A soul, so familiar
Synopsis: Fae Rulie. He’s swooning and is being equally adorable and dumb about it.
Note: This is my only day off since… like what? mid august? No clue when i’ll actually have a moment to breathe again. So here’s the product of me being the largest rulie simp to walk the earth.
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Link had a problem, and quite a large one at that. You see, what you must understand is that through his many gruelling adventures, holding the entire triforce, and the general shit show that is his life, he has not much learned about his body. Or at least he’s still rather unfamiliar with the bizarre nature of his fae bloodline.
At most it’s lead for some very funny, if not embarrassing, moments. Like the time he’d accidentally dropped 100 rupees for a single jar of honey, being so craved for sugar he’d decided in some odd part of his mind to pay the man back. And of course that time he drank so much mead and woke up in the middle of a forest he never recalled entering.
There was very little of himself that he was aware of. Aside from his own experiences, he had no way to tell what exactly he was capable of.
For the most part, He was ok with it. After all, it was the source of very little discomfort. He’d gained a good control of his magic to harm and to heal accordingly, he keeps an extra emergency jar of honey just in case, and tries his hardest to not accidentally make promises. The line between hylian and fae had blurred to the point where he was simply just himself.
Amidst the crowds of people, he didn’t feel much different. Of course, they don’t get the acute cravings for sugar to where they’d gladly go bankrupt. And sure, they don’t have to worry about uttering deals that literally bargain power over people’s souls. But for the large part, Link was normal.
He could experience life as any other person did.
Well, that was before he fell head over heels for you.
He was a dork. That much was expected by everyone— including himself. There was no hiding the flush that adorned his freckled cheeks and spread all the way to pointed ears. Everything you said and everything you did was target to fluster him. Watching you dance and cackle by firelight had his heart radiating with warmth, his nerves spitting and cracking with the wood. He wished, quietly, longingly, that one day he could envelop you as wholly had the fire did. To caress your skin with such soft, reverent light and only serve to highlight just how striking you were.
His ears would wiggle just slightly at the sound of your laughter, hardly disturbing the soft curls of light brown hair. He’d swoon over the music of your laugh, or your voice when caught on something interesting, not noticing how clearly it showed to anyone willing to look.
He bore his genuine, crooked grin. Not just to you, but to the world. He found joy in every little moment in the usually missed corners of his day, because he could find something that tied back to you.
His life had suddenly been filled with so much colour and so many senses that he’d never had or felt before. And as much as the bubbling feeling scared him, he found himself wanting to protect you. He couldn’t let you, this burning streak of fire that had given so much depth to his one shot at living, be snuffed out.
He wanted so badly to adorn you in spells and wards to keep you safe from others and their prying eyes. The people of his home are not safe, but perhaps with the right words and the right magic he could keep you safe.
He didn’t let himself, he couldn’t.
He’d never whisper a single blessing into your skin if you weren’t the one who’d requested it.
But the feelings persisted. His love for your strengthened without any tending to, as did his desire to protect you, to hide you away and keep you safe and comfortable. And such was his problem: to love you so much in a manner that no hylian could understand.
He doubted even you would understand just how much you’re loved.
Regardless, he’d been an anxious wreck for weeks before he could even begin to come up with the obvious solution to his problem. If it were the fae part of himself that demanded so fervently your company, then perhaps catering to it would ease his yearning.
So he began to leave you gifts. Practical things at first, things he could explain away. Some new tools he’d seen you’d been eyeing, a nicer pack to keep all your belongings together, a fluffier bedroll to provide you good comfort… Some clothes he enchanted lightly to keep you safe.
But that slowly shifted. Of course, he only got more giddy the more you’d don the items he’d gotten. He’d gotten you much more since then, but none of them could compare to the engraved silver ring he’d just gotten.
The band was carved to make two hands holding a heart, an intricately carved crown on top, all set together in a small velvet bag and placed carefully among your items.
He watched happily, swooning over your soft smile as you slipped the ring on and thanked him for it. The kiss on the cheek made him utterly buzz, more than any life spell ever could.
Silver jewellery was the finest gift among the fae. It was their most precious metal and happened to be the most common form to supplement large payments. But this particular ring was notable to the traveller for one particular reason, its use in courtship.
He was over the moon the next few days, unable to even look in your direction without a nervous smile and flushed cheeks. Not only had his dearest love accepted his courtship, but you treat him so softly. His very soul tried to reach out, to cradle and cherish yours when he was too shy to do so.
And for once in the story of his life did he feel the warmth returned.
He could catch similar longing stares and could find trinkets and clothes he doesn’t remember buying.
It was almost burning, the sense of being loved. He wasn’t aware of how something he’d spent so long pining for could be so foreign. Yet at the same time it’s so homey. Being loved by you felt so routine, so familiar to him that he couldn’t find it within himself anymore to be shy, as if in some other lifetime you’d done the same.
As if he’s already bashfully linked pinkies with you or spent sunny afternoons braiding the stems of flowers.
There was a tangible amount of tension between the two of you, the longing hope to be loved as wholly as one felt for the other.
When you finally kissed, your lips were sweeter than any honey and he could convince himself to not let go.