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Sooga hears it first. It’s upon instinct that he rockets out of bed, and it’s only once he’s on his feet that he pushes through his sleepy delirium and realises what the sound is.
Link is crying.
Moonlight spills through the thin slit of a window high up in the wall of his and Kohga’s bedchamber. The sky is still dark and inky, without the amber hues of dusk or the wash of pale blue announcing the coming dawn. He crosses the room silently, stepping into the loose trousers and tunic that one of the foot-soldiers had retrieved from a trip across the continent. Kohga loves the baggy garments, going on and on about comfort and how it feels like he’s wearing nothing. Sooga himself is more opposed, seeing only tripping hazards and a distinct lack of protection against both the cold and wayward weapons, but, alas, he feels an inkling of gratitude when it only takes him seconds to go from naked to fully dressed. Practicality, and all that.
Kohga is still snoring in their bed when Sooga pushes aside the thick curtain separating their room from Link’s. Inside, a small candle in a blue, glass dish sits flickering on the stack of drawers opposite the small bed. A weak azure glow is cast across the stone walls and hard floor, barely reaching the other side of the room. Sooga moves to grab it and bring it closer.
Beneath the red covers, Sooga hears sniffling. He places the candle on the floor beside the bed and perches himself on the edge of the mattress. There’s a bundle huddled beneath the covers, trembling and suddenly silent. There’s a tentative sniff, and then nothing. Sooga’s hand comes to rest gently on the silhouetted form.
“Link?” he murmurs. He moves his hand, rubbing what he guesses is Link’s back—it’s hard to tell in the dark. The boy sniffs again, but shifts until Sooga’s hand rests atop his head instead. Sooga’s thumb moves back and forth across the blanket, suddenly unsure as to whether it’s meant to comfort Link or ground himself. Two birds, one stone, he muses. “Link, can you look at me?”
It takes a moment, but Link eventually pushes the covers away, revealing a mess of blond hair and tear-streaked cheeks. He’s biting his lip, wrapping his arms around his knees tightly. For four years old, he’s only a slight thing. Sooga doesn’t think he’s grown at all in the past year and Kohga has been worrying to the stars and back over it. Their healer has repeatedly given the boy a clean bill of health, but Sooga and Kohga’s anxiousness persists. The healer claims that to be normal, too.
They just sit there for a minute, in the dark, Sooga watching Link and Link scrubbing his face. Slowly, Sooga’s hand returns to the boy’s head and brushes the hair away from his watery eyes.
“Are you hurt?” he asks. Link sniffs and shakes his head. “Are you unwell?” Again, Link shakes his head. Sooga presses the back of his hand to Link’s forehead anyway—something he picked up from watching Kohga doing it. He doesn’t feel feverish, and he ate all of his food at dinner. Still, you can never be too careful. “Do you feel as though you might be unwell?” He remembers the time Link woke them up in the middle of the night with sick all down his front. Since then, they had taken to keeping a bucket in the corner of their room for emergencies. But again, Link shakes his head.
“Where’s Papa?” Link finally croaks, his lip trembling and eyes welling up with tears again. Sooga’s brow furrows.
“He’s asleep. Would you like me to wake him?”
Link shakes his head almost violently, snot dribbling out of his nose with the sheer force of the movement. Sooga grabs a corner of his blankets and wipes his face softly, making sure to be careful around his eyes. Link hiccups back another sob and blindly starts rooting around the bed. Sooga is about to ask what he is looking for, then he spots the plush toy trapped between the bed and the wall. It’s a duck called Quackers that one of the Blademasters had gifted Link on his second birthday and he hasn’t split ways with it since—the Blademaster in question always nudges his colleagues smugly whenever the pair are spotted together. Sooga grabs the duck and places it into Link’s waiting arms, watching how his little boy curls around the toy.
Sooga cards his fingers through Link’s hair, taking his time to work through the tangles. Kohga keeps talking about having it cut short so that the boy can manage it himself, but Sooga is…hesitant. He loves Link’s long hair, loves braiding it and washing it and threading it with beads and clasps for special occasions. It’s so different from his own, he’s found. While Sooga’s hair is dark and straight, Link’s is golden and wild. It can hold a curl if he washes it right, too, unlike his own. Now, though, it’s a little damp with sweat and knotted from sleep. He reaches for the wooden comb they keep beside his bed and begins pulling it back into sections so he can braid it.
Link is always quiet while Sooga is doing his hair. He tucks his chin to his knees, Quackers squashed between his legs and chest. The blue light from the candle flickers, casting a wobbly light up and across the walls. Sooga can see Link peering up at it, watching how it dips and stretches high again, spreads wide and narrows into a sliver. It takes no time at all for his hair to be weaved together into something cooler to sleep in, tied off with a small strip of ribbon since Link had managed to snap all of his hair ties. Sooga makes a mental note to ask the foot-soldiers to fetch more from Gerudo Town.
