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@skyloftian-nutcase I humbly offer you some Abel and Tilieth comfort🥺🥺
I wanted to draw what I hope happens in the next chapter of Blood of the Hero, cus both of these beans need love and sleep and comfort❤️
You also deserve love and sleep and comfort too, dear friend❤️
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How about “ache” for Blood of the Hero :)
"Love, are you in pain?"
Abel looked up from where he was sitting to see Tilieth watching him. He supposed he hadn't hidden his pinched, pained expression as well as he'd thought. Shrugging, he waved a dismissive hand. "It's a bit more of an ache than anything. I'm not hurt, Til."
Just old. It was frustrating, thinking about it. He supposed he should be thankful Link's healing chamber hadn't been damaged far later, when Abel would have been too frail to do anything about it. As it was, Tilieth could hardly carry Link, even with as thin as he was. If they'd been any older...
It was a pointless thought process, and he knew it. Bu the could still be grouchy over being so out of shape. If the world hadn't fallen apart a decade ago he'd probably be able to handle such a journey better.
But there wouldn't be a journey. Goodness, his mind was going in so many circles, he was starting to think like Tilieth. He loved his wife to death, but he couldn't exactly call her thought process linear.
"It's too bad the spirit orbs can't help us too," Tilieth chuckled a little, half joking to cheer him up.
Abel had to snort at that, amused. "It would certainly be helpful. But we're not that special, I suppose."
"Well, I think you're special," Tilieth emphasized, leaning down to kiss him.
Abel gets a break ... Kind of
Abel felt his nose regain touch with the world first. The smell of sweat, rust and sickly sweet rotting fruit was not a pleasant one to wake up to. He felt his sluggish thoughts race along with his heart once he registered the cold prick of metal on his neck.
Wide awake in yet another nightmare Abel looked through his eyelashes, seeing something sharp being held threateningly against his neck. He managed to glance to his left under the guise of a lolling head with his captor’s swaying movement. His heart stopped as Ice filled his veins, the sight of Tilleth her head bowed, looking broken in the dusty light of the Yiga stronghold, was this some cruel trick? Tilleth was strong, far stronger than Abel had ever been, always finding some small joy even when the world was literally collapsing around them. He never stopped admiring how she kept going, kept being a light and a pillar in the ugly and dark world that Abel had become well acquainted with.
Then the Idiot in red behind him finally stopped talking, and Abel realized that kneeling before them was Fierce, far too large for the small cavern they were in. Before the shock of seeing his stupidly strong but well meaning companion on his knees could sink in, he heard a whoosh and a thud behind him.
The pressure on his neck was gone and Abel was quick to stand up . . .
Only to tilt too far as the ringing of metal assaulted his ears, the dust of the cave suddenly clogging his airways, but none of that mattered! Where was Tilleth, was she–
He found her, beautiful with dirt smeared in her hair and clothes torn beyond repair, his face lifting in a smile without permission to gaze upon his golden light. Then his mouth opened in horror at the red-clothed traitor raising a blood stained sickle behind her. His arm raised as though he could reach her before the blade, but a large stick was thrown with terrifying precision into the Yiga’s head, the sickle falling from his hand shearing part of Tilieth’s beautiful blonde in a last disrespectful act from its owner.
Blinking at the sudden quiet, Abel jumped when he was touched only to breathe a sigh of relief that it was only Rusl, where had he come from? Next he knew they were emerging into painfully blinding sunlight, With Abel nearly being drug by the blacksmith until the fierce deity simply scooped up Abel.
He went to protest until Tilieth’s curls fell against him as she too was placed in the deities arms. Just this once he decided, he would let his stupidly strong and unfairly tall companion carry him, since it meant he could simply lay and admire her, bathing in the light that simply seeing her alive and well seemed to pour on his weary bones, feeling tears come to his eyes at the sight of the closest thing to a goddess he still believed in–
“He’s definitely concussed Fierce, we need to find one of those stables and hope they can help.”
Abel felt a chin touch his head for a moment and looked up, confused.
