Freshly 131 (adult) || She/her || SNEEZER
Call me Skell || Mainly in the FoM fandom
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Summary: It is Sidon’s duty to greet the royal embassy of Hyrule that is coming to stay in Zora’s Domain for seven days. During the welcome, he meets you, and something about you is strangely familiar…
Content & Warnings: Fem!reader, Hylian reader, Diplomacy, literally expanding Zora’s Domain for the plot, exploring Mipha and Sidon’s relationship, implied Milink, dinner, (some) social embarrassment, Pre-Calamity AU with adult Sidon
All of Zora’s Domain is abuzz with excitement. The energy fills the air and infects every single resident. They dash around the place, hastily organize things, and prepare for what is to come.
There is none more excited, however, than Sidon.
For nearly a month, King Dorephan of the Zora—Sidon’s father—and King Rhoam of Hyrule have been planning a royal embassy. King Rhoam is to visit Zora’s Domain with a small entourage of important individuals. They will stay for a week, discuss important matters of Calamity Ganon, and sow good relations with the Zora royal family and their citizens.
The last time an event like this occurred, Sidon was too young to participate. All he recalls are boring dinners and entertaining details from his big sister, Mipha, who was old enough at the time to participate. Things are different this time. Now, they get to do it together, and Sidon gets to be the one to formally welcome King Rhoam and his companions.
He’s quite excited to learn more about the Hylians. Very rarely has he left the Lanayru region, and on those occasions, even rarer that he meets a Hylian by the water. His most recent excursion was a month ago, and it was pleasantly eventful. Now, Hylians will be coming to him. It’s quite a twist of fate.
And fate has provided the perfect setting for the beginning of this grand event.
The weather is just right, with a clear sky and clearer horizon. The setting sun graces the domain’s luminous stone structure and makes it glow in an entirely new way; showing off all its glory. Zora line up the outer pathways to make room for the center. In that gleaming center, Sidon stands tall in front of a statue depicting his father in his gallant youth. Beside him, Mipha waits with her ceremonial trident. She has always been wiser, calmer, more capable than him. He admires her for all the things he is not, and all the things he strives to be. She is the heir. The pride of their people.
The one edge he has over her is height. Despite being taller than the rest of the Zora—and still growing—she was eventually surpassed by him in his adolescence. He remembers that day clearly. She looked up in surprise, and he grinned back before pulling her into a hug.
Together, they stand proudly as silver trumpets ring out. Matching bells follow, and in the distance, figures approach. Sidon’s muscles tense.
It is an impressive display of carriages and knights. No expense is spared. After exiting his ornate carriage at the front, King Rhoam steps into the glow of the silvery-blue bridge. The rest of the embassy follow behind with their chins held high. They are dressed in utmost elegance. Hylian garb, rich and colorful, presents the regality and importance of each individual. They approach slow, but refined, as they follow their king’s leadership. They cross the bridge, and when they formally take their first step inside the domain, every Zora holds their breath. No one speaks a word.
The king stands before Sidon.
With strong form and a striking white beard, he intimidates Sidon in a way he didn’t expect.
Sidon swallows once before speaking. “King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule.” He bows respectfully. “I am Prince Sidon, son of King Dorephan, and I welcome you to Zora’s Domain!” He rises. “I hope—”
He freezes.
To King Rhoam’s right, a young woman stands nobly. Your manner of dress is finer than anyone else’s in the embassy, only second to the king’s, but that is not the detail that causes him to pause.
It is the familiarity of your face.
Strangely, your sights are not focused on what’s in front of you. Instead, they meander about the domain and its architecture in utmost awe.
Something touches his arm. “Sidon,” Mipha whispers close. “I know you can do it.”
Right. The greeting.
Clearing his throat, he tears his eyes away from you to return to King Rhoam. The rest of the script he prepared comes easily. “I hope you find a home here, with us, and that through this visit, we may foster even greater closeness between our people! For as long as you are here, our home is your home.” When the last syllable leaves his lips, his eyes flit over again. You’re still looking around.