Sooga drops his hands to Link’s shoulders, easing the boy around so he can see his face. The tears had stopped, thankfully, but Link still looked troubled. His tiny brow is pinched and his lips set into a firm line. For all his laughter and easy smiles, Link can be the most serious four-year-old Sooga has ever known; he often worries it’s his own influence that’s done that.
“Link?” Sooga tries again. Maybe he should wake Kohga, he’d always been better at this. Sooga never knew the right questions to ask to get Link to open up, but when Kohga does the asking, the words seem to bubble from Link’s very core before the boy even knew he was speaking.
Mind made up, he goes to stand, but before he can Link lunges into his lap and wraps his tiny arms as far as he can around Sooga’s middle.
“No!” he yelps, burying his face in Sooga’s chest. “Don’t go!”
“I was simply…” But what would be the use in explaining? Link is crying again, his tears soaking through Sooga’s thin tunic. He can feel them on his skin, like pinpricks of lightning. It’s awful.
Link always looks so small on his lap. He looks tiny anyway, but Sooga is huge in his own right. When they’re smushed together like this, Sooga is terrified of hurting him. It took years for him to learn his own strength, to stop unknowingly causing injury or breaking something, especially once he started getting stronger with training. Link is so small, so fragile, against him, even if he knows the kid is made from stronger stuff than most. Hell, he took a flower pot to the head once and walked it off. Kohga and Sooga had been a mess—which means Kohga has frantically checked him over while Sooga stood menacingly over his shoulder, pretending he wasn’t freaking out and mentally curating a list of suitable punishments for the solider responsible; it would be a long list and it would be gruelling—but Link was hardly fazed by the incident.
Carefully, so carefully, he wraps his arms around the boy and leans back against the wall. Link goes right with him, practically laying on his chest. Sooga wracks his brain for what to say, his hand moving up and down Link’s back to soothe him.
“It’s all right. You’re all right.”
Moments like this never came as naturally to him as they did to Kohga. In some ways, Kohga fell right into the role of father. It suits him, as if it’s a piece that had been missing all this time. Sooga hadn’t so much as stepped into the role as he had been dragged by his partner and was somehow making it work. He had been truly terrified in the early days when Link was still a baby and even more fragile than he is now.
A child, a baby.
His baby.
When he first joined the Yiga Clan, it would have been unthinkable. Then again, love had never been on his agenda to begin with. He never pictured himself with anyone, let alone with his Master, and to have that Master reciprocate his feelings?
Impossible.
But no, now, he shared a bed with a man he couldn’t live without and together they had fallen into the possession of a child. A boy. Their boy. Link.
It’s strange how life unfolds. Sooga had gone from being a boy without a family to a man with just that—the Clan themselves being extended relatives he would rather keep at arm’s length, of course. The thought almost makes him chuckle, but Link shifts against him, a tiny fist rising to rub his eyes sleepily.
“Would you like to return to bed?” Sooga asks, preparing to lower Link to the mattress. Link shakes his head, smearing tears and snot across Sooga’s chest. Sooga hums, fingers toying with the end of Link’s braid. “Would you like to tell me what made you upset?”
There’s a pause as Link seemingly mulls it over. He sniffs again, clutching Quackers to his chest, then sits up on Sooga’s stomach. Sooga searches his face, checking for signs of injury or sickness, just to make sure. The blue of Link’s eyes glow in the low light, shining with unshed tears. His nose and cheeks are pink, his eyes puffy from both crying and sleep. He looks even younger like this, and impossibly older, too. Like the weight of the world rests on his stocky shoulders.
Link’s lip trembles as he says, “I…I had a bad dream.”
“Oh.” Sooga nods thoughtfully. “A nightmare.” And not the first, that’s for certain. It’s not nightly, by any means. It’s not even monthly. But, still, now and then a night like this will crop up. Link, roused from sleep, teary and overtired and frightened by whatever his mind had conjured up.
Sooga is no stranger to nightmares, himself. For as long as he can remember, he found his own nights plagued by the same demons. He’s woken up drenched in sweat, the covers pooled at the end of the bed, nightwear askew, images of battlefields and blood and lost friends flashing across his vision every time he blinked. It’s awful, feeling like you can’t escape the terrors when they’re trapped inside your head. It’s not real, but it still feels so far from impossible. Sooga has seen things he wishes he could forget: Kohga, dead at his feet; Kohga, killing Sooga himself; Kohga, letting the Sheikah have him; and in more recent years, Link, vanishing without a trace; Link, in the arms of the Hylians who abandoned him; Link, raising a sword against them. They’re endless, relentless. Sooga holds onto Link a little tighter for it.
