Chapter Text
The sky above him had turned an angry shade of gray.
Link stared dully up at the clouds as they churned and heaved, the rumble of thunder sounding oddly distant in his ears as he lie motionless in the muddied field. The constant pitter-patter of rain and clatter of metal striking stone had faded to the background, and he was only vaguely aware of the shouts that still rang out across the battlefield. Rather, he could barely hear any of it over the noise of his own labored breathing, gasps little more than shallow huffs as his weary body desperately—instinctively—sought out what sips of ash- and dust-choked air it still could. Rainwater blurred his vision, but for the life of him he couldn’t find the strength to lift his arm to dry his eyes with his sleeve—or any other of his battered limbs for that matter. They all felt like lead weights.
Everything was muddled, and forming even a single coherent thought in his sorry state was hard, to say the least. Through all his confusion, however, one thing was agonizingly clear to him:
He was dying, and he was very afraid.
It was a primal terror that could not be described with words, and it gripped him like an iron vice. There were other feelings mixed in, too—guilt and anger and despair, though Link couldn’t make quite as much sense of them as he could the fear. He was sure that he should have been able to, that he was forgetting something dreadfully important, but no matter how many times he tried to draw on his memory, he found himself blocked by a wall of fog as dense as the mist that physically surrounded him now. Were he even slightly more lucid, the apparent futility might have annoyed him. As it were, his fleeting moments of complete clarity were overpowered by thoughts of it hurts and I don’t want to die, leaving little to no room for anything else in his pounding head.
Something suddenly blocked his view of the sky, but Link was past caring about who or what it was. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t hear what the silhouette was saying or even make out the words on its lips but it didn’t matter because he was dying, he was going to die with no guarantee of what truly lie beyond—
Clammy fingers suddenly gripped at his shoulders and pulled him up and for half a second some part of him wondered if they were Death’s.
Then the pain from his jostled wounds registered and he opened his mouth to cry out, only barely taking notice of the hoarse croak he actually managed.
Goddesses, this hurt. It hurt, and he was afraid, and he could feel a weight on his chest that hadn’t been there before. Darkness was creeping in from the edges of his vision, expanding until it had consumed him completely. Breathing was becoming more trouble than it was worth. He was going to die.
He was going to die.
He didn’t want to, he was scared as anything, but he was going to—
“Link. Wake up.”
He woke with a start, breathing heavy with a hand fisted tightly into the front of his shirt. The thin cotton was drenched in sweat and stuck uncomfortably to his shivering body, and Link could feel his arm shake almost violently as he reached up to scrape his disheveled bangs back from their place plastered against his forehead.
… Ah. He could feel it. His muscles felt sore and tingled oddly, but the sensation of numbness had receded.
“I hope you’ll forgive the disturbance. You sounded as though you were in pain; I thought you might have been having an unpleasant dream.”
Dream?
Link turned his head a fraction against the pillow (not the dirt) and found himself gazing up not into a blackened sky, but a pair of golden eyes filled with concern. For a few seconds he stared at Sidon without really seeing him, the gears in his head turning at a snail’s pace as the Hylian struggled to process his surroundings.
A spacious room bathed in the faint light of luminous stone…right, he was in Zora’s Domain. He was lying in a bed within the palace, not in some field too blurry to identify, and the icy grip that had engulfed him—in reality, it wasn’t cold at all. Sidon’s arms were warm, and the firm muscle Link could feel beneath his leathery scales was a stark contrast to the smooth, thin fingers that had pulled at him in his dreams.
… Had it really only been a dream?
“Link…? Are you unwell?”
He felt nauseous and on-edge—like something terrible was about to happen, tragedy poised to strike at any moment and he incapable of doing anything to stop it. Dread gnawed at his stomach, and though a quick once-over of the room should have been ample assurance that nothing was immediately wrong, that he was safe and alive, Link’s breathing refused to slow.
His throat felt constricted. Talking felt impossible—so he frantically shook his head in answer to the increasingly troubled Sidon’s question, even though he was quite clearly the farthest thing from well.
Sidon, as expected, seemed less than convinced, but nevertheless did not force the issue. Instead he rose from Link’s bedside and vanished through the polished doors of the guest quarters—something the Hylian in question noticed only in his peripheral and only after several minutes’ efforts to not slip into hyperventilation. Confusion and (frankly uncalled for) disappointment were just beginning to register when Sidon reappeared, a goblet filled halfway with a bubbling golden concoction in hand.
Link stared at it dubiously when the prince held it out in offering. Despite having no clue as to what plagued his panting friend, Sidon managed a reassuring smile.
“Drink. It will help to calm you.”
Nothing struck him as very likely to slow his racing heart at the moment. Regardless, Link reluctantly did as he was told, quietly grateful when Sidon clasped Link’s trembling hands in his own to steady his grip.
“Small sips, now. There we are.”
The liquid tingled pleasantly against his lips, and to Link’s surprise he gradually began to feel some of the tension leave his shoulders and jaw as he focused his attention on the Zora’s murmured instructions and encouragement. He was too weary to be properly embarrassed by how ridiculous and childish this entire thing seemed.
