Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Prince Sidon!" A sharp voice rings out, jerking the mighty Prince of the Zora out from his reverie.

Sidon blinks gingerly, as his eyes refocus on a rather rattled Muzu. The old ray scoffs at his apparent inattention, the same beady eyes still able to send a nervous shiver down his fin after all these decades.

"Yes, Muzu, you were saying?" The prince puts on his best smile, trying not to falter at the elder's penetrating gaze as he awkwardly shifts his weight from one foot to another. "Apologies. The celebration has been on my mind."

Muzu lets out a small, indignant huff. "If it bothers you so, then it may do you good to hear this old fish out. I learned from Laflat that you rejected many of the festivities she compiled—a great deal of which are, may I add, customary and even vital to such a celebration. May I hear your reasoning behind wanting such an…unembellished birthday?"

Sidon's dorsal fin twitches. The celebration had not been on his mind; had been, in fact, doggedly banished from it. It wasn't that he particularly opposed any of the ideas that Laflat, the royal secretary, had put forward: the truth was she'd come to ask for his opinion before he even got the chance—the motivation—to scrutinise the long-winded list she'd compiled. And so he'd hurriedly said no to the ball, no to the ceremonial sparring, no to the ridiculously large cake that used to excite him as a pup. "I will discuss the details of the ceremony with Laflat later," he says, hopefully with enough nonchalance. "I'll ask her for the records of Zoran royal birthdays as reference—before I finalise the celebration plans."

The old ray doesn't seem fooled by the charade. To Sidon's relief, however, he merely puts his hands behind his back, keeping the usual biting comments to himself. "Your birthday is in but three weeks, my prince. Invitations will have to be sent out. What about the guest list? Surely you do not have too many objections there?”

There it lies. The heart of the problem. It did arrive on his desk along with the ceremonial plans; but after giving it a quick scan through, the words Princess and Lady keep jumping out at him, among the long list of political allies they must maintain. It was the rude wake-up call of adulthood: he’d known it would happen any time now, his next big birthday after a hundred, but it was another thing to run his eyes over the name of every woman on the list and think, it could be her.

 King Dorephan has been tacking on the phrase “when the throne is yours” to the end of his sentences more and more often. The prospect doesn’t unnerve him as much now; his whole life has been leading up to it. But of course, with it comes certain implications. No Zora ruler had ascended the throne without marrying since—well, his history lessons are getting rusty, but it’s been a long, long time.

So when Muzu repeats the question, his tone harsh enough to make sashimi out of any Zora, Sidon breathes in sharply, and gives a shake of his head.

“I am under the impression they are all valuable connections to the domain.” He responds. “If Laflat thinks it suitable to invite them, then no, I do not have particular objections to any of them.”

His old teacher makes a sound of begrudging approval. “In that case, do try and familiarise yourself with the guests. And leave enough time for Laflat to make preparations. Now if you’ll excuse me." He bows stiffly, and stalks off. 

Sidon lets out a long sigh as he watches the older Zora leave. Oh well, it could've been worse. At least Muzu never brought up his sister again, after he'd lost his temper at him, some three or four decades ago.  

"Well I'm sorry I can't be her!" He had yelled, fists clenched and chin trembling, after one too many variations of why can't you be more patient more considerate more gentle you don't think Princess Mipha would act like this would she? He doesn’t even remember what he was being reprimanded about. Some lesson in royal etiquette, most likely. Muzu's face had gone stony, but the roaring feeling of inadequacy, joined with that near-habitual grief, had ultimately overpowered the young shark's lifelong lesson of obedience and grace. "I'm sorry I can't be her I'm sorry I'll never be her I'm sorry she died and not me, okay?"

He had run off promptly, already regretting the outburst, fearing the worst—during those days a harsh look from his father was all it took to make him shrink, and if King Dorephan actually used words to express his dismay, there was a big chance Sidon would burst into tears right in the throne room. But everyone had left him alone, had allowed him to hide and brood in his room, and when he eventually emerged way past lunchtime, nobody gave him another word. He didn't even have to apologize to Muzu.

But gone were the days where his behaviour could be excused by his youth. Sidon sighs as he contemplates the inevitable ceremony, adjusting the metal bands on his wrists. The royal regalia did that sometimes, rubbed against your scales just enough to call you to its presence. These days he accepts his duties with (hopefully, he thinks) the grace of a future ruler, a mature prince. His adolescent years were long behind him.

That said, the thought of a stuffy royal birthday party where he would be more performer than celebrant isn't exactly something to look forward to. The amount of political gifts from people that probably don't even know his favourite colour (Hyrulean blue), and the sheer effort he will have to put in to pretend he's enamoured by every single present: fancy brooches, ornate paperweights, the most intricate set of wine glasses that probably hold a thimble of alcohol. The mere idea makes him want to yawn.

"Si?" A voice pulls him back to the present from somewhere around his chest. He looks down to see the piercing gaze of Bazz. "Yes, Bazz?"

"Wanna spar?" Bazz raises his spear. At Sidon's confused expression, his mouth twitches. "Thought you might need a distraction. I could hear Muzu all the way from the statue."

Ah, yes. The statue. The newly carved luminous blue that now sits where his sister used to watch over the domain. "You could, huh," he tries to laugh. "Well, sparring it is, captain."

The clanging of spear against trident helped to drown out the gnawing dread, the imaginary yet no less stern council in Sidon's mind that watches his every move, judges all his decisions. Right now they're pushed aside by every one of Bazz's swift attacks, who seems to be playing up his fancy moves more than usual, trying to take the prince by surprise.

Sure enough, there comes a time where size advantage can only go so far, and Bazz isn’t captain of the royal guard for nothing. In a split moment of distraction, Sidon's trident is twisted out of his hands, flying to the side. For a moment they both breathe heavily, Bazz's eyes flitting across Sidon's face, concerned. Then he stretches out a hand to help Sidon up. "You should've gone around me, not against. Easy for me to outbalance you that way."   

Sidon retrieves his trident. "Yes, I should've." He pauses for a while. "Say, Bazz. You heard what Muzu was saying. Am I really being that unreasonable? To not want a party too extravagant? It's not like a hundred and twenty is that special."

Bazz's fin twitches. "Well. Cycles of sixty are still special, right? And hey," he elbows Sidon as the two head back to the palace. "I'm sure they'd make a big deal out of, I don't know, a hundred and seventy eight years and two months and five days or whatever. If you wanted."

"You're not helping," Sidon snorts, smoothing out the ruffles around his neck. "If we aim to outdo ourselves every year, what will we do by the time I turn three hundred? Build another Vah Ruta?"

"Heh. Don't let them hear you saying that lest they take it seriously."

Sidon grimaces. "I am truly concerned. I mean, I understand the importance of upholding the royal image. But surely there are years we can afford to rein in the grandiosity?"

"Maybe when you're a hundred and twenty one?" The captain offers a lopsided grin, only half-joking.

Sidon sighs, but a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as well. "...I suppose that would have to do, wouldn't it?"

The conversation shifts to something less consequential, Bazz grumbling about some of the newly sworn guards. Not for the first time, Sidon is glad Bazz is his friend and not his superior; the captain's dry comments could shrivel you up faster than a trip to the Gerudo. They're about to part ways in front of the statue when— 

"Link!" They both exclaim, as the carvings on Ne'ez Yohma glow blue, beams of light weaving together before materialising into the slightly disoriented, but very much real, hero of Hyrule.

"And just when I'm going back to my post too," Bazz raises a hand at him. "See you around, Link. Keep him busy." He gestures Sidon, who bristles a little at the remark. Link gives a thumbs-up, before looking quizzically at Sidon.

"Just went sparring," Sidon says, at Link's arched eyebrows. He briefly places a hand on the Hylian's shoulder, careful not to be too forceful. "How are you, my friend? It has been a while since your last visit. I trust everything is running smoothly in the castle?"

Link nods, stepping down from the shrine. Errands for Zelda. 

"I see, I see." Sidon nods, peering at what else Link has brought. He's learned to not be too trusting when Link offers some idyllic reason for being here. But his friend's quiver doesn't seem to be bursting with arrows today, and he isn't dressed in one of his armours for battle, so it seems safe to believe that Link is indeed here for non-violent reasons, Hylia have mercy.

Link notices him looking, and cracks a grin. No fighting. 

"No fighting," Sidon echoes. "How are your wounds from last time? The ones acquired near the reservoir."  

They’re fine. Link flexes his shoulder. Been through worse.  

"Now—just because you have borne more serious injuries—" Sidon starts, but bumps into Link as the smaller man abruptly stops in his tracks, his eyes widening as he looks up.

Sidon follows his gaze. Ah. He hasn't had the chance to give Link a heads-up about the statue yet.

Link's silence unnerves Sidon. It isn’t the comfortable type, one where his breathing is slow and steady, posture at ease. "Ah, you see," he starts, trying to break the tension. "The council came up with the idea. Something to commemorate our joined effort to free Vah Ruta."

Hyrulean blue eyes on him. Where is she? His fingers falter slightly.

Sidon swallows. "I had her moved to Ploymus Mountain. It's called Mipha's court now. We can go see it, if you like—the builders did a pretty good job—" The words die in his throat as Link's gaze turns back towards the statue. A stone likeness of them, slotted together. Faces set in determination.

"Uhm. So. What do you think?" Sidon is very aware of his fin perked up in nervousness. The reasons why he enjoys Link's presence are very much the same ones he's at times intimidated by him: the silent knight who never cottons up to him, a bluntness in his actions and sparse words. Truth be told, that hint of admiration from a hundred years ago never really went away, and Sidon has had to come to terms with the fact that he cares, perhaps a little excessively, about what Link thinks. A crease of the eyebrows, a twitch of hands. He always has to watch Link carefully, to sketch out the entirety of his emotions like a game of clue.

It doesn't help that Link is so much smaller, all the minute expressions taking place at somewhere around Sidon's waist. "Look," he starts again, scales prickling with awkwardness. "I know you're not a fan of the whole hero title—I did try to tell them that, but they wouldn't have it, said it's only fitting—"

But then Link lets out a rare laugh, a short, rusty chortle as he prods Sidon. “Am I really this small?” He croaks.

Sidon blinks down in confusion, before a smile spreads over his face as well. "Haha! I suppose they did pick the rather unconventional pose. But you must admit the likeness is impressive!" He gives a toothy grin, apprehension melting away like snow in the spring.

Link comes closer to inspect the statue. “Si. This is insane.”

"Wasn't my idea!" Sidon protests. "You think I would request to have a statue of myself erected in the town square?"

Link’s eyebrows shoot up again. “So if it were up to you, there’d be just me?”

Sidon opens his mouth to say something, but Link's chuckling wipes away any snark he could’ve come back with. "Well, in any case, it was our respected council that came up with the idea. A symbol of our joined effort, if you may. Of Zoran and Hylian collaboration."

Link only hums, eyes still filled with mirth at the absurdity of it all. He circles the statue, gaze lingering, as if remembering that day. "Okay, Mipha next," he finally says, gesturing at Ploymus Mountain. "And then I need to ask something of Ledo or Fronk. About luminous stone."

"Of course," Sidon quickly says. "Come. We'll ride up the waterfall, it’s faster."

Link points a thumb back at the statue. "You gonna fling me up this time too?"

"Pfft...." A chuckle makes its way out even as Sidon tries to stifle himself. "No promises, my friend."

As Link expressed his further approval regarding Mipha's court, remarking how nice it is to overlook Lanayru from the vantage point, Sidon's fin slowly starts to relax again, wagging slowly. He marks the warmth in his friend's tone, the soft Hyrulean blue that meets his gaze occasionally.

It’s nice, Link signs. Quiet. Glad we got rid of the lynel.

