Chapter Text
It always started the same.
There was nothing; no light, no sound, no thought. Only a world filled with a vast, seemingly inescapable void. There was no feeling. It was just… being. Existing. Wandering in the endless depths of a nebulous subconscious for time that lasted out of mind… until an incredible burst of blinding gold lit up from within.
Suddenly, there was everything. Thoughts flooded into his mind as he tried to comprehend a million of them all at once; emotions, memories, fights, lives. It was too much, and he couldn’t think properly. It’s too much. He couldn’t breathe. Too much, too much… too much! A distorted voice called to him, a beacon of serenity in the overwhelming chaos. He couldn’t place it, couldn’t understand. Where was it coming from? Was it even real? Was any of this real?
A dim, pulsing golden light gave way to the gift of sight. His burning eyes pried open to see better, only to burn at the bright blue haze illuminating the surrounding darkness. Unable to process what he was seeing, he closed them again, hoping to save himself from the stinging pain.
“Please…” there was a voice. The emotion in it was pure, raw, and unsettling, striking him with a cold unlike anything else he had ever felt. It sounded strange, as if they had sunk deep in a sea of evil, left drowning and unable to breathe, incapable of swimming up to survive as they were being pulled down, down, down to the crushing depths below, only to be stretched across milennia under a curse of eternity. “... Open your eyes.”
He opened his eyes again, just enough to see color and avoid most of the burn. Did they mean… him?
“Open your eyes..”
He’d already done that. In fact, it was the only part of his body that was working. Even if he could move, what could he do? The rest of him felt overwhelmingly heavy and weak, like jelly to the touch. All he could do was stare into the muted blue around him and allow his racing mind to catch up.
The numbness left his fingers and toes first, warmth following as the pricks rolling through his body moved further up his legs and arms. Wiggling his digits proved a monumental task, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut once more in concentration. It was then that he realized there was an ever so slight shift in his environment, rocking him back and forth in a sway.
His eyes blinked open and, for a fleeting moment, he decided that opening them in the first place had been his first mistake. With a weak hand, he raised it up, stretching it out in front of his face, only to knock it against something that had been covering his face, pushing it off. That had been his second mistake, and he discovered his lungs as a result, sucking some sort of liquid down his throat after taking a poorly timed breath. The liquid settled quickly in his chest, and the panic he allowed to settle was his third mistake. The distress shocked him fully awake, limbs buzzing with a sudden adrenaline that sent his heart pounding and his vision sharpening.
“Thank you,” was the last thing he heard before the water level dropped below his eyes, mouth, and eventually ears, bringing his previously muted scenery into its true bright reality.
With desperation clinging to his soul, he attempted to sit up, his heart pounding like gongs in his ears as his arms only shook and faltered, his head not even breaking contact from the surface beneath him. He tried again only to fail once more, the rapid thrump, thrump of his heart doing nothing to ease his terror. One last attempt to sit up only resulted in another failure, his body drained and weak from suspension.
Finally, within a split moment, he realized his left side seemed to have more strength than his right. He threw his left arm and leg over his body, using the momentum to pull himself onto his side and expelling as much water as possible.
After emptying his lungs—and then his stomach—from the strenuous work, he attempted to take in his surroundings. Panting, he let the musty air fill his aching lungs and clear his befuddled mind, somehow more fresh than the air he had been breathing, yet clearly not ideal. The room glowed in both deep and bright blue that seemed to pulse with his frantic breaths, yet calmed him all the same.
Clutching the rim of whatever he lay in, he took a moment to admire the intricate swirling designs carved in the stone. Someone had put a lot of time into designing this place, but… why? At the sound of a hiss, he looked up at the retracting pane of glass that had once completely covered the… tank, frowning at it in slight confusion. He wasn’t some kind of… fish person. He didn’t need the water to live, so why torture him like this? Thinking back on what little he did remember, he reminded himself once again that opening his eyes when he had clearly been encased in liquid hadn’t been the brightest of ideas. He, however, gave himself the benefit of the doubt that he simply hadn’t known, as the last thing he could remember was…
…
… Wait a minu—
“Good morning, Hero.”
He would have jumped had he not felt as boneless as he still did. His eyelids were heavy and fatigue weighed heavily on his soul, tormenting him as the water did now in his lungs. He tried to turn and find the source of the voice, but it was a fruitless task as he found himself unable to move.
“I’m amazed,” they said quietly. He would have rolled his eyes if he could at their surprised tone, yet his ears perked to listen anyway, hanging onto every syllable. Their masculine-sounding voice was deep, but soft in their rather emotionless speech, thick with an accent, “... That you didn’t pass out while you were still in there. Again.”
His eyebrows furrowed and, with a grunt, he swung his left limbs back over and let himself topple right back onto his back, the back of his head hitting the surface beneath him a little too hard. Grimacing at the pain that blossomed from his skull, he searched around what he could see for the owner of the voice, yet could not find them.
“Who—” His voice died out immediately as his throat constricted painfully, causing him to scowl before the liquid left in his lungs sent him into a coughing fit. It lasted way too long for his comfort, yet somehow not long at all. Once he was done, a quiet sigh came from somewhere behind him.
“Your hair’s atrociously long, too.” They paused and added, “... And covered in vomit.”
He shifted uneasily as he realized he was, in fact, covered in rather long hair that reached his lower back. He planted his left foot on the floor of the box, knee pointed up… and sagged, a heavy sigh leaving his chest as his eyes fluttered. He was done. He had no more strength left… honestly, it was high time to take another nap.
But a hum enveloped the room, dragging his consciousness back to full face as his guest strung together notes varying in pitch, volume, and length to create a melody. It was one he immediately recognized, but… did not know where from.
And Goddesses, their voice was to die for.
It continued for a minute in which he remained still, trying to commit as much of their voice as possible to memory. Eventually, they stopped, voice fading out, and he heard quiet shuffling. “Aren’t you going to stand?” The other person teased. Goddesses, their voice is really nice. He swallowed, momentarily grimacing at the horrid burn that etched its way down his throat.
“Can’t,” He croaked. “... S-sorry.”
