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Don’t Leave Me Alone

^^^^^

“What are we going to do, Marth?”

“Sit and wait, Roy. It’s all we can do.”

“… What would you have done, Marth… if it had been me?”

The Prince sighed. “Roy, don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?” the younger huffed.

“Because I don’t want to think about it, alright?”

The red-head gave an exasperated growl. “You suck.”

Their bickering roused the slumbering Hylian. He moaned and stirred, silencing his caregivers. His crystal blue eyes, darkened by despair, slid open. He took in the tent, the one that he shared with Soren. To his right was the desk that Soren used for all of his planning, across from him hung Soren’s robes among his tunics, to his left sat Marth and Roy on the small couch that he would snuggle with Soren on, and he laid on the foldable cot that he shared and often made love with Soren on. He choked back a sob.

“Link?” Roy called softly and put a hand on the blonde’s shoulder.

“Where is he?” the archer asked as the first tears slid down his cheeks. He feared not knowing what had become of his lover, but he doubted that the answer would give him any comfort. ‘What if he’s already been buried? What if he’s already cold and dead in the ground, and I didn’t get to tell him goodbye?’

“He’s on the other side of camp,” Roy answered softly, but Link interpreted it as cryptically.

The Hylian nodded and sat up. “Did you… already?”

Roy thought for a moment, before finally replying, “Rice is taking care of him.”

The statement took a full minute to sink in. “W-what? He’s alive!?”

Marth spoke up, “Yes, he’s alive. Rhys is tending to him, but, Link, try not to get your hopes up. He’s hurt very badly-”

Link tuned the Prince out while he yanked his boots on. He snatched his cloak off of Soren’s chair and exited the tent before Marth could protest. The blonde rushed to the other side of the camp and was shocked by the small number of soldiers outside of their tents. It wasn’t until he spotted the evening guard that he grasped how late it was. After midnight at the earliest. ‘I’ve been out for hours!’ he realized as he reached the other side of the camp. He spotted Rhys standing in the light of a small fire, busy talking to Titania. It was clear, even from a distance, that the bishop was exhausted. Link picked up on the flow of the conversation as he drew closer.

“… And it’s late, Rhys. You’re prone to illness, you should go to bed.”

“Titania, I don’t know… I just feel like I should stay with him…”

The axe knight’s usually confident composure softened into something more maternal. “You’ve done everything you could for him… Given the circumstances.”

The healer’s face drew into a grimace. “If only I had moderated my staff better. I should have been prepared for something like this.”

Titania touched his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. Your job was to keep those in the Main Group healthy, and you did. We hid our staves with Soren, so the enemy wouldn’t know that we had so many. We just took for granted that Soren and the supply wagons would make it safely… Nobody could have planned for this… Everyone’s playing the ‘what if’ game. Ike wonders ‘what if I had sent a fighter with the Supply Group’, you wonder ‘what if I had moderated my staff better’, and I wonder ‘what if I hadn’t given up my last vulernary to someone with a flesh wound’. We can play the ‘what if’ game all night, but it will only make us miserable.”

“It’s just… It’s not even ‘what if’s for me… What hurts more than anything else is just-” he broke off abruptly.

Titania sniffed back tears herself. “I know. It hurts when it’s one of our own.”

“He’s just so young! And with so much potential! Goddess, it’s just not fair!”

The pair went silent as they finally heard Link’s approach. He stopped only a few feet away from them. He had never really talked to Titania or Rhys before, and it was hard for the blonde to know where to start. He decided on a question. “How is he?”

“Not good,” the frail healer replied sadly.

Link shuffled his feet uncomfortably in the snow. “Will he be okay?”

Rhys and Titania exchanged pained looks. The bishop bowed his head. “With as much that’s happened to him… Link… It’s hard to say, really… It’s only by the grace of the Goddess that he’s lived this long.”

The blonde scowled. “Look, I know you’re trying to be nice, but give me a straight answer with all of the details. What is his current condition and future prospect?”

Titania gripped Rhys’s shoulder, lending him the strength he needed to deliver the harsh truth. The priest sighed. “As soon as you all returned to camp, I sent a messenger to our base camp that we stationed at Crimea’s boarder. It’s little after the middle of the night now, and the healers won’t arrive until dawn. Soren will have to survive the night, but after spending five hours in the snow, he’s been hypothermic, too cold. I’ve done my best to stabilize him, but now his temperature’s spiked. I believe that he’s developing pneumonia in his right lung… possibly both, but the right lung for sure. That will only add to his troubled breathing, since his entire ribcage was crushed. Every breath is a struggle for him, and I fear that it is a losing battle.

“I set his left leg as best as I could, but without a staff, I can only pray that it will heal correctly. His right arm…” Rhys shuddered. “His right arm was badly crushed and nearly separated from his body. Even if I had a staff, it would be difficult to fix. It’s possible that it will be amputated… removed.”

Link bowed his head and nodded sadly. His lover was alive, but in pieces, and even if he made it through the night, it was unlikely that he would be the same. Thinking of Soren with only one arm and unable to cast spells made the Hylian’s stomach twist. “Um, has anyone buh-been in th-there to see hi-im?” the archer hiccupped, fighting back tears.

The healer nodded. “Ike was in there for most of the night. He stayed in there while I did my best to dress the wounds, but… when the pneumonia started to develop, and Soren’s breathing became… troubled, it was just too much. He got very upset, and Titania eventually talked him into going to bed. He’s taking it really hard.”

