Lay Low

!Link                                                 Faron Region

I am feeling rather unwell.

I've come down with a malady of sorts. My throat tingles with discomfort. There is pressure that throbs at my temples. My muscles are weary down to the bone.

My being is saturated with an exhaustion I haven't felt since I awoke from the Shrine of Resurrection.

Inronically, I didn't think I could ever feel more exhausted than when I fought against Ganon. Even then, I possessed more vitality than I do at this moment.

I cannot let Y/N know this. How silly would it be for a knight of my caliber to yield to a minor illness? I hope a night of rest will provide enough rejuvenation to press forward.

I can't help but feel selfish for wasting such precious time coddling myself.

Evil waits for no one; there can be no forbearance.

So, I told myself. I drifted off to sleep with Y/N tuckered out on my shoulder, wishing this moment would last longer than my magic-induced centennial coma.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

The mask was molten on his face.

It had adhered to his flesh as if it were attached with supernatural glue. Kilton couldn't explain it, but the mask seemed to pulsate with life as he felt it with his fingertips. The ridges of the purple and black lines had percolated into his pores and become one with his flesh.

It was his skin now.

His to commit unutterable horrors in.

As was done to him by the biggest leeches of Hyrule, the Hylians.

The surge of power coursing through him was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Kilton had never felt in control of his life.

But with the mask of legend, he was no longer Kilton.

He had noticed the difference in his self-esteem the moment he put the mask on. The voices in his mind, all the taunts and jeers he'd received throughout his life, had subsided. Yes, like a mighty monsoon, all his self-deprecating thoughts had slowed at the ocean of power now roaring within his mind.

All thanks to Majora's Mask.

Now Kilton couldn't lie; he was afraid. The voice was quite crass. So authoritative was this voice now in control that Kilton's own could no longer be heard.

He wanted to know control. But by allowing something else to control him, was that really what it meant to be in control?

Kilton looked up, his irises flaring at the sight of the Blood Moon hanging in the sky. A decoration symbolizing the carnage that was coming for Hyrule. He thrust both hands forward into the air, his fingers splayed as he brought them into his palms as fists. He tugged his arms down, observing the massive orb of fire like a bead on an invisible string sliding toward earth.

Ever so slightly.

Because even though Kilton could end this all now, there was one thing holding him back.

A thought that had not been vanquished by the control of the mask.

If he destroyed Hyrule,  all life would cease to exist, Kilton included.

But they would at least perish with the ones they loved by their sides.

Kilton would perish alone.

The thought surprised him; he thought the desire for companionship was long buried.

But he didn't want to die alone.

So Kilton would wait a little longer. Run his shop a few more nights, the only passion that kept him sane for so long. If he could make a friend, maybe it would be enough to convince him to stop the fury of the Blood Moon.

The fury of Majora's Mask.

The fury at fate for not allowing him to be normal.

Or maybe nothing could stop them at all. At the very least, Kilton wouldn't be dying alone.

It was sad that it took the looming threat of death to appreciate one of life's joys.

Friendship.

❤️❤️❤️

Link was acting strange.

You had found a cozy cave to set up camp in. As predicted, a sporadic burst of rain was coming through the area of Faron you were in. Even with the whipping flames of the fire Link built, you could hear the droplets assaulting the ground outside. The misty scent of earth lingered into the cave from the storm.

Link sat with his back to the cave wall, his armor removed. He was in a raggedy beige shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. The bags under his eyes had taken up residence there. His bangs were damp with a coat of sweat, and his lips were parched as if he had walked through the desert for days.

When, in reality, you hadn't even arrived in the desert yet.

"Link? Are you alright?"

His eyes remained closed as he sat against the cave's jagged wall. You couldn't imagine he was comfortable. He lithely responded, "Yes. Just a little bit tired." Then his body jolted upright, the luminosity of his blue eyes absent against the cave's dim, eroded granite.

"Goddesses, but you must be hungry. I'll-" An abrasive-sounding cough echoed throughout the cave. He put his hand to his chest, attempting to continue on. "I'll make you some-" He began to choke on his words as a fit of coughing interrupted him once more.

"Link!" You chided," You're getting sick!" You got up from your spot on the cave floor, hobbling over to where he sat. His body tensed as you knelt before him. "Y/N, I'm fine. Watch your-" You laid your head against his chest, trying to hear his lungs. You caught the pace of his heart thumping wildly against your eardrum.

You popped your head back up to see his face blistered with red. "Link, your face is all red! And you sound congested!"

"My face isn't red because I'm sick." He mumbled in between coughs. You felt a blush form on your cheeks until he began his orchestra of wheezing once more.

What does that mean? He must just be joking around. Calm down, Y/N.

You raised your hand to his forehead. "May I?" He covered his mouth, nodding at you as he continued to attempt to tame his rebellious cough. You pushed his bangs out of the way. His strands, which you imagined felt itchy like wool, were surprising soft, like chenille. You placed your hand carefully on his forehead, as if your hand were a vase you were placing on a table. You used the back; you could feel the burning from his flesh against your knuckles.

