Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Let’s say, hypothetically, that you’re in a ship on the sea, and this particular ship you’re on isn’t very well made. In fact, this ship is the biggest piece of junk you’ve ever put your faith in; when you step foot on this hypothetical ship, you’re slightly crooked, except it’s not you that’s crooked, the deck is just Like That. It smells like rotting wood, and there is a green tinge seeping from the planks that seems to be as much a part of the ship as clouds are part of the sky, and, while it’s addressed as a ship, it’s really more of a boat, because it’s so small that below deck is really just a crawl space where the hardtack is stored. All hypothetically, of course.

Now, let’s say, hypothetically, you’re caught in a freak storm, a really bad freak storm, an “end-of-times'' freak storm, and the shitty boat you’re on springs a leak, which becomes a dribble, then becomes a flood, until you’re standing knee deep in salt water with the rest of the crew. In this hypothetical situation, most people would probably tell you that they would stay in the hypothetical sinking boat and help pail out the water if it had a chance of saving everyone, rather than aboandoning them in favor of their survival, but most people don’t ever find themselves in life or death situations, just hypothetical ones.

Link has been in a lot of life or death situations, and he pailed water right up to when the rest of the crew threw him overboard, their logic being that losing unnecessary weight will stop the ship from sinking. So he got a mouthful of disgustingly salty water, was shorted the seventy rupees he paid for the ride, and was dragged deep into the sea almost instantly from the weight of all his supplies and the fact that, oh, he can’t swim. Now, Link tries to think the best of people, he really does, but they threw him out before the hardtack. The hardtack.

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Link was woken by the sun in his eyes and the sound of chirping birds. That in itself was not unusual, because he’s had to rough it more times than he could count on his adventures, but the sun and the birds were accompanied by the softness of grass beneath his skin. That was unusual, because the last thing Link remembered was being on a boat with no land in sight. A boat that he was thrown over.

Link groaned and slapped a hand over his face. Of course the only other time he decided to set sail he would be caught in a storm, fall - or in this case, get thrown - overboard, and end up marooned all over again. He almost expected to hear a soft voice carrying through the wind, but there was only the rustle of leaves and the aforementioned birds. Link pretended that he did not feel disappointed.

With a sigh, Link forced his eyes open, already feeling a headache building in the base of his skull, blazing sunlight not making it any better. He squinted through the pain, struggled to stand on shaky feet, and looked up. And up, and up, and up.

He suddenly felt light-headed and almost fell to his knees, and had to lean on the base of the tree he was closest to - a tree that was the size of a tower - to catch his breath. All the trees around him were just as giant, crowns so far above him Link could barely see the top. It was like a city, a city of beeches and firs and oaks, some with black bark, some with red, and others with an ashy silver. The floor under Link was thick with leaves and needles and grass, moss clotting the bases of the trees while creeping ivy grew up the sides like hands grasping for the sky. Thick clumps of holly and raspberry bushes that were as tall as a person clogged what little growing room there was between the trees, creating a thorny labyrinth. Altogether the hugeness of the forest ate at Link, and he swore he felt invisible eyes on him.

Link shivered and looked around wildly for a place where the trees thinned. He had never been fond of exploring such great swathes of nature or wandering off the beaten path, and here he had managed to do both. Ignoring the aching behind his eyes he pushed off the massive tree and ran to where he thought the trees thinned. At least, that’s what he tried to do.

With a yell Link face planted on the ground, stubby legs tangled beneath him. Link pushed himself up on his elbows, nose smarting, and glared back at his tiny. . . paws.

Link choked on his own spit, tried to scream, and choked on his spit again. If anyone happened to stumble into the clearing Link woke up in, they would see an unuasually pink bunny that looked like it was having some amalgamation of an asthma attack.

It took Link a couple minutes to catch his breath, during which his eyes had fallen closed. He blinked his eyes open, but almost didn’t dare look at himself, as if denying what had happened would make it true. Finally, finally he brought his hands - paws- to his face. He was met with soft pink fluffs, barely bigger than a pebble. It was not that the forest around him was big, but that his stature had become small. His pink forepaws trembled, and some of his longer strands of fuzz blew gently in the wind. Link swallowed roughly and brought his shaking hands to his face. 

What he felt almost made him scream again. Where a straight, smooth nose once was had been replaced by a silk-soft button, plush cheeks framing it on either side. Sensitive whiskers sprouted from his cheeks and when Link’s hand brushed them, he couldn’t stop his nose from twitching, making him scowl. Reaching further up he found a pair of velveteen ears sprouting from his head, flicking to and fro at every little noise the forest made. Lastly, Link looked behind himself to see a cottonball tail sticking out behind him, as poofy as he remembered, fluttering to an unknown rhythm. He had never really figured out how to control his tail.

That confirmed it then. He was a rabbit. This made Link realize a few other things. He was very, very naked, with not even his green vest to cover him, which meant that not only were his clothes missing, but all his supplies too. That meant no Moon Pearl, and that meant Link had no way to turn himself back to a Hylian. He felt a sinking feeling begin to build in his chest.

A branch snapping somewhere by him in the woods brought him back to his senses, the sound unusually sharp to his rabbit ears. Link shot forward, running away from the noise and to what looked like a thinning of trees.

The headache was now a migraine.

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Turns out, Link wasn’t the only naked person running around in the wild. His sprint had brought him out of the woods to a clear, impossibly green field, where birds soared gracefully and deer grazed peacefully and, oh yeah, a naked guy ran around with a torch.

At least he wasn’t totally naked. Link was standing on the opposite end of the field from naked guy, and if he squinted it looked like naked guy had a pair of black shorts on that were so tight, they could have been painted on his body. It wasn’t much, but it was. . . something? Link couldn’t tell if it was better or worse.

Naked guy then disappeared over the crest of a hill, golden-blond head the last thing to be seen, and soon disappeared from Link’s thoughts too, because he really didn’t want to add nudist sightseers to his list of problems.  Out of sight, out of mind, is what Link always said. The explosion said something different.

Behind the same hill naked guy had vanished to came a great eruption of flame on a scale of destruction Link had never before seen, not even in all his journeying. The fire was so vast and so strong that Link could feel the heat prick uncomfortably at him from across the feild, and the sound left a sharp ringing in his sensitive ears that made his teeth grind.

“Dear Hylia!” Link squawked. As if in reply, the fire blazed impossibly higher, before finally dimming until it fell behind the hill again. Link waited in trepidation, watching the hill like he was expecting another earth-rocking explosion to rise over the top, but when he saw nothing but a thin trail of smoke slithering into the sky, Link crept closer.

Reaching the top of the hill showed him the true scale of destruction the explosion had caused. At the base of the hill, pressed up against a wall, was a giant skull looking thing that had been unevenly coated in ash like a child’s art project. Some parts of the skull were still smoking, while others were caved in comepletely, and smoke leaked from the skull’s “eyes” like gray, greasy tears. There were a few lonely wooden planks sitting around the mouth of the skull like they had been spat out. Now they were now simmering and smoking enough that Link’s ears could pick up the popping of sap from where he stood, mimicking the sound of a campfire blazing merrily away. Naked guy was nowhere to be seen.

Link slowly hopped closer on his little rabbit feet, pink fur staining gray from ash. He carefully wove around embers that still held heat, ever conscious of his bare paws, and made his way to the skull. He peered inside warily, ears twitching uncontrollably, and saw nothing but more embers and stray piles of debris. Link moved deeper in, nose quivering at the overpowering smells. He had just bent over to sniff what might have been a chest when a sharp whistle sounded over his head and he felt the displacement of air around his ears. Link jerked back and turned to see a brutally barbed arrow buried halfway in the stone - stone! - wall.

Link let out a very manly yell, which was definitely not actually a squeak, and whirled around to see who - or what - had loosed the arrow. He gasped.

“Naked guy!”

Said naked guy blinked big blue eyes, looking surprised, but he had already notched another arrow and let it loose before either of them knew what was happening.

This time Link really did squeal as the arrow whizzed by his ear, missing it by a hair. He frantically scrambled away from feral naked guy, hind legs kicking up a cloud of dust and cinders, but the blond man was blocking Link’s only escape. Link ran panic-stricken circles inside the skull, rabbit brain overwhelming his human brain for just a moment, before gaining control again and plastering himself to the wall opposite of the entrance, tiny heart thumping away.

Link’s attacker stared wide-eyed at him. With nimble fingers he silently slung his bow over his shoulder, stood in the entrance to the skull in a moment of indecision, then crept towards Link with unnatural stillness. Link wasn’t having any of it, and with a quick prayer to Hylia darted under naked guy’s legs in an attempt at freedom. Naked guy proved too fast for him.

Before he knew it Link felt his stomach drop as he was scooped into the air by a thin pair of hands. They clasped his middle firmly and Link fought down a scream as he was brought face to face with his captor. Trying to bite or kick or anything else that would make him be let go was useless; he was held out at arms length and was barely even able to graze the man with his teeth. For a moment, Link really thought he was going to die a shameful death at the hands of a nudist pyromaniac, and prayed to Hylia that Zelda would never find out, but his thoughts were interrupted when he finally got a good look at the one holding him.

He looked like Link, but not. Link had thought meeting Ravio, his dimensional twin, and dealing with all the doubts and second thoughts and crises that came with him was bad, but this was worse. While Ravio looked exactly like him, the person who was holding Link had his face if it was diluted through a muddy puddle’s reflection.

He had the same slant to his eyes as Link and the questioning arch of his brows. His hair was more yellow to Link’s strawberry blond, and while it was tangled and wildly pointing in all directions Link could tell just by looking that it had the same silky texture. An eye that matched the startling blue of Link’s stared deeply at him, giving Link the uncanny feeling of looking in a mirror, but where Link’s had always been lidded, this person’s was wide and sparkling. The other eye, Link noticed with a chill, was a foggy white, and then he saw the damage to the rest of his face.

Pink scars ribboned from his neck all the way up to the side of his face like he was hit point blank by a lightning strike, some of the scars showing inside his eye, looking like enlarged, reddened puffy veins coiling around his iris. That was how he was blinded, Link guessed, then quickly moved his attention elsewhere. Their mouth shape wasn’t the same, but the way in which this man’s lips pursed was eerily similar to whenever Link saw Ravio trying to figure out a puzzle, except for the slight upward turn in one corner of mystery guy’s lips, courtesy of one of his scars reaching his mouth, which Link noticed with a grimace. It made the left corner of the stranger’s mouth quirk in a permanent half-smile.

It was like looking at someone cut from the same cloth, or sculpted from the same lump of clay, and it felt entirely eerie. It wasn’t just like looking at himself from an alternate dimension, it was like looking at his brother. Link had a halfway hysterical thought that his uncle had somehow, in some way, managed to hide a sibling from him all this time. The unusual pair kept their gazes locked, one set of blue eyes hale and whole, the other mismatched, for a moment longer before Link grew impatient.

“Well?” he snapped. “Are you going to eat me or not?”

Mismatched eyes widened, and his kidnapper let out a gasp. “You can really speak?” he breathed, voice raspier than Link would have guessed. Link had lost all fear of this other man - or teen, Link was shooting out a guess based on his own age - and now was only curious. He sensed no malice from the one in front of him, and if he was anything like Link, he would never hurt someone in need.

“If I can’t talk and we’re both imagining it, then we’re in trouble,” Link said flatly, but the other only looked more awed. Link suspected that he and this stranger had more pressing concerns than a talking rabbit, like the fact that they might be related in some way, but he wondered how he would convince the other that it was true while he was still in animal form. He suddenly became aware again of his double’s hands wrapped around his middle, each individual finger pressing into his body. His grip was firm, but it didn’t hurt, and Link guessed that he just didn’t want him to fall, but he wanted to be let go. He had never liked being held, and he especially didn’t like the way some people treated him when he was an animal. He started to squirm weakly, kicking out his little legs and glaring up at naked guy, ears twitching back. “Can you put me down now? I’m not a toy.”

This seemed to startle the other from his thoughts, and with a jerky nod he moved to set Link down. Just before his paws touched the ground, his doppleganger stopped and an almost heartbreaking frown of concern grew across his face. “How do I know you won’t run away again?”

Link really wasn’t planning on it because the teen in front of him seemed important somehow, and also a little lost if he was running around in just a stupidly tight pair of underwear. He was a puzzle, and Link had never found a puzzle he couldn’t solve, plus if he really was a relative of his Link wanted to stay with him. Since his uncle had died, Ravio was the only one he had left, and he wasn’t sure that counted because Ravio was also technically him. He let out a theatrical groan. “Fine, I promise I won’t run if you put me down. Now.”

Very carefully Link was set down. When he was finally let go his copy seemed to hover, hands hanging around Link like he was expecting him to make a break for it. Link didn’t, of course, because he always kept his promises, and instead just crossed his arms and glared haughtily at the other and all his. . . scars. A bolt of nausea hit him.

Link had seen many things on his journeys, including wounds nastier than he could have ever imagined, but this challenged even his strong stomach. It took all he had to keep his face blank; anyone else would have failed. This mysterious person’s scars were not just on his face, it seemed, nor were they the most serious looking. No, they were spread over the whole left side of his body, stretching from ankle to face, more numerous than Link thought possible. With a start, Link realised his left hand was missing two fingers, the pinky and ring finger, while his entire middle finger was a shade of pink just like the rest of his old wounds.

Link had, naturally, suffered many injuries of his own and was even on the brink of death once or twice, but this was different. He wasn’t even sure a Great Fairy would have been able to save the guy, his body being so torn up by who knew what. Link couldn’t imagine the nerve pain, the sensitivity to heat and cold, and the uncomfortable stretch he probably felt any time he drew a bow, or swung a sword, or reached out to grab something. Link had suffered aches and pains, suffered them even now and cursed Hylia for it daily, but he could hardly imagine what the person in front of him had gone through. He took a steadying breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, then looked back up to the other.

“See?” he asked, lifting his arms in a shrug. “No running.”

This seemed to be enough for the other teen, because an almost blinding smile grew on his face and he plopped cross-legged onto the ground, ignorant of the cloud of dust and ash that billowed up around him and was probably ruining his shorts. Link fell into an awkward perch that minimized all the grime getting into his fur. The other seemed content to just stare at him, and Link quickly found himself fidgeting under the piercing stare. And he thought his first meeting with Ravio was bad.

“Well. . .?” Link asked.

Naked guy blinked. “Well what?” he replied, tilting his head to the side. This made all his gold-blond hair fall from behind his shoulders, all his very dirty gold-blond hair. Link frowned as he saw clumps of mud hanging from the strands and twigs and leaves mixing in with his tangles, while some of his tresses were so clogged with dirt and ash that their original color was drowned in a mess of brown and gray. It looked like he had half a forest in there. This was going to be more work than he thought.

He shook his head. “Well, what’s your name?” Link crossed his pink arms expectantly.

“Oh!” the other guy exclaimed, looking like asking for a person’s name was some completely unusual thing, then he smiled again. “It’s Link.”

Link nodded thoughtfully. “Nice to meet you. My name is-”

Link.

He almost choked. Link? Link? It made no sense, because he was Link. Except- except it made complete sense once he thought more about it, and he felt horror begin to bubble in his veins. Link, and not the feral Link in the wilds sitting in a pile of ash before him, waking up as a rabbit in a pocket of woods he didn’t recognize, then wandering into a field he didn’t know, making his way to a skull shaped rock that he was sure he would have remembered if he had seen it before all should have alerted Link that something was amiss. Then he met someone that looked like him, but not him at all. He was looking at a Link of a different time, he realized, or he was having a fever dream while he slowly died of thirst on some desert island not even big enough to be on a map. Link couldn’t decide what was more awful.

This really was more grim than what brought him to Ravio, because at least then he was only dimensionally adjacent, not displaced in time. Because that is what it had to be, time travel, or Link was stuck in some special purgatory wrought by Hylia herself.

Now the question was whether or not he told the other Link, or kept it secret. He was leaning more towards the latter, because the Link in front of him looked rough. His scars, state of dress, and the filth clotting his hair told him all of that, and Link guessed that if he was anything like him there was a lot more debilitating stuff under the surface. Claiming that he was his incarnation from another point in time would probably make it even worse.

Fine, then, he would keep his identity secret from the other Link for now, help him get on his feet, then figure out a way to return home. If he had the power to jump dimensions, then jumping up or down a timeline couldn’t be that hard, right? Right. Now what to do about his name. . .

“My name is, er-” Ravio? If he found out he’d never let Link live it down. Yuga? Definitely not. Zelda? Ha. A memory came to him then, of his master blacksmith when he saw Link holding a sword, and his familiar voice made Link’s heart twinge. You’re the spitting image of The Hero of Legend! Fine, it was better than nothing. “-Legend,” he finished lamely. “My name is Legend.”

“Legend?” Link asked. “That’s a weird name for a bunny.”

Legend twitched. “That’s because I’m a rabbit, not a bunny. And you’re one to talk, with your name being ‘Link’.” Legend had already decided he wasn’t going to call the other Link by his real name. If Legend had to have a nickname, so did he, because that was only fair. Ravio was lucky that he already went by something different when they first met, or he would have been given a nickname for practicality’s sake. He’d have to do the same for the teen in front of him now, because calling him by a name they both shared would confuse Legend endlessly. The only problem was that the thing Legend had been addressing him as the most was ‘naked guy’, and something made Legend believe that that wouldn’t cut it. He’d have to make up a name for him.

The feral Link frowned. “What’s wrong with Link?” he questioned, blue eye looking downcast. Great, now Legend felt bad, because somehow the guy had better puppy eyes than Ravio, and he probably didn’t even know it.

“Nothing!” Legend snapped. “It’s just that- rabbits, and not bunnies, rabbits , have a tradition where they go by nicknames with all their freinds.” It was probably the dumbest lie he had ever said or heard, but Legend couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The Link in front of Legend was silent for a moment, like he was contemplating the credibility of Legend’s words, and placed a thoughtful hand on his chin, leaving a smear of grime. Just when Legend was getting impatient, Link nodded sagely. “Ah, I see. So that means we’re friends?”

Legend stared at him blankly. How was that the only thing he got out of what he said? He fought down a scowl and blustered forward, figuring he would take what he could get. “That’s right. So now I get to give you a nickname.”

“A nickname!” Link shouted, raspy voice crackling over the words. This startled Legend so badly he went tumbling backwards into the ash. So much for keeping his fur clean. Link didn’t seem to care and leaned over him before Legend had time to sit up, blue eye shining. “I don’t remember ever having a nickname! What is it?” His face was eager, and Legend found himself faltering under the innocent gaze. Oh Hylia, he was really in it now.

“Uh, it’s-” Great, he was awful at naming things, if the name Legend wasn’t already a dead giveaway. Now he had to think of something for this naked, feral Link with the soot-stained skin and the wild hair. Wild hair. Who he met in the, “-Wild.” Legend all but blurted the word out. “Your nickname is Wild.”

The brightest smile yet bloomed across Wild’s face. Legend was suddenly reminded of his migraine, and thought he would be better off staring at the sun than at Wild. It was that bad.

“Wild.” He breathed the name like a gift, like he had just been handed three hundred rupees and a wallet to hold them and not just given possibly the shittiest last minute name Legend could think of. Legend found himself feeling. . . Something. He wasn’t sure what, but he had never seen anyone so grateful toward him before, not even when he had saved a kingdom.

“That’s right,” Legend said. “Wild. Now, Wild, where in Hylia’s name are your clothes?”

Chapter Text

Wild frowned. “Clothes? Why?”

Legend waved an ashy paw at him, gesturing at his, well, everything. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, Wild, but, uh, you’re kind of exposed right now.”

And when Legend said exposed, he really meant it. He wasn’t trying to be rude, honest, but those shorts left a lot to be desired. Now that he was face to face with Wild, Legend could see the complete travesty of his choice of clothes. The shorts were small, black, and so tight Legend couldn’t help but wonder if Wild had any sensation left in his feet. Legend also had no idea what they were made of. He had never seen such a material before, and to his eyes the texture was strange and new.

Those strange, new shorts did little good protecting Wild from the environment, if all the tiny red welts and bruises peppered across his body had anything to say for themselves, plus the general layer of filth that seemed as much a part of his body as his hair or eyes. He didn’t even have shoes, for Hylia’s sake, shoes. This was why Legend kept to skirts and dresses and minded his business; any pants - or shorts - he found on his journeys he gave to Ravio.

Wild glanced down at his body, looking surprised, as if he hadn’t realised he was running feral and half naked in the middle of nowhere. The more Legend was getting to know him, maybe he didn’t. “What’s wrong with this?” Wild asked, blue eye damningly wide. He was twisting around and craning his neck to see his back, like he was checking to make sure any wayward pieces of clothing hadn’t hidden themselves away.

Legend huffed. “You can’t be serious. Look at yourself, Wild, it looks like every tree here has picked a fight with you and came out the winner. And don’t think I don’t see how torn up your leg is; you got stuck in a bramble bush, didn’t you?” Some of the brambles were matted into his hair with the rest of the menagerie of twigs and leaves. Ugh. He could only be grateful that it was Wild’s right leg, not his left, because any more damage to his left side would probably feel like hell. And, wait a minute, how has he not dead from overnight exposure yet? For once Legend felt like he had bitten off more than he could chew, and he brought his paws up to massage behind his ears.

Wild tried to hide his aforementioned leg behind him - Legend really didn’t know how he thought that would turn out - and turned confused eyes towards him. “I do have more clothes, but they hurt.”

Legend stared. “Hurt? What do you mean, hurt? It’s not like you ha-”

Have almost half of your body covered in deep scar tissue that definitely still inflicted pain. It didn’t matter if they were fully healed. Wounds that deep or that serious never let you forget them, and from what Legend saw, his twin’s scars still had the pinkness of new skin. Anything that wasn’t the smoothest silk was probably too much for his recent growth, and would feel like sandpaper grating over flesh, which Legend knew from personal experience. 

The pins and needles that kept you up at night, the pulling sensation when doing exercises just to keep your normal range of motion, and the knowledge that this was your body now, and there was nothing you could do about it all came back to Legend in a wave. And he had plowed through all of that and told Wild that the way he was dressed wasn’t working and he’d have to change. He muttered a curse, slapping his hand on his forehead. This made Wild’s eye go from confused, to almost scared.

“I’ll wear them if you want me to,” he blurted. “Just don’t run.” His tone was pliant, almost begging, and his blue eye suddenly grew glassy. It left Legend reeling.

“Run? I won’t, I won’t, it’s the c-clothes, just-” Legend was becoming tongue-tied in his surprise, something he thought he was done with eight years ago. It made him even angrier at himself, at his ignorance, which only seemed to make Wild more panicked. He was making aborted motions at Legend, reaching toward him like he wanted to pick him up, then jerking back again. His three-fingered hand was trembling.

Legend needed to calm down now, for both their sakes, or Wild might hurt himself. He hopped slowly up to Wild, then carefully put a paw on his knee. He tried to ignore the way his pink fur was nearly identical with the color of Wild’s twisted scar tissue, but it didn’t work. He met Wild’s mismatched eyes with his own, and tried to channel kindness, and peace, two things he never really felt anymore, but he’d try for Wild’s sake.

“It’s not your fault,” he whispered to Wild. “I know you think it is, but it’s not.”

Wild’s eye glistened and his breath caught, but just when Legend thought a tear was about to fall, his eye cleared. He let out a shaky sigh and ran a hand through his hair. His other, Legend noticed, had a tight grip on his paw. It made him stiffen, but it didn’t hurt, so he let Wild stay.

They sat like that for a while, until Legend, making sure to keep his voice low, broke the silence. “How about you show me the rest of your clothes? We can try to work something out.”

Wild swallowed roughly and wordlessly pulled out a flat, book-sized slate with etching on the back. He tapped the blank, black side with one finger and it lit up silently, piqing Legend’s interest, but he kept his questions to himself for Wild’s sake. Wild tapped the glowing slate a few more times with one hand, the other still in possession of Legend’s paw, until a bright blue light hit Legend’s eyes, making him wince.

When he opened them again he saw what appeared to be a pile of dirty rags, barely bigger than Legend in his rabbit form. Gently tugging his forepaw from Wild, he leaned down to sniff them. Despite their appearance, the only thing Legend’s sensitive nose could pick up was the scent of dust and stone along with a whiff of pine, probably from the chest they were kept in. A few good shakes and he guessed they would be quite clean. Next, he reached out a paw to touch them, to see just how rough they would feel against Wild’s sensitive skin.

He tugged the first piece from the pile, which revealed itself to be a shirt. The fabric was scratchy, but not overly so, though Legend didn’t doubt it when Wild said he was hurting. The size was somewhat lacking though, and glancing between Wild and the shirt at his feet Legend predicted that it would barely reach past his elbows.

The pants were actually much better. Oddly enough, they were inside out; the fabric that was meant to go against the legs was facing the air, and when Legend ran a hand over what was supposed to be inside it was quite soft, while the exterior of the pants, now facing inward, was very coarse. Had Wild accidentally put them on inside out, felt how uncomfortable they were, then taken them off? Surely he would have been able to notice that something was wrong with them.

Lastly, and Legend felt relief at this small boon, there was a pair of shoes. They were well worn, yet the soles were solid, and the shoes themselves were loose enough that Legend predicted Wild would have no trouble wearing them, because the wear and tear actually made the leather smooth and supple. This made things much easier.

Legend always had people asking him about his weapons, his tools, his relics and riches, but they never asked him about his shoes. They were always so surprised when Legend said if he could only choose one thing to go on a journey with, he would choose his shoes. They were the most important part. If you were without good shoes, Legend believed that calling it quits before you even started would be your best bet. He hoarded shoes more than anything else, had a whole room dedicated to them, much to Ravio’s amusement, but Legend didn’t care. If he was right, Wild was going to do more walking than anything else, so getting him to wear those shoes would be a blessing for both of them.

He could make this work. He was resourceful, had been on more quests than he liked to count, and if he couldn’t even help his twin find comfortable clothes, then did he really have the right to be called a hero? Legend shot a look back at Wild, forcing a grin to his face. Wild rewarded his efforts with a trembling half-smile, which Legend thought was good enough. At least they were both trying.

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Legend was, in fact, able to handle the clothes problem. Thanks to his ingenuity and Wild’s blind trust, Wild was now the proud owner of a full outfit. With an arrowhead Legend had cut the entire shirt’s left seam open, leaving just a bit of fabric connected at the bottom and top so it wouldn’t fall off, and then he had entirely removed the left sleeve, all so Wild had minimum friction against his scars, since much of them covered the left side of his torso and arm. It hung off him awkwardly and wouldn’t help much in the cold, but Legend had hopes that it would only be temporary.

Next, after turning the pants right side in, Wild was much more amenable to wearing them. Legend was thankful for this small mercy, because the pants were so threadbare that he suspected any modifications to them would make them fall apart at the seams. They fit Wild, but only just, barely reaching his calves and having two great tears over the knees, but Wild didn’t complain, and in fact had strutted around the clearing he and Legend were in after he had put them on, showing off his new look.

Last but not least were the shoes. They ran into a roadblock when it came to them, which was Wild seeming to have to learn to walk all over again, weirdly enough, but after a couple hours of practice he had no further issues. Legend swore to himself that he’d find a better pair for Wild as soon as possible.

It all made Wild a bit ridiculous to look at, but Legend didn’t give a damn and Wild seemed blissfully unaware of the fantastical appearance of his wardrobe.

After realizing that, no, clothing didn’t equal pain, Wild was filled with more energy than Legend thought possible, seemingly wanting to push his clothes, and himself, to new limits. To Legend, everything he did was done to the extreme.

Wild didn’t seem to know or understand much of anything, to Legend’s consternation, so he was filled with endless questions. When he wasn’t trying to see how fast he could climb a tree or how deep he could dive, he was asking questions.

He wanted to know why Legend was a rabbit, why he was pink, and why his voice sounded so much smoother than Wild’s. He wanted to know how the sky was blue when the sun was yellow, he wanted to know why he could only see out of one eye, and why his right hand had all its fingers while the left was missing two. He wanted to know where he was, and who he was, and if those scars on his body were here to stay or if they would fade. He didn’t stop asking questions, didn’t even show a sign of running out.

He would question Legend about the simplest of things, then ask for details Legend had never even thought of, and would prod and poke and push. He absorbed it all like a sponge, and right when Legend thought he couldn’t speak another word Wild wanted more. It was as if Wild was taking his first steps and expected Legend to stay back and hold his hand, but at the same time Wild was already sprinting miles ahead. It was maddening, but it only made Legend more determined to figure out the puzzle that was his twin.

Wild was trouble walking, if it fucking climbed. He found an axe almost as tall as him and just picked it up like he was nothing, then ran in circles with the axe slung over his back for an hour straight, butterfly hunting while Legend sat speechless and watched.

When Legend mentioned he was hungry, Wild found an apple tree and instead of picking a few to eat, he cut the whole damn tree down with his new axe. On the cut that felled the tree, the axe shattered, sending dozens of needle sharp shards in every direction, barely missing taking out Wild’s good eye. He laughed, stuffed an apple in his mouth, and carried five more to Legend. Legend ate one, while Wild ended up eating nine, core and all.

When Legend insisted on cleaning the wound left from the axe, he expected Wild to be the worst patient in all of Hyrule, but at Legend’s command he sat down, crossed his legs, and bent his neck closer to Legend so he had easier access to his face. He then proceeded to stare at Legend with a moon-eyed wonder that made Legend’s teeth click, and an uncanny stillness fell over his form as he was doctored. He never even twitched, and when Legend had given him the go-ahead after treating him, Wild had sprung upwards, ran to the nearest pool to look at his face, then turned back to Legend with an absolutely blinding smile like he was grateful that he got hurt.

That wasn’t even the most confusing part about him. With all of Wild’s disorientation, innocence, and a body that looked like it had been through purgatory, Wild picked up on things better than Legend ever had ever seen. Wild could be patient, he just didn’t like it, but if he had to he would watch and observe and understand almost immediately, and was so busy feasting on all his new knowledge that he barely even noticed Legend trying to keep him from just. Not. Dying. Because that’s all he really could do, with the breakneck speed Wild was determined to rush into everything with.

Sometimes it was hard for Legend, as guilty as it made him feel. How could Wild, with such a damaged body and nothing to his name but the rags on his back, be filled with such life? He didn’t understand how Wild, something so scrawny and dirty and small, could learn with such speed and joy like every moment was something to be treasured. He didn’t understand how Hylia could do such a thing to someone like Wild. He was cursed with the title Hero, yet Legend was willing to bet good rupees that Wild was so innocent he didn’t even know what the word hero meant, and that made Legend seethe. And then Wild would direct one of his glowing smiles at him, and all of Legend’s negative thoughts would leave him in a breath of guilt, and he’d trail over to Wild to see what extraordinary thing he wanted to show him next.

By the time sunset had come, Legend’s joints were aching like never before. He was pretty sure he had torn at least two muscles during lunch. Lunch. Now he was leaning against the base of a great pine, waiting for Wild who had wanted to climb to the top to see the sunset. Wild had offered to carry Legend with him, but Legnd had strongly declined. Not even the puppy eyes could coax him. His logic was that he’d rather not die before their journey even started, thanks ever so much. Wild had shrugged, seemingly nonplussed, then scurried up the fully vertical tree like some demented squirrel.

Legend had been waiting for a while, judging by how dark everything had become, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. If something was wrong, it would probably show itself in Wild falling down the tree, which hadn’t happened yet. Legend counted that as a win. 

Just to make sure, Legend squinted upwards, and yep, there he was, a smudge of tan and gold at the very tip of the tree, making the trunk dip and sway. Legend shook his head, and with a heave fell back into the tree. Maybe he would rest his eyes for just a minute, because it wasn’t like Wild could sneak past the tree he was sitting under. . .

Legend jerked awake. He could have sworn he had heard something, a snapping branch, a falling pebble, shifting earth. He glared hard into the woods which had gone completely dark. His ears perked and twitched, yet all he could hear were the sounds of trees swaying in the wind. And the sound of crackling above him.

Legend jumped to the side, barely dodging a shower of splinters and bark. A second later, Wild landed with a grunt in the spot Legend had just vacated, knees bent to absorb the shock. He stood up, dusted himself off, and turned to Legend.

Climbing that tree had made him even more of a mess, somehow. There were pine needles in his hair and tiny splinters stuck to his pants, and his flushed cheeks were sticky with sap. Legend was, like, ninety percent sure he saw a pinecone somewhere in there.

“Nice sunset?” he asked, brow quirked.

Wild grinned. “Yes! Tomorrow I’ll carry you up with me!”

Legend backed away, paws raised. “Thanks, but no thanks. Rabbits don’t do well in trees.” He wouldn’t let Wild carry him up a tree if his life depended on it.

This seemed to disappoint Wild, if the slump to his shoulders meant anything. Damn, he made him sad, and if there was anything worse than a hyperactive Wild, it was a sad one. Legend hopped up to him, gently patting his foot. “Hey, it’s okay. Tomorrow you can show me other cool things, right?”

Wild’s blue eye caught his shyly, then darted away. Finally he nodded. Legend let out a breath. Phew.

“Right,” Legend said. “But until then, we need to find somewhere to sleep. Any ideas?” Maybe if he let Wild lead the way for a bit, it would help him forget about the tree thing and cheer him up. Hopefully.

Wild let out a hum and rolled on his heels, ears flicking in thought. “Well, there was a hollow betweem some tree roots a ways back. We could sleep there.” He bit his lip. “It is kind of small though.”

Sleeping on lumpy tree roots in a cramped hollow all night, with the way Legend’s back and muscles ached? There was no way he was going to tell Wild it was a bad idea, or pick something himself after asking for Wild to choose. He had already hurt his feelings once. Right. He dug his grave, he could lay in it. Literally.

“Lead the way, Wild. I’ll be right behind you.”

Wild smiled, and Legend thought that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad roughing it outside if it was for him. Wild began trotting off the way the pair had come, more sedate than his usual pace. Legend followed behind, little rabbit feet thumping over the ground, the dark woods swallowing both their figures.

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They had just reached a small clearing, the one which Legend was pretty sure he had first met Wild in, when Legend called for a stop. Legend sat erect, ears perked, the twitching of his nose the only thing that moved. Wild trailed to a trot, then looked back at Legend with a head tilt that seemed to be his new favorite thing.

“What is it?” he asked, scanning the treeline.

“Shh,” Legend hissed. “I can hear something.” The problem was that he didn’t know what he was hearing. He heard the wind blowing and rustling leaves, normal forest sounds, but under that he could swear he heard dirt heaving and shifting, an entirely unique sound to him. His ears strained hard enough to ache, quivering in the night air.

Wild had come to his side and crouched down by Legend with his elbows resting on his knees, the balls of his feet the only part of him touching the ground. His brow was furrowed, delicate ears flicking almost too fast for Legend to track. The pair stayed there for a moment, both still as statues, until Legend finally heard a familiar, heart-dropping sound. A whistle was coming up behind the pair.

“Duck!” he shouted.

Wild dropped flat instantly, Legend throwing himself over him. A crewdly fletched arrow flew over their heads, finding its home in the trunk of a tree. Legend whirled around, fur spiking, and watched four skeletons with glowing eyes emerge from the shadow of the woods. Stalfos.

Wild was on one in a second, throwing Legend off him and swinging a stick at the monster’s skull. It made contact, and the creature’s head bounced onto the ground until Wild brought his boot down on it, crushing it into dust. The rest of the skeleton dissolved, leaving only a club and lumpy shield behind. Wild snatched up both, then made a run for Legend.

“Here!” he gasped, shoving the shield into Legend’s hands. “The shield, take it!”

“No!” Legend snapped, pushing back. The three remaining monsters were getting closer. “You take it. I’m smaller, so I’m not as much of a target!” Another arrow went past them, bouncing off a rock and landing in a bush.

“But you don’t have a weapon,” Wild argued. “I do!” A third arrow was loosed, imbedding itself in the dirt at their feet.

“If you haven’t noticed,” Legend snarled. “One of them has a bow. I don’t think you can shield yourself from arrows if you don’t even have a shield!”

“It’s okay, I can dodge!”

“Arrows?!” Legend shrieked. “Yeah, right! You can dodge arrows over my dead body! Take the damn sheild!” And with that Legend chucked the thing into Wild’s face. Wild had the reflexes to catch it, but only just.

Sending a pout back at Legend, Wild barreled forward and bashed the shield into one of the three skeleton’s faces. Its head fell off and was sent careening down a hill. Wild took off after it, and in a dead sprint grabbed his shield, jumped, did a flip in the middle of the air, and landed shield first, surfing down the hill at an almost impossible speed. He grabbed the skull with both hands mid-surf, headbutted it, and dusted the remains off his palms as he ran back to Legend. What the fuck.

When he was close enough, Wild smashed his new club across the face of another monster. Its head came off its shoulders just as easily as the first two, sailing through the air into the skull of the fourth stalfos, knocking its head off as well. The fourth stalfos’ skull was lost in some grass on Legend’s right, and Legend, never one to sit by idly, went after it. 

It didn’t take him long to find, and with his strong hind legs he stomped the thing into dust, watching the hateful glow of its eyes disappear. When he emerged from the grass, he saw Wild standing over the form of the last quickly disappearing skeleton, toeing at the bow it had carried.

Legend stumbled over and crooked a paw at him. “Come down here,” he ordered. Wild obeyed wordlessly, and Legend took his face in both paws. He tilted Wild’s head from side to side, ran paws through his hair to check for blood, and examined his pupils. When nothing seemed wrong with him except for a shortness of breath, Legend leaned in close to Wild.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded. “And don’t bother lying, I know when someone’s hiding a wound.” This made Wild grin, and he shook his head. Legend eyed him closely for a moment more, then gently squished his cheeks between his paws before letting go. Wild seemed to linger a moment before withdrawing.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but now I really need to sleep,” Legend said with a sigh. He couldn’t believe that it took him so long to realize it was monsters that he was hearing. Only when they were practically on top of him did he figure it out, and Wild had almost gotten shot because of it. Legend had made a rookie mistake, a deadly mistake, something that hadn’t happened in a long time.

Wild, unaware of his thoughts, gestured to him as he pocketed his new bow, jogging away before Legend had the chance to speak. “Come on,” Wild called over his shoulder. “We’re almost at the tree hollow.”

The promise of sleep was the only thing that made it possible for Legend to keep moving. To Wild’s credit, they were almost at the tree hollow, but by the time they got there Legend’s paws were throbbing. Wild seemed to feel the same, because he wordlessly threw himself into the hollow without even taking off his shoes. Legend flopped in after him, and the tight fit barely even registered for Legend because he finally had a chance to rest after waking up as a rabbit that morning.

He sat at Wild’s hip, tucked his paws neatly under his body, and tried to get comfortable on the cold ground. Wild curled up into a ball, threw his hair over his face, then was asleep instantly.

Legend poked his thigh. When Wild didn’t stir, Legend poked harder. Still nothing, and Legend pondered on the unfairness of the fact that, while they were technically the same person, his double was able to actually fall asleep. Legend had been dealing with insomnia for years. He poked him one more time. Wild let out a mumble, then curled up tighter. How did he even do that?

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Legend stirred when he felt the sharp sting of sunlight through his eyelids. He squinted his eyes open and ran a paw over his face, trying to rub the sleep from his face. He smacked his lips and ran his tongue over fuzzy teeth. So he had been able to fall asleep that night, even if he didn’t remember it. The night's rest seemed to have caused Legend more harm than good, because his paws still ached just as much as when he and Wild bedded down.

Somehow, without waking him, Wild had thrown an arm over Legend in the night, while his mouth hung open in the throes of sleep and a trail of drool coursed its way down his cheek. Some of his tangled hair was caught in the corner of his mouth. Legend was smushed into his side with half an ear stuck under Wild’s chest.

Something sharp was digging into his hip. With a grumble Legend reached down, groping at whatever it was, and came back up with a pinecone. So Wild had picked one up from that pine tree. Groaning, Legend buried his face in the ground, cursing the sun and everything that it shone on.

Chapter Text

The pair had a late start that morning. Legend allowed it because of last night's excitement, and because Wild had slept like it was his first proper rest in years, and Legend didn’t want to pull him out of it. By the time both were fully awake it was almost midday, and Legend was looking for a suitable breakfast. Somehow, yet Legend was beginning to suspect it was the norm when it came to Wild, their breakfast was about as eventful as everything else that had happened.

Legend didn’t stray far from their hollow, deigning to stay in hearing range of Wild, just in case. Just in case of what, Legend had no idea, but with Wild it could be anything.

So Legend hopped around the trees that surrounded them, and when he found something to eat, had cautiously nibbled on some spring green grass. It was sweet and mild, so he ate more, rabbit taste buds singing. Wild, in his cat-like curiosity, went over to investigate. Then, without a word, he pulled a hank of grass from the ground and stuffed it in his mouth. Legend squawked.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped.

Wild blinked at him, then, mouth still full of grass, let out a muffled grunt.

“I don’t care if you’re hungry,” Legend replied. “Hylians can’t eat grass.”

Wild spat out his soggy green mouthful. “Why not? You’re eating it.”

“That’s because I’m a rabbit,” Legend argued. And oh Hylia, he really had just called himself a rabbit, even though he was just as Hylian as Wild. He ignored it for the sake of Wild’s stomach. “Rabbits can eat grass all the time. If Hylians try that, they’ll get sick.” How did Wild not know that?

Wild frowned and took a couple of seconds to mull over what Legend said, biting the inside of his cheek in thought, then nodded. “Well, what do Hylians eat?” He looked expectantly at Legend.

Their apple tree was long gone, and Legend didn’t envy a tromp through the woods to find it again. He sighed, then hopped over to a cluster of trees, waving Wild over. Legend began nosing through the tree roots, Wild dutifully copying him, until Legend came up victoriously with a bright red mushroom clasped in his pink paw.

“Right,” Legend started. “Mushrooms are always good to eat, as long as they’re not poisonous.”  Legend took a deep sniff, and nothing but sweet, fresh earth tingled up his nose. “This one is safe to-”

Before he finished speaking, Wild had yanked the mushroom from his paw, popping it in his mouth and swallowing without even chewing. His nose wrinkled, and Legend saw a smear of dirt on the tip.

“Are you sure that was safe to eat? It tasted awful.”

“Of course it was safe,” Legend huffed. “I could smell it. Now come here, you have dirt on your face.” Wild bent down to meet him, and Legend rubbed his pink paw across Wild’s nose until he was satisfied. 

Wild hummed. “I don’t think I want to eat any more of those mushrooms, at least not raw.” He perked up, eyes brightening. “They’ll taste much better after they’re cooked! Hang on a second, let me start a fire.”

Wild was able to roast his mushrooms over a fire, but by the time he was finished it was already midday, their breakfast really becoming more of a lunch. Wild was right, the mushrooms did taste better cooked, and were better than the grass Legend had nibbled on, but he didn’t admit it. He ate in silence and watched as Wild babbled away, still trying to understand his incarnation and all his discrepancies. He knew how to start a fire, but he didn’t know what he could and couldn’t eat, just like he knew how to use a weapon in a fight but didn’t know when a pair of pants were on inside out. Right. The more time he spent with him the less he understood.

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After their impromptu mushroom roast, Legend decided it was time to figure out what the fuck was going on. He asked Wild, but he seemed more lost than Legend, if that was possible, so Legend thought a good start would be finding civilization. Together the unlikely pair, Hylian and Hylian-turned-rabbit, though only one of them knew about that second part, set out on a new day under a new sky.

Legend’s logic was that if they found people, there would inevitably be people in need. From his experience, people that needed help usually couldn’t, or wouldn’t, step up and fix the problem themselves, hoisting it all on the incredibly convient hero of their time. This hero was Wild.

He and Wild would do a couple quests, and in return ask for some supplies, tools, maybe some rupees if they were lucky, and then get directions to the capital of Hyrule. There was bound to be a Zelda (or maybe a Hilda?), or some other figure of power in command in this world. From there Legend supposed it would be smooth(ha) sailing; someone was bound to point Wild in a general direction of what plagued his Hyrule, and he would be sent on his thankless, world-saving quest. Legend would be left on his own and he’d find a way to get back to his Hyrule, to his house stuffed to the gills with junk, yet so empty. Somehow.

So they walked. And walked. And walked.

They walked until Legend felt new pangs of hunger rise in his stomach, the mushrooms long gone, and it was then that he started to have his doubts. The duo had been moving for hours, and there was absolutely no sign of hylian influence anywhere. There were no signs, roads, or even an initial carved out on the side of a tree. Legend found himself hoping, praying, for just a town, a village, a settlement, an outpost. He began to subconsciously check the sky for smoke trails on the off chance that someone had decided to make a campfire so Legend could find just one person, but the sky kept its picturesque blue with not even a cloud in sight. There was nothing around them except trees, grass, and, to occasionally break up the monotony, clusters of bright wildflowers.

Wild was bent over a patch of flowers right now, picking them one by one, but only after deep moments of contemplation for each. Legend would ask, but he learned long before he met Wild to Not Do That. Instead, Legend took in their surroundings, looking for a sign that anyone was here before them. Nothing.

Except. . . Except right there, Legend saw an outline too uniform to belong in the unrestrained nature of the wilds. He narrowed his eyes, trying to make out what it was. It would have been better if it was a building, even an abandoned one so they could have shelter if they found themselves outside another night, but Legnd thought it more likely to be a wall judging from its shape.

“What are you looking at?”

Legend jerked, and barely contained a scream. His puffball tail bristled. He whirled around to see the familiar form of Wild.

“Where did you come from?” he barked.

Wild absently jerked a thumb behind him at the patch of wildflowers, now missing a significant number of their brethren. “I was picking flowers,” he explained, as if the bald patch of green behind him didn’t already explain enough. Then he dangled a brightly colored chain from his fingers. “I made a necklace for you, see?”

Legend leaned in closely, and sure enough, what hung from Wild’s hand was a delicately braided flower necklace. The flowers were a mix of pink and blue and white, green stems interlocking and weaving together to create a very well-made piece of jewelry.

“It took me a while because I wanted to get the right colors. The pink is supposed to match your fur, and the blue is for your eyes. I added white to enhance the first two colors.” Wild tugged on a dirty lock of hair. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to though.”

Legend stared at the flower chain, then at Wild, whose eyes were on the ground. He stared at the flowers again. There was a long silence.

“Of course I’m wearing it,” he snapped, holding out a paw. “Give me that.”

Wild’s ears perked, and a smile more lovely than the bright, lush meadow they were in bloomed on his face. He helped Legend put the necklace on, and then adjusted it til it met his exacting standards, whatever those were. And now Legend could add making wreaths to the list of random things Wild knew how to do, as well as color coordinating it to the wearer, because why the fuck not.

“Okay,” Legend began anew. “Now that I have my necklace on, we can keep moving. Do you see that outline over there, the one above the trees?” Legend pointed at it, and Wild looked over accordingly. When he nodded, Legend carried on.

“That’s the first man-made thing I’ve seen since I got here. We’re going to that, and then we’ll see if there’s anyone around that we can talk to, got it?”

A look of determination crossed Wild’s face, and he nodded. “Got it.”

And the two were off again. It didn’t take long for them to reach what they had seen, but to Legend’s disappointment, it was only a wall, and it was so old that Legend could probably tear down the rest of the thing with his paws.

The two looked up at the looming, ramshackle thing, but as Legend turned around to find something more promising, Wild didn’t move. Legend looked over his shoulder.

“You coming?”

Wild only stared up the wall, brows furrowed.

“We could always climb this for a better vantage point. Maybe we’ll see something,” Wild said slowly. Then his eyes lit up. “I can carry you!”

Legend eyed him, then sent a searching look over the stone wall. It was old, sure, but that wasn’t always a bad thing. Thanks to its age, plenty of stones had fallen from their place, and deep grooves had been formed from countless years of wear and tear, making plenty of handholds. Legend wasn’t much of a climber, but Wild was, if his tour up the pine tree last night had anything to say about it. Legend was, like, eighty percent sure he wouldn’t be dropped. Seventy.

“Fine,” he said. “But if I fall, that’s on you.”

Wild’s head bobbed in a nod so rough that Legend was scared it would pop off like the stalfos they fought last night. He knelt on one knee, facing Legend, and tugged the collar of his tunic open.

“Here, you can ride inside my shirt.” He waved Legend’s lagging form forward eagerly, blue eye alight.

If someone asked Legend later if he dragged his feet, he’d lie and say no. Even though he totally did. He stuck his head under the bottom of Wild’s shirt, scrabbled paws against Wild’s bony body and ignored his giggles, then popped his head out of the collar, face to face with a grinning Wild. Legend shifted a little more until most of his torso stuck out, then Wild started to climb.

Legend used Wild’s bangs as a handhold then shut his eyes tightly, ears pressed against his skull. He felt a swaying motion, then the steady movement of what must have been Wild going up, then it was over faster than Legend thought. They had reached the top. He heard Wild gasp.

