Chapter Text
Wind was bored.
Like, really, really, really bored. Normally he’d mess around with the others, or heckle them to tell him stories, or tell the stories himself, but no one was humoring him. Ridiculous! They couldn’t all be this tired after just a couple days of walking, and he told them so when Warriors declined his offer to spar. Some heroes, he'd huffed. They were all going soft in their old age.
So Warriors was tired, and Wild was busy bug-hunting (lame), and Sky was already asleep, because of course he was—well then, fine. If no one wanted to hang out with him, he’d find something else to do.
So he went looking.
He scoured the little village they were staying at, starting with the kind Shaman man’s house, since that was where they were sleeping, then went building by building. Twilight was never fun, Time was busy chatting with the locals, Four looked a bit too grumpy right now (Wind would never understand that one’s mood swings), Hyrule was in the process of dragging Legend out on a walk…
He glanced around the steps of the man named Barnes’ shop, tapping his fingers against his cheek. He’d already stopped inside, but his bomb pouch was full. This version of Kakariko was as deserted as ever—it was slightly unnerving, but there was also something calming and gentle about the breeze running through the canyon; he supposed that it had something to do with the sacred spring on the other side of town. He peered over to the entrance of the village, where the little waterfall was, and where Hyrule and Legend had just disappeared.
Hyrule went on walks a lot—sometimes he brought one of them with him, but mostly by himself. It was a bit like navigating a minefield to go with him, because you never knew how far you’d go or when you’d get back; more than once, Hyrule had made the mistake of inviting Wild, which was a surefire recipe for getting very, very lost. Twilight had been pissed, and he made them both promise never to go without him again.
But… Wind wasn’t Wild, and getting almost-lost sure sounded like a better way to spend the evening than hanging around these dullards all day.
He hopped up from the steps, heading in the direction Hyrule and Legend had set off. They’d only left a few minutes ago, if he hurried he could catch up.
“I’m gonna find ‘Rule and Leg,” he declared to Four, who was sitting on the porch spanning the front of the buildings. The smithy hummed and shrugged one shoulder, not looking up from the dagger he was polishing; all his tools and weapons were laid around him on the platform, categorized by how clean they were.
Well, it was Four’s problem now if the others didn’t know where Wind was. He jogged towards the springs, silently sending the goddess a prayer as he passed, and headed out of the village.
If Wind could say anything about Twilight’s world, it’s that he loved Hyrule Field. Something about it reminded him of home, the vast open space; yet it wasn’t overwhelming, like Wild’s world could be. Wind could admit he was excited to go exploring with Hyrule and Legend—but he had to get to the fields first.
The canyons were very much the opposite of the Great Sea's infinite waves. He walked a bit more carefully within the winding, narrow walls, picturing ambushes between the bends, double-checking around every corner.
Finally, he could hear Hyrule’s voice echoing against the cliffs, and he sped up—then stopped, recognizing a note of displeasure in Hyrule’s voice. The thought of ambushes popped into his mind again, and he held his breath, creeping closer, hoping the traveler wasn’t being, like, tied to a stake by monsters or something.
“... here, we’re too close, anyone could show up on their way to town!”
“Please, no one’s making the trip to this place, did you see how abandoned it was?”
Oh, thank Hylia, Hyrule and Legend were just arguing with each other… but… Wind bit his lip, rewinding and replaying that sentence in his head. Hyrule and Legend were arguing with each other? Hyrule and Legend never argued, they always got along. What could they possibly be disagreeing about?
In retrospect, maybe he shouldn’t have eavesdropped, but since when did he make perfect decisions?
He snuck farther down the canyon, trying to use the boulders and scanty trees as cover. There—he could see the two of them standing together, not too far away. But something was wrong, Legend looked like he was practically pinning Hyrule to the cliff face, like he was an enemy they were trying to get information out of.
Wind quickly crouched behind the boulders, hiding himself before he was spotted, a little frazzled. This argument couldn’t be that bad, could it? Was this Hyrule some kind of shape-shifting imposter? Should he get the others?
“I’m serious, Legend! We should at least find somewhere more private—”
But that sounded just like Hyrule! And he was addressing Legend normally, not like a monster who’d been caught—
“But what if I want you right now?”
Legend's voice was… sultry.
Wind’s racing thoughts screeched to a halt.
“You’re ridiculous.”
