Work Text:
❧
Link struggled to his feet with a strangled groan, hands twitching towards the bloody gash on his thigh. The steaming carcass of the lynel he’d slain sat a few feet from him, the Master Sword still sticking out from its massive chest. It chimed softly, and Link took one stumbling step towards it before his leg buckled and he fell to his knees. He lay there panting, head spinning as the fiery pain from his wound grew tenfold.
After a couple minutes, Link was well enough to shakily stand. He gazed at the snowy landscape around him with a dazed disinterest, and Link only felt the biting chill of the Hebra winds once the Master Sword slid free of the lynel’s corpse. It took a couple fumbling tries to get it sheathed, but Link managed with a few mumbled curses that were lost to the howling wind.
By the time he’d gotten the Sheikah Slate out, his numb, slightly blue fingers hovering over the map, Link paused.
As the cold settled into his bones like an old friend andthe moonlight cast twinkling shimmers onto the ethereal snowscape before him, Link was hit with the sudden observation that he was very, very alone.
The Slate chirped at him and Link’s eyes went back to the shrine icon that would take him back to his dark, dusty house in Hateno. His mind mechanically ran through the steps he would take once he was inside. Clean his wounds, stitch himself up, change out of his bloodstained clothes, eat something, sleep, and repeat the next day. The familiarity of it made Link frown. Goddess, when was the last time he’d talked to someone other than a Korok?
After a moment of hesitation, Link pressed on the shrine in Rito Village instead. If he was feeling lonely, he would just stay at the inn tonight, where he would be surrounded by people. Problem solved.
But things were never that simple for Link.
Swirls of blue light reformed Link’s body just outside of Akh Va’quot Shrine, and he hissed at the returned sting of his wounded thigh. The lynel had really done a number on him, and he wrapped an arm loosely around his battered ribs with a quiet groan.
Limping towards the inn, Link kept finding his gaze drawn towards the warmly lit huts that branched out from the main staircase. He tried his best not to stare inside, but the domestic sight of families clearing away dinner and getting ready for bed made Link’s heart ache for something he’d never experienced.
No, not never . Surely he’d experienced this when he was a child, he thought, but then frowned. Did it really matter if he couldn’t remember it? Link longed for it all the same, without even fully knowing what it was. A home? He had that. Warm food? He shook his head; he had the means to cook a warm meal.
A hushed giggle made him glance over at the huts once again, where a young Rito girl pressed her forehead gently against her mother’s.
“I love you mommy! Goodnight!” she whispered, snuggling into her hammock, and Link stopped in his tracks as a staggering urge to cry hit him.
What was wrong with him? Had he hit his head a little too hard in the heat of battle? Being around people was supposed to make him feel less lonely, but here he was at the heart of Rito Village, sniffling like a child!
Link swiped at his running nose which had gone numb in the biting wind, and hurriedly found a foothold on the towering rock spire in the middle of the village. Link couldn’t bear the thought of someone seeing him in this state. Pushing past the screaming protests of his wounded leg, Link finally pulled himself up onto the top of the spire and fell onto his back, panting harshly.
After his breathing had returned to something approaching normalcy, Link dragged himself to sitting and got out the last of his clean bandages, a less-than-clean needle, and some thread from the Sheikah Slate. He tried to will away his thoughts, but it was a futile effort.
Up on the spire, looking down at all of Rito Village with its warm lights and sleepy atmosphere as the moon hung high above him, Link began to cry.
He tried to hold it in, letting the bandages roll out of his hand as he drew up his good leg to his chest, but the sobs bubbled out no matter what he did. His chest squeezed painfully with a fierce ache that no bruised ribs could ever cause, and Link curled in on himself as hot tears spilled over frozen cheeks.
He didn’t want to defeat Ganon. But he had to. It was his duty, a hundred years overdue, and the Goddess had made his path a solitary one until his task was complete. He understood. That didn’t mean he wasn’t lonely though. Gods, he was so lonely.
