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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 months

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Congrats on 1500 followers love!!

If you're doing prompts, then here are some😈

Option 1: Mystery Link encounters Zelda and Gerudo Link and a town :"don't talk to me, someone might think we're friends "

Option 2: Power Link being a good Dad to his kids(he deserves good things every now and then lol)

Option 3: Abel ate a plant he reaaally shouldn't have😀 bonus if he flirts with Til while in between worrisome bouts of delirium🤭

Option 4: HC Wind experiences something either really traumatic or really hilarious at the hospital (depending on what mood you're in lol)

If you like none of these, then write whatever! You know I love your writing haha🥰

Tilieth had been trying for six months to forget about everything that had happened. She knew it had been six months to the day because she'd been counting, making little tick marks on the wall, waiting to see how long it would take for her son to wake up in that Sheikah shrine. In that time, she and Abel had been trying to piece together some sort of routine, and one of the things Tilieth did to try and help was forage for food while Abel hunted.

She knew eventually she'd have to hunt as well. It seemed unfair for Abel to be the sole fighter when they were stuck on the plateau together with no other help. She should at least know the basics. But for now, she couldn't get near a weapon, she felt her entire body tremble when she walked to certain parts of the plateau; she could hardly venture farther than the little camp site they had created close to the Temple of Time and the Shrine of Resurrection.

Today had been a decent day. She'd found some new plants around a pond near the temple, and their berries looked delicious. She'd picked them and cleaned them, setting them on a cloth to dry while working on mending Abel's tattered clothes.

When she glanced back to see if the berries had dried, most of them had disappeared.

Startled, Tilieth looked around to see if an animal had taken them, and she saw her husband settling down beside her.

"Those weren't ready yet," she chided lightly.

Abel hummed. "How are they not ready?"

"I washed them, they needed to dry some more."

"You were going to store them?" Abel asked, before adding, "Sorry."

"It's fine," Tilieth waved off, rubbing his back a little with a smile. "I can let the sun dry out the rest."

"Where did you get them? They look like wildberries, but those only grow in cold places. Did you go to the river?"

"No," Tilieth answered. "I got them by the pond near the temple."

Abel blinked. Blinked again. Then he stood slowly, eyes boring into the remaining fruit.

Tilieth grew a little nervous. "What is it?"

"Nothing," Abel said dismissively. "But I don't think we should keep the rest. They rot quickly, you won't be able to dry them. I'll, ah, eat the rest. Don't pick anymore - it's best to find alternatives."

"Abel, you're acting strange," Tilieth cut in, catching on to his change in attitude quickly.

"I just remembered something," Abel explained. "I need to go patrol to the south. It might be a while. Stay here at the camp, okay?"

With that, her husband departed quickly, taking the rest of the berries with him. Tilieth squinted, confused and worried, and she leaned over to look down the hill where he'd gone only to see him toss the rest of the berries into the grass.

Something was wrong, wasn't it? Did he just not like the flavor? Did it make him feel ill?

She made him ill, didn't she? Tilieth felt her stomach churn with guilt, felt awful that she could make such a mistake, wishing desperately that she'd learned more about the flora of Hyrule, but she'd never had a reason to! Hateno was self sustaining, and she'd always just gotten food from the local market and her own little garden.

She was trying to make a garden. She really should just stick to that instead of wanting to eat new plants. But she'd never heard of anything particularly bad, either. Was Abel just not feeling well? If that were the case, he wouldn't have taken the rest of the berries, right?

Worry ate away at her, and she grew restless. She didn't want to just sit around and wait, she wanted to make sure he was okay. What if Abel was getting sick and she was just sitting here doing nothing about it? She'd dealt with plenty of sick relatives, she could at least try to make something to ease his stomach.

