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mxnkeydo · 1 year

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doctor's orders ✧ a solangelo oneshot

✧ summary nico's only intention was to get a drink and take a break from the constant challenges of his life. little did he know that his world was about to be turned upside down by a blond-haired, blue-eyed doctor.

✧ genre fluff

✧ word count 1.85k

✧ warnings none

✧ A/N writing this was so fun!! it was inspired by a pinterest post i saw a month ago, and i knew it was made for solangelo. i hope ya'll like it, and happy belated birthday will! all credits go to @soia-jpg for the fan art on the banner. also, pls reblog, it would mean so much to me!! <3

✧ link to main masterlist

✧✧✧

Nico DiAngelo woke up in an impossibly white room.

It was rather unnerving; after all, his own bedroom at home was dark and shady with no light other than the sun’s merciful gaze, which also retreated into the horizon as dusk fell. So when his eyes opened to the bright walls surrounding him, he flinched and closed them immediately, groaning as the pain in his stomach finally sank in. Slowly, surely, his senses started coming back to him; the soft cloth on his body, the cold, still feeling of the air around him like time had ceased to exist, the strong scent of artificial fragrances with a bitter undertone. Gently patting down his torso, Nico soon realized his jacket was gone–the one his sister had gifted him on his tenth birthday–and his feet were bare. Lying here in the small rectangular room made him feel cold and restless, a feeling he didn’t like one bit.

Suddenly, like a bursting dam, memories flooded into his mind. They were completely out of order, but Nico managed to piece them together.

“Did you push me?”

“What if I did?”

“Oh, you’re so gonna get it, goth boy.”

Every movie made bar fights seem cool and tough, but in reality they were just petty fistfights between drunk people. Nico mentally berated himself for being so stupid, responding so rashly to that tattooed man. He just wanted one drink, really, one drink to forget…everything. One drink to take his mind off of things. But the after-affects made him regret all of it. If he was sober, he wouldn’t have stumbled into the large, muscled man next to him, and he most certainly wouldn’t have a throbbing black eye.

The lesson of the night? Being high alone was better than being high in public, because that just meant trouble for everyone.

But all that regret rushed by him and anger washed over him like a waterfall. Gushing anger, like the rush of blood thrpugh his veins. Bubbling anger, like a scalding pot of boiling water. He didn’t even know why – maybe he was still slightly drunk – but envisioning the man who’d given him so many bruises made Nico want to punch him where the light didn’t shine.

So when he heard light footsteps approaching, he blurted, “Fight me.” The exact words he’d recklessly said to the drunk man before he’d generously given him not one injury, but four: two punches to the jaw, one black eye, and a blow to the abdomen. It sort of sounded like a restaurant order, Nico thought deliriously.

“I’m sorry?”

A slender figure appeared over him, frowning with his head tilted. His bushel of blond curls made Nico want to reach up and touch them, though he was too tired and too beaten up to do so. This person seemed to glow, like the sun’s rays impersonized.

But the thing that really caught his attention was his eyes. They were the clearest blue he had ever seen, like a crystal clear lake. Nico couldn’t bring himself to look away.

“Fight me,” he repeated in a daze.

“Okay, I think you should get some more rest, uh..” The man looked down at the clipboard in his hand, furrowing his brows. “Nicholas. Can you get some rest for me?”

“It’s Nico,” Nico snapped on instinct. The name Nicholas was long gone, lost forever, buried beside his sister. No one ever called him that anymore, and he didn’t want anyone to call him that either. That name had been for Bianca to use, and for Bianca only.

“My apologies. Nico, we’re going to give you some pills and have you go to sleep so the pain doesn’t bother you as much. Okay?”

Nico did nothing but stare with his mouth hanging open, his head spinning so his thoughts jumbled and mixed with one another. An image of his sister flashed in his mind as the events of the night before played over and over in his head like a broken videotape.

The man placed a mask on his face, making everything in his line of sight go blurry and then fade into a black void. “Bianca..fight…me?” Nico mumbled, his head lolling to the side.

And yet again, the darkness grasped Nico in its deadly embrace.

***

Nico got used to the white walls. It was inevitable; after all, he was due to be there for a week, minimum. He no longer winced when the brightness flooded his eyelids, and the constant hum of the hospital would lull him to sleep every night. It was different, yes, but it became routine.

What also became routine was seeing the doctor, that blond man with the blue eyes that seemed to peer into his soul whenever he turned his gaze towards him. It sent electrical shocks through Nico’s body, though he had no clue why that happened. It just…did. He found himself watching his movements, catching his breath when his arm brushed against his skin, making him shiver pleasurably. It was a new feeling. Now, Nico didn’t like new things, but this? This was something he could get used to.

Nico remembered the first time he’d really talked to him, apart from the dazed mutterings on the first night he’d arrived. He turned red all over just thinking about it. Dr. Solace had been adjusting the machine beside him when he started making small talk.

“Quite the injuries you’ve got there, Nico.”

“Uh…”

“You were drunk, yes?”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Nico had bowed his head bashfully after his comment, completely sure that he was going to receive a talk about how alcohol was not at all healthy for the human body. Instead, Dr. Solace said with a soft chuckle,

“I found it amusing, if I’m being honest. You said some delirious stuff. “Fight me’, you kept repeating. What was that about?”

“Oh… I was just high, I guess. People do stupid stuff when they’re high.”

After a short pause, he’d continued,

“Did you respond?”

Dr. Solace had laughed then, and it was a sound Nico had never heard before. It was the sound of twinkling stars in the night sky. It was the sound of everything good and everything wonderful.

“No. But I wouldn’t fight you if you begged me on your knees. I know you’d win. I can tell.”

The best part (and the part that had Nico blushing furiously) was when he winked, his eyes glittering mischeviously as he exited the room. Every time that moment came to mind was a moment of sheer bliss. It was very unlike himself to be fond of someone after a few days of their company, but William Andrew Solace managed to wiggle his way into Nico’s heart. It was strange, but Nico welcomed it. Seeing that sun of a smile was an experience he’d never get tired of.

