Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

By the time he’s dispatched to Rito Village, Link has already pretty much given up on speaking. Not entirely—he still has to issue field commands, still finds himself shouting words of warning—but for the most part, his voice is irrelevant. All he is required to do is nod obediently.

As he is reminded frequently, his duty is all he is good for, after all.

Being sent to the Rito in the dead of winter is a punishment. Link is ostensibly relieving the longtime Hylian military attaché, so this could be construed a promotion—but for the timing.

Another birthday has come and gone, and still he has not presented. And even though everyone expects him to be appointed the Princess’s knight, one thing is for sure—the King will never select anyone but an alpha. And he certainly won’t trust his only child with someone who hasn’t even presented yet. Maybe it would be different if Link had the sword that seals the darkness, but he doesn’t.

So his orders don’t say, Get out of my sight, and the King’s, but Link can read between his captain’s lines.

Three fellow knights accompany him to Rito Village to escort the attaché back. Thankfully, his reputation precedes him, and they don’t expect him to talk. Neither does his horse, whom he’ll have to stable outside the village. The journey takes two days, in frigid weather with biting wind, and although he would like to avoid the aggressive scents the two alphas are putting out, they all huddle as close to the campfire as possible. The lone beta is a relief, and also rolls her eyes at the alphas when their backs are turned.

It’s said that the three golden goddesses made the world and all life, but only Hylians after their own aspects: Powerful alphas, wise betas, and courageous omegas.

He wonders what they and the goddess Hylia have in store for him. If anything.

There’s so much of the world that Link hasn’t seen. He traveled from Hateno to Hyrule Castle just after his twelfth birthday, and the princess looked at him, and said the voices from the sacred realm were clear: he possessed the soul of the Hero of Hyrule, and would wield the sword that seals the darkness. He’s been training ever since that day, to the exclusion of everything else. He’s remained in the castle, sometimes allowed to roam as far as the Great Plateau, from where he could see that there was so much more out there, just waiting.

So the Rito assignment might be a punishment, but some part of him is thrilled to have the chance to go somewhere he’s only heard about. They leave their horses at the stable outside Rito Village, and proceed on foot.

One of the alpha knights is clearly not enthused about walking across the wooden bridges that lead to the rock spire that houses the Rito. For his part, Link feels wide-eyed in wonder, taking in the long way down to the lake below.

“They can always fly away if the bridge breaks beneath them,” the alpha grouses, but at least shuts his mouth when they approach two Rito guards stationed at the entrance to the village, without Link having to tell him to do so.

“Greetings from Hyrule Castle,” Link says, and his voice is low and a little rusty. He holds up the royal seal with its Triforce emblem.

They inspect the seal with some curiosity, but wave him through. Up a flight of stairs, there’s a small alcove with a goddess statue. Link pauses, and he can hear the sighs behind him. He ignores them and prays silently.

If you want me to do your will, please don’t make me wait, he begs.

Hylia doesn’t respond. If she talks to anyone, it’s only the princess, who presented as the beta she was destined to be soon after their first and only meeting. He expected to present in short order afterward. He expected to wield the sword that seals the darkness.

It’s been six years of disappointment, and he can’t help but wonder what is wrong with him.

Another Rito guard leads Link—and only Link—up the spiraling staircase, but not far. There are dozens and dozens of little huts—nests?—perched around the spire. They have no doors, and no walls, only a roof supported by solid wooden beams. The third one up is occupied by a Hylian wearing what appears to be Rito armor. His hair has long since gone grey.

“Ah,” he says. “The scouts tracked your progress for the past day. Weather was a little troublesome, I take it?”

Link nods once. He feels like his toes haven’t been warm since they crossed the Breach of Demise.

“Link, is it? You’re my relief, then. Truthfully, I would have been happy to stay, but orders are orders, I suppose,” the knight says. “My name is Calran.”

This is the part of a formal introduction that Link hates the most, but there’s no getting around it. He grits his teeth and steps closer to scent and be scented in return. He knew Calran was a beta when he walked into his hut, but from this close, there’s a mellowness to his scent that says he has a mate. He waits anxiously for Calran to say something about his—deficiency.

Calran just tips his head to the side, in a gesture that Link has already seen a few Rito do. “You’ll find the Rito really don’t care about this sort of thing,” he says, and pats Link once on the shoulder. “Now. These are your living quarters. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to the hammock,” he says, pointing at where one is suspended from the rafters at about waist height.

Link nods again; it’s better than the cold ground, but he wonders if he’ll really adjust to it.

“You’ll be expected to take part in patrol three times a week,” Calran says as he puts a few items from the lone chest of drawers into his pack. Then he stops and looks critically at Link. “You’ll freeze in that armor. And the Rito prize agility—it’s too heavy. I’d give you mine but it would be a poor fit.”

Link could do without the reminder that he’s shorter than most of his fellow knights by at least a head. He attempts that Rito head tilt in lieu of a question.

Calran nods as if he verbalized the question. “They have armor for sale here in the village. I don’t suppose they sent you with a gear stipend?”

Link shakes his head once. Maybe if this had truly been a promotion, yes—but not for a Hero who continues to fail at fulfilling his destiny.

“Well, no matter. The general shop buys elk, deer, and bear hides and meat, and monster parts as well—you can earn a tidy sum if you’re good at hunting,” Calran says. He puts the pack by the door. “Come along, I’ll introduce you to the Elder.”

They go up, up, up around the spiral, and Link tries not to stare, but he can’t help it—there’s an inn, shops, more homes, platforms that Rito take to the sky with, and that they land on, light as a feather. There are warriors in their armor with bows and quivers strapped to their backs; there are small children who scramble up the stairs past Link and Calran, playing some sort of game; there are bowyers seated on colorful rugs, carving wood and fletching arrows.

As they get closer to the top, Link is startled by a Rito warrior who touches down suddenly on a wide platform near him; he has navy blue feathers and sharp eyes and he stares at Link.

Link stares right back, mostly in surprise. The Rito they passed all at least nodded their heads to Calran in greeting, but no one attempted to introduce themselves to Link.

“Who’s this, Calran?” the Rito says finally. “Your...replacement?” He doesn’t sound like he thinks much of the idea, which doesn’t exactly bode well.

“This is Link,” Calran says. “Link, this is Revali.”

Link looks to Calran with panic; it’s widely said that Rito don’t scent. Should he offer anyway?

Calran’s expression gives him no hint as to what he should do. Still, Link reluctantly concludes it’s better to be safe than rude. He steps closer to Revali and tilts his neck to the side, to allow Revali access past his armor.

He hears Revali take in a breath, but it sounds more of surprise, and less like a perfunctory inhale. And then he feels—Revali’s beak?—slide against his neck. It’s smooth and warmer than he expected.

And then Revali steps away. “Well,” he says. “I had just gotten used to you, Calran, but I suppose if you must go, you must.”

“I may find my way back here when my service is done,” Calran says. “You haven’t seen the last of me.”

Revali sniffs at that, but Link thinks he looks a little pleased at the prospect. “Clear skies,” he says to Calran, and then brushes by Link on his way down the spiraling stairs.

“A word of advice,” Calran says quietly, for Link’s ears only. “Watch out for that one. He’ll want to know where he stands.”

Link turns to look again, but Revali is already gone from his sight.

The meeting with the Elder goes strangely well, without a single word about Link’s continuing failures to live up to his destiny. It’s as though nobody knows who he is, he marvels. He can’t imagine walking around, free of that ever-present burden.

But on one point, Link remains extremely confused. “Who do I report to?” he asks Calran as he finishes tightening the straps on his pack.

Calran blinks. “Report to? You’ll send updates to your captain once a month, but of course you should send a more urgent message if the circumstances warrant it. Leave your reports in the post box down there—someone takes the mail out for delivery every morning.”

That’s good to know, but not what Link was asking. “Whose orders do I follow here in the village?”

Calran squints at him, and then sighs. “You’re young,” he says, and before Link can bristle, he says, “Maybe you all look young to me now. The Rito don’t do things the same way as Hylians. The person in charge is the one who has proven themselves. When you’re on patrol, you’ll know who to answer to.”

Link frowns at that; that’s not a chain of command. How does that even work?

“You’ll do fine,” Calran says encouragingly, and claps Link on the shoulder. “Send me a message sometime and let me know how everyone’s doing.”

And with that, he leaves Link alone in his hut—his roost, apparently—and Link sees him join the three Hylian knights waiting at the bottom of the village.

He’s never felt so adrift; he’s never felt so free.

It is, in a word, terrifying.

Link has a pouch full of rupees and some rations in his pack; he decides to eat rations for lunch and save his money for now.

And then he sets out to explore. He looks longingly at the beds at the inn, before he reminds himself that he’s made of sterner stuff; if all the Rito are used to hammocks, as was Calran, he can get used to it, too. Even if he worries about not being able to get in the hammock without immediately falling out again.

He passes a roost that looks like a kitchen, but it’s unclear who it belongs to. There’s a cookpot in the center, and shelves with spices and some ingredients. There’s no sign out front, like the inn or the general store has; he wonders if it’s communal.

He makes his way to the armory. The Rito armor on offer is made of leather and fabric, instead of heavy plates of steel.

“There’s genuine Rito down in there to keep you warm,” the shopkeeper says cheerily. “You’ll be needing that, little Hylian.”

Link wants to protest that he’s not little, but saves his outrage for the price of the tunic alone. “Six hundred rupees?” he says in disbelief.

“Snowquill armor isn’t cheap,” the shopkeeper agrees, but softens a bit. “Tell you what. You bring me five elk hides, and I’ll consider it a fair trade for the tunic.”

Link has never hunted elk before, but it seems like his best option. “Deal,” he says. He wonders if it’s appropriate to shake on it.

The correct response seems to be “wingtips over the heart and bow”, or so Link infers from the shopkeeper doing so. He does his best to imitate it, and the shopkeeper looks at him with an almost indulgent expression, like he’s a kid trying his best but not entirely succeeding.

“Welcome to Rito Village,” the shopkeeper says. “Hope to see you again soon, with those hides!”

Link tries to smile, but it might come out more like a grimace. The shopkeeper doesn’t seem to notice.

Near the top of the village, there’s a bridge out to another rock spire, with a platform and one of the strange ancient shrines that he’s seen here and there in Central Hyrule and on the Great Plateau. This shrine is like all the rest—a door that won’t open, and strange designs across its surface. There are whispers that they were made by the ancient Sheikah, but Link wouldn’t know. He’s never talked to a Sheikah; he’s only ever seen them from a distance, advising the king and the princess on some kind of excavation project.

He’s on the platform, looking across the gulf to the cliffs opposite. There are stone statues of some sort there, and he wonders who made them. Ancient Rito, perhaps? He won’t know unless he asks someone.

Maybe asking wouldn’t be so bad, here.

And then he hears the click of talons on the wood behind him. He turns his head just enough to see the Rito from earlier, Revali, stalking toward him.

Revali, in fact, circles around him, before coming to a stop right behind Link. It’s uncomfortable, and he’s sure it’s meant to be. “You’re young,” Revali says. “Is the king disrespecting my village, sending an untried youth to us?”

“I’m of age,” Link makes himself say evenly.

“But you haven’t presented,” Revali observes sharply.

Link honestly hadn’t expected him to know that. “I thought the Rito couldn’t scent,” he ventures to say.

Revali scoffs. “We may not know the second you come within two wingspans, but from this close—“ and Link is suddenly aware of just how close Revali is standing behind him, his beak nearly nudging Link’s temple—“Well. It does become apparent.”

Link opens his mouth to say something in his defense, and then shuts it without saying a word. He feels something—disappointment, maybe. He’d believed Calran when he said the Rito didn’t care.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I have no interest in the trivial distinctions of your people,” Revali says, waving a wing dismissively.

Link is almost shocked into a laugh—it’s nearly sacrilege, to call the goddess-aspect trivial—but he bites it back.

“However—if you are to patrol with our warriors, I’ll want to see what you can do. How are you with a bow?”

“Compared to my fellow soldiers, or compared to you?” Link dares to say, turning just enough to look Revali in the eye.

“Don’t get cute,” Revali says, all silky threat. It sends a shiver down Link’s spine. “As if you could possibly compare to me.”

It feels like a trap to rate his ability honestly. It would be, from a Hylian superior. What could a knight with no goddess-aspect have to offer? But the challenging look in Revali’s eyes stirs something in him. “I’m a good shot on horseback. Decent but not exceptional at long-range targets.”

“Horseback,” Revali says, sounding disgusted. “I suppose it’s not your fault you can’t fly. Still. By the time I’m done with you, no one will dare call you just decent.”

“Done with me?” Link echoes.

“Be grateful,” Revali advises, turning his beak up. “I’ve chosen to impart some of my wisdom to you, and you’ll be all the better for it. I’ll meet you at your roost tomorrow at dawn.” And then he stalks off without so much as a backward glance, leaving Link to stare worriedly after him, not entirely sure what he’s gotten himself into.

A child explains the rules of the communal kitchens to him when he asks. Miret is the youngest of her family, and according to her, never gets to explain anything, so this is evidently a rare treat.

“Everyone shares the cooking pots,” she says, her little chest puffed out with what Link thinks is pride. It’s very cute. “If you use all the seasoning, you replace it. If you hunt or gather more than you can eat, you share. Families cooking for fledglings use the cooking pots first at mealtimes!”

“Ah, I see,” Link says, smiling at her. “You’re very wise.”

“I am!” she agrees happily, and Link laughs. He’s already spoken more today than he has probably in the last month. He doesn’t remember when he last laughed before today.

She tells him there are often fish at the small pond at the bottom of the village when he asks about nearby fishing spots. He manages to catch two salmon—not a fish he’s had the pleasure of eating often, and he’s very much looking forward to it.

The kitchen closest to his roost is bustling by the time he gets there. There’s a woman with two very young children, at least as far as Link can determine, who is attempting to cook and also keep them away from the fire. There are two men who might be brothers, who are making some kind of batter while arguing about what kind of nuts to use.

“I told you it has to be chickaloo,” the one with more green feathers tells the other, sounding very put upon.

“And I told you, I didn’t have time to go find any of those today!” the other snaps.

Link meant to use the chickaloo nuts he gathered as a crust on top of his salmon, but—this is probably what Miret was talking about. He doesn’t need them, after all—he can share.

“Excuse me,” he says, and every head in the room swings around to look at him. He abruptly can’t find his voice, and so just holds out the chickaloo nuts to the quarreling pair.

“Even the Hylian can find the time, it seems,” More Green Feathers says under his breath. And then, at a more normal volume, he says, “Goddess bless your endeavors.”

Link doesn’t know what to say to that, so he ducks his head once and then goes back to filleting his salmon. It’s not long before he has two very interested kids clinging to his legs.

“Whatcha gonna do with that salmon head?” one of them asks.

It’s easier to talk to kids, somehow. “What should I do with it?” he asks.

“Make it like our daddy makes it,” the one with vibrant yellow feathers says. “Goat butter—“

“—and Hyrule herb!” the other finishes, and he smiles at them both.

Link wasn’t really planning on doing anything with the head, truthfully. He looks at their mom, who is finishing up some kind of meunière in the cook pot. She gives Link a measuring look, but says, “I’m almost done. One fish head shared between the two of you wouldn’t spoil your appetite, I suppose.”

The kids squawk that they could have a fish head each, before their mother chides them to mind their manners. Link has enough time to locate and chop up some of the herb as the mother is ladeling the meunière into a large bowl. Then water goes into the pot, scrubbed with a brush, and she empties it and says, “All yours, Link.”

He hasn’t actually introduced himself to anyone in the kitchen. Apparently news travels fast in Rito Village.

He throws the fish head, goat butter, and herbs into the pot, and he has no idea how long he’s supposed to cook it for Rito tastes, but More Green Feathers says thoughtfully, “That’s probably about done,” so Link scoops it out of the pot and cuts it in half for the kids.

“Thank you!” they chorus, and when their mom clears her throat, they both put their wingtips over their hearts and bow.

Charmed, Link does the same. And then it occurs to him that he’s sort of skipped the line. He waves at the cook pot questioningly while looking at More Green Feathers.

“No, you go ahead and cook the rest of your fish,” he says. “No sense wasting that butter already in the pot.”

“There’s some cooked rice if you want it,” his—well, he could be More Green Feathers’ mate, Link supposes. What does he know, really.

Link nods gratefully and scoops some cooked rice into the spot with the fish and makes salmon rice balls. It seems the dishes are up for grabs, so he puts his rice balls on a plate to carry back to his roost. Then he washes out the pot and waves at More Green Feathers.

“Thanks,” he says, pouring his batter in the pot.

Link leaves the second salmon in an icebox under one of the shelves. There’s a small Hylian bass in there already, and it makes him happy to think that someone else will be able to make dinner tonight even if they didn’t have time to go fish for themselves.

He takes the rice balls back to roost and tries to save one for the morning, but it’s been a long day and he’s too hungry.

He falls out of the hammock twice while trying to get in, and even with an extra tunic and his blanket, it’s freezing in his roost. Talons click up and down the stairs, and he hears Rito voices singing soft and low into the night.

Revali dumps him out of his hammock by way of saying good morning. “I said dawn,” he reminds Link with no hint of pity.

Link feels like he’d only just fallen asleep before Revali’s abrupt wake up call. And he’s still freezing. But he starts pulling on his clothes, and then looks questioningly at his armor that he piled in the corner.

“Unnecessary,” Revali says, like the armor has personally offended him.

So Link pulls on his warm doublet and hopes it’ll be enough for whatever Revali has in mind.

What Revali has in mind is a landing, near the top of the village. “You see over there?” Revali says. He’s pointing at what looks like a narrow mountain pass, all the way across the lake. “Those are my personal training grounds. Given to me as a prize for breaking every archery competition record in the village.” He sniffs. “Of course it’s completely overkill for assessing whatever...skills you may have, but at least we’ll be undisturbed.”

Link nods. He shades his eyes from the rising sun and estimates that it will take him a couple of hours to make his way around the lake to the pass. He sighs silently, and turns around to get started. He can grab the last of his rations from his roost along the way for breakfast.

“Where are you going?” Revali squawks.

Link pauses, then turns to gesture at the route in question.

Revali sighs heavily, his expression one of being greatly imposed upon. “We’re not wasting daylight. It’s beneath my dignity, but I’ll carry you on my back. Just this once, mind—I’m not a pack mule.” Then he turns around, and bends down ever so slightly.

Link walks forward slowly, and he cautiously takes hold of the straps of Revali’s armor, and then hops up to wrap his legs around Revali’s waist. Revali doesn’t even stumble—he just spreads his wings out, and steps off the landing.

All Link can feel at first is the wind rushing past him, and then he makes the mistake of looking down, and—oh. That’s a very long way down. He clutches even more tightly at the leather straps of Revali’s armor as they glide smoothly, high above the lake.

He’s flying, he marvels. Or close enough—the water rushes by below and gives way to the high cliffs surrounding the lake, all on the strength of Revali’s wings.

He finds himself laughing in joy. “This is amazing!” he croaks out.

“You haven’t seen anything yet,” Revali says smugly. “Hold on tight.”

Link shrieks as Revali makes a sudden dive down, and then just as he thinks they’ll hit the ground for sure, Revali pulls up and they go soaring up into the sky. The only thing Link feels is his pounding heartbeat, and the glossy feathers under his arms where he’s holding on for dear life. It’s exhilarating and maybe the greatest thing he’s ever experienced.

At Revali’s personal archery training grounds is a roost, and Revali touches down lightly on its landing. Link has a hard time unclenching his hands from Revali’s armor, but when he does, he slides to the ground.

“I thought I was going to die,” Link says, and starts to laugh again.

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” Revali has the nerve to say. “Come here, I’ll make breakfast for us both.” He narrows his eyes at Link. “Don’t get used to this either.”

Link makes his way to the roost and sits down on a pillow. His legs still feel shaky underneath him.

Revali mixes up a batter that looks like some kind of quick bread, and after he’s poured it in the cook pot, he looks at the standard issue knight’s bow that Link rested against the wall. “Is that what you usually shoot with?”

Link nods.

“May I?” Revali asks, with more courtesy than Link was frankly expecting. Link nods again, and before he can hand the bow to Revali, he’s plucked it off the ground. His expression is analytical—he holds the bow at a variety of angles, then draws it before grimacing. “Why do you Hylians always do this,” he says with distaste. “Increasing the weight does not automatically translate to an increase in durability—and forget accuracy. So poorly balanced. Still, best to see what you’re used to before we try a superior bow—by which I mean, literally anything other than this.”

Link is filled with the urge to...defend Hylian bow making, apparently, but he’s not so unworldly as to not know that the Rito are the best archers in all of Hyrule, and Revali at least sounds like he knows very well what he’s talking about.

“Up,” Revali says, and Link gets to his feet with minimal swaying. He hands the bow to Link with a surprising amount of respect, considering his stinging assessment. “That target, straight ahead. Aim for that. Shoot as you normally do—don’t overthink it.”

Easier said than done, Link thinks wryly. The pressure of eyes on him is nothing new, but something about Revali’s gaze makes the fine hair at the nape of his neck stand up.

He nocks an arrow, takes a breath, and lets it fly.

It goes absolutely nowhere near the target; he squeezes his eyes shut in mortification. He can’t find his voice to apologize, or to ask to try again.

“I didn’t expect you to hit the target,” Revali says, jolting him out of his spiraling thoughts. “The updrafts here are challenging even for seasoned warriors. I just wanted to see you shoot.”

Link opens his eyes to find Revali close to him. “Draw again, and hold,” Revali says, and Link obeys without hesitation.

Revali half circles him, and then he takes hold of Link’s shoulder with one hand, and braces Link’s back with the other. “You’re correcting for the bow’s abysmal balance,” he says critically. “You’re clearly strong enough, and your stamina is adequate, I suppose,” he says, as Link’s arm begins to tremble under the strain of the draw. “I’ve seen enough. Come eat breakfast, and then we’ll try a real bow.”

Back in the roost, Link tries to sit as close to the cookpot as possible without catching fire—his warm doublet helps but the rest of him is so cold. The batter turns out to be a nutbread, and Link tries to remember some of the manners drilled into him, but it’s warm and he’s hungry, and he ends up tearing into it with little grace.

Revali manages to look both flattered and unimpressed. “I know I’m good,” he says, “but I’m reasonably sure that Hylians have to chew their food.”

Link stuffs another piece in his mouth and chews exaggeratedly with his mouth open a few times, and Revali huffs.

“Completely uncivilized,” he says, but gives Link the remainder in the pot.

After breakfast, Revali hands him a lighter wooden bow. “We call this a Swallow Bow,” he says. “It’s meant for aerial combat—the bowstring allows for a much faster draw than you’re used to.”

Link obediently draws it, and Revali is right—even without trying, he can feel how much faster it is.

“Notice the balance,” Revali says, and then presses down on his shoulder. “Lower,” he says. “You don’t need to hunch up your shoulder with this bow.”

Link doesn’t know if the tremor running through him is the strain from holding the bow, or from the softness of Revali’s wingtips grazing his neck.

“Now I want you to hit that target,” Revali says, and hands him an arrow.

Link releases the draw to take the arrow, and nocks it. He breathes, tries to keep his shoulder down, and then Revali is pressed up behind him. “Fire when I say,” he says in Link’s ear.

He doesn’t know what Revali is watching for, but he matches his breathing to Revali’s, and then Revali says, “Now.”

Link exhales with him and lets the arrow fly.

It hits dead center.

“You’re not completely hopeless, I suppose,” Revali says, stepping away abruptly. “Do that ten more times today, and I’ll allow you to join patrol tomorrow morning.”

Link bristles at being allowed to do his duty, but sets his jaw in determination and nods shortly.

“Without me whispering in your ear, little Hylian,” Revali adds, narrowing his eyes.

Link wants to snap at him, but stops himself. Nothing good ever comes of losing his temper, and this is a genuinely challenging task Revali has set for him. Instead, he inclines his head, teeth clenched in irritation, and nocks another arrow.

By the tenth time he’s hit the target, he’s so cold he can barely feel his fingers. His feet aren’t much better, and forget the tips of his ears. The exhaustion from his poor sleep the night before is catching up with him, too.

So while he shouldn’t be exactly surprised that he swoons into Revali’s arms, it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing when he wakes up.

It takes him a few moments to come to awareness, and when he does, he realizes he’s swaying gently in a hammock, and he’s the warmest he’s been since he left the castle.

“You’d better be alive,” Revali threatens quietly. “I’m not explaining this to the Elder.”

Link opens his eyes to a cocoon of navy feathers. He’s pressed up against Revali’s chest, and covered by his wing. He knows that he should get up, that a knight of Hyrule shouldn’t be this weak, but his limbs refuse to move. “Sorry,” he croaks out into Revali’s chest feathers. Revali must have removed his armor before pulling Link into the hammock.

Revali clicks his beak. “Are you ill?” he asks brusquely. “I don’t know the signs in Hylians. Calran never fainted.”

Link squirms a little in shame. “Just cold,” he says.

Revali plucks at his warm doublet, which as it turns out, was no match for the foothills of the Hebra mountains. “You Hylians, you’re so delicate. You really should reconsider growing feathers.”

It startles a tiny hiccup of a laugh out of Link. “It would be cheaper than buying Snowquill,” he murmurs.

The wing covering Link twitches a bit. “It’s expensive for a reason,” Revali says. “Shed down feathers are collected from the entire village to make it. You’re carrying all of Rito with you when you wear it.”

Link considers that, and then buries his nose a little further into Revali’s feathers. “It must be so warm,” he says wistfully. “If it’s anything like you.”

“A mere approximation,” Revali says with a sniff. “But certainly better than what you’re wearing.”

“It’s the warmest I have,” Link admits reluctantly. “The shopkeeper said she’d trade me the tunic for five elk hides.”

Revali clicks his beak again, in what must be an expression of irritation. “You’ll freeze to death trying to hunt elk in the mountains without Snowquill,” he says. “Honestly. Talk to her again, and ask to trade her deer hides instead.”

It’s a kindness, when Link has learned to expect none. “I will,” Link says. And then, shyly, he adds, “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for something that’s common sense for even a fledgling,” Revali says shortly. But he shifts his wingtips to cradle the back of Link’s head, and the gesture feels almost protective.

Wrapped up in Revali’s wings, swaying gently in the hammock as the wind whistles around them—it’s more comfort than Link has had since he left Hateno for the castle. He’s felt increasingly isolated as his peers presented and found companionship, if not mates. Some days he thinks Hylia intends no one for him at all—only a sword he is not yet permitted to wield, and a Calamity to seal, whatever the cost.

It probably says something about Link that he’s this grateful to be cuddled up to a virtual stranger, whose tongue is decidedly sharper than it is sweet.

“You’ve stopped shivering,” Revali observes. “Will you fall off my back if I fly us back to the village, now?”

The temptation to stay right where he is, warm and held close, is very strong, but Link makes himself say, “I’ll be fine.”

“Be sure,” Revali says, his eyes narrowed. “I’m not catching you if you tumble off.”

Their current position suggests otherwise, but Link just says, “I'm in your debt.”

“As long as you realize it,” Revali says with a sniff.

That evening, Link purposefully cooks an extra portion of dinner. He has no idea if it will be welcome, but it’s the least he can do to say thank you. He asks a passing Rito for directions to Revali’s roost, which is closer to the top of the village spire, and resigns himself to the entire village knowing he cooked for Revali by the next morning.

But when he gets to the roost, Revali is nowhere to be found. Link hesitates, bowl in hand. Should he leave it on a shelf and hope Revali comes back soon? While he’s dithering, he looks around the roost curiously. There is what looks like a bow in progress, and arrows not yet fletched. He didn’t know that Revali was a bowyer, but perhaps all Rito warriors are expected to have some familiarity with the craft. One shelf holds some books, another a tidy set of dishes and utensils. There’s a low writing desk, a rug on the floor and a few pillows, and one hammock strung up in the rafters. No sense in wasting floor space if you can just fly up, Link supposes.

He turns at the click of talons behind him. “What are you doing here?” Revali says. He sounds not exactly pleased.

Link’s mouth suddenly refuses to open; he settles for holding out the bowl of salmon risotto in response.

Revali narrows his eyes and tilts his beak up a bit. “I’m not changing my mind about patrol tomorrow. You’re on village guard duty until I’m reasonably sure you’re not going to turn into a Hylian icicle the second you get to the mountains.”

Link allows himself to make a face at that, and after a couple of false starts, he says, “It’s not that. I had extra.”

Revali steps closer, and it feels a little like being stalked. “Is that so?”

“If you already ate, or if you don’t like salmon—” Link says.

“Everyone likes salmon,” Revali says, and he ducks his head a little to sniff the contents of the bowl. “It would be a shame to waste it.”

It’s a relief when Revali takes the bowl from his hand, finally. But he’s surprised when Revali puts his wingtips over his heart and gives the most perfunctory of bows.

“Your guard duty starts at dawn tomorrow,” Revali says. “Get some rest.” It’s a clear dismissal, and Link nods once, and then makes his way back down the spire. He turns back only once to see Revali spooning some of the risotto into his mouth, and he doesn’t look repulsed.

Link takes that as a victory.

He’s left his own bowl of risotto in his roost, where it’s surely gone cold while he was delivering dinner to Revali, and his stomach is growling. But his dinner isn’t the only thing waiting on his return.

On top of his hammock is a duvet. The cover is recognizably of Rito design, with neat embroidery. The duvet itself is fluffy, like a warm cloud, and Link stares at it for a few seconds, before he takes the duvet off the hammock and settles it around himself as he sits on one of the floor cushions. He eats his cold risotto like that, swaddled in what must be Rito down feathers. It may not be the most civilized way he’s ever had dinner, but it is easily the warmest.

In his hammock that evening, duvet tucked securely around him, he wonders who his benefactor is—there seem to be very few secrets among the Rito, so surely more than a few people know that he fainted from the cold while training that morning. The generosity among the Rito that he’s experienced so far makes him wonder who took pity on a poor, featherless Hylian.

He’s grateful for the gift, regardless. But he has to admit that although the duvet is very warm, it’s no match for Revali holding him close.

His first official watch is uneventful. He’s paired with a polite but not very talkative Rito, who has one wing that she keeps folded back. Link wonders if she’s injured, or if she can no longer fly, but doesn’t feel comfortable asking. He spends his time wandering around the entrance to the village, looking out over the lake below.

What would it be like if he could be like the Rito, and just step off the edge and soar?

A few kids come hopping down the stairs with lunch for them, rice balls with what might be Hylian bass. The fish seems underseasoned, but at least it’s not raw—and he’s grateful for the kindness.

It’s closer to mid-afternoon when Revali shows up. He looks irritated. “You,” he says to Link. “When you came from the castle, did you see more monsters than you expected?”

Link frowns. “I’ve rarely had the opportunity to travel outside central Hyrule,” he says, by way of tempering expectations. “But after we crossed the Great Tabantha Bridge, I saw enough to make me concerned for unarmed travelers.”