Oh!
Right He was being carried by Fierce, how could he forget?
Fierce looked at Rusl, gave a little hum and scooped him into his other arm, jostling Abel painfully and making his teeth ache with each step, though eventually he grew used to it enough to take his arm off of his eyes. He looked in awe as the landscape blurred by them from the speeds Fierce was traveling, he’d never seen him move that fast, could he always do that? Eventually the familiar giant fabric horse heads adorning the tops of stable’s came over the horizon and quickly grew, almost like someone had dumped a glass of water on a dried apple and watched it expand with all the liquid at once.
Abel giggled at the thought of re-waterified apples but stopped when Tilieth looked at him with raw open concern, she shouldn’t be looking at him like that! She should be showing off her honey sweet smile to the whole world!
Fierce skidded to a stop outside out the stable entrance, grass being violently pulled from the ground as his boot dug deep into the packed earth. The stable hand waiting at the outside counter had his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide as he stared at the deity, standing tall in gleaming armor with three people being easily carried in his arms.
Fierce looked at Rusl, who simply offered a small smile before extracting himself from the arm and walking up to the man, knocking gently on the counter to get his attention.
The man jumped a little, before realizing Rusl was there band nervously straightening his hat a little.
“ Ah yes, w-what can a do for you, sirs?”
His smile looked more like he had just bitten into a voltfruit than anything, but once Rusl mentioned medical aid the man’s eyes sharpened and he nodded before bringing his fingers to his mouth in a short whistle, then a vaguely familiar man with a shaved head and short beard came to the front. Abel squinted at him, trying to figure out what–
His vision became smeared and confusing, and he felt as though the world was spinning, he felt something under his knees and despite not being able to make out anything in the sickening spin of colors, started trying to crawl away from whatever was so horrible as to make all this happen.
He continued crawling until a small hand landed in his greasy tangled hair, moving back and forth slowly, soothingly. He couldn’t help leaning into the one nice thing around him right now, and gradually the world stopped spinning and the man with the beard was crouched in front of him, a spoonful of something red and sickly sweet held in front of his nose. This close he noticed a faint scar running from the man’s temple, down to his lip, coming close to his eye and nose without damaging either.
Huh
The man tried to force the spoon closer and Abel turned his head away with pursed lips, he didn’t know who this was, and he definitely didn’t want anything this man had to offer. Tilieth gently grabbed the spoon and whispered encouraging things in his ears as she brought it around. He still didn’t like it, but if his wife trusted it then he had no choice but to agree, so he swallowed the chalky and oddly bitter liquid, feeling a little betrayed still, he stuck out his tongue at the man to let him know that he didn’t like it.
As the liquid dropped to his stomach he felt a warm tingling in his head, and then the pull of sleep was too much and he succumbed.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
Abel felt the call of nature try to drag him from sleep, but he stubbornly resisted, snuggling into Tilieth’s hair more, wanting just a few more minutes of–
Wait
His heart started pounding and his shot open, so scared of what he might see. But it was indeed Tilieth’s messy curls in front of him. Abel felt his eyes water from sheer relief, oh by the goddesses he had missed this. He went to put his head in Tilieth’s hair, but some got in his nose and he ended up doing several loud booming sneezes in quick succession.
Tilieth didn’t stir at all, but a hand larger than his head came into view, holding a handkerchief?
He stared at the thing in confusion, then followed the frankly enormous hand up the muscular arm to the familiar face of the Fierce Deity, Abel sighed as pieces of memory fell into place, telling him that his son being missing and having spent some time with his insane companions was not in fact, a bad dream. He reluctantly grabbed the piece of cloth from Fierce and used it to blow his nose, feeling a pounding headache begin between his eyes. When fierce shifted and sunlight burned his eyes, Abel realized he must’ve gotten injured somewhat severely, since he couldn’t remember them rescuing Tilieth. The last thing he recalled was him going ahead to see if he could scout out the Yiga guards for the hideout, since his old dusty clothes were basically the same color as the dirt anyway. Then nothing.