Apart from the doctor that came in regularly, life was hell. Hell as in everything hurt like hell. It did get better, but the uneasy feeling in his abdomen every time he woke up from a nap never faded. Nor did the pain he felt when he touched his black eye with a touch as light as a feather.

It wasn’t the best, but Will (yes, they were on a first name basis) was a ray of sunshine. And sunshine made things better. Didn’t it?

***

“How’s the eye, Nico?”

Will smiled gently as he walked in, his white coat billowing out behind him. Nico abruptly looked up from the book he was reading (a story about a sixth grade demigod on a quest) and shut it closed, placing it on his nightstand.

“It’s okay. Getting better.”

“The cold compress is helping, I assume?”

“Yeah.” Nico watched as he wrote something down on his notepad.

“The jaw is fine?”

“Yes, except for the occasional pain.”

“And the stomach bruise is healing, right?”

Nico went quiet.

“Right?”

With no warning, Will pulled the blanket draped over Nico’s thin figure down to his waist, gently lifting up the hospital gown he was wearing. Nico felt his face heat up as the doctor studied his stomach, exhaling deeply every now and then. His fingers brushed the expanse of his stomach, grazing over the purple bruise. Nico’s breath caught in his throat, and was only released when Will covered his torso with the blanket once again.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? That’s a nasty one,” Will finally said with a grimace. “That’s gonna take time to get better. I didn’t think it was very serious at first, but–” He raked a hand through his unruly hair. “I’ll have a nurse bring you an ice pack and some ibuprofen, that should help. In the meantime, get some more sleep.”

“More sleep?” Nico repeated incredulously. All he’d been doing for the past few days was sleeping on and off. If he slept any more, he was sure he was going to go into a coma.

“Yes, more sleep,” Will emphasized.

“But–”

“Doctor’s orders.”

Nico suddenly realized Dr. Solace was closer than he’d ever been before. He could spot the sparkle in his eyes, the slight upturn of his lips.

“Fine,” he sighed, breaking the moment. He slid down so he was completely on his back, pulling his thin blanket up to his chin. Will shut off the lights after writing something else on his notepad, standing at the doorway.

Although Nico protested against taking rest, he found his eyelids growing heavier by the second. His sight went blurry as he finally closed them, his chest rising and falling with even breaths.

And as he went to sleep, he swore he heard an angelic voice say,

“Sweet dreams, Nico.”

***

Will wasn’t there when he woke up the next day. Today was the last of Nico’s time at the hospital, which meant he was free to go whenever he wanted. But, just in case Dr. Solace made an appearance again, he stayed. Sitting up in bed, Nico picked up his book and gingerly opened it, processing the words slowly. ADHD made reading incredibly hard, but Nico put up with it. Books were his escape from reality, where he had no one to care for, and no one to care for him. In the fictional stories he read, he found friends; imaginary ones, but friends nevertheless.

He had just started reading the first sentence on the page (the protagonist was just about to jump off the Gateway Arch, apparently) when he noticed a sliver of green peeking out just above the last page. Cautiously, he flipped to the end of the novel. There, on the back cover, was a sticky note. Nico quickly scanned its contents, a grin growing on his face as he did so. His heartbeat kicked up rapidly as he read it over and over again, even though he already had the words etched into his mind. He memorized the look of Will’s handwriting as he gazed at the sticky note:

771 Victoria Street, Bert’s Coffee House

Fight me? Doctor’s orders. ;)

#solangelo #will solace #nico di angelo #birthday oneshot #oneshot #fluff #doctor x patient au #solangelo fic

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transskywardsword · 1 year

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Spider Meet Fly/Fly Meet Spider - Chapter Thirteen: Sonia is Caught By Treachery

read the full story on ao3 here

Link fidgeted in front of the floor length mirror, pulling on the jewelry braided into his hair. Sonia slapped his hand away.

“I’m not finished.”

“I look fine.” He signed, the whine clear in the movement of his hands, and Sonia swatted him again.

“You’ve said so yourself, the Celebration of the Heroines is the most important holiday in the Gerudo calendar. We’re going to show our respect.”

“Through fancy clothes?” Link signed, pouting, and Sonia laughed.

“Oh, trust me, I could put you in fancy clothes. This is far from that.”

The headdress she’d presented an hour ago sat proudly on Link’s head. Luga had offered to install it herself, but Sonia had insisted, saying she regretted how little time alone she and Link had had since little Zelda’s birth. At only a few days old, she was beyond tiny, and had taken more of a liking to her father than Sonia, which had Rauru over the moon. Sonia insisted that Zelda was too young to have a favorite, but she always smiled when she said that, not truly minding that her daughter seemed to prefer pulling on Rauru’s ears than she did playing with her mother’s curls. Link reached up and ran a hand down the horn standing proudly on his forehead. He’d be lying if he said the charged headdress didn’t remind him distinctly of Farosh. The glittering horn resembled the dragon’s own horn down to the last detail, and the beaded topaz throughout glowed like lightning in a heavy storm, even without light illuminating it. They crackled under his fingers when he touched them, a jolt of static that set his hair on end. Gold hung from it in delicate chains, and the earrings Sonia had provided reminded him of dragon scales—if he didn’t know any better, he’d suspect they were made from the holy material.

“Face me more,” Sonia said, gripping his chin. “I want your face paint to be perfect.”

The electric yellow paint was cold on his skin as she painted three teardrops below each eye. She frowned before licking her thumb and wiping the tears away. She tilted his head this way and that, squinting down at him, and Link went cross eyed watching her hover so close to him.

“Hm… three or one? What do you think—no, wait, don’t move! I think… I think four. Then we’ll match!” She smiled brightly, tapping under her eye on her own white tattoo teardrops. The tattoos were mesmerizing to look at, bright and stark against her dark skin, and Link thought they carried an otherworldly light to them, almost glowing when under the sun and seeming to shimmer even in the dark. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were magic.

