Prompt No.16
Word count: ~1590
Universe: Breath of the Wild
Pairings: Early Zelink if you want to see it that way
Rating: K
Themes: Crush injuries, broken bones
Pinned Down
Being the Princess's protector was turning out to be a harder job than Link had imagined. He quickly discovered that she was adventurous by nature, which, while that was an admirable trait, did see her in precarious situations far more often than a princess ought to be. Not to mention that her family had enemies who were intent on causing her harm—powerful enemies, trained to use stealth and disguises to achieve their aim. But the near constant sense of impending danger wasn't really the crux of the problem.
It was the way she had made it perfectly clear, on a number of occasions, that she didn't need or want a bodyguard, least of all him, hovering over her shoulder; hounding her steps; getting in her way; breathing her air.
And so when she had snapped at him, as they descended into the excavation tunnel leading to the Shrine of Resurrection, that there was nothing that could possibly harm her down here, he tried to respect her need for a little space and wait near the mouth of the cave. But truth be told it wasn't easy.
Despite her callous treatment of him, he had grown to admire her.
She was self-sacrificing, and dauntless in the face of failure, and she always put the welfare of others before her own. She was clever, and insatiably curious, and responsible to a fault. And as for the rest… he knew why she hated him, and he found it hard to resent her for it.
It made the thought of anything happening to her on his watch hard to stomach.
And just as he had begun to relax—there were a half dozen Sheikah in there with her, after all, and he was guarding the entrance personally, making the tunnel seem relatively safe—a tremor in the earth set every nerve in his body alight.
He was down the throat of the cave in the span of a heartbeat, but none of the scientists seemed particularly concerned; one of the Sheikah looked up from her work long enough to pass him a small, amused smile. Zelda was still facedown in the Shrine console. He thought he heard her sigh.
"We've just powered up the Guidance Stone," the Sheikah explained, taking his sudden presence as a sign he was concerned. "The tremors are normal."
"Secondary systems coming online," another researcher announced, expression unflinching as another shockwave gently rattled the cave, and the strange mechanism in the center of the cavern began to glow with a hazy blue light.
Then, all at once, the world seemed to fracture beneath them.
The tremors spiked so suddenly that they were all thrown off their feet. The Sheikah scrambled to evacuate, shouting to leave the research materials behind as the ground lurched again.
But, perhaps inevitably, there was one who hesitated to obey.
The Princess grabbed the Sheikah Slate from where one of the scientists had left it, and Link's blood pounded hot and furious as the ceiling cracked open over her escape route. He moved on instinct, on pure adrenaline, to push her out of the way. In the next, breathless instant, the tunnel collapsed on top of them, wrenching the two halves of his body nauseatingly in opposite directions as he was caught in the cave-in and smothering the light.
For a long time he saw red. Slowly, pulsing in time with the pounding in his head, the blood and the fire swimming in his eyes ebbed into darkness, and the soft, blue glow of the machine lit the room as the dust and rock settled. It was eerily silent except for the undulating thrum of the Guidance Stone. He craned his head, relieved to find the Princess clear of the debris.
He swallowed. That was good.
His situation, on the other hand, was less than ideal.
He couldn't move. A slab had pinned him to the ground, and the amount of rubble piled on top of it from the surge of the cave-in made his odds of lifting it himself meager at best. He couldn't feel much at the moment, which he optimistically attributed to shock; no sense worrying about paralysis or amputations when there were more pressing concerns, like making it out alive. Then he made the mistake of trying to breathe.
His spine arched and his cry caught in his throat as his body screamed in protest, more than one broken rib pulling unnaturally as his lungs inflated. He held still for a long time, and then carefully, haltingly, exhaled.
No problem. Breathing was sort of optional.
Then her face, smudged, drawn, haloed in misty blue light, drifted into his vision, her touch alighting gently on his shoulder. She was remarkably calm, all things considered. He should have expected as much. It almost made him smile. Almost.
