#hoth au

While chopping, Mercy thinks about Mask. Watching that boy run about like a puppy, following Malon's every order and request, pulling her chair out to sit at the table for breakfast - he's absolutely smitten. Him and Wolf have been sharing looks all week, little smirks and fond glances and teasings of 'look how cute and sappy your great great great great grandparents are'. Walking through the ranch gates, seeing the way Malon tenderly held his face, only to then pinch his ear and chastise him for running off on some adventure without even telling her; Mercy immediately understood why Mask feels at home here. Why he eventually makes his home here, with Malon. 

Wolf shared with him that particular nugget of knowledge on a starlit night keeping watch together - that he is the descendant of the Hero of Time, who marries a humble farm girl and settles into a life of domesticity. Since then, as well as their conversations around the topic of love and crushes - a conversation which had Mask curling in with embarrassment at her mention - Mercy has thought about the type of woman Malon would be. And after meeting her, he can understand why he loves her - she's strong and passionate and kind. Qualities he loves in his own partner.

He's glad to know that his kid gets a happy ending.

Mercy is three quarters of the way through the carrots when Sailor comes running into the kitchen. At some point during the hot day, he decided to take his shirt off (jacket already down for a wash and repair), scars and tattoos on full display. The largest of them is a sleeve, spiralling sea leviathan curling around his entire right arm and toothy maw open just over his pec. He glances around the room with a look of urgency, before landing on Mercy at the table.

“Oh good! We need a dad. Right now.”

…Okay.

Mercy sighs and stands up, stretching his stiff legs. He moves the already chopped carrots over to Link’s counter and grabs his cane from against the door. 

"What's the problem?" He asks, following Sailor back outside. 

“Something’s up with Mage, but she won’t tell us what - keeps denying anything’s wrong. Being a stubborn little shit about it.” Sailor explains, grumbling the last part out under his breath. “You’re the most authoritative out of all of us, and seem to know how she ticks. If anyone is gonna convince her to take it easy it’d be you.”

Mercy hasn’t known Mage for an awfully long time yet - this journey has only been about six chaotic weeks so far - but there are some things he has picked up. Incredibly smart, insightful, slow to trust but desperate to in the same breath. Snarky and blunt and valuing of the truth. But most of all - a chronic overworker. That girl loves pushing her limits, spending long nights pouring over texts and longer days pouring over the group and their habits and limits and wellbeing. Keeping an eye. A lot of himself is in there, hidden just under the shell, but without the comfort of retirement to soothe it against the weight of the world. They’ve become pretty good at catching each other on their own bad habits, when it gets too much. 

Sailor leads him to the large stables. He can immediately hear an argument inside.

“A will wrestle you tae the ground, don’t think a won’t, Mage. I’m twice your weight.” Wolf threatens. 

“For fuck’s sake, I told you I’m fine!” Mercy and Sailor walk in, and Mage notices immediately. “Oh, fucking hell - what’s all this, huh? Called the fucking dad on me?” 

Mage is leaning against one of the pens, arms crossed and shoulders raised defensively, ears pinned all the way back. Wolf is standing in front of her, frowning disapprovingly with his hands on his hips. It seems they’ve been going in circles for quite a while. 

“That’s exactly what I did. If you wanna throw a tantrum like a toddler and refuse to tell us what’s wrong, then I just have to go and get the guy who actually has a toddler. I’m a genius, I know.” Sailor states, also crossing his arms in triumph. Mage just glares. 

“I’m not ‘throwing a tantrum’, I just wish you’d all stop fuckin’ botherin’ me! I’m completely…” She pauses, and all three of them watch her face as her eyes flutter and breath catches, before the loudest sneeze Mercy’s ever heard rips out of her. And then another, and another. “...fine.” She sniffs.

Right then.

Mercy sighs. He takes a few steps forward, urging Wolf to back up out of her personal space with his left hand. 

“Mage. You’re not ill?”

“No!”

“Okay, then you can come in and help me and Link with the food. Get these guys out of your hair, yeah?” 

Mage glares at him for a second, trying to figure out what the catch is, but he stands strong. After a moment, she sighs and rights herself, loosening her arms just a smidge. Progress. They begin heading back into the house - when he looks over his shoulder back at the other two, Sailor is giving him a thumbs up. He huffs a laugh. 

Once they reach the house, Mercy beelines to the kitchen cupboards and retrieves a glass while Mage stands just through the doorway.

“What can I help with?”

Link looks up from the oven, giving Mage a confused look. Mercy interrupts before he can question anything. 

“You’re going to drink a glass of water in the lounge first. You’ve been out in the sun all day, you’re no doubt getting dehydrated. It’ll be good to sit down for a minute.”

“Why not sit at the kitchen table?” Mage questions.

“Because the lounge is comfier.” 

She follows him into the lounge without protest. Mercy hands her the glass once she’s sat on a sofa, sitting down on the other end himself and waiting patiently. Mage takes a careful few sips, before realising how thirsty she no doubt is, and gulping down the rest. He waits a few moments more before he begins.

“So. What’s going on?”

She groans.

“I knew this was some sort of intervention. Getting me a glass of water an’ shit - I know how this works, asshole.”

He shrugs. “It worked, didn’t it? You were getting overwhelmed back in the stables, and didn’t like how they were pestering you. I’m not pestering you; I’m asking.”