His eyes lingered on the Triforces tattooed on her skin; they were the only references to the Triforce he’d seen at all since he’d arrived, and it piqued his curiosity each time he saw it, thought now more than ever. While Ganondorf was grumbling over festivals, Link had been researching dragons, the Depths, and the Master Sword, both in history and myth. Sonia had recommended a collection of biographies of great Hylians who had led her people far before a unified continent and Hyrulian kingdom was even an idea on the wind, and it was in that book that the Golden Power was first mentioned by name. Link devoured the book before turning back to others he’d previously read on the Chosen Hero, trying to slot the Triforce into those stories. It had proven to be a serious challenge; he was never the best with his letters, not after his childhood education had been neglected in exchange for learning the art of the blade, his father removing him from the school house as a pre-teen and never sending him back, and while he could have asked Soia or Rauru or even Mineru for help, the thought of mentioning his difficulties with reading were mortifying. So, instead, with Ganonodrf already nearby writing his play, Link leaned on him for help, praying all the while that the man didn’t notice that Link was doing it.

Link thought he’d pulled it off rather well, all things considered, and now all that was left was to put together the confusing swirl of knowledge he now had surrounding the Chosen Hero, Fi, and Triforce into a solidified plan that could heal Fi and get him home. He planned to ask Rauru at first, but the Zonai really did know very little of Hylian history, leaving Link to instead ask Sonia for help.

Sonia hummed as she brushed the paintbrush across his skin, first under the left eye, then the right, before washing the brush and dipping it in the paint again. She pursed her lips as she leaned closer and painted a stripe down the middle of Link’s lips, swiping away a droplet of paint before it could drip on his chin.

“There,” she said. “So handsome.”

Link turned to the mirror and ran a hand through his hair. He had been meaning to cut it back before all of this happened, and now, with the charged headdress proudly braided into his hair, its length and thickness was even more clear. He curled a strand around his index finger. It was even longer than Zelda’s now, wasn’t it?

He took in the person reflected in the floor length looking glass before him. Luga had scrubbed him clean earlier, anointing him with sweet smelling oils and perfumes. He’d lost muscle mass here in the past, the gloom sickness still not quite gone, and it unnerved him. He was used to being strong, even with his lean physique, and weakness did not look good on him. The charged shirt and trousers had been dressed up, more jewelry hanging off the fabric than before, topaz and diamonds catching the light and twinkling beautifully with each movement. Link felt… otherworldly. He could remember being almost, though not quite, as dressed up before when accompanying Zelda to a ball. He had traded the Champion’s tunic for the uniform of the royal guard that he technically belonged to, the white leather buckles tight around his thighs and cap balanced delicately on his head. He’d felt like a fool, and Zelda had doubled over laughing at the sight of him, much to his embarrassment. Now though, looking in the mirror, he felt larger than life. He felt magical, invincible despite the delicate jewelry and fabric. He felt as grand as Farosh herself.

The thought suddenly stopped him. He’d spoken to Rauru after his discovery of the location of the three dragons, and the Zonai king had agreed about the importance of tracking them down deep in the Depths.

“That sword—it is a matter of life and death for your people,” He had said, “and could be your key home. I understand that reforging it is vital, and I shall offer all the resources I can spare to make that happen.”

Link had thought for one mortifying moment that he might cry, and Rauru had smiled. “It is what friends are for, after all,” he said, and Link had blinked away the wetness furiously.

It was the baby. Little Zelda was rubbing off on him. He’d been debating what to use for her name. He didn’t think, despite their fluency, that Sonia and Rauru quite understood the importance of sign names, but he knew he wanted to gift one to the baby before he left.

Because he could be leaving soon. With the Master Sword reforged, who knew what could come next? The thought bubbled excitedly in his chest more often than not for the past two days as Ganondorf finished his ceremonial play. Which he would not let Link read, much to his annoyance.

“You’ll see it performed soon,” Ganondorf would grunt as Link pestered until finally Link had given up on getting to see it. Ganondorf was right—the party would start soon, and Link could see all of it in its awkward splendor.

“Are we done?” Link signed as Sonia stepped back. She looked breathtaking in her gown. Silks of green and gold enveloped her, the usual geometric designs from the tabard of her day dress even more intricate as they spiraled across her many skirts and flowing, draped fabrics. They told a story, each design a collection of glyphs showing a different part of the continent’s history, from the Chosen Hero and the Spirit Maiden, to the arrival of the Zonai from the sky, to the union of the Rito, Zora, and Gorons, to the story of her and Rauru’s wedding. Two figures carved from Zonaite-- clearly her and Rauru-- embraced on the cloth across her breast. In between the lovers, right where their chests met, hung her secret stone, serving as the heart of the marriage. Sundelions had been braided into her hair, and her tiara gleamed in the light, diamonds and Zonite woven together in an intricate geometric design. If Link didn’t know any better, he would have called her Hylia incarnate.

“Yes,” She said, bumping his shoulder, “but if you mess up your face paint I’ll never forgive you.”

Link rolled his eyes. “Of course, your Majesty.”

There came a knock on the door, and Sonia called for them to come in. Luga poked her head in, eyes covered.

“You can look, Luga.” Sonia said, a chuckle in her voice, and Luga shook her head.

“Nope! Not till you and his Majesty are together. I want to first look at you both together!”

Sonia laughed properly. “You put too much faith in my husband’s fashion ability.”

“Nonsense! I’m sure he’ll be breath taking.”

Sonia offered an arm to the servant. “Shall we go find that husband of mine then?”

Luga groped blindly for the arm until Sonia gently guided her hand to her elbow and pulled the girl close.

“What about you, Sir Link? Are you ready for the party?” Luga asked, and Sonia smiled, patting her hand.

“He looks just lovely.”

“I can imagine! I can smell the ozone from here.”

Link tried to subtly sniff his shirt and Sonia snorted. “You smell fine,” she said, and Link flushed.

Slowly, taking care to keep Luga, with her excited babbling and bouncy steps, from walking into a wall, Sonia led her and Link down the halls from Link’s guest suite to the royal suite.

