A/N: Hey there, thank you so much for reading this far. I wanted to get this one out before I undid it and made it worse (or better? Hard to say). My husband liked the idea of Link getting surgery done on a grimy bench in a dirty stable, and we decided that we wanted to spend more time with the aesthetic.

A sincere thank you to ASL D Brothers, Angelous100, Dwightstuff94, TechnicalJoker, and somewhat intriguing. Really appreciate you all following the story - as well as those who have favorited the story. I'm hoping you guys stick around for a while and/or reach out. Laserlight, I saw your comment on my email about three days before it actually posted - so glad it finally got there. It brought me a lot of joy, thank you! LINDINI200, hello again! Thank you again for another review! So glad the chaos is translating. I can't imagine Link being in a great mental shape. But, I'm hoping to make his life a bit happier in the slice of life formatting. Angelous100, thank you for your review! I appreciate your feedback. I look forward to getting you more chapters.

Updated: 03-12-22

Chapter Four

The drenched guests of the Wetland Stable took many bets that first night - the hottest claim being that kid with the shredded stomach would get up on his feet by day two. As for the status of his lady friend? The thirstiest of the group adamantly claimed that she was not his wife but indeed a relative - of course, the better-looking cousin of the two. But as the men moved on to gamble on the storm, Missus Lawdon, the innkeeper's wife, withheld her rupees from the group. And although her husband had warned her from snooping (and she would do no such thing!), Leekah could not help herself from guessing, estimating… and gossiping potentially... if the occasion arose.

So when Old Man Gen started the bet with three days on the rain, the Missus excused herself with a wink, got up from the hay-stack of a table, bumping the piles of rupees, and meandered to her desk where she could study the mysterious couple in secret. Curtains obscured her perch, so she spied upon the satin-spinning bombshell and the helpless hunk she guarded - note pad in hand.

'What a riddling challenge,' smirked the nosey Missus Lawdon - a pretty missy with a singed ball gown doting on a boy with a horrible gash that bubbled. A route for the Sheikah enclave was added to the mix - as was her sleeplessness and anxious habits: thumb twirling, pacing, asking for chores when her guy knocked out, and that incredulous look on her face whenever the duo spoke. Siblings? - Nah! Not unless the girl was in love with her brother with all the care-taking, whispering, and fleeting gazes. What a shame, giggled Leekah - she knew at least three men looking for wives like her, and their larger-than-life expectations would have finally paid off. Unlucky fools - they brooded jealously while the boy in the bed soaked up all her attention. Relatives, they said? Of course not! - the poor boy was all blushy and nervous whenever he tried to speak to her.

Leekah closed herself in her regal trove and pondered their story - surely, this was a bodyguard situation. With that dress and thousand-rupees-of-a-message, that sweet little thing was a child of wealth! - a woman from Hateno where all the rich Hylians hid comfortably behind the fortified walls of the Fort. Pompous devils, locking everyone out so they could live freely without monsters and thieves. Obviously, her parents must have hired a bodyguard for the trip to… to visit a cousin? But what wealthy cousin would hide out here in the fields? Maybe they were heading for the Hylian colony in Hebra? Still, why travel in a dress?

Oh! Leekah slapped her knee - of course! Staring at her right in the face was a runaway bride scenario! A woman, stolen away by her lover-of-a-guard on her wedding day! Pretty-blonde-lassy dressed in white had been locked away in a stuffy room the hour before her marriage to an old, fat landlord. She begs her handsome help to rescue her, reaching for his hand so desperately through the chain-link lock. Of course, he breaks the chain, kisses her passionately, and whisks her away on his horse! Drunk on their love, the couple sneaks into the Sheikah Sanctuary and professes their story to the tribe, which wins them sympathy and a bed for them to share their first night together. But when they cross the plains for the Hebra pass the next day, their happy ending is cut short! - a broad of monsters with malice-dipped spears thrash his side, leading up to Lawdon's heroic surgery!

What a tale! - Leekah penned their story in a letter to her sister.

Link slept and slept for the next three days - his hair undone, a true halo around his head.