Legend’s eyes flew open. “What? What is-”

Oh. They were on a floating island, so separated from the land beneath them that Legend’s heart swooped. Except no, not quite. They were on a mesa, or a plateau, a titanic plateau that towered over the land below them like it was just a sandbox. An endless field of green spread before him, so rich and saturated that it made Legend’s eyes ache.

He saw a great mountain that looked like it was split in half by a giant’s axe, and between the gap that was made he saw even more neverending land until that distance grew too long and his vision failed him. To his left were even more mountains, these ones so far away their edges were fuzzy, colors a faded violet and dove grey, peaks white with snow. A volcano sat solitary and proud, a thunderhead of ash circling the summit like a mighty headpiece. And, in the center of it all, was a castle. Legend thought it would have been beautiful, with all its graceful spires and deep slate stone, if not for the four great monoliths looming over it like starving beasts, cloaking the castle in shadows. Legend felt a chill go down his spine. The castle looked sick.

Legend looked down from the wall they perched on, feeling instant regret when his stomach turned and twisted. He saw the ground far below them, some parts so low that a thick, cloying mist hid it from his eyes. He shied into Wild’s neck.

“I think-” Wild choked, and a wracking cough shook through his lungs. He licked his lips, then tried again. “I think we need to go to that castle.” For the first time since he met Legend, his voice was lowered into a rough whisper.

Legend could only nod.

For a time, all the two did was stand and look off into the distance, both lost in thought. Legend had a feeling that it would take more time than he would like to get home.

Legend finally shook himself out of his mind, then patted the side of Wild’s head lightly, as he was still being held in his shirt. Wild blinked a couple times, an odd shadow in his eye, then turned to face Legend.

“Hmm?” Wild’s voice was only half there. His eyes weren’t on the castle, but Legend betted the rest of him was.

“If we want to get to the castle, we’ll have to get off this plateau first. Any ideas?” Legend would take anything, if only to get that look chased from Wild’s eyes.

This seemed to snap Wild fully back to the present. “Oh. Um, I could try to climb down, but I think I’d lose energy before reaching the bottom.”

Legend shivered, then imagined two broken, twisted bodies lying in the dirt far beneath them.

“Alright, then we’ll stay on the wall and follow where it goes. Maybe it’ll lead us to a village, or just a spot where the ground is sloped enough for us to get down.” Legend suspected it would be asking too much for a perfectly functioning stairway to pop right in front of them, even though thinking of finding any other way off the looming plateau made tension build in his muscles.

Wild only shifted from one foot to another. He sent another long stare back at the sickly castle in the distance, then nodded slowly. Legend took that as a yes.

“Great,” he said, trying to keep Wild’s focus on him. “You can put me down, then we’ll get moving.”

He was lifted gently from Wild’s shirt and away from his warmth, then was settled on sun-warmed stone. Wild snuck a couple of pets in, but the soft look in his eyes kept Legend from saying anything. Then, once again, they were off.

Legend wasn’t always able to walk along the wall on his own. The stone they stood on was so old and beaten down in places that gaps longer than Wild was tall were missing, like someone had just taken chunks out of a finished puzzle at their leisure. When it was too far for Legend to jump, he’d have to be carried in Wild’s shirt again. They ran into that problem so many times that Legend finally gave up and decided that they’d continue their patrol of the wall on the ground, even though he would have preferred to stay up high for a better vantage point.

They were traveling at a steady pace, seeing the same things they had seen all day, which were trees, grass, and sky, and never moving out of sight of the wall, when Wild got distracted by a boulder. Distracted enough to wander away from their invisible, unspoken path the two had been following. He had just veered to the right, instantly and with no explanation, and if Legend didn’t have his rabbit hearing he probably wouldn’t have noticed Wild missing until he looked back only to see no one there.

Legend massaged his temples, ears twitching. “And why is this boulder so fascinating?” He really wanted to know why Wild thought wasting their time with some stone was more important than reaching the newly named Castle Doom. They had no time for detours.

“It’s not just a boulder!” Wild exclaimed. “It’s a rock! With a pointy thing on top!” He took this as his queu to clamber his way up the almost sheer surface, sending pebbles raining down behind him. Legend expertly sidestepped their fall.

When he reached the peak, Wild stood and examined the thing sticking out of it. To Legend, it looked like the rest of the boulder Wild was standing on, just with a little more detail to it, but nothing that would be of any use to them. It was just a unique rock formation sculpted by its years and nature.

Wild seemed to think it was much more than that. When he was done looking his fill, he prodded at it curiously like a cat, then smacked it with an open palm. When he got no reaction, Wild took out the boko club he won in their fight against the stalfos last night, reared back, and struck the thing so hard that Legend felt a sympathetic tremor go up his own arm. He kicked, scratched, and shoved it, all to no result. It was when Wild stuck out his tongue to lick it that Legend decided enough was enough.

“Alright, alright. I think we can safely say that the pointy rock doesn’t do anything. Now get down before you hurt yourself.”

Wild froze, then met Legend’s gaze so intensely that his blue eye burned, causing Legend to take a step back. Had he said something wrong? Then Wild licked one long line up the spike, keeping eye contact with Legend the whole time, laughing at his scowl. He giggled the whole way down the rock.   

Standing at the base, Wild leaned back with his hands on his hips, ears pricked. He placed a hand on it, trailing it along the side as he walked around the rock, then he turned a corner and disappeared from sight. Legend huffed.

“Hey!” he shouted. “We’re not getting off the plateau any faster if you have to look at every weird thing we pass!” Legend waited, arms crossed and foot tapping on the ground, but the only answer he got was a chickadee chirping in the treeline. 

“Wild! Let’s go, we can explore more later.” There was no response. Legend shifted out of his stance, hopping forward.

“Wild?” Silence.

Legend felt his heart speed up. He warily began to circle the stone, whiskers trembling.

“Wild?” he whispered. He did not dare speak any louder.

“I’m in here!”

A voice, Wild’s voice, thank Hylia, echoed strangely through Legend’s ears. He whipped his head around trying to see where it had come from, but Wild had vanished. Wait.

“Are you in the boulder?”

“No,” said Wild’s faint voice, definitely in the boulder. “Well, kind of. But I found something really cool, you have to come see it. Keep circling the boulder’s edge and you should find a small cleft in its side by a bramble bush. That’s how I got in.”

Legend was moving before Wild even finished speaking. Sure enough, there was a crack in the stone that Legend would have missed if not for Wild’s instruction, invisible to anyone that wasn’t purposefully searching for it. He pushed his body through, and as soon as he moved into the shadow of the cleft the temperature dropped, making his fur prickle. His fluff kept him well insulated, probably one of the only good things that came with being a rabbit. He kept going, cold stone scraping over his sides, then he was free.

Legend yelped, stumbled, and almost fell the rest of the way out, sudden weightlessness overtaking him. The entrance was higher from the ground by a few feet. Wild came to the rescue, catching Legend effortlessly in his arms and saving him from face planting and probably a broken nose. He wordlessly set Legend down, ignoring his huffing in favor of re-adjusting Legend’s flower necklace that had gone askew.

When Wild was done, he backed away, and Legend got his first real look at the inside of the cave. Smooth, matte black flooring stretched out beneath his feet, an odd warmth emanating from it. He couldn’t tell if it was stone or metal, even after having apprenticed under a blacksmith, but standing on it made his paws prickle.

Six arches, half swallowed part way by earth’s greedy hands, spanned out and upwards to create a dome. From the center of the dome grew a mighty stalacite that looked to be hewn from the same material as the floor, below which rested a pedestal where Wild was now standing. Delicate engravings that were both familiar and foreign coated every surface like a fine layer of lace over cotton. It was not natural enough to be there by the grace of nature, yet not artificial enough to be Hylian-made, or made by any other of the races of Hyrule. Fine, maybe Wild had found something cool.

Legend hopped slowly over to the pedestal, head craning in every direction as he came to Wild’s side. Wild didn’t seem to notice, all his attention fixed on the stand before him. Legend stretched on his hind paws, hooking his chin and front paws on the surface’s edge and peering over the top curiously. There were more engravings, all leading to an empty rectangle in the center. A keyhole. 

Wild seemed to realize the same thing at the same time as Legend, because he snapped his fingers victoriously with a little “aha!”, and unhooked the slate at his hip. Ah. He wordlessly lined it up then clicked it into place, then both of them waited with baited breath.

There was a moment of quiet that lasted long enough for Legend to feel the first tendrils of disappointment flow through him, then in a blue glow the slate lit up with a whir. That was when the world started shaking.

It was so strong and sudden that the pair had to go onto all fours for balance, or risk toppling over and cracking their skulls on the ground. All around them, great hunks of rock fell, some missing their heads just by inches, and a rumble began to build up in the air that was so strong Legend felt it behind his eyes. Legend felt a familiar lurch in his stomach like he had just been picked up, then warmth washed over his form. Sunlight. Whatever they were standing on had broken free from its stony prison, and was now rising toward the sky fast.

Legend screamed, tiny rabbit claws coming out to cling to Wild with an iron grip. Bearer of the Triforce of Courage, everyone.

Wild grabbed him back, wrapping his arms around Legend and burying his face in his fur, ears pressed flat against his skull. The two curled on the ground together, mutual in their fear, and plastered themselves as closely to the side of the pedestal as possible. It could have taken hours, it could have taken minutes, but finally the shaking stopped.

The two stayed pressed against eachother for a moment longer, like they were waiting for another quake.  When there was nothing, they uncurled out of the other’s hold stiffly, gazing around and blinking in the light like they had just woken up. Legend struggled to trembling feet, more unsteady than a foal’s, and tried to help Wild do the same, though he doubted he made much of a difference. As Wild situated himself, Legend inched towards the edge of the platform and looked over the side. Oh Hylia, they were so high up. He backed away, swallowing thickly. 

Wild was on the opposite edge, a hand held up to his face to block the sun. He was looking out over the land before them again, like when they were on the wall, but this time pillars dotted the view at random, as if they had sprung from the ground like trees. They probably had, actually, and Legend cursed his luck that he was on one the moment it happened.

Behind them the stalacite over the pedestal glowed, before a single drop of blue light fell onto Wild’s slate. Wild didn’t notice. He was too busy watching a dark miasma rise from the castle, magic so strong, almost suffocating in its nature, that Legend could feel it on his tongue. Wild let out a breath, eyes wide.

“Hooo!”

Legend whirled around, only to see an old man come out of the sky from nowhere. He drifted down to the tower, hands clasped around some kind of kite. When his feet hit the ground, the old man folded the kite away and strolled up to the pair, like he was on a morning walk. Legend felt like he should say that while he was an old man, he was fucking giant, almost twice as tall as Wild, which meant he was the size of a house to Legend. It made old ire bubble up in his chest.

"My, my... It would seem that we have quite the enigma here. This tower and several just like it have erupted across the land, one after another. Very interesting... It appears that some long-dormant power has awoken quite suddenly. I suppose you two didn’t have anything to do with it?” The old man spoke with a laugh lingering in his voice, like he was in on a joke the two Links didn’t know about.

Wild and Legend exchanged glances, pure bewilderment reflected in the other’s eyes.

“And?” Legend asked. “What if we did?”

The old man guffawed, making the pair jump.

“Oho ho! Fair enough, fair enough, my wife always told me I was too nosy for my own good.” The old man paused, scanning Wild’s face before moving on to Legend. He did not seem at all perturbed that he was looking at a talking, pink rabbit. Instead, there was a twinkle to his eyes that Legend couldn’t place, a look that made his teeth grind.

“Who are you?” Legend snapped. He subconsciously began to move in front of Wild, putting himself between him and the old man.

The old man only smiled. “I need not be a concern of yours. I'm just a strange old man, that's all. One who has lived here, alone, for quite some time now. Enough of that. What about you two youngsters? What are you doing here?”

“That depends,” Legend drawled out. “Where are we?”

“Answering a question with a question. That is fair enough. As I cannot imagine our meeting to be a simple coincidence...I shall tell you.” The old man spread his arms out, encompassing all that was behind him. “This is the Great Plateau. According to legend, this is the birthplace of the entire kingdom of Hyrule.”

Legend felt a moment of relief. That confirmed it, he was still in Hyrule and not some otherworldly demon realm. Silver linings. 

Wild had tired of the back and forth between the two and had come forward, his feet planting themselves on either side of Legend. “What was that,” Wild demanded. “That voice I heard?”

A voice? Legend hadn’t heard any voices, and he knew that as a rabbit his hearing was better than any Hylian.

The old man’s face lost its sparkle, and he clasped his hands together. “I assume that you caught full sight of that atrocity swarming around the castle,” he began. “That… is the Calamity Ganon.”

Legend cursed. He had assumed that Wild would have to save Hyrule in some form or fashion, but there was a sliver of hope in the back of his mind that it would not be Ganon trying to stop him. Legend himself was lucky enough - if you could call the fate of Hyrule resting in your hands lucky - to not face Ganon on every one of his adventures. Some part of his mind had prayed that Wild would be granted the same mercy. As usual, his prayers were not heard.

Wild carried on, unknowing of Legend’s silent stewing. “Who is he? This- this Ganon?”

Legend was startled from his thoughts, and sent an incredulous look up at Wild. Everyone knew, from the oldest villager to the youngest child, who Ganon was. His name graced every storybook, was heard at every table, and even whispered between church pews. How could Wild not know?

The old man’s face hardened. “ It brought ruin and corruption upon the kingdom of Hyrule 100 years ago. It appeared suddenly… destroying everything in its path. Leaving countless innocents in its wake. Over the last century, the kingdom's purest symbol, Hyrule Castle, has been able to contain that evil. But just barely.”

Legend and Wild looked back toward the castle simultaneously. Legend now knew that the magic he had tasted bleeding from the castle was Ganon’s, and he felt his nose wrinkle. He was surprised he hadn’t recognized Ganon’s aura earlier. The old man pushed forward, not giving them any time to contemplate what they just heard.

“There it festers, building its strength for the moment it will unleash its blight upon the land once again. It would appear that moment is fast approaching... I must ask the pair of you... Do you intend to make your way to the castle?”

Before Legend could stop him, Wild nodded sharply. Great, now an old man knew their plans and where they would be going, and not just any old man. Legend would bet his weapons cache that the giant in front of him was more than met the eye. People just didn’t just appear out of the sky from nothing, not if they were actual people. There was something he wasn’t telling them.

The old man dipped his chin. “I thought so. Here, on this isolated plateau, we are surrounded on all sides by sheer cliffs, with no way off or down. If you were to try and jump, well...no death could be more certain. Or foolish!” The old man bellowed with laughter, like them falling to their deaths was funny. Legend’s paws grasped at an invisible sword hilt. “Of course, if you had a paraglider like me, that would be quite another story!” At that statement, the old man snapped the kite, or paraglid er, back open, tilting it side to side in his hands and showing off all angles.

Legend felt a scowl forming on his face. Now would come the impossible price, or the life-threatening errand, because apparently sacrificing all you had to save the world wasn’t payment enough for most people. Legend wished he felt surprised that a genial looking old man would take advantage of them, but his optimism had withered a long time ago.

“Give me that!” Wild snapped, rough voice crackling at his volume. He held one hand out, palm up, like he expected the old man to surrender his bargaining chip at Wild’s word. Legend could not help the slight wheeze of laughter that escaped his lungs. Where did Wild learn to talk like that? Legend had the sudden urge to introduce Wild to Ravio, if only he could hear Ravio’s sputters at Wild demanding everything in his shop.

The old man threw his head back. “ Har har har! Sure! Why not? But there is no such thing as a free item in this world, you know. Let's see now... How about a trade for a bit of treasure that slumbers nearby? Come. Let me show you something.”

Legend snorted. Typical.

The old man walked the two of them over to a different side of the plateau. He and Wild stood barely a foot away from the edge, neither of them seeming to notice the height. Legend himself wisely chose to stand a few feet behind them, poised to spring if Wild lost his footing. With a gloved hand, the old man pointed to a cluster of trees and a small pond, beside which rested an orange, glowing building that looked to be built in the same style as the tower they were in.

“That there is a shrine,” the old man began. “The appearance of those towers and the awakening of this shrine... It's all connected to that Sheikah Slate you carry on your hip there. It has been quite some time since I've seen or heard of the Sheikah Slate... Long ago, an advanced civilization known as the Sheikah inhabited these lands. Secure the treasure from that shrine, as well as three more that are found on this plateau… and I will give you the Paraglider. Then you two will be free to go wherever you wish.”

Collecting treasure from shrines? How were they supposed to do that when they were stuck on this mammoth of a tower? Legend stomped forward, and tugged roughly on the old man’s pants. The old man looked down at him curiously.

“Yes, my little friend? What is it?”

Legend felt a snarl try to twitch free at the “little friend” comment, but fought it down. There were more concerning things to worry about. “ How bout you give us the paraglider now?” He glared up at the old man. “So, y’know, we can get off the hundred foot tower.”

The old man blinked slowly, like he had forgotten Legend was there. Then he nodded. “Ah, yes, that reminds me-”

Before Legend knew it, the ground beneath his feet disappeared. His stomach dropped, and for a terrifying moment he thought the tower was moving again. But no, it was just the old man gripping him around the waist with his stupidly large hands. Legend felt his vision go red.

“It’s dangerous to go alone!” The old man chuckled. Through the red haze, Legend felt something heavy and unweildy get draped around his neck, much larger than his flower necklace. “Take this!”

Then he was stuffed unceremoniously into Wild’s arms, like a wad of dirty bedding. Wild fumbled, barely able to stop himself from dropping Legend or accidentally pulling on his fur. By the time Legend got his face untangled from Wild’s shirt, the old man had leapt off the tower, and was using their promised paraglider to drift whimsically down to solid land.

“Fuck you too!” Legend shrieked, waving his paws wildly at him and tipping forward in Wild’s arms dangerously. He was determined to get the last word in. The only thing he heard from the old man was more of his bellowing laughs.

Legend relaxed into Wild’s arms with a huff. Wild looked down at him, head tilted, and tugged the heavy thing draping around Legend’s neck away. Legend shook his head free, and looked curiously at whatever the old man had tried to strangle him with. With one arm still holding him, Wild held out the other, something hanging from it. That was all Legend could think to call it. Something. Because it looked like a waist bag crossed with a belt, with a little bit of pauldron snuck in just to be contrary. It appeared to be made mostly of strong, dark leather, but Legend thought he saw some cross stitching snuck in, which he could only guess was for aesthetic reasons. To top it all off, there were a few randomly placed metal buckles and hooks. Legend thought this mystery object to be wonderful, because while they didn’t have the paraglider, at least they had a creepy old man’s art project to entertain them while they were stranded on top of a magically grown tower.

“What is it?” Wild wondered, swinging the thing in his hand slightly.

“Hell if I know,” Legend muttered. “Probably just some useless shit to slow us down.”

Wild hummed, falling into a crouch so Legend could hop free from his arm. Now that he had both hands free, Wild brought the object up to his face. He tilted it in his palms, then clicked at the metal buckles like he had never seen them before. He flicked at the leather with a finger, blond brows furrowed like he was trying to solve a puzzle. He turned it inside out, then right side in, and then pulled at both ends like he was trying to rip the thing in half, grunting with the effort. 

When the leather didn’t even strain, Wild’s gaze flicked up to Legend, then back down to his hands. He did it several more times, each more intense, enough that Legend was ready to snap at him and ask what he was thinking, when a grin grew across his face. It was so wide that it pulled at his scars.

“What?” Legend hopped forward, ears up. “What’s with that look on your face?”

Instead of answering, Wild slung the thing over his shoulder, grabbing one end and wrapping it over his neck, while leading the other under his armpit, then hooking them together. For a couple of seconds he fiddled with the metal bits, clasping and fastening the buckles and links together, then, when they did not fit Wild’s unknown preferences, doing it all again. Finally he seemed satisfied, because he gave the leather a final tug then stepped back, arms held out.

Wild gave a slow spin, showing off his new accessory. “Tada!”

Legend wasn’t sure what he was looking at. Leather straps across Wild’s chest held everything in place, padded so it wouldn’t chafe. To Legend, it looked completely useless, and he couldn’t guess as to what it was for. To Legend’s credit, it did look more like a pauldron when someone was wearing it, but it mostly covered the top of Wild’s back, while a pauldron was meant to guard the upper arm and shoulder. It was on the wrong side, too. Wild, from what Legend had observed, was right handed. This meant that the pauldron should also be on his right, but it looked to be made only so it could be worn on the left. 

Wild looked expectantly at Legend.

“That looks… nice.” Legend fixed a smile on his face. Wild’s expression didn’t change. Hylia’s tits, what did he want him to say? “What is it?” Legend tried.

Wild’s brows rose, like Legend was the one acting ridiculous. “It’s for you, obviously,” he said, with a roll of his eyes. “So you can ride on my back.”

“Really.”

“Really! Look,” Wild spun around, pointing a thumb at his new harness. “It’s bunny sized.”

Legend tried not to twitch at Wild’s wording. Instead, he looked at the harness Wild wore. It vaguely looked like it was meant to carry something. Not a weapon, but something. Legend still had his doubts.

“Yeah, I don’t think that’ll work.” Legend folded his arms.

Wild frowned, then a sly smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. “ It’s either this,” he said. “Or back in my shirt. And we still have to get off the tower.”

Fuck.

“Fine,” Legend growled. “I’ll try the fucking harness. But if there’s one chance, just one, that it won’t work out, I’m done.”

Appeased, Wild turned his back to Legend again and knelt down. With his fluffy paws Legend scrabbled up his back, probably looking far less graceful than when Wild did any climbing. Tugging at the harness, Legend eyed it doubtfully. How was he supposed to fit? 

Standing at the peak of Wild’s spine, Legend shimmied into the harness feet first and found himself pleasantly surprised. It was like he was sitting in a leather basket, but instead of the fabric being loose, it was firm beneath Legend, like he was held in a barely pliable bowl. It was smooth and soft and only a few inches high, leaving Legend’s torso free, but a padded leather strap supported his shoulders, allowing him to lean back away from Wild. Overall, the harness held Legend soundly enough, without making him feel squashed. Legend’s shoulders were even above Wild’s, giving Legend a clear view ahead despite being held on Wild’s back.

“This- this might work,” Legend admitted. “It feels more secure than being held in your shirt, at least.”

Wild was practically vibrating. “Great! Let’s go!” In just a few steps Wild was at one of the tower’s three exits carved out of the floor.

“Wait!” Legend cried. “We need some ground rules first!”

Wild paused mid-crouch, one of his legs already hanging off the side. “Ground rules? But we’re in the air.”

Legend huffed. “That’s not what that means, you-” He paused. Only the side of Wild’s face was visible to Legend, but it was enoug to see a mischievous smirk dimpling his cheek. He knew exactly what he was doing, the smart-ass. Legend sighed, but couldn’t find it in himself to feel true irritation.

“ As I was saying, ” Legend carried on pointedly. “We need rules, because I don’t know about you, but I don’t envy falling from your back and taking a tumble off a hundred foot tower.”

Wild pondered this for a moment. “Okay. What are the rules?”

“Alright, I’ve seen how fast you can climb, but when I’m riding with you I want you to take it slower. I’m not exactly hooked into the harness, so it would be easy enough to slip and lose my footing.”
Wild nodded. “Right. Anything else?”

“We’re a duo now,” Legend started. “That means we both have to agree on something before it’s carried out. If either one of us is too uncomfortable, the other has to respect their choice and back down.”

“That sounds fair.” Wild’s voice was much more serious this time. “Are there any more rules?”

Legend thought for a minute, and found that those were the only two that came to mind. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “But if you ever want to add something, just say so.”

“Got it!” Wild shifted from foot to foot, leaning over the edge of the tower’s exit. “Are you ready now?”

Legend forced himself to take a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

Wild spun around, hands gripping the ledge of the platform, then with a stomach churning swoop he swung his feet down. They were on the move. With an easy fluidity that only seemed present when climbing, Wild was on the move. Legend took one glance down and decided he had seen enough, wrapping his arms around Wild’s neck and burying his face in his hair.

For a while, all he knew was Wild. Sometimes a more jarring step would shake through his body and into Legend’s, but if he concentrated he could pretend that Wild was just taking a walk. Finally, Legend dared to peek from the safety of Wild’s hair, just to see how much longer their climb might take.

The view was… nice. Legend straightened out of his huddle, still keeping a firm grip on a lock of Wild’s hair, and turned from side to side, ears flicking. The sun was beginning to lower in the sky, casting an orange glow over the treeline, the play of light over shadow creating a stunning contrast. The pair wasn’t very high up anymore, more than halfway down, so Legend released Wild’s hair and craned his neck to take in more of the plateau, just to see how big it really was.

It was enough of a distraction that he was startled when Wild pushed himself off the side of the tower, leaving them airborne for a few seconds. It wasn’t even enough time for Legend to truly scare, then Wild landed lightly on the ground without a noise. They were off the tower. Legend felt a previously unknown tension leave his limbs.

“Nice job,” he said, patting Wild gently on his head. His face was a little flushed, but Wild didn’t even seem phased at his long climb.

Wild shot Legend a smile, then began to trot off with Legend still strapped to his back.

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Did he ever take a break?

Without stopping, Wild pointed to a faint orange glow. “The old man said he’d give us the paraglider after doing the four shrines.” 

“Yeah, I know he did, but it’s almost dark out. We need to find shelter before monsters start showing up.” Legend really did not want a repeat of last night. He tugged on Wild’s ear, taking care that it was the unscarred one, trying to slow him down. His marching only seemed to become more determined.

Wild batted his paw away. “Shrine, then shelter.”

Legend couldn’t believe this. “No, shelter then shrine. You’ve been on your feet all day, you need food and sleep. We haven’t eaten since this morning.”

This made Wild pause. He gnawed on his lower lip. “How about,” he said slowly. “We find the shrine, then eat and sleep? Then we go into the shrine tomorrow.”

Oh, Wild was learning to bargain now, was he? Fair enough. It was a decent idea, and Legend didn’t think long before agreeing. He didn’t want to see which of them was more stubborn. “Fine. But you will get a full night’s rest, we’re not rising at the crack of dawn just because you can’t be patient.”

Wild accepted this with a nod, then kept moving. They weren’t very far at all, and when they reached the shrine Legend saw that it could make a good shelter of its own. He wriggled out of the harness and hopped up to it. It was just as weird as the tower, with its warm floors and the stone-metal material it was made with, but it had an overhang to protect them from above and solid walls. 

“How would you feel about sleeping here for the night?” he asked, glancing at Wild.

Wild seemed surprised, then pleased. “Really? We can sleep in the shrine?”

Legend hesitated. “Well, we can sleep in the entrance, not actually in it. And I don’t want to risk getting caught wandering at night looking for something else. This is probably our best bet. I mean, at least it’s warm.”

They did end up settting up camp in the hollow of the shrine. Since they didn’t have much on them in the first place, it was easy. Wild took the harness off, and Legend laid his necklace beside it. They collected sticks and pinecones for a fire, and while Legend tended it Wild foraged for dinner. He came back with the same mushrooms they had for breakfast, along with a handful of shiny acorns. Skewered on a stick, the food was roasted by Wild, and the acorns added a lovely nutty taste to the smoky earthiness of the mushrooms. Both ate until they felt their stomachs were about to pop, and then ate a little more, their hunger was so great. When they were done, Legend sniffed out some lush green grass by a pond. After drinking their fill, they pulled up hanks of the grass and brought it back to the shrine. They used it as a makeshift pillow, and Legend fell asleep again at Wild’s hip.

Legend woke up in the middle of the night to Wild’s arm slung over his side.

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“What do you mean, I can’t go with you?”

“The shrine glows when only I’m standing on it. And the port for the Sheikah Slate closes if you get too close.” Wild shrugged helplessly.

“Fuck the Sheikah Slate!” Legend burst out. “I’m going with you, and not even Hylia will stop me. Try it again.”

Legend had been woken up by a hyperactive Wild. As soon as his eyes opened, Wild tried killing him by stuffing a mushroom in his face, calling the murder attempt “breakfast”. So great was his impatience to enter the shrine, that Wild wasn’t even phased at Legend’s harsh scolding.

Now the two were standing at a pedestal that looked like the one in the tower. Wild pushed the Sheikah Slate against it, and was rewarded with no reaction. Legend snarled, reared back, and kicked it with all the strength that his little rabbit legs were capable of. The light of the shrine stuttered, dimmed, then lit up, pedestal opening for Wild.

That’s what Legend fucking thought.

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“If you can make magnetic fields now, why not just fly us off the plateau on one of those metal boxes?”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Legend huffed. “Yeah, well I think that going to the other three shrines is a bad idea. That old guy gives me the creeps.”

Wild reached back, as Legend was riding in his harness, and petted Legend consolingly on the head. Legend allowed the first two pets, but after the third he swatted at Wild’s hand. His fluffy paws probably felt like getting pummeled by cotton balls; soft, with no power behind them. Wild drew his hand back with a giggle.

“I know you don’t like him,” Wild acqiuesced. “But I really want the paraglider. Would it help if I made you another flower necklace? I saw you eating yours this morning.”

Legend felt his ears turn warm with embarrassment.

“... maybe.”

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Legend hated the cold. It sunk into his joints, making his movement slow and jerky, like a rusted cog. It sucked the energy out of him, so to stay warm he’d try to move more, but that only made him more tired and susceptible to the cold later. And with the low temperature came all sorts of risks, like hypothermia, frostbite, or trenchfoot, all of which Legend had learned about the hard way. Legend lived by the strong belief that if hell existed, it wouldn’t be hot, it would be glacial.

He was hopping from footprint to footprint in the snow, tracks that were made by Wild who was trudging along several feet ahead. It was the only clear path in this winter wonderland they were hiking through. Legend’s eyes were focused on the trail in front of him, so he didn’t notice when Wild stopped until he jumped into his calf. Legend craned his head back.

“What is it?”

Wild’s cheeks and nose were tomato red, while snowflakes were stuck in his eyelashes. “I can’t feel my fingers,” he muttered.
Legend glanced at his folded arms sharply. “Are the red peppers you ate wearing off? They should have lasted longer than that.” Legend could still feel the burn in the back of his throat.

Wild shook his head. “I feel fine everywhere else, I mean I just can’t feel this hand.” Wild held up the scarred, three fingered one. It trembled finely, like a butterfly’s wing.

Legend cursed. Deep tissue scars were always more sensitive in temperatures that reached the extreme, needing special care in preparation for the harsh environment they would be exposed to. He should have known better. “Alright, pick me up.”

Wild blinked at him.

“Come on,” Legend waved Wild toward him. “Pick me up with your hurting hand.”

Wild lifted Legend with a limb that was too stiff.

“Good, now lift me so I can sit in the crook of your left arm.”

He did so, and Legend took a moment to get comfortable. Then, he brought Wild’s hand close to his chest, burying it in his fluffy warmth. They kept walking.

“Better?” Legend asked after a couple dozen steps.

Wild nodded.

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“Where the fuck is the last shrine?”

“Let me check my map.”

“You had a map this whole time?”

“Yep! As soon as we left the tower.”

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Wild was sitting at the top of the Temple of Time, staring out at the sunset and hugging his knees to his chest. Legend gingerly laid a paw on his back. The old man, or the late King Rhoam, had just faded away, but not before practically spitting in Wild’s face.

Legend rubbed his back. “It’s okay.” He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else. He was never the first person someone went to for comfort.

Wild squeezed his knees closer. “Nothing is okay,” he choked. “Hundreds are dead all because of me. I failed, and I can’t even remember how . Who’s to say that I won’t repeat my mistakes all over again?”

Legend stopped rubbing Wild’s back, feeling his blood bubble in his veins. “I say so,” he growled. “I won’t lie and say it will be easy, but you’ll prove all those fuckers wrong, and I’ll be there every step of the way.”

And he would, because damn Hylia. Damn Hylia, and King Rhoam, and all the people that just sat back and waited for a Hero to save them, instead of fighting for themselves. Now the fate of a whole kingdom was heaped on Wild’s shoulders, and he didn’t even know who he was.

Chapter Text

Before you start reading, someone made lovely fanart of Legend wearing the flower necklace from the last chapter! They are called Breanna, and go by breannasfluff on tumblr. You can see Legend with his flower necklace here. On with the story!

 “Ready?”

“No. You?”

“Not really.”

“Great, let’s go.”

Wild sprinted to the edge of the plateau with no hesitation. On his back, Legend sat ramrod straight in the harness, gripping Wild’s shoulder. Every footfall Wild took jarred through Legend’s form, rattling his teeth in his skull. The closer they got to the drop, the faster Wild seemed to go until he reached impossible speeds, but to Legend every step felt like an hour. The world around him slowed, his vision tunneled, and he wasn’t sure if the drumming pounding through his ears was his heart or Wild running. He wasn’t given long to wonder, because Wild took one last great leap and then they were airborne, weightless for a split second. An awful sensation rose to Legend’s skin, like his bones had been left behind on the plateau. The faster they dropped the heavier Legend felt, and for a heartstopping moment, Legend thought he was going to slip from the harness.

The paraglider opened with a snap, almost rough in the way it stopped the pair’s fall. It yanked at Wild’s shoulder’s, and Legend would have been thrown from his perch if not for the strap across his back. It held him in, but only just, and Legend could already feel a bruise forming as a consequence. They were still falling. Legend looked down in horror, couldn’t help but imagine two twisted bodies lying below them, left to time and scavengers.

And then everything was still. The paraglider had done its job. Legend would thank King Rhoam, but that old coot didn’t deserve anything from him, except for a curse.

Wild whooped, kicking his feet out, making them sway side to side like a stray dandelion seed over a sea of green. A breathless laugh escaped Legend once, twice, then he was wrought with it. Birdlike cackles and howling guffaws flew from his lungs until Legend was choking on his own air. Wild laughed too, the noise harsh and raspy, his shoulders bouncing Legend up and down with his joy.

The rest of their descent was gentle, dreamlike, and Legend felt like a seagull soaring through a current of wind. When they landed it was effortless, easier than taking a step off a stair. Wild snapped the kite closed, and two were finally off the plateau. That chapter of their journey had ended. Good riddance.

Wild looked around wide-eyed, like he had never seen a place like this before. For all Legend knew, maybe he hadn’t, or had forgotten it if he had. The news of Wild’s amnesia still hung heavy over both their heads, like a stormcloud swollen with rain. Legend didn’t know how to broach that subject; he knew he had to , he just didn’t know how, or if Wild would even allow it. He let out a sigh and wriggled from the harness, landing nimbly on spring green grass. Wild didn’t notice, ears flicking and head whipping from side to side, like he was trying to store all the sights and sounds before him as fast as possible. Legend heard an eagle scream, making him cringe.

“Hey.” He tugged on Wild’s pant leg. “We should probably get moving.”

Wild jumped. “Oh, right. Moving.” He gazed longingly out at the land before them, hesitation clear.

Legend tugged again. “That doesn’t mean we can’t explore. I bet we’ll see a lot before we reach the castle.”
Legend knew they would see a lot before going to Hyrule Castle. After King Rhoam had disappeared and they left the temple, Legend had taken one look at Wild’s bedraggled form and knew that he wouldn’t even get past the gates. He was still covered in scrapes and bruises, with clothes that barely fit and a club and bow with only three arrows as his weapons. Their supplies included two apples and a bunch of mushrooms, no potions or fairies to speak of. They didn’t even have bandages. One wrong step could mean death.

More importantly, after King Rhoam had dropped the bomb on Wild’s memory loss, Legend had looked at his slumped shoulders, his wilted ears, and the tremble to his figure that Legend knew Wild was trying his best to hide. He wasn’t even sure if Wild had the strength to make it to the castle. After a long conversation, Wild had agreed to travel other parts of Hyrule first, for the sake of finding better weapons and armor and perhaps people that could give them any advice on the Calamity. Legend did not say that they would also travel Hyrule to give time for Wild to heal, and, hopefully, jog his memory.

Legend felt frustration gnawing at him as he recalled their conversation. If only he wasn’t in his rabbit form. He had been named a hero six times over, had been adventuring for more than half his life, and had hundreds of battles under his belt. If he was a Hylian, and had fallen into Wild’s world with all the tools and weapons he had left home with, Legend would have done Wild’s quest himself. He had a tool for everything, a plan for everything, but what was the point of all of it if he was stuck in this soft, weak body?

Wild opened his Sheikah Slate, then paused, brows furrowing. “Huh. That’s weird.”

Legend squinted up at him. “Something wrong?”

Wild hummed. “No, not really, it’s just that this part of the map won’t load in.” He poked the slate a couple times with vigour, but when nothing happened, he shrugged and hooked it to his side.

Wonderful. Legend hated going mapless. It made him feel blind, like every corner he turned would hold a new surprise for him to fight through. In this unknown Hyrule, that would probably be the case. After his first adventure, Legend had made himself memorize every map he had. On his next adventures, he kept up the tradition, memorizing the maps of dungeons and temples as soon as he got his hands on them. It didn’t matter that he had a solid copy right in front of his face, Legend had learned the hard way that things could be misplaced. Going without a map was something he hadn’t done since he was a boy.

Legend hissed out a breath between his teeth. Hylia damn him if he asked Wild if he recognized anything. That would be like the icing on Wild’s shit cake that Rhoam had thrown in his face. Legend would just have to suck it up. Until they found a map, or someone willing to give them one, they’d be flying blind.

Legend pointed to a small copse of trees not far from where they landed. “What do you think, wanna head over there first?” Legend didn’t really give a shit about where they went, as long as they kept the castle in their sights. For now, Legend would use it as their beacon of sorts, so he would always have a general knowledge of where they were.

“Really? We get to go there?” Wild’s eyes glowed. “I wonder what kind of mushrooms we might find.”

At least Wild was enjoying himself.

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They did find mushrooms, all nestled in the bases of tall white birch trees in great, thick clumps. There were green ones, which they had seen before but not eaten, red ones, a staple in their diet of which Legend was getting tired of, and new pale white mushrooms. They had a sweet, thin smell, but Legend could not pick up the sour note underneath that poisonous plants held.

After Legend deemed the new mushrooms not deadly and gave it the go-ahead, Wild started a fire for them to roast their snack. All three different mushrooms were rubbed in an herb they had found off the plateau, and together made a unique flavor, something Legend had never tasted before but wouldn’t mind trying again. As he munched merrily on his impromptu lunch, Wild had gotten up from his seat beside him, walking off between the trees sedately with a call of “be right back”. Legend had shrugged and carried on with his meal.

When the amount of time Wild had been gone became too suspicious for just a bathroom break, Legend grumbled as he forced himself off the ground to go find what trouble Wild had gotten himself into. He had thought he was beyond being surprised, yet it seemed Wild liked to prove him wrong daily. Legend emerged from their protective copse of trees to see Wild sitting on a horse.

What.

When Wild saw him, he waved from the back of the mousey gray creature, then guided it over to Legend using only coaxing murmurs and slight tugs to its hair. Behind the pair, Legend saw a few other horses, scattered across a field and pawing at the ground skittishly. Legend had a creeping suspicion of what happened.

Wild had seen a herd of horses, realized he wanted one, then just… caught it. A whole, untamed, feral horse. And the thing was fucking obessed with Legend.

The giant beast walked up to Legend with its sharp, clopping hooves. It bent down and sniffed at him, then gently lipped at his ears, soft nickers coming from its throat. Legend couldn’t move.

“Wild,” Legend growled. He kept his voice low, because there was no knowing what a startled horse was capable of. “What the hell is this?”

Wild grinned and reached down to pat the horse’s neck. “Her name is Clover,” he said, like that explained everything.

“Yeah, well Clover is trying to eat me. Get rid of her before it happens.”

Wild pouted. “But I just found her. And look at how sweet she is, you’re friends already.”

Like she was trying to prove Wild right, the horse nudged Legend, a motion that would have been sweet were he not a rabbit. Instead, the light nudge sent all of Legend’s six and a half pounds reeling, the push putting him flat on his ass. Yeah, friends. “I don’t think you’ll be saying that when one wrong step from her makes me flat as a pancake.”

“Clover would never do that!” Wild gasped. “She’s too nice!”

“I don’t care if she’s nice,” Legend griped. “She can’t stay.”

Wild’s blue eye shone, the beginnings of tears pooling in it. His bottom lip quivered, and his ears drooped, looking like a kicked puppy.

They kept the horse.

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The deer was licking him , and Wild didn’t seem to be showing the proper amount of concern for the situation.

“Oi!” Legend hissed, keeping his voice low. Any minute now the deer would start eating him, he could feel it. “Do something, you idiot! Do you carry that giant hammer around just for show?” As if to make matters worse, Legend felt a smooth tongue lave over his forehead. When it withdrew, Legend wrinkled his nose at the damp feeling it left behind.

Wild let out a soft laugh and dropped into a crouch, inching closer on all fours, catlike in his movements. When he was just a few feet away he reached his hand out tentatively, then fell still all except for his ears, which twitched madly. The deer, distracted by this new, peculiar thing, stretched out her neck curiously until her shiny black nose touched the tip of Wild’s scarred index finger. Legend watched a delighted smile grow across his face as the deer started licking it.

“It’s for the salt,” Wild whispered. “They don’t get enough from their diet, so sometimes they’ll lick rocks  – people too, if they trust them enough. Or bunnies, I suppose.”

Ever so slowly, Wild reached into his pocket with his free hand. When he withdrew it, a pink lump of rock salt sat in the center of his palm. He offered it to the doe. She sniffed at it, then tentatively lapped at the rock. When she had determined that it was a very salty treat, she turned her attention to it completely.

Yet another thing Wild had an inherent knowledge of, without appearing to realize that he actually knew it.

The duo sat in the sheltered meadow they had been napping in until the deer had found her way there. Together, they watched her lick away at the rock salt until she accidentally knocked it from Wild’s hand. When that happened, she followed the morsel to the ground, continuing her feast. Wild scooted back, still watching her, and found Legend’s paw. It seemed to be a subconscious thing, because his three fingers wrapped around Legend without taking his eyes off the doe. Legend allowed it.

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“Legend?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s a pancake?”

“What?”

“A pancake. Earlier today you said Clover would turn you into a pancake.”

Legend and Wild had found their first community of this Hyrule. The Riverside stable was a quaint, calm place, and Legend felt an overwhelming wash of relief when they had stumbled across it. For a while, he held the secret fear that he and Wild were the only two left in this Hyrule after the disaster of the Calamity. It proved not to be the case, and now they were poking around a cooking pot that was out of the way of the general hubbub and traffic, or at least what little of it there was.

Wild had gotten a dazed look in his eye after talking to only two people – with Wild’s memory loss, it actually didn’t surprise Legend; it had taken Legend himself years to learn how to socialize and speak without tripping over every other word, and he had the rising suspicion that leaning towards introversion was a Link thing no matter the incarnation – so Legend had pointed out the cooking pot that sat by the river’s edge, to bring him away from the prying looks and questions. Wild was immediately taken with it, which was how he anad Legend had gotten here.

“Pancakes are like a flat cake. They’re thin and round, and you can put all sorts of things on top of them. They’re like a dessert, but people eat them for breakfast all the time.” Legend found himself reminiscing of the lazy mornings he would spend with Ravio. Legend liked his pancakes with blueberries inside and whipped cream on top, with a pat of butter. Ravio liked his with enough maple syrup to turn them into a veritable slop of syrup and pancake mush. Now, he and Wild didn’t even have the ingredients to make a single pancake, and Wild didn’t even know what a pancake tasted like.

Legend had a mission.

“Be back in a sec,” he told Wild. Wild nodded absentmindedly, as he was sifting through the coals beneath the pot.

Legend hopped over to the front of the stable, keeping an eye out for any stray feet. It appeared that the people in this Hyrule had never seen a rabbit before, because they all did a double take as Legend went by and cleared the way for him. When he reached the stablemaster’s desk, Legend rapped on the front of it.

“Excuse me,” Legend began.

He heard shuffling, then a thump, probably someone hitting their knee, and then brown eyes peered over the desk. When they met Legend’s they widened. The stablemaster leaned out of the stable far enough to almost fall, looking from side to side.

“My eyes are right here,” Legend said, unimpressed.

The man jumped, gaze meeting Legend’s again.

“I’m sorry,” he stuttered. “But did you say something?”

Legend rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did. I came to ask if you have any pancake batter.”

The stablemaster blinked a couple times, then gave Legend a jerky nod. “Of course, of course. That’ll just be ten rupees.”

Legend glared at him. “Does it look like I carry rupees?” He spread out his arms and spun around once, necklace twirling with him. Sans the necklace, Legend was still lacking any clothes. There would be nowhere on his person that he could hold rupees. 

The man’s jaw hung open, then promptly snapped shut. “Many apologies, sir, I should have known!” With a nervous laugh, he disappeared behind his desk, emerging seconds later with a metal tin. He practically threw it at Legend, stuttering apologies all the way. The tin looked comically large in Legend’s tiny paws.

“Thanks,” came Legend’s sarcastic reply. He flicked his ears in goodbye then hopped back to Wild, who had not left the cooking pot. The stablemaster watched him leave with wide eyes.

“Here.” Legend tapped the tin on the side of the pot. “Pancake batter.”

Wild’s ears pricked, and he took the can from Legend’s paws. He unscrewed it, drew a finger through the liquid, and when the batter hit his tongue his eyes lit up. Licking his lips, Wild moved to eat more of the batter.

“Whoa, slow down.” Legend pulled Wild’s arm away. Best stop him before he ate all of it. “We need to put it in the pot first. That’s how pancakes are made.”

Together they stoked flames to life under the cooking pot. When the pan was hot enough, Legend poured out the first servings, showing Wild the proper technique. Wild eagerly took over from there, and they were able to make eight pancakes. They had no butter or toppings, but they were light and fluffy, and the boys leaned against a log and gazed out across the river as they ate them, listening to the bubbling of the water.

As Legend was polishing off his last pancake, he heard Wild gasp. Legend’s head whipped around, to see if a pushy stable goer had come by, or a monster had stumbled upon them, but what he saw was a ball of cream-colored fluff, infinitely worse than any monster. It let out a deep rumble, pushed its head into Wild’s knee, and waved its tail like a banner. A cat.

Wild wiped the last of his pancake off his face, then offered his hand to the cat, awe seeping from every pore in his body. The giant beast sniffed his hand once, then pushed his face into Wild’s palm. Wild’s eyes were wide, and he let out a breathy “oh” when the cat invited itself to his lap, sitting on his crossed legs.

That was when the cat saw Legend. Legend tensed, preparing to run, but the big tom only blinked lazily at him before returning his attention back to Wild. The cat reached out a paw, then batted gently at Wild’s loose hair, eyes lidded. Wild gently took a paw in his hands.

“Look Legend,” Wild whispered, voice toned down to an excited squeak. “He has toe beans.” He displayed the paw to Legend and squeezed it gently. Legend did not shiver at the claws that unsheathed themselves, he did not.

“No,” Legend snapped at Wild. “Those are not ‘toe beans’, those are murder mittens. Cat feet are padded like that because they’re ambush predators and it helps them stay quiet when they’re stalking prey. And guess what? Cats can and will eat rabbits.”

“Brother Cream would never do such a thing. A gentle giant, that boy. He would sooner eat his own tail.” The duo looked up to see a stooped old woman swallowed in a cloak. She was more wrinkles than skin, a cane gripped in her gnarled hand looking like the only thing keeping her from collapsing.

Brother Cream rolled onto his back, fluffy belly exposed to the air, and purred so deeply that Legend felt it in his chest. He was so fat that Legend didn’t think he’d be catching anything any time soon, but you could never be sure. A rabbit could never trust a cat, one of the few wise words from Ravio. Legend didn’t think he was being unreasonable. Usually, he loved cats, felt some kind of kinship with them, but that was when he was not a bite-sized snack.

The woman's eyes crinkled into a smile. “I’ve spent many a year at this stable, and I know every face that comes here, but I’ve never seen the two of you pass through.” If she was thrown by Legend’s presence, who by all rights was just a pink talking rabbit to these people, not a Hylian, she didn’t show it. “From where do you hail?”

Legend and Wild exchanged glances.

“Um, not here?” Wild tried.

The old woman nodded solemnly. “A fine place, but any place can be fine if you decide it to be so. Very well, I shall ask but one more question. You, blond boy.” She pointed to Wild with her cane. “Your hair; is that a stylistic choice, or have you been unlucky enough to lose your brush and soaps?”

Wild blinked, taking a knotted strand and bringing it to his face, going cross-eyed at how close it was. “Uh, the second option?”

The old woman nodded like this confirmed everything. Hell, for her maybe it did. Legend was starting to think she had a couple loose marbles rolling around upstairs.

“Very well. Then it would be a sin for me to not give you this.” From her cloak, she pulled a smooth leather satchel. “If you want to live as old as me, caring for your body is important.” She hung the bag on Wild’s neck – who was too baffled to move – and started walking down the riverside. “Come, Brother Cream,” she called with a wave of her cane. “We have other errands to attend to.”

