Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Red.

It seeped into every facet of his life. It leaked into every nook, every cranny, every crevice. It filled every cavity, consuming and overflowing. It stained every interior. Every surface.

Red.

It flowed in his veins, the life-blood that pumped through his body. It energized him, powered his movements. It heated his core, swelling to the cadence of his beating chest. The key to a priceless revival.

Red.

It covered his skin, a foreign and unnatural blight. It dripped from his arms, from his legs, from his chest. It colored his clothes, flowing unchecked from the vessels holding it bound. A color that, for once, wasn’t his.

Red.

It tainted his hands, a crude imitation of the power at his fingertips. It was a mighty power, a cursed power. It was the power of fire, it was the power of swords. It was the power to harm, and the power to be harmed as well. It was the power to fight, and to rage with all the energy of his soul.

But it was more than that…

Red was the power to heal, the power to save—the power to love.

It was the power to act, to protect his kingdom when no one else would. It was the power to defend the helpless, to reunite families, to recover what once was lost. It was the power of sacrifice, a selfless love borne for a friend who couldn’t help himself. It was the power of passion, lit in the furnace of his breast as he gazed upon her figure for the first time.

He saw it—the complete Triforce bathing the stone-cold chamber in its revitalizing light.

He heard it—her honeyed voice joining her successor’s as they pronounced him Hyrule’s savior, a real hero.

He felt it—a fierce, all-consuming heat as her lips met his.

And it was all red.

The power.

His blood.

Her smile…

Her hair, alight in the breaking rays of the rising sun—

“Hon?”

He went rigid, his breath catching in his throat. Scarlet waves enveloped his vision, cascading toward him like a gentle waterfall. The strands parted down the middle, framing a kindly face with rosy round cheeks.

“You awake, honey?” she asked, peering at him in concern. “You feelin’ all right?”

Hyrule gaped at her from the flat of his back, his eyes blown wide. Her eyes shimmered like sapphires, her hair a halo of fire. He couldn’t look away, couldn’t think past the confused thoughts muddling his brain.

From the periphery of his hearing, an unseen disturbance sounded forth. Suddenly, a loud gasp filled the room, followed by footsteps pounding into wood. All at once, he felt himself accosted by a face-full of bright yellow hair, accompanied by a stifling weight that settled heavily onto his chest.

Pain erupted in Hyrule’s upper back, lancing down his spine. He yelped, unable to move as his nerves screamed out in protest.

“Oh oh, please be careful, sweetie,” the woman urged, pulling back slightly on the blonde figure. “He’s still not well.”

“Sorry, sorry!” a quavering voice replied. The pressure instantly abated, and Hyrule abruptly came face-to-face with the Hero of Winds, his face blown to ten times its normal size.

“Hyrule, you’re okay!” Wind whimpered, his huge ocean eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Praise Nayru, you’re okay!”

“We’re so relieved to see you awake, hon,” the woman added, beaming. She turned to Wind, patting his shoulder consolingly. “Now, you stay here with him sweetie, you hear? I’ll be right back.” She took her leave, vanishing behind the young sailor.

Hyrule studied his friend’s face, transfixed. He couldn’t believe it; he was almost scared to believe it.

And yet there Wind was—perfectly whole and unmarred.

“You… you’re h-here?” Hyrule breathed, each word an enormous effort. “You’re... okay?”

“Yeah, I am,” Wind said thickly. “I’m fine, see? Just fine.”

Hyrule released a shuddering breath. A wave of emotion swelled inside his breast, threatening to break loose in one torrential surge. He looked away, nodding briskly to quell the tide.

“S-Sorry, ’Rule,” Wind hiccuped, chuckling tearfully. “Would’ve hugged you if I could, but you’re kinda small. And I probably shouldn’t hug you with my fists either.”

Hyrule swallowed down the burning feeling in his throat and raised his trembling hands to his face. Compared to Wind’s head, they felt tiny—minuscule, even. He let his arms fall stiffly to his sides, overcome with fatigue.

For a moment, nothing was heard except for the distant chirping of meadowlarks. Hyrule stared up at the ceiling, breathing through the pain in his back that pulsed in time with his heartbeat.

“You were dead, Hyrule.”

His breath hitched.

“You were dead after you crashed to the floor,” Wind repeated, his voice a whisper. “We tried to catch you, but we couldn’t. You stopped breathing. Then suddenly you started breathing again, but you… you were convulsing. You were spazzing out all over the floor, and we couldn’t hold you. We didn’t know what to do.”

Wind screwed up his face, looking down at the floor. He shook his head, distressed by the memory. “You stopped eventually, but it took a while. We… we were scared. It was scary.”

Hyrule’s blood ran cold as he took in the news. He had no memory of any such thing, much less of how he ended up where he was now.

He died? But how was he still…

Suddenly, a plush figurine with green clothes appeared in his mind, its silly smile beaming blankly back at him.

Oh.

“I’m so sorry, Hyrule,” Wind said, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry, I… I never meant to do that to you. I didn’t mean for you to d-die. I didn’t—I didn’t want—”

“Wind,” Hyrule wheezed, harnessing as much strength as he could muster. “Stop. Y-You… stop that… right now.”

He broke off to regain his breath, feeling winded. “Don’t you… be thinking… like that. Not for… one moment. You hear?”

Wind stared pitifully at the floor, the tears spilling over onto his cheeks. After a brief pause, he nodded, sniffling noisily.