He wrinkled his nose in disgust at himself, at the fact that he never seemed to be able to protect the ones he loved, first with Link, then tilieth, and now–
Fierce put an awkwardly large hand on his head and snapped Abel out of frustratingly familiar thoughts. He looked at Abel and once again Abel felt small under the endless gaze of the white void that made Fierce’s eyes.
“Do not fret little soldier, your beloved is safe, and I will protect you both as you recover.”
Okayyy? That was a little weird even coming from Fierce, just what had happened after he’d passed out? He looked beyond the looming figure of Fierce and realized that the cloth walls and wood flooring was clearly those of a stable. They were in an area that had been curtained off to just contain the extra soft bed Tilieth and he were sharing, and the Fierce deity himself, sitting with his sword in his lap in a casual threat display. How long had he been sitting on the hard wood floor?* Rusl peeked around the curtain and saw Abel awake, his clearly tired face lifting in a happy grin when he saw Abel awake.
Abel was struck with the change in Rusl’s expression, just from seeing him. They hadn’t really known each other all that long, despite the fact that so much seemed to happen since Link was taken that it had felt like an eternity. Yet already Rusl, who had a loving wife, three kids, and a flourishing homeland for some reason seemed to genuinely enjoy his presence? Him? Tilieth teased him about being a grump because of how not friendly he was naturally.
Abel must have been hit really hard if he was experiencing such strong changes in emotion when for years he mostly been so tired that only his bitter and burnt determination was really able to be felt.
“You’re awake friend! Looks like that potion helped a lot! I’m glad they still had a spoonful.”
Rusl was glad, but Abel felt his stomach swoop at the words. The last spoonful? That meanth they had no more, what happened if the Yiga were coming for them right now? With reinforcements!
“Rusl noticed the tightness in his face and spoke up. “The man who gave it to us, is collecting the ingredients to make more now, it’s why he was in the area at all apparently. And I already agreed to help him prep the things for making more when he got back. So don’t worry too much alrigh’?”
Abel sent him a halfhearted glare for the sudden twang he added to his words at the end as he gave a cheeky wink. He didn’t like it, the theatrics he’d just seen were the kind Rusl used when he was trying to keep their search for the boys out of strangers' ears. He narrowed his eyes, just what was Rusl hiding.
Fierce, cutting through the tension with his usual social awareness, that is to say almost none stated.
“Little soldier, our arrival here has caused a stir, several of the men say they are friends of yours. If they are Yiga I will happily dispose of them."
Abel was once again grateful for such a strong warrior on his side, with Fierce here he could actually rest for once, since no one in their right minds would try to attack with him nearby.
Rusl gave Fierce a shake of his head, and the sword that Abel hadn’t noticed being raised was lowered again, while Rusl brought Abel a bowl filled with a savory smelling soup. He spotted bits of Endure carrots, hearty radishes, some potato, and something green in the golden broth. Along with chunks of cuckoo floating in bits just asking Abel to dig in. He almost missed Rusl handing him the spoon with how hard he was concentrating on not drooling. He was 2 bites into the soup when Tilieth stirred and Abel put it aside to help her sit up, dipping the spoon back in and bringing it to her mouth instead, far more concerned about the new sharpness to her cheekbones than his lingering hunger. She ate most of it, then laid her head on his shoulder, and for one sweet moment all was right in the world.
“So, who are your new friends here?”
Oh … oh no, he did not have the energy to give Tilieth the unfortunate tale of just how he’d gotten to the point where traveling with a deity and a human from different times in Hyrule’s history had become normal, maybe even nice.
Luckily for him Rusl chose that moment to return with a second bowl of soup, smiling politely at Tilieth and introducing himself in his humble, yet strong way.
Abel let his head drop back and asked.
“Rusl, would you tell Tilieth what’s been happening? I don’t want to think about it more than I have to right now.”
He brought his head up to see everyone in the room staring at him. He squirmed uncomfortably inside at the attention. It couldn’t be that strange for him to recognize Rusl would do a better job, could it?
