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It’s happening again.
Warriors tries to focus on the crunching beneath his steps as he grinds minute pebbles into dust under his heels. On the chilly yet not quite cold air he inhales as he walks through streets he's not seen in many months now. On the night sky, where only a handful of stars peek through the puffy clouds foretelling rain for the next day.
Tries to focus on anything but the second pair of footsteps echoing his own. How the familiar streets of his Castle Town aren't quite as comforting as they should be, and how visibility not near any street lamps is muted courtesy of the moon hiding amongst the grey.
On anything at all, other than the nagging in the back of his head that knows with full clarity that he's being followed.
It's not going particularly well.
He takes in a shaky breath, loses a short curse in its wake at how unsteady his rhythm has become. This shouldn't unnerve him as much as it does. He's more than capable of fending off any assailant even in the dead of night, and he's only had two mugs the entire evening; not enough to influence his reflexes to any significant degree.
But despite all that, his heart is hammering against his chest as if he were facing a horde led by her after an already hours long skirmish.
“You guys go on ahead, I’ll just be a bit longer. Want to take this in, seeing as we’ll probably not come back for a while yet.”
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
All the excitement over being able to spend a night in his own Castle Town's taverns led him to forget not only camaraderie waits for him in these streets. He sent the others to their lodgings in the castle barracks when Time insisted they retire for the night, claiming the privilege of his native era. Sat with two old army comrades for another hour before they'd all left, and split off from them outside the tavern doors.
He rounds a corner, off the open main street and into the web of smaller and more protective alleyways. His eyes dart to the side as he turns. It only affirms his suspicions, and he feels his throat clam up for a moment.
The street is empty of motion but for a single person, walking into the direction he was headed in too. The veil of night and donned hood obfuscates most features from him, but at a guess he'd assign what he glimpses of the build under the cloak to someone female.
He swallows to push the building lump down his throat. It barely moves, and bloats in size when, just before his field of vision is broken up, he could swear the woman hastens her pace.
An indeterminate noise escapes him with his next breath when it comes too fast.
He’s beginning to panic now. It feels unearned. None of this should give rise to panic. The dagger he carries in his boot remains firmly strapped there in case he needs it. Nothing even indicates he is being trailed in the first place. Whoever the woman is, she may simply follow her own path home.
His breath still doesn’t want to regulate as his treacherous mind digs up memories.
There were… incidents, after he'd donned the title of Hero. Each person of fame and high standing inevitably rings with admirers, he knows it to be true for Zelda as well as himself - only that his own turned out particularly persistent.
As in, some followed him all the way to his lodgings. Frequently enough for Zelda to instruct him to take up his rarely used room in the castle’s living quarters on such occasions.
It's safe to say he doesn't enjoy the feeling even then. Not after Cia's unwanted advances, not after a multitude of ignored or rebutted rejections from civilians inadvertently following her example, or fellow soldiers assuming. Not after spending half the war questioning his place, wrestling with the feeling of being nothing more than a pretty face to keep up morale. It makes his skin crawl, at best.
Away from the public eye he’s never had issues standing up for himself - he does it plenty around the other Heroes.
It’s different while he portrays a public role.
His name is uttered in the same breath as lords’ and kings’ and saints’, any social misstep an immediate issue for Zelda’s court to deal with. Certain behaviour is expected of him, and that includes standing ever helpful to Hyrule’s people. Brushing off an advance, of whichever nature, too brusquely doesn’t earn him favour.
None of it would be an issue were his mind not primed to betray his command and lock up his limbs when he finds himself approached. For as often as he engages in casual flirtation, in an effort to numb the vice grip of terror through exposure, it’s the persistence towards him that hastens his breath and sends shivers and bumps across his arms.
One too many close calls on his way home have not helped matters.
He finally rounds another corner, relishes in the upcoming moments of feeling hidden from looks, and all but throws a blatant glance over his shoulder once more.
She’s still there, hurrying to follow in an unnatural pace to keep up with his army-induced march. He snaps his head back and quickens his steps even further.
Until his eyes meet with a wall in his path only a couple steps away, and he comes to an unwilling stop in front of it.
