Archive of Our Own ^beta

Link has been on five adventures. Sometimes he doesn’t know if that’s a lot or not. Then he remembers he’s only sixteen years old nearly seventeen and he has been on five fucking adventures already.

He looks at kids running around villages and mourns the child he was. Bright-eyed, hopeful, optimistic, happy, loved. What a time to be alive. 

He wonders which adventures did he change? Was it the first or the third?

He thinks he changes after every single one of them, and he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or not.

Does he mourn who he once was? Some days he does. Some days, he hates that naive kid who let things slip between his fingers.

He mourns many people, too.

Even a whole island of them. The image of sand, palm trees, and a beautiful, kindhearted redheaded girl burns behind his eyelids. His ears sting with a song he wishes he could forget.

He hates his past self for letting that wonderful island and the girl he loved slip through his fingers.

He hates his current self for making the same mistake.

He stares down at the leftover sign of Ravio’s shop. 

Another loved one slipped through his fingers. Another world unreachable. Another laugh he won’t ever hear again. Another voice he’ll yearn to hear again. 

He chuckles pathetically.

At least he’ll always remember what he looked like. All he needs is a mirror.

He caresses the painted words on the sign. The words flaking from the year outside, unprotected from the elements. He wonders why Ravio didn’t just carve the words.

Maybe because carvings aren’t obnoxious enough. The colourful paint sears into your mind, eye-catching but in a bewildering way and in Link’s eyes, in a repulsive way. It’s overly bright and a mix of colours that doesn’t work in his eyes, but according to Ravio, they were perfect for each other.

It was one of the first conversations he had with Ravio. Outside of merchandise and Link grumbling about him setting up shop in his living room. He never complained about Ravio living there, only the way he acted like he owned the place and was doing Link a favour of letting him stay, rather than the other way around.

Link pulls his eyes away from the sign and turns his gaze around his living room.

Ravio had returned everything to its place after he had, quote on quote, retired. He stares at the carpet in front of his fireplace. He half expected there to be a mark from where the man would lie. Some sort of imprint in the carpet that can work as evidence of the days Ravio spent in his home. There’s nothing.

He tears his eyes away from the carpet and starts walking around. There’s a touch of Ravio here and there. It’s both surprising and unsurprising. 

He did spend a year here, living in his house as if he owned the place, but Link had thought Ravio had brought everything back to Lorule. 

There are a few decorative pieces that Link knows aren’t his or his uncle’s. Far too strange for the lack of a better word. He can’t really tell what it is. He wonders if it’s that abstract art that has been growing popular. Of course, Ravio would be into such a thing. Nothing gets more abstract than that robe and hood of his. He thinks with a snort. 

He finds himself in his kitchen. Ravio couldn’t really cook for shit at first. Ravio had said he wasn’t into flavourful things, so he didn’t know that much about spices. All the food he first cooked was bland and plain, not even a touch of salt most of the time.

Now he knows why, that in Lorule the farming had gone to shit and all that was being grown was things that were fast, easy and abundant.

Something like spices was a waste of time. He hopes that changes. 

He had spent his free time slowly teaching the merchant to cook. Had to make sure he didn’t accidentally burn down his house while he was out. Well, that’s what he told Ravio, but he didn’t seem bothered by his words.

He never did.

He always laughed or replied with a smart comeback that made Link smirk in challenge.

Link debates if it’s because they’re counterparts. Reflections of the same whole. He didn’t think they were that similar personality-wise wise but how could Link know? He didn’t even know what Ravio looked like until the very end.

He was surprisingly never bothered by never seeing Ravio’s face. He was curious at first. Maybe even disturbed by the image of the buck teeth on the mask, but the bunny had grown on him. 

He never bothered asking. Maybe something would be different if he had. 

He opens a cupboard to pull out a mug to make tea and stares at the purple mug. Ravio’s mug. Ravio had bought it because it was the exact same colour as his robe. The merchant had boasted about the cheap price and amazing discount he got from the shop.

Link remembers that the conversation had changed when Link asked why he couldn’t get discounts at Ravio’s store. Ravio had been offended at the idea. The squawks of protest at the words had made Link pause and burst out laughing.

Link reaches for the mug beside the purple one.

He makes himself tea. He makes enough for two. He forces himself to have two cups.

Sometimes he hates his past self. Sometimes he hates that he let himself fall in love with someone he couldn’t have. Hates that he did it twice.

Sometimes, in the dead silence of the night, he quietly asks in a whisper if he’s just cursed to never find love. 