‘Oh, he’s taking it hard,’ Link thought bitterly. ‘Probably from guilt of making my Dearest Soren break down three months back and not apologizing for it.’ He clenched his fists in anger but realized that the emotion was misplaced. This wasn’t Ike’s fault, and hating him was more than unproductive. The Hylian took a calming breath and asked, “Is he allowed to have any visitors now? I know it’s late, but…”

“You should go in there, Link,” Rhys said gently. “Soren truly loves you, and as painful as this must be for you to hear, I think that your presence will bring peace to him in his… final hour.”

The knot in the archer’s stomach tightened. He nodded to the healer and his companion, and he entered the tent without looking back. He wasn’t prepared for the horror that awaited him.

The tent was occupied by several desks, various medical supplies, two chairs, and a single cot where Link’s struggling lover fought his injuries. Soren was covered up to his chest by several blankets to protect him from the harshest of winter winds. He was elevated by several pillows which did little to ease his loud, ragged breathing. From the entrance of the tent, the Hylian could watch as the blankets rose and fell with each shuddering gasp. The rattle of water in the sage’s lungs was unmistakable.

Link drew closer and could now see his beloved’s face, not blue with cold, but pure white. The flush in the spell caster’s cheeks looked unnatural by comparison. His eyes were closed and the sockets dark from all the energy he had spent battling for his life. Each breath came in through his mouth and his eyes would wince tightly shut from the pain of expanding his lungs. The blanket’s lightly covering his chest would rise and fall harshly and unevenly.

The Hylian looked over to the right side of the bed and found the arm solidly wrapped and splinted. Even the fingers were wrapped in the blood-stained bandages. However, a quick look at the exposed, blackened flesh of the sage’s shoulder showed the true nature of the injury. The left arm seemed uninjured but was ghostly pale. The hand would occasionally clench the sheets during a particularly raspy inhale.

The rest of the spell caster’s body was hidden from view under hand knit quilts of neutral colors, although he could see that the left leg was slightly propped to reduce swelling. A shudder ran through the sage’s body from the pain of breathing. Each breath had become more than a struggle in the short time that the Hylian had been in the tent; it was now a raging battle. The raven haired youth gasped and wheezed with each inhale and rattled in the back of his throat with each exhale. A wet cough weakly broke the pattern. Afterwards, there was a heart stopping pause. Terrified that he had just witnessed the end, Link rushed forward only to stop dead in his tracks when he heard the sage gasp.

The green-clad hero didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. He settled for a mix of both and closed the gap to his lover’s bed. The struggling gasps had resumed at their regular intervals, and the noise crushed the Hylian’s heart. “Oh, Dearest Soren,” he whispered and gently stroked the sage’s exposed left hand.

Soren’s eyes flew open the instant they made contact. His labored breathing quickened as his eyes took in the tent. Link was too shocked to make a sound; there weren’t words to describe the pain that he saw in his lover’s eyes. He remained still as Soren’s blood-red gaze fell on him. A smile tugged at the wind master’s lips.

“Link,” he rasped. The simple word came out with a haggard exhale, but the love in his tone was unmistakable.

The Hylian dropped to his knees at the bedside and took the fragile hand in both of his own. He never broke eye-contact; he was too afraid to blink. The blonde rested his chin on the cot. “Look at you, Love,” he whispered as his eyes began to overflow. “What happened?”

“Horses,” he rasped in reply. A deep gasp followed by a harsh cough made the Hylian jump. The sage cleared his throat. “I made a… miscal… culation…” he explained with remarkable clarity between gasps.

Link dried his eyes. Soren was being so strong, and he shouldn’t have to support the archer in this state. Link did his best to compose himself for his lover’s sake. “Shh-shh. Don’t get worked up, Baby. You need to save your energy,” he whispered, stroking the back of his lover’s hand.

Soren continued, “They figured… out my plan… The attack spooked… the horses… An enemy… knocked me… down and… Ughhhhhh…”

“Don’t think about it. You’ll be fine. Just rest,” the blonde soothed.

Soren showed no sign of stopping. His brow creased as he thought back to the attack. After a moment of intense thought, he relaxed, closing his eyes in exasperation. “… Fuck…”

“What’s wrong?... Soren?” Link leaned forward.

The sage opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “I was… trampled… and sus… tained terrible… injuries… all over… my body…”

The simple statement took an agonizing amount of time to say. Link’s heart twisted as he watched his lover struggled. “Yes, you’re hurt, but you’re going to get better… Just hang on.”

“My injur… ries don’t… concern me,” he stated firmly.

The Hylian was puzzled. “Then what upset you, Baby?”

“Rhys had to… strip me… to tend… to me… No one’s… ever seen me… naked but… you,” he made a series of wheezes that Link mistook for suffocating, but after a moment the archer realized that the spell caster was laughing.

“Oh well… Don’t worry about that. You probably gave him a nosebleed with how sexy you are.”

The wheezing grew louder and Soren smiled. “Don’t know… about that…”

“I do,” Link whispered and kissed the sage on his birthmark.

The pain returned to the spell caster’s eyes. “I’m sorry… Link…” he sighed harshly. “I ruined… tonight for… us…”

“Don’t worry about that, Love,” Link whispered, trying to desperately to be strong for his lover, but he was losing his composure. ‘After everything you’ve been through, how can you still be thinking about me? Don’t you ever worry about yourself?’ With that, the Hylian fell into uncontrollable tears. He hid his face in his left hand while holding Soren's in his right. He wanted to hide it from the sage; he wanted to be strong, but he didn't know if he could any more. Not after everything that had happened, and everything else that still could.

Soren glared at the archer’s tears. "Link," he addressed, some of his old authority showing through the pain in his voice. "Stop crying like... I'm already... dead... I'm going… to be fine!" With the heavy emphasis came a coughing fit.

