Chapter Text
Since her majesty's grand coronation, Queen Zelda had made it her personal mission to bring joy and laughter to Hyrule Castle.
One might ask, how was this achieved?
Well, parties of course. Lot’s of them. An exorbitant amount in fact.
Sidon had been invited to every gala, soiree, masquerade, ball, and bash that had occurred since the Queen’s coronation nearly a year ago. One occurring every two weeks, sometimes every week when the guests simply…stayed in the castle.
It had something to do with banishing negative energy. Sidon didn’t quite understand the declaration, but he trusted the Queen implicitly. Perhaps some great evil resided beneath the tombs of the castle, waiting to take vengeance on the royal family.
Or she just wanted to spite her father, who must lay spinning in his grave from his daughter's audacity, oozing disdain.
Sidon plucks a glass of wine from a waiter's tray, chuckling at the thought.
Tonight he attends with his sister, Princess Mipha, who had already run off to gossip with Queen Zelda, but not before giving him an earful about the tridents that adorned his back, having explicitly instructed him not to bring them into the ball, lest he cause political mayhem, again .
Apparently the incident at Rito Village had put him on the council's naughty list, the elderly zora’s demanding Mipha keep an eye on him, and ensure his beautiful weapons are left behind.
Ah, but how would it look for someone dubbed the Warrior Prince to show up without his signature tridents?
So he had brought them anyway. Repercussions could be dealt with upon his return, and his charm was a wicked tool, he would use it in abundance on the council to diminish whatever punishment they saw fit.
More paperwork, probably, to join the stack that already sits on his desk.
Thoughts of paper work aside, Sidon weaves through the crowd, charming his way through the attendees as alphas, betas, and omegas alike vie for his attention, attracted to him like moths to a very large, red, flame.
Decades of experience had taught him how to navigate through conversations swiftly and efficiently, careful not to offend those who approach him. For this he is thankful, for tonight he swims through the crowd with the single mindedness of a shark on the hunt.
A hunt to find the champion .
Rumors had spread that they would be here tonight, an unusual occurrence given the nature of the champion's work. Sidon had only been to a handful of Queen Zelda’s parties, none of which the legendary knight had been in attendance to, and he was desperate to meet him.
He sighs, this would be so much easier if he knew what the champion looked like.
-------
Unbeknownst to him, keen green eyes watch him from afar, before flickering over to her champion, who paces beside the buffet, stuffing sweets into his mouth and- was that rock roast?
He was stress eating again.
“They’re kinda pitiful, one doesn't know what the other looks like while the other is still trying to gather enough courage for his approach. Why didn’t you introduce them, anyway?”
“Payback.”
Zelda laughs, slapping Mipha’s arm playfully. “Oh you absolute terror. They are gonna be at this for hours if we don’t do something.”
“And what do you purpose, my Queen?”
“Simple.”
-------
Zelda sends aid in an unexpected form.
Specifically, a group of drunken hylian soldiers.
“Hey!”
“No way!!”
“That’s gotta be him!”
The soldiers surround Sidon, swaying in place, staring up at him, eyes wide and voices loud, “Aren't you that Zoran warrior prince!? Is it true you defeated a Lynel with just your claws and teeth?"
The man makes a wild motion with his hands as he speaks, curling his fingers and baring his teeth in a mockery of the image.
"Er-"
"They say you tore the thing to pieces! Now Lynels flee at your presence!"
"Well, not exactly-"
"HEY LINK!" The man shouts, and his protests come to a screeching halt, head whipping in the direction the man waves, “YOU’VE GOTTA MEET THIS DUDE, HE'S A LEGEND LIKE YOU!”
Sidon inhales sharply.
Link.
Overcome with excitement, Sidon’s tail begins to wag, eyes landing on a small hylian man, adorned in the uniform of the royal knights.
The champion.
Intense blue meets curious gold, and Sidon’s breath hitches as the champion, Link, approaches them.
Oh dear- the man was gorgeous.
Stunning honestly, the prettiest hylian he’s ever seen, and really, this shouldn’t surprise him. For years he had wanted to meet Link, practically yearned for it, eager to bond with a warrior of equal caliber.
Of course the man would be unbearably attractive to him.
His instincts stir, the alpha within demanding that he impress the prospective mate before him.
Now that , was an alluring thought he would need to tamper down.
Yet, he cannot help but indulge himself, giving Link one of his infamous charming smiles, his fins flaring slightly to show off their colorful disposition when he offers his hand to shake.
“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Sir Link.”
Sidon isn’t prepared for what Link does.
The champion steps closer, ignoring the offered hand. He reaches for Sidon’s forearm instead, curling a small hand firmly around it.
What was he-?
