Chapter Text
Link stared at the Purah Pad, a critical glint aimed at the piece of technology. Multi-colored markers dotted the virtual topography of Hyrule, carefully marking all the places he wanted to visit. He was running low on supplies but, if paced properly, the nearest town should only be a half day's trip... But there's also that shrine over there practically begging to be explored. Before he does any of that, however, he should head over to the nearest stable and let Epona rest... However, the closest stable is probably one? Two? days away... Decisions, decisions...
The faint clang of metal against metal shuddered the shell of his ear and his eyes shot up warily. He scanned his immediate area and slogged off the rock he had been sitting on; pausing, listening, waiting.
A few moments passed and he chalked the sound of battle to his imagina--
Shing!
A leg had swung over Epona's back and within a matter of seconds, he was dashing straight towards the sound of conflict.
He rode straight for awhile, trained eyes skimming the horizon for a sign of life in these desolate fields. He rounded a corner and saw a camp of agitated Bokoblins bobbing menacingly around a traveler. He slid off Epona and charged into battle, gripping the handle of his shield until his knuckles whitened.
An unfamiliar sound rang off the vast canyon's walls, followed by the familiar whine of a slain Bokoblin. He somersaulted backwards, his shield masking his face and chest as he scoped the area for extra enemies.
He heard it again, like a crack against the air itself, and he saw the monstrous figure grasp its eye. A bloodcurdling scream shook his core as the wavering Bokoblin dipped just enough to see the features of his rescuee.
Intense (E/C) eyes burrowed into the Bokoblin's skin as a thick, brown chord wrapped around its neck. With a hefty grunt and a flick of your arm, it faceplanted into the ground unmoving.
Is... Is that a--
"Look out!"
The fierce look in your eyes snapped into alarm as you came face-to-face with the long snout of a Moblin and a metal spear swinging straight for your head. No way you could dodge this in time; you leaned back, offering up the shoulder of your non-dominant hand to the beating. Your eyes instinctively closed as you braced for impact.
Instead, you felt a whizz slice the air by your cheek and two arrows lodged into the Moblin's hand and its face. The monster dropped the weapon, grasping its hand and bellowing in pain while a flurry of footsteps stormed towards you. With a single swipe and a war cry from your new companion, the Moblin staggered back.
Careful footsteps shuffled about the towering figure, which threw its long arms at the man. He dodged the attack with ease, his graceful footwork looking more like he was engaged in dance than combat. The Moblin snapped the thin arrow sticking through its hand and shrieked, deafening and temporarily stunning you. It grabbed the spear from earlier and waved it menacingly at your rescuer.
"Oh no you don't!" Your whip loosened its deadly grip on your previous victim, snapped to life, and wound about the metal shaft of the pole. Both pairs of eyes shunted to you in a look of surprise and confusion. You took a few steps back and threw your arm as high as you could, pulling the weapon right from its hand; a piercing, metallic clamor sang the songs of victory. A smirk pulled the blonde's lips as a practiced slice to the back of the beast's knees anchored it to one spot. Catapulting off its back, the warrior helixed into the air and divorced the Moblin's head from the rest of its body in one clean swipe.
Your somewhat struggling breathing filled the space between you and the warrior. His broad shoulders heaved slightly, but he was nowhere near as taxed as you. You swallowed, lubricating your throat with some much-needed moisture before opening your mouth.
"Thank you for your help. You saved me."
The man slowly turned to face you, locking intense blues with your own. His long, blonde locks softened his sharp jawline into a less intimidating profile. His torn tunic hung deliciously loosely on his left shoulder, which proudly showcased his charred arm; your stomach turned.
"Oh gods, you're hurt! Hang on, let me--"
A scorching pain shot through your shoulder as your whole body jolted forward, your body suspended at an angle as something cold and metal rended your flesh from your bones. Blood sputtered out of your mouth; you absently watched as crimson drops stained the earth below you. A high-pitched ringing muffled the cry of alarm—yours or your companion's, you had no idea. Your savior's handsome features contorted into fear and aggression as he dispatched your murderer with an unholy fury. An airy sigh lapsed your lips before your legs gave out from under you, grip slackening, whip falling, vision darkening.
♤♢ ~~ ♡♧
Oh Hylia, this was all his fault.
His arms caught your falling frame, gingerly cradling you while the severed head of the previously choked Bokoblin rolled down the hill. Splurges of blood continuously gushed out of the see-through hole on your shoulder and he pressed on the wound in vain, your warm blood soaking his fingers.
He had let his guard down.