Brother Cream heaved himself from Wild’s lap. With a wink at Legend – a wink?? – Brother Cream fell in beside the old woman, and the two disappeared around the river’s bend.

Legend… had seen weirder. Barely.

He looked at the bag the woman had given them. Taking it off of Wild, he opened it to find soap and a brush, and oh thank Hylia, conditioner. There were a few smaller bottles too, dark enough that Legend couldn’t tell what was in them. He screwed the cap off one and cautiously sniffed it.

A sharp, camphorous scent filled his nose. Eucalyptus. Legend breathed out a sigh of relief. She had left them with eucalyptus oil, a remedy that could be used to treat aching joints –or deep scars – when rubbed into the skin. Legend pulled the rest of the tiny vials out of the sack. Lavender, yarrow, and tea tree oil filled three different vials, all medicinal, and all very strong, if Legend judged by the smell.

Wild peered over his shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s bath time,” Legend proclaimed. He could hardly wait to wash Wild’s hair.

Legend ushered Wild downriver until they found a sheltered bank. Getting Wild to take his clothes off and go into the water wasn’t hard at all, surprise surprise, but Legend had never expected to ever have to teach someone about hair care in his life.

First, he scrubbed down Wild’s whole body twice over with a rosy smelling bar of soap, then did the same to his hair. Next came the arduous task of brushing out his matted locks; Legend tried to be sparing with the conditioner, he really did, but there were just so many tangles consuming Wild’s head that half the bottle was used. 

“I might as well just cut all of it off,” Legend muttered to himself, elbow deep in Wild’s mane. After what felt like hours, he had detangled it enough to actually use a brush on it without it snapping.

“The trick with long hair,” Legend murmured softly. “Is to always start from the bottom, and work your way up, like this. See?” Legend carefully ran the brush through the first couple inches of Wild’s hair. Wild watched closely, then made grabby hands at the comb.

“Can I try?”

Legend passed him the comb wordlessly, and Wild brushed it through his hair with the utmost care. It probably took a little longer than it should have with Wild’s unsteady hands, but when he was able to draw the brush from scalp to the ends, Legend started to make his way out of the river.

“What about you?”

Legend looked back. “What about me?”

“Don’t you want your fur to be washed?” Wild waved the soap bar in the air.

Legend did want his fur to be washed. He went back in the water, and Wild rubbed some soap onto Legend’s scalp and back, massaging it into him the same way Legend had done to Wild. It was nice, and soon the repetitive motions and the sound of the river made him doze. When Wild was done, they dried off and bedded down for the night.

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“You know,” Wild mused. “I think I kind of like it here.”

Legend peered up at Wild from his lap. “Here? In this nasty swamp?” He waved away a mosquito, emphasizing his point.

“It’s not a swamp.” Wild laughed. “Beedle told me this place is called the Lanayru Wetlands.”

“Well, he got one part of the name right,” Legend muttered. “I won’t tell you what it is, but it starts with ‘wet’, and ends with ‘land’.” He flattened his ears against the buzzing wings of dragonflies. Beneath him, Clover snorted, shaking her head to rid herself of the flies circling around her.

Legend gripped her saddle tightly – the saddle that he earned, he might add. He got it from the same stable that had the pancake batter. Apparently, being a rabbit with anger issues had its perks. When Wild had learned he needed twenty rupees to register Clover, twenty rupees he didn’t have, he had been crestfallen. This made Legend glower over Wild’s shoulder at the stablemaster, bearer of bad news, long enough that a sheen of nervous sweat had formed on the man’s face. He had recognized Legend from the pancake debacle, and when Legend showed no sign of letting up on his death glare, the man said that first timers could register their horse for free. Wild’s ownership of Clover had then been put in writing and filed away with the rest of the stable’s papers.

Behind him in the saddle, Wild shifted. “Don’t be like that, Beedle was nice. He gave us a bundle of arrows for free. See?” Wild idly twirled one in his fingers, the action effortless, almost subconscious in the ease with which he did it.

“Yeah, well the sooner we get out of here the better. Humidity makes my fur feel gross.” Clover snorted her agreement.

This was how they traveled for the next several hours. Legend had learned that Wild’s Hyrule was big, covered more land than his own, and since they couldn’t fast travel it put a wrench in their plans. Legend was no stranger to long journeys, or all the shit that came with them, but that didn’t mean he liked it. Wild finding Clover was a blessing. The trio’s next destination was the Wetlands Stable, which Beedle had pointed them in the general direction of. It was closer to the castle, and Legend was hoping they’d get a clue as to how to defeat the Calamity there. It was, if they were going by the merchant’s word, about a two day walk from the Riverside Stable.

When the sun began to dip low in the sky, Wild guided Clover off the path. In what had become their routine, Wild removed Clover’s saddle and bridle, tying her loosely to a tree. While Wild went to forage for dinner, Legend gathered wood and tinder for a fire, something he was still able to do as a rabbit. Legend was left with a flint and steel, and he’d usually have a fire going by the time Wild got back, so he could get to cooking right away. That was if things went smoothly. Which was not happening right now.

Legend cursed as the tinder failed to catch the flint’s spark again. Sometimes he would get smoke, or the hiss of burning sap, but the flame refused to catch. It was too wet. A strong wind had made the air light and easier to breathe, but damp still saturated the kindling, making even the dryest grass heavy with moisture. The tips of Legend’s paws had begun to go numb with his repeated, increasingly violent attempts, and when he failed the for nth time he threw down the flint and steel with a curse. From a few feet away, Clover sniffed at him.

Overhead, thin clouds were beginning to cover the dusk sky, like the sun was drawing up its blankets for the night. He could see the moon, a thin crescent that was barely visible. Clover pulled at her rope from her place below a willow, stomping her hind legs.

Legend huffed. It was almost fully dark, and he still had no fire. Wild would be disappointed when he got back with their dinner, only to find out they’d have to eat their meal raw. And just where was he, anyways? It wasn’t like the land they were in was lacking in terms of food; all along the road he had seen truffles and herbs in abundance, bundled in lush bouquets of deep green grass and ferns. Legend huffed, wondering what kind of trouble Wild had gotten himself into this time, and took a deep whiff of air to track him down.

The smell of sulphur invaded his nose with staggering force. Almost gagging at its strength, he let out a rough cough and felt his eyes begin to water. Rubbing a paw across his nose, he tried again, and just beneath the overpowering scent of rotting eggs was the earthy smell of Wild, so faint Legend would have missed it if he hadn’t been searching for it.

His ears pricked, and Legend felt his heart speed up. “Wild?” he called lowly. No answer, except for tree branches that rattled like bones in the wind. Clover pulled at her ties, and Legend heard the rope straining beneath her power. The pile of sticks at his feet sat quietly, the last thin lines of smoke swept away by the harsh breeze.

Like a shot, Legend was off. His nose twitched, taking in the awful stench of rot and the thin, barely there stream of Wild beneath it. Both were upwind of him, so Legend ran along the scent trail in a frenzy, legs filled with a new energy. His feet pumped beneath him in a rapid stocatto, barely touching the ground in their speed.

He burst from their camp clearing in an explosion of leaves into the feild before him. That awful, tongue curling smell was stronger now, almost tangible in the air, and Legend thought he heard something deep and rumbling. Thunder? He felt a sharpness drive into a paw, a thorn or stone or some long forgotten blade, but the pain barely registered to him, not even slowing his pace. Wild’s smell was growing stronger, and with it an underlying hint of something that made Legend’s heart seize; copper.

Before him rose a great hill, and above that roiled dark thunderheads with light flashing deep within them. The wind was picking up, a heavy, tingling charge in the air like nature itself was trying to drive Legend back. A gust so strong that it sent him tumbling over ripped by him, and Legend bounced several feet down the hill like a stray pebble. He pushed himself back up, ears against his head and bruises already forming, and crested the hill. A raindrop hit his forehead.

At the hill’s peak, a roar of thunder shot through Legend’s skull like an arrow. No, not thunder. It was a lynel.

The red demon roared again, its screams echoing through the night. Just feet from it, not even the size of one of the things legs, was Wild. He was crouched low, ears flat, eyes wide like he was being hunted. One of his pant legs had a wet sheen to it, but it wasn’t raining enough for that to happen. Legend forced his eyes open through the wind. Blood. It was blood that was soaking Wild’s pant leg.

“Wild!” Legend shrieked. He barrelled down the hill, almost losing his footing.

Hylian and lynel both looked at the source of the scream. If it was at all possible, Wild’s eyes got wider, and an animal panic began to bubble into the edges of his scelra.

“Legend?” he cried. That was all he had the time to say, because in a flash of movement, the lynel batted Wild aside with a club, sending him flying. Like a cat with a mouse. Lightning struck, and like the heavens were ripped open it started raining in earnest.

“Wild! Listen to me!”

The lynel had its sights set on Legend. To the right, Wild lay crumpled in a red and yellow heap.

“Lynels are extremely territorial, but they have a small circle of territory! If you leave that circle, it won’t pursue!”

The lynel charged, clawed hands diggging up clods of earth with the careless ease of a child in a sandbox. Legend careened to the side, rabbit instincts screaming, and felt the displacement of air through his fur. Too close.

“Run, Wild! You need to move!”

Legend was running in the opposite direction, drawing the lynel’s eye away from his charge. He felt the creature’s hot breath on his haunches and jumped wildly to the right. A bellow behind him nearly rocked him off his feet.

Legend swerved again, using his small form against the lynel’s size. In the corner of his eye, he saw Wild moving, limping to a copse of trees.

Before he could feel relief, a red clawed hand filled Legend’s vision. He pushed himself backwards in one large leap, scrambling between hooves the size of a shovel’s head. A rumble followed him, and whether it was thunder or lynel he couldn’t tell.

Wild had almost reached a treeline, his bedraggled form stumbling drunkenly forwards, pant leg now fully soaked. Legend dared to feel hope flicker in his chest, the first of it since he had seen the lynel. He turned his trajectory to Wild, having distraced the lynel long enough, and raced his way. There was a wet crunch, an entirely unique sound to Legend’s ears, like a treebranch had been broken with the strength of the storm, and then the strangest thing happened. The rain turned warm and thick, almost sticky. Legend looked down.

Oh. It was not rain.

Blood coursed down his front, hot and heady and steaming in the night air, from an arrow that was lodged in the junction of his shoulder and neck.

Legend tried to swallow, and the action sent blood squirting out of the wound in an arc, like wine shooting from an overfull spigot. He stopped. The arc of blood ebbed. His ears were ringing, sharp and high. Legend flicked them, like trying to shoo away a buzzing fly, but it did not cease. It got louder, actually, and Legend looked up from his position on the ground to see Wild’s face twisted in agony. He was sprinting towards Legend, away from the treeline, completely ignoring Legend’s coommands. Legend could only wonder how his body had fallen down without his notice.

Something flew over him, and Legend saw Wild dive to the side. Another something whistled past his eyes, with a sharpened tip and feathers on the end, and Wild dodged. Arrows. They were arrows like the one Legend had. More whizzed past his head like hummingbirds, all aimed at Wild, tiny homing missiles. He dodged every one.

He looked back up at his own arrow. It stuck out of his body like a banner mounted proudly on a wall. The feathers were blue and purple. Pretty.

The blood soaking his front began to cool, and he started to feel the chill of the rain again. Each drop that hit him made his body shake, driving into him like icy needles, until his whole form was quaking. He missed the blood. It started to get so cold that his toes went numb, then his fingers, then his ears. The cold was bad, but the numbness was nice as it spread through his veins, drowning the worst of the chill. He felt heavy, like he was on the verge of sleep.

The ringing became unbearable, building up into a siren’s wail, a keening cry in a familiar voice. He saw flashes of red, white, silver. More colors, like a rainbow had burst over his head, until it was too much to look at. A giant, clawed hand scooped up his body.

 Link gave in and closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

He coughed at the cloud of dust invading his lungs, particles stubbornly clinging to his throat. It was thick, cloying, and completely filled the room that he had woken in. With a groan, Link forced his eyes open – yet it was so dark it barely made a difference – and pushed his hair back from his face. He squinted, and through the shadows he was greeted with heavy stone, wooden beams, and not much else. A dungeon? Then from the corner of his eye he caught sight of a shelf of preserved food; beets, peaches, tomatoes, and other things he couldn’t identify from where he lay all sat in neat rows. They were even color coded.

 While the place he woke up in was dusty, it wasn’t damp or saturated with the smell of fear and defeat like most cells. The floors were dirt, but they were smooth, and well-tended tools hung above him; tools of craftsmanship, not torture. Link took in another breath, was prepared for the dust this time, and propped himself up on his elbows. It seemed like he was in a root cellar, not a prison, thank Hylia.

Putting one experimental foot on the ground, Link sat up fully, then almost fell down again at the black wave that rushed into his vision, a buzz filling his ears. He locked his knees and elbows, refused to pass out again, and stubbornly waited it out. Finally his vision cleared – or as much as was possible in the darkness of this place – and he found that he had collapsed on bags of… something. It felt like dirt, but it was a root cellar. Maybe grain?

Bracing himself, he stood on his two feet, planting them firmly on the dirt floor. For a moment he swayed like he was drunk, or on a ship, and the room around him spun. The preserves wobbled like jelly, and Link felt like he was on the verge of vomiting. Then everything fell still. The floor became solid again, the preserves stopped dancing, and Link’s stomach settled. He sighed, wiped away the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, then took a few experimental steps forward, dust puffing around his booted feet.

The root cellar was small, even for him, the ceiling brushing the hair on his head with every step he took. To his right, a thin beam of light kissed the floor, the only thing that gave the room any visibility. Following its source, Link saw a set of crooked stairs leading up to a solid wooden door. His way out. He hadn’t even made it to the first stair when the light glowing from around the door’s cracks was blotted out, and with a click the door’s handle began to turn.

Link cursed, and ducked around a corner of the wall. He really didn’t want to explain why he was in someone’s basement. He didn’t even know how he was in someone’s basement. Link pressed his back hard against the wall, wishing hard for Ravio’s bracelet. He held his breath as someone descended the stairs, their feet light, creaking stairs hardly audible, barely there even for Link’s sensitive ears. The sound halted at the base of the stairs. Link’s ear’s twitched, picking up their breathing, the shift of their clothes, the slide of their hair, then… nothing.

Before he had time to wonder, Link was pinned against the hard stone wall, freezing at the cold sting of metal pricking his throat. A hand fisted into his collar.

“Talk,” the mystery person snarled. “What are you doing in my house?”

Link slowly raised his hands. “I don’t know,” he said, keeping his voice low. “One moment I’m in a storm, the next, I’m waking up in here.”
Sapphire eyes glared at him, almost luminescent in their anger. “Do you have any weapons?” The hand at his collar tightened. “Don’t you dare lie, I’ll know.”

Looking at the glint in their eyes, Link really didn’t want to admit that he was unarmed to this stranger, but it was his best bet. Lying to them would probably get Link killed.

“There’s nothing on me but the clothes on my back,” Link swore. “I promise.” He felt a droplet of blood dribble down his neck from the sword's point.

There was a moment of tense silence from the other, then the hand fisting his collar loosened, and then let go completely. The sword at his neck lowered, but Link wasn’t free for long. A shove to his shoulder pushed him to the base of the stairs, and then a hand between his shoulder blades prodded him forwards.

“Get into the light,” mystery voice huffed. “I want to see who broke into my basement.”

Just to be on the safe side, Link kept his arms raised the whole way up the stairs. It wouldn’t do to take his captor by surprise, not when Link was unarmed in an unknown enviornment, and the only one with a weapon was tetchy. When Link stepped into the main level of the house, it took a second for him to adjust to the sudden light, dim though it was. He was left squinting and blinking tears away while the house’s owner came up beside him.

When his eyes finally cleared, he saw smooth wooden walls, scuffed wooden floors, all together a humble dwelling. Link turned, and he was met with a man – boy – about a head shorter than himself, if Link was being generous. Bluntly cut shoulder length hair framed a narrow jawline, and he was wearing blue like it was going out of season – blue headband, blue tunic, blue earrings, and even blue eyes made up the only color on him. He stood with his hands on his hips, sword sheathed, a brow quirked.

“Huh,” he muttered, not bothering to hide that he was scanning Link up and down. “I was expecting someone else.”

“You were expecting someone to be in your basement. Right.” Link was beginning to wish he had stayed asleep. “Well, if that's all, I’ll be on my way. Thanks for letting me crash in your root cellar.” Link began to make his way down the hall to what he assumed to be the exit feet clomping on the wooden floor. He didn’t get far before a hand was grabbing him, yanking Link around, pulling him fully into the light.

“Hey, wai-”

The boy choked on his words, frozen, gaze locked on Link’s chest. Link followed his stare, and saw that his red tunic was soaked, tacky with blood. Now that he saw it, Link realzied that it was sticking to his chest, uncomfortably damp. The short boy grabbed him by the collar again, a motion that Link didn’t like that he was getting used to, and wrenched him forward, undoing the laces at his shirt. Link’s hands came up, locking around the boy’s wrists, halting his ministrations. The boy glared.

“Let me see,” he snapped, emphasizing his command with a short yank at Link’s laces. For a moment the two were caught in a staring contest, a heated battle of wills. Link finally gave in to the boy’s fiery blue stare and dropped his arms to his side with a huff.

The boy’s searching blue eyes went back to Link’s torso. Gingerly, he finished untying Link’s shirt, then pulled the green tunic under it to the side, wrinkling his nose when the smell of copper wafted up to them. Both of them held their breath, the hall dead silent, and they braced themselves for what gaping wound they would see that could cause so much blood. Link’s tunic was peeled away slowly, adhered to his chest with glue-like resistance, but nothing but pink, smooth skin was revealed beneath it.

“What the fuck?” blue eyes muttered. He tried to pull Link’s clothes lower, peering down the front of his shirt, but Link had had enough. He swatted the other’s hands away.

“That’s enough. I’m not hurt anymore, so you don’t have to strip me down in the middle of your house.” Link stumbled back, readjusting his clothing. “Now I need to go. Someone important is waiting for me.”

The bue-wearing boy bit his lip, looking Link up and down. Right when Link was preparing himself to push past the other, he stepped down.

“Fine,” the boy bit out. “Wait here just a moment.”

Before Link could say anything, the boy ran down the hall in a patter of feet. Link debated giving him the slip, but before he could put his plan into action the boy was back, this time wearing a travesty of a color scheme. Red, blue, green, and purple filled the four corners of his shirt.

It was Link’s turn to look the boy up and down, and he did so with a quirked brow. “Did you leave just so you could change into an uglier tunic?”

“Ugly!” the boy squawked. Gray eyes flashed a harsh mauve. Gray? He thought they were blue. “I’m not the fucking one wearing red with pink hair.”

“Okay,” Link snapped. “Point taken. Now where the hell is the exit.”

The boy wordlessly waved Link forward to a door that was essentially the same as the one leading to the basement. As they went outside Link braced himself for rain, the thunder, and the chill wind, but the night was clear and warm, not a cloud in sight. Stars blinked merrily above his head. Link quickly went down the porch stairs, his companion not far behind. He could feel something pulling at him, like invisible fish hooks under his skin. It happened the moment he stepped outside, an entirely phantom sensation that he had never experienced before.

Since Link had nothing else to go on, he followed it, trusting his instincts. He walked around the house, noting a blacksmith’s shop attached to the side, and moved into the woods beyond. Beside him, his companion had to trot to keep up, his legs being so much shorter than Link’s.

“You don’t have to follow me, you know,” Link hinted. He’d prefer if he was left alone altogether, but he wasn’t about to try to order around the grumpy guy with a sword.

The boy didn’t even slow. “I’d rather stay with you, thanks. And if someone’s in trouble, what are you going to do? Sass them to safety?”

In response, Link flipped him off and walked faster. Hearing the pitter-patter of little feet speed up behind him was immensely satisfying.

The pull was getting stronger, insistent fingers plucking at his skin, and Link marched toward it single-mindedly. He would have tripped over a tree root if the boy hadn’t shoved him away in time, hit his head on a low-hanging branch except for the fact his head was forced to bow last minute thanks to his tag along. Link did not hesitate to point out to the boy that he was too short for even the tip of his head to brush the branch, and the boy snapped back just as fast that Link sure was smart to not wear pants for a hike in the middle of the woods at night.

It would have turned into a full blown argument, if not for the sudden sickly puce glow that glinted between the trees like sunlight through clouds. Both boys went silent. Link was the first to move, sprinting towards the gleam with no regards to his own safety. With a shouted command of, “wait!” that was definitely ignored, the smaller boy followed him, sword drawn.

Link stumbled to the light, tripped, skidded on some wet leaves, and collided with something firm and smooth. Too smooth to be a tree. With a grunt, Link pushed himself away from it, and looked up to see a… doorway. Two white, arching pillars – one of which he had hit–, curved smoothly to meet at a peak in the center, were sitting in the middle of the forest. The archway was made of the softest porcelain, pristine ivory that was somehow a flawless white despite being planted in the woods among all sorts of dirt and grime. In the doorway was the source of the light, and what had been pulling Link to it.

Amethyst mist roiled between the arches, a vortex creating a mezmerizing whirl that seemed to suck everything into its orbit, Link included. The other boy caught up and stared wordlessly at the portal stretching above him, mouth open.

Link nudged him. “I’m guessing it’s too much to ask if you know what this is?”

“Yeah,” the boy said breathlessly. “I have no idea.”

“Right,” Link muttered. The sensation of pulling inside his body had not stopped. It had only gotten stronger, a deep twist between his collarbones, and now that Link was standing at what he guessed was the source, it was impossible to ignore. “I’m going in.”

The boy gripped Link’s arm, hand like iron. “That’s the last thing you should do! Who knows what will happen?”

“I don’t know ,” Link said. “But I have an idea.”

Whatever was in his eyes made the boy release him, taking a step back. “Fine. But I’m going with you.”

Link shrugged. He wasn’t going to waste any more time arguing with this person.“Do what you want.” He took a step toward the portal, then paused. “What’s your name?”

“Link.”

Wonderful. Before the boy could ask him his name in return, Link was engulfed by the purple miasma. He heard a shout, and just before the vortex behind him closed, he saw the other Link’s face, eyes prismatic with colors. Then he was gone, and Link was enveloped in darkness again.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

The first thing Legend knew was blue. Azure arching and twining with cyan, sapphire and cerulean intermingling, and for a moment Legend thought the other Link had fallen through the portal with him after all, somehow changing back to his blue tunic on the way. Then reality set in. He was in a bed of silk, practically drowning in blankets. The overwhelming amount of blue wasn’t the other Link; Legend was in a room that looked like it was sculpted from silver and lapis lazuli, and the lanterns that glowed aquamarine only enhanced the room’s colors until he was dizzy with it.

He tried sitting up, but a heat boiled up beneath the skin of his shoulder as soon as he put pressure on his matching arm, making Legend’s stomach recoil. With a moan, he fell back onto impossibly plush, velvety pillows, memories of the storm and lynel rushing back to him in an unpleasant wave. He felt his gorge rise, and for an indeterminate amount of time Legend was only able to focus on not throwing up. He had puked flat on his back before, too frail to even turn his head, and had almost choked on his own vomit. Legend didn’t want to repeat that experience again. He breathed through it, breathed through his memories of the fight, the pain, the numbness. Then he swallowed back bile and memories both, smothering them deep inside so nothing would escape, and exhaled.

Footsteps brought him out of his mind again, heavy but smooth. Above his head appeared a deep red, a startling contrast to Legend’s room. When his eyes cleared, Legend saw a- a Zora? Legend had never met or seen anything quite as stunning as it– him. If he was Zora, he had to be a hybrid, or have magic mixing in his veins or something that made him look like that. Gold slit eyes met his, and Legend had to fight down a hindbrain instinct that told him to flee from under that gaze.

The Zora smiled, a sharp grin that showed too many teeth, each pearlescent fang gleaming like a diamond. He reached out one clawed hand the size of Legend’s body, and for a moment Legend thought he was going to be crushed like a grape, but the Zora only laid the tip of one finger on Legend’s forehead. For a heartbeat, Legend had the feeling of a bucket of cold water being dumped over his body, then his lingering nausea flowed away, leaving him feeling cool and refreshed. The Zora’s smile grew softer, teeth disappearing behind his lips, and he sat on the edge of Legend’s bed.

“Ah! You’re finally awake, I see.” A soft, cultured voice spoke, an accent to it that Legend couldn’t place. Legend was surprised. He would not have matched that voice to the face in front of him.

“What- what happe-” Legend’s voice trailed off into a pitiful rasp. It hurt too much to talk, something deep inside him seizing at the attempt. Thankfully, the Zora understood. He pulled a cup out from nowhere, holding it up to Legend’s lips and supporting his head with one, large palm. Legend drank obediently, and whatever was in the cup rolled down his throat like honey, soothing and sweet. He did not bother to worry about if it was poisoned; if the one in front of him wanted Legend dead, he would have been long gone.

“I, as well as some of my people, were on the edges of the Lanayru Wetlands. We were about to take shelter from the storm when we heard you. You’re very lucky. For a moment, we thought the lynel’s roars were thunder, and your screams the wind. I was the one that decided to investigate.” The Zora paused, fiddled with a silver bangle around his wrist. “If we had arrived a moment later, you would have been beyond saving.”

Legend forced himself to nod. “Were you the one that…?” The drink was kicking in. Already he found it easier to speak.

The Zora smiled his big stupid smile again. How did he not cut his lips with those teeth? “I did. I am not as skilled as my dear late sister, but my power combined with a few healing potions brought you back from the brink.”

Legend sighed. He had teetered between life or death before, almost took the plunge more than once, and it seemed each time it left less of an impact on him, like how a repeatedly broken bone grew back stronger after each break. It worried him; normal people didn’t react to near death experiences that way. The terror he should feel during those times were always non-existent. It would be present in Legend leading up to it, along with deep seated regret and the instinctual refusal, fury equally as strong as grief, and the unbearable knowledge that Ravio would be left waiting for him forever. But then Legend would always reach the eye of the storm, and an unshakable peace would fall over him like a weighted cloak, near overpowering in its force over Legend.

A dark part of Legend couldn’t help but wonder what it might feel like, closing your eyes and never having to worry about opening them again, entering an endless, dreamless sleep. It sounded so easy, and he felt so, so tired. He knew he wanted to live, he knew it. It did not stop the morbid curiosity that flared inside him at inopportune moments.

“Thank you,” Legend rasped.

“There’s no need for thanks.” The Zora started to smile again, then it dropped, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Oh, but where are my manners! My name is Sidon, Prince of the Zora and heir to Zora’s Domain! And you are…?”

That confirmed it. He was a Zora. Was he – Sidon – a special case, or were all Zora in Wild’s Hyrule like him? A prince, too. Legend never did well with royalty. “I go by Legend. Nice to meet you.”

This seemed to excite Sidon. “A worthy name for a worthy warrior! A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Legend.” Delicately, he grasped Legend’s pink paw in both hands, lifted it an inch or so, then set it back on the bed sheets, a laughable mimicry of a handshake. He carefully smoothed down Legend’s fur when he was done.

“I was with someone.” Legend tried to sit up again, much to Sidon’s horror, and he tried to get Legend to lay back down, patting the bed and fluffing the pillows frantically. Legend ignored him. “He’s blond, blue eyed, a walking disaster and a half. Is he here?” Legend held his breath. If Wild waas missing, he didn’t know what he would do.

“Please, my friend!” Sidon exclaimed. “You must stay in bed, your condition is still delicate. Your companion is fine. He’s in a far better state than you are, in fact.” He pressed Legend back into bed, one big hand resting lightly on his chest. “If you promise to stay, I will go get him.”

Legend scowled at the ceiling. “Fine. But if you’re not back with him soon, I’m leaving to find him myself.”

Sidon shook his head with a sigh. “How foolish of me to hope that one of you would be an agreeable patient. I’ll be back soon.” He patted Legend’s head absently, making Legend feel the sensation of water running over his skin again, then Sidon was gone.

The ceiling seemed to bear down on him, caving in like collapsed lungs. The drumming of rain coming from outside the open windows grated on Legend’s ears, building up to a waterfall behind his skull. He felt pins and needles prickling all over his skin, starting at his paw tips and moving up to his neck til he felt like he was drowning. He tried to suck in air, but his throat refused to obey. Legend hissed, found himself wishing for Sidon’s cooling touch, and clicked his teeth. His body twitched, but other than that he couldn’t move.

He heard a gasp, and was flung back to reality.

Standing in a doorway that was much too big for him was Wild, wide-eyed and panting. He didn’t appear any different, still with his unruly hair, bright blue eye, and twitching ears, though one of his earrings was missing. Loose blue robes hung from his form, and someone had tried to wrangle his tresses into a ponytail but failed – already Wild’s hair was falling out of the tie in messy strands – but for all intents and purposes, he did not have the look of someone who had just faced down a lynel. Legend felt a tenseness he didn’t know he was carrying disappear.

Wild laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “Legend?” His voice was rough, rougher than usual, like gravel scraping over glass.

Legend gestured to him with a paw. “Get over here.”

Wild’s eye glistened, and without a moment’s hesitation he ran to Legend, bare feet slapping on the floor. He skidded and fell to his knees at Legend’s bedside, grasping a paw in trembling hands. “You’re okay,” Wild cried, disbeleiving. “I can’t believe it. When I last saw you, you weren’t even-” He cut himself off with a whimper and buried his face in Legend’s fur.

Over his shoulder, Legend saw Sidon duck politely out from the room, closing the door behind him. Good. “It’s all over now,” Legend murmured, placing a paw on Wild’s head. “I’m here.” He ignored the wet spots that he felt seeping through his fur. When Wild didn’t move, Legend patted him. “Hey, it’s okay. I’ve almost died from things worse than a lynel. This is nothing.”

Wild squeezed Legend’s fur between his fingers, and a muffled something– giggle, sob, maybe both, gurgled up from his throat. Legend cringed.

“Your voice,” Legend pressed. “What happened to it?”

Wild shrugged. “I screamed too loud. One of the Zora healers said these scars-” he gestured to the ones over his neck without lifting his head from Legend’s side, “-damaged my throat. So now I can only raise my voice so much before it- well, before it breaks. Literally.” His tone had taken on a detached quality, like he wasn’t all there, like he wasn’t talking about him.

Nice work, Legend. He tried something else.

“Speaking of the Zora, what do you think of them? Especially the prince of the domain, or whatever.” An obvious change of subject, but maybe Wild would be too overcome to notice.

Wild pulled away and ran the back of his arm over his face with a sniffle. “You mean Sidon?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Wild shrugged. “He seems nice. He was nice enough to save you, at least.” The tips of his ears turned pink. Huh. Legend decided to be nosy, just to take Wild’s mind off of last night’s encounter.

“Nice?” he drawled. “Is that all he is?”

A heavy swallow was Wild’s only reply. His eyes fell to the mattress. “He stayed by your side all night,” Wild whispered. “He wouldn’t leave for anything. At one point, it almost looked like he was hurting you, there was so much blood. And there was so much blood, Legend, I didn’t know something so small could hold all that blood. Then my vision went white, and the next thing I knew, I was attacking him. Sidon fought me off, but he didn’t actually hurt me. Then he had his assistants take me away from you.” Wild paused for breath, then carried on. “The next time I saw him, he apologized. He apologized for making me upset, and his voice was so gentle while he spoke.” Wild buried his face in his hands.

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Legend didn’t think anyone had ever made so much fuss about him. Not his uncle, not even Ravio. Legend didn’t think he deserved it. Wild was something else. “Well I’m here now, so don’t worry about what might have been. That’s what will break you down.”

There was a minute’s hesitation, an indrawn breath like he was about to say something, and then a puff as he released it, changing his mind. Legend’s brow quirked. “What is it?”

Wild’s gaze darted about the room, landing anywhere but Legend. “I- I remembered something!” he blurted, then clapped his hands over his mouth. He looked around the room, like he was worried someone had overheard him spilling a deep secret.

That was either a very good thing, or a very bad thing. Recollected memories of old usually were. Legend had tried to bring someone’s own lost memories back, and his attempts blew up in his face. He finally gave up, leaving the person he tried to save more broken than before.

“How much did you see?” Legend asked pensively. This seemed to be all it took for Wild, because words started spilling out of him like a burst dam.

“It was like a dream. I’m not even sure if it was real. What if-” Wild let out a low whine, licked his lips, clenched his fists around his arms in a white-knuckled grip. “What if it isn’t? Real, I mean, and I’m just made of fake memories? Like an- an artificial echo.” He choked on a wet gasp and seemed to curl in on himself, body wracked with tremors.

Like a dream. Like red hair, and music, and salty foam. Like the crys of seagulls, tidepools with hidden gems, and the ocean reaching out to kiss the shoreline, no matter how many times it was sent away again. And the smooth, smooth hands, soft because they never had to pick up a sword, never had to hurt, cradling Legend’s face. Like storms, and lightning crackling down a spine, and a song he could barely remember on his best days. A dream, or a memory? 

Shit. Legend gripped Wild’s face in both paws. “Look at me,” he snapped. When Wild didn’t, Legend gave his face a slight shake. “ Look at me.” There. A mismatched pair of eyes met his. “You are real, Wild,” Legend hissed. “Nothing about you is fake, nothing. You think, and you dream, and you breathe, and you are. Old memories can’t change that, just like new ones won’t. Do you understand me?”

A tear trailed down Wild’s cheek – only from his right eye, not his clouded over left, because it seemed that Hylia preferred her heroes broken – then another, and another, until Legend’s paws were soaked. “Yes,” Wild mewled, then began to weep, deep and heavy. 

“Okay,” Legend murmured. “Okay.” He tugged at Wild, guiding him beneath the blankets with him.

Wild followed blindly, tears still flowing down his face. This was the first time Legend had seen him cry. Legend laid him down on the bed, fluffed up a pillow for him, and sopped up his tears with his paws. Wild’s stare was fixed blankly on the ceiling, tears dripping down to his temple then into his hair. Legend stayed at his side and kept wiping his tears away with his fur. He tried using the pillowcase, but it, as well as the rest of the bed, was waterproof.

After what seemed like eons, Wild’s crying finally stopped, though occasionally his breath would hitch and a stray tear would dribble down his cheek. Strands of Wild’s hair had been caught in his tear tracks, so Legend occupied himself with combing it away. For a while, this was all that happened. Then Wild shifted.

“Legend?”

Legend hummed.

“What if I forget you?”

There it was. The question he was dreading. “Then I’ll go back and do it all over again,” Legend murmured. “Because you’re worth it.”

“Promise?” Wild’s voice could barely be heard over the rain outside.

“Promise.”

When Wild said nothing in response, Legend looked away from the window. Wild was asleep. There was a crease between his brows, and Legend took it upon himself to smooth it away. Leaning against Wild’s chest, Legend listened to his steady, strong heartbeat, and lied to himself that it would be okay. The rain outside fell harder.

Chapter Text

One more thing!! This fic has gotten its second piece of art!! You can see it here, and you can see zolanort's tumblr, the lovely artist, here. On to the chapter!

So apparently hot Zoras were a thing now, and no one seemed to care about it but Legend. Legend only cared about it because they looked so completely separate from his own Zoras, which made Legend wonder where the fuck he was in time, or if he had jumped through not time, but universes. Hot Zoras? Really? Sidon wasn’t a special case like he first thought; all of them looked like that with their flashy scales and silver jewelry. It was getting annoying. His eyes hurt from looking at them. Where did they fall on the evolutionary line? Were they ancestors or descendants of Legend’s, or a separate branch of Zora altogether? Legend couldnn’t voice his thoughts, either, because as far as everyone knew he was just a talking rabbit, not a dimensional interloper.

Legend angrily sipped at his ginger tea. It slid down his throat and spread warmth through him, loosening his limbs, which only made him more angry. Another loud slurp.

The lilac Zora who went by the name of Melnen had praised it for its medicinal qualities. According to her, she was a friend of Sidon, and had trained alongside him in the arts of healing. While Sidon was the prince of the Domain, Melnen was the head apprentice of the Zora healers, and was right there with Sidon the night he had found Legend. She had acted as Sidon’s right hand in healing Legend. Melnen didn’t say much, but Legend got the impression that she had helped save his life, and a silent gratitude had spread through him the longer she was with him. Melnen then proceeded to poke and prod at Legend, shove herbs down his gullet, then leave, saying she’d be back to get his empty cup later. The blue gems hanging from her head tinkled on her way out.

Legend and Wild had slept through the night together, Legend in the crook of Wild’s left arm, but when Legend woke it was just him in bed with the rain as a constant drone outside, his only companion. Legend didn’t even remember Wild leaving the bed. He had been regulated to bedrest by a very strict Melnen, and Legend didn’t feel like arguing with all eight feet of her and her needle-point teeth and claws.

So now he was here. In bed. While Wild was out doing who knew what. Luckily most of the Zoras seemed medically inclined, so if Wild got into enough trouble to hurt himself at least he’d have a grumpy Melnen not far behind who would hopefully scare him into taking better care of himself. A whole race of healers. That and the social implications it contained set his mind spinning. Legend had so many questions, and he found himself missing his supplies, if only so he could have his journal with him to write about these people and learn their ways. His fingers itched for a pen.

But Legend’s shoulder hurt. He was still recovering from his lynel encounter, and the constant drone of rain outside made him sleepy. The bed he was in was soft, and it cradled his joints in a delicate way that most things couldn’t, anymore. He began to doze.

“Legend!”

Sidon burst into the room, slamming the door like he owned the place. Actually, Legend guessed that he probably did. Or was going to soon. Legend was pretty sure he saw a new dent in the wall.

He glared at Sidon, because he was almost asleep, which didn’t happen often, and the mattress felt good on his sore body. “What,” he said flatly.

“You must come with me.” Sidon yanked back his sheets with a flourish, almost tearing them. Legend clutched a pillow to his chest, scandalized.

“ Now ?” He thought he was on bedrest.

“Yes, now. I just realized that I haven’t taken you on a tour of the Domain! As the Zora’s representative, I have been terribly rude, so I’ve plans to rectify it.” With that, Sidon scooped Legend up with one hand like he was nothing more than a bunch of grapes, sweeping him nine feet into the air.

Legend squealed. “Personal space!” His arms locked around Sidon’s wickedly clawed thumb, ears laying flat on his skull. Usually a nine foot fall would be nothing to him, but that was when he wasn’t a rabbit.

Sidon brought him up to his slit pupil eyes, gold irises glowing. “Apologies, my friend, but I would like to get you outside as quickly as possible. Being stuck in a stuffy room will do your health no favors. Fresh air is what you need.” He walked towards the door, each step covering the length of Wild’s whole body.

“I’ve been getting fresh air,” Legend grumped. “Literally none of your windows close.”

“Ha! Nevertheless, I must insist.”

The pair stepped out from the door’s awning, and a thin sheet of rain immediately started dappling Legend’s pelt. Has it stopped raining at all since he came here? He burrowed into Sidon’s palm, shivering, feeling the cool droplets seep through his fur to his skin. Then his vision was blocked. Something covered him, hanging over his eyes and shielding Legend from the drizzle. He peeked out from beneath it. A cloak in his size, soft and light, navy with a silver sheen on the edges. It had an old air of familiarity to it, like eating a favorite childhood dish years later.

Sidon smiled down at him. “Your fur is exquisite, my friend. I must admit that I am slightly jealous. But it’s important to keep yourself warm and dry in your delicate health; I pulled this cloak from our storage just for you. It’s made from enchanted silk, so it’s waterproof, and the Zora will see you as a friend whenever you wear it.”

Legend tugged the cloak's hood over his head, then cinched it around his neck. It was impossibly sleek, sliding over his paws like water. “Thanks.” It felt good to finally have clothes on again, even if his preferred color was green.

Sidon’s smile grew, and he started moving through Zora’s Domain again, Legend peeking over the edge of his palm.

 The Domain was… elaborate. Legend had been to a lot of places, had seen a lot of architectural feats, but this was one of the finer ones. He thought his room had been detailed, but it paled in comparison to the outside. Canals threaded through the dry walkways, and Legend saw Zoras using both. What looked like silver – which would make sense for the Zora to use because pure silver didn’t rust – coated almost every inch of the dramatic walkways and pillars. Occaisoinally, the uniformity would be broken by coats of cyan stone, all smooth spirals and expertly carved filigree with clear water-based motifs. It felt like being in a jewelry box. Legend thought Ravio would like this place; imagined him going at the floor with a hammer, chipping away hunks of precious metals and becoming rich off of the Zora’s flooring before they chased him away. He let out a small laugh.

“What are you laughing at, my friend?” Sidon looked down at Legend, but his steps did not slow. For a tour, Sidon seemed to be in a hurry.

“Nothing.” Legend brushed him off. “Just thinking of someone.”

“A companion of yours?”

Legend hesitated. “He’s a… friend.”

“I would like to meet him some day. If he’s anything like your Wild, I’m sure we would get along swimmingly.” Sidon laughed. Legend was unsure if it was because of the joke he made, or if Sidon was just the type of person to laugh at everything he said.

Wild hadn’t told Sidon his real name? Interesting. Throwing his hood off, Legend stood up, searching for the familiar blond mop of hair. “Speaking of, where’d he run off to? If you take your eyes off him for one second Hylia knows what he’ll do.”

It was Sidon’s turn to hesitate. “Ah, well, you see, he’s running an errand for me. I’m sure he’ll be back later this evening. I told him I’d keep you company while he was gone.”

Legend’s ears pricked. “Back? Back from where?” Why would a prince need to ask an outsider for a favor? He had dozens of Zoras at his beck and call.

Sidon opened his mouth to reply, but an ear-splitting roar shook the air, overshadowing anything he might have said. It shook Zora’s Domain down its foundations, making Sidon stumble and Legnd cling again to his thumb, lest he tumble from his hand. The roar continued for an indefinite amount of time, the ground quaking beneath them and the water sloshing from its canals. When it ended, Legend waited in trepidation for another scream, ears ringing despite how they had become plastered to his skull. Sidon had fallen to his knees, barely able to stop himself from dropping Legend.

“What in Ruto’s name was that!”

Stomping up to them was an elderly Zora, stooped and wrinkled and barely half of Sidon’s height. He bore down on Sidon like a hunter, cunning gaze falling on him, then Legend.

“Muzu!” Sidon’s eyes were wide, like he was a child that had been caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar. “It was only Vah Ruta,” Sidon blustered to explain. “It’s been acting up these past few weeks, you know that.”

“Not like that.” The newly named Muzu stopped before them, a scowl hanging over his wrinkled face. “It changed as soon as that hero and his guide showed up. Where are they now?”

Sidon laughed, scratching the back of his head. “Why Muzu, I have the heroe’s aide with me right now.” He brought Legend from behind his back. Legend felt much like a piece of livestock shown off at a fair. “In the myths the aides are never far from their champion, Muzu, you know that. I’m sure that Link is nearby.”

Muzu leaned into Legend’s face so far that Legend had to lean away, lest he risk the old Zora headbutting him off of Sidon’s palm. He smelled like salt and seaweed, and each individual scale on his head could be seen.

“Where is he, then?” Muzu’s question was more a command, than anything. “Is he with you, blessed guide, or in the temple of Vah Ruta?”

Legend froze. “What do you mean, temple?” He pulled on Sidon’s thumb, looking up at him. “What does he mean? Where’s Wild?”

Sidon gritted his jaw, gaze falling to the ground. His silence said it all.

Legend stretched up and yanked at the silver chains draping gracefully over his chest. “What does Muzu mean, Sidon?” Muzu looked infuriatingly smug, which only made Legend yank at Sidon’s jewelry harder. “Answer me!”

“There is a plague,” Sidon began, voice slow. It was like he was stalling for time, but for what reason Legend didn’t know. “A plague upon our people, the Zora, in the form of the great beast Vah Ruta. A hundred years ago its weilder was killed, and the beast posessed by the malice of Ganon. Link- Wild, is the only one that can stop it.” Sidon sighed, eyes falling shut. “He left at dawn to defeat the blight.”

Muzu barked out a laugh. “Ha! I knew it! Not only have you doomed the Zora, you have sent an innocent boy to his death.”

Legend was speechless

“That is not true!” Sidon snapped. “I have done this for the Zora, and I would never have sent Link to Vah Ruta if I didn’t believe he could handle it.” 

“Handle it!” Muzu scoffed. “He may have been the Champion once, but that was a lifetime ago. Now he’s as broken as the land he failed to protect.”

“He is not broken.” Legend was nearly frothing at the mouth. He glared at Muzu. “Don’t you dare talk about him like that, you old fuck.”

Muzu’s face twisted into an ugly snarl. Sidon pulled Legend away from him, which Legend was glad for because he was two seconds from launching himself at Muzu.

“My friend!” Sidon cupped Legend in both hands. “Please don’t be upset. I made Wild aware of the dangers he would face. I would never send him into it without his knowing.”

Danger. And that’s what it was, danger like the lynel, except this time Legend wasn’t with Wild. He wasn’t there to direct evil’s eye away.

“You threw him to the wolves!” Legend cried. “I have every right to be upset! He’s alone, facing a piece of Ganon, and I’m not there for him. You lied to me!” He pounded uselessly on Sidon’s chest with his fluffy paws.

Muzu scoffed, shaking his head. “So you have even hidden your plan from the heroe’s aid, Sidon? Then you know that you’re in the wrong. There will be consequences.” He did not look satisfied that he found Sidon out. If anything, he looked disappointed yet accepting, like he knew it would be the case.

Legend wondered what kind of punishment would befall a prince, and if there was one strong enough to deter Sidon. Probably not.

“And I will face those consequences!” Sidon had started to shake, so he set Legend down firmly on the silver railing of a walkway, yet still with care. He balled up his fists, eyes blazing. “I knew what I was doing the moment I saw Link!”

“The consequences will not just affect you! You have torn the domain in two, and I fear what will happen if the champion fails to cleanse the blight from Vah Ruta. Even now the young and the old are dividing. Do you know what that means?”

Civil war? Legend looked doubtfully between Sidon and Muzu. Muzu looked ready to explode, and in his old age his anger only became more concentrated. Sidon was a little better, but his fists trembled and his muscles strained, and he was frowning for the first time since Legend had met him.

“I understood the risks,” was all Sidon said, then he walked away.

It was just Legend, Muzu, and the rain.

Muzu sniffed, shoulders slumping. “Hmph! Foolish boy; he never listens. Why can’t he be more like his sister?”

Legend glared up at him, squinting through the rain. “Can you blame him? It doesn’t seem like you’re listening either.”

This seemed to startle Muzu, like he thought that with Sidon out of sight he was alone. “Eh?” He leaned over Legend, temporarily blocking the drizzle. “And what do you know about Zora politicking, heroe’s aide? Less than even our hatchlings, I’d wager.”

The barb went ignored. Technically Muzu was right, he didn’t know anything about these Zora’s politics. He was, excuse the pun, a fish out of water, and Legend found himself missing his own Zora, who’s reasoning and customs he understood.

“You and Sidon keep calling me that. The heroe’s guide, or aide or whatever. Why?” It was a term he had never heard in his own journeys; he was left grasping at straws, an old feeling that he thought he was done with after his first adventure.

Muzu’s brow arched. “I would think it obvious, boy. You are the heroe’s companion, blessed by Farore herself to aid and guide the hero on their journey. That’s why you wear that cloak on your shoulders. Do you think we Zora keep clothing too small for ourselves just for the sake of it? No, there have been many recordings of the heroe’s guide being sizes of all sorts. My people used to see it as an honor to shower gifts upon them, but now-” Muzu looked Legend up and down, the disdain in him obvious “-now most of us want nothing to do with the hero, or anyone they might bring along.”

“Yeah? And why is that? You’re talking about Wild- Link, like he cursed your family or some shit.” Legend planted his hands on his hips. He refused to believe that Wild was the cause of innocent deaths.

“He might as well have,” Muzu spat. “Princess Mipha, the greatest Zora this Domain has seen in generations, is dead because of him.”

Legend thrust his neck forward. “Really. So I’m guessing Link just went and killed your princess? Since, according to you, it’s his fault.”

Muzu let out a sharp laugh. “Don’t put words in my mouth, boy, you heard what I said. Link may not have killed her directly, but he was too late to stop the Calamity and all the pain that ensued. Mipha perished with the rest of the champions.”

“That sounds like it makes it Ganon’s fault,” Legend argued. “But since he’s not here, you’re using the only person trying to help as a scapegoat.”

Before his eyes, Muzu seemed to shrink, age increasing by years in a matter of seconds. “I have my reasons. I wouldn’t expect one as new as you to understand.” During their fight, Legend had forgotten about how old he was, and not just old, but ancient. It looked like a strong wind could turn him to dust, or a friendly nudge send him toppling, and Legend wondered just how many years this Zora had seen, how many deaths.

“Who was she? The princess of the Zora?” Legend craned his neck, trying to catch Muzu’s eye. It didn’t work.

