a terrible idea.
+
The first thing he heard was the quiet crackling of a fire.
Soft pops and clicks billowed gently from his right and a vague image of burning embers filled Link’s foggy mind, the most advanced thing his brain could conjure up at the moment. His body was cradled by clouds and warmth, by stillness and the familiar sound of a ladle scraping against a cooking pot. Crickets sang and chirped outside, the horses neighed, a new log was placed in the fire. He felt the comforting weight of blankets encasing him, warm and inviting and safe , and for a moment he simply drifted, the crackling of the fire fading in and out of his mind as he let himself sink into the mattress underneath him.
Then he felt the pain.
It was a sharp, hot stinging, like his blankets were made of needles that had been placed over a fire. It hurt like an old, dull ache for a moment before it skyrocketed into something that made his muscles tense, his body sluggishly move in a feeble attempt to escape it. It clawed at his skin and scraped at it like ragged stone, stinging and burning like it would when he’d come back inside after a long day in the snow. His mind writhed as his head rolled across the pillows underneath him. He thought he heard a croaked, pained hum in the distance, but after a moment of thought he realized it had come from him.
He heard his name far, far away within the foggy depths, just an echo in a canyon, but a hand materialized next to his head and cradled his stinging skin with a warm, delicate touch. Fingers carded through his damp hair as he heard a muffled voice in the mist; soft, hushed, and slightly hurried. He groaned again, his skin on fire, his muscles convulsing and burning, but something about the voice echoing across that empty canyon brought him a sense of peace, a sense of safety he couldn’t quite describe. It was familiar, the voice, and it carried with it the memory of laughter, of smiles, of long and detailed rants, of quiet evenings by the fire. Link’s mind tried desperately to grasp at it through the fog.
He peeled his eyes open, and home was hovering over him, fern eyes flickering across his face with worry, blonde hair turned golden in the soft light of the flickering fire.
“Zel’a…?”
Her shoulders sagged a little, the tension in the fingers carding through his hair ebbing away. She mumbled something under her breath that Link couldn’t catch, the words drowned out by a pop from the fire across the room. Through the fog, Link lazily swiveled his gaze to see the walls of their quaint little Hateno house. Zelda was seated on the edge of their bed, still dressed in her perky blue outfit with her winter coat nowhere to be seen. She was leaning over him a little, the fingers in his hair gentle and slow and it made him want to slip back into that mindless mist. It almost made the hot stinging pain across his skin lessen.
“Link,” Zelda breathed, her tone matching the absolute relief and worry infesting her pretty eyes. She spoke softly, just barely above a whisper, like she was afraid he would crumble to pieces if she was too loud. “How’re you feeling?”
Link stared at her for a moment, soaking in the way her short hair framed her face, the way the fire danced in her worried eyes. Home , his sluggish mind presented once more, like it was stuck on repeat and unwilling to move forward, and Link tried to focus on her question instead. The small, cracked groan that left him without his permission answered it for him, though, as the pain in his burning skin shoved itself to the forefront of his mind.
A plethora of emotions flashed across Zelda’s eyes before she seemed to settle on a healthy mix of sadness and worry. She leaned forward a little more, reaching for the covers and gently pulling them up.
“I’m sorry, Link,” Zelda apologized softly, sadly, a wobbly smile on her lips that turned into a frown halfway through. “I wish I could do something for the pain…”
The fingers in his hair quickened in their pace by a margin and Link couldn’t help but lean into the touch, letting his eyes slip shut for a moment and listening to the quiet crackling of the fire and the crickets outside. Through the murky depths of his mind he tried to recall the origin of the stinging along his skin, tried to remember the reason why his head was suddenly aching. They’d been on the Plateau, they’d cleared everything on the east side of it, they’d trudged through the snowy hills of Mount Hylia… he remembered Zelda talking of flora and harsh winters, he remembered a scream of his name echoing off the cliffs. He remembered cold , a sort of cold that he’d never experienced before…
Link peeled his eyes open again, saw Zelda watching him with an unreadable expression on her face. He licked his lips and formed a clumsy sentence.
“W’at happen’?”
Confusion rippled through Zelda’s eyes before she fixed her expression. “You don’t remember?”
Link blinked at her tiredly, hoping his empty gaze would convey his answer; moving to shake his head or even utter another word sounded exhausting.
“Well… we were on the Great Plateau,” Zelda began hesitantly, not sure where to start. “And we got to Mount Hylia, but you… ran into trouble with a Bokoblin camp. There was an… explosion, and then one of the Bokoblins hit your head and you fell off the cliff and into the river. It took me much longer than I would’ve liked to get you out. The current carried you all the way to the bridge.”