"You got rid of the lynel," Sidon immediately corrects. Link only gives a dismissive wave, and again he's struck by an odd mix of exasperation and reverence. Leave it to the hero of Hyrule to brush off a feat as admirable as that. But he'll correct Link until Death Mountain freezes over.

His friend leaves a small bunch of blue nightshade at the base of Mipha’s statue, as he always does. Sometimes Sidon wonders just how much Link remembers. No doubt a hundred years felt longer to a Hylian than to a Zora, but then again, Link hadn’t exactly been conscious for the process. It might very well feel like just a decade ago. Whatever the truth, Sidon isn't about to ruin the tacit understanding between them by digging up old wounds. So he just talks about the water ducts that flow southwards, converging with the waterfalls and reaching the domain. Link, as always, listens.

It isn't until much later, long after Link had made his inquiries to the younger Zora blacksmiths and returned via Ne'ez Yohma, does Sidon suddenly smack his crest in exasperation. "Fishsticks!" He grumbles under his breath. In all his excitement, he'd forgotten to invite Link to the damn birthday party.

Chapter Text

By the time Sidon reaches his twenty-seventh gift, he stops counting.  

"Sir Nereus," he beams, making a show of observing the teacup set in his hand, so small and delicate it looks more like a gift for Princess Zelda. "A stunning collection. The design is rather intricate."  

The older duke from the neighbouring domain bows, and pulls his two daughters close. "Ah, glad you like it, my prince! Clio and Maera here picked it out. Didn't you, girls?"  

Sidon has to hold back an eye-roll at the duke's nonexistent subtlety (one of the many skills required of him.) The two sisters look at him, their swaying fins betraying their nerves, and he tries his best to smile kindly. "Why, thank you, ladies. Your taste is superb."  

It isn't a lie: the teacups are beautiful. It just so happens that half of the gift givers had the same superb idea with the same superb taste, and after this is all over, Sidon will have enough cups to hang from all his fins and fingers, not to mention the bottles of wine, Chardonnay or Moscato or Sauvignon Blanc. And in all honesty, he prefers sake.  

Still, he doesn't hold it against the sisters, whichever is Clio and whichever is Maera. He's all too familiar with the constant pressure to please the elders—and if it comes down to it, the girls probably have it worse than him. At least he was never forced to tail behind King Dorephan anywhere to win any favours.  

Sidon's mind wanders about as more presents pile up, a habit he is not proud of. Although as a young pup he finds it easy to switch back to the present, replay the past few seconds of reality he missed out on, these days slipping into distraction was a road of no return, his body an autonomous ship sailing through formalities and long-winded discussions in meetings. And he had grown too tall for Muzu to flick his crest.  

He's ready to give out after the last guest has given their lengthy congratulations, when something catches his eye. A tuft of gold, lingering at the doors of the dining hall.  

"Link!" The name is out before he can stop himself, accompanied by a growing grin. Heads turn to look at the owner of that name, the source of the prince's seeming rejuvenation.   

The hero of Hyrule looks around sheepishly, and waves. He signs, almost imperceptibly: Later.  

Sidon blinks, suddenly noting the flush of embarrassment in Link's cheeks, the curious glances from other Zora. He clears his throat. "Ah. I am glad that the esteemed knight of Princess Zelda—a good friend to our domain and to myself—has graced us with his presence." He smiles, the smile of Prince Sidon of the Zora now, toning down his initial glee that finally there was someone's company to look forward to.  

Link's later, it turns out, meant hours afterwards, when most of the guests have dissipated, the luncheon dwindling down to mostly members of the royal court. Sidon has never been known for patience; a torture, that on his own birthday, he must first bear the excessive rituals before getting to simply spend time with a friend! But eventually the time does come. He strides toward the knight, beaming, and is pleasantly taken aback when he is met with a smile that, considering Link's disposition, is almost enthusiastic.   

"My friend!" He pulls Link in for a hug. "I was under the impression that my invitation was lost at sea!"  

Got here last minute, Link grins. Didn't know if I would make it. Busy at the castle. 

"Oh, just your presence means the world to me," Sidon announces. His eyes then hone in on a curious package in Link's hand, before meeting those Hyrulean blue eyes again. There it is again, Link's slight redness of the cheeks, his eyes darting to the side as he scratches his head awkwardly.  

For you, Link finally confirms, gesturing the small package, wrapped in brown paper. His gaze drifts to the pile of presents, and at moments like these, it's like Sidon can reach into Link's guarded thoughts, without either words or gestures. Perhaps he's just gotten better at dissecting these minute meanings; perhaps Link is less inhibited around him.

Either explanation makes his heart swell with pride. Here is the goodwill of someone he's had to work to earn, and work hard he did.   

"Link," Sidon says, softly this time. "Please, whatever you have gotten me, I am already more than grateful."  

Link's eyes crinkle then, but he still looks around at the other guests. "Er, we can go outside," Sidon offers. Surely they won't hold a few minutes of reprieve against him. Soon, the two are in a familiar spot behind the throne room, a pavilion in the royal garden.   

So, Link drums his fingers on the package, still sheepish. I really didn't know what to get you. What do you give to a prince anyway?

"Link," Sidon chuckles. "Please. Be at ease." Not that he's one to talk, his heart in his throat.

Alright. Link presses the package into his hands. "H-happy birthday, Sidon."   

"May I—?"  

"Go ahead."  

And under the layers of brown paper, Sidon draws out...an ornate band, attached to a braided string. A necklace, perhaps...? There's a sapphire, embedded in the middle.

"It's." Link swallows. "Gerudo jewelry. Heat proof. Dunno if—" he gestures at Sidon's many metal adornments. "—if you could have more jewelry...but well."  

"Gerudo? Heat proof?" Sidon is processing it all. He looks back at the band. "You—Link—but that must have been quite the journey!"  

Link grins. "Not with the shrines."  

"Link, this is beautiful! And practical, too." Sidon peers at the band in his hand, feeling the slight chill radiating from the gemstone. "I don't think I've seen one like it before...does it go around the neck?"    

"No, no. You have enough around your neck as it is," Link gestures. "It's a circlet. Isha—the jeweller—said it only works if it's worn on your forehead, so. I asked Fronk last time for your measurements," he grins cheekily, cherishing the continued surprise in Sidon's face.  

"Last time? Link!! You knew my birthday was approaching!"  

"Asked around," Link shrugs, clearly very pleased with himself. "Wanted to surprise you." 

Sidon blinks some more. He knows Link isn't one for too much affection, but the knight is really testing him today. "Oh, come here," he pulls Link in for the second hug that day, not caring if he crushes his friend's bones. "You know I am glad enough to see you here. The party felt like drowning."  

"Pfft..." Link chuckles. "Language, your highness."  

"Language be damned." Sidon says drily. "Oh, Link. They were all giving me their wine and offering me their women."

Link nudges him in the ribs. "Muzu will pass out if he hears you. What's that saying—he'll shed his scales?"  

Sidon snorts. "I've already made him shed more scales than the drops of water in my sleeping pool." He stretches, before remembering that he's still holding the circlet. "Oh—wait—I need to put this on!"   

Link watches him try to fit it across his crest with faint amusement. "Lean over." He clambers on the stone bench. When his fingers brush against the spot where Sidon's fin meets his skull, the prince jolts, his body tense. He's hyper aware of Link's careful fingers, feeling his way around the metal clasp without tangling it with the rest of the royal regalia, making small, soothing noises.    

It takes a moment for Sidon to make sense of the sounds. "Link. Are you shushing me?"  

Link looks at him, and shrugs once more. "It works on Epona. Oh, there we go," he leans back to admire his handiwork.   

"Epona? Your horse?" Sidon wheezes. "You were soothing me like your horse?"  

"I didn't mean it like that!" Link protests, shoving him. "You look stressed, okay?"    

The prince lets out a huge, dramatic sigh. "Oh, Hylia have mercy. Are my nerves that obvious?"  

"You were stressed the last time I came over." That same, piercing, Hyrulean blue gaze, and a long stretch of silence. "Si. You doing okay?"  

Sidon gulps. He may pride himself on being able to decipher Link, but when it comes down to it, observing is second nature to the silent knight.

"Well." He begins, adjusting his wrist bands. "It's not easy being a hundred and twenty." Then, when his friend's silence persists: "Oh, Link. It's my birthday! We can dwell on my existential crisis some other time." 

Link continues to look at him. And then: "Race you to the reservoir," he winks, before taking off, a blur of blue darting down the dirt road.  

"Link—" Sidon yelps, and before he knows it, he's hot on the Hylian's heels. "Wait up!" He's dizzy with laughter, with all the shenanigans that Link always manages to put him through, and Link is grinning wide too, the boyishness that rarely ever gets to show itself.

As the reservoir comes into sight, Link, surprising Sidon even further, dives headfirst into the clear blue. The Zora, of course, follows suit. After swerving around his Hylian friend for some time, Sidon impatiently pulls Link onto his back and shoots forward like a rocket, slicing through the water, feeling the wind and mist on his face.  

"This is new," he hears Link shout.   

"You okay back there?"  

"Never been better, your highness."  

Sidon does a few laps around the reservoir—letting off literal steam—before he slows down, returning to the small observatory platform next to the dam, letting Link slide off.  

The Hylian looks positively disoriented, still grinning. "Whoa."  

"I hope that wasn't too bad," Sidon shakes himself dry, sitting down on the edge of the platform. "It appears you were right about the stress."  

"Well, if you ever need another excuse to do that again," Link gestures himself, before peeling off his soaked garments.  

Sidon exhales in content, lying down on the cool stone surface. The sky is clear; Vah Ruta is in the distance, her trunk poised midair. As his gaze settles on Link, the churning, tangled thoughts in his head slowly gathers up like yarn, a ball of warmth taking root in his heart.

The chill of the sapphire circlet presses against his crest. And you cooled my mind that burned with longing, a line of poetry comes to him, unbidden.  

But this isn't longing—is it? Link always visits, always makes time for him despite both of their duties. Yet Sidon is starting to feel it, the pull, the selfish desire to be closer, closer. He already finds himself wishing at times that Link could be his royal guard, just so he doesn't have to organise his day around the possible blue glow of Ne'ez Yohma.  

He sighs. A dilemma for another time. For now, he's happy. 

Link makes him happy.  

"Si?" The voice tugs him back again. As he refocuses, he realises he's been staring at a very much unclothed Link, everything drying out under the sun aside from his boxers.

He inhales sharply, eyes roaming over Link's wartorn, sunkissed skin, littered with scars and pigmentation of all kinds. The light crescent moons framing his chest, right above where he had taken that fatal hit in the Calamity. So many stories, so little words.

"Ah. Um." Sidon clears his throat, suddenly very glad that he does not blush. "Was thinking. About the party."  

Link wrinkles his nose comically. "Ugh. Take it easy, your highness." He lies down beside Sidon. "Show me all the cool gifts later."  

"Feel free to take any of them that suits your fancy," Sidon chortles. The sun is so warm today, on his birthday of a hundred and twenty.   

As Link's breathing slows, Sidon tilts his head just a fraction to look at the Hylian, sprawled out next to him. His friend may nag him about being too duty-driven, but Link's own face only smooths over in sleep, actually looking his age for once. Before long, Sidon's own eyelids are heavy, too.  

A good hour or so later, Bazz would discover the two snoring softly together, the prince and the hero. His gaze curiously flickers to the blue circlet sparkling on Sidon's crest, Link's unclad form. Oh well. The captain draws his own conclusions. About time. 

Chapter Text

Sidon lets out another huge, dramatic sigh, the gust of air enough to rattle some of the cards on his desk. Absent-mindedly he smoothes a hand down his dorsal fin, pen poised in hand. How many more to get through...?   