Rusl turned his shock into a smile and started in, with only the occasional interjection from Abel or Fierce of how this strange situation came to be. Tilieth listened raptly to it all, gasping and cheering at all the right places, while Rusl made it seem like Abel was a far better fighter than he was, after all he couldn’t rip the limbs off a guardian the way Fierce could, and Rusl held far more skills close to his chest than Abel would have believed possible. By the time Rusl had finished the story Abel felt a buzzing in his bones that begged him to move, or he’d go crazy.
So he hopped out of bed and went to open the curtain. Going about their business in front of him were men, familiar men. There was Jhonston of the 3rd division sweeping the floor, who’d been excellent with a spear, but had a lousy stance for close combat and had never managed to get it good enough to get promoted.
Obaleen was taking sheets off the bed’s and putting fresh one’s on, his eye for detail still clear as day despite being used on bedding rather than organizing arrows and daggers in the royal armory.
And Potsy, whose real name he’d never heard since their squadron worked far from the castle most of the time, was putting flowers into the vase of all things.
Obaleen saw him first. Dropping the bedding in his hands to the floor he pointed at Abel who froze.
“Guys, it really is the Captain he’s back!”
Everyone in the stable turned to look at him like he’s pulled the sun out of his pack or something. Suddenly the soup he’d had earlier felt like far too much, with how they sat like rocks in his stomach, the weight of all these men he’d left for dead looking at him like he was, like he was a hero, or even a good man made him want to throw up, or tear off his skin, or sink into the floor.
Rusl came out and, after only a glance at the rest of the room, started gently guiding Abel back towards the curtain.
“He’s still got a concussion, and is in need of rest and quiet. Sorry to disappoint, but I think he’d much rather see his freshly rescued wife than any of us”
Abel felt his ears burn as the room erupted in good natured laughter, the men easily letting him leave the burning weight of their eyes and get back to the relative safety of being behind the curtain and by Fierce. How did Rusl do it? He’d just taken a situation where Abel was frozen, and made it seem so easy and simple? Regardless he was grateful to climb back in with Tilieth and bury his head in her shoulder. Pretending the rest of the tent that he was now all too aware of, simply weren’t there.
He’d already gone through this with Impa? So why had it felt like the very breathe was being choked out of him when the men looked at him like he was someone special, someone good, someone who could–
Someone who could save them. Link had dealt with this for years as the princess’s chosen knight, and once they got him back and he woke up again, he’d be dealing with it again too. Abel couldn’t stop the few tears that leaked out into Tilieth’s shift at the fact that Link had had to deal with that everyday, in a never ending but always mounting pressure to perform.
Eventually the suffocatingly boisterous noise from beyond the curtain fell silent, and someone pushed aside the curtain to enter their little area. The man had a shaved head, a close cropped salt and pepper beard and-
“Regis?!?”
Abel couldn’t believe it. He’d watched this man go down under some rubble broken from an awning by a guardian’s laser, there was no way he’d survived the Calamity … though people said that about Link too. Either way he had to fight not to narrow his eyes in obvious suspicion at the man.
“Hey, good to know you’re still kicken, though you can stop trying to hold back, you look like you have dust in your eyes, Straightlace.”
Abel sent a exasperated look at Tilieth as she started giggling at the mention of the old nickname. He’d been called that for being so strict about rules, but after how the last decade had gone, the nickname fit about as well as a childhood boot and he grimaced.
Regis gave him a nod of respect, didn’t try to get any closer to Abel, and pulled Rusl outside the little bubble that had been created with the curtain. He blinked for a moment before realizing that Regis must have been the person who was making red potions. He felt a familiar pride well up, Regis and he had been in the same year at the Knight’s academy and he had always admired the ease with which the other would pick up new skills when he put his mind to them, it looked like that natural aptitude was serving him well since everything had changed.