A thick moment of silence lingered before he heard movement again, cloth rustling and shoes clicking on what he assumed was a stone floor. The sounds were coming from behind him—well, above his head, sort of—and he tried to tip his head back, only to become more nauseous than he hadn’t realized he already was, eyes closing as the feeling passed through him.
“Rest, Hero,” the other person said, their tone now serious, somehow sounding deeper. “You’ve been asleep for a century, and your body is not in the condition it once was.” He saw motion out of the corner of his eye and, despite every urge and instinct, he did not turn towards it, eyes fluttering in fatigue. He waited patiently until the person drew closer, a bottle held delicately in a hand covered by dark red gloves. Their other hand made its way under his head, supporting his frame as they carefully made him sit up and drink what he could of the brown liquid. If he hadn’t been so tired and somehow so thirsty, he probably would have minded the taste and the texture that slicked its way down his tongue and throat. As of now, however, he swallowed greedily at it without thought.
“Thank you,” He said once they pulled it away, eyeing the liquid before pausing. He felt the effects almost immediately; some of his energy had returned to him, and his nausea was also completely gone. He felt… rejuvenated.
“It’s a temporary work,” The mysterious person said as they gingerly set his head down and quickly walked away before he had the chance to look at them, “Potion mixtures don’t last nearly as long as pure potions, but it was necessary. The health potion settles your stomach, and the stamina potion mixed in gives you energy.” There was the sound of… a cork being squeezed into the opening of the bottle, and some serious rustling. It went on for a minute or two before disappearing in favor of more quick footsteps that became louder as they made their way back over to him. Then they were at the side of the tank, and as they leaned over the side to inspect him and make eye contact, his breath stopped for a reason entirely unrelated to suffocation.
There, standing above him, was what must have been the most beautiful person one could ever lay eyes on. Though everything about them was tinted blue by the lights, he could tell that their hair was a bold blonde, bright and soft, with an ever so slight curl that made the ends of their wavy hair bounce in their movement. Their skin was like warm terracotta, an offset to the brightness of their hair. Their eyes were red, offset again by the light, but just inexplicably red with a depth rivaled by very little. Their bangs covered their left eye—the one on his right—the hair reaching down to their chin, and the top of their head was wrapped in thin white strips of cloth. The bottom half of their face and their nose was hidden by a bold blue mask, the color heightened by the lights, leaving much to the imagination. They glanced over different spots on his face before straightening, and it was then that he noticed a brown cloak hanging over their body, secured at the collar by what appeared to be some sort of circular purple… pendant.
“I suggest we move to my campsite quickly,” they said, “Before the potion wears off and gives you time to think about the emptiness of your stomach.”
Before he could think about his stomach, or anything else for that matter, the mysterious stranger reached out with both arms, slipped one arm behind his upper back and another under his knees, and hauled him out while bending his body into a curl so that his head pressed into the slot of their shoulder. He grunted at the ache of pain that shot through his body, mostly from the stretch of his muscles, and he screwed his eyes shut as he sucked in a quiet breath.
Thankfully, his company paused, giving him time to adjust to the new position; and only once he released a shaky breath and opened his eyes did they move again. Once they had him in some sort of sitting position, they adjusted their hold on his legs and lowered their body, letting him lean onto their broad chest, before they stood with no effort at all. His stomach filled with a weightless feeling, and he shivered from that as well as the cold air that brushed over his still-wet skin. He pressed his face further into their chest and arm as he inhaled shakily, glancing up at their face. They were not looking at him, head turned over their left shoulder instead, and he traced his eyes along their strong jawline.
Everything about them he could see seemed strong. Their chest was solid, as were their arms, and he could see thanks to the plain fabric of their clothes and the light that their arms were clearly muscular. Looking back up, he noticed a very slight shadow in their mask along the side of their neck, indicating muscles there as well.
As they turned, the lights spun with the movement. He squeezed his eyes shut again, focusing on the warmth of their body and the slight shake that came with each step. They took a deep breath above him, and he focused on that, too, trying to settle on something steady.
After a couple of steps, the person stopped and gently nudged at his shoulder with their hand. He opened his eyes, paused when they made eye contact, then turned his head to face away as they looked forward and nodded at something in front of them.
It was a tall, circular sculpture that matched the rest of the room in color; mostly black with brown swirls, glowing blue lights. In the center of it was a rectangular object that didn’t quite fill in the entire space, one side of it glowing orange instead.
“This is a Sheikah Slate,” they said, “One of the few heirlooms of my family to remain in Hyrule after all this time. It once belonged to one close to you. Take it.”
He blinked before sluggishly raising his right arm from his lap and reaching down to touch the pedestal. His fingertips had just barely grazed it before a high pitched, melodic ping rang through the room, the pedestal’s blue lighting pulsing once. After a moment of pause, the surface of the pedestal moved, twisting and turning, until finally a small rectangle presented itself and turned around to reveal an eye symbol. He remained stock still as he watched, a little dumbfounded, before realizing it was the Slate the person beside him had been speaking of, and he took it firmly by the orange side, which was what appeared to be a handle, so as not to drop it.
Picking it up caused an even stranger-looking door to his right to open, rectangular panels moving up towards the ceiling. When the other person moved again—quickly, no less—he squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and cradled the Slate in his lap, pressing his face to their chest once more as a noise of discomfort escaped him. However, he was too interested in where they were going to keep his eyes closed for long, so he opened them and turned slightly to watch.
The movements from his new acquaintance were quick and fleeting; one moment they were in the doorway and the next, slowing down so they could go down a ramp. Once at the bottom, they quickly continued down the hall to yet another pedestal.
“Touch it with the slate,” his rescuer urged quietly. He glanced at the tablet in his hand and lifted it, again just barely hovering over the pedestal when a deep rumbling echoed through the hall of the cavern.
“You will see some strange things once we pass the threshold of this door,” His acquaintance said, “But there is no time for questions right now. You must wait until we make it back to my campsite and you have taken true rest.” They moved in front of the door and, before he could affirm anything the other had told him, a bright, blinding light burst in from the opening of the door, and he squeezed his eyes shut again before burying his face in their chest. Colors danced behind closed lids, and there seemed to be a glowing purple indentation where the rays had once been. He shook his head to try to get rid of them, but neither that nor rubbing his eyes seemed to help much.
