Chapter Text
Wild was doing fine.
Everything was incredibly fine and he was not freaking out in the slightest. Not even a little bit. He could be normal about this. He could. It was all going to be fine. He was a calm, confident man who could handle what was thrown at him and he most certainly wasn't one more shock away from a full blown mental breakdown.
He just. Also. Was barely holding on.
He'd thought that they had landed in his world at first. Hylia preserve him, he'd seen the tall, slender Sheikah towers and been hit by a wave of nostalgia. Of course he was home — he knew those! They'd been such a fundamental element of his first journey that for a moment he'd forgotten that they'd been dismantled years ago.
When, a moment later, he realised that this couldn't be his world — or at least, not the time he had come from — his mind had stuttered for a moment. Had they come back to a version of his world from a few years ago? It must have been after he'd finished his quest, at least; all of the towers were operational. Was this a time when he had been travelling with the Chain? And if so, why?
And then he'd turned around. The portal has spat them out at the southern end of Hyrule Field, and when he'd finally looked to the north he realised that he was not seeing anything like the world that he knew.
The field was full of buildings. A constellation of towns, ranches, and cottages, dotted the field, linked by all manner of roads and track-ways. In the distance, Hyrule Castle stood proud, its blue spires bright, gold caps glittering at their tips.
The Castle was whole. It was intact. But— but this could not have been a time before his battle one hundred years ago. Massive, dark guardian turrets stood tall and grim around the castle, proof that wherever — whenever — they were, the Calamity had indeed come to pass. Even at a distance, Wild could see damage to the walls, could see scaffolding and repairs under way.
And across the field, across the world before him, he could see traces of this same story wherever he looked. Long gouges of trenches scarred the countryside, rubble was piled up on roadsides. Wild was used to the sight of rebuilding from his own world, he knew what it looked like, and while this world had not been torn apart as much as his own, while it had clearly not been left in ruin for a century, it was clearly still pulling itself back together after going through something terrible.
This was not Wild's world. It was not even the world of his past, although it was somewhere similar to it.
It was an alternate world to his. A world close in almost every way but with a few differences, small but distinct. The Hero here had not drawn the Master Sword as a child. The Princess had not felt such animosity towards him. This world was similar, but not identical.
In this world, they had defeated the Calamity the first time.
Wild knew this place. Sidon had told him about it. Sidon and Riju and Yunobo and Teba had all been here before, had come on an adventure to this world, had seen first hand as their Hero, so similar to Wild but so, so different, had saved it.
Wild felt sick. Why would the portals send them here? Of all places? Was it just some kind of sick joke? A kick in the teeth to all of the progressive he had made?
Wild felt like a different person to the scared boy who had first joined the Chain. He stood taller, was more confident. He smiled easier, he spoke and he joined in when he met people. He was less ashamed of his scars and wore short sleeves when he was warm, far less worried about his body. He scarcely even wore a mask any more! Just the small prosthetic in his left cheek to help him speak and eat, and honestly, he wasn't sure if that even counted. Had he not needed it as a literal medical aid, would he have worn a mask at all? He wasn't sure.
He did know his confidence wasn't perfect. He still wore a scarf over his nose and mouth sometimes; if he was meeting children for the first time, or when he was entering some towns. He still had nightmares and he was still shy. He still was who he was. But he had thought that his days of feeling trapped by his own scars were behind him. Were gone.
And now here he was, staring over the field of a world someone else had saved, wishing that he could crawl under a blanket and hide and never, ever come out.
Wild had always known that this other world existed. But until now, it had been easy to forget. To pretend that it did not exist. Now, though…
It had taken a hot second to explain it all to the Chain. Words had failed him and he'd found himself shakily signing instead, giving them a quick rundown of the story, of where they were, of who they might meet.
His brothers had been so very kind, listening to his fears and patient as he definitely didn't break down a little bit and have to go and throw up in the bushes. Thank Hylia for Twilight and they way he gently rubbed his back as he dry-heaved, and for the snuggles he gave him later as Wolfie.
The Chain told him — assured him, promised him — that it would all be alright, and that was good of them. It was kind for them to say. But Wild was no fool. The Shrine of Resurrection might have left his body mangled, but his mind was intact.
