Archive of Our Own ^beta

My dear Shadow—

(Was "my" too presumptuous? Was "dear"?)

Vio nocked an arrow and pulled his attention away from the letter he'd been trying to write. Pulled himself back to the training field, the target before him, the bow in his hands.

Zelda had not given him the chance to sneak away to the library again after breakfast. (Not that he'd truly intended to, but...) She'd looped her arm through his almost as soon as he'd finished eating and pulled him to his feet, only allowing enough of a detour for him to pick up his bow and quiver before they headed to the archery range.

His first arrow struck the outermost edge of the target. He frowned as he reached for another.

I think it is no secret that I am deeply fond of you.

(A profound understatement. But for all his reading, all his love of words, he couldn't seem to find any that did justice to... to Shadow. To everything Shadow was to him.)

This time, the arrow missed the target entirely.

Scowling deeper, he forcefully yanked his attention back to the present moment.

The training field. Muddy in the damp, gray weather of late winter.

The target in front of him. Zelda's target beside it, the soft thud as another of her arrows struck.

The bow in his hands. The same one he'd found in the Dark World, nearly two years ago.

But it would be disingenuous of me to pursue such a relationship without first—

The arrow shot directly over the target, lodging itself in a tree some distance behind, and Vio lowered his bow with a noise of frustration.

When he turned away from the target he found Zelda watching him with eyebrows raised, her own bow held loosely at her side.

"Is this about whatever you've been researching?" she asked.

Vio pressed his lips together, cast one more look over his shoulder at the target, and went to go sit on one of the benches near the wall. He began checking his bowstring for any nicks or frays. He'd already done that before stringing the bow — he was distracted, not careless — but it didn't hurt to be thorough.

"It's more writing than researching," he said, as he ran his fingers over the twisted string, held taut between the curved arms of the bow. "I'm writing — trying to write — a letter."

"To anyone I know?" asked Zelda, sitting down next to him.

"Yes. Shadow."

Zelda politely refrained from stating the obvious: that Shadow was rarely far from Vio, that their rooms were next to each other, that he hardly needed to write to keep in contact with him. Vio found himself elaborating anyway.

"I thought it would be easier, to get my thoughts in order before giving them to him, but I just keep—" He shook his head. "I had hoped to have it written by Ribbon Day, but none of my attempts have felt right."

"Ribbon Day?" Zelda asked.

So many pages.

My Dear—

So many attempts.

I am deeply fond—

So many false starts.

These feelings are—

"I want to tell him that I love him."

His breath fogged in the cold air. Strange to think that that little white cloud — twisting and curling as a light breeze carried it away, made it part of the world — was the physical form of the words he'd been trying so desperately to express. It seemed so ordinary, phrased like that. Like it really could be just that simple.

Why was it so hard to write?

"I assume you mean romantically," Zelda said at last. "Since the whole bringing-him-back-from-the-dead thing made the fact that you care about him very plain."

"He wasn't exactly dead," Vio started, unable to let the technicality slide, and also jumping at the chance for a change of subject. "Magically speaking, he was—"

"Yes, yes, I know, I did help you with the formulas, don't forget." Zelda waved him off. "But you're... worried about how he'll respond?" She frowned, looking more puzzled than concerned. "I wouldn't call myself an expert, but he's not exactly subtle, the way he acts around you. I'd be surprised if he reacted poorly."

Vio ran a hand through his own hair, pressing his cold palm to the back of his neck, which was hot with embarrassment. "It's more complicated than that. I don't... I've never had an interest in sex."

It was the first time he had said it out loud to another person.

His mouth was suddenly very dry. He leaned over the side of the bench, reaching for the water flask he'd left there when they arrived at the field. He fumbled a little bit with the cap, only then realizing that his hands were trembling. The water was cool, and he drank deeply.

When he was finished, he didn't immediately put the flask away. It had been a gift from the captain — from his father — the leather beautifully tooled with the Earth elemental symbol, surrounded by curling designs of foliage. He ran his thumb over the shape of a five-petaled flower.

Zelda still hadn't said anything. When he raised his head, she didn't look surprised, or judgemental. She just sat there, attentive, hands folded in her lap. Waiting for him to continue.

"When we first split into four," he began, "It wasn't something I thought about. The world was in danger. There was so much that needed to be done. It didn't occur to me to think about it.

"But then later, with Erune..."

He paused and glanced at Zelda. There had, occasionally, been rumors about her and Green... well, there had been rumors about her and Link since before there was a Green. He knew better than most how unreliable rumors could be. For Zelda's part, if she had any particular feeling about the mention of a girl Green had once had a crush on, it didn't show on her face.

"The others were infatuated," he said simply. "I couldn't understand it. She was nice enough, I supposed, and her courage and determination were admirable, but we had other things to worry about. At the time..."

