Chapter Text
We are dreaming.
They walked together, movement perfectly aligned. They turned their head and they could see Zelda. She was upset. She was worried.
She is different. She is young. She is someone else.
We watch the boy and Zelda. We are so tired.
She turned to look at the moss-covered pedestal, so they did too. Zelda was saying something, but they weren’t listening. Their eyes were fixed onto the blade. It was mysterious.
It is our blade. We forged it. With Earth, Fire, Water, Air, and our very Soul.
They felt something strange. Like a shutter through the ground, or a shiver in the dirt. The air seemed to buzz. Zelda gasped.
Our fault. We can’t hold him back any longer.
The sword twitched. With a ting, then a roar, the mist seeped from the pedestal. Vaati A great dark creature arose from the broken seal us the sword. Vaati It grabbed Zelda, their best friend, and vanished.
They screamed, they wept, they raged, they lost hope.
They despaired.
And then they got up.
Step by step by step they approached
us
the blade.
Damned sword. It was this sword’s fault. If the seal had been better, Zelda would still be safe! Curse the sword!
We’re sorry. We did as all we could. We failed.
They placed their hands over the hilt of the sword. Useless sword! They yanked it from the stone.
No! Not like that! You’ll cut yourself!
They lifted the cursed sword from the stone and raised it high, ready to throw it away. It sliced through the air, visibly cutting the nothing in front of them. They gasped. Their grip on the sword was sloppy.
You fool. You’ve never held a blade in your life, have you?
The sword was sharp. Too sharp.
They felt the blade’s slash.
They screamed.
Their body was sliced in four. The pain was excruciating.
It’s not supposed to hurt. You foolish boy. You poor, foolish, cursed boy. You’ve done this to yourself.
Then the pain stopped. They picked themselves up. They saw themself. They gasped smiled groaned sighed
existed.
Foolish, but brave. Worry not. Our skills with the blade shall be yours.
Four swings of a single blade, confident and sure.
They were One, but they were also Four.
Four awoke.
The dream was a familiar one. It felt more a memory than a dream.
Sometimes, he wondered how Wind dealt with this, remembering life from a time long in the future. He wondered how similar their situation was. Mostly he wondered if their situation was different. He hoped, for Wind’s sake, that it was.
Four could remember his journey to rescue Zelda from the mad wind mage Vaati. Not his Zelda, not his Queen Zelda. Rather, Zelda the shrine maiden.
He remembered from the moment the Four Sword was grasped up until the moment it was placed back onto the pedestal. He didn’t remember anything before or after. Not a childhood or an adulthood. Merely the adventure.
Four could remember his own life. He remembered growing up with his grandfather. Learning the forge. Sneaking off with Zelda. He remembered his life before Vaati began his rampage.
His eyes drifted to the Four Sword. His thoughts drifted to his dream. He knew it was no coincidence that he dreamt from the perspective of the sword.
He hadn’t known the damning details when he forged it, but he knew now. The day he put the sword to rest in stone would be the day he drew his last breath.
Was it ironic? Four thought of the other Heroes of Courage. They were all tied to the Master Sword, the only exception being Hyrule.
No, they were tied in a different manner. Four remembered Sky speaking of the spirit of the sword, Fi.
It seemed Four was his own Fi.
He took a deep breath, and let his mind relax. He exhaled and released his bitterness.
Four had sealed Vaati in his sword the day he saved Hyrule. Ezlo (Goddesses he missed Ezlo) warned him that the sword alone could not hold Vaati forever. That was fine. He would improve it.
Four had turned towards honing his craft. He studied smithing from Hylians, Picori, Gorons, and the Wind tribe. He sought out knowledge from the dead, observed secrets from fairies, bartered with the Business Deku-shrubs, dug through every library he could find. He learned all there was to be taught in all of Hyrule.
So he traveled away from Hyrule. He observed the effects of Zelda’s Wish and the peace it brought to all creatures. During the days of his quest, monsters roamed the land. On this pilgrimage, however, he didn’t meet so much as a single bokoblin. He met many strange creatures. Fish-like Zora, mountaineering Dwarves, Child-like Forest Dwellers, Desert nomad Gerudos. He spent an especially long time with the sky-dwelling ancient race of the Oocca. He spent even longer with the secretive Subrosia of Holodrum, learning what he could of the volcanic society.
He found ancient wonders of a time long past. Metalloid statues broken in disrepair, but perhaps lived and moved about in ages past. Odd applications of electricity. Metallurgies and strange ores that did impossible things. Rocks that reminded him of the magic of Kinstones, rocks that seemed to warp the very time around them.
Still, after some time, there was nothing left to be taught.
But there was still everything to learn.
He experimented. Goron blades were sturdy and durable, but often dull. Picori blade were razor-sharp but easily broke. Hylian blades were a good middle ground, hardy and sharp, but failed to be truly great blades.
It was funny how what was common knowledge to some was unknown to others.
When Four claimed he had nearly perfected his craft, he was not exaggerating. He combined everything he learned. Together, with the totaled wisdom the world had to offer, Four became a true legendary smith. Even now, he was still learning, still improving.