Every so often would he wake and scan the dank dormitory for the Princess. Only then would Zelda sit up from her task - whether it was darning or some other assignment she had stolen to keep busy. Jumping up, she'd wave. And he'd find her gaze, although dream-gripped, rubbing his eyes before the weight of exhaustion had him collapsing back down into his pillow. But if Zelda made a loud enough fuss by calling out to the front, then the innkeeper would hear her above the pounding rain. And the man, seeing Link stir, would ladle out a bowl of hot stew and carry it through the maze of buckets. Wet hay wreaked, but Link would still smell the savory spices of soup approaching and lift his heavy head for the bowl. And like an animal at a trough, he'd wolf down the food before passing out once more.

"T-Thank you," he'd murmur. And Zelda would cover him in sheets again as if she were a sister in his household - the regalness of her title abandoned by love and fear. Only when Lawdon left would they settle into the truth of their union.

He'd slump over and murmur, "Princess. T-The Sheikah?"

And the Princess would kneel, "Not yet, Link. I think the rain is slowing them down." And as his lids weighed heavily, she would assure all would be well - by the Goddesses, she would make it well!

And soon, he'd be asleep again.

Zelda tried not to stare in these vulnerable moments, but the intensity of their reunion tempted her fragile judgment. Lying before her was the good god of grace. The climax of her glory. The pinnacle of her prayers answered after a century beneath the dark onslaught. One hundred years of hyper-focused hope carved a mountainous longing for his face, crushing her now as she studied his resting eyelids, nose, jowls, chin - everything! A masculine boy, classically betrayed by the curling of his long, dark lashes, the rosiness of his cheeks, and the suppleness of his lips breathing out a slight snore. His golden brows were classically familiar, yet they rested peacefully, revealing a candid Link - a new person, lying helplessly in the sheets. Dreaming, he reached over to coddle the pillow against his cheek - free from his kingdomly cage of stoicism.

Watching him, after three days of waiting, Zelda finally let herself fall back into memory. Surging forward was the feeling of togetherness with the other Champions - her eyes welled, remembering her last moments with them after three days of running adrenalin and care-taking. And here it was - a red autumn afternoon burning, malevolent sunshine casting grim shadows over their campsite where they waited for the "Goddess Incarnate " to return with good news. But, all they received were hopeless shakes of the head. Then came the earthquakes! Up reared the blood-splattering Divines in the next hour - possessed and hungry. Revali slaughtered; Daruk crushed; Urbosa, the symbol of hope, squashed. Mipha's sweet smile vanquished after years of friendship poured out over tea and blueprints. Memories of princess-talk beneath the Lanaryu waterfalls had her feeling bleary. She bit her lip, recounting the specimen she and Daruk investigated on the cliffs of the Goron mine. Oh, she craved Urbosa's motherly love like royal breakfast. Her stomach sank, mourning her vivacious bravery to bring up the topics like boys, braids, and periods. Blissful memories like these stabbed, tearing open happier days in the cozy Rito Village where Revali would host his tournaments. Snow-peppered, he'd point to the Princess in the royal tent and dedicate his next bullseye to her.

Zelda sobbed into her hands - they were all gone. The ancient wound freshly bled as if the four had been murdered yesterday. And wiping her eyes, she wondered what it would feel like to hold them now? Carry Mipha out into this downpour? Spitting up rain while she took in steady breaths in her arms? Zelda wiped her eyes, imagining them all lying in the vacant beds around her. Could she rewrite their story in feverish bargaining? Revali - not hunted like measily game, but instead tucked into the warm bed beside Link and dressed in bandages? A broken wing fixed? Could the battered Princess of Hyrule push two of these dormitory beds together for Daruk? Match his cheerfulness? Could she make Urbosa drink medicine and counter her sass? Help the proud warrior walk about the room, dodging the leak buckets that littered the dormitory floor?

Zelda gripped her squeal, hoping not to wake the sole survivor. Shame had her turning. Huffing, she peered up and confronted the raw reality blaring out from each detail of life in this very inn. Not a monster. Not a beast. Not Calamity Ganon, where malice raged against the golden cage of the goddess. Instead, an impoverished stable inn filled to the brim with hay, liquor bottles, and people. There were more guests than yesterday. All travelers looking for refuge from the storm. A large circle of people played cards. Young girls - no older than she - giggled in circles. Mothers nursed on beds. Merchants with big hefty bags sat in a circle around a leak bucket, dodging the drip, drip, drip while passing their wares back and forth — fish for Hateno cheese, milk for arrows, horseshoes for potions. The bottles sparkled in the firelight, dazzling the onlooker.