Tilieth rose, taking a shaky step down the hill. The farther she moved, the more her chest hurt from fear. She was getting close to the edge of the wall dividing the Great Plateau from the rest of the kingdom, and up ahead were ruins that—that—

Tilieth froze, breath growing somewhat erratic. She had to find Abel, but she could hardly walk ahead anymore.

Praise Hylia, though, for she could see her husband a little distance ahead. He had paused, leaning against a tree. Tilieth found her courage and swallowed, walking forward to get to him, pointedly ignoring the ruins and the wall to her right. Her voice hadn't quite come back to her yet, so she had to make it all the way to him without speaking.

Slowly, she stepped cautiously towards her husband. He didn't seem to be getting sick, simply standing there. When she finally reached him, she cleared her throat, still not able to speak but knowing better than to sneak up on him.

Abel turned a little, face flushed, eyes looking almost glazed, a kind of off-focus expression that she was not accustomed to seeing on him at all. Her husband hardly ever zoned out, and when he did it was because he was deep in thought, not because his head was in the clouds, as hers often was.

She finally found her voice. "Honey?"

Abel squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. Then he looked at her again, clearly struggling to focus. "T-Til, I... I s-said wait at the camp."

"Honey, what's wrong?" Tilieth asked, growing more nervous.

"'S n-nothing."

"It's not nothing, you're acting strange!" Tilieth accused. "You threw away the rest of the berries, and you look sick!"

Abel leaned his back against the tree now, gaze drifting elsewhere. "They're b-bad berries."

So this was her fault! Tilieth wrung her hands nervously, mouth clamped shut, wondering what she should do.

"'S okay," Abel assured her, closing his eyes. "J-just... not a fun afternoon. I'll be fine. P-please, go... go home."

Home? He never called the camp home. "Abel, why don't you come back with me? We can figure something out."

"I'll be fine," Abel said, voice growing tight, muscles tensing. He was growing agitated, and Tilieth backed off a little at the sight of it, not looking to start a fight. "I... I promise. I'll be fine, Tilieth. It g-goes through, and then it s-stops. Please leave."

It goes through? Tilieth wondered if that just meant her poor husband was going to be very unwell but pass it through his system quickly. She'd want privacy too in that instance, she supposed, so she nodded and made her way back to camp quickly. She still felt immensely guilty, though, particularly at the realization that Abel had been fully prepared to just deal with the consequences alone and never tell her how much she hurt him.

He always tried to protect her like that.

When the sun moved from midway through the sky to almost kissing the mountains in the distance, Tilieth started to worry again. There was no way it took that long, and if it did, Abel was going to be dehydrated.

But that meant she had to go back to that place.

Tilieth gripped her fraying green dress. She wasn't going to let her anxieties stop her from checking on her husband. So she got back up and headed towards the place where she'd found him earlier.

She encountered him closer to camp than she expected to, and Tilieth almost wondered if he was on the mend and heading back to her. The feverish flush to his cheeks, paired with sweat on his brow, plastering his fringe to his forehead, quickly eliminated that idea.

This wasn't just feeling unwell for an afternoon, something was wrong.

"Abel?" she called, moving more quickly.

Abel was standing in the middle of the field, staring off in the distance, and he didn't quite seem to hear her. As she approached, she could see his expression was something she hadn't seen very often, an open vulnerability so prevalent her heart hurt at the sight of it.

"Abel... honey, what is it?" she asked softly, moving to soothe him, seeing tears starting to shine in his eyes.

"Mom?" he whispered softly, still staring at the distance.

Mom? His mother had died when he was a child. Was... was he dying?! Tilieth looked around wildly, frightened and frantic. Her skin crawled, her body felt like ice had frozen her from the inside out.

"Abel, nobody's there," she said shakily. He'd said he'd be fine, what was happening?!

There wasn't a ghost, was there?!

No, no. There couldn't be. Abel had never seen ghosts. Tilieth surveyed the area once more, eyes blown wide, heart racing. There was no way, right? She instinctively moved closer to her husband, hands wrapping around his arm, pressing herself against his side.