For a couple of moments, he doesn’t process that properly. It’s once the implications arrive in the part of his mind that manages to worry about them that he slips a curse out under his breath, several dozen more coating his tongue. He turns on the spot, intending to double back and pray to all Goddesses he can still slip by another way.
He doesn’t get far enough to find out whether they’ve heard.
Right as he pirouettes the last of his body, a figure appears at the intersection that marks his only non-confrontational means of escape.
They are close enough now for his initial hunch to prove correct - the cloak hugs the features of a woman’s body much clearer from this distance. She’s breathing harder than regularly, from the speed of travel, he reckons, but it’s already steadying again.
She fully comes to a halt a couple of paces away from him, and it’s a small mercy he thankfully takes regardless. Still, a treacherous lantern placed on a windowsill and the moon that now peeks through the cloudy sky give enough light for him to see her face once she doffs her hood.
His eyes close as he forces all the breath to leave his lungs in one, long exhale.
When he opens them again he schools his emotions to remain hidden, and dons the mask of a captain in battle.
"Can I help you, ma’am?" he asks, the words curt and to the point.
“There’s no need to be so formal," the woman says, her hands clasping together behind her back. A smile rests on her face, and it’s saccharine and light, and that unnerves him more than it should. "I haven't seen you in town in a while, Link."
Warriors tries not to flinch when he hears his name spoken with such familiarity by a stranger he does not recall ever personally introducing himself to. It is, like Zelda's, public knowledge, yet still the woman's use of it feels wrong.
"Her Majesty has sent me on various missions these past months that have kept me from Castle Town," he acknowledges in a half-truth, falling back on reasoning that is not questioned easily. "Though I do not see how that would be of concern to you."
"Oh, but it is," she replies, the sweetness of her voice almost enough to make him gag, and takes another step forward. "I've missed seeing you."
He swallows the urge to tell her they've never met.
“There are better places for that than a darkened alley at nighttime, for your own safety,” he says instead.
She falls into a short giggle instead of answering the unspoken question. While he isn’t truly interested in her reasoning, there is a part of him who harboured the hope she may have sought him out for a reason other than… that. Protection, perhaps. Walking the same path as him to avoid nightly assailants.
Her reaction dispels those possibilities in a fair instant.
“How could I be anything but safe with you?”
Immediately, he is aware of how narrow the space between buildings here really is. There is barely enough room to accommodate more than one person comfortably, and in any other situation, that would pose no issue. He could easily shove her aside. Step to the side and simply walk past her with a small push, and she'll be sorely lacking the physical prowess to stop him if she tried.
But that involves touching her. And his mind still resists so much as a short brush of that type of contact in situations like this. It would fan the flames of memories he’d rather remain buried.
So he stays, his back against the dead end. Half-turned to at least keep a sense of shielding himself from her gaze, and tries to resolve this in another way.
"That may be true outside these walls. Though I doubt even my presence makes the streets at night safer than your home." The dressed up reprimand tumbles from his lips with practised ease. At least his tongue is free to do as he commands it still. "And I'd loathe to be the reason a citizen such as you finds herself in danger."
Her features light up into a beaming smile at his addition. "That's so sweet of you! But you needn’t worry your pretty head. My house is not far, and barely anyone walks through this part of town at night."
Pretty.
That one word is all it takes. Immediately Warriors feels his muscles lock up, his jaw set. As much as he’s meant to reclaim it by allowing it to be used in nicknames, it still catches him off guard at times. Echoes between his ears like a shout in a mountain range.
There is no more reasonable doubt as to her intentions, then. This is happening, and he can’t brush it off and pretend otherwise. Which means he needs to cut it off now.
“In that case, I shall trust your judgement,” he says, tone guarded to nip any sort of inclinations in the bud. “I do have a place to be tonight, so if there is nothing further you require of me -”
She doesn’t let him finish. “Oh, don’t be that way! The night is young, Link. I’m certain whoever is willing to meet you at this hour can also wait until morning.”