Captivated, Zelda listened to the modern-day Hylian talk - sharp voices sounding as melodious as warbling birds on a Castletown morning. Accounts of treasure sunken beneath South Nabi Lake entertained the card players at the table, but not before long, stories of Yiga activity in the west overtook the conversation, naturally flowing into the best methods for stabbing with spears. Vivid demonstrations took center stage as Mister Lawdon cut through the circle with a wave. Turning down a beer, he lugged Link's bloody bench to the far corner and hacked away for emergency firewood - chop, chop, chop! Drip, drip, drip, rain drummed on the canopy, babies cried, mothers cooed, young women waddled over to the adjacent beds like a gaggle of geese and giggled. Zelda looked over to find a colossal brute by the haybales capturing their eager attention, but they never broke their gossiping with all the coy, girlish looks over their shoulders. Their liveliness soothed the secret Princess - feverishly, she listened. Never had she been a part of a gossip circle, but while overhearing, she learned that the infamous bachelors of the realm, Gabe and Gideon, had married the pretty sisters who managed the Riverside Inn six hours south. Nervousness festered when the leading redhead of the group turned and winked - Zelda had been staring at them, hadn't she? Caught, she managed an awkward nod before turning over in her sheets to hide.

Is that your natural hair color?" She heard.

That question couldn't be for her, could it?

Zelda peered over - the group was waiting for her response. Nervous, she sat up slowly, bouncing between everyone's gaze - there were so many of them. How could she look at all of them at once? Socially rusty, she nodded and pulled the shawl over her head.

"Awh, she's shy!"

"Don't be shy!"

The redhead leaned in with a toothy, warm smile, "You're not part of the Deya clan, are ya? - Aunt Bermilda's daughter?"

"Uh - no." She muttered, not knowing what else to say.

"Thank the Goddess!" Huffed the girl, her smile breaking, "I hate Bermilda's daughters, thinking they're all hot with fair hair!" The girl perched her hands on her hips, but upon wincing, she peered back over sheepishly, "But it looks great on you, though!"

Zelda nodded curtly, but before she could bow herself out of the conversation in politeness, the girls rambled on, trapping her into the social circle. Anxious, she peered around at all the girls, vivaciously carrying on as if Zelda had become a new buddy. Did she like this? Zelda pondered, wiping her swollen eyes on her sweater. All these commoners? Sitting across from her, their knees practically banging together? Dodging the shrewd language pitching back and forth? Nonetheless, she felt distracted - that was the word! Utterly distracted by the girlish frenzy and their world of chores, lewd tales, and 'stupid' moblins. Grateful, Zelda let herself become distracted from her exhaustion - tiredness that had her yawning. But if she closed her eyes, then she'd once again see that demonic glare of the Calamity, gnashing its teeth, seething with hate. She'd feel the weight of Hyrule's grave, the disdain of the gods, and the blood of her friends dripping from the maw of gargantuan swine. So while fighting off paralysis, she listened with one foot in the conversation and learned that (1) the six girls were sisters en route to an ugly cousin's wedding in the Eldin Woodlands, (2) they found their escorts lack of charm and looks dull, and (3) they loved playing cards.

"You know cards?" The dark-haired eldest asked, looking Zelda's way. Were they inviting her to play?

"Megan should ask Box to play!" Teased the youngest, others throwing sheepish glances at the man across the room while the redhead named Megan fanned herself with a deck of cards.

"He's like - 10 years older than you!"

"That's fine by me!"

"You want to marry a man named Box?"

"Oh yes - and have his children!"

"Megan!" Scolded the Eldest.

"What will you call them?" Mocked a brunette, "Bins?"

Zelda laughed - she actually laughed! Caught off guard, charmed by their wit, she found herself feeling fading from the Calamity's deathgrip. And in utter thankfulness, she returned her gaze to the sole survivor in the bed behind her. Link - precious Link. Still resting soundly. The last heartbeat of Old Hyrule. Her last surviving friend. Overjoyed, Zelda wiped her eyes once more, soaking in the precious sign of life happening right before her - breath filling his lungs, rosiness blooming at his cheeks, the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest as he slept and slept.