“Hyrule extends the same sentiment to the Zora,” King Rhoam says, reeling Sidon’s attention back to him. “May our people grow closer than ever before.”
They both extend hands to shake, and the trumpets ring again. Sidon then escorts him and the embassy up a flight of steps to the highest room in the domain. His father’s voice booms from the top of his throne as he similarly greets King Rhoam, but as the exchange continues, Sidon finds that his ears stop working as he focuses on you.
You’re still at King Rhoam’s right side, and you’re still not paying attention. Now more than ever, your eyes wander around, going wide here and there, like you’ve found yourself in an entirely different world.
Perhaps, he supposes, it is a different world for you.
He wonders if you are the king’s daughter. He’s never met the Princess Zelda, even though she’s visited the domain before, but he’s learned of her through Mipha. She graciously appointed his sister as Champion of the Zora and pilot of Vah Ruta. However, Mipha said nothing of Zelda visiting with the royal embassy, and if he’s recalling things correctly, the princess and her knight, Link, are visiting Ruto Village for a simultaneous embassy. He only knows this because Mipha confessed her sorrow at Link not being the one to visit Zora’s Domain.
Regardless, that information doesn’t help him now.
“Sidon?”
He startles. “Yes Father?”
“Please escort our guests to the dining hall.”
His nerves settle. “Of course, Father!”
Mipha sticks to his side as they walk to a large room below the throne room. Heels clink on stone floor. Chairs scrape lightly as people take their seats. Shortly after, King Dorephan enters and slowly walks to his massive chair at the head of the long, blue table. At his left is King Rhoam, and at his right is Mipha. Sidon is next to her since he is the second eldest, and across from him is the same young woman as before.
For the first time, you’re looking at him. Sidon doesn’t know what to think, but he isn’t given the chance to when appetizers are placed under everyone’s noses. As he eats, he discretely steals glances under the crest of his head or over the rim of his crystal glass. You seem quite tall for a Hylian, but that is still nothing compared to him or Mipha.
You are unusual. And intriguing. When you move, you move with an unhurried, effortless grace. Be it the way you dip your fork into your food, the way you turn your head, or the way your voice lilts in conversation, everything about you is smooth like unto water. There is an endless flow, from eyes, to arm, to fingertip. A river in human form.
For a brief moment, Sidon has a hard time comprehending you’re a Hylian.
“Thank you for greeting us at the entrance.”
Your soft, polished voice is calming in a way that reminds him of Mipha. You take a sip from your drink; keeping your emotions hidden behind a polite painted mask.
“Of course!” Sidon cannot help but smile. “I am honored to have had the opportunity to welcome the royal embassy! I hope Her Highness found it sufficient.”
Your head tilts. “‘Her Highness’?”
He blinks. “You, My Lady?”
Your painted lips curl ever-so-slightly, and your eyes shift away above your raised glass. “I am not a princess, actually.”
He remembers being informed that King Rhoam has two nieces. Perhaps, then, you are one of them.
“No.” He attempts to salvage your image of him as he raises his own glass. “But you’re about as close to being one as you can get.”
At that, you smile more visibly. “I suppose so.”
Before he can get another word in, the next course is brought to the table. The head chef has prepared the finest sushi from hearty bass and local greens, and Sidon is caught off-guard by how you seem to be drooling the moment you lay eyes on it. You notice him, clear your throat, and pick up the silver chopsticks that accompany the meal.
The sushi falls between the sticks.
Sidon hates to see you embarrassed, but it seems the rest of the embassy isn’t fairing any better with the utensils. You try again. And again. The cycle repeats until he thinks tears are about to burst from your eyes.
“Here.” He reaches out before the dam breaks. “Allow me.”
Wide-eyed, your mouth naturally falls open as he uses your chopsticks to place the sushi against it. It closes over a portion, then chews. You stare at him as the flavor undoubtedly makes its way over your tongue, down your throat, and into your stomach. Sidon is still leaning over the table; now realizing that everyone else is staring at him.