“And you’re way too enticing to wait any longer.”
“Stop flirting and help me find a safer spot!”
“Fine, fine… I don’t know why you always have to be the responsible one.”
“Because you don’t seem to have any sense!”
"Now, hold on, I never...”
Their voices faded into the distance. After a moment, once he was sure that he wouldn’t be found, Wind collapsed onto the rocky ground with a whine.
What.
The fuck.
Was that?!
Hyrule and Legend weren’t—they couldn’t be—what?! Just, what?!
Now, a lot of people assumed Wind was clueless about this sort of thing, but that was far from the truth. What did you expect when most people either treated him like he had forfeited the right to be a kid, or just didn’t care about his age? Yes, yes, he played innocent around the others, but even they messed up fairly often, making innuendos and jokes when they thought he couldn’t hear.
But they’d never hinted at anything like this.
Oh, please, Hylia, please tell him that this was an outlier. Please, please, tell him that the others weren’t all—weren’t all involved, or anything like that! He cringed at the thought of how cuddly Twilight and Wild could be.
Eager to get away from that thought—from all of this, fuck this—Wind shoved himself off the ground and took a running start back to Kakariko. He was going to have to scrub his brain with holy water from the spring to wash this memory from his head. He wondered if Time would let him drink some of the spiced milk, just this one night.
He should’ve just agreed to having a nice, quiet, boring evening like the others.
***
Twilight was tired.
He'd wanted to stay in his own time period longer, but of course not, the gods never let him rest. They never even got to Ordon Province—they’d run into more of those damned infected monsters in Hyrule Field, and not long later the world had spun around them and dropped them unceremoniously somewhere else. Where? No one knew, of course.
He wanted to scream. They would've finally made it to his home, and he would've finally be able to sleep in his own bed. He was finally going to be able to play with the village kids and check up on the goats and introduce his friends to his adopted family. He was finally going to introduce them to Ilia and clear up this whole nonsense everyone had made up about the two of them dating!
But no, of course not. Of course not! And he had to be the adult of the group, because Time was being cryptic, as always, as if Twilight didn’t know that the old man did this to get a kick out of the others’ reactions! So he huffily set to work trying to figure out where they were, but none of his companions had any clue—they were just at some random lakeside in some random era.
“Could be Lake Hylia,” Wild suggested with a shrug, and Twilight sat straight up and glared at him. The Champion was busy preparing their evening meal, a scrumptious smelling vegetable soup. He pretended not to notice the rancher’s irritation.
“It’s not your Lake Hylia, and it’s not my Lake Hylia,” Twilight retorted, wondering if his protege had been listening at all.
“It could be—”
“It is no one’s Lake Hylia!” Twilight snapped, unable to keep a lid on his anger anymore.
“Whoa, Twi,” Warriors said from his other side, sounding slightly amused, “Relax, we’ll find out sooner or later where we are.”
Twilight whipped his head around to glower at Warriors instead: he felt a deep satisfaction when the captain looked just a bit alarmed. Next to him sat Wind, who inched away, trying to put some distance between himself and the object of Twilight’s wrath.
“Let him be mad,” Sky murmured, plucking at his harp. He always tended to take that instrument out when they were on edge, as if he hoped to calm their nerves with a lullaby; though Twilight didn’t understand why the knight had to be lying on his back, his legs against the ugly stump of a fallen tree, like he was defying gravity. “He didn’t get to visit his home.”
“I’m right here,” Twilight grumbled, lowering himself back to a slouch, adjusting himself on the loamy grass. The five of them had picked out a cozy-looking spot by the lakeside specifically to wait for Wild to be done with dinner; of course, Twilight was left on the ground. (So was everyone but Wild, but he stubbornly refused to acknowledge that.)
“I’m sorry you didn’t get to visit your home,” Sky apologized genuinely, offering him an upside-down smile. Twilight felt his anger start to die at the goofy show of kindness.
He let out a long, aggravated sigh, and laid back in the grass. It was pretty comfortable.
“Yeah, whatever, you’re right,” he conceded bitterly, staring up at the rising stars. “Just, fuck everything, alright? I wanted to go home!”
“Language,” Wild chuckled as he added some heart-shaped radishes to the stew. That was usually Twilight's line. He shot Wild an annoyed look that the Champion pretended to ignore.