Bit by bit the heart that had been pounding a dent in his ribcage finally began to quiet, a warmth seeping into his bones and spreading through his chest as he downed the remainder of the potion. Link took a deep breath as he lowered the chalice from his lips and finally lifted his tired eyes to Sidon’s face, meeting the prince’s intent stare head-on.
“Better?” Sidon kept his voice soft—a stark contrast to the boisterous and lively tone he normally spoke with. Link nodded.
“… Yeah. Thanks. This is…—?”
“A cider infused with courser bee honey and blue nightshade. When I was a child…if I suffered a nightmare, my sister would often prepare this for me.”
“I see.”
Silence fell, and for several long minutes the two merely sat like that. Despite his naturally outgoing personality and talkativeness, Sidon, Link had found, was more than able to appreciate a companionable lull…and a great deal more perceptive than most might have assumed at first glance. He knew very well how to read an atmosphere and rarely pried more deeply into a person’s affairs than they were comfortable with—and perhaps it was merely Link’s imagination, but he always seemed to make doubly sure to respect Link’s boundaries in particular.
Sidon was good like that.
“… Tell me something.” Link’s faint voice broke the stillness of the cool night air. “How much do you know about the Hylian Champion of one-hundred years ago?”
The Zora at his side glanced at Link, surprised, but after a moment adopted a more thoughtful expression
“I imagine I know roughly as much as my people do—perhaps a little less. I did not have the chance to know you quite as well as my sister and some of the other Zora children did.”
When Link continued to look at him expectantly, Sidon continued.
“I know that you were regarded as a brave and talented warrior chosen by the goddess Herself to wield the blade that seals the darkness. I know that my sister described your kindness as beyond measure and your dedication boundless…and that she loved you dearly, with all her heart.”
“… And what of his—my—final battle?”
Sidon seemed startled by the question and at a loss as to how he ought to respond. Recognizing the abruptness of his query, Link began to open his mouth to elaborate when a spark of understanding suddenly flickered in the prince’s golden eyes.
“Is that, perhaps, what you were dreaming of just a short time ago…?”
The blond pressed his lips together in a thin line and lowered his eyes to the empty goblet still in his hands. One by one, his words emerged haltingly—as if the man was trying to puzzle out the best way to phrase his answer as he went.
“… I can’t help but wonder… If I fell one-hundred years ago, at my best and with full knowledge of who I was and what I had to do…if I was ultimately that helpless and afraid, even back then…do I really stand any chance as I am now?”
“Of course…!” Sidon’s answer came quickly and passionately. For a fraction of a second, Link made the mistake of meeting the prince’s eyes again; the unshakeable faith and absolute sureness he saw reflected in Sidon’s eyes made his heart ache in a way he didn’t know how to describe, and the Hylian quickly averted his gaze again. Sidon persisted.
“It was by your hand that the Domain and countless other lives were saved from Divine Beast Vah Ruta’s rampage—and even now, when you bear so much upon your shoulders, you return to aid my people in their daily struggles time and time again. I could work for a century to repay you and it would still be insufficient to express my gratitude to you, my friend.”
“I was able to calm Ruta thanks in large part to your help. That aside…haven’t you stopped to consider that coming here is just a means for me to run away…?”
“You’d have found a way to appease Vah Ruta with or without my assistance.”
Well. That much was true, even if it wasn’t enough to convince him that he was at all deserving of the praise the Zora as a whole lavished upon him.
“But you know, Link…”
Sidon’s large hand settled on his shoulder. It took everything Link had in him not to flinch.
“Even if that serves as your motivation to visit us, I do not begrudge your reasons. I can scarcely imagine the intense pressure you must feel on a regular basis…so if anything, I’m pleased that you can find some small measure of comfort here. It is my pleasure to host you whenever you find yourself in the area.
“My father, too… He delights in your company. I could not begin to tell you how many times he has expressed his relief and joy at your return.”
A wry smile pulled at the corners of Link’s mouth.
“I’m not the same person he knew one-hundred years ago.”
“No, you are not—and he has taken notice. Please believe me when I say that knowledge, though, has not lessened his fondness of you in the least.”
Link fell silent again, if only to chew on Sidon’s words. Said prince appeared content to allow him to ponder for as long as he needed, earnest and patient as ever. In the back of his mind, Link felt an odd sensation of familiarity.
He brushed it aside.
“… There’s no guarantee of my victory at the end of all this. Surely you understand that.”
“… I do.” Sidon slowly inclined his head. “Be that as it may, I believe in you…and hope that you understand that the Zora are ever your ally. If there is anything, large or small, that we can do to support you or tip the scales in your favor, it shall be done.”
In reality, there was likely very little that even the Zora royal family could do at this point to help him in this impossible quest, and Link got the feeling that both he and Sidon knew it. That was primarily why he didn’t bother saying so…or pressing any further on the matter.
Instead Link offered what he desperately hoped resembled a genuine smile and said, half-jokingly, “Anything, huh…? Does that include another glass of this cider stuff?”
Sidon returned his grin, but Link could swear he saw something almost akin to frustration flicker in the Zora’s eyes before it dissipated like mist in the sun.