He really didn’t think this through.
“Come on now!” He encourages the Zora at the table. “We shouldn’t let our guests go hungry!”
Mipha is the first to jump in—no doubt to make his rash behavior seem less rash. She takes King Rhoam’s chopsticks and feeds him a piece of sushi. More Zora down the table begin to do the same, and before Sidon can even feed you a second piece, every Hylian has someone helping them eat. Only Muzu refuses to take part.
“Here,” he hears one Zora say, “hold them like this.” The conversation has lightened in tone and amplified in volume. But none of it captures his attention as much as your expression.
Your features are ill-hidden with delight—positively bursting at the seams. You can no longer mask your feelings. There is some semblance of manners, but you consume the piece of sushi faster than anyone else in the room. To slow things down, Sidon places the chopsticks between your fingers, covers them with his, and guides your hand into how to use them. You pick up on it naturally. By the end of the second course, you have become sufficient enough to no longer need his help. Everyone finishes eating.
You dab at your lips with a napkin. “I had no idea you have such wonderful cuisine here,” you say, slipping back into that unhurried politeness.
“I had no idea Her Highness has no food like this back home.”
You look at him strangely, and he realizes his mistake. “‘My Lady’ will do,” you recall the earlier title; seeming to hold something back.
He ducks his head. “I shall call you that from now onward.”
“Shall I call you ‘My Prince’ then?”
He quickly looks up to spot a brief twinkle in your eye before it’s hidden by your glass.
“I—I suppose that would be appropriate.”
Mipha nudges his leg beneath the table. He nudges back.
“Tell me, My Prince,” you say, circling the rim of your glass with a finger, “do you have a fondness for swimming in rivers?”
At first, he wonders what could have prompted a question like that. Then, a sense of recognition sparks. He remembers something.
“I—”
“Sidon!” his father interrupts. Everyone’s attention turns to the king. “It is late, and our guests have had a long journey! Please see to it that they are escorted to the bedchambers we’ve prepared for them.”
You and him share a brief glance. He responds to his father. “Of course.”
The embassy is escorted to a corridor near the bottom of Zora’s Domain. Like the rest of it, it is carved from the bluest and brightest of luminous stone. Several double-doors line the corridor. One by one, the guests are shown to their rooms until it is just him, Mipha, King Rhoam, and you.
Mipha takes the king by the arm and leads him to the last pair of doors. “This way, Your Majesty.”
Just you and Sidon.
Before he can speak, you touch one of your doors with your fingertips and admire its intricate patterns. He’s seen this look before—that look of awe. It makes him think on how much he takes his home for granted. He’s grown blind to its beauty. You appreciate it far more than he thinks he ever has, and for that, you are more honorable than he will ever be.
“I am glad this embassy has put me in your path,” you say, still tracing the door.
Once again, Sidon’s memory is sparked. He’s heard these words before, but it’s been some time. Was it another person who said it—or was it himself?
He’s about to ask you something, but you pull the handle and sneak inside your bedchamber with the slipperiness of an eel.
Heyoo! i was wondering if you still take Harvey Harvington x reader requests?
Thanks for the question! Unfortunately I do not. At some point I guess I lost interest in taking/writing requests when I already had my own stuff I wanted to write, but I kept the request link of what I write on my pinned just in case that ever changes (but I don't think it will)
Just saw what I presume is an official banner for the fifa World Cup and it’s ai generated. It’s the World Cup. You can afford an artist.