Abel's gaze snapped to her at the touch, breaths coming out in little panicked rasps. Tilieth looked between him and the space he'd been staring, took a steadying breath, and smiled at her husband reassuringly.

There was a moment where he just stared, that same feverish glaze covering his eyes, and then he blinked a few times and seemed to come back to himself. "T-Til..."

Tilieth sprang into action, immediately hugging him. "Abel, honey, you scared me, what's wrong? This is because of the berries, oh honey I'm so sorry—"

"'S not... n-not..." Abel tried to say, holding her with trembling arms, terrifying her even more. "Go b-back to... I'm okay..."

"No! You're not okay!" Tilieth argued, pulling away to look him over. "What do these berries do? You know - that's why you went away! Are they... you said it would get better, but—they're not—"

They're not lethal, are they?

Please, she begged, feeling tears well in her eyes, Please don't leave me too. Please just tell me what's happening.

Abel looked down, seeming hesitant, and then sighed, trying to regulate his breathing. "B-berries cause... seeing th-things... it'll s-stop... promise..."

The berries made him hallucinate? Why didn't he just tell her that from the start? Why did he have to try to bear this alone? Goddess, she shouldn't have left earlier when he asked, this was her fault anyway.

She felt awful.

When Abel stumbled in another direction, though, she came back to life, grabbing his hand. "Wait! This is—I caused this, let me help. Let's get you back to camp, okay?"

He'd said that it would run its course. She had to trust that. But she couldn't just leave him out here like this. This wasn't just a stomach illness, this was dangerous and frightening, for both him and her.

Goddess, why would he try to deal with this alone?! Tilieth couldn't even imagine being in such a position that she would be questioning whether everything she saw was even real or not, she couldn't fathom how absolutely terrifying that would be.

She hated that she'd caused this.

Abel let her guide him closer to their camp, stumbling a little, seeming to have zoned out. Tilieth remained vigilant, growing steadily more anxious as they moved. It was getting dark, and there were some monsters that still crept in the shadows of the plateau, though not many. Tilieth had no way of defending herself or her husband, aside from maybe using a pot or a ladle or a tree branch while screeching. The mere thought of encountering a beast made her lose her breath.

She felt her arm jerk a little as Abel stopped moving, and she turned to look back at him. The confusion, the openness of emotions were back, but this time he was staring directly at her.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, sounding nearly enchanted.

Tilieth barked out a confused and surprised laugh, dumbfounded. "What?"

Abel smiled a little, innocent and shy as it was, and took a step towards her before freezing again. His face turned a shade paler, eyes widening, and he shook his head. "N-no, no..."

Tilieth moved quickly to soothe him, wondering what he was seeing now, dreading to find out. "Sweetie, it's okay. It's okay. Let's keep going, okay?"

Abel jerked his hand out of hers, hugging himself and curling in on himself, trembling. She noticed, abruptly, that his knuckles were scraped, that his knees had grass stains on them. He'd fallen sometime earlier in the day while in this state.

"Oh, love," she lamented, feeling a million times worse.

Her husband groaned, nearly tipping backwards as he stumbled a little, and Tilieth gasped, lunging forward to steady him. He latched onto her in a heartbeat, grip suddenly far more intense than before. "Ama..."

Tilieth rubbed circles on his back. "Honey... Ama's not here. Your sister's not here. It's me, Tilieth."

Her heart broke anew as the words came out of her mouth. Abel hadn't kept up too much with his sisters as an adult, but he'd definitely been closer to Ama, his twin. She'd lived in Castle Town, though, and Abel...

Abel didn't talk about what happened to Castle Town.

Her husband groaned, pushing her off him. "Stop it. Sh-Shola isn't—Ama—"

Tilieth tried something different, blinking the tears away. "Ama's this way, love. You want to see her?"

Abel slowly lowered himself to the ground, taking measured breaths, head in his hands. "I... I want to go home."

