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Chapter Text

"Are we ever going to get there?" Wind's voice carries from the back of the group, where he's been trudging along for the last hour. "Are you sure there's even actually a town this way?"

Wild lets out a small laugh. "We're almost to Hateno, don't worry. It shouldn't be too much farther. Just a couple more hours." He raises an eyebrow at Wind and Legend's groan. It isn't his fault that everybody else's Hyrule is so tiny. Besides, he likes the open, empty space here; he can admit that the others have beautiful worlds in their own way, but he also can't deny that their bustling, cramped nature began to suffocate him after a while. The others seem even more opposed to his own Hyrule than he did theirs. Their confusion and pain at seeing his world in ruins is evident in every crumbled building they pass.

Beside him, Twilight pauses. "What . . . What are all of those?"

Wild lifts his head and freezes. Up ahead is Fort Hateno. Guardian shells litter the ground left and right, long dead, but the destruction they caused still whistling around them. He knew they would pass through here, he knew that, but that knowledge didn't prepare him for the onslaught of emotions that come his way when faced with the place that he died.

The others were aware that he'd died a hundred years ago, technically. Killed by something monstrous, as evidenced by his scars. Still, he'd never told them what it was that brought him to his demise. He never wanted them to know. He isn't entirely sure why; perhaps it was the confrontation of his failures it would present. Maybe he just didn't want to think about it. It doesn't matter. Standing here, now, he has to pretend he isn't fazed by it.

"Those are guardians. They're dead, but don't--don't touch anything." He takes a deep breath. "Stay by my side."

Although he doesn't say anything more, the group knew that there was more than he is leading them to believe. They see it in his rigid posture, the careful steps he takes while navigating them through the ruined land. Every sound makes him turn in an instant to identify it. Hyrule coughs, and Wild's hand shoots to his sword so fast they almost miss it.

"Are you okay, Wild?" Sky asks gently. Wild says nothing. His face is sculpted into an expressionless mask that he hasn't worn since he first came to the group.

Maybe they should know. Everybody always tells him that feeling emotions is important, that letting the group share each others' burdens somehow lessened the weight on their shoulders. He isn't sure if he believes it. He trusts everybody, of course he does. That isn't the problem. The problem is that he shouldn't even have this problem; nothing should have happened here. This should have been a good place! Zelda unlocked her sealing powers here, for Hylia's sake. But no, he wasn't strong enough to protect Zelda, to protect himself. He didn't even make it to Ganon. None of the other Links had ever been such a failure, had never been bested by Ganon's minions. Looking at the husks of machinery, he can feel his scars burning. Unconsciously, he brings his hand up to the scars marring his face.

"I . . . " His breath catches. "I died here." There it is.

He hears everybody suck in a breath. All movement stops.

"You what?" Warriors knew he died, but apparently is still shocked at the reminder. Maybe he's disgusted at the fellow soldier's weakness and inability to stand his own. Everybody takes new stock of their surroundings, at the beasts who took Wild's life. A chill runs through the group.

Wild swallows. Already, he regrets his words. He is about to try and distract them from it somehow, to laugh it off, to do something, when Twilight pulls him into a hug.

"Oh, cub," He murmurs. "I'm so sorry." His arms tighten around Wild, who stands stock-still. He's sorry? Why is he sorry? Wild is the one that left the world to ruins, the one who couldn't protect the people who lived here. But after a moment, he lets out a breath and allows himself to sink into the hug. It's peaceful for a moment, grounding him to the current world. He backs up and touches his forehead to his mentor's in a silent thank you. A glance at the others shows him a scene he doesn't expect: Rather than disgust and judgement, they all have an aura of protectiveness and . . . care? Love? He isn't sure what it is, but undeniably, it's comforting. His family cares about him, and he isn't going to let anything happen to them. They will never know the pain he did here.

Nobody asks any more questions as they silently trek through the wasteland. The weight of their gaze falls heavily on Wild as he leads them towards the direction of the village, but he doesn't care. It's better than answering questions he can't bear to explain.