With a grimace, Hyrule turned his head to the side, mindful of the pain in his back. He found himself in a small room on top of a wooden dresser, the morning light trickling in from the window behind him. A twin bed with a cucco-patterned quilt was pushed against the wall on his left, and a small vanity mirror rested on the dresser off to his right. Silky orange fabric tickled the sides of his face, swaddling him in the scent of salt.

“Where… are we?” he croaked, his voice scratchy from disuse. “We’re… safe?”

“Yeah, don’t worry, ’Rule,” Wind replied, rubbing at his eyes. “We’re back at the ranch. We’re okay.”

The tiny fairy sank into his cushions, relieved.

“It took a while, but we finally made it out. We’ve been here several days now. Malon’s been great—she helped patch us up real good. Well… except for you. You’ve been unresponsive since we arrived.”

Hyrule shuddered, feeling suddenly feverish.

What was wrong with him?

“How’re we doin’, sweetie?” chimed the melodious voice from before. “Is he still awake?”

“Still awake, ma’am,” Wind answered, stepping aside.

Once again, Malon appeared before Hyrule’s eyes, carrying two small dishes filled with liquid. She set them softly on the dresser beside him, scooting them close.

“Alrighty hon, I’ve got some fresh milk and sugar water here for you,” she said. She paused before letting out a giggle. “Wasn’t too sure if you’d take the sugar water, but seeing that you’re a fairy… well. I let the boys know you were awake, but they’re working outside at the moment, so they might still be a while—”

She was interrupted by sounds of thumping coming from outside the door. Right on cue, Warrior barged inside, bright-eyed and armor-less. He was quickly followed by the others—Wild, Four, Time, Twilight, Sky, and Legend—each in various states of undress as they bombarded Hyrule with joyous greetings.

“Hyrule, hey! You’re awake!”

“Thank Hylia you’re okay!”

“We were really starting to worry!”

“You feeling any better?”

“At least you’ve been spared from Warrior’s sorry excuse for milking cows.”

“Sure beats you being stuck on manure duty all day—”

The room was filled with playful banter and happy faces, bringing a sense of solace to everyone present. Warrior moved to stand by Wind, resting an arm amiably on the younger boy’s shoulder. Time stood arm-in-arm with his wife, both displaying matching smiles. The others stood round about the little fairy, beaming brightly down at him. Hyrule took in the scene with shining eyes, overwhelmed.

“You’re all… okay?” he asked. “You’re not… hurt?”

“All in one piece,” the Hero of Time said warmly. He pulled Malon closer, who rested her head on his shoulder. “After we settled in, Wild and I returned to the poe collector and offered up the four harvested souls. He paid us pretty handsomely for them. With those earnings, we were able to go back into town and restock on supplies. And also… inform the people of the missing travelers’ whereabouts.”

A pall of gloom immediately fell upon the group, cutting their blissful reunion short. It bogged them down like a tangible weight, settling heavily on their shoulders. Malon interlaced her fingers with her husband’s, rubbing his arm soothingly with her other hand.

“It hurts me knowing you boys had to go through that,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.” After a moment’s hesitation, she gave an encouraging smile, brightening up considerably. “I’m sure glad you’re okay. And after all, I suppose I can’t be too upset. I never expected to see you all again so soon!”

Time turned toward Malon, pressing his lips softly to her temple. Malon shut her eyes with a sigh, leaning into him.

“They bought enough red potions for each of us,” added the Hero of the Four Sword, a hand resting on his cocked hip. “Those healed us up in a jiffy.”

“Yeah… definitely cleared me up,” chuckled the Hero of Twilight, who looked down at his unblemished bare chest. Hyrule eyed his skin, pleased to see that the acid marks were gone from his torso.

Wind cleared his throat off to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh… we’ve just been waiting on you now, ’Rule. We totally would’ve laid you on the bed here too, but we didn’t want someone to not see you and accidentally crush you. So yeah. That’s why you’re up here. Sorry.”

Hyrule nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion hit him. He sighed, trying not to let the pain in his back show on his face.

“We cleaned and dried your clothes too, hon,” Malon informed him. “Or, at least as much as we could considering the… stains. If you need absolutely anything, you let us know, okay? Although this little young’un here has already been doing a swell job of that,” she giggled, eyeing the boy in blue. “He’s barely left your side since you arrived.”

Warrior smirked good-naturedly, giving Wind’s shoulder a supportive shake. The young sailor blushed, hiding behind his bright yellow bangs.

Hyrule’s lip twitched into a grin. “N-Not… surprised. He was… like that… the entire time… in the dungeon. He rose… and conquered. Kept us… safe.” He paused to catch his breath, looking affectionately at his flushed friend.

“He really is… incredible.”

Grunts of approval rang out among the group as the Links acknowledged Hyrule’s words. Twilight reached over and ruffled Wind’s hair, causing the younger boy to duck his head.

“Hey now, ’Rule, it took two of us,” Wind said, playfully shoving Warrior aside. “You guys don’t even know—Hyrule’s a beast. All those brutes we fought down there? They had nothing on him. Blimey, I don’t think there’s a stronger guy out there! He can do anything. You really should have seen him.”

“We definitely saw enough, no need to convince us there,” Wild interjected, an appreciative smile on his face. “Traveler was always the craftiest among us. Nothing gets past his sense of adventure. Served you well, hasn’t it, Traveler?”

Hyrule felt his face heat up as all eyes turned in his direction. He clenched his jaw, working through the embarrassment and the stabbing pain.

