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It hadn’t really been his fault, Sky knew that. He knew it as well as he knew Fi’s voice, the cool, lilting tones of his missing friend that would sing through his head with just the right calculations to quell his racing anxieties whenever he was being ridiculous.
Master, excess worry at this stage will provide no further solutions. There is a 93% chance he will have recovered from the worst by tomorrow.
Even so, his brain argued back, if it wasn’t ok, it was his fault. And even if it was, well… He should have been able to protect himself in battle. It was dumb luck that had him with his sword locked up when the second wave of lizalfos struck them. It was dumber luck that had him and Four back to back in the fight instead of- He winced. Instead of who, another of the heroes? He wouldn’t wish this on any of them. Maybe himself. He would take a hit a thousand times to prevent his brothers getting hurt.
The way Four had crumbled against him without a sound had cut deep.
He knew logically that he wasn’t to blame. He hadn’t wielded the club that knocked out their smallest member. He didn’t stand by and watch as it happened. Four had chosen to defend his back himself, and based on the wounds Four had and the enemies he’d slain, Sky would have been far worse off without the smithy there.
But he wasn’t Fi, and he wasn’t Zelda, and anyone that might have stood a chance of convincing him to lift his silent vigil simply wasn’t there. He patiently stood guard over the camp and their injured party member into the depths of the night despite knowing full well that his body would make him pay for it the next day.
And Hylia bless the rancher, he had certainly tried to convince Sky to give it up and go to sleep, and Sky had flatly refused again and again, denying every offer sent his way until Twilight eventually sighed and went to bed, but not without a glaring warning to wake Warriors up for third watch first. He made a mental note to never cross Twilight’s brothering instincts if he could help it.
That had been some time ago, though, and now there was no one to keep him from his thoughts but himself and his watch over Four, who despite the various bandages and glaring head wound had still managed to curl himself into the tiniest, tightest ball he could possibly be, head tucked in tight, arms around knees, blankets completely disregarded.
Four had several interesting sleeping positions, most of which Sky was acquainted with from being the resident cuddler among the group, but this one by far pained him the most to see, because it made him want to wrap the smithy in a hug and never let him go. Four held himself as though he would shatter into pieces lest he dare to release his grasp, and none of the other heroes did that even in their worst nightmares and sleeping throes.
On nights when he noticed Four like this, he made sure to offer more comfort than usual in the days that followed. It wasn’t a guaranteed solution, but something about the increased contact seemed to settle the smallest hero, and Sky had never been one to turn down an extra hug anyway.
Four chose that moment to snap him out of his thoughts by physically jolting awake, gasping like he couldn’t get enough breath into his lungs, and Sky dropped to his knees beside the smithy, reaching out to place a hand on his shoulder before anything could scramble the teen any further than he already had been.
“Hey, hey, easy…” Four stilled under his touch, which was a good sign, but Four’s wan face was still drawn tight in an awkward mix of pain and confusion, like his brain hadn’t quite decided what to feel and had just tried for both at once.
“‘uys…?” Four mumbled into the night air as Sky shifted and sat down to pull the smithy closer to his lap. “Where…”
“You alright there, Four?” Sky tried to keep his voice low, just barely above a whisper, but Four flinched anyway and Sky winced. He would need to really keep it down if such little sound was this overwhelming.
“Hurts…” Four slurred after a delay. “Mix’d’n… where’re they?”
“Everyone’s here,” Sky soothed, bringing one hand to card through Four’s silky hair, mess that it was without his trademark headband to hold it in place.
“... Good,” Four breathed softly. “‘N y’re… safe?”
Sky almost laughed, only the reminder that Four was struggling enough with noise sensitivity at the moment keeping him quiet.
“I’m alright, Smithy. You did good.” Four huffed softly at that.
“C’rse. Wouldn’ let hurt y’.” Sky had nothing to say to that, guilt trickling through his stomach at the sincerity with which Four pronounced the statement. He didn’t want Four deliberately taking hits for him, didn’t want anyone taking hits for him. He leaned back and Four suddenly panicked again, scrabbling blindly for a better hold on Sky.
“N’- c’n- s-stop, Sky?” The plaintive half sentence stilled Sky entirely in his motions. He leaned forward again and ever so gently pulled the smithy up by his shoulders until his head was resting in Sky’s lap.
“It’s alright, Four,” Sky hushed him gently. “I’m not going anywhere. You won’t be alone.” His heart ached for the little hero. Their journeys were never kind to any of them, but apparently Four’s went deeper than he let on. Then again, didn’t they all hide the depth of which they’d been changed by the calling his mistakes had thrust upon them?