Zelda’s other hand lie atop the blankets covering Link and she balled up a fistfull of them, eyes faraway. “When I got to you, you were barely even awake. I pulled you out and you were like a ragdoll. You wouldn’t answer me. Your head was bleeding, you were cold, and I was afraid you wouldn’t-”
Link, despite a bone-deep exhaustion setting in, clumsily moved a hand out from the blankets and moved it over Zelda’s, giving it a weak, flimsy squeeze. “Zel’... ‘m alright,” he said, throat sore and painful, and he internally winced at the scratchiness of his voice. His lips twitched up into a tired smile as he squeezed her hand again. “‘M r’ght here. Not goin’ anywhere.”
Zelda held his gaze for a long moment before her face broke out into a sad, sad smile, and she moved her hand so it was atop Link’s. “Don’t move too much,” she warned softly. “It’s not good for your muscles to move around right now.”
So Link didn’t, and they stayed like that for a while, Zelda’s fingers raking through his damp hair and Link struggling to keep his eyes open. If he were more awake, he would’ve been able to sense the tension in the room, would’ve seen the way Zelda’s eyes kept flickering to the bandage on his forehead, kept watching his chest rise and collapse slowly.
But his mind was groggily attempting to focus on other things, clumsily trying to think back to earlier in the day. Great Plateau, Mount Hylia, Zelda animatedly ranting about flora and winter… the familiar snorts and shrieks of Bokoblins, the feeling of his sword slicing through a Red’s face… Now that Zelda had relayed everything, he could vaguely pinpoint brief little glimpses of the incident; he remembered a moment of intense heat, a flash of red painted wood in his peripherals just beforehand. He remembered smoke, coughing, stumbling, the smell of burnt flesh, the familiar collection of bothersome, instinctual thoughts of runs or get aways, but one desperate little thought he’d had stood out above the rest.
I let my guard down!
A small sliver of anger sparked in his chest at the prospect, of frustration at his rookie mistake. He had stopped thinking of weaker enemies as a nuisance after a few very close calls on his journey - but even though he no longer ignorantly thought of Reds as simple enemies that couldn’t hurt him, it still frustrated him to know that if Zelda hadn’t been there, he’d probably be dead because of a Red Bokoblin. And he tried not to berate himself too much because, as he’d told Zelda, weaker enemies are just as dangerous if you don’t play smart , but he couldn’t help but feel… inadequate . Embarrassed , even. Nobody had been around to see his stupid mistakes during his journey, but Zelda had just seen all of that…
He tried not to dwell on it too much. He tried to instead focus on the subtle movements of Zelda on the bed and her hand in his hair, fingers brushing against his scalp. He blinked his tired eyes open once more (when had he closed them?), saw rings of pine giving him a look made of a thousand different emotions, saw the braids in her hair slightly undone, a little messy and unkempt from the fiasco. He thought back to that same stubborn gaze eyeing him yesterday, going on and on about that buddy system of hers, and he couldn’t help but give a tired grin at that.
Zelda furrowed her brows, confused eyes slightly amused, mostly concerned. “Link?”
Link swallowed to make his throat less dry and his sentence came out a little less slurred. “I guess that buddy system came ‘n handy, huh?”
Perhaps he should’ve waited a while to joke about it, because Zelda, after a beat of tense silence, suddenly burst into tears.
Link widened his eyes, the pang in his heart drowning out most of the sleepiness in him as he jerked up into something vaguely resembling a sitting position. Zelda balled the blankets in her fist again, face crickling up as her shoulders shook, tears reflecting the light of the fire as they ran down her cheeks. She shook her head and lifted a hand to weakly press against his chest, choking out something along the lines of no don’t move, stop moving, but Link was already wrapping his arms around her, stinging pain be damned.
Zelda weakly pushed against his chest for a beat before she stopped, a little cry escaping her before she finally relented. She pressed her forehead against his collarbone and hugged him close, a hint of desperation in her movements.
“I-I’m sorry,” she sobbed out, voice unsteady and choked. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”
“Zel, shh it’s okay, it’s okay,” Link whispered, pressing a hand to the back of her head and holding her close. It felt strange to move his limbs, a certain numbness and tingling plaguing his skin, but he ignored it in favor of raking his calloused fingers through her hair as she mumbled apologies into his shoulder.
He didn’t quite know what she was apologizing for. With Zelda, it could be a million different things all at once.
