Chapter Text
Link had been having a relatively normal day. With six adventures under his belt there was no real normality to be had any more, but still he had his patterns. Wake up, make breakfast, send Ravio on some inane chore to get him off his back for a while, then work in his garden. With the treasures bought back from his adventures he barely wanted for money, but something about growing a handful of vegetables was fulfilling.
His day only started normal, however. Just as he was pulling some weeds up from the soil around the grapevines, some sort of portal opened. A veteran of many campaigns, Link recognises its function, though not the specific design.
Just as he was wondering what - if anything - he should do about it, someone fell though.
And Link did mean fall. They collapsed to the earth even as they passed the gate, crushing one of Link's rarer gourds as he did.
Link was in every mind to scold the reckless traveller for damaging his plants, but... He never got up.
More concerned now - Nayru knew he didn't need more curiosity - he looked closer.
Brown hair, young. Armed and armoured, dressed in green. Clothes and visible skin covered in burns.
It was that observation which kicked Link into acting. For all he claimed to be retired from the helping business, it was still very much his instinct.
So, he picked the boy up, and carried him inside. On his way up to his room he grabbed his bag of healing supplies.
The travellers belongings were dropped haphazardly beside the bed onto which the boy was laid. Methodically, Link stripped the boy of his clothing. Where the fabric and flesh were burnt together he cut the bulk away, then used a damp cloth to try to ease the effect of pulling apart the already damaged flesh.
He worked down the boy's body, treating and binding wounds as he found them. Nothing seemed broken at least.
Then he came to the boy's legs. The same burns littered his legs and feet, but there was another sort of injury too. There were hasty patched cuts, like he'd not drunk quite enough red potion after sustaining them. The cause of the wounds Link quickly found - an arrowhead, the skin having grown around it. It was delicate, painful work to remove the metal so late in the process, but with a grimace Link did his best.
All of the injuries were horrifying in their own ways, but none turned Link’s gut quite like the state of the boy’s ankles. An arrowhead was embedded in the back of each, positioned perfectly to cut into his hamstrings. A scattering of half-healed injuries implied there had been many attempts to get the angle right - or otherwise to make them stick.
And with the rest of the wounds looking like he’d had just enough potion to keep him from bleeding out? The arrowheads staying was clearly the point. You can’t run with cut hamstrings.
They couldn’t have been cut all of the way through, given the boy had managed to escape, but removing them only confirmed Link’s suspicion. With all the precision he could muster, he stitched up the injuries. And then he bandaged his feet with excruciating care. Too tight to move them, too loose to cut off the blood supply. He would need the luck of Link himself to retain full mobility, but Link would be damned if he didn’t give the kid the best chance available. Time and absolutely no movement until the wounds were healed. At least his other injuries did not seem to require a potion. Useful for staying alive and continuing a fight, but always seemed to lead to complications later.
Once he was as satisfied with the bandages as he was going to be, Link checked the boy over for other injuries he may have missed. That, and tried to work out just how the injuries had come about.
The only explanation he could think of was some sort of torture, using potions to keep him alive, but only just. Somehow he had escaped, and managed to run despite the damage to his ankles. Then, created some sort of portal - he could almost taste the boy’s magic - to Link’s home. And, as soon as he was safe, the boy had collapsed from pain and exhaustion. Possibly hunger too. How and where and why such a thing had happened, Link was none the wiser.
So, keep watch until he had more information, just in case the boy was somehow followed.
Poor kid, he was going to be a mess when he woke up. Link did not have much experience with torture victims, but did know that he would need to work on not being intimidating - if the boy ran on those legs, he might yet lose use of them.
Only once all of the injuries were seen to as best as Link's limited skills allowed, he turned his attention to his new housemates' things. The bag co trained a red potion - Link made sure it was clearly visible in the hopes it would be taken when the boy woke up - but little else of interest.
The shield was holding together, but only just. A light breeze could surely destroy it - Legend made a note to have Ravio fix it up. It wouldn't be perfect, but there was no actual smith in Link's village.
And then last of all, the sword. Coated in oddly black blood - habitually Link cleaned it - and... Familiar. It took a little examining to work out what was so familiar about it - it was one of his swords, but older, aged - and less time again for the dread to settle in. The sword in question was not an uncommon design, but far too familiar. Far too old, too; hadn’t they only started making them last year? He needed answers, something surely this boy could give him, but he was not even sure what questions to ask.
