Note: You may have come across this story before; I am not copying it. The account Lightningwolf325 is my old account that is no longer in use. I am transferring all of my old stories to this account. Please do not report this as a copy. Also, I have not edited it at all since the original post so this is not a good example of my current writing. Disclaimer
World: Twilight Princess
Summary: The Twilight War is over and Link has returned to Ordon. Plagued by nightmares, feeling abandoned, and restless without the constant adventure the Hero of Light finds comfort from an unlikely source: his patron.
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, maybe a little angst from the hero with the funny hat.
Warnings: Nothing really major…there might be some descriptions of blood and stuff like that but it shouldn't be too bad. And I'm not promising any in-characterness at all.
Please Review! No flames.
Divine Comfort
Pure, unbridled rage filled him as he urged his faithful companion onward. The blood in his head was pounding in time with the stomping of Epona's hooves. He had to reach them—catch up to them—if he didn't, then—
Fear pulsed through his chest when he reached them. Colin—little Colin, the son of his mentor, the boy he thought of as a brother—all tied up. The king Bulblin turned and snorted at him, raising his weapon high in mocking triumph…
Light enveloped him—a welcome change from the perpetual twilight he had been in for so long, only to be shoved into a dark temple after a brief respite. Despite the relief that filled him at this warm, almost familiar light, panic gripped at his heart. The glowing form of the gigantic water serpent may have dispelled the corrupt Twili for now but it could do nothing for his once more beastly form. And Midna—Midna—
He charged through Hyrule Field, destroying anything and everything in his path. The pounding of his four legs and his harsh canine breathing couldn't drown out the sound of her faint, irregular breathing. Terror filled him from his snout to the tip of his tail that her weak grip on his fur would fail as he ravaged another Bulblin archer. He had to reach Zelda, he just had to…
Link shot up in bed, breathing hard. Looking out the window he saw that the moon was still high in the sky. He rubbed his face, wiping his sweaty blonde hair out of his eyes. He sighed deeply. It had all seemed so real, as though it was all happening all over again. But that couldn't happen, could it? Midna was gone…
The Twili's departure had hit him rather hard, not that he would admit it to anyone else—he had told the village about her after he had moved back. She had been the one constant he had had through that whole ordeal and, if he were honest to himself, he was intimidated to face the world without her now. He could still see the mirror breaking in his mind…
The other villagers didn't understand—there was no way they could, of course. At first the adults had tried to keep him from carrying around the Ordon Sword—he had returned the Master Sword to its resting place in the ruins of the Temple of Time—in concern for the safety of the children. However, even with the loss of Midna aside, he felt far too naked without a proper weapon that after a near panic attack when Fado playfully shoved him as he had been so prone to do before the war they finally allowed him to carry it under the condition that it remained in its sheath.
Not that they hadn't tried to see it all from his perspective. Rusl had been there many a time, offering counsel after a rough night, or even just allowing him companionship and a sparring partner when he was keeping up on his sword practice. Uli too had been a major source of comfort for him, though he was still reluctant to open up completely…or at all, really. Not only did he not wish to re-live any part of his "adventure", he didn't want to hurt her any further with his tales of horror.
It didn't help that, despite his nightmares, he somehow felt empty without the thrill of the fight and the adrenaline-induced euphoria that came from escaping death another time. Every night he still marveled in the twisted novelty of sleeping in his own bed, not having to worry about where he would be staying the next night or whether or not he would be attacked in his sleep.
Realizing that attempting to regain unconsciousness was a fool's errand for the time being, Link stood up and cracked his back. Forgoing his now usual outfit of tunic, breeches, and hat, he stayed in his pajamas and slipped on his boots. He padded out of the house and quietly closed the door.
He walked through the clearing between his house and the bridge, involuntarily remembering the first time he had walked through that very same clearing as a wolf. To his dismay the gate was locked when he reached the bridge. Sighing, he treaded into the Spirit Spring, remembering when Colin and Ilia were kidnapped by the Bulblins. He shook his head and sat down criss-cross, idly drawing in the sand with a finger. He hated this—the lack of fulfillment in his life, the insomnia, the necessity of pushing down the bad memories and the emotions that came with them. Link carefully held back his tears. He was a hero. It wouldn't do for him to cry. Not again…
Link desperately wished for someone who could understand what he had gone through. Though his "family" had tried, they couldn't truly grasp what exactly he had been forced to do. In reality he just wanted someone he could talk to, someone he didn't have to fear about scaring with the gruesome details of his journey.
He couldn't help but feel used. The light spirits had called him, given him a task, granted him the title of hero. Sure, it had saved not only his world but the Twilight Realm as well but he had poured everything he had into doing it, only to be abandoned after it was over. He stared deep into the spring, trying hard to feel the same connection that he had during his travels. There was nothing. And ugly thought crossed his mind—would Ordona even heal him anymore? Weeks had gone by and not a day had passed that he hadn't stood in the spring, all but begging for a sign that he hadn't imagined the spirit, that it had all been real. But nothing ever happened. No words of wisdom, no giant goat, not even a spark of the ethereal light.