Tilieth swallowed the lump in her throat.

The silence between them was deafening, a chasm developing between the couple that grew larger by the second. Abel took another steadying breath, pushing his hands to run through his hair and slick the sweat fringe out of his face. He looked at Tilieth as if he was just seeing her for the first time. "Til?"

Tilieth came to life in an instant, reaching for him, taking his hands in her own and squeezing them. "I'm here, love. I'm here."

Abel's eyes were unfocused, but he kept them fixed on her, expression raw. "Where are the children?"

Oh, goddess. Why are you doing this? Please, just make him sleep. Tilieth lost her voice in trying to reply to him, biting her lip and squeezing his hands again.

Her husband watched her, searching, waiting for a reply, before his mind finally seemed to slip somewhere else, and he rose shakily. Tilieth tried to direct him as best she could, helping him as he stumbled occasionally. Sometimes he would get distracted, seeing something new, but generally the journey was uneventful until they were just at the bottom of the hill to their camp.

Tilieth glanced upward, chest a little less tight at the thought that they were almost to safety, when Abel grabbed her by the back of her tunic and yanked her behind him. "Abel, what—"

"Stay quiet," he hissed, body stiff as a board, arms spread out slightly in a protective stance, hiding her from whatever he was facing. Tilieth worriedly looked around him, knowing that nightfall was upon them, but she saw nothing.

Tilieth waited a moment, trying to figure out if there truly was a threat, but the more time passed, the more erratic Abel became, reaching for a weapon he no longer was holding (she had taken his sword), stepping forward uncertainly.

Abel registered that he was unarmed, and his breathing rapidly increased to a near panic. Tilieth reached for his arm, dragging him up the hill, but he fought back, pulling away.

"It's—it's a—where—" he gasped, eyes wild.

"Abel," Tilieth begged, taking his face in her hands. "Love, look at me. There's nothing there. Let's go back to camp."

"C-camp?" he repeated, breaths reaching a regular rhythm and depth, brow relaxing slightly from outright panic to confusion. "W-we're camping?"

Tilieth blinked, trying to keep up with the changes. "We—yes. Yes, we are."

Abel giggled all of a sudden. "You're too pretty to be a soldier, though."

His face went white as soon as the words escaped his mouth, and he took an anxious step away, waving his hands a little. "I—I b-beg your pardon, I'm—"

Tilieth laughed now, recognizing this patterned behavior, remembering when her beloved, wonderful husband was a shy, sweet knight fresh to Hateno. "It's okay, Abel. Please come with me."

Her husband, bashful and ashamed and mortified as he was, lowered his head a little and complied.

When they finally made to camp, Tilieth wanted to cry she was so relieved. She could hardly hold the tears back, honestly, with as guilty as she felt anyway, so she just let them fall. She sniffled quietly, trying not to attract attention to it, hoping Abel was too addled to notice. Instead, she made him sit while she gathered supplies. She cleaned his knuckles first, listening as he stammered at her, insisting to his dead sister that he could take care of himself, asking where their mother was a few moments later, before poking Tilieth in the chest.

"Ow!" she yelped mildly before flicking him. "That's not very nice, love."

"What're you doing, silly girl?" Abel asked, a soft smile pulling at one side of his mouth. "Don't you know your Papa can take care of himself?"

"First your sister, now Lyra?" Tilieth sighed. She tried to play along, reaching her hands out. "I can't learn how to take care of myself if you don't let me practice on you."

Abel hummed thoughtfully, and Tilieth wondered if he was actually going to stick to this particular delirium, but he lost focus soon after. She gently took his hands in her own again, finishing wiping the dried blood off. She stared at his knuckles a moment, fingers running along his palms, feeling the callouses and cuts. Silently, she pulled them to her lips, kissing them, her tears diving to every curve and crevice in his skin, trailing away with what little dirt was left.

He wiggled out of her gentle grip before one hand reached to her face, wiping the tears away.