Link waited for the fit to pass, but it continued. The coughing intensified and had somewhat of a wet rasp to them. He eased his lover into a sitting position only to watch as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Coughing gave way to panicked gasps. Soren was clearly dying.

“Soren!” The blonde cradled his lover’s head gently in his arms and looked him directly in the eyes. “You have to breathe!”

A ragged, wet gasp was his only reply. The sage bent forward, choking in agony.

He tilted the sage’s head back so that they saw eye. Both were the center of each other’s world. “Breathe, Soren! You can’t give up! Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…”

Soren gasped and forced his shattered ribs to expand. It was the most painful experience of his life, even worse than suffocating. The only thing that could possibly hurt worse was losing Link, and that would only happen if he gave up. Desperately, he worked his heavy lungs. He devoted every cell of his being to Link; seeing him, hearing him, focusing on him, and obeying him. He sucked in breath after painful breath, all in careful rhythm with his lover’s chant.

“Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…” the blonde had tears in his beautiful clear blue eyes, but he wouldn’t allow them to fall. “Soren, you’re doing great. Breathe… Breathe… I’m so proud of you… Breathe… Breathe… breathe…” he allowed his chant to diminish and Soren’s natural rhythm to take over. He smiled down at the sage with all the love in the world. “Soren, I love you so much. You’re so strong… Stay with me… Don’t ever leave me.”

The young spell caster smiled, and Link wiped the thin trails of blood from his chin. “I’ll never… leave you… You’re my… everything…”

The Hylian smiled, and held the raven-haired sage in his arms. He showered his exhausted lover with gentle kisses, all while stroking his hair back, and allowing him to relax. The pain of being trampled was intense, but Soren barely noticed it when he felt the green-clad archer stroke back his hair. Everything just seemed to melt away, leaving only Link’s gentle eyes and loving touch. Just having the blonde near was enough for Soren to breathe easier.

^^^^^

Link stayed awake, holding the broken sage in his arms, stroking his hair, and whispering words of never ending love. Should Soren’s breathing be troubled, the Hylian would start his chant, and they would breathe in unison until the spell caster’s rhythm returned. Neither had any indication as to how much time had passed, but it became apparent when Rhys entered the tent.

The bishop was taken aback when he heard the young sage’s ragged breathing. Link looked up when he heard the priest falter. “Rhys? I thought you went to bed?” he whispered, as not to disturb his lover.

Rhys blinked. “Link, it's dawn... Didn't you realize? You've been in here all night..." the healer said in disbelief as he approached the bed. "Goddess, he's still with us."

Link smiled and stroked his lover's face affectionately. "Are the healers here? Are they going to make him better?"

Rhys wrung his hands fretfully. "Uh... well, they aren't exactly the best healers available, but they've got more experience than I do. They'll do what they can for him."

Link sighed and waited. After a minute he asked, "Aren't they coming?"

Rhys looked timid. "Yes, but... They've requested for all visitors to... um... leave while they work."

Link scowled and held his beloved sage to his chest.

He glanced down at Soren, and relented. "I'll go, just... give me a moment. I'll be right out."

Rhys nodded and left the tent.

"Soren? Dearest Soren, can you hear me?" He whispered, and nuzzled the sage's forehead.

His crimson eyes cracked open. "Link?" he asked, his voice thinner than a whisper.

"I'm still here. It's dawn. You made it, Love, and the back-up healers are here. They're going to fix you up," he assured gently.

Soren's brow wrinkled in distaste. "No... just Rhys..."

Link sighed patiently. 'Of all the times to be stubborn.' "These are experienced healers. Better than Rhys... You'll be better in no time," he assured, and kissed the red birthmark on his lover's forehead.

Soren's brow smoothed over and he relented. "If you... say so... Love... I trust you..."

Link smiled, comforted that Soren didn’t insist on being so willful for once. Carefully, he slipped himself out from under his lover, lying him back down on the many pillows that littered the cot. As he stood, Soren’s eyes widened with slight panic and he raised his good arm as much as he could to reach for him.

“Where are… y-you going?”

Link bent over so that they were on the same level. He pet the top of his lover’s head and whispered, “Just trust me, Love. I'll be by your side the instant they've finished.”

"You're not... going to... be there?" his thin voice pleaded, hurt. Soren was getting antsy and trying, without much success, to move.

The Hylian sat back down on the cot, and leans embraced his lover softly while calming him down. "It’s okay, it’s okay. They need space to work on you. You'll be alright. We won't be apart for more than an hour. We'll be together again.”

The sage's efforts ceased, and he once again relaxed against the pillows. "I hate to... m-make you… promise me… something else..."

The blonde sighed with a smile and kissed the spell caster’s forehead. When one kiss wasn’t enough, he repeated the gesture several more times, and trailed kisses down the young sage’s forehead and nose until he finally reached his lips. “Dearest Soren, I've already promised to stand by you. From the moment we first met. I'll be there for you. We won't be apart long.”

^^^^^

Link sat by the campfire outside of the medical tent, clearly depressed. It had been little over had been little over an hour since the back-up healers had arrived, and they had yet to report on Soren’s condition. It was all the Hylian could do to keep from barging into the tent and demanding to know his lover’s prognosis. Instead, he sat by the diminishing fire, watching the medical tent while the sun inched over the tree line.

A boisterous yawn came from behind the blonde. “Mornin’, Link,” Roy greeted and plopped down on an adjacent bench. “I thought you’d be here,” he added softly when the archer didn’t reply immediately.

The Hylian sighed. “Yup, been here all night.”

Roy twiddled his thumbs and looked over at his friend. “Jeez, Link. You really look awful.”