Mage groans again, throwing her head back onto the sofa, but doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

“Have you been overusing your magic? Sneezing isn’t one of your symptoms, last time you mentioned it.”

“No, I haven’t. I’d be coughing if I had.” She says it calmly - tired of the anger of it all, most likely. 

“Are you coming down with something, then?” He scoots a bit closer. “Let me check for fever, please?” 

She grumbles something under her breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘stupid fucking parental instincts’, but moves her head forward to let him check for fever. Nothing. Hmm.

“See, I’m completely healthy. Just the sniffles, innit. Only came on in the stables for no fuckin’ reason.”

Came on in the stables…?

“Mage, do you have a hay allergy?”

The fire that ignites upon her face as she shouts “I DO NOT!” catches Mercy completely off guard. It seems he hit the soft spot this entire charade has been protecting, then. Her head is immediately back up off the sofa, shoulders raised once more like a cat raising its hackles. Definitely hit the sensitive spot. 

“There’s nothing wrong with having hay fever, you know that right?”

“Ugh, but it’s so stupid!! Why am I allergic to fuckin– plants! The outdoors? It’s inconvenient and it hurts my eyes and I hate it! It shouldn’t exist, and so I have decided it doesn’t. I’m fine.”

Mercy sighs for what feels like the hundredth time today. Okay, they’ve identified the problem. They just need to find a solution.

"Link…" He starts.

"Don't you pull out the legal name on me!"

Yet another sigh. He takes a moment to carefully consider his words.

"I understand the inconvenience of pain. It would be infinitely easier if pretending it doesn't exist makes it so, but the truth is that it just... doesn't. It won't." Mercy looks at his cane leant up against the sofa. "Which means you have to acknowledge it head on. Which sucks, especially at the start, but it's the first step to putting things in place to make it easier."

"I don't think a case of the sniffles is the same as your disability, mate."

Mercy shrugs. "It works well enough as a comparison in this scenario. We're talking accommodations. If I were sitting here saying I'm going to ignore my leg pain to lift hay with Wolf, you'd be the first to tell me I'm being stupid. It goes both ways." 

Mage stares at him. She doesn't say anything, but he can see the cogs turning in her head - processing. Or finding a new angle to argue her side - either way, he follows it up with:

"It's perfectly fine to not be able to do everything. That's why we work together." 

Mage groans and throws her head back onto the sofa. Slumps fully into the sofa, even, sliding sideways until she's awkwardly smushed up against his thigh.

"I was midway through creating a potion to ease the symptoms when we were all whisked away - it's a massive pain in the ass when I'm gardening. I forgot to bring my trials with me when we moved eras again. This is all my own damn fault." She sniffs. Even indoors, her nose still seems to bother her.

"I'll let you in on a little secret: when I left the house to go to the market the morning we were dumped in Link's time, I got three streets away from home before realising I left my cane by the door." 

Mage laughs. "Well that would've fuckin' sucked, not having your cane in Walking: The Quest." Mercy laughs with her.

"Tell me about it." He sobers, slightly. "I also would've struggled to let you all know about my chronic issues without it as a visual cue. So don't feel bad about this whole situation, alright? Advocating for yourself is super embarrassing sometimes. Most of the time, actually."

Mage glares up at him. She's fully embraced laying on top of him at this point, wiggling around until she's more comfortably on his thigh, able to look right up at him. 

"Why'd you go and make it serious again? I was just getting over my cringe confession with comedic phrasing." 

"Mage... "

It's her turn to sigh.

"Yeah yeah, I know. Guilt does fuck all, yada yada, ask for help, whatever." 

"Thank you." 

They hold genuine eye contact for all of four seconds before Mage heaves herself up to her feet. And sneezes. Three times.

"Damn, I should not have laid down, man my nose is fucked." 

Mercy stands up beside her. "We'll get you that cure of 'allergic to plant cum' soon enough, don't worry. For now, let's actually go help Link with lunch." 

"Plant cum?! Why would you call it that?!!"

He puts the empty potion bottle into his little belt pouch for later use, and claps Mask on the shoulder.

“Let’s find our way outta here, yeah?”

After a bit of struggle getting the both of them up and on their feet, they come to an arrangement. They have their arms linked, allowing them to lean on each other as much as they need, while still keeping some mobility. Mercy has the fire rod in his hand in case they come across any monsters, and Mask is holding his shield, to defend them both. Mercy knows he could in theory go without his cane or any other supports (he’s done it before) but if they’re travelling for a while it'll only increase the need to rest sooner. Besides, there’s a part of him that wants to keep some form of physical contact with Mask, to make sure he’s safe and close by. 

Moving in the direction of Mask’s scattered inventory, the long hallway they found themselves in leads to a second, longer hallway. It intersects theirs like a T, both paths seemingly equal in length and size. Just as likely to lead to danger, or freedom, that means. Instead of the purple of the previous walls, these walls are two different colours - the left path, blue, and the right, red. They look both ways then at each other.

“What’s your favourite colour, Mask?”

“Green.”

“Well mine’s blue, we’re going the blue path.”

The blue path ends with a right turn - but this one has no walls that reach the ceiling and cages them in. Instead, they find themselves on a balcony looking over a maze.