"I'm sorry," Tilieth choked out, looking at him, seeing his sky blue eyes worriedly watching her. "I'm s-sorry you're going through this because of me."

Abel sighed, suddenly tired, but so, so tender and seemingly innocent. "It's okay, Mom. I know you miss him."

Tilieth felt her heart break anew, and she bit her lip. Abel reached forward to hug her, but before he could really encircle her in his embrace, she made the first move instead, letting him rest his head on her shoulder as she held him close. She knew... she knew he'd had to comfort his mother in her final years after his father had died. She knew he hadn't known comfort since then, always having to take care of everyone else.

She could take care of him, though. He didn't have to be strong all the time. She was his wife - she could protect him as much as he did her. Even if right now he didn't quite realize it.

That was what this was all about, after all, wasn't it? The reason he hadn't told her that the berries would cause delirium and hallucinations was that he didn't want her to worry, to feel guilty, to see him in such a weak state.

Tilieth held her beloved more tightly. She'd told him time and again in their marriage that he didn't have to do that. It had taken years for him to believe it.

She hadn't seen him break once since they'd reunited after the Calamity.

Tilieth felt a new sort of guilt eat away at her. She'd been completely reliant on him these last six months. She knew that. She'd hardly had the self awareness to recognize it, bereaved as she was. But tonight, she realized it, as her husband tried to hide his hurt from her.

"I love you so much," she whispered into his hair.

Abel didn't reply, didn't seem to react, perhaps didn't even hear her. So she said it again and again, whispering it like a mantra, like music carried in the breeze on festival nights, serenading her husband with warmth. He seemed to settle, muscles slowly relaxing as time passed, and as he finally fell asleep she leaned against a tree, letting him press his weight on her.

Tilieth herself had almost fallen asleep a few hours later, heedless of the way her stomach growled, when Abel stirred once more.

Her husband nearly fell off her as he rolled, and both of them yelped as she tried to catch him. Abel quickly sat up, palm cupping her face, and he asked, "Are you alright?"

Goddess, his voice sounded so strong, his eyes looked clear, he was no longer sweating.

It was over.

Tilieth burst into tears.

Abel jumped, startled, and quickly moved to assuage her. "Love, I'm okay, I promise."

He gathered her in his arms and she sank into the embrace readily, so relieved at the safety and warmth, the strength of his hold, the assurance that it meant he was feeling better.

"I-I'm—I'm s-sorry," she sobbed, pushing with all he rmight to get the words out.

Abel hushed her, kissing her cheek. "I told you I'd be fine, Til. It's okay."

That was awful, she wanted to protest, but her throat was too closed up at this point, hiccupping instead. Abel simply held her, steady as a rock.

She hoped he at least remembered her words as she'd comforted him.

Eventually, the tears dried, and both spouses heard their stomachs roar in frustration.

"Maybe I'll cook something," Abel offered with a cheeky smile, and Tilieth wanted to clock him for how lightly he was taking this entire ordeal.

He must not remember most of it.

Sighing heavily, she crossed her arms, not wanting to dig up the issue, accepting the easy forgiveness her husband gave her despite the guilt that still gnawed at her. "Fine. I'll work on the garden."

"Do you know what you're growing in the garden—”

"Yes, Abel. I know."

Her husband chuckled heartily, kissing her briefly, and moved to the cooking pot. Tilieth sighed, staring up at the starry sky, and thanked Hylia for keeping both of them alive despite both of their idiocy.

And then she moved to the half demolished wall where she'd been keeping tabs, and scratched another day passed.

#you ask skye answers #lovely oma #abel #blood of the hero #Abel knew exactly what those plants would do to him so he tried to spare Tilieth from seeing it #which backfired spectacularly #writing #Tilieth definitely started making a journal after this to figure out different plants #Hylia is probably facepalming somewhere #Link would 100% eat those berries by accident too

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