What could be taken as an invitation sounds more like a veiled demand to his ears; layered over faint whispers and sharp hisses barely still forming words, hushing past and through him as his mind digs up every incident of similar implication. Both those who accepted his stern refusal, and those more… persistent.
“I’m truly flattered.” He isn’t. Not by this. ”But I’m afraid it cannot wait.”
His eyes are already measuring the paths he can take to just leave. She fills maybe half the available space. With how much that deters him, it might as well be the entirety.
It's ridiculous. He is being ridiculous. There's no rational reason he wouldn't be able to stop her doing anything he doesn't want her to. All she's done is talk .
Granted, the one-sided familiarity she displays would unnerve him regardless. And there are easier ways to speak to him than follow him while he walks narrow back alleys late at night.
Still - he's the youngest captain in the history of the kingdom's army. The Hero of Hyrule. This level of what he realises is rising panic over a civilian blocking his path is not only ridiculous, it's absurd.
The smile on the woman’s face curls, changes from the almost sweet joy into something more... purposeful. An expression he’s seen too many times not to immediately recognise, along with her body language shifting. She takes another step to close the distance between them. “Oh, I think I can change your mind about that.”
Her voice has flipped from what it was before, into a sultry and hushed quality.
His heart hammers in his chest. Ready to burst, ready to drown out all other sensations with its next beat should he require it.
She isn’t Cia. Her hair is longer, curlier, a different colour, dark enough to fade into the veil of night. There’s no magical incantation or circle holding him in place, he isn’t trapped in a hall pulsating with sorcery, encircled by manifestations of his own hubris.
The shackles binding him in place are his, and his alone.
His body leans back, away from her as she approaches further, without his conscious doing. He rationally knows he’s a couple steps from the dead end behind him, but it feels like he’ll be straining his back against the wall with even half of one more. His muscles are straining, his instincts screaming and tossing and begging to make him run . His mind is unable to follow, caught in a whirlwind of memory, terror and the compliance drilled into him.
The next breath he takes becomes trapped in his throat.
He tries to grasp for the numbness that springs up whenever this happens and he’s lucky. It slips through his ethereal means, leaves him hyper aware of each movement, each bit of distance that is slowly disappearing as she first stops too close to him.
And Hylia, the hand she raised is already so near to touch he can feel the hairs on his cheek stand up -
A sunset orange blade is shoved between their faces, and she locks up.
“Move.”
Warriors’ eyes snap to the side in an instant, along the blade towards the handle, and he finds the unmistakable ring-adorned hand and bracelet-covered wrist on the path.
Legend.
How is Legend -
Things almost happen too quick for him to process then, and in the next moment he finds himself with Legend in front of him, positioned to cover his body from view as much as what their statures allow. The Tempered Sword is raised in front of him, raised in a protective stance at the woman who is now multiple feet from them. Her expression is one of incredulity, and annoyance - but also one of wariness. Her gaze jumps from Legend and his weapon and back again in quick succession.
“Who in the devil's blazes are you?!”
"Someone giving you a choice right now," Legend says, still keeping his eyes locked on her. Despite its cold tone, the familiar voice blooms a warmth in Warriors’ chest. "Either you walk away on your own, or I'll make sure you won't be able to."
“That’s ridiculous!” she exclaims, and her eyes dart to meet Warriors’, searching for support. She doesn’t find it, her face falling when she looks back at Legend. She’s taller than him. His pure presence is enough for that not to matter. “I have done nothing wrong! You would assault an innocent girl?”
Legend stays composed even as her voice becomes shriller by the word. “No one standing in this alley right now is innocent.” He keeps his blade’s tip trained on her, and takes a single step forward. “And I'm not assaulting you. I'm giving you a warning."
Her hands grasp into the skirt of her dress, indenting and crinkling the fabric in her fists. But she doesn’t make any efforts to comply with Legend’s demand, either.
Another step.
"I'll only say it one more time. Leave.”
The ultimatum hangs in the air between them. Warriors doesn’t know whether he should back Legend up - doesn’t know whether he even could if he tried.