It seemed like it was forever until the rumbling came to a stop, at which point, the stranger walked again, steps quick but certain. They adjusted him ever so slightly until he was cradled closer to them somehow, and although it was ever so slightly painful from where their fingers were digging into him, he liked the pressure, liked the closeness, liked having a strong body beside him, holding him. It was comforting, and… somehow, he just knew that this person would never bring him harm.
It wasn’t until the sound of their footsteps abruptly changed, as it sounded like they were stepping on something more solid, when they shifted their position. It felt like they were leaning forward to hold him, and with each step, he could tell they were walking up, somehow.
His curiosity got the better of him. Peeling his eyes half open, he kept them squinted, the sunlight in his eyes hurting but slowly getting more bearable—while squinting, at least. He leaned his head more against their shoulder to try to look up at them again, but the moment he laid eyes on their face, they turned their head enough so they could look at him, and his eyes opened a little wider. Their other eye was still blocked, this time mostly by the bridge of their nose, but the one eye was enough to completely lock him into place. Now that the blue lighting of that room was gone, their colors seemed to intensify twofold, and he felt like the breath had been stolen from his lungs.
“You’re beautiful.”
He said it before he had a chance to think about it, but even after the words left his mouth, he didn’t regret it. It didn’t embarrass him. It was the truth, after all—they were gorgeous. Breathtaking. So much so that he had said it in such a soft whisper that he wasn’t even sure if they had actually heard him. Whether or not they had heard him, they clearly knew what he had said, as their reaction was immediate; with his ear pressed against their shoulder, he heard their heart skip a beat and he watched the way their brown eyebrows twitched together while what so very little he could see of their face softened. Their fingers, too, twitched against his thigh and the side of his chest, while their arms slightly tensed, as if to hold him even closer. And then he heard them swallow, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the hard lump in their throat that he hadn’t noticed before as it raised and then lowered.
Subconsciously, he abandoned the Slate in his lap in his effort to raise his hand to his own throat, finding the same lump, and his acquaintance reacted to that with a breathless snort and a slight crinkle of their eye.
And that was when he noticed them.
Floating past were what appeared to be… ashes? Except these were not normal ashes—though he wasn’t sure, exactly, what normal ashes were… or was he? Regardless, he just knew these were not normal; they were glowing a bright pinkish red, and although they quickly grew more numerous, his companion did not seem bothered. In fact, the ashes approached them, and while he flinched at the sight, they… didn’t react, even as the ashes seemed to go right through their body.
They gave him a bad, foreboding feeling.
Thankfully, his acquaintance was quick to distract him. “Do you think you have enough strength to hold yourself up with your arms?”
He looked back at them, frowning for a second. Hold himself up... how? There was nothing to hold on to, nothing for him to prop himself up with. “... um... where...?”
“If you put your arms around my neck.”
Oh. Oh. Well, that was... He nodded tentatively, deciding that if he had enough strength to move his arms around, then it should be easy to hold himself up... right? They came to a stop with a slight sway and then descended, pressing their thigh to his bottom until he was sitting on it completely. From there, they adjusted the arm under his legs, and with the other, they set their hand flat against his back to support him. Their other hand was visible, so he could tell that they were both covered in fabric, but despite the barrier they still seemed to radiate heat, especially from their hands. And from their chest. And from their stomach, which his hip was settled against. And from their ar—
“Hey.”
He jumped slightly before returning his attention to the task at hand, untangling his arms from his lap and raising them. One arm went around the back of their head, which they ducked a little to accommodate him, while the other went across their collar and then up, where he linked both hands together in a way that felt comfortable and secure.
“Ready?” They asked, looking at him. He nodded, pressing up against them as much as he could, slightly squishing the Slate between his stomach and legs. Once he stopped squirming around, they moved the hand from his back to his arm, settling against his right bicep, before they stood once again.
Almost immediately, he realized that what they were doing now was probably the limit of his current strength. He was glad he had already pulled himself closer, because he had a feeling that if he had tried now, he wouldn’t have been able to; his arms were already quivering, burning the slightest bit, but not to the point of having to let go. Yet.
“You okay?” They asked. He looked up again, making eye contact with them, and after a moment he nodded, looking back down as his face flushed. He really had to get a hold of himself, but they were seriously gorgeous. He felt like he could barely look at them. “Let me know if you need to let go.” He nodded again, but he had a feeling he would not need to let them know of that. Let go? He wouldn’t dream of it.
Apparently satisfied with his answer, the other person turned their head to face forward once more, walking in what seemed to be a normal way, but as he watched the wall, he realized they were walking up an incline. He looked over their shoulder to find a plethora of wooden planks all neatly arranged to form a perfect slope, starting at the top of what appeared to be stairs, and he wondered if the stranger had built it themselves, considering the wood neither matched the materials of the room they had just been in, nor did it match the walls... which, upon second glance, he realized were also of the same material of the previous rooms. The ceiling, on the other hand, was rocky. Plus, he could tell some of the wood was wet, and it didn’t seem affected by that water very much... so it was probably newer.
Turning back around made him physically cringe from the light. It was way too bright—it made his eyes water. As he recoiled from the view, he looked back towards the stranger and tipped his head forward, burying his face into the crook of their neck. They tensed at the contact, but said nothing, continuing to walk until they walked upwards yet again. Another set of stairs, perhaps... they were walking in the same way they had before.
“Is the light bothering you?” They asked him quietly. Without opening his eyes, he nodded, humming in response at the same time. “Is it too bright, or are you still feeling weak?”
“Too bright,” He said. “And.. feel weak, yeah.”
Their steps faltered, but they did not stop. A moment later, he heard some rustling, and things seemed to even out as they turned to the right. The light got brighter, even past the barrier of their neck, and he could not suppress the whine that passed through his nose. Their arm around his back gave him the lightest squeeze. “My hood should be behind my neck. Pull it over your face. We’ll be there soon.” And then after a pause they added, more quietly, “... try not to fall back asleep.”
