Work Text:
Before steering the ship, before measuring the wind, and before navigating by the stars, Tetra's mother taught her how to tie a knot.
Actually, she taught Tetra how to tie a lot of knots. "A proper bowline could mean the difference between life and death," she had said, the practice rope twisting between her strong, calloused fingers. "In order to trust your own ship, you must be able to trust the ropes that are holding it together."
It was an ethos Tetra had taken to heart. Before any other code; stronger than any of the sea's superstitions. She'd spent every minute of the next month working on her knots, leaning up against the mast or sitting at her mother's feet at the helm. She tied and untied that fraying, faded cord over the grainy slush of dinner, while listening to one of Senza's stories and even, to test her tactile memory, under her blankets in the dead of night. The clove hitch and the cleat hitch. The sheet bend and its double. At least five different stopper knots. She ran through each and every one of them, over and over again until the rope had burned her fingertips and the steps had burned into her brain.
Tetra knew her knots. She trusted her knots.
Except, apparently, this one.
She glared at the rope; at the twisted, little flourish that had been built into the end of it. For the most part, the rigging was meticulous. The loose ends had been relooped and straightened to a point of tidiness that Tetra couldn't remember them ever having reached before.
However, at the end of one particularly long line, sat an extra knot. A strange shape, something between a bow and a flower, had been tangled into the jute. It swung to the rhythm of the sea, dancing and twirling around like the fine, jewelled earring of some noblewoman.
It looked fucking ridiculous.
"Niko!" Tetra snapped, hearing the man yelp from the starboard side. "Are you putting stupid fucking flowers on my ship?"
"N-no, Captain! I would never! Promise!"
She held up the foreign knot and slid her glare over to him. "But wasn't it your job to tidy the lines and clean the railings, today?"
"Well…" Niko shifted, a slimy, sly grin growing on his face. "Technically, it's the swabbie's job."
The now "former swabbie" appeared all too pleased with himself, and Tetra had to wonder if he would remain that way if she happened to deck him in the face. As she was considering this however, another voice decided to slip itself into the path of her ire.
"They're clovers."
Tetra swung around to face their green-clad stowaway. Because of course it was him. Only an island-dweller would have the soft-centred sentiment to decorate a ship with flowers. She met his eyes and intensified her glare. "What was that?"
Link, leaning up against the starboard railing, seemed frustratingly unperturbed by her growing temper. In fact, he rolled his eyes in response to it. "They're not flowers," he clarified. "They're clovers."
Tetra's gaze dropped to his hands, where she saw yet another loose end of rope. It twisted between his fingers, another flower (or, clover, apparently) being formed out from the cord. Was he doing this everywhere? How many of these things had he infested her ship with?
"We put them on all the boats on Outset," he said, pulling the rope's end through a small loop. "For luck. You guys don't do that?"
"And what" —Tetra lifted her chin —"makes you think we need any luck?"
Link paused in his latest construction. His eyes narrowed, ever so slightly, then he dropped his attention back to the knot and shrugged. "If you'd been a little luckier," he said, forming another loop, "then maybe you wouldn't have been kidnapped by that bird in the first place."
"Hush up, swabbie!" The order fell from Niko's lips as a terrified hiss, but Tetra ignored him. She marched over to Link, letting her steps fall with heavy thumps until she stood face to face with him.
If nothing else, the twerp at least had the wherewithal to drop the rope as she approached. Tetra watched as it swung down beside him, the newly-completed clover remaining, rather annoyingly, intact.
"You still wanna save your sister, don't ya?" She said, lowering her voice as close to a growl as she could get it. "’Cause it'd sure be a shame if some accident were to happen and knock you off the ship before we're even close to the Forsaken Fortress."
Link held her gaze, his brow slipping into an unimpressed glower but, wisely, kept his mouth shut.
"Keep in line," Tetra said. "Or you'll be swimming back to Outset."
She turned on her heels and stalked towards the helm. Upon reaching the stairs, she noted another of Link's "lucky knots" hanging from the bannister and whipped her head around one last time.
"And undo all these fucking flowers!"
The storm had washed garbage all over Windfall Island. The usually pristine streets were littered with it; scraps of wood from destroyed dinghies here, torn-up nets and crushed fruit there.
One particular piece that'd been carried to the island was a tattered strip of fabric. Tetra imagined it might be the remains of a sail, ripped off from some ship that'd been caught within the clutches of the monsoon.
Though, it could have just as easily been some poor sod's laundry.
