Ultra Invisible Unicorn

He bears it with ill grace and doesn’t bother to conceal his annoyance; as if he doesn’t soar higher than any of them. He isn’t Mipha or Urbosa, raised from birth to navigate these situations with ease. He isn’t even Daruk, whose good-natured words are enough to disarm even the sharpest of barbs. And he certainly isn’t anything like the little knight, who must be thriving on the attention even while remaining aloof as ever—

Revali pauses, thought process brought to a screeching halt. Where is their chosen knight? He’d been there when the party had started, following the Princess’ footsteps like the loyal little knight he is. He’d seemed content to stand in Daruk’s shadow for a while, and Mipha had of course tried to involve him in the conversation, but Revali hasn’t seen him since the main formalities have ended.

He’s not with the Princess. There’s something there to be said about dereliction of duty, but Urbosa is standing at her shoulder, so she’s probably safer than she could ever be in the knight’s presence. He’s not with Mipha or Daruk either. It only takes Revali a minute to ascertain that, no, he’s not even in the room anymore.

How peculiar.

Some of the more oblivious Hylian nobles make an attempt at conversation when he leaves the room, but Revali doesn’t even grace them with a reply. Certainly they will be offended. He’ll be long back in Rito Village by the time they manage to complain about it. 

The halls of the castle are no better than the dining room was. Too tall and wide by any sensible Hylian measure, yet far too small for a Rito. He abandons them quickly, choosing instead to scour the outside walkways of the castle.

In truth, he hadn’t expected to find Hyrule’s chosen knight. He should have been at the party, or perhaps at one of the more private gatherings of Hyrule’s elite. So spotting him tucked away next to one the castle’s many waterfalls comes as something of a surprise. He’s clearly trying not to draw attention and failing miserably. However small he tries to make himself, Revali would still be able to pick him out of any crowd.

For a moment, Revali hovers, but curiosity gets the better of him. He lands a little ways away, making no attempt to conceal his presence. From the way Link keeps himself — entirely still, not a single move — he’d already noticed Revali’s presence as well. 

“Shouldn’t you be among your admirers?” he asks. This does get a flinch. The knight draws further in on himself, eyes squarely fixed on a point in the distance. Several seconds tick by without a response and Revali scoffs. Of course he wouldn’t warrant a reaction. 

“—too loud.”

 Revali almost doesn’t hear him over the sound of the waterfall. It’s a rarity to even hear him speak, let alone to have his thoughts so closely mirror Revali’s own. That gives him pause. Why is he here, hidden away from the crowds that came out specifically to celebrate them? 

“… Are you okay?” he asks. The question almost pains him, but the way Link curls in on himself shows he made the right call. He may not be an expert on Hylian body language, but some things are universal. 

Link lifts a hand, fingers spread, then abruptly clenches it into a fist and drops it to his side. He finally looks at Revali, eyes haunted, as if he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. 

And Revali, with sickening clarity, understands.

However aborted the sign may have been, he recognises it. He’s seen Mipha use it whenever he saw her talk to her fellow Zora about the imminent Calamity. Trouble. 

Mipha’s used the underwater sign of the Zora with Link before; Revali’d assumed it was some sort of in-joke coming from their shared childhood. The last time he’d seen them do it, Link had been chastised for it later and Revali had taken some pleasure in seeing him be treated like an ordinary mortal. 

Seeing Link now, terrified at being seen making a single sign, makes his stomach burn uncomfortably at the memory of his own glee.

The Hylian army has always valued conformity above anything else. How do they treat a soldier unable to speak? 

He’s waited too long to respond: Link’s breath comes out faster and faster, eyes still fixed on Revali but entirely unseeing. 

“It’s fine,” Revali says quickly. He tries to follow it up with one of the other signs he’s seen Mipha make: thumb and index finger held together to form a circle — it’s okay, it’s okay. But his pinions don’t lend themselves to the Zora’s language; he can only muster a clumsy curling of his wings that Link clearly doesn’t recognise for what he wants it to be. 

“Why should I care about your Hylian rules?” he tries again, but Link no longer even hears him. 

… There’s one other. One that he saw Mipha make when the Princess stumbled under the burdens placed upon her. One that even he might be able to make.

“Breathe,” he snaps, spreading his wings and moving them from his beak and back. The first time, Link’s eyes remain unseeing, but when Revali repeats the motion, they abruptly snap back into focus. 

“Breathe,” he mouths, hands shakily coming up to mimic the sign. Revali drops his wings after another few iterations, when he’s sure Link can continue the gesture on his own. 

It feels like several minutes before he finally drops his hands, uncurling in the same motion. His breathing has normalised again and when he meets Revali’s eyes, it finally looks like he’s seeing him.

“Thank you,” he says, shifting to make room on the little outcropping. Revali takes him up on the invitation after only a moment’s pause.

“Don’t mention it,” he says. He still wants to ask why Link is here, but he doesn’t want to send the knight into another spiral.

Surprisingly, Link speaks of his own accord: “I don’t like them. Too many people.” 

“With the pompous twits that pass for nobles in your court, who would?” Revali scoffs. Link, instead of being offended, actually lets out a small huff of laughter. 

“Only them,” he says. Revali guffaws, and Link actually grins in return. It barely even resembles a proper grin, but it’s the most expression Revali’s ever seen on him. A rush of pride runs through him. He did that. 

“Clearly you require better company.” 

Link’s grin turns into a smile, small and only barely aimed at Revali, but it turns his pride into something heated, settling deep in his chest.