Revali crosses his wings. “Did you fight any?”

“A few Lizalfos who were too close to the road,” Link says. “But we rode past a few crude encampments, with groups of monsters gathered. Is that unusual?”

“Well, it’s not good,” Revali says acerbically. “Come with me, I want you to show me what you remember on a map.”

“What about—“ Link waves at the village entrance and his fellow guard.

“You’re not actually needed here,” Revali says, looking impatient.

Just because it’s likely true doesn’t mean he has to put it like that. Link schools his expression to one of blankness out of sheer habit.

“Don’t just stand there like a startled bunny,” Revali snaps. “Follow me, and keep up.”

Link bites down on whatever response that wants to come out of his mouth—Calran had said he’d know who to answer to, and it’s clear that Revali is calling the shots.

Revali apparently has at least some manners, because he stops outside the Elder’s roost and waits to be acknowledged.

“Revali,” the Elder Inolo says, and beckons him in with a wing. She resembles a large raven, all black from beak to talons. “What brings you here?”

Revali stands tall, and gives her a succinct report. A large encampment of monsters spotted on the road to Tabantha Village, along with those that Link observed on the southern approach. “I would like to borrow some of the maps,” he concludes. “To discern if there’s any pattern.”

Inolo nods at the writing desk to the side of the roost. The roost itself is no bigger than any of the others; its only distinction is being the highest in the village. “Brave knight,” she says, her eyes unblinking. It’s unnerving, maybe because they’re completely black. “Perhaps you know what this means.”

Link tenses up. He’d thought no one in Rito Village knew who he was, but if she thinks he knows the answer, maybe Calran had told her that the Hero who cannot draw the sword that seals the darkness was coming to live among her people. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

“It’s a sign of the Calamity’s return,” he says, and feels hollow desperation suffuse him.

“A portent,” she agrees, and clicks her beak. “Take the maps, Revali. And continue your training; Hyrule will need its best warriors when the time comes.”

Revali bows, and reaches out to shove Link’s head down, too, before taking several rolled up scrolls off the desk and hurrying back down to his roost. Revali’s is near the top, close to the largest flying platform in the village, which supports Link’s theory that Revali is indeed a power to be reckoned with.

“The Calamity,” Revali spits as he unrolls a map. “I heard the rumors when they dug up the ancient mechanical beast, but who would have thought—” he stops, and turns his head to look at Link, who is doing everything he can not to show any of his anxious turmoil. “Wonderful, once again a startled bunny. Or should I call you brave knight?”

“I’d prefer ‘bunny’, honestly,” Link says.

“We’ll come back to that,” Revali says. “Now come here, and show me where you saw those encampments.”

It seems like he needs Snowquill armor sooner, rather than later, if he’s going to be of use to the Rito.

This may not be what Mipha had in mind when she gave him two diamonds as a farewell gift before he departed for Hyrule Castle on his twelfth birthday, but he doesn’t have time to hunt enough deer to buy the whole Snowquill set. Not when Revali is making noises about scouting the encampment on the road to Tabantha Village. Mipha said the diamonds were for emergencies, and this is starting to feel like one.

He pulls them out of the pouch he’s kept them in for safekeeping, and hopes they’ll be enough.

The shopkeeper is stitching something when he comes in. “Welcome back,” she says cheerfully. “Did you get those hides? I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”

“New bargain,” Link says, and swallows. He’s never sold gems in his life, and has to trust the reputation of the Rito that she won’t swindle him. He holds out the diamonds in the palm of his hand.

“Oh my,” she says, eyes transfixed on the diamonds sparkling in the sunlight. “You want to trade them?”

The answer is, not really, but he doesn’t feel like he has a choice. “What will you give me for them?”

“The tunic and the trousers,” she says immediately.

“Not the full set?” he says, a little disappointed but not surprised.

“The headdress is made from ruby and snowbird feathers,” she says apologetically. “Maybe if you also had a ruby to trade, I could do it, but. You’ll still be plenty warm in the tunic and trousers, don’t worry!”

It sounds like the best he can do, so he nods, and hands over the two diamonds.

He dons his new gear and then all but runs up the stairs to Revali’s roost.

Revali is fletching some arrows, and the yellow feathers above his eyes twitch upward when Link comes to a stop in the entryway. “Well, well, bunny has a new coat,” he drawls, because apparently that’s a thing now.

“Take me with you,” Link says as steadily as he can manage. “Tomorrow, when you go to scout.”

“What do I need with you when you can only hop along the ground?” Revali says, turning his attention back to his fletching.

Link grits his teeth. “I can watch your back. I may not be a master archer, but I’m good with a sword. You might need me.”

Revali huffs. “I don’t need anyone,” he says, meeting Link’s gaze. And then his eyes narrow. “But I suppose there’s no harm in having you tag along. Just don’t get in my way.”

“Fine,” Link says, and to his surprise, finds himself fighting down a smile.

Chapter Text

They leave at dawn, although Link does ask why they don't go under cover of darkness.

“The Rito have the sharpest eyes in Hyrule,” Revali says. “But we don’t see well at night.”

“Oh,” Link says, because suddenly all the dawn patrols make a lot more sense.

They’re at a high platform on the spire, and Revali points at the road that goes east, then north to Tabantha Village. “The encampment in question was reported to be where the road starts to ascend. I think the best option is to keep our distance from the road, and stick to high ground.”

“That’s going to be tricky on horseback,” Link says.

“Should have gotten some wings to go with your new feathers,” Revali says, and gives Link a once over. He heaves a sigh. “No way around it, I suppose. I’ll reiterate that I’m not a pack animal, and you better not get used to this.”

“I’ll be properly grateful,” Link says. Revali may not know it for the omega phrase it is, but he does know that Link is fucking with him, and scowls at him accordingly.

“Hold on tight,” he says, crouching down. “If I need to drop you to draw my bow, I promise I won’t let you fall very far.”

“What,” Link says faintly.

Revali turns his head to look back at him. “Today, bunny.”

Link gulps, then climbs on to Revali’s back and holds on to his armor straps for dear life.

From a nearby ridge, they have a decent view of the encampment, but also not a lot of cover—they wind up crouched shoulder-to-shoulder behind some brush. The monsters appear to have built something of a watchtower with platforms braced on the boulders on the incline.

“Have you seen anything like this?” Revali whispers, beak sliding along Link’s ear. It’s—distracting.

“I’ve seen them take over abandoned structures—that’s what I think I saw on the way from the castle. Was any of this here before?” Link whispers back.

Revali shakes his head minutely. “Where did they get the timber?” he mutters.

“Scavenged it, maybe?” Link asks, looking around the area. “Could have attacked a wagon carrying it north to Tabantha.”

“Well, however they did it, there’s too many of them here, and they’re cutting off travel. This time of year, Tabantha Village will be in a tough spot if supplies can’t get through. I’d say we’d want to bring back at least five warriors to clear this—”

“Or we can do it now, ourselves,” Link suggests.

Revali gives him a sidelong look.

Link nudges him. “Can you shoot the moblin and the bokoblin archers from here?”

“Can I—what do I look like, an amateur? I could do it with my eyes closed,” Revali says scathingly.

The worst part is, he probably could. Link takes in a breath. “So I’m thinking, you take them out, then drop me on the top level of the encampment.”

“And then what?”

“And then I take the rest of them out, and you provide cover.”

“You’re being absolutely serious, aren’t you.”

“If you’re not up for it—”

“Bunny, there’s no question that I’m skilled enough to pull this off—I’m just a little concerned that actual bunnies have a greater sense of self-preservation.”

Link turns to look him in the eye, and wow, they’re really close. “Trust me,” he says softly.

Revali looks at him for a long moment. “This is insane,” he mutters. “You better not die, I’m really not explaining that to the Elder.”

“It’ll be fine,” Link says, exasperated. “Come on, show me what you’ve got.”

“That’s more than enough sass out of you,” Revali says severely, and then readies his bow.

“May the Goddess smile upon you,” Link says impulsively. It’s the thing to say before going into battle, though he’s rarely had anyone to say it to. The Hero must seal the darkness alone, after all.

Revali sniffs. “She’s welcome to,” he says, so cocky it's almost unbelievable. “But I don’t need it.”

The speed and precision with which he shoots the moblin and the bokoblin archers more than backs his arrogance up.

“Wow,” Link says, because that was nothing short of breathtakingly masterful.

“Your turn,” Revali says, a smirk on his face. He tugs at a few strands of hair on the side of Link’s head with his beak, and it makes Link gasp—somehow that felt good. But there’s no time to think about it, because the camp begins to stir as the bokoblins and lizalfos realize they’re under attack. Revali crouches down so Link can climb on his back again.

“Ready,” Link says, holding his shield with one arm, and clinging to Revali’s armor strap with the other.

“Impress me, bunny,” Revali says. “If you can.”

Link smiles in response, and it’s probably nearly feral.

Time seems to slow for him in battle.

Maybe it’s just a result of his focus, but it’s never felt chaotic to him. The next slash, the next parry have come to feel obvious. He knows if he steps in past a sword swing, he can strike several times. He knows how to take on multiple foes at once, and how to keep moving.

He’s aware of Revali picking off bokoblins near him, but doesn’t waste any energy worrying about friendly fire. He just swings his sword, over and over and over, because he has to—

And then it’s done. The monsters leave behind horns, fangs, and guts when they die, but not corpses. Link should be used to it, but he still finds it disquieting. Mechanically, he gathers up what he can carry in a small pouch, as well as any arrows.

The arrows he hands to Revali, like a strange bouquet. Revali takes them wordlessly, and adds them to his quiver.

“Is that your blood?” Revali asks, tone low and serious.

Link looks down at himself. Monsters don’t leave blood behind, anymore than they leave corpses, so it can only be his blood soaking through a slash in his upper arm. Right through his new gear, of course.

“Yeah,” he says, moving his arm experimentally. “It’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad!” Revali squawks, his wings fluffing up. He takes off his scarf, then rips the bottom with his beak. “Take off your tunic.”

“Right now?” Link says, taken aback.

“Is somebody else in danger of bleeding out before I fly him back to the village?” Revali says scathingly. “Right now, bunny.”

“It’s not that big a deal,” Link protests, but undoes the buckles of his breastplate before pulling it and the tunic off. He’s left in his undershirt, which—okay, maybe it isn’t just a graze.

Revali binds the wound with the end of his scarf, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. “Is that too tight?” he asks.

It must be the lingering rush of battle, because there’s no other reason for the sudden heat that licks up his spine. Especially when he’s all but shirtless in the bitter cold. “It’s—fine,” he manages to say.

Revali gives him a careful once over. “Any other injuries?”

Link shakes his head. His cheeks feel like they must be bright red.

“Put your tunic back on before you freeze,” Revali says. “There will be some elixirs back in the village that will help the wound heal cleanly—at least, I hope they work for Hylians, too.”

Links struggles back into the tunic himself, but Revali is the one to lower his breastplate over his head. “You don’t have to,” Link protests.

“You’re my responsibility,” Revali says, doing up the buckles with practiced ease.

Link looks up at him. “I’m not,” he says.

“You are,” Revali says insistently. “Even if you weren’t the Hylian attaché, you—you nest with us.”

Link blinks. He hadn’t thought about it like that at all. And nesting is, wow, a lot. “So—you’d feel responsible. For anyone else in the village,” he says slowly.

Revali’s feathers ruffle. “Of course,” he says, not meeting Link’s eyes. “Now. Are you ready to fly back?”

Link nods, and Revali tugs once again on a lock of hair with his beak, before turning and crouching down again for Link to climb on his back.

Revali doesn’t just dump him on the platform when he lands and leave him to his own devices. He takes him to More Green Feathers, whom Link has seen several times in the nearest communal kitchen to his roost since their first meeting, and thus knows his name is actually Nesi.

“Help, he’s an idiot,” Revali says, pushing Link forward.

Nesi’s eyes go wide. “What happened to you?” he asks Link, already opening a box with glass containers.

“I told you, he’s an idiot,” Revali says flatly. At Nesi’s admonishing glare, he sighs as if much put upon. “A lucky blow, most likely from a lizalfos spear.”

Nesi reaches for the scarf binding Link’s arm, and carefully slices open the knot. He hisses sympathetically. “I’ll clean it, bandage it, and give you an elixir so it will heal cleanly and more quickly.”

“Will it even work on Hylians?” Revali asks, dubious.

“I didn’t know a mastery of healing was among your many accomplishments,” Nesi says dryly.

Revali’s feathers ruffle, but his beak shuts with a click. “Whatever, just get on with it.”

Revali doesn’t look away while Nesi works. The wound isn’t deep; Link’s had worse at the training grounds north of the castle. Then it comes time for the elixir.

He regards it dubiously; it’s a cloudy blue color. He remembers distantly that Mipha had brewed elixirs back in Zora’s Domain, and he would really rather have gone the rest of his life without knowing how many octorok eyeballs went in them. Elixir manufacture at the castle was the domain of the Sheikah researchers, and the fruits of their labor were reserved for only the most dire cases. Still, Link knows enough to expect that this is not going to taste good.

“Straight back, don’t let it hit your tongue,” Nesi says cheerfully.

Link squeezes his eyes shut and downs the elixir, and nearly coughs it back up again.

Revali actually pats his back. “Nesi’s concoctions are particularly vile, but effective,” he says, in what is probably supposed to be a consoling tone.

Nesi rolls his eyes in response. “Come back tomorrow,” he says to Link. To Revali, he says, “Don’t let him do anything else foolish.”

Revali scowls, but ushers Link out of Nesi’s roost. “I need to report to the Elder,” he says. “You should rest. The blue elixir tends to drop you like a stone in the lake.”

Link nods; he already feels a little wobbly on his feet.

“Can you even make it back to your roost in one piece?” Revali asks, peering at him. He evidently decides not, because he pushes Link up the stairs with his wingtips spread wide across Link’s back, up to Revali’s own roost. He nudges Link in the direction of the rug with its pillows, and Link sinks down on it gratefully. There’s the sound of a drawer opening and closing, and then a warm blanket settles over him.

“Stay put,” Revali says brusquely. “I’ll be annoyed if you wander off and accidentally plummet into the lake.”

Link only yawns in response, his eyelids so heavy he can only let them close. He thinks he feels Revali’s wingtips brush his hair away from his forehead before he falls deeply, dreamlessly asleep.

When he wakes, it’s already dark. Revali is sitting near him on the rug, using a small blade to shave some wood from the in-progress bow.

“Thought you couldn’t see well in the dark,” Link says eventually, keeping his voice soft. He doesn’t know what time it is, but the quiet around them says that it’s late enough for the fledglings to all be asleep.

“The lamplight helps,” Revali says. “But this is mostly by feel.” Link watches him run his wingtips over the bow, and realizes belatedly that the Rito do actually have fingers at the wingtips, and then feels kind of dumb. How else would they shoot a bow or handle their light swords? In his defense, it’s hard to tell with the way the feathers lie.

Watching Revali work is mesmerizing, and Link’s eyelids feel heavy again.

“Nesi will have my tail feathers if you don’t eat something,” Revali says. “Several people came by with food for you, if you’re up to it.”

Truthfully, he still feels so fuzzy from the elixir that he would rather go back to sleep, except that his stomach chooses that moment to growl. “Who came?” he asks, hardly able to imagine that anyone brought him food at all.

“Krisa’s eldest, then Nesi’s mate Haslen, and Eka that you stood watch with the other day,” Revali says, ticking the names off on his feathered fingertips.

“Oh,” Link says, humbled. “That was very kind of them.”

“Kind?” Revali says, eyebrows arched in what seems like puzzlement. “You were injured in service of the village. I had a line outside my roost that I had to shoo away. Even you couldn’t eat that much food.”

Link doesn’t know what to do with the warm feeling that suffuses him. Revali had said, you nest with us like it was supposed to mean something. Maybe he meant this.

Revali sets aside the bow and retrieves a covered bowl from the shelf. It turns out to be some kind of stew with chicken, which is unsurprising; the Rito seem closer to birds of prey, and favor both meat and fish in their cuisine. “You slept long,” Revali says. “I imagine it’s gone cold.”

He’s hungry enough to not really care. “It’s fine,” Link says, and sits up enough to accept the bowl and spoon from Revali. It’s actually still lukewarm, and before he knows it, he’s scraping the bottom of the bowl.

Revali just hands him two riceballs without comment. When Link finishes those, he finds he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

“You may as well go back to sleep,” Revali says. “You’ll trip down the stairs if you try to go back to your roost.”

“Are you sure?” Link makes himself say, even as he lies back down on the rug.

“Bunny, surely by now you know that I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Revali says, and his voice is unexpectedly soft.

Link huffs out half a laugh at that, and watches Revali take up the bow again before he drops off to sleep once more.

The roost is empty when Link wakes up. Revali’s armor, bow, and quiver are gone, which suggests he’s gone out on patrol again, or perhaps to train. It’s early enough that the fledglings are still asleep, but he gets some looks from the adults he passes on his way down to his roost. He feels almost as if he is sneaking back into the barracks after an assignation, although he’s never done any such thing, personally.

At his roost, he writes a report on the monster camp they took out, then seals it and places it in the post box down the stairs. All seems quiet until he goes to the communal kitchen to make breakfast, where it feels like he’s swarmed by an entire flock of fledglings.

He knows Miret and her siblings, Krisa’s two kids that he cooked the fishhead for on his first night in the village, and a few of the others by sight, even if he’s never spoken to them before.

“Did you really fight a hundred monsters?” a yellow-feathered fledgling asks, eyes wide.

“Stupid,” another says, light blue feathers with a white chest. “It was two hundred.”

Then they all start talking over each other. “Revali says you fight better than any Rito with a sword!”

“Revali says you weren’t scared at all!”

“Did your arm really get chopped off and then Revali had to sew it back on?”

“Uh,” Link says.

“Settle down,” Krisa says, making her way into the kitchen. “All of you, stop chirping at him and let him get something to eat.”

They go quiet, but are clearly still vibrating with excitement. Link looks at the group of them, and then makes an enormous omelet. He’s not sure it’ll be enough, but they clearly aren’t going to go away until both their curiosity and their appetite are satisfied. It’s a little unnerving to have them all staring at him as they bolt down the omelet that he dishes out.

He makes another omelet and eats half of it before he says, “What do you want to know?”

“Tell us from the beginning,” one of them says. “Tell us exactly.”

He does his best, and they interrupt him every other breath. They want to know about him, but clearly, they’re more interested in Revali’s performance, and ask him to tell them over and over about how Revali shot the archers. It’s easier to talk about someone else than it is to talk about himself, so Link obliges them.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Link says. “We had next to no cover, so he had to be fast to take down the archers without alerting the whole camp. Even if I had cover and time to aim, I doubt I could have made that shot, much less taken out three of them, as fast as you could blink.”

“He’s the bestest archer in the village,” Krisa’s youngest tells him. “He wins every tournament.”

“Maybe someday he’ll let us come train with him,” Miret says wistfully.

“We’ll see,” comes Revali’s voice, and the flock around Link flutters to their feet and swarms Revali in the doorway.

Revali pats a few of them on the head with surprising affection. “You’ll be late for singing practice,” he says, to groans of disappointment. “Go on, be off with you.”

There’s more grumbling, but the fledglings carefully stack their plates on the shelf and chirp thank yous to Link before heading out.

It leaves Link alone in the communal kitchen with Revali, or at least as alone as anyone is in a village with no walls or doors.

“Like nothing you’ve ever seen, hmm?” Revali says, stepping in close.

Link feels his face go warm, and he looks away in embarrassment. “You know you’re good,” he mutters.

“True,” Revali says. “That doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate the confirmation that my skill exceeds your wildest dreams.” He pauses. “I suppose you weren’t terrible, yourself.”

“My captain will be pleased to hear that, I’m sure,” Link says, bone-dry. But then he considers it seriously. He can’t afford for his skills to get rusty. He has a sword to claim the second he presents, and a darkness to seal. “Revali,” he says, then stops.

“Don’t get shy with me now,” Revali says. Far from sounding impatient, he sounds almost…teasing?

“Would you spar with me sometimes? To keep my skills sharp.” He holds his breath after he asks. He’s stopped asking for new sparring partners at the castle—losing even a practice bout to the knight with no goddess-aspect leaves a sour taste in many people’s mouths, apparently.

“I’m not your equal with a blade,” Revali says dispassionately. “No one here is.”

Link shakes his head instinctively. “I’m not—“

“You were otherworldly,” Revali interrupts, expression stern. “You moved like the sword was a mere extension of your body. You were efficient, quick, and more graceful than I thought anyone without wings could be.”

Link stares at him. His ears and his neck must be bright red. He feels very much like he would like to climb into a hole in the ground.

“There’s already quite a song going around the village about our combined prowess,” Revali continues. “Naturally I contributed a verse or two.”

Link makes a low noise of suffering and hides his face behind his hands.

His breath catches when Revali takes his hands in his feathered ones and coaxes them down. “I’ve no objection to sparring. I can also recommend several other Rito warriors who favor edged weapons.”

It feels like an odd conversation to have when Revali is essentially holding his hands. “It would be a kindness,” Link manages to say, staring down at where Revali’s snowy white wingtips cover his pale, scarred hands.

“It’s nothing of the sort. You’ve proven yourself; that you wish to continue refining your skills is the mark of a true warrior.”

Link looks up at that in shock; he’s received few words of praise since he arrived at the castle. His best always seems to fall short of the perfection expected of him. His victories are treated as a foregone conclusion; losses and injuries are a sign of Hylia’s disfavor.

“What’s that face?” Revali asks. “What was it you said to me— ah yes, you know you’re good.” When Link can say nothing to that, Revali tilts his head a bit and asks gently, “Don’t you, bunny?”

“I’m not good enough,” Link says, and the shame he somehow left at the gates to the village returns with a vengeance.

“Nor am I,” Revali says, and his feathered fingers tighten around Link’s hands. “So we will train, you and I, until we are. Yes?”

“Yes,” Link says, barely audible, but he means it with all his heart.

Revali shows no sign of letting go of his hands, but he does suddenly look a little diffident. “I’d like to show you something I’ve been working on. It’s still very much a work in progress, you understand. But perhaps another set of eyes will aid me in refining the technique.”

Link inclines his head. “When?” he asks.

“Now,” Revali says, his feathers fluffing up with what Link has come to recognize as excitement. “If that suits.”

“I’m at your service,” Link says.

He’s taken aback when Revali frowns. “The Rito don’t say that.”

“What do you say?” Link ventures to ask.

Revali searches his eyes, and finally says, “I’m at your side.”

“I’m at your side,” Link says obediently.

Revali takes in a breath, and then drops Link’s hands and turns to walk up the stairs. “Let’s not waste daylight,” he says, and Link scrambles to follow him.

“Although sometimes I’m on your back,” Link says thoughtfully as they make their way to a flight platform.

“Don’t be crass,” Revali tuts. “There are young ears around.”

Link has no wings of his own, but even he can tell that Revali’s technique is something extraordinary.

As Revali said, it’s a work in progress; he can execute it successfully about one out of every three attempts. His failures sometimes just lead to a precipitous drop in altitude, but more often the updraft he creates causes him to crash into the cliffsides of the Flight Range, or into the ground. The first time it happens, when Revali hits the snow-covered rocks with a cry of pain, Link scrambles down the ladder of the roost to get to him, heart in his throat.

“Don’t fuss, bunny,” Revali says when Link kneels at his side, hands hovering over Revali’s body. “You see what I mean about the eye of the whirlwind, though?”

“Never mind that now,” Link says, still strung tight with terrified worry. “Are you okay?”

Revali flexes his wings. “Nothing broken,” he says dismissively. “Rito bones are light but much sturdier than Hylians’.”

“Take it slow,” Link says anyway, helping him to his feet.

“I didn’t show you so that you could coddle me,” Revali grouses, but hisses in discomfort as he shakes out his wings.

“You showed me so you could perfect it, I know,” Link says, exasperated. “Am I not allowed to be concerned for my friend?”

“Friend?” Revali repeats, as if tasting the word.

Perhaps it was presumptuous; perhaps the Rito have different ideas of what constitutes friendship. But Link doesn’t know what else to call him. “You are, to me,” Link says quietly. “I’d like it if I could be so, to you.”

It’s not often that he renders Revali speechless, but he looks actually shocked. His feathers ruffle up, and then settle smoothly again. “I would not object to considering you as such,” he says, looking away.

Link hasn’t had anyone to call his friend in a very long time. There are knights who treat him with benign disdain, shopkeepers who smile when he has coin to spend, and strangers who make polite conversation with him like he’s normal, like he isn’t suffocating under the weight of destiny.

So this feeling—this tender, delicate, warm feeling inside him—this must be what friendship feels like.

“I’m going to try again,” Revali says. “That is, assuming it won’t send you into a flutter.”

“Nail it and I won’t have to,” Link dares to say back.

Revali’s eyes narrow, but he tilts his beak up and readies himself once more.

Weeks pass, with Link and Revali going to the Flight Range to train almost every morning. They go at dawn except when they have patrol, and it feels like they have the world to themselves when they soar across the lake.

Patrol itself is the subject of their first real, serious disagreement. Link’s position is that he’s warm enough in his Snowquill tunic and trousers to accompany Rito warriors into the mountains, and that he’s skilled enough to take care of himself.

Revali’s position is apparently just no.

“What do you mean, no?” Link says incredulously. “You can’t tell me Calran only stood watch at the village gates.”

“No, he didn’t,” Revali says stiffly. “But he never went into the mountains. The furthest he went was the foothills.”

Link tries a different tack. “You said I’d proven myself. Did you change your mind? Am I not good enough, now?”

Revali looks alarmed. “Of course you’re good enough,” he says, and he almost sounds hurt that Link would think otherwise of him.

“So what’s the problem?” Link says, beyond frustrated.

Revali blows out a breath. “The snow gets deep in the mountains, and you can’t just fly away if there’s an avalanche, or if we’re ambushed. If I’m injured, I might not be able to fly you back.”

“So we take someone else, and I fly with them,” Link snaps.

“Or you stay close to the village and I don’t have to worry about it,” Revali snaps right back.

They are both very much in each other’s faces, and Link doesn’t think he’s ever been so mad and so hurt at the same time. It loosens his tongue and his temper in a way that would have been unimaginable before coming to Rito Village.

“Am I at your side or not?” Link demands, and later, he’ll be shocked that he’s raised his voice.

Revali looks as though Link has slapped him. “You are,” he says insistently, and he strokes his wingtips down Link’s arms as if to soothe ruffled feathers. “Bunny—”

“Don’t you ‘bunny’ me,” Link hisses. He’s distantly aware that the Rito nearby have turned to stare at them. “Why don’t you decide if you respect me or not, and then I’ll decide if I’m following your lead anywhere again.”

He stomps down the stairs to his roost, and his blood has already cooled a bit by the time he gets there. He already regrets losing his temper; he can’t believe he actually shouted, especially at a friend.

His blood goes colder still when he sees a letter on his shelf with the seal of the Hylian royal family.

It’s from the princess. He’s never received a letter from her before; all his interactions with the goddess-blooded princess are mediated through the Royal Guard. But this letter is not to Link, exactly; it’s to the Hylian attaché to the Rito.

She writes to ask for his opinion on a pilot for Vah Medoh, the Divine Beast in the shape of a bird. It should be a strong warrior, she writes, but it requires something beyond skill; a destined connection, a bond. A fierce love and a desire to protect.

Even with the embers of their argument still burning, Link is certain it can only be Revali.

He writes a short response to that effect, and cautions her to wait until the snow melts from the top of Mt. Rhoam before journeying to the village. The Rito warn of the danger of avalanches on the road before the Great Tabantha Bridge.

When he returns to his roost after placing his reply in the postbox, he finds Revali waiting for him, wings tucked behind his back.

“First of all, I’m not apologizing,” Revali says, tilting his beak up. “And I think you’re being unreasonable. I know you grew up near Mt. Lanayru, but I’ve seen it and I promise you, it has nothing on the danger of the Hebra mountains.”

For a second he’s distracted by Revali saying that he’s seen Mt. Lanayru, but only for a second. He crosses his arms. “I’m listening, but for the record, you’re being a jerk.”

Revali’s feathers ruffle. “For the record, I respect you,” he says. He takes out something from behind his back and holds it out to him. “It was going to be a gift,” he says sourly.

Link takes the bundle of wood and cloth from him. “What is it?” he says. The cloth has the emblem of the Rito woven into it.

“It should allow you to ride updrafts or glide from high places. I don’t know how well it will work for you, or if your body will be able to tolerate the strain of hanging on. It’s not flying, obviously,” Revali says, waving a wing dismissively. Then he takes in a deep breath. “But I would worry less. Don’t ask me not to worry at all. I have it on good authority that I’m permitted to worry about my friend.”

Link unfolds the cloth and it reveals itself to have a frame he presumes is for him to hold on to. It’ll pull at his shoulders, he thinks. He wonders if he’ll be able to control the direction of the glide.

He wants to try it immediately. “Can we—” he looks toward the mountains.

“Not now,” Revali says. “Don’t argue with me; there’s a storm coming this evening, and the whole village will nest down.” He looks uncomfortable, but continues. “It will be dangerously cold, even for the Rito. Children sleep in their parent’s hammock, and other adults double up.”

Link looks at his hammock hung at waist height. “So my Rito down duvet isn’t going to cut it.”

“Not hardly,” Revali agrees. Then he takes a deep breath. “I was going to invite you to share my hammock. I’ll...understand if you prefer someone else’s.”

Not for the first time, Link thinks that Revali is sort of objectively terrible: arrogant, dismissive, sharp-tongued. But he also cares: about his village, about his fellow warriors, about the fledglings who look up to him.

And about Link. Even if he’s got an awful way of showing it.

By Hylian standards, it’s a scandalous offer. But he can see the sense of sleeping close for warmth, and anyway, he hasn’t presented. And there’s no one around to judge him, in any case.

“Thank you for your concern,” Link says, and Revali’s expression actually falls in disappointment, and Link realizes that Revali thinks he means to refuse. “I’m—I would—if it’s really okay—” he tries to say, and now of all times, when he really wants to say something, he clams up again.

He reaches out to take Revali’s wingtips in his hand. And Revali in turn shifts his grip to hold Link’s hand more tightly. They’re quiet for a long moment, and Link wonders if he isn’t the only one who was filled with panic over having maybe damaged their friendship.

Eventually, Revali breaks the silence to say, “I’m going to go put up the coverings inside my roost. Perhaps you could see to dinner.”

“I’m making frog legs with mushrooms,” Link threatens him.

Revali shudders. “Please, bunny, have mercy.”

“No promises,” Link says, and watches Revali make his way up the stairs.

The village is a flurry of activity that afternoon. There are thick coverings that go up over the sides of the roosts, all the patrols return to the village, and the communal kitchen iceboxes are filled to the brim with fish. Link spares a moment to worry about his horse, but Revali says that the stable has been warned by Rito scouts and knows how to prepare for these terrible storms that the Rito call Naydra’s Fury.