"He - your guy?' The redhead asked.

Zelda nodded without a thought, unable to look away from the boy. Hers - the statement had her faltering. It was a grand statement, but an honest one too. After all, he was hers - her hero, her partner in destiny, and most importantly, her friend and confidant.

"He's going to make it, right?"

"Yes." Zelda made a fist with her hand, "If I have anything to say about it."

Loud cheering stirred Link from his sleep. Was it morning? He jolted from his covers and peered over at the chair beside him - though it was empty. He jumped awake, thinking a million thoughts a minute. Sweat beaded at his brow, his heart thumped, his wound seared as he tried to get up - but, no matter, he needed to make sure the Princess was secure. Who was he to just fall asleep? They were so exposed! Were the Sheikah nearby? Had he slept for too long? But, before he could beat himself up, he caught sight of the Princess. And his whole body relaxed. For, she was with Missus Lawdon in the center of the dormitory.

"Don't do it, blondie." Someone said - to the Princess?

Princess Zelda, covered in a fringed shawl, sat crisscrossed beside the stable keeper's wife in a circle of five people. Leak buckets and busybodies loitered over the group. Some peered over the Princess's shoulder and giggled. In her hand was one card - a pile of others gathered before her. Her other hand danced nervously on the wooden floorboard by her foot. Was this a card game? Was the Princess of Hyrule… playing cards?

Surely enough, she stared deeply into her hand and followed Missus Lawdon's turn by placing down what looked like?... The Queen of Spades? Suddenly, the women behind her went wild. The burly man across for her tossed his cards. Another walked away. And the Princess faltered with a look of guilt as Missus Lawdon shoved another round of card's her way.

"What the hell?"

The stablemaster's son dropped to his knees to count the Princess's cards.

"Where'd you learn to play like that, Missy?"

"She damn shot the moon!" Called another, tossing his cards.

"And I just thought she was as lousy as Jo over there!"

"Hey!" Jo protested, "It's my first time playing."

Another man tossed his cards, "Leekah! You bringing in another girl to hustle us?"

"I-I'm," Zelda stammered, scrambling to her feet as if to get away, "S-So sorry, I didn't know we were playing for money."

"We're not!" Leekah laughed, "But, do you wanna?"

Princess Zelda lunged for a mop and bucket positioned behind her. But Missus's Lawdon hooked her arm. "Hold on - you can't get away that easily! Are you a mathematician? Scholarly? Ancient nobility? Hateno escapee? Tell me, girl!"

Breaking free, Zelda hid behind a bucket and mop. "I should be carrying on with your mopping, Missus Lawdon. I think I see mud prints by the foyer again."

Link pushed himself up to intervene somehow, but he caught Missus Lawdon's attention. He faltered, wishing he had just a few more moments to observe. But, she shot him a finger his way, "Hey! look who's up!"

Suddenly the Princess was looking his way with those bleary green eyes.

The room resounded. A skinny man shot up, ""I called it! He's up before noon!"

"Link!" The Princess said all too loud, taking his attention.

Next thing he knew, she was scampering towards him. Leaning forward - too quickly. Link instinctively held out his arms. Unlucky, she tripped into the chair. Link caught her shoulder before the crash, "A-Are you okay?"

She settled in apologetically.

Link, too anxious to further help her, sat frozen at the edge of his bed - eye's jumping from her big smile to the impending crowd closing in his left. The overwhelm stirred Link from his sheets. He sorely pushed himself between the crowd and the Princess, but to no use of protecting himself.

A bustling cluster of five or seven people descended on him with drunken smiles and slurring well-wishes, "Hey son, you feeling better?"

"How's that wound?"

"Lawdon's no doctor! Show us those stitches!'

An old man with smiling red eyes and white whiskers grabbed his hand and shook it vigorously, "You're well enough to stand, aren't ya? Go ahead, take a stand!"

But, in came the stablemaster! He broke through the small crowd with a broomstick and swatted at the busybodies. They scampered away from the pair, allowing Link a moment to ease himself back down onto the edge of his bed.

"Go back to yer card games, ya brutes!" Said Lawdon, swatting away. He then peered over his shoulder, "Sorry kid, this guy here has a red rupee on you getting up by the end of the hour."