“Thank you, Roy,” the Hero of Time replied, exhaustion and concern robbing his voice of its sarcastic intent.

“So… what’s going on in there?”

Link cast another weary glance at Rhys’s medical tent before answering, “Healers got here an hour ago. They have a few staves with them. They’ve been in there for… a while now.”

“Nobody’s told you how he’s doing?”

Link shook his head.

The crimson haired swordsman growled. “That’s ten pounds of bullshit!”

“Roy!” Marth whispered harshly as he came into view. “It’s too early for you to be this loud. Keep it down.”

The noble huffed. “Whatever you say, Mom.”

The bluenette made no comment as he sat down by his lover. After an uneasy silence, the Prince shivered and mumbled, “Can’t ever seem to keep warm around here. I’ll go get some more wood for the fire.”

Roy shrugged. “I’m stayin’ with Link.”

Marth nodded and walked away. A moment later, the flap to the medical tent flipped outward, revealing Rhys and bishop. The bishop hurried off, but Rhys stayed in place, holding the flap open. Seconds later, the bishop returned with a horse drawn medical wagon just as the rest of the healers emerged carrying Soren on a stretcher. The miserable sage groaned weakly with each step that the healers took, although it was obvious they were doing their best not to jostle him.

Seeing his lover in pain enraged the Hylian. “What are you doing?! Can’t you see he’s hurt!?” the blonde roared as he leapt to his feet. He was vaguely aware that Roy had attempted to restrain him, but that didn’t stop Link. The Brawler didn’t even feel the weight of his fellow swordsman as he drug the poor boy through the snow. “Why are you taking him?!”

Rhys stepped in front of Link and effectively blocked him from the healers as they carefully loaded Soren into the back of the wagon. “Link, calm down,” the ginger priest whispered soothingly, holding his hands up as a sign of surrender.

“The fuck I will! What’s going on, Rhys?! Why are they taking Soren?!” the blonde shrieked, trying to step around the healer. Roy was now on his feet and was successfully working his friend into a headlock.

“Link, please!” Rhys begged, and had to sidestep to avoid being knocked over as the red haired noble successfully immobilized the Hylian. “They’re taking Soren, because the damage is more severe than they can treat here. There’s a hospital in Melior that is prepped for his kinds of injuries.”

“Melior?! That’s two weeks away!” the blonde roared, waking every soldier within a six tent radius. Roy struggled to cover his mouth, and ended up knocking him off balance into the snow.

Marth returned to the scene, dumping his wood on the dying embers before running over to his companions. “What’s going on here?” the Prince demanded, unable to hear Link’s snow muffled proclamations. “Roy, flip him over. He’s in the snow.”

The noble boy obeyed, and rolled over so he was on his back in the snow with the sobbing Hylian on top of him.

“Let me go with him!” the blonde cried. “Don’t separate us! I can’t bear it! I’ll get Epona; we’ll just follow along. We won’t take any space; we won’t cause any trouble. Just don’t take him away! Don’t take him away from me!”

Marth knelt down by the blonde’s side as the healers readied to depart. “No one’s taking Soren from you. If he needs to be moved to get better treatment, you need to accept it.”

“I know, but… Just let me go with him!”

“Link! After the events of last night, we’re short enough on numbers as it is. To lose a dual archer swordsman would be devastating to our cause. Losing this war would only make Soren’s injuries in vain. Would you honestly do that to him after all he’s been through?” Marth demanded, full regal authority in his eyes.

Link collected himself. Biting down on his lip, he replied, “No… I wouldn’t do that to him. He risked his life to win this war. I won’t let him down… I’ll stay.”

Marth smiled. “Thank you, Link. You’re doing the right thing.”

“It’s not easy… Roy, let go.”

Uncharacteristically, the boy did as he was told. Perhaps it was the venomous undertone in the Hylian’s command. The blonde stood up and brushed the snow off of his pants.

“I know this is hard, Link,” Marth whispered, and watched as Link looked around.

“Marth, where’s the cart?” the archer asked, panic creeping into his voice.

Roy sat up from the snow and examined the tracks leading out of camp. “Uh, Link, looks like they left…”

“FUCK!” The Hylian bolted from the area, following the tracks in the snow. Marth was calling after him, but Link dared the Prince to try and catch him. He followed the narrow grooves in the snow until the wagon was in sight. ‘How did it get so far so quick?’ he wondered, but then he saw that the horses drawing the wagon were at a gallop. He didn’t know how he would keep up with two horses in a run, but he decided to try anyways. He had to tell Soren goodbye.

The cart made it to the base of the mountain, and the horses started to climb at a faster pace than the Hylian could climb. He would never catch up, at this point.

“STOP!” he called. A healer poked his head out of the back of the wagon, but made no move to obey the command. Link inwardly cursed the man’s family and changed tactics.

“SOREN!”

He didn’t know if the sage could hear him, but he prayed that the boy did. “SOREN! I’LL WAIT FOR YOU! PROMISE ME YOU’LL COME BACK TO ME WHEN YOU’RE BETTER!... I LOVE YOU!” His breath spent, the blonde collapsed into the snow at the foot of the mountain and sadly watched the wagon’s ascent.

When the cart disappeared from sight seconds later, the blonde was overcome with sudden, violent sobs. Melior was two weeks away, and even by cart, it would be ten days before Soren saw a qualified doctor. ‘How will you make it, Love? What will happen to you if you can’t breathe? Will they know how to chant to you? How to soothe you?’ He didn’t want to allow himself to consider his lover’s demise, but he couldn’t conceive of the sage surviving for so long without him.

‘Don’t leave me, Dearest Soren… Not like this… How will I live without you?’

