#sidon drabble

“My dear,” a voice begins, low and exhausted, but not without a sense of genuine, unending curiosity. You’re fairly sure you know exactly what he’s about to ask, but you let him speak without interruption. “…However in the world do people manage to live our here, let alone exist?”

The confusion, almost childlike in ignorance, is mildly amusing. You’d much rather hear him asking questions than complaining about the dry, scorching heat–which meant that the salve was still working. Enchanted with the waters of the Zora’s domain itself, it was paramount in making it safe to cross the Gerudo Desert with your partner, the prince of the Zora’s Domain himself: Prince Sidon.

“Because not everyone is a Zora, Sidon.”

A sigh is the only thing you get in response at first, a soft sound brushing through the otherwise dry air. You’re both only a short while away from the Gerudo’s main town, where word of your arrival has already been received and prepared for extensively as per agreements for a treaty between the two kingdoms.

No amount of help, magical enchantments or otherwise, could quell the endless curiosity that otherwise seemed to pour from the other’s mind. Questions, endless questions, many of which you couldn’t offer much of an answer to beyond what you knew from early years in school.

“Do people have to use enchantment all the time in order to live in this insufferable heat?”

“No,” You laugh, gently tugging the hood of your robe a bit farther over your face, trying to stop the sandy breeze from buffering against your face. “They aren’t Zora, Sidon, so they don’t need things like potions and salves to resist the heat. Just like how Hylians aren’t able to adapt to water like you are.”

Sidon hummed, letting his eyes gaze up from the dunes towards the horizon, where there lie a small but discernible shape of Gerudo Town, just another hour or so of a walk.

“Still, it doesn’t make sense anyone would actually care to live out here,” The prince said, nearly pouting. “I much prefer the freedom and comfort of the water at home.”

“We only stay for a week,” Or less, if things worked out even better. “And then we’ll be on our way–it’s not as if Gerudo town doesn’t have water too, you know. I’m sure that they’ll have something for you to feel comfortable.”

The satisfied sigh was worth it to hear, despite the misery of walking through the desert. 

In all honesty, you had barely noticed it yourself. The tension, at least, not the pain that came with it. The pain was a constant presence in your mind, a distraction that sometimes pulled your focus away from things that mattered or, at worst, made you have to sit down and try to focus on simply ignoring it for a while. 

For the longest time you simply thought you were standing too long. Maybe lifting too many heavy objects around the Domain, typically to help some of the shop keeps, were starting to take their toll on you. Maybe it was because you were bending incorrectly--there were a lot of maybes, but you came to the conclusion that the pain was an impossible thing to avoid, a byproduct of physical labor.

It was Sidon who pointed out that he could help. It came when he noticed you wincing, trying to lift a box of freshly-caught fish. After pointing out that your posture wasn’t the best, Sidon took the box from you, then moved it himself. 

“My dear, I think you’ve been working too much.”

The words of concern would soon lead to him leading you back to your quarters, setting you down on the bed, and gently climbing on the bed behind you. 

He rubbed his hands over your shoulders, careful for the sharp prick of his claws, and instantly let out a sheepish chuckle.

“You are so tense!” Sidon said. “And I don’t say that to seduce you in bed, dearest--when was the last time that you relaxed?”

The question came with no answer, or at least not one that was quick enough for your liking.

“I,” You started. “Uh. I don’t....know?”

“Wrong answer,” The prince huffed, leaning down enough to he could press a kiss to the top of your head. “If you overwork yourself, you’ll be even more pained--your muscles are tensed up so much that I’m surprised you haven’t gone to the healer for your pain.”

His fingers gently dug into your shoulders, pressing out the aches and pains that, while hurting in itself, was a good sort of pain. You could feel him gently working your muscles, softening them underneath.

He found you in one of the chambers of the Zora’s Domain, sitting alone and curled up tight on yourself. For a few moments he felt a panic, thinking you had somehow sustained a grievous wound, but a minute of fervent appraisal and gentle coaxing of you into his arms revealed no such injury. Instead your face, covered in tears, forced a stake of pain straight through the Zora’s heart.

“Darling,” he whispered to you, his hands gently rubbing your shoulders. “You’re alright–I’m here.” His voice was little more than a soft, gentle coo to soothe your raging nerves. He could feel the tension in your body and hear the quick, light breaths that seemed to stab the air.

Sidon was nothing if not gentle, and carefully pulled you into his arms, eventually cradling you to his chest. “You’re safe,” he said lowly as he began to rock you in a motion somewhat reminiscent of a mother with a newborn pup. “You’re safe with me, little one–focus on the sound of my voice. The sound of the water…” the Prince continued to murmur and coo soft encouragements to you in tandem to his rocking. Though he could not pinpoint the reason for your intense panic without asking, it mattered little to him–your personal emotional well-being mattered first.

The Zora carried you from one of the chambers and into your shared bedroom, eventually moving to lay you over the soft covers and joining beside you. In the entire exchange, he hasn’t let you go, hasn’t stopped gently cooing, purring, and caressing your skin with his soothing touch.

“I need you to breathe, dearest,” he whispered, leaving you to whimper at what should be such a simple action. Sidon amended this, pulling you against him. “Listen to my heartbeat. Breathe slowly with me and listen to my heartbeat. Can you do that for me love?”

You managed a nod, somewhere in the middle of your rampaging thoughts and disconnected sense of self.

“Good,” the Prince cooed. “That’s good, slow down your breaths…focus on the sound of my voice…nothing exists right now darling, nothing besides you and myself.” He gently starts to caress the tips of his claws against your shoulder, down one arm. Not at all to hurt, but firm enough to feel, to help anchor yourself to the sensation.

“Love,” He whispers. You pretend that you haven’t heard him, merely scrabbling and pushing yourself closer to him, face nuzzling against his chest. Sidon sighs, then gently pulls you away a few inches so he can meet your eyes with his own, an amused chuckle on his breath. “...We have to get up at some point this morning.”

There is a fervent denial, a sort of cheeky sass, that laces the movement of you shaking your head. 

“Absolutely not,” Your words are half-muffled against his chest again. “Nope. Not at all. Who needs to get up when being in bed all day is an option.”

“Darling...” 

“Can’t you stay in bed just once?” Plan B fervently in place, you slowly peer back up at your lover, and pulling the most poignant look on your face--quivering lips, sad eyes, demure stature. Sidon narrows his gaze at you in suspicion, but gives no other evidence in its success until he lets out yet another sigh.

“That look of yours makes me sooner have you beneath me than merely remain in bed, love,” The tone of his voice is casual, his shame long-since gone in what you’re able to do to the fair prince with a mere glance or whisper.

“I mean,” You ponder, “That could work too, but I was just thinking of cuddles.”

Though Sidon gives now direct answer, the two of you are still in bed several minutes later, without a single line further of argument about either of you getting up. He’s wrapped around you, softly, taking great care to make sure that neither your arms or legs are pressed too firmly against the deep, brilliant red scales of his body--they are the ones that often scraped you if neither of you were careful about it. The first few weeks of a romantic relationship was spent learning plenty about how to keep from scraping your palms or thighs something fierce and near-bloody.

He is a wonderful cuddler though, fully aware of his raw size that so often towers over your own. He cradles you against his chest almost paternally, your body against his with your knees up against your chest, curled into a soft little ball of fragile and adorable.

“We will need to get up,” Sidon starts, adding on a caveat before you’re able to pout again. “--in an hour, we’ll get up.”