Because Link actually is anxious about making up, he does not carry through on his threat of making frog legs for dinner, even though he thinks his recipe is not half bad. He makes salmon risotto, on the grounds that it seems to be a favorite of Revali’s, and also that the iceboxes are stocked so full that he doesn’t feel bad about using one fish for their dinner.

“It’s what it’s there for,” Krisa says to him as she hurriedly puts together dinner for her family. “No one will leave the village until the storm blows over—and Naydra’s Fury usually lasts several days. Sometimes a week.”

“A week,” Link repeats, astonished. But others are clearly impatient to use this kitchen, so he doesn’t linger to ask more questions, just takes the covered bowl up to Revali’s roost. It looks different, smaller and more closed in, with the heavy coverings tacked in place. He wonders belatedly if the coverings are just kept up in the rafters and he never took any notice. They seem sturdy enough and will hopefully keep out the worst of the wind and snow, but he can already feel the temperature dropping rapidly.

He leaves dinner on the shelf and backtracks to his own roost for his duvet. By the time he returns, Revali is standing in front of the entryway to his roost, listening to a report from two warriors. He steps aside just enough to let Link by, and pulls back the heavy covering over the entryway for him. Link ducks in and puts the duvet down on the rug and comes right back out.

“Everyone is back?” Revali asks sharply. “Even the scouts from the Icefall Foothills?”

“All accounted for,” one of the warriors says.

Revali nods. “Good work. Go get ready to nest down; this is going to be a long one.” He ushers Link back inside the roost.

All this talk of nesting must be messing with Link’s head. He knows the Rito don’t mean it the way that Hylian omegas mean it, but something about the urgency in the village around the storm makes Link want to leave the duvet right where it is on top of the rug, and go find some other soft, warm things to add to it, too. It’s completely ridiculous.

“Let’s eat,” Revali suggests. “Everyone is back, so the only thing now is to stay warm and safe.”

The wind begins to howl as they finish dinner, and the lamplight flickers. Revali takes up their dishes, and says, “I’ll wash these and make my final report to the Elder—you go up first. Take off your Snowquill before you get up there.”

“Take it off?” Link balks.

“It’s too insulated,” Revali says. “Good for patrolling the mountains, bad for sharing body heat.”

Link nods reluctantly. As soon as Revali is gone, he strips out of the tunic and trousers, leaving him in the soft undershirt and leggings he’d purchased from the general store a few weeks back. As quick as he can, he climbs up one of the posts to the rafters of the roost, then says a prayer to Hylia and drops into the hammock.

It rocks alarmingly but he doesn’t fall out. It’s covered in another duvet, and Link flips up the sides to cover him until Revali gets back.

His return is preceded by some irritated beak clicking that Link is pretty sure is the Rito equivalent of cursing. “Goddess, that wind,” Revali mutters as he opens the door flap and immediately fastens it down behind him. Link can hear him hang up his armor as he moves around below. The lamp is turned down low, and then Link hears a few flaps of Revali’s wings before he lands in the hammock, Link’s duvet with him.

Specifically, he lands right on top of Link. “You’re supposed to lie off-center when you get in first,” Revali chides him.

“I didn’t know!” Link protests. But somehow they make it work, careful small movements until they’re both lying on their sides facing each other, one of Revali’s wings over Link, and the duvet tucked securely around them both.

Then Link realizes it’s still relatively early, and he’s not at all ready to sleep yet, and he’s just—pressed very close against Revali. At least he’s warm. Maybe even a bit too warm.

For maybe the first time in his life, he wants to talk to pass the time. “Why is this kind of storm called Naydra’s Fury?” he asks quietly, unwilling to break the strange intimacy of the dim, warm cocoon he finds himself in.

“You know who Naydra is?” Revali asks. His voice is also hushed; something about it makes a shiver run down Link’s spine.

“The great ice dragon,” Link says. “Where I’m from, they say she sleeps at the top of Mt. Lanayru.”

“Perhaps,” Revali allows. “The Rito have different stories.”

He tells Link a tale that he heard often as a fledgling, that Naydra jealously guarded the Hebra mountains, going so far as to mark the peak of Mt. Hebra itself, so that all dragons would know her claim.

“Is that true? How did she mark it?” Link asks, fascinated.

Revali laughs lightly. “I don’t know if it’s true. It does look like someone took a perfectly circular chunk out the peak. Maybe you can see for yourself, when spring comes.”

There’s nothing that Link wants more. “I’d like that,” he says softly. Maybe it’s his imagination, but he thinks he feels Revali tighten his wing over him, just a bit.

“In any case— they say another dragon challenged Naydra for the mountain, and in her fury, she called a storm so fierce into existence that it came down and covered Tabantha for ten days and ten nights. So now, when these storms come, we tell fledglings that Naydra is fighting another dragon again, and the storm will only end when she wins.”

Link smiles at that. “Hope she wins soon,” he says.

“Don’t we all,” Revali says dryly. One feathered fingertip brushes against Link’s nape. “Tell me about your stories. Why does Naydra sleep at the top of Mt. Lanayru?”

Link huffs out a laugh. “Well, where else are you going to find an ice dragon?”

Revali snickers in return. “So imaginative, you Hylians.”

“I always wondered if she was really there. I heard a traveler say that he saw her once, flying low along the Lanayru Road. He said she gleamed silver like the stars.”

“I can’t say I ever saw her there,” Revali says. “But a dragon’s business is her own; who can say where she travels, and when?”

It’s the second time Revali has alluded to having been near Mt. Lanayru. “Why were you there?” Link asks.

“You know,” Revali says, perfectly blasé. “Delivering mail.”

Link pulls back enough to look at him. “You?” he says incredulously.

Revalli huffs. “Don’t sound so surprised, bunny. It’s something of a rite of passage. Of course there are those who dedicate themselves to bearing messages across the kingdom for most of their lives, but every Rito learns the skies over Hyrule when their adult feathers come in. In the late spring, you’ll see the youth going out into the world for the first time.” Revali goes quiet, as if remembering. “It was—incredible. Truly. Had my remarkable skill in archery not been apparent so early, who knows? Perhaps I would have met you in Hateno.”

It’s an unexpectedly lovely fantasy, but an impossible one. “You wouldn’t have,” Link says reluctantly. “I was off to the castle at twelve. I haven’t been back since.”

“Do you miss it?” Revali asks carefully.

“I don’t know,” Link says eventually, because it’s complicated. Hateno is golden and perfect in his memory. His father passed when Link was thirteen. He doesn’t know what happened to their little house by the pond on the outskirts of the village. He would really rather not talk about it, so he asks, “What happens when young Rito come home from seeing the world?”

Revali mercifully takes the conversational bait. “Some, like me, focus on archery. I completed my apprenticeship to the best bowyer in the village before I left. I was a journeyman upon my return, and began crafting my own bows to aid in my training as a warrior.”

“I did an apprenticeship, too,” Link says. “Can’t say I was ever much good at it.”

“But you appreciated your sword more, I would wager,” Revali said.

Link can only think of the sword that seals the darkness, finding him unworthy, over and over and over again. He squeezes his eyes shut, and when he can trust his voice again, he asks, “What else do the Rito do when they come home?”

“Some leave once again, as merchants or journeyman bards. Most stay in Rito Village, take a mate, raise fledglings.”

The question is out of his mouth before he can think better of it. “Do you have a mate?”

Revali sputters. “You can’t just—you have eyes, don’t you? There’s no need to be so indelicate as to ask.”

“Sorry,” Link says instinctively. “It’s just—with Hylians, I know by scent. How do the Rito know?”

Revali takes in a breath, and Link thinks he can actually feel his feathers unruffle. “It’s customary to braid one of your mate’s feathers in with your own.”

“Oh,” Link says. He chances a look up, and Revali's expression is distinctly unimpressed.

“Before you dump us both out of this hammock with your squirming, I’ll say that no such feather is in my braids,” Revali says. “I’ve had plenty of offers, naturally, but becoming the most skilled archer in all of Hyrule doesn’t leave a lot of time for romance.”

Link hides a smile in Revali’s chest feathers.

“Is it so different for Hylians? How does their scent tell you they’re mated?”

Link thinks about it. “They smell—softer, I guess. Less sharp. Omegas have a claiming bite on their necks, but it’s—nobody ever showed theirs in Hateno. You didn’t need to. Everyone knows everyone else.”

“A bite,” Revali says, incredulous. “Truly, you Hylians have some barbaric customs.”

“Take it up with the Goddess,” Link advises, amused despite himself.

They’re quiet for a few moments, and in between the howling of the wind, Link hears Rito voices singing. He’s so far away from everything he’s ever known, but right now, covered by Revali’s wing, pressed against him and warm in the cradle of the hammock, he feels more comforted than he has in a very long time.

“May I ask something personal?” Revali ventures.

He’s not sure he wants to know what question Revali considers maybe too rude to ask in polite company, but he says, “If you want.”

“How will you choose, when the time comes?”

“How will I choose what?” Link asks, confused.

“Your goddess-aspect,” Revali says, as if it’s perfectly obvious.

He almost laughs, but Revali isn’t making a joke. He’s waiting for an answer. As if Link could just wake up tomorrow morning and write his own destiny.

And oh—how he wishes he could choose. He wishes he wasn’t still mired in this terrible limbo. If he could just decide to become an alpha, he would do it in a heartbeat. Then surely, he could wield the sword, defeat the Calamity, and then—

And then what? What is there for a Hero to do, when his destiny is fulfilled? Assuming he’s able to do so at all.

Link squeezes his eyes shut and breathes for a few seconds, before he can trust his voice not to shake. “That’s not how it works. You don’t choose; it just happens.”

“Like the color of one’s feathers.”

Link nods. “You just have to wait for it to happen. And then live with it, whatever it is.” He has to swallow around the tightness in his throat.

“I’ve upset you, haven’t I,” Revali says softly.

“It’s not—you didn’t know,” Link says, miserable. “I wish it worked the way you thought.” He allows himself to press his face against Revali’s chest feathers. If Revali feels the tears soaking into them, he’s kind enough not to mention it. “Can we please talk about something else,” he murmurs.

Link almost startles at the feeling of Revali’s wingtips stroking through his hair. “Would you like to hear one of our stories about the great fire dragon, Dinraal?” Revali asks.

“Please,” Link says, and instead of telling the tale, Revali begins to sing.

He dreams that night of the grove in the woods, of the eternally flowering Great Deku Tree, and the sword that sleeps in its care.

He’s alone, as he always is. He can never describe how it is that he finds his way here, only that he does, the whispers of the forest children following him.

The Great Deku Tree watches him patiently. It says nothing; the only time it ever spoke to him was the first time he grasped the pommel and pulled with all his might.

But he hears something. The words are indistinct, but he finds himself approaching the resting place of the sword that seals the darkness. Maybe it’s a trick of the moonlight, but he sees the blade flash. He climbs the dais, and when he reaches out to touch it, the sound he’s hearing resolves into words:

Are you ready? the sword asks, and Link wakes up.

Chapter Text

Link wakes up disoriented and more than a little sweaty. He doesn’t know how that’s possible, because the air is bitterly cold, but maybe that’s what happens when you’re under two layers of Rito feathers, and one of those is attached to an actual Rito. They really got tangled up in the night; he has one hand in Revali’s braids, and Revali has shoved a surprisingly solid thigh between his. Which would be fine, really, except that Link’s hard and it’s more than a little mortifying when pressed this close to someone.

If he had been sleeping alone, he would have taken care of it quickly and quietly, as everyone in the barracks did. His habits haven’t changed since coming to live among the Rito, except that he tends to wait for the late hours of the evening, when the cover of darkness provides a little more protection from sharp Rito eyes. Maybe they wouldn’t even care if they did see him, but Link would, so he picks his moments carefully.

He won’t be picking any moments at all until this storm is over, though. He tries to squirm away, just enough that he’s not, well, riding Revali’s thigh quite so egregiously.

“Bunny,” Revali says, his voice very low and very directly in Link’s ear. “This is the only time of year that Rito sleep in. Don’t ruin this for me.”

“Sorry,” Link whispers.

Revali just sighs and pulls him closer still, so that Link’s head is tucked beneath his chin.

He dozes a bit and his early morning ardor cools. The dream lingers around the edges of his mind—are you ready?—until Revali breathes in deep and stretches the wing he has tucked over Link.

“I suppose you’re hungry, you bottomless pit,” he says.

“Good morning,” Link says wryly.

“That remains to be seen,” Revali says. “Come on, get up. We should see what the winds have wrought.” He sits up in the hammock, then spreads his wings to flap a few beats as he glides to the floor.

The hammock rocks from his descent, but not badly enough to tip Link out. It does, however, raise the question of how he’s getting down. He can’t reach the rafter he swung down from the night before.

He’s just going to have to jump, he decides.

“It’s a little alarming to watch your brain churn,” Revali remarks. He’s dressed, but for once, not in his full armor. It makes him look a little bit softer, maybe. The same cannot be said for his tongue. “I promised Nesi not to let you do anything stupid, but I didn’t know it was going to be this much work. I’ll hang a rope from the rafter so you can get down by yourself later, but this time, just jump and I’ll catch you.”

“What if I accidentally kick you in the face?” Link asks.

Revali spreads open his wings. “Well, I would rather you didn’t, but if you insist on being that clumsy—“

Link jumps, and Revali plucks him out of the air. He’s seen Revali’s full wingspan, but it’s something else to feel the spread of his wingtips around him. Revali sets him down with remarkable precision and care. “There,” he says. “Get dressed, the fledglings will be here any minute.”

“What?” Link says, but obediently pulls on his trousers and tunic, leaving off the chestplate and bracers.

And then there’s excited chirping outside the door flap, with something that sounds like growling, interspersed with giggles.

Revali undoes the door flap, and several fledglings tumble in. They’re wearing masks that appear to be decorated as dragons, and their feathers are so fluffed up that they look very round, indeed.

“Rrowr!” the fledglings call out. “We’re dragons, and we’ve come to steal your mountain!”

“That may be a problem,” Revali says, folding his wings and looking very stern. “We are brave Rito, and we hold this mountain for Naydra.”

The fledglings flutter their wings, before pushing the smallest of their number forward, one with red wings. “Give us—” she starts, and then falters. Her compatriots whisper to her. “Treasure! And we’ll go away!”

“Treasure?” Revali says. “We are the Rito—our treasure is the skies, and I cannot give you that.”

The red-winged fledgling consults her fellow dragons again. “Then give us your mate!” she says.

Revali’s beak twitches, and he meets Link’s eyes. “We are the Rito,” he says, not looking away. “And he is part of me, and I of him, and so I cannot give you my mate.”

Link feels his ears go hot. This is clearly a game, and Revali is clearly asking him to play along for the kids, but part of him can’t help but wonder what it would be like, if it were real. Do the Rito even mate with outsiders?

“Then what can you give us?” the red-winged fledgling asks, clearly not broken up about Revali refusing to surrender Link.

“Honestly, I was thinking about giving you rocks for waking us up so early,” Revali drawls.

It’s evidently very off script, because the fledglings cry out in protest.

“But, since you were very brave through the storm last night, I suppose I can give you these.” He takes a box off his shelf, and opens it up to reveal small leaf-wrapped packages.

The fledglings gather around him to take a package each, piping out giddy thanks, before hurrying out of the roost, and by the sound of it, immediately going next door.

Revali puts the box back on the shelf, but hands a leaf-wrapped package to Link. Link opens it, to find dried wildberries and roasted chickaloo nuts.

“To hold your bottomless stomach over until breakfast,” Revali says, a sly look on his face. “It’ll be awhile yet—that’s only the first group of several who will make their way up.”

And sure enough, they hear another set of growls and chirping outside the door, heralding the next set of dragons in search of treasure.

When all dragons have been appeased, Link and Revali set out for the nearest communal kitchen. The wind is fierce and bitterly cold, and beyond the roosts, all Link can see is a wall of white. It’s as if the village has been completely cut off from the rest of the world, and left to float alone in the snow.

“Nobody worries about the fledglings going out in this?” Link asks as he stokes the cookpot fire.

Revali doesn’t pause in picking out ingredients for breakfast among the kitchen stores. “The roosts break up the wind enough that it’s usually safe. If the storm is particularly bad and the wind too fierce, we’d keep the fledglings in their roosts until it dies down.” He hands Link butter and flour. “That only ever happened twice when I was growing up, though.”

“What am I making?” Link asks. He gives Revali a sidelong look. “Or should your mate already know.”

Revali snorts. “More of your strange Hylian customs. If I want something in particular, then I should cook. Otherwise, a Rito would do well to eat what they’re given and be grateful.”

Link considers that. “So you’re just handing me ingredients because…”

“Well, one does like to be helpful,” Revali says, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.

“You’re so full of it,” Link says, trying to fight a smile and failing. He makes the nutcake that Revali was clearly angling for, and after they eat, they make their way down the spire, checking in with everyone as they go. The Rito are all puffed up—Revali says it’s to trap the warm air in their feathers—and Link wishes he could do the same. Revali must notice, because he takes to tucking Link into his side with one wing as they talk to the villagers.

“Can I ask a question?” Link says as after they check in with the guards at the bottom of the spire. “Why are you doing this, and not, say, the Elder?”

Revali looks puzzled. “Why should she do it?”

“Because she’s in charge of the village?” Link says.

Revali looks even more confused. “She’s not,” he says finally. “The village is everyone’s responsibility. Everyone helps where they can. She is the Elder because she is advanced in years, and wise, not because she is more responsible than anyone else.”

Link tries to process that. “Huh,” he says. “No kings among the Rito, then.”

“Certainly not,” Revali says with a sniff.

“But everyone still does what you say,” Link says, because it’s true. Up and down the spire, villagers took Revali’s advice, and gave him information when he asked.

“I talk,” Revali says gravely. “It’s others’ choice to listen.”

Link sighs, and looks heavenward. “That’s pretty different from where I come from,” he says. They start their way back up the stairs, and Link looks ahead at the alcove with the goddess statue. “Before we go back up, can we make an offering?”

Revali nods in assent, and they come to a stop in front of the alcove. In Hateno and Castle Town, people tend to leave fruit as an offering. The Rito, on the other hand, seem to exclusively leave flowers. Link splits the difference with some dried safflina he gathered near Revali’s training grounds. It’s sort of pretty, he thinks, and hopes that the Rito won’t be offended.

He bows his head, and asks the goddess for the safety and wellbeing of the Rito people. When he opens his eyes, Revali is still slightly bowed, and Link waits patiently for him to finish. But then Revali straightens and opens his eyes. “Are you ready?” he asks, and it’s strange, but all Link can hear is the sword asking him that question in his dream.

“Yeah,” he says, and looks once more at the statue of the goddess before shaking his head, as if to clear it.

It’s only when they’re back in Revali’s roost that he realizes he forgot to ask Hylia for what he always asks for—to finally present.

Oh well, he thinks. He’ll just ask next time.

That evening after dinner, they retire back to Revali’s roost. Link brought his mending with him; some socks, the undershirt that he bled all over when they took out the monster camp, and a few other odds and ends. He settles on the rug next to Revali, and wraps his duvet around his shoulders.

Revali is working on his bow again. It’s different from Hylian bows; instead of the wood being one uninterrupted half-moon shape, the riser and the grip are set back.

“Why did you decide to start making that?” Link asks as he darns a sock. “Your other bows seem like they’re in good shape.” He nods to the Falcon and Swallow bows next to the entryway of the roost.

Revali continues to use a small knife to shave at the wood. “Have you ever seen a lynel?” he asks.

“Once,” Link says. “From very, very far away.”

“Wise. Lynel are territorial, but if you leave them alone, they’ll leave you alone. I have seen them attack before; they are capable of consistently firing multiple arrows at once, with great accuracy. Regrettably, I’ve never had the chance to examine one of their bows, but I thought I might attempt to craft one that allows me to use it similarly.”

Link nods, and returns to his mending. When he’s finished, he looks at Revali, and says, “Give me your scarf.”

“Bunny, you already have an entire duvet,” Revali complains, making a face at him.

Link touches the rough edge of the scarf, where Revali ripped off part of it to bind his wound. “Let me fix this so it doesn’t unravel,” he says.

Revali looks at him for a long moment, and then sets his bow aside to unwind the scarf from his neck and hand it to Link.

“I’ll try to make it look okay,” Link says, suddenly seized with nerves. Maybe he shouldn’t have offered. His skill is pedestrian at best, and Revali might not appreciate Hylian needlework.

“Do as you please,” Revali says softly, and then takes up his bow again.

The ends of the scarf are meant to come together to display the symbol of the Rito, with a red and gold pattern at the hem. The pattern and most of the symbol are missing from one side, and he doesn’t feel confident of his ability to replicate what was there. The best he can do is try to cover it.

He binds the hem first, then makes a little design along it, nothing fancy, but it looks okay when he holds it next to the other end of the scarf. “There,” he says finally. “That should hold. Sorry I couldn’t do something that looks better.”

He goes to hand the scarf back to Revali, but he’s surprised when Revali instead lowers his head. Link takes in a sharp breath, but kneels up to slowly wind the scarf around Revali’s neck, taking care not to catch any of his feathers as he does so.

It leaves him eye to eye with Revali when he looks up again. “I’ll wear it with pride,” Revali says. His eyes are so green—more vibrant than any Hylian’s eyes.

Link winces. “You don’t have to say that to be nice.”

“Bunny, when I’m being nice to you, you’ll know it,” Revali threatens. “Accept my gratitude.”

Link feels his face go warm. “You’re welcome,” he manages to say, and when he sits back down again, he dares to sit closer to Revali’s side. Purely for warmth, of course.

Revali hangs the rope as promised next to the hammock, and watches Link climb it hand over hand with an expression of amused interest. “I still think you should reconsider growing feathers,” he concludes.

“Will you please get up here, I’m freezing,” Link says. It feels like it’s even colder than it was the night before.

“Yes, yes, you’re very delicate,” Revali says, but he does make quick work of his clothing and flies up to the hammock in short order.

This time, Link did lie off-center when he got in, just enough that Revali can stretch out along his side without much adjustment on his part. Then it’s just a matter of snuggling into Revali while Revali tucks the duvet around them.

“Warm enough now?” Revali says, as Link unselfconsciously presses as close as he can.

“What I wouldn’t give for a hot bath,” Link mutters into his chest feathers. The Rito seem to bathe mostly in small pools of water on lower spires, ones that are shallow enough to warm in the sun to a temperature that isn’t completely brutal—at least as far as the Rito are concerned. Link makes do with a pitcher and basin in his roost to wash up. If he wants a hot bath, he has to pay at the inn or the stable, which he can’t afford to do every day.

“Mmm,” Revali says. “There’s a hot spring near my training grounds. We could go when the storm is over.”

“A what?” Link says. He puts his feet against Revali’s legs, which earns him a squawk—and it’s hardly worth it, because Revali’s lower legs and taloned feet are the least warm parts of his body.

“You’re terrible,” Revali has the gall to say. “And hot springs are exactly what they sound like—a spring that is naturally warm. There are a number of them throughout the Hebra mountains.” He pauses for a moment. “A few near Death Mountain as well, but really, ours are much better.”

“Sounds nice,” Link says. He starts to feel drowsier as he warms up. “Will there be dragons knocking on our door in the morning?”

“No dragons,” Revali says. His beak dips down to Link’s neck. “Maybe you can have that bath in the morning. Your smell is...rather intense.”

“First of all, rude,” Link says. “Second of all, you have your beak in my neck, what did you expect.”

“It doesn’t smell bad, exactly,” Revali says thoughtfully.

“What every boy dreams of hearing,” Link says dryly.

Revali huffs. “Go to sleep, bunny.”

Link thinks about arguing, but his eyes are already closed, and sleep does sound like the better part of valor.

The inn is run by a Rito woman named Frona, who spent time among the Gerudo. “I ended up delivering the post there quite often during my first season,” she says when Link asks about the Gerudo jewelry she’s wearing. “No men allowed, you know.”

He’s heard the stories, and he nods, fascinated. “What was it like? The town, I mean.”

There’s a clear look of nostalgia and longing on her face. “It’s hard to describe to someone who hasn’t been there. It’s hot and dry in the day, but when the sun goes down—well, it’s no match for here, but it’s cold enough. There’s a marketplace that bustles at all hours of the day, with everything that you can think of, and more besides. That’s part of what made me renovate the bathhouse, you know—the Gerudo make bathing into an art form. And the spa services at their inn—even a Rito can appreciate them!”

“It sounds amazing,” Link says, wistful. “I wish I could see for myself.”

She leans closer and lowers her voice. “Don’t tell anyone I said this, but I’ve heard rumors about pretty boys in vai clothing sneaking in. And you certainly are pretty enough, for a Hylian,” she says. “Isn’t he, Revali?”

Revali’s wings are crossed. “Are you going to take a bath or not?” he asks Link impatiently.

Link sighs, and hands over a few rupees. “I’d love to hear more about it, sometime,” he says to Frona.

She beams at him. “Come by whenever you like—I’m always happy to share stories!”

Revali snatches the towel away from her and herds Link down the stairs to the bathhouse. It was clearly constructed in the Hylian fashion, with the bath heated by a fire below the tub, which is fed through a hatch outside. Revali opens the hatch to put a few more logs in the fire. “The water should be warm enough now,” he says. “I started the fire while you were making breakfast.”

Link looks at him in surprise. “You—”

Revali is distinctly not meeting his eyes. “There are no guests at the inn right now, obviously,” he says, waving a wing at the storm around the village. “You would have had to wait for it to heat up.”

“Oh,” Link says. He’d wondered where Revali had gone off to, but hadn’t imagined this. He remembers his manners and bows with his hand over his heart. “Thank you,” he says sincerely.

If anything, that seems to fluster Revali. “We’re spending a storm together, you don’t need to be so formal,” he says. “Enjoy your bath.”

“You’re not coming in?” Link says. He can admit that he’s disappointed; it would be nice to relax in the bath together. The tub isn’t enormous but it’s big enough for two.

“The bathhouse was built for Hylian and Gerudo visitors,” Revali says. “It’s too small for me to really get my wings and tail feathers clean.” He spreads out one wing, and Link understands instantly. No wonder he’s only seen Rito splashing in small ponds so far.

“Oh,” Link says again. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I feel bad—you didn’t need to go to so much trouble just for me.”

“Who says it’s for you?” Revali says. “I’m the one sharing a hammock with you. It’s completely self-interested.”

Link flushes in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mutters. “It’ll be better after I wash up.”

“It’s not bad,” Revali says, and Link goes still as Revali slides his beak along Link’s neck. “Just—different.”

The tip of his beak scrapes across Link’s scent gland, and he gasps.

“Did I hurt you?” Revali asks, but he doesn’t move away.

“No?” Link says, which is true, but also—his nerves feel like they’re singing, and his heart is beating double-quick. He wants—something, he doesn’t know what, except maybe for Revali to do it again—

Revali does, and then he pulls on Link’s hair with his beak, and Link is mortified at the sound that escapes him. “Let me do something with this when you’re finished,” Revali says. “It’s a disgrace, just tying it back like you do.” And then he shoves the towel in Link’s arms and turns to go back up the stairs to the inn.

Link sags back against the side of the bathhouse for a moment, before he manages to get himself together and go inside.

He washes down outside the tub on the bath stool with a bucket, but he can’t stop thinking about Revali touching him. He’s just got his wires crossed; he’s seen Rito touch each other like that every day, it doesn’t mean anything—

He takes himself in hand and tries to be quiet, but the moan he makes when he thinks of Revali doing more, biting him—

He comes fast and hard, and that should be more than enough to take the edge off. But after he rinses off and climbs into the tub, he’s left feeling vaguely dissatisfied, some nameless want simmering under his skin.

At least, he reflects, he’s finally warm.

Revali is waiting for him when he returns to his roost. He’s seated on the rug with a small box at his side, and is brandishing a comb. “Sit,” he says in no uncertain terms, pointing at the rug in front of him.

Link thinks about giving him some lip, but sits down obediently.

“Your hair is longer than I thought,” Revali says, combing his fingers through it. Link tied it up to soak in the bath but took it back down again before he left. Revali begins to pull the comb through his hair, and Link, already relaxed from his bath, just melts. “Not a shade often seen among the Rito, either—neither yellow, nor taupe, nor brown.”

“Hylians would call it blonde, I guess,” Link offers.

Revali sniffs. “Unimaginative,” he says. “Sometimes, in the sunlight, I would call it golden.”

“Is that you being nice to me?” Link asks, smiling a little even though Revali can’t see his expression.

“It’s me being precise,” Revali says, sounding mildly offended. “Every Rito studies bardic traditions, whether or not they will travel with their songs. To preserve history and lore, to reach the hearts and minds of strangers, one cannot be sloppy with words.”

Link has never thought of it that way before. He’s quiet as Revali continues to pull the comb through his hair. “I didn’t really talk much before I got here,” he says eventually.

“I would hardly call you chatty now,” Revali says.

Link huffs. “Point taken, but—I could go days, before, without saying anything.”

“Why was that?”

Link shrugs a bit. “I think—my words didn’t reach anyone. Or they were a weapon, to be used against me. It felt pointless, after a while.”

“A Rito who has lost their song is beyond sadness,” Revali says meditatively. “Even in grief, even alone, we’ll call out.” Link feels a series of delicate tugs in his hair, and realizes that Revali is actually using his beak to arrange his hair. “I hate to think of you giving up yours.”

“I wasn’t sad—” Link starts to say.

He’s not expecting Revali’s wings to wrap around him in an embrace. “No? Bunny, I’ll admit I couldn’t read your expression for the life of me when you first got here. Your face seemed like stone. But when I first took you flying, and I heard you laugh for the first time—you seemed so surprised by it, like you’d forgotten how.”

Link wants to say that it wasn’t that bad, that surely Revali is exaggerating, only he’s afraid that it was that bad, and he’d just grown accustomed to it.

“If my words were ill-chosen—” Revali says, starting to pull his wings back.

Link grabs Revali’s wingtips with one hand. “Sometimes I just need a few minutes to think,” he says.

Revali grips his hand with his own, tight, and then he lets go and clears his throat. “Since your hair is in fact long enough to braid, I can at least get it out of your eyes,” he says. He opens the box next to them, to reveal an assortment of hair ornaments; feathers and dried flowers and even the sparkle of a gem or two.

“Oh,” Link says, startled. “Um—are you going to put those in my hair?”

Revali’s hand stills where it’s poised over the box. “Would you prefer another’s?” he asks, and beyond his stiff tone of voice, Link thinks he hears something—vulnerable.

“No,” Link says, hoping that this time, his words will reach. “Just yours.”

Revali is quiet as he sifts through his box. “This has never suited me,” he says finally, withdrawing an ornament from the box and handing it to Link. It’s a clip, with some preserved white flowers, a piece of amber, and a few artfully placed feathers.