Wild comes to a sudden halt, causing Four to walk right into him, head hitting his back. He can tell they're all silently asking what's wrong, but he holds a hand up and strains his ears to the sounds of the land. His blood runs cold when the creaking of ancient metal runs through the air. No. No, they're all dead, they're all supposed to be dead! Zelda killed them all a hundred years ago, and the rest were supposed to die with Ganon. They shouldn't be alive! Yet here they are. He whips his head toward the sound, and his heart plummets further. Four of them. Four of the metal beasts are walking towards them. Their shrill beeping runs through the air, and Wild's body finally reacts.

"GET DOWN!"

They oblige without question. Not a second later, a blast of white-hot heat shoots the spot their chests had been not a moment before. Three more follow. Horror runs through his veins as he shoots back to his feet and readies his shield.

Shouldn't be alive shouldn't be alive shouldn't be alive shouldn't be alive. After a moment, he realizes somebody is screaming at him. Legend.

"What do we do? How do we kill them?!"

"You--" Wild is interrupted by the guardian's eye blasting a laser at him. Muscle memory saves him as he swings his shield as hard as he can as the laser connects, blasting it back at the goddess-forsaken machine. A gust of wind carries through the air from the force. His panic is rising. They can't do that! He couldn't count the number of times he'd nearly had his head blown off from an ill-timed parry, shield exploding on his arm. As it is, he'd done it perfectly, and he can still feel the burn from the massive pressure put on it. What else can they do, what else can-- "Shoot them in the eye!" Yes, he remembers, that was how he dealt with them before perfecting his parries. Not as effective, but it stops them from shooting and it will kill them eventually.

They all pull out their bows, but he can tell they don't have enough arrows. Why does nobody else carry arrows? In a split second, he opens his Sheikah slate and removes his electric arrows. Ancient arrows would be better, they would be perfect, but he only has one and didn't buy any after killing the Calamity. He shouldn't have been so prideful as to think that the world was safe from them just because Ganon was dead. No, electric will have to do. He thrusts them into somebody's quiver just before he can reflect another blast.

"Sky, use the Master Sword if they come too close! Cut off their legs!" Wild orders, voice stronger and steadier than he expects.

Arrows fly from the now-separating group as the guardians surround them. He sends back a final blow to one of them, a grim satisfaction momentarily arising as it explodes into mere parts. He turns and stares at the others. At once, he can tell that the group is not having much luck. Broken arrows litter the ground, not even having left dents in the armour of the machines. He knows the eye can be hard to hit, but do none of the others ever practice archery?

"Warriors, get down!" Wild shouts it as he runs, and the man crouches without question. He runs onto and then leaps off of Warriors' back, readying his bow and single ancient arrow as he does so. Once in the air, he has a moment of clarity and peace as he single-mindedly aims and fires it. Blue sparks fly through the air as it hits the target exactly. The guardian didn't stand a chance. But the other two still do. He grabs another arrow--regular wood, he can't risk a fire and the others have all the electric ones--and hits another one in its eye just as it aims at Hyrule. Its beam fizzles out as the beast recalibrates itself.

He hits the ground. Two against nine in any other scenario would be laughable, but right now, all Wild feels is fear. It would be better if he was alone. Nobody else would be in danger, or fumbling around their weapons, or put in the way of a laser. They don't know what they're doing. Across the field, Time and Wind are firing at the other guardian. When had they gotten so far away? Sky has managed to cut two of its legs off, but the thing moves without trouble anyway. An arrow shoots harmlessly into its body.

An incessant beeping brings him back to the guardian in front of him, and he barely has time to raise his shield against it before the beam hits. Agony lances through his arm as the shield shatters, but his aim was true, and the blast reflects back at its master. Not enough, it wasn't enough! He fires another arrow at it, satisfied as it hits its target. Legend hits it as well a moment after. Its body is cracking now, wires and gears exposed from the rage of attacks against it. It's dying, almost dead.