Description
Don’t Leave Me Alone

^^^^^

“What are we going to do, Marth?”

“Sit and wait, Roy. It’s all we can do.”

“… What would you have done, Marth… if it had been me?”

The Prince sighed. “Roy, don’t ask me that.”

“Why not?” the younger huffed.

“Because I don’t want to think about it, alright?”

The red-head gave an exasperated growl. “You suck.”

Their bickering roused the slumbering Hylian. He moaned and stirred, silencing his caregivers. His crystal blue eyes, darkened by despair, slid open. He took in the tent, the one that he shared with Soren. To his right was the desk that Soren used for all of his planning, across from him hung Soren’s robes among his tunics, to his left sat Marth and Roy on the small couch that he would snuggle with Soren on, and he laid on the foldable cot that he shared and often made love with Soren on. He choked back a sob.

“Link?” Roy called softly and put a hand on the blonde’s shoulder.

“Where is he?” the archer asked as the first tears slid down his cheeks. He feared not knowing what had become of his lover, but he doubted that the answer would give him any comfort. ‘What if he’s already been buried? What if he’s already cold and dead in the ground, and I didn’t get to tell him goodbye?’

“He’s on the other side of camp,” Roy answered softly, but Link interpreted it as cryptically.

The Hylian nodded and sat up. “Did you… already?”

Roy thought for a moment, before finally replying, “Rice is taking care of him.”

The statement took a full minute to sink in. “W-what? He’s alive!?”

Marth spoke up, “Yes, he’s alive. Rhys is tending to him, but, Link, try not to get your hopes up. He’s hurt very badly-”

Link tuned the Prince out while he yanked his boots on. He snatched his cloak off of Soren’s chair and exited the tent before Marth could protest. The blonde rushed to the other side of the camp and was shocked by the small number of soldiers outside of their tents. It wasn’t until he spotted the evening guard that he grasped how late it was. After midnight at the earliest. ‘I’ve been out for hours!’ he realized as he reached the other side of the camp. He spotted Rhys standing in the light of a small fire, busy talking to Titania. It was clear, even from a distance, that the bishop was exhausted. Link picked up on the flow of the conversation as he drew closer.

“… And it’s late, Rhys. You’re prone to illness, you should go to bed.”

“Titania, I don’t know… I just feel like I should stay with him…”

The axe knight’s usually confident composure softened into something more maternal. “You’ve done everything you could for him… Given the circumstances.”

The healer’s face drew into a grimace. “If only I had moderated my staff better. I should have been prepared for something like this.”

Titania touched his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known. Your job was to keep those in the Main Group healthy, and you did. We hid our staves with Soren, so the enemy wouldn’t know that we had so many. We just took for granted that Soren and the supply wagons would make it safely… Nobody could have planned for this… Everyone’s playing the ‘what if’ game. Ike wonders ‘what if I had sent a fighter with the Supply Group’, you wonder ‘what if I had moderated my staff better’, and I wonder ‘what if I hadn’t given up my last vulernary to someone with a flesh wound’. We can play the ‘what if’ game all night, but it will only make us miserable.”

“It’s just… It’s not even ‘what if’s for me… What hurts more than anything else is just-” he broke off abruptly.

Titania sniffed back tears herself. “I know. It hurts when it’s one of our own.”

“He’s just so young! And with so much potential! Goddess, it’s just not fair!”

The pair went silent as they finally heard Link’s approach. He stopped only a few feet away from them. He had never really talked to Titania or Rhys before, and it was hard for the blonde to know where to start. He decided on a question. “How is he?”

“Not good,” the frail healer replied sadly.

Link shuffled his feet uncomfortably in the snow. “Will he be okay?”

Rhys and Titania exchanged pained looks. The bishop bowed his head. “With as much that’s happened to him… Link… It’s hard to say, really… It’s only by the grace of the Goddess that he’s lived this long.”

The blonde scowled. “Look, I know you’re trying to be nice, but give me a straight answer with all of the details. What is his current condition and future prospect?”

Titania gripped Rhys’s shoulder, lending him the strength he needed to deliver the harsh truth. The priest sighed. “As soon as you all returned to camp, I sent a messenger to our base camp that we stationed at Crimea’s boarder. It’s little after the middle of the night now, and the healers won’t arrive until dawn. Soren will have to survive the night, but after spending five hours in the snow, he’s been hypothermic, too cold. I’ve done my best to stabilize him, but now his temperature’s spiked. I believe that he’s developing pneumonia in his right lung… possibly both, but the right lung for sure. That will only add to his troubled breathing, since his entire ribcage was crushed. Every breath is a struggle for him, and I fear that it is a losing battle.

“I set his left leg as best as I could, but without a staff, I can only pray that it will heal correctly. His right arm…” Rhys shuddered. “His right arm was badly crushed and nearly separated from his body. Even if I had a staff, it would be difficult to fix. It’s possible that it will be amputated… removed.”

Link bowed his head and nodded sadly. His lover was alive, but in pieces, and even if he made it through the night, it was unlikely that he would be the same. Thinking of Soren with only one arm and unable to cast spells made the Hylian’s stomach twist. “Um, has anyone buh-been in th-there to see hi-im?” the archer hiccupped, fighting back tears.

The healer nodded. “Ike was in there for most of the night. He stayed in there while I did my best to dress the wounds, but… when the pneumonia started to develop, and Soren’s breathing became… troubled, it was just too much. He got very upset, and Titania eventually talked him into going to bed. He’s taking it really hard.”