You shook your head. "You're burning up. Link, this isn't good. Didn't you say it'd take another whole day of travel to reach Gerudo Town? You can't go like this."

"But the queen-" His breath caught in his throat as he choked.

Yes,yes,yes I know. Your queen.

You stuffed your feelings down like a bitter shot. He needed care, and regardless of who he loved, you were the one here in this moment.

You were the only one who could heal him.

"Link, we need to break your fever." You looked outside at the speckles of rain flashing before your eyes. I can't believe I'm going to say this.

"Take off your shirt." You begrudgingly raised your voice, making sure your command was heard.

"Y/N, what are you..."

You put your finger in front of his lips, attempting to silence him. There wasn't a need with the relentless coughing that wouldn't seem to cease. "The queen would also want you to be well." You avoided his eyes when you said it.

With that, he pulled his shirt off. You turned around while he did, looking over your shoulder for your chance to grab it. Even while sick, he was more concerned about his duty to the queen.

You didn't need his hot body to scorn you on top of everything else.

Once you had his shirt, you rolled it up and plopped it down. You patted it, beckoning Link to lie down. You were surprised that he obeyed with ease. You began to think the fever was causing him to be deluded.

Or maybe he secretly really liked the idea of someone doting on him.

"Now, take your hair out." Link scooted down so that his head was on the pillow that was his tattered shirt. He pulled his elastic out, and you sucked your breath in at the sight of his untamed blonde hair. Dirty thoughts floated to the surface of your mind. Again, you shoved them back down. He laid his head on his shirt, closing his eyes and surrendering to your control.

"What's next, lady nurse?" He had a coy grin on his face until a cough snuck out of his mouth.

"That's what you get for being smart." You quipped.

You tried not to focus on the intimacy of the moment. You were kneeling over Link's head, scooping all of his hair off his neck and over his shirt. You began to finger comb his tresses and gather his hair into a top knot. You tied it with his elastic.

Hylia, why must you be so cruel? How could you create a man that even looks good with a topknot?

You let out an annoyed sigh. Link opened one eye, peering up at you. "Y/N?"

"It's nothing. Are there linens in Epona's saddle?" He nodded, closing his eyes again and returning to his withdrawn little knight world.

You got up, favoring one leg. You walked out into the rain; the frigid sensation of it on your skin caught you off guard, considering the previous humidity. Epona and Reisz were settled by the cave, beneath an awning formed by a misshapen boulder.

"Hi girls!" They both had their eyes closed. "Yeah, this is good sleeping weather." You pulled out some of Link's carrot stash and left a carrot for each of them. You retrieved the linen from Link's bag and scurried back to the cave.

You held the linen up in the rain so it would get wet. Not drenched, but wet enough that the chilly raindrops could be used to help break Link's fever.

Once it was damp, you walked back in and rolled the linen up and laid it across his forehead. "Alright, Link, you're going to rest. In the morning, I will go and get one of the spare bottles in Epona's bag and get you some water and some fruit. I want to make sure you're hydrated. But right now, it's imperative this fever bursts."

You sat down by Link, pulling your diary out. It was a small booklet you had in Reisz's satchel. You may have lost your old diary, but this exciting journey and all these dreams were more than worthy of a place in your new one. You held your tulip shell as you thought of what to write.
Until Link interrupted your thoughts with a feeble whisper.

"Y/N," he coughed. "Link, you need to rest your voice." You admonished him, slamming your book shut.

He reached his hand out, clutching yours within his own. His eyes were half open as he turned to you with the faintest smile on his face. "Thank you for taking care of me. I've never had this before. But may I be so selfish as to request something more of you?" His voice was so raspy, it sounded like a grater against a tree.

But who could concentrate on that when he was holding your hand, fingers intertwined with yours like it was the only place his hands longed to be.

"Can you hum that song for me?"

You felt your voice tumble out of your mouth; it was almost foreign to your own ears. "Oh... yes. Yes, if you wish."

"Yes. I wish very much."

He let your hand go, closing his eyes once again. You felt saddened by the loss of feeling his touch. As if he didn't touch your hand all day training.

As if he hadn't touched you when he danced with you at the ball.

As if he didn't touch you when he first met you, holding your hand and your gaze until you thought your heart might stop.

Something brazen was stoked in you then. Link was always touching you. In subtle ways, his flesh would meet yours.

You didn't feel like being subtle.

You knew this would only end in hurt, but you couldn't control yourself. You lay down next to him, your head resting on his firm shoulder. You wouldn't be so bold as to rest on his chest, as you wished.

That was for the queen, after all. But at the very least, in this moment, he was close to you.

You waited a moment to see if he would move away to create space between you both.

He didn't. And so, you began to hum, only this time, the song that was meant to create comfort created heartache.

Edited:7/22/23