“You know, Link, it’s amazing to think that a few weeks ago, the idea of seeing a Gerudo ceremony in person would be laughable,” Sonia said, turning a corner. “The Gerudo have always been isolationists, even at their own detriment, and to have them here, the continent unified and their people welcomed across all borders within it, from the cold of Hebra to the scorching heat of Eldin, or the rains of Lanayru... it is breathtaking to think about. You know, I offered to show Twinrova to the main meeting hall to see the murals there that show locations all across Hyrule—they seemed to be the type to enjoy traveling. They refused my offer, unfortunately.”

Link hmmed. “I think they and Gan had a fight. They have been avoiding him, and he them.”

Sonia raised an eyebrow. “Gan?”

“Only in jest. And if you tell him I called him that—well, I’m afraid my next actions would be treason.”

“Woe is me, slain before I had the chance to see Naboris’ drunk dancing.”

“You’d deserve it.” Link signed with a grin, and Sonia laughed.

“You think so?”

“What would my lovely wife deserve?”

Link and Sonia came to a stop, Luga almost falling, as Rauru stepped from the suite before them, shutting the door with a soft click. Sonia let out a soft sigh. Link could understand why—Link had seen Rauru in regal robes, in sparring gear, in simple, but elegant, shawls, but never showing so much… well, so much skin. The Zonai’s chest was covered only by a sheer, gossamer shawl, biceps and toned stomach easily visible through it, and geometric paint designs covered every inch of skin below his neck. Elegant chains of diamond and Zonaite spiraled up and down his arms. He matched his wife perfectly, and Link was, for the first time, aware of just how attractive Rauru might be to the right person.

Sonia reached forward and cupped his furry cheek, and the Zonai man smiled softly.

“You look divine.” He murmured, “A goddess among men.”

“Am I allowed to be jealous that the world gets to see you like that?” Sonia almost purred, and Link flushed, quickly looking away. Rauru laughed, leaning down and whispering something in his wife’s ear, who threw her head back and let out a boisterous laugh.

“You flirt!”

“The flirt is going to be Naboris once she sees you in that dress.”

Sonia ran her fingers through Rauru’s beard. “Let her relax some and it may be more than flirting.”

“Oh?”

Rauru caught her hand and brought her palm to his lips, raising an eyebrow. Sonia had to stand on her tippy toes, and it couldn’t have been comfortable, but Sonia giggled as Rauru released her hand, taking his instead and lacing their fingers together.

“Shall we?”

“Wait!” Luga said, finally opening her eyes. “Wait, wait, stand still let me take you in—oh Gods, you look lovely Queen Sonia. Like a dream. And your Majesty, oh my goodness! Did you do the paint yourself? It looks so symmetrical. I am truly impressed. You are truly two halves of a whole. You’ll blow them all away.”

Sonia patted Luga’s cheek, who flushed bright red. “You’re too kind to us, Miss Luga. Now, go, find some friends, have fun at the party.”

“But there’s so much to do! I need to refill the oils at the baths, and clean the linens, and—”

“Relax. Be merry. That’s an order.”

Luga snapped to attention. “Y—yes ma’am!” She squeaked out, bouncing on her toes, and Sonia waved her off, leaning her head on her husband’s arm as the servant girl bounded down the hall.

Sonia turned to Link, and Rauru nodded.

“The headdress suites him," He said. "I knew it would. The Lightning Dragon and her Goddess… I’ve felt for some time that there is a connection here with you, Link, to the divine—the electricity of your sword, the power of light in your lungs; it speaks of great things.”

Link rose his hands, then stopped, rose them again, then held them still. Rauru frowned.

“Is everything alright?”

Link took a deep breath. It was now or never.

“May we move out of the hallway?” He signed, hands soft, and Rauru gave a confused nod, pulling them back into the suite. The myths and history surrounding light powers and the Triforce he'd found in the library had been surprisingly unspecific, and the details were fuzzy with time. It was funny, that somehow his Zelda had a greater knowledge of the divine than the people far closer to the time period that the creation of the Hylian race occurred in. The story of the Chosen Hero was both complex and simple: Hylia, a war, a man chosen by the divine who used his own internal light and the powers around him to forge a sword and strike down the demon king, sealing him away in the very sword that destroyed him. Link, supposedly, if the beliefs of the royal family in his time were to be believed, carried that same hero’s spirit, same hero’s courage, and drive. But Link wasn’t that Chosen Hero. He wasn’t divine. He wasn’t like Zelda, didn’t have Hylia flowing through his bones. He had no connection to light or light power. It didn’t make sense for him to have light power, except through… Well, through Farore and her piece of the Triforce, something he had long given up on and made peace with never having.

“What,” he started slowly, “do you know of the Triforce?”

“Honestly?” Rauru replied, “Little. The Zonai never concerned themselves much with Hylian stories.”

“The Chosen Hero bore it,” Sonia said, “… the hero whose sword you bare. It was gift from the Golden Goddesses, protected by Hylia and the Chosen Hero.”

“I don’t—I don’t know if I have it. Zelda—my Zelda—bares a third of it: the Triforce of Wisdom. Supposedly, the Hero bears the Triforce of Courage, but I have proven to be an unfortunate choice of hero,”

Sonia opened her mouth to protest, but Link raised a hand.

“Let me finish. I always assumed that my failure, my death, meant that I was unworthy. I never felt holy or divine. But if this stone is reacting to power within me, light within me…”

“You think the light is from this Triforce?” Rauru asked gently, letting go of his wife’s hand to run his fingers through his beard. Link was beginning to think it was a nervous habit.

“I don’t know. I don’t—I’m just thinking out loud. But if the Triforce is the source of my power, and the stone is channeling my power from the Triforce…”

“It would explain how your stone was strong enough to carry you through time despite your lack of experience or control. The explosion you caused in the garden—that spoke of great power, one I wouldn’t expect from a new magic user.”