His eyes drift to the next present, a miniature trident precariously propped up in a glass dome—the Lightscale trident, to be precise. Sidon peers at it, fragile and delicate in his hands. The details are marvelous, down to the little dangling pieces of luminous stone. He does remember this gift better than the others, mainly because it was from someone he hadn't seen in a very long time: Lady Yona, a Zora princess from the neighboring domain outside of Hyrule.   

Seeing her stirred up curious emotions, as is when he sees anyone from his youth. The last time they had been in the same physical space was perhaps at Mipha's funeral. And it was not like Sidon had plenty to say to her then—indeed, to anyone at all. Now they're both grown, her a decade or two older, though it had always seemed like more—Yona was mature even back then, always so confident, extremely patient when all Sidon could do was chew on his lip and not say a single word.  

Dear Lady Yona, he starts. Thank you for the lovely gift. It is a beautiful reminder of both the past and the future. I will make sure to display it in my office. May your waters be calm from rivers to seas, Prince Sidon of the Zora.    

He signs his name with the usual flourish before setting this card aside as well. It isn't a lie, not exactly. The trident is indeed beautiful; the sight of it reminding him of whom it had belonged to, a hundred years prior, who had yielded it with a grace he feels like he has yet to master. And of course that same trident is mounted in his room right now, pristine, now familiar in his hands, after Dento had one remade for him all those years ago.  

Yes, the small replica of the trident is a work of art. It just so happens to remind Sidon of the same things as the majority of everything else in his royal life. His duties, his sister. The crown on his head. Lineage, legacy, inadequacy. He may have grown into the physical weight of the trident, but emotionally—not quite. Not at all, at times.   

Curiously enough these moments of sentiment only seem to happen more as he gets older. Could this be why everyone made such a fuss about his birthday? When he was, say, eighty, it had all been about proving himself. He had wanted to take on another weapon, even. Tried to hone his water manipulation skills to create tidal waves. Dreamt of running away at times, leaping down into Lanayru Great Spring and shooting off to places like Lurelin village and Eventide island. In fact, it was on one of those self-appointed patrols he was swallowed by that octorok, before piercing his way free with the trident. He still feels his scales drying up in embarassment whenever he sees the stone slab that records the event.   

Now he's more cautious, less impulsive. Whether that's a welcome change is hard to tell. Sidon lets out a groan and stretches back in his chair, weary. The thank you cards can wait. As long as he gets them back before his next birthday, right?  

The miniature trident needs a place to sit, he thinks, getting up and surveying his messy shelves. Almost immediately, he sets it down next to a small corner where some of his sister's things are—mainly picture albums, some of her notes that helped him navigate Zoran history lessons, and so on. He nudges the glass decoration, using it as a bookend.  

He wonders what Mipha used to get on her birthdays. Of course, the records of that are probably lying around somewhere—he could ask Laflat to retrieve them if needed. But maybe it isn't so much about the gifts as it is about the heavy symbolicism, looming behind each present. A young crown princess certainly would get very different things than him. Jewelry, perhaps. Decorations of all manners associated with girlhood. Sweets, lots of sweets—that he remembers. She'd always bribe him with some to keep him content throughout the long celebrations.

Before he realizes he's taking Mipha's diary down from the shelf, thumbing through it with as much nonchalance as he can muster. It's just for advice. Right?  

He was curious and full of energy, with a ready smile, Mipha had written. Are all Hylian children that way?

Sidon chuckles. No, the four-year-old Link, filled with grins and giggles, was definitely not the odd one out. Perhaps his sister was surprised because there was another very shy, very easily startled shark pup that she had to look after....

"Sidon!" Mipha prods him slightly, keeping him in place as his fin twitches from side to side. "Link wants to be your friend! See?" She guides the two boys to shake hands.   

"Hello Si-don!" The Hylian says excitingly. "Waa, your hand is so cold! And you have a big—tail!" He reaches out to touch Sidon's fin, which is already nervously twitching from all the attention.  

The little shark jolts at the contact. "H-h-hi," he squeaks. Mipha smiles comfortingly down at him. "It's called a fin, Link. See? I have one. Would you like to feel it?"  

Sidon is glad that Link's attention is elsewhere, although he's also equally curious about the Hylian. He has all that golden fur on his head, and no scales, and why is his whole body covered?...

"Ane," he whispers, tugging on Mipha's hand.  

"Hm? What is it, Sidon?"  

He looks at the other boy and back to Mipha, gesturing the place beside his earfins, jutting out like horns.  

Mipha's chuckle is light, soft. "Oh! Those are ears, Sidon. Hylians have them to catch sounds better. Can Sidon feel your ears, Link? He's never seen them before."  

It takes a while, but eventually Sidon reaches a finger out and speedily taps Link's ear twice. It twitches slightly, just like his fin.   

"Waa~tickles!" Link giggles, bouncing around.  

The Hylian boy stays in the domain for another few days, accompanying his father, a royal guard from Hyrule castle. Mipha says Link doesn't know how to swim yet, but he fights really good with a sword.  

Sidon doesn't believe that this is the same boy he'd met last time. He's taller than Mipha now! How could Hylians grow this fast? Would Link become as tall as King Dorephan someday?  

Nevertheless, his sister wouldn't lie to him, even though this Link seems so much quieter and colder now. Sidon clings to her, still chewing his lip, as Link responds to Mipha's concerns with short responses and curt nods.  

"Of course," his voice is lower now, cracking awkwardly at times. "I am serving now. At Hyrule castle."  

"Like your father?" Nod. The tentative exchange continues for while, before Mipha leans down to smooth Sidon's fin.  

"Sidon?" His sister smiles. "Come here," she lifts him up into her arms. Usually he would protest at this treatment, but for now, he's glad to press up against her as he gazes back into that same pair of Hyrulean blue.  

"Hey," Link gives the tiniest of smiles, reaching out to pat his head. "Long time no see."  

He fidgets in Mipha's grasp, not knowing where to look. Luckily, neither of them push him further, and the little shark is content to bury his face into Mipha's neck as she rocks him gently, asking Link about his own little sister.  

He has a sister? Sidon wonders. Maybe they were more alike than he thought. He peeks at Link's side profile, all serious, his jaw set and brows knitted as if to banish any trace of boyishness.   

"I heard you will be...guarding...Princess Zelda?" His sister asks, hesitantly, quietly.  

Nod. "Got the sword." He reaches back instinctively to feel the dark blue hilt, his blue eyes flashing with determination.  

So cool, Sidon finds himself thinking. He repeats that to Mipha later, when they're alone.   

"You should've told him that, Sidon!" Mipha's eyes crinkle, patting his cheek. "I think he's very cool as well. Let's tell him together next time." 

He hardly speaks anymore, and smiles even more rarely, Mipha writes, worry seeping through her words. And from what he's heard—continues to hear—about Link, that much holds true, more than a hundred years later. The silent knight.   

Which is why it's so puzzling that Link isn't like that around him. At all. That cheeky grin when they raced to the reservoir, the shade of deep red on his cheeks when giving his present, the sideeye he threw Sidon's way when Muzu gave the prince a talk about informing the council before disappearing for hours...

It's the word of one Zora against the world, but somehow, Sidon just can't bring himself to believe that any of it was a front, the wordless teasing, the familiar twinkle in his eyes, the way Link just relaxes around him, shifting from the rigid royal guard to the adventurous, playful young man he is.      

There's a sense of pride in the idea, dangerously possessive. That he is the only one to get to witness this side of the chosen hero. Sidon's hands flex as he places his sister's diary back on the shelf. The privilege belongs to nobody else—not his sister, not the other regional leaders, not Link's fellow knights. Maybe not even Princess Zelda.  

Just him. A version of Link accessible to only him—his Link.  

And perhaps it's been the same way for Link as well. Sidon knows for a fact that there are things he only shares with the knight, or rather, there are things only Link would pick up on, a heavy sigh in private, a weary roll of the shoulders. Despite everything—despite a hundred years of silence, despite their respective roles now as protectors of their own regions, despite the cycles of forgetting and remembering—Link takes the time to get to know him all over again, not as the shy shark pup from a century past, not as crown prince, but as Sidon of the Zora, the shark that enjoys slicing through water and hearty salmon rice balls.  

Love is more thicker than forget / more thinner than recall, another line comes to him. Yes, he's ready to admit that he has been reading more poetry, one more trait he never thought he'd have, in the name of trying to make sense of all this, seeking commonality in the words of others.  

The realization sinks like a stone into a pond. The emotions he cannot put a name to, cannot even measure, for they are unlike anything he's ever experienced—is this what it was? Sure, he's harbored some feelings for other people over the years, but nothing deep like this, nothing so...so near yet out of reach.  

Yet it is that distance that spurs him on, to invite Link on another adventure, to feel that same thrill on his gills. For the second time in his life, there's somebody the Zora prince cannot keep by his side just because he wants to.  

He decides he'll take Link up on that offer to show him all the memorable presents from this ridiculous giftfest. Next time—when Ne'ez Yohma brings him his beloved companion once more.  

But it turns out the goddess has other plans for Sidon. "My prince?" Laflat is at the door.  

"Yes?" He stands up too quickly, nearly losing his balance, feeling oddly like he's caught doing something he shouldn't. 

"There's a letter from Hyrule castle. The seasonal meeting is happening soon, and you are expected."  

Chapter Text

The saying goes: you only realise what you had when it's gone. Right now, as he's trying not to squirm in the crackling air of central Hyrule, Sidon has never been more appreciative of the cool, wet air of his domain, where a Zora's gills could flutter lazily, breathing in the droplets from various bodies of water all around. And of course, if the situation calls for it, nobody would begrudge you for taking a quick dip in any of them.  

This must be how Link feels when he travels to Gerudo desert, Sidon muses, the sapphire circlet radiating coolness on his crest, its effect a small reprieve for the dehydrated prince. Like a fish out of water, the Hylians might say, though Sidon has never understood why that expression meant awkwardness rather than—the very logical consequence to taking a marine creature out of its habitat—death, for instance.  

Still, the newness of leaving the domain more than makes up for the prickling discomfort. He really needs to ask his father how one manages these long stretches of administrative talk. Besides, this ongoing meeting has to be one of the more interesting ones, compared to the royal council back home.  

Sidon thrums his fingers on the desk absentmindedly, sharp yellow nails clacking against the mahogany. Very well, he'll admit it: part of his impatience—the buzzing inside him that won't settle—has to do with a specific dent in his psyche. A blond hero-shaped hole, half the size of Sidon. Said hero is seated beside Princess Zelda (Sidon watched, amused, when Link tried to insist on standing some distance away, as befits his position as a knight) while she lays out the plans for each region, earnest, driven. They're seated the way Hyrule is mapped: Princess Zelda and Link in the center, Sir Yunobo and Sidon himself to the right, and Sir Teba, his son Tulin, and Lady Riju to the left.  

They have been coming together since Zelda's modest coronation, more meant to rally the civilians of Hyrule than anything else. Mostly the princess met with them separately to discuss the rehabilitation of each region. The agenda today, however, is a move in a new direction: the fate of the divine beasts, now they've served their purpose at last.  

"I have consulted with a few members of the Sheikah who continues to conduct research on the ancient technology even today," Zelda says, her eyes twinkling whenever the topic of science comes up. "I am inclined to preserve such artefacts of ancient knowledge and machinery. Of course, there remains the same risk of usurpation..."  

Sidon watches Link some more, boldly, daringly. After all, nobody could blame his gaze for settling on the Hylians, and they didn't have to know that he's really just zoning in on how Link's ear twitches whenever he's mentioned, his thumbs twiddling together on the brown wood, blond hair let down for once instead of the perpetual ponytail, well kept, without its usual knots and split ends.   