He invented technique after technique. He improved what was already known and then some. He revolutionized the field of smithing. It wasn’t arrogance, either, considering that some of his techniques lived on into even Wild’s time.
But his purpose was no longer to craft a sword. That was done and over with.
He needed to craft the seal.
He needed to forge the pedestal of the Four Swords.
He couldn’t seal the blade back in it’s original resting place. Back before it was the Four Sword, back when it was merely the Picori blade, the pedestal had failed. How could the old thing hope to contain the enhanced blade? It wouldn’t. Evil had escaped that prison once already. He was determined to craft a better one, one that would hold the tests of time.
He knew he could do, knew he would do it, because he had seen the day it failed.
Sometimes, he wondered why the others were summoned together at the ages they were. Sure, it was obvious that everyone was brought forth only after completing their ‘destiny’ or whatnot. But why were some, like Wind or Wild, summoned so shortly after completing their quest, while himself and Time were summoned so many years after?
Four knew the answer for himself.
The day before he had awoken in an unfamiliar Hyrule, his research had granted him the last key piece of knowledge he would need to forge a binding for Vaati.
Then, two days into traveling with his other incarnations, he dreamt the same dream he had tonight. If he hadn’t already figured out the trick, the dream of the future would have given it away. He supposed, for the sake of the timeline, he needed to solve the answer first before he could be pulled into this whole ‘hero’ business again.
His dream granted him the perfect vision of the day his life’s work crumbled.
The dream spat in Four’s face. It told him that it was impossible to seal Vaati forever. No matter what he did, no matter how great a smith he became, he would never be able to forge the perfect prison for the dark wizard.
However, it also told him that what he did accomplish would be enough, in the end. He would be able to seal Vaati for as long as required for a new hero to arise.
It was bittersweet.
It was not the only dream as such he had had, either. One other very similar dream haunted him. The dream where he met with his own shadow, where his own dark shade broke the seal.
There were silver linings to the second dream. He knew it was centuries after the previous dream, that Hyrule had enjoyed a long peaceful period. He also knew that he allied with his shadow, completing his being in a way he never noticed had been missing.
It was bittersweet.
Four sighed, his eyes drifting to the window. The sun was beginning to rise. He shut his eyes and breathed. He felt his mind expand and contract and then settle into the comfortable rhythm of unity. All part and pieces working together as one. One sum greater than the whole of its parts.
It was necessary for Four to meditate from time to time, so as to keep a healthy state of mind. Beyond that, he enjoyed meditation.
He breathed and let the world around him fade to irrelevance.
He breathes.
First he brings forth his worries, his suspicions, his unbending stubbornness. He tempers his resolve, he steadies his ideals. He softens the rigid foundation of his obsessions, and lets grains of useless clutter fall through the cracks of his self. He holds his compassion, exhales, and lets his dread sink into the earth below.
He takes another breath. He calls upon his anxiety and nervousness and the grief it burns to hide. He lets the untamed energy burn through himself, every cell set alight with feeling and emotion. He holds this until his grief thaws and crumbles into smoke. Then he lets it settle into stable embers, a warmth ready beneath his skin for himself and for those he cares for.
He invites his jealousy, his insecurities, his selfishness. He welcomes these parts of himself into his innermost self. He allows these weeds to take root and he nurtures them. He guides the growth. The poison is harvested as medicine, and the weeds of guilt grow into tall loyal trees. The stand forgiving of his mistakes and providing vigilant guardians, ready to protect and defend the justice of others.
He removes his walls and allows his shame, despair, and regret to drift to the forefront of his thoughts. It curdles like heavy fog and threatens to leave him lost within his own mind. Instead, he lets the sadness breeze through himself, allowing it to blow it’s howling gale unhindered and free. He does nothing but listen to it’s wind as the air lightens and lifts. He opens his eyes and allows the soft breeze to blow away the remaining sorrow, leaving behind a perfect calm.
He turns his body and reaches outwards with his mind, and he becomes truly whole.
He soothes the old well of loneliness. He bends the quiet babbling stream of faded hurts and deep fears to flow into his soul. He rides the gentle river down into the raging tempest. He braves the terror and self-loathing until he sails into the eye of the storm. There he pours forth his essence of self, and renews the bridge between his soul.
He is Many. He is One. He is Four, and he is Five.
He is Green. He is Red. He is Blue. He is Vio. He is Shadow. He is worried and anxious and jealous and ashamed and afraid. He is stubborn and emotional and argumentative and apathetic and uncertain. He is compassionate and empathetic and loyal and wise and brave.
He is One.
He is Link.
He smiles to himself. Some day he would imbue his very soul into the seal to bind Vaati. Until that day, though, he would live his life. He strapped the Four Sword to his belt. His soul was already bound to the sword, so really, binding the other half to the pedestal wouldn’t be hard.
He could smell Wild’s cooking. Yes, today would be another good day, he decided. Even if it wasn’t, that would be alright too.