Work Text:
“his hands,
how they hold such strong character,
it’s why I fall into them so softly.”
– butterflies rising
Interruptions come and go, up in the mountains of Mipha Court. Sidon pays them little attention, because there is work to be done on both his account and for the members of the Domain who risk their lives to venture out from under cover. It had been difficult, at first, to find a way to manage the sludge and the safety of their people. He likes to consider himself proactive at solving problems, eager to go out on foot and attack what he can with his own two hands. They’d learned, early on when the sky had started to rain down this ichor, that that had not necessarily been a viable solution. Running here and there wasn’t solving anything. He would have to start smaller and work from there.
That had brought him back to Mipha’s Court, the main source of water for their home. He might not be able to clear the danger from surrounding Lanaryu, but he can, at least, try to protect his home.
So Sidon goes to work. Day in and day out, channeling his power to his hands. It’s a mostly new thing, a tenuous thing, but he gets the hang of it the same way he gets the hang of standing sentinel in one spot, up to his thighs in water that he is able to cleanse bit by bit. It still takes a few weeks before the angry itch beneath his fins that urges him to movement, to action, dies down. He is doing the best for his people, stuck in limbo like this. He has to protect their people. If there is no water, there are no Zora. If there are no Zora, the desperation to solve the mystery behind the sludge becomes significantly less pressing in its immediacy. So, he focuses on his people. He focuses on his magic, on the moonlit statue of his sister watching over him, of cool, fresh water washing against his skin, and tasks himself to stay until he is sure there is enough water to keep the domain comfortable.
There are distractions. Oh, there are distractions.
It doesn’t take a fortnight before the news of the Princess’s disappearance reaches their ears. It takes significantly less time to know something terrible has happened at the castle, but the Princess and her team are capable, and Sidon doesn’t want to worry when there is already so much on their own plates. But he worries, and hearing that Princess Zelda and her swordman Link have disappeared stops the flow of cleansing magic from his fingertips the moment the messenger from Purah comes. It locks his limbs, eyes wide and disbelieving, because he had been so sure– so sure– that Link would have escaped this unscathed as he always did, Princess Zelda secure at his side. Upheaval aside, he had been so certain. And he panics, a little, as the rest of his people murmur and watch as the sludge rolls heavy into the water of the Court behind him.
He wants to help. Man a search effort of his own accord. Find the Hylian who had helped them so much in their hour of need. His very best friend. But he knows he can’t leave his home, not like this. He curls his hands into fists, and then forces himself to turn back to the water and get back to work.
Link will be fine. He has faced danger before. This is no different. Sidon believes in him wholeheartedly… even if that doesn’t assuage the hurt in his heart, belief is the only thing he can give right now.
On top of that… there is the matter of his own father. The truth of the matter is that, well, Sidon’s barely seen him since the sludge had started falling. He’s been running his own initiative, Sidon is sure, and it hadn’t been so long ago that he’d gone back to the Domain only to be summoned and told of his father’s imminent departure to investigate the sludge. There had been little room to argue. In his shoes? Sidon would want to do the same. He had done the same, when their home had been plagued by the rain from Ruta.
Even still, the smile on his father’s face as he had told him of his complete faith in Sidon’s ability to look over the domain in his absence had felt more like a weight on his shoulders than one he was confident carrying. But he had, as expected. In the back of his mind, the one that had been worrying about Link since his disappearance, he told himself that– like Link– this was his trial to bear. If the Hero of Hyrule could face Calamity Ganon by his lonesome, then he can do this much. He has to live up to that example, both of his father and of his dearest friend.
The abrupt lack of communication between the king and the domain throws a pebble in the works. And by pebble, he means boulder, but… no news is good news. He tells himself that, and allows himself to almost believe it when he is told that by the others. He knows his father is strong, and Muzu would not be far from his side. Wherever they are, Sidon tells himself that they are safe.
Lady, er– Yona, just Yona– is also… a– a– distraction. She is more than welcome! He’s happy to have her in the domain, and her healing has been more appreciated than he thinks he’s able to say. He finds himself happy to see her again, thinking that she hasn’t changed at all. He’s pleased about that. They had always gotten along so well, so he is pleased to find they still do. But by the time she arrives, they are deep in damage control and… he has barely had time to sit and speak with her at length. He would like to. He would very much like to! But the stress of the intended partnership and the inability to yet bridge the gap is something else to add onto the list of things he will need to do once this problem is taken care of. If it is taken care of.
But La– Yona stands by his side when she is not in the healing chambers, promises him that Link and his father are fine, and takes his hand when he is weary to make his way back to the domain for a night’s sleep. He wouldn’t be without that. He couldn’t. She has been so patient, so kind. More than he deserves sometimes, he thinks, on the rare cases he strays too close to the sludge and needs her healing for his own.
