ao3 handle: yeosakoi
drowning in reverie, waiting for morning
"Steady yourself, Bazz," Sidon chuckles. The words are light on his tongue, almost jovial even as instantly, he's on alert. "What is it? Is the domain in danger?"
"No, the domain is perfectly safe." Relief washes over Sidon, only to be run dry by Bazz's next statement. "It is—it is Master Link! He is-"
The rest of his words never make it to Sidon's ears because he is already taking off, racing towards the domain's gates.
(or: link shows up at the gates of zora's domain, more than a little worse for wear)
When Bazz comes sprinting to him at the brink of twilight, features distorted in urgency and pupils blown wide, Sidon is gazing at the statue of the late Zora princess.
By now, it is routine for him to spend hours, sometimes all day and even all night, staring at the hunk of luminescent stone carved into the very image of his sister, drawing parallels between the proud features of the statue with those gentle ones that remain crystallized in his memory.
The curve of her sweet smile, offering solace to all those who sought it from her. The small hands clasped over his chest, cradling her trident in a manner that was nearly tender, hands that had healed and brought life back to countless men and Zora alike. The soft lilt of her voice as she scolded him, words to a love song more than anything else.
The entirety of her being, the epitome of grace.
Guide me, dear sister, Sidon implores, gazing at Mipha's marbled face, searching, hoping, wishing to find something hidden in the chipped stone, to open up the golden path to him. How can I strive to hold a candle to your radiance? How can I help my people? How can I assist the Hero of Hyrule?
Just the memory of the hero, clad in his bright tunic and brighter eyes, has the corners of his lips tugging up, even as the fondness is dampened by concern. What is Link up to now, he wonders? Just by the short time he had spent with the other— not enough, never enough —had been enough to reveal to him the extent of Link's character: earnest and surprisingly benign, sprinkled with a dash of recklessness.
Wherever he is, Sidon prays to Hylia that he remains safe and successful in his pursuits to secure the remaining Divine Beasts. Clasping his hands together in prayer one last time, he casts a final glance at Mipha's serene face before turning on his heel, preparing to retire for the night.
Not that he is quite looking forward to reclining in his bed and drifting off to sleep. No, ever since the Great Calamity and the demise of his sister and the Champion's, never has there been a night where he had not been haunted by the visage of Mipha. Mipha, a beautiful smile on her face as she reached out with a hand, a familiar ghost. Mipha, her face blackening, malice frothing at her lips, the ghost turning unfamiliar as her hands scratch at his face-
"Prince Sidon!"
It is then that Bazz comes barrelling his way, ramming squarely into his belly. If Sidon had been any less than his towering stature, it would have knocked him off his feet. While it does nothing but have him blinking in surprise, it is successful in pushing the nightmares to the back of his head as he reaches out to clasp Bazz's shoulders, steadying the scrambled guard.
"Prince Sidon," Bazz splutters, struggling to even form words as he sucks in air, the breath knocked out of him from the impact, "it's-"
"Steady yourself, Bazz," Sidon chuckles. The words are light on his tongue, almost jovial even as instantly, he's on alert. For the guard to come rushing to him with such urgency on his face… There is no doubt he came bearing less than joyful news. "What is it? Is the domain in danger?"
The prospect is not unlikely. No, Sidon has become accustomed to drawing his spear every other Blood Moon, trudging out to battle those spirits that had been defeated only mere weeks ago. What would it be this time? A horde of Lizafalos on their way to attack? Had a Zora had the misfortune of facing a Lynel and been struck with a shock arrow? Or perhaps—the idea itself has a chill seizing his spine—had Vah Ruta spiraled out of control once more?
Bazz shakes his head furiously as he straightens, hastily bowing in apology. "No, the domain is perfectly safe." Relief washes over Sidon, only to be run dry by Bazz's next statement. "It is—it is Master Link! He is-"
The rest of his words never make it to Sidon's ears because he is already taking off, racing towards the domain's gates. Bazz's tone, the urgency that he had run to Sidon with… Dozens of scenarios rush through his head, each far more gruesome than the last. Had Link been heavily wounded? Is he unable to move? Suffering from a fatal wound?
The horrifying visage of Link's eyes, dulled to indigo as Sidon looks into them flashes through his head, and his chest tightens. Do not be absurd, he scolds himself, banishing the thought.
The bridge comes into view and he slows to a stop, eyes searching-
His chest tightens and then loosens. And then tightens once more, nearly suffocating him.