“How are you doing though, Hyrule?” Sky asked, stepping forward. “Are you well? You look… distressed.”

Hyrule opened his mouth to respond, on the verge of retorting back a thoughtless answer: that he was fine, no no really, just tired. But after one look at Sky’s concerned face, a pang of guilt shot through his chest. He grimaced, unable to hide his suffering any longer.

Go on—tell them. They want to help you.

“I’m… no. N-Not really,” he muttered, feeling a flush of shame. “Back hurts. Dunno why.”

Anxious glances were exchanged throughout the room. Malon stepped forward, taking the dishes back in hand.

“Let’s start with the water or the milk and see what that does for you first, okay hon?” she soothed. “I think it’s a good idea to try eating something after so long.”

The afflicted hero nodded, shifting in place to provide relief to his upper back. With a gentle hand, the farm girl raised him upward, supporting his head and upper body. After a clear indication from Hyrule that he most certainly didn’t want the sugar water, she raised the dish of milk to his lips, allowing him to sip at his own pace. Hyrule shuddered as the cold liquid ran down his throat, the sweet flavor tickling his taste buds.

“Don’t worry, ’Rule, you’ll feel better soon enough,” Wind chirped from the background. “I’m sure you just need some time to recover. Don’t you think, Legend?”

A sudden chill surged through the little fairy that had nothing to do with the milk. As he was lowered back into the scarf, his eyes sought out the one hero who hadn’t spoken up since the group arrived. There in the back, obstructed by the other group members, stood the Hero of Legend, his arms crossed tightly over his green undershirt.

Legend was angled away from them, his eyes glaring down at the floor. Apprehension spiked in the little fairy as everyone went silent, waiting for his response.

“Glad to see you’re awake, Sprite,” Legend mumbled after a long pause. “Let us know if you need anything, yeah?”

And with that, he rushed out of the room without a backward glance.

As bewildered remarks filled the air, Hyrule felt as if he had been punched in the gut—his own personal finishing blow. He looked away, allowing the pain in his chest to engulf the pain in his back.

Feeling as if something had been severed.

It was the middle of the night when it happened.

Hyrule woke with a gasp, feeling as if his shoulder blade had been stabbed. He instinctively reached out to clutch it, confused by the rude awakening. He blinked rapidly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the surrounding darkness.

Suddenly, another spasm.

It seized him as if from nowhere, laying hold to his lungs. Pain shot down his spine like shards of glass, tearing through his muscles. Hyrule slammed a hand to his mouth, muffling the involuntary cry that squeaked past his lips.

Quiet. You’ll wake him.

Hyrule scrunched his eyes shut and grasped at his hair, his fingers tugging at his roots. He dug into his scalp, applying pressure ceaselessly—hoping that it would drown out the agony in his back. Praying that it would serve as a distraction.

It didn’t.

As the minutes ticked by, Hyrule began to realize that he was fighting a losing battle. He started to sweat, feeling panicky as the stabbing in his back increased in intensity. Half an hour later and the little fairy groaned in misery, powerless to stop himself.

He tried shifting into a more comfortable position, only to experience excruciating pain. It was unbearable; the burning in his nerves seemed to extend into his muscle fibers, paralyzing him with tremors. His mouth was dry, his lungs ached, his head pounded as if it would split down the middle. He felt trapped, pinned to his back and unable to do anything about it. He grit his teeth, desperately pulling at his hair.

Keep breathing, keep breathing, keep breathing—

“Hyrule?”

A groggy voice ambushed him from out of the dark, shocking him into another painful spasm. His eyes found the single bed against the wall, where a half-asleep Wind sat rubbing his cheek.

“Hyrule, what’s wrong?” the boy asked, a note of fear in his voice. “Why are you moaning like that?”

Hyrule spewed forth an incoherent string of words, unable to form an intelligible reply. Wind sat up straighter in his bed, alarmed by his friend’s response.

“’Rule, c’mon... you’re scaring me.”

The little hero pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, driving them into his skull. He swallowed, working to unstick his tongue. “N-Nothing. S’fine. Go back… to sleep.”

“Don’t even, Hyrule. You keep crying out, you’re all worked up. C’mon, tell me what’s wrong. What hurts?”

Hyrule sighed in resignation, which turned into more of a whimper. “Back… hurts. Really… bad.”

“Your back?” Wind questioned. “Is it because of your wing? Should I get someone? I’ll go get Malon—”

“No! Don’t get… Malon,” Hyrule whined, agitated. “Please.”

Wind looked around anxiously, clasping at his sheets. “Well… what can I do, then? Can I help?”

Hyrule shook his head, trying his best not to dissolve into a spluttering mess. “Nothing… to be done. Just… gotta wait.”

“What about the milk? Did that help at all? Or a potion?”

Another head shake.

Wind bit his lip, conflicted. Hyrule covered his face with his hands, his eyes watering from the pain.

After a moment’s hesitation, the younger boy threw aside his covers and stood from the bed. He padded over to the dresser where his distressed fairy companion lay, looking down at him with worried eyes.

“I’m gonna turn you over, okay?” the sailor warned, bringing his hands to both sides of his friend. “Brace yourself.”

He was unprepared.

Hyrule’s back exploded in agony as soon as he left the scarf. He felt as if he had caught fire, the pain branding into every fiber of his body. He cried out, the breath ripped from his lungs as he was placed stomach-down onto Wind’s scarf.