Sidon gasps as he is abruptly forced down onto a knee, eyes widening in astonishment at the display of strength from the tiny hylian. The hand on his forearm remains, squeezing, and a thumb grazes over red scales, not-so subtly pressing against firm muscle.
Then it hits him.
Link’s scent.
It was divine.
Warm and delicious, but subtle, suppressed in such a way that could only be achieved by dousing one's skin with a fairy tonic. Gills fluttering, he attempts to inhale more of it. His actions are borderline inappropriate, but the temptation is too great, and honestly, if Link wasn't going to abide by standard formalities, then why should he?
Link’s mouth drops ever so slightly open, those delicately pointed ears twitching in a manner that fascinates Sidon, and then those pretty lips that beg to be bitten curl into a smirk.
His hand lifts from Sidon’s forearm, and he begins to sign, ‘Prince Sidon, I’ve bee-’
"You know what would be awesome? You two should duel!"
The atmosphere around them shatters, and Sidon fumes, teeth flashing subtly, a soft growl threatening to escape him, beyond displeased. How dare this soldier interrupt Link! Interrupt them . He was going to-
Another voice joins in. "Yeah, now that would be quite the sight, seeing you two face off!" The very mention of a duel summons the attention of the surrounding attendees, and they quickly garner a crowd.
Shit.
Soft laughter pulls his attention back to Link, who continues to stare at him, gaze having never left. It flickers to the tridents on Sidon’s back, and then down his body, slowly, regarding him with blatant interest.
Hunger curls hot and heavy in his core.
Chants of "Duel! Duel! Duel!" echo around them, yet it is nothing but background noise as he watches Link, unable to tear his gaze away as Link tilts his head in an almost coy gesture, biting his lip.
‘Ready for a good time?’
A slow, fierce smile full of promise and heat stretches across Sidon’s face, sharp teeth flashing dangerously.
Who was he to deny The Champion?
-----
Mipha stares, aghast.
Sidon and Link were about to cause the biggest political incident of the decade, two high standing individuals from different kingdoms dueling at a ball like this.
The council was going to have a fit.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to care. She had seen the way Sidon had acted in Link’s presence.
He had never reacted like that to anyone before.
-----
Word of their impending duel spreads quickly, and soon, Sidon and Link find themselves at Hyrule Castle's training grounds, surrounded by nearly all of the ball's attendants. The audience offers them a wide breadth, standing on the outskirts of the grounds, murmuring with anticipation while they wait, excited to witness what many expect to be the fight of the decade.
From the corner of his vision, Sidon spots Mipha, who stands next to Zelda, nursing her crest in an attempt to dull an incoming headache.
Towers of paperwork awaited him in the future, surely.
Whatever punishment lay ahead, he would happily embrace it, for the scene before him was like a fantasy come true.
Haloed by moonlight, Link stands across from him, twirling The Blade of Evil’s Bane in hand, a legendary weapon rumored to reject those it deems unworthy. The news of a young Knight wielding the sacred weapon had rippled across Hyrule like a shockwave many years ago, for the sword hadn't been seen for over a century. Sidon hoped to hear the story of how Link found it one day.
Link gives him a sly smile, shifting from foot to foot with impatience, and Sidon can’t help but snort, like a bull ready to charge, as he withdraws a trident from his back, the excitement of the situation pushing at the bounds of his control, desperate to indulge in the knight before him.
With one fine golden eyebrow raised, Link motions with his free hand, questioning, ‘Only one?’
“Two would be too much for the crowd, but I assure you, it will be enough.”
Link smirks, then winks, ‘I can handle both, if it’ll please you. Later tonight, perhaps?’
Sidon sputters at the faux pas, and Link uses the tactical advantage of surprise, dashing forward and striking out, only for his sword to be caught in the prongs of Sidon’s trident. The crowd cheers when their weapons lock together, and thus begins a deadly standoff until Sidon twists his trident in an attempt to disarm the knight.
But that would be too easy.
Link flows with the movement, an intense look of concentration overcoming him. He moves swiftly, rapidly striking again, and again, and again . Sidon readily meets him, matching each attack with parries and stabs of his own.
They are an even match, yet as the fight drags on, Link maintains that expression of neutral concentration, and it dawns on him.
Link was holding back.
A snarl of excitement hurls from his throat, and Link is sent skidding backwards with a powerful swing of his trident.
His tail thrashes behind him, princely smile taking on a feral edge that puts rows and rows of sharp teeth on display. They glisten in the moonlight.
Fantastic.
“Let’s take this up a notch, shall we?”
Blue eyes widen, and Link’s mouth drops open with astonishment. Dominating a prince could be seen as a slight to the crown, but Sidon didn’t want him to hold back, wouldn't allow it.
He would meet him with equal measure.