‘Oh, he’s taking it hard,’ Link thought bitterly. ‘Probably from guilt of making my Dearest Soren break down three months back and not apologizing for it.’ He clenched his fists in anger but realized that the emotion was misplaced. This wasn’t Ike’s fault, and hating him was more than unproductive. The Hylian took a calming breath and asked, “Is he allowed to have any visitors now? I know it’s late, but…”

“You should go in there, Link,” Rhys said gently. “Soren truly loves you, and as painful as this must be for you to hear, I think that your presence will bring peace to him in his… final hour.”

The knot in the archer’s stomach tightened. He nodded to the healer and his companion, and he entered the tent without looking back. He wasn’t prepared for the horror that awaited him.

The tent was occupied by several desks, various medical supplies, two chairs, and a single cot where Link’s struggling lover fought his injuries. Soren was covered up to his chest by several blankets to protect him from the harshest of winter winds. He was elevated by several pillows which did little to ease his loud, ragged breathing. From the entrance of the tent, the Hylian could watch as the blankets rose and fell with each shuddering gasp. The rattle of water in the sage’s lungs was unmistakable.

Link drew closer and could now see his beloved’s face, not blue with cold, but pure white. The flush in the spell caster’s cheeks looked unnatural by comparison. His eyes were closed and the sockets dark from all the energy he had spent battling for his life. Each breath came in through his mouth and his eyes would wince tightly shut from the pain of expanding his lungs. The blanket’s lightly covering his chest would rise and fall harshly and unevenly.

The Hylian looked over to the right side of the bed and found the arm solidly wrapped and splinted. Even the fingers were wrapped in the blood-stained bandages. However, a quick look at the exposed, blackened flesh of the sage’s shoulder showed the true nature of the injury. The left arm seemed uninjured but was ghostly pale. The hand would occasionally clench the sheets during a particularly raspy inhale.

The rest of the spell caster’s body was hidden from view under hand knit quilts of neutral colors, although he could see that the left leg was slightly propped to reduce swelling. A shudder ran through the sage’s body from the pain of breathing. Each breath had become more than a struggle in the short time that the Hylian had been in the tent; it was now a raging battle. The raven haired youth gasped and wheezed with each inhale and rattled in the back of his throat with each exhale. A wet cough weakly broke the pattern. Afterwards, there was a heart stopping pause. Terrified that he had just witnessed the end, Link rushed forward only to stop dead in his tracks when he heard the sage gasp.

The green-clad hero didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. He settled for a mix of both and closed the gap to his lover’s bed. The struggling gasps had resumed at their regular intervals, and the noise crushed the Hylian’s heart. “Oh, Dearest Soren,” he whispered and gently stroked the sage’s exposed left hand.

Soren’s eyes flew open the instant they made contact. His labored breathing quickened as his eyes took in the tent. Link was too shocked to make a sound; there weren’t words to describe the pain that he saw in his lover’s eyes. He remained still as Soren’s blood-red gaze fell on him. A smile tugged at the wind master’s lips.

“Link,” he rasped. The simple word came out with a haggard exhale, but the love in his tone was unmistakable.

The Hylian dropped to his knees at the bedside and took the fragile hand in both of his own. He never broke eye-contact; he was too afraid to blink. The blonde rested his chin on the cot. “Look at you, Love,” he whispered as his eyes began to overflow. “What happened?”

“Horses,” he rasped in reply. A deep gasp followed by a harsh cough made the Hylian jump. The sage cleared his throat. “I made a… miscal… culation…” he explained with remarkable clarity between gasps.

Link dried his eyes. Soren was being so strong, and he shouldn’t have to support the archer in this state. Link did his best to compose himself for his lover’s sake. “Shh-shh. Don’t get worked up, Baby. You need to save your energy,” he whispered, stroking the back of his lover’s hand.

Soren continued, “They figured… out my plan… The attack spooked… the horses… An enemy… knocked me… down and… Ughhhhhh…”

“Don’t think about it. You’ll be fine. Just rest,” the blonde soothed.

Soren showed no sign of stopping. His brow creased as he thought back to the attack. After a moment of intense thought, he relaxed, closing his eyes in exasperation. “… Fuck…”

“What’s wrong?... Soren?” Link leaned forward.

The sage opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “I was… trampled… and sus… tained terrible… injuries… all over… my body…”

The simple statement took an agonizing amount of time to say. Link’s heart twisted as he watched his lover struggled. “Yes, you’re hurt, but you’re going to get better… Just hang on.”

“My injur… ries don’t… concern me,” he stated firmly.

The Hylian was puzzled. “Then what upset you, Baby?”

“Rhys had to… strip me… to tend… to me… No one’s… ever seen me… naked but… you,” he made a series of wheezes that Link mistook for suffocating, but after a moment the archer realized that the spell caster was laughing.

“Oh well… Don’t worry about that. You probably gave him a nosebleed with how sexy you are.”

The wheezing grew louder and Soren smiled. “Don’t know… about that…”

“I do,” Link whispered and kissed the sage on his birthmark.

The pain returned to the spell caster’s eyes. “I’m sorry… Link…” he sighed harshly. “I ruined… tonight for… us…”

“Don’t worry about that, Love,” Link whispered, trying to desperately to be strong for his lover, but he was losing his composure. ‘After everything you’ve been through, how can you still be thinking about me? Don’t you ever worry about yourself?’ With that, the Hylian fell into uncontrollable tears. He hid his face in his left hand while holding Soren's in his right. He wanted to hide it from the sage; he wanted to be strong, but he didn't know if he could any more. Not after everything that had happened, and everything else that still could.

Soren glared at the archer’s tears. "Link," he addressed, some of his old authority showing through the pain in his voice. "Stop crying like... I'm already... dead... I'm going… to be fine!" With the heavy emphasis came a coughing fit.