“You—” He pauses to sniff. “You and Papa were—were gone.”
“Oh,” Sooga says again. “We’re not gone. We’re not going anywhere.” Link ducks his head, clutching Quackers and burrowing into Sooga’s chest again.
“Don’t go, Daddy. Please.”
And to the sound of his hardened heart shattering into a million pieces, Sooga screws his eyes shut and hauls them both off the bed. He carries Link into his and Kohga’s room, where his Master continues to sleep peacefully, and places the boy on the bed. Sooga scoots in after him, sandwiching Link between the two of them. Kohga snorts in his sleep, drawing a teary giggle out of Link.
“Try to sleep,” Sooga says softly, trying not to wake Kohga. “We’re with you.” Link peers up at him in the dark, tugging the warm blankets up to his and Quackers’ chins.
It catches Sooga off guard, occasionally, how bright Link’s eyes are. They’re the same radiant blue they had been the day he was brought back to the hideout. As blue as the sky and as deep as the sea, one of the longer serving members of the Clan had said one time. Sooga thought it fitting.
“Daddy?” Link whispers as Sooga lays down, black hair spilling across his pillow. Link tugs at a strand. Sooga hums. “Do you get bad dreams?” Sooga turns on his side so they’re face to face. Link looks so tiny with Kohga’s bulging silhouette just behind him.
“Yes.”
Link’s brow pinches as he thinks this over. He gets the same thoughtful look as Kohga does when the Clan Master is earnestly trying to solve a problem. Link blinks hard like he’s fighting back tears again. “Do…do they make you cry, too?”
Sooga frowns, heart clenching. “Sometimes.”
Link sniffles and shuffles closer to Sooga again, pressing his head against his collarbone. “I don’t like it when they make me cry.”
Sooga is about to say something back, though isn’t sure what, but he supposes they’ll never know, because on Link’s other side, Kohga stirs.
“Hm?” his Master grunts. “Wha—?”
Link instantly rolls over, eyes shining and pressing his face into Kohga’s sleep shirt. “Papa.”
“Oh,” his hand comes to cradle the back of Link’s head, face scrunching confusedly. “Hey, kid. Whatcha doing here?” He squints Sooga, bushy eyebrow arched primly.
“Nightmare,” Sooga supplies.
“Oh, no!” Kohga gasps quietly, and suddenly he’s rolling onto his back and pulling Link onto his chest. “A bad dream, lil’ bean? Well, that’s not very nice, is it?” Link shakes his head mournfully. “Not very nice at all.” Kohga turns his head back and mouths to Sooga, “What about?”, but Sooga only shrugs; whether Link wants to tell Kohga is up to him.
Sooga props himself up on his elbow, watching how Kohga shimmies himself up the bed until he’s almost sitting up, all while keeping Link curled against his chest. The boy is practically sitting atop his stomach now, Quackers having made the journey too, but now left on the bed by Kohga’s side. Sooga finds himself holding the duck, rubbing his fingers idly against its soft head.
“Well, now, kiddo, you wanna tell us what ya saw?” Kohga asks calmly, rubbing up and down Link’s back. Link makes a noise which is neither here nor there. Kohga pokes him in the side and adds, “It’ll make ya feel better.” This isn’t strictly true, but at least the couple will have an idea of what they’re tackling. Always better to be safe than sorry.
Link heaves a great sigh and Sooga feels the corners of his mouth twitching. Kohga raises his eyebrows over Link’s head as if to say can you believe this kid?
Sooga doesn’t know why Kohga is surprised; it was Kohga he learned that from, after all.
“There…” Link pauses and reaches for his duck. Sooga hands it over. “There was…there was a monster. A big one. And—and it took you.” He pokes a little finger at Kohga’s chest. “And it took Daddy.”
Kohga’s face turns serious as he and Sooga absorb this. A monster, he says. Their world has no shortage of monsters, but they thought they’d done an okay-ish job of shielding him from all that.
“And what did this monster look like?” Kohga asks carefully, not wanting to push Link into another fit of tears.
“Um, it was big. And had lots of legs.”
“Like a spider?” Kohga interjects. Link nods.
“And—and it had one eye that was bright blue. And it was setting trees on fire.”
“On fire, huh? Sounds real scary.” Kohga keeps rubbing Link’s back, trying to soothe him. Sooga wracks his brain for what the fire-starting-blue-eyed-spider could be, but he can’t picture anything. None of the scouts had reported anything of the sort, nor had he witnessed anything matching that description on his own missions. And if Kohga had, Sooga is certain he would have been first to know.