It was torture. He couldn’t breathe; he couldn’t think. He yearned to scream, to call out that this wasn’t helping, that he couldn’t take much more. That he would surely die if he had to endure one more second of—

Suddenly, a wave of relief.

A familiar sensation came over him, warm and gentle. It started low and trailed up his spine, kneading soft circles of pressure into his back. It threaded into his skin and reached his muscles, easing the underlying knots of tension. Hyrule sighed in gratitude as the pressure worked its way into his left shoulder blade, greatly diminishing the source of his pain.

“How’s that?”

The words barely processed in his mind. The exhausted fairy pressed the side of his cheek into the scarf, losing himself to the feeling. Before he could answer, he succumbed to the night, drifting off into unconsciousness.

The chirp of a bird. A ray of light. A distant laugh. The tick of a clock.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

He stared up at the ceiling, his hands resting on his stomach.

With wandering eyes, he traced a yellow stripe of daylight on the wall. With discerning ears, he tracked the rush of his lungs, his chest rising and falling with each motion.

In…

Out.

In…

Out.

With a heavy heart, he reflected on his predicament—or lack thereof.

Don’t do it. Don’t go there.

Another peal of laughter. A shifting shadow. A far off whinny.

The clock, persistently marching on:

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The Hero of Hyrule sighed.

This wouldn’t do…

From his place on the scarf, he cast a dubious look around the room. The natural light from outside lit his surroundings in a sunny glow, accentuating the bed’s lattice headboard. A vase of chrysanthemums sat on the end table nearby, brightening the immediate space. The clock on the wall continued to tick away, its pendulum swinging leisurely from side to side.

He was alone.

Gingerly, the little fairy rolled onto his stomach, braced on his elbows and knees. After a brief rest, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, his legs shaking as they worked to support his weight.

His shoulder flared into existence once again, causing him to hiss in pain. Grimacing, he interlocked his fingers and rested his arms atop his head, stretching out his back muscles. He shut his eyes and counted his breaths, forcing himself to breathe deeply.

One…

Two…

Three…

After ten counts, he lowered his arms to his sides, breathing a sigh of relief.

There. He stood.

Though it still felt as if a spare rupee had been lodged in his left shoulder blade, Hyrule felt grateful that the pain was at least tolerable. For now…

As the pain subsided, he found himself gazing toward the small vanity nearby. With faltering feet, he began to move toward it, limping across the dresser top. Before he could have second thoughts, he was standing before the mirror, looking upon his reflection for the first time in weeks.

His heart skipped a beat.

A gaunt figure of skin and bones stared sullenly back at him, looking worse for wear. Dark bags hung beneath murky, colorless eyes, contrasting sharply with pale skin. Its cheeks were sunken, its veins stood out like rivers, its hair was in complete disarray. A tawny undershirt hung loosely from its frame, emphasizing its haggard appearance.

He almost didn’t recognize himself.

Hyrule turned away from the glass, getting a better look at the feather-light appendages protruding from his back. A cursory glance showed nothing unusual; in fact, his left wing looked perfectly healthy, symmetrical with his right. Hyrule bit his lip, observing how they seemed to pass right through his clothes unobstructed.

How was he supposed to…?

Cautiously, the tiny fairy gripped the nape of his shirt with both hands, jostling the fabric. He gasped, surprised how his wings seemed to remain unaffected by the shirt, no matter how much he moved it. With hesitation, he pulled it the rest of the way off his head, discarding it at his feet.

Goosebumps broke out over his skin. Hyrule studied the base of his left wing, searching for signs of injury. Though his skin was sickly-looking, it was undamaged—providing no indication of the hurt that existed beneath.

Hyrule sighed, deflated. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, really. Every time he had used a revitalizing doll in the past, he was recalled to life without issue, just as he had been when revived by a fairy. No injuries, no scars—just a healthy, working body that was imbued with vitality once again. No trace of the wounds that had caused his demise in the first place.

This doll seemed to be no exception. This doll seemed to work just like it was supposed to, mending his wing and healing his body of the hurts inflicted upon it during his stay in the underworld.

So why was he feeling this way? Why was he in so much pain?

The sound of a familiar laugh trickled in from outside. Hyrule hobbled over to the window, peering out at the barn.

Wind was frolicking in the yard, cackling hysterically as he gripped a long pitchfork. He ducked and dodged, taking jabs at a peppy Hero of Warriors, who fended him off with a mop. A small smile played on the captain’s lips, who was clearly on the defensive as he swiped aside the sharp prongs aimed his way. A few of their comrades looked on in the background, amused by the friendly spar.

The little fairy shivered, gripping the sides of his arms.

Perhaps his wing had been damaged for too long. Perhaps he had pushed himself too hard during his last moments in the labyrinth, fixed on solving one problem without realizing he was creating another.

But Hyrule didn’t care. If Hyrule had to deal with phantom pain for the rest of his life, then so be it. It was pain he would gladly carry with him if it meant that Wind could still be with them—even if that meant he was forever stuck as a fairy.

The little hero sighed, tearing his eyes away from the window.

If only the pain in his heart were just as simple.

It was a beautiful day.

The golden sun beat brightly down from the heavens, illuminating the world in color. Clouds rolled by like chariots of white, streaking across a brilliant blue sky. The outlying maples stood tall and proud, their leaves full and ripe. Wildflowers grew scattered across a sea of green, bringing the fields to life.

It was a beautiful place to accept his fate.