Link waited for the fit to pass, but it continued. The coughing intensified and had somewhat of a wet rasp to them. He eased his lover into a sitting position only to watch as blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Coughing gave way to panicked gasps. Soren was clearly dying.

“Soren!” The blonde cradled his lover’s head gently in his arms and looked him directly in the eyes. “You have to breathe!”

A ragged, wet gasp was his only reply. The sage bent forward, choking in agony.

He tilted the sage’s head back so that they saw eye. Both were the center of each other’s world. “Breathe, Soren! You can’t give up! Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…”

Soren gasped and forced his shattered ribs to expand. It was the most painful experience of his life, even worse than suffocating. The only thing that could possibly hurt worse was losing Link, and that would only happen if he gave up. Desperately, he worked his heavy lungs. He devoted every cell of his being to Link; seeing him, hearing him, focusing on him, and obeying him. He sucked in breath after painful breath, all in careful rhythm with his lover’s chant.

“Breathe… Breathe… Breathe…” the blonde had tears in his beautiful clear blue eyes, but he wouldn’t allow them to fall. “Soren, you’re doing great. Breathe… Breathe… I’m so proud of you… Breathe… Breathe… breathe…” he allowed his chant to diminish and Soren’s natural rhythm to take over. He smiled down at the sage with all the love in the world. “Soren, I love you so much. You’re so strong… Stay with me… Don’t ever leave me.”

The young spell caster smiled, and Link wiped the thin trails of blood from his chin. “I’ll never… leave you… You’re my… everything…”

The Hylian smiled, and held the raven-haired sage in his arms. He showered his exhausted lover with gentle kisses, all while stroking his hair back, and allowing him to relax. The pain of being trampled was intense, but Soren barely noticed it when he felt the green-clad archer stroke back his hair. Everything just seemed to melt away, leaving only Link’s gentle eyes and loving touch. Just having the blonde near was enough for Soren to breathe easier.

^^^^^

Link stayed awake, holding the broken sage in his arms, stroking his hair, and whispering words of never ending love. Should Soren’s breathing be troubled, the Hylian would start his chant, and they would breathe in unison until the spell caster’s rhythm returned. Neither had any indication as to how much time had passed, but it became apparent when Rhys entered the tent.

The bishop was taken aback when he heard the young sage’s ragged breathing. Link looked up when he heard the priest falter. “Rhys? I thought you went to bed?” he whispered, as not to disturb his lover.

Rhys blinked. “Link, it's dawn... Didn't you realize? You've been in here all night..." the healer said in disbelief as he approached the bed. "Goddess, he's still with us."

Link smiled and stroked his lover's face affectionately. "Are the healers here? Are they going to make him better?"

Rhys wrung his hands fretfully. "Uh... well, they aren't exactly the best healers available, but they've got more experience than I do. They'll do what they can for him."

Link sighed and waited. After a minute he asked, "Aren't they coming?"

Rhys looked timid. "Yes, but... They've requested for all visitors to... um... leave while they work."

Link scowled and held his beloved sage to his chest.

He glanced down at Soren, and relented. "I'll go, just... give me a moment. I'll be right out."

Rhys nodded and left the tent.

"Soren? Dearest Soren, can you hear me?" He whispered, and nuzzled the sage's forehead.

His crimson eyes cracked open. "Link?" he asked, his voice thinner than a whisper.

"I'm still here. It's dawn. You made it, Love, and the back-up healers are here. They're going to fix you up," he assured gently.

Soren's brow wrinkled in distaste. "No... just Rhys..."

Link sighed patiently. 'Of all the times to be stubborn.' "These are experienced healers. Better than Rhys... You'll be better in no time," he assured, and kissed the red birthmark on his lover's forehead.

Soren's brow smoothed over and he relented. "If you... say so... Love... I trust you..."

Link smiled, comforted that Soren didn’t insist on being so willful for once. Carefully, he slipped himself out from under his lover, lying him back down on the many pillows that littered the cot. As he stood, Soren’s eyes widened with slight panic and he raised his good arm as much as he could to reach for him.

“Where are… y-you going?”

Link bent over so that they were on the same level. He pet the top of his lover’s head and whispered, “Just trust me, Love. I'll be by your side the instant they've finished.”

"You're not... going to... be there?" his thin voice pleaded, hurt. Soren was getting antsy and trying, without much success, to move.

The Hylian sat back down on the cot, and leans embraced his lover softly while calming him down. "It’s okay, it’s okay. They need space to work on you. You'll be alright. We won't be apart for more than an hour. We'll be together again.”

The sage's efforts ceased, and he once again relaxed against the pillows. "I hate to... m-make you… promise me… something else..."

The blonde sighed with a smile and kissed the spell caster’s forehead. When one kiss wasn’t enough, he repeated the gesture several more times, and trailed kisses down the young sage’s forehead and nose until he finally reached his lips. “Dearest Soren, I've already promised to stand by you. From the moment we first met. I'll be there for you. We won't be apart long.”

^^^^^

Link sat by the campfire outside of the medical tent, clearly depressed. It had been little over had been little over an hour since the back-up healers had arrived, and they had yet to report on Soren’s condition. It was all the Hylian could do to keep from barging into the tent and demanding to know his lover’s prognosis. Instead, he sat by the diminishing fire, watching the medical tent while the sun inched over the tree line.

A boisterous yawn came from behind the blonde. “Mornin’, Link,” Roy greeted and plopped down on an adjacent bench. “I thought you’d be here,” he added softly when the archer didn’t reply immediately.

The Hylian sighed. “Yup, been here all night.”

Roy twiddled his thumbs and looked over at his friend. “Jeez, Link. You really look awful.”

