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Hyrule popped a sugar cube in his mouth and savored it as it crunched between his teeth. His magic reserves were fine–they had spent the last several days relaxing in Ordon Village, with barely any monsters to be seen–so he didn’t exactly need the sugar, but he would be the first to admit that he had a sweet tooth.
He had always kept a jar of honey in his pack, for practical reasons mostly, but also as one of the few indulgences he could afford. Now he’d added a little pouch of sugar cubes, too, and he was enjoying the novelty of that while he still could. He had never seen sugar like this back in his own Hyrule; they were still working on reestablishing their trade networks, and such luxuries were hard to come by. Warriors’ home kingdom, on the other hand, was thriving. Hyrule had been overwhelmed the first time they’d visited one of the markets in his Castle Town. There were soaps and perfumes and lotions in all kinds of scents and colors, books and maps, boots and daggers. Carrots and pumpkins and heads of lettuce bigger and brighter than any Hyrule had ever seen. Big tureens of soup and mulled wine to sip as you strolled. And best of all, croissants and cookies and fruit juices and sugar cubes. Once he’d gotten used to all the hubbub, he’d thrown himself into the crowds, thinking all the while that his own Hyrule would look like this someday, even if he probably wouldn’t be there to see it.
Those markets were one of many things he would miss when they parted. And then eventually he would run out of his stock of sugar cubes, and he would probably never get the chance to eat them again. They would become just another thing that existed only in his memories.
He ate another sugar cube. Better to enjoy things while they lasted than mourn them before they were even gone.
On that note, here was Sky, slipping into the clearing where Hyrule was sitting and coming to flop down by his side.
“Wild made wildberry crepes,” he informed Hyrule.
Hyrule sighed dreamily. He would miss Wild’s cooking, too. But he was too comfortable here in the forest to get up just yet.
“Stay with me for a minute,” he told Sky. “Sugar cube?” Sky nodded, and Hyrule fished two more out of his bag. This time he let his dissolve in his mouth instead of crunching through it. Sky did the same.
Now that Hyrule thought about it, Sky probably wasn’t used to eating sugar, either. Idyllic Skyloft bore little outward resemblance to the wasteland Hyrule had grown up in, but it was totally isolated. They only grew a few crops–pumpkins, bamboo, barley, mushrooms, apples, stamina fruit–which they supplemented with fish and insects. The people of Sky’s home always welcomed them, but never with a feast; they simply didn’t have the food to spare. Sky must have grown up on honey, like Hyrule. He must have often gone hungry, like Hyrule.
A soft weight landed on Hyrule’s shoulder, and he glanced down to see that Sky had dozed off. He should have expected that, really. Sky tended to gravitate towards him, likely because of his fairy magic. Heroes quickly learned to associate fairies with comfort and safety. And no one craved comfort and safety more than a child thrown into a quest.
Hyrule pulled Sky a little closer, wrapping his arms around him. They didn’t have to hurry. Wild would save them some crepes.
Things had gotten so much better back home over the last decade. The knights helped keep the roads clear of monsters and protect livestock, and more crops were thriving. And Hyrule was welcome in every town and village, not just the castle. The people of Hyrule cared for him now. They taught him new spells and gave him potions and let him stay in their houses. He rarely even worried about the cult that wanted his blood anymore.
But he would never forget how it had been. How it had felt to grow up in a land so hostile. As far back as he could remember, he had wandered, scrounging for food, hiding from monsters because he hadn’t had a sword. His only respite had been the fairy fountains. After his first quest, he’d started fearing for his life even in towns. He couldn’t trust anyone when there was a chance they would turn into a monster and try to rip out his throat. For years, he had felt like a ghost, living on as little sleep as he could, trying not to be seen at all. Eventually Dawn and Aurora and the knights had convinced him to stay at the castle and reminded him that he was a Hylian after all. But there were still days where he just wanted to disappear, because invisibility meant safety.
He didn’t want that for Sky, not any of it.
Hyrule hummed softly and then began singing under his breath, casting every luck enchantment he knew, weaving a net of protection and care around the boy in his arms. He knew he couldn’t keep him safe from everything, but what was a hero if not someone who tried anyway?