He sat on top of the corral fence, far from the house and stable. He leaned against one of the wooden posts, careful so that the breeze wouldn’t blow him away. A bougainvillea bush partially shaded him from above, its lavender flowers perfuming the air with their sweet scent. Hyrule watched as glowing pink orbs flitted around the blossoms, avoiding the bowls of sugar water close to where he sat.

He probably shouldn’t have been there.

For the past week, Hyrule’s life had consisted of sleeping, drinking milk, sleeping, and more sleeping. While the stabbing in his back continued to afflict him, the little fairy felt his energy gradually returning to him, making him stronger day by day. That morning, he had finally felt well enough to venture outdoors, promising a hesitant Hero of Winds that he wouldn’t get hurt.

Wind had brought him to a large barrel outside the barn, keeping the fairy close as he performed his labors. Hyrule watched as the boy loaded large bales of hay inside the stable, feeling unhelpful. Though he knew he was still recovering—and not to mention tiny—the little hero was not used to lying around like this. He was an experienced adventurer, after all.

A few hours had passed before Hyrule found himself growing frustrated. He felt restless, fidgety—annoyed that he was expected to sit on his backside for indeterminate lengths of time. He couldn’t stand by and watch his companions perform menial tasks every day. He needed an escape.

And he knew just the place.

While the Links were distracted, the tiny sprite slipped away, fluttering over to the fence nearby. He followed the railing to the other end of the pasture, where a small thicket covered one section of the pen. He sat himself down in the shade, catching his breath as he watched the garden fairies frisk about in the leaves.

Which is where he currently found himself.

Hyrule rubbed his palms against the tops of his thighs, sighing. He knew he was overstepping his bounds by wandering off so far, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t stand the feeling of being useless baggage. He had to get away.

Though he had to admit that wasn’t the only reason he had left…

He shook his head, stamping out the crushing thoughts.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.

Suddenly—a disturbance.

A pair of voices trickled into earshot, scattering the pixies. Hyrule froze, his ear twitching toward the sound. From a gap in the leaves, he saw two figures pass by, their voices lowered as they walked. They came to a small wooden bench on the outskirts of the property, sitting themselves down with their backs toward him. Hyrule spied on them through the undergrowth, taking in the scene.

Although he couldn’t make out words, he could tell by Wind’s body language that they were discussing a serious matter. The sailor was hunched over, his head bent low as his feet fidgeted restlessly beneath him. To his left was the Hero of Warriors, who sat facing forward at an arm’s distance from his companion. A spade lay forgotten at his feet, which were both planted firmly on the ground. The captain seemed to be leaning on his elbows, silently nodding along to whatever the younger boy was saying.

A peculiar feeling came over Hyrule then, tender and bittersweet. He recalled his own conversation with Wind that happened not too long ago—recalled the hurt that Wind shared he’d been harboring for weeks. Hyrule felt a spark of pride for his young friend. He knew this couldn’t have been easy for Wind. The little fairy looked down at his hands, his stomach sinking in self-reproach.

If only he could make amends with his own demons…

He began rolling up his sleeves, baring his arms. They were riddled with angry red scratches, made unsightly by his own fingernails. With a well-placed hand and a whispered chant, the marks slowly began to disappear, fading from his skin as if by the stroke of a brush.

Hyrule studied his unblemished skin. Clearly, he still had his magic.

He closed his eyes and drew his attention to his gut, reciting the familiar restorative incantation.

...Nothing.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

The tiny fairy jumped, his wings whirring to life instinctively. He clutched at the wooden fence post by his side, teetering on the edge of the rail.

“Oh, I’m sorry, hon!” Malon said, throwing up a pacifying hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you there.”

Hyrule swallowed, forcing his wings to be still. “S-Sorry. You just… startled me, is all.”

“I can imagine. You boys have been through quite the ordeal.” She moved toward the fence with a small dish in hand, careful not to catch her dress on the shrubs. “I brought you some milk. Best not give it to you here if it makes you drowsy, though. We don’t want you fallin’ asleep outside now, do we? Though it sure is a nice day…”

Hyrule nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. The farm girl drew near, setting the dish softly on the rail beside the other bowls.

“They giving you any trouble?” she asked, nodding over at the pixies concealed in the bush. She giggled as Hyrule shook his head. “Don’t take it personally, hon. They’re ever so flighty, them—won’t trust ya as far as you could grab ’em. Of course, my husband’s a natural with them. I’m rather not, I’m afraid, but… it still doesn’t stop me from trying.”

She graced him with a knowing look, a soft smile on her lips. Hyrule stalled, feeling strangely like he was missing something but unsure of what it was.

“You holdin’ up all right, honey? You feelin’ any better?”

He bit his lip, considering her question. He gave another short nod, looking down into his lap.

“He’s been awfully worried about you.”

Hyrule’s stomach twinged. He followed her gaze past the bougainvillea bush, his eyes resting on the pair of unsuspecting heroes nearby. The little hero sighed.

“I know.”

The cowgirl leaned forward, resting her elbows against the fence next to him. “He’s a diligent one, that one is. He insisted on taking the guest room with you when you arrived, you know. Wouldn't hear a word against it. He checked on you a mighty good deal when you were out. I swear, that boy’s more persnickety than Epona—and that’s sayin’ something. Bless his heart.”

Hyrule eyed the figure in blue, his heart lurching in his chest. He turned away, feeling the back of his throat tickle.

He wasn’t surprised.

Ever since that one painful night, Wind had barely left his side. Whenever the little sprite was seized upon by muscle spasms, or whenever he was in need of nourishment, Wind was there, providing much needed relief. Despite his embarrassment, Hyrule had to admit that Wind’s support had been invaluable to him. He was feeling much better now, after all.