"Are you in much pain?" she asked, quietly, careful not to jostle him as she edge closer, assessing the damage.
"I've been better," he admitted hoarsely. "Help me try to lift this."
She hesitated.
"Is that really a good idea?"
"Probably not."
She sighed, nodding, and moved to get better leverage. "Say when."
He steeled his nerves.
"Now."
The cavern filled with the breathless silence of them straining against the rock. She was stronger than she looked, and between the two of them they managed to move it more than he had expected. But it just wasn't enough clearance. It came crashing down on him again when they released it, and he screamed between his teeth.
"Ok," he rasped, gulping air as the burst of light behind his eyes began to fade, "let's not try that again."
She crawled beside him, all the blood drained from her face, and murmured, voice quivering, "What can I do?"
"Not much," he whispered. "Are you hurt?"
She scoffed. "Not a scratch on me."
"Not true," he murmured, reaching numbly to point out the thick, red line running up her arm.
"One scratch," she amended, too quietly, and frowned at the pile of rubble. "I could try to dig you out, but I don't think…"
"No," he agreed. "We're better off waiting for the others."
She nodded, finally beginning to look shaken. The silence turned thick as she studied him, the way his body was twisted and crushed beneath a rock the size of the castle cornerstones. Her eyes watered.
She turned with a quivering sigh, plucking the Sheikah Slate off the ground.
"You know, when the dust settled, the first thing I did was look for this?" she admitted, frowning at it. The light flickered on when she held it, splashing her face in soft, blooming cyan colors. "I didn't even think to check to see if you were hurt. It never occurred to me that you might not have…" She set the Slate down with a clatter, blinking away more tears. "Gods."
He took a breath to say something, wishing he was better with words; the excruciating stretch of his ribs cut his attempt short, and he bit down hard on nothing, throat bobbing as he swallowed pain. She hovered attentively, eyebrows pinched as she watched him struggle.
"You're going to be all right," she promised, touching his face soothingly, feather-soft. "The temple isn't far. They'll be back with help soon."
"Oh, I know," he managed, his voice gravel. "I was going to try to comfort you."
She laughed breathlessly, a few stray tears finally spilling down her cheeks. "Of course you were."
Another rough cry caught in his throat when he made to respond, fresh agony tearing from his ribcage down to his suddenly responsive legs and feet, finally beginning to tingle with telltale throbbing of crushed muscle and ruptured bone.
"I know I'm not normally one for much conversation anyway," he gritted out, "but given the circumstances—"
"Don't speak," she mollified him softly, and then murmured, smirking gently, "I don't think you've ever said this many words to me in one sitting."
His lip quirked up. "I don't think you've ever said this many words to me without scowling."
She nodded gracefully, her smile watery. "I hated you because you made fulfilling your destiny look easy."
"I know."
"Even this," she breathed. "You didn't hesitate. You didn't stop to think about yourself."
"The cave was about to collapse on you," he murmured. "No time to think."
"You know what the worst part is?" she sniffled, watching him writhe as another wave of feeling poured back into his lower half. "I caused this mess, endangered you, because I wanted the Slate. But that Slate, this technology, it's all worthless without you. Without the Sword that Seals the Darkness and the man who wields it, the battle would never end. It would just rage forever."
He whispered simply, panting as the pain ebbed, "And I'm worthless without you."
She stared at her hands a long time, and he stared at her. When she finally looked up, her eyes were full of regret, and remorse, and a warm, gentle gratitude he hadn't expected.
"Thank you," she said, "for saving my life."
Something fragile and true, buried deep in him as instinct, stirred reassuringly in his heart. It stirred when she shielded his head with her body as the rescue team finally started breaking through the rubble; it stirred when she was asleep at his bedside as he woke up the next night in the sick room; it stirred as she smiled at him, when he was finally well enough to escort her again.
She had a smile like the sun.