Also I think it’s especially egregious because the banner’s representing many countries but they’re being misrepresented due to the flags being generated. South Korea’s swirl is blending into itself. USA’s stars don’t even look like stars. There are 2 Germanys
Just hire an artist. Their composition is SO much better I promise you
Series Summary: You are King Rhoam’s niece, and there is nothing you love more than water. Through a chance encounter, you meet Prince Sidon a month before the royal embassy travels to stay in his home for seven days. There, the two of you grow closer as you find yourself falling in love with more than just Zora’s Domain
(Pre-Calamity AU with adult Sidon)
Chapter Summary: You get attacked while floating downriver, but someone shows up just in time to save you
Word Count: 1.6k
Ch. 1 Content & Warnings: Fem!reader, Hylian reader, peril, minor injury, mentions of blood, near-drowning, swimming, first meetings, reader is obsessed with water, mention of controlling parents
You are born of the water—not in body, but in spirit.
You love water.
You love drinking it, you love swimming in it, you love feeling it with every one of your senses until you get sick of it. But you will never get sick of it. For as long as the sun rises, the moon changes face, and the stars gleam, you will love water.
Growing up, your parents thought you had some serious condition with how much you lurched after it like a suffocating fish. It wasn’t “proper behavior for a lady”, much less for the niece of the king, so your nurses thoroughly disciplined it out of you. Being of important nobility does not allow you your individuality in high society. But just because you behave now doesn’t mean you don’t love water with all your heart.
You also love your sister. Growing up, she suffered a similar “ailment” with the sky and flying, and would always watch birds with rapt fascination. She’s presently working on a field guide for the birds of Hyrule, and her drawing skills naturally lend themselves to her endeavor. Since you’re the oldest, your parents gave up on trying to control her and focused all their efforts on you. You are caged like a bird, and she is unrestrained like water’s flow.
You wonder if things would be different had you been born a farm girl, or someone else without any formal title. Someone unimportant. If so, you could live by a lake, wake up to the sight of the dawn’s reflection, and spend your days swimming to your heart’s content. You would forage vegetation growing by the shore and roast them with nuts and truffles for your dinner. You could be free.
You could be happy.
For now, you have to settle for the rare occasion you’re allowed outside the palace grounds, and in those moments, sneak away to Hylia River. You haven’t visited a lake since childhood, but this will do just as well.
Your dress suffocates the pores of your skin, so you painstakingly loosen it and discard it in the water for the fish to enjoy the fine embroidery. You have too many dresses.
In nothing but your shift, you dip your toes into the river. The wet silt feels amazing beneath your feet. Each splashing step stirs your soul alive as you wade deeper and deeper, soaking your shift and your skin. Soon, you’re afloat on your back, letting yourself be carried downstream and away from the world.
The sensations are wonderful.
Its starts out all at once, then slows into a gentle trance. Cold water envelops your body. It seeps into your bones, muffles your ears, and allows you to just breathe while everything else passes by and melts into nothing. The only sound you can hear is the river’s trickling song. It sings only for you. Your limbs stretch out, your chest rises, and nothing could be more perfect. You could never want anything more.
Eventually, it all dim behind your eyelids. Only the river remains. You smell its nature—the smell of something ancient and everlasting—and you want that scent to sink deep into your lungs and never leave. The water delicately frames your face; kissing your lips and forehead. You could descend into its blue depths and not even notice.
In fact, you don’t notice when you’re not alone.
As the creature attacks you, you have a fraction of a second where you recognize what kind of monster it is—but it’s too late. It lunges at you through the water.
You manage to deflect it with a kick and rush for shore. The blue lizalfos makes a horrid gurgling sound, then snatches your ankle with impossible strength.
The air is there one moment and gone the next. The water betrays your love in panicked splashes while you flail and scream. It pierces your lungs. You’re drowning. As you cough and try to orient yourself, a sharp pain bursts on your left arm. You cry out.
Twisting in its hold, you kick the lizalfos in the head and once again swim desperately for shore. It’s stunned for only a moment, however.
It’s right behind you.
It can swim twice as fast as you.
Just as you fear your lungs will permanently fill with water, you hear a scream—not your own. You turn, and the lizalfos lets out another guttural noise as a trident sinks further into its chest.