If they were in this era then they were here to find its Hero. They were going to have to meet him. Wild would have to face him. Hylia, Wild didn't know how to face him.
But it hadn't happened yet. So far, they had just been at the far end of Hyrule Field and hadn't met so much as a singlee farmer, so Wild figured that for now it was best to avoid the problem. He just kept moving, pretending that everything was okay, and ignoring the growing terror in the pit of his stomach.
And then it had happened.
It was inevitable and he knew it, but that still didn't make it any easier to deal with.
They'd been travelling north when they'd come across a hoard of Sky's horrid moblins (and WHY exactly did they have nipple piercings? What was wrong with Sky's world? Wild would like to erase that from his memory, thank you very much!), and there had never been any question that the Chain would stop to battle them. These creatures did not belong to this era and its people would have no idea how to take them on, whereas the Chain had seen them before. This was what they were here for. It was their purpose.
It had barely registered to Wild that there was already a group of soldiers there, as they raced into battle. At least, not beyond the thought of 'other combatants — make sure they're okay!'. It was only when the fighting was done and Wild looked around, panting for breath and knuckling blood away from where he might have taken a blow a little too hard to his nose, that he realised.
The other combatants around him were in armour — dirty from the battle and maybe a little dented, but still neat. Uniform. Official. They were all flopping down together, checking on each other's wounds, and even laughing as they chatted. A woman sat among them, with familiar blonde hair far longer than he had ever seen it, with a golden sword on one hip and a Sheikah slate on the other, and a travelling outfit of distinctive royal blue.
It was the Princess. It was Zelda. But it was not his Zelda. This Princess had not been forced to battle for a century in Hyrule Castle. This Princess had never watched her kingdom die, had never been stranded thousands of years away from home, had never sacrificed herself to draconification.
He caught a glimpse of her smile, and he wanted to cry.
It was too much. It was just too much. He turned away, looked elsewhere, and his eyes landed on another one of the combatants. A slight figure with chin length hair tied neatly back, with a smooth, unblemished face and a bright blue tunic so similar to the one that Wild himself wore.
He couldn't take it anymore. That was when he darted away, hiding himself from view. Even as his brothers approached the Princess and this new, familiar Hero, he his behind Twilight, grateful beyond measure for the Rancher's sheer size and his big, soft heart. His brother didn't question it as Wild (coward that he was) hid behind him, as he rummaged through his slate with trembling hands still slick from the sweat and grime of battle, and pulled out a mask. Not his blue one — that had been destroyed long ago, in his battle with Ganon's mummy — but something plainer, less recognisable, but nonetheless complete in its coverage.
Twi even covered him as he tugged at his own blue tunic, self conscious and nervous. It was too similar, far too similar to what the other him was wearing. It was cut too close to his body, it showed too much of his scars, to the shape of the failure he had become.
"Here." Twi said softly, passing him the spare tunic for his own pack. It was big and soft and Wild had worn it many times before, to keep him warm on cold nights and to bring him comfort when he was low. It swamped him utterly, and would without a doubt cover him the way he so desperately needed right now.
Hylia, he was grateful to the rancher. He was big and bulky enough that if Wild ducked behind him no one could possibly see as he changed into the bigger tunic, and when Time asked where he was, Twilight easily covered for him.
Still, he could not hide forever. He knew that before long he would have to come out, and he may have been a coward, but he would not make his brothers look rude. Once he was dressed, he took a deep, steadying breath and stepped out to be introduced to this new Link. To this better him.
Hylia, it was worse than he'd imagined. This better version of himself was perfect — even after a battle he stood straight and proud, his hair unmussed, his expression unaffected. He'd literally been stabbed in the stomach and had scarcely reacted, and now he was standing tall as if nothing had happened, as if the blood stain on his tunic was of no consequence.
Wild would never be this man. Could never be this man.
He felt himself slip back into the shadows, back to a place of quiet deferral and protective silence that he had found himself in for months. Only yesterday he and the Chain had been laughing and goofing about in the woods near Four's forge. Wild had worn short sleeves and openly teased his brothers, loud and happy and carefree as they took the opportunity to relax together.