“I can’t blame you,” Wind sighed, cuddling back up with Warriors. “I’d give anything to see Grandma and Aryll again.”
Sky and Warriors hummed in agreement. The only sound was Wild’s gentle stirring as they all got lost in their separate thoughts. Twilight was comforted, just a little bit, by the thought that he at least wasn’t alone in his homesickness.
“... When’s Legend coming with that game?” Wild muttered, breaking the silence. They all looked up at him, coming down from the clouds.
“Could be whenever,” Warriors answered unhelpfully. Wild sighed and pulled another ladle from his Sheikah Slate (how many of those did he have?) and used it to taste-test the broth.
“Well, I hope he finds something,” Wild said, putting the used ladle down with a pout. “This is definitely missing some kind of meat.”
“We could send one of the others after him,” Wind proposed shyly. Twilight made a sour expression, and he wasn’t the only one, at the thought of what their remaining friends were up to.
Something had put Four on edge recently, and he wouldn’t share with them what—but it was starting to make him uncharacteristically angry. His eyes often changed with his emotions, and lately they were stuck on a cold, hard blue. Time and Hyrule had decided to talk with him and figure out what was wrong.
“Why don’t one of you go?” Wild shot back, giving them all a sweeping look.
“Nah,” three other voices said at once. Wild looked at Twilight, who gave him his best puppy eyes. (Say what you want about his wolf form, he had killer puppy eyes.)
“C’mon, I’ve had a bad day,” Twilight whined, removing all the attitude from his voice. “Legend should be back soon, right?”
Wild huffed and turned back to the soup. “Fine, fine.”
They lapsed into silence again, while Sky plucked out a tune. It started off as something he usually played, but then he began to improvise, messing with new notes. It sounded nice. Maybe Twilight should’ve been more fair about Sky playing music to calm him down.
“... I hope Hyrule has some luck with Four,” Warriors muttered, scratching the back of his neck.
“Not Time?” Sky questioned, pausing just a moment to ask, then going back to his song.
“Time is great, but Hyrule has a gift,” Warriors responded simply. “He can make just about anyone calm down. Why do you think he hangs out with Legend so much?”
“He’s a godsend,” Twilight mumbled. The others chuckled softly. Wild pulled another ladle from his Sheikah Slate for another taste test, nodding his head. “Though I’d say Legend hangs out with him. I don’t know why Hyrule enjoys being around that bastard.”
“It’s ‘cause they’re fucking.”
One of Sky’s harp’s strings snapped with an awful twang. Wild spat out his sip of soup all over the rest of the bowl. Twilight sat up, looking around towards the sailor, unable to believe his ears.
“WIND! ” Warriors roared, horrified, twisting around to face the youngest of their group.
(“The soup!” Wind cried at the sight of Wild spitting all over their meal.)
“Wind-we-do-not-make-jokes-like-that! ” Sky seethed in one breath as he scrambled upright, flushing horribly, not even sparing a glance at his broken harpstring.
Twilight only gaped at the sailor, aghast, unable to muster up even a word. Since when did Wind feel like he could get away with saying something so vulgar?! Was this his pirate crew’s influence?! Did they have to have an intervention?!
Wind shrunk in on himself, hiding from their incensed expressions. He looked like he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life, but he wasn’t going down without a fight. “Nevermind! Forget I said anything!”
“For Nayru’s sake, Wind!” Warriors scolded, also a deep crimson; he looked like a teakettle about to explode. “We’re not forgetting anything! You can’t say things like that! No one should be saying things like that!”
“But—But I—” Wind looked around like he was searching desperately for an escape. “The soup!” he shouted again, pointing at Wild. The boy in question had his face in his hands, wilting in embarrassment—from spitting in their meal, or from Wind’s comment, was anyone’s guess. “That was our dinner! Why aren’t we talking about the soup?!”
Twilight finally found his voice when the sailor tried to use his protege as a distraction, fury flaring up good-as-new. “Wind, that was disgusting and you should apologize!” he snarled, and now Wind looked rightfully terrified. “You shouldn’t be making up rumors like that!”
“I— I don’t make up rumors!” he squealed, scooching backwards.
“And what would you call it?!” he thundered, affixing him with a real glare, the kind that made people cower, whether he was in wolf form or not.
Wind opened his mouth and closed it again, fully in panic-mode. He looked around at the others, as if begging them for help, but they were all on Twilight’s side.