Blue eyes like those of the Silent Princess blooms he had only seen images of in books, rare, increasingly difficult to find, meet his, and his mind empties of everything.
Everything but Link.
Link, alive and breathing. Link, bringing his hand up in the smallest implications of a wave. Link, right before his eyes.
Link, his Champion's tunic drenched in red, safflina blooming across his chest.
In a single, long stride, he's reaching Link, not quite believing the sight he is seeing. Rivan and Dunma wisely pull away from where they had been supporting the hero at his sides and without a thought, Sidon is scooping up the (small, so small even when compared to other Hylian's, so fragile in Sidon's large hands, and one misstep could crush him. So small, and yet the entirety of Hyrule entrusted into his scarred palms, palms that had been through more than Sidon could ever wish to experience) Hylian into his arms. Scarlet stains his chest, bright against the white of his scales.
Blood. There is so much of it, soaking into the threads of Link's tunic, streaked across his face. Losing this much blood, how could he—nausea curls in Sidon's stomach, bile rising to his throat as the urge to hurl nearly overcomes him.
Breathe, a voice whispers to him, familiar and nostalgic in such a way it nearly brings tears to his eyes, although he cannot fathom why. Focus, and breathe.
Sidon breathes.
Inhale, exhale. His senses clear of the jumble of sensations, smell, sight, taste, sound, and touch separating into five. Breathes until he can narrow his focus down to the blood that stains Link, catching a whiff of the scent.
The rotting, foul smell of malice fills his lungs. Not a trace of the sweet, cloying scent of Link's blood. The strings stitched tight at his chest loosen once more.
Fingers prod his chest and he looks down to where Link is pressed to his chest. The other struggles to free his arms from where they're trapped against scales and Sidon hurriedly allows him enough space so he can lift his hands, forming words. Little tremors run through them as Sidon watches.
Not… mine, Sidon makes out. Link smiles at him in a manner that must be meant to be reassuring but is tinged with far too much weariness to accomplish its task. The relief that floods him has his knees going weak.
His neck cranes down until his forehead is pressed against Link's, the hero himself succumbing to exhaustion by now. "Thank Hylia," he says, and the tremble in his voice is apparent to anyone.
He can stand there without complaint for hours, holding Link in his arms and forehead pressed to his, the soft breaths against his scales an assurance that Link is alive and here , but the rancid scent of blood grows strong until his sensitive nose can no longer stand it and Link is shivering in his grasp, no doubt chilled in his wet tunic.
"Dunma," he calls. The Zora immediately stands to attention, inclining her head to him. "Please send the message for the palace's maids to draw the bath immediately."
"Should I call for assistance for bathing and healing as well?" She asks and he mulls over it before shaking his head.
At the moment, with the fear of what could have very well been the visage he had seen in his head brought to life slowly dying away, he's not quite willing to let go of Link just yet. "No need," he answers, adjusting Link so his head lolls against Sidon's shoulder, "I will tend to the hero myself."
With a nod of understanding, she departs. Rivan bows to him from where he had been standing and returns to his post, but not before casting one last worrying glance towards Link.
"Do not fret," Sidon assures him, although it's more to comfort himself than anyone else, "he simply needs a rest to recover." Nevertheless, it seems to soothe Rivan's worries, because he bows in gratitude before going on his way.
Sidon stands there for a moment longer, eyes lingering on the slumbering man—no, boy —in his arms. A boy holding the weight of the past, the present, and the future on his shoulders, a boy who had lost more than any boy should ever lose.
"Thank Hylia," he murmurs, over and over, until the phrase is nothing more than a choked sob.
"You should be more careful, Link," Sidon says as he gently scrubs away at the dirt and blood that cakes Link's body. Even after stripping the other bare save for his undergarments and affirming once more that none of it was Link's own blood, the dread he had felt when he had believed it was remains, and he doubts it will truly fade away.
Somewhere along the trip to the palace, Link had woken up. He'd refused to let go of the prince and Sidon had had no choice but to relent and join him in the bath. Now, Link only hums in response, lashes fluttering as he fights sleep.
He shifts and Sidon blinks down, taking notice of Link's hands. Squinting hard at Link's fingers, pride fills him when he manages to read enough to catch the gist of what the other is asking, even with his rusty, meager knowledge of the language of signs.