Can't sit still for long, Link once admitted. Restless. Prefer fighting, or patrol.

The knight does seem somewhat fidgety. It must feel suffocating, after all those years in the wild, free, unburdened by duties or memories. Sidon would feel bad for the man—and he does, make no mistake—but of course, the sentiment is tinged by a selfish satisfaction, the familiar pride that comes with seeing how different Link is in other situations. His Link...

A clearing of the throat catches his attention. Sir Teba, newly appointed head of the Rito and the aerial warrior that flew Link up to the heights of Vah Medoh. He glances at his son beside him before addressing the room.  

"The future of Vah Medoh has long been our concern as well," he starts, brisk, voice gruff. "Despite its past corruption, the Rito are inclined to make use of it. It flies well above our range, and perches atop the village at night; we agree that it was designed to protect. Should we harness it once more, it will truly be an advantage to our village."  

"Thank you for your input, Teba," Princess Zelda says warmly. "If you require any help to aid the Rito in piloting Vah Medoh once more, Hyrule castle is glad to help."  

Teba nods, one wing on his chin. "You all see," he continues. "That I have brought my son with me. If Medoh must be controlled once more, I have half a mind to delegate this responsibility to him. I intend to ask for advice about this."  

Little Tulin, suddenly aware of all eyes on him, hastily stands up, chest puffing out in pride. "I—I will try my best!" He chirps, with much more confidence Sidon could ever hope to muster at that age. "Besides, Link will help me!"  

Chuckles fill the room at this declaration. Link scratches his head, embarrassed, but gives Tulin a thumbs-up all the same.   

"I understand your position, Teba," Lady Riju comments, her gold ornaments glistening with each motion of her head. Behind her a Gerudo warrior stands, silent. "I have my warriors to aid me, and Prince Sidon his." She nods at Sidon. "And Yunobo has that super cool shield of invincibility from Champion Daruk."  

The Goron youth beside him jolts slightly, huge fists clenching out of reflex. "Yes, Grandpa's power makes me feel safer. I think I can get inside Rudania no problem, goro."    

It takes a few seconds before Sidon realises they're waiting for his comment. "Ah," he starts. "Lady Riju is quite right that I have my royal guards at disposal. However, as the oldest one in this room by far," he flashes that toothy grin, earning more laughter from the young folk all around him, none of them close to a hundred. "I think it a great prospect for Sir Tulin to be in charge of Vah Medoh. It is a privilege to learn while you're young—with someone to look to for guidance."  

Perhaps he's only imagining Zelda's sympathetic smile, outshined by Tulin vibrating with giddiness at being addressed as sir. He beams up at his father, who nods in approval.   

How fortunate, Sidon suddenly thinks, envy taking root in his heart. Himself, he's never been able to interact with King Dorephan as anything but exactly that—a king. Even Bazz’s relationship with Seggin was enviable at times. As for his mother, Sidon can hardly even remember her. There was only Mipha, really. Until there wasn't.  

Perhaps a long lifespan is a curse as much as a blessing, he thinks, rubbing his wrists as he catches a glimpse of Princess Zelda, looking no different from when she'd come to visit his sister all those years ago. Both Yunobo and Riju are already two generations after the champions already; and here he is, still wading through the aftermath like sludge.   

But then there's Link. Link, who likely remembers most things that happened by now, who still offers a bouquet of blue nightshade to Mipha whenever he visits. But also Link, who makes him feel like Just Sidon and nothing else, who's able to goad him into doing laps around the reservoir, roasting fish by any convenient pile of logs, who isn't afraid to tackle him to the ground whenever they're sparring, like a bobcat.  

Link, so proper next to Zelda in their matching blue garb, hands folded together, listening intently to her ending remarks. Would he be king someday, just like Sidon?  

Eventually, the meeting draws to an end. As Zelda and Teba stay back to discuss further, the young ones bound ahead, catching up with each other.  

"Yunobo!" Tulin pipes up. "I heard what happened to the rocks! The Hylian reporters were talking about it."  

"Oh, yeah, the marbled rock," Yunobo scratches his head. "We still don't know what's going on, goro. We've tried searching the store for any substances, but so far..."  

"Well, it's rock, so at least it won't affect the non-Gorons," Riju muses, before sharply turning to Link. "The ones that don't eat rock, anyway."  

To which the knight shrugs. Nutrition. Riju rolls her eyes. "Hey, hero. When can we practice again? You're the only one I can zap without remorse."  

Link grumbles something incoherent. Riju's eyes narrow. "Oh yeah?" She flicks her wrists, gathering energy for a second before snapping her fingers—

Zap! It's a small spark, but all of Sidon's scales bristle nontheless. Link makes a sound of distress and shoves Riju slightly, gesturing at the poor Zora.  

The young chief's mouth drops open. "Holy Hylia—Prince Sidon! I am so sorry—I didn't mean to—"  

"No worries," Sidon tries to wave it aside. "It was just a demonstration."  

Riju still looks apologetic. "I forgot about Zoran biology..."  

Link bumps her. Throw her in a lake!  

"Um..." Riju swallows, evidently feeling very small in front of the ten feet shark prince. "Please don't throw me in a lake, Prince Sidon. It may come as no surprise, but I cannot swim."  

"I can't swim either!" Tulin flaps slightly above them. "The most water I get are the hot springs in Hebra. Oh! Si—Prince Sidon! Do you have hot springs in Lanayru?"  

"Not that I know of," Sidon admits.  

Yunobo's eyes crinkle. "Ah, they're the best! You should try one some time, goro."  

"Yeah!" Riju choruses, elbowing Link. "Get Link to take you to a really nice one, right, hero?"  

Link is about to answer when Zelda calls him over. Later, he signs at Sidon, winking.  

Sidon is gingerly testing out the largest Hylian bed he's ever seen, looking suspiciously like three mattresses woven into one just for him, when there's a knock on the door. "Come in!"  

A whirl of blond and blue greets him, peeking into the room. "My friend!" Sidon grins, gesturing for Link to join him on the edge of the giant bed. The Hylian yawns and flops down, so Sidon follows suit.  

"Everything okay?"  

The knight makes a noncommital sound. Tired, he finally signs. Don't know how you do this all day. 

Sidon chuckles. "I was just wondering how my father manages as well. But Link, you were so modest in the meeting. You are more than just a knight, you know."  

Link's mouth twitches, tapping at his lap. "I know," he finally says. "But it's a lot."  

A lot. Sidon knows what he means. A lot of praise, a lot of pressure. A lot of duties, responsibilities, people to please.   

He rarely sees Link like this. The master sword may be hanging pristinely on his wall, but Sidon knows that weight is a part of Link by now.  

"Well, at least the day is over," Sidon says, trying his best to be cheery. "And what is this hot spring everyone is raving about?"  

Link seems happy for the distraction. "Dunno if you do well in hot water," he muses. "But they're good. Some have healing properties too."  

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try," Sidon chortles. "As long as they aren't riddled with...violet essence, or whatever is trending among the Zora these days. They clog my gills!"  

Link laughs softly then, before turning his attention to said gills, his eyes widening with alarm. "Sidon...?"   

"Yes?"  

Instead of responding, Link reaches out to touch the flaps running down his side. Fingers grazing over the soft arches, making Sidon jolt. "Uh...uhm...Link...?" He croaks.

"Dry," Link frowns. He slips off the bed, padding to the bathroom, leaving Sidon still keeling from the sensation. His fins flap awkwardly, listening to the running water, before Link comes back with two rugs in his hands. 

"Put your legs up too," he nods towards the bed. Sidon can't even bring himself to argue with the steely tone. Who is this man, always able to make him shrink back to that little shark pup in his sister's arms? Obediently he scoots over. 

Link drapes one of the wet rugs across his lap, almost like the prelude to a massage. Sidon can't help but let out a deep sigh as he feels the water seep into his scales.  

"You should've said something." Link flicks his crest. "Don't you dare shrivel up on me, your highness."   

Sidon lets out a very unprincely yelp. "Link! I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself—"  

"Says who," the Hylian quips. And as much as Sidon's toes are curling from embarrassment, he has to admit it feels good, good, good, his dry skin drinking in every drop of water, shifting slightly as Link dabs his shoulders, his fins. He inhales sharply when Link moves to his gills once more.  

"...did that hurt?"  

"N-no," Sidon swallows. "Just. Sensitive. Like your ears."  

Link narrows his eyes. "How did you know—?"  

"I touched them when we were little."   

The knight squints some more, but says nothing of it. Perhaps he's tired of admitting that he doesn't remember. He turns back to dabbing the gills, more gentle this time.  

A loaded silence follows. "...It's nice to spend time with everyone," Sidon finally remarks. 

"Mm." Link hums. "Zelda has plans. Reconstruct the castle, then visit the regions, open up trade routes..."    

"You'll be here a while then."  

Link doesn't respond for a while. After Sidon doesn't look to be in immediate danger of drying up, he lies down next to him. "She offered to dismiss me, you know. As a knight."  

"The princess?"  

Link hums. "Said I could just stay in the castle. Royal advisor or something. And travel around if I want."   

Sidon is suddenly unsure how he's supposed to react to this. Was Link displeased by the idea? Did he wish to remain by Zelda's side? "And you said..."  

Link turns to look at him, their faces closer than ever. "C'mon, Si." He snorts. "What else am I good for?" It's not self-deprecation, or even resignation. Just stating the facts. Someone who's been training since youth, swore himself to knighthood by twelve, and became the goddess' chosen hero by seventeen. What else is he good for?  

Sidon blinks. "Don't say that," he says, somehow hurt on Link's behalf. "You're good at many things."  

Silence. An invitation to continue.  

"You don't just protect the princess," Sidon starts. "You've always fought for everyone. You decoded the divine beasts. You're great with horses and dogs. You taught me how to use a shortsword." The words are spilling out now like a waterfall. "You helped construct Tarrey town. You recovered historical documents for the Gerudo archaeologist. You mined luminous stone for us. You've been helping those little forest spirits get to their kin..."  

The Hylian's blue eyes remain on him, clear and still.

Sidon swallows. "You're a great friend, Link. A good person."  

Link presses his lips together, looking away. "You're a great friend. For remembering."  

Sidon smiles, seeing the redness at the tip of those pointy Hylian ears. He ruffles Link's hair a bit. "And now I have one more thing to add to the list. Valiant hero, who stopped me from perishing from the arid climate of central Hyrule!"  

The tension dissipates, and Link cracks a grin. "Seriously. I like to think I'm needed most here."  

And Sidon almost, almost opens his mouth to disagree.  

Instead, his mind picks up on something he noticed earlier. "Link. Show me the way you sign my name."  

"...?"  

"When you were talking to Lady Riju," Sidon insists. "The way you gestured at me."  

"Pfft—" Link snorts, looking away. "Didn't think you'd notice—"  

"Link!"  

"Okay, okay!" Link sits up, facing him. You.

Sidon repeats, almost like a lesson. I.

You are. 

I am.

Then Link swings his left arm up slightly, hand in a fist, flashing him a blinding smile.   

Sidon expected as much, but the imagery still makes him gasp for breath. Link crosses his arms between Sidon's peals of laughter, all the tension of the day draining out of him.  

"Not that funny," Link prods him again.  

"It's endearing." Sidon finally catches his breath. Looking up, Link is bent over him, hair draping down to tickle Sidon's cheeks.

So of course, Sidon brings his own left arm up, and makes a fist in front of his chest, beaming widely at his Link. His signature pose, genuine for once.

Chapter Text

"—a visit?" Sidon's pen halts in midair. "Was I informed about this?"  

"Er, your highness..." Laflat clears her throat. "There was an official letter last Thursday. Right after the morning meeting. I did not show you the letter, but I recall you had given your approval."  