He paused, his mouth twisting a little self-deprecatingly. He wasn't proud of this. "At the time I attributed it to my intelligence. If they were as smart as me, they wouldn't be so easily distracted." He shrugged. "Frankly, I was a conceited little shit."

That startled a laugh out of Zelda. "You said it, not me."

"In my slightly less self-congratulatory moods, I suppose I thought of myself as simply lucky," he continued. "The others had this affliction, where they could get all flustered and foolish because a pretty girl smiled at them, and I considered myself fortunate to be immune.

"And then I met Shadow."

Shadow's eyes, gleaming red in the moon-silvered darkness of the forest. Shadow's arm, draped around his shoulders. Shadow's voice in his ear: 'I'll listen. I want to know what you think.'

"Really met him, anyway. Got to know him. And suddenly, it turned out... I wasn't so immune to smiles either, coming from him.

"I had a real crisis there for a while. What did it mean, that I was having these feelings for the first time ever, and they were for him? An enemy?" He shook his head at himself. "I was downright panicking about it, and trying so hard not to let the panic show, because of course there was still the whole mission, double-cross, betrayal scheme going on.

"And when I analyzed it... it still wasn't physical. Or..." He felt himself blushing and turned away to put the water flask back down beside the bench. "It wasn't sexual. He was — he is — very physically affectionate, and I—" Leaned into it every time. Didn't know what to make of it. Felt cold whenever he stepped away. "—didn't mind. But there's never been a desire to go further than that. Further than hugs, or his arm over my shoulders, or..."

He trailed off, his mind filling with a thousand moments of contact, of simple touch.

Shadow's hand flat on his back as he lead Vio through the corridors of the Fire Temple, making sure he didn't stumble in the darkness.

Vio's arms wrapped around Shadow's waist as they flew on dragon-back, the sunset painting Hyrule in shades of fire and gold beneath them.

Quiet moments in the library, or in their living quarters. The two of them sharing a couch, Shadow sprawled out with his legs in Vio's lap, or curled up with his head on Vio's shoulder.

All of Vio's most sentimental daydreams of lying with their fingers entwined. Leaning in to press their foreheads together. Falling asleep to the quiet sound of Shadow's breathing. Waking up wrapped in each other's arms, Shadow's head tucked under his chin. Running his fingers through Shadow's hair.

He cleared his throat.

"Mostly I tried to think of it as little as possible, as futile as that was. I did have other things I needed to be focusing on, even if it was suddenly harder to do so." He tugged on his sleeve, readjusting his archery bracer. "Obviously I couldn't pursue it. For multiple reasons.

"And then... you know what happened next. My betrayal, his self-sacrifice, the long months of trying to find him again." He kept his voice firmly level, but Zelda knew him. She moved closer to him on the bench until their shoulders were pressed together. He gave her a small half-smile of gratitude. The worst of the hurt had been healed with Shadow's return, but it still ached to think about.

"And then he came back, and the feelings certainly haven't gone away," he forged on, moving quickly past that painful time. "But it still isn't like I'd read about in books, either. My feelings for him are different from anyone else I've ever cared about, but it isn't — it's never been — sexual.

"At first I thought I might just be too young. Or else that the feelings would develop as I spent more time with him. That's how it is for some people." He'd done a lot of reading on the subject. Of course he had.

"But..." He shrugged. "It's been nearly a year since his return. Two since we first met. I'm pretty sure this is just... how I am. I love him, and being around him does not give me any desire to take either of our pants off."

Zelda snort-laughed so forcefully that she started coughing and almost fell off the bench.

Vio gave her a few firm thumps on the back. When she had righted herself, she elbowed him playfully in the side. It was casual, friendly — the sort of casual friendliness that he knew Zelda only got in stolen moments, in the rare times when it was just her and Link. One of the Links. When she could be a teenage girl among friends, and not the Princess.

"You can't just say something like that without warning!" she said, still wheezing for breath.

The corners of Vio's lips twitched with badly-concealed mirth.

"Oh, go shoot some targets and let me get my composure back," Zelda complained, shoving at him until he stood up from the bench.

This time, as he stood in front of the target, he found himself settling more easily. There was still some amount of nervous energy humming through him, but a tension had eased from between his shoulder blades. He felt lighter. His hands no longer trembled.

For a while he simply stood on the mark, his bow down at his side. Feeling the earth, steady beneath his feet. Counting his breaths, deep and even.

The overcast gray sky had shifted as they were talking, just enough to let a few rays of sunlight through. The light fell on the training field, making the muddy ground and battered targets and gray stone shimmer like they were covered in diamonds.

This time, when he brought his bow up to aim, every arrow struck the target — if not quite the center.