“It’s not a rumor, okay?!” he wailed finally, his hands thrown up in the air in defeat. “I don’t make up rumors, I promise!”
Twilight blinked, his demeanor faltering. That wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting.
“What are you talking about?” Warriors barked, but even his disgust had been shaken.
“It’s not a rumor, I—I saw them, they’re—” Wind covered his face, much like Wild had, his ears somehow turning even redder than all of theirs. He groaned into his hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it just slipped out! Please don’t tell anyone I know!”
Twilight’s brain just stopped working.
He knew the others around him must’ve heard what he heard: Sky’s mouth was hanging open, Warriors’ eyes were bulging, Wild made a quiet sound like a cross between a gasp and a nervous laugh. But Twilight didn’t know how to process it. He couldn’t put the pieces of Wind’s claims together into any coherent picture. He didn’t want to see the picture.
(Dear Hylia please, don’t make him see that picture.)
“Wind, what are you talking about?” Sky whispered, repeating the question with a very different tone. It was something closer to pure terror.
“I told you, I saw them,” Wind pleaded just as softly, still covering his face, “I didn’t mean to tell anyone, please just forget I said anything!”
Twilight shifted over to Wind, trying to see behind the sailor’s fingers, praying that this was some sort of elaborate prank. “They’re not,” he insisted, his voice hoarse.
Wind took a deep breath. “They are,” he confessed clearly.
Warriors began to shake his head, letting out a manic laugh. “They can’t be. They know they can’t do that, right?”
“I don’t believe it,” Sky stated, much more firmly than he looked.
Wild said nothing, his face still covered.
“Hey,” Twilight mumbled, suddenly realizing that he might’ve made a mistake by yelling at Wind like that, “Hey, Wind, are you okay?”
“What?” Wind peered up at him from behind his knuckles. “No! Do I look okay?!”
His voice shook, and Twilight wondered with a pang if Wind had ever witnessed anything like that before, much less with his close friends involved. “Wind, it’s gonna be okay, okay? I know it was probably a lot to take in, but we can talk about—”
“Ugh, no, that’s not what I meant!” Wind shook his head, finally lowering his hands. “I had to see them flirting and talking about it, and that was disgusting all on its own! I didn’t actually see them—doing it.” He shivered, and on any other occasion how quickly he went from red to alarmingly pale might’ve been funny. “I wouldn’t have survived that.”
“Oh my Goddess, Hyrule and Legend are sleeping together,” Sky gasped suddenly, clutching his heart, like the concept had finally hit him.
“We’re not sure that they’re sleeping together—!” Wars retorted, though he was looking increasingly panicked.
“They’re sleeping together,” Twilight corrected quietly, his voice low with awe.
Wild just whined, sinking ever lower on his stool.
“This explains everything, this is why he invites Legend on walks!” Sky babbled like a madman explaining his theories, “This is why they get along, they’re—” He practically gagged, then said in a choked voice, “Legend’s cheating on Ravio.”
The silence that fell over them was thicker than the ruined vegetable broth.
“Oh, no,” Wind breathed, deathly still. “Oh no, oh no, I didn’t even think of that—”
“This can’t be right.” Warriors desperately clung to his denial. “You must’ve misunderstood. They wouldn’t do that!”
Wind just shook his head, staring off into space.
Twilight looked away from them all, running his hand through his hair. Was it really possible? Were Hyrule and Legend sleeping together? Had they really hid this from them? It seemed like it couldn’t be true, but Wind… Wind seemed so sure …
“Is the soup ready?”
Time appeared as if from nowhere. Before they could say anything, he grabbed one of the ladles and reached to take a sip.
“NO! ” all five yelled at once, jumping up to stop him and causing him to fling the ladle high into the air.
Dear Goddesses, please tell him, why wouldn’t they let Twilight rest?
***
Warriors couldn’t lie for his life.
Big lies, world-shattering conspiracies, impossible revelations?
Easy. He could shove that information to the back of his head and pretend it didn’t exist. No one was going to bring it up, so nothing would pass his lips.
Whatever thoughts happened to be on his mind?
Hopeless. The words spilled out before he even had a chance to think twice. Any kind of worry or embarrassment bothering him was made plain for all to hear.
