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pzweigs · 4 months ago

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wip wednesday

artpatrick, pre-canon, away on an international tennis tournament, art finds patrick with another guy

“Don’t you think your first time with a guy should be with someone you’ve known longer than one second outside a club?”

Patrick scoffs. “Like who, Art? Like you?” He swears under his breath, about to turn away, go back inside and try his luck again, and the sight of it makes his blood run cold. Art can’t watch that happen. He’s angry, and he’s jealous, and so confused—but he just can’t. It feels as if he could lose everything in a moment if he doesn’t just speak up and say—“Yes.”

He blurts out, quickly and a little too loud, but it works— stopping Patrick in his tracks entirely. He turns back to Art, rigid, eyes shrinking from shock to suspicion.

“Yes? Yes, what?”

“Yes, someone like me.”

Neither of them speak for a minute. Art’s heartbeat rattles in his throat, his entire body. They’re sliding into unknown territory now.

“What do you—Art, what do you mean?” Patrick says very carefully, enunciating his words, looking as scared as Art feels.

“I mean…” What does he mean? He’s been scrambling for sense the moment he saw Patrick walking off with some guy. “I mean, why not me?” Art asks back pathetically, a cop out but a sincere question, one not without bitterness. Amidst all the panic and confusion, Art is still inexplicably mad at Patrick, wounded that he’d seek his desires anywhere else in spite of his own reticence.

“Why not—Art, are you kidding me?” Patrick looks at him in disbelief, like he’s speaking a strange, alien language. He tugs at his own curls in his frustration, pacing, and then stopping, and then starting again. He’s never seen him so stressed: Art wants to take his hands and hold him tight. “For one thing, you don’t like guys.”

“I like you.” Art admits, like it’s a simple, easy fact, like that isn’t the tip of the iceberg of his feelings for Patrick Zweig.

Patrick’s bewilderment turns to anger. He steps closer to Art, back in his face, eyes fierce and smile bitter.

“Yeah? You like me?” His laugh is brittle. Disbelieving. “Enough to have sex with me? To fuck me?” He gets even closer. “To let me fuck you?” Art’s body heats up, from Patrick’s words, his proximity, this entire conversation. He can’t help his skin turning red at Patrick’s quite successful attempts to fluster him. He watches Art flounder for a moment before stepping back, eyes clenched in pain and his hand back to clawing at his scalp.

“I mean, fuck, Art, why are you even doing this? Just so I won’t go off with some guy? You won, ok? I won’t. I’ll be a good little heterosexual boy like you and go home. Just—“ And then, Art watches the strangest thing happen. Patrick deflates. Art watches his body shrink, small and limp, and it’s so unlike him that he suddenly appears almost unrecognizable. Patrick doesn’t even look at him, eyes shiny as they lock on his own feet. “Just leave me alone, okay?”

#artrick #artpatrick #art donaldson #patrick zweig #hey!!#this is basically an alternate universe where they actually try talking about their feelings instead of repressing it for years #incited by patrick wanting to hoe around and art being jealous/protective #to be clear i think the chances of that happening without tashi are 0.0000001% but i just really wanted to write this kind of fic for them!#this snippet is kinda sad but the full thing has a happy ending i promise lol #i’m also obsessed with the idea of patrick being sick w seemingly unrequited love with art and wanting to explore his options/sexuality #before the (supposed) attention of a successful pro career he believes himself to be on track for… lol #idk how much attention is paid to young prospects before they go pro in tennis specifically but i imagine they’d both be conscious of that #whereas art would be tightening the leash on himself even more #anyway…#wip wednesday #wip

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skyloftian-nutcase · 5 months ago

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Link found it strange that he was being summoned to the observation room. Usually if the queen needed him, she’d just call him to the throne room at the end of her busy day. If it was less official she would come find him with the children.

When he reached the room in question, he glanced around. Guards flanked the entrance as usual, and the area was devoid of all else save the queen, who stood up on the balcony looking out at the city.

Link had sometimes ventured to this room over the years, far more so recently, but sometimes it left him feeling too exposed. He moved slowly up the small stairway to the upper level, feeling the cool breeze of winter’s periphery slowly fading away.