All he was aware of was the unfortunate knowledge that he was about to be dragged on another adventure, as cruel as the rest of them. That, and that there was an injured boy in his house.
No point thinking about it, though. It merely was as it was. Fate’s a bitch, sometimes you just had to go with it until you got close enough to stab her.
Ravio seemed merely confused by the shield, but wandered off to 'give it a go'. Link strongly suspected that he would soon receive a bill for some sort of magic item used to fix the shield, but… He would just take it off the money Ravio owed him in rent.
And so Link was left in his house again, alone but for the unconscious boy. What to do... Soup. He was always told to eat soup when badly injured, and so he started trying to throw some together.
Making soup was an unfortunately complicated matter, if only because Link was not sure what flavour would be best. After a number of false starts, he managed something resembling a vegetable soup. The meat he had debated using instead could be used for his own dinner.
As he was setting it aside to cool, he heard the distinct sound of crying from upstairs. His guest was awake then. Link gave them a couple of minutes of privacy but, when the crying continued… He picked up the soup, placed it on the tray, and headed up.
Despite making his footsteps heavier than usual - torture victim, be gentle, he reminded himself - the boy seemed not to notice him. Not wanting to startle him, Link just waited until he was noticed.
Soon enough he was, but the boy was clearly not quite ready. And so, Link waited as his worth was weighed.
Something in his gut flickered at that, almost afraid of being found wanting. Link stamped on it, crushing it; what did this matter what this boy thought of him? The less he trusted him, the more peaceful his life was likely to remain.
And then the boy started scrubbing at his eyes, failing miserably to clear his tears.
That was enough of that. He shifted the tray, caught the boy’s eye again, and approached.
“Alright,” Link said, serving the soup with more force than needed. “What is going on? If you’re here with some desperate quest, I’m sorry, I’m retired.”
That… Sounded far crueller than he meant. Step one: be gentle with the torture victim successfully failed. It was Link’s own fault, but could he be blamed? He was tired and aching and just wished to retire. This boy landing in his vegetable patch could only mean terrible things.
Hoping to make up for his faux pas, Link handed the boy the soup. A little forceful, but shaking, bandaged hands took it and sipped.
After a moment, the boy spoke. It was all in a rush, his eyes darting around Link’s face, and it took him a few moments to unscramble it into words. “I don’t mean to cause trouble!” he thought the boy meant to say. “I was just being chased… And then there was a portal.”
“The portal wasn’t your doing?” Link internally groaned, but tried to keep it from his face or tone.
“No…? It wasn’t yours?” came a much slower, more concerned reply.
“Great, just great. New magical phenomena in town. I’m going to have to fix it, aren’t I?” Legend griped, more at the universe than the boy. If the portal had been the boy’s doing, then that was more likely to be a problem. He could just about handle a desperate escapee sending himself to his doorstep for protection, but if a third party was putting them together? A magically powerful one? This had all the hallmarks of an adventure.
Or, rather, a disturbance. A problem. Definitely A Problem .
“...I could do it?” came an almost hesitant reply.
Link glared at the boy, looking over the mass of bandages and wounds. The sword and shield had both been well used, and it was clear that the boy did know how to defend himself. Still, he was injured, and young, and Link’s responsibility now.
“I’ve seen the state of your legs and your shield. You’re not leaving that bed until everything is healed and repaired.”
That… Also came out wrong.
This time it seemed to have mattered, for the boy hung his head in shame.
Link panicked inside, even if he refused to let it show. He didn’t mean to fuck this up so wholely, nor make the boy feel bad. He just… Years of adventuring had taken their toll on his patience, social skills, and tolerance. The kid might deserve none of it, but the only person he really had a chance to practise with was Ravio.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” Link ran a hand through his hair, trying to decide what to do. Information. Just move on and ask for information “Look, kid, whoever’s after you? Are they going to cause me problems? I can fight, but I want to know beforehand.”
“Maybe?” the boy answered, with a resigned sort of certainty that did things to Link’s heart. “I think they can track me somehow… But where-ever this is, it’s a long way from Hyrule, right? They don’t operate beyond there.”