Reaching around blindly, he found what he assumed was this hood and set it over his face with a sigh of relief as the light was instantly blocked out—though he had to do it a second time and hook it behind his ear as his acquaintance’s steps caused it to fall back again. It helped, at least; it felt nice and snug, and it was warm, and dark...
Try not to fall back asleep. He opened his eyes, flinching a little when he saw light, then relaxing when he realized it was just from the holes in the fabric. They were small enough that the light passing through was minimal, just tiny golden pinpricks in his vision. It almost didn’t look real. He pulled his face away from their neck, trying to look through the holes, but they were just too small. He placed his head down with his ear pressed against their shoulder, nose brushing against the side of their neck, and he closed his eyes again. Then he opened them again. Try not to fall back asleep.
He wasn’t necessarily tired at the moment, but he didn’t want to take his chances. There was probably a reason they were telling him not to sleep. And he had questions anyway, so...
With his right hand, he—no, that didn’t feel right. With his left hand, he raised it just enough so that he could poke at their shoulder a couple of times, trying to get their attention. The first time, it didn’t work—maybe he did it too light. The second time, it still didn’t work. He waited a bit longer, trying to see if maybe they just hadn’t registered. But after a solid minute—at which point he realized that now they were heading down—he did it again.
Finally, they asked, “Are you poking me?” He hummed in affirmation, picking up his head ever so slightly.
“Wanted to ask you something,” He said. A sharp breath escaped what he believed to be their nose, but he wasn’t able to tell if they were scoffing or laughing until they spoke.
“You had my attention already,” they said, voice soft but tone amused. He supposed that answered that. Setting his head down, he thought for a moment before he ran his finger along the fabric of their cloak. It felt a little rough, but it was thick and firm. He pinched at it to try to see how thick it was. Then he remembered he meant to ask something.
“Um,” He glanced up at—the inside of the hood again, right—and let his eyes shut for a few moments. “... where are we going?”
“I have a camp at the bottom of the cliff,” they answered, “But you’re in no shape for us to get there the fast route. We’re taking the long way down the hill.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Hill?”
“... yes?”
They sounded just as confused as he felt. He almost wanted to pull the hood off his head and look them in the eye, but he didn’t want to face the light again.
“What’s a hill?” He asked.
For a long time, they were silent. Long enough to make him antsy. He reached up with the same hand as before and poked them three times in the shoulder again, wondering if they hadn’t heard him again. Or something.
But they just took a deep breath as he did that, and then, quietly, they sighed. “A hill is a part of the ground that slowly gets higher until it reaches a bit of a point. You can go up a hill or down one. We are going down a hill right now.” They paused, then they added, “Technically, we are on a mountain. But this pathway is similar to the slope of a hill.”
“Mountain?”
“What is a mountain?”
He hummed as he nodded, closing his eyes again, but thankfully finding his mind to be more clear than he expected. He felt like he hadn’t slept, yet he did at the same time. Yet he didn’t feel like he needed more sleep… or did he?
“It’s like a hill, but it gets very tall very quickly. Hills you can walk up, but mountains you generally have to climb.”
“… you might hate me.”
“... Hate you? Why?” They sounded very confused.
“Climb?”
This time, the noise that came from them was undeniably a laugh, although it was small. It was low and quiet, and it caused their chest to move against him in quick, short motions. It was very breathy, almost tickling his ear—what was tickling?—which caused a tiny tingle to shoot up his back. He had a feeling that, if it were any stronger, it would’ve caused him to tense up in reaction. But with how little it was, it felt... almost nice.
“That is something I will have to show and then teach to you,” they finally said. “It will be an important skill for you to learn.” And then, before he could respond, they said, “Hold on tight.”
He did—tried to, anyway—but his entire world was suddenly shifted on its axis. It helped that it was towards them, but still he felt the need to scramble for a better hold, with his arms tightening around their neck, hands clutching onto their cloak, and eyes squeezing shut in case the hood fell back off. His acquaintance removed their arm from his back for a minute as they lowered backwards, and then a second later, they were almost jerking forward, a strange skidding sound coming from beneath them. They did it once, wrapped their other arm around his back as they stood again, and then they did it a second time. When they stood after that, their hand settled on his shoulder rather than his arm, and they said, “We’re finished. You can let go if you want, too.”
But he shook his head, a strange feeling in his chest and stomach, and they did not press. Instead, he felt them turning for a moment, a bit of air rushing against his right side, and then they were walking again, though much slower this time.
“We’re here now,” they said. “If your eyes are still feeling sensitive, I’ll put up the curtain. But I’m going to place you down on... it’s as close to a bed as I could pull together in here. I’m afraid it may not be too comfortable.”
“That’s okay,” He breathed. He wondered what a curtain was. “Just... don’t leave me. ‘S cold...”
“I won’t leave you.” And there was such conviction in their voice as they said those words that he accepted it as complete truth, even though he was sure he was supposed to fear being carted around by a stranger. Somehow, he just knew he was safe with them.
Hopefully, that was true.
His acquaintance took a couple more steps before they turned again, though they continued to walk in the same direction, the air at his back now, and a tiny bit of light creeping in from behind his chin. Both the light and wind that did come were bare; what little breeze there had been was almost gone, just a whisper on his skin compared to how it had been before.
It was a couple more steps before they stopped completely, and their hands adjusted themselves on his legs and arm until they seemed to have gotten the grip they wanted. At that point, they lowered him again, their leg underneath him once more, and once he was seated on their thigh, they said softly, “You can let go now.”
He really didn’t want to. He dreaded it, even, though he wasn’t sure why. Regardless, he reluctantly released his arms, their quivering both helping and hindering his progress, until finally he could place them back in his lap, where the Slate was. They continued to adjust their hold on him, hands firm but gentle, until finally the arm under his legs retracted and settled on his shoulder.
“Shut your eyes for now,” they said. Confusion filled him for a moment until he felt pressure from their fingers on the hood. “The sun is pointed right at us for the sunset. I think I might put the curtain up anyway—it’s likely too bright for you right now. You need time to recover into the waking world.”
Quickly, he closed his eyes. He didn’t want to look at the… sun. “Okay.”