Zelda was dressed warmly, wearing attire that reminded him of the war. He recalled the last year of the war had been unseasonably cold, making things more miserable, and Zelda had taken to wearing two dresses layered over each other. Although she had favored pinks and reds and golds as a princess, she typically wore shades of blue or green nowadays to honor the goddesses of wisdom and courage. Her dark blue gown that she wore today, embroidered with silver around the trim, was no different. He could see the pale pink underdress at her collar, with the blue one’s collar far lower and wider than the layer underneath. Her hands were clasped in front of her as she watched the sunset.

Entering the balcony, Link questioned, “You needed me?”

The queen turned toward him a little, green eyes sparkling in the golden light. “I got a concerning update from the Gerudo Desert in a meeting today. I thought you might be interested.”

Link felt dread fill his stomach, but he kept his face guarded. “What news?”

“There’s a possibility of fighting on the horizon,” Zelda explained. When Link’s eyes widened in alarm, she clarified, “Not us. It’s within themselves.”

Link didn’t know how to feel, nor why Zelda was relaying this to him. He was certainly relieved there wasn’t another war brewing, but what was wrong? Was Hemisi alright?

What did Zelda want out of this?

“I don’t know the politics of the Gerudo tribe too well, I’m afraid,” the queen continued, looking back at Castle Town. “But it seems there are some who are unhappy with Chief Hemisi’s leadership.”

That was… Link tried to parse this out. He knew next to nothing of what Hemisi had been up to over the years, only that through her efforts the Gerudo had survived. He knew there had been skirmishes between her and the Hyrulian Marshall - it was part of the reason he had been sent to negotiate a trade deal with her years ago. But after he’d returned he’d pointedly avoided any information pertaining to the desert or its people. While he had occasionally kept Hemisi in his prayers, he’d really not considered her much… at least as much as possible. He had to focus on his children, on the Sheikah, on actually being a functional person.

In the end, he’d known she’d take care of herself. If she’d survived that cursed war and, more importantly, managed to pick herself up after what he’d done to her, she could survive anything.

More to the point, though, Zelda wouldn’t be telling him this just for information’s sake.

Before he could inquire, the queen sighed. “It’s sad that there always seems to be an issue there nowadays. I recall when they first came to the castle years ago. Father wouldn’t let me near them, but they seemed a vibrant people. I wish I’d known them for more than just war.”

This conversation was not going the way he thought it would. Link approached her slowly until he stood beside her, following her gaze down to the city below. They were too high up to see much detail, but he could still make out people going about their business in the central square.

“Do you think their capital once looked like ours?” Zelda asked.

The king smiled, eyes growing distant as he remembered his earlier years. But the smile faded quickly. “It… did. A little. Different architecture, more vibrant colors. Far different culture.”

The queen looked at him, surprised. “You saw their capital before it was destroyed? Or were you there when—”

“No,” Link answered strongly. “I was not there when that monster chose to burn it to the ground. I visited it a few times before the war.”

Zelda swallowed, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I didn’t sanction that order.”

“I know,” Link said far more gently, reassuring her. “You would never give such an order. The general took matters into his own hands. What I don’t like is that he is still viewed as a hero for it.”

The queen stiffened, arms coming up to hug herself as her brow furrowed. “It was a hard lesson that I learned that day. I… I wanted to punish him. But I was advised against it, and I saw how people cheered and celebrated.”

Link didn’t comment. He knew that who history determined to be a hero was hardly based on who actually deserved it.

Goddesses knew he didn’t deserve the title. At least not anymore.

But this conversation was still strange. Zelda had to be discussing this for a reason. “Do you think we might get pulled into their problems?”

Their problems. As if they were just foreigners, as if the chief wasn’t a beloved friend, a—

Shut up! He snapped at himself, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. There was a reason he tried not to think about the Gerudo.

“I don’t know,” Zelda answered evenly, relaxing. “Father never paid attention to the Gerudo until they brought themselves to him. Obviously we don’t have that luxury, give the history.”

“Why not?” Link asked. “We shouldn’t meddle.”

