Chapter Text
Crickets chirp and small animals skitter about, climbing up trees and dashing through grass. Somewhere far off, an owl hoots its nighttime call. Yet despite this, the night is quiet. No Hylian shouts ring through the camp, no high-pitched monster screeches sound in the distance. It’s almost as if the entire world is waiting, holding its breath, for the day yet to come.
Link sits on the edge of his mattress, a hand pressed against his temple. His gaze is fixed on the map pinned up on the fabric wall of the tent, his eyes sweeping over every intricate detail and note painted onto the worn parchment. Scrolls and messages are scattered over the wooden desk below, some messily hanging from the map, while some lay forgotten on the floor. Dirty, unrolled bandages are strewn all over the floor. The Goddess Sword emits a soft blue glow from where it rests in its scabbard, propped up against the wall.
This was it. The last night before the battle. Tomorrow, either Hylia would seal away the Demon King and end the people’s suffering, or Demise’s dark power would raze the land, sweeping it up in black fires, and leaving no survivors.
Link flexes his left hand, his gaze falling onto the faint golden mark on it. The Triforce, Hylia had told him. The fragment he holds is specifically known as the Triforce of Courage, the blessing of the Goddess Farore. Or at least, it’s seen as a blessing by the people. To Link, it’s no more than another burden to carry on his shoulders. What else is new?
Link lets out a weary sigh, then immediately winces when he jostles his wound. A relentless moblin had stabbed its spear into Link’s side in the battle last night, and while it was mostly stopped by his chainmail, it still left him with bruised ribs and a shallow yet messy gash in his side. Now, the injury is wrapped in peeling bandages, the sign of a hasty and lazy job.
A familiar knock startles Link out of his thoughts: Two quick beats, followed by two slow. Link smiles before calling, “Come in.”
A brunette head peeks through the tent flap, glancing around the area and smiling when its gaze lands on Link. The hero gives the other man a weary smile back.
“Hey, Link,” Orville smiles, his warm hazel gaze softening. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
Link’s heart does a little somersault at the blacksmith’s grin. Pushing down the happy flutter in his chest, Link scoots over on the mattress and pats the space beside him, gesturing for Orville to sit.
The blacksmith obliges, peeling off his worn brown tunic until he’s standing in a soft cream-colored undershirt. He sits down next to the hero, causing the mattress to shift under the change in weight.
Link lets out a soft sigh and leans over, resting his head on the blacksmith’s shoulder. He hums quietly when Orville begins running his fingers through Link’s tangled hair, his soothing touch enough to calm Link’s jittery nerves.
“How’s your wound treating you?” Orville asks, pulling away and inspecting the bandages. Link grimaces when Orville gently prods at the injury.
“It’s alright,” Link says. “Bruised ribs really are a bitch, but I’ll live.”
Orville hums, his fingers still hovering over the messily wrapped gauze. “When was the last time you changed these?” A note of concern laces the blacksmith’s voice as he begins unwrapping the bandages.
Link glances down, and, to his surprise, a faint blotch of crimson has managed to peek through the fabric. He blinks. He hadn’t even realized he had bled through the thick layers of gauze.
He lets Orville remove the bloodied bandages and rewrap the wound with fresh ones. Link has to admit, he definitely prefers the feeling of soft, fresh bandages than old bloody ones.
As soon as he’s done, Orville pulls back and examines his work. Apparently satisfied, he grins and nods before pressing a kiss to Link’s forehead.
Link blinks, a warm blush spreading across his face. He doesn’t know why; he and Orville have been doing this for a while, pressing kisses to each other’s cheek, or forehead. Yet the blacksmith’s soft gestures, his little surprise kisses, still manage to catch him by surprise.
Orville must notice this because his lips curve upward in a smirk, to which Link blushes further and rolls his eyes. They stare at each other for a moment. After a few moments, though, none could keep their composure and they both broke into laughter.
Link’s heart leaps at the sound of Orville’s laugh. That bright, happy chime that rings through the air without a care in the world. Without realizing it, Link smiles, a genuine expression. His eyes soften as he gazes at Orville, who’s still laughing, still lighting up Link’s world without realizing it.
Eventually the smith stops. He tilts his head at Link, giving the hero a weird look. “What?”
Link shakes his head. “Nothing.” His smile fades when his gaze travels back to the sword propped up against the wall. The blade pulses with a soft glow, as if reminding the hero of his responsibilities. The entire atmosphere suddenly changes, that lighthearted banter suddenly transforming into a heavy weight that sits on both of their shoulders and reminds them of the war raging through the lands.
Orville’s gaze follows his, and he falls silent.
“Do you really think we can beat the Demon King?” Link asks quietly, his voice nothing more than a whisper. He looks at the golden triangle on his hand, then back to the goddess-blessed sword.
Orville doesn’t say anything. Link looks up and meets hazel eyes soft with sympathy. “Oh, Link…” The blacksmith takes Link’s hands in his and threads their fingers together. “I know we can beat him. You can beat him.”