You gasp and nearly inhale more water. The monster poofs out of existence, and for a moment, all you see is pink as you’re lifted out of the river. Everything grows heavy and blurry. You remember how much you hate gravity.
“Are you alright?” a voice asks above you.
Coughing and squinting against the sun, you regain your senses and recognize your rescuer to be a Zora. His colors are white and a rich pink—accented with elegant silver jewelry—and despite having attributes like a dolphin, he appears more shark-like than the pictures of Zora you’ve studied before.
He sets you down, then looks alarmed. “Oh, you’re bleeding!”
You hear fabric tear, and suddenly there’s pressure on the pain of your arm, just below your shoulder. You try not to cry out. He’s next to you tying up the wound while you ground yourself with the water dripping down your face. It feels cold in the breeze. The hem of your shift is dripping too, but it hasn’t been torn. Briefly looking left, you find the raw edge of a blue sash draped over the Zora’s body. As he focuses on his handiwork, you study him more.
The pink crest of his head juts forward sharply, but it doesn’t make him look dangerous. His eyes look kind. The claws on his giant hands never scratch you. They nimbly tie a knot and lift your arm for him to check his work.
“Thank you.” Your voice is hoarse from coughing.
His focused expression transforms into friendliness as he looks at you, and he smiles. His teeth are charmingly sharp.
Very shark-like.
“Of course,” he says, looking you over for any more injuries. “You’re very lucky I happened to be swimming by. Who knows what could have happened!”
He doesn’t sound condescending, or high and mighty, or any sort of way you’d find negative. He’s genuine and concerned, and happy to have saved you.
Remembering the manners that have been trained into you, you slip your arm from his hold to rest your hands in your lap. You tip your head, and speak with utmost politeness. “You are very kind. The lizalfos surprised me, and I do not know if I’d have made it had you not been nearby.”
“I don’t blame you for not being cautious!” He looks out to the vast sky. “Monsters that stick by rivers tend to do so in less populated areas.”
You’ve certainly never seen any near the castle. And now that you’ve been attacked by one—
You realize something terrible, and it has you sighing mournfully. “They will never let me do this again…”
“Never let you do what again?”
You shake your head, and a few droplets fling. “Do not concern yourself with my troubles.” You twiddle some wet grass beside you, but it cannot distract you from the truth. “I should merely be happy I live to see another day.”
But if you never see another day in the water, you will have died in spirit. A piece of you will have drowned in that river.
The Zora stands, and you are momentarily stunned at how tall he is, because Zora are supposedly around the same height as Hylians. “Well,” he begins, offering his hand and lifting you up. Even standing, you’re only at half his height. “I don’t know what troubles you after just escaping near-death, but I’m quite happy that Hylia put me in your path!”
His smooth, cold hand is strangely comforting. It carries the essence of water. He is born of it, and it reflects in every aquatic feature, every aspect of himself that is different from you. For that, you cannot help but be intrigued and perhaps a tad jealous. He has fins and gills, with a body built for swimming in water—for living in it.
You find your voice. “And I as well.”
He isn’t at all like you expected him to be. You know the Zora are considered amiable, but you’re pleasantly surprised at his cheerful demeanor. You would even call him charming. He smiles again, and you find it positively delightful. Do all Zora have a smile like that?
“My Lady!”
You find your two attendants sprinting across the field for you. Wincing, you take a step away from the Zora and hold yourself with as much dignity you can muster while soaking wet.
“Hello,” you greet them when they reach you. They take a moment to pant and catch their breath, then enclose on your personal space.
“You’re all wet!”
“Where is your dress?”
“You’ll catch a cold!”
“Are you injured?”
They both gasp in horror upon seeing your arm. It’s tied up in blue fabric, but the blood staining it betrays your condition. They don’t even seem to notice the Zora with you as they hustle you away from the river. You crane your neck and spot him waving goodbye before he impressively dives into the river with a flip. He quickly resurfaces, and as he dashes through the water with ease, he cheerfully calls out, “May our paths cross again!”