The feathers, Link notices, look to be an exact match for the deep navy blue of Revali’s plumage.

Revali braids a few sections of Link’s hair, then clicks his beak in dissatisfaction before undoing them, and braiding them again. Then he holds out a hand, presumably for the hair clip. Link hands it over, and Revali secures it in his hair.

“How does it look?” Link asks.

“If you think I’m letting you walk out of here looking anything less than superb, you’re out of your mind,” Revali says.

Link cracks a smile at that. “You sure you don’t mind lending me this?” he says, reaching up to touch the hair ornament.

Revali says nothing, and Link turns around just enough to look at him. “You can have it back,” he says, suddenly anxious. “You don’t have to—”

“Keep it,” Revali says, and adjusts it minutely before taking in a deep breath. “If it pleases you.”

Link feels his heart thump. “If you’re sure.”

“What have I said about saying things I don’t mean?” Revali says. “You ought to at least go look in the mirror so you can properly appreciate my handiwork.”

Link gets up and goes to the shelf, where a hand mirror rests. He picks it up and looks at his reflection. The clip sits above one of his ears, and Revali has arranged the braids to frame his face, but not hide the points of his ears.

He looks like himself, but also like he belongs. To the Rito, and perhaps—

To Revali.

It’s customary to braid one of your mate’s feathers in with your own, Revali had told him. This isn’t that, but it’s similar enough to make Link wonder what, exactly, he has accepted.

He puts the mirror down. “Thank you,” he says. He pauses, and bites his lip. “If I’m not supposed to bow to you, what should I do?”

Revali climbs gracefully to his feet and walks over to him. “What would Hylians do in this situation?”

“If I weren’t going to bow to you, or shake your hand?”

Revali nods.

“If it were a gift of great significance?” Link presses.

Revali looks nervous, but holds his ground and nods again.

So Link dares to go up on his toes and press a kiss to the side of Revali’s beak.

Revali stares at him. He doesn’t look offended, but his feathers are ruffled. In fact, Link would say he almost looks embarrassed. “Well,” he says, and clears his throat. “What curious customs you have.”

“I suppose they might seem so,” Link says. He looks up at Revali through his eyelashes. “I won’t do it again, if you didn’t like it.”

“You have adapted to many of our ways,” Revali says. “I suppose, in this one instance, I could adapt to yours.”

“How very gracious of you,” Link teases.

“I know,” Revali says, tilting his beak up, but there’s a tiny hint of a smile there, and Link thinks: Oh no.

All he wants is to do is kiss Revali again.

He gets a lot of double takes when he goes to the communal kitchen to make dinner that evening.

“Don’t you look pretty,” Krisa says when she’s done gawking.

Link ducks his head. “Thanks,” he manages to stammer out.

Nesi takes the least time to recover when he sees him. “I’m ever so surprised,” he says dryly, flapping his wingtips in the direction of the hair ornament.

Link frowns at him, his hand hovering protectively over the clip. It’s the first hint that this might have been expected. “What do you mean?”

“He means,” Revali bites out as he joins them in the kitchen, “that he would be overjoyed to mind his own business.”

“Oh, most assuredly,” Nesi says, in what is clearly a bald-faced lie.

The fledglings who come in with their parents all assure him he looks nice, or in the words of Miret’s oldest sibling: “less weird.” Regardless, Link attempts to take the compliments in the spirit they are given, even if the attention makes him want to immediately retreat back to Revali’s roost.

While the families with fledglings use the cookpot first, Link works side by side with Revali to prepare the ingredients for their dinner. This is one area where Revali is content to accept Link’s lead, and he chops vegetables and herbs as Link asks with little argument.

An older bowyer that Link only knows by sight stops by Revali on his way out. “Really, Revali, the plum blossoms aren’t even open yet,” he chides, a sly look on his face.

Revali’s back goes ramrod straight. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” he says coolly.

Which means that Revali definitely does know, and that there is something to know. Link saves his suspicions for when they’re alone in Revali’s roost. Before he takes off his Snowquill for bed, he reaches for the hair ornament to take it out first.

“Let me,” Revali says, and carefully undoes the fastening and removes it from his hair.

Link looks down at it. He’ll eat his boots if those aren’t actually Revali’s feathers. “Is it...too early to wear something like this?” he asks. The plum blossoms probably won’t open for another month.

Revali clicks his beak in irritation. “It’s only too early if you think it’s too early,” he says, looking away.

Link frowns, but carefully takes the clip from Revali and puts it back safely in the carved box. “I like it and I want to wear it,” he says firmly, meeting Revali’s eyes.

“Then it doesn’t matter what anyone else says,” Revali says. “It’s no one’s decision but yours.”

It sounds rather like Revali has offered him the equivalent of a flower crown at the Hylian spring festival—it’s no guarantee that they will be mates, but accepting it does publicly signal a distinct partiality, perhaps even an understanding. It’s not exactly what Link imagined for himself, when he’s dared to dream of it at all, but he thinks he likes this even more.

Later, in the hammock together, Revali says, “I want to hear one of your songs.”

“You really do not want me to sing,” Link warns him.

Revali looks actually hurt. “I do,” he insists.

“Okay, well,” Link says. “I get that singing is second nature for the Rito, but your average Hylian isn’t so lucky.”

“There’s beauty even in an owl’s screech,” Revali says stubbornly.

Link sighs. “I’ll do it, but you have to promise to not laugh. Or wince. Or do that thing with your eyebrows—”

“All right, already,” Revali says huffily. “I do solemnly promise to listen completely respectfully.”

Link narrows his eyes; Revali just continues to look at him challengingly. He has to think for a minute of a song; there are songs at court, but Link wouldn’t describe any of them as good or even particularly memorable. There are ones he’s heard at festivals in Castle Town, but he doesn’t know all the words, and some of them feel a little too ribald for their current situation. But then he thinks then of a song they used to sing in Hateno on summer nights, after a long day of working the fields.

His voice is a little hoarse and thready, not helped by his attempt to sing quietly. It’s a song about when the world was covered in vast oceans, and the singer prays that the Rito will bring them a message from their love, across the waves.

“How curious,” Revali says when he’s done. “We have a similar song, but the tempo and tone are different.” He sings it for Link, and he can hear the similarities in the melody, but it’s faster, more upbeat. And the lover is none other than the Rito messenger, themselves.

“Huh,” Link says. “I wonder what other songs we both know.”

“Let’s find out together,” Revali entreats. “Sing me another song tomorrow.”

“All right,” Link says, and closes his eyes.

Naydra’s Fury rages for another two days, and by the time it’s over, Link is so restless that he’s ready to climb the spire itself. Revali, however, shows no signs of being inclined to stretch his wings; instead, he’s occupied with surveying the damage from the storm and coordinating repair efforts.

Link tries to be patient and unobtrusive and helpful, but eventually Revali ducks into the general store and brings out a sturdy bag. “Your twitching is making me insane,” he says, thrusting the bag at Link. “Please hop along the ground and get this pent-up energy out of your system. There should be wildberries near Warbler’s Nest; fill this bag, if you please. And if there are any fallen trees, bring back as much of their bark as you can carry.”

“Berries,” Link says. “Bark. Got it.”

Revali gently tugs on one of Link’s braids with his beak. “Don’t go looking for trouble,” he admonishes.

“I’ll take my horse and be back by noon,” Link says. “No problem.”

Revali nods, and is about to turn to go up the stairs when Link catches him by the wing.

“Bunny?” Revali asks, sounding confused.

He’s got Revali’s feathers in his hair, and a village that clearly thinks they’re going to be something to each other. If he had presented, he could scent Revali and take his leave. But he has no scent, so the best he can do is step in close, and wrap his arms around Revali’s neck.

Revali’s wings come up slowly to hold him close. “Honestly,” Revali mutters. “I’m hardly sending you to Akkala.”

“I might miss you anyway,” Link says blandly, and smiles into Revali’s chest feathers at his sound of annoyance.

Revali pushes him away. “Go and come back,” he says brusquely, but his fluffed up feathers and his face read pleased and embarrassed, rather than truly irritated.

Link whistles off-key and takes the stairs down the spire two at a time.

He takes his horse from the stable; she’s been just as cooped up as he has, and he knows she’s itching to run. The road south of the village that winds its way up to Warbler’s Nest should be clear enough; the snow not swept away by the ferocious winds of the storm is powdery and not deep.

Still, he takes care as they set out on the road, the bag Revali had given him and a saddlebag secured to his horse. He brought a Swallow bow and some arrows in case he comes across any geese, and his sword and shield because there’s always the possibility of monsters along the way.

The sun is glaring bright off the snow, and it’s still cold, but it feels not that bad after experiencing Naydra’s Fury. He’s never traveled this particular road by himself, since Revali always flies them to his training grounds, and he’s curious what he’ll discover on his way to Warbler’s Nest.

The answer is: several foxes, an angry boar, no geese, and one blue-maned lynel, far south of its usual territory. Perhaps it was driven toward Warbler’s Nest by the storm, but one thing is for certain: it cannot remain here. The Rito consider these grounds sacred, and fledglings come here to practice their singing.

The lynel has not noticed him yet; it is prowling through some trees, and Link is far enough away that he can quickly and quietly dismount. He trusts his horse in battle against ordinary monsters, but if lynel can shoot multiple arrows from a distance with an accuracy such that Revali takes notice, he doesn’t want to risk her.

He needs to get in close, he thinks. In an archery competition with a lynel, he’s pretty sure he’ll lose. But if he can get in close, he might be able to duck under its sword arm and strike at its side. It’s still not without danger, but the odds are better.

His footfall breaks a stick hidden under the snow, and the lynel draws its bow even as it turns, and lets loose a volley that nearly ventilates his body, even though he’s hidden behind some crumbling ruins.

The lynel like wide-open plains, Revali had said—it’s to his advantage to keep it here, among the trees, and force it to fight in close quarters. His theory is born out as the lynel attempts to charge him, and Link darts between trees. It’s not nimble, and in fact nearly clotheslines itself on a tree branch.

His teeth rattle when he parries the lynel’s first swing of its sword, but he was right—he can duck in close, under its reach, and slash at its side. Of course, he has to stay out of the way of its hooves as it rears back and tries to kick him. Afterwards, he won’t be able to say why he does what he does next; time just slows, as it always seems to in battle, and he grabs a fistful of the lynel’s blue mane and mounts it like a horse. It’s completely vulnerable from the back; it can’t reach him with its sword, it can only roar and try to buck him off as he slashes at its back and neck. He must get lucky, eventually, because the lynel lets out an earth-shattering groan, collapsing forward on its front legs, before its corpse vanishes and Link falls to the ground.

As he’s lying in the snow, trying to catch his breath, he comes to one very important realization:

He finally has a gift for Revali in return for the paraglider.

He cleans up the best he can at the stable. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that his braids are still intact and his hair clip is in place—after all, the Rito routinely fly at speeds that Link finds alarming. It makes sense that their hairdressing is up to the challenge.

He’s actually bringing back quite a haul to the village. He picked enough wildberries to make several pies. The lynel’s guts and horns went in the borrowed saddlebag—those he intends to give to Nesi for elixir brewing. The sword and shield he’ll keep for himself, as they’re much heavier than the Rito prefer, and could be interesting to use when sparring with Haslen. And last but not least, he borrows a brightly woven cloth to wrap his gift for Revali.

He feels like a properly contributing member of the village, and eagerly mounts the steps up the spire, distributing his spoils of battle on the way up. He dumps the sword and shield in his roost, and leaves the berries in the closest communal kitchen. He presents Nesi with the elixir ingredients, to which Nesi raises an eyebrow and says, “Ordinarily I would be curious as to how someone came by these, but in this case, I’m extremely sure I do not want to know.”

Link saves the best for last, and can’t hold back a grin as he bounds up the steps in search of Revali.

When he sees him, talking to a couple of warriors on the landing near his roost, Link slows to a stop, and pats his hair once and makes sure the Revali’s clip is in place. It’s a little hard to hide the wrapped gift behind his back, but he does his best. He worries briefly that maybe he’s skipping some steps in whatever it is they’re doing, but then again—Revali gave him the closest thing to wings for a Hylian before he gave Link his feathers, so it can’t be that big of a deal. Probably. Link schools his expression to one of blankness, and makes his way out onto the landing.

“There you are,” Revali says, and he sounds annoyed, but Link knows him well enough now to see the hint of relief in his expression. “I assume you got sidetracked, Mr. I’ll-Be-Back-By-Noon.”

“You could say that,” Link says. “I got you something.”

The warriors raise their eyebrows at Revali, and one of them elbows the other before they fly off, leaving Link and Revali comparatively alone.

“A gift?” Revali asks, looking intrigued.

Link nods, and then he can’t think of anything else to say, so he thrusts out his gift.

Revali takes it, and carefully unwraps the covering. And then he goes still.

“Bunny,” he says dangerously. “Where did you get a lynel bow?”

That was—not the reaction Link was hoping for. He points wordlessly in the direction of Warbler’s Nest.

Revali advances forward. “So you mean to say that you just happened to find this bow, completely unattended, and brought it back for me. Right?”

“Well,” Link says, desperately fighting the urge to back up.

“Under no circumstances did you come across a lynel, far outside of its usual territory and probably all the more ornery for it, and instead of retreating, fought it singlehanded. Right?”

“Well,” Link says again, wincing.

Revali stares at him with a mixture of fury and disbelief, and then draws in one deep breath. At this point, even Link knows what’s coming next.

“Are you out of your mind?” Revali bellows, loud enough that probably the whole village can hear.

Link almost reflexively feels himself go still and stone-faced.

“You could have been killed!” Revali continues. “That is the very height of foolhardy idiocy! Anyone with an ounce of common sense would have retreated immediately.”

Link has been dressed down enough times to know that keeping his trap shut is in his best interest, as much as he would like to defend himself.

Unfortunately, Revali must be working off a different playbook, because he seems to find Link’s silence infuriating. “Have you nothing to say for yourself?” he demands.

“I feel like you’re saying plenty for the both of us,” Link says, and regrets it the second it’s out of his mouth.

“Is that so?” Revali says, his tone dangerously soft. “Do you think I'm overreacting, then? Or is it that you don’t trust my judgment?” He stalks closer, his talons clicking across the wooden planks. “Or maybe it’s true that Hylians only think of themselves, hm?”

The accusation stings, and Link feels his blood begin to boil.

“Or perhaps you just didn’t understand. Tell me, what part of ‘leave lynels alone’ was somehow not clear?”

“I couldn’t leave it!” Link snaps. “It was at Warbler’s Nest! What if the fledglings had come for singing practice while it was still there?”

“They would have flown straight back when they saw it! Because even a fledgling knows that taking on a lynel is suicide!”

“I’m not a fledgling!”

“You’re certainly acting like one!”

“And it was fine, I’m not even bleeding!”

“It was not fine, it was reckless! You should have come back for reinforcements!”

They’re toe to talon, and Link can’t remember the last time he’s yelled this much, but he can’t seem to stop. “I don’t need any. I can’t need any. And if you don’t trust my judgement—” He reaches up for the clip in his hair with Revali’s feathers.

The bow falls to the ground with a clatter, and Revali sweeps him up in his wings and holds him tight. “Stop,” Revali begs. His beak is next to Link’s neck, near his scent gland, and Link realizes that Revali is shaking, and his feathers are puffed up, almost as if—

Almost as if Revali were scared.

“Please tell me you didn’t kill it for the bow,” Revali says hoarsely.

Link brings his arms up to wrap around Revali, stroking his back above his armor. “I killed it because I was worried about the fledglings. I didn’t have a lot of time to decide; I made the best decision I could.”

Revali lets out a ragged sigh. “I know you did. Just—have a care for my heart, bunny. Don’t frighten me like that.”

There hasn’t been anyone frightened for Link in a long, long time. His mother, maybe, when he was a child, and climbed trees too high and swam in water too deep. His father surely must have been, when the Royal Guard pitted him against grown men in the name of training. He’ll never know, now. And he can’t promise to never frighten Revali again—not with what he knows is coming.

He presses his face into Revali’s neck, and they continue to hold each other for a long moment.

“I can’t believe you,” Revali says, because of course he’s not done. “I sent you to get berries. Berries. I thought you’d make me a pie, not kill a monster three times your size that breathes fire and bring me its bow.”

“I can make you a pie, too,” Link says. He chances a soft kiss to the side of Revali’s beak, closer to his cheek.

“Bunny, really, the plum blossoms are weeks off from opening,” Revali says, sounding faintly scandalized.

“So I should stop?” Link says.

Revali slides the tip of his beak against Link’s neck, and then pulls at a braid. “I didn’t say that,” he says, and Link manages to kiss him twice more before Revali’s sense of propriety reasserts itself.

They go to Revali’s training grounds the next day, with both the paraglider and lynel bow.

Revali is remarkably unconcerned about the possibility of Link falling from the paraglider, for someone who lost his temper about Link’s disregard for his own personal safety so loudly and publicly the day before. Link has heard a few snatches of a song about it already; he’s not sure he gets all the nuance but it does seem to imply Link has Revali wrapped around his little finger.

“It’s just—that’s a long way down,” Link says, looking over the edge of the landing. There is water at the bottom, but that doesn’t make him feel better.

“You’re not going to learn by standing there,” Revali says matter-of-factly. “If you think you’re going to fall, just holler.”

“Oh, I’m going to holler, all right,” Link mutters. He takes a deep breath. “Okay. I’m going to jump. It’s going to be fine.”

Revali, who Link has to remind himself he is in fact very fond of, shoves him off the edge, and Link yells but then—

The paraglider rises on the air currents, and just like that, Link is flying.

It isn’t the same as flying on Revali’s back, but it’s the closest Link will ever come to having wings of his own, and the pure feeling of joy that bubbles up in him is impossible to contain. He laughs in amazed delight as he experiments with steering the paraglider, going this way and that and trying to avoid going too close to the rock spire in the middle. As Revali said, the updrafts from the bottom are so numerous and strong that he rarely loses altitude. The only reason he turns his way back toward the landing is because his shoulders, frankly, are killing him.

Revali is inside the roost, examining the lynel bow and taking notes.

“Anything interesting?” Link asks, looking over Revali’s shoulder at his notebook. There are annotated sketches and measurements, and mathematics more complex than the arithmetic Link learned before leaving Hateno.

“Mmm,” Revali says, and puts down his pen. “I was on the right track. If you’re taking a break, I’m going to try out a hypothesis or two.”

“Go ahead,” Link says. He rotates his shoulders to try to get some of the stiffness out of them, then leans against the roost to watch Revali shoot.

He knew Revali was strong, but seeing him draw the lynel bow makes it clear just how strong he is. Link’s no stranger to wielding swords that are probably too big for him, technically speaking, but there’s no technique that can help Revali cheat into handling a draw that heavy.

His mouth goes dry as he thinks about Revali handling him with that strength. He doesn’t even know what he wants Revali to do, he just—wants.

Revali hits a target just off-center, and clicks his beak in thought. He nocks another arrow, and shoots again—but this time hits the center of the target dead on. After a few more rounds, he nocks two arrows at a time, then three, and though there’s no way it’s as easy as he’s making it look, Link is impressed just the same.

After retrieving the arrows, Revali says, “Do you want to fly again?”

Link does; he probably should take it easy, but he can’t forget the feeling of flying through the air on his own. Revali watches him for a while, before going back into the roost to write in his notebook again.

By the time Link comes back down, his shoulders are screaming at him, and his arms don’t feel that great, either. He winces as he folds up the paraglider, and Revali narrows his eyes. “How are your shoulders holding up?” he asks.

“Not great,” Link confesses, and then hisses when he tries to roll them.

“I know just the thing,” Revali says. “Come on, I’ll fly you.”

Just over the ridge is a valley, and tucked in underneath a rocky overhang is a milky blue pond with steam curling up from the surface. He can see a few Rito relaxing in the water, and the glow of lanterns here and there. Revali lands nearby, and Link slides off his back, avoiding his tail feathers with the ease of long practice.

There are neat piles of armor and clothing all the way back under the overhang, which Link supposes keeps them dry and protected from the elements. Revali starts to strip, making his own pile, and Link stares for a second before he turns away to do the same.

The water is hot—not so much that Link is worried about scalding himself, but it does make him gasp when he dips a toe in. Still, the air is much too cold to dilly-dally, and also, he would rather not give all the Rito here more of an eyeful than necessary.

Once in the water, though, he sighs, because surely this is heaven.

“Ah,” Revali says, settling next to Link in the water. “Good, isn’t it? Nothing better after a long flight.”

Link sinks even further down into the water. “I want to stay here forever,” he says. The heat from the water is already working wonders on the soreness in his muscles.

“We can come back as often as you like,” Revali says. He stretches his wings out along the rocks on the side of the spring, which effectively means he has one wing around Link’s shoulders.

“Mm,” Link says, and lets his eyes close.

They soak together quietly for a while, and Link can hear a few words of conversation between some of the other Rito. It’s some time later when he feels Revali touch his hair, brushing near his hair clip.

“You left this in,” Revali says.

“Was I supposed to take it out?” Link asks, opening his eyes.

“Only if you were concerned about getting it wet,” Revali says. He strokes one feathered finger in a maddening path down Link’s neck and across his shoulder. “I’m certainly not going to object to you wearing it.”

“Are you showing me off?” Link asks.

“Bunny, I haven’t even begun,” Revali drawls.

Link thinks it’s a very good thing that the water is opaque, because his reaction to that is not one he wants strangers to see.

Revali keeps touching him lightly, one might say idly, except he returns to Link’s scent glands too often for it to be coincidence. He’s keeping an eye on Link’s reaction, and Link doesn’t think Revali misses a single one of his shivers, or the small sighs he tries to smother.

“How are your shoulders doing?” Revali asks casually.

“The water’s helping,” Link says, and reminds himself that they are very much in public and he should act like it. “Thanks for thinking of this.”

“I can do better than that,” Revali says, and coaxes Link to give him his back before beginning to rub his shoulders.

“Oh,” Link moans helplessly, when Revali presses on a very tender spot.

“Too much?” Revali asks, more solicitous than Link has ever heard him.

Link shakes his head. “Keep going,” he says. “You can—you can do it harder.”

“Oh, can I,” Revali purrs in his ear. Link wants—he wants to shift back, to climb into Revali’s lap, to find out if Revali is just as affected as he is. Not that he knows how the Rito—do things. Still, it’s nice to imagine as Revali’s shoulder massage devolves into something that might be more accurately called petting.

Soon enough, Link sighs and stretches. “I’m starting to feel woozy,” he says. “I’m getting out before I overheat.” He starts to wade out of the spring, toward the back where his clothes and armor are.

“Delicate Hylian,” Revali says, sounding just a little disappointed. “Weak to cold and heat.”

Link looks over his shoulder at him. “Sturdy enough where it counts,” he says, and it gives him a thrill to see Revali actually visibly swallow.

There’s a spot far back in the overhang where the air is very hot. Link has watched the other Rito vigorously shake out their feathers, then stand near the vent while carefully toweling dry. Link does much the same, but with his hair. He’s dressed and his hair is mostly dry by the time Revali comes out of the water, and repeats the shake-towel-air dry maneuver before re-dressing.

“Shall we?” Revali says.

“Let’s go home,” Link says, and climbs on Revali’s back and holds on tight.

Chapter Text

It figures that even when Link is doing someone a favor, he gets stink eye from strangers.

“Are you sure?” the old Hylian man asks. He’s laid up in a bed at the stable—he’s thrown his back out, apparently, and he’s been trying to find someone, anyone, to take much needed supplies to Tabantha Village in his stead.

“We’re going that way anyway,” Link reassures him.

“But—” the man says, looking genuinely conflicted.

There are a few other merchants nearby, who seem content to glare at Link and also not help the old man out.

“Don’t worry,” Link says. “I’ll take good care of your horses, and I’ll get your wagon to Tabantha Village safely.”

That doesn’t seem to reassure the old man in the slightest. “You’re not—you’re not going alone, are you?”

He blinks at that. Nobody has ever expressed concern for him haring off anywhere unaccompanied before. Still, if the old man hasn’t been in these parts for awhile, he might not know that Link and Revali have been clearing out monster encampments wherever they find them. If anything, the roads are safer than they’ve been in a long time.

He settles for gesturing at Revali, who is outside the stable and looking at Link’s horse with an air of great skepticism.

“Oh!” the old man says. “Oh. Well. Suppose that’s all right, then.”

“We’ll be back in a couple of days,” Link says. “If you’re not feeling better tomorrow, have someone go to the Rito guard at the bridge, and ask for Nesi, okay? He can fix you up.”

The old man thanks him, and holds out his hand to shake, but then abruptly drops it before Link can do so. The rejection stings, but Link is used to it by now.

“Better get going,” one of the merchants says, a disapproving look on his face. Link breathes in through his nose and ignores him in favor of going outside.

“Change of plans,” he says to Revali, and explains the situation.

Revali shrugs. “It makes no difference to me. As long as we’re clear that I am not driving the wagon.”

He hasn’t readied horses for pulling a wagon since Hateno, but it comes back easily enough. Both horses seem mild-mannered, and don’t play any tricks as he harnesses them to the wagon.

Revali watches him. “Aren’t you full of surprises,” he says finally, with a tinge of appreciation in his voice that makes Link a little hot under the collar. “Is this what they teach farmboys in Hateno?”

Link climbs up onto the wagon seat, and pats the bench next to him.

“Why on earth would I let one of those beasts pull me when I can fly?” Revali asks, beak tilted up in disdain.

“Well, if you don’t want to keep me company…” Link trails off, and then gives Revali an exaggerated pout.

“Goddess above, stop that,” Revali mutters. He does, however, climb up next to Link.

Link clicks his tongue and flicks the reins lightly, and the horses lumber forward on the road.

After not even five minutes, Revali huffs and says, “You realize this is going to take forever.”

Link laughs. “Maybe now you’ll understand why I think flying is so amazing.”

“I wouldn’t have made that paraglider for anyone who didn’t think so,” Revali says.

“You made it?” Link says, surprised.

“I’ll admit to consulting with a couple of master craftsmen on the design, but yes, I made it,” Revali says. “Perhaps upon on our return from Tabantha Village, we’ll start you on the basics of aerial archery.”

Link looks at him out of the corner of his eye. “You know,” he says, “no one’s ever wanted a fair fight with me so badly that they went to the trouble of inventing a means to even the playing field. Usually they just assume I’m at a disadvantage and fight me anyway.”

“Because you’re small?” Revali hazards.

“Watch it,” Link admonishes and gives him a friendly elbow to the side. “That’s a factor, but it’s not the reason why.”

Revali is silent for a long moment. “Is it related to why the Hylians at the stable treated you as they did? It seemed very odd to me. You were polite, as far as I could tell, unless I’m missing something about Hylian customs.”

Link would rather never talk about this, but Revali should know. They’re going to meet more Hylians at Tabantha Village. And more than that, Revali deserves to know, if this—thing between them is going to go any further.

“Do you know what Hylians think about those with no goddess-aspect?” Link says finally, looking straight ahead at the road.

“That you’re young?” Revali says. “That’s what I was given to understand.”

“Well, yes,” Link says. “Usually. Most Hylians present at twelve or thirteen. Fifteen was the latest I ever heard, where I grew up. But when you get to be my age, they start thinking something else.”

“Link,” Revali says gently, and he’s so surprised to hear his actual name that he turns his head to look, briefly, before returning his gaze to the horses and the road.

“They say it’s a mark of the goddess’s disfavor,” Link makes himself say. “Because you can’t bond, not properly.”

“Not with a Hylian, you mean,” Revali says crisply.

He blinks. “Right,” he says heavily. “So you…you should just know.”

“But you can still seek a mate,” Revali says. “The Gerudo take Hylian mates all the time, and they have no goddess-aspect. I don’t see why it should matter whether you have one, either.”

Link honestly has never thought of it like that.

“Why, there are even a few Rito in Tabantha Village who have Hylian mates,” Revali says, seemingly offhanded, but he’s watching Link very closely. “As far as I can tell, they’re just as happy as anyone else.”

Link pulls on the reins, and the horses and the wagon come to a stop. He turns to look at Revali, heart in his throat.

Revali’s expression is fierce, and tender, like he’d take on the entire world for Link and win. “So if you’re telling me that you don’t think you deserve a chance at that same happiness, I have only one thing to say.”

“What’s that?” Link says faintly.

“Anyone granted your favor should consider themselves fortunate indeed. If your fellow Hylians disagree, they’re fools.”

Revali should honestly be expecting it when Link throws himself against him, arms around Revali’s neck. Revali grunts a little on impact, but his wings wrap tightly around Link, and Link peppers his beak with kisses.

“How do Rito kiss?” Link thinks to ask.

Revali slides his beak against Link’s cheek, and nips his neck gently. “Like this,” he says. “But I like your way just fine.”

It’s several more minutes before Revali says, “Enjoyable as this is, bunny, I think we want to get to Tabantha Village before it gets dark.”

“I suppose,” Link says, and tugs the neck of his tunic back into place before urging the horses onward.

The closer they get to Tabantha Village, the worse Link feels. At first he thinks it’s just anxiety over meeting the Hylians who live there, and Revali witnessing their rejection of him. But then he starts to wonder if he’s taken ill; he feels so hot that he actually undoes one of the fastenings at the neck of his tunic. Revali has flown ahead to scout the road, which Link thinks is not actually necessary but understands Revali’s desire to stretch his wings. Still, he’s seized with the desire to call him back. He feels—alone, uncomfortable, with a kind of aching hollowness that nearly takes his breath away with its intensity.

Revali rejoins him as Tabantha Village comes into view. There’s snow on the ground, but not as much as he might have expected, this far north.

“Wrong side of the mountains for that much snow,” Revali says. “That’s why the village is here at all.”

Link nods, and pulls the reins to stop the horses outside the village’s general store, where the old man asked him to deliver the supplies. He jumps down from the wagon and nearly loses his footing. He really might be ill, he concludes. Nothing for it but to get the wagon unloaded and see if there’s a healer in town.

“Welcome,” comes a voice as Link opens the store door, kicking the snow off his boots before going inside. There’s a Rito man behind the counter, and a Hylian omega woman sitting near the fireplace, mending in hand.

“Hello,” Link says, ducking his head politely. “We’ve come from the Rito stable with the supplies you ordered.” He steps forward and is alarmed when his vision swims and his knees buckle.

He’s caught and held upright by Revali, who must have come in after him. “Bunny?” he asks, alarmed.

Link tries his best to hold on to Revali, but his knees feel weak. “Hot,” he murmurs.

He hears the sound of talons and footsteps approaching. “Poor thing,” the woman says sympathetically. “It snuck up on you, huh?”

“What?” Revali says.

“His heat, of course,” she says. “Even if you had trouble smelling it, he must have known.”

“What?” Link croaks out. “I’m not—I can’t be in heat—”

“It’s okay,” she says, patting his shoulder gently. “You’re young, but your cycle will even out eventually. We’ll get you all settled up the hill—don’t worry about a thing.”

