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A cool breeze and the scent of evergreen and roast meat slipped through the folds of their shared tent; the guards outside were making themselves dinner, a “feast” they called it, after the battle that took place just minutes earlier. It was just a small scuffle: they encountered a small group of monsters while inspecting the road to Kakariko, nothing the hero of Hyrule and his trainees couldn’t handle, but that didn’t mean they got away without injury––though, thankfully, there were no fatalities. It was as such that, despite their alleged feast, the soldiers outside couldn’t quite let themselves enjoy the celebratory aspect of it.
“I’m takin’ the arrow out now,” Link said, running a hand down her bare back. He brushed aside a strand of brown hair that had gotten loose from her plait, and it annoyingly fell back right to where it was: right above the arrow shaft that was protruding from just below her ribcage. It wasn’t in deep enough to harm any vital organs, thankfully, but judging by the shape of the head, it wouldn’t be any less painful to remove. He had just finished widening the wound with a small knife he carried so the arrow might slip out easier––a process that made him want to vomit as he listened to her uneven breathing, not to mention the fact he was actively and directly hurting her more––and grabbed a pair of specialized tongs that would allow him to remove the arrowhead.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Zelda said, keeping her voice steady. But he could hear the slight tremble to it, see the way her hands shook as they held onto her ankles, her knees pressed against her chest not just to conceal her breasts but to give herself some comfort.
“I should be the one tellin’ ya that,” he chuckled humorlessly. “It’ll hurt, but try not to panic, alright?”
“I’m fine, Link, really,” she insisted, “I’ve dealt with worse.”
He knew she wasn’t trying to taunt him; after all, she had suffered several other wounds after the Invasion that were worse than an arrow that didn’t even reach her organs. Yet he still couldn’t help but think back to that awful day at the throne room; to imagine her–– no, his amber eyes as they looked at him with mocking and disdain, and the things Link had to do in order to rid his malice out of her body. No other choice, he told himself often, as did Zelda herself, but the bitterness in the back of his throat wouldn’t leave so easily.
He probed the tongs into the wound, and Zelda was completely still. Save, of course, for the twitch of her trapezius and the shifting of her arms. Warm blood flowed out of the wound and down her back, and he had to hold back every urge to wipe it away at that very moment; seeing it made it feel like his heart was breaking into millions of pieces, his chest ached with pain and anger and frustration and sadness all at once. He could feel her pulse as he grabbed the arrowhead with the tongs: it was fast.
The head was barbed, just as he had feared, and he was suddenly glad he thought to bring these tongs with him: They had notches that would keep the barbs from hooking onto her flesh and tearing it, and with most careful precision, he slowly dug the arrow out. Zelda didn’t move, but she took a particularly sharp breath.
He placed the bloody arrow beside him, on the mat they were currently sitting on, and made swift work of wiping the blood down her back with a piece of gauze. He pressed the same piece against her wound––hard enough to keep the blood from flowing down again yet lightly enough so that it would, ideally, not hurt too much––while he got the materials to stitch it up.
She said she couldn’t feel the needle and thread going through her skin anymore but Link knew that wasn’t true. Her body squirmed whenever he pierced her with the needle, shivered as the thread moved through the tiny holes, and remained tense for a while even after he was done sewing her. A smile of hers would be enough to disperse the worry of others, but not his. He knew her better than that.
“All done,” he said, placing a thick piece of gauze on the wound itself before wrapping her waist area with it. He grabbed the bloodied arrow and snapped it in half with his bare hands, something he hardly even realized he did while blinded by a brief rage. It disintegrated as quick as it came, and he grabbed a nearby blanket and placed it around Zelda’s shoulders, shielding her from the cold breeze she had to suffer through while he treated her.
“Thank you,” she sighed, relief washing over her body as she wrapped it tightly around her torso, lowering her knees, “It’s so chilly out today, autumn isn’t supposed to start for another month.”
She was deflecting, trying to ignore the pain. The least Link could do was help her through it. “Death Mountain was strangely active this year, maybe that has somethin’ to do with it?”
“I hope that doesn’t mean anything bad for us,” she hummed.
Link reached into his leather satchel and dug a red potion out of it, then he handed it to her. “Here, this oughta help numb the pain a bit.”
“Oh!” She reached for the bottle before quickly retracting her hand. “I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt that much, better to give it to someone that really needs it-”
“Drink.”
“Okayyyy,” she grumbled as she grabbed the bottle, popping the cork off and chugging it before her stomach could utter a word of complaint. “Ugh, I truly despise the way these things taste.”
“To be fair, no medicine tastes good,” Link chuckled as he settled back to his spot behind her. He stared at her back––at the spot where her wound is––and felt that bitterness in his throat again. The endless spiral of his own self-hatred was waiting to burst from its containment, his brain urged to throw insult after insult aimed at him, but it had to wait. He needed to make sure she was alright first, and-
Zelda turned around, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. He wasn’t able to get a proper look at her expression before she leaned her forehead against his chest, but her hands were shaking as they held onto his tunic. Tears unwillingly sprung to his eyes upon hearing her voice break, “...It hurts.”
He bit his lip to keep a sob from escaping his mouth; this wasn’t about him, right now he had to be strong for her, he needed to be the pillar she could lean upon. Zelda didn’t easily let it known when she was in pain, for her to even admit this much––and mind, she was probably still undermining just how much it really hurt--must’ve taken a lot of courage. He could scarcely imagine how she must feel, he’d been shot by an arrow many times and he knew better than anyone that red potions, while they did some healing, did jack all to ease the pain and that its effects were simply psychological.
She was in pain, so much pain, enough for her to dampen his tunic with her silent tears. He couldn’t do anything to ease the physical pain, just like he wasn’t able to prevent her from being injured in the first place; it was like all he ever did was hurt her.
He wrapped his arms around her in a light yet secure hold so as not to irritate her wound. She shook quietly against him while he ran his hand through her hair, carefully undoing her plait and brushing out whatever knots may be there. Tenderly, he says, “I know, Zel, I know. But I’m here, okay? I’m always here for ya; I’ll do everything to make ya feel better, just say the word.”
She shook her head, looking at him with teary eyes as one of her hands came up to cup his cheek. “I don’t need everything,” she said softly, closing her eyes and bumping her forehead against his, “Just you.”
He didn’t know how he could possibly be enough. After all he had done to her, she should want him away, as far away from her as possible. Such a thing would break his heart, for he loved her more than what his life was worth, but he would leave if it was her wish, because above all he wished for her happiness. It was a good thing then, he supposed, that she wanted him to stay despite all the pain he had brought her.
In such a case, he should be the one to leave to save her from further hurt. But he was selfish, he could not live without her. He would leave if he was asked, but could not bring himself to pack his bags when she wanted him to stay, even if leaving was for her benefit. What a horrible man he was.
She leaned in and he kissed her, melted in her touch; he memorized it, relished it, and adored it just as he adored her. She was unaware of the thoughts running through his mind, and he wanted to keep it that way. Because tonight he would wallow in his own misery alone while giving her the joy and love that she deserved.