It was actually kind of useful, with Artemis. For a long time, she was the only one he could speak to verbally (though it wasn’t like he didn’t sometimes spill beans in sign language, too). He tended to bottle things up as a captain, not wanting to look weak in front of his men—but the moment he found himself with her, he let it all out with a wonderful sense of relief. She always knew what to say; she was as much a gift to him as he was to her.
But she would probably just laugh at him with this newest dilemma.
His friends were sleeping together. Sleeping together! His mind provided him with several other phrases to describe the predicament (most of them colorful like Wind’s, thanks to his military days) but for once in his life, he shied away from such crass descriptions. The thought of Hyrule and Legend having sex was so wrong. On so many levels, it was wrong. He contemplated each level of wrongness the next morning, with agonizing tunnel vision, as he helped Four with the laundry.
“Wars!” Four snapped, and he glanced up, bewildered.
“Hmm?”
“Stop splashing me!” the smithy bristled with an ugly grimace. His eyes were still stuck on icy blue.
“Sorry, sorry,” Wars muttered, shuffling further down the river. Laundry duty was everyone’s least favorite chore, and it always put the poor sucker that was stuck with it in a foul mood. Then again, Four had been in a foul mood for a couple days now. Warriors contemplated the soiled tunic (Wild’s) and bar of soap in his hand.
“Hey, Four,” he said before he could stop himself. The man in question glanced over with unhidden disdain.
Shit. This was a bad idea. Why couldn’t he keep his mouth shut? Quick, think of something else to say—
“Why’re you so angry lately?”
Goddess damn it.
“I’m not angry.” The scorn in the smithy’s voice very much contradicted his statement. He affixed Warrior’s with a challenging glare, looking way more menacing than anyone up to their elbows in soapsuds ever should. “Why are you so spaced out?”
Now that, that was a question Warriors shouldn’t answer. But… he was dying to talk about it. Maybe he shouldn’t indulge in gossip, maybe Four wasn’t the best person to confide in right now, but—
“Legend and Hyrule are sleeping together!” Warriors burst out. Instantly, he regretted saying anything; he ducked his head down, pretending to scrub at a stain, to hide his blush.
“They’re what?!”
Four practically shrieked the question, throwing his soap down with a splash. Warriors blushed.
“They’re sleeping togeth—”
“No, no, I heard what you said!” Four scrambled over, laundry forgotten, to shove Wars’ shoulder with a wet hand. “How?! Since when?! How do you know?!”
The captain managed to meet Four’s eyes, and surprisingly enough, they weren’t blue, but flashing through several different colors, as if unsure which one to land on. Warriors wondered if that was progress. “I don’t know! I don’t know.”
“But how do you know?!”
“Um...” He really hoped that Four wouldn’t go questioning the sailor, considering how much strife the poor boy had gone through recently, but... “Wind walked in on them talking about it.”
Four sat back on the grass, staring into the river. “Wow,” he muttered breathlessly, as if processing this new drama.
“Yeah, wow,” Warriors agreed. Thinking about the logistics alone made him feel tired, and that wasn’t acknowledging the indecency that drenched the whole development. “I can’t believe them,” he grumbled, some of his disdain escaping into his voice.
Four looked surprised by his tone. “Why?”
Warriors gave him a look of incredulity.
Four waved him off. “Yes, yes, I know, but why, particularly? I mean,” Four shifted his weight uncomfortably, “what about it bothers you? ”
“Where to even start!” Warriors felt a bit miffed; he had standards, after all! And Legend and Hyrule had broken all of those standards! “They’re cheating on Legend’s partner, they both share the Hero’s soul, they might be related—” Warriors couldn’t help but shudder, “—and they’re keeping it a secret from us! Why keep it a secret, unless out of guilt?”
Four hummed fretfully, brows twitching downwards.
“Not to mention,” Warriors added after a moment, a bit embarrassed, but disconcerted enough that he felt like the issue needed voicing, “there’s an experience gap there that… doesn’t feel right.”
Now, regardless of what the others wanted to know, Warriors knew his way around the bedroom. They teased him, and clearly a couple of them disapproved, but he didn't think there was anything wrong with fooling around now and then, as long as whomever he found himself with was into it. He’d taken note early on who in their group was open to a bit of bragging, and who wasn’t; and, experienced as he was, he could intuit pretty easily the various levels of comfort and confidence they all had.