All at once, the fight rushed out of Muzu, making him look as if he deflated another couple inches. “So she has finally been forgotten outside of the Domain. Very well. Come with me, guide, and I will show you.” He held out his hands, making a bowl with them, and Legend realized he was offering to carry him. “Well? I saw that arrow wound when it was fresh, I don’t expect you to be taking morning strolls any time soon.”

Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Legend edged into his hands, which were surprisingly warm. Wordlessly, Muzu started making his way down a walkway identical, at least in Legend’s eyes, to all the rest. His gate wasn’t shambling, like Legend would have thought, but steady. Looking at Muzu’s palms, he saw dozens of tiny pink and white lines, little scars and pockmarks acquired over a lifetime. They were the hands of a warrior.

They made their way into what seemed like a plaza-type gathering place. Deep pools were cradled by the same silver and turquoise that made the rest of the Domain, and occasionally Legend would see a hint of bright fin or tail surface, then disappear again with nary a ripple. In the center rested a small goddess statue, its plain grey stone looking like a hunk of coal among diamonds. Above it was a statue pushing Sidon’s height, a delicately carved Zora woman as the subject.

“Princess Mipha,” Muzu said, stroking a headstone of cyan in front of her statue. Legend assumed it was a eulogy, but the script was unrecognizable to him.“Previous heir to the throne and Sidon’s sister.”

Legend could see the resemblance. “So you’re doing this for her?”

“I’m doing this for the domain.” His eyes were locked on Mipha’s statue, looking older than ever before. He was stooped and gray, the time clear on his skin, memories of the years eating at him.

Together they sat in silence for a time, a little pocket of quiet to themselves. Sometimes a Zora would pass by in the corner of Legend’s vision, but none of them approached. Legend was loath to break the moment of truce between him and Muzu, but there was something important he had to do.

“I need to leave now. Wild is waiting for me. Muzu, you have to take me to Sidon.” When he didn’t respond, Legend pressed a paw gently on his chest. “Muzu. Now.”

The old Zora heaved a rasping breath. “Very well. I suppose there’s no point stopping it; what’s done is done.” He hobbled his way through the Domain, holding Legend close to him like a pillow. They passed a couple of Zoras, even a child one, and Legend thought he saw a hint of Melnen’s purple scales.

They crossed a bridge over the domain to solid, earthen ground, where above them a looming dam stretched high. A hint of red, like the first leaf of autum, could be seen at the peak. Muzu set Legend on a patch of grass.

“This is where I leave you, boy. My old bones aren’t what they used to be, and those stairs are something awful on the knees.” He straightened and dipped his head goodbye, leaving Legend by himself.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

There were so many stairs. Legend hated stairs. Legend hated anything that wasn’t level ground. He heaved himself up the next Zora-sized step, shoulder burning, knees throbbing. Muzu was right about the knees. Stairs were hell on them. With a moan, Legend flopped onto his back on a slippery step, the ever present drizzle tickling his whiskers. For once, the rain was a relief, the crisp air cooling him down. Sidon was still just a red blob at the peak of the dam, what felt like miles away and was probably another hour of climbing. Legend decided he’d had enough.

“Hey!” He got back up on burning paws, waving one arm frantically. He saw the red blob jump. “Sidon! Get your ass down here!”

Sidon leaned over the dam, head the size of an acorn, then leapt into action, hurrying down the stairs. About damn time. Legend sat back to wait.

“My friend!” Sidon had almost reached him, moving fast enough that Legend was impressed he didn’t take a tumble off the dam. “How did you get all the way out here in your condition?”

“Muzu brought me. He said Wild was here.” Legend made grabby hands at him, refusing to take another step, or even get up. Sidon obliged, lifting him with a single palm and bringing him up to his face. His expression was soft.

“Would you like to sit on my shoulder? It’s a perfect perch for one of your size; you can hold on to one of my fins to keep your balance.” Sidon’s eyes held a small light of regret, and Legend knew this was his way of trying to make amends without saying so directly.

“Alright.”

Sidon smiled weakly, hoisting Legend onto his shoulder, then made to return to where he stood before Legend called him down. He seemed content to stay silent, but Legend was beyond giving a damn.

“Sidon.” He dabbed at the prince’s cheek with a fluffy paw. “Why didn’t you tell me that you sent Wild to fight Vah Ruta?”

Sidon grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You wouldn’t understand, Legend.” The tailfin on the back of his skull twitched.

“Then make me understand!” Legend snapped. “You and Muzu have been talking circles around me all day, and I’m sick of it! Stop talking over me like I’m a child and start treating me like the heroe’s guide that I am.”

Sidon tried to turn away from Legend before he remembered that Legend was using one of his fins for balance. The sudden halt to his movement was jerky and stiff. “You won’t like it,” he said. Legend pulled on Sidon’s fin so he could see his face again, reluctant gold eyes filling his vision. “You won’t like me. I’m afraid that after what I say, you’ll be turned against me and my people forever.”

“Yeah, right,” Legend drawled. “One person can’t condemn a whole race. Fuckin’ try me.”

Sidon took a couple more steps, and right when Legend was about to bite down on a fin out of frustration, he spoke.

“Zora are the most long-lived of any of Hyrule’s races, as we are the children of Lanayru, and our memories are sharp. To the rest of Hyrule’s inhabitants, the champion’s downfall was generations ago, but to us, it feels like only months have passed sinced the spoiling of Hyrule. It is our failing, to cling to our grief when the rest of the world has moved on.” His eyes had gone misty, gaze far away. “I still remember the castle, pure and immaculate, like it was yesterday.”

“The curse of Lanayru,” Legend murmured. “I’ve heard of it.”

Sidon looked surprised. “Yes, that’s right. Hardly anyone outside of the Zora knows about it.”

Legend shrugged. “I’ve been around.” And read through the Book of Mudora. Nine times.

“Indeed,” the prince mused. “As I was saying. For some, the grief stayed, eating them away from the inside out. It was not uncommon for many Zoras before my generation to disappear into the sea and never be seen again. For others… For others, the grief festered and twisted, turning to spite. After my sister died-” Sidon cut off, caught in a series of harsh coughs. Legend rubbed his cheek.

“Thank you,” Sidon said, then carried on. “When my sister died, her body was unable to be retrieved from her divine beast, so the elders forbade any Zoras from touching Vah Ruta. It was her final resting place. Things were, well… They were fine, I suppose. As a young Zora I used to bring her and Vah Ruta offerings of fish and herbs, pushing the gifts over in a woven cattail basket Mipha made me. But a couple weeks ago Vah Ruta woke up, and if I tried to go near it I would be attacked. It’s the reason the rain won’t stop, and if this goes on much longer, it will be the reason Zora’s Domain is wiped out. I, and a couple other Zoras started looking for Hylians to help us, because they can handle electric arrows, Vah Ruta’s weakness, with more ease than me and my kin. Then we found you and Link, and I told him the same story that you are hearing now. The elders, they think that overriding Vah Ruta will spit on my sister’s memory, but I-” He inhaled sharply and held his breath for a few moments. When Sidon next spoke, Legend could barely hear him over the rain.

“I just want Mipha to be free, and the people she sacrificed herself for to be safe. And if it makes Muzu and the rest of the elders hate me, then so be it.” Sidon’s eyes glistened, and right before a tear fell he shut his eyes. Legend saw a flicker of a second eyelid before it was obscured. “That is the story, my friend. If you hate me for it, I will not fault you, but I will not apologize either.”

Legend hummed. “I’ve seen people do worse things for the right reasons.” He grimaced, thinking of Princess Hilda. “This isn’t new.”

Sidon’s pace evened; they had reached the apex of the dam. Stretching in front of it was a deep lake of black water which had risen so high some was spilling over the dam, lapping at the edges like a hungry wolf. If it broke free, Zora’s Domain would be crushed under its weight, washed away out to sea. The few Zoras he had met, Muzu, Sidon, Melnen, could be killed. In the center of the lake poised a giant, metal… elephant? Legend barely had time to look before it lit up with a blue glow and started moving, sending great waves rippling outwards. One of them almost swept Sidon off his feet, so heaving and gargantuan it was.

“What’s happening!” Legend shouted, clinging to the prince.

“I don’t know!” Sidon dodged another wave. “Vah Ruta has never done this before!”

The elephant started climbing , somehow going up an almost sheer cliffside, the clunkiness of its hooves not seeming to impede it at all. “After it! Wild’s still in there!”

To his credit, Sidon jumped in the lake with no hesitation, Legend barely able to hold on to his fin through the shock of cold water. Sidon resurfaced with a leap, and for a moment the two were weightless. Taking his chance, Legend gasped a split-second breath before they were back under water again, the powerful current doing everything in its power to tear Legend asunder. What he wouldn’t give for his mermaid tail, more than ever. When Sidon next resurfaced, through his greedy gulpings of air Legend saw a small speck floating down from the metal beast, a familiar mop of blond hair adorning it. He leaned into Sidon’s ear.

“I’ll decide if I hate you based on whether or not Wild is okay. I’m nice like that.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

They met Wild on a small outcropping of rock beneath the cliff the elephant had situated itself on. After the metal thing had stopped moving, a giant red beam shot from between its tusks straight at the castle, propelling through the dark miasma around it, sending it writhing like a nest of snakes. Sidon was staring at it now, face blank and mouth open, but Legend didn’t give a shit.

Instead, he ran up to Wild, who fell before him on both knees. Taking his face in his trembling paws, Legend tilted it from side to side, looking for anything out of place. Aside from being soaking wet, Wild seemed the same as last night, no worse for wear.

“Fucking idiot ,” Legend gasped, then pulled Wild into a hug. Wild laughed and returned it easily, blond hair falling over Legend’s form in a damp curtain. When he next stood, Wild didn’t relinquish him. Instead, Legend was left sitting in the crook of his arm, close enough to feel Wild’s heartbeat through his back. He relished in the steady, strong thumping behind him.

Wild went up to Sidon, dwarfed by the prince’s height. The Zora was still tracking Vah Ruta’s red light, wordlessly looking out over Hyrule field, an unreadable expression on his face. Wild put a hand on his hip, smile soft. With a small twitch, Sidon pulled himself out of whatever he was thinking, eyes clearing. When he saw Wild, a grin grew across his face, putting dozens of razor-sharp, diamond white teeth on display.

“Wild!” he exclaimed. “The depths of my gratitude cannot be described. Truly, I could never thank you enough.” Bending down on one knee, he took Wild’s free hand in his own, completely covering it. Bowing low, claws careful not to prick sensitive skin, Sidon pressed his forehead to Wild’s wrist. Wild’s ears blazed red. “If you ever have need of me, all you need to do is ask.”

“And you.” Sidon turned his attention to Legend. Cradling one pink forepaw in his hand, it being smaller than even the prince’s pinky finger, Sidon dipped his head to Legend. “You’re like a brother to me, Legend. I didn’t tell you this before, but that cloak was chosen by Mipha herself. She said she got it from an experienced traveler. You wear it well.” He fingered the cloak between his thumb and forefinger before letting it fall and drape over Legend’s form again, stepping back with a soft laugh.

Sidon took a long look at the duo, face going distant again. “What a pair the two of you make,” he murmured. “Shall we head back and share the good news with the rest of the Domain?”

Wild checked Legend first, then with a nod said, “I think we’d like that.”

The return journey across the lake was much smoother. Sidon was able to swim in a way that kept Wild’s upper half mostly dry, and Wild kept his hold on Legend so he barely felt a misting of water on his outer coat. The cloak kept the rest of him dry enough, so by the time they reached the dam, thank Hylia, Legend was drier than when he started. Water always took longer to dry when he was a rabbit, compared to being a Hylian. 

Craning their heads over the edge, Legend and Wild saw a bloom of color at the base of the dam, like spring had come early and wildflowers had sprung from the earth; Zoras. Sidon waved at them wildly, guiding Wild down the stairs with a hand at the small of his back, Legend still held in his arms. When they reached the group of Zoras, the trio was engulfed by all shades of scarlet, navy, silver, and more.

“My people!” Sidon cried, holding up his hands to soothe the joyous shouts that filled the air. “Before you stand two of Hyrule’s greatest heroes, Link the Wild, and his guide, Legend! It’s thanks to them that Vah Ruta is once again our ally and Mipha’s spirit is at rest!”

The cheering doubled, enough that Legend had to fight not to flatten his ears to his skull. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wild doing the same, pointed ears twitching. The poor guy looked absolutely baffled, and Legend guessed that he hadn’t seen this many people in one place since he lost his memories. Finally, Wild mimicked what Sidon had done to him, dipping his head slowly to the crowd of Zoras. This seemed to be the only invitation they needed, because like a rushing river they all came at Wild and Legend at once. Before everyone closed in, Legend caught a glimpse of deep green disappearing over the bridge, then he and Wild were swallowed.

Kisses showered on the forehead or cheeks, brushes of jaws against their own, and clawed hands combing carefully through hair assailed Legend and Wild. After about thirty seconds Legend was tired of it, skin buzzing, and he began to squirm in Wild’s hands. Wild, on the other hand, was grinning like a loon and leaning into every touch, rubbing jaws and kissing back like a born Zora. He’d be fine on his own.

Wriggling from his grasp, Legend fell nimbly on the ground and began navigating his way through the Zora’s legs, a forest of rainbow trunks. The bridge was glowing in the sun, infused with a warmth that seeped into his paws. He hopped across it, ears pricked, and found his way to the Zora’s plaza, hardly recognizable without the storm clouds that had hung over the city. There, beneath the statue of Princess Mipha like he had never left, was Muzu. Sidling up to him, Legend shrugged the hood of his cloak off out of respect for her memory, taking in full the shadow, the copy, of someone he’d never met and never would. The sun beat down on her effigy, giving it an ethereal, moon-like light.

“She’s not completely gone,” Legend said. Muzu turned his gaze from Mipha to watch him, eyes old. “You hold a piece of her in your memory. Your dreams.” He scowled. He was never good at squeezing his meaning into the confining box that were words. “The grief will never leave, but you probably know that. But the happy parts will stay, too.”

Muzu looked back up to the statue of Mipha. When Legend next looked at him, his cheeks were shining, and Legend didn’t know if it was because of his scales or something else, so he pretended not to see. He followed his gaze, eyes settling on Mipha’s form. She was beautiful, and with the way she held her spear, poised and ready to strike, he bet that she was a worthy opponent. He could see bits of Sidon in her, in the way that her brows arched and the curve of her lips. Now she was gone, tangible as sea foam.

“She sounds amazing,” Legend murmured. “I wish I could have met her.”

Muzu nodded, the movement barely noticable. “She was,” he agreed.

They sat in silence while the rest of the domain celebrated, the cheers a distant echo to Legend’s ears. It was a companionable quiet, and Legend was content to stay by the old Zora’s side until Wild was ready to leave. He tucked his paws neatly under his chest and let the sunlight, which he didn’t know he had been missing so badly, soak into his skin. 

Calloused, familiar hands running over his ears brought him back.

“Hi,” Wild said with a smile. “Ready to go?” He massaged Legend’s shoulders between two fingers.

Blinking the sleep from his eyes, Legend saw that it had passed from midday to sunset. Gone were Wild’s sopping wet clothes, replaced with a sensible pant and tunic combo. Sidon was waiting by a gate, while Muzu was still where Legend had last seen him.

“Yeah.” Legend shook out his fur. “Let’s go.”

With one last pet, Wild trotted to Sidon’s side, who bent low to converse quietly with him. Legend made to follow, but a hand held him up.

“A moment, if you would.” The hunched form of Muzu placed his other hand on him, barely a brush of feeling against his fur.

In a flash, it felt like Legend was doused in a spring of warm water, bubbles and heat washing over his skin. The constant throb in his shoulder faded completely, and he felt a prickling sensation deep in his bones, and for a moment he believed that he could run to Hyrule Castle and back, with the sudden rush of life in him. It was like being in a hot bath after a long journey.

“This is the best gift I can give you,” Muzu said. “You’ll still have the scar, but the pain won’t come back. Though some say that scars are what remind us that the past is real.” He stepped away, and Legend swore he could hear his bones creaking under his scaled skin.

With nothing to say that wouldn’t break the solemn spell he and Muzu had fallen under, Legend dipped his head in a last goodbye and hopped his way to the gate. He did not think he would see Muzu again.

Wild had already begun to make his way down the main bridge, where, at the very end, stood their horse, Clover. Legend had forgotten about her, which made him feel guilty, but he was glad to see that the sweet mare was healthy. He made to follow, but Sidon’s call made him pause.

“Legend, there’s something important I need to talk to you about.” The Zora came out of his kneel, standing at his full height, back straight and head held high. For the first time, Legend actually felt like he was looking at a prince, not the gentle giant that had saved his life.

“What is it?” Legend quirked a brow, curiosity piqued.

“I apologize if this seems too forward,” Sidon began. “But I sense a great agony within you, my friend. The pain is even stronger than that of the lynel’s attacks, and it plagues you.” He spoke faintly, hushed, like he was handling a cornered animal. Suddenly, Legend found it hard to breathe. “While I am a healer of the body, I am also a healer of the mind, and can feel the edges of a person’s concious, especially if the feelings they have are strong. Yours are very strong, enough to cause me great concern. If you would stay in the Domain but a little longer, I would take great pleasure in soothing your heart.”

Legend stumbled away, shaky. “What are you saying.” He didn’t phrase his words like a question, but a command.

Sidon bent down on one knee. “I saw what you did, my friend, in your dreams. I have borne witness to what true hurt can bring, and how desperation can drive foolish actions, so you are free of my judgement. I only wish to help you. It would be easy, you need only grant me access to your mind. I promise-”

“No!” Legend cut him off with a snarl. The lingering warmth that Muzu’s magic had left him with vanished, like a doused fire. “I don’t know who you think you are,” he spat. “But don’t you ever make a promise you can’t keep. You dont know me. You don’t know my heart, and you definitely don’t know what I’ve fucking been through, or what I’m going through right now! What makes you think you have the right to go digging through my mind ?” Legend’s voice had started to escalate, til he was shouting himself hoarse with the last few words, voice breaking.

Sidon held his hands up. “I only meant-”

“I don’t care what you meant!” Legend shrieked. “I’m leaving. Go through my mind again, and just see what fucking happens. I dare you .”

Legend whirled around, sprinting madly down the bridge on all fours, ignoring the way his joints spasmed. Sidon’s calls followed him. He only slowed when he reached Wild, breathing harshly as he skidded to a stop.

Wild stopped fiddling with Clover’s tack, looking at Legend with arched brows. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Legend panted. “Just didn’t want to keep you waiting.” Behind him, Sidon stood on the bridge alone, small and distant. He did not give chase.

“Thanks,” Wild said. “But I would have waited, you know that.” He scooped Legend up, depositing him on Clover’s withers. The mare huffed a greeting.

“Yeah, well, hindsight is twenty-twenty,” he muttered. Sidon still hadn’t moved. Even though Legend couldn’t see his eyes, he had a feeling that the prince’s golden stare had never left him. How did he know?

Wild climbed on the saddle behind him, taking up Clover’s reins in one hand; the three-fingered one stayed free, for easy weapons access and because, according to some innate knowledge that yet lived in Wild, he couldn’t hold the reins right with three fingers. When he settled in the saddle, Legend leaned against his front, closing his eyes.

“Ready?” Wild ran a hand down his flank.

No. “Yes. Let’s go.”

With a click of his tongue, Wild ushered Clover into motion. The searing gold gaze pierced through Wild’s back, never leaving Legend until they turned a corner, finally obscured by a wall of rock. Even though they were free of the Domain, Legend still hadn’t caught his breath.

“Do you think we can go back, someday?” Wild’s tone was longing, the boy behind him having attached himself to the first people that had shown him kindness.

“I’m sure you’ll see them again.” Legend untied his cloak, balled it up, and stuffed it into one of Clover’s saddlebags. “Those people love you.”

Wild blushed, and sent another misty-eyed look in the direction of the Domain. He flicked Clover’s reins, moving them to a canter. Legend couldn’t get away fast enough, Sidon’s revelation prickling over his skin and digging into his head.

As they rode through the sunset, Legend felt a flicker in his sternum, a push, the delicate flutter of a bird’s wings. No, it wasn’t in him, it was in Wild. Legend could sense… something, bubbling up within his spirit, crisp and invigorating, like a freshwater spring. Magic. Somehow, Wild had awoken a magic within him, and Legend could feel it.

Chapter Text

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“Is it about to fucking rain? Again?” Legend glared at the sky, like he could chase the darkening clouds away with just his attitude.

Wild unhooked his Sheikah Slate with one hand, the other holding Clover’s reins. Legend took them, receiving a grateful smile from Wild as he turned on the Sheikah Slate. “Umm…” He tapped at the screen, lips pursed in a hum, then his ears pricked. “Yep! It says here that it’s supposed to rain in an hour, see?”

He shoved the slate into Legend’s face, accidentally hitting his nose, finger poking at one corner. All Legend could see was a tiny storm cloud amongst dozens of meaningless scribbles and letters. He couldn’t read Wild’s Hylian, but he could remember what happened last time they were caught out in a storm.

“Fucking perfect,” Legend hissed. Clover nickered her agreement. “Alright, I don’t care that it’s the middle of the day; I’m not getting shot again, so we’re finding a spot to bed down for the storm. I think we both deserve a break.”

“What about the rest of the Divine Beasts?” 

Twisting in his seat so he could face Wild, Legend poked his chest, ignoring the bubble of light he felt beneath it. “We’re going to the next one now, so I don’t think taking an afternoon off will hurt anything in the grand sum of a hundred years. And if we run ourselves down, then we won’t be able to help anyone. Do the math.”

Ignoring Wild’s whine of “but I hate math,” Legend faced forward again, looking out over Clover’s head at the stretch of trail in front of them. To his eyes, it seemed endless, like the road was enchanted to lengthen an extra two feet for every step the travelers took. It was Legend’s least favorite part of his own journeys; the in-between stuff, where you’re left idling at the hands of time.

The duo was moving north, following the river that fed into Lanayru wetlands. The plan was to go directly north, following the trail up to the Gorons and the Eldin region, but Legend had taken one look at the volcano belching fiery smoke and said no. Instead, they opted to loop west around the back of the infected castle and make for the Rito. The Zoras had not just loaded them down with gifts and supplies, but information too. According to them, there were three more Divine Beasts plaguing Hyrule, each one a bane upon its people.

They had been keeping their steady pace for two days, only stopping at dusk to eat dinner and bed down for the night. Breakfast and lunch were eaten on horseback. Legend was used to this type of constant travel, though it was always on foot instead of by horse, but Wild was struggling. More than once he had dozed off behind the reins, causing Legend to take them up himself so he might get the chance to grab a few extra minutes of needed sleep. Legend had, somewhat against his will, learned to ride a horse in the span of two days.

He also, Legend noticed, ate much more than before, taking on an opportunistic type of eating cycle. He’d pluck acorns and apples from trees, snack on truffles and mushrooms whenever they stopped to water Clover, and errantly chewed on pieces of sap after meals. It made sense; they were constantly on the move, and Legend came to learn over time that just sitting on a horse took energy, and Wild’s natural instinct to keep his calories up out in the, well, wild, was a healthy reaction. That wasn’t what had him watching Wild so closely.

What did make him do so was the fact that Wild had left Zora’s Domain different, with a new shadow to his eyes and a weight on his back. Legend didn’t ask if he had remembered more after Vah Ruta, but he had his suspicions. He had come to the decision that he’d let his alternate self ruminate on his own a little more, process what he had seen, before springing any untoward questions on him. Patience was key, and Legend knew how to do patience. For now, he had to find somewhere for them to stay. He scanned the countryside, searching for anywhere that could shelter them from the looming clouds.

“There.” Legend pointed to a copse of thick trees. “I bet we could find somewhere to sleep there.”

They sheltered in the giant husk of a dead tree, its hollowed body large enough to even fit Wild with ease. After they had dinner, Legend had called for a dessert, so now they were eating cherries and sipping lotus wine, both given to them by the Zoras. Wild’s gray and purple circlet, another gift from the Zoras, had fallen halfway down his face, dragging his errant hair with it and making his eyes barely visible through the curtain of blond locks.

He laughed as he shoved a handful of cherries in his mouth, spitting the seeds at Legend with deadly accuracy, a small line of cherry juice dribbling down his chin. Legend shrieked at the assault, immediately rushing to defend his honor. He took a swig of sweet, syrupy wine, then started pummeling Wild’s stomach with his cottonball paws. With a squeal, Wild leapt away, but his back hit the wall of the tree, a dead end. He was at Legend’s mercy, and oh, what a delight it was to learn that Wild was ticklish. Wild’s helpless squeals were interrupted by a bolt of earth-shaking thunder that left Legend’s ears ringing.

Both boys fell silent, holding their breath. When they heard rain start to pitter-patter on the bark over their heads, they made eye contact, and couldn’t hold it in any more. Cackles filled the tree stump, echoing out into the night. Legend hiccuped, a little, squeaking thing, making Wild choke on his probably one too many helpings of wine, caught between a cough and a giggle. He collapsed, Legend followed soon after into the crook of Wild’s arm, and the two were left staring at the roof of their temporary shelter.

Wild had found the rotted out tree, a titan felled eons ago in the center of the otherwise small wood. Its size was immense, and Legend wondered what it would have looked like standing tall and proud in its prime. Now it had solidified, becoming a secret hideaway immune to the elements. It was waterproof, windproof, and even fireproof, something Wild had discovered when he lit their evening fire to make a dinner of salted greens.

Legend shifted, placing his head on Wild’s chest, then held his breath. Fainter than a heartbeat, he heard it, a new part to Wild’s usual untethered, leaves in the wind aura. Magic. Whenever Legend chose to really listen, he could hear the new energy rushing just under the surface of Wild’s skin, a change that had only happened after he left Vah Ruta. He had to talk to Wild about it; it could be useful, but, more than that, unchecked magic had the terrible habit of lashing out without the permission of the owner at the most inconvenient moments. Wild could hurt himself without even knowing how he did it.

He patted Wild’s sternum. “Tomorrow I want to see if you can use that magic of yours on command.”

Beneath him, Wild tensed. “You knew?” he whispered.

“I can feel it,” Legend explained. “Hear it. I figured it out days ago. I’ve had practice with this stuff before.”

“And you’re not mad?” Wild’s voice trembled. Legend wished the fire was still alive so he could see his face.

“I- what? Why would I be mad?” He propped himself up on Wild’s chest, trying to see the other’s thought process through the dark.

“She gave her power to me because she’s dead. She couldn’t use it anymore, so…” Wild trailed off, leaving his words hanging in the cool night air.

Legend was more lost than ever. “She? Who’s she?”

“Mipha.” The words were less than a whisper.

Ah. “Ah.” Legend wasn’t sure what else to say. Magic gleaned from the dead was tricky; Legend had used it once or twice in his time, but he preferred to rely on his own energies, his own essence, because he knew what to expect from himself. You could never be surprised if it was coming from you.

“Magic from the dead can have its disadvantages,” Legend started slowly. “But you can also contact the previous magic wielder and ask them for guidance.” If they didn’t try to possess you first. He didn’t think Mipha would, though. She sounded like a good person.

“Really?”

Legend nodded against Wild’s form. “We can try tomorrow, if you want.”

Wild yawned. “I think I’d like that. Before, she asked me to marry her, but I said no. She died before I told her why, so it’ll be nice-” another yawn, “-to say sorry.”

Nausea bioled deep in Legend’s gut, and he didn’t think it was the alcohol. He stroked Wild’s cheek, which was wet. “It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right? Wild?” The hollow tree was silent apart from the rain, a steady hum, and the rhythmic exhalations coming from Wild. He was asleep.

“Goodnight,” Legend whispered, and curled up in the space between his chest and left arm. The wind sang him to sleep.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Drunk off wine and laughter, they slept hard and they slept late. Waking, Legend had a mild headache, but nothing food wouldn’t fix. He actually felt more rested than before he started this journey, and allowed himself to doze for a couple minutes before really starting the day. He rose before Wild, a first for them both, and had a fire going by the time Wild was stirring.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Legend greeted.

Wild’s only response was a grunt. Combing a hand through knotted hair, he squinted at the light shining through cracks in the tree, then pressed his hands to his temples. The circlet he had on last night had become tangled in his yellow locks, and was now hanging halfway down his back. Legend went over to help him go through the lengthy process of removing it.

“Hangover?” Legend guessed, tossing the band aside. “It wouldn’t surprise me. You haven’t had a drink in a hundred years, give or take.”

Wild squinted at him, eyes red. “It wasn’t my fault the wine was so good.”

“Ha!” Legend barked a laugh, then softened his voice at Wild’s wince. Dipping a cloth in a small hollow of the tree, Legend laid it over Wild’s face. “I’ve heard that one dozens of times. Nice to know that people never change. Keep that there for a while and drink some water. I’ll make breakfast, and once you get some food in you you’ll feel better.”

While he wasn’t as good of a cook as Wild, he had picked some things up while they had been together. Rubbing a few truffles with salt then wrapping them in herbs, he roasted the fungi over the fire. When they were done, the truffles had a lovely smoky, clean sharpness to them, and after Wild had one he perked right up, scooting to the fire to warm his hands and eat a few more. Legend felt a silent pride when Wild licked his fingers clean of every speck of their breakfast.

Fishing through a pack that held all their essentials that were used too often to store in the Sheikah Slate, Legend emerged victoriously with a hairbrush. He started combing out Wild’s tangles, starting from the bottom and working up. “So, what do you think? Wanna try your hand at some magic?”

Biting his lip, Wild looked at the roof of the tree. Legend let him think, because pushing would make him want to do less, with the way Wild’s personality worked. He waited and brushed through Wild’s hair, which was silkier than Legend would have thought, focusing on not pulling at the locks too much. 

Releasing his lip, Wild nodded. “I think so. It’s not dangerous, is it?”

“That’s where it gets tricky.” Legend pulled out a particularly stubborn knot. “Different classes of magic come with different pros and cons. Any chance you know what type of stuff Mipha’s channeling through you?”

“Healing,” Wild answered. “She told me it’s a healing magic called Mipha’s Grace. It can fix almost any injury.”

Legend couldn’t believe their luck. Their supplies included no fairies, and the hearty potion the Zoras gave to them was very needed, but they wouldn’t last forever. Healing magic was a boon and better aid to their journey than quite possibly anything else they may have had access to. Daily fights had become part of Wild’s routine, and that meant daily bruises and scrapes, with the risk of something worse always on the horizon, something deadly. Legend pushed the encounter with the lynel to the back of his mind.

“Perfect.” Setting the brush aside, Legend walked around Wild’s side, sitting in front of him so they were face to face. He held out his paw. “Put your hand under mine.”

Wild did, Legend’s pink forepaw sat in his hand like a pebble, whose palm in comparison was about the size of Legend’s skull. Settling his paw onto Wild’s flesh, Legend ignored the unnatural smoothness of the scar tissue that engulfed hand and arm. It was nothing he hadn’t felt before, and if Wild wasn’t bothered by it then neither was he.

“I’m gonna channel some of my magic into you, got it? I’m hoping that it will wake up your own, like a spark to tinder. It’ll feel like static, but it won’t hurt.”

Wild gave him a single nod, jaw set at a determined angle. “Right.”

With a deep breath, Legend readied himself, then, in a single exhale he pushed a bit of his essence, less than a drop, a pinprick, into the center of Wild’s palm. He felt a stirring, like a wave rising from deep inside a still ocean. There was certainly something there, and it reached for him in return, eager yet with care.

“Oh,” Wild sighed. “I can feel her again.”

“Really?” Legend fought to keep his curiosity under control, smoothing his emotions. Distractions right now wouldn’t do.

“Yes. She’s talking, but I can’t make out what she’s saying.” Wild’s eyes were focused on something distant, a specter that only he could see. A pale green glow had started to spark deep in his right pupil, fainter than a candle’s flicker.

Legend leaned forward, pushing just a drop more of magic into Wild. “What about now? Can you hear her better?” His tail trembled in anticipation.

“Yes! I mean I think so. She says- she’s saying that-” Wild squinted, like if he did he could get the words to form before his stare. “She wants to know if my hands are okay?” 

“Your hands?” Legend’s brow quirked. Maybe Wild had misheard her?

Wild only nodded.

Legend turned an inquisitive eye to the offending appendages. They appeared to be fine, if not a little dirty. “Is your left hurting you again?”

Wild brought it up to his face, tilting it from side to side like he was trying to find an invisible hurt kept secret from him until now. He apparently saw nothing, and shrugged. “No. Maybe I’m just hearing her wrong. I’m still pretty new at this, like you said.” The light in his pupil faded.

Legend felt whatever had been reaching for his paw fade away, so he withdrew his own magic. Wild looked lost.

“Now what?”

Legend hummed. “Practice. That's all you can do right now.” He really had no better advice for Wild. To some, magic came naturally, but that gift was few and far between. For the majority, Legend included, it took practice, repetition, like exercising a muscle. Wild was unlucky, because he didn’t have the rings and necklaces and jewels available to him like Legend had. It was easier to start using your own magic by funneling it through something already magically inclined, but Wild only had himself and his body.

Wild grabbed a knife from his belt, bringing it to his arm. “I’m on it.” He started pressing down.

Legend lunged, shreiking. “Oi! What in Hylia’s tits are you doing?” He yanked the knife from Wild’s hand, making sure he didn’t knick him in the process. Wild only looked mildly annoyed, like Legend was a fly buzzing in his ear.

“Well, I was going to practice.” He made grabby hands at the knife. “Gimmie.”

“I didn’t mean slice yourself to ribbons!” Legend scolded. “I meant that next time you get a bruise try to fix it! Fucking hell.” Massaging his temples, Legend groaned. What the fuck was he supposed to do with Wild, honestly.

Wild pouted, bottom lip jutting out. “Well you could’ve told me. I’m not a mind reader, you know. I just thought it would be good to learn as soon as possible.” He held his hand out in a wordless request for the knife.

“I didn’t think I had to tell you,” Legend muttered, slapping the knife into Wild’s palm hilt first. “That thing is for food only, got it? Like dicing your mushrooms and shit.”

Wild rolled his eyes. “I’ve got it, Hylia’s sake.” And he tucked it back into his pants.

After the near-incident, the rest of their morning continued as normal, their routine of packing, cleaning, and foraging coming to them with a practiced ease after they had gotten used to working around the presence of the other, wordlessly weaving between eachother’s feet. Legend doused the fire while Wild put up the bedroll. Wild foraged while Legend packed up the rest of their supplies. After combing and braiding Wild’s hair, Legend would brush himself, Wild helping with the parts he couldn’t reach. They worked fast enough that within half an hour, they were on the trail again, caught in the steady sway of Clover’s stride.

“Look.” Wild had his Sheikah Slate out and the map open, zoomed in on where Legend guessed they were headed. “There’s a stable up here, see? The slate says it’s called the Woodland Stable. Since the Zoras gave us some rupees, we can stop there and see if there’s anything we need.”

Climbing the ancient towers to get enough signal to download more map was not something Legend liked. It was something Wild loved, scurrying up the sides of the towers with more ease than anything else he did, so Legend played the part of clinging to his back and praying. It was worth it to know where they were going.

“That sounds good to me,” Legend replied. Maybe someone would be willing to sell warm clothes; Rito village was supposed to be chilly. He stared hard at the map and all the meaningless squiggles and loops, with tiny pictures of trees to show the woods they were in. He really needed to learn Wild’s Hylian. “How far are we?”

“Only a couple hours. I bet we could get there around midday. Maybe the cooking pot will be open so we could make lunch.” Wild took one more look at his Sheikah Slate before storing it away again.

And that was how the rest of their morning went. Usually they’d pass time by talking about inane things, conversations spider webbing out into all directions, but Wild seemed more inclined for quiet, probably still feeling mild effects from the alcohol. Legend understood the importance of silence and didn’t push, letting his own mind wander.

Around them, everything looked vaguely the same as the past two days. Green trees, blue sky, and a dirt trail had become boring news to Legnd’s eyes, enough that he was almost blind to all of it. The trail and surrounding wood was a little damp and muddy from the rain, with dewdrops still clinging to drooping leaves, but that was about all the new changes that Legend could see. Finally, about an hour into their walk, they crested a hill and saw a thin, lonely line of smoke trailing into the sky in the direction of where the trail pointed. It looked like the stable’s communal cooking pot was in use. They must be close.

Wild seemed to have the same thought, and he urged Clover into a trot. As they got closer, the road stretched wider, became more smooth, but they didn’t pass anyone else, and so fresh tracks could be seen in the mud. Soon, Legend could smell the smokiness of a campfire, even though they were upwind of where it was burning. Then the wind changed, blowing into Legend’s face and making his sensitive rabbit nose wrinkle, pulling a cough from his lungs at the strength of the smell, much stronger than any campfire had the right to be. After a couple more yards, flakes of ash started to blow through the trees like snow.

“Wild,” Legend murmured.

Wild’s face hardened, and he pulled a silver spear from its harness, poised and ready. He tugged on Clover’s reins, slowing her pace and making the clop of her hooves muffle. Right when the smoke in the air became bad enough to make Legend’s eyes water, the trees thinned, and the boys were greeted with a lake of ash.

A mostly burnt pile of wood sat in the center, looking like the remains of a bonfire gone wrong and still slowly leaking smoke. It must have been responsible for what Legend had seen earlier, in the sky. It was silent, no birds, or animals, or even leaves in the wind could be heard, like they were in a bubble. It was deafening, and Legend felt that his breathing was too loud for this snowglobe of cinder. What made it worse was the complete dissonance with the scene before them and the perfect day around it. The sun was a gentle warmth over Legend’s fur, the skies clear and crisp after last night, and the plants a lush green after the hearty rain. Among the splinters and embers poked what looked like a horse's head, but half of its snout was missing, as well as the eye. It was the stable. 

“Oh, fuck,” Wild breathed. “What happened?”

Legend didn’t know. If it was an instance of a campfire or candle flame getting out of control, there would have been signs of people trying to smother the fire; puddles of water, sand, something. He could not even see footprints stamped in the ashy drifts. There should have been people. Not this utter, glutinous destruction.

Clover stomped a hoof, snorting. She pulled at her reins, circled, then pulled again, tail swishing and causing ash to billow up beneath her. None of Wild’s usual coos or trills helped. With a frown, he dismounted, helping Legend off as well, then tied Clover to a tree within line of sight of the stable, yet far enough away to keep her calm.

With spear still in hand, Wild crept his way up to the husk of the stable, boots quickly staining grey. Legend was not far behind, and his ears twisted frantically every which way, both hoping and dreading for a whisper, a sign, that they were not alone. He went unanswered, except for the sound of Wild’s own footsteps. Now, they were close enough to the stable’s remains to hear the faint popping of sap in the wooden beams, leftover from the heat of the fire. Levering one of the fallen beams up with his spear – to Legend it looked like a frame for a bed – Wild peered beneath it.

“Anyone here?” he called, voice low.

Legend’s ears strained, and he spotted Wild’s pricked and twitching ears too, earrings swinging with them in their own chaotic dance. Nothing. Wild started to systematically pry up more beams, poking through the dirt and cinders, coughing and waving a hand in his face when thick clouds of it blew in his face. Legend trailed behind, not fond of leaving Wild’s blind spot, or Wild leaving his.

A pond not far from the ruins was clogged with carts and debri, turning the water to a frothy brown sludge. Legend saw smears of red interspersed like rubies on a cliffside, and felt his heart sink. He gently pulled Wild’s pant leg, who looked up from digging through a heap of fabric, probably the tarp roof of the stable.

“I’m gonna check the pond really quick,” Legend explained. “You keep looking here.”

“Okay. If there’s anything suspicious, just shout.” And then he went back to searching.

Nose twitching, Legend hopped toward the pond. He could definitely smell blood, but it didn’t smell like Hylian blood from what he could remember. Squinting at the water, Legend saw red swimming in the murk and sludge, fish in a pond. He couldn’t tell how deep it was, and he didn’t want to find out, not even if he had his mermaid tail. Moving to the edge farthest from Wild and stable grounds itself, Legend looked deeper, trying to find the blood’s source. Amongst all the carts and bed frames, he saw it, a gaping wound on its side.

A horse, brown with white dapples, large eyes void of life. He was glad that Clover was left at the tree. It was the horse blood that was probably setting her off. There were more of them, too. Legend counted three, all dead, bloated, and poisoning the pond. He saw no Hylians in the rubble or the water. He didn’t worry about bodies being lost to the depths, because as soon as something died it would float to the surface of the pond. The only bodies out there were horses. 

Just to be safe, Legend snuffled through the carts piled on the bank, looking for anyone left behind. Something pricked his paw through his fur, and when Legend drew it back he saw a doll of straw in a blue cotton dress, one leg missing. He couldn’t see or hear anything else, and the few scents his nose picked up were faint, perhaps even from last night. Who knew how long it had been since any Hylians had come here, sans he and Wild.

He was on the verge of leaving and returning to Wild’s side, but something made him pause. In the rubble, under broken wheels and drifts of cinder, a glint of harsh sunlight reflecting off metal caught Legend’s eye, and he flinched. He moved the twigs aside and swept ash away, careful of stray splinters, to reveal a wickedly sharp, black bladed sickle with a red handle. Legend lifted in his paws. It was light, well-balanced, and looked pointier than any Zora tooth, while the edge was fine enough to cut diamonds. There was no room for maiming with this weapon, nor for toying with its prey. It had no purpose but to kill.

“Whatcha got there?”

“Fuck!” Legend jumped, rabbit legs launching him high into the air. Turning around, he glared at Wild, tail fluffed. In his surprise, the sickle had fallen from his paws, hitting the ground with a clatter. Wild, being who he was, helped himself to it.

“Wow.” He tilted the sickle in his hands, bringing it close to his face to examine the hilt and dusting off the ash. With a thumb, he pressed it against the blade and withdrew it almost as fast, a small bead of blood forming on the pad. Wild licked it away with a flick of his tongue. “This is nice. Where’d you find it?”

Legend scowled. Wild needed a bell on him, honestly. “I found it in the pile of shit behind me, thank you very much. By the way, did anyone ever teach you not to sneak up on people?”

“Well,” Wild drawled. “If they did, I sure can’t remember it.” He flipped the sickle in his hand experimentally. Whatever he felt made a crooked grin grow on his face. “This is really nice. Are there any more back there?”

“No,” Legend said. “And don’t you go digging for them either. With our luck, you’d get tetanus, and then where would we be?” He wiped his paws free of cinders on the side of Wild’s boot. It wasn’t like it wasn’t dirty already.

“Now let’s go, we aren’t gaining anything from staying here.”

To that, Wild seemed to agree. They picked their way through the stable’s ruins, the smoke having finally stopped its slugging ebb from the scorched wood. Clover sure didn’t seem happy to see them, but the further they got from the stable, the more she mellowed out, until she was their calm easy going mare once again when the smell of embers was completely gone from the air. 

Wild grew quite attached to the sickle. Legend was pretty sure that part of the red handle was that color due to blood, but the other boy didn’t care. He twirled it in his fingers, swung it a few expirimental times, then hooked it to his side and walked around with a smug smile plastered over his face. The Zora spear he had been using, which was supposedly the late Princess Mipha’s spear, if Wild was to be believed, was dissolved away into the Sheikah Slate.

“Really?” Legend griped. “You’re gonna use the sickle of death instead of a top tier Zora weapon? Really?”

Wild didn’t even have the decency to look guilty. “This one is better suited to my fighting style.”

Very rich, coming from him. Wild’s fighting style seemed to consist of erratically flipping from technique to technique, switching from one weapon to another whenever the fancy struck him and hitting the monster until it died, or until Wild’s weapon shattered in his hands. He would spin from one form of fighting to another sometimes faster than Legend could blink, and loved using any weapon he could get his sticky fucking hands on. They hadn’t come across many monsters in their journey yet, thank Hylia, but every time they did Wild seemed determined to test himself and to shear a year or two off Legend’s life. His style could be summed up in three words: whatever worked, worked. Fighting style his ass.

“I’m choosing not to fight you over this based solely on the fact that we found it in the remnants of a crime scene.”

Wild grinned. “Good. I would have won anyways.” He ignored Legend’s growls, scratching behind his ears, but he soon slowed. Colver’s reins fell from his hand.

Legend looked at him from his seat on their steed’s withers, taking up the reins. Wild’s ears had fallen, and his lips were tightly pursed. He tapped his thigh with a pink paw. “Something wrong?”

Wild’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t know, I just wonder if it would have been different if we showed up on time.”
He was soo young, yet already feeling guilt over something out of his control. Wild was truly learning the way of the hero. “Thinking like that will make you crazy,” Legend said. “It already happened. Don’t linger on the may have beens.”

“But what if we were there? Maybe we could have put the fire out, or helped the people at the stable, or- or-”

Legend slowly shook his head. “I don’t think we would have been any help.” If he had his ice rod, maybe, but not as the two were now. “They already had plenty of water that night, remember?”

“That’s right,” Wild gasped. “It rained last night, so even if something at the stable caught fire by accident, it would have gone out fast. If there wasn’t rain, they had the pond right next to them.” His hands that had fallen at his side clenched.

“Unless it was done on purpose,” Legend finished. “Fires fed by fuel or magic are notoriously hard to put out, even in a rainstorm. Even a bucket of tar can go a long way. I don’t think what we saw was a simple accident.”

“But why would someone have…” Wild trailed off, brows furrowed.

“That’s the problem,” Legend grunted. “We don’t know why. We’re flying blind.” 

“So where do we go now?”

“Does your Sheikah Slate show where the next stable is?” Legend hoped so, or else it meant they were mapless and within the vicinity of something that readily burnt stables to ashes.

Chewing on the inside of his mouth, Wild unhooked it from his hip with an ash-stained hand. “The next stable is the Serenne stable, but it’s far, at least two days from here. But what if that one’s burnt down too?”

“Then we’d have a trail.”

Wild’s ears pricked. “Oh, I get it. Two birds with one stone, right?”

Legend hummed. “That’s right.” If they kept on the trail to Rito Village, they’d pass at least two more stables. Two more stables, or the charred remains of them, and more clues. If the stables and their residents remained unharmed, even better, because then he and Wild would get the chance to warn them, and perhaps find refugees from the stable they just left that could point them in the direction of the arsonists.

They could not have put the stable behind them fast enough. Urging Clover into a trot, then a gallop, lunch was skipped in their efforts to put distance between them and the Woodland Stable. Legend had moved from his usual seat to the harness on Wild’s back, keeping a lookout behind them to make sure no one was on their trail. It worked, and they ran until they ran out of trail to ride on.

They had reached Hyrule Castle. It was closer than ever, just on the other side of the river they had been traveling beside, shadowed and looming and just as awful as the first time Legend had seen it. He could almost feel the darkness from it burrowing into his fur like maggots, reaching for his skin. Beneath him Clover paced, hooves clicking a stacatto back and forth in front of a bridge, the only thing separating them from the Calamity. He thought he saw something, almost like an overturned pot, walking around with spidery legs off in the horizon. Watching the unnatural way it moved made his fur prickle and his rabbit instincts gnaw at him.

This was where they’d have to go one day, but not now. They were so severely underprepared that it almost hurt. With care, Legend tugged on Wild’s unscarred ear, getting him to pull Clover back and away. He had been staring at the castle slack-jawed, eyes lost, and Legend thought it best to get some distance between him and the soul-draining place. Their plan was to loop around the back of the castle, not run through the grounds, and Legend was going to make sure it stayed that way. They’d have to go off trail, but he’d take it over Ganon any day, especially if it meant Wild’s safety.

“Come on, Wild,” Legend murmured. “Let’s keep moving.”

Wild did not respond.

They rode up the back of a lush green hill, and Legend did not relax until they disappeared over its crest, the castle out of sight behind them. As soon as that happened, Wild seemed to perk up again and glanced around, coming out of whatever fugue had held him. Legend didn’t know what he saw in this field, to him it was like the hundred others they’d crossed, but Wild saw something different. He lifted Legend off his back and gave him the reins to Clover. At first, he just walked alongside them with a hand on Colver’s neck, but he started straying further and further from their side. Soon he was turning over rocks and running about catching dragonflies, Legend gingerly guiding Clover across the empty countryside. Behind them, unseen, the castle shook.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“Wild,” Legend began.

“Hmm?” Wild didn’t even look up from his slate, yellow hair trailing on its surface.

“Just, uh, where the fuck are we?”

Wild sighed, sinking between the roots of the tree he was sitting under. “Well, we’re somewhere around here.”  He pulled Legend into his lap, a dirt-caked nail poking at the screen, encompassing a field that could have been yards or miles long. He really needed to learn Wild’s Hylian. “The only problem is that the slate’s tracking feature is glitched. I think? I’m not really sure, but now it won’t show us where we are like it used to, it’ll only show the locations downloaded on the map.” He leaned against the tree he was resting under, popping an acorn into his mouth and biting down with a crunch.

Wonderful. They should have gotten a compass. Legend didn’t care if Wild didn’t know how to use one, he did, and it would have come in handy right now. “So what you’re saying is that you don’t know where we are?” He missed his paper maps. 