That felt a million miles away from where he was now. Right now, all he felt was small.
Twilight made no comment as Wild clung close to his side on their journey to make camp. He could see the other members of the Chain shooting him worried looks at the sight of a mask he had not worn in so, so very long, and he could only pray that they would not bring it up now, where these new, better people could hear. It felt like his nerves were working on overtime, terrified of what might be said around him, what might be said to him. Every time one of his beloved brothers opened their mouth he was afraid that they would ask him about it, or, perhaps worse, tell this new (this better) Link and his Zelda who Wild was. The pair of them were bound to know that he existed, after all. Sidon himself had told Wild that he had spoken to this other Link about him. But so far they didn't seem to recognise him, and frankly that was a blessing that Wild wanted to keep going for as long as he physically could.
He shivered, shrinking closer to Twilight. The people of this world were giving him odd looks too, although they politely tried to hide it.
He couldn't blame them. People, typically, did not go around in full facial masks. He'd forgotten what it was like, after having spent so long with just his prosthetic on his face. With that, people saw it and took it for the medical aid that it was. Even if they did glance at him with a little interest, any confusion was generally quickly erased when they took in his scars, the missing ear, the damage to his hairline. These days, most people saw the state of his face, shrugged, and moved on with their day. His prosthetic may have been cool and badass and carved from zonaite, but it was still very clearly a prosthetic.
A mask did not answer any questions. People saw a mask and suspicion was aroused. They wanted to know what he was hiding. People became suspicious. Hylia, he'd forgotten the suspicion, about the second glances — and worse, the people who did not look at all, who averted their gaze, overcorrecting themselves out of fear of staring.
How on earth had he managed like this for so many years? With the mask tight against his face it was harder to breathe, he could always feel it pressing in, reminding him of its presence. Everyone saw it, everyone pretended not to see it, everyone took it in and carefully moderated their reactions around him. They spoke to his brothers, they politely avoided him, they refused to meet his eyes.
Wild had forgotten how dehumanising this was. He couldn't believe that he used to go around like this all the time — it was a nightmare. No wonder he'd had such a hard time with people those first few years out of the Shrine; wearing the mask had literally set him apart from everyone else. His scars were not what had made him the outsider — the mask was.
And yet, here and now, he couldn't bring himself to.take it off. He told himself that he was wearing it for the sake of the people of this era; that seeing what appeared to be their beloved champion horrifically scarred would only cause trouble and confusion. He was even prepared to say the same to the Chain, if they asked, but although he thought that they wanted to, they never actually did.
He could see the looks they sent him, especially that evening when he slipped away from camp to eat on his own. Twilight had made to follow him but he'd shaken his head and told him to stay, which probably hadn't been the healthiest way to deal with things, but Wild had needed the alone time. He'd needed that time to think. To decompress.
He did not decompress.
Story of his life.
They camped near Mabe village that first night, and Time and Sky took the lead on explaining their adventure to the Princess (so similar to the Zelda he knew and yet so very different!) and her Hero.
Wild had to say, the two of them took the news pretty well. The Hero sat calm and composed, apparently unbothered and unsurprised by any of this, while the Princess leaned forwards with wide, fascinated eyes and pelted them with questions. Hylia, she had that in common with his Zelda — that same passion, that same enthusiasm for knowledge of any kind. It stirred something at the edges of his memory, but even so, even much as he recognised her, it was still clearly not the Princess that he knew.
It wasn't just her hair, long and braided tightly back, reaching all the way down to her waist. It was her mannerisms, refined and elegant through a lifetime spent living in the Castle. It was her voice, each word carefully pronounced and her accent clipped.
Wild had always thought that his own Zelda, sweet Flora, still had the accent she had grown up with, but he could see that he was wrong. Flora's voice had been softened by years spent living in Hateno, the rhythm and cadence of her words changed by the life she had led. She had relaxed, and so had her accent. She was free.
As the Chain told their story, Wild could see the other Hero looking at them all, like he was studying them. His eyes raked over each of them, weighing them and measuring them, most likely, judging whether they were worthy of their title — or whether they were not.