Abel felt like someone had taken a hammer to his head and he dropped, grunting as he held his head in his hands, trying to ride out the pain. Apparently he’d been louder than he thought, since he was vaguely aware of more bodies around than there should be, extra pillows and a warm cup of something being pushed into his trembling hands. He heard Tilieth say something next to him and the overwhelming presences retreated. When the pain cleared enough to take a look around, he say that in his hands was a warm cup of milk. When was the last time he’d allowed himself such a luxury? He couldn’t remember. He sipped at it, feeling something warmer than the milk itself settle in his brittle bones.
The next time someone came to the curtain he summoned every shred of courage he could muster to look them in the eye, then slumped in relief to see it was just Rusl, carrying his headband in one hand while he wiped some sweat from his brow with the other. Rusl saw the way he slumped and offered a comforting smile.
“Facing old memories can be real hard, I’m sorry you got surprised like that friend.* Let me know how I can help, kay”
Abel wondered just how Rusl could still be so upbeat, so purely good and kind, even with how long his eldest had been missing, it was baffling to consider. Abel couldn’t help being selfishly grateful for the cheer though, misplaced as it was being wasted on him, since he should be just fine dealing with very men he used to work with before the Calamity. He shook his head and shimmed out of bed, careful of Tilieth’s once again asleep form, her imprisonment had been hard on her and he wanted her to get as much rest as she possibly could, Fierce’s strong presence ensuring she would be safe even if Abel himself couldn’t watch over her.
“I should just face this, I can’t hide behind a curtain forever.”
Still, when Rusl put and hand on his shoulder to walk with him Abel felt the spool of tangled feelings in his gut loosen enough to breathe, just for a moment as he walked into the main area of the stable. Potsy saw him and waved them over.
“You lads are ‘ere just in time! Leenie here just declared the apple pie cool enough to eat, an from what ol’ Regis says you’ll appreciate it the most!”
Abel blinked in surprise. Apple pie? While the world was still so dangerous? Though more surprising was the fact that Regis had known it was his favorite, he couldn’t remember telling the man what his favorite food was, but for some reason he’d found out and still knew even a decade since he’d last seen the man.
A warm plate of pie was pushed into his slack hands, Abel fumbling not to drop the plate in his surprise, looking down at the flaky puffed crust, the curved ridges where the two pieces had been pinched together having a golden tint and begging to be picked off for the taste. The filling was oozing from where it had been trapped in the crust before being cut, gentle curls of steam rising from the honey yellowed apples in a golden syrup speckled with the spices that made Abel’s mouth water as he went to reach for his fork, only to realize he didn’t have one. Rusl slid him one from where he was sitting next to a messy pile of utensils and Abel dug in, uncaring of the fact that his eyes were closed in bliss, his ears were hearing nothing over the sound of memories past, and he was paying no attention to his surroundings at all.
His fork clinked against an empty plate, and Abel looked down in surprise, disappointed to see only a few this smears of syrup on the plate. But then Regis reached across the table and snatched his plate from his hands, coming back quickly with a second slice, handing it to Abel with a smirk, knowing he wouldn’t say no.
“Tilieth will kill me if I don’t make sure she gets some.”
“I already got her a plate, Abel walked right past you while you were busy, in fact.”
Abel felt his ears burn as the others laughed at Rusl’s remark, wishing for a moment he had ears like Rusl’s that would be hidden under his mess of hair. But then he remembered the pie in front of him and turned to that rather than deal with the people around him.
After he had finished his second plate and was enjoying the lingering taste of cinnamon coating his tongue, he brought his plate to the washing area and helped, finally feeling sure enough that the men here wouldn’t stab him … while he was awake that is. He found the familiar jokes and cadence of talking with people who’d been through the same hell he had, nice.
When he finished with the dishes Tilieth had come out from behind the curtain, wearing a borrowed dress that needed a sash to cinch the waist. She was leaning on the wall, a content smile on her gorgeous face as she watched him. Rusl came back in with Regis and they were both forced to sit down and drink another health potion, Rusl making a face at the awful taste, especially compared to the bliss of the apple pie he’d had earlier.
He looked over to see Potsy filling a frankly enorams bag with what looked like rations. Potsy noticed him and gave him a sloppy salute with a gap toothed grin.