“He’s an omega?” Revali asks, sounding shocked.

“No,” Link says, clutching at him. Because he can’t be, he can’t be—he has to be an alpha, he has to be chosen by the sword that seals the darkness, he can’t be—

“Of course he is,” the Rito man says, looking at them strangely. “Surely this can’t come as a surprise.”

“I assure you that it is,” Revali says. “He thought himself unpresented—he’s never had a heat before today.”

“At his age!” the woman says, her eyes wide. “Oh my. Well, sometimes, with these late bloomers, it comes on so slowly, no one notices until you’re in the thick of it.” She shakes her head in wonder. “Come, let’s get him sitting down,” she says to Revali, who all but carries Link to a nearby chair.

“You two, go unload the wagon,” she says. “I’ll tend to him.”

Revali looks like he wants to protest, but the other Rito puts his wing on Revali’s shoulder, and steers him out the door.

“All right then, sweet boy,” the woman says. “Just us omegas, now. My name is Thalea—what’s yours?”

“Link,” he says, and the idea of offering himself to be scented now as part of a formal introduction makes him sob with semi-hysterical laughter.

“Okay, Link. I’m going to give you an elixir—it won’t stop your heat, but it’ll delay the symptoms for a couple of hours. Time enough to let you decide how you want this heat to go.”

He nods listlessly, and she goes behind the counter to bring back a bottle. The elixir is a very unappetizing grey.

“Drink that, and I’ll get you some water,” she instructs.

He downs the elixir and shudders, but the effect is almost immediate. He feels clear-headed, which is theoretically good except that it means all he can focus on is the part where he’s failed, yet again.

“This can’t be happening,” he says, feeling his eyes well up. “I can’t be an omega, I just can’t.”

“I’m afraid the goddess doesn’t let us choose,” Thalea says gently. “It’s not so bad—and you can’t think your brave Rito warrior will think any differently of you, surely?”

Link looks up at her. “He’s—not exactly my—“ he stammers.

She smiles at him. “Am I wrong about those feathers in your hair? The Rito take courtship very seriously, you know. And if I can give you some advice, one omega to another—if you’re not serious about him, don’t spend your heat together. Hylians may dally with others before bonding, but the Rito aren’t like that. Those long, complicated courtships are to make sure they’re picking the right mate.”

Link looks over his shoulder, to where both Rito are unloading supplies across the room. “He hasn’t exactly asked to—to court me.”

Thalea laughs. “The plum blossoms aren’t open yet! There’s an order to these things; courtships officially start in spring. That you’re already wearing his feathers is a little scandalous, by Rito standards.”

He looks closely at her hair, then; the black feather doesn’t stand out, but it’s there, neatly braided into her dark hair. “Did he wait?” he asks her.

She looks across the room at her mate, with a fond look on her face. “He did not. To hear him tell it, he worried an alpha would turn my head, if he delayed. Never mind that I was writing letters every day and waiting out near the post box to hand them to him personally, just to have an excuse to see him.”

Link thinks about dawn flights over the lake; wings made for him from canvas and wood; soft songs for his ears alone, as the moon rises over the village.

“And if I am serious about him?” he asks.

“You still don’t have to spend this heat with him. It will be very uncomfortable, but you can ride it out alone, if you want. But if you want to share your heat with him—then you can ask. He may want to wait, and you shouldn’t take that as a rejection, understand?”

He nods, even though the idea of Revali refusing him makes him want to curl up into a ball.

She lowers her voice even more. “If he says yes—well, take it from me. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, just as quietly.

She darts a look across the room, and then leans in closer still. “The Rito don’t have knots, but you aren’t going to miss it. And believe me, they can keep up.”

Link feels like his face is on fire, and it’s not from his temporarily banked heat. “Oh,” he says weakly.

Across the room, Thalea’s husband is talking in hushed tones to Revali, who is becoming progressively more and more flustered, if the state of his feathers is anything to go by. Then there’s an outraged squawk, and in his iciest, most offended tone, Revali says, “Pardon me, but how is that any of your business—” before Thalea’s husband shushes him. Revali appears to listen intently after that, even if his wings are crossed in front of him and he looks extremely discomfited. Link flushes to think that Revali is getting a similar talk on how to handle an omega in heat—how to handle him.

Finally, both Rito come to join them near the fire. “Let’s give them some space,” Thalea’s husband suggests kindly, and leads Thalea across the room to where the supplies have been unloaded but not yet put away.

Revali comes to a stop in front of Link’s chair. His wings are folded behind his back, and for a moment, Link wonders if he’s angry. But then Revali says quietly, “I gather you’ve been made aware of your options.”

Link nods.

“And have you decided what you will do?” Revali’s eyes are bright in the firelight, and focused solely on him.

“I think that depends on you,” Link says softly.

“I would do anything you asked of me,” Revali says, reserved and held so tightly that Link is afraid he might break. “But I beg of you—don’t choose me, if it could be anyone.”

Link wills his words to reach Revali, because they’re the only ones he has. “I love you,” he says.

Revali looks stunned, and his beak opens and closes a few times without any words coming out. He goes down on his knees. “Then please forgive me for skipping at least ten steps of a proper courtship. I assure you, your first gift is waiting back in the village—I intended to give it to you at the right time, I just didn’t think—”

“It’s okay,” Link says, and leans forward to put his arms around Revali’s neck. “I mean, you already gave me a paraglider.”

Revali moans in despair. “Absolutely not, that’s no kind of first courting gift,” he says.

“All right,” Link says, pressing a kiss to Revali’s beak. “We’ll do things your way, after we go home.”

Revali pulls back then, to take Link’s hands in his. He takes a deep breath. “Then it will be my honor to provide you shelter; my wings will cover you in any storm,” he says, and his words are clearly traditional but they’re spoken with a great tenderness.

Link racks his brain for any appropriate phrases to say in return. He hasn’t been to a bonding ceremony since he lived in Hateno, and even then, he can’t say he remembers a lot of what omegas traditionally say. But there’s one thing he remembers.

“The Goddess Farore made all life, but only omegas in her own aspect,” Link says. “She made me courageous, and with that courage, I will entrust myself to you.”

Revali pulls him to his feet. “I will endeavor to be worthy,” he says, and if it’s not exactly the prescribed response, Link likes it better, anyway.

The heat hut up the hill that Thalea’s husband Min leads them to is cozy enough—a fireplace with a cooking pot, a bed, and a hammock. Min leaves them with a basket of provisions, and some last minute instructions for Revali.

“Remember, get him to drink water whenever you can,” Min says. “Try to sleep when he does. And don’t worry, we Rito are champions of endurance—you’ll be fine!”

“Yes, thank you,” Revali says, and shuts the door basically in Min’s face.

“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to be helpful,” Link says, fighting a smile.

“I’m pretty sure it’s not that complicated,” Revali says. Then he clears his throat. “Which would you prefer—the hammock or the bed? For your nest.”

“Uh,” Link says, because first of all, he never expected to be making a nest and isn’t sure he knows how to start. And now that he thinks about it, he’s not happy to be away from the hammock in Revali’s roost. His own roost had felt cold and lifeless after the storm, rendered only slightly tolerable by his duvet. “I’m not trying to be ungrateful, but neither? I wish we were home. At your roost.”

“There’s skipping ahead under extraordinary circumstances, and then there’s flouting every single tradition of courtship,” Revali says. He touches the hammock with one feathered finger. “I have one for us,” he says. “Nowadays, not everyone weaves the hammock themselves, but I did design the pattern for the decorative covering.”

Link comes to stand beside him. “I’m sure I’ll like it,” he says.

“We’re supposed to hang it up together. After you’ve accepted my courtship. In the spring.”

Link looks out the window, where snow is blowing by. “I’m sorry. I guess this isn’t exactly traditional, for either of us. Let’s save the hammock for when we go back home. I’ll admire it properly and we can hang it up together.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Revali says, and his feathers settle.

Link turns to the bed and examines it critically. “Give me your scarf?”

Revali hands it over without comment, and Link puts it on the bed, near the pillows. The duvet is at least Rito down and soft, but it doesn’t smell like them and he doesn’t like it. Even by his standards, it’s a pretty sad excuse for a nest. Still—they’ll get through this heat, and then he can make a proper nest, maybe at Revali’s training grounds if it’s too scandalous for him to share Revali’s roost in the village yet.

He takes off his boots, armor, tunic and trousers, leaving him in his leggings and undershirt. The undershirt he strips off and arranges next to the scarf on the bed. He hears the sounds of Revali removing his own armor, and then he hands Link the wrap he wears under his breastplate.

Link arranges that to his liking as well, and then sits down on the bed. He can feel the signs of heat returning; his scent is filling the space, and he can still hardly believe it’s his. But it feels less frightening, now that he knows what’s going on. Now that he knows Revali will take care of him.

He shucks the rest of his clothes and gets under the covers naked, then holds the corner up in invitation. Revali takes it, and once he’s pressed close against Link, it feels like the storm all over again. Except this time, they’re both naked, and Link can kiss him, so he does. All over Revali’s beak, finding the good places that make Revali rub his beak against Link’s cheek and neck. There’s one spot that makes Revali sputter into laughter.

“Ticklish?” Link asks.

“Too close to my nostrils,” Revali says, which is not a no.

Link does it again, and Revali laughs and rolls him so that Link is on his back, presumably where he can get up to less mischief, with Revali on top. Revali leans down to kiss him, rubbing his beak against Link’s cheek, and nibbling delicately at his neck.

“I thought you smelled different,” Revali mutters. “But I convinced myself that it was just being closer to you in the storm.”

“Different how?”

Revali rubs his beak against Link’s scent gland, and Link gasps and shivers, heat licking down his spine. “Just—more. More intense. And your scent lingered. If I closed my eyes at night after the storm, I could almost imagine you there.”

“Did you?” Link dares to ask.

Revali rolls his hips against Link’s. “It wasn’t the first time,” he says, and the softness of his feathers against Link’s cock is absolutely maddening. “I’ve been imagining you in spring, ready and eager to be covered, for quite a while now.”

“Oh,” Link breathes. His mind feels hazy, like all that exists is the feel of Revali’s hands, the low tones of his voice, his scent that isn’t anything like a Hylian’s but still so good. He realizes, belatedly, that he’s slicking up for Revali. Revali, who doesn’t have a knot, but Link trusts that he’ll be able to satisfy this aching, drowning need in him, just the same. “I want—I need—”

“I’ve heard all about what you need,” Revali says, and trails his wingtips down Link’s chest, to wrap delicately around his cock. He strokes him slowly, gently, keeping his eyes on Link’s face. “It will be my honor to provide.”

He can barely think with Revali touching him, but his body is crying out for one thing. “Can I—can I touch you, too?” he asks, and tries to look down Revali’s body for anything familiar.

“Mmm,” Revali says. “Give me your hand.”

Link does, and Revali guides it down his body, between his legs. “It’s different from yours,” Revali cautions him, and then Link’s fingers find something slick and soft among his feathers. “We don’t keep ours out all the time—which, I have to say, seems like a very poor idea on your part.”

“Take it up with the Goddess,” Link says. He rubs the area experimentally, and feels something begin to push back out against his fingers. It becomes bigger, and longer, and it doesn’t at all feel like his own cock, but that’s undoubtedly what it is. It’s slick and curved up a little, and all Link can think is that he wants that. He wants Revali’s cock in him, he wants Revali to mount him, he wants—

He lets go of Revali’s cock and nudges Revali off him so he can turn over.

Nothing feels more natural than getting his knees under him, and pressing his chest down to the bed. He remembers alphas in the barracks bragging about getting an omega to present, like it was a surrender, but it doesn’t feel that way to Link. It feels like a demand, a challenge, one that he hopes Revali will rise to, as he always does.

“Already?” Revali says, sounding a little wrongfooted. “I think I’m supposed to touch you more, first.”

“Later,” Link says. He’s so wet that he can feel slick working its way down his thighs. “Unless you’re not ready.”

Revali covers him, bracing his wings on either side of Link’s body, and the feel of his cock rubbing against him makes Link moan. “Do I feel not ready?” Revali asks, his voice low and right in Link’s ear.

“So it’s just that you can’t hit a target right in front of you, then,” Link goads, looking over his shoulder.

Revali’s eyes narrow, but he braces on one wing and then Link can feel something warm and firm push up against his hole. He tries to shift his hips back to get more of it, but Revali nips his ear warningly.

“I’ve been advised to go slow, no matter how much you beg,” Revali says. “Apparently, it’s a lot for you to handle.”

Under ordinary circumstances, Link would have something to say about Revali’s smug tone, but as usual, Revali can back it up. Link all but mewls as Revali slowly pushes his cock in, and it feels good, and overwhelming, to be stuffed full of Revali’s cock, to be surrounded by him, sheltered by his wings and his body.

He feels safe, down to the very marrow of his bones.

It takes him a few moments to realize that Revali is holding himself still. “You alright?” he asks Revali.

“I think I’m supposed to ask you that,” Revali grits out.

Link sighs dreamily and pushes his hips back to get even more. “Oh, I’m good. Better if you start moving.”

“I know you’re allergic to caution, but really,” Revali huffs, but he pulls almost all the way out, so slowly, and then thrusts back in, just as slowly, and Link feels stretched wide around him, it feels like almost too much, but then, he was made for this, wasn’t he? He relaxes, and Revali slides in so deep that something in him purrs in satisfaction.

Revali groans in Link’s ear. “You’re so—I didn’t think—” And then he thrusts again, and again, building up a slow rhythm, and Link remembers in the haze of his heat that Revali has almost certainly never done this before, either, that just as Link has trusted him with his body, Revali has trusted him with his.

He doesn’t want that trust to be misplaced. He wants Revali to want him, just as much he wants Revali. He wants—

Revali’s next thrust makes him cry out in surprised pleasure; irritatingly, Revali stops. “Are you alright?” he asks, sounding a little frantic.

Link reaches back for Revali’s hip with one hand. “Do it again,” he says hoarsely.

“It was good?” Revali says. He’s breathing a little hard, which Link finds gratifying—at least he’s something of a challenge.

“Do it again—just like that,” Link says. It’s less like begging and more like ordering, but Revali adjusts his stance and pushes in experimentally a few times, and then he hits the right angle again—and again, and again, and Link is clutching at the bedsheets under him and trying to push back to meet Revali’s thrusts, and he doesn’t even want to reach down to jerk himself off, he just wants to ride the high of Revali giving it to him so good, Revali nipping at his neck and shoulders, but it’s not enough.

He puts one of his hands over Revali’s, where it’s braced on the bed. “Claim me,” he pleads. “Revali, I—”

“Not yet,” Revali says, and grinds in deep. “In spring—when you accept my courtship, when you braid my feather in your hair, then I’ll claim you.” He wraps his wingtips around Link’s cock and strokes him again, and then Link can’t think anymore—he can only pant, and moan, and kiss Revali’s beak when Revali slides it against his cheek, until he’s coming all over the sheets underneath him.

“A Rito bite on your neck, everyone will know you belong to me, to us—” Revali says, and then groans, and shudders, and Link feels him come, deep inside. Link reaches back to hold Revali’s hips close, to keep him right where he is, to satisfy some instinctive urge to make sure—

To make sure he’s been bred, he realizes, no longer feeling as hazy as he was before. He doesn’t think he can actually catch—Thalea would have said, wouldn’t she?—but it doesn’t appear to matter to his heat. He’s lying on the bed with Revali covering him, and still deep within him, and he’s so blissed out he wants to purr.

He surprises himself by doing just that. It certainly isn’t a sound he ever expected to make, and he can’t say the last time he’s heard an omega purr from being so content.

“Oh?” Revali says slyly in his ear. “That good, am I?”

Link would like to glare at him, but doesn’t feel inclined to interrupt the afterglow to do so. He squeezes around Revali’s cock instead.

Revali grunts in response. “Already?” he says, like that isn’t a complete impossibility.

“What? No,” Link says. Then he cracks open one eye. “You can’t go again right now, can you?”

“We Rito are champions of endurance,” Revali says, and grinds his cock into Link. “I don’t see any reason I shouldn’t be able to easily satisfy all of your needs.”

Link looks at him in disbelief. “Well, I’m a Hylian, and I need at least an hour, normally,” he says. “And anyway, maybe we should pace ourselves.”

“Bunny, are you actually recommending a prudent course of action? I never thought I’d see the day,” Revali teases.

“I’d like to get through my heat in one piece,” Link says grumpily. “And you’re really big, so just—let’s take it easy.” He regrets those words the second they leave his mouth.

“Really big, hmm? Too much for you?” Revali says, nipping at Link’s neck. He sounds smug, and interested, and it should not be stirring Link’s heat again, but it is.

“An hour,” Link repeats, and closes his eyes.

“Well, if you insist,” Revali says, and settles down to cover Link’s body with his own.

Link dozes for a bit, but the next wave of his heat hits far sooner than he expected. He drinks the water that Revali offers him, but pulls Revali down onto the bed immediately after. This time, they’re both less hesitant, and Revali is worryingly better at hitting the really good spot inside him. It’s a little bit like sparring, he thinks. They’ve felt each other out, and now they can cross swords in earnest.

Well. Something like that. The metaphor is maybe not entirely accurate, in that Link is more like a sheath than a sword, but he doesn’t really care as long as Revali keeps—doing—that.

“Harder,” he demands.

“You said to take it easy,” Revali reminds him, still fucking him slow and steady.

“I don’t care what I said,” Link snaps, and rolls Revali over so that Link is sitting astride him. It takes him a few tries to figure out the good angle, but once he does, he rides Revali’s cock with abandon.

It’s different, being able to see Revali’s face this time, to see pleasure in his expression, and affection. And when Link falters, his usual stamina sapped by his heat, Revali wraps his wings around him and with all of his considerable strength, holds Link and fucks up into him, until they both come again and Link collapses onto Revali, a sweaty, sticky mess.

“Sorry about—” Link says, making a vague gesture at Revali’s feathers.

“Nothing to be done about it,” Revali says prosaically. He strokes the side of Link’s face with one wingtip. “Maybe we’ll go to a hot spring again, when your heat is done.”

“Mmm,” Link says drowsily. “Should I move? Am I too heavy?”

“Oh, please,” Revali says dismissively. “Anyway, I was told—you’d be more comfortable, the longer I’m, well.”

“Balls deep in me?” Link suggests.

Revali makes a horrified sound. “Bunny.”

Link smothers a grin into Revali’s chest feathers and has mercy. “Hylians call it being ‘tied.’”

“Better,” Revali says with a huff. “Honestly, I was starting to worry that Hylians have no sense of romance.”

Hylian notions of romance revolve around a suddenly irresistible scent—one that you can’t ignore, one that is the Goddess’s way of saying, This one is your destined mate. And even though Link knows the Rito don’t scent the same way that Hylians do, and in fact don’t seem to be able to smell very well in general, something nags at him.

He doesn’t want to be wanted because he’s finally presented. He doesn’t want to be wanted for something he has no control over, Goddess’s will or no.

He pets the feathers of Revali’s shoulder idly before he musters the courage to ask. “When did you know? That you wanted to, um. Court me,” Link says.

“When I first saw you kick a moblin in the face,” Revali says blithely.

Link laughs despite himself. “I’m being serious.”

“So am I, bunny. I’m a little worried about what it says about me, to be honest.”

“Revali.”

“I considered your initial offer, which I might say was very forward, but I didn’t make up my mind until after you had shed blood for the village.”

Link closes his eyes in relief. That was so early in their acquaintance, and even if his scent was starting to develop then, only a Hylian nose could have detected it. He turns his head to kiss Revali’s beak before the first part of that statement catches up with him. “Wait a minute. What initial offer?”

“Don’t make me worry about how many times you’ve been hit in the head. Surely you remember when you were first introduced to me.”

Link remembers that, crystal clear—Calran introducing him, Link nervously offering himself to be scented, the feel of Revali’s beak sliding against his neck—

All very normal from a Hylian point of view. But from a Rito—

“Did I throw myself at you?” he asks Revali, with a wave of secondhand embarrassment for his past self that makes him want to burrow into Revali’s feathers and never come out.

“It was very brazen but I’ll admit to being flattered,” Revali says.

“Enough to consider me, huh?” Link says. He’ll save the explanation of Hylian formal introductions for another day. “Even though the Goddess didn’t make us for each other?”

Revali tips Link’s chin up with a wingtip. “Whether she did or did not makes no difference to me—not then, and not now.”

Link’s breath catches, and he searches Revali’s eyes, and finds no sliver of doubt. “You really mean that.”

“I thought we established that I don’t say things I don’t mean,” Revali says, and kisses him.

The rest of his heat is a blur—days pass, but Link isn’t sure how many. Revali does indeed keep up with him, aside from one instance where he reduced Revali to beak-clacking moans by taking him into his mouth, and Revali came in very short order. Most of his memories are of pleasure, the satisfying fullness of Revali in him, the softness of feathers against his skin, and the weight of Revali’s body on his.

He wakes up with the sunrise, and his eyes feel gritty, and everywhere feels sore. His back is to Revali’s chest, and Revali’s breathing is soft and slow. He wonders how many days it’s been. Thalea said his first heat could be shorter, or much, much longer than usual, since he’s such a late-bloomer.

“Mm,” Revali says, and shifts behind him. “You back with me, bunny?”

“I think so?” Link says, and winces as he stretches. “I could really use a bath.”

“Well, that’s more coherent than you’ve been in the last couple of days, at any rate,” Revali says. He brushes a wingtip over Link’s forehead. “You feel cooler, too.”

“How long has it been?” Link asks, and gingerly rolls over to face Revali.

“Three days since we arrived,” Revali says. He looks tired, and his feathers are more out of place than Link has ever seen. “How do you feel?”

“Sore,” Link admits. “Tired. Hungry?”

“I never thought I’d be so reassured by the return of your bottomless pit of a stomach,” Revali says, looking relieved. “I don’t know what you remember, but it was very difficult to get you to eat anything.”

“I could eat a whole boar right now,” Link says, and it doesn’t feel like an exaggeration.

“Let’s see what’s left in the basket,” Revali says. “And if you’re feeling up to it, we’ll walk to the bathhouse, and get a meal at the general store.”

They demolish the remainder of the provisions Min had given them, and then regard the wrecked bed together.

“They must be used to it, right?” Link says, and bites his lip.

“I’ll allow that you may be the most ferocious and demanding omega in all of Hyrule, but I imagine that it’s been left in a similar state before,” Revali says. “Let’s get dressed and get you that bath.”

The bathhouse was built with the Rito in mind, and has plenty of room for Revali to clean his wings and his tailfeathers. When they’re both soaking in the tub together—the water fed from a hot spring underneath, apparently—Link touches the scent glands on his neck. They feel a little swollen, but otherwise okay.

“Are you upset that I didn’t claim you?” Revali asks after a few moments.

Link shakes his head, and leans into him. “I’m fine with waiting. Even though—you know, right, that I’m not going to change my mind? I want to be with you, no matter what.”

“I’m not going to disrespect you with a lazy courtship,” Revali says firmly. “We’ve done it all out of order, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t do it right.”

Link smiles at that. “Okay,” he says. “Should I make you work for it, then?”

“I would expect absolutely nothing less,” Revali says, and nips his ear affectionately.

Thalea gives Link an elixir before they leave, one that dulls the pain in delicate areas and will likely be much appreciated when they’re back to sitting on the bench of the wagon. She also gives him the recipe for it and the heat symptom delay elixir. ”I’m sure the Rito Village elixir maker is very good, but I doubt they have much call for these,” she says.

“Probably not,” Link agrees. “Thank you so much.” And then he puts his hand over his heart and bows.

She laughs. “My, you have been living among the Rito for a while, haven’t you.”

“What?” he says, confused.

She puts her hand over her heart and bows. “You never learned that from a Hylian,” she says, and then throws her arms around him.

He almost jerks back in shock, but then he relaxes into it. She’s been so good to him, and this is—probably normal. One omega embracing another, offering comfort and support.

“You’ll be just fine,” she says in his ear, still holding him tight. “Send me a message any time—I’ll help any way I can. And I want to hear everything about your courtship! Just don’t say yes right away in public. Spring courtship is a very big deal; everyone will think much more highly of him if your favor is in doubt.”

“Why does it have to be so complicated,” Link mutters in despair.

She laughs again. “It’s part of the fun. He wants to do this for you, to show you and the village how he feels.”

Link supposes it’s not entirely unlike a bonding ceremony, in that way. He sighs and nods, and then gently pulls away and joins Revali at the door.

“Thank you both, for everything,” Revali says, and bows with his wingtips over his heart, and Link reflexively does the same.

“We were glad to help,” Thalea says, smiling warmly.

“We’ll see you again!” Min adds. “Maybe we’ll come to Rito Village in late spring.”

“We’d like that,” Link says, and is surprised to discover that he means it.

On their way back in the wagon, Link is surprised that Revali doesn’t take the opportunity to stretch his wings and fly ahead, and says as much.

Revali is leaning against the woven goods they’re bringing back to the stable with them, and his eyes are closed. “Bunny, not to put too fine a point on it, but I did just cover you for three days straight. My stamina is prodigious, but I can admit you posed a challenge.”

Link can’t fight the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I suppose you’ve earned a nap, then,” he says, and pats Revali high on his feathered thigh.

“Keep your hands to yourself, greedy boy,” Revali says. “No more of that until you’ve accepted my courtship.”

“Oh, come on,” Link protests. “You can’t be serious—Revali—”

Regrettably, Revali is very serious. When they return to the village, he makes it very clear that they will be sleeping in their own roosts, and absolutely nothing will be happening at the Flight Range.

“Nobody else even goes there!” Link protests.

“It’s the principle of the thing,” Revali says loftily. “Surely you can hold out until the end of courtship, can’t you?”

Link huffs. “I can but I’m not going to be happy about it.”

Revali nips his ear, the hypocrite. “I’ll make it worth the wait,” he says, voice low.

“You’re the worst,” Link accuses, because even that much is enough to make him slick up a little.

Every Rito who comes within a wingspan of Link does a double-take, and when Link and Revali go to a communal kitchen to make dinner that evening, it seems pretty clear the whole village knows he’s presented as an omega.

“Is it appropriate to offer congratulations?” Nesi asks with a tilt of his head.

Link isn’t sure he wants to be congratulated on continuing to fail at his destiny, but that seems a little much for kitchen conversation. In any case, he doesn’t have time to think of a response before Nesi’s mate, Haslen, eagerly asks, “Is there a special song?”

“Uh,” Link says, looking to Revali for help.

“You smell nice!” Krisa exclaims, and then looks abashed. “Not that you didn’t before. A little like armoranth, but sweeter?”

All the Rito in the kitchen nod, and Link would really like to flee this public discussion of his changed circumstances.

“Leave him be,” Revali says sharply. “You’re obviously making him uncomfortable.”

That gets a lot of raised eyebrows and shared looks. Revali ignores all of them, and continues to chop the vegetables Link set out for him.

But later in Revali’s roost, after they’ve eaten dinner, Revali clears his throat and asks, “Is there some way we should mark the occasion?”

Link winces. “Most Hylians present at twelve years of age. I guess they usually get a cake?”

“A cake,” Revali says, looking far more serious than he should.

Link waves his hands frantically. “I don’t need one. I’m just telling you what most families do.”

“What kind of cake?” Revali presses.

“It’s not important!” Link says.

“I won’t be accused of ignoring your traditions,” Revali says, narrowing his eyes. “If you should have a cake, you’ll get a cake.”

Link sighs. “You don’t have to go out of your way,” he says, knowing it’s already a lost cause. “It was usually a honeycake, with whatever fruit was available.”

“Hmm,” Revali says, which doesn’t bode well.

The next morning, they go to the Flight Range, and Revali says, “Let’s start with you practicing letting go.”

“Excuse me, what,” Link says, already clutching the handles of his paraglider tighter.

“When you draw your bow in the air, you’re falling,” Revali says. “Since your wings aren’t attached to you, you’ll have to learn to let go, and trust that you can grab on again after you shoot.”

Link swallows. He feels like he just got used to trusting the paraglider to keep him aloft, and the idea of purposefully letting go makes him more than a little nervous.

“What if I can’t grab the paraglider again?” he asks.

“Well, I wouldn’t recommend it,” Revali says, and Link makes a face at him. “Fine, fine, I’ll fly below and catch you if you fall too far.”

The first time he lets go, it’s terrifying—but time seems to slow for him, just as it does in battle, and he’s able to grab on again with no issue.

“I told you that you’d be fine!” Revali calls up. “Now do it again, for longer, this time.”

The rest of the morning passes like that, until Link feels like he could maybe try it without Revali hovering below him. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to draw his bow, aim, and shoot a target while falling, but he supposes Revali knows what he’s doing, and they’ll take this one step at a time.

When they return to the village in the afternoon, there is a letter with the royal seal waiting for Revali in his roost.

“Why wouldn’t this come to you?” Revali asks with a frown, plucking the letter off his desk where it’s been weighted down with a whetstone. “You’re the Hylian attaché, after all.” But before Link can say anything, Revali has broken the seal and unfolded the letter, his eyes darting quickly over the contents. Then he looks up at Link sharply, before continuing to read.

Link feels like he’s going to vibrate out of his own skin by the time Revali folds the letter closed. He thinks he knows what the letter is about—the princess had asked him for a pilot for the Divine Beast—but he doesn’t know that it’s from her.

“Well,” Revali says. “I can’t say I’ve ever received a letter from the princess before. Overdue, really.”

Link tips his head to one side. “How so?”

“They dug up this Divine Beast—Vah Medoh, they’re calling it—nearly three years ago. I’m the obvious choice to pilot; I can’t imagine why her royal highness dragged her feet about asking me.”

That would have sounded like unimaginable arrogance to Link before coming to live among the Rito, but now that he knows the one who is in charge is the one who has proven themselves, he’s inclined to agree.

To be fair, it is still arrogant, but that Link has come to find that aspect of Revali’s personality mostly amusing is probably a sign that it is, in fact, love.

“Will you accept?” he asks.

“Naturally,” Revali says. “There’s some matter of going to the Divine Beast and waking it up so that it can acknowledge me, but that seems straightforward enough. You’re to bring the relic with us—apparently it’s something of a key.”

“What relic?” Link says, confused. He came to Rito Village with one pack and probably too many weapons. He doesn’t recall anything that might be termed a relic, unless the princess is casting aspersions on his favorite axe.

“Sent to you separately, it seems,” Revali says. When they go down to Link’s roost, there’s a wrapped package on his shelf. It’s accompanied by a note, which reads:

IT’S MY BACKUP, DON’T BREAK IT.

— Purah

“Who is that?” Revali asks, shamelessly reading over his shoulder.

“No idea,” Link says. He unwraps the package to reveal a tablet of some sort. It has some designs on it that seem reminiscent of the ancient shrines.

“Well,” Revali says, puffing his chest out. “Are you ready for an adventure, bunny?”

The answer is, and has always been, yes.