Did this better Hero know who Wild was? The Princess had mentioned interacting with another timeline before and she exchanged a glance with her Knight when she did — they must have been talking about the Champions. They must have known about the other Hero, the Hero who failed, even if they then swiftly moved the conversation along
Were they trying to figure out if he was here, when they looked over the Chain? Trying to figure out which of them was a failure? Or was the reason that they had not brought it up that they simply assumed someone so unworthy of the title would not have been brought along on this journey in the first place?
Wild knew he'd have to come clean eventually. He just couldn't bring himself to. Not now. Not yet.
The next morning, they set off towards the Castle at first light. It must have looked a little odd to anyone looking on, the sight of the glorious, goddess chosen Princess and her appointed, victorious Hero riding at the head of their platoon, each knight similarly bedecked in shining armour and riding on horseback, pennants fluttering and proud in the breeze… but followed by a group of ten men and boys, some in armour and some in just comfortable, well worn tunics, none of them matching and all travelling on foot.
In a group like this, Wild could almost convince himself that he blended in. There certainly wasn't much time to dwell on his fears when he was on the move. Not when their journey took them so quickly out of the wilderness that he loved and onto populated roads, through villages and towns and surrounded by life.
Wild's Hyrule Field was a vast wilderness only occasionally interrupted by reminders of civilisation, and frequently those reminders were ruins that had been long since abandoned and overgrown. This place was different, though. In this era, there were people everywhere. The longer they walked, the more and more frequently they passed other groups of travelers on the roads. There was scarcely any break between the villages and ranches they moved through, and Wild felt his head begin to spin as he tried to figure out where one place ended and another began. This era was so incredibly full, and already he had seen what seemed to be more people than populated his entire era.
Hylia, he'd always known that he had failed, but seeing what he had really lost really drove it home. He had failed. He had got all of these people killed. He had destroyed this world completely.
Wild wanted to cry.
He kept walking.
Castle Town was, in many ways, the worst of the whole lot.
It was massive: a vast, sprawling city that extended far beyond the familiar walls that Wild knew. The outskirts were made of wood and housed hundreds — maybe thousands — of people, all milling around and going about their day as if their very existence was not a miracle. They passed through a marketplace where people were merrily trading their wares, a well where a group of women had stopped to chat, passed what even looked like a school, not built to serve the entire province, but catering only to this small local area, and even so it was full to bursting.
The city walls, when they reached them, were intact and hung with banners. Knights patrolled their tops and stood alert at the gates, and they greeted the Princess and her Hero as they entered. They knew that these people were their saviours, that they had prevented the end of the world. Wild couldn't meet their eyes as he passed and instead stared at the cobblestones beneath his feet, neat and tended and clean. No weeds grew between the cracks here, no century of ash had settled in between them.
Inside the walls, the city was even more densely packed. Hyrule Cathedral towered over them from the east, the tiles on its roof gleaming in a bold decorative pattern, bright and proud and intact. The houses went on for miles, neat and beautiful, many with their plasterwork painted with flowers or landscapes or images of people. Were they supposed to be locals? Figures from myths? Legends? History?
Hylia, so much knowledge had been lost here. Perhaps once, Wild would have been able to look at those paintings and recognise those stories, but that knowledge was now long since lost to him.
As they walked, they passed the central fountain, intact and glistening and capped with elegantly carved goldwork. Water sprayed delicately from its spouts and rupees glistened in its basin while children laughed and splashed about, escaping the already building heat of the day in the cool, fresh water. People of all ages sat around its edges, chatting, having a late breakfast, waiting for friends, even sketching. The scent of cooking food wafted over from nearby cafes and cookshops, yet more laughter and happy voices burbled over from another nearby school —
it was beautiful. It was a paradise.
All these people had died because of Wild.
He shrank further into himself and pressed, shamefully, into Twilight's shadow. He didn't deserve to hide, to get away from what he had done — from what he had failed to do. He should be boldly facing these people, the people who in his own world were nothing but ghosts, but he was too afraid. Too much of a. coward.
So much for the Hero of Courage.
Wild was glad when they turned out of the city and crossed the bridge into the Castle. Whatever waited for him inside was still terrifying, but at least it was not the sight of all those innocent people. Whatever it was, he could handle it better than that.