“Then maybe it was the Triforce who sent me here. The Chosen Hero forged the Master Sword with the breath of the three elemental dragons, yes, but also with his own Golden Power. The Triforce knew that I wouldn’t be able to safely fix Fi in the future. With the mummy loose, it would be too dangerous. But here, in the past, there is nothing stopping me from focusing on fixing her. With the secret stone, I can channel my power and, with the dragons, heal the Master Sword. Then maybe… I don’t know, the Triforce sends me back, somehow? I haven’t exactly figured that part out.”

Rauru was silent for a long time, face guarded. “I think… I think this is something you should discuss with Mineru as well. She knows the most about stones. And, beloved, you know more about Hylian myth than anyone in this palace. All of you together… you might be able to puzzle this out. I think you might be onto something, Link, but I’m afraid that I only know so much of Hylian religion. Mineru has never put much stock in it either. There is little knowledge between us, but with Sonia… our knowledge of the stones, and her knowledge of your history could lead to a well balanced team.”

“I wish my Zelda was here…” Link signed. The headdress suddenly felt impossibly heavy. “She knows so much about everything, especially the Gods. Unfortunately.” The last word was bitter, heavy with the years Zelda spent on her knees, begging in freezing spring waters, praying and praying until she could recite every prayer in her sleep, could describe every god or goddess or spirit so long as they were somehow connected to Hylia and her Golden Power.

Rauru cocked his head at the last comment but said nothing. Somewhere deeper in the castle, a horn blew and Rauru huffed.

“The play is starting. Ganondorf will be livid if we miss it after all this planning of his.” He said. He reached forwards and squeezed Link’s hand. “We’ll figure this out. I promise. Together, we can do it. I know we can.”

Link gave him a soft smile, squeezing Rauru’s hand back.

Rauru straightened, cleared his throat, and offered an elbow to each Hylian. “Then let us be off.”

Link tried to be excited as they moved forwards, but it was hard to be with the thoughts of the Triforce still lingering in his mind. He didn’t know how to channel light through a fucking stone, let alone the goddessdamned Triforce. So, he got to the dragons and used their fire to reforge Fi. Then what? He utilized the Triforce to finish fixing her—if he even had it, and that was a big if—but how? With the stone? With some emotionally delivered power, like Zelda?

The need to have her here, that yearning and desperate desire, was back, and Link struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. It was okay; they’d figure this out. Mineru, Rauru and Sonia. Between Mineru’s knowledge of the stones, Rauru’s experience with light power, and Sonia’s knowledge of Hylian history, they would be ready. The mummy wouldn’t know what hit it, and he would be home with Zelda sooner than later.

Rauru hustled them into the main hall, where a massive group of people, from the Rito to the Zora to the Goron to the Gerudo, sat on the floor, as was tradition, that they might feel the vibrations of the drums through their feet. Rauru took the seat reserved for the three of them in the back, Ruta, Medoh, Rudania, and Naboris all already present, with Twinrova skulking by their aunt. It was the first Link had seen of them in ages, and they vibrated with negative energy. What was their problem? The Celebration of the Heroines was a time of honor, of festivity! It was a joyous occasion! Beside them, back stiff and face dark, sat Ganondorf.

Link turned his attention to the center of the great hall, where eight women in black, red, and green began to sing. Link realized with pleasant surprise that the harmony was in two languages: Gerudo and Hylian, overlapping into a beautiful chorus of sound. A sign of cultural exchange and unity, Link thought with a smile. A few seats down, Ganondorf looked into the crowd but didn’t seem to be seeing it, and Link frowned. He gave a little wave close to his chest, and Ganondorf noticed from the corner of his eye.

“Okay?” Link signed, and Ganondorf didn’t reply, turning back to the women in the center of the hall. Beside him, Twinrova snickered, and Link’s frown deepened.

“At first—” One Gerudo sang, the woman behind her echoing her words in Hylian.

“At first—”

“There was only Din, the Great Sand Goddess whose breath contained the beginnings of everything to come—”

“There was only Din, the Great Sand Goddess whose breath contained the beginnings of everything to come—"

“He’s done a wonderful job,” Sonia whispered in Link’s ear, and he nodded. Ganondorf had done a phenomenal one, and it would surely be remembered from years to come as a vital day in Hylian history. A Gerudo celebration in Hylian halls, Gerudo and Zonai sitting knee to knee and shoulder to shoulder—it would not be soon forgotten.

The blue sister of Twinrova leaned over to her brother and whispered something in his ear, her eyes flashing to Link for a moment, bright and leering, and Naboris swatted her on the shoulder.

“Focus. Gossip later,” she said, and Twinrova rolled their eyes. Ganondorf glared at them, and the glee in their eyes only grew. It unsettled Link, and he found his hand drifting to Fi and the secret stone at his side.

I’ll reforge you soon, he promised her, and she fluttered under his fingertips, warm and comforting, heartbeat weak but still alive. I’ll find the dragons and channel the stone or Triforce or whatever and get you home. Get both of us home.

Zelda would be so jealous she was missing the first Celebration of the Heroines to be celebrated on Hylian soil. Link could already picture her pout and crossed arms, nose turned up as he described the world he saw back at Hyrule’s creation. He wished he had the Sheikah slate or Purah pad so that he could take photos to show her, especially ones of Sonia and Rauru. The first king and queen of Hyrule—she would be ecstatic to meet them, drilling into them with a million and one questions. And getting to meet the leaders of the other races, with their names as the source of her beloved Sheikah Beasts, would surely have her heart leaping over the moon in excitement. For the millionth time, he wished she was here, that she could see this all with her own eyes instead of his words.

He missed her. He wondered what she would think of the Celebration play. She was never good at sitting still for too long, but she’d be honored to hear words written by a male Gerudo king himself, instead of one of Riju’s advisors like last year.

The drums rose in speed and volume, signifying the battle between the light creature and Din, and Link watched with awe at the spinning linens and colors as the women danced in a mock battle, clapping when the light creature fell with a dramatic cry and boom of drums. Naboris clapped loudest of them all, dark face lit up with pride. She was mesmerizing in her glittering gold jewelry, the normal white of her clothes lined in gold and topaz, her green lip replaced with sparkling, electric yellow paint, her eyes lined in white kohl. Twinrova had not dressed up, much to Link’s surprise, their casual clothing almost insulting considering the sheer importance of the festival.