Chapter Text

The Rito are not pâtissiers and it shows: the honeycake Revali presents him with is nothing like what Link has seen in bakeries in Castle Town. It is, however, closer to the homemade cakes in Hateno, but with a very Rito flourish: nuts and wild berries are baked into the top in a geometric pattern. The mental image of Revali fussing over their exact placement brings a smile to Link’s face.

“Congratulations,” Revali says solemnly. And then, after a beat: “Is there truly no song for the occasion?”

“No song,” Link says. “Not that I know of, anyway.” There’s no use wondering what would have happened if he had presented when he was supposed to; maybe his father would have asked one of the neighbors to make a cake, and they would have eaten it at dinner, alone in their house on the outskirts of the village. But when he thinks of enduring life in the barracks as an omega, being unpresented for so long seems preferable.

It seems a shame to disturb the pattern on top of the cake, but Link cuts it into pieces, and serves the two of them. The cake is not as sweet as Hylians would prefer, but it’s more delicate, and the flavor of the nuts and wild berries complement each other perfectly.

Revali nods to himself after his first taste, and somehow, Link suspects this particular cake is not his first try, or his second. Revali would never present him with anything less than his best effort, after all.

“It’s very good,” Link tells him after his first bite.

Revali looks proud, and with one wingtip, pushes the rest of the cake in Link’s direction.

Link grins at him, and demolishes it in short order.

They set out at dawn the next morning for the Divine Beast. From the landing that faces Warbler’s Nest, Revali says, “Want to try something?”

“Sure,” Link says.

Revali waves at the paraglider Link is holding. “I think I can launch you up with my Masterpiece.”

“Okay, I told you, you can’t call it that, that’s ridiculous,” Link scolds affectionately. Revali has been working tirelessly at perfecting his technique of creating an updraft, and seems to think it needs a name in order for his talent to be properly recognized. “You need something catchy.”

“Tornado?” Revali suggests with a thoughtful tilt of his head.

“Eh,” Link says. “We can do better.”

“Whirlwind, maybe?” Revali readies himself, crouching down with his wings spread out.

“I’m not sold,” Link says, gripping his paraglider tight.

“Gale?” Revali says, and then launches the updraft that sends them both soaring.

It’s amazing, flying over Lake Totori, guiding the paraglider to follow Revali west. It’s not like flying on Revali’s back; he’s reliant on the wind, and can’t gain altitude on his own. But it’s still completely breathtaking, the dawn light at his back, spilling out onto the landscape below.

Link guides the paraglider to the ground near Warbler’s Nest, and Revali lands near him.

“How was it?” Revali asks.

“Amazing,” Link says with no hesitation. “You’ve really got it down, now. I have to say, the force of the updraft took me by surprise, but I can get used to it.”

Revali’s chest puffs out with pride. “I’ll take you the rest of the way. The winds can be tricky through the hills.”

Over a ridge that Link has never crossed, the Divine Beast suddenly comes into view. It’s enormous; clearly patterned after a bird, and reminiscent of both the ancient shrines and the relic strapped to Link’s belt. It’s covered in a dusting of snow, and looks almost—forlorn.

Revali lands on top of it, and Link slides off his back.

Revali turns in a slow circle. “The head was always visible through the cliffside. We never imagined there was more to it. I used to come perch on it when I wanted to be alone.” He pauses, and glances at Link. “It was a childish flight of fancy, but I used to think I could almost hear it talking to me.”

Link thinks of the sword, and isn’t so sure that it was just Revali’s youthful imagination.

“Well. Bring the relic, let’s see what we can make of this,” Revali says and sets off for the strange protruding structure where the wings meet.

Revali holds the relic up to the pedestal and waits, but nothing happens. He turns the relic this way and that, but still nothing. Next they walk all the way around, holding the relic up at various points, and still nothing.

“I don’t understand,” Revali says, irritated and a little flustered. “The princess’s letter was clear. It shouldn’t be complicated. ‘Hold the relic up to the terminal’s pedestal’—why isn’t this working?”

Link takes the relic from him, and pats it gently a few times before smacking it hard.

He almost drops it when it lights up and chirps at him.

“I can’t believe you,” Revali says finally after an inarticulate squawk. “That’s probably ten thousand years old and your solution was to hit it. What if you’d broken it?”

Link shrugs. “If the ancient Sheikah made it, it’s probably sturdy enough.” He hands it back to Revali, who places it against the pedestal, and then the whole terminal lights up.

“Excellent,” Revali says. “Now that we’ve woken it, we just have to—”

And then he stops talking. His eyes are closed, and he doesn’t react to Link calling his name, or shaking his shoulder in increasing panic.

Link wonders if this is what it looks like, every year when he tries to pull the sword. He always goes alone, though, so there’s no way for him to know.

There’s nothing he can do except stand guard and wait it out, at least for a while. If it gets much later in the day, he’ll have to hope that shooting some bomb arrows up in the air will get some passing Rito’s attention. He doesn’t want to leave Revali alone and defenseless while he goes for help.

Revali’s breathing shifts from steady breaths to heavier pants, like when he pushes himself at the Flight Range. Then there’s a grunt that sounds distinctly pained, followed by a sharp exhale of breath, like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. And then he lets out a cry, one that sounds like fury and determination, and it echoes across the snowy canyon.

It sounds as though Revali is fighting Vah Medoh, and not having an easy time of it.

Link can’t say how long it continues; every one of Revali’s agonized gasps rings in his ears. His expression remains blank, his eyes closed. Link doesn’t know what to do—should he try again to shake Revali out of it? Should he wrest the relic from Revali’s grip and try to make the Divine Beast sleep once more? But just as he’s reaching for the relic, Revali shudders and his eyes snap open.

He stares ahead at the terminal, eyes wide, breathing roughly. He touches his chest and looks down, then shakes his head sharply, as if trying to dispel a dream—or a nightmare.

And then he turns to look at Link, and with no words, sweeps Link into his arms and clutches him close, cupping the back of Link’s head. Revali trembles as the snow continues to fall gently on them, the terminal casting a faint blue glow.

“Revali?” Link says finally, rubbing his back in the way he’s seen other Rito do—in the direction of the feathers, carefully and gently.

“Medoh’s been waiting,” Revali says, voice barely above a whisper in Link’s ear. “All this time, just waiting.” He swallows. “It set a trial for me, a monster the likes of which I’ve never seen—it felt real—”

“You defeated it,” Link says with soft reassurance, because he knows that much must be true. “It’s over, now.”

Revali holds him even tighter. “It showed me the price of failure, and I could not—I could not bear it—”

“What did it show you?” Link asks hesitantly.

Revali does not answer him for a long moment. “The village, in ruins, and you—” He takes in a wet-sounding breath.

It sounds disturbing enough, although Link has been contemplating his mortality since he first tried to pull the sword.

“It chose me,” Revali says, “to take it into battle against the Calamity. What awaits me—if that was a mere trial, then the real thing—” He pulls back enough to look Link in the eye. “Even with such a behemoth as this, victory is not guaranteed.”

“I know,” Link says softly.

“Link,” Revali says, and his expression is desperate, and pained, and full of terrible resolve. “You know what I’m trying to say. If—if you cannot abide the risk I’m taking and no longer wish to entertain my courtship, I’ll understand.”

“You think my feelings are that fairweather?” Link says, stung.

“No,” Revali says. “But I would have liked for you to have known this, from the beginning. So that you could decide.”

That hits Link in a tender, shameful place. He never even considered doing Revali the same courtesy. From the beginning, he just wanted to escape—escape his failures, his fears, and a destiny that seemed hopeless to survive.

There, on the back of an ancient and mighty Divine Beast, Link hears an echo of a voice he only knows from dreams:

Are you ready?

Link swallows once, then squares his shoulders, and says, “I have something to tell you.”

Revali insists on leading him inside of Vah Medoh for shelter, first. Torches of blue flame on the walls obligingly light up as they make their way further inside. Link spies a terminal, like the one outside, but Revali continues onward, to a more sheltered area. It’s warmer than it should be, for just being out of the wind.

“Almost cozy,” Revali says. Then a strange, startled expression crosses his face.

“What is it?” Link asks, looking around them in alarm.

“It—spoke to me. Not in words, exactly, but it remembered the pilot before, and making the space inside warm or cool for them.” Revali has a faraway look, almost dreamy, and then he draws in a sharp breath. “I will get used to it. Now then—you have something to tell me.” He sits on the ground, and waves a wing at Link to do the same.

Link sits down, and then almost immediately stands up again. He moves restlessly around the space, and then settles for looking out a port window that’s half blocked by snow. He can see Revali’s reflection in the glass.

“I told you I went to the castle when I was twelve,” he says. Every word is a struggle, but he knows he has to do this.

“Yes,” Revali says. “I assumed it was to begin your training as a knight.”

Link nods sharply. “Yes, and no. A message came from the King, calling boys my age to present themselves at the castle. Otherwise, I would have stayed in the village and continued training with my father, before joining the knights at Fort Hateno as a squire. Anyway—myself and four other boys went to the castle. My father drove the wagon. We thought it was such a grand adventure. The whole time, all I wanted to do was venture off the road, and see what else was out there.” He smiles, and he can see how sad he looks in his reflection. “I didn’t really get a chance to do that until I came here.”

He tells Revali the rest of the story in fits and starts—the princess announcing that he would be the Hero who wields the sword that seals the darkness, the first journey through the Lost Woods, alone and terrified, with no weapon, for surely he would come back with the sword. The Great Deku Tree speaking to him in a resonant tone that filled the forest, and the first of the sword’s rejections.

“I go back every year on my birthday,” Link says. “Even though I didn’t have a goddess-aspect, every year I hoped it would be different, that maybe the sword would acknowledge me, even though I wasn’t yet an alpha.” He looks down at his feet. “And now I’ve presented, and I’m still not what I should be.” The shame he’s been pushing away up until now overwhelms him, and he has to fight to get the last words out. “No matter how hard I work, I’m still a failure. So if—if you don’t want to court me, knowing that—”

He can’t say he’ll understand, anymore than he can stop the tears slipping down his cheeks.

Revali comes to a stand and coaxes Link to face him. “Do you think my feelings are that fairweather?” he says softly, his expression serious. He brushes a wingtip over the tear tracks on Link’s face.

Link wants to look away, but he can’t. Even knowing what he knows now, Revali isn’t looking at him any differently. He shakes his head minutely.

“Now, as for the rest of your story, I would like to clarify a few points, if I may,” Revali says, tone as precise as when he’s guiding Link at the Flight Range. “Tell me exactly the Tree’s words to you.”

It’s a demand he’s heard from other Rito before, and for once, he thinks he can oblige. He’ll never forget the first time he saw the sword, not as long as he lives.

“It said, ‘You’re not yet ready, young Hero; if you try to claim the sword as you are now, you will surely perish.’” He holds his breath, waiting for Revali’s reaction.

“That’s all?” Revali presses.

“That’s all,” he says.

Revali actually snorts. “Well, there you have it. Nothing at all to do with your goddess-aspect, as I suspected. You were a fledgling, alone. I wouldn’t have given you a legendary blade either. And it never spoke to you again?”

Link shakes his head.

“Interesting,” Revali says. “This would have been several years before the Divine Beasts were excavated, but we’ll come back to that. Now, as for this utter nonsense about your goddess-aspect—the Tree didn’t tell you that you would be an alpha. Did the princess?”

Link hesitates. “No?” he says finally.

“Who did, then?”

Revali’s questioning is rubbing him the wrong way. “Everyone,” he says defensively. “It’s obvious, alphas are the strongest, the most powerful—of course the Hero should be one.”

“Hmm,” Revali says. “I’d rather have a courageous omega, personally—because of course you’re scared, but you can do this.” He pulls Link into his arms and holds him close. “But you don’t have to do it alone. There are four Divine Beasts and a goddess-blooded princess who will help you seal this evil away. Victory is far from certain, but with all of us together, we have at least a fighting chance.”

Link clutches at him. For the first time, he feels something like hope—hope that Revali is right, that he is as he should be, that the sword may acknowledge not just himself, but all of them.

Then Revali pulls back. “I intended to do this later, in the village,” he says. “But I think now is right, after all.”

Right for what, Link wonders, but then Revali pulls out a small box. He clears his throat before saying, “This is merely the first token of my esteem.”

Link takes the box and opens it, to reveal amber earrings nestled in soft cloth.

“They were made by a Gerudo jeweler, and imbued with magic to protect the wearer,” Revali says.

The earrings look beautiful and finely-made; that they are also meant to protect him from harm makes his heart clench up a little.

“If they do not meet with your approval—” Revali says stiffly, and Link realizes he’s been silent too long.

He hurriedly unclasps the small hoops from his ears, and then carefully puts the amber earrings in. “How do I look?” he asks, and bites his lip. He’s never worn something so nice.

Revali’s expression is one of triumphant joy, and something softer, as well. “Happy, I think,” Revali says, and Link realizes that he’s right: he is happy, blindingly so, and hopeful, and he throws his arms around Revali, and holds him like he’ll never let go.

“Are you sure you should be doing that?” Link says tentatively, as Revali pokes at the main terminal.

“It’ll be fine,” Revali says dismissively. “Besides, Medoh wants to stretch its wings.” He pets the terminal. “As anyone would, after being grounded for so long,” he says, in a tone that is nearly a coo.

Link settles for grabbing hold of the side of the pedestal and has his paraglider ready to go.

There’s a tremendous noise as Medoh fully awakens, and then a jolt as it actually begins to lift up in the air. It should be impossible for something so big and so heavy to fly, but Medoh takes to the sky like it’s nothing. It’s absolutely incredible, and they go up, up, up, until Link can see all of Hyrule and beyond.

He walks closer to the edge, and realizes that they’re so far up that the land below doesn’t even look real. He can see the castle, the Great Plateau, and even Mt. Lanayru in the distance. Hateno is out of sight, but he wonders how different it looks, when viewed from this high.

Revali joins him. “Medoh suggested I set a course for it to circle the area,” he says. He looks out at the world around them. “Incredible, isn’t it?” he says.

“I never could have imagined it,” Link says softly.

Revali’s chest puffs out in pride, and he tucks one wing around Link and pulls him close to his side.

Medoh is in fact turning in a small, gradual circle, and when they’re facing Death Mountain, Link is startled to see something perched on the slope. “Is that—is that a giant lizard?” Link asks, staring.

“Ah,” Revali says. “Another of the Divine Beasts. The princess is still looking for a pilot, I believe.”

Whatever he’s about to say next is forestalled by the sudden appearance of Rito warriors, who hover above Medoh and look poised to attack until they catch sight of Revali.

“Stand down,” Revali calls out, waving a wing sharply.

An entire squadron lands on the back of Medoh, their expressions astonished.

Haslen is the first to say anything. “What in the name of the Goddess Hylia—”

“This Divine Beast has acknowledged me as its pilot, as you can see,” Revali says. “When the Calamity returns, we will defend Hyrule from the skies, and vanquish this primal evil.” He nods in Link’s direction. “With the help of the legendary Hero, of course.”

The warriors look absolutely astonished.

“Master Revali,” one of them says, and the others quickly echo it in a chorus.

Revali looks triumphant, every inch the proud, accomplished warrior, and he says, “Yes, I suppose I am.”

The warriors explore the surface of Medoh with some curiosity, asking Revali questions about how it flies, how it fights, and Revali answers them all with perfect confidence, as if he’s always known.

But finally, Revali joins Link back near the edge as the other warriors depart. “Well, Hero?” he asks, waving a wing at the village below.

“I still prefer ‘bunny,’” Link says, and jumps off the side of the Divine Beast, paraglider unfolded.

Revali is the talk of the village when they return. The warriors who descended on Medoh have clearly spread the story; on their way to see the Elder, people stop Revali to exclaim over the Divine Beast, taking its rightful place in the sky again.

“It is magnificent, isn’t it,” Revali says. “Pardon us, we really must see the Elder.” Then he ushers Link up the stairs, to where Inolo is waiting.

She doesn’t look surprised. “Well, now, Master Revali,” she says gravely.

Revali actually looks humbled by the acknowledgment. “If you say, Elder.”

“The Divine Beast says,” she corrects with some amusement. “I have suspected for some time that you were meant for great things; truly, you will be the pride of all the Rito in the dark times ahead.”

“I will endeavor to be worthy,” he says, and bows deeply with his wingtips over his heart.

“And you, young Hero—please do me a favor and make it clear that you do not consider Medoh a courting gift. There will be tremendous sulking among all the other suitors this spring, otherwise. They can hardly offer one of their own, after all.”

Link can’t help but look out at the Divine Beast, then at Revali, who is maybe trying to not look smug but definitely is. “Yes, ma’am,” Link says, and bows as well.

“Now then. The goddess-blooded princess continues her preparations, as should the two of you. On that note, I know a song of the events that transpired ten thousand years ago.” She looks at Link with her disconcerting gaze. “Would you like to hear it?”

“I’m ready,” Link says, determined.

“I’ve heard a version of that before, but never as an instructional song,” Revali says later in his roost. The seasons are changing; the plum blossoms have opened, and spring is right around the corner. It’s still cold, though, or at least that’s Link’s excuse for snuggling under Revali’s wing.

“Did it make sense to you? The part about the divine beast, I mean,” Link asks.

Revali hesitates, then instead of answering, asks in turn, “Did it make sense to you, the part about the sword?”

“Not really,” Link admits. “Maybe if the sword ever talks to me, it’ll clear it up.”

Revali nods, and looks out to the sky, where Medoh is still circling. “I hope you’re right. We’ll go up again tomorrow; it seems I have much to learn.”

Revali writes a letter to the princess, to inform her of his success. But before he seals the letter closed, he turns it to Link. “Anything you’d like to add?” he asks.

Link bites his lip, and then writes a few short lines: Presented as an omega—don’t think the King will allow me to go try to pull the sword. Awaiting your orders.

Revali folds the missive up before sealing it with wax. “To the post box with us, and then the kitchen, I assume—I can hear your stomach growling from here.”

Link rolls his eye, but it’s true enough. Before they leave, though, Revali fusses with Link’s hair, and it takes him a while to realize that Revali is making sure the earrings can be displayed to their best advantage.

“You have to keep your promise to the Elder, after all,” Revali says when Link calls him on it. “Imagine if you corrected everyone’s misapprehension about Medoh and they discovered that I’d really given you only a shiny pebble.”

“Isn’t that what amber is?” Link says innocently. “A shiny pebble you find in the dirt?”

Revali nips the tip of his pointed ear. “I’ll have you know those came all the way from Gerudo Town. I sent amber and sketches, but the result is beyond even my expectations.”

“Is that you trying to tell me I’m pretty?” Link asks, and tilts his head to the side to try to tempt Revali further.

“Bunny,” Revali says forbiddingly.

“You started it,” Link says. “Come on, nobody’s looking.”

“Not the point,” Revali says.

“It’s my people’s custom,” Link tries again. “If a Hylian saw me like this, hardly a single mark on my neck, they’d assume you didn’t like me very much.”

“Is that so,” Revali says slowly. He clearly knows that Link is manipulating him, but also just as clearly is eager to press his suit correctly.

“Uh-huh,” Link says, and then gasps as Revali nips at his neck, then drags his rough tongue over the spot in a way that makes Link moan.

This continues for several delightful minutes before a noise on the stair makes Revali jerk away.

Revali coughs and fusses with his clothes, as if they hadn’t been caught red-handed by a disapproving matron. “I hope I have sufficiently followed your Hylian custom,” he says loudly, clearly for said matron’s benefit.

“Yes, thank you,” Link says, feeling a little dazed and a lot turned on.

“Alright, you menace,” Revali says under his breath. “Downstairs, let’s go, before you get us into any more trouble.”

Revali gets a lot of sour looks from what Link assumes are other suitors on their way to the post box and then the kitchen. Link knows he’s supposed to say something to clear the air, but he doesn’t even know where to start, or how to be not awkward about it. Revali must notice his struggle, because he clears his throat to get everyone’s attention and then exclaims that he cannot believe some people would think a Divine Beast was a courting gift, although of course it would be appropriate for the Hero of Hyrule, who will surely need Vah Medoh’s strength in the dark days ahead. Of course Revali has given him Gerudo-made amber earrings with protective magic, because everyone knows jewelry is the traditional first gift.

“Show off,” Nesi accuses Revali with an extravagant roll of his eyes. To Link, he says, “They’re very pretty and suit you very well.”

Frona the innkeeper says, “Oh, let me see, he wouldn’t even show me when they arrived, even though he never would have been able to get them without my help!”

“Thank you for your assistance,” Revali says pointedly, and Frona ignores him in favor of touching the earrings with a delicate wingtip.

“The filigree work,” she sighs happily. “Gorgeous.” To Revali, she says, “You found good amber for these.”

Revali’s chest puffs out with pride. “It was important to find something worthy of him.”

It continues like that, public acknowledgement of the gift, with compliments to Link on how nice the earrings look on him, some polite curiosity on how the earrings even go on and if it hurts to wear them (Link demonstrates to a few, and assures them it doesn’t hurt at all), and general agreement that Revali has a fine eye for design, and no sense of restraint.

“Everyone else’s gifts are Rito-made, mostly of wood with some gems,” Nesi says under his breath to Link. “Your gift is all anyone is going to talk about, probably for years to come.”

Nesi is right; the rest of the evening, everyone they meet has something to say about the earrings. It doesn’t stop at that; he overhears conversations discussing the gift in detail. The general conclusion seems to be that it is flashy, but that Link looks very happy, so Revali must know what he’s doing.

Link would say he hates the attention, but that’s not entirely true. A part of him that he’s growing to recognize as his omega instincts goes all shivery and warm to see the flash of gems in his ears and the marks on his neck.

He could maybe do without the very merry, slightly risqué song about ‘Hylian customs’ that’s going around, though.

Several days later, Revali presents his second gift. It’s in the guise of a picnic south of the village, under a wide canopy of cherry blossoms. Revali busies himself with unpacking a basket, bringing out so much food that even Link is a little agog. “The second gift is traditionally a Tabantha goose,” Revali says, opening a wooden container to reveal something that definitely looks like poultry. He clears his throat delicately. “A nesting pair takes turns keeping the eggs warm; it would be a poor mate indeed who could not provide sustenance for their family during this time.”

Link can feel his eyes go wide at the idea of eggs, and really, they have to talk about this sooner or later, but now doesn’t really seem like the time. Especially when Revali has a piece of presumably goose in his beak and is leaning toward Link.

The moment stretches out, and finally Revali lifts his eyebrows meaningfully.

“What?” Link says, perplexed.

Revali huffs out a sigh, and takes the goose meat out of his beak. “You’re supposed to eat it.”

“Right,” Link says slowly, and holds out his hand.

“No,” Revali says, looking flustered. “You’re supposed to take it from me with your beak—well, your mouth.”

“Oh,” Link says, because that’s—he doesn’t know how he feels about that. It feels sort of close to hand feeding, which is another omega thing he never expected to pertain to him.

Revali’s face falls. “It’s considered romantic,” he mutters. “Never mind, we don’t have to do it.” He holds the box with the roasted goose. “I didn’t bring cutlery, I’m afraid.”

“We can do it,” Link says. It’s kind of weird, but not so weird that he isn’t game to try.

“We really don’t have to,” Revali says, looking away.

Link reaches out to touch his beak and gently coaxes Revali to face him. “Will you please put the goose in your mouth and feed me, already?”

“This is getting more romantic by the second,” Revali says sourly, but does as he’s asked. Link takes the proffered goose meat in between his teeth, and awkwardly pulls it into his mouth to chew.

It is, in a word, delicious. A little weird with Revali staring at him so intently, though, while he’s chewing what is actually too big a mouthful.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Link says after he swallows. “I didn’t know you could cook like that.”

Revali looks relieved, which, right, second gift. “It’s the Elder’s recipe,” he says, and it sounds like boasting. He certainly knows Revali well enough by now to know when he’s doing that.

Revali gives him a smaller piece, next, and they eat the rest of the food that way. Well, almost all of it—even Link has to admit defeat when they get partway through the desserts.

Resting under the tree, the cherry blossoms overhead and the sun beginning its descent toward the horizon, Link marshals his courage to bring up the question of children. “About the egg thing,” he says.

Revali looks down toward a container that had strips of sweet omelette in it. “I thought you said you were going to burst if you ate anymore.”

“No,” Link says, and feels his ears go hot. “Not those eggs. Um. About kids.”

Revali sits up a little straighter, giving Link his very much undivided attention. “Yes?”

Link picks at the blanket under him. “The thing is. You know we don’t have kids the same way, right?”

Revali looks lost in thought, and then says, “Right. Hylians are like deer, or elk. Which is very strange, but I suppose you can’t help it.”

“Take it up with the Goddess,” Link says, cracking a smile. “So, um. Normally, because I’m an omega—I can have children. I just don’t know if I can have them with a Rito. Our friends in Tabantha Village say there’s no way to know for sure. Some couples can, some can’t.”

Revali looks startled. “So you could be—with children right now?”

Link shakes his head. “Thalea said not from my first heat. And we usually have one child at a time. Two is rare.”

“Well, truth be told, I wasn’t quite ready for parenthood,” Revali says, looking a shade relieved. “We have pressing business to see to first, after all.”

“Right,” Link says. “I just, you know, wanted to bring it up. In case it’s a dealbreaker for you.”

Revali tips his head in puzzlement. “Is it for you?”

“I didn’t know I could get pregnant a month ago,” Link says wryly. “So I never really thought about it. Never expected to be able to. And anyway—didn’t really see myself raising kids with the whole Hero thing.”

“Ah,” Revali says delicately. “But if we could have children, would you want to?”

There’s that soft well of hope in him again, the hazy idea of an after. “Yeah,” Link says softly. “When everything is done. If you want.”

“Not all Rito pairs can lay eggs on their own,” Revali says quietly, after a moment. “But there’s always an egg that needs warming. To our way of thinking—if you hatch it, it doesn’t matter who laid it.”

Link tries to imagine sitting on a nest, Revali bringing him food, and then trading off. It’s not at all a future he ever expected, but he wants a chance at it, together.

“Is the goose special occasion only?” he asks. “Or can I get it anytime I’m sitting on the egg?”

“I’ll make it whenever you want,” Revali promises, a look of soft, wondering joy on his face, and kisses him.

On the day of Revali’s third gift, there is a letter from the princess.

They read it together, and predictably, Revali fixates on one part of the missive. “Naturally, I am the first to master my Divine Beast,” he says, gloating. “A shame we must wait for the other pilots to achieve the same feat.”

“They might not be that far behind,” Link says, taking the letter from Revali to read it again.

I have prayed at the Springs of Power and Courage, the princess writes. The wisdom I have received is this: to be divided before the Calamity is folly. I will send word when the other three Divine Beasts have acknowledged their pilots; at that time, we will all meet at the Lost Woods and escort the Hero to claim the sword.

There’s more advice for Revali regarding Vah Medoh and its mechanics, most of which makes little to no sense to Link, but he can already tell that Revali is chomping at the bit to go up to Vah Medoh to try it out.

And at the end of the letter, there is a short message for Link.

I believe you are exactly as you were destined to be—the Goddess Hylia’s chosen hero, the embodiment of courage.

It makes something in him unwind to read that; if Revali and the princess both think he’s just as he should be, he can try believing it, too.

“I’m sure they won’t be that quick about it,” Revali says decisively. “We’ll have time.”

“Time for what?” Link asks, but instead of answering him, Revali directs him to the closest landing and asks him to wait.

He cools his heels on the landing, looking out at Medoh flying high above. He doesn’t have long to wait, but it is long enough for a bit of a crowd to gather on the stairs off the landing, watching him expectantly.

He nearly laughs when Revali uses his Gale to make his entrance, but manages to restrain himself. Revali does not acknowledge the onlookers, but he does nudge Link so that they’re both in full view.

“The third gift is traditionally something to keep you warm,” Revali proclaims, clearly projecting for the crowd. “As you already have the best clothing and armor for winter, I thought to gift you something suitable for spring.”

It’s a hooded cape, finely woven. On the back is the symbol of the Rito—well, not just that. There are three feathers on either side of the usual symbol, which he’s only seen on two other things: the Flight Range deck, and on his paraglider.

He probably should complain about Revali literally marking him as his, but then again—his omega instincts say yes, yes, yes, so he swings the cape around his shoulders, but leaves the hood down so as to not cover Revali’s feathers in his hair. And then, purely to get Revali back for his showoff entrance, he does a twirl so that his back is to Revali, and looks over his shoulder at him. “Well?” he asks. “Will people think I’m yours, if I accept this?”

Revali looks poleaxed. “Sometimes I’m too talented for my own good,” he mutters.

“Mama, is he going to accept it?” a piping voice asks from the crowd, only to be shushed.

Link turns back to face Revali, who appears to be actually holding his breath. Link knows he’s supposed to play it like he’s not a sure thing, but he doesn't have the heart to drag it out too much. And also, Revali might pass out if he doesn’t take a breath soon—as might all the onlookers.

“I suppose,” Link says slowly, “I wouldn’t mind. If people thought I was yours.”

Revali sweeps him up in his wings, to whistles and cheers from the crowd behind them, and Link doesn’t bother hiding his smile—he’s done enough playacting for one day.

Throughout their courtship, they still make time for training every day, in addition to regular patrol. Link has progressed to learning to draw a bow mid-air, though he has yet to actually hit a target. Revali, meanwhile, has essentially finished tweaking what he’s calling the Great Eagle Bow, and is now regularly hitting multiple targets at once. Considering how Link is struggling with the basics of aerial archery, seeing that level of skill is mind-boggling.

And also, it makes him a little hot under the collar. Unfortunately, that’s also the case for nearly everything Revali does. But he’s trying very hard to respect the boundaries that Revali set, and see this courtship through traditionally.

It’s not helped, though, by the fact that Reval is constantly fussing with his hair. It takes him an embarrassingly long amount of time to realize that he’s being preened, and then he feels bad, because apparently he’s supposed to be doing that back, and he didn’t know. And now he doesn’t even know where to start.

He gets his chance one evening in Revali’s roost, when Revali removes his armor and hisses in pain as he reaches for something on his back.

“Are you okay?” Link asks, concerned.

“There’s a feather that’s—ugh, it’s always in that spot, where the strap rubs. Would you—” Revali hesitates, and then takes in an audible breath. “Would you pull it out?”

“Sure,” Link says, with a confidence he doesn’t feel. He steps forward and looks where Revali had indicated, and finds the feather in question. The skin around it looks inflamed, and he bites his lip anxiously. “Just pull it out? Will it hurt?” Link asks.

“Pull in the direction of the feather,” Revali says. “It’s only going to hurt if you leave it.”

Link takes a deep breath, and then pulls—and the sound Revali makes as the feather slides free is going to haunt him when he’s alone in his hammock later that night.

“Mmm,” Revali sighs, shaking his feathers out. “Now you’re the one that’s been holding out on me.”

Before Link can apologize for not having reciprocated all this time, Revali turns and steps behind him, and carefully removes the clip with his feathers and hands it to Link.