Hyrule was, most definitely, a virgin; blushing, and ill-versed. Legend was… very much not. And, the captain could tell, by how Legend spoke, by his various other habits, that their resident veteran might have a bit of a problem with using such primal urges as a coping mechanism.
That combination spelled disaster.
“Ah.” Four looked equally as uncomfortable, but his eyebrows knit together in worry and thought. “Do you think…?”
Warriors let out a large sigh as an answer, rubbing at his face with wet fingers, feeling a headache start to build. “It’s irresponsible, at the very least.”
They fell into uncomfortable silence, watching the river go by. Neither made any motion to continue their chore.
“How old is Hyrule?” Four asked suddenly, and with that simple, much-too-loaded question, the entire scandal somehow became even worse.
***
Legend was soaring.
Not literally, of course. Apologies to Moosh, but he’d had enough flying for a lifetime. Not to mention Irene’s broom (that thing was a death trap, how it had managed to drag him places without a rider he’d never understand). He would leave all of the actual flying to Sky and Wild.
No, Legend was soaring, because he was with Hyrule.
This time, both literally and figuratively.
They sat in the shadow of a copse of trees, just relaxing away from the others. On a good day, Legend valued his alone time—Hyrule was only allowed in his personal space as a rare exception—but Twilight had been in a bad mood, and so was Four, and Legend swore that Wind was avoiding him (he couldn’t imagine why, Wind was always the last person to take offense at anything he said), so today in particular, he desperately needed a break. In all honesty, he had hoped their little excursion would result in less… innocent activities, but that plan had gone astray when Hyrule had found a butterfly.
A goddess-damned butterfly.
They had only just cleared the treeline beyond the riverbank, stepping out onto rolling hills, when the dainty insect had landed right in Hyrule’s hair. Legend could only stare for a long moment, as Hyrule fidgeted and blushed and asked what he was looking at.
So precious. Too much for Legend’s poor, bitter heart.
When Legend had finally pointed it out, Hyrule’s face had lit up. He tried to help it off his head, only for it to flutter hurriedly away, panicking at being touched. Hyrule hadn’t minded, only smiled and cooed over the retreating bug.
They relaxed in the grasses now, the butterfly long lost, as Hyrule pontificated about it.
“Didn’t you see, though, it looked like a Summerwing,” he mused, eyes focused on the project in his hands: a daisy chain. Legend was embarrassed to admit that Hyrule had never made one before… until Legend had taught him how. Hopefully no one else would ever find out. “What do you think, Leg, it was slightly off, but maybe it’s a related species?”
“I suppose it could be,” Legend said with a shrug. “Why would it matter?”
“Because,” Hyrule explained patiently as he tucked the stems into each other, “I figured, if it’s a Summerwing, then maybe we’re in Wild’s era. It’s as good of a clue as any.” He tucked his hair behind his ear; Legend’s eyes followed the motion with a fond smile. “And Twilight’s been so upset that we couldn’t visit Ordon… He’s been so fixated on trying to figure out where—or when, I guess—we are…”
Legend hummed thoughtfully at that. He hadn’t even considered looking at something as trivial as the patterns on a butterfly wing to solve that problem. Then again, it wasn’t as if he was actively trying; this Goddess-forsaken quest would get them where they needed to be eventually, after all. All he had to do was keep a lookout for home.
“How is it that you notice these things?” Legend wondered aloud, shoving Hyrule’s shoulder playfully. He wasn’t really looking for a straight answer, he just wanted to heckle his friend a bit.
Hyrule, in response, flushed, his eyes focused intently on the flowers in his hands.
“I like them,” he muttered, twisting the final stems together. Legend took advantage of his averted gaze to move closer, pressing their sides together. Hyrule sighed, his tense posture relaxing at the contact.
“... They’re so fragile,” Hyrule explained in a quiet voice. “They won’t grow if the conditions aren’t perfect, and their bodies are so delicate. I’d… I’d never seen a live one, before this journey, you know? Only pictures in books.”
Well, that simply wasn’t fair.
Legend took Hyrule into his arms, sighing deeply. This boy would be the death of him.
“Rulie,” Legend murmured. They fell together, softly, onto the grass, holding each other close. “You can’t just say things like that, you know what it does to me...”