The decision is taken from him when, slowly, with movements that display all her unwillingness, the woman begins to back away. He doesn’t dare even breathe while she takes step after step, not leaving the Tempered Blade out of her sight, but Legend doesn’t lower it even a little.
She throws Warriors one last disappointed and upset look, and a shiver runs over his back.
The moment the last of her vanishes around the corner is the moment he feels his legs grow too weak to support him. He stumbles a few tentative steps to the side until first his hand and then his shoulder meets with the wall he knows to be there, and it restores at least some sense of stability.
That’s when he looks back up towards Legend. He hasn’t moved from his spot, body still turned towards the entry to the alley and in the process of sheathing his sword, but their eyes lock in an instant. It’s a testament to how shaken Warriors is that he can’t read anything from them.
There are things he needs to say. Needs to clarify. But his mind produces nothing, and he can’t bring himself to do anything else other than stare at the veteran, muscles still locked tight against the stone.
Legend stirs, and takes his first step towards him. The breath he’s taken in way too long ago is still stuck in his chest, and he prepares himself for a tirade, some well-deserved snarky chidings and ribbing. They’ll hit hard, he knows, the veteran is adept at finding the exact words to cut deep into existing scars if he puts his mind to it.
He’ll have to deal with the aftermath of this for days. Everybody is going to know of his inability to handle himself, that Legend had to step between him and a civilian, and there’s bile beginning to coat his tongue at the thought of it.
“You’re a goddess damned moron,” Legend says once he’s closer, and shatters all of those preconceptions in a single sentence. His tone holds no accusation, not even a hint of the sharp edge he expected. “Knew I was right to keep hidden. You gonna be okay to walk, lover boy?”
Warriors tries to respond, but all that escapes his mouth after he opens it is stale air. It startles him enough for the next inhale to follow immediately, and it’s too rapid, too forceful, and he almost coughs it back out while it fills his burning lungs.
Legend raises a brow at the pitiful sight he must present right now. “Whoa, okay, maybe no walking yet. Maybe just sitting down for now, yeah?”
It's all he can do to nod as he covers his mouth with his hand, and accepts the gentle push on his shoulder until the ground takes his weight. To Legend's credit, he doesn't mock him for the trembles he can surely feel ebb and flow through his entire body. Instead, the veteran squats down next to him, not saying a word, his hand remaining in place.
They stay like that for a while; Warriors has lost his sense of time, too focused on regaining his composure. He begins mumbling phrases and poems into his palm in a low chant, latching on to the rhythmic quality to steady himself, trying to recall the calming techniques he’s not had cause to use for some time.
As his heart rate slows, soon the coolness of night begins to seep through his tunic and scarf. He quiets down. The minutes must have come and gone without him realising.
He uncovers his mouth, slowly, and the warm breath he exhales hits his palm. When he raises his eyes he looks into Legend’s face, resting in a composed expression he otherwise still can’t read.
"Why- Why are you…?" he begins to ask. The words come with a lot of air, and when he struggles to finish Legend picks up on his intent.
“Don’t get any ideas," the veteran scoffs, but there's no true vitriol there. "Your Zelda got worried you were out this long, and for some reason she decided to tell me about it.” Legend's eyes roll up so fervently that they may even have seen the back of his head, before he mutters, "Honestly, the old man was one room away."
It’s a complaint for a complaint’s sake. Despite himself, Warriors feels the tug of a smile at the corners of his mouth. Legend has always been too obvious with attempted diversion in a conversation. One day, he'll have to give him some pointers.
His breath settles back into a more regular pace with each exhale.
Of course Zelda worried over him while he’d carelessly forgotten. He’d have been lost without her long ago.
Careful to feel out his limits he begins to stem himself back on his feet. Legend’s hand hovers near him the entire way, but he manages on his own, exhaling once he’s upright again. The wall is still a comforting support, even if it’s no longer needed. He proves that to both himself and the veteran when he lifts his palm off it, and gives a confirming nod.
“We should get out of the back alleys,” he says, and almost flinches at how rough he still sounds. He suppresses the urge to clear his throat.
Legend returns a nod of his own. No more snark or witty comment follows it up as he leads the way unasked, always hovering just that little bit ahead.