And then there are minor interruptions, things Sidon dismiss out of hand. People come and go, in the Court. To pay homage or pray to his sister, to gaze upon the dirtied water, or try to clean up the sludge. His people scavenge for food, for fish, for the necessary ingredients for Yona’s healing and cleaning efforts. It is never quiet, even as far removed from the domain as he is, but Sidon pays little attention because his mind is steeled on his task.
If he let himself get distracted by every little thing, he expects he would not be able to keep his head above the water. So, he doesn’t let himself get distracted.
The splashing of the pools behind him registers, but he doesn’t turn. He focuses on the water, on the magic, on deep breathing and blanking his mind save for the prayer of his spell. But then a shadow passes nearby, closer– and smaller– than that of his guard. Something itches at his skin, a flash of anxiety and uncertainty, and he lets the power fizzle from his fingertips. Just for a minute. He turns, and nearly stops in his tracks anyway.
It is, of course, a face he recognizes. For a minute, he tries to remember when the last time he slept was. But this is not a specter in the night. It is the same dirty blond hair he recognizes, framed by a dark hood, sure, but Sidon recognizes the hair and he recognizes the symbols on the hood. There’s a distinct lack of blue, of a Champion’s tunic, but he recognizes the blue in the eyes, and the tentative smile on silent lips.
Oh. Oh.
He recognizes all of these things, the shape of his familiar friend, and he can still barely believe it. Life has been nothing but tribulation lately. Could it be true that his dearest friend is here in front of him despite all of that? “Is it… really you…?” he murmurs, and the water splashes beneath his feet as he steps a little closer to the tiny Hylian.
Yes, Link confirms, hand clenched into a fist as he signs. It’s me. Hi, he greets, and smiles up at him.
For the first time in– Sidon has lost track of the days– he feels excitement welling up inside him. He can barely contain it. Or, maybe he doesn’t at all, because his voice echoes across the Court when the words slip out on the next breath, “it’s good to see you, my friend!”
Link smiles, the same bright, tired, slightly embarrassed smile that Sidon is used to. He has not changed at all. Throughout all of the Upheaval, he is here. He’s come back to the Domain.
“Link,” he exclaims, sinking to his knees in front of him. He is so small. Sidon has almost forgotten. “It has been far too long! I received word that you had gone missing and was beside myself with concern.” He reaches out, ready to bridge the space between them, ready to grab Link’s hand and pull him into a hug that he will need to be careful is not bone-breaking– but his hand stops as though it has hit a wall when he spots, for the first time, the hand that is not flesh and blood. He stills from the surprise, and damningly stares.
Sidon cannot even pretend to be subtle about it, not now, when he is taken over by surprise and emotion. He’ll feel bad about it later. He’ll feel terrible about it later, to be so insensitive. But he has been visited by both Link and the Princess many times in the past few years. Truly, not even long before the Upheaval, so this is… this is an utterly new development. There has been so much, and this is the thing that brings him to pause.
Link’s smile turns a little wry, but otherwise, he doesn’t seem to mind Sidon’s staring. It isn’t as bad as it looks?
He signs with both hands. He isn’t being coy. How had Sidon overlooked this with the first, initial greeting? He knows it’s the relief and he knows it’s the shock, but then he thaws, a little, and raises his eyes to meet Link’s gaze. “Whatever could have transpired…?” He asks the question, even though he knows that it is going to be a painful story. More than anything else, this is going to be a painful story.
Link tells it pragmatically. His movements are not halting. He is used to this new appendage, and to telling this story both. He is comfortable with sharing the details over what has happened to him. This new tragedy.
“And afterward, you mysteriously awoke on a sky island…” Sidon murmurs. He is listening. He has moved past blatant staring, turning his grief internal right along with the urge to offer care to his friend. Link does not need his pity. The fact that he has made it to the Domain in these conditions proves that. But he feels horrible nonetheless.
With this. Link holds up his hand. Sidon can see now that this new appendage extends past the wrist.
He startles again at the sheer disbelief of it all. There is so much to process that he feels dizzy with it, which he knows is not an appropriate reaction to a trauma that does not involve him to begin with. “Did this affect the entire arm?” he finds himself asking, and winces again. “My apologies, Link, that is truly invasive of me to ask–”
It’s fine. It’s okay. Link pauses, and then continues with a silent chuckle. You’re the first person to really bring it up. Everyone else is trying so hard to avoid it that it’s been more awkward. He moves his hand to tap two fingers just below the joint of his shoulder. Just here. Rauru said the gloom had infected it too much to save.
“I’m so sorry.”
Link shrugs. It’s been helpful. All things considered, I guess.
He falls so simply into the task of accepting the fate the world had given him. He had done that with Ruta, too. For an instant, after traversing the Beast and releasing his sister’s soul, he had seen some fissures in Link. Just the tiniest cracks. The careful control of a knight tasked with the impossible had shown through, just for an hour or two before sleep. But now there is not even that. Just calm acceptance. Sidon wonders how long Link has been running around Hyrule like this, hither and thither to find his Princess and help save the world again.
