Another fic for my anonymous commissioner, who was kind enough to request a bit of sickfic love for the King.

He deserves a little extra affection and care, don't you think?

Life is going pretty well for the little cobbled-together family on Outset Island. Grandma is in good health and spirits (cooking all the time has become one of her great joys again). Aryll is constantly running around, growing more knowledgeable by the day (it would almost be scary if she were anything but the wise and sweet child that she is). Link comes to visit as often as he can (which is often, now that his whole family is together). And the King…seems to be coming down with something.

It's so unfamiliar, after having inhabited the body of a wooden boat for so long, that he almost doesn't recognize what it is at first. (A boat doesn't get sick, after all. Or at least, he hadn't.) But then he takes the time to note the aches, the chills, the scratchy feeling in the back of his throat. And the way his vision swims when he tries to sit up in bed too fast, prompting a quick return to his pillow. Not to mention the utter exhaustion after what he would usually consider a very good night's sleep. He ought to be up and out and about by now, perhaps helping to cook breakfast, or maybe allowing Aryll to introduce him to a new part of the island he hasn't seen yet (and there are a truly shocking number of those). He shouldn't still be here, and that's for certain.

And that's probably what's most frustrating about the whole affair—the knowledge that he should be feeling fine and ready to face the day, but instead his physical being is much more interested in never leaving his bed again.

So he's definitely sick, and it is definitely unwelcome, especially coming so soon after reuniting with Link and becoming an unofficial part of the family. Shallowly, he simply doesn't want to be seen like this, either.

Not yet (or ever).

He mentally chastises himself for such a petty though, but it is the truth. If not invincible, he'd at the very least like to be considered hearty. Somewhat on the tough side of things. It's what he is accustomed to, and surely he can't be blamed for that. But it's barely been a few weeks, and he's already got this cold (or flu? he isn't sure) come to knock him down a few pegs.

In addition to that, it's just sheer awful unluckiness that this happens to be one of the weeks Link has returned home to visit. Of course. Of course. Because, naturally, the very first thing he'd wanted to do during this visit was to worry the boy out of his mind. (And he will worry—that's just a fact. Of the numerous things Link is very good at, worrying is definitely somewhere high up on the list.)

In that case, he decides it's time to pretend everything is fine and hope it all works out for the best in the end. So he forces himself out of bed, ignoring the way every joint in his body wants to creak and pop, and begins the slow, painful process of getting dressed and ready for the day.

He's just pulling on his socks when he hears a knock on the door. Knowing he has about a 75/25 percent chance of it being either Link or Aryll, he manages to get out a croaky, "Come in," for whoever is on the other side. It's not exactly a great start to his day of pretending to be fine, but what else is he supposed to do? Trying to keep them out would certainly be a dead giveaway.

His money would have been on Link, but nobody ever said he was any good at betting, either.

Aryll marches in, opens her mouth to say something…and immediately stops. Stares at him. Then, as politely as usual, asks him, "King Daphnes Nohansen Hyrule, is something wrong?" It would be funny how she's still insistent upon using his full title, if she didn't already have him caught in a lie he hasn't even told yet.

That was fast. What gave it away? Is he flushed? Sweaty? Did he put his shirt on backwards? He quickly looks down, scrutinizes himself. No, it's nothing like that. She must just be unusually perceptive today (as if she isn't on any other day). Knowing he won't possibly be able to fool a smart girl like Aryll, he heaves an inward sigh and decides to come right out and say it. "I feel…unwell, I suppose you could say."

"Oh, so that's why you look so tired." Ah, so that's how she knew something was different today. "There's a virus that's been going around the island, haven't you heard?" He had not, so he shakes his head. He should probably try to keep better track of these things. "Yeah, it's a nasty one, but everyone seems to be recovering okay with enough fluids and bed-rest. So you'll get to eat Grandma's soup! That's lucky…although you won't be feeling it, I'm sure…" she takes a moment to consider something, "So you're tired now, but are you achy?" he tries to answer her, but she continues right on that train of though without him, "What about feverish? I'll have to get the thermometer. Do you have chills? Does your stomach hurt? Some people get that symptom, and other people don't. It's sort of hit or miss. Are you coughing yet? Lots of people are losing their voices, too, and yours is kinda raspy already. Does your throat hurt? I should go get my big brother, he's probably better at this than I a—"

"No, don't—" so many questions, none of which he had managed to answer, but it's the last part that really has him concerned, and the plea is out of his mouth before he honestly knows how he's going to finish the sentence.

She blinks. "Don't what? Go get Link?"