“Almost done and you can go and get those banana smelling sons of Ganon, Cap’n!”
Abel looked at him in disbelief, how did they know? His eyes narrowed and he looked around until he spotted Rusl bu Obaleen, laughing about something as they folded clothing that looked to be suspiciously his size. He pinched his nose at the lack of secrecy, but let it lay, what’s done is done he supposed.
After that it was a whirlwind of preparation and dragging Tilieth behind the curtain for stolen kisses before they were weighed down with a pack that looked normal on Fierce’s broad back. All the men wishing them well and telling him they’d get the word out about the Yiga’s latest plot and a group of boys. Abel almost teared up turning away from the warmth of the stable towards the cold of braving a new dawn. But he squared his shoulders, patted Tilieth’s leg against Ama, and weighed down with the kindness of men he hadn’t seen in a decade, they set out towards Kakariko.
Happy Birthday @skyloftian-nutcase I hope you have a wonderful day and that you enjoy Abel getting the closest thing to a break he can!
Blood of the Hero Ch 19 (Link's Parents Play BotW)
Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.
(AO3 link)
Chapter 19: The Mighty Gerudo - The Stable
Abel woke up in pain.
Tilieth noticed it immediately, with how stiffly her poor husband was moving, the way he paused after sitting up, frozen in an awkward position, breaths shallow.
“Honey, lay back down,” she insisted quickly, anxious. “What’s wrong?”
Blood of the Hero Ch 20 (Link’s Parents Play BotW)
Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him
AO3 link
The Mighty Gerudo - Warriors of the Desert
Abel had forgotten how cold the desert could get.
It wasn’t too terrible – Mount Hylia and the area around the River of the Dead was frigid almost year round, and Tilieth and Abel had accommodated well enough with warm doublets, but they typically avoided that area because of the cold.
At least it wasn’t the damp chill of the snowy mountain. Still, Abel did feel his nose and the tips of his ears start to throb.
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Adventures of a Hero (Age of Calamity aftermath)
Scenes that y'all helped put together! Here's Link adjusting to life after the Calamity. :)
Link sighs as he looks up at the moon in the dark blue starry sky. The ocean laps at Hateno Beach, tickling his toes and moving the sand around his feet. It’s been almost two months since the Calamity ended, and he finds himself beginning to grow restless.
As soon as the battle had been over, everyone had been eager to restore Hyrule from the terrible destruction that had been wrought, but wounds needed healing, and the king insisted on handling the matter with those who had not fought to the same degree, giving the others time to rest and help their own people.
Or, for Link, just rest. He doesn’t like it, sitting still this long, having grown used to bouncing from place to place in preparation, living in survival mode for months. But after six weeks, he’s finally beginning to appreciate just being in the moment and not rushing.
But he’s also going stir crazy. He’s rested long enough.
These moments in the new chapter KILLED me lofty 😭 I was playing a game with my family and I couldn’t FOCUS cuz the FEELS WERE SO STRONG (it’s a good thing) I love this family 😭😭🧡
SOSOWHEJEFOCHDKAOWBWBT SMILES SMILES
SMILES
OH MY GOSH
I—
I HAVE NO WORDS PLEASE KNOW THAT SEEING THIS AS THE FIRST THING WHEH I GET BACK AFTER DAYS OF MENTAL BREAKDOWN WAS SUCH A BLESSING THANK YOU
I’m so happy you loved the update 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Can we have Wild nad his mom? for the writing event?
Typically Tilieth received a letter from Abel that her husband and son would be coming home for a break, but this time the rumors beat any word from her family.
It was hard not to miss them, the whispers of destiny and heroes and magical swords. Tilieth knew the stories, of course, but it was troubling that there was talk of a country knight-in-training who had managed to find the legendary Master Sword.
She knew it couldn’t be true, or certainly couldn’t be her sweet little country child. But when a letter came from Abel stating he and Link were coming home, Tilieth had started to worry that the rumors might be more pertinent than she’d anticipated.