Whatever it was, majestic sail or mediocre sheet, it'd gotten itself tangled up in a length of rope. A length of rope that, in turn, had gotten itself wound around one of the errant bolts that stuck out from the walls around the town. Thus, the back of Windfall Island's school was now home to a misshapen, wind-created, tent. It was cramped, riddled with holes and honestly, likely to collapse at any moment.
But for right now, it was the perfect little perch if one wanted to sit, out of the rain, and watch as their own ship was robbed.
Through her spyglass, Tetra watched as Link emerged on the deck of her ship, preceded by his stupid green hat and lugging a large sack behind him. The ship swayed underneath him, rocked by another swell and apparently trying its best to send both the thief and his sack of pilfered goods right overboard. Almost managed it, too; Link pitched forward, and had to catch himself with a quick grip on the railing.
Tetra snickered.
She had to admit, he'd impressed her. She hadn't expected much from the kid: sheltered and sanctimonious to a fault. Sure, he'd handled a week surrounded by pirates and all the mockery they could send his way with a brave face, but the moment he got to the walls of the Forsaken Fortress, Tetra had been certain that would change. He would land, find himself surrounded by monsters, and immediately run back home to Grandma. Way in over his head, just like every other lily-livered idiot who thought themselves a hero.
Just to spite her certainty, though, Link had turned out to be anything but lily-livered. He hadn't faltered once while Tetra watched him sneak around the fortress through her charm. Swordless, taking on monsters and stealing their weapons to get by. Shit, he'd even faced off with that giant bird with zero hesitation—as well as that had gone for him.
But, more bold and impressive than all of that…
He had the guts to steal from her.
So, Tetra could accuse Link of being a lot of things—naive, stubborn, reckless, just to name a few—but she could not accuse him of being lily-livered.
Having successfully made it to Windfall's western shore, Link scampered across the island towards the docks. He seemed to be struggling a bit with his sack, Tetra noticed as he got closer; the downpour apparently making the near-bursting fabric difficult to hang on to. Link kept fumbling with the opening—hauling it up, holding it closed, taking two steps and having to readjust his grip once again. And soon enough, just as he was passing beneath her perch, all the factors came to coalesce. A crack of thunder echoed overhead, the rain intensified, Link tripped, and his grip slipped.
The sack fell onto the path, a couple of bombs slipping out from its mouth. Tetra held her breath and saw Link, similarly apprehensive, go rigid on the path underneath her.
But with the rain as bad as it was, the bombs might as well have been melons. Ten seconds of tension passed, but all they did was roll, harmlessly, over the soaked cobblestones. The wicks remained unlit; the casing intact. Tetra exhaled, content that none of the shells would explode in this downpour.
Something else certainly exploded, though.
"Fuck!"
Laughter burst from Tetra's lips, betraying any hope she had of keeping hidden. She watched as Link startled, lifting his attention to her shitty, little tent.
She met him with a grin. "Well," she said, "you sure learnt one thing from your time as a pirate."
The front of Link's hat dipped forward, slipping on the locks that were plastered to his forehead. He pushed it back and glared up at her with all the ferocity of a bedraggled kitten.
He didn't hold it for long however, his eyes darting past Tetra and over their surroundings in suspicion. "Relax," Tetra told him. "The others are all off eating or drinking or whatever. Didn't wanna be 'out in the rain'—fucking babies."
Much of the suspicion remained, but Link dropped his guard enough to turn his attention back to the bombs. "You didn't go with them?" he asked, gathering them up.
"Why would I? All the fun is happening out here."
Lightning flashed over their heads, as if to support her point. Link directed a glare at it before looking back to his filched explosives.
It took a while. He continued to fumble with the sack, the torrential downpour certainly not helping matters. Tetra could hear more muttered swears as they tumbled from his lips, trying to keep the sack from falling open with one hand as he collected the remaining bombs with the other.
It was pitiful, honestly. But she didn't feel sorry for him. She did not.
She was only concerned about him wasting the bombs.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Tetra pushed herself to her feet, grabbing the rope that was holding her little shelter together. The rain fell on her bare shoulders, cold as ice, and she gave the rope one tug. Two.
Three, and it unravelled from the wall. Without its support, the sheet collapsed into a soggy heap of trash. "Just tie the damn sack up already," she said, tossing the rope down to Link. "Before you drop all of 'em."
Link dodged the cord coming for his face. "What do you care?" He grumbled. "I would think you'd be happy if I lost them all. Seeing as you're the one I stole them from."