A slightly trembling hand scoured his sack, feeling for the glass tincture that carried the life-saving potion. A familiar roundness slipped into his palm and he pulled the bottle out of his pouch. A windless prayer to the gods left his heaving form, teething the corked bottle and popping it open.
How many lives must be lost before he can finally seek retribution for his damned soul?
He pinched your cheeks to allow half of its contents to slither down your throat and poured the other half directly onto the wound. The red from the potion mixed indistinctly with your blood as he wrapped a tight bandage over your shoulder. A clear whistle shot through the air, followed by a whinny and a closing-in gallop. With a smooth motion, Link threw the both of you onto Epona and raced far away from the brutalized Bokoblin camp.
If only he had been more careful.
♤♢ ~~ ♡♧
The pleasant crackling of a fire were the first sensations you felt tickle your body. A thick, furry strip of cloth was slotted in your hand and your fingers twitched over the fabric dreamily. As these earthly sensations began pulling you out of your long slumber, you felt your body sink through the dark void that had cased your soul since what felt like time immemorial, finally resting atop a warm, squishy mattress. Voices you didn't recognize began bleeding into your conscious mind and you willed an eyelid open.
An unfamiliar wooden ceiling greeted you. You hardly had time to register the gnarled structure before a searing pain shot through your core. What felt like the flames of Hell centered in on a single spot on your shoulder, ravishing its heat throughout the rest of your body. You winced and sucked in a gasp, writhing the parts of you that can move in positions you hoped would abate the growing pains shooting through your limbs.
A rough hand gently laid atop your forehead and smoothed the flyaways sticking this way and that. It was so... tender. So soft. Their hand moved as if you would shatter into a thousand pieces. A groan of sorts left your mouth and you sunk further into the sheets, exhaustion outweighing the pain in your bones.
Link patted the beads of sweat forming on your brow with his towel and dipped it in a bowl of fresh water. The wet cloth dabbed the thin slice on your forehead and your eyelids twitched. He paused his ministrations, watching your face go from a pained grimace to blank. Wary eyes drifted toward your freshly-wrapped bandages, a wave of guilt sucker punching him in the gut. His face physically contorted as he looked away, sighing and standing up. Perhaps he'll start on dinner...
♤♢ ~~ ♡♧
With a soft click, your door breathed open just enough for Link to slip through. His back pressed the door close and he ambled to your steadily breathing form; at least you've stabilized. He simultaneously worried and prayed for your wake, knowing that the first few moments of consciousness would feel like your soul was being severed from your body. He set your meal down on your bedside and went over to the little table in the corner with his bowl. He ate slowly, his mind replaying the fight in his head up until the point where it all went dark.
He should have seen the faint twitch of the downed Bokoblin. He should have heard its gurgles and the faint sound of lance against stone. He was the Hero of Hyrule--he was supposed to be ready for anything. With an injury like that, your arm may only serve as decoration to your side for the rest of your days. Once again, he had failed. Failed to keep Hyrule's people safe from--
A guttural groan.
His ears twitched, every sound suddenly magnified by the thousands. The legs of his chairs screeched while slowly inched towards your undoubtedly trembling form.
You fought to do the simple act of opening your eyes, and the worst pain of your life unfortunately began making its rounds again. A numbing, burning sensation coated your dominant arm while a malaise that turned you nauseous sunk into your gut. You could feel your arm was there, but also... not. What in Hylia's name happened to you?
A pair of cautious eyes hovered over you.
Your weary senses heightened as every sight, smell, and sound bombarded you in an unremitting onslaught. Where were you? Who was this man? Where was your whip? How did you even get here?
The stranger placed a hand on your good shoulder, stilling your erratic motions lest you reopen the wound.
"It's okay," he murmured. "You're safe."
He did his best to gently lay you back onto the sheets, but you twisted under him.
"W-Where am I... And who are--" Your heart fluttered. "L-... Link?"
It was his turn to look at you with suspicion. The gymnastics his brain had to go through to fish you from his recollections. He's met hundreds of people and while he was relatively good with matching faces to names, there may have been a few that slipped past him.
But surely he would remember someone as pretty unique as you.
"It's an honor to meet you, sir!"
Sir?
Wait why'd that lowkey turn him on--
A pair of blues scanned your face closely. You were around his age, maybe just a smidgen younger... But also, technically, he was over a 100 years old... Do people know that? Is that common knowledge?
He awkwardly chuckled and threw his hands back, waving the formality away.
"Have we... Met before...?"