"...Slate… Master… Sword…" He reads out, then sighs good-naturally. A single hand rubs at Link's arm soothingly, cool scales against warm skin. "Your Sheikah Slate is in my chambers, along with your sack. As for the Master Sword, I ordered for it to be cleaned free of the vile blood and brought straight back."
That seems to be enough comfort for Link, any tension left in his body bleeding away as he slumps against Sidon fully. The sounds of his slow, even breathing tells Sidon that he had finally slipped back into the land of dreams.
A smile graces his lips as he watches his dearest friend slumber, carefully using a single, scaly thumb to smooth out the wrinkle between the Hylian's brow. A moment of hesitation and he's leaning down as much as he can once more, dropping a kiss onto the crown of Link's head. "Sleep, my dearest," he murmurs against golden hair. "Let your worries bleed away before you are ready to go one once again. Until then, I will be with you."
My dearest. It only sounds right on his tongue and never once does he ponder over the omitted friend.
When Sidon awakens, Link is nowhere to be seen.
Water sloshes against him as he scrambles to get out of the water bed, nearly tripping over in his haste to make it out the door, his royal jewels abandoned.
"I saw him heading for the bridge," Gaddison informs him, and he thanks her before hurrying on his way.
Just as she had said, Link is there. His gaze is fixed on the Sheikah Slate in his hands, eyes running over all his next possible destinations. He glances up as Sidon approaches, a serene smile on his lips as he takes in the Zora prince.
"Link," Sidon begins as he comes to a stop. He takes the chance to scrutinize the other, taking note of his freshly washed hair, gleaming golden in the morning sun, the refreshed flush to his cheeks. His tunic cleaned of the muck and grime it had been coated in the day before, the new scars on his knuckles.
Ready to throw himself into danger once more, right after hauling himself out of it less than a night ago. His heart throbs with something he can't place.
Link tilts his head in question. Sidon hesitates, licking his lips. "Must you…" The question on his tongue is nothing but born out of selfishness. "Must you leave already?"
A beat passes between them. Link lowers the Sheikah Slate, returning it to its place on his hip. Those blue eyes are unreadable as his hands raise, Sidon's eyes following them as they form a word.
Yes.
His shoulders drop before he forces them to hitch up again, mustering up a smile. He should have expected nothing less. "Of course, of course," he says, shaking his head and cursing his stupidity. "I apologize for asking such a selfish question-"
Link's hands are moving again and he stops to read them.
Miss you, he makes out. A lump grows in his throat.
"Ah," is all he can sound out. How unfair of Link to share such a sentiment with him, when all Sidon wants to do at the moment is scoop up the Hero of Hyrule and hold him close forever, cherish him and never see him painted in the shades of the Blood Moon ever again. Give him everything he deserves, everything that has been stolen out of his hands.
And maybe, in another world, he can. But alas, that world was not this world.
No, in this world, all he can do is-
He sinks to his knees, so the staggering difference of height between him and Link is not as apparent. Just low enough that he can take Link's small hand in his, his large palm completely dwarfing the other's. "Godspeed, Link," he says. "I pray for your safety and hope to see you again very soon."
With that, Sidon lifts his hand to his lips, brushing the smallest kiss over scarred knuckles. The hitch in Link's breath does not escape his notice and in a rush of courage, he is twisting his fingers through Link's, turning his hand over so he can press a kiss to his wrist, just where the Hylian's pulse quickens and blood rushes under skin.
At a moment's notice, he is pulling away and rising so that he towers over Link once more, flashing him his signature smile that is accentuated with a flex of his bicep. "Finish your task, my dearest friend!" Lowering his arm, he offers another smile, this one softened at the edges and veering dangerously into tenderness. "Never forget that Zora's Domain is always open to you! Do not hesitate to pay me a visit!"
Link's eyes never leave his as he speaks and ah -
There it is.
That smile that Link has reserved only for those things that truly fill him with joy—a freshly-cooked meal, friendly dogs at stables, koroks he'd spotted from a distance.
And now, Sidon as well.
His golden smile—Sidon wants to take it into his palms, cradle it gently and lock it onto a jar for safekeeping. To admire whenever the malice grew too strong, the rain too heavy.
Link's hands move in one last gesture as he signs goodbye, movements slow so Sidon can read them. The Sheikah Slate is back in his hands as he taps at the screen, bright blue, beautiful light pouring out and engulfing his body.
The last thing Sidon sees is Link's twinkling blue eyes and warm smile.