“Can I still wear this, after?” Link asks.

Revali pauses in straightening Link’s unbound hair with his beak. “Would you want to?”

“I like it,” Link says simply.

Revali tugs on the hair on the nape of his neck, and Link gasps and shivers. “Well,” Revali says in his ear, “I’m certainly not going to stop you.”

Link doesn’t stop him, either, when Revali nips at his neck and tongues the tips of his ears, all under the guise of preening. He wants to accuse Revali of being a hypocrite, but then Revali will stop, so Link just enjoys it, and shamelessly pushes his hips back against Revali’s.

“Keep it down, bunny, I’m just fixing your hair,” Revali says, sounding both amused and very interested.

“I’m going to get you back for this,” Link says breathlessly.

The next day, after a morning patrol followed by more training at the Flight Range, Link takes his leave of Revali in front of the inn.

“I’m just going to go—” he waves a hand in the direction of the bathhouse.

Revali actually steps in close and sniffs him in a way that would have Hylians suggest they get a room. “You smell really good,” he says, sounding puzzled.

“Thank you,” Link says, and accepts a towel from Frona when he stops by the inn desk. They’ve worked out a deal—he brings her firewood, and she lets him use the bath free of charge.

“Are you sore?” Recali asks, still following him down the stairs to the bathhouse. “You should have said, I would have flown you to the hot springs.”

“I didn’t want to go to the hot springs,” Link says, after building up the fire to heat the bath. “I wanted some privacy.”

Revali’s eyebrows furrow. “For what?”

“Three more gifts and you can find out,” Link dares to say, and then shuts the bathhouse door in Revali’s outraged face.

The fourth gift is of the suitor’s choosing, to be made by their own hand. Link has seen a few of them already—a beautifully woven rug, an exquisitely painted vase, a handsomely crafted low writing table. He’s curious what Revali has made for him, and a little surprised that he hasn’t received it yet. There seems to be no set day for specific courting gifts; however, no couple has yet progressed to the fifth gift, so there is clearly some sort of schedule being followed.

“You really need to stop fussing and call it done,” he overhears Haslen chide Revali that evening.

“Easy for you to say,” Revali snipes. “Don’t think anyone’s forgotten your fourth courting gift to Nesi.”

Haslen’s squawk of protest is the last thing he hears before they move out of earshot.

But Revali must take Haslen’s words to heart, because that evening after the sun has set, Revali stops outside of Link’s roost, where he is seated on the rug on the floor, cleaning his boots with the lamp turned low.

“May I have a moment of your time?” Revali asks formally. He’s holding something covered in a cloth, and he looks truly nervous. Which is ridiculous—he could give Link a rock and Link would still accept his courtship. He tried telling Revali that somewhere around the second gift, but Revali evidently found that sentiment insulting rather than romantic, so Link has not repeated it.

“Um, yes?” Link says, and fumbles with the brush and his boots and then stands up, dusting himself off and trying to look somewhat presentable.

“My fourth gift to you,” Revali says, and then clears his throat. “It may not be as truly perfect as it could be, given the circumstances, but please understand that adjustments can be made to suit you. It should not require any, of course, but I request the opportunity to make any modifications you desire before you reject it.”

And then, like the drama queen he is, he whisks the covering off to reveal a bow.

And not just any bow. Link takes it carefully from him, and even at first glance, he can tell this is a masterwork. It’s clearly patterned after the Great Eagle Bow, but scaled down for him. It’s perfectly balanced—of course it is—and a quick draw.

“It should serve you equally well in air and on horseback,” Revali says, like he has to defend his creation. “And it should comfortably allow you to shoot three arrows at a time, but I could only estimate based on how you wield other bows, so if adjustments need to be made to the riser or the grip—”

“You made this for me?” Link interrupts.

Revali holds his gaze. “No other. If you will not accept it, I will burn it before I allow anyone else to touch it.”

Link looks down at it. In addition to its magnificent function, the form is beautiful. It’s been carved and painted, and Link thinks there’s no bow like it in all of Hyrule, and marvels that the man he loves made this just for him.

“I accept this, your fourth gift,” Link says, as serious and solemn as the occasion seems to warrant.

“You...accept?” Revali says slowly, like he’s misheard.

“You can pry this out of my cold, dead hands,” Link says firmly, cradling the bow close.

“Your cold, dead hands are what it’s intended to prevent,” Revali says, a little of his usual sarcasm returning to his voice as his relief shows plainly on his face. He steps forward, so that they’re toe to talon. “It meets with your approval, then?” he says, voice low.

“If we weren’t waiting, I’d tell you to take me right now,” Link says, and he’s not actually joking.

“Two more gifts,” Revali says in almost a croon. “You can make do until then, can’t you?” He brushes the tip of his beak against one of Link’s scent glands.

If Revali is going to tease him like this, he deserves a taste of his own medicine. “It’s not as good,” Link says, and lets his lips graze over a particularly good spot on Revali’s beak. “My fingers aren’t long enough.”

Revali inhales sharply.

“Or wide enough,” Link murmurs mercilessly. “And you’ve heard the stories about omegas. You know what I really want.”

“When the time comes, you dreadful little tease, I’m going to fill you so full that even your ferocious appetite will be sated,” Revali says. And then, because he is actually the worst, he wraps one wing around Link, and presses a wingtip right where Link wants it.

Link shivers and pushes back against it, and feels a trickle of slick make its way down his thigh. He’s aware that he’s done this to himself, but it doesn’t help the sheer amount of want that throbs through him. “Revali,” he pleads.

Revali takes the bow from him and places it on top of the chest of drawers, and then turns out the lamp before taking Link in his wings again. For cover, Link realizes, as Revali rubs his wingtip against his hole again.

“Quiet now, bunny,” Revali says, and brings his hips flush with Link’s, and undoes Link’s trousers before slipping his wingtip down the back.

“How is this not against the rules?” Link whispers, because he hasn’t held out so far just to give up now.

“A certain amount of intimacy is to be expected after the fourth gift,” Revali says, and nips his neck just above his scent gland. “A courting couple should ascertain compatibility in all respects.” He thrusts his finger in, and Link barely bites back a cry. “If I can’t make you this wet, after all, we have no business continuing further.”

Link clutches at Revali’s shoulders as Revali fingerfucks him slow and hard, and has to bite his knuckle when Revali brushes up against the good spot. “Shhh,” Revali says, and then rubs it again, harder. “Was this what you were after, hmm?”

Link takes himself in hand. And then it occurs to him that Revali’s cock isn’t out, and he reaches down to rectify that situation immediately, only for Revali to stop him.

“None of that, now,” Revali says, probably aiming for unaffected, but his breathing is coming faster.

“How is that fair?” Link says, and then gasps when Revali presses him against one of the roost beams and puts one thigh between Link’s for him to rub against, even as he fingers him faster.

“My desire for you is not in question,” Revali says. “Bunny, if you only knew—I haven’t gone one night without remembering what you were like, without—ah—”

Link pulls on one of his braids, and Revali gasps, and redoubles his efforts.

“You’re all I think about,” Link pants out. “In my hammock, in the bathhouse—”

Revali shudders, and then Link feels a second wingtip join the first, and it stretches him so wide and so good, and he only has to rub his cock against Revali’s thigh a few more times before he comes, muffling his moan against Revali’s shoulder.

It takes him a few minutes to get his wits back, and when he does, he realizes that he just let Revali make him come in his roost, in the middle of the village, where anyone could see. “Is this...happening all over the village?” he asks.

“Don’t go looking in dark corners after the fourth gift, or so the saying goes,” Revali says wryly. They wash up with Link’s basin, and then Revali looks at the bow on the shelf. “In the morning, we should test your bow at the Flight Range—truly, if it needs any adjustments—”

Link kisses him. “I’m sure it’s perfect,” he says firmly. Then he looks down Revali’s body. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”

“Again, my desire is not in question,” Revali says, and shifts in a way that speaks of a certain kind of discomfort.

Link sighs, and presses a kiss to his beak. “Hurry up with that fifth gift, then,” he says. And then, a wicked impulse makes him go up on his toes to say, “Think of me, tonight.”

“Bunny, if I could do anything other than that, I would arguably suffer a lot less,” Revali says, rolling his eyes, but he kisses Link and tugs on one of his braids before starting up the stairs to his own roost.

The new bow shoots like a dream, and Link has to remind himself several times that he promised Revali absolutely no carnal activities at the Flight Range.

That doesn’t mean he can’t talk about it, though.

“Is it against the rules for me to get down on my knees?” he asks Revali as he nocks two arrows at once.

“Not now, bunny,” Revali says, his gaze analytical as he looks over Link and the bow. “Hit the target with both of those and I’ll consider it.”

“Really?” Link asks, surprised, his arms beginning to tremble under the strain of the draw.

Revali snorts. “No. You can wait two days like everyone else.”

Everyone still courting presents the fifth gift that night—the hammock Revali had spoken of at the beginning of his heat.

“Are we going to hang this in your roost?” Links says, tracing the woven pattern with his fingertips. The construction seems very sturdy.

“If you accept it, and the sixth and final gift tomorrow, we’ll first hang it outside the village for the honeymoon,” Revali says, and gestures up at the moon, which is nearly full.

“Oh,” Link says, startled. That does answer a number of questions, like how anybody knows when to give their gifts, but also how the relatively modest Rito handle a cohort of newly mated couples. Then he looks up through his eyelashes at Revali. “Are there any sayings about the fifth gift?” he asks hopefully.

“That the night between the fifth and the sixth feels a hundred years long,” Revali says, looking amused.

“Ugh,” Link says with feeling. “Fine, I accept your fifth gift and I will wait until tomorrow, even though I still say there’s no way a blowjob is against the spirit of courtship rules.”

Revali tilts his head to one side in question. “Is that what you call it—when you, with your mouth—” he asks delicately.

“Yup,” Link says, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “Get ready, because I’m not going easy on you tomorrow night.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Revali says.

On the final day of courtship, the courting couples gather at Warbler’s Nest, along with most of the rest of the village. Link’s paraglider gets a lot of fondly amused looks, but no one says anything about him not having flesh and blood wings of his own.

One by one, the suitors step up on the dais with its design like the ancient shrines, and sing their courtship song. The songs are beautiful and heartfelt, and next to him, Link is startled to see Nesi wipe away a few tears.

“Stop looking at me, it’s very touching,” Nesi says stiffly to Link.

No courtship song is rejected, but Link figures if you get to this point, you must be pretty sure. It doesn’t stop each of the suitors from looking like they’ve been taken out at the knees when their intended inclines their head in acceptance at the end of their song.

Revali goes last, and the entire village seems to hold its breath when he begins to sing. His courtship song is literally the stuff of legends—on why Link is amazing (his kindness, skill at cooking, a clever pun on swordsmanship, golden hair), and why he is the only suitable match for Link in the dark days ahead, with his Divine Beast (the best, he argues), Gale, the hue of his plumage, and his vested interest in getting Link through his destiny in one piece. It ends with a sweet hopeful couplet, a wish for a peaceful, happy future in the village together.

The entire village shifts their attention from Revali to Link as the last note fades, and Link is surprised to find that he’s crying. He knows he’s supposed to incline his head gracefully instead of what he actually does, which is rush up to the dais and throw himself into Revali’s arms, but Revali coos in his ear and the village explodes into cheers, so it must be all right, after all.

Back in the village, baskets of provisions are distributed among the newly mated couples, and Revali has the hammock all packed up and ready to go.

“Are you sure you don’t need a blanket?” he asks Link for the third time.

“Isn’t that what your wings are for?” Link says, exasperated. “Besides, if you think you’re not covering me the whole night, you’re out of your mind.”

Revali actually looks a little embarrassed. “Well,” he says, and coughs.

There’s one last step before they fly off to the honeymoon spot Revali has selected for them. Revali carefully pulls a feather from his wings, the perfect length to weave in one of Link’s braids. “May I?” he asks, with a very tender sweetness.

Link nods, and Revali undoes his left braid, and then weaves the strands and the feather together. He secures the end, and Link looks in the mirror, and wonders at the young man staring back at him. He’s still recognizably himself, but he’s changed—and it’s more than just a feather in his hair. He touches the clip, still secured on the other side of his head. “Does it mean something, if I keep wearing this too?”

Revali looks over his shoulder at their reflection. “It means that you’re terribly in love with me.”

“Well,” Link says. “That’s okay, then.”

Revali embraces him from behind and kisses him. Then he gathers up their provisions and the hammock and looks ready to set off, when Link says, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Revali looks around his roost, and then down at the things he’s holding. “I knew you were going to change your mind about the blanket,” he says.

“It’s not about the blanket,” Link says with what he feels is remarkable patience. “Put that down and come here.”

Revali does as he’s told, and Link reaches into the back of his hair, where the hair clip is cleverly hidden. He undoes it, and then holds it out for Revali’s inspection. “May I?” he asks.

Revali’s eyes go wide as he takes in the clip with the braided strands of Link’s hair, coated in a clear potion of Nesi’s devising that keeps the braid from fraying and unraveling, rendering it nearly like a ribbon. “May I?” Link asks again, heart in his throat.

Revali looks like he might cry, and he nods swiftly. Link selects a braid, undoes it and removes the ribbon that Revali habitually braids in, and replaces it with the clip of his hair. No sooner has he fastened the end than Revali is diving for the mirror, and looking at Link’s hair in his braid.

“I didn’t expect…” he says softly.

“Well, I don’t want anyone getting any ideas,” Link says, and goes up on his toes to tuck his chin over Revali’s shoulder. “You’re my mate, and I’ll fight anyone who thinks they can get between us.”

“I really don’t know that I should encourage this bloodthirstiness,” Revali says, turning to embrace him. “But I suppose I fell in love with you when I discovered what a terror you are, so I really have no business expecting anything different.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Link says, and kisses him.

Chapter Text

Before the sun sets, all the newly mated couples depart for their chosen spot for the honeymoon. Revali insists that his spot is the best, and that he nearly came to blows over it with one of the other suitors.

Link thinks that sounds like a bit much, but when they arrive at the spot, with its gorgeous view of Strock Lake, south of the village, he has to admit it might be worth it. They hang the hammock up high between two sturdy trees, sheltered by the boughs of their budding leaves. Conveniently, there’s a branch over the hammock for Link to grab onto to climb out, which is very considerate, but also maybe Revali doesn’t want to have to ferry Link to and from bed all the time.

They watch the sunset together, Revali’s wing wrapped around his shoulder, and Link feels something in him well up at the beauty of the land around them, and wishes they had time to go explore it, together.

After, he promises himself. After, when their destiny is fulfilled.

“May I ask a question?” Revali says, interrupting his thoughts.

Link nods.

“Regarding the claiming—is there a ceremony? How is it done?”

“The ceremony is after,” Link says. “And we basically already did something like it, with the courtship song. I don’t need another one.”

Revali looks perplexed. “So how do we—”

Link rubs the back of his neck. “It’s not complicated, I don’t think. You just bite me. That’s it.”

“That’s it?” Revali repeats, and he sounds almost offended.

“I mean, we both have to want it? And then you bite my scent gland.”

Revali looks skeptical. “And that’s it.”

“As far as I know, yes,” Link says, amused despite himself. “The bite will scar and be visible the rest of my life, so, you know—try to make it look nice, if you can.”

“Nice,” Revali repeats. “Right.” His feathers ruffle and then flatten. “What will it mean for you? And am I to reciprocate?”

Link shakes his head. “The bite is just for me. My scent will change, and others will know I’m mated.”

“Even though you’re not bonded in the Hylian fashion?”

Link shrugs. “Thalea smelled bonded,” he offers. “I don’t pretend to understand the goddess’s magic. If others know I’m yours, whether that’s how I smell, or your feather in my hair, that’s good enough for me.”

Revali looks thoughtful, and nods. He then tips his beak at the hammock behind them. “Shall we?”

Link can’t say he’s ever really climbed a tree naked before, but there’s a first time for everything. Revali, because he absolutely can’t leave well enough alone, hangs a blanket over a nearby branch, and Link chooses not to remark on this in favor of pulling Revali down on top of him and kissing him as the sun dips below the horizon, leaving the sky red and pink as Revali nibbles at his neck.

“Should I do it now?” he asks diffidently, his tongue grazing over Link’s scent gland.

“I think it’s one of those in the moment things,” Link says diplomatically.

Revali pulls back, looking confused. “Would you care to elaborate on that?”

“You should do it when you come in me,” Link says. “At least that’s what I heard in the barracks.”

Revali heaves a sigh. “I really need to stop expecting any kind of romance from Hylian culture. Just bite you, indeed.”

Link is struck by a sudden wave of uncertainty. “We, um. We don’t have to. If you don’t want to. I mean, the feather is enough, right? So if you don’t want to, that’s—okay.”

“You’ve been waiting for this,” Revali says gently. “I may not understand why this is so important to you, but it doesn’t matter. It’s enough for me that you want it. You waited an entire courtship, even if you didn’t understand why it mattered to me. Do you really think I wouldn't do the same for you?”

LInk tries very hard to ignore his eyes welling up as he shakes his head.

“Good,” Revali says. “Now. It is the honeymoon, and you are finally underneath me again, having accepted my courtship. I’ve made you a number of promises, and I intend to fulfill them.” He nips sharply at the tip of Link’s ear, and Link shivers. “If that is acceptable to you.”

“I—yes, very much yes,” Link says, and kisses him again.

It’s different to be clear-headed and not foggy from heat, to feel sharp jolts of pleasure when Revali’s feathered fingers brush over his nipples, to see the way Revali shudders when Link rubs the feathers in the middle of his back just right; to let himself make all the noise he wants when Revali wraps his wingtips around his cock and strokes him a few times before gently touching his balls, then reaching further back to where Link is already so slick for him.

“Were you really—all those times in the bathhouse?” Revali asks breathlessly, as he presses one wingtip into Link. It’s bigger than three of his fingers, easily.

“Yes,” he moans. “I—please—”

“You don’t have to beg,” Revali says, his voice deep. “I’ll give you whatever you want, until you say you’ve had enough.”

“It’ll never be enough,” Link says, clutching at Revali’s shoulders, lifting his hips up into the thrusts of Revali’s wingtip.

“There’s the greedy boy I know and love,” Revali says with a sly smile.

Link’s cries are probably echoing across the lake, and he can’t bring himself to care, not when it feels this good. It’s almost too good, and he squeezes Revali’s shoulders. “Wait—I want you,” he says, reaching down to coax Revali’s cock out. Revali shudders, and Link takes his time relearning the heft and the shape of him. Revali probably wouldn’t find it romantic, but Link thinks his cock is basically perfect for him—other omegas don’t know what they’re missing out on, he figures.

“Do you want to turn over?” Revali asks, stroking Link’s hair away from his face, his touch lingering on the braid with his feather in it.

“No,” Link says, and licks his lips. “I want to see you.”

In the moonlight, Revali looks vulnerable, his expression achingly tender. To Link’s eyes, he’s handsome indeed, and Link is struck all over again that this is real, that they’ve chosen each other.

Revali eases his wingtip out, and pushes his cock in, his eyes on Link’s face the entire time. Outside of heat, it feels almost overwhelming, and Revali must read it on his face, because he stops and waits, then pushes in more, then stops again. “Is it too much?” he asks, concerned.

“You wish,” Link says, and tries very hard to relax. “Just—give me a minute.”

“We’ll go as slow as you need,” Revali says.

“I didn’t say anything about slow,” Link says, and shifts his hips a little, and Revali shifts with him, and then suddenly he slides deeper into Link, and it feels so good his toes curl. “You can—mm, you can move now.”

Revali forgoes any retort in favor of thrusting into him slow and so deep that Link can only gasp. And then he does it again, and again, and the way his cock fills Link up—he thought his memories of heat exaggerated how good it felt, but no. It feels superb, and he has to tell Revali as much.

“Oh,” he moans out. “Like that, like that—ahh, that’s deep, perfect, Revali—”

He doesn’t exactly mean to goad Revali into fucking him faster and harder, but he’s not mad about it. He kisses Revali’s beak wherever he can reach, his hands stroking over Revali’s shoulders and tugging carefully at the feathers near Revali’s braids that make him groan and shiver.

“Please tell me you’re close,” Revali says, panting for breath and slowing down to roll his hips in a way that makes Link melt. His feathers brush over Link’s nipples and his cock, and every thrust seems deeper than the last, and he reaches down for Revali’s hips to urge him closer, to get even more of him, and this time, when he cries out and begs, “Claim me, please,” Revali does not deny him. He shakes in Link’s arms, and Link swears he can feel his cock jerk inside him, and then Revali bites his scent gland, hard, and Link cries out because it’s too much, it’s too good, and he whites out as he comes.

When he comes back to himself, Revali is stroking his shoulder gently, avoiding the scent gland he bit.

“Does it hurt?” he asks in a hushed voice.

“Literally nothing hurts right now,” Link says dreamily.

“Are you sure? I can get something to clean it—”

Link wraps his legs around Revali’s hips. “Don’t go anywhere,” he says, pressing kisses to Revali’s beak. “It’s perfect. You did great.”

Revali sighs at that and relaxes a little on top of him, and Link finds his omega purr feels like second nature in this moment. He’s been courted, mated, and claimed, and he didn’t know it was possible to be this happy when he was first sent to Rito Village, all those months ago.

“When everything is done—would you want to come to Hateno, with me?” he asks.

“I’d go anywhere with you,” Revali says, like he doesn’t even have to think twice about it.

“Really anywhere?” he presses.

Revali tilts his head. “Where else do you want to go?”

“Everywhere,” Link says. “The bazaar in the Gerudo desert. The Akkala highlands. The ocean to the east, the top of Mt. Hylia, the labyrinth in the tundra to the north, the hot springs near Death Mountain that you think aren’t as good—”

Revali starts to laugh. “Everywhere it is,” he says affectionately. “I have just one request.”

“What’s that?”

“When we’re done adventuring, can we come back home to Rito Village?”

“Of course we’re coming back here,” Link says. “I’m not building a nest out in the wild—stop laughing!—”

They spend three days mostly in their hammock before they hear the beat of Rito wings.

“Master Revali?” someone calls up from the ground below, sounding like they regret all of their choices that brought them to this point.

“He’s busy!” Link yells back, and Revali muffles a laugh into his neck.

It’s one of the warriors from the village, who averts his eyes and says, “Excuse the intrusion, Master Revali, but the princess of Hyrule has arrived and asked for you. And the Hero. Who is your mate. I tried to tell her you were outside the village, but she said she could come to you, and I thought you wouldn’t want that, so—”

Link, who had been enjoying a very leisurely fuck before they were interrupted, tenses up at the news. “We have to go back,” he mutters to Revali. “She has a reputation for being incredibly persistent. She will come find us.” He’s not sure about how he feels about seeing her again, but he definitely does not want her to happen upon them in their present circumstances.

“Please tell the princess we will return with all due haste,” Revali says.

“He means in—mm, an hour,” Link amends, because it’s still the honeymoon.

“I will relay the message,” the warrior says in a strangled voice, and flees.

“Are you really going to let the goddess-blooded princess cool her heels in the village for an hour?” Revali asks, and resumes a soft roll of his hips.

“We won’t be an hour if you pick up the pace,” Link retorts.

“You’ve gone absolutely feral,” Revali says, but he does oblige.

After making themselves as presentable as they can on short notice—Link settles for a very abbreviated splash in the still frigid lake water—Revali flies then back to the village. The princess is waiting at the inn, three alpha knights nearby and a Sheikah woman by her side. He’s seen her from afar since the day she declared him the Hero, but this is the first time he’s seen her in traveling clothes.

“Your highness,” Revali says, and offers her a short bow. Link goes to one knee and stays there. He can tell the moment his scent registers with the knights, and it takes everything he has to keep his expression blank, and not wipe those disgusting, superior looks off their faces. He’s acquainted with two of them; his presentation must seem like a confirmation of his unworthiness.

“Perhaps we could talk privately,” the princess suggests.

“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of my mate,” Revali says sharply.

The princess’s brows fly up. “Forgive me, I meant that the three of us might speak without my retinue.”

“Your highness,” the Sheikah woman protests, and the princess shakes her head minutely.

“We can go to my roost,” Link surprises himself by offering.

“Very well,” the princess says, and rises to her feet to follow them.

Halfway to his roost, Link stops. “Are you hungry?” he asks the princess.

She looks startled. “Oh,” she says. “Well. Breakfast was some time ago.”

Link mentally translates that from court-speak to, she’s famished but doesn’t want to make demands. He leads the way to the closest communal kitchen. “Have a seat,” he says. “Unless you know how to use a kitchen knife.”

She shakes her head, and then sits and watches with something that looks like envy as he sets Revali to chop some vegetables while he fillets a fish from the icebox. “Until you replied to my letter asking for a pilot for Vah Medoh, I didn’t know you’d been sent here,” she says apologetically. “And then I thought—you’d be better off, away from the castle for a while.”

“You were right,” Revali says shortly, and the princess likely doesn’t know that the puff of his feathers screams defensiveness, but Link does. He lays one hand on Revali’s back above his armor and strokes his feathers in the direction of the grain, and gives him a look to say, follow my lead.

“It’s been nearly seven years since we last spoke,” Link says. “I didn’t know that you thought of me, particularly.”

She looks actually hurt, though she covers it quickly. “I couldn’t help you,” she says, and she sounds ashamed. “My father would not allow me to accompany you to the resting place of the sword that seals the darkness. I couldn’t fathom why the sword would not accept you, and no matter how certain I was that you were the Hero, there were doubts.” She looks out at the sky, at Medoh flying high above. “I first heard the voices from the Sacred Realm shortly before I met you. I was still a child, and although my mother tried to tell me what it would be like, I’m not sure anything would have prepared me. They aren’t voices, exactly, and the things they say aren’t always clear. But when I met you—” she looks at Link again, and something in her eyes is old and distant. “They roared as one, that you had returned, and I couldn’t understand how no one else could hear it, not when it echoed through every bone in my body.”

She blinks as if coming out of a daze when Link hands her a bowl of fish chowder. “I’m sure that must make little sense,” she says, and her shoulders slump a little.

“More than you might think,” Revali says with unexpected empathy, and Link sees him look out at Medoh.

“I researched everything I could on the events of ten thousand years ago—I was sure that there must be a clue there. We discovered the Guardians. I sent out the Sheikah to unearth the Divine Beasts. And still the sword would not acknowledge you.” She looks at him. “Did it never speak to you?” she asks carefully.

“Only in dreams,” Link says, his voice hoarse. “And I wasn’t sure if those were real.”

“Then let us go ask the sword directly. If you cannot hear it speak, perhaps I can. Impa—my retainer, you met her earlier—will detain my guard so we can slip away to meet the others. Can you lead us to the sword, once we get there?”

“Yes,” Link says. “It may sound strange, but I think I’ve always known how to find it.”

“Entirely possible,” she says placidly.

“Wonderful,” Revali says, with no little amount of sarcasm. “Now that that’s settled, perhaps we could finish lunch before we go off to singlehandedly save Hyrule.”

The princess looks slightly abashed. “It’s very good,” she tells Link, after sipping another spoonful of chowder.

“He’s extremely talented,” Revali says, puffing up with pride. “And so am I. Together, we’ll retrieve the sword and seal this evil away, I promise you that.”

The princess—Zelda, she insists they call her—is fretting about how long it will take them to reach the Lost Woods on horseback when Revali says impatiently, “Why ride when there is a perfectly good Divine Beast that can fly, right there?”

“Oh,” she says, wide-eyed. “But how shall we get up there?”

Revali gives Link a terrible look that promises mischief.

“Behave yourself,” Link admonishes. “Don’t divebomb the ground with her on your back—that’s a dirty trick to play on someone who’s never flown before.”

“What?” Zelda says, alarmed.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry about it,” Link says. She looks distinctly unreassured.

Revali flies him up first, and then goes back for Zelda. She looks astonished when she lands. “I saw Medoh when it was first discovered,” she says. “I couldn’t imagine how it could fly. This is wonderful.”

“It is, isn’t it,” Revali says, and steps up to the terminal. Medoh shifts course, leaving its orbit of the village to head northeast. It seems like no time at all before they are north of the castle.

Link looks over the edge. “Down there,” he tells Revali. “That clearing, north of the river.”

“I see it,” Revali says. “Your highness, you’re with me.”

“What about Link?” she asks.

“He has his own wings,” Revali says, and Link flings himself over the edge, the paraglider in his hands.

The other pilots are there when they land. There’s Lady Urbosa, the Gerudo pilot, who looks like she could snap Link in half without really trying. There’s Daruk, the Goron pilot, who also looks like he could snap Link in half, but if he did, it would be an accident and he would be very sorry about it, because he’s really nice.

And then—there’s Mipha.

“Link?” she says, her eyes going wide. “Is that really you?”

“Hey, Mipha,” he says. “It’s been awhile.” He grunts when she hugs him; he’d forgotten how deceptively strong the Zora can be.

Revali looks back and forth between them, and his expression does not bode well. “And how do you know my mate?” he asks cooly.

Mipha looks surprised and takes one decorous step back. “Your mate?” she says, and Link nods. “Oh! That’s—congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Revali says with a sniff.

“Knock it off,” Link says under his breath. “My father used to take me to Zora’s Domain when I was young.”

Zelda claps her hands together. “If we’ve finished introductions, perhaps we could proceed. Link?”

He freezes for a moment; the sick feeling in his stomach of what if I’m not ready, what if I’m all wrong, what if the sword rejects me even now returning with a vengeance.

“Deep breath,” Revali murmurs, for his ears alone. “Don’t forget—I’m by your side.”

He nods, and squeezes Revali’s wingtips in his hand once before leading the way into the woods.

In the clearing, the Great Deku Tree stretches overhead, seemingly asleep. The sword rests in the pedestal, and perhaps it’s a trick of the light, but Link thinks he sees the blade flash.

“Oh!” Zelda says, clearly startled, and she steps on to the dais and looks back at Link. “Do you hear it?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t hear anything,” he says, and for a moment, terrible dread fills him, worry that they were wrong after all, that he still can’t do this.

She rests one hand on the sword’s pommel. “Come here,” she says, and Link joins her. Her eyes drift close, and for a long moment that stretches out.

“What’s it saying?” Link asks in a hushed whisper.

Zelda’s eyes open, and she looks sorrowful, her eyes full of a grief that no one person should be able to contain. “The last Hero—the Hero of ten thousand years ago—lived only long enough to seal the darkness,” she says.

He hears the gasps of the others at the revelation, but he feels not at all surprised, like some part of him has always known this.

“The spirit in the sword—regretted it. In as much as she can regret things. The odds were not in the Hero’s favor, but the sword still acknowledged her master,” Zelda continues softly. “This time, she would see you do more than just fulfill your destiny.”

“What’s that?” Link asks.

“Live,” Zelda says simply. “Be happy.”

“I’m going to,” he tells the sword, willing the spirit to hear him, to believe him.