He felt the hood being removed a moment later, the full darkness changing to a bright red under his eyelids. He squeezed them tighter, though that made him a little dizzy, so he returned them as much to normal as he was willing to do. In the meantime, his acquaintance was shifting around, leaning over him, causing something underneath him to shuffle around, and after a few moments, they huffed out what sounded like a slightly irritated hum before slipping their arm back under his knees.
When he felt them lift him, he tensed, clutching the Slate to his stomach so he wouldn’t drop it. He had just enough strength to hold his head up, but already he could feel that the potion they had given him was wearing off from to the strain it took him to do so. Thankfully, he didn’t have to hold his head up for long, for soon after, they were setting him down on something soft, hand gliding up from his back to his neck as they supported him on the way down. His legs they kept held until his torso was flat, and as they settled his head onto something slightly more elevated but still quite soft, they released his legs long enough to grab his hair and gather it above his head, setting it somewhere behind him. Once they were done with that, their hands moved down to his legs, which they straightened with careful, warm hands.
“Don’t open your eyes yet,” they warned as their hands left him. “Let me cover the sunlight.”
He obeyed with a nod, trusting they had seen his acknowledgement. There was some shuffling as they stood and a brief wash of cold air, and then more shuffling from straight ahead of him. It took a while, but eventually the bright pinkish red turned into a deeper crimson, which brightened into a dull red when he unclenched his eyes. He kept them closed as he waited, listening to the stranger as they moved closer and then stopped just beside him. There was some shuffling, and then starting from his feet, something was lain overtop of him, incredibly soft and very warm. As soon as it laid over his fingers, he released the Slate with one hand to run his fingers against the material, relaxing at its soft texture. They continued to lay it over him until it reached his neck, at which point they tucked it underneath his chin and around his shoulders.
“Let me know if you get hot,” They said, making a noise that indicated they were settling down beside him once again. One of their hands settled on the shoulder closest to them, while the other pressed briefly against his forehead. They were so warm . “Thankfully your body temperature isn’t too low, but we still need to raise it.” And they removed their hands and he felt a sudden, intense sense of loss. Why did they take their hands away? They were warm. Were they never going to put them back? He liked it…
He tilted his head slightly towards them, squeezing his eyes tighter closed momentarily. He decided he wanted to see them again, since they took their hands away, but he didn’t want to open his eyes if they didn’t want him to. “Can I—“
Immediately, without warning, he sprung into a coughing fit. His throat was incredibly dry, so much so that it sent a sharp twinge of pain that practically reached his ears. He recoiled at the feeling, cringing so hard he receded a bit into the covering.
Thankfully, they seemed to know what the issue was. “Dry throat?”
He gave them a jerked nod, listening to them shuffle around for a moment before suddenly, their hand was slipping underneath his head again. He followed it dutifully, tilting his head down ever so slightly, but just enough for a cold liquid to lap at his lips.
For a moment, it reminded him too much of how he had woken up. He wanted to flail, hold his breath, even knock what felt like a bottle away from his face so that it would spill somewhere else. He just wanted it somewhere other than by his face. But his thirst and desire to speak were far greater than the bone-gripping fear he had of the liquid, so he half sipped, half lapped at the water, finding it to be ice cold. The water he had woken up in had been cold too, but not anywhere near as cold. He wasn’t sure if that was intentional on their side or not, but it certainly helped him to get the idea of drowning off his mind.
For now.
When he no longer felt like his throat had torn a hole through itself, he lifted his head just enough for his companion to remove the bottle and set his head back down. He licked his lips and swallowed, shivering slightly and clutching the blanket closer to himself from what he could reach, and he tried again. “... can I open my eyes?”
They were silent at first. Were they doing something? Hesitating? Deciding? He really hoped they let him open his eyes. He felt like they had been closed for forever. Like a hundred years or something.
Thankfully, they didn’t leave him wondering for long; with a soft sigh, they spoke once more, their voice smooth like the covering they had placed over him. He wished he could touch it, too. “You may. I left the curtain cracked so you can still see, but the light will not go into your eyes. Let me know if it’s still too bright.”
Eagerly and carefully all at once, he unscrunched his eyes and slowly peeled them open. Once they were halfway open and he could see where the light fell across the wall to his left, giving a soft illumination to his surroundings, he decided it didn’t seem so bad and he opened them the rest of the way.
The first thing his eyes fell to was, once again, his acquaintance. He noticed, however, that they were not wearing their cloak, and they were sitting a couple feet away past a pointed bundle of wood on the ground, knees drawn up and arms wrapped loosely around them. They were watching him intensely, their one visible red eye glowing in the half-darkness of the... whatever they were in. He noticed their shoulders were tense and their hands were gripping each other a bit too tightly, their eyebrow furrowed in what was clearly a mix of concentration and concern, although its appearance lent itself closer to an angry expression. Their breathing was even and measured, and he couldn’t be sure if they were controlling it to be like that or if they naturally breathed that perfectly. He bet it was the latter. What did that mean?
He could always ask. “What does latter mean?”
Their eyebrow raised in question, like they couldn’t believe he was asking such a thing. Regardless, they answered. “… the last thing in a list, usually out of two things. The first thing would be the former.”
That made sense. He just nodded. They stared at him for a minute before averting their eyes to their left, which was straight ahead of him, and reaching up to adjust their mask.
He turned to look as well, noticing now the ‘curtain’ they had been referring to. It was clearly the cloak they had just been wearing, opened up to stretch most of the way across the opening of whatever it was they were in. Which he needed to know what it was called.
“Where are we?” He asked, looking around with mostly his eye. It was almost like they were back where he had just been, but the walls were just plain rock. His gaze fell to the ground between them, where he noticed small spurts of green. “What’s that green stuff?”
“We’re on the Great Plateau,” they said. As he looked back up at them, he noticed they had somehow detatched their purple pendant from their cloak, and they had set it on the ground right beside their leg. “If you mean this,” They pointed up and then swirled their finger around in a circle, which he recognized was gesturing to the little place they were in. “It’s just a small cave. It’s at the bottom of the cliff next to the Shrine of Resurrection, which has been your resting place for... a time.” They hesitated before they said that, eyes averting in the pause. He wondered how long that time was. He still wanted answers to his other questions, though. “If you’re referring to this, this is grass.” They reached down to smooth a hand across the green spurts, which moved with it like liquid before springing back up. He wanted to touch them. He bet they were soft.