Naboris didn’t hold a candle to Ganondorf. His face paint was immaculate, his hair in elegant, scarlet braids, the diadem on his forehead sparkling in the light. At his side was his magatama blade, the first Link had seen of it since he returned it to the Gerudo chief. The Gerudo’s hand rested on the hilt, fingers glittering with rings, and watched the play with dark eyes. He looked… disquieted. Uneasy. Something was wrong. Link wanted to slip down the line of guests and prod him, ask what had him so gloomy, but the drums were picking up again, a special trill of wood on stretched sandseal skin as each dancer wished ‘Din’ goodbye and took up their place a Heroine, pantomiming each of the Eight’s mighty adventures. Twinrova glanced his way and caught his eye.

Their eyes crinkled, the only visible part of their face, yet Link could feel their grin, predatory and vicious. He wrapped his hand on Fi’s hilt, which had grown hot. She chimed, warning of danger, and began to glow, softly at first, then burningly bright, shining even through the scabbard, and the smell of ozone and crackle of electricity began to fill the room.

Danger

Danger—

Link jumped to his feet, signing a quick apology in response to Ganondorf’s raised brow before walking as quickly as he could from the room without stampeding over everyone. He hurried to the first empty corridor he could find, being sure to shut the door to the main hall behind him—Fi just grew hotter, nearly screaming now at his hip, and Link winced at her heat as he drew the sword.

“What the fuck, Fi?” He whispered, but his sword simply continued to chime and flash wildly. Electricity crackled up and down the blade, the hilt vibrating in his hand, and he shushed her softly, trying wildly to think of some way to calm her. She’d never acted like this before, even when facing the Calamity.

Behind them, the main hall roared with applause. The play was over. He’d missed the ending. Well, damn. Ganondorf would never let him live that down, would he?

“Come on, Fi…” He whispered, running a soothing hand over the blade. He was suddenly very grateful for Mineru’s thought to add lightning resistance to his arm as lightning shot up his prosthetic where he touched the blade, from his fingertips to his teeth, leaving his mouth tasting burnt and coppery. He yelped, dropping her with a clatter, pressing his prosthetic to his chest. How could something that wasn’t his to begin with hurt? It wasn’t like he could even feel shit with this arm, just pressure, not the warmth of a soft touch or the cool of a breeze, just the pressure and textures around him.

If he wouldn’t be able to feel the heat of Zelda’s hand then he shouldn’t be able to feel the burning power of Fi, damn it!

He could hear the start of music, of laughter, smell rich foods even through the door—so the party had officially started. He was missing it. Thanks, Fi. He thought with a bitter scowl, before leaning down to prod her with a prosthetic finger. She crackled, a jolt going up his hand and he swore, shaking out his arm. He pulled the scabbard from his belt and slowly slid Fi in with his boot.

“Link?” A soft voice came from the doorway. The door shut with a heavy sound as Sonia stepped into the hall. “Are you alright?”

“F-I-N-E” He signed over his shoulder, and reached for Fi, careful only to touch the scabbard. He could still feel her humming through the metal, and she glowed brightly, once, twice, three time, so bright it burned to look at her, before fading out. Spots flickered across his vision, and Fi let out one last, mournful chime before going dark.

“… Oh my.” Sonia breathed, kneeling beside him. Fi had scorched the stone around her, leaving cracks across the marble, dust fluttering up at her gentle breath. Link snorted.

“Oh my. Yeah.” He signed, rocking back on his heels and burying his face in his hands.

“It’s alright, darling,” Sonia said softly, reaching out and rubbing his back in soft, gentle circles. “We’ll fix this. After everything settles, we’ll go underground and find the dragon spirits and all will be well.”

Link snorted. “You make it sound so simple,” he whispered, and Sonia bumped his shoulder.

“Even the hardest of tasks can be made simple with friends.” She said, and Link finally looked up.

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

Sonia stood and cleared her throat.

“Actually, Link, I’ve been meaning to show you something.”

“Really? Well, after the party—”

“Link… we should go now. I’ve been preparing it for so long, and I don’t know long the party will go, and heavens’ knows how long Zelda will stay asleep afterwards. It will take but a moment.”

Link frowned. “Then let me tell Ganondorf. He’ll be peeved if I miss any more—”

Sonia cupped his face. “He’s a chief, Link, a king. He’s a big boy.”

Link snorted. “Sometimes I’m not so sure.”

Link slid his shawl off, wrapping it around Fi and her scabbard to be able to safely hold her, then stood. Sonia’s smile was small, soft, but bright, and she offered Link an elbow. He took it.

---

They walked in silence. Link enjoyed the respite from words, signed or otherwise, listening instead to Sonia’s gentle breaths and the thump of muted music from downstairs. He hoped this wouldn’t take too long; as much as he loved spending time with Sonia, he had been looking forward to the celebration ever since Ganondorf agreed to it and he would hate to miss any more of it.

Sonia moved with less of her usual grace, her gait sluggish and back stiff. Zelda, as adorable as the baby was, must have the queen beyond weary. Link debated offering her the chance to sit and take a break, but Sonia seemed determined to get them to their destination quickly.

They moved up, scaling a spiraling staircase with wide windows that opened to the gardens below, but the view from the windows was nothing compared to that from the roof. Link gasped as Sonia held open the door.

He could no longer hear music. The party was far, far behind them, but the party was quickly forgotten as Link took in the view. There seemed to be more stars in the past than there was in his Hyrule, though how he did not know. Sonia gestured for him to move to the edge, and Link did so, resting his palms on the stone railing and looking down. The drop stretched and stretched and stretched, and Link suddenly found himself yearning for his paraglider that he might be able to jump and take flight, becoming one with the wind and clouds and stars.