Meanwhile, uninjured and whole, Sidon has been standing in pools of murky water and managing only the bare minimum to sustain his people.
Link’s smile softens. He raises his hands and signs again. You’re still curious. He states it without malice, and Sidon flushes. The cleared water of the Court feels startlingly cold against his skin.
“I’m…” he starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish that sentence, so he doesn’t.
Not dodging around it is kind of a relief. Link shrugs a little, and then pauses. His fingers touch at the cuff on his sleeve, and he continues, if you want a closer look, I don’t mind. The claws pluck at his hood, sweeping the fabric of the capelet from his shoulders. Then he goes to roll up a sleeve, exposing first a strong wrist and then further golden ornamentation past that. Sidon is just starting to marvel the blocklike designs when Link’s sleeve catches on, perhaps, some of that detail. He breathes out a noise that is as close to it gets to frustration in Link, and then looks up. Hold on. I forgot– it’s fiddly. I’ve been wearing– less, he signs hurriedly, and then takes a step back to pull his arm out of the sleeve entirely.
And just like that, he is pulling and plucking at laces before Sidon can even try to stop him. He doesn’t want to stop him. He wants to share in this hurt that his dearest friend has suffered, if only because… if only because Sidon wants to be there for all of Link’s pivotal moments. Both good and bad. He wants Link to be able to share those things, and he’s flattered that it’s with him.
And he is curious, in that terrible way of not being able to look away from the scene of an accident. He knows that is damning, but he’ll unpack it later, like he has promised to do with everything else too heavy to deal with these past few weeks… months–
Link ends up stripping out of the shirt entirely, crumbling the fabric against his belly so it doesn’t land in the water. And then he holds his arm out to Sidon, as if asking for an assessment.
It’s a lot to take in. It’s not exactly even because of the prosthesis– Sidon wonders if that’s the correct term, in this situation– but… moreso seeing firsthand the extent of the injury caused by the events under the castle. From the points of the nails to the runes painted along his shoulder and chest. Sidon takes in this development, trying to be as proper as possible, but still grapples with the disbelief, and the hurt, and the sadness. And the fact that he thinks the arm is beautiful, on Link. But he doesn’t think that that is an appropriate thing to say, either, so he doesn’t.
He holds out his palm instead. “May I?” he asks, and Link nods, putting his hand in Sidon’s.
There’s a flicker of light, a here and gone glow that he might have missed if he hadn’t been looking so closely. Link doesn’t react, so it must be a normal thing. There is power there, Link had explained, and the whole thing seems more technologically advanced than Sidon would know what to do with himself. There are cuffs on the fingers that look like they could be rings. He passes his thumb over one. And then thumbs absentmindedly against his knuckles instead.
The physical sensation of it is not so dissimilar to the touch of the Hylian that he knows. The skin is soft, and supple, just like Link’s. There is something to it, something not quite Hylian, but it isn’t a damning change. He thinks, maybe, that his hand is just a little cooler to the touch than usual. People like Link, he finds that they are always so warm. Even years ago, with the weight of his dearest friend settled snug against his midsection, Link had been a searingly warm spot in the midst of the reservoir and the rain.
He folds his fingers over the back of Link’s hand, and lets the curiosity form a question again. “Does it hurt?”
Link shakes his head.
“Ah, I’m very grateful of that, then.”
Link nods, and gently extracts his hand to speak. The infection did. But nothing since I’ve woken up. His hands hesitate, and then continue, expression turning sheepish, well, except for in the cold. That makes it ache, a little bit.
“Link! Why didn’t you say??” He reaches forward, plucking the shirt and hood from Link’s arm to shake them from the bundle. “Cover up at once! My curiosity isn’t worth your discomfort. If I had known–” Making him stand here simply for the purpose of Sidon ogling him– it isn’t exactly balmy in the domain, as far as he’s aware–
For a moment, Link looks taken aback at the sudden change in direction… and then he laughs, taking back the shirt Sidon shoves into his hands again. Snow cold, Sidon. I just got back from visiting the Rito, he signs between redressing. The north was covered with a blizzard that wouldn’t stop. He smooths down his shirt, and looks up towards the sky. Just like the sludge here. He finishes fixing his clothes, and looks back at Sidon. Calmly, but apologetically. Ready to save the world, no matter what was thrown his way. Sidon is jealous of that, he truly is. I will do everything I can to fix this, but I might need your help again.
“Anything you need, Link,” he says immediately.
He then finds himself less confident, just for a split second, as he clasps his hand to Link’s shoulder. But he pushes that aside. Link does not need his hesitation. He is still more capable than Sidon could imagine in his wildest dreams. If he is lucky, if he is very lucky, he will be witness to Link’s impressive feats once again. “I will do whatever I can,” he vows, and squeezes his shoulder in promise.