The sword flashes again, and Zelda’s brow furrows, then clears. “She says your chances of survival are now—acceptable.”

“They’d better be one hundred percent, you ancient piece of rubbish,” Revali bursts out.

“Link,” Zelda says. “Are you ready?”

It’s the echo of his dream. He squares his shoulders, and nods.

“Then draw your destiny,” Zelda says, and this time, when he grasps the hilt of the sword and pulls with all his might, it slides free, and he hears a voice that sounds familiar.

Greetings, Master, the sword whispers.

They sleep inside the Great Deku Tree that evening.

Well, everyone except Daruk, who is uncomfortable sleeping anywhere except the ground. “Feels weird, sleeping away from rock,” he says sheepishly.

Link can see the forest children out of the corner of his eyes, and if it weren’t for the sword urging him to pay them no mind, he thinks he would jump out of his skin. They don’t seem threatening at all, but it’s hard to turn off his battle instincts that don’t care for things just out of his field of vision.

Zelda can plainly see them, and talks to them directly. “It’s very kind of you to have prepared a place for us to stay,” she says with a sweet smile. She turns back to Link and the others. “This way,” she says, and leads them deeper into the tree. There are several alcoves with beds, and Revali nudges Link toward one where the bed looks slightly larger.

“How did they know to have exactly this many beds ready, anyway?” Revali mutters.

Link shrugs, and looks upward. Who knows how long the Deku Tree has lived, or how far it can see?

He makes a vegetable and mushroom stew for dinner, which makes Revali eye him with some consternation—something about the texture of cooked mushrooms is displeasing to the Rito palate—but Link instinctively knows that they should harm no animals in the forest, so he didn’t feel like they had a lot of options. Revali eats without complaint, though, and accepts the others’ compliments on the meal as though Link’s cooking directly reflected on him.

When they go to bed, Link genuinely has a moment where he’s not sure what to do with the sword. He’s waited so long for it—he hardly wants to let go.

Revali solves the dilemma for him. “I don’t care if you’re destined for each other,” he says, pulling off his armor. “You chose to mate with me, so the sword can stay out of our bed.”

Link stares at him. “Are you—jealous?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m just letting the sword know how it’s going to be,” Revali says with a sniff.

I do not require contact at all times, the sword informs him. However, leaving me within reach is recommended.

Link scrunches up his face at that, but leans the sword against the wall next to his side of the bed.

He and Revali wake early the next morning, to birdsong and the dawn light filtering in through a few spots in the tree walls. Link feels somehow more alive, like something vital and energetic is thrumming through his veins, and he’s hard, and dripping with slick, and pushes his rear insistently back against Revali, who must be feeling it too—his cock is already out, and nudging against Link’s hole through his leggings.

“Quietly,” Revali breathes, and Link shoves his leggings down just enough that Revali can press inside. He thrusts in slow and deep, and Link winds up biting the pillow to keep his noises down. He knows he can’t catch outside of heat, but his omega instincts don’t seem to care—he comes when Revali spills inside him, for what seems like longer than usual, and he purrs softly at having all of that seed inside him.

“Goddess above,” Revali says, sounding wrung out.

“Mm,” Link says, and luxuriates in the feel of Revali’s cock still spreading him wide, at least until they begin to hear the sounds of the others stirring in their beds.

They were evidently not as quiet as they’d thought, because Urbosa raises a knowing eyebrow at them when they emerge from their alcove. “Newly mated?” she asks mildly.

Revali coughs, and Link nods.

“I left my mate at home,” she says. The corners of her lips turn up into a wry smile. “She wanted to come along, but someone needs to look after the town while I’m gone.”

“What’s her name?” Link asks, building up a small fire for the cook pot.

“Sekere,” she says. “She’s probably still furious with me.” She seems fondly amused by this.

Zelda and Mipha join them as breakfast is cooking. They’re easy in each other’s presence, and it occurs to Link only then that they are both princesses, and have surely spent time in each other’s company over the years.

Link gives Revali the first piece of nutbread when it’s ready, as a conciliatory gesture after last evening’s mushroom stew. When everyone has eaten their fill, they go outside, climbing down the Great Deku Tree to where Daruk is reverently touching the sword’s stone pedestal with a careful hand.

“Never felt anything like it,” he says in a quiet rumble. He turns to look at Zelda. “What’s next, princess? Doesn’t seem like we can go back to the castle, not if the King didn’t want the little guy to pull the sword.”

“It would be unwise,” she says. “We would surely be separated, and that we must avoid, at all costs. My father will send soldiers to look for us; perhaps we would be best served by keeping on the move while we formulate our strategy for the days to come.”

“I would offer Vah Medoh,” Revali says, tilting his head at the Divine Beast flying overhead, “but you would find it too cold to stay on board for long. Even in his warmest armor, Link can only stand it for a couple of hours at a time.”

Zelda nods. “After the flight here, I would agree.”

“And it’s hardly subtle; the entire kingdom could track us,” Urbosa adds.

“It would seem proceeding on foot is our best option,” Zelda concludes.

“There’s a stable close to here,” Link volunteers. He may not have seen most of Hyrule, but he’s intimately familiar with the area surrounding the castle. “We can get supplies, then continue east.”

Revali and Urbosa nod; only Mipha looks uneasy.

“I wish we could explain to the King,” she says softly to Zelda.

Zelda looks away. “My words don’t reach him,” she says, her words heavy with exhaustion.

“There’s no use wishing things were different,” Revali says sharply. “We have the Divine Beasts, the goddess-blooded princess, and the Hero with the sword that seals the darkness. We’ll defeat the Calamity with or without the King’s aid.”

“That’s the spirit,” Daruk says, and claps Revali on the back so hard he stumbles.

When he’s recovered his footing, Revali says, “Let’s not waste daylight. Lead the way, bunny.”

Link sees Zelda and Mipha’s eyes go wide, and Mipha actually mouths ‘bunny’ in a way that suggests Link is going to be the recipient of some very gentle teasing later.

Link sighs. “This way,” he says, and starts down the path that leads out of the woods.

Except for the part where they’re essentially on the run from the King for a month while trying to stop the Calamity, traveling together is actually pretty nice. Zelda visibly relaxes, the further they are from the castle. The Divine Beast pilots begin to talk to each other, and it’s like they’re speaking another language—when they use words at all, instead of shrugging and making vague gestures that are somehow understood by the others.

Link and Revali hunt, and Link continues to tend to the cookpot. Urbosa says flat out that she can prevent them from starving, but they won’t enjoy the experience; Mipha and Zelda both find cooking to be a foreign and nearly arcane activity; Daruk is eager to do his share, but since he can only cook rocks, it’s of limited usefulness.

“You don’t have to do this all the time,” Revali says to him one morning. “I can pitch in.”

“You do pitch in,” Link says mildly. “It’s nice that I can tell you to go find me some Hyrule herb and you don’t come back with weeds.”

“Hmph,” Revali says. “If you’re sure.” He leans over to kiss Link’s neck in a quiet display of affection that Link still finds thrilling for its very public nature.

The pilots draw up battle plans in the dirt with sticks; Link and Zelda look on, and Link offers his opinion sometimes. Zelda stays quiet; she looks very faraway in these moments, like she’s seeing something else entirely.

“Do you hear them all the time?” Link asks her once, when the pilots are having a vigorous debate about how to best use Vah Rudania. “The voices from the sacred realm, I mean.”

She shakes her head. “Certain places make the voices clearer,” she says. “They were clearest when I met you, and when I prayed at the Springs of Power and Courage.”

“What about the Spring of Wisdom?” he asks.

“Tradition says that only the wise may pray there, and that I should wait until my seventeenth birthday,” Zelda says.

“When’s that?”

“The summer solstice,” she says, and looks uneasy. “But I have a feeling we shouldn’t wait that long.”

The next day, Zelda and Revali are heads down over a map while Link is making breakfast. “The Spring of Wisdom is here,” she says.

“On top of Mt. Lanayru?” Revali says, surprised.

She nods, and then glances at Link. “I have this feeling we should go there, but. Tradition says we should wait.”

Revali narrows his eyes. “What for?”

“For me to turn seventeen,” she says.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says flatly, and Zelda actually giggles. “What is with you Hylians? Magical swords don’t care about your goddess-aspect, and magical springs can’t possibly care how old you are. It’s like you invent ways to make things harder on yourselves! Honestly.”

“Hey,” Link says mildly.

Zelda is still laughing. “So you think we should go straight there, tradition or no?”

He rolls his eyes extravagantly. “Oh, let me think about that, your Highness—should we go gather vital information from the sacred realm that might be the difference between success and failure, or should we continue to roam the countryside while my mate gets increasingly creative with preparing waterfowl?”

“I thought you liked the duck last night,” Link says.

“It was good,” Revali says. “Maybe a little heavy on the spice. But let’s not get sidetracked. It’s what, a little over a half-day’s walk from here to the base of the mountain?”

Zelda nods.

“What do we have to lose?” Revali asks with a wave of his wing.

“What, indeed,” Zelda says meditatively.

Revali may never warm up to Mipha, exactly, but as they make their way across the Lanayru Promenade, they demonstrate they can at least fight well together, picking off monsters in the waters and up on the ancient stone archways. Link and Urbosa fight back to back, and Daruk brings up the rear with Zelda, only advancing when the monsters ahead have been dealt with. It’s not a difficult battle, but it is wearing—by the time they reach the end of the Promenade, even Urbosa is exhausted.

Of course, there is a lynel between them and the base of the mountain.

“Don’t even think about it, bunny,” Revali says severely. “Daruk, would you do the honors?”

Daruk, who had complained about missing out on the battle on the Promenade while protecting the princess, hefts his weapon with a wide grin. “I’ll show you how we handle these on Death Mountain,” he says.

“I truly don’t care, you’re just the only one of us that isn’t flammable,” Revali says. “It has fire arrows and it will use them.”

Daruk goes charging off, and even though Link has seen his protective ability before, it still astonishes him to see it in action against the lynel.

“I could have called down lightning to deal with it,” Urbosa says as they watch from a distance.

“You’re as tired as the rest of us, and we need you at your best for tomorrow,” Revali says, shaking his head.

“Besides,” Mipha says, “he’s having so much fun.”

Daruk does seem to be laughing and yelling in equal measure while swinging his weapon, and it isn’t long before the lynel falls.

“Let’s make camp here for the night,” Zelda says. “We’ll ascend the mountain in the morning.”

It’s colder this close to the mountain, and Link and Revali put their bedrolls close together, and share their blankets. Revali is due to take the third watch, in the hours before dawn, so they both lie down together after dinner to get some sleep.

Link wakes briefly as Revali stirs from their shared bedding for his watch, and is about to go to back to sleep when Revali says in a hushed voice, “Bunny, look.”

Link cracks open his eyes, and at first he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

The great ice dragon, Naydra, flies low overhead, her scales gleaming like the stars.

They both hold their breath as she undulates through the air, and then curls herself around the peak of Mt. Lanayru.

“Well, I’ll be plucked,” Revali mutters. “Who knew the Hylian story was right?”

“Doesn’t mean the Rito story is wrong,” Link says, and leans against Revali’s side, under his wing. “We’ll just have to see for ourselves.”

Revali squeezes his wing around him, and they watch Naydra look out over the world from her mountain.

Zelda can’t cook, but she can make warming elixirs.

“It’s literally the same process, you know, only ideally dinner doesn’t make your gorge rise,” Revali says to her, and she laughs. They’ve struck up a strange friendship, where Revali says whatever he wants and Zelda seems to find it both refreshing and amusing.

Zelda, Urbosa, and Mipha all swallow the resulting elixir, and then Revali says, “You too, bunny. Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you fainted in my arms when you first came to Rito Village.”

“You fainted in his arms?” Urbosa says, and manages to make the question filthy with just an arch of her eyebrow.

“Not like that!” Revali squawks after a moment. “I mean—well—”

“Not then, anyway,” Link says, just to make Revali squirm with the warring impulses to confirm that he has, in fact, made Link swoon from pleasure, and to deny them any details of their private life. But he swallows the elixir—made with lynel guts, and more foul-tasting than any Link’s had before—and then they set out for the mountain, and the Spring of Wisdom.

When the Calamity returns, they’re ready for it. Well. They have a really great plan, constructed by Urbosa, Revali and Link, bolstered by Zelda’s visit to the Spring of Wisdom and her own research. Which they mostly follow.

Mostly.

“I led an ancient Divine Beast into battle and took my eyes off you for one minute,” Revali yells when Calamity Ganon is gone and only a scorched field remains. He’s the first to reach Link and Zelda by virtue of diving off Medoh and making a beeline toward them.

“I had an opening,” Link protests. “And there was an updraft from all the Divine Beast fire. And Zelda had the Bow of Light—“

Zelda coughs from the lingering smoke and nods from where she’s sitting next to him on the ground. They’re sort of holding each other upright.

“Your highness, please don’t encourage him,” Revali snaps, and then kneels to wrap his wings tightly around Link.

“Ow,” Link says, as the movement jostles his leg, which is definitely broken.

“Oh, did you hurt yourself after rushing in half-cocked to defeat an ancient evil before we finished softening it up for you two?” Revali coos sarcastically. “You menace. You complete terror. See if I so much as let you take a bath alone for the next year.”

Zelda laughs weakly next to him.

“Oh, laugh it up, princess,” Revali drawls. “Just wait until Urbosa gets here.”

“Oh dear,” Zelda says, sounding worried, and as well she should, given Urbosa’s mother hen tendencies.

The rest of the pilots reach them, and there’s hugging and scolding in equal measure, and Mipha heals what she can of the worst of Link and Zelda’s injuries.

“It would have been worse without those earrings you wear,” Mipha says quietly.

“Best first courting gift,” Link says, patting Revali’s wing. Revali snorts, but Link knows him well enough to interpret it as being pleased and more than a little proud.

Revali holds Link the entire time. The story comes out in bits and pieces—with the smoke from the Divine Beast fire setting the field alight, the pilots couldn’t actually see the end of the battle. Zelda had contained the Calamity so that the Divine Beasts could give it everything they had, as planned, but it wasn’t enough to let Link get close enough to use the sword without getting burned to a crisp.

“This is going to sound weird,” Link says. “But it was like the Goddess Hylia was talking to me, when you gave me the bow.”

“Yes, that’s definitely the weirdest part of all of this,” Revali grumbles, his feathers still fluffed up. “So she hands you a magic bow and you decide to abuse the aerial archery skills I painstakingly taught you so that you could first shoot the manifestation of an ancient evil, and then land on its head to stab it many times with the sword.”

“It was slightly more involved than that,” Link interjects. The fight seemed to happen in slow motion, but it's all a blur now. It was just Link and the sword moving as one, until the Calamity roared in defeat.

Revali holds him even more tightly. “And when the princess finished sealing it away, you plummeted to the ground and broke your leg. Do I have the right of it?”

Link winces. “Let’s not put that part in the instructional song for the next Calamity.”

“Oh no. I’m putting every stupid, completely asinine detail in there. I’m immortalizing this so the next me knows exactly what he’s dealing with,” Revali says, and then kisses him.

He doesn’t know if Revali is reincarnated every time, as well, but the idea of the two of them finding each other again in the next life—

The braided strand of his hair among Revali’s feathers catches the sunlight. There’s no statue of the Goddess around, but just the same, Link prays.

“How’s your feather look?” Link thinks to ask.

Revali tugs on Link’s left braid. “Singed but intact,” he says, tracing his feather in the braid with one gentle wingtip. “I can’t say the same for the clip.”

“Oh no, I liked that,” Link says. He feels a little woozy from Mipha’s healing and maybe not entirely coherent.

“I’ll make you a new one,” Revali says. “With rubies, or diamonds, or whatever you want. But let us get you back to someplace you can rest, first.”

Revali actually allows Daruk to carry Link off the battlefield, hovering every step of the way and offering so much unsolicited advice that eventually Link says, “Revali, honey, will you go ahead to tell the Royal Guard they can stand down?”

Clearly relieved to have a task, Revali inclines his head and then takes off in the direction of the castle.

“He’s really something, that mate of yours,” Daruk says.

“Yeah,” Link says with a smile on his face. “He really is.”

The king meets them at the gate to Castle Town. In fact, when he catches sight of them through the smoke, he rushes out and wordlessly clutches Zelda to him, and Link is somewhat astonished to see the King of Hyrule weep into Zelda’s mussed golden hair. For a moment, he sees the King not as a stern, distant ruler, but as a father who has very evidently worried so much for his daughter. When he’s composed himself, he pulls back and says, “It’s truly done, then? The Calamity is vanquished?”

“Yes,” Link and Zelda say in unison.

The king looks to Link, still held in Daruk’s arms, with his splinted leg and the sword still gripped tight. Then he looks at each of the pilots in turn. “There can be no thanks to equal what you have done for Hyrule. You have averted disaster and ruin, without the loss of a single life. I have prayed to the Goddess for your victory, but never expected one such as this. Truly, you are the champions of Hyrule, and the entire kingdom owes you a debt that can never be repaid.”

Urbosa and Mipha incline their heads. And then the king comes forward to stop in front of Link. His eyes widen as he no doubt catches Link’s scent among the smoke, and Link braces himself for censure or dismay, but he’s in no way prepared for what happens next.

The King of Hyrule goes to one knee, and the rest of the Royal Guard follow suit.

Link makes a noise, and says urgently to Daruk, “Put me down, put me down—”

Daruk does, only for Revali to sweep in and support him with a wing around his waist.

“Your majesty, please,” Link says, because he really can’t kneel with his splinted leg and this is freaking him out. “You don’t have to—please don’t—”

“You are the Hero of Hyrule,” the King says, looking up at him steadily. “You wielded the sword to seal the darkness and brought my daughter back to me safely. I would give you anything you asked.”

“All I want is some food and a place to sleep,” Link says.

The King rises to his feet. “I can certainly do that much, young Hero. Zelda, will you lead the way?”

She’s smiling, and for once, seems firmly in this world with them. She leads them through Castle Town, Link and the pilots behind her, the king and the Royal Guard bringing up the rear. People line the streets and watch awestruck as they go by, whispers running up ahead, and all eyes on the princess who will one day be Queen.

Link never imagined something like this, being carried through the streets of Castle Town, people kneeling as they go. It doesn’t feel real; he reaches out for Revali’s hand, and Revali holds his tightly. It’s awkward with Daruk carrying him, but he doesn’t care. They defeated the Calamity, they survived, and now there’s an after.

Link can’t wait.

Link may forever be known as the Hero of Hyrule who sealed the darkness, but he renounces his knighthood a few days after they vanquish the Calamity.

Even Revali, fond as he is of the acknowledgement of his skill and valor in battle, has had enough after the first week of victory celebrations, and acquiesces immediately when Link asks him to accompany him to return the sword to its resting place, and then head home.

“I hope you’re not planning on walking,” Revali says, his tone sharp but his eyes worried. “If Mipha catches you putting weight on that leg, she’ll gut you like, well, a fish, I suppose.”

“I can ride a horse!” Link protests. “I mean, probably.”

“Will you please let me fly you?” Revali says, long-suffering.

“I thought you weren’t a pack mule,” Link says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Don’t pick now of all times to show me that you actually pay attention to what I say,” Revali scolds him.

But Link does as Revali asks, and allows him to fly him to the Lost Woods. “That’s obviously the Great Deku Tree,” Revali says, nodding toward its pink blossoms in the middle of the woods. “Can’t I just land us there?”

“You can try,” Link says dubiously.

Whatever magic that surrounds the woods is feeling hospitable, or at least, is open to welcoming home the sword that seals the darkness. Revali is able to land on the dais, and supports Link as he hobbles to the middle and draws the sword from its sheath.

“Welcome back, Hero,” the Great Deku Tree says in its deep, reverberating voice.

“Goddess above,” Revali squawks in surprise, followed by quite a bit of beak clacking.

Link waves at it. “Hello,” he says.

“Your words reached each other at last,” the Tree rumbles.

Link smiles, looking down at the sword. “I suppose so,” he says. “Can I entrust it to your care once more?”

“Hmm,” the Tree says. “Yes, I believe you may. At least once more. After that—well. We shall see.”

Link looks down at the sword again, and he feels a pang of sadness. They haven’t known each other very long, but Link thinks he’s going to miss the spirit in the sword.

Master, the sword whispers. Your destiny is fulfilled. You may let me sleep.

“Rest well,” Link murmurs. And then he slides the sword back into the pedestal.

Revali says nothing at the sudden tears on Link’s face, but bends down so that Link can climb onto his back.

“Let’s go home,” Link says, and Revali’s Gale sweeps them up into the air.

When they return to Rito Village, Revali and Link are both asked to describe exactly how they defeated the Calamity, many, many times—and then there are songs about them, all throughout the village, and bards spread them all over Hyrule. The Elder vetoes Revali’s more editorial verses of the instructional song, but the finished piece is memorized by every Rito in the village. “Someone has to remember,” Revali says solemnly. “You can trust the Rito not to forget.”

Link’s favorite song is by little Miret—which is not overly concerned with the battle, and instead welcomes them back home. This is their first time back after leaving to retrieve the sword and then to prepare for the Calamity, and Link hadn’t understood how much he missed the village until they returned, or how much the village missed them.

Link moves into Revali’s roost the day of their homecoming, and Revali hangs their courtship hammock overhead, and gives his bachelor hammock away. The first night they sleep together in their roost as mates, Link feels like they’re getting away with something. “We get to do this,” he says quietly, marveling. “We get to do this, forever.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Revali says, and nips his ear like he’s trying to start something.

“Are you—in the middle of the village?”

“Did you think everyone was celibate all year round?” Revali asks, eyebrows raised.

“No?” Link says. “But I never heard anyone, you know—” he makes a vulgar gesture.

“Exactly,” Revali says. “So keep it down, bunny.”

He nearly succeeds, but he figures maybe the village can cut them a little slack, under the circumstances.

It isn’t all sunshine and roses, of course; they still argue. “This is ludicrous,” Revali says as they finish cleaning out Link’s old roost. “Nobody needs this many weapons—and there simply isn’t room in our roost for all of these.”

“How many bows do you have?” Link asks.

“Five, and three of them are back at the Flight Range,” Revali says crisply. “Don’t change the subject. What are you going to do with that lynel shield, hmm?”

“Well—” Link says.

“Pick one sword, one shield, one bow,” Revali says. “Everything else goes to the Flight Range, or you sell it at the stable.”

“But—”

Revali narrows his eyes. “You’re not going to win an argument for the next six months, bunny. I hope you know that. But if you want to try me, be my guest.”

Link sighs, but he knows Revali’s right about there not being room in the roost, and also, he’s just an ordinary warrior now. There aren’t even any monsters left, so the chances that Link will be breaking his weapons on a regular basis now are slim indeed.

Still. “Two swords?” he pleads. “Just in case?”

Revali stares him down.

“I love you?” Link tries again.

“I love you, too,” Revali says sternly. “Now get a move on. And I saw you pocket that dagger, don’t think I didn’t—”

It’s not as though Link has forgotten he’s an omega, but he’s cranky and ravenous and very clingy for an entire week, and still somehow surprised when he goes into heat. Nesi, who continues to be better at life than either of them, has one of the heat-delay elixirs on hand and gives it to Revali, who is a little more frantic than Link thinks is called for.

“I am not frantic,” Revali says. “I am concerned, as you would be if you were thinking clearly, because I know for a fact that you don’t want to go through heat in the village. Please drink that and—bunny! It is broad daylight!”

The elixir works quickly, and Link is a little aghast that he just tried to, well, help himself to Revali right outside Nesi and Haslen’s roost.

Nesi asks quietly if Link wants the other elixir.

“The what?” Link asks.

Nesi leans in closer and says, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t think the two of you are ready to hatch any eggs. Give it another season, at least.”

“Oh,” Link says, startled. “Right. We’re definitely not ready to—right. I’ll take the other elixir.”

They backtrack to their roost so that Revali can pack their courtship hammock, and Link can grab the duvet and some other soft materials that he’s clearly been hoarding for a week without realizing what he was doing. Then they stock a basket of provisions from the closest communal kitchen.

“We have to get better at figuring this out,” Revali says. “Just once, I’d like your heat not to be a surprise.”

“There’s only been two of them so far,” Link says waspishly. “And we’re running out of time, come on, let’s go.”

At the Flight Range, Link is clear-headed for long enough to help Revali store the food, and then Revali hangs their hammock at waist-height. “You’re not particularly steady, mid-heat,” Revali says by way of explanation.

“Oh,” Link says, from where he’s building up the fire. “I thought it was for, you know. Leverage.”

Revali’s tail feathers spread at that, and Link licks his lips once before getting to his feet and then yanking off his clothes. When they’re both naked in front of each other, Revali reaches out to brush one wingtip over his claiming bite. He did, as it turns out, make it look pretty nice. It’s so distinctive, in fact, that the Hylian art Link saw in Castle Town to celebrate their victory almost always included a stylized Rito bite on Link’s neck. In depictions of the six of them, Link is invariably placed with Zelda, whom destiny bound him to, on one side, and Revali, whom he chose, on the other.

“I confess I didn’t expect to find this so—affecting,” Revali says, as he folds Link in his wings and kisses his mark.

“Oh please, a permanent mark that lets everyone know I’m yours? You’d bite the other side, too, if I let you.”

Revali inhales sharply. “Is that even possible?”

“I can only be claimed once,” Link says. “No one, not even you, can do it again.” He strokes the feathers in the good spot on Revali’s back. “Doesn’t mean it won’t feel good if you give it a try, though. Preferably after you’ve plowed me at least once.”

“The things that come out of your mouth,” Revali says, sounding a little scandalized and a lot turned on.

Link hops into the hammock and pulls Revali down with him. “You like it,” Link says, feeling the haze of his heat returning. “You want it just as badly as I do.”

“Arguably no one wants it as badly as you do,” Revali mutters, but Link feels his cock already emerging, the tip brushing against his thigh.

“Are you calling me insatiable?” Link asks, and finds that he likes it. He wiggles into what feels like the most comfortable position in their hammock nest and wraps his legs around Revali’s waist. “I think I am—but just for you.”

“That’s almost sweet,” Revali says, and then gasps as he pushes his cock into Link.

“Mm,” Link says, and relaxes into Revali’s slow, steady thrusts, and kisses his beak. He probably won’t remember what happens later, so he’s determined to appreciate this before heat burns the last of his rationality away. His first orgasm is quick, a flash of pleasure, but he almost doesn’t care about it. His omega instincts sing for Revali, who is breathing faster and is probably pretty close. Link decides to help him along.

“Come on,” he coaxes. “Fill me up until it drips out. Breed me.”

“Bunny!” Revali gasps out, sounding shocked, and then he groans and pushes his cock in Link as far as he can, and comes.

Link laughs breathlessly. “I knew you liked it,” he says. He tightens around Revali’s cock. “That all you’ve got for me?”

“Greedy boy,” Revali says, panting for breath. But Rito stamina is an amazing, wonderful thing, and Revali does not leave him wanting.

Life in Rito Village returns to something like normal; Link and Revali receive letters from Zelda and the other pilots—the Champions, as they are now known—that confirms the same is happening all over Hyrule.

Thalea and Min visit from Tabantha Village, and Link feels his eyes go wide as he catches Thalea’s scent. “Should I say congratulations?” he asks quietly in her ear as she embraces him in greeting.

“Not yet,” she says, just as quietly. “I’m going to tell Min tonight.”

He squeezes her carefully and grins. “Welcome back to Rito Village,” he says as he steps back.

Min looks over the moon, but probably not as much as he will when Thalea gives him her news tonight. “It’s good to be back,” he says. “Tabantha Village is nice, but this is still home.” He gives Thalea a hopeful look. “Maybe now that Revali and Link are back, we might think about…”

“We’ll talk about it later,” she says with a smile.

Link makes dinner for the four of them in the communal kitchen that evening, and Thalea’s eyes follow him as he cooks a fish head for Krisa’s kids when they make eyes at him. Nesi and Haslen share some of the herbs they gathered earlier in the day. A few Rito scouts come in to give their report to Revali and Link; Link is still surprised that the reports since the Calamity are so, well, boring. There are no monster encampments to clear, and no threats to travelers on the road aside from common bandits.

Revali kisses Link’s neck in passing as he slides cut vegetables into the cookpot. “Do you want apples for a pie?” he asks.

“It sounds like you do,” Link says, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “There should be some ripe ones at one of the trees across the lake.”

“I’ll be right back,” Revali says, and swoops off not for battle or patrol, but to get some fruit for dessert.

This is peace, Link thinks—it’s new and different, but he thinks he can get used to it.

A letter from Zelda arrives some time later. It’s full of news on her continuing research, as well as a request that they stop by the Royal Ancient Laboratory to see her at some point during their travels. There’s also a part just for Link, that says he can’t be the Hylian military attaché if he’s no longer a knight, and to expect his replacement to arrive in the near future.

“Not that it makes that much difference,” Revali says. “You still defend the village. Now you don’t have to make two reports.”

Link, who never sent many reports in the first place, just nods in agreement.

On the morning of their departure for their first tour of Hyrule, Link puts on his courtship cape, and he and Revali go down the stairs with their packs. Link is startled to see a strange Hylian knight in his old roost.

“Oh, hello,” Link says, then turns to Revali. “Was this happening today? I don’t remember.”

“I told you,” Revali says, long suffering. “At least twice.”

The knight, an unmated beta by his scent, looks like he might faint. “You’re the Hero of Hyrule,” he says.

“Well,” Link says, and shrugs one shoulder.

“Yes, he is,” Revali says sharply, crossing his wings in front of him.

“You’re the Rito Champion,” the knight whispers, and Link realizes the poor man is actually trembling.

Revali gives the knight a once over and snorts. “This is your replacement?” he says to Link with heavy skepticism, and then turns and stalks down the stairs.

“Uh,” Link says. “Don’t take it personally. He’s an acquired taste. Do you need to sit down?”

The knight actually collapses onto his knees.

“Okay, sure, that works,” Link mutters. “So—okay. Just a few things before I go.” He ticks them off on his fingers. “Your armor is too heavy, so go buy Rito armor in the shop. You’ll get used to the hammock. Patrol is three times a week—maybe two, now, without the monsters—and you’ll know who to answer to. Oh, and don’t offer yourself to be scented—the Rito think that means something really different.”

“Bunny!” Revali calls at the bottom of the stairs. “Sometime today!”

“On second thought—go for it, if you think they’re attractive. I mean, who knows what the Goddess has in store for you, right?” Link says. “Anyway, that’s basically it. Good luck, you’ll be fine.” He turns and starts down the stairs.

“Wait!” the knight calls plaintively. “Where are you going?”

“On an adventure!” Link calls over his shoulder, and then joins Revali at the bottom of the stairs.

“Would you like to ask the Goddess for anything, before we go?” Revali asks, nodding at the alcove.

“I have everything I need,” Link says, and presses a noisy kiss to his beak before they set off to explore Hyrule, together.