“What’s this?” He asked, raising his hands underneath the black fabric covering him. However, in doing so, he dislodged part of it from around his shoulder, and he shivered at the chilly breeze that made its way underneath.
Immediately, the stranger was tending to his mishap, adjusting the cover and tucking it more securely under his shoulder. While their eyes were on their task, his eyes were on them, more specifically the other eye that had now become visible thanks to their bangs hanging at a different angle from leaning over. The glow of their eye, anyway. It was dimmer from the distance, or maybe the shadow. “It’s my winter cloak. Is it warm?” He nodded, and they glanced up at him at the same time. “Good. Hopefully, it can keep your temperature regulated until you can rebuild some insulation... your body is very weak in its current state. You have severe muscle atrophy and malnutrition, and you’re probably going to be experiencing a lot of nausea, constipation, and confusion for a while. In fact, you’re already experiencing some confusion.”
Before he could ask what they meant, they leaned back to look at him square with their one visible eye, and they asked, “Do you remember anything from before you woke up?”
He opened his mouth to respond, but the moment he did, something twisted deep in his gut and chest all at once and he stopped to really think about it. Before waking up, he... well, he remembered seeing the darkness, and then the light, and hearing the voice. But wasn’t that technically while he was waking up? So he thought back further, and... well, there was darkness. Then there was the golden light. But before the darkness, there was…
... what?
“Um...” He pursed his lips, looking down towards the cloak hanging up in the... cave. He could see the small pinpricks of light through it even from here, but they were only big enough to brighten the cloak. It was actually brighter than he realized, but since the light wasn’t directly in his eyes, it wasn’t so bad, and... oh, right. “Um. I can’t remember anything other than... there was just darkness for a really long time... I think. And then there was this golden light, and a voice. But other than that...” He tried to shake his head, but as they mentioned prior, he immediately got dizzy. The potion had worn off even further, it seemed. “I don’t remember anything… before that.”
“That’s alright. I expected such.” They returned to adjusting their other cloak around him for a minute before moving back to their previous position, scooting the pendant away from their seat on the ground. It gave off a powerful, foreboding aura, but he didn’t think it was a good or bad one, it was just... there. “Unfortunately, the Shrine does not appear to have been biased over what it took from you. Memories were to be expected, but knowledge... not so much.” They looked towards their cloak hanging up in the cave's opening, fingers linking once more, and they said, “… but it’s alright. We have time to rebuild on those things while your body recovers. Our focus is on your body first and foremost, however.”
“And my eyes,” He said. When they looked at him, he added, “So I can see.”
They nodded, watching him for a moment before their eye dropped to the wood between them. He looked as well, wondering if something was supposed to happen, and when he looked back, they made eye contact once more. He tried giving them a smile, but a yawn interrupted it as a wave of fatigue slammed into him, making his eyelids feel heavy. If he closed them, he would fall asleep... they said not to sleep.
“Do you mind if I start a small fire?” They asked quietly. “It’ll give off some light, but it’ll be warm. It should help you sleep.”
“You said not to sleep, though.”
“I did, yes. I meant for the trip down. Now that we’re here, however, if you’re feeling tired... you should sleep.” They looked like they wanted to say something else, but whatever it was, they kept it behind closed lips and their mask. And not very well behind their ruby red eyes. Well, eye. In any case, if they were trying to hide that they wanted to say something else, they were doing a poor job at it. Or maybe he was just really good at reading people?
That was another a thought that occurred to him then. “Is it just us?”
They nodded solemnly, and when he blinked, what little he could see of their expression evened out completely. It almost looked unnatural. “We are the only people on the Plateau. You’ll see why when we leave this place. The original entrance was caved in by rocks and filled with water. Otherwise, this place is difficult for anyone except for the Zora to reach.”
“Zora?”
“They are a race of people. You are part of the Hylian race; I am part of the Sheikah race.” Just as he opened his mouth to ask the list of questions that sprang into his mind, they interjected him to say, “You need to rest. Are there any other larger, pressing questions on your mind? I will only answer a few, so choose wisely.”
“Oh.” He frowned. What if he forgot them all when he woke up? He wanted to know what the different races were. Were there more? Could he tell just by looking at someone? If he could, was it why their eyes were as beautiful as they were? What color were his eyes? That was an important question, but one that he could probably ask when he woke up instead. Something he wanted to know more, however, was... “Um... my name. Your name. What are they?”
Again, their eyebrow raised, but this time there was a guarded look to their expression. They searched his face with their eyes for a moment, and then finally, they said, “... Link. Your name is Link Ordona.”
“Link?” It settled in his chest, in his ears, and on his tongue with such familiarity, he knew in that moment that it was fact. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking more about the name—his name. He could hear different voices in his head saying it in a variety of different tones, from angry to happy, disappointed to loving. He could hear one in particular that stood out among the rest, one that caused his heart to lurch in pain and grow warm all at once. “… okay.”
When Link peeled his eyes again, he did so with another yawn, feeling tears spring to his eyes from the strain. He wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but he didn’t want to sacrifice what little warmth had built up under the cloak.
Which reminded him of his acquaintance’s unanswered question. He glanced at the unlit wood, which they had not touched. “You can light a fire if you want. Sorry.”
“It’s alright. Do you want a fire? It’s not necessary unless you want it.”
Link thought about it for a minute. They had said it would give off some light, which made his eyes hurt just thinking about it, but that it would be warm. He supposed warmth was worth his eyes hurting, but it occurred to him then as well that it wouldn’t even matter; with enough luck, he would sleep soon. He wouldn’t even see the light. “I want it. It’ll be warm, right?”
They nodded as they pushed themselves up until they could get their right knee underneath them, left foot planted firmly on the ground. Then they placed their left hand upon their knee for balance and reached out towards the wood with their right hand, which they hovered above it. He frowned at the sight, confused, but just when he opened his mouth to ask what was going on, he blinked and suddenly their hand was engulfed in blue flame.