And there was a whole lot to unpack. Razor-quick Link dropped the being chased to focus on the ‘long way from Hyrule’. This was Hyrule. This was so obviously Hyrule that anyone or their pig could tell you that. How the boy wasn’t certain… A foreigner, maybe? Kidnapped just arriving on these shores? But then why would he know more about the people who did it.
Well, there was no real way to know without asking. “... No, this is Hyrule.”
The boy, to his credit, did turn to peek out of the window. His face scrunched up, “It's… not?”
“I can promise you it is,” Link replied. This was a particularly big problem. Unless… Portals did go between realms. Did an alternate Hyrule exist somewhere?
Link thought of the sword, familiar yet aged… Did portals cross the divide of time too? He had heard of stranger… But, he supposed, it was not important to their immediate problem. The boy could not leave anytime soon regardless, so a problem for another day.
“So, firm maybe,” Link settled on, before moving forwards in his interrogation. “Assassins? Cultists? Guards? What am I dealing with?”
The boy seemed a little shaken up by the Hyrule problem. He opened his mouth to speak a few times, before frowning and holding up a finger instead.
After a moment, a second finger joined it.
One. And two. Assassins and cultists.
“Cultist assassins,” is what he verbalised of it, voice laced with sarcasm. “Joy. Just my luck. Alright, give me your name. And then something else to call you if anyone comes asking.”
It was only sensible, if people were out for the kid’s blood. And who did that anyway? Cultist assassins, apparently.
“Oh! Sorry! I’m Link,” the boy - this Link - suddenly found his voice. Even before Link himself could process it, the words carried on. “I guess… I don’t know what else to call me.”
That… That felt like more than a coincidence. Another Link? One tied up in some bullshit? From a Hyrule that was not here? On his doorstep?
Carrying a much older version of one of his favourite swords?
Yeah, no, no coincidence. Either he was being fucked with, or something was fucking with him.
Eyeing the boy carefully… There did not seem to be a lie, just a fear and a discomfort and an underlying spine of determination and steel. Every bit seemed honest about him, and Link could generally tell these things.
Still he studied the boy, looking for any slip. There were a whole lot of cracks, but none of them about this, or the cultist assassins, or the Hyrule. Just… Cracks in himself, Link guessed.
This strange Link shifted uncomfortably, clearly unhappy with something he heard.
Link needed to speak, then.
“That’s funny,” he could hear how cold and accusatory his voice was. Link was cursing the goddess, not the other Link, but still he felt too cold. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m the only Link in Hyrule.”
The younger Link thankfully did not seem too distressed, rather like he was thinking hard. Or, at least, Link had initially thought that. After a long few minutes the boy had paled. He looked for all the world like he was about to faint. Even as he brought his hand to his forehead Link moved to steady him.
It was a while before the boy spoke again, whispered and soft, and likely not aimed at Link himself.
“I think…” came the uncertain words. “I might be further away than I thought.”
“You think,” Link replied, flippant as he would be with Ravio. The tone processed a moment later - suspicious circumstances or not, still a kid tortured by cultist-assassins, Link, be a little less yourself, damn you. With no way of fixing it, he pushed on. “Look, kid, Link, whatever… Just heal up for now. We’ll work it out when you’re feeling better. As I said, not going anywhere ‘til your shield’s fixed whatever.”
Given all the weird going on, Link sort of hoped that Ravio would take a while to get annoyed enough to just use a rod of repair, or a similar enchantment. If he could keep the kid about… Look, Link did not want for adventures, he was retired from that life, but he wasn’t sending someone back into hell alone. No, fuck that, fuck whatever powers demanded that of people. He’d help the kid get home, and all would be well.
The younger Link nodded, more acknowledgement than agreement, and put his soup down. He turned away from Link, curling up on his side.
“It’s okay kid,” Link said into a sigh. “We’ll work it out. I’m just a bit tired.”
Seeing nothing even approximating a response, Link decided it was time to like the boy to sleep. Sleep would help the injuries. It usually did.
Before he left, however… An apology.
Not knowing how to formulate one, he reached out and gently ruffled the boy’s hair.
With no response again, he whispered good night, collected up the tray, and headed back downstairs.
Another adventure, then. Even if only to get the boy home.
Fuck his life. He wasn’t going to refuse to help, not when it was needed, but still. Fuck his life.