It was quieter away from the city. Less busy. They did not follow the triumphal path that Wild knew so well from his own time spent storming the Castle, instead they broke off and circled around the side, to what in his era was nothing but burned rubble but which here appeared to be stables and a soldiers' barracks.
The group of knights left them there, laughing and smiling and bidding them all farewell, and the Princess and her Hero dismounted too. The Princess said something to an attendant and then turned to them with a smile, her Hero stoic and unfazed at her side.
"I know that you likely all want a rest." she said, smiling sweetly. "And I know that I personally would rather like a wash! But given the nature of your journey, I believe that is is prudent for us to pay a visit, first, to my father, and explain what has happened. I hope that will not be too much of an inconvenience to you."
Wild was going to throw up, actually.
The King.
King Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule. The one person in the entire multiverse of timelines that Wild had never wanted to see again, that he had thought he never would see again. Had Wild angered Hylia? Had she sent him here as a punishment? He did not think that he'd committed any blasphemy lately, but then, maybe this was just a long overdue punishment for his failure as a Hero.
"Of course." Time said politely, while beside him, Sky huffed a breath.
"Do we all need to go?" He asked. "Or could some of us go and rest?"
"You don't need us all, right?" Legend pressed.
Odd. Whenever they went somewhere new like this, or if they had to meet dignitaries in one of their own eras, they always stuck together. It was important, a way of showing unity and respect before whoever they were greeting. Wild looked around a little in confusion as Twilight reached out and squeezed his hand, and—
Oh. Oh.
They were doing it for him. Making excuses and trying to get some of the Chain out of this meeting for him. They all knew of Wild's history with the King, knew that it was he who had first pressed him into wearing a mask, who had first planted the fears and anxieties that Wild had never fully rooted out. They knew how little Wild would ever want to face him again.
His brothers were looking out for him.
He squeezed Twilight's hand back, grateful.
The Princess grimaced, and looked around at them all in sympathy.
"I am sorry," she said, and to her credit she did sound like she meant it. "It really will not take long — the King is busy and will not be eager to hold you back overmuch. Please: this way."
She was polite, but her voice had an air of finality that Wild knew that none of them would win against. It seemed like his brothers knew it too, as although they all exchanged looks of frustration, they nodded and followed her lead in silence. That said, unless Wild was mistaken, his brothers all pressed a little closer around him as they went.
He really did love them.
The Princess and her Hero led them into the Castle and through twisting, pristine corridors. The carpets were a plush red that looked brand new, the walls were covered in paintings and tapestries that were carefully, lovingly tended. People roamed the hallways, actual people. Not the occasional explorer or builder or researcher, but people who lived and worked here. They wore clothes unlike anything that Wild had seen in his own world, made of fine silks, embroidered and embellished with gold threads, with glittering jewels and intricate laces woven on every surface. Maids and courtiers, knights and secretaries and politicians and artisans and—
The Castle was not just the residence of the royal family. It was an entire ecosystem in and of itself.
Hylia, the things that his world had lost.
Finally they wove through a hallway that had long since crumbled by Wild's time, and made their way towards somewhere that he knew all too well — and yet hardly knew at all. The inner sanctum, or as he supposed it was probably known here, the throne room. He could feel his heart begin to race the closer they got to it, and not just because he knew that the King was lurking within.
It was because nothing good ever happened in the throne room. The throne room was where Ganon lay in wait. It was where the floor gave way to hidden chambers and battle arenas far underneath the earth. It was where a puppet of Zelda lured him in, where phantoms of Ganondorf tried to murder him. Nothing good ever happened in the throne room.
(A small part of his brain called that a lie. It was. also where he had found weapons so beautiful they could only have been created by a skilled artisan, still pristine after a century. It was where Zelda had left his newly gifted tunic, hidden behind a puzzle she'd known he would enjoy. The symbolism was not lost on him, either, the gifting of a tunic, the asking of—)
"Before we go in,"
Wild was knocked from his thoughts at the sound this Zelda's voice. The Chain had come to a stop just outside of an elegantly carved set of doors, decorated here and there with gold leaf. Two knights stood at attention on either side, protecting access to the King, and they both saluted as the Princess and her Hero approached.