Link's eyes landed on a jagged rock. In a moment of impulse and rebellion he snatched it up and held it to the palm of his hand. Standing, he took a deep breath and sliced it downward, reveling in the ruby drops that spilled onto the sand. He waded in, clothes protected by his waterproof boots. He leaned down, running the hand through the cool water, watching as red clouds swirled from the wound. Holding his breath, he pulled it out. No change. Not even a scar had replaced it—in fact, the cut was still bleeding. He kicked at the water in anger, making droplets splash across the surface. Frustration hazing his vision, Link stumbled back to the water's edge and collapsed into a sitting position, not caring that the water still lapped up and began to soak his pajamas.
So that was it. He had merely been a tool, a disposable Hylian to do all of the dirty work for the Golden Goddesses. Maybe the light spirits had called him brave, but they were just trying to make him feel special, important, so that he would remain motivated for what lie ahead. But now it was over.
Tears welled up in his blue eyes, threatening to spill onto his cheeks. He missed Midna—it was as though a hole had opened in his chest the moment that mirror had shattered. Scathing, sarcastic remarks aside, Midna had always been there for him, offering advice and help when he needed it the most. And now he needed it, and she wasn't there.
A bright light momentarily blinded him. He stepped backward with an arm shielding his eyes, cursing the fact that he had been so depressed and restless that he left his sword back at the house. Blinking the light from his eyes a woman came into view, clothed in a beautiful emerald dress, the same colour as his favoured tunic, with green eyes that even outshone that.
Link's eyes jetted back and forth, searching for something he could use as a weapon. "Who are you?" he demanded. The woman chuckled, flinging her red hair away from her face.
"My child, can you not guess? You were cursing me not a moment ago, and your hand bears my mark," she said, looking at him with concern and—could it be?—love.
For a moment Link was confused, mind immediately focusing on his stinging right palm before he remembered the Triforce on his left hand.
"You—" he began, eyes widening. He dropped to his knees. "Farore!"
"Rise, young hero," she gently commanded. He hastened to obey.
"My lady, I—" he started, but Farore held up a hand.
"Brave one," she said, "why do you doubt? I have been with you."
Link stood numbly, glued to the spot. Not only was he speaking to one of the three Golden Goddesses of legend, she was chastising him for his unfaithful thoughts. His immediate reaction was denial, then anger. She had been with him? It sure hadn't felt like it, when he was fighting all of those Twilit creatures. Though…hadn't the light spirits come and helped him, in the end? And could he really hold a grudge against Lanayru, just because while the serpent was saving his life, as well as those of countless others, Midna had gotten hurt? Was he truly that selfish? But he still couldn't rid himself of the feeling of abandonment—he was a teenage ranch hand tasked with a hero's job, then just left to deal with the aftermath on his own. In what world was that fair?
"I—you left," he choked out, feeling ashamed and a little childish at a tear escaped and rolled down his cheek. "Midna's gone and Zelda's rebuilding the kingdom and none of the villagers really know and I don't have parents—" he furiously wiped away the tear, the reminder of his parents stemming the rambling flow of words that escaped his mouth. Farore didn't seem to notice, stepping out of the water and walking swiftly over to him.
"Link," she began. "My child, I have always been here." With one hand she grabbed his shoulder while with the other she tapped his chest, just over his heart. "I know it is unfair at times, but the hero's road is always difficult. Your duty to Hyrule and its people is enormous. But you accepted this and plowed through! My sisters and I chose you for a reason, and you measured up beautifully to the task." She grabbed his hand, caressing the cut he made. Golden light followed the motion, leaving behind clean, unmarked skin.
"Whether Hylian or beast you always found a way to make it through. Yes," she said as Link opened his mouth to protest. "I know you had help. I can assure you that Midna is doing a wonderful job at rebuilding her kingdom. But the point is that you can and will survive this. The family you have is willing to help you. You just need to open up and grieve."
"I-I don't want to hurt them," Link mumbled. Farore brought a hand up and caressed his cheek.
"They need to know, and you need to talk about it," she told him, keeping eye contact until he nodded.
"Please don't—" he blurted out before cutting himself off. She pulled him into a tight, loving embrace.
"I will always be watching over you," she murmured gently, as a mother would to her frightened child. "You do not need to fear." She held him like that for a moment before breaking the hug.
"Now, it is late and you have not been sleeping well. Off to bed with you. I will always be there," she added quietly. Link nodded, wiping the tears from his face. He turned to leave the clearing and when he looked back, the goddess was gone.
As he walked through the clearing back to his house, Link contemplated the fact that he felt lighter than he had in a long time. He couldn't help but trust the goddess's words. He still missed Midna terribly, but it was good to know that she was doing well in the Twilight Realm.
When he climbed into bed Link became aware of a breeze blowing through the house, though no windows were open. It was gentle and comforting, and the moment it touched his face he was claimed by uninterrupted sleep.
A/N: So, not my best. Sorry. But hey, I'm sick. Hope you enjoyed it, nevertheless.