Link shakes his head, drawing away and hugging his knees close to his chest. “But can I? He’s the Demon King. The incarnation of all things evil. And me? I’m just some Hylian the world decided would bear the weight of its fate.”
Orville remains silent, letting Link go on.
“I’m not special. I’m just a knight who’s good with a blade, and that’s it. I can’t stop a war. I can’t– I can’t save all of you.” Link’s voice cracks on the last word. The hero lets out a shaky exhale, burying his face in his hands.
A gentle hand is placed on his shoulder. Link glances up, meeting Orville’s gaze. The blacksmith’s eyes have gone soft, those breathtaking, tender irises studying him with a mixed expression of concern and sympathy.
“Link,” he says quietly. “Look at me. You’re so much more than just a man who can wield a sword. Yes, you are a phenomenal fighter, but that’s not even close to the whole truth.”
Orville takes Link’s hands once again, and he feels a blush creeping into his cheeks.
“You’re one of the best people I’ve ever met,” Orville continues, brushing his thumb over the back of Link’s hand. “You’re smart, compassionate, and braver than I could ever be. You always fight for the good of the people, no matter how they treat you. The public might see you as nothing more than a hero, a savior coming to assist them in their darkest moments, but I know. You’re my closest friend, and I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Before Link can even blink, much less try to process what he had just been told, Orville leans in close and presses his lips to Link’s.
Link’s eyes widen. Before he can do anything, Orville pulls away. He blinks, as if he didn’t realize what he had just done. It takes him a second, but a moment later his face reddens until it’s brighter than a loftwing.
“Ah, crap– I– shit. Sorry. I– I don’t know what got into me,” Orville stutters. He turns away, trying to hide his quickly reddening face.
Link doesn’t respond. He just sits there and stares, trying to wrap his mind around what just happened. Orville just kissed him. Orville just kissed him.
Link shakes his head, trying to ignore his pounding heart. Without a clue of what he’s doing, he reaches over and gently cups the other man’s chin, carefully turning his face so he could look at Link.
They both stare at each other for a moment. Orville’s lips are slightly parted, breathy gasps escaping him, while Link feels like he can barely breathe.
Link inches closer until the tips of their noses nearly touch. Link takes everything in. Orville’s beautiful hazel eyes that seem to swirl with vibrant hues of greens and browns that Link could melt in, the constellation of freckles splattered across the bridge of his nose, his soft lips that remain slightly parted.
They gaze at each other for a few seconds, the look conveying more meaning than any words ever could.
And then they lean forward, their lips crashing together.
Orville lets out a soft hum, his hand moving to cup the side of Link’s face. Link tilts his head and leans in further, planting a firm yet gentle hand on the blacksmith’s waist.
A tide of some kind of pleasure, some kind of unknown force wells up inside of Link, filling his chest and heart. He begins to part their lips and that force swells, until it is overpowering, until it is all Link knows.
Then they break apart, and that feeling ebbs.
They are both breathing heavily, their faces bright crimson. Yet lovesick smiles are plastered on both of their faces. Orville brushes his thumb across Link’s cheek, and the hero leans into the soft touch.
“Wow,” Orville breathes.
Link smiles, turning his head to kiss the palm cupping his face. Their gazes bore into each others’, eyes soft and loving. Link brushes a stray strand of light brown hair out of Orville’s face, giving the other a gentle smile.
They remain like that for a few minutes, and the trance is only broken by Orville’s sudden yawn. Link laughs softly before shifting on the mattress until he’s laying with his head on the pillow, propped up by his elbows. He pats the empty spot beside him, motioning for Orville to join him.
The blacksmith blushes once more before letting a giddy smile cross his face. He slides in next to Link, letting out a sigh as Link tucks the blanket over the two of them.
Link tucks a hand under his head, smiling at the blacksmith. His icy blue irises seem to dance under the dim candlelight, gold flames reflecting in his gaze. Orville smiles back, lightly brushing a hand over the hero’s cheek.
“I love you,” Orville suddenly says. Link blinks, and Orville does too, as if he didn’t realize what he had said. Before he could apologize or say something else, Link presses another kiss, soft and light, to the blacksmith’s lips.
“I love you too,” Link murmurs, taking Orville’s hand and threading their fingers together. "We're gonna get through this."
They stay awake a little longer, cuddling and exchanging soft kisses to the forehead, or neck, or sometimes lips. Link bathes in the warmth of Orville’s skin pressed close to his. The blacksmith plays with the hero’s hair, running his fingers through the messy blond strands.
Eventually, the candle burns out, and the tent goes dark. The two go quiet, until Orville speaks up. His voice is so quiet, it could’ve been mistaken for a whisper of the wind.
“I really love you, Link,” he whispers. “I mean it. Whatever happens tomorrow…”
“Whatever happens tomorrow, I’ll be by your side,” Link responds, squeezing Orville’s hand. “Nothing can tear us apart, you hear me? Not even the will of the goddesses.”
“You promise?”
“On my life,” Link swears. He says it without hesitation, without any hint of uncertainty in his voice. “I love you too, Orville. To the heavens and back.”