Prompt No.8
Word count: ~1225
Universe: Breath of the Wild
Pairings: Zelink
Rating: K
Themes: Stab wounds, trauma, guilt, healing and fluff

Stab Wound

The Lizalfos was sprawled at her feet, its sinewy tongue lolling out of its mouth and its three-pronged boomerang lodged in the hollow of its throat. As far as first forays into unarmed combat with venomous, amoral enemies went, she thought she handled herself rather well. Aside from the gushing stab wound in her side, staining her clothes with a sodden red bloom that was growing by the second, you would hardly guess she had been in a fight at all.

She loosed a shuddering breath when she was satisfied it was dead, eased herself to the ground, and started rehearsing.

It's not as bad as it looks. No, I'm not hurt anywhere else. I'll be fine.

She knew, no matter what she said, he would be furious—not with her, of course. He would find some way to heap all the blame on himself, just shy of leaving a crumb trail to her for the Lizalfos to follow. But she hoped she could at least temper the inevitable downward spiral with some logical reasoning.

But one look in his eyes as he entered the mouth of the cave and took in the grisly scene, and she knew that logic would have nothing to do with it.

For a moment she was frozen, her mind emptying as they stared at each other. Her eyes felt wide as saucers; his were hard as steel. Then all at once he moved, skidding to his knees beside her, and the misfire in her brain untangled itself, lodged reassurances bubbling to the surface.

"Really, Link," she managed, finally, doing her best to sound unperturbed, "it's not as bad as it—"

She cut off with a broken gasp when he applied gentle pressure to the fringes of the wound, assessing the damage, and the harsh look he gave her was unmistakable. She shut up at once, holding her breath as he peeled her tunic away to get a better look.

"Lie down," he murmured, and proceeded to do most of the work of shifting to the floor for her.

She stared up at the cave ceiling, trying not to claw at the dirt or cry as he gingerly cleaned the wound for bandaging, and sighed. It was just as bad as it looked, and the truth was she was hurting everywhere, and if she was going to be fine it was only thanks to his unparalleled caretaking. His hands were deft, wrapping her midsection with the sort of precision she had come to expect from him.

When his work was done he dragged the Lizalfos out by the tail—and possibly gutted it, if the sounds coming from outside the cave were any indication. He coaxed the fire back to life when he returned, stationing himself at arm's length. Falling back into old habits. Reflexively morphing back into the knight of an era past, instead of the companion who had begun leaving those boundaries behind.

She sighed again, wincing as the exaggerated motion aggravated the injury.

"You couldn't have known."

"I never should have left you behind without a weapon."

"I asked you to go while there was still daylight."

"I listened."

He met her eyes, finally, frowning, and she lost the will to argue with him. He was so stubborn, and she was so exhausted, and the pain radiating out from her side was turning everything hazy. All she wanted, all she needed, was what she had spent the better part of two months trying to rekindle, and in the span of a heartbeat all her efforts felt undone. And suddenly, she was the one who was furious.

"You're an idiot," she choked out, bitterly, tears leaking from her eyes, and with tempered satisfaction she saw his eyes widen a fraction. "I spent a hundred years fighting Ganon, and you think I can't handle this? That this isn't nothing compared to what I've already been through?"

"It isn't about what you can handle," he bit back, incredulous. "It's my duty to protect you!"

"You can't protect me from everything, Link! You certainly couldn't protect me from him!"

"And do you think that hasn't haunted me every day since?"

His eyes were like ice, half veiled in trembling shadow, and it made her tirade lodge in her throat.

"Do you think whenever I felt the burn of his malice, or whenever I have to wake you up because you're screaming in the middle of the night, that I don't think of what my failure put you through and hate myself for it?"

Her face crumpled, the first few tears turning into a torrent, and she managed, breathless, before she turned over to face away from him, "Oh, I could slap you."

The movement made her stab wound scream, but she was too miserable to go back to looking at him. She heard him loose a gravelly sigh—he knew it hurt her, because of course he knew—and a second later his arms were around her again, trying to coax her back to a more comfortable position.

"Don't do that," he scolded her quietly, but she shoved him away with all her might.

"You don't like that, do you?" she snapped when he grimaced, when the brunt of her rejection rained traitorously into his stomach. "When someone you want to be close to pushes you away?"

He was quiet a moment, watching her, digesting, his arms fixed where he held her, before he whispered, "I'm not trying to push you away."

"And do you know what the worst part is?" she cried. "That you're using what I've been through, what I've been trying so—so hard to just forget, as an excuse to keep me at arm's length! Well, I don't want your penance! I just want—I want—"

She buried her fists in her eyes, gasping. And he still just sat there like an idiot, frozen.

"You, stupid!" she sobbed, beating him on the shoulder with what energy she had left, which admittedly wasn't much. "I want you, and no one else, and I'm tired of being the reason you punish yourself! When I wake up screaming, I don't want your guilt—I want you to put your arms around me and—and—"

She buried her face in her hands again, breathless, and so slowly, so gently, he scooped her up in his arms and pull her onto his lap. They both flinched when the movement jostled her injury, but he didn't let her go.

"And what, Zelda?"

She met his eyes, so soft and tumultuous and blue, and dragged her sleeve ineffectually over her eyes, hiccuping. "And nothing. This is enough."

He pulled her in closer, letting her head rest on his shoulder, and they both sighed shakily at the resolution of it. He kissed the crown of her head.

"You're so stubborn."

She sniffled. "So are you."

He paused, listening to the fire crackle. Then, "You know how I feel about you."

She settled further into him, letting his warmth relax every taut muscle, and sighed. "Do I?"

He puffed a humorless laugh.

"If you don't," he murmured in her ear, tightening his arms around her, "then you're an idiot, too."

The stab wound pulsed in her side, but it felt dull.

It was nothing compared to the wounds that were finally beginning to mend in them now.