"I just… wanted to ask you all something. If it is not too much of an imposition."
Wild squirmed, but at the front of the group, Warriors nodded.
"Of course, your highness." he said smoothly. "How may we be of assistance?"
The Princess glanced back at her knight, and was that a flicker of uncertainty in her face? If it was, then she quickly smoothed it away, turning to face the Chain with that even, polite smile that they had all come to recognise as her default expression.
"Several years ago, this world was visited by a Calamity, a terror known as Ganon." She paused, looking over them all to see if they recognised the name and nodding when she saw the familiarity in their faces. "We were assisted by Champions from another era, a place like ours but different. They spoke of a Champion — a Hero — from their own world, who had fought back their own Calamity. A Hero called Link. My Knight and I — that is to say — is one of you — is he here? The Champion called Link?"
The Chain did not move. Hylia above, Wild was pretty sure that if he chose to stay quiet then they would all keep his secret. How could they possibly hope to sustain that kind of lie? And to keep it hidden from one of their own, from someone who was without doubt, better and more successful than Wild was?
Wild loved his brothers. He cherished them. But he knew that this was not a secret he could keep for long.
He took a deep breath and stepped forwards, hands trembling as he lifted them to sign.
"That is me."
The Princess and her Hero regarded him, and he did not have the courage to inspect their faces, to search their eyes for signs of shock or disgust. For a moment there was only silence, before the Princess curtseyed deep, and on cue, her Hero bowed low at the waist.
"It is our honour to be in your presence, Sir Link." She said and then straightened, smiling a little. "Or rather, Sir Wild, I supposed. My, I suppose my Link will need a nickname too, if he is to join your ranks — won't you, Link? Well. Let's make our way in. Will you walk with me, Sir Wild?"
She offered her arm, and Wild wanted to run away. He wanted to run away and not look back until he'd found a nice tree to climb and have a proper, old fashioned panic attack in. Somewhere on Mount Satori, maybe. Or one of the massive trees in the Taobab Grasslands. Anywhere but here.
He took her arm, nodding in assent. The Princess smiled again, nodding to the guards before them. They both bowed in unison and opened the doors, ushering them into the throne room, the Hero of this era following a step behind them, and the Chain at the back.
The sanctum was resplendent in its glory.
There was no other way to put it. Wild had seen it complete, once, in the false recollection that Ganon's puppet of Zelda had created. That had only been a mirage, though, an illusion, while this was real. It was tangible. Solid. The marble tiles gleamed underfoot, the red carpets were plush. The golden sculpture behind the throne, which he had since learned was of the three creator goddesses, glistened in the sunlight streaming through the windows.
And again, the room was full of people. Nobles chatting and socialising, what looked like priestesses and acolytes mingling with the crowds. Stewards and politicians and lawyers debated on the sidelines while guards kept a watch on the entrances and common folk queued up to gain entry, to bring petitions directly to the throne.
And on the throne…
Rhoam Bosphoramus Hyrule was a big man. Even as a ghost he had been imposing, and here, now that he was solid and alive, living and breathing, he only seemed bigger. He sat at ease in his throne, comfortable, his crown sharp on his head, a vast golden claymore resting by his side. Everything about him was pristine, his hair and long white beard neatly combed, his robes immaculately tailored, his gaze sharp and bright.
Wild swallowed as the Princess led him and the Chain up the steps and into his view. There was no escaping now.
"You royal majesty," she greeted, curtseying low. "If we may beg a moment of your time without listening ears?"
The King straightened a little and turned to an attendant by his side. He didn't need to speak; he merely nodded, waving a hand. Without a word his attendant hurried off, ushering the public and the courtiers and the rest of the room out, leaving them all in privacy. Only once the doors were closed did the King nod again.
"I take it that your mission went well?" he asked. "You are unharmed?"
The Princess nodded.
"I am, father, praise be to Hylia." she said and smiled. "And I have further news besides." she glanced around and then shifted, unlinking her arm from Wild's and instead gesturing to him with something akin to pride. "We have visitors, again, who have traveled across time to be here. May I introduce to you the company of Links, Heroes from across the eras, and most especially to the Great Champion Sir Link, friend to our visiting saviours."
Ah fuck.