Series Title: How to Tame Your Volga

Disclaimer: I still don't own Hyrule Warriors.

Author's Notes: I may have said this before but Volink was the first ship I experienced with an active fandom—all of my other ships occurred several years or more after the series's height of popularity. I've seen this ship at its fiery beginning when it was teeming with a daily deluge of new content and I'm still around now that it's a dying coal ember that only gets new content for it once in a blue moon—it's a shame it's not once in a Blood Moon because that seems to happen to me all the time in BotW...but I digress.

This piece is kinda strange and very angsty, but I liked how it turned out. Especially since it basically wrote itself in a couple of sessions and I didn't wind up stuck on it at any point. It's always nice when a fic cooperates. As always, thanks for reading.

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Drabble Title: Near Death

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No! Link watched in horror as the healers gave up on Volga. The treatment was working. They just had to give it a little more time. Link bolted for the door, but Darunia snatched him up off his feet as he kicked and screamed incoherently to be let go. Lana had just laid a sheet over Volga's head, and now she and Zelda were leading the team of healers in a prayer for the safe passage of Volga's soul into the afterlife.

The healers had spent nearly two hours and then another hour at Link's behest trying to raise Volga's body temperature, first gradually by soaking him in lukewarm water and then with fire-charmed blankets after drying him off. As an added measure, they had surrounded his body with a ring of campfires, and still the only positive sign of improvement they had achieved was fading the blue tinge from his skin. Volga did not appear to be breathing or possessed a pulse.

Darunia waited until all the healers, except for Lana and Zelda, had left the keep before he set Link down. Link ran immediately into the open keep.

Don't stop, Link ordered, his hands and body shaking. Even if he was capable of speaking, Link doubted that he would be able to form words. Link's throat was tight and strained. If they just gave it another hour, maybe then Volga would wake up.

"Link, I'm sorry…" Zelda said. "We got to him too late."

Volga had been imprisoned in a jail magically-frozen with thick ice and enchanted with a perpetual blizzard wind. Link had bashed opened the metal prison door with his golden gauntlets and there Volga lay on the frozen stone. The dragon knight had pulled his whole body tightly together to conserve what little heat his human form had possessed. A thin layer of frost coated his armor, and ice crystals had formed in his helmet plume.

No, I felt his pulse, Link signed. The very first thing Link had done after he had ran to Volga's still body and dropped to his knees beside him was check for his signs of life. Volga wasn't dead.

"Don't you think it's possible that you might have imagined it?" Lana asked, with a cringing, apologetic smile. She was trying to tread lightly in her words, but there was no real polite approach to suggesting that Link might have been mistaken in his blinding grief. He wasn't mistaken.

It's weak, but it's there, Link insisted.

"But we've checked. Multiple times," Lana said. "No one felt anything."

They must have done it wrong or didn't wait long enough. All of them. None of them understood a dragon's physiology. They were mistaken. Link held his trembling hands tightly at his sides and curled them into fists.

"Link..." Zelda said softly, taking a half-step toward him. "He's not going to wake up."

Leave, Link tersely signed. And they wisely left him alone.

Link snatched the white sheet off Volga's face and tossed it aside as far as he could throw it. Unable to bear looking down at the dragon knight's face and see him dead as Lana and Zelda claimed, Link swiftly paced back and forth and wondered what more he could do.

A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of Link's face. The keep was hot, but clearly it wasn't hot enough. He needed more heat. Volcanic temperatures. Surely what temperature registered as hot to a fire dragon was far greater than what a Hylian could tolerate. Volga needed more fire.

Link walked several steps back, drew his magical rod, and set it on flamethrower, spreading a wave of fire back and forth over Volga. The flames themselves did not reach the dragon knight's body, but the heat certainly did. He tapped into his Spirit multiple times, drawing power from his Triforce to extend his focus beyond his limits. So what if he destroyed his body! Link wasn't giving up. Volga wasn't dead.

Despite having stripped down to his shorts, the heat surrounding him was sweltering. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face and chest. His vision doubled and blurred. Link was not sure if he was delirious from the heat or exhaustion, and in truth it didn't matter to him. He kept the flamethrower blowing. How ever long it needed to take that was how long he was going to keep trying. Link knew what Volga's pulse felt like. He hadn't imagined it.

The once bright golden glow of the Triforce was but a dim pulse flickering erratically, like a sputtering dying flame, as Link struggled to hold the magical rod steady. His heart felt as if it was bludgeoning itself against his rib cage. Flashes of magical energy in sparks of blue, green, and red in his eyes masked his view of the sky and left him unable to determine the time or how long he had been trying to save Volga.

The dragon knight still appeared unresponsive. Clearly Link was not trying hard enough. If he had more magic, more fire, then surely Volga would be okay and wake up. Volga was going to make fun of him for getting all worked up and emotional over nothing, but Link didn't care—he'd just be happy that the dragon knight was okay.

With his Triforce, Link tapped into his lifeforce and willed his energy toward the magical rod. As long as he left enough time to seal Ganondorf away and repair the rips in space and time, why would it matter if he burned away the rest of his years?

As soon as he completed the connection between the magical rod and his lifeforce, a golden jolt of lightning abruptly raced from the Triforce, up his arm, and throughout his body. The divine surge also depowered the magical rod and knocked Link to the ground. He lay, groaning, as he tried to figure out what the hell had just happened. The best solution he could figure was that it was a final bolt from the Goddesses to keep Link from killing himself. Apparently, it was fine to sacrifice himself for destiny but not for love.

Ignoring his pain, Link inched himself closer to Volga. He pressed an ear against the dragon knight's chest and listened for a heartbeat. There was one. Except Link wasn't sure if the heartbeat he was hearing was Volga's or his own. He was just so tired. After everything he had done, his body was maxed out. Link had done everything he could and still Volga was...

Awake.

Volga half-opened his eyes and looked around, seeming lost at first, until he saw Link.

Having gathered enough of a second wind to lift himself up and reach for Volga's face, Link swept a hand along the dragon knight's cheek and up through his hair. Unable to hold back his roiling emotions, Link cried with overwhelmed relief.

"Link," Volga croaked.

Tears and snot were pouring and dripping down Link's face. Link was a vulgar sight, one that easily could have convinced a bulblin that he was one of their own, but Volga's eyes only reflected his love for his worried but determined, snot-faced boyfriend, who had brought him out of his brumation and saved him from the brink of death.

"...Thank you."