A small tongue flicks out, wetting dry lips, and Sidon growls at the sight of it. The cheers and hollers of the audience around them fade to white noise, everything hones in to just them.
Link stance shifts, subtle, but notable.
Their weapons clash, faster than before. Small sparks fly into the air with the intensity of their strikes, and the force of it makes their weapons sing a wavering, metallic tune, setting a tempo to their deadly dance. Link wears a manic smile, bearing his blunt teeth in return to Sidon’s wicked grin. Every dodge, jump, and lunge causes his golden hair to flow about him, haloing him as if he were some divine fierce deity.
Sidon was captivated.
Link was ethereal.
The air around them becomes heavy, their scents simmering with undertones of pleasure caused by the adrenaline burning through their veins. It curls around them, and Sidon practically chokes when Link’s scent hits him, much stronger than before, the fairy tonic weakened by Link’s sweat.
It’s molten, addictive, with a hint of something he can’t quite identify.
It drives him wild.
It’s only his strict training, finely tuned control, and immense desire to impress that keeps him from faltering to the raging beast within.
He sees it then, an opening, and sweeps his trident, prepared to stop just before it smacks into Link’s ribcage, but to his amazement, Link has the audacity to backflip over it.
The prongs of his trident skim the tip of the champion's ponytail, tiny gold strands flying into the air in its wake. He holds his breath, taken with the image before him as Link lands, and smirks.
In that second, he realizes his mistake, and is unable to stop the swing of his trident in time to block Link’s flurry rush.
The tip of a sword meets his heaving chest.
Link has won.
The stare at one another, the crowd roaring their approval in the background. Link pants softly, gathering his breath before he opens his mouth, and speaks.
“You were holding back.”
It’s scratchy, soft as it falters due to disuse, and it sends a chill down Sidon’s spine. His tail whips wildly, teeth aching, instincts driven wild as he is graced with something so sacred, so rare, that most thought the champion completely mute.
Sidon lick’s his lips.
“Would you use your full strength against an ally?”
Link shakes his head, lowering his sword, confirming that no, neither would he. His head swims with the knowledge that so much power resides in such a tiny body.
Sidon’s claws twitch.
Link extends his hand, grinning, offering it in acknowledgment of a good match.
This time, Sidon asserts himself, dropping to his knees as he takes Link’s hand in both of his, trident forgotten on the ground. He arches down, until his hot breath tickles Link’s ear, and purrs.
“You're amazing, Link.”
Sidon inhales deeply, eager to savor Link’s scent.
It washes over him, and he nearly growls with pleasure from the intensity of it. The hint of scent he couldn’t discern from before is there. He opens his mouth slightly to taste it, and-
Sidon’s breath hitches.
Oh.
It was the scent of a satisfied omega .
The alpha within him stirs, and it is ravenous.
Every thought he had attempted to tame down, suppress away until he was in a more private setting, comes roaring to the surface, like a wild beast on a rampage.
How many scars lay beneath that uniform? He wanted to undress him, drag his claws along that soft skin to lay marks of his own.
What would it feel like to twist those golden strands between his fingers? Would they be thick and lush, or flat and soft?
Would Link allow it? Let Sidon taste him, kiss him breathless, dominate him, lay claim to him-
A quiet whimper pulls him from his fantasies, and Sidon moves away, just enough to see Link’s flushed expression. His lips are open, his little pink tongue flicking across them, blatantly tasting Sidon’s scent that simmers in the air, thick and inviting.
Sidon dares to push the limits of their interaction further, head tilting in a manner that plays up his handsome features, voice dropping into a low rumble, eager to entice Link. “Perhaps we can meet under…a more private setting? I think you and I have much to discuss.”
Public reputation be damned, he was going to eat Link up.
Link nods quickly, tugging his hand from Sidon’s to sign eagerly, ‘Yes. Yes . I’d like that.’
His inner alpha roars with victory.
“Then tonight, shall we-”
The crowd surges around them, and their little bubble of privacy is finally broken when the same drunken soldiers from earlier throw their arms around Link’s shoulders to jostle him excitedly, whooping and hollering as they praise their superior’s skill.
But Link doesn't acknowledge them, eyes trained on Sidon with a level of intensity that makes his scales hum with pleasure.
Suddenly, small hands wrap around his fingers. Sidon’s gills seize, breath stolen from him at the sight of Link bringing his large hand towards that smirking mouth. Soft lips brush across his knuckles, and then, deviously, Link’s wet tongue flicks out to taste roughened red scales.
Sidon’s mouth falls open, stunned by the daring display of desire from the omega.
Link lets go, and winks, stepping back into his entourage, ‘See you soon, my Prince.’
Feisty, powerful, and downright divine.
Sidon yearned to make Link his.