Link’s fists curl into Kohga’s tunic tighter, hiding his face from the both of them. “Don’t go,” he whimpers, and Sooga’s heart breaks just a little bit more.
“Oh, squirt, we ain’t going anywhere,” Kohga assures him. “We’re staying right here with you. And Quackers.”
Link pulls away so he can see Kohga’s face. He rubs his eyes and asks, “Promise?”
“I promise,” Kohga says, then swats Sooga’s shoulder and says, “You promise, too, Daddy?”
Sooga nods solemnly. “I promise.”
“There, see? Nothing to worry your tiny, lil’ blond head about.” Link’s smile is slight, but there nonetheless. “Now then, I think we should try get some more shuteye. Whaddya say, green bean? Fancy a nap? Then it’ll be morning before you know it.”
Link slowly nods into Kohga’s chest.
All things considered, Link settles into sleep rather quickly in Sooga’s humble opinion. The boy is tucked between them beneath the covers, cuddled up to Quackers and breathing evenly. He’s likely to be tired in the morning, so Sooga makes a mental note to give him an extra helping of bananas and milk for breakfast.
“Did the sprite come to get you?” Kohga asks when they’re certain Link is asleep. His fingers brush across the top of Link’s head, seemingly resisting the urge to run through his hair since the braid is in the way.
“No,” Sooga says, “I woke up and heard him.”
Kohga grunts, then flops onto his back. His soft jaw is riddled with dark stubble and it takes nearly all of Sooga’s strength to not reach out and feel it. Kohga tends to keep it short these days, and Sooga resolutely doesn’t miss the times when he would grow it long. A beard was one thing, it turns out, but several days-old stubble is something else entirely apart. Sooga bites the inside of his cheek, thankful Kohga couldn’t see his face clearly enough to make fun of his flush.
“Poor kid,” Kohga murmurs, sounding on the brink of sleep himself. “We’ll have to do something fun tomorrow. Maybe throw bananas at the Clan while they’re training. That sounds fun, right? I think he enjoyed it last time.”
“I could have someone fetch the cake he enjoys from Gerudo Town,” Sooga suggests, wondering when Kohga had introduced pelting their soldiers with food to their activity roster.
“Aw, yeah, he’ll love that.” There’s a smile audible in his Master’s voice and Sooga’s heart does this awkward little dance in his chest. “And what about you?”
Sooga blinks into the darkness. “What about me?”
“You should get yourself something,” Kohga says around a yawn. “For, y’know, top-notch parenting and all that jazz.”
Sooga swallows. “There is no need for—”
“Oh, c’mon, Soogie.” Kohga rolls over again, eyes shining in the sliver of moonlight slipping into the room. “As Second in Command, you gotta reap the benefits of being a badass banana. And…” Kohga’s hand inches over Link and pokes Sooga in his clean-shaven cheek. “As my hubby, you get free rein of whatever you like. Whatever’s mine is yours, as they say.”
And Sooga, well, he hasn’t a clue what to say to that. So instead, he reaches up and threads their fingers together, Kohga’s arm laying soundly across Link. The boy shifts, sighs, and continues sleeping.
“Love you, you beautiful specimen of a man.” Kohga knows exactly what he’s doing.
Sooga turns his face into his pillow, embarrassed to Akkala and back.
“And—” Goddess, why did the words never roll off his tongue as easily as they did Kohga’s? “And I, you.” He settles for, hoping that Kohga doesn’t press—he never does, but the anxiety still writhes beneath the surface. Worries of him not being enough, of Kohga doubting his affection, of Kohga not knowing how much he feels for him. Of how much Sooga loves him, for lack of a better word. Because that’s exactly what it is, regardless of how convinced Sooga had been that such feelings were beyond his ability. His gaze drops to the blond bundle between them and his heart does another little thing that makes him feel breathless.
When he looks up again, Kohga has fallen back asleep. His face is all soft curves and parted, chapped lips and bushy eyebrows and Sooga feels the ever-present tension in his shoulders begin to melt away. He turns onto his back and gazes into the abyss of shadows above where the light from outside doesn’t quite reach. Link shifts again, turning onto his front and pushing Quackers against Sooga’s shoulder. Sooga lays as still as he can so as to not wake him.
And everything just…slots into place. Himself, Link, Kohga, their small corner of the world. Theirs. For the soft moments, for the tears, for the long nights. Everything fits together like the pieces were made for each other.
Never would he have thought he could have this. This…peace. Family. These people to protect who protect him in return.
He feels it all in that moment. The love, the heartache, the familiarity, the newness. It’s brilliant, even when it hurts.
Even when it means being woken up at Goddess-knows what hour, only to be covered in snot.
Sooga sighs.
Such is life.