His incarnation hemmed and hawed, then zoomed out the image on the slate. A lot. “We’re somewhere around-” he circled about half the slate’s screen “-here.”

“We’re lost.”

Wild laughed. “No we’re not, it’s more like we have to improvise, but, like, with real-life consequences. I have a general idea of where we are, and that’s all we need.” He patted Legend’s head and pocketed the slate. “C’mon, it’ll be like a real adventure.”

Legend angrily stuffed a piece of apple into his mouth. They were lost. Clover snuffled, definitely agreeing with him.

When their late lunch was done, he made Wild dampen a cloth and run it over his face and hands for cleanliness sake. Wild complained that he didn’t do the same, but it was different when you were a rabbit and not a Hylian. They hopped back onto Clover and continued on their way. Legend was hoping they’d find somewhere to bathe soon, because the last body of water they had come across was the river in front of Hyrule Castle, which, yeah…

Their journey to the Serenne stable was two thirds done, if Wild’s calculations and map reading were correct. Two days had passed since they had stumbled across the burnt stable on their way to Rito Village, and they had another day’s more of steady riding if they meant to reach their destination on time. Legend didn’t like it. Wild was the only person he had seen or talked to since Zora’s Domain, and the strange emptiness of Wild’s Hyrule weighed on him. The bubble of isolation he and Wild had become sucked into made him uneasy, like a predator was lying in wait for them with teeth bared, but the when and where was unknown. 

 Legend groaned, letting his head fall on Wild’s neck. “Hylia’s tits, my back hurts.” The harness was comfortable for a time, but five days straight of travel was really pushing it. The ache in his joints was a steady, pulsing thing, and Legend was scared he might pull something with how stiff his muscles had gotten.

Wild looked over his shoulder. “If you want, I can hold you so some of the pressure will be taken off it.” Something under his hoarse voice wormed into Legend’s ear, humming and whimsical.

“What was that?” Legend’s ears pricked.

Rolling his eyes, Wild started to speak again. “I said , maybe I cou-”

“No,” Legend interrupted, pressing a paw over Wild’s lips. “I’m talking about that noise. Do you hear it?”

“What is it?” came Wild’s muffled voice.

“I think it’s an accordion.” His ears strained to pick up more of the notes. There it was again, the tune both familiar yet foreign. Definitely an accordion. “Follow that song,” Legend hissed.

Wild shot him a look. “I still can’t hear anything, Legend. Hey, maybe we should take a break and get you some water.”

“Water?” Legend scoffed. “I don’t need something to drink, I need to find who’s playing that instrument. We haven’t seen anyone since the Zoras, Wild, this could be important.”

Wild still hesitated, glancing between him and Clover doubtfully.

Pulling on a lock of hair, Legend pointed to where the music was coming from. “Come on,” he persuaded. “You’ll hear it soon, the only reason you can’t is because your ears aren’t as sensitive as mine.” He flicked one for emphasis.

An aforementioned ear of Wild’s twitched. “Okay, but as soon as we stop, I’m getting you a drink. You get grumpy when you’re dehydrated.” Clicking his tongue, Wild turned Clover to where he was pointing, ignoring Legend’s cries of, “Grumpy! When have I been grumpy? ”

Legend could tell when Wild heard the same music. His head jerked up, twisting from side to side, and with a nudge from his heels he had Clover move into a lope. The music grew in pitch, and Legend thought he heard pieces of the Lost Woods snuck in, flashes of the Hero’s Ballad, the same notes a little boy taught him to play on an ocarina before he disappeared.

“Hurry,” Legend urged. He was leaning on Wild’s shoulder far enough that he was about to tumble from the harness.

There was a patch of trees, the source of the song. Clover tore through it, branches whipping against her and Wild’s sides. The volume of the song grew. Legend ducked, flattening his ears, and they burst through the trees. The music stopped. Legend waited with bated breath, hoping they hadn’t scared their musician away.

“Well,” said a light voice. “I’ve never met someone in such a hurry to see me. I’m flattered.”

With a coo, Wild halted Clover, whose sides were heaving and sweaty. Legend peeked over Wild’s shoulder, nose twitching, to see… a bird? He was tall, almost as tall as Sidon, and held an accordion in his hand – it was in a make and style Legend had never seen before – that looked too small for him. No, this must be a Rito, the avian people that he and Wild were looking for. The Rito, which had colorful plumage like some of the parrots Legend had seen in the more southern regions of his journeying, gave a small start when he saw Legend.

“I stand corrected. Two someones, though I’ve never met any of your kind.” At this statement, he waved to Legend with a flourish of feathers. “It’s not every day that you see a rabbit.”

Legend thought the feeling was mutual. His eyes strayed again to the accordion held in one hand- wing- hand? He wasn’t sure, and he guessed that asking would be incredibly rude. “I can say the same to you,” he replied. “Were you the one playing the accordion?”

The Rito’s eyes lit up. “Why yes, I was!” He stepped a few feet closer, holding his accordion out. Legend did not miss the knife-like talons on his feet, probably just as deadly as any bokoblin’s weapon. “Good eye. These days, most wouldn’t be able to recognize the instrument. Much of this land’s knowledge has been lost since the Calamity.”

“I thought that he was going crazy,” Wild pitched in, dismounting from Clover. “Or that he was hangry. If you don’t keep him fed he can get like that.”

“Oi.” Legend poked his cheek with a paw. “Watch it.”

Wild chuckled, pushing his paw away.

The Rito stepped closer, head tilted to the side. “You two make quite the interesting pair. I’ve been all over Hyrule, but I’ve never seen you on the road. Would it be too much if I asked for your names?”

Wild shrugged. “No, I don’t think so. My name is Link, but I go by Wild.”

“Well met, Wild.” At the name Link, a contemplative look came across the Rito’s face, but he shook it off and gave Wild a small bow, which Wild returned. Next, he looked expectantly at Legend. “And you are…?”

“Legend,” Legend said. “It’s a pleasure.”

The Rito did a double take. “Legend?” Kass repeated, leaning forward.

Legend nodded his assent.

“A noble name,” he hummed. Kass bowed his feathery head to him, then peered up at him with a searching gaze. “A heroe’s name, perhaps?” His eyes twinkled.

Scoffing, Legend crossed his arms. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I think Hylia prefers her heroes to be Hylian-shaped.” He flicked his long, rounded ears, as if to emphasize how very not Hylian-shaped he was.

“You never know.” Kass straightened again, and at his full height he was taller than Clover. Legend was getting fed up with all the giants they were running into. “Heroes can come in all shapes and sizes.”

Kass’ eye caught on the weapon hanging on Wild’s hip, and his smile disappeared. “That sickle there. Why do you carry it?” As he spoke, the Rito slowly loaded his accordion on his back, demeanor seeming to cool.

“What, this?” Wild brandished the blade, dark metal contrasting oddly with his pale skin. “We found it in some ruins. It’s pretty good quality, and you can never have too many pointy things, so I picked it up.”

“So you were not given it?” Kass had not taken his eyes off the blade.

Legend huffed, bringing himself in front of Wild. “You heard him the first time. We found it.”

The Rito relaxed again. “My apologies.”

“It’s okay.” Wild gave him an odd look. “It’s not yours, is it?”

Kass laughed, the sound a surprised bark. “Oh, Hylia no! That’s a Yiga weapon, something I woulnd’t be caught dead carrying.”

Legend and Wild shared a look.

“Why not?” asked Wild.

“Because it’s from the Yiga, of course.”

Legend and Wild waited in a puzzled silence. It was Kass’ turn to look at them strangely.

“The Yiga,” he said again. “Sheikah who have sworn fealty against the Royal Family. Surely you’ve heard of them.” 

Wild rubbed the back of his neck. “Can’t say that we have.”

Legend hadn’t heard of the Yiga or the Sheikah. Wild called the slate he carried with him a Sheikah Slate, but Legend hadn’t thought it was named after a race. He wondered if the Sheikah had answers behind Wild’s memory loss, or if they were aggressive like the Yiga Kass was describing.

Kass shook his head incredulously. “They’re thieves and killers that can be found throughout Hyrule. Many innocents are attacked when they’re alone or if they stray from the road.”

Legend shot him a sharp glance, mind racing. “Strange. You’re the first person we’ve seen since we set out from Zora’s domain.” Had they found their arsonist?

Kass let out a light laugh. “You don’t have to worry about me, fluffy friend. The Yiga are notorious racists; they would never ally themselves with anyone outside of Sheikahs like themselves, though I can’t imagine why anyone would want to join. They hail Ganon as the true and rightful ruler of Hyrule.”

“Really?” Wild’s eyes narrowed. “Are the Yiga the cause of the Calamity?”

“Oh no, no, no.” The Rito broke out into short chuckles, clipped and birdlike. “They could never dream of such power. They’re strong, but not that strong. They also have the peculiar quirk of being big fans of bananas. Apparently, they believe eating them gives them strength. Tossing a banana at a suspect is one of the easiest ways to expose them.”

“Bananas?” Wild’s ears perked. “I’ve never had a banana.”

Of course that’s what he would focus on. Legend resisted rolling his eyes.

Fishing around his bag, Kass emerged with a bundle of the yellow fruits. “Please, help yourself. The Yiga share borders with us and the Gerudo. While they tend to focus more on their Gerudo neighbors, it’s not uncommon to see one in Rito territory. Every single one of them carries bananas by the dozen.” He plopped the bushel of bananas into Wild’s open palms. “I think they make a nice snack when they’re fried. It’s a popular dessert on the coasts of Lurelin, in fact. I just can’t handle the texture if they’re plain.”

“Thanks!” Wild stuffed them into his pouch, not bothering with taking out his Sheikah Slate. “I’ll be sure to try that.” He hesitated, biting his lip. “Uh, Kass?”

Kass looked up, curious. “Yes? What is it?”

Wild’s cheeks flushed, and his chin dipped. “Can I try to play your accordion? I can’t remember the last time I held an instrument.” He toed at the forest floor, boot sketching random pictures and kicking up dust.

“Of course.” Kass’ eyes lit up. “It’s not every day I find someone willing to learn.”

The Rito led the pair over to a fallen log with enough room that all three of them had room to sit. Legend sat in the middle, peeking over the other’s arms to see what Kass was teaching him to see if Wild would be taught the same playing technique that Legend learned so long ago. He was curious to see the differences that time and culture could create.

Kass had set the accordion on Wild’s lap, instructing him on the proper ways to hold it. “First, you put your hand through these straps here, see?”

Gingerly, Wild did as instructed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Very good. Next,” the Rito said. “Position all four fingers on the keys or buttons. Leave your thumbs free to help support the accordion.”

Wild paused, letting out a brittle laugh. “One of my hands only has two fingers.” He grimaced, wiggling them against the wood of the accordion.

Kass only smiled. “That doesn’t matter. Plenty of people I’ve met can still play their preferred instruments with injuries like yours. I’ve found that if music comes from the heart, it’s always beautiful, no matter the player.”

Legend watched his incarnation’s gaze fall, the tips of his ears turning pink.

The smile on Kass’ face grew. “Now comes the best part. You get to play something.”

“What should I play?” Wild asked.

“Anything you’d like,” Kass said, rubbing Wild’s back. “As long as it comes from the heart.”

Wild closed his eyes, breathed in through his nose and exhaled from his mouth, and played. What followed was nearly beyond description.

The wail emitted from the accordion was truly awful. Ducking, Legend flattened his ears to his skull, as what sounded like a monster in the middle of a death rattle shot to the center of his skull like an arrow. Birds fled from their perches, deer and elk ran from where they had been grazing, and Legend saw a red fox pawing at its ears with a whine. Wild paused.

“How did I do?” He turned hopeful eyes to Kass and Legend.

Legend had never heard anything so awful, even from a first timer like Wild. He looked at Kass.

Kass’ face had taken on a particular quality to it, an undefined expression washing over it that Legend didn’t have the energy to parse out. “That was… certainly something else.” The Rito massaged his temples, smoothing down feathers that had spiked outward after Wild started playing. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone make a sound like that. I didn’t think it was possible.”

Wild beamed. “Thanks! Wanna hear something else?”

“Actually,” Legend cut in, putting his paws on one of Wild’s hands. “We were just about to leave, remember? I want to reach Serenne Stable before night.”

Kass stood up, clapping his wings together once. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to hold the two of you up.” He was quick to take the accordion from Wild’s hands, which Legend appreciated.

Wild seemed a little disappointed, but he stood as well, passing the accordion back to Kass. Strapping it to his back, the Rito pointed through a gap in the trees.

“Head that way. It’s a bit of a shortcut, for you non-fliers, and there are less monsters. There’s no trail, but as long as you keep straight you’ll be there in no time.”

“Thank you,” Legend said. “Really, thanks. We’ve both been on the road too long, it was nice seeing someone new.”

“Speak for yourself,” Wild joked. “I love it out here.” He caught Kass’ eye. “But it was nice meeting you too, Kass. And playing your accordion.”

A final dip of Kass’ head followed Wild’s statement. Legend suspected that this was a normal way of showing respect in Wild’s Hyrule. “It was a pleasure,” Kass said. “Meeting new people are some of life’s greatest gifts. Good luck on your journey, Wild. And Legend,” the Rito said. “It was lovely putting a face to the name.”

“What?” Legend said sharply. “I’ve never-”

In a gust of wind, Kass was flying, arcing up into the sky. He disappeared over the trees in less than a blink.

Legend’s voice trailed away, lost to the sky.

Wild was already at Clover’s side, a banana in hand. Slowly, Legend hopped over to him, head still craned back, searching for a hint of blue feathers. Wild followed his gaze.

“Kass seemed nice,” Wild commented. “I wonder if the other Rito will be like that.”

“I guess,” Legend muttered. “He’s a little too cryptic for my tastes.”

Wild hummed, but it was distant and distracted. Legend finally looked away from the sky to see him eyeing the banana, head cocked. “Kass said to fry them,” Wild mused. “But we just finished lunch. I don’t feel like starting a fire again just for a snack.”

“Try them plain first,” Legend said. “It’s the best way to eat something if you’ve never had it before.” He, himself, did not like bananas. He always got grossed out halfway through eating them, and would palm off the other half to Ravio or toss it aside into his compost heap if his friend wasn’t there.

Wild polished the banana on his sleeve then bit into it, skin and all, like it was a fucking apple. His nose wrinkled. “It’s kind of flaomy,” he mumbled, voice muffled from his mouthful of fruit and peel. “I don’t know what the Yiga are thinking, but I’m disappointed.”

Legend leapt and wrestled it from his hands, shrieking. “You’re supposed to peel it first! Peel it! ”

Blinking, Wild swallowed his mouthful of banana, making Legend scream internally. “Is that why it tastes weird? I thought it was just me.” He held the fruit in his hands doubtfully. “How do I peel it?”

Legend showed him, pulling off one section of the banana’s skin. Wild peeled the rest as if in slow motion, ears twitching and eyes wide and he pulled a strip of peel off. When he was done, he took a bite. His mood seemed to brighten. “Ooh. That’s much better.” He held it out to Legend. “Want some?”

Legend shook his head, holding up his fluffy paws. “Bananas have never been my favorite. It’s all yours.”

Wild seemed to enjoy peeling the bananas more than he enjoyed eating them, peeling the skin off with care and no small amount of amusement. By the time they reached Serenne Stable, he had eaten and peeled four.

Chapter Text

A few miles past where they had met Kass, they rode around a boulder and saw a horse head, barely the size of a pin sticking up in the horizon. It stood tall in the small nest of trees around it, and there was no smoke rising from it, nor the smell of ash when the wind blew towards them. This stable, as far as Legend could tell, was unharmed. He felt a tenseness that he didn’t know had wormed its way into him disappear. Smiling, Wild reached down and stroked Clover’s neck, cooing words of praise into her ear. All three of them were going to get a good night’s rest which they sorely needed, as none of them had slept indoors since they were with the Zoras.

“Hey.” Legend pawed at Wild’s chin to get his attention. There was a streak of mud right on the tip.

Wild looked down at him. “Yeah?”

“Maybe put the sickle away,” Legend began. “You know what Kass said about the Yiga; only they use those. We don’t want to be mistaken for them and get run out.”

“Smart thinking,” Wild said. The sickle disappeared in fractals of blue light and was traded out for a spear, but he did not put his Sheikah Slate away, instead balancing it between his back and Legend’s front. Pulling the last of the bananas from his bag, Wild stored those in the slate too. “Just to be safe,” he explained, shrugging.

Nudging Clover into a trot, they made the last few miles on Clover’s last dregs of energy, the home stretch that Legend had been waiting for since the Zoras. They stepped into the stable clearing in those strange hours of in-between, not quite afternoon, but not evening either, the light a dusky glow around them. Legend had the foolish hope that the hard part of their day was over with, but he would be mistaken.

Serenne Stable was… fine. It was not burnt down to a pile of cinders, which was a plus, and it was clean, and whoever built it picked a scenic view of lush meadow and endless sky. The horses were treated well, their pelts sleek and glossy, and Legend didn’t worry when Clover was taken away to be groomed and stabled for the night. A pair of dogs pranced around eachother with small yips, and while they looked at Legend curoiusly, they didn’t try to go after him, which was a lot more than what most dogs were capable of when they caught sight of a rabbit. A well was planted by the horse troughs, while beneath two pines there was an herb garden, and Legend had to stop his nose from twitching at its enticing scents of basil and rosemary. The people… the people were different; they were nice enough- until you tried to pass on the news of the burning of the Woodland Stable and its missing occupants.

“I’m telling you, ” Wild growled. “The Woodland Stable is gone. We just came from there.”

The stable master, who Legend was pretty sure went by the name Sprinn, scoffed.

“Nonsense! We would have heard about it. We pride ourselves on maintaining a steady line of contact with all the stables of Hyrule, if you must know. If something happened to the Woodland Stable, I would have heard about it from one of the messengers, or the stable’s residents themselves.” He looked Wild up and down, and whatever he saw made his lip curl. “Are you sure there isn’t something wrong with your, y’know-” at this, Sprinn gestured to the left side of his face “-brain or whatever? Have you talked to a healer about that?”

Wild’s right eye blazed. “I know what I saw. That stable, and everyone in it, is gone! We searched for survivors, but there was nothing. Why do you think no one’s come from this way for so long?”

Sprinn’s brows rose. “Well, there goes your argument right out the window. You just came from there. Or are you trying to say that you burnt down the stable?” Sprinn laughed, mocking and hard. “That would be a story for the ages, wouldn’t it? Now, if you don’t have a horse to register, I say you get going. I have a job to do.” Then he turned away, moving to a stack of papers he had been musing over when Wild and Legend had gotten there.

“Hey!” Wild slammed a fist on the wooden counter in front of him, hard enough to bruise and rattling the small pile of rupees he had deposited for Clover. “I’m telling you the truth. Look, don’t you know who the Yiga are?”

Sprinn fell still. When next he turned, his eyes were dark. “What did you say?”

“The Yiga,” Wild repeated. “They serve the Calamity, and we think that they burned dow-”

“Do not say that name here,” Sprinn cut in with a hiss. “What are you trying to do, huh, boy? If anyone here thinks the Yiga are attacking stables I’ll go out of business, so shut your trap. Now, you better get out of my face, before I blacklist you from Serenne Stable.”

Wild deflated. Legend silently pulled the back of his shirt, urging him away. Anything more he said to the stablemaster would only make it worse, and getting blacklisted from a stable, sometimes their only access to civilization, would do Wild no favors.

He and Legend tried the cook next, a blonde girl who went by the name of Zumi. She had also stabled Clover for them, and was currently filling the horse troughs with hay. When she saw Wild’s face, her own took on a clammy paleness, just like when Wild had first met her.
“Burnt down?” Zumi shook her head, standing up from her chore. “You must be mistaken. I was there just last week, and it was fine. It sounds to me like the pair of you mistook some old ruins for the Woodland Stable.” She laughed, the high pitch grating on Legend’s ears, and slapped Wild’s back. “Don’t feel too bad about it, traveler, you look like a new hand. Say, how ‘bout you take a seat and have something to eat? Meal’s only a couple rupees.”

Wild batted her arm away. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m busy.” He leaned forward, until their noses were almost touching. “Have you ever heard of the Yiga, Zumi?” 

Zumi blinked at him. “Well, sure. Every kid hears stories about them, but that’s just to keep them from wandering off. Yiga only live in the desert.”

“Not these ones.” Wild shook his head, causing his blond locks to whip across his brow. As soon as Zumi’s face had paled, Legend knew they wouldn’t be able to get through to her, yet Wild kept trying. “We think it was the Yiga that did it.”

She giggled in a strained sort of way. “Stop trying to trick me, it won’t work. My sister is the exact same. You know, every time we see eachother she always has to-”

This was when Legend stopped listening. “Let’s go,” he whispered to Wild. “Something tells me she won’t be much help.”

Wild made his hasty exit, stumbling over half-hearted excuses as he backed away. Zumi seemed glad to see them leave.

Serrene Stable was oddly vacant. It sat in a vast grassy field, with a steep cliff digging a near bottomless ravine out of the land behind it, while the land stretched endlessly like a sea of green on all other sides. Legend could see for miles in any direction, and in return he could probably be seen for miles in any direction. If you were any larger than a rabbit, you had nowhere to hide even if you wanted to. It had far less people than the first stable he had seen, and less horses too. Not including Clover, Legend had only counted three, not enough for the five people on stable grounds. He glared out at the green pasture, until it seemed to blur, like a desert mirage. He shook his head.

The only three people left to talk to were a group of ‘researchers’, babbling away about some beasts called leviathans and little else. Wild stomped up to them in his dusty boots, and when the group noticed him they fell slient.

“The Woodland Stable. Do you guys know about it?” he demanded.

The three men shared a glance.

“Sure,” one of them said haltingly. “It’s east and just slightly south of here, yeah? By Hyrule River?”

Gripping his shoulders, Wild gasped, “ Yes. But it’s been burnt down, just a few days ago. We came from there.”

The man Wild was holding shook him off. “Hey, buddy, I don’t know what you’re on about, but you need to keep your hands to yourself.” With his hands, he dusted his shoulders off where Wild had grabbed him.

“I have proof!” In a flash of blue, Wild was brandishing the scythe. “We found this in the ruins of the stable, which we think was left by a Yiga.”

Legend tensed, waiting for the accusing shouts, the fear, and the scapegoating. Wild could handle three Hylians attacking him, but would he be able to bring himself to hurt someone that wasn’t a monster?

The only blond man of the group came forward. “Let me see,” he demanded, yanking the weapon from Wild’s hands hard enough to almost catch the skin of Wild’s palm. He brought the weapon up to his nose, shook his head, and pulled out a magnifying glass. He tapped the scythe a couple times, clicked his tongue, and shook his head. The magnifying glass went back in his pocket. “A fake,” he declared, shoving it back into Wild’s hands. “Next time you want to scam someone, boy, make sure they aren’t scholars of the highest calibre, such as myself. I could have spotted that forgery miles away.”

Wild growled, fists clenched. “You’re not listening! People are dead, and you could be next.” He hooked the scythe to his side.

Another of the three men stepped forward, this one with lank, greasy hair. “You need to calm down,” he said. He pointed a grimy finger at Wild’s face, his own slowly twisting to a sneer. “Maybe there’s something wrong with you, y’know, with half your head missing.” He guffawed loudly.

Wild turned red, and he stalked slowly up to the man, muscles stiff and primed. Legend did not miss the way his hands unclenched, only to become fisted again, this time in perfect form for punching. He didn’t much feel like stopping Wild from what he was about to do, and only held on tight to the harness, preparing for what was to come. Getting in the way wouldn’t do anyone any favors.

The first man came between them before Wild could throw a punch, hands raised.

“Let’s all just settle down,” he soothed. He rested a hand on Wild’s sternum. “You seem tired. How ‘bout you treat yourself to a nice meal, huh? It’s on me.”

Pulling a blue rupee from his pocket, he flicked the little gem to Wild, who barely caught it before it hit him on the nose. Wild sent all three of them a final glare – none of them noticed, they were talking about leviathans again – and stalked away, gripping the rupee in his white-knuckled hand.

They now found themselves behind the stable, Wild soaking in a tub of hot water courtesy of Zumi, a thin sheet hung up between two trees for the sake of privacy. The steaming tub did nothing to calm him down.

“What was up with them!” Wild griped, hands tugging at damp hair. “I’ve never met anyone so- so blind!” 

Crouching on a rock by the tub, Legend shook his head. “Then you’ve been lucky. I’ve met my fair share of people that make ignorance their lifestyle. Then as soon as something bad happens, they blame you because they didn’t see it coming.”

Wild growled, then it immediately cut off as he ducked his head under water. He stayed there for a few seconds, bubbles rising to the surface, and Legend occupied himself with combing any dirt from his fur. When Wild next burst from the water, sending droplets flying, his growling had stopped, but a big frown was still plastered across his face. 

“Is it really that bad?”

Legend glanced up from his combing. “Is what bad?”

“All of this.” Wild gestured at the left side of his face.

“They’re only scars,” Legend said. “Anyone that judges you for them aren’t the kind of people that are worth your time.”

Wild nodded, but his lips were still pursed. He averted his eyes and dunked under the water again.

Legend wasn’t lying about what he said. It didn’t matter how Wild got his scars; they could be trophies proving strength, or retribution for a mission failed, but they didn’t change how he saw Wild, how he cared for Wild. In the end, all that was important was that he lived, while the rest was barely on the periphery of Legend’s concerns. He didn’t ask Wild if he wanted to cover his eye, or wear more concealing clothes, because having his burns and blemishes exposed didn’t seem to cause discomfort or flare ups. Legend lived by the firm belief that you shouldn’t cater to people’s discomfort; he had seen people do double takes at Wild’s appearance, but Wild didn’t seem to care or even notice, so Legend didn’t care. If he asked Wild if he wanted to cover them then Wild might feel like he had something to hide. Which he didn’t.

Oh, but the marks over Wild’s body carried a terrible intimacy with them too. Soft, textured, a smoothness akin to silk beneath Legend’s paws. He could see how someone’s judgement of something beyond control could hurt, and had been in that same place. It was easier now, but the looks, the burning of eyes on his body, was something he could never truly block. He soon grew to favor the disgust in their eyes over the pity, but if he could shield Wild from both of those he would do his utmost to try.

Wild burst from the tub’s water again. Legend shook his fur out, freeing himself from his thoughts, setting the comb on the rock and hopping to the ground.

“Everyone has scars, Wild. It’s a testament to your survival.” Legend leaned over the tub and patted his left cheek with a fluffy paw.

Wild sighed, and soaped up his hair again.

Finally, he seemed to be able to relax. After his first bath, they emptied it and paid Zumi to refill it again. It only cost four rupees, a steal in Legend’s eyes, and he wanted Wild to be able to feel clean before they went on the road again for who knows how long. He added a few drops of the medicinal oils they had been given by the old woman at the Riverside Stable, a memory that felt like a lifetime ago, and watched the oils form a sheen over the surface of the water. He combed through Wild’s hair while Wild leaned back and dozed, the coming of dusk bringing out the churring songs of crickets.

Legend brushed Wild’s blond hair until it was gleaming, worked it into a thick braid, and only then let him get out of the tub. He made Wild massage some oils into his skin, much to Wild’s annoyance, so Legend lectured him on the importance of moisturizing. When he was done, for the first time since Legend met him Wild carried a scent apart from that of earth and leaves and rain, the soft smell of herbs and flowers clinging to his skin.

They made their own meal and ate separately from the rest of the stable’s tenants. The three researchers wouldn’t stop giving them the sideye, while Zumi kept sending Wild looks all too close to pity. Sprinn was pretending Wild didn’t exist, unless he got too close to him, and in retaliation would curl his lip at Wild like a territorial mutt.

It was no great loss. Legend had gotten used to Wild’s company, and Wild to his in return. They ate their dinner of mushroom and vegetable stew plastered against eachother’s sides. If Legend wasn’t a rabbit, they’d be bumping elbows and knees constantly, but he was small enough that they had no troubles.

“Legend?” Wild was the first to break their companionable silence.

“What?” Legend grunted around a mouthful of stew.

Setting his bowl to the side, Wild rested his chin in his palm. “How do you know magic? I meant to ask earlier, but I think we were both too sidetracked.”

Legend mulled over the question, wondering if it would be worth the time and energy to lie, to hide more from Wild. Probably not. “I just picked it up on the way, I guess. I kept finding more magic tools, or running into a sage or sorcerer, or getting myself into trouble caused by the stuff. I learned it because it was either that, or lose control or have it blow up in my face.” It had blown up in his face before, actually. More than once.

Wild replied with a questioning look. “What kind of trouble does a rabbit get into that makes them need to learn magic?”

“Well,” Legend hedged. “Things aren’t always what they seem.”

At this statement, Wild was silent for a long moment, contemplatively staring into his half-full bowl of stew. “You know,” Wild mused. “I think I’m getting tired of all this cryptic bullshit. It was the first thing I heard when I woke up, then there was Rhoam, then Mipha, and now you.” He gnawed on his lower lip, before running a hand down one of Legend’s ears. “I’ll figure you out, Legend. Just you wait.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Legend muttered, moving out from Wild’s hand. “Now finish your soup.”

Wild took a bite, then giggled. He took another bite, giggled again, then choked on a mushroom. It only made him laugh harder, until the other stablegoers were giving him looks again. Legend just shook his head and leaned on Wild’s side again. He would be the death of him someday, really.

They went to bed sometime around midnight. Wild wanted to sleep outside, but Legend wanted to sleep in a real, honest to god bed. His hips couldn’t take the ground anymore. After a few minutes of arguing for argument's sake, Legend finally got to his bed, and even though it was old and lumpy, it felt like lying on clouds. Wild squeezed in next to him, and Legend fell into the familiar crook of his arm, soaking up his warmth. He fell asleep rocked by the rise and fall of Wild’s breathing.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

The horses were awake, trading brays, grunts and screams loud enough to make Legend stir.

“The fuck,” he mumbled, pulling himself free of the tangle of sheets.

Wild was already fully awake, laying on his back and staring at the bed’s canopy with twitching ears, though the rest of him was dead still.

The dogs were next. One started barking, then the other, until they were yapping and howling a duet in the night air.

“What in Hylia’s name is going on?”

One of the researchers, Legend didn’t care which, was getting up too, hair mussed and mustache tangled. The horses whinnied louder, and Legend could hear their hooves stomping on the earth like drum beats for soldiers marching to war.

In return, the dog’s pitch escalated, and the yaps grew louder and louder unitl Legend had to flatten his ears to block the noise. Then, with a final sharp yelp, one of the dogs fell silent. The other cut off sharply soon after, and so fast was the suddenness of it that Legend thought he had imagined it. Wild jumped out of bed, still in his undertunic and feet bare. He started to wrestle on his shoes.

Zumi was up now too, along with the two other researchers, eyes foggy with sleep. The blond girl was trembling, still in her night clothes and hair undone from its braids. Sprinn was nowhere to be seen.

A scream broke through the air, making everyone in the stable jump. It wasn’t made by a dog, or a horse, or any other animal Legend knew. The shreik was made by a man, primal, raw and grating, something Legend has only heard when the victim thought they were near death.

In a heartbeat, Wild was tearing his way to the stable’s exit, sickle in hand. Running after him, Legend dodged between Zumi’s legs, claws scrabbling on the wooden floor. In the doorway, an infected orange glow crept its way to a blaze, illuminating everyone in a haunted half-light. The scent of smoke bled into his nostrils.

Wild burst through the doorway, Legend following in his shadow. For a moment, when he stepped outside, he was blinded by the harshness of the firelight.

When his vision cleared, Legend felt his hand reach for a nonexistent sword that, by all rights, should have been resting at his side. Before him, a hulking giant of a man stood in a tight-fitting suit of red and black, thin plate armor covering his shoulders and forearms. It did nothing to hide the muscle straining at the seams of his clothes, and Legend could have sworn he heard the fabric strain in protest of his sheer size.

He had no face; it was covered by a mask with an inverted, crying eye that bore into Legend’s heart. In his hands he held a blade probably longer than Wild was tall, and stood over a crumpled figure that Legend suspected was responsible for the scream he had heard inside. It was Sprinn. He layed on the ground like a discarded doll, hands held up in surrender, a plea for mercy. Even in the spotty light, the blood staining his front was all too visible. For once, Legend had the faint hope that what he was seeing was a dream, but he could never be so lucky.

Gagging, he held up a paw to his sensitive nose, trying to block out the overwhelming smells of smoke, blood, and sweat. Behind him came Zumi, rushing out in a flurry of hair and loose clothes. When she saw the fire, she let out a cry.

“The horses!” she shouted. “They’re going to die!” She sprinted on clumsy feet to the greedy flames, which were already licking at the screaming horse’s flanks, but before she could reach them, she was knocked to her feet in a blur of red and black.

It was the masked man, the Yiga, Legend realized. It was the only explanation. He had burnt down one stable, now he was coming for the next, and all the people in it too. He lifted his sword slowly yet all too fast, an executioner’s blade, the shining metal almost alive under the writhing flames of the fire. Beneath him, Zumi was frozen, prey caught in the claws of a predator. In a single movement, the Yiga swung the blade down in an arc of silver, but before it could find home in Zumi’s body someone jumped in its path, repelling the blade away with their own weapon, the scream of metal on metal grating down to Legend’s very skull.

“Hey!” It was Wild, sickle gripped in a white-knuckled hand. He was crouched, muscles bunched, ready to spring at any moment. “Eyes on me.”

The Yiga paused, and slowly he turned his head to face Wild. Wild, who was barely half his size, and still only in his undertunic with no shield or bow at his side. A rumbling built in his chest, and with a start, Legend realized he was laughing . It built and grew until even the horses were drowned out by it, then cut itself off instantly. The Yiga sighed, cracked his neck with two sharp motions, and lifted his sword so it was pointed at Wild.

“Hear me now, Hero, and hear me well. I am a Blademaster of the Yiga Clan, and I have come to execute you in the name of our Savior, Lord Ganon!” Then he leapt.

Wild met him halfway, then two became one, locked in their own world of life or death. Behind him, Legend was aware of someone freeing the horses, and in a flood of brays and mane they galloped straight towards him. Legend nearly got hit by a stomping hoof, and in his effort of not getting his skull caved in, lost sight of Wild in a haze of legs and dust. When he next saw him through the growing fire, Legend’s heart skipped a beat.

The Yiga’s sword- the sword had gone straight through Wild, puncturing beneath his sternum and bursting through his back like a sprout shooting from the earth. Wild seemed immune to the pain it should have caused and lunged, teeth bared in a snarl. Legend wanted to tell him not to move, to hold as still as possible, because if an organ or vertebrae wasn’t nicked, it was now, and he could be bleeding internally in a dozen different places, or suffering impossible nerve damage, or have his stomach burst open and acid bleeding into the rest of him and eating him away.

But when Wild moved again, the fire flared brighter, chasing away creeping shadows and giving Legend more light to see by. Wild was unharmed; he wasn’t skewered through, it had only looked like he was stabbed, because in the pitch black of night the fire only showed the two fighter’s outlines, faint suggestions of where things were and weren’t. The Yiga had tried to drive the blade through him, yet Wild had dodged in the nick of time, and was as spry and nimble as ever.

Now, he was locked in close combat with the wall of muscle that was the Yiga. It was obvious that the Yiga was outmatched. Already, Wild was whirling around the giant of a man, scythe digging and plucking at the suit, tearing off swathes of fabric from the other until it looked like the Yiga was cloaked in drooping rags. Wild was diving in and out of range again and again before the Yiga could reach him, like a fox nipping at the heels of a wolf, waiting for him to stagger so he could perform the killing strike. The flames flared higher, and with a jolt, Legend realized it was not shreds of the Yiga’s clothes hanging off his giant form, but his flesh, in great, weeping peels, as if he was being skinned inch by bloody inch. Every time the Yiga moved, swung his sword, dodged or attacked, droplets of blood would fly off him like dew being shaken from its leaves.

The Yiga began to slow, a process that took long enough that Legend only noticed when the man didn’t even try to dodge one of Wild’s strikes. Like a building collapsing in on itself, the Blademaster fell to one knee, then both, a rumbling wheeze escaping from deep inside him. With a slash from his scythe, Wild sent him flying on his back, plumes of blood flying off his scythe in a black arc. The Yiga did not get up.

All fell silent, until only the crackling of burnt wood and Wild’s pants could be heard. Zumi had the three researchers had been trying to smother the flames eating at the stable, but they had fallen still, eyes locked on Wild. 

Wild panted, blood and sweat dripping down his brow. One gory drop got stuck in the lashes of his left eye, and when Wild blinked, it fell and hit his pupil, turning foggy gray into watery pink. Licking sweat off his upper lip, Wild stumbled to the still fallen over Sprinn, holding out his weaponless hand in a wordless offer of help. Sprinn recoiled.

“Don’t touch me, freak,” he spat.

It was Wild’s turn to recoil, and he did so almost faster than when he fought the Yiga. His lips formed around a wordless stammer, a question, and he tried reaching for Sprinn again, this time with more care.

Sprinn slapped his hand away. It rang out through the barren land like thunder. “I said don’t. Touch. Me.” The Stablemaster’s face was twisted into a mask of disgust, the ugly lines and grooves only enhanced by the dying flames.

Wild’s face was heartbreaking in its confusion. His brows furrowed, and he looked around the stable grounds as if searching for an explanation. When none came, he spoke. “W- what?” His voice crackled over that single word, then broke.

Sprinn struggled to his feet. He was favoring an arm, yet it did nothing to smother his anger. “You heard me! You’re a freak, a curse, and I want you and all your ilk-” he pointed a grubby finger at Legend “-gone!”

Wild took a step back, eyes wide. When he did not make any other sign of moving, Sprinn started to shout again.

“Get! Go on, get!” He waved his hand at Wild like he was an animal sniffing through his garbage, and when Wild still did not move Sprinn cuffed him around the ear.

Falling over with a gasp, Wild looked pleadingly at the other four. Zumi avoided his eyes, while the three researchers didn’t even have the grace to look at him. Sprinn reared back to kick Wild, but before his foot could make contact, Legend jumped. He hit Sprinn’s hip, spitting mad like a cat, and gripped onto his side with all the force he had. Scratching and snarling, he bit down on any skin he could find. Sprinn screamed and spun around, frantically pawing at Legend’s tiny form while still trying to favor his arm. From the corner of his eye, Legend saw Wild scrambling through the dirt and vanishing into the night, blond hair the last to disappear. Suddenly, Legend was scruffed, and yanked off of Sprinn, thrown several feet through the air and landing with a grunt. He came up spitting, chasing the taste of blood and grease from his mouth, then whirled on Sprinn.

“Just what the fuck is wrong with you!” Legend raved. “He put his life on the line! For you! ”

He whirled around, looking into the eyes of the five people at Serenne Stable. Only Zumi had the decency to look apologetic. “You all should be ashamed of yourselves!”

 “I won’t have any murderers in my stable,” Sprinn muttered, spitting a wad of mucus on the ground. “It’s not right. I suspect that boy was the reason the Yiga came here in the first place, flaunting that weapon of his around.”

Legend couldn’t help himself. Something inside him snapped. He screamed at them, ranted and raved, because they didn’t know what it was like being alone in the dark and the cold, holding a sword that was too big and left blisters on small hands still soft with baby fat. They didn’t know what it was like, watching blood pool on cold stone floors, only to drain away into the sewers, to flow with all the shit and piss and refuse that clogged up the earth. They didn’t know how it felt, the unique sensation of feeling warmth leave someone’s hand, ebbing as slowly as the sun giving in to the night. They didn’t know death. He cursed them, and their families, and all that they might have believed in. Then he ran. He ran away from peering eyes, dying flames, and ash blowing through the air. He picked the direction he thought Wild had gone and followed.

In his hurry to catch up with Wild, Legend tripped over the still body of the Yiga. Except he was not still. His chest still rose in tiny hitches of breath, the body still fighting a battle the mind knew was already lost. Before he could move past him, a hulking hand wrapped around Legend’s neck in an iron grip, then it squeezed. He struggled with everything he had, but in this small, defenseless, useless body, he never stood a chance.

The Yiga pulled him close, closer still, until Legend was face to face with a white mask. Part of it had slipped to the side, so Legend could see a single eye of the Yiga, glittering in the dying flames of the fire with the fey light of a man already walking the road of the dead.

“I know what you did,” the Yiga hissed, and even through the mask Legend could smell the blood on his breath. Then his eyes went dark, and Legend could breathe again.

He stiffened, tripped over the Yiga’s rigid arm, and stumbled blindly into the grassy field, not really caring what happened next.

With his nose to the ground, he sniffed Wild out, following the smell of salt and blood. He found two false trails and had run his paws rawbefore he finally tracked the familiar scent to a patch of thick grass. Wriggling through it, Legend found that it covered a small hollow, muffled from all the night sounds outside it. It was cradling the scuffed form of Wild. He was curled in a fetal position, arms protecting his head, hair loose and clothes bloody. When he heard Legend, one eye squinted open, catching Legend’s gaze. Wild’s blue eye narrowed into a glare, and he curled tighter into himself.

“Oh, Wild…” Legend whispered.

He ran a paw over Wild’s arm, trailing it down to his fist, then the back of his palm. Wild’s right hand was still clenched around the sickle, trembling. If Legend’s paw was not on him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell, so fine was the movement. He tried to take the sickle from Wild, yet it would not come. Legend set to work on loosening his fingers, having to lever each one from the grip on the blade. When Legend finally pried his fingers open, the sickle didn’t fall free; it was glued to his hand, tacky with sweat and half-dried blood. Legend peeled it from him and tossed it to the side, sending a few kicks of dirt its way. He pressed himself to Wild’s side, and let his forehead fall on Wild’s own.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Legend gasped. “Wild. It wasn’t your fault.”

Wild did not respond. He only glared a hole into the grass canopy above them, blue eye sapphire in its fury. Legend looked with him, looked at the stars, the sparse clouds, the otherwise empty night sky above them, and tried to breathe. He couldn’t remember when he fell asleep.

Chapter Text

He woke up alone. The warmth at his back, which had become so familiar over the past few weeks, was gone, only cold, hard stone remaining as a mockery to his memory. It was damp, the kind that sunk into his bones and left his joints aching for days after, curling around his muscles and squeezing in an iron grip. It was damp, and smelled of…

Link shot up with a gasp. He smelled fire. Scrambling, he felt around frantically for his companion, for a hand, a stray piece of hair, clothing, anything. Clumsy hands fell on hard stone, scrabbling for purchase, and pulling back with a hiss when a line of hurt bloomed across his palm.

A particularly sharp shard of rock had slit his palm from thumb to pinky, leaving a barely visible smudge on the ground that Link guessed was from him. Cradling his hand to his chest, Link shied back from the firelight until he hit a wall, spine aligning with its bumps and curves uncomfortably. Craning his head upwards, he tried to stay calm, not for his sake but for someone elses. Link breathed out slowly, letting his hands fall in his lap.

He was in a cave. The walls were harsh, sheer, jagged with little room to lean against. Someone had attempted to make it more hospitable, but it looked like their efforts had dwindled halfway through, the task realized to be dauntingly impossible.

Against one curve of the stone wall were wooden planks, forcibly wedged between crevices and gaps to make a mimicry of shelving. The wood was not cleanly cut; it looked like someone had eyeballed the measurements then gave up, going at the woodcarving with an axe and no other tools. The shelves were crooked and some rotting, but small trinkets still littered them like leaves on a forest floor. Link counted three candles, bottles holding any number of liquids, and even a small doll dressed in green, all coated in a healthy layer of dust.

A few paintings dotted the walls, finger paintings, and they looked old and sloppy enough to be a child’s work. Handprints, first the size of a toddler’s then working up till they were bigger than Link’s, were dedicated to one prominent slab of stone. Below them, jammed in a crevice, were two blankets – calling them blankets was generous, they looked like rags – but no pillows.

The smell and light of the fire Link had woken up to was not because of a stable catching light, but because of a crackling campfire laying in a dug out, sandy hollow in the ground. It cast light across the cave walls, making ghoulish faces appear and disappear at will. The lighter of the fire remained unseen. Link straightened, leaning away from the wall behind him. Absent-mindedly, he wiped his palm on his knee, blood leaving a smear across the bare skin much like the paintings across from him.

With a grunt, Link forced himself up. He was happy to find that this time he didn’t swoon or shake. His legs were steady.

Carefully, Link crept to the cave’s exit, shown by a watery ray of sunlight creeping its way in from a corner. He didn’t know where he was, but Link didn’t want to risk the cave’s owner appearing when he had no tools or weapons. He moved past the shelves, the paintings, and the fire, barely making a noise, and had the exit of the cave in sight, trees and grass growing on the other side. And then an outline filled the tunnel, sunlight showing off its sharp angles, blocking Link from freedom. It was in the distinct shape of a Hylian, and Link did not miss the vague shadow of a sword hanging from their side.

Link instinctively froze, but it was no use. He was standing in the middle of the tunnel, practically on display, and was already seen. The figure moved into the cave and out of the sun’s rays, and Link got his first full look at him.

A boy, probably no older than Link, stepped into the cave’s firelight. Fluffed brown hair and eyes too big for his narrow, grubby face were the first things Link saw. Russet leather moccasins enveloped his feet and calves, making each step taken silent like a cat. Draped in a tunic that looked like a hand-me-down of a hand-me-down, with brown underthings that had been darned multiple times and sewn from scraps, he did not cut an impressive figure. Until he threw himself at Link.

Link was bowled over by one hudred and twenty pounds of rangy muscle and pointy elbows, and it felt like getting hit by a charging ram. Link felt all the air leave his chest in a single rush, his head snapped against the stone floor, and black specks invaded the corners of his vision like gnats. He was left winded, reeling, fighting for air, but before he could get more than a few gasps in a pair of bony hands wrapped around his neck, calloused and firm. Then they started to squeeze.

Link clawed at him, at his wrists, knuckles, arms, anything he could reach, and felt his nails get clogged with his aggressor’s skin. But he was not let go. Through fading vision, he saw doe brown eyes, soft with thick lashes at their borders. They locked with his own, then widened when Link’s hand found a rock and swung at his temple, a wet thunk echoing through the cave. The boy went down, the grip around Link’s neck finally abating.

Link scrambled to his feet, dizzy from lack of oxygen. He regained his footing just in time. The other boy could take a hit to the head like it was nothing, even though Link saw blood soaking the hair around his temple. He had shaken himself off, sending a few droplets of blood flying to the cave floor, and was already crouched and ready to spring, just a few feet from Link.

Link curled his hands into loose fists, allowed a slight bend to his knees, and lifted his arms to protect his face. The other boy threw the first swing, and Link fell into the familiar headspace that came over him whenever he was doing hand to hand. Link dodged, felt the displacement of air from the boy’s punch right behind his ear, then darted in, delivering a swift hit to where his right kidney should be. It landed true.

The boy wheezed, buckled, and folded to the ground like a house of cards. Link waited for him to move, but the boy only curled up tighter, squeezing himself into a fetal position. Link slowly let his arms fall and dared to take a few steps closer to the other.

“Hey,” Link whispered.

The other only groaned.

Link leaned closer, reached out to touch his shoulder, and was greeted with a foot to the gut, as sharp and bony as anything else on the boy. It sent him sprawling onto his back, stomach throbbing, while the boy heaved himself back to his feet. He had been playing dead. Well, if he wanted to play dirty, then Link would play dirty. He felt a smile try to creep onto his face, but fought it back.

Link stayed down, glaring up at the boy and waiting for him to come closer. As soon as he was in range, Link flung a handful of sand at him, and it hit the boy’s eyes in a golden arc. To his credit, the boy didn’t slow, barely even flinched. Blinded with sand, he barreled into Link again, wrapping arms around his torso in a tight hold, once again plowing Link onto the cave floor. Link growled, and unleashed a flurry of punches, boxing at sensitive, pointed ears.

The boy plastered his ears to his head, then with his legs, he started to push Link across the rough floor. Link hissed as he felt stone grate away at exposed skin, and found himself pinned against the wall. Link snarled, gave up on boxing. He grabbed the boy’s skull in his hand. and, with his thumbs, laid them over the boy's eyelids and pushed.

During their fight, the boy was near silent, bearing most hits with a stony quiet. Not now. Now he screamed, writhed, and raked his nails over Link’s hands til they were bloody, but Link wouldn’t let go, not until the boy stopped struggling. He wrapped his legs around the boy’s hips to hold him still, locked his ankles, kept his head gripped firmly between his palms, and held on. The boy struggled for a few more moments, and right when Link thought he was out of energy, he just… vanished.

He disappeared completely out from under Link’s arms, leaving Link’s hands empty, like he was grasping at smoke. Link was left staring at his empty palms, baffled. Then, in a flash of red out of the corner of his eye, the boy was back. Did he teleport? Link got up, ready for another round, and was just getting ready to jump when the boy held up his dirt-caked hands in surrender.