"Stealing from me is one thing," Tetra said. "I can always get back at you later for that. But stealing from me and immediately wasting it by being too damn clumsy? That I'd hunt you down for."
Link's eyes narrowed but, keeping a wary stare on Tetra, he reached down and grabbed the rope. Almost immediately, a sureity came over his fingers. He whipped the rope around the mouth of the sack and tied it close with ease.
Tetra would've thought the scrap wasn't long enough to add any extra flourishes, but somehow, the kid managed. When he finished twisting off the knot, she saw one of his stupid clovers dangling from the end. 'For luck', of course.
Ridiculous.
"So," Link said, brushing a finger over his 'lucky' knot, "you said you weren't going to sail out until the morning."
"That I did."
"How do I know you'll keep your word on that?"
Tetra grinned. "You don't. Guess you just gotta hope you get 'lucky'."
Link rolled his eyes, but at the ends of his mouth, there was the slightest hint of an upward twitch. Something in Tetra's gut mirrored it; a tiny little flutter, at the base of her ribs.
Well, time to shove that particular feeling down into the depths to drown.
"Seriously, though." Link hauled the newly stable sack over his shoulder. "Thanks."
Shove it down, shove it down, shove it down. "Thank me by putting those things to good use," she snapped. "Remember, I'll hunt you down if you waste 'em."
A proper smile then, quick and mischievous. "I'll remember," Link said, and before Tetra could do or say anything else, he was trotting off and into the rain.
The King of Hyrule—or, his ghost, anyway—slipped out of the chamber with no further explanation. Just like that: like he hadn't just shattered everything Tetra thought she'd known about herself and her world.
And oh, how she wanted to punch him. See if he would still call her a princess after that.
He'd called for Link to follow, but Tetra could still see the kid hovering in her periphery. Awkward. Unsure. She ignored him and continued to glare at the symbol on the back of her hand.
It wouldn't rub off, no matter how hard she tried. It wouldn't rub off; her hair wouldn't stiffen back up with salt; the magically constructed clothes wouldn't fade. Shit, the clothes wouldn't even tear. She'd already yanked off one of the white, silken gloves, and no matter how much she twisted and tugged at it, she couldn't get the damn thing to rip.
She gave up, instead turning her ire towards Link. "What are you waiting for?" She hissed. "You know I'm stuck here until you've done whatever the old man says, right?"
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
Tetra turned to face him, and found an expression that was so annoyingly pitying that her rage only climbed higher. "What are you sorry for? According to him this whole thing is my fault anyway." She scoffed. "Your sister wouldn't have been kidnapped if it weren't for me. If anything, I'm the one who should be sorry."
"Sure, but…I'm sorry anyway."
She rolled her eyes and looked back down at the glove.
It would probably fetch a good price, if she were honest. It was finely crafted; shimmery silk and stitches so small she could barely pick them out. If she'd found this piece on a raid she would've been ecstatic.
Right now, though, she was wondering how well it would burn.
As she considered this—as she thought over the semantics and potential downsides of starting a bonfire in the middle of this little sanctum—her view of the glove was interrupted. The delicate, pale silk was covered by a hand that was far too rough to be anywhere near such craftsmanship; sun-baked skin and salt-crusted nails.
And the thing it left behind was even rougher.
Tetra met Link's eyes. They were wide—earnest. "For luck," he whispered, pressing the ratty, rope clover into her hand.
Tetra raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you the one that'll need luck?"
Link shrugged. "I've already got a bunch on King." Then he froze—frowned. "Or…the King, I guess…"
She could make a joke there—perhaps something about him pissing over the port side of royalty in the middle of the great sea—but any joke seemed to fall flat when up against that which was her own situation. "Well," she smirked, "I guess I can hold onto one. I mean, you're probably just gonna go ahead and lose all of yours, anyway. You've gotta keep a spare somewhere, right?"
Link rolled his eyes. "They're not hard to replace," he said. "I'll show you how to make them. When all this is over."
"That's assuming I don't work it out before you get back." Tetra inspected the knot. It couldn't be that difficult to figure it out.
"Guess I better hurry, then."
She looked back at him, her eyebrows raising in challenge. "Guess you better."
And, with a final, fleeting grin, Link darted out of the chamber.
In the silence left behind, Tetra ran her fingers over the lucky knot. It was so oddly out of place; its rough and fraying threads standing in such contrast to the stained glass of the room and the finery that had draped over her skin.
She tightened her grasp, and clutched it close.
Ridiculous.