The cave immediately filled with warmth, almost a suffocating amount, but thankfully the fire went from blue to orange in a matter of moments, the heat lessening at the same time. They might have glanced at him as it did, but he was too focused on the flame, finding the way it danced and crackled in the air pleasing. He decided it wasn’t too bright at its current size.
They reached down and smoothed their hand across the wood, slowly igniting it along the way until they seemed satisfied with their coverage. They retracted their hand then, Link’s eyes following, and an unsettling quiet settled over them as the fire on their hand slowly extinguished. At the same time, they sat down once more, right leg folding down to lie flat against the ground while the left one propped itself up. They rested their left forearm again atop their knee, hand dangling at the end, while their right hand they brought in close, resting it in their lap, fingers up, as if cradling something.
Their eye rose to meet his then, their chin inclining as they set their head against the wall of the cave behind them. The light from the fire was low, casting long, flickering shadows across their face from their bangs. Their eye glowed consistently, easier to see in the shadow than the light, and he couldn’t help but think that they looked like a red rupee. Except he didn’t know what a rupee was.
“Are your eyes glowing?” He asked, wanting to confirm what he was seeing. When they nodded, he continued with, “Why?”
They stared at him for a minute. They did a lot of that. Then, quietly, they said, “Sheikah can see in the dark. When our eyes adjust, they glow.”
“What are Sheikah?”
“You’re getting distracted.”
Link smiled guiltily, and they picked their head up, shaking it a little before looking toward the fire. It drew their shadow onto the wall behind them, wide and elongated, and it made the waviness of their hair that much more evident. It also drew his attention to the strange spikes on their forearms, attached to their clothes, and he wondered if they were sharp. They did not gleam in the firelight, but they still had a shine to them, like… like armor. Strange armor—maybe leather?—but armor nonetheless, and… wait.
He didn’t even know what armor was, and yet he was using it as a comparison.
“Nothing makes sense,” He said, refocusing his gaze, finding them already making eye contact once more. They raised an eyebrow, and after a moment of silence, he realized that was probably a sign for him to continue. Hopefully, because he spoke again anyway. “I keep thinking about things I feel like I should know about, but I don’t. Words pop up in my head and they feel right, but I don’t even know what they mean.”
“It’s likely due to the memory loss. Do not worry yourself too much over it. It’s not something that will just come back to you overnight. Just rest, Link.”
And just like that, his eyes fluttered closed again, head heavy, brain foggy, his whole body in a mix of feeling like it was floating in a void and getting ready to ache. It was then that he remembered the Slate that was still on his stomach—hadn’t they called it a Sheikah Slate?
“You should have this,” Link mumbled, grasping for the Slate and tiredly attempting to breach the cloak in order to hand it to them. After a couple of failed attempts, he heard shuffling, and he peeled his eyes open once more just as they set a hand on his arm. He stopped, letting his head fall back onto the makeshift pillow they had given him, and he watched with fluttering eyelids as their hand followed his arm down to the Slate on his stomach. They looked at him then.
“It is yours,” they said. He shrugged as best as he could, eyes closing again. How he had gone from lively to exhausted in just a matter of minutes? He almost felt like he was already asleep.
“Don’t want it for sleep,” He said simply. They must have agreed with his statement because they only waited a second before pulling away and introducing a small brush of cool air against his side, which he shivered at. The next thing he knew, he felt their hand descend on his forearm, grasping it firmly, as if to let him know they were there, and then they released it and skimmed their fingers along his arm so they could find and take the Slate from him.
As they pulled away, lifting the Slate enough so it just barely skimmed over his skin, he forced open his eyes for what felt like could be the last time, grateful for the decreased distance so he could see as many details as possible once again. In the firelight, their golden hair had taken on a stronger tone of orange, with hints of its original hue where the hair was thinnest while the deep shadows made it appear bronze. The firelight seemed to radiate around their head like a halo, and paired with their glowing red eyes—which were both visible at the angle he could see them in now—and how very little he could see of their warm, brown skin... he decided he had to know everything he could about them.
So, as they finished extracting the Slate from under his blanket, he reached out just before they could tuck his arm in again, and he grabbed their hand, catching just their pinky. They looked over at him, their other eye hiding once more behind their bangs, and the expression that settled on their face as they tipped their head was finally one that he found difficulty reading. It was everything, yet it was nothing all at once.
His eyes drifting shut once again, Link shook his head to try to wake up, and at the same time they flipped their hand over to grab his, squeezing it. Their palm was warm, almost hot, and he wanted badly to press it to the cold parts of his face, but his strength was waning. He squeezed back, feeling his consciousness waver. Goddesses, he was so tired.
“Do you think I’ll wake up again?” Link asked quietly. “I feel like I could sleep for a hundred years...”
The other person snorted, their other hand settling over to sandwich it between theirs. They took a breath as if to speak, only for words not to come. A moment of silence passed, then they sighed quietly before taking in another breath. “You will wake up, I promise you. It may not be in the morning, but it will happen.”
“Will you be here?”
They made a hum of affirmation, followed by, “Of course. I must be.”
“What if you’re not?”
“That will not happen.”
They sounded confident in that statement, but he still felt nerves twisting deep in his gut. He forced himself to peel his eyes open one last time, tilting his head so he could see them better. They looked earnest, like they wanted to convince him with just their single eye alone, and while he did not doubt they would stick to their word, he was still afraid to wake up alone.
What if he had woken up alone before? He wouldn’t have even made it to the Slate. He would’ve been found, however many years later, as a skeleton left behind likely in the same spot that he had woken up in. Even worse, he wouldn’t have known why he was in there. He would have just drowned in his own vomit, and maybe he wouldn’t have even known what vomit was.
The worst part about it was that he would have been alone.
“I don’t want to wake up alone,” Link whispered. Their expression softened, eye searching his face. He searched theirs, too. Then he said, “Your eyes are so pretty.”