He spends two weeks in a sort of daze. Wistfully remembering the past year with Ravio. Taking stock of what was left behind in his home. A few blankets and throw pillows. A dozen or so decorative trinkets. A couple of books about Hyrule's history that Link didn’t even know Ravio had gotten. A few dishes that scream Ravio sit in his cupboards, left untouched. A few puzzles that Link takes the time to do, and wonders if Ravio got the chance to do all of them before he left. 

The most eye-catching item is the bird perch. Between the fireplace and a window, in a place that Ravio would have been able to keep an eye on Sheerow from the floor in front of the fireplace. 

He can’t believe he misses that damn bird. He used to curse the sight of the creature that came to take back his rental items.

He doesn’t move the perch. He wipes off the dust while he cleans, but otherwise, he never touches it. He doesn’t even consider getting a bird for himself. Nothing could replace the duo that lived in his home.

Zelda finally drags him out of his house. Link almost has to be dragged out kicking and screaming, but he has too much pride for that.

He finds himself in the castle, drinking fancy tea and fancier treats. He thinks Ravio would like the desserts more. 

“Stop that.”

Zelda’s voice says smoothly, the tone commanding, but Link knows that’s how she normally sounds. An assertive young princess, used to giving commands.

“Stop what?”

Link says, putting his teacup down. The sound of it touching the plate makes his ears twitch in irritation.

“Like you’re miserable.”

She replies. Link snorts at the choice of words. He hadn’t thought he was full-on miserable, but maybe he was. Who was he to disagree with the holder of wisdom?

“Must I?”

He replies dryly, looking at the princess with a lazy, fake smirk. Zelda narrows her eyes at his sass but gives up on it and sighs.

“I had hoped that you would feel better getting out of your house.”

Zelda explains. Link hums, staring down at his tea, a foggy reflection staring back from the tea.

“I don’t think this will be that easy.”

He admits in a burst of courage. He doesn’t think that courage would have come for anyone other than Zelda. Maybe Ravio or Marin, but they aren’t here. They never will be.

Zelda looks at him with pity. He hates it, but he doesn’t say anything, far too used to the look.

“Is there any way I can help?”

Zelda asks softly, dropping the princess voice. Link stares at her for a long pause, wondering the same thing. 

“Please, Link, let me help you for once.”

She insists. Link looks down, and after a long internal debate, he nods. Zelda smiles brightly, and he smiles softly back.

“For one. Let’s get you out of that house more often. Oh, how about you get a job?”

Zelda starts planning, making suggestions. Link only numbly listens and nods.

He does get out of the house more often after that. He goes to visit friends in towns nearby. Irene sends him on more than a few gathering quests for her potions. He happily does it for a discount on potions. She asks why he even wants potions when he isn’t even adventuring.

"One can never be too prepared."

The witch had only rolled her eyes before shoving his potions into his arms and telling him to get out of her way. 

He resumes his apprenticeship at the blacksmith. He doesn’t really enjoy it, he likes his teacher and his wife, but it isn’t his calling. Nevertheless, he needs something to do, and he refuses to join the royal guard. 

He thinks he’d prefer to work from home, but Zelda would refuse that. Maybe one day when he can confidently tell her he doesn’t feel like shit he can mention his decaying orchard.

He thinks it would be fun to work in dirt and water rather than metal and fire. He thinks he'd prefer working with warm soothing life rather than cold numbing metal.

He doesn’t say that, though. 

It’s roughly three months after his seventeenth birthday and five months since Ravio and Lorule that Zelda suggests a trip. It takes a while for him to agree, but he eventually does.

Of course, it ends up as an adventure. When doesn't it? 

Link is close to eighteen years old and now has six adventures under his belt. He has spent 9 months on the last adventure, only three months less than the last time.

He doesn’t know if that’s supposed to be impressive or not, but he thinks it isn’t.

He has spent the last week walking back to Hyrule, dragging tired limbs through shortcuts. Whenever he ends up on the main road, he prays a merchant will pass and let him hitch a ride. He only got lucky twice, but it saved him a couple of days' journey at least.

When he finally stumbles home, he’s half asleep, staring at the dirt floor as he walks. He opens his front door and doesn’t even think about the fact that it isn’t locked.

Which should have been his first red flag.

His second one is that the layout of his living room is different, yet not at all unfamiliar. In his disbelief, he debates whether this is some sick joke Zelda decided to pull. Maybe in punishment for not sending her letters. He shakes the thought away. He knows that Zelda would never do that.

He looks around his living room in disbelief at the displays. The displays are familiar, but the weapons on them aren’t. 

He eyes a few rods and kinda wants them, but he pulls his eyes away and keeps looking. There's no one around. No familiar laugh, no twittering sounds, no bright purple, no dazzling white that follows. Nothing.