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Link paused.

The boy slowly lowered his hands, staring at him through a quickly blackening eye. “How about we call a truce?”

“Right,” Link drawled. “Then as soon as I turn my back you’ll be on me again.” He stayed firm and ready, fists clenched. The boy had shown himself to use dirty tricks. Who was to say this wasn’t one?

He shook his head vehemently, sending brown curls flying. “I won’t, I swear it! As long as you do the same!”

Link contemplated the truthfulness of his deal, then the way his head and stomach were throbbing. He let out a huff. “Fine.”

The other sighed, dropping his arms to his sides, and collapsed to the ground in a heap of dusty clothes and bloodied hair. Link stared incredulously at him, but when he made no other moves, he layed down as well, exposing his heaving chest to the ceiling. For a while, all that could be heard was the crackling fire and the gasping of two people trying to find their breath after a fist-fight. Link was content to stay on the ground longer, though he made sure to stay awake after the hit he took to his head, but when the other boy sat up with a mumble Link forced himself to follow, not able to bear the idea of lying on the ground so exposed with someone else in the room.

The boy scooted over to the wall he had Link pinned on, leaning his head against it with a thunk. He snuffled, touched his temple that Link had hit, and grimaced at the sight of blood staining his fingers. Licking his fingers clean of it, he pulled a bag into his lap that was jammed under a crevice Link hadn’t noticed before. As he started to dig through it, Link heard the clinks and clacking of various miscellanea knocking into one another.

“Hey.” He nudged the boy’s ankle with his own booted foot. “When we were fighting, why didn’t you just take out your sword and end it there?”

The boy hummed, peering into his bag. “I dunno. You broke into my house and shit, but you’re not a monster. It just didn’t seem fair.” 

Link scowled. “I didn’t break into your house,” he snapped. “I woke up here.”

The other looked Link up and down, lips pursed. “Sure,” he droned. “Must have been one hell of a night, huh? I bet it was, with how you reek like smoke.” He stopped his digging, having found what he was looking for, and pulled a pristine white sugar cube bigger than his thumb from his bag. In his hands stained brown by blood and muck, it looked oddly out of place. The boy popped it, whole, into his mouth and bit down.

Link winced at the crunch. It sounded like he had lost a couple teeth. How long had that bag been hidden there? The boy chewed and swallowed, expression never changing, like he had just tried a bite of evening’s stew and not eaten a mouthful of pure sugar.

“What the fuck,” Link muttered. He subtly scooted a few inches away, keeping the other in a clear line of sight.

The boy caught him staring, and quirked a single brow. It had dried, bloody flakes caught in it. “What?”

“I’ve just never seen someone eat sugar cubes whole.” Link wished he wouldn’t see it again. His hopes were dashed again, though, by the other boy. 

Now both the boy’s brows rose. “Well, excuse me for eating in my own home.” And then he popped another cube in his mouth like he was rubbing it in, seeming to relish in the crunch. With his free hand, he wiped the rest of the blood from his temple, not seeming to notice - or care - that he got some of it on the end of his sleeve. When his hand moved away, the bleeding had stopped. Completely. Like it had never even started.

Again, the boy caught Link staring. He rolled his eyes, and then, in a single move, his hand was around Link’s throat. Link stiffened and went to grab him, readying himself for another round, but the boy just hissed and batted him away like a cat.

“Hold still, dumbass,” he grumped. “I’m not trying to strangle you. This time.”

With no small amount of pensiveness, Link listened, feeling like an animal at the hands of a hunter. It was only when the pain and swelling in his throat started to ease did he hold still. It faded slowly, like water eroding stone, until there was only a mild ache left that was easy to ignore. Link took an experimental breath, and marveled at the absence of pain. The boy pulled his hand back with a satisfied nod and ate another couple of sugar cubes, licking his hands clean of every white, crystalline crumb.

They were still again, and Link relished in the cool air the cave held, even with the fire stil burning. He looked at the boy’s face, really looked, and took in the curve of his jaw, the slant of his eyes, and had the sense that they’d met before even though Link never forgot a face. He felt déjà vu. “Hey.” He tapped the other boy’s shoulder lightly, still not quite ready to believe that they were done fighting.

The boy looked up from his snacking. “Hmm?”

Link hesitated, but then decided he really didn’t give a shit anymore. If this was what he thought it was, though, he didn’t know what he would do. What he could do. “Is your name Link?”

And just like that, with only four words, the fluffy haired boy’s demeanor shifted. He stiffened, and his eyes took on a hunted look that wasn’t even there when he was wrestling with Link on the ground. It was like a deer that realized it was being followed.

“Why do you ask?” His hand twitched, strayed, then slowly moved to the sword at his hip, while pointed ears flattened.

Link slowly raised his hands. “Just a guess, that’s all.” He slid another few inches from the boy and winced at the sound his tunic made when it scraped over rock. It sounded like thunder.

The boy did not relax. “Okay,” he said. “I think it’s time for you to leave.”

Heaving himself to his feet, Link made sure to project his movements. He wasn’t sure what it was that he said, but he had erred somewhere to have made the boy this agitated. He got a sense that if the boy decided to attack him again, this time he wouldn’t keep his sword in its sheath, and Link was still unarmed.

Stepping back, Link smiled wryly. “I guess it’d be too much to ask if you’ve seen a purple portal anywhere?”

The boy – Link? – scowled. “Wha- no! Get out of my house!” he snapped.

“Okay, okay, I’m going !” Link threw up his hands and stomped towards the cave’s mouth. “Your house fuckin’ sucks anyways.”

The boy threw a rock at him. Link ducked in the nick of time, leaving the cave in a clumsy scramble and waves of cursing, the curly haired boy remaining behind.

Blinking in the weak sunlight, Link chose a direction and started walking, muttering under his breath. He was lost as fuck already, so what would it matter if he got more lost? There was no tugging feeling like before, when he had met the boy in blue, and he doubted he would be well-recieved if he went back to the cave to ask for help. He was on his own.

He tromped into the unknown wood, its trees dark and looming in a way Link had never seen before, yet he was reminded of journeys passed when he saw them. They hung over his head like storm clouds, heavy and ominous, and Link was reminded just a bit of the lands of Lorule.

While the forest was shadowed, almost murky in Link’s eyes, it was surprisingly sparse. Little was growing, and whatever did manage to push through the dry, sallow earth was, itself, dry and sallow, like a sun-beaten bone. The only things strong enough to grow and live were the trees, which were crooked, old pines. Their trunks were thick, thick enough for someone to hide behind and not be seen, while the little vegetation on the floor made Link feel naked, exposed. Someone could be watching him, just feet away, and Link would have no clue, and no way to disappear either, when there was no vegetation to cover his tracks.

Link sent one last glance back to the cave, but it was so well hidden he could barely make it out. It was like an optical illusion; if you weren’t looking for it, you wouldn’t see it. Someone could walk right by it and be none the wiser. He flipped the cave off, then made his way fully into the forest.

Tromping his way through the woods, Link was beginning to think he had made a mistake. Everything looked alike, and he thought he had passed the same tree twice, but wasn’t quite sure. It all passed by him in a haze of monotony. No birds or insects sang, and no animals moved through the wood. Not even wind breathed sound into the pines. Link felt like he was the only living thing for miles, and his hand itched for his sword.

He walked until evening, and when dusk fell the forest around him was bathed in an ethereal purple glow. A familiar glow.

Link picked up his pace. It wasn’t the light of dusk that he saw, it was the portal, the shade of purple unmistakeable to him from when he last saw it. It was his way back to him, the one Link couldn’t bear to leave alone. He broke into a run, desperation fueling his steps and giving him a new rush of energy. Behind him, he heard the first sign of life in the woods other than him in the form of the snapping of a branch. Out of the corner of his eye Link saw him; the boy. He had been tracking Link ever since he left.

Swearing, Link ran harder, ignoring the pain in his hips, the way his throat burned. His ears flicked back, picking up the sound of feather-light steps, barely a few feet behind him. Link didn’t know if the boy was only chasing him to make sure he left for good, or if he had darker intentions in mind. He was not about to stop and ask.

Flashing between the trees like a signal was the white of the gates. Link veered toward it, taking a sudden turn that almost sent him to his knees. Leaf litter and pine needles flew from beneath his feet, and he was so close to the portal he could taste its foreign magic on his tongue. He could see the filigree carvings on the gates, feel the boy reaching out behind him, trying to snag Link’s clothing in an outstretched hand. His shouts fell on deaf ears.

Link threw himself bodily into the portal, letting the mysterious magic blanket him with a gasp. The last thing he saw were the wide, shocked eyes of the other boy, the other him , before Link was swallowed in a world of living amethyst.

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A ray of sunlight hit Legend in the face, rousing him from sleep. He grumbled his protest, turned away and hid his nose in his paws. His ears twitched a few times before he relaxed back into the cloak thrown over him, and as the remaining tendrils of sleep began to curl back into his mind he felt himself start to drift away.

A loud rustle sounded above him, then more light shone through his eyelids. Something snorted directly in his face in an uncomfortable burst of hot air. Giving up on snatching a last few minutes of sleep with a curse, Legend forced his eyes open, scowling.

A pink muzzle was the first thing he saw, which was attached to a mousey brown head. Clover. She nickered, lipped softly at Legend’s ears in greeting, then went back to eating the grass canopy that had been sheltering Legend from the morning’s light. She pulled off one great hank, causing more of the morning’s rays to break through. Legend squinted at their strength.

Absent-mindedly, he patted Clover’s roving nose before throwing off Wild’s cloak. “How the hell did you find us,” he mumbled. Clover only swished her tail at him.

He rolled to his paws, sore and tender from all that had happened last- last night, and shook the sleep from his form like water from his fur. Beside him was a cluster of apples, three large, and apparently what Clover had been rooting for. She bit one of the shiny green fruits in half, juice dripping from her lips. Before she could eat all of them, Legend grabbed the smallest, rolling it out from under her hungry reach, and took in the rest of the grassy hollow. Empty. Even though someone had to have left the apples and the cloak, Wild was nowhere to be seen, and his place he had taken at Legend’s back last night was cold.

Legend nudged his way from the thicket of quickly thinning grass – thank you, Clover – and nibbled on his apple. Though he didn’t get a good look at everything last night, the place they were in didn’t look much different from Serenne Stable – flat, green fields, blue sky. He had thought it beautiful just a few days before, but after it became the only thing Legend had seen for the past few days, he grew bored of the monotony.

But, just west and a little north from where he stood, Legend could see a rock formation shooting towards the sky, shaped almost like a cane, and above that… Legend shuddered. Even from this distance he could see the bird, its imposing wingspan and grandiose size. He guessed it was Rito Village. The instructions the Zoras had given them told him and Wild to watch out for something like it.

Tossing his leftover apple over his shoulder for Clover to find, he turned away from the rock and airborne Divine Beast, looking for his companion. Finding where you needed to go was great, but finding the person that needed to get there, apparently, was asking too much. Legend knew that Wild had to be close; Clover was never far from his side, and he had left his cloak behind, but with his tendency to vanish like mist, Legend knew finding him could take anywhere from minutes to hours.

Searching through the grassy sea, Legend saw nothing but grass, hills, more grass, an- a flicker of blond flashed in and out of sight behind a tree. Its shade was unmistakable, more familiar than his own petal pink fluff. Legend loped over, tail twitching, and peered around the trunk.

There was Wild, sharpening his Zora spear, the sound of metal on metal a comfort to Legend’s ears. At first glance he appeared normal, but a closer look showed Legend the ash staining his clothes and a bruise on his cheekbone. He still had blood caked in his nail beds, dried and flaky like a rusted sword. He was humming a song under his breath, one that sounded eerily familiar to Legend, but before he could ask Wild had cut himself off, catching sight of him. He grinned.

“Morning. Did you see the apples?”

Legend hopped to his side. “Yeah,” he began slowly. “Clover did too.”

Wild snorted out a laugh. “I should have known.” He rubbed the back of his head through braided hair – braided? Legend didn’t do that, had Wild taught himself? – with a smile lingering on his lips. “Zumi was nice enough to bring her here. She saddled her up and everything.”

Wild was acting like it was any other morning. He showed no sign of what had happened last night bothering him, and was watching Legend with an easy geniality that Legend himself had never mastered. For all intents and purposes, Legend may as well have dreamed last night’s entire encounter, he had had something like it happen to him too often for it to not be entirely impossible. Except, except for the fact that Wild still had signs on him as proof of what happened, proof that betrayed it all as real. Legend stared hard at the purpling bruise on his cheek, and let that be his anchor. Knowing himself, bluntness was probably the only thing that would work.

“Zumi?” Legend asked. “After everything that happened?” And there it was, faster than a blink, but Legend had learned what to look for. Wild had flinched, only barely, more a suggestion of a flinch than anything cement, at what Legend had said.

Wild was learning fast, growing fast, and Legend had found a fierce kind of pride bubbled in him whenever Wild discovered something for himself or developed a new personality quirk. For once, the pride was gone. Already he had grown from their time with the Zoras and the night he had broken down at Legend’s sickbed; Wild used to go to Legend with his hurts and questions, would look to him for guidance, but that seemed to have shifted as fast as Wild’s ever-growing self. His tendency to learn fast had twisted into the habit to hide, to suppress, something that Legend hoped he would never grow into. There was something in Wild, something eating at him since their stay at Serenne Stable, and Legend didn’t know who he learned it from, but Wild had chosen to stuff it down deep inside of his heart.

“Yes,” Wild said, smile disappearing. “After everything that happened.”

“Are you okay?”

Wild blinked at him. “Of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

Great. He was doing the ignorant act, now. Wild could be cunning, evasive, quick on his feet during a fight. Legend was beginning to learn that it wasn’t just during a fight when these traits showed.

“Wild,” Legend murmured. “You know why. You killed a man last night.”

Wild just- rolled his eyes. Like what Legend had said was a waste of time, inconsequential. “Actually,” he said. “It was this morning. I checked the Sheikah Slate when I was done and it was barely after three a.m.” He brought up his left hand, waving his three remaining digits in a lazy arc. “Three. See?”

Legend had to stop his ears from flattening. “Okay, so it was in the morning, but that’s not what I’m trying to say. I know that the Yiga was dangerous, and had probably killed before, but you took a life today. That stays with you.”  He tried to settle a paw on Wild’s knee, but it jerked out from under him.

“He wasn’t human,” Wild snapped, standing up fast and spilling the spear from his lap. “He’s just as bad as any bokoblin or lizalfos out there. Worse, maybe, because at least it’s in their nature to kill. If you wanna feel bad about it, then fine, do it, but don’t drag me down with you.” Wild dusted off his pants before stalking away, ears flat.

“Nice going, Legend,” Legend hissed to himself. He had never been able to make people open up, they didn’t have that sort of trust in him. He should have known better.

He stayed under the tree with the forgotten Zora spear, watching the clouds pass by. He didn’t move, not even when he heard horse hooves clopping across the ground. Wild had come back. Wordlessly, he dismounted, taking up his Zora spear and lifting Legend onto Clover’s back, perhaps in silent apology.

“We need to go that way,” Legend said, pointing to the giant bird in the sky. “That’s where the Rito are.”

Wild hopped on to Clover’s saddle behind him. He had gotten so good at riding, he barely even needed to use her reins, and instead just used his legs to guide her.

“Got it.” Wild ushered Clover into a walk.

Legend tried to get comfortable, but behind him, Wild kept shifting. Everytime he found a way to sit that didn’t make his back ache, Wild would move again, and, since Legend was sharing a saddle with him, he’d be moved in turn. He waited for Wild to settle, but he just wouldn’t hold still. Legend twisted in his seat, eyeing the other.

“Something wrong?”

Wild opened his mouth to speak, closed it, then opened it again. Finally he huffed, gripped Clover’s reins and dug his thumb into the cracked leather.

“Did you see all of it?” Wild asked. “From the fight last night?”

“Yeah,” Legend breathed. “Yeah, I did.”

 Wild’s hands tightened on the reins, the leather creaking under his grip.

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Wild consisted of two speeds; distracted ambling and where the fuck did you come from. Legend was experiencing the latter now.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” he snapped.

Wild was leaning over him until his blond hair tickled Legend’s ears, casting a sudden shadow that had him thinking he was about to be taken by a hawk. He shivered at the thought of talons digging through his fur into his skin.

“Over there,” he pointed, thumb hiking over his shoulder. “I found something neat, come look.”

Legend was, understandably, weary. Wild’s definition of “neat” could range from a dead bird to a dozing hinox, and Legend did not want a repeat of the dozing hinox.

They had travelled the rest of the day, stopped for the night, and busied themselves with gathering an evening meal. Well, at least Legend was gathering dinner. He didn’t know where Wild had gone. Legend had hopped out of some thick underbrush, a bundle of mushrooms – he was so tired of mushrooms – held in his mouth, and Wild had just disappeared from their chosen campsite. His nose twitched, and over the scent of the mushrooms, he could smell Wild, just a bit. Spitting out the mushrooms, Legend hopped a little more, nose to the ground searching for Wild’s scent, and- ah, there he was.

Wild was resting beneath an overhang of stone, tossing acorns into the air and catching them in his mouth. He had contemplated eating with him, but, deciding to give Wild some space and time to think, Legend found a boulder to lean against, nibbling on his mushroom snack.

He felt his eyelids start to drop, an uncommon drowsiness weighing them, uncommon because he had never had trouble staying awake, it was always the opposite. He shook himself free of it. It wouldn’t do well to fall asleep alone, even though he was comfortable. Tiredness had tangled and dragged at Legend all day like loose cobwebs, don’t ask him why, and in his efforts not to fall asleep he had lost track of his companion’s wandering tendencies. Which was why they were here now.

“Neat?” Legend asked. “What do you mean, ‘neat’?”

Wild sighed, shook his head, and scooped Legend up, cradling him in his arms. “It’ll be easier if I showed you.” Before he finished his sentence, he was already on the move.

Legend yelped, caught off guard from being lifted so suddenly and without warning, yet fell into Wild’s arms easily. Wild had gotten good at holding him right, and Legend was too tired to do much more than eat and watch the sunset, and when Wild walked the rocking motions it made caused the fatigue in Legend rise back up again in a sneaky, slinking way.

Wild carried him to the rock overhang where he had been eating and set Legend down, who was left blinking sleepily on the ground. He went up to the wall, and with a ‘ta-da!’, held his arms out, encompassing the length of it. Legend wasn’t sure what to say.

“Is it the rock?” he tried, sleepy brain trying to catch up.

“Kinda,” Wild chirped, smacking the wall twice. “Let me show you.”

Then, he took out his spear and just started fucking hacking at the rock in front of him. He went at it with more gusto and intensity than when he fought bokolins, spearing the rock wall like it had done him and his ancestors some moral wrong. Wild didn’t even stop to trade out his spear for a hammer, which Legend knew he had.

“Wild.”

No response.

“ Wild.”

A rock shard flew to the side, almost taking out Legend’s eye.

“Wild!”

The grating noise of metal over stone stopped. Wild peeked over his shoulder, tiny fragments of gravel stuck in his bangs. “Yeah?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Legend gestured at the mess that had been made. It looked like a mini-rockslide. Wild did have the chaotic energy of a normal rockslide, but Legend had thought he had it under control, really.

Wild’s brow quirked. “What does it look like?” He waved at his rock. “I’m mining. Duh.”

Legend felt his eye twitch. “With a spear? Really?”

He received a blank stare from Wild, then his ears perked. “ Ohhh, I get it.” Wild nodded, grinning. “You’re so smart, Legend.”

Tossing the spear to the side, he took out a sparking arrow that Legend had never seen before, aimed it at the rock, and let go. The world around them went white.

Legend and Wild were flung back, the force of the blast was so strong, and for an unknown time Legend was lost in heat and noise. His entire body went tight, his ears were ringing, then they went numb. All of him went numb in a prickling assault of nerves, then in a wave feeling returned with no mercy or forgiveness, like he was dunked in an icy lake. An ache spread through him as Legend layed on the ground, chest heaving and heart shaking, his body encompassed in uncontrollable trembling. He struggled to stand on burning paws.

Something hit him on the head, then another, until dozens of somethings were raining down around him, glittering like stars. Diamonds, it was raining diamonds. With a whoop, a soot-stained Wild jumped up and down, hands reahcing upwards as he danced.

“Fucking shit!” Legend shrieked, hobbling up to him. “We almost died!”

Wild stopped his bouncing, smiling down at Legend with sweaty bangs.

“It’s okay!” he shouted, and patted him on the head and sent him a crooked smile. No, his smile wasn’t crooked, his face was, because half his eyebrow was singed off. “Now we know.”

“It shouldn’t take almost dying,” Legend hissed. “You almost blew my ears off.”

Cupping his hands around his ears, Wild leaned closer. “Sorry, what was that? Everything’s really quiet!”

“ I said,” Legend yelled, “ that you almost killed us!”

Throwing his head back, Wild exploded into more cackles. “But I didn’t!” Wild grinned, showing too many teeth. “I think that counts as a win!”

He busied himself with picking up the shards –  and sometimes chunks – of diamonds. Legend collapsed where he stood, breathless and staring at the sky and almost full moon. His body felt like one big bruise, and the stubborn exhaustion weighed at him more than ever. He began to drift off, desperate for releif after everything that had happened, eyes drooping and mind surrendering to the fog of sleep. A rumble built up in his head, like the sound of ocean waves, and just beneath it he heard shouts. Wild was yelling at him.

Suddenly, Legend was weightless, caught in a swirl of stars and fire that made him unable to tell top from bottom. An awful feeling washed over him, like he had left his body on the surface while his sould had been snatched and swept into the sky. Because that’s where he was; airborne, in the sky. His eyes shot open.

Legend wailed, his little lungs working to push out as much sound as possible, but he was cut off harshly. Wrapped around his torso were three great talons, each the length of a knife and twice as sharp, and they had just started to squeeze. Snarling, Legend beat weakly at one, but it was so hard he doubted it was felt. Writhing like a snake, Legend tried to fight his way free, teeth bared and snarling, but at another rib-creaking squeeze he fell still and traced a pth from the talons up to their owner.

His eyes went from bird's legs, to charcoal gray feathers, a sturdy leather tunic, and up a neck to a bright yellow beak. Before he could blink, Legend’s gaze was caught and locked in by eyes of fluorescent green. They looked over him once carelessly, a predator’s gaze, then set themselves back on the horizon and began to head to the flying Divine Beast.

Legend tried to struggle, but his attempts grew weaker and weaker the higher they climbed. His vision started to grow spotty, and the last thing he saw before it went black was Wild, a speck of blond waving its arms in a field of green. Legend lost consciousness reaching out to him.

Chapter Text

One more thing! About a month ago, we got some new fanart. Go check out the artist, bloodybloob, on their tumblr. They seem like an amazing person.

He really had to stop waking up like this.

Groaning, with a pounding behind his skull in time with his heartbeat, Legend opened his eyes.

Through blurry vision, he could see bars of some type in front of him, straight and uniform and in every direction he looked. Past the bars was a room, a type of yurt, round in nature with a skylight shining down on a firepit in the center, small motes of dust floating between the rays. The walls were open on all sides, thin mosquito netting held between the wooden beams supporting the ceiling. One side remained free of it and led to a wooden walkway, which Legend supposed was the front door, and opposite that was a hammock. Past the room, he saw pine trees, steep cliffs of yellow stone, and a lake far beneath him.

He moved closer to a window to get a better look, but the bars stopped him, woven from a thin, dark wire. Stepping back, Legend peered at the bars around and above him, the lock holding one side of them shut, and the soft grass and leaves beneath his feet. This was not a prison or a jail, places he had been shut away in before, this was worse. He was put in a cage. In one corner there were even two bowls, one with water and one with lettuce. He felt a roar build behind his skull.

There was a twittering coming from all angles, background noise to Legend’s ears as he bit at the bars then recoiled, the wires strong as iron and painful to his teeth. He hissed and threw himself against them, making the cage rattle. Again and again and again he tried, but he only succeeded in giving himself more bruises than he started with and leaving his fur a mess. Fluffy body collapsing onto the grass blanketing the floor of the cage, Legend gasped for breath, side throbbing.

A cool breeze tickled the fine fur of ears, making him shiver.

Suddenly, Legend heard a flapping of wings, like a swallow taking flight, except much bigger than any songbird had a right to be. For just a moment, giant moth wings flashed in the back of his mind. Then, he heard footsteps. Ears perked, he sidled to the other side of the cage, where where the two bowls sat. Shoving them aside, Legend peered through the gaps of his cage.

A rito with dark grey-blue feathers stepped in, green eyes bright. He didn’t look at Legend immediately, however. Instead he dropped a bag onto one of the tables in the room, whatever was in the bag making clinking sounds as it settled. An arrowhead fell out and was left forgotten, forlorn on the table’s edge. Moving with the ease of someone in their own home, he drew a bow from his back and hung it on a wall with three others, all crafted with an experienced blacksmith’s hands, at least from what Legend could see. 

Finally the Rito’s eyes fell on him and he walked up to Legend and the cage, peering between the bars with an avian intensity. He clicked his beak together once, tilted his head, and leaned towards him without blinking. Next, he unlocked the top of the cage with a click, and before Legend knew it a large shadow was looming over him in the shape of a wing. Shit.

“I’m sorry you blacked out,” the Rito said. “That can happen if new fliers change elevation too fast.” Dipping the wing into Legend’s cage, the Rito attempted to stroke Legend’s back with his long, black feathers.

Having had enough, Legend snapped at him, teeth clicking together. The Rito pulled his wing away just in time, so his teeth closed over empty air. “Or maybe,” Legend growled. “Just maybe, I passed out because you wouldn’t stop squeezing me with your giant ass dragon feet.”

The Rito jerked back, spine hitting a table, and his feathers puffed outwards, making him look like a pincushion. If Legend was in a different setting, he would have laughed.

“You can… talk.” For a moment the Rito only stared at Legend blankly, made all the more unnerving by the bright green of his cat-slit eyes.

In return, Legend felt his own fur fluff up. “And you’re a kidnapper. Want to keep stating the obvious?” He eyed the top of the open cage, wondering if he could make the jump.

The Rito’s beak fell open, speechless. The only thing that kept him from coming up with a response was the voice of a new arrival entering the yurt. Both rabbit and Rito turned to see the visitor.

“Harth, have you finished the reeds that I-”

A familiar face strode into the Rito’s room, a face with bright blue and red plumage. This was someone that Legend had met before. Legend felt a rush of hope.

“Kass?” he gasped.

Kass’ eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. His head jerked to Legend, then to the Rito, then back to Legend again. He was only able to manage one word. “ Legend?”

Legend scrambled to the bars of his cage, spilling hay from its side, and shook the bars hard enough that they rattled in their foundations. “You gotta get me out of here,” he gasped, pointing at the gray Rito. “He kidnapped me!”

The Rito sputtered, holding up his wings in surrender. “I- I did no such thing! He was being attacked, so I save-”

“Attacked?!” Legend shrieked. “The onl one that attacked me was you, fuckwit! What kind of person just goes around snatching people into the sky?”

Legend still didn’t quite know what happened, after Wild aimed a bomb arrow at the gem deposits. Thinking back, it all went by in a blur, from the moment he was swept away from Wild’s side, to the stomach-churning realization that he was hundreds feet in the air. He was almost thankful that the tell-tale spotted vision had taken over, rendering him unconscious for the rest of the flight. At least it was him that had been stolen away, not Wild.

Kass held up his wings in a calming gesture. “I’m sure it was a misunderstanding, that’s all. Harth here likes to nurse injured animals back to health, then set them free when they’re well again. I’m sure he just mistook you for a creature in need.” The musician reached into the cage, and, before he knew it, Legend was being lifted into blue feathered arms. He blinked. He could count on one hand the number of people he allowed to carry him, and Kass wasn’t one of them. Kass carried on like nothing had happened. “Which is why-” he shot a pointed look at Harth “-I’m sure Harth will be happy to apologize.”

Harth audibly gulped. “Ah, o-of course.” Smoothing down ruffled feathers, he gave a bow to Legend. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have done such a thing, really.”

Legend only glared, jaw jutting out in a stubborn pout. Harth looked like he had begun to sweat under his feathers.

Kass let out a polite cough, interrupting the one-sided staring contest. “Legend, how about we go ask the village elder for help? I’m sure he’d be happy to assist.”

Harth looked relieved at the prospect of his kidnapee being carted off, and he walked with them to the door to see Kass out. Peeking over his shoulder, Legend shot a goodbye glare at harth one more time, before slowly drawing his paw across the width of his neck. Harth’s eyes widened, and he ducked back into the safety of his home, drawing a thin curtain over his doorway.

Legend sniffed, then settled into Kass’ arms. He appreciated the blue Rito showing up in the nick of time, but something in him still rankled at those who manhandled him without care or permission. It would be so easy for someone to dig their hands deep into his fur and twist . Not a day went by that he didn’t miss his Hylian body, that he didn’t itch inside a prison too small yet too big both. Ears flattening, he shifted in Kass’ arms and looked around, the village vaguely reminding him of another from a lifetime ago. He continued to look around, until another pair of raptor eyes caught his, a curious villager looming into Kass’ arms. With a squeak, Legend ducked back into Kass’ hold, scowling at the nosy Rito through his feathers.

It was there he stayed hidden from veiw, until he heard shouts at the base of the stalagmite Rito Village was situated on. The uproar in the otherwise quiet place made Legend peer over Kass’ arms, nose twitching, to see what was the cause.

Far beneath him, an unfortunate Rito had just been knocked off his feet, sending feathers askew and a spear flying. Another three Rito were attempting to subdue whatever had sent the first one flying, grabbing at it and pushing it away with the butt of their spears, but their efforts were unseccessful. Finally, the three gave up, throwing aside their spears and dogpiling onto their invader in a whirl of feathers. An unholy shriek broke from beneath the pile, and a foot kicked straight out and into the gut of unfortunate Rito number two, making him recoil with a wheeze. The last two Rito were obviously not enough to hold it back, because a head of hair - blond hair - broke free. Wreathed in the golden halo was the face of Wild, dirt-smudged, bloody, and with eyes ablaze.

“Wild!” Legend lunged forwards, tipping dangerously out of Kass’ arms before the Rito pulled him back.

Wild’s head jerked up and over to Legend, supernaturally fast. “Legen-” One of the Rito body slammed him, sending him back into the dirt. The fight turned into a flurry of punches and swears.

“This,” Kass began, lifting Legend onto his shoulder, “does not look good.”

For once, Legend actually welcomed the feeling of the stomach-churning drop accompanied with flying. As Kass dove from the walkway, Legend clung tightly to him, and watched as Wild’s figure grew bigger the closer he got. When Kass landed, Legend threw himself from his shoulder and hit the ground running, making a beeline for Wild. On his heels was Kass.

“Gentlemen, please!” The musician ran up to Wild and the two remaining Rito, placing himself between them.

One of the guards, green feathers askew, balked. “Kass, what are you doing? That Hylian is dangerous!”

Wild flipped off the Rito, showing freshly bruised knuckles.

“That Hylian,” Kass said. “Is my good friend Link, come to rescue his companion Legend.”

At Wild’s side, Legend puffed up his chest. Wild copied him, and they both scowled at the green Rito. Legend was preparing himself for the fight to break out again. For a few uncomfortable moments, everyone came to a standstill, waiting for the first sign of violence. Finally, the green Rito pinched the bridge of his beak between and let out a long sigh.

“Fine!” He threw his arms up in the air. “Any friend of Kass is a friend of the Rito. Let the murderous Hylian stay!”

This appeared to make the other Rito let down their guard. Kass laughed, the sound a little disbeleiving to Legend’s ears, and helped Wild to his feet. In the background, two of the grumbling guards were hoisted up, and ushered away in a line, crooked feathers and all. Somewhere in the chaos, a crowd had appeared including Harth, who was watching the last of the bruised Rito guards cart themselves off with pained grunts. Wild seemed to be the only one not bothered, standing tall with his hands on his hips and a smile across his bloodied face.

Squinting up at him, Legend tapped Wild’s booted toe. Wild tilted his head to the side. “Yeah?”

“How in the hell did you get here so fast?”

Wild grinned, wiping the sleeve of his shirt beneath his bloodied nose. He sat on the ground with a thump, dust billowing around him. “I tracked you all the way here,” he explained. “After that Rito took you-” he shot an absolutely venomous sneer at Harth “-I went in the direction he went. And since birds fly in a straight line to wherever they need to go, I guessed he’d do the same, so that’s what I did. All the way here I never stopped, not even for water, and when I got to a cliff or canyon I just kept going forwards, as the crow flies. I did a lot of climbing.” When he finished, Wild was panting, and there was an feral glint in the back of his eyes.

Kass smiled pleasantly, ignorant of - or just too tired to acknowledge - it all. “Link,” he began. “How about we get you some food, then you can tell us about your adventure?”

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After their rocky start with Rito Village, Wild was becoming quite the social butterfly, and stopped to talk with any Rito that seemed to have the time, and sometimes with those who had no time at all. He was proud of Wild, he really was, but the social butterfly Legend was not . It was a marvel that his social skills remained intact, when one was reminded of the fact that Wild was still a freshly-born amnesiac, at least in Legend’s opinion. Or perhaps that was what made it all easier; Wild was a clean slate, with none of society's beliefs, norms, or concepts forced on him since he was young. None that he could remember, anyways. He held next to no insecurities about himself or others, no preconceptions or expectations that would fail to be met. Wild’s actions were perhaps the most genuine they would ever be, and even though the Rito didn’t know it, they could see his honesty and reveled in it. Legend suspected that they’d have a hard time leaving the village, with all the new and instant companions Wild had gained, but he was happy for it, if only because Wild was making so many friends.

Currently, Wild was eating a late lunch with Timn and Litha, two of the Rito guards that attacked him. None of the three seemed to hold any hard feelings, and were now thick as thieves, sharing food and laughter between themselves. Knowing that his friend could take care of himself, Legend hopped away with a shake of his head, looking to get a higher vantage point so he could take in the view. Alone.

When he wasn’t stuck in a cage or lost in the blue wreath that was Kass’ arms, the village was a pleasant place. It did not have the same grand air that the Zora village did, but that made Legend like it more. It was a simple village, built to withstand the elements but still with its resident’s comfort in mind, all coming together to make a welcoming and cozy community that had housed the Rito for generations. Legend even saw an overhang decorated with hair thin claw marks, perhaps a type scratching post for Rito youth.

He found himself standing on a… dock? Landing pad? Takeoff point? He wasn’t really sure, but he did know that here it was quiet, and the air crisp and clean. Legend inched to the edge, though still stayed far enough that he had a foot or two of space before he ran out of dock. From there, he just took in the view of the mountains and valleys, picturesque in their scenery, while the soothing scent of lakewater wafted up beneath him. He must have zoned out, because the next thing he heard was the airy flapping of wings and a squeaky chirp. Behind him, claws skittered on wood, and Legend turned to see a pink Rito child.

“Hello,” she tweeted.

“Hi…” Legend said. He was never good with kids.

For a minute, nothing was said. Legend was never great at conversation, and the Rito in front of him seemed too young to understand awkward silences.

The little girl stared at him with big blue eyes. “What’s your name?”

He eyed the Rito child. While the rest of the Rito had been nothing but kind to him and Wild, he knew that children tended to get excited when they saw something fluffy. Everything went out of their minds except for the need to possess the small, cute, easily grabbable thing in front of them. “Legend. What’s yours?”

“I’m Molli. Mama says you're called a bunny, like how I’m called a Rito. Your fluff is very pretty. We match, see?” She thrust a wing into his face, pink feathers tickling his nose.

Legend sniffled, sneezed, and rubbed his nose. “I see that.” Sure enough, they did match, both of them a petal pink that could only be found in springtime blooms. Or on rabbits and Rito, apparently.

“I match with the hero, too. Did you see all that pink on the side of his face? It makes him look pretty.” Molli let out a dreamy sigh.

Did she mean Wild’s scars? Legend couldn’t think of anything else. “If you think he looks pretty you should tell him. I bet he’d like it.” It would probably make him impossibly flustered, which Legend would like to see. He realized he’d never really seen Wild embarrassed before. He’d have to fix that.

Molli gasped, the tip of her beak flushing.“You really think so?”

“I know so,” Legend bragged. “That guy can’t get enough compliments.”

The Rito child squeaked, then ran off to, supposedly, tell Wild how pretty he looked. Just as she was about to fell into a crouch, head cocked to the side and feathers puffed. “I almost forgot!” she panted. “Can I pet you? The heroe’s pretty, but you’re fluffy. You look softer than my Mama.”

Legend felt his fur bristle at the comparison, but nodded nevertheless. A wing fell on his head, surprisingly gentle for a child her age, and stroked from the base of his ears to the ends. It was… nice.

“Ooh,” the Rito child cooed. “You are softer than Mama.” After petting him a few more times, she straightened and nodded, a determined glint in her eye. “I’m gonna be just like you when I grow up; soft and fluffy.” Then off Molli sprinted, gone as suddenly as she appeared.

Weird. Nice to know that kids never changed though.

Less than an hour later, Wild came up to his side, dragging an unfortunate Harth with him. A dozen different feathers were woven throughout his hair, and he wore a bulky pair of snow pants with a smile on his face. “I know where to go to defeat the divine beast.”

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“If you drop me, I’m taking you down with me!” Legend shouted this from Harth’s back, voice barely audible through the strength of the wind.

From his grasp around Harth’s ankles, Wild laughed. Harth just sighed.

They were, supposedly, looking for a Rito named Teba. The Village Elder had pointed them in his direction; he was said to be the most skillful with a bow out of the whole village, and was their best shot at helping them get on Vah Medoh. To save time in the urgent matter, the Elder had offered to have them flown there, and Kass had volunteered an unfortunate Harth as a form of apology. Now they were flying through a whirlwind of snow.

Swinging his legs like it was just another joy ride, Wild looked up from his hold on Harth. “Are we almost there?” He didn’t seem to care that he was hundreds of feet in the air with only his own strength to keep him from falling. Why would he? If he fell, he could just use his paraglider to break his fall. Legend was the only one out of the three that was totally helpless in the sky, and every minute shift or dip from Harth made him startlingly aware of his own mortality.

“Just a few more minutes,” Harth replied. He pointed his beak through the flurries of snow. “The shooting range is over that hill!”

From his precarious grip on Harth’s back, Legend thought it was about damn time.

When they landed, Legend’s teeth were chattering, and an old, familiar ache was leaking from his shoulder blades and to the base of his spine, geeting him like an old friend. How he hated the cold. What made things worse was how deep the snow was. It went up to his ears, the pristine white drifts deceptively deep, and whenever he jumped free of one drift he was just swallowed by another. Finally, Legend just started to hop from footprint to footprint that Wild had made, while his little nose turned a furious pink from the cold. He would be damned if Harth saw him have to get carried through the snow like some kind of child.

One small blessing was that Wild appeared to be doing fine, despite his scars. It seemed that the Rito gear he wore was doing its work. Legend eyed the downy coat and water wicking layers enviously, until he heard a flapping of wings and a fresh gust of wind hit him full in the face. Whipping around with a snarl, he laid eyes on perhaps the biggest Rito he had ever seen.

White feathers worked as a camouflage in the snow, which only made the searing gold of his eyes stand out more. With each step talons the length of knives carved through the snow. His stature was towering, almost putting Sidon to shame, and Legend counted at least three bows hanging from his back, all almost as long as Wild was tall. Like the rest of the Rito, he seemed to be immune to the cold, wearing only a loose pair of pants and a leather chestplate, and as the Rito marched up them he folded his arms across it with a scowl. Legend guessed that this was Teba.

The Rito stopped right in front of him and Wild, and with a wrinkled nose, Legend squinted up at him. A snowflake took that moment to fall directly on his nose. Legend stifled a sneeze.

“So,” Legend drawled. “Are you gonna introduce yourself, or just keep glaring?”

This only made the Rito scowl harder. To his left, Legend heard Wild snort back a snicker.

Harth sighed again, and trawled his way to the other Rito, a drag in his step. “Teba, this is Link and Legend,” he said. “Link and Legend, this is Teba, head archer of the Rito.” Harth, having deemed these introductions good enough, plunked a scroll into Teba’s hands. It contained a condensed explanation of what Wild was meant to do with the Rito, along with the village elder’s stamp of approval, and Harth obviously thought it was better than talking.

Wordlessly, Teba unrolled it, carefully blank eyes scanning the words and occasionally flicking back up to Wild’s face. Legend kind of wanted to bite his ankles right then, for making them stay out in the cold any longer than required, and each minute that Teba took to read the scroll only made the urge stronger.

Finally, Teba lowered the scroll, pocketing it. Gold eyes glinted. “So, you’ve defeated Divine Beast Vah Ruta.” Even though it was phrased as a statement, Wild still nodded. Teba hummed. “Forgive me if I still seem doubtful. Vah Ruta is a very different contraption compared to Medoh. Having the skills to defeat one does not automatically ensure defeat of the other.”

“What,” Legend cut in. “You saying he can’t do it? ‘Cause for the past hundred years, it seems like everyone else has just been content to sit on their asses to wait for someone to come and fix their own problems.” Gold eyes focused on him. Legend didn’t flinch.

Hushing him, Wild came between rabbit and Rito. “I can understand your doubt. But when I beat Vah Ruta, I didn’t just override the machine, I was given this by the champion Mipha.” Slowly, he extended a gloved hand. Pulling the glove off finger by finger, until his palm was bare to the ice and snow, Wild held it out to Teba. At first, Legend was left confused, but ever so slowly, a light began to swirl above his palm, like moonlight over water. Harth gasped, and even Teba’s brows raised.

That was new. Why hadn’t Wild shown him that?

“Alright,” said Teba. “You have my attention.”

Wild put his glove back on, avoiding Legend’s eyes as he did so.

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An explosion echoed off the walls of the mountains around them.

Wild drew back another set of arrows, three at a time knocked in the bowstring, before loosing them, hardly glancing in the direction they went. They were still flawless shots, hitting the target’s eyes before lighting up in an explosion, sending a welcomed heat wave over to Legend. Teba and Harth had flown them to another shooting range - Legend didn’t know why the other one they were at wouldn’t have worked - and were testing Wild’s archery skills. Judging by Harth’s impressed look, and even Teba’s mildly assenting one, he was passing with flying colors.

The final two targets were on opposite ends of the shooting range. It seemed that Wild was feeling even more excitable than usual when he had a bow in his hands, if that was at all possible, and he launched an arrow at the first target, performed a backflip before it met its mark, and shot the second target as well. Like a well-timed firework show, both targets exploded into fiery showers, framing Wild’s sillouette between them. He had completed Teba’s challenge.

He whooped and tossed the bow to the side, forgotten, then threw his hands up in the air in triumph. Bangs clung to a sweaty forehead, and his new winter gear was smattered with ash, but in the throes of victory, Wild didn’t appear to care.

Sparks rained down around Wild, still burning despite the cold. A particularly hard gust of wind blew them into a whirlwind, creating a miniature tornado of embers. For a moment, Legend lost sight of him, his figure becoming only a vague outline. When the air cleared again, Wild had become unnaturally still, a statue forgotten in the tundra, jaw hanging open and eyes dazed. Without any explanation, he just- folded in on himself, crumpling like paper. Like a stone, he dropped to the ground, a weak keen bleeding from his mouth before his hands flew to his eyes. When he started to scratch at them desperately, Legend knew something was very, very wrong.

With a shout, he ran to Wild’s writhing form, Harth and Teba on his heels. As Legend skidded to a stop, snow flying up around him, Wild did not move from his position at his feet, even when the frost Legend kicked up in his rush got in his bangs. He looked worryingly small, half-sunken and shaking in the snow, and his frame only quaked harder when Legend laid a paw on his shoulders. Flecks of spittle began to bubble at the corners of his mouth. It got worse, and more intense, until it was almost like he was having a seizure. Wild’s thrashing grew so strong that soon enough, his limbs started throwing masses of snow into Legend and the Rito. Then, as soon as it began, it stopped, and a wheeze rattled up through Wild’s throat, like a mimic of a death rattle. His eyes rolled back into his skull.

“Turn him on his side,” Teba barked. “Now!”

Together, the trio turned Wild over, Harth pinning his legs and Teba his chest. This only seemed to make things worse, however, because as soon as hands were laid on Wild, he started to scream. They were the type of screams Legend had only heard when it was too late, when there was more blood pooling on the floor in impossible amounts, when Legend dreaded what he would find, because sometimes there would be a body, but sometimes there wouldn’t. Wild shook hard enough that Legend heard his teeth click together, and a foamy string of blood dribbled down his cheek. It dripped from his chin, only to hit the ground in a frozen droplet.

Then Wild’s eyes fell closed, he went limp, and the shooting range was quiet. Disbelieving silence filled the air before Teba bent down to Legend, eyes blazing.

“Has anything like this happened before?” the white Rito demanded.

“No,” Legend replied. “He’s never shown any signs of a seizure. Never.” At least never when Legend was around. He felt his heart sink. For the past few days, he hadn’t really been around. He was gone for a whole day from Wild’s side when Harth took him. Had Wild been going through this repeatedly, alone and vulnerable, thrashing on the forest floor without Legend’s help? He felt sick at the thought. Before he could think about it more, below him Wild had started to shift.

With a shuddering gasp, he was awake. His eyes flew around blindly, and he flailed, lashing out once and nearly catching Teba on the chest before the two Rito pinned him again.

 “It’s in my eye,” Wild whimpered. “I don’t want to lose the other one.” When he reached up to touch his face, Legend gently pushed his hand back down. Wild didn’t notice, gaze unseeing. Red, thick welts had already started to form on his face, and Legend thanked Hylia that at least no blood had been drawn when Wild clawed at his eyes.

“He can’t stay here,” Teba muttered. With one smooth motion, he had tossed a cloak he brought with them over Wild, then propped him up so he was half sitting. His head lolled like a marionette with cut strings. “Harth, help me get him on my back. We need to get him to the flight range cabin now.”

Getting Wild up and secured on Teba felt like it took hours. By the time they were done, snow had begun to fall in thick sheets and Wild’s eyes still had the unnatural, glazed fog in them, like a lake frozen over. The flight back to the range was tense, quiet, and from Harth’s back Legend was barely able to see Wild through the building snowstorm. Every minute they were out in the elements felt like an hour to Legend, so when they made it to the range it was as if years had passed. Legend released a breath he didn’t know he was holding, tried to unfold his numb body from Harth’s back, and prayed that his panic wasn’t showing.

Inside the cabin was dim. Teba brought Wild’s limp form to its center and laid him on the ground, even though there was a bed in the corner. But then Harth tore a tarp off a fire pit just feet from Wild, built into the floor of the cabin. 

“Fire.” Teba spoke shortly. He had started to take off Wild’s clothes, stripping him down to his underwear.

“On it.” Harth already had a bundle of wood under one arm, and he tossed it to the fire pit in the center before going back for tinder and matches.

Legend scrambled to Wild’s side, cradling his face in his paws. His gold lashes were clogged with snowflakes, while his eyes remained half-lidded and unresponsive. It was like looking at a doll. His cheeks felt like ice. The sound and heat of the fire blazing to life behind Legend’s back barely registered, the blankness of Wild’s features too much for him to focus on anything else. Through the chaos, blankets were thrown over him by Teba, a hat forced onto him by Harth, and Legend was coaxed by Teba to help by massaging warmth back into Wild’s fingers. Sometime during all of it, Wild’s eyes had fallen shut, but whether he had lost himself to sleep or passed out, none of them were sure.

Finally, finally, the fire was brought to a hearty blaze, while heat and color reuturned to Wild’s cheeks. Legend refused to leave his side. He heard Harth and Teba moving through the cabin, boiling water and putting away gear, working around eachother like they had done this dozens of times before. One of them had folded Wild’s clothes and set them on the bed in a neat pile.

“I’ve made this tea for Link when he wakes up. Make sure he drinks it.”

Legend dragged his eyes from Wild’s face.

Teba had placed a steaming mug next to him, eyes serious. Belatedly, Legend realized he hadn’t even heard him walk over. The towering Rito waited for Legend to nod his understanding, then he vanished outside, Harth following close behind. As soon as the door fell shut, Legend heard a low murmur begin to drift through its cracks.

Staring down at Wild’s prone form, Legend wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Sleeping was the only time Wild fell completely still and silent, like a fawn hidden away in the grass by its mother, his body curling instinctively into a fetal position. The snowflakes in his lashes had melted, leaving barely visible droplets of water on the tips, dew beaded on a spider’s web. His hair had fallen loose from its customary braid, and was now pooled out from the hat and around his head like a halo of sunlight. Like this, Wild looked so young and innocent, and with his pink scars spanning across his face, infinitely fragile. Gentle enough that he barely felt it, Legend pressed his forehead to the other’s cheek and ran a pink paw over his hair, stroking repetetively, and tried to breathe. When he pulled back, he was met with a pair of mismatched eyes.