“N’ver ‘lone,” The smithy assured him, and that one threw him for a loop.
“Hmm?”
Four blinked open his eyes to look up at Sky’s face, a kaleidoscope of blurry red, green, blue, and violet swirling through hazy irises with ever changing intensity focused directly on him. Sky smiled softly, and one corner of the smithy’s mouth pulled into a faint smile in reply.
“Got broth’rs t’ take c’re me. Better ‘n lonely.” The colors in Four’s eyes swirled brighter as if in agreement with his statement, and then he closed his eyes again, seemingly worn out by the effort.
“You have brothers?” Sky turned back to the smithy, guilty thoughts temporarily halted in their tracks by the new topic. Four had brothers! How had he never mentioned it before now? “How many?”
“C’rse,” Four slurred softly, carefully bringing one hand around to rest over his already closed eyes. “Three-er- -four?”
Well. That couldn’t be good, if Four was genuinely struggling to recollect something as simple as his family. Family that he was exceedingly lucky to have, too. No wonder their smallest member was desperate for comfort when he was down- He’d never known life without it. Sky slowly shifted his position, being sure not to lose a point of contact with the smithy as he did so. Four stiffened anyway, but relaxed as Sky managed to move enough to block more of the firelight from reaching his still too pale face without letting go.
Four’s forehead creased into a tiny frown, brows furrowed in something akin to frustration. Sky resisted reaching out as though he could simply smooth it away with a gentle hand and instead settled for unpinning his sailcloth and draping it over the smithy, tucking it carefully around his sides. Four hummed incoherently, shifting in place but seemingly accepting of the comfort.
“Three, me ‘n Vi n’ Red n’...” He trailed off, pausing for a moment, and making a noise that Sky could only guess was the verbal equivalent of a head shake for someone concussed as thoroughly as Four apparently was. “Four… ‘er… four? Mmm. Gr’n ‘n Red, Vi… Blue? ‘N... no… not?”
Sky blinked, not entirely certain Four was really lucid enough to have any clue what was going on at this point.
“Four of you, huh?” He hummed, wondering if the irony was really that strong or if there was something more going on that he hadn’t quite figured out yet.
“Blue, Vio, ‘n Red. ‘nd Green,” Four concluded. Well, that made five, not four, but he wasn’t going to argue about simple math while Four had little to no idea what he was saying.
“Four brothers, then.” He still wasn’t sure if that was the exact conclusion to draw from the whole discussion, but it seemed to be about the only thing Four was certain of. Better to not stress him too much. “Blue, Green, Red, Vio. And you, Link.”
Four let out a long, drawn out sigh. Sky blinked down at him curiously.
“‘M not Link,” Four murmured, so softly that Sky almost wasn’t sure he’d caught it properly at first.
“What?”
Four’s eyes fluttered open again, the swirling wash of color slowly melting into something more akin to murky paint water than a whirling pinwheel. For a moment, Sky felt like he maybe shouldn’t be intruding on Four’s privacy when he was clearly in a delicate state. Maybe he ought to just give up and wake Warriors anyway. The fog of confusion coalesced once more over Four’s face as he drifted back towards the edge of unconsciousness.
“Not Link… ‘M Four.” And that was apparently that, because the smithy dropped back into sleep as though he’d never woken in the first place, though now clinging to Sky’s arm and wrapped up in his sailcloth.
Sky looked at Four for a moment, then over at the still sleeping captain with a soft chuckle. Whatever had just transpired, there was no way the Smithy was going to remember it tomorrow. At the rate Sky was going, he probably wouldn’t remember either.
Across the camp, blankets shifted and Time stirred, sitting up according to whatever ungodly internal clock kept him running (How he could always do that, Sky would never be able to fathom, but then time wasn’t really his area of expertise anyway) and shooting him a suspicious glance. Sky rolled his eyes and pointed to Warriors with his unclaimed hand, and Time nodded, effectively relieving Sky of any further watch duty, which was fine. He’d already taken two full shifts watching out for their injured ninth, and at least he could be satisfied enough to fall asleep for now.
With a soft sigh he shifted Four out of his lap and back onto the bedroll, eliciting a tiny frown from Four even in his sleep. If Four needed a brother to sleep with, Sky would happily provide that for him. Besides, it wasn’t like he was getting his arm back tonight.
Sky settled down on the bedroll with Four and drew the smithy closer, wrapping him in a secure hug. It was the least he could do when he’d separated Four from his brothers. Just make sure he wasn’t alone.