“I just- I-I’m so scared of losing you,” Zelda sobbed out, squeezing him a little, holding him tightly like she thought he would vanish if she didn’t cling to him. “I’ve- I’ve lost almost everyone , a-and if I lose you… I can’t . I can’t lose you… not again. ”
“E-Every time you go out to clear those monsters… every single time… I-I’m always so afraid that you won’t make it back home,” she croaked into his shoulder. He could vaguely feel wetness along his skin there over the tingling. “I-I don’t know what I’ll do i-if I lose you too.”
Link stared through the foot of their bed as she cried, her heart spilling over his skin, pooling over the blankets. The crickets attempted to sing her a lullaby while Link pressed his lips to her hair, rocked them from side to side gently. Each little sob sent a new pang through him, created a new crack in his walls. He hated seeing her cry. He’s always hated seeing her upset. And back before the Calamity, she’d been upset quite a lot. He’d made a silent vow to himself to never give her a reason to be that upset ever again.
Just another thing he’d failed at.
Link maneuvered her so that her head was resting right over his heart and he hugged her close as her cries were dwindled down to quiet sniffles. “Zel, I want you to listen,” Link whispered, voice raspy and tone firm, but gentle. He waited a moment, let the crickets and the pops of the fire drown out Zelda’s shaky little inhales. He paid attention to his heartbeat, to the way it softly thumped against Zelda’s ear, and made sure to make his breathing calm and even. “Hear that?”
“My heart is beating. I’m warm, I’m breathing, I’m awake. I’m right here,” he whispered, and even as his throat was raw and his words were scratchy, he still managed to keep that calm smoothness to it that Zelda seemed to like. “And I’m sorry I worry you so much, but I promise you, I aim to stay here for as long as I possibly can. I don’t plan on leaving you anytime soon.”
And because Link knows Zelda, knows the ins and outs of her walls, has discovered each and every crack in her shell, has memorized her mannerisms to the point where Link is starting to mimic them, he repeats himself. Because he knows that Zelda’s stubborn mind won’t believe it unless it’s convinced Link believes it too, so he reiterates. And he’ll reiterate and repeat as much as he needs to, for as long as he needs to, if it means Zelda’s at peace.
“I’m right here.”
A little sob escaped the form curled up against his chest and arms were suddenly around him again, caging him in as she nodded her head over and over. Link squeezed her back, ran his tingling fingers through her hair, cradled her to his chest and let his steady breaths be her lullaby. He rocked them from side to side again, inwardly relishing the warm of her skin and the heat of the fire.
They sat there for a while, Zelda unwilling to pull away and Link content with simply holding her close, listening to the crickets and the gentle breeze outside. At some point, when Zelda’s cries were reduced to sniffles again and the fire looked like it needed another log, the fog returned, rolling back in with an agenda and Link found himself struggling to keep his eyes open. His head felt heavy so he let his cheek rest against Zelda’s shoulder and he would’ve nodded off if she hadn’t eventually sniffled and slowly moved away from the hug. He felt a warm hand cup his jaw and he managed to lift his tired gaze to meet her sad one, fern infested with an apologetic look. He wished for the day she’d stop feeling the need to say sorry.
“You look exhausted…” she whispered, eyes red and puffy, and her frown deepened. “Goddess, you’re the one who fell into an ice-cold river; I should be the one comforting you.”
Link gave her a soft smile. Her hand moved to brush his bangs out of his face and he leaned into the touch. “Nonsense. I gave you quite a scare,” he mumbled out, voice barely above a whisper, but they were sitting close enough that he could feel Zelda’s breath on him.
Zelda’s frown turned up into another somber smile when Link couldn’t help but let his head rest against her shoulder. “Go to sleep, Link. I’ll be here when you wake up,” she promised softly and it was her turn to hold him and rock them both gently, the movement slow and calming and Link felt the fog build up and billow through, felt it weigh down his mind and make it one hundred times lighter all at once. The foreign feeling of kind, gentle hands holding him close pulled him into a warm cocoon made of everything his life lacked, made of everything he’d never gotten a taste of. Warm skin, warm hands cradling him like he was worthy of the gentleness, warm breath against his neck instead of cold metal or icy water. It was made of everything he knew nothing of, and he’s never felt so comfortable with diving into the unknown.
He drifted off and his body was cradled by clouds and warmth, head lazed against Zelda’s shoulder as she held him dearly. He let himself fall into the abyss he was usually so reluctant to dwell in - usually willing to do anything to escape it - but now he let his mind sink in it, soak in the blissful silence, no longer afraid of the dark; after all, home had him in a bearhug.