“Thank you, Roy,” the Hero of Time replied, exhaustion and concern robbing his voice of its sarcastic intent.

“So… what’s going on in there?”

Link cast another weary glance at Rhys’s medical tent before answering, “Healers got here an hour ago. They have a few staves with them. They’ve been in there for… a while now.”

“Nobody’s told you how he’s doing?”

Link shook his head.

The crimson haired swordsman growled. “That’s ten pounds of bullshit!”

“Roy!” Marth whispered harshly as he came into view. “It’s too early for you to be this loud. Keep it down.”

The noble huffed. “Whatever you say, Mom.”

The bluenette made no comment as he sat down by his lover. After an uneasy silence, the Prince shivered and mumbled, “Can’t ever seem to keep warm around here. I’ll go get some more wood for the fire.”

Roy shrugged. “I’m stayin’ with Link.”

Marth nodded and walked away. A moment later, the flap to the medical tent flipped outward, revealing Rhys and bishop. The bishop hurried off, but Rhys stayed in place, holding the flap open. Seconds later, the bishop returned with a horse drawn medical wagon just as the rest of the healers emerged carrying Soren on a stretcher. The miserable sage groaned weakly with each step that the healers took, although it was obvious they were doing their best not to jostle him.

Seeing his lover in pain enraged the Hylian. “What are you doing?! Can’t you see he’s hurt!?” the blonde roared as he leapt to his feet. He was vaguely aware that Roy had attempted to restrain him, but that didn’t stop Link. The Brawler didn’t even feel the weight of his fellow swordsman as he drug the poor boy through the snow. “Why are you taking him?!”

Rhys stepped in front of Link and effectively blocked him from the healers as they carefully loaded Soren into the back of the wagon. “Link, calm down,” the ginger priest whispered soothingly, holding his hands up as a sign of surrender.

“The fuck I will! What’s going on, Rhys?! Why are they taking Soren?!” the blonde shrieked, trying to step around the healer. Roy was now on his feet and was successfully working his friend into a headlock.

“Link, please!” Rhys begged, and had to sidestep to avoid being knocked over as the red haired noble successfully immobilized the Hylian. “They’re taking Soren, because the damage is more severe than they can treat here. There’s a hospital in Melior that is prepped for his kinds of injuries.”

“Melior?! That’s two weeks away!” the blonde roared, waking every soldier within a six tent radius. Roy struggled to cover his mouth, and ended up knocking him off balance into the snow.

Marth returned to the scene, dumping his wood on the dying embers before running over to his companions. “What’s going on here?” the Prince demanded, unable to hear Link’s snow muffled proclamations. “Roy, flip him over. He’s in the snow.”

The noble boy obeyed, and rolled over so he was on his back in the snow with the sobbing Hylian on top of him.

“Let me go with him!” the blonde cried. “Don’t separate us! I can’t bear it! I’ll get Epona; we’ll just follow along. We won’t take any space; we won’t cause any trouble. Just don’t take him away! Don’t take him away from me!”

Marth knelt down by the blonde’s side as the healers readied to depart. “No one’s taking Soren from you. If he needs to be moved to get better treatment, you need to accept it.”

“I know, but… Just let me go with him!”

“Link! After the events of last night, we’re short enough on numbers as it is. To lose a dual archer swordsman would be devastating to our cause. Losing this war would only make Soren’s injuries in vain. Would you honestly do that to him after all he’s been through?” Marth demanded, full regal authority in his eyes.

Link collected himself. Biting down on his lip, he replied, “No… I wouldn’t do that to him. He risked his life to win this war. I won’t let him down… I’ll stay.”

Marth smiled. “Thank you, Link. You’re doing the right thing.”

“It’s not easy… Roy, let go.”

Uncharacteristically, the boy did as he was told. Perhaps it was the venomous undertone in the Hylian’s command. The blonde stood up and brushed the snow off of his pants.

“I know this is hard, Link,” Marth whispered, and watched as Link looked around.

“Marth, where’s the cart?” the archer asked, panic creeping into his voice.

Roy sat up from the snow and examined the tracks leading out of camp. “Uh, Link, looks like they left…”

“FUCK!” The Hylian bolted from the area, following the tracks in the snow. Marth was calling after him, but Link dared the Prince to try and catch him. He followed the narrow grooves in the snow until the wagon was in sight. ‘How did it get so far so quick?’ he wondered, but then he saw that the horses drawing the wagon were at a gallop. He didn’t know how he would keep up with two horses in a run, but he decided to try anyways. He had to tell Soren goodbye.

The cart made it to the base of the mountain, and the horses started to climb at a faster pace than the Hylian could climb. He would never catch up, at this point.

“STOP!” he called. A healer poked his head out of the back of the wagon, but made no move to obey the command. Link inwardly cursed the man’s family and changed tactics.

“SOREN!”

He didn’t know if the sage could hear him, but he prayed that the boy did. “SOREN! I’LL WAIT FOR YOU! PROMISE ME YOU’LL COME BACK TO ME WHEN YOU’RE BETTER!... I LOVE YOU!” His breath spent, the blonde collapsed into the snow at the foot of the mountain and sadly watched the wagon’s ascent.

When the cart disappeared from sight seconds later, the blonde was overcome with sudden, violent sobs. Melior was two weeks away, and even by cart, it would be ten days before Soren saw a qualified doctor. ‘How will you make it, Love? What will happen to you if you can’t breathe? Will they know how to chant to you? How to soothe you?’ He didn’t want to allow himself to consider his lover’s demise, but he couldn’t conceive of the sage surviving for so long without him.

‘Don’t leave me, Dearest Soren… Not like this… How will I live without you?’