“Alright, Sonia. I’ll admit the view is beautiful, but what is it you needed to show me so badly?” Link said, his voice hanging near silently in the air, even in the quiet of the night.

Behind him, Sonia was still.

“…Sonia?”

“You know,” Sonia said, voice cold. “You are far too trusting.”

Link spun, just in time to see the Gerudo scimitar be flung his direction with deadly, pin point aim. Yet, before he even had time to dive out of the way, it froze. The blade hung perfectly still in the air, glowing a bright gold. Behind Sonia, arm outstretched, stone aglow at her breast, was another Sonia. Now that Link could see the two side by side, the flaws and cracks in the first was clear. Whatever she—whatever it—was, it was not Sonia.

“Oh, my. I must say, it’s a bit strange to hear myself say such a thing. I would like to think it is quite out of character. But then, you aren’t me, aren’t you, puppet?”

Puppet Sonia snarled and Sonia’s laugh was unaffected, unafraid. “Did you really think I hadn’t realized your deceit, Ganondorf? What a coward, sending magic to do what he himself cannot.” Sonia flicked her wrist and the blade dropped, though the light in her stone did not fade. Puppet Sonia’s beautiful, imperfect face twisted into a sneer and she laughed, going limp as a marionette whose stings had been cut, hanging there grotesquely before melting away into red goo.

Gloom.

“Stay back,” Link said as Sonia stepped closer to the red remanence, “that stuff is dangerous.”

“Are you alright?” Sonia asked, cupping Link’s face and tilting it this way and that. Link nodded.

“Fine. I’m fine. But you said—surely, he couldn’t—do really think that Ganondorf—?”

“Positive.” Sonia said darkly, pulling Link into a tight hug.

Link opened his mouth to tell her to let go, that they didn’t have the time for affection, when he was stopped by the sound of clapping. Link shoved Sonia behind him, hand going to Fi’s hilt. Blocking the door to back downstairs, stood two plainly dressed figures of blue and red, their faces hidden in gold, one’s arms crossed lazily while the other stood with her hip cocked, clapping, her movements slow and mocking. Twinrova.

“Her royal idiot and the sand rat finally figure it out.” They said in chorus, and Link could feel their smiles under their masks. Sonia straightened, holding out a glowing hand.

“Let us pass.”

“’Fraid we can’t do that, your Majesty.”

Sonia lifted her chin. “Fine. Then I shall make you.”

Sonia surged forward, and before the woman could even move, Fi was in Link’s hand, singing at the chance to be held, to be brandished, to draw blood. The blue Twinrova ran to meet him, her Gerudo longsword’s massive reach proving to be a problem against the Master Sword’s unfortunate new length. Link spun, dipping around her swings, tuning out Twinrova’s taunting voice as she whispered vicious, cruel words.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be merciful. We’ll take you out first so you don’t have to see your king follow. It’s a pity you didn’t get a knife in the back from the puppet—that’d be much, much kinder than what we’re going to do to you.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Link could see Sonia doing… something with her stone, jerking the other Twinrova’s arms this way and that, forcing her to hold positions and rewind, spinning her around via the manipulation of time itself. Link didn’t understand at all how she was doing it, but she was doing it well.

Link could hear footsteps, heavy and steady, and knew any minute now Rauru would be here, ready to put an end to the insurrection before it started. The thundering footfall grew louder and Link turned to see Rauru—

It was not the Zonai.

His jeweled fingers glittered, the green, black, and red robes fluttering softly in the slight breeze, not a red braid out of place. On his forehead, Ganondorf’s diadem was perfectly center, but the diamond that had once sat in its center was gone, leaving a gaping, open hole, ripe for the filling.

Ganondorf.

“Ganondorf, what the fuck is going—”

Ganondorf drew his blade, but he did not point it at his sisters, and Link’s gut filled with bitter cold as he realized Sonia had been right.

Link turned, abandoning Twinrova, and charged, Fi raised, ignoring the pain as her electricity rippled through his prosthetic. His blade met Ganondorf’s chest, only for it to slice through gloom. One Ganondorf, then two, then five, suddenly melted into existence, circling Sonia and Link tighter and tighter.

“How could you?” Link screamed, voice catching. The Phantom Ganons said nothing. “I trusted you! I vouched for you! I gave you chance after chance!”

He swung, Fi cutting through a limb here, a gut there, finding nothing but gloom and red. Was Ganondorf even fucking here? Behind him, Twinrova had drawn out Sonia, taking up all her attention, but the woman seemed capable of holding her own. A Phantom charged, and Link barely made it out of the way. He flipped back, but with so many opponents, it was near impossible to get the timing right for a flurry rush.

“You really think,” the Phantoms echoed, “that I would let this kingdom steamroll my people? Abuse the continent?”

A jab, a dodge, a slice that cut through gloom and nothing else, a lunge and roll under a blade, again, again, again, till sweat poured down Link’s face into his eyes. He couldn’t keep doing this. There was too many, too much.

“You’re a traitor!” Link spat, and the Phantoms laughed.

“Your king will bring nothing but destruction to this land. I am a savior.”

Link grit his teeth through the pain of Fi’s unstable magic racing up his arms, giving up on form and structure and lashing out blindly instead. Finally, finally, his sword met flesh.

Before him, Ganondorf looked down at the thin line of blood through the slash across his chest. His face darkened as he laughed, wiping it away. He raised his blade.

“I see now,” he rumbled, “why you failed against your Calamity. You are weak. You were then, and you are now.”

Link grimaced. He tried to move his blade, but with Fi screaming in his hand, pain searing up the prosthetic into flesh and bone as it met his shoulder, his movements were sporadic and sloppy, and the anger that had fueled him was quickly being replaced by exhaustion.

There were just too many. There was just too much. He—he wasn’t getting out of this, was he?

“Link—!”