Link held back yet another sob for a successful three seconds before it left him in a tearful whine that made his frozen ears burn with shame. Some hero you are, Link thought, glaring through this blurry vision.
A strong gust of wind at his back followed by the soft clack of talons against stone startled Link, and he twisted around sharply.
“Link. I thought I saw you up here.” Teba took a couple steps forward, eyes fixed disapprovingly on the meager medical supplies still sitting beside Link. “I take it your hunt went less than stellar—”
Teba stopped suddenly, beak hanging open, and Link’s eyes widened at the thought of his face. Roughly scrubbing at his cheeks with the sleeve of his Snowquill coat, Link futilely tried to stop his endless stream of tears as he whipped back around to put his back to the Rito Warrior.
“T-Teba! I, um—” Link cut himself off with another pathetic sob that made him want to melt through the stone beneath him. “—I…”
He trailed off, curling up as if he could disappear if he made himself small enough. His nails bit into his palms where he’d clenched his fists, and Link nearly cried even harder at the shame he felt from Teba seeing him like this. “I’m s-sorry…” he whispered, so quiet he couldn’t even hear it over the wind.
A gentle wing brushed against Link’s shoulder and he jumped at the sudden feeling. “Link, look at me.”
He hesitated, fearing what he would find in the warrior’s gaze. But when he finally blinked the tears away from his eyes and looked up at the Rito, all he could see was concern.
Teba sat beside him and paused for a moment before only slightly-awkwardly putting a wing around Link’s shoulders. “Are you…what’s wrong? How can I help?”
Link laughed before he could stop himself, swiping at his eyes once more. “I don’t even know what’s w-wrong. I just…” he took a deep breath. “Have you ever been around so many people but—but you still feel so alone?” he asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the village below. He could feel Teba’s gaze on him.
“Link, you know you’re not alone, right? There are so many people who care about you—”
“They don’t!” Link interrupted, shocking himself with the force of his voice. “T-they don’t care about me, they care about Link the Hylian Champion. Link the H-Hero,” he gasped out, pressing his hands over his eyes as if he could physically keep the tears in. “Everyone is too enamored with the idea of me to care past my duty.”
Teba was quiet for a moment before he stood up. Link closed his eyes, waiting for the footsteps to fade but he opened them again to find the warrior crouched at the edge of the spire. “Get on my back,” he said firmly.
“W-what—“
“Link, just get on.”
Link got on.
❧
Teba tied the bandage off with a satisfied hum. They were both sitting on the ground of Teba’s hut, his wife and child sleeping soundly.
They hadn’t said a word since Teba had brought Link here, but Link’s silent cries had finally given away to minute shivers. He watched in a daze as Teba rolled out a sleeping mat next to him and piled it high with blankets.
“Teba, I couldn’t—”
“You can, and you are. No complaints!” the warrior whispered sharply, pointing at Link in warning. “You’ll be warmer here than at the inn.”
Slowly nodding, Link let himself finally relax into the heavy furs. His eyes were drifting shut seconds after he’d laid down.
Link was just tipping over into sleep when he felt something warm and soft press against his forehead, and he opened his eyes, shocked. Teba leaned back with a smirk like he hadn’t just pressed his forehead to Link’s, but it melted into something gentler as they stared at each other.
“We care about you, Link. I worry for you when you’re gone, and Saki’s always wondering if you’re eating enough, and Tulin’s asking for ‘Big Brother Link’—”
Link couldn’t hide his smile at that.
“—so don’t you dare say you’re alone. Because you will always have a place here with us. Always. No matter what happens with that quest of yours.”
This time it was Teba that was brushing away tears, and Link reached out to grab his hand before he made for his own hammock. “Teba,” he said quietly, voice raspy and thick. “Thank you.”
Teba smiled, running his free hand over Link’s head before pulling away. “Goodnight, Link. Sleep well.”
Link rolled over as Teba blew out the small candle sitting on the shelf beside him and closed his eyes. Laying there wrapped in blankets, listening to the soft breaths of Teba, Saki, and Tulin, Link smiled.
Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he thought.
❧