"Hmm." Sidon tries to make his frown come across as puzzlement. "I suppose I was distracted by the meeting in Hyrule proper. I must say I trust your words more than my memory."  

Laflat curves her lips into a smile, shifting the stack of documents in her arms. "As of now, your schedule for the next few days should be relatively clear. I hope you will excuse me for having gone ahead with making necessary arrangements with other palace staff members."  

Sidon nods, trying to stay focused. "Appreciated. Are there—any important occasions I should be aware of? Any royal dinners I will be speaking at?"  

"No, your highness. The tone of the letter was very..." Laflat teeters on the word. "Familiar. And so, with directions from the council, this will be a more...casual meeting, perhaps. The dinners and other events are on a smaller scale. I can bring you the letter if needed."  

The words sink in like rocks in the reservoir. Familiar. Sidon tries to keep the weighted exhale to himself. "Very well. Thank you, Laflat. No need to show me the letter. But brief me on Lady Yona's itinerary here later."  

As the secretary scurries away, Sidon lets out a heavier, more honest sigh, sinking into the office chair. "Why now?" He muses quietly, letting his gaze drift across the room, past the paintings of the lineage of rulers before him, past the volumes of Zoran history.     

Refocusing on a specific corner of his shelves, Sidon swings himself up, padding over. The gift from Yona on his birthday: The pristine miniature Lightscale trident, propped up in a small glass dome. It shimmers in his hands, faintly reflecting his own murky expression.    

He remembers her. Vaguely. Another person he has not kept up connections with, in a post-Mipha world. It was always the three of them, red and green and red; and when it ceased being that way, everyone around them turned to Yona for an answer. Perhaps they thought that he wouldn't feel it—that he would transition somehow, seamlessly, untethered like driftwood. That Yona, "little big sister" as they had called her, would fill a void—would substitute—would restore a balance.  

When it became abundantly clear that time may be the only element that could heal any of this, Sidon was left alone. Much of it is blurry, his twenties to forties. He remembers sleeping a lot, and training a lot, and learning how to speak again.  

 Water under the bridge now, some Hylians would say. One more expression he finds difficult to understand. Perhaps to a landlocked individual, a bridge is all one needs to separate the self from the water. But every Zora understands that if something is wrong with the water under the bridge, something will soon be wrong with the water in their sleeping pools, the water crashing over the mountains, the water in the air, the water coursing through their gills. Perhaps they have more time than Hylians to observe all of this, the ebbs and flows of every minute change that permeates their lives.  

Time. He wonders how it will feel, spending time with Yona again, after so many decades. The set of expectations upon them now; the implications that he is trying hard not to think about. Most of all, he wonders if there will ever be a time when he can look at her and not see anyone else.  

"Your domain is as lovely as ever," Yona comments lightly, a hand on his arm.  

Sidon chuckles in response. "We do change very slowly compared to other regions. There has been talk of curious new gadgets unearthed in Hyrule proper, but I am sure it will take years for us to catch up."   

It's her second day here. She had arrived with a polite apology about her sudden intrusion; stating that she was only stopping by, before she departs again to survey some lone islands her father claims sovereignty over. Sidon, being the graceful prince that he is, does not question this storyline.  

The morning fog is thicker than usual, draping over the domain. The Great Zora Bridge seems to extend before them into oblivion, no end in sight to its sleek stretch of blue. Sidon is gauging the weather when he hears Yona say: "I was surprised to see the number of Hylians in Lanayru on my way here. Has there been an adjustment in policy?..."

"Oh," Sidon adjusts his wristbands, starkly reminded again of just how many years are lost between them. "Why, yes. Ever since Princess Zelda was restored to her position—years before that, actually—there has been a turn regarding our relations with them. Of course, it has proved to be beneficial for our economy and other aspects as well."  

Yona nods. "I see. Well," her eyes crinkle at him. "As they say, keep your friends close...right?"  

Sidon blinks for a moment. "Oh! Yes, well, I do intend to keep them as friends, and not the other option." He laughs, hopefully casually enough. "Ah, we have almost circled back to the foot of the throne room. Where else would you like to see next?"     

When Yona doesn't respond, he looks down to check, only to see her gaze fixated on something, eyes wider than usual. Sidon follows her gaze.   

"Oh—" he grows sheepish. With all the time he spends pondering in front of the statue, he keeps forgetting how bizarre it must look to outsiders. "Ah. That's, uh, council's orders. Something to commemorate our efforts in reclaiming Vah Ruta—the divine beast my sister once piloted." He decides to leave out the fact that he chose that very pose.  

Yona shows no signs of hearing him, her tail perked up. "Who is that?"   

"That's—uhm—" And then Sidon feels it, that fin-curling anxiety, every drop of water in his body imploring no, don't tell her, that's ours, that's our secret, that's our— 

"Link." He says this last part aloud, too quick, too assuredly, as if by uttering the name, he's spelling out all of its meanings, rushing up to meet him.

Before he could rectify any of this, Yona is already tilting her head politely. "Link?"  

"Ah—my um—" Where to begin? Where to start unraveling any of it? "—my best friend. And, uh, the chosen hero that sealed away the Calamity. And Princess Zelda's knight."  

Yona waits.  

"Hm—you may remember him from—actually I don't know if you ever visited the same time as he did, I assume the domain would not take two sets of guests at once—" He's rambling now, nervous, trying to make up for what he's not saying, can't say, won't say, doesn't know how to say even to himself. "He's—wonderful, awfully quiet, but kind, really, never turns a request down. Brilliant swordsman, incredibly busy but helps everyone out anyway. He's helped me defend the borders of the domain, and—well."  

Yona regards him for a few moments, then turns away, tapping her chin. "No, I do not believe I had the honour of meeting such a figure. You must introduce us in the future."  

The future. "Of course," Sidon amends. "I'll do just that."  

They continue walking past the statue for now, moving towards the reservoir. For a moment all is quiet. Sidon's eyes drift to Yona's hand on his arm again. Green and red. Go and stop.  

"I am glad to hear you have someone keeping you company, Sidon," Yona finally says, not unkindly. "Even if it is a Hylian. Royal duties can be tiresome."  

Sidon's scales bristle nonetheless at the remark. "Well, yes. There are many activities Link cannot partake in. I have been practicing a specific skill, however: an air bubble under water to keep him submerged for a longer period of time, and with some luck we may be able to—"  

This time, he stops himself. Clears his throat. "My apologies. As you said, it is helpful having someone to spend time with, outside of my duties."  

Yona allows herself to be distracted by the waterfalls of the reservoir, before looking back at him. "Forgive my bluntness, Sidon. But I am afraid I do not have that kind of luxury."  

It's his turn to stay quiet, fin flicking slightly.

"I am sure you could read between the lines of my letter," Yona continues. Suddenly Sidon wishes he had asked Laflat for that letter after all.

"I wanted to be open with you, Sidon." Yona's voice is delicate, guarded. "I am sure you feel it too; the pressure as royalty. I am nearly two decades older than you, and a princess. I would like to clear the air and have a transparent conversation about us."  

The fog seems to thicken at those words. "I...I don't..." These days it's rare for him to run out of words. Still, his throat dries up as Yona holds his gaze. "I am not sure if I'm..."  

"If you're ready?" She looks away first, but not before Sidon catches the look on her face. "...lucky you."   

"Sorry?"  

"What's the worst you can be," Yona says faintly. "There are no rules preventing a bachelor from ascending the throne." A sad smile graces her lips. "And I expect there will always be women willing to fill that gap in your life, Sidon. I am not so lucky."  

Sidon gulps. Before he could stop himself, he hears himself speak. "I am not so lucky either."  

This has been their reunion so far, he realises. Each taking turns to catch the other off guard. A meticulous game of back and forth. Neither has even mentioned the word marriage yet. "Excuse me?" Yona's hand on his arm shifts a little.  

"I was never meant to rule," the words come tumbling out. He feels bits of his royal training falling away, and is surprised to find that he no longer has it in him to care. "That was my sister. I am not—I have been preparing almost all my life—to live up to her. But there are parts of her that I simply...I cannot hope to ever measure up to her. I hope you will forgive my hesitation."  

Yona is quieter this time, her voice tinged with the slightest hint of measured steeliness. "That was not my point."  

"I understand, but—"  

"Responsibility comes with the crown," Yona continues. "Whether we deem ourselves worthy of it. I am only happy for you that ultimately, you get to choose, whatever your choice."  

Somewhere, deeply buried inside him, a flare of anger rises. Something irrational and unjustified, paired with her earlier, offhanded comment. Even if it is a Hylian. How—? When that Hylian has witnessed more of his life in the past few years than anyone else, had sat next to him wordlessly as moonlight shone on Mipha's statue, had clung to his neck and indulged his childish swimfests, had signed to him Sidon please sleep I'll keep watch over and over, had patted his crest in a way only Mipha knew how, until he drifted off to rest? His Link—the thought crashes into him like waves—how can she talk about responsibility and duty when she knows nothing, nothing—about how it haunts him that Mipha was even better at loving Link, was better at choosing? How his hands will forever be unfit to hold those small, delicate tools she used to craft Link's armour?   

He can feel those same hands trembling. "I don't get to choose."    

Yona's yellow eyes seem closer to crackling lightning. Someone is about to be hurt. "Pardon?"    

"I don't," he breathes, suddenly less brave now that the tide of outrage has passed. "I can't."  

Yona closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she turns to look back at the statue, now a faraway blur of luminous blue. Her hand slips from his arm, and Sidon doesn't stop her. 

"You?" Voice clipped, a faint disdain so often seen among people of their station. "You and him?"

Sidon doesn't trust himself to answer. 

"Well, in that case," Yona finally says. He doesn't know if the exhale means disappointment or relief. "I wish you and your lover the best of luck."  

He doesn't have the heart to correct her. How wondrous, he thinks, if that were true. He would have something to gain at least—when already everything to lose.

Chapter Text

"This upcoming meeting has been taking up my time," Sidon says, strangely breathless for some reason, as he straightens out the stack of documents yet again. "I really am sorry, my friend. Perhaps in a few weeks, when all is settled..."  

A pit is growing in Link's stomach. Unfamiliar, dreadful. He looks at Sidon's fidgeting motions. Link is usually the one bad at eye contact, but now, all he can see is Sidon's grey eyelids as the prince gazes intently at anything but back at him.  

"What happened," he forces himself to say, as Sidon won't even see him sign. The tension is heavy like a thundercloud in Faron, in the way Sidon is slightly rolling his shoulders, with those spaulders looking heavier than ever. Link's own right hand twitches, clenching around a phantom sword. But this isn't a battle. He almost wishes it is.  

"Nothing I cannot handle," Sidon finally meets his eye, the corners of his lips tugged upward, taut and unnatural. "Just happens to be an incredibly busy time in the domain. I hope you will forgive me while I er, sort things out."  

Link almost holds up three fingers. Third time since last week, he wants to sign. What happened? But he lets his arm fall to his side again. He's seen Sidon like this, though rare and never around Link—clamming up, evasive, thoughts churning in his head like a whirlpool. Sidon has no brows to furrow, no ears to twitch, but those fingers are thrumming nervously, tapping the whistle around his neck.   

"Okay," Link finally says and signs simultaneously. "Let me know. When you're free."   

The domain's perpetual humidity weighs on his chest more than ever as he exits the palace. He's filled with an emptiness, one reminiscent of the gnawing lack whenever he finds something missing from his memory.   

He remembers Sidon well. Maybe this is why it's so disorienting, to have all the pieces yet none of the answers. He remembers every detail, every interaction ever since they met again on that faithful bridge, right up until the last time Sidon hadn't acted like a stranger—the time in Hyrule castle, as Sidon rattled off all the reasons why Link should stop selling himself short, as Link hovered above him, looking into bright amber eyes and almost seeing himself reflected in them.  