Any relief he might have felt vanishes immediately as it fires again and he hears Four scream in pain. It grazed his arm. Not fatal, but Wild knows all too well what it feels like to be hit by them in any measure. He shoots the beast again, only to have the soldier's bow he was using shatter under his grip. Another arrow is fired--by Twilight? Hyrule?--and the guardian is defeated. Finally.

He looks back at the other three, and his heart drops to his stomach. Sky is on his back ten feet behind the guardian, probably thrown there from blocking one of its violently powerful blasts with a shield. Sure enough, shattered metal shards lay around him, but it seems to have done its job as Sky only looks winded rather than in pain. In front of the guardian, Time's eye is wide and fearful, something Wild hasn't seen before. His leg has been hit. But that's not what he's afraid of.

Wind, tiny Wind, who's only fourteen years old, has a laser trained on his chest. He has no shield. His bow's string is broken, the top of it burned away. Wind can't survive a hit like that. None of them can. Wild, one hundred years ago, hadn't even been hit in any vital organs, and he'd still died. He'd had armour and a mission and a fate to fulfill, and he still died. Wind has nothing. The boy is rooted in place, frozen in what can only be fear.

All Wild can do is run. He sprints as fast as he can. He has no more on him than Wind right now, but what does that matter? He's already lived his life. Twice. He's one hundred and eighteen. That's a hundred and four years more than Wind. So, without a shield or a weapon he could possibly hope to defend himself with, he runs. Tackles Wind out of the way. Hears the blast leave the guardian.

The resulting agony is familiar in the worst way. He remembers shielding Zelda from blast after blast, thrown ten feet away from where he'd been standing only to get back up and get hit by another. Everything is on fire, on fire, he can't feel anything but fire. His chest hurts so much, and why can't he breathe? He realizes his ribs have probably punctured his lungs. Distantly, he hears the guardian explode. He doesn't know who killed it.

His body somehow explodes in more pain. He forces his eyes to open and sees Twilight through the blood, holding him. He can't hear what he's saying, but his mouth is moving, so it must be something. He feels a hand card through his hair, shaking monumentally. Wild wants to tell him that it's okay, that he's going to be okay, but he can't get his mouth to work, and all that comes out is something between a sob and a groan. Twilight's eyes fill with tears, and he's saying something else, but Wild still can't tell what it is. The others crowd his vision, Wind and Time and Sky and Four and Hyrule and Legend and Four, and he smiles. His family. He'd forgotten what it was like to have a family when he was put in the Shrine of Resurrection. Here, he has his brothers, and--not that he would ever admit it--a semblance to a father, in Time. He coughs and can taste blood.

He closes his eyes, and his hearing is clearing. Something is ringing, so loud, and so many voices are sobbing, and his name is being called. He wants to reassure them all and dry their tears. He wants to make them something, they've all been so brave and fought so hard against the worst creatures he's ever seen created, but he knows he can't. He can't lift his hand to cradle Twilight's face, much less to cut fruit for a dessert. Instead, he drops it to the ground. He feels so heavy and useless . . . He coughs again, blood pooling in his throat. He knows it won't last. Hylia, he's in pain. Last time he died, it didn't hurt this much, he thinks. Or maybe he just didn't let himself feel anything before his wounds took him. He wishes he could do that again.

But that wasn't the last time he died, was it? No, he's died before. Recently. But he was brought back. Will it happen again? The champions passed on, he thinks. He wonders if she's still with him. He knows Daruk isn't--his protection would have really come in handy, huh?--But he doesn't know about her. It's too much to think about, though, through this pain. He doesn't want to think right now. He lets himself go limp in Twilight's arms.

He lets out one last breath. Another one doesn't follow.

Twilight screams.

Chapter Text

Link is floating.

He remembers the pain. Horrible, agonizing pain.