He owed so much to his young friend.

“And that Sky fellow—oh, you should just hear how he goes on about you! He admires you like no other. Says they each have a lot to learn from you.”

Hyrule blushed, touched by the graces of his companions.

Oh, Sky…

He thought back to his spar with the Chosen Hero that seemed like it was ages ago… back before everything went up in flames. He recalled how nervous he’d been, how self-conscious; most of all, he recalled the sky-dweller’s simple and yet profound advice, which still lingered with him to this day:

It’s not always about being a great swordsman.

“We’re so pleased you’re improving, hon,” Malon hummed. “They’ve all been so worried about you. More than you know.”

Silence settled between them. Hyrule inhaled deeply, breathing in the meadow around him—the summery blossoms, the baled hay, the woodland pines reaching like fingers toward the sky. He shut his eyes, letting his hair tickle his nose.

“I understand that some things can be hard to talk about,” Malon continued after a time, her voice like soothing rain, “but I can assure you it gets easier. Take my husband, for example. Poor thing’s been through enough to last a lifetime, and at such a young age too. Golly, we’ve been together for years, and it can still be a challenge getting him to open up! You Links and your silences…”

The farm girl looked back at him with a fond smile. “He’s come a long way, though. Things aren’t perfect, but the more you try, the better it gets. I think, sometimes, we all just need a little closure… if we can get it.”

Hyrule pondered her words. He stared unseeingly past the thicket, his thoughts far away.

“It’s just… I guess it’s just hard,” he said after a brief pause, “having to follow after someone so legendary.”

“I think you all can relate to that.”

He met her gaze. In spite of the gloom he’d been feeling over the past several weeks, Hyrule felt a sense of calm wash over him. It was as if he could finally think rationally again—a welcoming departure from the constant hailstorm in his mind. A hailstorm that had been tearing at him for far too long.

“Just give yourself some time, honey. You’ll be back to normal before you know it. You’ll see.”

Hyrule tugged at his sleeve. “You really think so?”

“I do.”

The little fairy turned back to the picturesque scene before him, feeling a spark catch in his chest. Closure, he thought to himself as he watched Warrior rest an arm across the back of the bench, exchanging a smile with his younger comrade.

It was about time he did something about that.

I’ve seen the way you idolize Legend, don’t think I haven’t.

He stood on the precipice of change, about to take the leap into uncharted waters. His palms tingled, but he did not mind them; his knees were weak, but he did not heed them. A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck, chilling his skin.

This was it.

Ever since his heart-to-heart with Malon, Hyrule felt oddly emboldened. It was as if the kind and caring farm girl had some sort of magic touch, allowing him to see more clearly than he had in a long time. He wanted to exploit those feelings. He wanted to use them to make peace with himself—to confront the root of his insecurities after avoiding them for so long. Once and for all.

So, he searched.

For hours, he had swept high and low, turning over the ranch’s every nook and cranny. He tried the house, both the upstairs and the downstairs; he checked the loft, finding nothing but odds and ends; he scoured the stable, noting each and every stall; he combed the fields, having no luck with the paddock nor by the bench where he had lounged earlier that day.

By the time dinner rolled around, Hyrule was exhausted by his fruitless hunt. He reconvened at the house, convinced that he could corner his target after supper was through.

But his target never showed.

Let him cool off, Warrior had said with a nonchalant wave, digging into his fried cucco. He’s just having a moment.

But Hyrule had given him moments. Hyrule had given him plenty of moments to come around, but to no avail. And he was hurt.

Embittered, Hyrule turned back to his dinner in sullen silence. But right as he was on the verge of calling it quits, Time’s voice chimed at the other end of the table:

He was hanging around the storage tower most of today. Said he’d take care of loading the crates. I wonder if something kept him.

The storage tower. Of course.

The little fairy had scarfed down his food—which wasn’t much, considering his size—and zoomed out the window, speeding into the waning daylight. After a long and arduous trek to the outskirts of the property, Hyrule had finally found him.

There, slouched on the hill against the base of the tower, sat his target.

Hyrule could see why he would claim this place for his own.

They overlooked a vast countryside, which lay before them like a sweeping panorama. Towering pines stretched for miles into the distance, infusing the air with the sharp scent of evergreen. Nightingales called to one another in the fields, joining a chorus of crickets. A blazing sky painted the ether above, heralding in the oncoming night.

Above all, it was remote—far from potential prying eyes.

Except for his own.

The tiny fairy licked his lips, his heart drumming against his ribcage. Each beat seemed to resonate in his back, sending arcs of pain through his body. He grit his teeth, determined to not let it weaken his resolve.

And yet, though the wind blew at his back, he hesitated taking that first step.

You’re stronger than you think you are.

I know, he conceded.

He released a breath, losing his fears to the evening breeze.

And spoke.

“Legend.”

The introspective hero sat cross-legged with his hands in his lap, his back against the base of the storage tower. He faced straight ahead, staring into the light of the dying sun.

No reaction.

Hyrule puffed in annoyance. He flew to a boulder that jutted out of the tall grass, standing to his full height.

“Legend!”

Legend whipped around, braced for a fight. Suddenly, electric blue eyes were piercing into Hyrule’s soul, locking him in place. Legend froze like a startled rabbit, his lips parting in surprise.

For a moment, the two heroes stared at each other.

Electric blues narrowed.