He clears his throat, feeling more than slightly awkward. "Yes, don't…tell him, please. You know this will pass, so I am thankful you aren't overly concerned, but Link…worries. Unnecessarily. I don't want to be the cause of that worry any more than I absolutely must be."

The girl cocks her head to the side, obviously confused. "But…Link will have to know. He's going to know eventually, because you're only going to get sicker until this passes. There's no way he won't find out, even if I don't tell him. And he'll be upset that you didn't say anything sooner. And then, even if you don't want him to make a fuss after all that, you know he's going to."

Sometimes she's too smart for him to keep up with. Whether that has anything to do with the mild fever he's sure he must be running is anyone's guess. "Yes, but it's not a problem at the moment." It's sort of a lie, or perhaps more of a half-truth. "I am fine—or, rather, I will be fine." That part is true. "I do not believe it is fair to anyone—Link especially—to get everyone all worked up over what will turn out to be nothing in the end."

Famous last words.

Aryll sighs.

It turns out that he cannot hide this from Link—who, much like Aryll, immediately knows something is wrong the second he sees him. Bless them both for their good hearts, but he's once again filled with regret, as he knows the great concern this will bring them over the next few days—at least. He's thankful he has Aryll to mediate the situation and help explain everything for him (it turns out she was right about the whole sore throat thing), but the crease of worry that appears between Link's brows is enough to make his heart clench.

Even worse, Link diligently resolves himself to take on the role of caretaker, which is the exact opposite of what Daphnes had wanted. He hadn't come back to cause problems or strife or worry for anyone, and now he is doing just that. But he certainly can't push Link away—not when he looks so troubled over the whole thing. It's probably best to allow him to stay close, to prove that this is not as big a deal as it may seem. Everything is going to turn out just fine in the end. He knows this, and he needs to give Link a chance to figure it out for himself as well.

So he coughs and sputters his way through the rest of the day, sipping water and eating soup when prompted, blowing his nose and feeling like an utter mess the rest of the time. Link makes him change back into his pajamas and get back into bed, all the while fussing over him (as Aryll had promised he would). It's a little embarrassing, but he recognizes there's not a whole lot of dignity in being ill. Essentially, this whole situation feels like some kind of weird role-reversal—being taken care of is awkward and backwards, and he really doesn't know what to do to make it come any more naturally.

Isn't he supposed to be the one looking after Link, after all?

Still, it's not all bad. The soup is good, as it always is. Being in bed all day is strange, and it's not exactly a respite from anything (his normal daily activities are rather enjoyable and by no means strenuous), but it's nice to have Link around all the time. He appreciates the company more than words can convey (which is probably a good thing, because he is rapidly losing what is left of his voice). Link obviously has some experience in this—possibly from taking care of his grandmother when she isn't feeling well? Whatever the case, he's very patient and gentle in everything he does, and it's almost a wonder to be taken care of by one so much younger than he. Daphnes knows he will inevitably get worse before he gets better—he fully expects it, after Aryll's description of the symptoms—but at the moment, it could certainly be worse. He'll look for the little rays of sunshine behind the clouds for as long as he is able.

This continues into his second day of illness, when Link seems to relax just a little as he realizes his beloved father figure isn't actively dying. That iscertainly a great load off of the King's shoulders, no matter which way you look at it.

Link still hovers, though. And illness and all its germs be damned, that seems to be far more contagious in this household, because Aryll has started doing it too. She explains herself when Link is out of earshot, saying, "The second or third day is usually the worst, because that's when the fever gets really bad. My brother hasn't been home long enough to hear about it, so I don't want him to panic when it happens."

That makes sense, although he feels fine at the moment. Definitely not the best he's ever felt, but certainly not like he's on the brink of some awful fever spell. He probably will be able to wait until tomorrow before things get really bad.

That is, until his temperature abruptly spikes.

It's late in the evening—long past dinner, but Link is still sitting by his side. He hazily has to wonder if the boy had even gotten a chance to have his evening meal himself, somewhere in between running around on his behalf. Or if he's particularly comfortable in that hard-backed wooden chair. Or if he had managed to get enough rest last night. Or why the room seems to be spinning around him—and how long has that been going on for, exactly? Everything is kind of a blur, which is a new sort of symptom he's not sure he likes. But then he feels something cool slipped between his lips—the thermometer—and obediently allows someone—Aryll? Link? someone…blonde…—to hold it there. Then he hears Link's audible gasp at the reading. That can't be good.