"Oh!" You cast your eyes to the side, slightly reddening. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to freak you out like that! I'm (F/N). And no, we... haven't formally met before--but how can I not know you, sir? What you've done for Hyrule is known far and wide!"
You bowed your head reverently, but that simple motion triggered an intense wave of vertigo to slam into you. Your body suddenly felt limp and you rolled your head back, nestling into the pillow. Link practically teleported to your side.
"I'm flattered, but please don't move around so much." His gut churned. "You could reopen your wounds."
"Mm... Right..." You finally looked at the injuries you sustained--but what really caught your eye were the piles and piles of soaked bandages in the trashcan. Your chest tightened at all the red that seeped from the previously snow-white cloth.
"What... happened to me...?"
Link swallowed what felt like a boulder, his heart clenching his chest.
"You got seriously injured during the fight. I had thought I lost you multiple times on our ride back."
"My arm," you forced the appendage to move--to twitch even--but to no avail, "I-I can't move my arm!"
The image of your arm lying uselessly on the bed chucked your mind into a frenzy and panicked, erratic heaves seized your chest. Without your arm, you can't use your whip--and without your whip, how were you to fend for yourself against the ghouls that roamed Hyrule?
"Hey, hey, it's okay." A squeeze. "You'll be okay. You'll be okay. Just take a deep breath for me, all right?"
Frustrated, terrified tears leaked down your cheeks as you contracted your arm to do something, anything.
"I can't--my arm--"
"I know, I know. Look at me and breathe, okay? Just look at me and breathe."
It wasn't working. He could see the familiar spiral of shock wearing away in your eyes; it reminded him of the same frightened, confounded expression soldiers had when the realization of losing a part of themselves to the happenings of war sunk in.
Instead of smacking and screaming at you to get your bearings (he could still feel the sting of his commanding officer's hand), he did something that he yearned someone had done for him.
"I'm sorry for this...!"
He drew you into a tender embrace. His chest muffled your haggard hyperventilating and he ran his fingers through your knotted hair, gently working through them to prevent any more discomfort. He teetered back and forth, hoping the gentle sway could further act as an anchor for your racing mind to latch onto. With each panicked breath, you breathed in more and more of his scent. He smelled of meadows basking under the morning light, tinged with hints of dew and musk. Like a warm, summer day.
The mental imagery his scent conjured up was the first hit of solace your sprinting mind needed to begin to ground itself. Your good hand balled the soft blanket into the tightest fist you could muster; you relaxed your grip after one, two, three sways. Your mind trailed to the digits shifting through your hair, feeling how his fingers ran the same path on your scalp. You kept breathing. Breathing. Breathing.
Before long, you were no longer fighting for your next breath and your shaking body had stilled. Fatigue weighed your features into a vacant expression, the only form of movement being an occasional quiver on your lip or your sniffling nose.
"There... Just like that... You okay?"
He thought he saw your chin dip slightly.
"I'm sorry you had to go through that... It's really, really painful and scary." He pulled away and set a hand on your head, smiling softly. "But I'm proud of you for navigating it."
A look of gratitude glimmered in your eye before the dazed look overtook it.
"Without my arm, I can't use my whip... And without my whip," a shudder. "I won't last a night out there."
"You can stay here until you get better. I can pay for your stay."
"No!" You latched onto him, pleading. "I can't ask you to do that for me. Who knows how long I'm to be here? And I can't possibly ever hope to repay you, even if I still had my wallet..."
"You do not need to repay me for anything," he beamed, "your name is enough. But..."
His expression darkened with concern.
"You said you lost your wallet? Is that the only thing you lost?"
Your heart sank to the pits of your stomach. He didn't see your satchel.
"You... You didn't happen to snag the pouch behind the wooden crate, did you?"
The blank look on his face didn't last very long, twisting into regret.
"I'm sorry, I--"
"No, it's okay! You didn't know. And I was literally bleeding out, so..." You laughed sadly. "But yeah... everything is in that pouch."
The traces of an idea began fogging his thoughts.
"How did you lose it?"
"W-Well..." You looked away sheepishly. "I was resting by the side of a cliff and, um... I may or may not have accidentally knocked it off the cliff... And by the time I got down there, Bokoblins may or may not have already ran off with it..."
You pinched the bridge of your nose and sighed deeply, frustration evident in your brow.
"I suppose it's just lost forever. No way I can go back there in this state. By the time I'm all healed, all my stuff will be long gone."
A half-baked plan had finished brewing in his noggin and he took care to not make it seem he was smiling at your misery.
"I wouldn't say all is lost. After all, you don't know who or what will find it. Maybe they'll bring it back here."