He turned away, putting his back to the little fairy.

Hyrule grit his teeth, feeling determination spark in his veins. He took flight for a second time and landed on another small boulder almost directly in front of the moping hero, forcing himself into his field of vision. Legend gave another start, regarding the fairy as if he were some sort of insect. Once again, he turned away.

“I know why you weren’t at dinner, Legend,” Hyrule growled, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, I’m not stupid. You’re upset, I can feel it from here. You don’t have to hide it.”

He paused, anticipating a reaction. Legend remained silent, facing away with his arms and legs crossed.

“And I get it—you should be. You should be upset. Last week was an absolute nightmare, we were completely unprepared. And that… that’s on me. I should’ve warned you about the underworld earlier on. I should’ve told you about my magic, and I shouldn’t have ditched you guys like that. I should have prepared you better.”

The veteran hero was as still as stone, heedless to his words.

“And I’m… I’m sorry, okay? I’m really sorry.”

Crickets.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

. . . .

A pang of sorrow shot through the little fairy, mixing with his self-contempt. He should have known this would happen. He should have known he’d be unable to vocalize his thoughts; he should have known Legend would hate him after everything he’d put him through. Hyrule turned away, his insides feeling like lead.

“You were right all along.”

Hyrule froze. He spun back around, his brows disappearing in his flyaway hair. “What?”

“Your intuition. It was right all along. We should have listened to it.”

Hyrule gawked at the sulking hero’s back, stunned.

His… intuition?

“Back there in the forest. You were so jittery, so on-edge… and now I can see why. You could sense it, couldn’t you? You’ve felt that evil before. You should have said something. We should have listened to you so we’d know not to go.”

“No, no we shouldn’t have,” Hyrule said, coming to his senses. “We never would have stopped the rifts had we not gone down there. We had to do it.”

Legend paused. A soft breeze blew by, tossing his light blue cap.

“Your intuition’s exceptional, Sprite,” the veteran continued, his voice barely audible. “I’ve always noticed that about you. It’s why I took so much stock into your reaction before we passed through the rift. And it’s how you were able to find us in that demonic maze—and save Wind too.”

Hyrule’s eyes glazed over as he took in Legend’s words, unsure of what to say.

“I get it.”

He tilted his head. “Get what?”

“The stress, the anxiety,” Legend explained. “I get it. That place was death itself, and I don’t say that lightly. Those darknuts… I’ve never seen darknuts like those. Or so many. Hylia, even Sky’s expertise couldn’t make a dent in their armor, it’s impenetrable. Pure misery. And those zoras… their acid ate right through Twi’s skin…”

Legend shook his head, distressed by the memory. “I get it. Not enough potions in the world could have prepared us for that. No wonder you’re so neurotic.”

It was like a slap in the face.

A sharp sting penetrated through Hyrule’s chest, taking him by surprise. The word reverberated inside his skull, hammering at him over and over again. He clenched his jaw, fighting back the sudden swell of emotion.

“I… I know. I know I’m n-neurotic, okay? I can’t… I can’t help it. I’m unstable and messed-up. I can’t do what you can do, and it… Hylia, Legend, it kills me. And I know you’re d-disappointed with me because I should, I should be able to do what you can do because we’ve both been there, we both come from fallen worlds, so I should be able to handle it. But I can’t. I can’t, and I don’t know how to handle myself, you handle yourself so much better, you’re always better, and I’ll never compare because I… I’m a fairy. I’m a goddess-forsaken fairy, for crying out loud, and I’ll p-probably stay a fairy forever now because I’m weak, I’m pathetic, just absolutely useless, and I can’t change back from this stupid form—”

“Don’t.”

Hyrule gasped for air, coming up short. He blinked rapidly, ignoring the prickling in the corners of his eyes.

“Don’t you dare say that about yourself,” Legend snapped, whirling around to look at him for the first time. A frigid wind had started up, tossing the skirt of his tunic. “Why would you… How could you possibly think something like that? It’s absurd.”

“W-What do you mean how could I think that?!” Hyrule retaliated. He was shaking, whether from the wind chill or from the fire within, he wasn’t sure. “You’re the one who’s thinking it! You’re the one who’s been ignoring me for a week straight!”

“I…”

Legend’s mouth fell open as he searched for a viable response. A few breaths later and he scoffed, shaking his head in disdain.

“I’m the one who’s… tch. Unbelievable. Good goddesses, Hyrule… if that’s what you really think, then maybe you are thick. But not weak. Hylia, no, you’re not weak…”

Legend sighed, suddenly appearing much older than he was. He brought his knees up to his chest and stared out into the setting sun, his expression hard.

“I’ll spell it out for you, Sprite: we’d be dead without you. Every. Single. One of us. Because you’re not weak. You’re fierce. You’re adaptive. You’re adaptive like nothing I’ve ever seen before. You work well under pressure, you can learn on the fly… There’s no amount of prowess in the world that can top that. It’s the single reason we made it out of there alive. Clearly.”

Legend shook his head, his eyes narrowed angrily. “And so you’re a fairy for the rest of your life—so what. That changes nothing. You’re touched by the gods, which is more than I can say. And I don’t get it. I’ll never get it. Why would you ever seek my approval—for anything? You’re better than me in every way. And I…”

Legend paused, his brows drawn together. He turned his face away, his words nearly lost to the breeze.

“I’ve always admired you.”

...What?

The little fairy blinked at his companion, slack-jawed.

The Hero of Legend? Admire him?

The very thought was mind-boggling.

