The Spirit of the Hero; a LoZ Hylia x Fierce Deity fic

Chapter Eight

"He said something"---a cough—"about immortal blood being tainted by mortal blood, so it—"

"Why isn't it working?!" Hylia shrieked, nearly throwing her harp to the side. Instead, she continued to play past the tears, hiccups, and sobs. Her dear one frowned.

One heavy hand lifted to rest on the frame of her harp, weighing it down. She stopped playing and met his eyes. "That song... is so sad," he muttered. "Might I ask... that you hold me... while I pass?"

Hylia's heart imploded and she brought her hand to clutch the fabric of her dress that covered it. Her other hand gripped the harp with white-knuckles, refusing to give up. She almost couldn't hear anything beyond her own sobs. Why did the Fierce Deity have to swear fealty to her? Why did the Demon King have to kill him? Why was heartbreak so much more painful than she could have ever fathomed? Why did it feel like a harpoon had pierced through her, pulling back and ripping her heart out with it? Why was it so hard to breathe?

"Hylia." She opened her eyes, not even realizing that she had squeezed them shut. Her dear one looked like he was on the brink of unconsciousness. "It hurts... so much."

Her resolve snapped like a twig. Her harp clattered to the ground uselessly and she gathered her dear one into her arms. Red stained her white dress as she held him as close as possible, hoping that perhaps his wound could transfer to her if she willed it enough. But she felt nothing pierce her from the outside—only her heart being strangled while it lay safe inside her chest. Just when she thought her heartbreak was dulling, another crashing wave would submerge her in deep sadness that made her break more than before.

She could feel his pained, uneven breathing across her neck, savoring every sound he made in case it be his last. One hand fisted in his blue cap and white hair while the other clutched at the shoulder of his tunic. She was afraid that if she didn't hold onto him tight enough, he may drift away in her arms; she couldn't bear that thought.

"You aren't supposed to die," she admitted thickly. Fresh tears streamed down her cheeks as her mind filled with her most recent vision.

"We both knew... this could happen..."

"No, you don't get it!" she sobbed, louder. "You're him! All along, it was always you. You are supposed to be my Hero." He was silent at the information. "You can't die here. If you die, you'll be gone forever, and I'll have no Hero. I won't have you." Perhaps she shouldn't have been thinking so selfishly as he died in her arms, but her thoughts were running a mile a minute, and none of it made sense. Her visions were never wrong. He couldn't—he wouldn't—die here, now.

"I-I'm... sorry."

Hylia shook her head vigorously. "No," she choked out, "you are not at fault."

"Hylia... look at me." Finally, she raised her head and met his eyes, hardly able to see from her tears. He was crying too, she noticed. "I shouldn't have been... so cruel to you... I should've just... helped you from the start."

The goddess shook her head again, eyes flicking between his. "If I had known that fighting for me would end like this, I never would have come."

Sadness passed over his face before it was overcome by a weak, boyish grin. "Then I'm glad... you didn't know... because I'm rather happy... that... you..." His eyes slid closed and his breathing grew fainter than ever. Panic rose in Hylia's chest, cinching every airway. A terrible tingling settled at the nape of her neck that set her brain on fire.

"No, no, no," she begged, "dear one, please! Stay with me!"

An intentional exhale passed through his nose and the corner of his lip lifted minisculely. "I suppose," he spoke, his voice cracked and throaty, "I cannot... disobey... Her Grace..."