"Don't play sides, Lawdie!" The brute reported, "More money for me means more money on your wife's drinks!"

Smack! Lawdon got him on the shoulder. "Y'all have had enough! Shoo! Go outside! Get drenched and sober up!"

He threw down his broom and pointed, "Don't cross!"

Behind him, men sauntered away.

Upfront, Link spotted some burly guests shaking hands with a skinny man by the bar. He shot his hand up for a drink. Apparently, that skinny man had made money off Link waking at that exact hour. Now, he was cashing in his earnings with some whisky. He shot it down - the guests cheered. And the cheering swayed into a folk song. Someone broke out a lute. That skinny young man, now pink-faced, began drumming at the bar table. Horses from outside neighed to the music. And nearby wives swayed to the noise with their babies. Heat blazed from the hearth across the way, making Link sweat even more. He wiped his brow, wondering how he could have slept through all this commotion.

The heat on his neck caught his attention. His hair was down wasn't it? He instinctively reached for the back of his head to tie it back. The Princess watched him do so until meeting his eyes. Only then did she look down at the toolbox that Lawdon had kicked out from beneath Link's bed. The stablemaster retrieved a bundle of gauze tied with twine.

"Believe it or not," he sat himself beside Link's feet, "It's like this every time it storms. Though Lassy's big card trick over there just made them worse."

"I-I'm sorry." Came the Princess, unfurling Lawdon's pack of gauze for him, "I saw the opportunity, and I - well, we play a lot of Hearts where I'm from."

"Hearts?"

"The card game. It's hearts, correct?"

"We call it donkey-butt."

"D-Donkey-what?"

"Donkey-butt."

The Princess looked Link's way, mouthing the word.

His own words fell out of his mouth, "A-And you won?"

She bit her lip.

He faltered - did he speak out of turn?

She dismissed his thought with the wave of her hands, "I just… I should have kept mopping."

Suddenly, another older man swaggered in - this one burlier and balding - and tried to seat himself next to Lawdon at the edge of Link's bed, "Y-You know, Hen," he faced the Princess, "I need a poker partner for tonight's tournament, and I was thinking -"

"What part of 'Don't Cross', don't you understand?" Lawdon shoved the man off the bed, "Respect the broom, Quince! And the lady's friend here! He's been out for three days!"

Three days?

The man echoed Link's alarm. "Watcha doing out for three days, boy?"

Urgency and remorse had him staring at Zelda - three days? Really? But, she ignored him and busied herself on the toolbox. While Lawdon warded off their visitor, the Princess collected some tools - all before eyeing him for permission to touch his side.

Shy, Link collapsed into himself. Heat rushed his face; his heart thumped with the drumming rain on the tent's canopy. For, a year and a half, he had treated his own wounds, bled out on forest floors, and passed by bands of travelers without a single word. The opposite bombarded him now. He had slept three days in a soft bed, taken refuge in a warm stable, people were checking in on him, and the Princess of his own country - who should have been safe with the sheikah by now! - was asking him permission for her to treat his wounds. For, no one prepared him for her to be this nice. Impa said they had argued a lot - rather, she would yell at him, and he'd take it.

From the bottom of his heart, he wanted to be agreeable - to let her do it. But, the knight inside could not let her. He unwrapped it himself - all to his pain and discomfort.

And together, they beholded the wound that made Link feel so vulnerable.

Quince was first to exclaim, "Damn, son! What happened?"

"Move along, Quince!" Lawdon grabbed his broom. "This doesn't concern you."

"Oh, sorry," Quince bowed, "I mean no disrespect, but I?"

"Shoo!" Lawdon smacked him! The man skedaddled.

Link watched him go - back to the sing-songs and clanging of beer glasses. He stuck up a lyric halfway across the room.

Lawdon broke the silence, "You weren't interested in playing poker, were you Lassy? Hate to deprive you of a couple rupees."

"No, n-not particularly." She dabbed a solution onto a rag. "No, thank you."

"Good. They all cheat anyway."

Princess Zelda looked between Link and her rag.

Link held himself together - truthfully, he wanted to take the rag from her and treat the wound himself. But, he could not think of a way to do it politely. Time was ticking as he sat there at the edge of his bed. And with a moment of bravery, he looked up at her - and nodded.

He held his breath.

She went forward.