Link didn’t process it at first. He almost swung at Sonia, not realizing the hands on him were from a friend and not a foe, but it wouldn’t have mattered if he had. Not with Ganondorf’s speed, not with Sonia throwing him back as he failed to raise Fi in time to block the man, prosthetic spluttering and sparking—not as Ganondorf’s blade cut from navel to breast, letting out a spray out red and heat. The lovers carved at Sonia’s chest were split clean in two, the secret stone between them clattering to the floor. Link lay on the ground where Sonia had thrown him, frozen as Ganondorf leaned down. He picked up the stone.

It was so small in his massive hands.

“SONIA!”

Link hauled himself to his feet and scrambled to her. Her dress had been split from stomach to neckline—as had her skin, cut from her belly all the way up her neck, red, hot, and slick, blood gushing forth. Link pressed down on her chest, but he wasn’t stupid. There was no saving this, no going back from that. Her eyes found his as she gripped his hands.

“You’re gonna be okay, I swear it, I—”

“Link…” She took one of his hands and slid it away from the wound, from the fat that still lingered on her stomach from pregnancy. He could feel something slimy and hot, and shuddered as he tried to pretend he didn’t know he was touching intestines. Instead, Sonia pulled Link’s hand towards Fi’s electrified hilt, eyes wide with pain, but not fear. “You must… protect…”

“Hylians have always been weak.” Twinrova said from behind him, and Link searched desperately for the earlier rage, but found nothing but numbness. He needed to get up. He needed to get up. He needed—

Something sharp pressed to the back on his neck from where he sat curled over Sonia’s wheezing body. If the sound was coming from her mouth or from her punctured lungs, Link wasn’t sure.

“You’ve done your best.” Ganondorf’s voice was surprisingly soft. “And I shall grant you a swift warrior’s death. It is simply the nature of the world. I shall save this continent, and your sacrifice will not be forgotten.”

Link needed to move. He needed to get out of here, take Sonia and run but… but he was tired. And he’d been fighting for so long, ever since he was old enough to hold that damn sword.

What would Zelda think, never getting to see him again? Zelda, Sidon, Teba, Riju, Paya… would they miss him?

Master…

Master!

Fi’s voice echoed in Link’s head. Sonia’s face was crimson below him.

Your job here is unfinished.

There are things you must yet do.

Get up!

Fi’s voice pounded behind his eyes, her usual metallic chime melding with a soft, rich, feminine voice that Link knew to well.

You are the light—our light—that must shine on Hyrule. Zelda whispered, her voice somehow far away and perfectly close. You cannot fail! Courage need not be remembered for it is never—

Link rolled, just as the sword came down. There was a horrible squelch as Ganondorf’s blade hit Sonia’s body instead of where Link had just been laying over it, and Sonia gave out a horrific screech before going still.

The door to the roof flew open, Rauru and Naboris emerging.

“What—” Naboris spat, eyes wide with horror as she took in the bloody sight, “the fuck have you done?”

Ganondorf’s gaze narrowed.

“What you were too cowardly to do.” He said, though if Link didn’t know any better, he’d say the man’s gaze softened with something pained as his eyes lingered on his aunt. Naboris unsheathed her twin swords.

“Can we kill her?” Twinrova shouted to their brother as they circled their aunt. Ganondorf grit his teeth.

He raised the stone, and Rauru’s breath caught at the sight of it, eyes finally finding his wife. The Zonai screamed, a horrible, bleeding sound that ripped through Link as he rushed to his wife’s side. Ganondorf paid him no mind. The stone seemed to beat in Ganondorf’s hand, some grotesque heartbeat as he placed it to the empty diadem.

All way quiet for a nanosecond, no sound but Link’s heartbeat, before the dark sky reddened and sound exploded around him—screaming wails pouring from the very skies like vile rain, along with red filth. Link’s eyes widened. He’d never seen so much gloom in his life, his skin burning as it rained down on the roof. Gloom seeped from the ground, pooling around them, sloshing across the ground like waves before a storm and hovering in the air as the sky became scarlet.

The moon swelled, bloody and red.

Ganondorf screamed. He doubled over, and Link couldn’t help the split second of an urge he felt to go to him, to make sure his friend wasn’t in pain. Ganondorf panted, curling around himself as the gloom thickened, and let out a horrible, gut wrenching, inhuman sound.

When Ganondorf straightened, Link almost didn’t recognize him. His warm brown skin was grey, his forehead sprouting still-growing horns, his hair slithering behind him like fiery snakes. Suddenly, it clicked. The flaming hair, the elegant, gloom covered clothes, and bastardized Gerudo diadem on his head— Link’s stomach dropped as he put together the pieces.

The mummy.

Link thought he might vomit, then and there.

Gloom poured down on them. Link could feel it sap at his strength as Rauru cradled Sonia beside him. Ganondorf alone was untouched by the filth, seeming almost to feed on it.

That wasn’t Ganondorf. Not anymore. Link wasn’t sure what the fuck it was, but that creature was something utterly inhuman.

“You’re too late, your Majesty” Ganondorf rumbled, his voice ringing in Link’s ears despite how far away he stood. His smile was chilling, triumphant and proud as he addressed Rauru. “You took for granted the godlike powers in your hands—do you now see the potential you squandered? As for her—” Ganondorf gestured flippantly to Sonia, as if he hadn’t been eating elbow to elbow with her that morning, as if he hadn’t held her child. “She is merely the first victim of your arrogance. I had planned to take the boy from you, but she did well enough. You tried to control me, Rauru, to control all the continent, and you shall die knowing you have failed!”

Link struggled to his feet. Exhaustion pulled on him, but his grip on Fi’s hilt had never felt stronger. Ganondorf chuckled.

“Really, Link?”

Link spat at his feet.

“Very well. Fight me, and loose pitifully, but do not look away when I strike you down, sand rat. You must witness the arrival of a King, and the birth of his new world.”

Link grit his teeth.

Eyes on your enemy, Zelda, Fi, and someone distinctly holy he didn’t recognize, spoke into his very brain, their voices overlapping into a brilliantly divine song. You must not fail.

Link raised Fi. He no longer felt her spasm in his grasp, and if it did, it would not have mattered anyways.

He would not fail.

#spider/fly #my writing

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