Here, the blessed cool soothes his burns. He doesn't remember how he got them, but they hurt. He floats aimlessly, wondering where he is and why. With effort, he opens his eyes. Surrounding him is black. So much black. He wonders if he's in the shrine of resurrection. By Hylia, please don't let him be back in the shrine. He remembers that he was put here last time he died--and he's dead now, isn't he, that's right. It makes sense that he would die again, killed by the same things, in the same pain. He chokes. He doesn't know if it's on blood or water. He wants to lift his hand, to tear at the lid encasing him in here, to find a way to open it even though he wasn't able to last time, but he doesn't have the strength.

In an instant, his world is lit up by sparks and flames of blue. He shuts his eyes. It's too much for him, and he wants to get out, he can't be in here again, but then a familiar presence halts his thoughts. The touch of a gentle hand leaves his chest lighter. He is able to suck in a breath, lungs drained of fluid. His chest isn't on fire at all anymore, and there are no bones stabbing his internal organs anymore. Yes, that feels right, that's how it's supposed to be. He'd forgotten. This feels different than he expected. The shrine of resurrection was never this gentle, this soothing. It was jarring, and painful, and excruciating. This is familiar in an entirely different way. A way he's felt before, many times. What is this?

He opens his eyes. 

The bright blue flames are surrounding him still, but there's something in front of them. No, someone. Mipha. His beautiful, precious Mipha. His breath catches in his throat, and this time it's not because of blood. She was supposed to have moved on, gone from this world like the other champions after he killed Ganon.

He knows Urbosa is gone; her fury is no longer a crashing of thunder around him when he snaps his fingers, but the buzz of electricity in the swing of his weapon when he calls upon it. Her spirit fueling it is gone, leaving behind only the power he is unable to harness into the destruction she enabled him to wreak.

Revali, too, has passed on. His gale isn't powerful enough to lift anybody into the air, manifesting instead as a cool breeze that Wild harnesses when his family is too hot, or the air is too still.

Daruk . . . Wild isn't sure what happened with Daruk's protection. He is certainly no longer able to summon an impenetrable shield, hasn't been since he defeated the Calamity. But he has seemed more impervious to attacks since that day. He thought that the monsters attacked with less vigour, but looking back, that definitely isn't right. No, Daruk must have left him with a thin cloak of protection when he moved on to the next world. He sees that now.

Yes, the champions are gone, no longer with him. So how and why is Mipha here, healing him? Why would she stay rather than pass on to whatever comes next? He only needs to think for a second to find the answer.

She will always protect him.

He wants to cry, to hold her, to tell her to go find her peace. He's the reason she's still here. But, of course, that isn't really true. She made her decision, just as she always had before. Even when she was younger and Muzu would instruct her on how to act, she would make her own decisions. Wild thinks she always made the right ones, save be her choice to be the pilot of Vah Ruta. There, where she was killed and forced to suffer. His innocent, kind, healer, forced to live a lifetime of pain. While he was sleeping for one hundred years, she was trapped with her killer, her soul slowly dying but unable to move on.

Except . . . that isn't right either. Her connection to the divine beast was unparalleled, and her work with it was key in his victory over Calamity Ganon. He knows that, given the chance, she would do it again. For Hyrule. For Wild. 

His eyes fill with tears. He wants to thank her, to tell her he loves her, that he remembers her now.  He wants to tell her that he's so sorry that he forgot her, but he remembers now, and he's never forgetting her again. His beautiful fiancee. He tries to get the words out, but his throat isn't working yet. He can't even be angry about it in her presence. Finally, she looks up and meets his eyes. She's even more breathtaking than he remembered. She smiles as she runs her hands over his injuries, lifting the pain he didn't even know he felt. His breathing evens out, and he can feel that he's being taken back to his world, back to Hyrule.

No! Not yet! No, he can't go back yet, he has so much he has to say. He has to tell her everything, he has to tell her that he loves her. His voice needs to work!  Her eyes make contact with his again and gives him another smile as he tries to get the words out. Her eyes are intelligent and full of understanding. She always has been too good at reading him, even in life. He supposes that's due to his self-inflicted silence, back when he was Link and not Wild.