It all feels like a dream; or rather, this feels like sleep paralysis. Giving his head a quick shake, Link tries to ignore the buzzing around him, one that grew more intense by the second. He flexes his fingers again.  

"Link," a woman's voice. He refocuses.   

"Gaddison," he hears himself croak. Raises a hand in greeting.  

The soldier hefts her spear slightly in response. "Good to see you still visiting. How's Hyrule castle? I heard of the reconstruction plans. We've had a few Hylian researchers visit the domain to maintain Vah Ruta..."  

Link's mind hazily conjures up the faint image of Zelda meeting with some Sheikah, weeks prior. He gives a brisk nod. Castle is busy. Me, not so much.

Gaddison grins. "Always good news for people like us. Oh, shame you hadn't dropped by a few weeks earlier—to meet our guest, of course," her fin wags slightly.  

Guest?

"Lady Yona!" Gaddison's eyes widen. "Don't tell me Prince Sidon hasn't said anything? She's visiting from another domain, you see. I think she used to come by when we were little, but to be honest, I don't remember her." 

Link makes a sound and nods, his vision already doubling. As if it's just another day at Zelda's side, listening to reports he does not understand. That's nice. 

"It was sudden for the rest of us," Gaddison chuckles. "And—well, this is probably not for anyone else to gossip, but I believe there's some talk of a betrothal..."  

Whether Gaddison trailed off or kept talking, Link cannot tell. The emptiness in Link's chest has grown to a chasm, invasive, devouring. Like the earth itself would swallow him whole. He runs a hand through his hair, unsure of what else to do.   

"...I don't know really know the details. She only stayed for a few days, so...I guess we'll see if she has an armour ready for the prince next time around. Who could blame her?" Gaddison jests, blissfully and cruelly unaware.  

I see. Link finally brings himself to sign, fingers stiff and numb. Gotta go back.

"Aw, well. Duty calls, right?"  

As Link steps inside Ne'ez Yohma once more, he allows himself one last look at the scenery he knows so well, as his vision fades to blue. The sleek luminous stone of every bridge, every pillar. Right before he is whisked away, he zones in on that beaming statue right in front of the palace doors. Skin to skin, arms around neck. He's never been closer to anyone in his life.   

"Hero. You worry too much. I have made it clear you may visit whenever," Riju assures him as she fastens golden ringlets into her hair. The arid desert is a welcome interruption from the humidity of Lanayru. Everything seemed more settled here, in this impenetrable fortress. Bustling, but not chaotic like Central Hyrule. Link hears the faint clanging of weapons from the courtyard, the uniformed shouts.

He moves behind Riju, and signs into her mirror. I'm still a man. In a woman's space.

"Well. You are welcome to don the vai outfit once more if you wish," Riju deadpans. "Besides, they all love having you here. My warriors, the 'Voe and You' instructors..."  

She clasps on the last ring and turns to face him, reaching for her headdress. "I like having you here, Link. And it's not as if you are that suspicious voe that gifted his shoes to you. Now, wait until I get this headdress on, and we can talk some more before I proceed with my day."   

Link makes a noncommital sound, but a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. Feeling wanted, he decides, is much more precious than being needed.  

"Riju?" A figure emerges from the bedchamber, brushing aside the sheer lilac curtains at the doorway.

Riju's eyes crinkle. "Aqsa. I'm here," she approaches and tucks a strand of fiery red behind the taller woman's ear. "So is Link."

Link raises a hand. "Sav'aaq," he tries. Aqsa beams in response. "Hiii, hero!" She waves, taking the headdress from Riju's hands and gently fitting it atop her head. "Haven't seen you in a while."   

"He dropped by last time for that circlet, but you were out of town," Riju reminds her consort, who's arranging the ringlets, draping them just so.  

"Hmm. Well, come around more often. We love having you here!" Aqsa chirps, to which Riju winks at Link. Told you so!

After the headdress is in place and Aqsa informs Riju on her seal-training plans for the day, Riju and Link ascend the stairway behind the throne room to a higher platform, a terrace to scout out other parts of the desert. Naboris stomps on in the distance, probably squashing some electric lizalfos in the way.  

"So." Riju starts, staying alert for any brewing sandstorms in the distance. "What ails you, hero? Voe trouble?"   

Link coughs at the question, to which Riju barks out a laugh. "Oh, save your surprise. What else could be troubling you, in this age of peace?"  

Below them the children are playing hopscotch, with the grand prize evidently being some slices of hydromelon. Link looks at them for a while. He'll have to bring back some fruit later, rent a sand seal and a sled. Just to make up for being here again. Mostly he brought mushrooms, but this visit was more rushed.  

He presses his lips together, unwillingly turning his attention back to his last stay in the domain, days past. He's, he begins, fingers faltering. Not talking to me.

"Not talking to you? Why would he not talk to you?"  

Keeps brushing me off. Says he's busy. Doesn't even look at me anymore.

Riju frowns. "And have you asked him about it?" When Link gives a small shake of the head, she groans. "Link! You know that would be my first advice. I am willing to wager Patricia and I communicate more than you two."  

"We do talk," Link blurts out, feeling his ears heat up already. "But not. About. You know."  

"I know." Riju pats his thigh. "But we do not even know if this is the case. He could very well be occupied with something else."  

Link's hands curl into fists. "He's getting married."  

He stares ahead, not wanting to confront Riju's shocked silence. The palm trees above them murmur with the wind.  

Eventually Riju clears her throat. "Who—when—how has he decided this without your knowledge?" So Link recounts the brief exchange with Gaddison, or at least what he remembers of it.

By the end Riju's surprise has well transmuted into indignance. "Wow, way to jump the seal," she mutters. "Listen, Link, I myself had my fair share of suitors and matches before even learning of Aqsa's name. One visit from some distant royalty is not going to change his mind!"  

"Then why didn't he tell me," Link argues.  

"Because you're both dumb. Men will commission statues and gift jewelry instead of having a conversation," Riju throws her hands up in exasperation. But at Link's dejected expression, she softens a bit. "Listen. Everything is sand in the wind unless you hear it from him."  

Link prods absentmindedly at his voe wristguards. "Don't wanna pressure him."  

A click of the tongue. "There you go again. Stop it. Just ask."  

Link allows himself to sigh audibly, sinking back on the wicker sofa, grabbing one of the many sand sea plushies and hiding in it. "Talking is hard."  

"Pfft—" Riju gracefully shields her snort behind her hand. "Oh, hero of Hyrule. It's okay. Nobody's perfect."   

Link shoves her lightly, pressing his face into the plushie, the faint smell of Gerudo spice greeting him. "Ugh."  

"He's not better than you are. Have you forgotten he's basically immortalised his love for you in one of those stone tablets?"   

"Ughhhhh," Link grumbles some more, before finally lowering the plushie, face as red as the very man on his mind. "I even gave him jewelry," he mumbles. "He probably figured it out. That's why."  

"Look at it this way," Riju tries again. "He is quite literally not the only fish in the sea."  

Link flexes his fingers. He really should get his nails painted again. Don't know, he signs slowly. If anyone else wants to get through all this.

"All what?"  

Link makes a vague gesture at himself.  

"Hey." Riju says sharply, all the authority of a chief. "Don't. There'll always be someone. Besides, you talk about Prince Sidon as if he's married with a dozen tadpoles. Ask him! You've known each other for years!"  

"Would feel like a lousy friend," Link mumbles. "If he doesn't feel the same."  

Riju frowns. "If my best friend secretly harboured feelings for me, I would prefer them telling me than suffering alone." When met with more silence, she nudges him again. "Link, I am serious. Better now than when he actually starts making arrangements, with this lady none of us have even heard of."  

"How do I—?" Link's mouth is dry. It had always been easier to simply not think. Not question, not wonder, not dwell on the what-if. Hyrule would still be in ruins to this day if he did.  

The down side to that, however, is when he tries to think, like now—  

"How do you tell him?" Riju's voice, cutting through the static like a diamond. "Well. You can tell him not to say a word as you get everything out. And probably spend some time alone afterwards. Would that help?"  

Link nearly snorts at the mental image: Sidon gripping his thighs, trying to remain silent as Link stumbles through his words and promptly leaves. It would have been funny if it wasn't so dire.   

Riju bumps his shoulder. "I'd come with, but I kind of have a people to run."  

The new element of Riju, there with a crackling ball of energy and a death glare at Sidon, only adds to the hilarity. Link cracks a smile. "They'd oust you for your lightning. You nearly fried him last time."    

Riju pinches the bridge of her nose, though unable to hide her grin. "Don't remind me. I was so embarassed! I only told Aqsa and she laughed at me for a week." She calls up a little spark at the memory, letting it dance and flicker in her palm.  

"Promise me you'll tell him," she says after a while. "I will not let you waste away like this. I want the hero of Hyrule to take a lover!"  

Link nearly falls off the couch in his attempt to shush her. "Riju!"  

"Promise me!"  

He swallows, knowing there's no way out. Not from her, not from Sidon, not from himself. "Promise," he finally says, meeker than he meant to.  

"See, was that so hard?" Riju barks out a laugh, slapping him on the back. "Come. I need to meet some merchants." Then, with hands slightly unsure but very determined: And you need—to fish—a shark!

Chapter Text

"My prince, the situation is graver than it seems," Muzu's voice, steely and slow, cuts through the viscous air of the meeting room. "You must understand that this is not simply a letter from Lady Yona, but one that passed through her secretary, imbued with the voices of her council, formalised with her royal seal."  

Sidon picks up his pen for the fifth time, realises he has nothing to write, and sets it down again. "I am aware." His voice comes out colder than intended, fin twitching in irritation—or something more raw that he dares not name. "I have no interest in addressing the undertones expressed in the letter. I believe it best to let the matter be."  

"Hold off a tide, and it becomes a tsunami," Muzu grumbles. Some elders around the room murmur in assent, although they seem to delegate the actual debate to Muzu, as always. There is something to be said about Sidon's begrudging sentiment for his former tutor. Of course, he understands where Muzu is coming from. He always does, with all of them.  

"Lady Yona and I," Sidon raises his voice slightly, not to be intimidating, but to be heard. "Ran into some differences regarding our royal duties during our brief time together. I had every intention of settling them, had she chosen to stay longer. I do not think it proper, or necessary, to pry at any lingering feelings."   

"I speak freely, my prince, but differences do not typically lead to such a response." A gruff voice pipes up: Seggin, Bazz’s father and the one that picked up Sidon's trident training, after the Calamity. "A princess of her station, and those around her, are well aware of the effect of their words. Nevertheless, warranted or not, you may play the graceful host in reaching out, lest unwelcome opinions spread."   

Sidon can hear Bazz's influence in those words: to build bridges rather than burn them. But he's exhausted. Here they are, imploring him to make amends, when those very implications by Yona could damn him, disgrace him in the eyes of his own court, his own people.  

The truth was that she had evidently felt—repulsed?—by his silent admission regarding that faithful statue. Sidon does not know which one was a bigger sin in her eyes: the fact that his heart lies with a Hylian, or with a man. Then there was the faintest sense of disbelief that he was willing to forego it all—forego her, ultimately.

He does not blame her for the sentiment. He only wishes she accepted his.  