A heavy breath escaped them while the corner of their eye crinkled ever so slightly, their head straightening out. They looked down at their hands, giving him another squeeze before they let go with one hand to lift the cloak and worked on returning his hand to his stomach. In the meantime, they said, “I can guarantee you I will be here when you wake, but if for whatever reason you can’t find me, you can just call for me.” They glanced up, looking somewhere behind Link. “I may be sitting behind you or standing just outside. Since your mobility is limited, it’s not like you can just look around. I see why you’re nervous.”
“Call you how?” Link shivered at the chilly breeze settling over his skin, feeling the way his arm hair stood on end and rubbed too much against the inside of the cloak. It made him shiver again. “You never told me your name. But I don’t think I asked you for it.”
“You did. You just clearly have a lot on your mind right now.” They glanced at him. “I did not answer, however. I was wondering if you would rather I tell you now or wait until you wake up to tell you. I’m not sure how much of today’s events you’ll remember, after all.”
They had a good point. He thought about it, tucking his arms close to himself while they extracted their hands and began tucking the cloak under him once more. He considered his options while they did, but when they finished and pulled away, he was still undecided. “... I don’t know. I want it now, but I want it later, too. I don’t want to forget more things. I already... I mean, I didn’t even know my own name.” His chin quivered as what he recognized to be fear filled his chest, but as soon as he moved his arm to grab for them again, they were pressing a hand down firmly on top of it, keeping him still. Somehow, he was able to focus his mind on the warmth of their hand, taking a deep breath before his eyes could fill with tears. “... you’ll be here?”
“I’ll be here.” They removed their hand, and instead of moving away as they had done before, they sat down instead. They crossed their legs in front of them and leaned forward with their elbows settled on their knees, hands clasping together as they looked over their shoulder toward the fire. “Don’t worry. Just get some rest.”
Link nodded, but he didn’t let his eyes shut just yet. He stared at his acquaintance. He wondered if he could figure out what their name was by thinking of some... but as he tried to think of names, his mind returned blank. The only thing he could think of was Link, Link, Link, and so he quickly gave up on the ordeal, deciding that he probably forgot every other name he had ever learned, too. He sighed as he pushed away his thoughts about being unable to remember anything, eyes dropping to the fire, though he couldn’t see much of it as they had blocked his view of it. Maybe it was intentional, to protect his eyes? Did they care that much? Well, obviously—they had saved him, hadn’t they? He would have died if it wasn’t for them.
Their name. Right. They were right about him having a lot on his mind; he felt like he had both nothing and everything weighing heavily on him, barraging him from all directions yet steering clear of him all at once. He inhaled deeply, looking back up at the side of their head as he focused on what he wanted, and finally he asked, "Can you tell me your name?"
They did not immediately turn around, but thankfully it was before he had the chance to doubt himself, to wonder if they had heard him or if it was even right for him to ask. When they did turn, they did so almost hesitantly, like they weren’t sure if they were ready to face him. They looked down upon him, shoulders and chest slowly rising and falling with each breath. They looked a bit like they were debating whether or not to tell him. Maybe they didn’t have a name. Maybe they were just nervous. He wasn’t sure why—someone that looked as stunning as they did shouldn’t have to feel nervous about anything. Their deep ruby red eyes pierced his soul and their short, golden blonde hair curtained those same gems, soft tufts framing what he could see of their flawless brown skin... what did they have to worry about? Did they not know what they looked like? If he looked like that, he would probably be a bit overconfident, to be hon—
“Sheik.”
He jolted himself out of his thoughts, latching quickly onto the name and repeating it in his head—Sheik, Sheik, Sheik—and then trying it out for himself. “... Sheik. Sheik?” Their expression crashed through a series of emotions, and they nodded jerkily. “Sorry. Did I say it wrong?”
Immediately, their eyes widened. “No,” they said quickly, shaking their head. Their hair swayed a bit with the movement. “I just... It’s just...” They hesitated, hands wringing together, and after a minute, they seemed unable to continue holding eye contact with him, and they dropped their eyes to their lap. “... I haven’t heard anyone say my name in a very long time.”
“How long?” He asked. They huffed out a laugh, shoulders tensing at the same time, and his heart dropped. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“I’ll tell you later,” they said, glancing at him out of the corner of their eye. “... it has been for most of my life, however.” Before he could get the chance to ask—thankfully—they sat up and looked at him like they had said nothing at all. “You should sleep.”
Right. He yawned on cue, tears forming in his eyes again, and as he finished the yawn, he grunted and shifted a bit. His whole body was... starting to hurt. “My body hurts.”
“I’m sure it does. That’s why you need to sleep.” They reached over to once again adjust their cloak, tucking it in closer to his face so that his breath hit it and fanned warm air out across his face. Interestingly enough, there was no trace of the smell of vomit... just potion, which smelled nothing like how it tasted. The warm air made his eyes grow heavy once more, this time even stronger than it had been. He immediately felt his head grow foggy.
“Wait,” He said. “Um... I had one other question I wanted to ask.”
He felt more than saw their hand settle on his shoulder. “What is it?”
“Um...” He let his eyes close for a moment, but when he opened them again, he sensed it had been for longer than it felt. He was so tired... what was his question again? If he could remember what it was, then he could just sleep... oh. “... how long did I sleep?”
“Only a minute.”
“No. No, I meant...” He blinked and rolled his head over until it touched their hand, then quickly pulled it away. It was so warm, so tempting. “When you saved me... how long was I... how long had I been asleep for?”
They responded, but whatever they said was lost to the fog in his mind. He felt his head tilting more to the side, but as soon as it touched their hand, he jerked awake again. “... what? Sorry. I’m... I’m so tired.”
“It’s okay. I said I would answer you tomorrow. You have had a long day.” He heard them shifting, and when he forced his eyes open, he saw they were shifting to get onto their knees, using their other hand as support in front of them. He saw snippets of the fire around them, orange light that slightly burned his eyes, but... only slightly. If he had the time, maybe his eyes could adjust to it, but... their body covered it up completely before he could consider the idea any further. Then both of their hands were on his face, cupping his cheeks, and they whispered, “Sleep, Link.”
The next thing he knew, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he caught a swift glimpse of a single glowing red eye before his mind was lost to the darkness.