She seems to know exactly what he's trying to tell her. He wants her to move on, to go to the next life with the others. She gives a minute shake of her head as she cradles him towards her, silver jewelry reflecting the beautiful blue fire dancing all around them.

He fights the call of consciousness around him. He wants to be with his fiancee, he wants to be in her arms just a little longer. But he knows this can't last. He can feel in his soul that they will spend the rest of his life together--just not in the same world. She will wait for him, and she will heal him when he is too reckless, just as she always has. Wild, suddenly, isn't afraid to die. When he dies, he'll finally be with her again, and they won't have any of the burdens that followed them in life. He smiles, and her face lights up. She leans down and gently presses a kiss to his forehead, a whisper of her love. He can't speak, not yet, but he tries to convey his love and gratitude in his face. She smiles gently.

"It was my pleasure."

And then, the blue fire fades, and Wild stops resisting the call of the world around him as he is brought back to life.

Chapter Text

Twilight heard stories about these guardians in passing from Wild, usually when the boy was on the brink of sleep. He can tell that they've always been something he doesn't want to talk about, so he's never pressed him for information about them. He regrets that now that the nine of them are fighting for their lives and only one of them knows what they're freaking doing. Archery has never been the group's strong suit, and now that it's their only hope against a literal army of robots, he can't help but think that a heads-up might have been nice. Four has already been hit, and Twi's never heard a scream like that. It can mean nothing but pure pain, and it only grazed his arm. To think that Wild was killed by these things . . . it instills a fury in him that he's never known before. He's seen the scars on his cub's body. They litter his left side, but they hit everywhere. He can't imagine the pain of the beam that hit his face. Wild's told him that they don't hurt anymore, but by Hylia, he can't imagine what they felt like in the moments of his final battle. 

Wild's killed two of the guardians already, and he has to admit that he's a little impressed. He's never seen anybody reflect an attack like that, killing an enemy with its own weapon so seamlessly. He doesn't even know what to think of the arrow that Wild shoots, a small explosion of blue light that kills the guardian in a single shot. They take down the final guardian surrounding them together, and Twi almost smiles and announces their near victory when he sees Wild running faster than he's ever seen at Wind and Time. Time is down, struggling to get up. Wind . . . Wind is being targetted, and he has no weapons or shields.

Twilight watches in horror as his cub throws himself in front of the guardian. He tries to run, to push Wild down as he did with Wind, but his legs can't possibly take him that far that fast. So, running not nearly fast enough, he watches as his protege, his little brother, gets blasted by the guardian. Wild is instantly thrown several feet back, his body rolling uselessly before coming to a stop beside a dead guardian. At least, Twilight hopes it's dead. If not, the group probably will be instead. By the time he's stopped rolling, Twilight is there, but he's too late. The mass amount of red on his tunic is enough to tell him that. After a second, the acrid smell of burning flesh hits him, and he wants to vomit. 

Legend moves next, enraged. He releases a volley of arrows with an accuracy Twilight hasn't seen before. If only he did that two minutes ago, Twilight thinks in a haze. He looks down. Wild's tunic is staining with red at an incredible speed, as is the grass around him. With a wordless cry, he drops to his knees and gathers Wild in his arms. The teenager releases a groan of pain.

"I need a fairy!" Twilight shouts desperately. "A red potion, anything!"

Everybody immediately begins rooting through their bags, but Twilight realizes that they used all their fairies in Time's Hyrule just before being transported here. And, in his heart, he knows that no potion can fix this. His head won't accept that. "Can you hear me, cub?" He asks desperately. "You're gonna be just fine, you hear?"

He runs his fingers through Wild's hair, knotted with blood. The others are there, hands empty and mouths full of apologies. Twilight shouts at them to find something. He barely feels as Time sits next to him and looks in anguish at Wild. No, he shouldn't look like that, Time should know what to do! Why isn't he telling Twilight what to do?

Wild's face contorts, and a gurgled sob escapes his lips. Blood dribbles down his chin. No, no, no, this isn't happening, he is going to be fine! It was just one hit, just one hit from a guardian, he isn't going down this easy! It took a dozen to kill him before! But as Wild coughs, blood spewing from his lips, Twilight can't help the tears that run down his own face.