Turn him into a soft, blubbering mess, is what it did. His heart jumped every few beats as he thought about how close the traveler was; he closed his eyes, content to just bask in the warmth, in his lover’s scent of pine and sunlight. All he wanted was to be right next to Hyrule, and make him happy.
“Well, it’s true,” Hyrule huffed back, but there was a smile in his voice. “... They look so much like fairies. They don’t have any magic? At all?”
“Entirely mundane,” Legend teased. “They’re not all enamored with you.” Hyrule snuggled closer, making a sound of disappointment.
“That’s a shame.” As if it was the same topic, he added, “I like what it does to you.”
Legend scoffed, quietly, so as to not be so obnoxious, since he was so close to Hyrule’s ear. “You would.”
It was always a risky game, showing his affection to the traveler. A large part of Legend longed to hold him close and never let go, like right now—but, it still made him nervous to be so open about the whole thing. Old, stressful “what if’s” haunted him, wounds that hadn’t quite healed, despite all the work he’d done to recover.
It did give him some peace of mind, though, that Hyrule had asked him to keep their whole situation a secret to everybody. Not that he was ashamed—far from it—but because it was… complicated. In various ways, it was complicated. At least, this way, he only had to sort out his own feelings, and not pander to everyone else’s.
He couldn’t imagine what the others would think. They all had a much more brotherly relationship than his and Hyrule’s… He wasn’t sure that they would understand, considering, well, they both had the same soul, just—at different points in time, he guessed? Really, it made him anxious to think about it, and the last thing he needed was more anxiety right now.
(Right now, and always, if he was honest with himself.)
He relaxed against Hyrule, wishing for his mind to go blank, so he could just feel instead of think. Thoughts were overrated, anyway.
Paper crinkled between their bodies, under Legend’s tunic.
“Oh!” Gently, Legend pushed himself up, to remove the envelope stashed just under his clothes, by his heart. Hyrule turned to him, eyes lighting up.
“Letters from home?” he teased cheerfully.
“Where else?” Legend huffed, and looked down at the sealed envelope in his hands. It was stained a lovely lavender color, addressed to him in a messy scrawl. “Wind gave it to me this morning. Figured I’d wait for you.”
“Well, then, open it!”
Such odd habits they’d fallen into. Legend obliged, pulling out two separate sheets: one labeled ‘Link,’ and the other, ‘Rule.’ (Hyrule had really taken his nickname in stride; Legend still had a hard time reconciling the definition of the word “legend.”) He handed off the latter to Hyrule.
“I don’t see why they can’t be just one letter,” Legend groused, an old peeve that he’d voiced many times before. “We share everything in them anyway.”
Hyrule clicked his tongue. “It’s the principle,” he said, as he had many times before. An old excuse, just as tired as the complaint.
“As if I don’t know that the two of you are giggling at me behind my back.”
“We’re not giggling at you!”
Legend gave him an unamused look, and Hyrule had the decency to look abashed. “Okay, maybe we do, but it’s a good thing! We’re smitten, is all, look at you.” He reached over and ruffled Legend’s hair.
His heart twanged. Smitten. He knew it was a joke, a figure of speech, but…
Legend shoved those thoughts away. Now was not the time to go through an existential crisis. Besides, his feelings for Hyrule didn’t run that deep, they were close and comfortable and maybe just a tad bit involved, he wasn’t in love.
He wasn’t in love.
He knew that, for sure.
“Any news?” Hyrule asked amiably, and Legend took a moment to skim the letter before he read it properly.
“Nothing’s really changed. Miss him.” The last two words left Legend’s mouth outside of his control; he flushed, and thanked Hylia that only Hyrule was around to hear that slip.
“Aww,” was all Hyrule responded with, good soul that he was.
“Yours?”
Hyrule put up a hand, and settled down to read.
Legend sighed, then turned to his own paper.
There was always something about Ravio’s letters that so distinctly captured his essence—as if he was just talking aloud, and someone else had faithfully transcribed every word whilst retaining his loopy, flamboyant penmanship. Legend wasn’t good with words, written or otherwise, so it always amazed him how tangible this little piece of his beloved was in his hands.
Ravio wrote about business, and castle gossip, and sweet nothings, all with an undercurrent of ceaseless snark. It hurt Legend’s heart to have Ravio’s voice be so close yet so far, but he chased the feeling, re-reading sentences that really brought it out. Listen, buddy, if you don’t come back soon I might have to actually go out looking for new inventory myself, and no one wants that… You would think nobles would be more noble, thank the Goddess Zelda has a coolhead… It’s lonely here without you, Mr. Hero…
Ravio missed him too.