“But I…” Hyrule stuttered, drawing a blank. “B-But I’d be nowhere without my magic. I’m reliant on it.”

“What’s your point?”

Hyrule flushed.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, Sprite,” Legend continued, exasperated. “Din’s bones, you’re too humble for your own good. Compared to you, I’m devilspawn.” He twisted the ring on his finger, weighing his next words. “You’re giving to a fault. And it… it crushes me that you would give away your life so easily.”

Hyrule’s stomach swooped into a dive. “What… what are you talking about?”

“Back in the underworld,” Legend grit through his teeth, his voice quivering. “When you used your fairy magic. You… you fell. You cracked your head on the floor. Wind saw it all, right up close and personal. He was distraught—utterly beside himself. He was sobbing, screaming. It was… it was awful. I tried to catch you, but I… Hylia, Sprite, I couldn’t. And after you fell, I just sat there, holding you, but you—you were already gone. And then the seizures…”

Legend made a face, his eyes pinched. “Why, Hyrule? Why would you throw away your life like that so easily? You died.”

“I wasn’t throwing away my life, Legend,” Hyrule retorted, feeling small. “I was preserving Wind’s.”

Legend sighed, burying his face in his arms. “I know you’re right.”

Hyrule dropped his gaze to the ground, his chest burning. He felt drained, physically and emotionally spent. He knew he had died, Wind told him that much—but he hadn’t known the details. He hadn’t known how deeply it affected his friends… how deeply it affected Legend.

He despised doing that to his friends.

“Well, I… I’m still here, aren’t I?” he whispered. “And so is Wind.”

“...Yeah.”

The sun was sinking fast now, meeting the horizon in a dazzling display of color. Hyrule hugged the sides of his arms, shivering. The cold seemed to seep right into his bones, sending icy stabs of pain into his back.

Suddenly, he heard Legend puff in amusement. The older hero turned to rest his cheek against his arm, facing Hyrule’s way. “You and Wind… you make quite the pair.”

Hyrule felt the corners of his mouth quirk into a grin, his eyes growing soft. “Yeah. He’s a powerhouse.”

“You both are.” Legend twisted his ring with his thumb, looking thoughtful. “Wind told us about your hunt for the Triforce pieces. Honestly, Sprite? Not surprised. Of all the people entrusted to assemble that, and use it twice, of course you’d be the one. You’re a saint.”

Hyrule snorted, his teeth chattering. “P-Please. Zelda’s the saint, not me.”

“Well, I’ll tell you it certainly wasn’t an honor granted to me, at any rate.”

Hyrule shrugged.

“And about the blood thing. The Ganon thing. Yeah, I know about that too,” Legend said, noting Hyrule’s flinch. “Word of advice? Don’t worry about it. That’s not—”

“Not my fault, yeah,” Hyrule finished for him. “Wind told me.”

“Good.”

For a split second, their eyes met. A world of unspoken feeling passed through that look—that single glance. But as quickly as it came, they disconnected, pulled apart by Legend’s downward glance.

“Hyrule, I…”

The little fairy raised an expectant eyebrow. Legend looked pained, his face betraying his struggle from within.

“I… listen. I’m not really that great at this, but I just wanted to say… things wouldn’t be the same without you here. You bring a lot to the table. You’re everything I’m not, and that’s all I could ever hope for. You, um… you make me want to be a better hero. A better person. And I’m happy you’re okay.”

Legend took a deep breath, his voice muffled by his arm.

“You’re the hero I always wished I could be.”

It happened.

Hyrule felt the change come over him instantly. A tingling sensation spread throughout his entire body, accompanied by the chime of bells. He eyed his arms and legs in shock, his mouth falling open. Suddenly, he was shooting upward, traveling farther and farther away from the ground. He heard a distant shout of surprise, but he was too distracted by his enlarging limbs, too distracted by his wings that seemed to shrink and disappear entirely into his back. After a whirl of sparkles, he found himself standing to his full height on the hill, with one foot on the grass and one poised on the rock.

He was restored.

The Hylian hero stumbled forward with a groan, putting a weary hand to his forehead. He felt light-headed, pained by the shooting sensation that still afflicted his shoulder blade region. He released a shaky breath, raising his gaze to the astonished hero across from him.

Legend was frozen, braced in a crouch as if ready to bolt. His eyes were blown wide, his lips parted in awe as he took in his transfigured friend. Slowly, he rose to his feet, meeting the Hero of Hyrule at eye level.

The two heroes stared at each other. Little by little, Legend’s expression began to change, morphing into a look that was a little too knowing for Hyrule’s liking. The traveling hero blushed, feeling painfully self-conscious as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

“What, Legend? What? Stop looking at me like that, I—”

A body slammed into him from the front, knocking the breath from his lungs. Before Hyrule had time to process what was happening, Legend’s arms were wrapped around him, vise-gripping the traveler like he would never let go.

“Hylia above, Sprite,” Legend huffed at his ear, his voice thick. “As if you’d ever need validation from me.”

It was as if he’d been set free.

A sense of unparalleled relief expanded in Hyrule’s chest, welling inside him uncontrollably. He allowed it to warm his bones, to set fire to the bitter ache he’d been endlessly enduring for months. All at once, it washed over him, spilling unrestrained onto his cheeks. Hyrule buried his face in his friend’s shoulder, reveling in the feeling of the hug.

This is it, he thought as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, igniting the sky in a blaze of fiery hues. This is what it was like to feel whole.

And it felt red.