"Wild, stay awake, stay awake! Don't you close your eyes on me!" He says desperately. Wild doesn't seem to hear him, so he says it again, louder. It is again ignored. He can hear the rest of the group crying, Hyrule is trying to put pressure on the gaping wounds, and Wind is screaming and begging Wild to stay awake, to talk to him, but Twilight doesn't focus on anything but the form of his cub. He sobs when Wild's body goes limp, hand dropping harshly to the ground. He's still choking, choking on his own blood, but no matter how Twilight positions him, he can't breathe. He feels rather than hears Wild exhale. His chest doesn't fill again, and Hyrule sobs.

"Wild, no, WILD!" Hyrule shouts. Twilight knows why. The pain he feels right now is worse than any injury he's ever sustained, worse even than when Midna shattered the mirror. The wounds he got from duelling Ganon are nothing compared to the indescribable agony of his soul right now. His heart is in his throat as thick tears roll down his face. Gut-wrenching screams tear from his throat, and he begs Wild to get up, to tell him this is just another joke, but he knows he won't. His cub is gone, and there's nothing he can do to fix it. He screams at Time, for not protecting Wind, and he screams at Hyrule for not being able to heal him, and he screams at everybody for not saving him at all, but they all know that he doesn't mean it. He doesn't know what he means anymore. All he can feel is his heart being burned alive in his chest. 

He feels sturdy arms wrap around him, metal clanking as they move. He distantly recognizes that it's Time, but he doesn't care. It's just him and Wild. Wild's corpse. He sobs, holding his brother's body to his chest. There is no movement against it, no playful shoving aside. He realizes with a start that he'll never wake to Wild curled in his fur, a portion of it smoothed down from hours of petting as his protege soothed himself to sleep. He'll never eat a bite of food with such insane spice that he has to spit it out after playing a prank on Wild. He'll never sit next to him for hours as Wild relives a memory. Wild will never remember everything, he realizes. He never got the chance.

All he can do is hold him in his arms and sob. 

All at once, a blast of fire erupts from Wild's body, and Twilight has to drop him as he scrambles away. He looks on in horror as a blue flame engulfs him. He sees that, in the flames, another body has materialized. A Zora woman, he realizes. She's beautiful and regal, and something about her seems familiar, but Twilight can't place why. She looks into his eyes, the empty ones that Twi had sobbed over not moments ago, and smiles. She presses her lips to his forehead, and the flames begin to dissipate. Everybody looks on as she whispers,

"It was my pleasure."

Twilight doesn't know what to do. He looks at Time, still in his arms, but he clearly doesn't know what to make of it either. Suddenly, Wind gasps, and Twilight whips his head back towards Wild. His chest is moving.

Twilight rips himself out of Time's arms and presses his head to Wild's chest. A strong, steady heartbeat plays. He can feel breaths on his face, and looks up to see Wild opening his eyes. 

"Twi . . . ?" He mumbles, then promptly falls asleep. Twilight rears, grabbing his cub's face, and is immensely relieved to see that he's still breathing. Wild is still breathing, still alive. He doesn't even know what to think. He just releases another sob and curls him into his chest. He doesn't know how long he stays there like that for, just feeling his cub's heartbeat and the rise and fall of his chest, but nobody makes an attempt to move him. They let him stay like that, holding him, as the sun sets and the moon rises. He doesn't think, doesn't try to. Just cries and laughs and repeats He's alive. 

Eventually, when Sky falls facefirst into the ground out of exhaustion, Twilight lets himself release his hold. He looks at Time and the others. They all stop what they're doing at his movement, and Sky lifts himself off the ground immediately. Twilight puts an arm under Wild's knees and another on his neck and back, then stands up. Wild curls into his arms, a sigh of contentment escaping his lips.

"Well," Twilight says, voice creaky and nasal and uneven. "Let's get to Hateno."