Of course he did; Legend knew how much Ravio cared about him. The merchant went out of his way to hammer that knowledge into his head, breaking down any and all of Legend’s self-doubt without mercy. Yet, it was still a comforting reminder, to have Ravio signing off “I love you,” at the end.
Beside him, Hyrule let out a soft hum. Legend looked up, and, wordlessly, Hyrule handed him his own letter.
Much of the same tone, but more casual, more restrained, and a good paragraph shorter, too (and a bit more simply written; Hyrule was still getting a hang of reading Legend's Hylian, after all). Legend hadn’t expected anything different; it was himself and Ravio, after all, who were openly committed, not Hyrule and Ravio… Though, he had a sneaking suspicion that something more than a friendship was growing between them, too.
He wondered how that would work out between the three of them.
“Ah, you’re thinking about it again.”
Legend looked up to see Hyrule smirking.
“Thinking about what?” he said, honestly bemused.
“The whole thing.” Hyrule waved one hand in a vague gesture. “The three of us. What it is.”
Legend rolled his eyes, handing Hyrule his letter back, and tucking his own away again.
“It’s just confusing, is all.” Confusing, that was a word he used often, in place of ones that hinted more at his own insecurities and biases.
“That’s not a bad thing.” As always, Hyrule countered with his sense of neutrality. “It’s—”
“Neither a good or a bad thing, I know,” Legend finished, forcing out a chuckle. Hyrule seemed to hear the carefully restrained discomfort in that laugh, because he easily changed the subject.
“He really loves you,” Hyrule said fondly, rereading his own letter. “You have a lovely boyfriend.”
“I have two lovely boyfriends,” Legend quipped back without thinking, and Hyrule looked up in surprise.
“Is that what I am? Your boyfriend?”
Legend froze.
Mind blank, body stiff. Amber eyes, curious and concerned, were all he could see.
And now, the brows above those amber eyes crinkling with worry, leaning in closer. “Legend, it’s okay, I, uh…” Hyrule looked away, and Legend felt lost as those golden anchors left his view. He hurriedly opened his mouth.
“What I meant—it was just—I didn’t mean that you were my boyfriend—” Oh Hylia, shut up, he was going to make things worse—
“I could be your boyfriend!” Hyrule interrupted bashfully. He fingered the daisy chain he’d left on the ground, but made no move to pick it up. “... If… If you want.”
Legend’s brain was still short-circuiting. What did he want, again?
“It—It won't be the same,” Hyrule continued, losing his confidence as Legend’s silence grew. “I know I’m not like him to you, I know I can’t—I can’t give you what he can give to you—I know it feels… you know, it would be…”
Hyrule turned his head away, hiding his face. “... Incomplete… but…”
Legend sucked in a breath, and his body kicked back into action.
“Oh, ‘Rule, no,” he whispered, hurt. Hurt, because he hated seeing Hyrule this way, and hurt, that Hyrule would believe Legend would judge him for such a thing. “No, no, never think that. It’s not incomplete. I love this. I love what we have.” He reached forward to lay his hand on Hyrule’s, the one with the flowers clutched in it. “You can’t compare it like that. Please, don’t.”
“I know you want to put a name to it,” he said softly, still not showing his face. “I know it would make you feel better, but I… Here I am, not letting you…”
“I don’t care,” Legend decided, an old resolve in his voice. “I don’t care if you don’t want to name it, I don’t care if it’s confusing, all I know is that I care about you, so much.” He unclenched Hyrule’s fingers from the daisy chain, releasing the crushed petals.
Hyrule sniffed, and when he looked back, his eyes were wet, though tears hadn’t yet been spilled. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you apologizing for?” Legend chided with a bittersweet smile. Hyrule’s lips echoed his own, recognizing that Legend meant well.
“I know, I know, I’m sor—shit, wait,” Hyrule let out a breathless laugh, rubbing at his eyes with the palm of his hand.
Legend lifted Hyrule’s hand away and placed a kiss there instead. “We’ll figure it out, okay?” he promised, and Hyrule let out a soft breath, tickling Legend’s face.
“Okay,” he agreed softly, and Legend pressed their lips together.