“Hi,” Wild rasped.

Legend wanted to cry. Instead, he helped Wild sit up and nudged the mug towards him. “Drink,” he said. “You need to keep warm.”

Wild grabbed the mug, but didn’t move to drink, only letting it sit listlessly in his hands.

“What happened out there?” Legend was not sure if this was the time to press, but he was scared that if he didn’t ask now, he never would.

Wild sighed, ears drooping. “I don’t know.” A great tiredness seemed to drop over him, bending his spine and pushing his nose down, til the tip almost touched the tea filling the mug. “A spark from one of the targets hit me in the eye, and after that-” he shrugged “-I was somewhere else.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Wild’s knuckles tensed around the mug, flexed, then went lax again. He pulled his mug closer, til it was under his pinkened nose, but didn’t move to drink. Instead, he only stared into his reflection with an empty look. “The more that comes up from my past, the less I feel like myself,” he whispered. “I don’t think I want to know who I was before.”

Slowly, tears beaded in his eyes and began to fall, dripping from the tip of his chin like rain from blades of grass. Legend wiped them away with cotton soft paws, leaving damp tear tracks in his wake. Wild’s hands started to shake, enough that soon the contents of the mug were sloshing off the cup’s rim. 

“Hey,” Legend whispered. “You don’t have to do that. How about you put the mug down, and try to sleep? It’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Will you be here?” Wild’s bloodshot eyes peered into his.

“Of course.”

“Always?”

“Always,” Legend lied.

Curling into the crook of Wild’s arm, Legend was asleep before his head hit his chest, utterly exhausted. Unbeknownst to Legend, Wild did not follow him immediately in sleep. Instead, he watched his little body rise and fall with deep, steady breaths. 

He paused, staring at Legend hard, eyes taking on an unearthly shine. The veins beneath his hands flexed, jumped. “Who are you,” he whispered. When he received no answer, Wild sighed and tilted his head back, staring at the cabin ceiling. He could not say when sleep took him.

They didn’t stir when the two Rito came back in, or when Teba draped another blanket over their bodies. Nor did they stir when Harth stoked the fire, or when Teba started cleaning his bows, or when Harth began to sharpen fresh arrowheads. Their sleep was long and deep and heavy, and if one were to glance at the two, they would think they were dead with how deeply they had fallen into their slumber.

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Despite Wild’s episode at the shooting range, he had insisted that he could still fight Vah Medoh. Teba, on the other hand, had decided he couldn’t. It turned into a full-blown screaming match, the two shouting and raving and filling the cabin with their fury. Legend had never seen Wild so angry, and he had never expected the ferocious temper that exploded from Teba, who had always kept a cool head even in high-pressure situations. When the fight showed no signs of stopping, Legend and Harth excused themselves to a corner of the cabin, periodically exchanging meaningful, tired looks. Their faces said it all.

Wild and Teba’s argument almost came to blows. Legend would have let them, even hoped it would happen; sometimes, the only real end to an argument was through fighting. But Harth had bravely stepped between them and played the part of a surprisingly adept mediator. In the end, it was decided that Wild would still be flown up to Vah Medoh. Legend suspected that Teba was doing it more out of fear that if he wasn’t there, Wild would somehow figure out a way to reach the airborne Divine Beast on his own.

After that, they filed out the door in an icy silence, Harth and Legend acting as a buffer between the other two. Whenever Legend tried to catch Wild’s eye, the other teen would always look away, dipping his chin so his bangs would cover his face. It was like Wild didn’t remember anything from last night, and it wasn’t like Legend could talk to him about it in front of Harth and Teba. Wild didn’t deserve to be exposed like that, and Legend knew if someone tried that with him, he’d never forgive them.

So it was in silence that they shuffled through the dawn, with only the crunch of fresh snow beneath their feet breaking through the morning. They hiked all the way to a landing pad - or a takeoff point, as it would be used today - before anyone spoke.

“Do you remember what to do?” Teba handed Wild a falcon bow, voice clear of any emotion.

“Yeah,” Wild muttered. He yanked on the bow. When Teba didn’t let go, he pulled harder, a scowl on his face. “I told you, I remember!”

After a lingering look, Teba released it, and Wild slung it over his back with a scoff. Falling into a crouch, Teba waited until Wild climbed gingerly onto his back, then he took off into the sky, gaining altitude fast. Legend started to climb up to Harth’s back, not wanting to be far from Wild for long, but he was taken by surprise when the Rito grabbed him.

“What the fu-”

“It’s safer like this,” Harth interrupted, a slight tinge of pink on his beak. He tucked Legend into the front of his chestplate with a delicacy he hadn’t shown before, where it was surprisingly warm and snug.

Legend squirmed deeper into the chestplate with a grunt. “Fine. But next time ask before you grab me.”

The black Rito blinked, looking surprised, before a look of guilt crossed his face. “Right. Sorry about that.” He rubbed the back of his head.

When Harth took off, it was just about as awful as any other time Legend had been flown around, and he swore that after this adventure he would never be persuaded into the sky again. When they got close to Vah Medoh, it was worse. Legend had been under the assumption that Wild would be shooting Vah Medoh from the stable point of Teba’s back, not shooting the Divine Beast mid-freefall. When the Divine Beast started shooting back, sending impossibly strong heat waves through the air that rocked Harth like a boat adrift at sea, Legend was infinitely grateful that Harth had the idea of carrying him in his chestplate. He probably would have been a smear on the ground by now if not for him.

He felt a lazer arc right past him and Harth, the sudden displacement of heat in the cold air sending them sailing askew, spinning like a dandelion seed in the wind. On the other side of the Divine Beast, Wild shot another arrow and effortlessly met his mark, the explosion that was created pale in comparision to the scream of the mechanical bird. It was felt on a physical level, a deep pressure in his chest, and left a ringing in the back of Legend’s ears. No matter how much he pawed or poked at them it didn’t abate. The ringing didn’t fade, not until the beast’s forcefeild went down and Harth flew to land on its wings.

Teba and Wild were already there, deep in an argument. Wild hissed something, waving his arms, and when Teba reached out to set a wing on his shoulder he jerked back. The blond snapped something else, clicking his teeth, before shoving his borrowed bow into Teba’s hands. The Rito tossed it, forgotten, to the side, following after Wild. When Legend got close enough to hear, Teba’s feather’s were spiking.

“Don’t risk your life for us, understand?” Teba took the teen by his shoulders, pulling him close. His eyes were blazing, more emotive than Legend had ever seen. “If it’s too much, run, live another day. No one will think less of you. The Rito can always find another way to bring Vah Medoh to heel. We are a strong people.”

Oh. Legend thought back, back to a little boy with soft hands which would soon be covered in blisters, unused to wielding a sword. Being ushered out into a world he had never seen beyond his little village. What would have happened, if instead of forcing him to his destiny, he was told to save himself instead?

Wild yanked yanked away from Teba’s grip, snarling. “I’m not going to run. I’ve done this before, you don’t have to get up in my face about it!” He stalked away. Reaching out a wing, Teba opened his mouth, seemed to think the better of it, and closed it, grimacing. He picked up the bow he had dropped, dusting it off and placing it on a pedestal with care, giving it one lingering look before making his way to the edge of Vah Medoh’s wing.

Harth sighed, helping Legend to the ground. “Be careful,” he said, then pulled something from his pocket. It was a bandana, made of mossy green cotton and the perfect size to be worn around Legend’s shoulders as a cloak.

“Thanks,” Legend replied. “And don’t worry, I will.”

Harth surprised him with what he said next. “I’m sorry for what happened.” Green eyes were downcast, feathers drooping. “If I had known I never would have- well, you know.” He fiddled with one of his head ornaments awkwardly, before backing away.

Harth and Teba left not long after, because while they could land on the divine beast, they couldn’t actually enter it. That honor - or curse - fell on only the champion’s shoulders. As Legend watched the two specks grow smaller and smaller, one black one white, he wondered if he would be able to see them again. Now, it was just him and Wild alone on the Divine Beast, an organic machine that made the magic in his core twist and coil.

While Legend had told Harth he’d be careful, Wild had not made the same promise. Legend had never seen the inside of a Divine Beast, and he had little time to look now. He was left dogging Wild’s steps, barely able to find him in one room before he had left for another. Sometimes, when monsters appeared, Wild would squirrel him away in a nook or cranny to take care of them, leaving the rabbit cursing and spitting. After the monsters were killed, Wild wouldn’t go back to help Legend out of wherever he had been hidden, instead purposefully leaving him there to get out on his own, almost as if he was avoiding him.

Breakneck was about the only speed Wild moved at inside the beast. Even when he was met with a puzzle - always the damn puzzles - he went at them with a frenzied type of ferocity, which made Legend get the idea that he wasn’t actually taking time to think things through, he was just trying something until it worked. Through it all, he never let Legend get a word in, except for the occasional swear. It left him completely off-balance, and nothing he did could change it, and Legend wondered if Wild would be so disrespectful if he was back in his real body.

Finally, finally, as Wild was activating a giant pedestal on top of Vah Medoh, Legend caught up to him.

“ Wild! ”

Mismatched eyes looked down at him, framed by dark circles. “What.”

There was no question in his voice, only a flat statement.

“What’s wrong with you?” Legend demanded. “You’ve been acting weird since this morning.”

“What’s wrong with me ?” Wild’s eyes flashed. He pulled on a loose strand of hair, a nervous gesture. “What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been treating me like I’m some kind of-”

A scream cut them off.

Beneath them, the floor began to shake with all the power of an earthquake, until the two heroes fell to their knees. A pressure built in Legend’s head, an awful burn, then he saw a blackness begin to leak from the cracks in the stone beneath him. A thick, inky miasma settled on his tongue, clung to his body like a second skin, and left what felt like a grimy film over his magic core. Legend gagged, falling over limply.

Wild whirled around, glowing eyes turning icy sharp, and after that everything became a blur to Legend, the smothering darkness the only sensation he became aware of. All else was muffled, like he was seeing it happen in a dream. He heard shouts, beeping, some sounds that vaguely reminded him of Vah Medoh’s lazers. At one point, he was pretty sure he was picked up, and flown to somewhere where the noise was lesser. When he was put down, he let himself stay in a heap of dusty, trembling fur, too overcome by the aura of the thing infecting the Divine Beast.

When the monster died, it was in a spray of dark ichor, dissolving into the wind, though Legend wasn’t aware enough to see it. He only regained his sense of self when the heavy magic faded from him.

When his vision cleared again, he was met with the feathered face of Harth. The Rito slowly raised a brow, expectant. Squinting, Legend rasped, “What do you want?” This only caused both of Harth’s brows to raise, high and disbeleiving, as he ignored Legend’s question and kept staring. Except… no, this Rito wasn’t Harth. He could see it now, how this Rito was more blue than black, eyes more gold than green, expression much too pompous to go with Harth’s usual calm face. He was bigger than Harth, too, almost as big as Teba, actually.

“Who…?” Legend began.

The Rito scoffed, a sneer somehow forming on his beaked face. “You make fun of me for being a featherhead when you look like this? A scrawny puffball no bigger than my beak?” He tsked, three times in a row and each more grating than the last.

Legend stared blankly “What.”

“What, don’t recognize me?” The Rito somehow managed to do a hair flip, a hair flip, despite his lack of actual hair.

“Should I?” Legend was pretty sure he’d remember an asshole like him.

The other caught Legend’s eye, his own gold ones filled with wry amusement, like he was in on a joke that Legend was the butt of. “There’s no helping it, I suppose. The name’s Revali, Champion of Vah Medoh and greatest archer the Rito ever had- or will have, I might add.”

“I bet Wild’s better,” Legend muttered, letting his head fall back. There was a second of stunned silence.

“Well,” Revali huffed. “No accounting for taste.” Before anything else could be said, the champion vanished in a swirl of green flame.

Wild had overridden the second Divine Beast.

Chapter Text

One more thing! Bloodybloob made more fanart!! Go check them out on tumblr and give them some love.

For the first time in years, Link woke up without pain.

So suspended was he in disbeleif, he almost didn’t think he was awake. His body felt so light, so new. When he sat up, the knobs of his spine didn’t pop in a dozen different ways, his shoulders didn’t burn, and he could turn his neck without the muscles in it cramping and tensing horribly. He wasn’t painfully aware of his ankles grinding in their sockets, and the familiar black speckling rushing through his head into his vision never came. He felt like he was floating, but not in a faint, light-headed type of way; it was with a sense of freeness and euphoria that he had thought left him for good far back in the foggy days of his childhood. Link flexed his hands before his face wonderingly, staring at every crease and callus, then reached down and pinched his hip. Despite his first assumption, everything was very real, judging by the pressure he felt from his fingers.

The bed Link found himself in was immaculate, probably costing more rupees than Link could shake a fucking stick at. Blue silk sheets and a mattress that felt like it was stuffed with goose down cradled him in a nest of clouds, no doubt part of the reason he woke up feeling so damn good, and he counted at least eight pillows decorating the bed. He felt like he was dirtying it just by touching it, which he probably was, as he couldn’t remember the last time he had access to a bath for this body and was probably carrying a garden’s worth of dirt on him.

For the first time since this had started happening, this displacement of his real body through the far stretches of reality, Link didn’t feel too upset. There were worse places to wake up, he supposed, as he settled his hands on a comforter beneath him. It was certainly better than opening your eyes to a dark basement, or a damp cave, or on a black sand beach with overcast skies.

Slowly, he hefted himself off, using the glossy oak frame as a handhold. Watery morning light shone through windows that stretched from floor to ceiling, and Link’s booted feet settled themselves on a plush white rug. He was in… a townhouse, maybe? He could tell from the windows that he was in a second story, and there was no way an inn could ever hope of keeping such a pristine room, at least not for long.

Because that’s what the place was, Link realised. Pristine. Nothing more and nothing less. It had about the same amount of comfort as a medical ward, and the same sense of sterility. Everything was clean and in its place, and there was a place for everything. No paintings hung on the walls, no books littered the tables, and from the way the rug was fluffed, Link wondered if anyone had ever walked on it before him. It was not lacking in money or quality, in fact Link thought it was overstating itself in those regards, but it was missing perhaps what was the most important thing; a human presence. The room was a shell, completely devoid of personality. It felt like he was tainting the place just by breathing, and Link knew that there was not a place here for him.

“Creepy,” he muttered. He made his way to the door, ignoring the way his boots left a trail of prints over the rug. It added character.

He couldn’t help but wonder who he would meet here, in a place where he felt like even the walls were judging him for who he was. What kind of man would choose to live like this? Surely everything was ostentatious enough for someone who had the Goddess’ Blessing. Maybe it was the home of a hero who actually took the offer of fame and fortune, instead of going back to live in silence and anonymity and a rotting house like Link did. Maybe it was the home of a man who treasured material goods over all else, an icy hero full of greed. Or maybe, if Link was lucky, the house would just be empty, a husk not only in spirit, but in name.

Outside the room was a long stone hallway, cold and devoid of any decor but the bare minimum like the room he woke up in. There were a few other doors leading to what Link assumed were more bedrooms, one window at the end of the hall, while sconces lined both walls. None of the candles were lit; they were actually so melted down they were barely identifiable as candles, while beneath them piles of wax coagulated on the ground in greasy, flesh-colored globules. It was completely silent, and as Link walked to the stairwell he only became more aware of the all-consuming quiet with each step that rebounded off the stone walls.

Downstairs was about the same as the second level. At least to Link’s eyes, there was nothing new worth looking at. Everything held the air of a rich person with no taste but with more money than they knew what to do with, so they decided to make it their personaltiy. Link felt his skin under his nails start to itch, and he wondered how much he could make if he pilfered away the statue on the mantle or the decorative shield hanging above it. The owner certainly wouldn’t notice, he was sure.

A clatter came from further in the house, and with a last longing look, Link moved on. He had to stay focused. On his way, he passed what he figured was the front door, but something held him back from walking out. Leaving was not an option, not yet. An impulse held him back, a feeling stronger than instinct, a silent voice in his head telling him he wasn’t done here. Link saw why when he came to the next room.

It was a kitchen, big and expensive as everything else in the house, but that was where the similarities ended. The kitchen was a wreck, but Link didn’t think that one word was enough to encompass the disaster that he saw. It was almost like a drifter had found the room and decided to set up shop- permanently. Dirty dishes laid on every available inch of counter, some with suspicious green growths in them. It was dim, with curtains drawn over every window, creating an intimate feel that Link wasn’t sure he liked. Permeating the whole room was a sweet and strong smell, like a poisonous flower, and it settled sickly-sweet over his tongue in an imitation of a heady wine. Lastly, amidst all the depression clutter and hoarder’s trinkets, splayed out in a corner like a child’s forgotten toy was a body, prone and limp, so still that Link almost missed him lying there.

A man with a sculpted jawline, athletic build, and blood running from his hairline down the side of his face in a startling splash of color amidst the plain beiges and whites he was wearing was slumped against the wall. As Link watched, a thin stream of blood collected at the tip of his chin, pooling into a droplet and falling to chest like dew falling from a blade of grass. Blue eyes fluttered open, and Link tensed.

The man squinted at him from his place slumped against the wall. “Who’re you?” he slurred in a drunkard's voice. A string of drool escaped the corner of his mouth, tinted pink. Link watched as it fell in a sticky globule and landed on the man’s once white shirt collar. The other did not seem to notice- or care.

“I’m just…” Link let his eyes trail over the scene in front of him. He saw the kitchen, so filthy and cluttered, and the man who, Link suddenly noticed, was missing a shoe and could barely muster the strength to sit up. A pile of dirty blankets that had seen better days were lumped in a corner. They could barely be called rags. “I’m just a visitor,” he finished lamely, feeling the muscles in his body relax.

He blinked, and Link saw that one of his eyes opened slower than the other, eyelashes gummed and sticking with blood. Link made to move forward, but stopped when he heard a crunch beneath his feet, jumping slightly. Lifting his foot he saw, scattered like freshly fallen snow, a pile of broken glass. Littered all around him, barely bigger than his pinky finger, were tiny vials, all empty. Grabbing one that still had a sticky residue stuck to the bottom, Link brought it to his nose. He had experience with medicines and tinctures, if only to help himself when the aches and pains built up from his journeys became too much for him. He took a sniff, only to recoil in a flash, barely holding back a gag. A scent like a rotting rose garden had invaded his senses, latching itself into the back of his throat and making a burn build behind his eyes. Link tossed the horrid vial away without a second thought, ignoring the way it shattered against a table leg. He had never smelled anything like it, and he hoped he never would again. He made the rest of the way to the crumpled figure before him cautiously, picking between the rest of the bottles, and crouched down before him. For a moment, the two observed eachother and their curious meeting, slate gray clashing with crystal blue, though one gaze was much more lucid than the other.

Finally, the mess in front of Link broke their staring contest. “I don’ know you,” he mumbled, leaning back in an obvious dismissal. His head thumped uselessly against the gray stone wall.

“Yeah, well I think I know you,” Link muttered, watching a fresh trail of blood forge its way down the dazed man’s face. With a sigh, he wetted the edge of his sleeve with his tongue and took to wiping at the other’s eye, clearing away the gummy and flaking blood from him. Again the man tried to lean back, but his efforts were about as successful as a fussy toddler trying to escape a bath.

He batted at Link’s hand, an uncoordinated and useless effort. “Stop that. ‘M fine.”

“Believe me,” Link hissed, peering at the gash on the man’s forehead. “I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to.”

The other only grunted, and, having apparently decided that keeping his eyes open and head up was too much effort, fell against the wall again with a sigh.

There were a blessed few moments of silence before Link broke it first, surprising himself. “Hey.” He poked blue-eyes cheek - that was what he’d be calling him for now, he definitely wouldn’t address him as Link - and blue-eyes’ lashes fluttered open in response, squinting at him in what Link thought was his attempt at a glare. “You wouldn’t happen to know where I am, would you?”

Now blue-eyes was looking at Link like he was the one high off of the rose shit he had been taking, and stared down his nose at him. How he managed such a refined expression despite being high as a fucking kite and suffering what was probably a minor concussion, Link didn’t know, and he was suddenly glad he wasn’t dealing with the man while he was sober, as he had the sudden sense that they would probably get along like water and shitty, smelly rose oil.

“You’re in my house,” he said, with no small hint of disbelief. “Duh.”

“Okay, smartass.” Link had turned his attention to the now oozing gash on his hairline, dabbing at it with a bit more force than necessary, ignoring the man’s whine. “But, like, if I asked you to point it out on a map, where would I be?” Spit and a dirty sleeve did not make good first aid for a head wound. Link clicked his tongue, and set out to find some alcohol and a semi-clean rag he could make into bandages. He yanked down white cotton curtains covering the windows, ignoring the resulting clatter of the curtain rod hitting the ground, and tore off a few strips. The alcohol was almost worryingly easy to find; it was in a cupboard by the sink, so overfull with bottles that Link was surprised they didn’t all come crashing down on him the moment he opened the cupboard. Choosing one at random, he returned to his impromptu patient with his stolen supplies.

Blue-eyes heaved himself up, overbalanced, and would have face planted if Link hadn’t caught him. Again, he didn’t notice. “You’d be in my-” a graceful flourish of his hand with chipped and scuffed nails “-house.” He tilted to the side, and finally Link just pushed him back into his corner. Maybe he was there for a reason.

“Hylia’s tits,” Link muttered, rinsing his hands off with what smelled like bourbon. “You are so fucked up it’s not even funny.” Covering the man’s eye, he then dumped the rest of the bottle over his brow, amber liquid running down his face in a waterfall.

Link expected blue-eyes to fight it, to flinch, to whine, to writhe. Alcohol poured directly on an open wound hurt . It brought a unique pain rarely ever felt, a sharp fire dousing the skin, and despite all the pains and hurts he’s gone through, Link was never able to get used to it. But the man in front of him barely seemed to care, and in fact appeared more bothered by the hand that was covering half his vision. He watched Link balefully, tongue occasionally darting out in messy swipes to be whetted with a few drops of bourbon, but that was all. To Link’s disbelief, he became the most agitated after he finished wrapping his head. The man groped at the makeshift bandages like he didn’t know how they got there, the confusion on his face almost enough to make Link feel bad. Almost.

He slapped blue-eyes’ hand. “Stop that! You’re making it worse,” he snapped. 

For the first time, it felt like he actually listened without protest, withdrawing his hands to instead stare at them like they weren’t his own, turning them side to side and examining every callous. For a few long minutes, that was all he did. He looked up at Link. “‘M gonna puke,” he muttered, and then did just that. All over Link’s boots.

Link got them cleaned up. Eventually. After helping himself to some bourbon of his own, though he barely put a dent in the man’s supply anyway. He deserved it, really, after all the shit he went through. Was still going through.

Blue-eyes hardly seemed repentant. After he emptied the meagre contents of his stomach all over Link’s boots, he mumbled out a barely coherent apology before laying down, and was currently staring at the ceiling with fierce concentration. His eyelids were starting to flag, and Link hoped that he was about to slip into the cavernous sleep of the drugged. Glaring at him, Link wiped the last of the water from his shoes, then moved to stand above the utter disaster that was - he was pretty sure, at least - this world’s hero.

Heavy lids drooped over bloodshot eyes, and Link was pretty sure all he’d had to eat in the last few days was the rose oil, but at least his face wasn’t covered in blood. Sighing, Link yanked another set of curtains from their place bolted to the wall and covered the man in them, tucking the corners tightly around his body. By the time he was done, the man’s eyes had fallen closed completely, face lax in sleep. Link snorted as took off his remaining shoe, and then with one last lingering look, he left the kitchen. He did not notice a pair of blue eyes opening a crack to narrow on him suspiciously.

The feeling had arisen in him again, the familiar pull of dozens of razor sharp fish hooks digging into his first and finest layer of skin, urging him along. It was, Link knew from experience, about as easy to ignore as the tides of time; impossible. But today he didn’t want to ignore it, he wanted to be dragged by it through the fabric of the universe, space, time, he didn’t know. All he did know was that he still had a mission, unfulfilled as of yet, and someone was counting on him. He needed to go back.

He was led back upstairs, retracing his steps, but was brought past the sterile room he woke up in. Instead, he found himself at a door at the very end of the hall, and when Link opened it, the knob squealed in protest. It had been so long since anyone had used it, Link guessed as he tried to force it open, that rust had begun to weld it shut. He had just pushed his shoulder into it, forcing it ajar a few inches - and feeling a twinge in his back, lovely to know that was returning - when a clatter at the opposite end of the hall caught his attention. 

There, with a sword and shield in hand, stood blue-eyes.

Link froze, uncertain. “Feeling better?” he tried, voice kept carefully neutral.

He did not look like he was feeling better. A pale and clammy face stared at him while his body shook and shivered. Withdrawal effects already? Or was he just too drugged up to maintain proper coordination? Either way, Link was impressed that he could manage to hold a sword and shield without slipping up and stabbing himself through the foot. His eyes, though… they were sharp, alert, actually seeing Link for the first time.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” blue-eyes said, and yep, his voice was more crisp than Link remembered, the drunken slur having worn off. “What did you say your name was, again?”

Link very subtly pushed against the door. “I didn’t.” He could feel the pull more strongly now; it almost felt urgent, and even pausing to talk like this made a pressure fall heavy on his head for not heeding its call immediately.

The other stared at him, face flat and blank as a cliffside. “Hmm. And your unit number, what is it?”

To Link’s ears, everything the man was spouting was nonsense, but with the way the man looked at him, pinned him like a butterfly under a needle with his gaze, Link knew that what he said next would matter more than anything he had said to the man so far. He had to answer very, very carefully.

“I’m afraid I’ve forgotten,” Link mused. Tensing, he readied himself, digging his heels into the floor. He saw the man’s sword hand twitch. “I have it written down in a notebook back home. You can come and get it with me, if you like.”

 “It’s kind of you to offer,” the man said. “But I’ll have to decline.”

Stillness swept into action. Link braced himself, and threw his shoulder into the door, rattling the teeth in his skull. It gave another few centimeters, and in that time the man had launched himself down the hall. Another hit to the door, sending shockwaves shuddering down Link's body, and the man was halfway there, the blue of his eyes blazing even from that distance. A final shove, and the door was open just enough for Link to squeeze through. It had taken him just enough time for the man to catch up as well, bearing down on Link with a gleaming sword and looming sheild in hand. Link forced himself through the doorway, and animal panic building in the back of his brain, because while he had been attacked the previous two times as well, neither of them had the light of death in their eyes, and Link could taste the man’s bloodlust on his tongue. That man was fighting to kill.

Link could feel his breath on his neck, the ghosting of a blade over his arm, and then contact, a sharp line of pressure over the back of his hand. It didn’t hurt, so Link filed away the cut across his hand, stuffing it into the back of his mind to be dealt with another time when his life wasn’t on the line.

He fell through the door with a gasp, a curse and prayer both on his tongue. His assailant was bigger than Link, only just wider and more filled out in the shoulders, his whole body rippling with hard-earned muscle, so he was stopped and left to ram at the door with curses bubbling through his lips.

Link fell to the ground, hitting his cheekbone against the floor with a nauseating crack. The blood on his hand was illuminated by violet, turning it a deep wine as it dripped to the floor. Stumbling to his feet, Link was faced with the ethereal glow of the portal, and he stumbled into it, hands reaching out as if to welcome home a long lost friend, just as the door at his back caved into a shower of splinters under the force of the other Link behind him.

Link had seen the endless shades of purple coalescing into an impossible vortex three times before, a mandala beyond description to the human eye, and now this was his fourth. It was the first time he felt relief at its engulfing of him.

-

He returned, eventually. He did, but when his eyes opened, he could not chase away the feeling of black grains of sand stuck in the crevices between his teeth.

Chapter Text

Legend watched the red beam shooting out from Vah Medoh’s beak, its glow casting a shadow behind him. In the dark of the night it truly was a sight to see, precise and deadly in the way it bore down on Hyrule Castle, like a flaming arrow. Halfway done. Their journey was halfway over. There were only two more beasts for Wild to defeat, then he’d go to the castle with the combined power of all four champions. He’d be a hero. And Legend would be… He didn’t want to think about it.

Turning away with a sigh, Legend hopped down the empty stairs of Rito Village, ignoring the light throbbing across the back of his forepaw. He refused to acknowledge it, because that would make what was happening real, and some part of the child in him that hadn’t yet been beat away thought that hiding would make all the hurts disappear.

He snorted, passing by a bleary-eyed guard. At night, all the Rito got a weariness in their eyes, appearing in tandem with the stars overhead, and all of them quickly dissappeared for bed except for the unlucky few on guard duty. Apparently, Rito were extremely diurnal, and their night vision wasn’t the greatest. They took after their other feathered kin in that regard. Now, the village was eerily quiet and empty, almost like a ghost town, as all its living residents set with the sun.

Legend was just leaving the healing house. As Harth and Teba were flying down from Vah Medoh, one of the beast’s stray lazers hit them, and through astronomical odds, clipped both their wings. It was luckly that they even made it to the ground safely, but now both of them were banned from flight for an undetermined amount of time. Harth was the one who took a bigger hit, and was forced to be on bedrest. He was asleep when Legend said his goodbye, small and sallow-looking from where Legend had spoken at his bedside. It was hard to think of him as the Rito that had swept him away just a day or two before.

Legend didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but this put a wrench in his and Wild’s plans. He was going to ask Teba to fly them halfway there, but now the giant Rito couldn’t even fly himself, much less two passengers. He was earthbound, and no other Rito was strong or enduring enough to carry two passengers accross the great distance between the Rito and Goron Villages. None of them would be able to hold out in a fight for long either, if it came to that. Which Legend was pretty sure it would.

They were being hunted, and he suspected that it had begun far before their night at the Serenne Stable. That’s why he had wanted Teba to fly them, just so they could get a head start. The Yiga hadn’t shown their faces since that fateful night, but for the past few days Legend and Wild had been in a village, surrounded by dozens of expert archers and warriors. Not even the Yiga would be dumb enough to try to attack. There was strength in numbers, yes, but with how vast and empty this Hyrule was, numbers were sorely lacking.

If the Yiga wanted to strike, Legend bet that they would do it when he and Wild were the most isolated, like wolves waiting for a deer to make the deadly mistake of drifting from its herd. Soon, they would be making their way to Eldin, and the stretch of land between Eldin and Hebra was famously untamed, empty, and deserted. It wasn’t like they could have Eldin be their last stop, either; according to the Rito, Gerudo Desert, where they’d be going next, was even more Yiga-ridden, and rumors said that the Gerudo Warriors were stuck in a silent war with the band of deserters. They were stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Legend wasn’t sure if Wild had come to the same conclusion, but he wasn’t about to tell him. He was dealing with enough as it was.

As he turned a corner, a harsh, whispered conversation reached his ears. Legend slowed, creeping up on the voices to listen in. At the base of Rito Village, cast in the red glow of Vah Medoh, were Wild and Teba, hunched and hissing at eachother like two alleycats. 

“The best way to get to Eldin unnoticed is through Tanagar Canyon, but it’s not the least dangerous. Don’t-” Teba yanked a scroll away from Wild’s grasp “-take any risks. Understand?”

Wild glared, eyes bloodshot. “Of course I do. I’m not stupid.” He held his hand out expectantly for the map.

Teba spoke like he was talking to a wild animal. “I’m not saying you are. You can always stay here, you know. Just for an extra day or two, to recover.” His face was… Legend wasn’t sure how to describe it, but he was reminded faintly of his late uncle. Viciously, he pushed the thoughts down. 

This seemed to take Wild off guard. His scowl was washed away and his brows raised minutely, but it only lasted for a second before he closed himself off again. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m on a time limit. Now can I have the map? Please?”

After a long look, Teba gave it to him, and Wild stalked away with a huff, flicking his lank hair over his shoulder. He didn’t even say his goodbyes. Legend watched him stomp over the bridge, figure quickly fading in the dark when it didn’t have Vah Medoh’s light to shine on it.

“Legend.”

He jumped, and saw Teba looking up at him. Damn. He hadn’t thought he’d been noticed.

“One last thing, if you please.” The white Rito stood where Wild had left him, tall and stoic.

Legend made his way down the stairs carefully. They were harder to navigate when he was a tenth of his size. Who knew. At the base, he squinted up at the archer. “Yeah?”

“Children don’t deserve to fight an adult’s battle, no matter how blessed they may be. Please, watch out for Link for me. When I first met him, I thought he was unwell, but now…” He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, massaging the bridge of his beak. “Now he’s worse.”

Oh. Legend looked closer at Teba, at the way his shoulders slumped and how dull his feathers were. If he was remembering right, there was a white Rito child that lived in the village, a child who looked a lot like him. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of him.”

 A wing settled itself on his back, warm and soft. “Thank you.”

Legend only nodded, then ducked out from under the wing and to the bridge. Beneath his feet, it swayed gently in the wind, and he saw Wild already waiting at the end of the last bridge, tiny in the distance. The blond had been acting off for a while now, and Legend didn’t know why, or what was causing it. Or maybe, Legend thought with a sinking heart, it was Wild’s real personality, finally coming out and pushing its way past his fragile and foggy brain. Maybe the curious, affectionate teen Legend had come to know was only temporary, and each memory made him more of who he was in the past. And maybe he was like the man Legend had met in his dreams, a man with riches and wealth, but a drunkard and an addict all the same. Perhaps the title of hero would only be that; a title, and Wild was destined to be rotten even before Legend met him.

Now they would be traveling miles and miles through a deep canyon, with nothing but eachother for company. It wasn’t something to look forward to.

They left the village under the cover of night with little to no ceremony, with only Teba to see them off, waving one wing at them as the two travelers disappeared into the trunks of old pines. Legend would be lying if he said he wouldn’t miss the village; there was something to the place that the Zora didn’t have. While the Zora were kind and welcomed them, the Rito were, ironically enough, more down to earth. Legend very studiously ignored the one he met on Vah Medoh. He didn’t count.

Legend felt like he could be himself, in that village of musicians and singers. Back home, he never fit in well in the decadent, icy palaces with their high-brow residents, even though, by blood, the decadence was his right. Even the visits with his cousin became too much, and as she was always too busy to go to him, they saw eachother less and less, until Legend’s visits completely dwindled away. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw her. He couldn’t remember her voice. 

They stole themselves away to the canyon like a pair of vagabonds, the air as they made their way over becoming progressively more chalky and dry.

A thin layer of dust was blanketed across the ground, almost like powder in the way it was textured, and the nature of it caused Legend and Wild to leave very obvious footprints, each new step causing a cloud to puff around their feet. There was no wind to blow the imprints away, and even in the dark of the night they could be seen easily. Legend cursed, halting.

“What’s wrong?” From a few feet ahead of him, Wild had stopped too, and was looking over his shoulder in question.

Legend held up his front paws, which were liberally coated in a layer of dust. “It’s the dirt,” he grumbled. “It’s making our tracks too obvious.” There was no wind to blow them smooth. Ever since Vah Medoh had been brought to heel, the skys had been eerily still.

Humming, Wild crouched beside him, carefully running two fingers across a footprint. Wordlessly, he stood, cupped his hands, and Legend watched in surprise as a swirling green light formed above them, thin and translucent as mist. Wild grunted, and sharply waved his hands, a strong gust of wind following his gesture in a rush. It paved over their footprints until nothing was left but smooth sand.

“Better?” Wild asked, a shadow of a smile at his lips.

He had gotten a new magic from Revali. Of course. “How long have you been able to do that?” Thinking about it made Legend cringe; if the pattern kept up, he’d be given two other magics by the Gerudo and Eldin Champions. Two more magic signatures for Wild to adjust to, to master, two completely foreign from Wild’s own spirit. Legend had never heard of such a thing. Had never heard of it succeeding, anyways.

Wild huffed. “I forgot you decided to take a nap the moment Windblight attacked. Revali gave it to me.” Sifting through the rocks at his feet, the blond plucked a twig up, and let it sit in his palm. After a few moments, it started to hover in his hand. “I can do this now. But there’s a new voice in my head, which sucks.”

“Voices?” Legend hopped closer. “You’re hearing more voices?”

The blond shrugged. “Yeah. It’s annoying, but I can deal with it.”

“That’s not a good thing, Wild.” It was very, very far from anything close to good, actually. With Wild’s memories as they were - or, weren’t - who knew what two additional lines of thought could do to him. There were risks, Legend knew, that could come from accepting another’s magic and spirit with it. Astronomical consequences could follow, sometimes as dangerous as possession, and he shuddered as he recalled red braids and sallow, sickly skin.

The stick hovering above Wild’s palm fell, forgotten, and the smile that had begun to form disappeared. Without a word, he began to descend into the canyon.

“Wait!” Legend scrambled over a rock, claws catching uncomfortably against the stone. As a Hylian, Legend would have had no problem clearing it, but as a rabbit, it took all his strength. “You’re going too fast!” With a huff, he fell over the rock into a pile of rumpled fur. Wild did not look back.

“Wild!” Legend begged. “I didn’t mean it!”

The blond boy stopped, long hair twisting softly in the wind, but he did not turn around. Behind him, the awning hollow of the canyon dipped deep into the earth, like someone had taken a slice out of it eons ago then left it to rot. It made Wild look tiny, like he was about to be swallowed, standing there alone in the dark.

“Are you okay?” Legend asked.

He didn’t know what else he could say to this strange creature that looked at him like- like- he wasn’t even sure how to describe it. But this Wild was different from the one he met on the plateau, different from the bare, curious thing that watched Legend with eyes clear and new. He was different in a way that Legend was still trying to decide if he liked or not, and with the way Wild watched him, Legend wondered if the other was trying to decide the same.

“Yes,” Wild grunted, falling to the ground with a thump. “I’m just tired.”

Legend looked up into his face, the careful blankness of his features, the glaze of his eyes. Even Wild’s hair looked dull, washed out and greasy in a way he never before would have allowed, and Legend knew he was lying to him. He sat next to Wild, leaning on his thigh, but Wild stayed tensed, muscle twitching beneath the worn leather of his boots.

“Let’s take a break until you’re not tired. It can’t last forever,” Legend decided. He was lying too, because exhaustion had dragged at him for longer than he could remember, before Wild and before many of his journeys. There never seemed to be anything to cure it, no potion or medicine or magic, and instead he was worn down, like a lone tree clinging to the side of a cliff. Sometimes, when he was alone, he wondered how long it would take until he snapped.

From his place pressed against him, Wild barely stirred, except to only press himself deeper into the ground, laying down so he was turned towards the sky. “It might take a while.”

“That’s fine,” Legend said. “I’ll wait with you.” He pressed himself against Wild’s body, but Wild, instead of returning Legend’s affection like he usually would, just kept staring blankly at the sky.

That night they laid together at the bottom of the canyon, spines hugging the curve of the earth and faces turned upwards, eyes reflecting the light of millions of stars, mutual in their deception of the other.

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The canyon in the morning was completely different to the one at night. As soon as the sun rose, a dry sort of heat crept with it, the type that moved slow and steady, sapping the moisture from your lungs in a way that you wouldn’t notice until it was too late, and you were already lying half-dead on in the dirt with buzzards circling overhead.

By now, they were deep in the canyon, walled in on either side by yellow stone. Ahead of them stretched more of the same, all of it baking in the heat, wearing the two travelers down relentlessly.

For the dozenth time, maybe more, Legend licked his lips, tacky tongue sticking to dry teeth. A relentless pressure was building in the back of his skull, dull and ever-present, like the ache that tunneled through his spine, his neck, pains from journeys long past. It was just like every terrible aspect that came with a hangover, except he couldn’t even hide somewhere dark and cool to nurse himself back to what resembled normalcy. All he could do was move as he got cooked by the relentless sun. He felt the tell-tale heat of a sunburn prickling across the thin skin of his ears, itchy and stinging; until now, Legend didn’t even know rabbits could get sunburns. Even the occasional breeze did nothing to alleviate the heat; it only blew sand up into Legend’s eyes in hot gusts, like so many embers from a campfire, making him wince back and choke. Everything burned.

Ahead of him tramped Wild, head bowed. He marched along like a criminal being led to the gallows, each step dragging. Apart from that, he barely moved, except to wipe the sweat from his brow. Legend trailed behind him on throbbing paws, following the footprints he left behind. He didn’t try to talk to Wild, and Wild didn’t try to talk to him.

For a time, that was all they did. They tried to stick to the edges of the canyon where there was shade to at least try to alleviate the heat, but as the day progressed and the sun rose higher, all the shadows were chased away. This left the two travelers directly in the line of the sun and its power. Just when Legend couldn’t take it anymore, Wild stopped, and the rabbit walked directly into his heels.

Legend craned his aching neck up at Wild, who was peering at the sky with catlike intensity. Slowly, the blond raised his hand, pointing one finger at the sky.

“There’s smoke,” he said. “Can you see it?”

Legend forced himself to look, squinting through the harsh light. Sure enough, there was a spiraling trail of smoke, thin enough that he wouldn’t have seen it if Wild hadn’t told him. It trailed through the cloudless sky, dwindling, becoming more thin the longer Legend watched it. Whoever had started the fire had just put it out.

They followed the smoke. Since the canyon was linear, there was really only one way to go, so even if they didn’t want to follow they’d have no choice. There’d be no going around it.

As they got closer, the relentless wind funneling through the canyon slot shifted, twisted and pushed around Legend’s ankles, then slowed. It whispered along, low to the ground, and then blew back the way he and Wild had come, carrying a few grains of sand with it. Then it was quiet.

“Obviously we’re not alone down here,” Wild said. Legend jumped. “But have we thought about who else is in this canyon?”

Legend eyed him. “Who else?”

“Yeah,” Wild nodded. “Who else. I’ve been thinking about it, and I know there can’t be any Zora. There’s no water down here, which is why the Rito gave us some, but the Zora would have no chance. They’d dry out before noon. And there’s obviously no Rito, or Teba would have told us. At first I thought that maybe Gerudo could be a possibility, but they only travel for trade, or to find a husband. Neither of which are down here. So that leaves only two options.”

Legend stayed silent, waiting for Wild to finish. This Hyrule was still new to him, the people and culture both; he had no idea who would and wouldn’t call a place like this home.

 “There could be Gorons, or there could be Hylians,” Wild concluded.
“Why would that matter?” Legend asked. Really, the smoke made it obvious they weren’t alone. Who they were alone with didn’t seem as much of an issue.

Wild rolled back on his heels, then forward, balancing on the balls of his feet. “I dunno.” He took a swig of water from the pouch at his hip. “Just thinking out loud, I guess.”

The air was too dry for Legend to reply. Already it felt like every word said just sapped more of the precious moisture from his mouth. When Wild offered him a drink, he accepted it gratefully, savoring every drop.

There was no way they could avoid the smoke trail. The canyon was a single running gouge in the earth, and so the duo were pushed towards it like fish in a river. Though it was barely noticeable, the canyon sloped downwards in a creeping type of way, and so when they were almost at the source of the extinguished fire, the walls around them were high and sheer. Even Wild would have trouble climbing them, Legend thought, despite his almost supernatural acrobatics.

Even though the walls of the canyon were tall, giving them plenty of shade as the shadows were long even in the midday sun, it did little for the heat, and the rock only seemed to absorb it. By the time they rounded the corner of where the dead fire was, both teens were sunburnt, and Wild a sweating mess. The source of the smoke was further than they thought. It was late enough that the sun was obscured by the sheer cliffs around them, the first stars of the night winking in the sky.

Legend braced himself, waiting to see if whoever waited for them was friend or foe, but when he saw the smoldering coals, there was no owner waiting beside them.

Cocking his head, Wild went to the fire circle, toeing at the ashes with one worn boot. A cinders billowed up, blowing down the slope, only to drift back down forlornly after a few seconds of flight. The wind whistled hollowly through the canyon.

“There’s no one here,” Wild muttered.

He was right; apart from a strange pile of rocks beside the smothered fire, that part of the canyon was as desolate as the rest. Legend climbed onto the rocks, noting their slight discoloration to the rest of the stone around them, and peered around.

“Doesn’t seem like it.” Then he looked at the sky. “We should set up camp. It’s getting dark, and I don’t want to fall into a cave because I can’t see anything.”

Wild snickered. “I don’t want to go looking for you in a cave when I can’t see anything.”

Legend glared, but it only seemed that Wild had made the comment in jest. He hopped off the rock pile, looking closer at the dead fire. “We could stop here. Someone’s already made a fire pit for us, and I don’t think they’re gonna use it again any time soon.” Since the ashes still held heat to them, it would be easier to light, giving them more time to sleep, something Legend was craving.

Stretching his hands over his head, Wild nodded. “Yeah, sure. My sword holster is starting to chafe, so sleep would be nice.”

As the blond started shrugging off his weapon’s holsters and packs, Legend spotted a sprig of straw poking out from beneath the heap of rocks. He ran his paw over it, noting how it felt thinner and a little smoother than he would have expected, then shrugged. It was too dry to eat, so it was no use to him.

They fell into their old routine of setting up camp. Wild collected logs for the fire while Legend foraged for whatever he could find. This time, pickings were slim, and he only found a few arid mushrooms, which meant Wild would have to dip into their supplies in the Sheikah Slate. The small hollow where he was searching sounded strange, something about the way the ground dipped and curved making the wind lose its usual sonorous howl. Instead, a susurration crept its way around him from the depths and cracks in the canyon walls, a stuttering shuffle like drag of bones over stone; the hero felt a chill in down his spine, and took one uneasy step back.

He decided to search the ground one more time in case he missed anything; he got turned around a few times, repeatedly stumbling over Wild’s own tracks without running into the teen himself, and found nothing more than dirt. A testament to how the whole day was going. He left gratefully, missing the steady presence of his companion and eager to get away from the hissing winds.

He hopped back to their campsite on tender paws, coming up on Wild who was hunched over the firepit, a few sticks and debri beneath him. A few feet away, their bags and water not held in the slate were strewn haphazardly over the ground. The blonde was clicking a flint and steel between dirty fingers, muttering to himself each time the wood pile failed to catch a spark. Finally, he shoved the tools in his pocket and took out a flameblade that he had scavenged somewhere along the road. The fire lit up with a whoosh.

It was large, and the way it cast light over the cave walls made it look like the shadows were dancing. Legend found that he couldn’t take his eyes off of them. It was enchanting, watching the way the walls twisted and writhed. He almost didn’t want to sleep with a fire beside him anymore, with the way it made the stone come alive. It made him feel like he was being watched.

“Legend!”

He jumped, whirling around. Wild was standing in front of the fire with a hand on his hip, silhouetted in its orange light. In the other, he held one of their canteens, and was twirling it about like a wine glass. “Have you been drinking the water?”

Legend stared. With the way Wild was standing directly in front of the fire, no light illuminated his features, only bleeding past the fringes of his outline, haloing him in a volcanic light. It caused the strange effect of Legend being unable to see his face. Instead, it was just a vaguely humanoid impression, cast in dark and shade. Not even the glitter of his eyes could be discerned, and while he knew Wild had spoken to him, he didn’t see his mouth move.

The shadow shifted again. “Well, have you?”

Legend felt his ears start to flatten on instinct, and forced them to stay up. He hopped to the other side of the fire, putting the light between them so he could actually see who was speaking. Finally, Wild’s face came into clarity, eyes still blue, face not a mesh of darkness. Legend heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t drink any of the water.”

Wild shot him a look. “We only have so much, you know. Are you sure you didn’t drink any while I was looking for tinder?”

“No,” Legend snapped. “Of course not.”

Wild’s stare did not let up. If anything, it got more searching.

Legend felt his fur start to spike. “Even if I wanted to, how would I have opened it? I’m kind of lacking in the thumb department right now.” As if to emphasize his words, Legend waved his fluffy paws at Wild. The other teen gave him a dubious look, but remained silent, and started spearing mushrooms on a stick to roast.

Dinner that night was unsatisfying. Even though they were hungry, eating only made them more thirsty, but they had to be careful with how much they drank. Sand seemed to get into everything - hair, clothes, food - until Legend winced at every bite that produced a tooth-grating crunch. Soon, even the fire was smothered, until it was nothing but the choked glow of coals. They sat in silence, a little toxic bubble of it, heavy and noxious. Sometimes they would try to speak, but they’d always stutter on their words, or the dryness of the air, and cease talking, their attempts lamely falling before being ushered away by a breeze. Soon, all they heard was the wind. It blew across the ground, again making the rhythmic heaves that echoed so strangely in Legend’s ears, a long dragging shuffle then pause, shuffle then pause.

It was a long night. Through the foggy half-wakefullness, Legend kept seeing Wild get up. He’d stalk or crawl around camp, moving more ferally than when Legend first met him, like a hyena on the hunt. Shadows would melt away from him like mist, and Legend had a terrible nightmare that they swallowed him up again, snuffing him out like a guttering flame, just before dawn.