Even if it is a Hylian, her words ripples through his mind again. His eyes flit down to the offending letter once more, the gorgeous royal symbol shimmering above Yona's dainty, delicate writing. He's long learned that politics and courtly relations were always about reading between the lines. The first time he'd read the letter through, he was at a complete loss why Laflat's face was ashen gray, why this meeting was called with such urgency—without the overwhelming presence of his father, no less. By now, however, every scratch on the paper is etched into his mind like a broken record, as if Yona herself is speaking through pursed lips, eyes soft but bereft of warmth. The courteous niceties, gratitude towards Sidon taking the time to show her around, polite wishes towards the prosperity of the domain—and then:  

...once again, I apologise for my hasty departure, and for my many assumptions about the nature of this visit . . . I hope you will forgive me for speaking candidly with you during our time together. Please know that I have given much thought to our respective expectations and positions, and I thank you for pointing towards what may—or more precisely, what may not—develop in the future, and thus I wish you the best in your personal inclinations and relationships. Of course, you are always welcome here, should you find the time to visit...

Inclinations and relationships. Sidon feels the scales on the back of his neck bristle. If word got out—if the elders saw through this clear, clear subtext—he does not know how anyone would react.  

The most insidious thing was that her reaction was justified. As much as Sidon tries to play it off for the elders, he is aware of how her whole life had been building up to this point—marriage, either to him or to some other Zora bachelor in her own realm. For her to hold these expectations, only to look that statue in the eye and receive a stammered explanation on what that lithe Hylian figure meant to Sidon—it's a tragedy.  

Yet Sidon finds himself thinking: Is this not a tragedy too?  

Before he knows it he's pushing back his chair, rising from the long meeting table, eyes sweeping across the room. "Given the disdain expressed—both in person and in this letter—towards values that I hold dear," he says, voice ringing across the room. "Please understand that it is not my priority to connect with Lady Yona for the time being. I am committed to preserving the dignity of King Dorephan and his domain, and I will not compromise that for fear of offending a potential mate, if it comes down to it. Meeting dismissed."  

He hardly hears several council members talking at once, only gesturing vaguely at his notes to Laflat, who nods and holds her tongue.   

"Si," a strong, black hand grasps his arm. Bazz, catching up with him from his post outside the meeting room.  

"Not now, Bazz," Sidon mutters.  

"He's looking for you."  

Despite himself, Sidon's head snaps up at that. There, at the mouth of the bridge, a familiar whirl of blond and blue.  

Sidon feels like he could cry. Whether the sight of Link alleviates or adds to his frustration, he knows not. "Link," he says wearily, wanting nothing more than to dive into the underwater depths. "I'm afraid now is not a good time, truly—"  

I want to talk with you, Link signs, fingers stiff and awkward.  

Sidon fails to hold back the sigh. "Link, please understand that I truly cannot handle anything else right now—this meeting we just held—"  

I want. To talk.

"Link. I need to be alone. Please. We can talk afterwards, but right now—"  

Then Link's voice rings out, rusty and never this loud. "Sidon."   

Sidon's heart is firmly lodged in his throat.  

"Please." Those Hyrulean blue eyes are on him. At that moment he almost lets it spill, the crushing sentiment he holds for this man, the need for him to know. Instead he turns away, avoiding, averting, once again.  

"Later," he croaks out and, adjusting the regalia around his neck, sets off for the reservoir.  

Bazz grits his teeth, looking at the broad red back retreating into the woods. He turns his attention back to Link, whose gaze is fixed on the ground, fists clenched. Bazz recognizes that look from the years of the Big Bad Bazz Brigade: the same expression whenever he was told off for not speaking.  

"Bastard," he growls, and grabs Link's arm. "I know where he's going. We'll have to take the long way."  

It is under these circumstances that Sidon opens his eyes to Bazz, disgruntled, with a soggy Link in tow. He sits up from the cool, ancient stone slab, a lump in his throat. All is silent save for the drip-drip-drip of the long abandoned waterworks. 

"You need to talk," Bazz says, in a fin-chilling tone reminiscent of his father. He plucks at Link's soaked blue shirt, like one would a stray cat from the rain. Sidon was able to channel all his frustration into kinetic energy, slicing through the waters of the reservoir until the whirlpool funneled him down here. These two, however, evidently had to work their way down, swimming against the mounting pressure.   

"I'm not saying squat," Sidon huffs. He immediately regrets it, the biting retort coming out more like words of a petulant tadpole.   

"Sidon, we're your friends," Bazz says, face still set in stone. "I heard what they said in the meeting. We're not going to scale you like they did."  

Sidon scoffs. "You're not? Because by the tone of things—"  

Bazz starts, but Link is faster, putting his arm out in front of the Zora knight. Sidon had forgotten how small Link really is, as the Hylian takes a few wary steps forward, hair wet and flat.   

"Sidon," he says, with the air of someone learning how to speak again. "Please. Please talk. I'll talk too. I have a lot to say to you."  

The lump in Sidon's throat grows. He nods at Bazz stiffly. "We'll be back up in a moment."  

He turns his attention back to the abandoned water wheels in the middle of the room. Out of the corner of his eye, Link sits down next to him.  

There is no telling how many times this scene has played out in his mind. Yet now it's coming to life, everything feels off kilter. No soundtrack playing in the background. No pinkness in Link's ears. No sudden surge of bravery for him to reach out and hold the other man's hand.  

"I am sorry," Sidon says abruptly, his voice sounding foreign to himself, overtly polite, diplomatic. "I know I have been...distant. And earlier...the meeting..."  

Link plucks his own shirt now. "I just want to know why." He says. "I've heard things."  

Sidon's throat constricts like a fish out of water, mind flooding with images of that same, dainty handwriting finding its way to Hyrule castle. He's filled with the fear that somehow Link knows and that's why he's here—  

"Link—" he croaks. "Please—whatever you heard of—it's not—I can explain—"   

Their eyes finally meet. Blue ocean and amber fireplace. "Explain what," Link says, voice thin.  

Sidon takes a deep breath. "Link," he starts. Like he's holding a ball of yarn in his mouth, trying to navigate the labyrinth between them. "I gathered that...well. That assumptions are being made about me. Regarding whom and what I associate myself with. And so...should these assumptions ever make their way to you, please know that I—"  

"Assumptions?" 

"—yes, assumptions. Speculations. Rumours about my personal life." Sidon's sharp nails dig into his thighs.   

"Personal life," pause. "Like getting married?"     

Sidon's heart skips a beat. "What?"  

"You." Link breathes. "You're getting married. And you didn't tell me."  

"I—Link—what? My friend, where did you even hear of this—"  

Link's hands are clenched now, trembling slightly. Sidon regrets not holding them. "She visited. Then you stopped talking to me."  

"Link," Sidon pleads. "That's not...I didn't..."  

"You don't tell me many things." The knight turns away, a tremor passing through his hunched shoulders. His voice is thick now. "About the birthday party...about the statue. And now..."  

Sidon's heart is run through with a fishing spear. The party? The statue? Is this the conclusion Link is drawing, all because of Sidon's forgetfulness?  

"It's not—I did not mean to—" his words come out, faltering. Link's shoulders remain tense and bound.  

"Link," the prince finally finds his voice again. "Whatever you heard, it is far from the truth. I am not marrying Lady Yona. She was here for a brief visit. And that was—that has no bearing on why I—my friend, please, I never meant to avoid you..."  

Silence: the stuffy kind, the one that rings in your ears. It all feels like a distant memory, the camaraderie between them, that buoyant joy on his birthday, the juvenile glee at Hyrule castle. Link is motionless, looking down, so all Sidon can see is the crown of his head.   

"I was afraid," Sidon manages, his gills contracting rapidly. "I did not know...how far those rumours have spread. And how you would react to them, should they reach you."  

"I would believe you."   

Those words, as firm as a sword sliding back into its sheath. Brittle. "I know," Sidon manages. 

"I kept trying," Link mumbles, quieter. "I kept visiting."  

"I know." It's all he can say. "I'm sorry."  

The Hylian tugs off the loose hairband, letting his wet hair fall on the shoulders. Sidon dares himself to watch Link wring the remaining droplets out, brushing his bangs to the side.   

"It's not fair," Link manages. Voice too thick, trapped in the throat. "Not fair."  

"What's not fair?"  

"You know I'm," Link rubs his eyes. "Like this. You're the prince. You're good with words. Always saying nice things, like—like I'm your best friend, your favourite person, your..."  

"But you are," Sidon feels like he's holding broken china. He hears the long pauses in between those words. "You are all those things. Link—are you—?"    

"Sidon." Those eyes have a misty sheen to it. Lips pressed together, trembling. Then the hero of Hyrule points at himself—crosses his arms firmly, over the chest—and points at Sidon.  

I love you.

Static. Sidon's vision doubling as he stares back at the Hylian, who slowly lowers his finger, letting it fall to his side.   

Link's face is red, blotchy. "It's not fair," he says again, almost pleading. "You are so easy to love."  

That word. Love. Falling from Link's lips, round and whole. It's all Sidon needs to break out of his trance: suddenly his arms are around Link, like it's second instinct, feeling the other man pressed up against himself.  

"Link," he says breathlessly. "Oh, Link, my dearest friend..."   

Link just sits there, stiff, as Sidon envelops him.   

But he's found it now. The way out of the maze, the answer to the riddle. "Link, I love you, I love you too..." An unstoppable torrent of words. Hold off a tide, and it becomes a tsunami. "I was foolish...I have loved you for so long. I am so sorry, so sorry for everything. For being scared. I..."  

Link pulls back, an unasked question in his face.   

"Yes Link, really. I swear it on my crown," He's rambling, but he does not care, will not care. "Please, Link, please believe me, I love you, I love you so much, I..."  

Finally, he feels the smaller man relax and melt into him, arms snaking around his torso, tight. Then: a small, indignant huff.  

"Should've told me!" Link grumbles into his chest.   

Sidon's chest is light. "Yes, I should've..." He laughs breathily. "I was just nervous...I thought Lady Yona had somehow told everyone..."  

Link frowns. "She knows about you?"  

Sidon brushes back Link's wet hair, careful not to scrape any skin with his sharp Zora claws. "She guessed...and...I didn't stop her. She kept pushing..."  

Link is quiet for a few moments, breathing deeply, face pressed against his torso. "You love me."   

"Yes, Link. I love you dearly," Sidon cannot stop the tenderness seeping into his voice, as he tries to make up for the all the times he hadn't said those words.  

"All this time?"  

"All this time. Well, I confess I was not the swiftest in realising it..."  

Link looks up. He rests his chin on Sidon's chest, a frown coming on. "Seriously?"  

"I—yes, of course, why wouldn't—"  

He feels a sharp prod then. "I tried to court you, you know!"  

"Wait, what?" Sidon's head is spinning. He blinks at Link, who's positively pouting now. "Courting? Link, whatever do you mean?"  

"The circlet!" Link throws up his hands. "I asked you about courting. You said jewelry. Then you didn't even invite me to the party?"     

Sidon's eyes widen, his hand instinctively going up to feel his forehead, memories of the cool sapphire returning."Link—I—that was a courting gift?"  

The knight's expression is all he needs to know. In this sudden turn of events, Sidon finds himself feeling as dumb as that jawless fish the Zora children throw around as insults.  

"You said jewelry..." Link huffs. "Or should I perform the mating dance too, your highness?"  

Sidon lets out a surprised laugh. "Link, my deepest apologies...I never thought..." He starts, brushing the Hylian's cheek. "I am so sorry, my—well. You are more than just my friend now, aren't you? My dear..."  

Link lets out a weak chuckle, unable to stay mad. "My prince."  

"My hero."  

"My shark."  

"My pearl."  

Then Link leans into him, voice small. "My Sidon."  

Sidon's heart swells with affection, with wonder and warmth. "Yours," he says. "Yours forever. You are my Link, and I will not have it any other way..."  

There, the telltale pinkness of Hylian ears. Link uncharacteristically sticks out his tongue. "I knew it...you're so cheeeeesy."    