He shot until his quiver was empty, then went to collect the arrows. As he was walking back, Zelda nodded at him and patted the spot next to her on the bench, so he sat back down.

"So you're worried that he'll reject you for not being interested in sex?" Zelda asked.

Vio winced at hearing it put so bluntly, tipping his hand from side to side as he did so.

"I want to tell him how I feel," he said. "And I hope— I mean— I wouldn't be entirely surprised to learn he has feelings for me as well. As you said—" He looked down, a fond smile spreading across his face "—he is not particularly subtle.

"But the specifics..." He frowned. "I know my feelings about sex aren't the norm. I did some research, and it's not unheard of — about one in one hundred, perhaps a bit more. But the odds that he's the same?" He shook his head. "I already once started a relationship where I let him assume... where I let him expect things that weren't true. I won't do it again."

A sharp swat to his shoulder. Vio turned to blink at Zelda in surprise. She glared back.

"That's not the same thing at all," she said. "You don't owe someone sex just because you have feelings for them. Or because they have feelings for you."

"No, I... I know that," Vio said, rubbing at his arm. Her hand was still half-raised. "I know that," he repeated more firmly. "Still. I want to be very clear with him about where I stand before even suggesting anything."

That was half of why the letter was taking so long to write. He didn't want to leave any room for misinterpretation, but... he didn't want his declaration of love to become a stiff, formal essay, either.

"I suppose that's fair," Zelda allowed, folding her hands back in her lap.

Vio kept his hand wrapped around his own bicep, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

He had spoken two of the things that had seemed so impossible. But there was a third, crowding up behind his collarbone, putting a lump of fear in his throat. He looked out again, over to the archery targets. It was easier, not to make eye contact as he spoke.

"I'm afraid of ruining what we have, too. What if I explain myself, and he agrees, and things are fine for a while, but eventually he gets fed up with me not wanting the same things as him? What if it puts a strain on our relationship, and..." He cut himself off. "I don't want to lose his friendship," he finished, softly.

He thought again of that beautiful daydream, of fingers entwined and foreheads pressed together. It glowed in his chest like a star. But if reaching for that risked everything they had...

If it cost him the easy familiarity of Shadow's mischievous grin, the companionable evenings reading together, the way they worked so well as a team in everything from card games to sparring matches... He shuddered. That was too precious to risk, even for the chance of that beautiful daydream.

"More than anything else, I want to be his friend."

But as Shadow's friend, he didn't like keeping secrets from him. Especially after...

His thoughts turned again, into the downward spiral they'd been trapped in for days. If he chose to play it safe, to keep the words I love you locked inside his chest, he could still be risking his friendship.

He would be back to watching his words around Shadow, monitoring himself for fear of letting his secret slip.

He hated that thought.

And if Shadow picked up on it?

(He would. He knew Vio too well not to.)

Eventually, he would notice that Vio was keeping secrets again, and then—

And then—

Well, what was he supposed to assume, after—?

After Vio had—

A hand caught his. He jolted, realizing as he did so that he'd been hyperventilating. Zelda held his hand between both of hers, pressed flat and squeezing firmly. The pressure was like a steady rock, something for him to ground himself with amidst the current of emotion.

He could feel the slight tensing and relaxing of her muscles, the shifting of tendons. Even her pulse, when he focused on it. His own pulse was racing, but even as he noticed it, it was already starting to slow.

He counted heartbeats, timed his breathing.

In and out.

Eventually, Zelda spoke. Quiet, but just as firm as her grip on his hand. "Your friendship has survived war and betrayal and being stuck in two separate worlds," she said. "I don't think you're getting rid of him that easily."

The hitch in Vio's breath couldn't be called a laugh, but it was something.

"Do you want to be doing archery right now?" she asked. "Because if you'd rather just go back to working on your letter, I would understand. But I also think taking a break from it might do you some good."

He didn't answer right away.

Across the field, behind the archery targets, a pair of crows perched in one of the trees, surrounded by the small green buds of new leaves. As he watched, a breeze made the branches sway. The birds bobbed with the movement, until one of them took flight, swiftly followed by the other.

They danced over the training field, folding their wings to tumble in the air before swooping back up again in gracefully synchronized arcs, calling back and forth to each other. A pair of black silhouettes, except when the light caught on their feathers and made them shine with silver.

When the crows had disappeared over the wall of the castle, Vio sat up straighter, stretching out his back. "I think," he began slowly, "That whoever loses the next two-out-of-three rounds should pay for hot chocolate in Castle Town."

Zelda grinned at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling. She stood up and used her grip on his hand to pull him to his feet as well. "You're on."

By the time Artura showed up with a group of squires for fencing practice, the two of them were laughing together, and Vio was well on his way to winning his free hot chocolate.