“Everything and everyone is interconnected,” the queen replied sagely, facing the city once more. “Father lived in his own world, only wanting validation and safety, and he cared for nothing outside that. Affairs of other lands were not his problem. I know better than that. It’s why I’ve been watching the Zora conflict as well.”

There was a Zora conflict? Was everyone having troubles these days?

“I remember when the Gerudo came, he told me to stay away from them. He said they were dangerous,” Zelda commented softly, seemingly nostalgic. “It makes no sense that…”

She bit her lip. Link supplied carefully, “That he let them take the Triforce?”

She sighed heavily. “He always said Ganondorf was not as great a threat as I claimed, yet he was the one who said it first. But I think he only said it to me because he didn’t want me exposed.”

Link leaned against the stone railing of the balcony, facing her fully, tilting his head to the side. Was this actually about the Gerudo, or simply Zelda needing to vent about her father?

It was certainly a strange way to go about it. But the queen did seem to be in a strange mood.

A small, sardonic smile pulled at Zelda’s lips, and she huffed. “You know, I think my father had grown fond of their prince, Merovar. Took him under his wing in a sense. I… I think he wanted us to marry.”

Link stared. Stared a little longer. Let the words sink in.

And then he laughed.

King Ozen had wanted Zelda to marry Merovar? Had Ganondorf even known, even realized—

Reality swam away and swirled and crumbled and shuddered and buried him, and he laughed all the harder.

He could’ve won. He could’ve won and he didn’t even know it.

Zelda did not seem to know why her husband had started wheezing hysterically, and her own mild bitterness crumbled away into concern.

Link didn’t realize he’d started crying until he saw her watching him worriedly.

“Hylia,” he gasped breathlessly, wiping the tears away hastily. “I’m sorry, I—your father was an idiot.”

And so was mine.

He shook the thought away. Ganondorf had never been his father.

Zelda’s eyebrows rose at his words, at his bluntness, but he didn’t rescind them. Did she not realize? If Ozen had wed Zelda to Merovar, to the Gerudo kingdom’s heir, then it would have been a power play to see whose kingdom would absorb the other… and it was obvious who would have won.

Ganondorf could have gotten the Triforce without lifting a finger. But his hunger for power was insatiable and impatient.

He could have won.

Link wished he’d never learned this, but he still found it hilarious. He hoped, somehow, that the demon king’s torn up, twisted soul could learn it too, that he could have gotten what he’d wanted if he’d just not been a monster and not started a war.

But there was far too much anger and pain and possibility to get lost in with such knowledge, so he simply tried to move the conversation forward. “Is that why you called me, then? To tell me of the Gerudo affairs?”

Zelda swallowed, growing serious once more. “Yes. I apologize for getting side tracked, I’ve just been nostalgic lately, I suppose.”

He should probably ask her about that, but he’d do so later. Maybe. If she stopped by another time instead of summoning him. This was official business.

“I just… am concerned. About the outcome of this.” Zelda continued. “We do not know much of this other faction’s leader. Chief Hemisi does not like Hyrule, but I know she will not attack us outright.”

Link stiffened. “You think this other faction would?”

“I don’t know enough,” she repeated uncertainly.

Ah. Zelda hated not being control. He did know that.

“I can ready the troops,” he said to assure her, praying it wouldn’t be necessary. He knew it wouldn’t be - Hemisi wouldn’t let this usurper win.

“Perhaps just… ensure the Sheikah have arsenal available,” Zelda answered carefully. “There has been no fighting yet.”

Link nodded. And he noticed—in this light, the queen looked rather… exhausted. He wondered how much this was truly bothering her.

“Hyrule will be safe,” he assured her. “I promise.”

With that, the king departed, and both monarchs were left with hearts full of worry.

#writing #imprisoning war #hero of power #imprisoning war zelda #legend of zelda #I was just like really struck to write about the fact that Ozen was 100% gonna unwillingly give Hyrule away to Gan #So I had to write a scene around it lol #And decided to make it part of the buildup to Malice’s Stain and the Gerudo Civil War #so HA kind of actual plot too #Anyway I could not continue my day until I wrote this lol idk yall I’m too obsessed with this au #But also my brain is a disaster today so this was cathartic #Anyway I’ll shut up hope whoever likes it likes it :)

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