Maybe it’s a sick joke, maybe a sick dream. Maybe he’s still on the road and his mind made shit up to mess with himself because why not?

He doesn’t even notice the door open behind him.

“Oh! My apologies, Mister customer, but we aren’t open today.”

Link freezes. Following that sentence, a familiar flutter of wings echoes through the room. 

Never get your hopes up. He has to remind himself sternly.

He slowly turns around and comes face to face with a familiar haunting hood. 

The hooded merchant stumbles back, apparently just as shocked to see Link. 

“M-Mister Hero!”

He stutters out, and Link can only stare in shock because how. How is he here? Why only now? Oh, Hylia, how long has he been here while Link was wasting time to avoid going home? 

“Ravio.”

Link says breathlessly. Sheerow twitters in the background, picking at his hair in greeting, and Link chuckles wetly as the bird lands on his shoulder.

Ravio stiffens at the sound.

“Mister Hero?”

He says hesitantly. Link stares at the merchant, his body can’t decide what to do. If he should cry, smile or just hit the merchant for ruining his house again, because that’s familiar.

“You're back.”

Link says softly, in pure disbelief. Ravio stays quiet, unmoving for a moment before he pushes the hood off his head. 

Link never got much time to take in Ravio’s face. The shape is the same; he can’t disagree. It’s the same jaw, same nose, same eyes. There are differences, though. 

There are freckles adorning Ravio’s face, a lot of them. Like a cluster of stars decided to rest on his face. A whispered thought wonders if they go down his shoulders and back. 

Ravio's skin was paler than his. He remembered comparing the skin tones of their hands even before seeing Ravio’s face. He told him he was so pale because he was always inside. That he should take in some sun. It seems the merchant had taken that advice.

Maybe a shade paler than him now rather than the pasty paleness that he was. 

There’s an earring on Ravio’s ear, which doesn’t suit Ravio’s colours. A bright red that stands out in the purples and blues. 

For someone who hid his face underneath a mask, Ravio has taken serious care of his eyebrows. He half wonders if he got the princess treatment in Lorule because even Zelda’s eyebrows are always perfect. 

Link just lets it do its thing until it threatens to give him a unibrow. Only then does he bother with it. 

While the shape of their eyes is the same, Ravio's eyes are a bright rupee green. He stares and adds that Ravio’s eyelashes are longer than his. 

His eyes drift down, catching on Ravio’s lips. The merchant is biting his lip, nervous? He looks back up to Ravio’s eyes, seeing the anxiety in them.

Link has so many questions. So many things he wants to ask. How? When? Why? So much but… he has one thing he wants- no, that he needs to say.

“I love you, please don’t leave me again.”

The words fumble out of his lips, the sounds making him wince in a cringe. He regrets it instantly. It’s whiny and demanding. He doesn’t have the right to ask Ravio such a thing.

Ravio, who is looking at him in shocked silence. Then, slow disbelief, then a growing flush that Link has to take a moment to appreciate. Ravio opens and closes his mouth a few times before anything makes it out of them.

“I won’t leave. I love you, too.”

Ravio says. 

Link doesn’t believe his ears. He stares at Ravio as if he’ll take the words back or maybe vanish altogether.

“Really?”

Link squeaks out in doubt. Ravio grabs his hand, which makes Link flinch. He hadn’t fully believed the merchant was here, but now he does. He squeezes the hand back. 

“Yes, really.”

Ravio says with a soft smile. Link takes in the sight, drinking it up like he had been walking through a desert rather than a forest for the past week. 

Link still has so many questions. He needs to know that this is permanent.

He doesn’t say anything. He only reaches his free hand forward and slowly caresses Ravio’s cheek. The merchant leans into the touch, and that makes Link freeze in shock, half expecting Ravio to pull away.

They stare at each other for a long while, at some point shuffling closer to one another.

“Can I?”

Link says in a soft whisper, breaking the silence of the room. Ravio blinks, blushing lightly, giving a nod. 

Link leans forward and feels Ravio do the same.

Lips connect, and it’s beyond what Link imagined. He doesn’t even remember what he imagined because it was nothing compared to the real thing. 

Lips soft and comfortably slotted against his. As if they’ve touched plenty of times before and knew exactly where to land. 

He doesn’t know when he closed his eyes, but he opens them when Ravio pulls away.

Ravio looks up at him with a lovely smile.

“Welcome home, Mister Hero.”

Link blinks and snorts, rolling his eyes.

“I could say the same to you.”

He replies, and the words make Ravio’s eyes widen and glisten, but Ravio breaks into a wide smile rather than tears.

“It's good to be back.”

Ravio says. 

Link can’t help but agree.