Sidon can't help but bark out a laugh. "And I suppose you would have me rein it in?"  

"Don't you dare."  

They sit there a long time. "The council will be mad."    

"They've never been satisfied," Sidon says flatly. "And I am tired of trying to meet their every demand. That was my birthday wish, you know."  

Link stifles a laugh. "No way."  

"Well, not exactly." Sidon's big hand finally finds where it belongs. "It was you. But close enough."  

The Hylian scoots closer then, pulling Sidon's hand into his lap. "Do you want me here with you?"  

Sidon blinks. "Ah?"

"I mean," Link looks up, absentmindedly playing with Sidon's webbed fingers, feeling the thin film of blue-yellow between them. "Here. In the domain. All the time. Do you want me to live here?"  

"Is that even a question, Link," Sidon scolds. "I would have you in my private chambers if I could!" He pulls Link closer with his other arm, unable to stop a strain of possessiveness from bleeding through. 

Link swings his legs a little. "Oh, um...I'll tell the princess then."  

"Oh—" Sidon feels a twinge of guilt. "Wait, Link, I am not forcing you to. I assumed—"  

"I want it too," Link says. "Just. Making sure. I want to be with you. All the time."  

Sidon can't help but trace his finger down Link's cheek again, tipping his chin up. "Good," he says softly. "I want to be with you all the time too."  

The air in the waterworks is cool and moist. Sidon leans down before remembering to ask, to form the question with his actual words. How funny, he finds himself musing for a split second: it's like all his eloquence is bleeding over to the other man. "Link," he starts, lips dry, as he runs his thumb across the Hylian's lower lip. "May I...?"  

Link swallows. "It's been a while," he mumbles.  

"How long?"  

"...more than a hundred years?"  

Sidon cracks a grin then. "May I have the honour then, my hero?"  

Link's cheeks are aflame, but his expression is defiant. Not to be bested, he leans up to pull Sidon's cravat close, smashing his lips onto the Zora's like a drowning man needs air—and Sidon, in turn, finds all his usual anxiety draining away, replaced by a burning need, a need named Link, Link, Link—  

Link's tongue clumsily pushes its way into his mouth. Sidon responds in kind, his own Zora tongue—so accustomed to part a Hyrule bass from its bone—now tasting the inside of Link's mouth as well. Faintly he feels the slender arms around his neck tighten, hears little sounds coming from the smaller man; he must be doing something right.   

Those sounds grow louder, though, and with a rush Sidon remembers that Link's lungs are probably a lot smaller than his own.  

"Hah—" The knight pants as they break apart. "You—you sucked on my tongue!—"  

"You seem to enjoy it," Sidon dares, laughing as he falls backward, pulling Link onto his chest.  

Link reaches up to kiss the top of his crest then. He looks down at Sidon, blond locks draping down, a curtain to shield both their faces from the world.  

"Remember?" Link murmurs. "In Hyrule castle. I looked at you like this. Wanted to kiss you then."  

Sidon just looks at him. "Goddess above," he breathes. "I love you."  

"I love you."  

The second kiss is softer, more float than crash, and this time Sidon is aware of Link cupping his cheeks, while his own hands run down Link's small back.  

For a long time, Sidon looks back into that brilliant shade of Hyrulean blue, hazy and tinged with affection. "Alright," he murmurs. "We need to go back up before Bazz thinks I've eaten you."  

Link snorts, those eyes crinkling just for him. His Link. "Let's go, your highness."  

Chapter Text

The Pristine Sanctum is cool and quiet.  

Sidon's headfin wags lazily in the pool. He's both relaxed and hyperaware of the sensations around him: water dripping down from stalactites, resonating through the cave; his gills contracting slowly, a steady influx of oxygen to his brain; and the warmest body in the chamber, small and perched right on his chest, eyes closed.  

The prince runs his fingers through the blond strands, careful not to wake his lover up. It had become somewhat of a ritual for the knight to complete whatever duties he had in Hyrule castle—not that Zelda keeps him away much, always urging him to visit the domain with a twinkle in her eye—and beam straight to Ne'ez Yohma. Straight to Sidon. And here they would stay, particularly if Link had just been through a battle. Sidon's healing powers are by no means on par with his sister's, but he likes to think that each soothing touch, each murmur, each kiss, speeds up the healing process of any nasty bruise or cut Link may have endured.   

The Hylian mumbles incoherently, fingers twitching. Sidon always finds it fascinating that even his sleep talk is in signs. He runs a thumb across Link's face, making sure that sharp, yellow claw grazes nothing. Admiring how young Link looks, when his brows aren't creased, hands not gripping a weapon.  

The knight's sleep is light, as always. He opens his eyes, blinking blearily. "Sidon?" That low, raspy voice, sending chills down the Zora's spine.  

"Yes, dearest?" He murmurs back.  

"Uff..." Link shifts atop him, and yawns. "How long have I been out?"  

"An hour at most," Sidon adjusts himself to a sitting position, letting Link float in the water against his chest. His eyes roam across Link's bare figure, both in concern and in warmth.  

Link notices, and slaps his own torso in a way of reassurance. "'M okay."  

"Are you sure?"  

"Mhm." Link puts his arms around Sidon's neck, a seemingly innocent move to stay afloat. "You've been checking out Vah Ruta?"  

Sidon tries his best to focus on anything but Link's breath, close and hot, those blue eyes gazing into his. "That I have. The Sheikah researcher—what was their name?—came by last time, to provide assistance. It's been fairly straightforward..." he trails off, mind returning to that vast contraption, those ancient controls that have last been touched by Link, and then before that, by...  

Link's fingers tap lightly on the nape of his neck, an unasked question.  

"...I'm okay," it's Sidon's turn to add, somewhat awkwardly. "I wanted...to board Vah Ruta for the first time with you. But it's okay."  

Link's eyes soften, as he pulls Sidon even closer. "I'm sorry."  

"No...it's..."   

"We can go together next time," Link suggests. "With or without the researcher. I want to see too."  

Sidon nods, but before he can think of anything to say, he feels soft Hylian skin rubbing against his cheek, like a cat against a tree trunk.  

"I think she'd like it," Link whispers cheekily. "Me being with you."  

Sidon lets out a surprised laugh, heart bursting at Link basically using him as a scratch post. "You think so?" He clarifies, a vague weight already lifting off his chest. Only now does he realise that it's guilt.   

"'Course." Link says. "You think I can get with anyone else? Who else measures up?"   

Those words, whether sincere or placating—Sidon relishes in them. "My pearl, you always know what to say," he murmurs, torn between a desire to snort and to kiss Link silly.  

"Someone's rubbing off on me," Link wriggles his brows. "The other day Zelda called me talkative!"  

The mental image tickles Sidon even more. He chuckles a bit as Link pulls him to the deeper parts of the pool.  

"What are we doing?" The prince comes back to his senses as Link pulls him against his chest, roles switched. He hears the steady beating of that tiny heart, smells the faint tang of man that always drives him up the wall, if he's being perfectly honest. But before his thoughts could run wild, Link reaches over to pet his headfin.  

"You know you could've told me," the hero reminds him. "And I would've made it."  

"I know..."  

"Si," Link cups his face. "I want to be with you. I love being around you."  

"I know, I just—"  

"Do you have any idea how happy I am you're not with that woman?" Link huffs.  

"—ah?"  

"That devilfish!"  

Sidon nearly chokes on his tongue. "Link! We can't—it's not—" but a smile is already finding its way to his lips. "You can't say that!"  

"Or what?"  

"Or—or—" Sidon falters, and by way of retaliation, pulls Link closer. "If it gets out that my consort is trying to instigate a regional war!..."  

"She started it." Link is rubbing against his cheek again.   

Goddess, his heart is ballooning like a pufferfish. "Oh, did she now?" Sidon murmurs, his arms encircling Link's waist once more.  

"Mm. She was awful." Then, more quieter: "I hope I didn't cause a lot of trouble, Sidon."  

That soft voice, tinged with insecurity. "Don't say that," Sidon says hurriedly. "Never say that. Whatever she thinks, whatever the council or my father thinks—it's not trouble. Never trouble. We are not at fault for others' strongheadedness."  

He can't see Link's expression, the Hylian having buried his face in the crook of Sidon's neck, breathing deeply.  

Then, so softly Sidon thinks he's dreaming at first, a kiss is pressed to his throat, right where his pulse beats.  

All is still. Sidon swallows. "My pearl?" He breathes, not daring to move. With Link, every kiss feels like the first.  

"'M so lucky," Link mumbles, his lips still a hair's width from Sidon's skin, the words sending a pleasant vibration through him. "So so lucky."  

It's in times like this where Sidon gets a strong urge to engulf Link, wrap this small Hylian in his arms forever and ever, until he soaks him in like a beached whale soaks in the rain, desperate and greedy. He wants Link all to himself, wants to feel Link's warmth pressed tightly against his, wants to hear that rusty voice say his name over and over again, wants to memorise every scar on Link's wartorn body, wants, wants, wants.  

"I, too, my Link," he whispers. "Am luckier than I ever thought I would be. To think that I was entertaining being betrothed to another..."  

Link makes a small sound, as if protesting against him even finishing that thought. "It's me now." Another peck, on the cheek this time. "Me me me." Kiss kiss kiss.  

"All you," Sidon repeats, love roaring like the waterfall cascading down Mipha's court. "All yours."  

His eyes almost flutter shut at the sensation brought forth by Link's lips, but right then, his attention lands on an unremarkable package, placed against the luminous stone wall to the side.  

It hits him like a rock octorok. "Link!!"  

"Mm?" The Hylian pulls back, blinking at the urgency in his voice.  

"Can't believe I forgot—placed this here this morning—" he swims over to retrieve the brown paper bundle. "Link, dearest, will you sit on the edge of the pool for me?"  

Link follows suit, bemused as the tall prince glides back, looking up at him with wide, amber eyes, headfin positively wagging now. He takes the package from Sidon. "What's this?"  

"I," Sidon clears his throat. "...I was so embarassed that I missed the cues of your courting gift..."  

"Sidon!"  

"Please, allow me! I...I do not know if it will be to your liking, but..."  

Link starts picking at the rope around the package. Sidon's heart is in his throat—silly, really, he knows Link would appreciate even a shell given by him—as his love draws out the silky, turquoise fabric.  

"...?" Link holds it up, blinking with surprise. "A dress?"  

"A nightgown!" Sidon announces, a little too loudly. "Since you stay over so often, I had one made of the best material I could order from Gerudo merchants. Was quite slippery for stitching! I didn't add any gems because, well, you'll be sleeping in it, and..."  

Link looks from him to the gown and to him again. "Sidon," he croaks. "You made this?"  

Sidon's smile turns bashful. "I...yes," he says, more subdued. "I...um...decided to follow...the Zora tradition..."  

Goddess, he can see the cogs turning in Link's head, and it makes him want to dive to the bottom of the pool. Sidon lowers his eyes, trying not to fidget too much.  

"Hylia have mercy," he hears Link exhale. When he peeks up again, the Hylian's eyes are filled with affection. "Sidon, I love it."  

"You...do?"  

"I do!" Link laughs now, slipping the gown on then and there, letting the sheer cloth drape about him like mist. "And you sewed this? Needlework, by such a big guy like you? Oh, Sidon, I love you!"  

Sidon's fin is wagging frantically, splashing against the water now. "I—I'm—of course, my pearl! Anything, anything for you..."   

He cups Link's face, and leans in for a kiss. "I love you too," he whispers. "I love you."  

The fabric is smooth in his fingers, clinging to Link exactly the way he pictured it. With the right person, Sidon realises, everything feels so easy. So right, so grounded, so dreamy but real.   

He's touched down now. He's done walking a tightrope.