Warriors hasn’t realised how suffocating the air felt between brick walls and tight turns until they step out back onto the main street, and taking a breath suddenly feels like a cold shower washing over him. He basks in it for a couple of moments, lets the last rest of tension fall from his shoulders.
When he looks over at Legend, now more illuminated under the shine of the lantern, he finds both the veteran’s eyes trained on him. There’s a barely noticeable fidget in his fingers, and his mouth opens into different shapes a couple times before finally settling on a sound.
“So.”
“So?” Warriors gives back, and puts one hand on his hip to project some of the confidence he’s working to regain.
He knows what to expect from this conversation. There’s conflict behind the veteran’s eyes, a clash of restraint and curiosity. Were they in a less emotionally charged situation, Warriors would have teased him for how easily he read that much off his face.
Instead, he settles on a smile that is meant to be bright but probably ends up lazy and tired.
“I know this isn’t -”
"Look, I won't -”
Their jaws snap shut at the same exact moment. An awkwardness hangs in the air after that.
Legend’s head has turned to the opposite side, some soft mumbling the only thing loud enough to take notice of. It subsides after some seconds, and they walk in mutual silence for another few. Long enough for Warriors to begin another attempt.
"You can ask. It's fine," he says, careful to sound like he truly means it. "It won't leave you alone, so might as well get it over with. Least I can do for you even being here."
It’s an honest sentiment, even if his heart skips a beat as he speaks it out loud. A slight perk up from one of Legend’s ears betrays that he understands, even if he’s demonstrably turned away even still.
Speaking about this won’t be any sort of easy, but he is willing to push through his own trepidation. Legend has witnessed the worst he has to display, without comment or judgement, and he deserves an explanation if he wants it.
Legend doesn’t respond immediately, but that’s to be expected, and Warriors uses what patience this night has left him to calmly wait for the veteran. It doesn’t take too long before Legend takes in a deep breath and, without establishing eye contact, says,
“No.”
Warriors feels both his eyebrows lift as his eyes widen.
That wasn’t the answer he’d expected.
“But I owe -”
“You don’t owe me shit,” Legend near growls, without aggression but a healthy dose of annoyance creeping in. “And if you expect me to make fun of you,” he continues with less rasp, “I won’t. We all have shit to deal with, Nayru knows I do, and if this is yours then I'm sure as hell not gonna point and laugh." There’s a short pause, before he adds, "I might be an ass, but I have some tact."
Warriors’ immediate reaction to that declaration is a stunned stare.
His thoughts race around themselves, taking apart and picking at the words to find the catch parts of him are certain must be there to discover. But trying to peel away the genuine qualities in them is like attempting to climb a smooth, polished wall - he finds no purchase from any angle. There hasn’t been any mockery or ridicule in Legend’s bearing ever since he arrived.
So instead of denying that, Warriors proceeds to jab his elbow against Legend’s arm, light enough not to hurt but enough to get Legend to stumble to the side just a little.
"What, you going soft, vet? Knew you had a heart of gold too, under all that bling you wear."
Legend catches himself, and now his head jerks back around to shoot at glare at him. His face grows red enough for Warriors to notice even under just the lanterns and moonlight. A few garbled noises leave the veteran, before he manages to form words.
"S- shut up! As if I need to just take that after saving your sorry behind!"
It sounds so exasperated, Warriors has a hard time not to break out in at least a tiny laugh.
It only dawns on him after he’s already suppressed it that it would have been genuine.
"And my behind is very grateful for that," he jokes first, one of his hands splayed on his chest in a mock salute, before dropping his voice lower and his tone out of the tease. "Seriously. I am.”
A loud groan fills the air instead of a proper answer, accompanying a roll of Legend’s eyes.
"Keep the thanks. The day I accept your gratitude is the day the champion breaks a sword for the last time.”
Warriors snorts at the jab, and notices a slight smirk curl Legend’s lips as well.
The rest of the walk back to the castle is quiet, and the night has only grown darker, their doubled footsteps pronounced on the cobblestone - but he doesn’t look over his shoulder even once.