Someone—Aryll, he thinks?—tries to explain something to him—about the fever rocketing upwards as she had expected it to, then a bunch of other details he is definitely too far out of it to listen to or comprehend in any reasonable manner.

Link paces the room, hands clasped together tightly in agitation. Aryll must have explained the situation to him—she said she'd do that, didn't she? or had he imagined that?—but he still seems tense as ever. Even in his half-delirious state, the King can see how anxious he is, and curses himself and his weak body for ever causing the boy this kind of concern. Though it is nice to have someone there to watch over him and change the cool cloth on his forehead every ten minutes, he never would have asked for it to be like this.

Despite having his thought process greatly slowed down by fever, he knows where Link's distress is coming from. Having seemingly just returned from the dead, Daphnes knows his hold on life must appear tenuous, temporary—weaker than those properly born into this day and age. This sudden illness is proof of his mortality, and it comes across as nothing less than scary. Not for him—he'd crossed that bridge already and does not fear death—but for Link, terrified of losing such an important person from his life. Again. He's had more than enough experience in tragedy and losing people for a boy his age. The King had done it to him once already, so it makes sense he'd have retained that deep-seated fear that he will go away again.

Daphnes knows he's not dying. He knows it. He'll get better, and then everything will go back to normal again. (Or, as normal as having a dead human-turned-boat-turned-human again brought back to life and living on your tiny home island with your family can possibly be, anyway.)

But (just in case), he still makes a little promise, unspoken but no less important for it, that he isn't going anywhere. Not today, and not for a long time. He owes Link that much. And that much, he can do.

So he coughs and hacks well into the night, sore throat growing sorer, chest aching, exhaustion growing—and Link is there the entire time. He sounds horrible to his own ears, and he can't even imagine what it must be like for his small companion, but there's nothing he can do about it. It's all about weathering the storm. (He would laugh at his own boat-themed joke if it wouldn't hurt too much…and if it wouldn't cause Link to consider whether or not he's truly gone off the deep end. Another boat joke. Maybe he should write these down. But not now, of course. Now he just wants to sleep this off and never feel this awful ever again.)

So sleep he attempts, in little fits and bits and pieces. Link is always there when he awakens, to wipe sweat from his brow or to give him a few sips of water. And he desperately wants to tell the child to relax, to retire for the night as well, because there's no way this could possibly be doing him any good at all. Physical stress and exhaustion on top of emotional stress has never been a good position for Link, and he would try to explain his concerns if he thought it would make any difference at all.

But it wouldn't, so he doesn't.

Mercifully, the coughing dies down sometime far past midnight (yet still before morning light), and he thinks he's finally going to be able to sleep for more than a few minutes now, when suddenly Link's hand is in his. He hears a sniff, sees the boy scrub fiercely at his eyes with the back of his other hand. He gives the hand in his a reassuring squeeze—it's all he can do, for now. When he feels the squeeze returned in kind, he knows his message has been heard loud and clear. Then he's out like a light, left with only the thought that this has to be better by tomorrow morning. At least a little.

Sure enough, he awakens the next day feeling disgusting, but approximately one thousand times better than the night before. The disgusting feeling, he can attribute to the fact that he's sweaty and sticky with the residue of last night's nightmarish fever. He's certain he must look at least twice as gross as he feels, but appearances are the last thing he's concerned with at the moment. He glances at the clock on the wall, grimaces when he realizes it's already mid-afternoon, and tries to sit up in bed.

The key word here being "tries."

Something heavy on his chest is weighing him down, and it doesn't take a genius to realize it's Link. The boy must have crawled into bed with him sometime in the early hours of the morning, probably to listen to his breathing and heartbeat (something he likes to do even when the King is perfectly well), and fallen asleep there. He likely hadn't even noticed how completely he'd managed to wear himself out—though everyone around him had certainly known.

The King chuckles a little—accidentally bringing forth a coughing fit, though Link doesn't stir—and gently reaches down to pat the blond head resting right over his heart. Link mumbles something, curls up closer until his face is effectively smushed into the King's collarbone, and stills again.

Despite himself, Daphnes feels a swell of happiness as he looks down at his semi-adopted son. This little unconscious show of affection is so real and so human, he can hardly believe it's happening to him. He wonders what wonderful thing he must have done in order to deserve this kind of joy in his life. He aches still, and knows he probably has (at a bare minimum) a few days to go before he's feeling completely like himself again. But no matter his physical state, it's always nice to feel loved and wanted and needed, even in the most unpleasant of situations.

(And boy is he needed four days later, when Link—unsurprisingly—comes down with the exact same thing.)

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