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If their first day in the canyon was bad, then the second was miserable. Legend felt like he got no sleep, in the awful way his eyes burned and his neck ached, but he must have because it was Wild who shook him to wakefulness that morning. They had a short breakfast of stale bread, neither of them feeling like they could stomach more in the heat, but it left their tongues feeling tacky, and they stuck to the roofs of their mouths. They set off with a drag to their step, almost reluctant to move again on limbs that already felt like stone. Legend kept his head down, eyes away from the sun, and just concentrated on steadily plodding forward, feeling more like cattle than a rabbit. He didn’t dare stop, because he was afraid that if he did he wouldn’t be able to start again, and kept moving until he walked into the back of Wild’s heels. He stumbled a few feet back from the blond dizzily.

Wild glanced down at him, face red and lips cracked. Dark bags hung under bloodshot eyes, making the blueness of them dim and washed out. His boots, which were once a rich brown, had become a dry sort of tan, so heavily coated they were in the thin dirt of the canyon. “Do you want a water break?” he asked. Droplets of sweat had trailed down his face, leaving clean trails through the grime he had accumulated through their journey from Rito Village and the canyon.

Legend couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. He didn’t even feel embarrassed at his desperate gasp of, “ Please.” 

Wild didn’t seem to mind either, as he pointed to the canyon wall with one grimy, dirt-caked finger. “Let’s sit there, under the overhang. At least then we’ll get some shade.”

As fast as his exhausted body let him, Legend hopped over to the chosen spot. Behind him, the sound of Wild’s dragging steps had stopped. Trundling to a halt, Legend looked at him over a dusty shoulder. “What is it?” he asked weakly.  He felt his heart drop at having to wait another second for a drink.

Wild had his hands held in front of him, and was staring at empty palms with an almost disbeleiving look. Then with a viscous curse, he started patting himself down frantically. He dug through every pocket, muttering to himself, and each time he came back empty his voice raised in pitch. Next, he took the small side satchel at his hip, dumping the few things that weren’t held in his slate onto the ground, nuts and berries falling to the ground in a rain of faint plunking. He looked through it for a few seconds, then drew back, running his hands through snarled hair, seemingly unaware of all the dirt on his hands transferring to his hair in a greasy smear.

“Fuck!” he shrieked, kicking at the pile of discarded fruits and nuts.

“What?” Legend hopped up to him, eyes wide. “ What? ”

Wild ignored him and dropped to his knees and started to dig through the dirt, face getting paler by the minute. A litany of “Nonono,” was spilling from his lips, low enough that if Legend wasn’t a rabbit, he wouldn’t have been able to hear.

Finally, Legend pulled at his pant leg. “ Wild. You need to talk to me. What happened ?”

The other teen threw a handful of dirt before he hung his head. A few blond strands stuck to his temples, damp with sweat. “…the Sheikah Slate is gone,” he whispered.

Oh no.

“But we just had it last night,” Legend argued desperately. “We pulled food from it last night.”

“Well, it’s not here anymore,” Wild snapped. “If it was, I would’ve seen it.”

“Okay.” Legend’s ears flattened, perked up, then flattened again. “Okay, this is fine. It’s fine. We’re the only two people in this canyon, so the slate can’t have gotten that lost. I bet it fell from your belt while we were walking. We’ll just retrace our steps back to last night’s campsite, and find it on the way.”

As Legend spoke, Wild had straightened, and was now nodding slowly. “That could work. There’s practically nothing here, so spotting it won’t be too hard.” With abandon, he started shoving the spilled nuts and berries back into his bag by the handful, squeezing some tight enough that a few wildberries burst in his hand, leaving red to drip from his fingers. Then he slung the bag back over his shoulder once he had collected most of them, ignoring the last few morsels laying on the ground. “Let’s go.”

And so they turned back, and began retracing their steps, walking the several miles they had already covered all over again. With each footprint that he passed, Legend felt his feet grow heavier. Wind blew through the canyon, and with nowhere to blow but through the narrow incision that was Tanagar Canyon, its strength became punishing. It pushed against them, forcing them back and making them lean into their weight to carry on. Grains of sand whipped by Legend’s face, getting in his nose, his ears, his eyes, until he could barely see, and all he could taste was the bone-dry winds, sucking every ounce of moisture from his tongue. A wailing grew in the chasm, long and low and sonorous, beautiful in the way that only a funeral march is beautiful, and Legend realized that he was hearing the wind whistling through the canyon. Soon it started to sound like whispers, voices carrying their way from the deepest, darkest parts of the earth, and so he flattened his ears against it. The strange dragging noise was back too, and it grated in his ears like nails on a chalkboard.

He tried to ignore the roughness of his throat and how his ears felt tender from the heat, but it didn’t work. From the way he watched Wild wiping the sweat and dirt from his brow every couple minutes and licking his cracked, bleeding lips, he guessed he felt the same. Neither of them thought about what might happen if they didn’t find the water, and Legend kept his head bowed, following the tracks of his companion.

“Hey,” he said, breaking their long silence.

Wild only grunted in reply, not bothering to look back.

“Since you kept getting up last night, maybe that’s how you lost the slate.”

In front of him, the teen came to a sudden, jerking halt. “What?”

Legend huffed, and reluctantly halted at his side. “I kept seeing you walking around camp last night, after we went to bed. Could you have misplaced the slate and forgotten?”

“I didn’t-” Wild swallowed thickly. “I didn’t get up once after we went to bed. My head hit the pillow and I was out until morning.”

Legend felt an icy chill trickle down his spine. The memories from the night came back to him, how he saw a shadow slinking through their camp like an oily, squirming worm. “But I saw you. ” Legend tried. “I saw how you kept getting up last night, and walking around.” Even to his ears his explanation sounded hollow, the words spilling lamely from his tongue, only a desperate plea for an easy explanation. Around them, the sussurus shifting in the canyon grew louder, reverberating through his ears painfully. Legend shook his head roughly.

“I didn’t!” Wild snapped. His hands twitched, palming at the pommel of his sword, then making aborted reaches for his bow. “I’m telling you, I was asleep the entire time!”

“Do you know what that means?” Legend hissed. “Do you know what it means if neither of us were ever up, all through the night?”

And then Legend heard it again, and he both cursed and thanked his ears for their hypersensitivity, as the heavy drag of something moving across dirt and stone wheezed through the canyon. Then there was stillness, so thick he almost choked on it, before he heard it again, this time with the rattling, painful intake of someone gasping for air. Legend did not know what he was hearing, what it was, or if it even was a someone. Their stalker was a complete unknown, and Legend started to feel eyes burning through his fur, peering at him from every nook and cave and chasm, stronger than the heat of the sun had ever been.

“ Wild, ” Legend hissed. “There’s someone following us.”

He saw it before Wild did. A face, white as bone, peered at him from a crevice in the canyon wall. A single black, glistening eye locked onto him.

Chapter Text

“ Wild, ” Legend hissed. “There’s someone following us.”

Wild moved to unsheathe his sword, but as soon as his hand touched the handle, the same noise echoed through the canyon. It came from everywhere and nowhere all at once; because of the high stone walls, it was impossible to pinpoint the noise as it ricocheted off every available surface like an endless wave of thunder. To Legend’s ears, it was pandemonium, a bubble of hypersensitivity disorientation that he was trapped inside. It made him dizzy, nauseous, and his teeth clicked against eachother in agitation. He fought against flattening his ears to his skull; who else would be there to help Wild, but him?

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash, ceramic white and startling in its intensity, a bird of prey come to hunt.

“It’s there!” Legend shouted and pulled at Wild’s pant leg, pointing in the direction of the white face, but in the second he looked away, it was gone again.

Wild hissed, leaving his sword at his hip and pulling free his bow. In one smooth motion, he pulled two arrows free from their quiver, nocked them, and pulled back, ready to loose them at the first sign of the hunter. Legend could hear the bowstring groan with the effort, could see Wild’s knuckles bleaching to a slow white, and trembled when he saw a glaze come over his one seeing eye.

A hand found Legend’s scruff, and before he knew what was happening, he was weightless, soaring through the air in a dizzying arc.

“ No! ” he heard Wild scream, right before the tell-tale thunk of two arrows hitting stone, missing their mark of flesh.

Legend hit the ground with a grunt, skidding several feet before coming to a halt beneath a scraggly pine. He lay there, winded, but only allowed himself a second of respite, before he forced himself back to his feet. The pain was barely there, pushed to the back of his mind to make room for all that was happening now. Wild ran to his side, two new arrows nocked and a hunted quality in his eyes that Legend had never seen before.

Planting himself over Legend, Wild pulled back his arrows, pointing them at one corner, then another, the direction changing every time a new sound made its way to them. His breathing was erratic, and sweat dripped from his brow leaving a pale trail through the caked on grime. Suddenly, something flew out from behind a jagged cliff with a whistle. Before Legend could even take breath in to shout, it had struck Wild on the head with a meaty thunk. The archer grunted, and on instinct brought his hand up, pressing it to his temple, but it did nothing to stem the flow of blood as it spilled from the wound and ran down his arm. It started dripping from his elbow, and Legend winced as he felt Wild’s blood fall onto his ears in heavy, hot splashes. Above him, Wild swayed, eye unfocused, and that was the only signal their hunter needed.

Legend saw the uncannily pale face first; white as bone, a single black eye glittering under the moon’s light, as the body it was attached to scrambled towards them on all fours like a drunken spider.

“Wild!” Legend cried, pushing frantically against his calf. “Move!”

Those were the only two words he had time for, as the thing was on them in an instant. It dove between Wild’s legs straight towards Legend, zeroing in on him. Bunching his legs, Legend leapt out of the way, but not before he felt their attacker’s hand brush against his flank. He heard Wild snarl, and Legend turned to see him pull a dagger from his boot, only to thrust it up to the hilt into the creature’s thigh. When he withdrew the blade, it shone a glossy black.

The thing barely seemed to notice that it had a fresh wound on it. It seemed to be fixated on Legend, going after him with a crazed intensity that Legend had only ever seen in rabid dogs. Deftly, it ducked under Wild’s next attack and pounced, grasping Legend in its hands. The grasping fingers wrapped around him, and Legend wheezed as every last breath of air was squeezed from his body. The beast drew Legend closer, until he was close enough to feel the thing’s breath fan across his whiskers and smell the stinking, dizzyingly sweet scent of rot and death.

Impossibly, the pressure around Legend’s torso grew, until he could hear his ribs creak and his vision darkened, but it wasn’t enough to suffocate the sudden jolt of realization that struck through his body. Legend wasn’t staring up at a bloodlessly white face with a single black eye; he was looking at a mask .

“Yiga,” he gasped.

He could just barely make out two eyes gleaming behind the mask's eye holes, dark and endlessly streaming thick, gelatinous clots of black tears. They must have filled that mask to bursting, till there was nowhere for them to go except out, spilling from the eyeholes like a burst pipe and staining the mask and its decorative eye black.

“No!”

Legend heard the cry before his vision was obscured by gold. Wild had reached them, face coated in red, hair having fallen out of its braid and tangling around his face. When he bared his teeth in a snarl, Legend fuzzily noted somewhere in the back of his mind that they were stained crimson.

With a grunt, he slammed his body into the Yiga’s- or what used to be a Yiga. Legend heard a sickeningly wet snap, and he knew at least one bone had been broken. In response someone howled, the sound enough to leave Legend’s ears ringing and spine chilled as he was dropped. He fell to the ground, and just barely missed being stepped on by a cracked boot, the foot hitting hard enough that a cloud of dust was sent up around it. Legend ducked and wove through the tangle of legs which to him were the size of tree trunks, scrambling for somewhere he could at least try to catch his breath.

Behind him the sounds of battle had broken out in full. He heard grunts, snarls, feet scuffling for every inch of ground while the familiar sound of fists hitting flesh rang through the canyon.

Turning back, Legend watched as Wild scuffled, fighting viciously, using every trick he knew. For a moment, Legend felt hope rise in him as he saw the Yiga slowly start to lose ground, but then it shattered the moment the Yiga turned to him. Wild saw the same thing, and in a moment of weakness, took his eyes off his opponent.

That was when the Yiga struck. It was a feint, Legend realized, to target Legend and use him as Wild’s weakness. They had given too much away at the beginning of the fight, and now Wild was paying the price.

He flipped Wild onto his back, leaping on him with a cackle, foaming spittle flying from his mask in a black spray. Still laughing, the Yiga wrapped his hands around Wild’s neck, cracked, bleeding nails digging into his skin.

“I won!” the Yiga shrieked, pulling Wild up close and shaking him like a ragdoll. “I did it! I won! I won!”

Wild could only wheeze, eyes rolling ferally in his skull as he fought for breath he wouldn’t receive. His body twisted, spasmed, caught up in the throes of agony until it warped itself into a shape that Legend had never thought a Hylian capable of.

“Stop it!” Legend screamed, throwing himself at the Yiga. “Stop, you’re killing him!”

He bit down on the Yiga’s leg, nearly gagging at the overwhelming taste of rot, but all the Yiga did was brush him off like an irritable fly. Beneath him Wild’s body jerked, seized, and his arms flailed at his sides uselessly.

Suddenly, Legend was blinded for a heartbeat, as moonlight glinted off something metal. Something sharp. Legend gasped as he saw a knife barely longer than his own ears. It was thin, yet curved, and Legend could see the fine sharpness of it from where he stood; a skinning knife. Wild wasn’t fighting to his death at all. The whole time, he had been carefully, slowly reaching for the knife in his boot, his last saving grace. And with that knife he drove the blade into the heaving flank of the Yiga.

Legend heard a hollow thunk, almost like an axe splitting wood, before a faint hiss trailed to his ears. Above Wild, the Yiga wheezed, swayed, then dropped to the dirt, grasping weakly at his side. The knife had punctured his lung.

Wild scrambled away from him on hands and knees, crawling towards Legend. Behind him, the Yiga started coughing in great, rattling heaves. On each, bubbling inhale Legend could hear him sucking blood further into his body, while each exhale only expelled more from his mouth. Legend could see it, dark as it was even under the moon's light, first a drip, then in a steady organic stream that the dry earth lapped up greedily. Soon, black blood spilled out of him in heavy gouts, thick and viscous like oil, leaking from the edges of the mask and staining his already filthy uniform. Wheezing, each one coming closer to a death rattle, the soldier yanked his mask off, revealing a gaunt, sunken face already more dead than alive.

“It’s your fault!” the Yiga shrieked, flailing at Legend. “You made me like this! You! ”

With jerky movements, the Yiga wrapped his hands around the knife.

Wild gasped. “No, sto-!”

He was cut off as the Yiga yanked the knife from his body. Legend flattened his ears, trying to block out the sound of the scrape of metal catching on bone, a sound he would never get used to.

Before he could move, the Yiga scrambled at him on all fours, head twitching and a frothy pus dribbling from his mouth. The last thing that he saw was the blinding glint of the knife; then his vision cut out.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Shnk

Hiss

Shnk

Hiss

Legend shifted, groaning at the firebolt that shot through his head. It felt like someone had tried to cut his hair using an axe. Tentatively, he reached back, feeling for any wayward gashes or bumps on his skull. When he was met with fur instead of hair, he paused. So he was still a rabbit.

Bracing himself, he pushed to a sitting position, shoving back the urge to vomit purely out of spite. He licked his lips, the sensation dryer than he had ever felt, and was about to get up except for the small glass that suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Oh,” Legend breathed. “It’s-”

“-water,” Wild finished, setting the full cup down at Wild’s hip. His face was a mess. It looked like he had tried to wipe it clean, but with supplies so short there wasn’t really anything to do it with. It left Wild with flaking blood from brow to chin, some red, some black, all of it striking in an awful way. “I got the Sheikah slate back.”

“Really?” Legend took a sip of the water. It was lukewarm, a little stale, and when it slid down his aching throat he had to hold back a cough. It was the greatest thing he had ever tasted. “Where was it?”

Wild visibly hesitated. Finally, he jerked his head back to a pile of dirt, freshly dug with a shovel still by it. “It was on him.”

Ah. Well. That was all he really needed to say. When Wild seemed to look at him expectantly, Legend only nodded at him. He didn’t want to push. When it seemed he had nothing left to say, Wild sagged, and went to grab the shovel with black stained hands.

Shnk

Hiss

Shnk

Hiss

So that was what had woken Legend up. Tiredly, he watched Wild shovel dirt upon scoop of dirt into the pit before him, savoring every drop of his water as he did so.

“...ered something.”

Legend blinked out of his hypnotic daze. “What was that?”

Wild huffed, driving the blade of the shovel into the ground. “I said I remembered something.”

Legend licked his lips, eyeing the empty cup between his paws. “What was it?”

Wild began to arrange a small pile of pebbles over the burial mound, meticulously placing each one down in a pattern unknown to Legend. “It was- Legend, how old did you say you were?” He kept his eye fixated on the rock pile.

“I didn’t.” Carefully, Legend set aside his cup. The clink it made when it met the canyon floors felt too loud in his ears.

Wild gnawed at his lower lip, thumbing flakes of black off his fingers. “Well, how old are you?”

Legend blinked. “I’m eighteen.” Had he really never told Wild his age? Had Wild ever told him his ? That was, if Wild was even able to remember his age, which Legend wasn’t sure was the case. Lately, Wild had been keeping things close to his chest.

“Huh.”

Hopping over to the grave, Legend saw that Wild had arranged the stones into a triforce. “Why do you ask?”

“I dunno,” Wild shrugged. “You’ve just never really told me about yourself before. Like, where’s your family? You couldn’t have just popped out of nowhere.”

“Umm…” Wild couldn’t know about where he came from. When he came from? Not even Legend, a practiced dimensional jumper, truly knew what was happening to him. He arrived in Wild’s world an unwilling interloper, lost and out of place and so, so scared. Not only that, it seemed like half the time he was being dragged somewhere else, somewhere parallel to Wild’s own reality, and half the time he was there he was attacked by whoever first met him. Legend felt a chill go down his spine; would Wild do that? If Wild ever saw his true form, would he attack first and ask questions later? No, he wouldn’t tell him now. Couldn’t. Not yet. As soon as they finished what they came here to do, Legend would tell him, and prepare himself for rejection. “I never saw the point. Talking about that, I mean.”

Wild frowned, the burn scars on his face tugging awkwardly. “That’s it? You don’t want to talk because you never saw the point?”

“Yes.” Goddesses, that sounded awful. Even Legend knew his response was lacking.

“I’m listening now,” Wild urged. “You can tell me. I already know you’re a talking rabbit, Legend. I didn’t think it was weird when we first met, but now I know that you’re not exactly the most normal thing in Hyrule. Come on, nothing can be worse than that. You didn’t have any hobbies or passions, like maybe being a scholar or something?”

A scholar? Where had Wild gotten that idea? Even now, he was staring at Legend, eyes wide and almost pleading.

“Look,” Legend said. “I know I’ve been quiet about myself, but that’s because we have bigger things to worry about. Wild, the whole fate of Hyrule rests on your shoulders, and my job is to make sure you don’t fail. After we defeat Ganon, I’ll tell you anything you want to know, I promise. ”

Wild’s ears fell. Looking at him felt like looking in a mirror, and that sent a chill down his spine. When they had first met, Wild had seemed bright and new, like the dawn after a night of rain. Now, his face was bruised in a rainbow of sickly purples, blues, and yellows. His one good eye was sunken and framed by purple bags. There was an age to his spine in the way he was hunched that made him look older than he really was. He looked like Legend, and Legend… he was the rain.

Wild hissed. “So that’s all I’m meant to do? Kill someone, like I killed him, while you just keep all your secrets to yourself?” Wild kicked a cloud of dirt over the Yiga’s hasty grave.

“I don’t have secrets. I'm nobody.” Legend insisted. “Nobody.”

“ Nobody?” Wild looked seconds from tearing his hair from his scalp. “You’re a fucking talking rabbit, Legend, you’re not nobody. ” 

“Look,” Legend tried. “I know you feel bad about what happened with the Yiga, but that was self-defense-”

“ Self-defense? ” Wild sneered. “If you’re hiding something, at least don’t use me to do it. How about you just say it like it is, huh? I murdered the man I just buried, and now I have two bodies on my hands, and you hate it. Every time you look at me I can see it in your eyes. It’s like you’re waiting for something.”

“I’m trying not to upset you!” Legend snapped. “There’s already so much happening, and with your memories coming back faster I don’t want you to be stressed by something else!”

“You’d know about my memories, wouldn’t you,” Wild muttered, holstering the slate. “I’m sleeping over there. Scream if something else tries to kill you.”

Wild stalked off, leaving Legend behind with only the grave to keep him company. Looking down at the mound of dirt, he saw that Wild’s careful arrangement of stones had been kicked out of place, the triforce having lost one of its triangles.

Scowling, Legend set to work putting them back in their pattern. It could have gone worse. Wild had tried to bring a lot of things to light, but there was one thing he had thankfully overlooked that Legend knew would be just as hard to explain as him not being a rabbit. The Yiga was right, after all; what he had become was Legend’s fault. 

Chapter Text

Something soft and warm brushed his forehead before tugging gently on his bangs, stirring Link from a deep and dreamless sleep. He grunted, swiping at the offensive thing, before curling into a tight ball, hiding his face from a watery light. For a blessed moment there was peace, then that same velveteen softness came again, lipping at the lock of hair that had stubbornly stayed a berry pink ever since he went to Lorule. Hissing, Link blindly burrowed deeper into himself, wrapping his arms over his head. He stayed tense and still, ears perked, waiting for something to tug at his hair again. When nothing did, he felt himself loosen, relaxing into the ground beneath him with a sigh as he fell into a doze.

A snort sounded right in his ear, followed by a gust of hot air and a tacky, warm spittle.

“Hylia’s tits!” Link snarled, shooting up. “Can’t I just get on minute of peace without a fucki-”

He cut himself off. Staring down its long nose at him was a horse, brown eyes big and impervious to Link’s shouts. Snuffling, it lipped at Link’s bangs again, tugging on the locks, but not hard enough to hurt. Huffing, Link brushed the giant beast away, scooting back from its sharp hooves and long teeth. Muttering to himself, he rubbed the disorientation from his eyes and glanced around at the entirely foreign place he woke up in. He was laid out on a sandy bank, right on the edge of a pond that cast watery gold light on the leaves and trunks of the forest hollow it made its home in.

The water looked shallow, barely a foot at its deepest point, and impossibly green plants hung into the hollow, as if desperately reaching for even a drop of  it, while Link heard a gentle trickle of a waterfall somewhere off in the distance that probably fed the pond. His throat ached when he saw the water, and he dove forward, desperately bringing handful after handful up to drink. When it touched his tongue, he groaned, the sweet chill of it spreading down his throat like a soothing balm. Finally, when his thirst was slaked, Link fell back, staring at the canopy of trees in a daze.

There was a tingling at the tip of Link’s tongue, not caused by the water, carrying with it the taste of spring grass and air after rain; the flavor of magic was unmistakable. It made his fingers prickle, and he forced himself to sit back up with a grunt, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. The magic was settled into the ground, ancient by any standard, and had possibly even coaxed the water up to make the pond. And Link had just been sleeping by it, open and exposed.

He didn’t want to be in the place longer than he had to - magic always did that to him, one too many bad experiences - but when he moved to stand something tangled around his legs, tripping him up. It was a cloak, a red deep enough to be russet and so worn it was kitten-soft. Link didn’t recognize it as his or Wild’s.

“Fuck,” Link hissed, kicking it off into the sand. The horse sniffed its disapproval. When he scrambled to his feet, Link swore again. Someone had removed his red surcoat, leaving it folded beneath his head as a pillow. His boots and cap were gone too, set several feet to the side, so the only thing he had on was his green undertunic.

Lunging for the hat and jamming it on his head, he put his boots on, sand-covered feet and all. Scooping up his surcoat, he tossed it over his shoulder, already moving to the treeline, muttering to himself and glaring into the forest.

He heard something, a splash that he just attributed to the horse, except that the splashes got closer, and while the thing behind him definitely moved on four legs, Link could definitely see the horse standing still out of the corner of his eye. The splashes got closer, fast and loud enough that it sounded like it was running towards him. Whirling around, hand grasping for a sword that wasn’t there, Link prepared himself for whatever beast might call these woods its home. Instead, he found himself face to face with a man.

He stood barefoot, ankle deep in the pond’s clear water and perfectly still. He only wore a pair of torn pants and a shaggy, gray pelt over his shoulders, a pelt big enough that Link wondered what beast he had to kill to get it. A black tattoo stretched from forehead to the tip of his nose, and while Link felt some stirring of familiarity, he couldn’t recognize the symbol. Though he looked relaxed standing in front of Link, Link saw the poise hidden just under his skin; he could move akin to the light over the water, too fast to track. There was something other about him. Other, yes, but not unknown, and for a moment Link felt like he was back in Lorule, the shadows twisting and squeezing around him until he was forced into the form of a rabbit. Unbidden, Link took a small step back.

“Well howdy,” came the stranger’s smooth voice, and canines just a little too sharp peeked past his lips. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen you ‘round these parts.”

His voice was a deep roll, words smooth and easing from one to another like honey. For all the accents Link had heard, this one was entirely new to him, a unique push and pull of both tone and pronunciation. He tried to place it, because a lot could be observed from a person’s voice and, if you were good at it like Link, where that person was from. He came up blank. 

The man took a step closer, causing small ripples in the water. In return, Link took a step back. Pausing, the man scanned slow eyes over Link, catologing him from head to toe, before slowly raising both hands in the air. Link bristled, and was preparing a litany of curses for the presumptuous shit, when the horse ambled its way between them.

It nosed at Link, whickering softly, before pulling his hat off.

“Hey!” Link hissed, grabbing at it. They entered a tug-of-war, but it was useless; the horse, who was most likely ten times stronger than Link, came out victorious, and the tension was broken. Across from him, the man let out a chuckle. Link glared. “Got something to say?”

Grinning, the man leaned against a tree. “She likes you, is all. Pretty rare. Usually Epona doesn't got time for strangers.”

“Right, well I don’t have time for any of this. I’m busy.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the man, taking in his easy stance, how he rolled back on his heels. There was dirt smudged on his cheek, trailing all the way down his collarbone. He had a farmer’s tan, turning his skin a healthy olive, nothing like Link’s ever-present paleness. A leaf was caught in his hair, and the man didn’t seem to care - or notice - when it brushed his forehead. While his eyes were gray, they were still somehow warm, like the soft feathers of a dove’s wing. Link had no idea how he and this man could both be heroes. One obviously was meant for the title, while the other wasn’t.

“Oh?” The man raised one brow. “Busy doing what? Cause last I saw, all you were doing was nappin in a bracken bush.”

“None of your business.” Link snatched his hat back from Epona, pushing his thoughts down. “If that’s all, I’ll be on my way.”

He ducked away from Epona’s questing nose, picking a direction at random that wasn’t Here. Behind him, he heard splashing again, then the soft sound of feet over sand. A hand fell on his shoulder, calloused and firm. Link wanted to bite it.

“Now hold on a minute, you just got here. At least tell me where you’re headed. I can give you directions.”

Grey eyes met Link’s. They were filled with a genuine kindness that made Link want to gag, yet there was something else buried beneath it. Like a single thorn hidden among a bouquet of flowers, a sharp suspicion was glinting deep within the man’s iris’. A suspicion of what, Link didn’t know, and he didn’t want to stay long enough to find out.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ve got it from here.” Link shrugged off the hand, backing away, which was just about when he was hit by a familiar sensation. Fish hooks, moored deep in his skin, had started to pull insistenly. The timing couldn’t have been worse, really.

Link’s next step was interrupted by a hand fisting in his collar. It twisted and pulled, keeping Link still, and no matter how hard the hero tried to throw the hand off it wouldn’t budge. The man holding him was strong. Link turned to glare, meeting hard eyes and pursed lips. The grip on his collar didn’t loosen.

“Fine,” Link hissed. “If you’re that curious, then come with me.”

Maybe, if he had his gear, he could’ve gotten away from him. Maybe he’d be able to do it without, too, but Link was exhausted both physically and mentally, and when it came to physical power, Link could tell just by looking that the other man would come out on top. The events he had gone through, starting all the way back at that beach, had done something to him. Link grimaced, pushing the memory of sand away, and allowed the tugging in his gut to guide him. Beside him the man followed. He didn’t seem at all bothered that he was walking barefoot through the woods. If there were stones or thorns cutting at his feet, he didn’t show it; his face stayed neutral as he followed Link, still holding tightly to his tunic.

He kept his hold, right up until Link could feel the light of the portal touch his brow. It was hidden behind a wall of vines, and only slivers of purple were able to strike its way through the green until Link swept the organic curtain aside.

The man - Link refused to call him Link - gasped when he saw it. He turned to him with a wild light in his eyes that turned gray to silver, and gripped Link by the shoulders. There was something on his face - maybe hope? - but Link couldn’t be sure.

“ Where did you come from? ” He shook him once, hard. “Does the word Twilight mean anything to you?”

“No, you freak,” Link snapped. “I don’t know what twilight means, and I don’t know what you want. Can you let me go now?”
The man grimaced, gray eyes falling. Then he clenched his jaw. “Then I’m going with you.”

It was all Link could do to not throw his hands in the air. Why was he so stubborn? Link didn’t think he was ever so stubborn. “Fine! Jump through the purple rift! See if I give a shit!”

He insistently tugged at the man’s hand, still clenched around his clothes. Now that he was in closer proximity to the portal, the sensation of pulling, of gravity that didn’t follow the rest of the world’s laws of physics, had gotten stronger. It was persistent, throbbing like a fresh would, and it made Link click his teeth together.

Finally, though he looked doubtful, the man’s grip loosened, then released entirely. Link sniffed, brushing imaginary dust off his shoulders, then made his way over to the light. He felt the pull grow stronger, until it was all he could do to keep on his feet. The last thing he saw were the other man’s - the other Link’s - eyes widening, before his mouth opened to say something. Before he could get a single word out, the two were engulfed by violet, and a ringing filled Legend’s ears.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

Legend woke up to an unnaturally chill wind blowing through the canyon, strong enough to pierce through his pink pelt and needle at his skin. He glanced around blearily, looking for the other Link and his black tattoos, his animal skin, but there was no sign of him. The canyon was as empty as when he had fallen asleep, housing only him and the small huddle of a still-sleeping Wild.

“Shit,” Legend muttered. Suddenly, he remembered all the other places the portal had taken him, and the utter force it seemed to possess, that which Legend could barely even stand against. It wasn’t like a door, something with a guaranteed one-way. It was a gambler’s bet, with no clear guess of where you’d end up, and a guaranteed loss no matter how lucky you could be. He’d probably sent the hero somewhere completely other from this current time and place, and who knew when - or if - he’d see him again. 

Maybe he would. Legend wouldn’t immediately rule it out. In the beginning, before all of the shit he’d gone through, he might have. But now he had been pulled to three other times before him - four if he counted Wild - like a leaf being pushed about by a storm, yet it seemed that this aimless, untamed Hyrule was his anchor. If it was happening to him, he wouldn’t rule out that it could be happening to someone else. Perhaps he’d see the man on some abandoned trail or in long-forgotten ruins, and would have to explain to him and Wild what he’d done, which was a conversation that Legend didn’t want to think about. 

Instead he went to find Wild, who was curled up in a hollow between two rocks. His body lay still and heavy as a stone, blond hair a blanket of tangles over him, and he didn’t stir even when Legend hopped up to his side; Legend didn’t even know he was capable of sleeping past sunrise until now. He was always up with the dawn, powered with an energy that the older veteran had lost perhaps before he even hit puberty.

Gently, Legend stretched a paw forward, tapping his shoulder. “Hey, wake up.”

Jerking, the blond shot up, waving a rusty dagger wildly through the air. Legend jumped back, hissing, and waited for the blond to settle. After a couple uneasy moments passed where Wild did nothing but suck in ragged breaths, he dared to hop closer.

“Did you sleep with that?” Legend asked, pointing at the dagger. He looked at it closer, saw flecks of rust chipping off to reveal the silver blade underneath, and realized that it wasn’t rust at all. It was blood.

Wild scowled from between strands of tangled, greasy hair. “So what if I did?”

So what if he did? Legend, at least when he was Hylian, slept with weapons of all sorts. He kept knives under his pillow and swords behind the bed frame. On bad nights he’d sit in the kitchen, a dagger in both hands, and fall asleep sitting up, knuckles turning white around the blades. Ravio would complain sometimes, and would, on occasion, wake him up by poking him with a broom, just so he’d be out of Legend’s deadly reach. Once, he even left, spending a night at an inn until Legend begged for him to come back and fill the empty void that was his house. Legend slept with weapons all the time, but that was him, not Wild. Wild had never done anything of the sort.

“Just curious,” Legend said.

Wild huffed, putting the knife back in his boot. He rubbed the sleep from his bloodshot eyes and took out the Sheikah slate, tapping it. “I was thinking we could make it to Death Mountain by the end of today. We’ll have to push, and do a bit of climbing, but I can make it there in a straight line.”

“Today?” Legend blinked. “You really have the energy for that?”

The teen shrugged. “I have enough.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

They took their breakfast while walking. Legend tried to give Wild his space, and hopped alongside him for as long as he could until his hips ached, but when he started lagging behind, Wild wordlessly scooped him into his harness. Legend couldn’t meet his eyes, skin burning both with shame and pain.

Their journey through the rest of the canyon was blessedly uneventful until they reached the end of the gorge. Ahead of them, carved into the stone itself, was a temple.

Legend felt the fur along his spine prickle. There was a stillness in the air surrounding it, like the universe itself was holding its breath, pensive in its silence. Crumbling stone pillars stretched gracefully into the sky, before suddenly being cut off, worn to breaking by time and the elements. Lichen and moss grew in every crevice, nature’s very own mortar, but Legend didn’t know if it helped hold the ancient shrine together, or was responsible for tearing it down grain by grain. Looking at it, he felt something stir in the back of his mind, pressing against him familiarly like a cat rubbing against his shins.

“Wow.” Wild craned his neck back, bringing his hand up to shield his eye from the sun. “That goes up pretty high.”

Legend grimaced. It was steep enough that they’d have to climb. He was hoping they’d be able to leave the canyon the same way they had come in, by walking, but he couldn’t see anywhere sloped enough for that plan. It seemed that they were meant to struggle down to the very last step.

“Maybe we can go through it,” Wild mused.

“Yeah, may-” Legend cut himself off, registering what Wild had said. He stared at the mat of dirty blond hair in front of him, taken aback. “ Through it ? What in Hylia’s name makes you think that’s a smart idea?”

Wild was already walking over to the building, scouting its walls for handholds. “Why not? It’s not like things can get any worse.”

Legend’s ears flattened as Wild made his first jump, grabbing onto an outcropping of stone. Ducking down, he nestled into the sling, glaring out at the path behind them.

Wild made short work of the climb, reaching what looked like a balcony that jutted out from the temple, vaulting himself over the railing with a stomach-churning twist. Legend couldn’t get himself on solid rock fast enough, jumping from the sling before Wild could lift him and landing on a dry patch of moss. It did little to cushion him, and he hid a wince when his hind paws hit the ground, hips screaming at him in protest.

Wild unstrapped the sling, dropping it at his side before tying his hair up.

“I’m going to scout inside. I’ll be just a few minutes, and if there’s anything worthwhile I’ll come back and get you.”

Before Legend could say anything, he was gone, slipping through a crevice and disappearing into the temple’s walls without even a backward glance. And then Legend was alone.

He stiffened, eyeing the canyon warily. Suddenly, it seemed much larger than before, the already tall cliffs now towering, looming in from every angle, every crack and cave and crevice holding the potential for a creeping, stalking beast with its eyes on Legend. Muttering to himself, he backed away from the balcony’s edge.

A muffled blast suddenly rippled through the temple, the resounding shockwaves almost sending Legend to his feet. Beneath him the balcony shook, groaning ominously, and the stones shook in their foundations. Legend gasped, and just barely leapt out of the way of a falling rock that would have easily crushed his head in if it had hit. The crack Wild had slipped into blessedly remained in place, but before Legend could get closer to it a gust of wind came barrelling out, hitting Legend in the face and filling his eyes and fur with what felt like every speck of dirt they had walked over on their trek here.

The rabbit broke into an uncontrollable fit of coughing, flattening his ears. Through the seismic rumbles, he thought he heard something, the quick pitter patter of feet swiftly approaching. He forced his eyes to open, but couldn’t see anything through the miasma of dust that lingered around him.

Legend wheezed, eyes burning, and backed away, stumbling blindly through the cloud of dirt. A groove in the ground caught one of his hindpaws, and he fell in an uncoordinated tumble. At that exact moment, another quake shook the ground, a rumble echoing through it and deep into Legend’s ears like endless thunder. Something hit him in the side, leaving him breathless and his ribs smarting. Frantically, Legend looked up, only to see more rocks being shaken loose, and it was at this moment that he realized he was out in an open balcony with nowhere to duck for cover. He pressed himself closer, and was considering following Wild into the temple’s crevice, suffocating dust cloud be damned, when he saw something so heartbreakingly familiar out of the corner of his eye, he thought he was hallucinating.

Sure, it looks like a piece’a junk, but what you’re holding in your hands is priceless. Priceless! And I’m giving it to you for free!

It was a spartan carving of an eye emblazoned on a slab of stone, barely recognizable if not for the bracelet that had stayed firmly on his wrist until… until- He couldn’t remember. It must have been lost on the boat. Another ripple ran through the ground, shaking the stone until it was almost free. Legend reared up on his hindpaws, pulling until it came out like a loose puzzle piece, and it fell open to reveal a dark tunnel behind it. There wasn’t any dust billowing outwards, and when Legend sniffed tentatively, the air smelled fresh, not at all like the stale, still air that filled the temples of Hyrule. Behind him, more rocks started pelting the ground like hail, leaving pockmarks in the balcony bigger than Legend’s head.

Spitting curses, he ducked into the crawlspace, only going far enough back that he was at no risk of getting hit by a stray stone. He curled up, waited, and tried not to think of why a symbol specific to him and Ravio was all the way out here in a different version of Hyrule.

Like an ebbing storm, the shaking ceased slowly and the dust settled. When Legend poked his head out of the crawlspace, it was hard to imagine that the temple was quaking at all; he was met with the stifling stillness of the canyon, with only a few pockmarks and fallen rocks as testament to what happened.

A series of dry coughs came from Legend’s right, and he turned to see a dust-covered Wild emerging from the cave.

“Don’t go that way.” He rubbed at streaming eyes, trying to clear dirt and rubble from them. A few tears escaped, cutting clean trails through dirtied cheeks. “There’s more guardians than I thought existed, all broken down in there. Once one got its sights on me it was over.”

“So that’s why I thought the temple was falling down on me?” Legend tugged at his pants until Wild acquiesced, crouching down so the older hero could work on wiping his face clean.

Wild started to speak, then devolved into another onset of hacking. When his throat cleared, he nodded. “Yeah. The whole place almost came down on my head. I barely made it out before the tunnel collapsed.”

Well thank Hylia that he’s not fucking dead, Legend thought. Absent-mindedly, he brushed a pebble from Wild’s eyelashes. “There might be another way through.”

Wild perked up, pulling his face from Legend’s paws. “Another? Where?”

Legend clicked his tongue. No one but him and Ravio knew what that bracelet looked like. Surely nothing bad could come from a simple carving.

“All the quakes made a bunch of stones come loose. I saw one fall, but behind it there was another tunnel. As far as I can tell it stayed up.”

“That could save us a lot of time,” Wild mused.

“It could also send us right back to the things that almost made the temple collapse,” Legend replied. From the way Wild’s eyes were gleaming, he could already tell it was a lost cause. They’d be going that way whether he’d want to or not, and arguing would just prolong the path to the inevitability. Wild was already grabbing a glowing stone from the Sheikah Slate, peering into the tunnel.

“Hey Legend?” Wild glanced at him over his shoulder. “How’d you find this again?”

Legend contemplated lying, but he didn’t think he had anymore in him, at least not for Wild. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I saw a symbol I recognized, so I followed it.”

Wild didn’t respond. Instead, he leaned deeper into the tunnel, ears perked.

“Well, it’ll be a little tight for me, but it seems safe. I think if it was going to come down it already would have.”

Legend didn’t think betting their lives on guesses was a good idea, but Wild was already crawling inside, dusty boots disappearing into the temple. Huffing, Legend followed after him, shivering at the chill when he was swallowed in shadow, the sunlight fading fast behind him. 

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Wild’s guess proved to be true. The tunnel was safe, and led them to the outside above the canyon. There was one moment, where the original tunnel was caved in, with a rougher path veering away at the cutoff point, when Legend felt a bolt of fear at the thought of them becoming trapped. Wild even had to force himself through a crevice at one point, and almost got stuck because of the width of his shoulders. For a few heartstopping moments, Legend had to watch him struggle, until the blond was finally able to wrench himself free with a hiss. Thankfully, that was the final hitch in that part of their travels, because after that the smell of grass and sky grew strong in his nose, and before he knew it he was blinking in the warm sun again. He and Wild were back outside; the tunnel never took them to the room full of guardians that Wild spoke of.

Once he realized they had finally left that leg of their journey behind them, Legend felt a weight fall from his shoulders that he didn’t even know he was carrying. Wild, too, seemed brighter, his one seeing eye clear and shining. They turned their sights to the lone mountain with the heavy cloak of ash over it, marching on with a determined single-mindedness. Legend had stayed free of the sling, preferring to tail Wild and be left alone with his thoughts and the sun set behind them. So deep was he in his thinking that he didn’t notice Wild’s sudden halt until he hopped right into the backs of the blond’s calves.

He stumbled back, barely managing to catch his fall. “What’s wro-” Legend cut himself off, eyes widening.

What he saw rendered him speechless. Ember flakes drifted down around them, gentle as snowfall, bright as topaz. They settled on the ground, burning out like dying stars until naught but ash, billowing over the earth like wandering ghosts. Still, the embers rained down around them, winking at them like eyes in the growing twilight. Ahead and far, far above, was a vicious red glow emanating from a dark cloud, pulsating in tandem with a heartbeat. Legend could feel the heat bleeding from it from where he stood, all the way at the base of the summit.

“We made it,” Wild said. “Death Mountain.”

Chapter Text

The volcanic mountain was, not at all to his surprise, hot. Just because he knew it would be so didn’t mean he had to like it.

“How close are we?” Legend panted, half-hanging from the sling. He had given up on walking hours ago, the heat choking, almost flooding his lungs with its strength. Wild was faring much better, but Wild also had the ability to sweat . Legend was enclosed in a thick, insulating fluff, and it was doing him no favors. He thought he hated the cold, but the heat was infinitely worse. At least during the winter chill there was his fluff to keep him comfortable.

Wild peered at his Sheikah Slate. “From what the Rito said, and the maps they gave me, I think we’re about halfway there.”

Doubt niggled at Legend. Only half way? Looking over Wild’s shoulder, the mountain steadily climbed higher, bringing them ever-closer to the volcano’s rim and with it, the boiling, seething lava. The taste of ash on his tongue was overpowering, and the embers that kept floating into his eyes were worse, making them sting and water. He was already so hot ; it was coming at him in waves, each one stronger than the last, battering against his body until he could barely stand it. And they weren’t even at the mouth of the volcano yet.

What Legend wouldn’t give for one the glittering rings that had once decorated his fingers, or one of his staffs that he could spin effortlessly in his hands; anything that could help the heat abate. He had collected so many trinkets and baubles over the years, each one adding to his ever growing collection of treasures, so many of which would have helped Wild through his journey. But he had come through with none of it, bare except for the fur on his back. Fur which he was now cursing to the Sacred Realm and back. Really, Legend was about to ask Wild to take his sword and shave him bare, embarrassment be damned. If it gave him even a moment of releif, it would be worth it. Just a second where breathing didn’t hurt, a flicker of respite from…

“Legend!”

The hero jerked, twisted. Something was wrapped around his ribcage, holding him high in the air. Legend groaned, forcing dried, swollen eyes open. Wild was staring at him, jaw clenched. Idly, Legend watched a drop of sweat trail down his brow and into his eye, but Wild didn’t even blink.

“Can you hear me?” Wild almost shouted the question.

What a strange thing to ask , Legend thought. Of course he could hear him, especially if he talked loud enough to make his head hurt. He twitched his ears back, blocking out the worst of the noise. Ears. His ears which weren’t his ears, because they were too long, furry when they should be hairless, untouched when jewels of every shape and color should be hanging from them.

“I have the wrong ears,” Legend blurted. “Have you seen my real ones?”

Even though a deep red flush ran across Wild’s face, Legend saw the skin under it pale.

“Fucking shit,” the blond hissed, laying Legend against a rock.

Even the ground was hot. Legend whimpered, ran his hand through his hair, then jerked back when he felt the softness of fur, staring at a pink paw in confusion. Suddenly, a wash of cold hit him from collarbones to feet, making the hero jerk.

“Wha-?”

Legend’s gasp was cut off when a damp cloth was thrown over the top of his head; looking up, he saw Wild standing over him, a jug of water in hand.

The blond knelt down in front of him, lightly pressing the tip of a finger to Legend’s nose. “How are you feeling?”

Legend stared cross-eyed down at the digit. “. . .feeling?”

“Feeling hot? Cold? Neither?”

A rush of dizziness overtook Legend without warning. Helplessly, he let his head fall back on the rock behind him as needling black dots began to swarm his vision like a cloud of flies.

“Sick,” Legend choked. “I feel sick.”

“Okay.” Wild paced, stirring up dust beneath his boots. “Okay, fine.”

And then he was scooping Legend up, tossing him over his shoulder before he started sprinting down the way they came. Legend had to focus very, very hard not to throw up down Wild’s back with every step taken. How was he running so fast? The two were basically the same size.

“How’re you carrying me so easy?” Legend slurred. “Even without my chainmail I’m ‘bout as big as you.”

Wild swore. “Just hold on to me, Legend. We’ll get you help, just hold on.”

Well that was easy enough. Surely he deserved a reward for going so far, for enduring so much agony. He leaned his head against the knobs of Wild’s spine, and let his eyes fall closed. Then he finally, finally allowed himself to rest.

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Flames danced above him, wild and uncontrollable and hungry. Legend thrashed, and a burning ignited in his chest, making him choke on a scream. The flames had already reached him, devouring him with a fire’s endless craving to destroy. Suddenly, the red flames encroached on his vision, becoming all-encompasing, and Legend let out a cry.

He thought she heard a voice, deep and loud, but it was distant, like an echo through a canyon. A pressure appeared at his collarbone and hip, pushing him down into the heat, unrelenting. All Legend could do was writhe, struggles growing weaker and weaker until it finally went dark again and water filled his lungs.

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Something poked the nape of his neck, thin and sharp. Legend grunted, pawing at the sensation, and came away with a strand of grass, long and just starting to yellow with age. He twirled it between his paws before a stray breeze plucked it from him, carrying it away until it slipped between the rotting walls of a wooden shack.

He had to stop waking up like this.

Legend shifted, feeling the familiar softness of his cloak that was given to him  by the Zora, and beneath that, a pile of hay that had been fashioned into a bed presumably for him. A beam of light flashed over him, and he winced, peering up at the broken slats of roof that sheltered him. Past that, he saw the sun and clouds and green, thank Hylia he saw green. It was coming from a tree, the leaves vibrant and glossy and nowhere near a volcano for them to look so healthy. Legend sighed, and felt a hidden tension he wasn’t aware of until now fade from his limbs.

“I see you finally decided to wake up.”

The tension returned. Legend forced himself to sit up and look at the source of the voice. He had to do a double take at what he saw; for a moment, he mistook the woman with the vibrant red hair as Din, and wondered how she had made it here all the way from Holodrum. But no. Looking closer, he saw that the woman who stood with her hip propped on the doorway was too tall, her jaw too sharp, and her eyes having more of a green tint to it than yellow. It wasn’t Din, but if someone would have told Legend that the two were sisters he wouldn't be surprised.

He tried to stifle the sudden ache in his chest, when he relized it was not a familiar face he had woken to, but a stranger’s.

“You were touch and go for a bit, there.” The woman pushed herself from the doorway. Inside the shack, her head almost touched the ceiling. “It had me worried.”

“What happened to me?” Legend asked.

Kneeling by his side, the redhead unslung a bag from her shoulders and pulled a canteen free, passing it to Legend. “You were in the advanced stages of heat stroke when that voe found me. You got lucky; any longer and you would have suffered permanent damage, or worse. But, I am a master at my craft, and have seen cases worse than yours pull through.”

Legend took deep pulls from the offered canteen. The water was cool, and tasted sweet on his tongue before it ran down his throat. He stopped reluctantly before he drank his fill, worried that any more might make him sick. “So what’s your… craft?” he asked the woman.

She seemed nonplussed at the bluntness of his question, and shrugged. “Forgive my manners, It’s been a long time since I’ve spoken to anyone since I left my village. I am Tas’tava, medico of the Gerudo.”

Legend let this new information settle, taking occasional sips of water. Tas’tava didn’t seem to care about his silence, and started digging through her bag again, pulling free an ornate tin with stylized clouds painted around it. When she opened it, Legend smelled mint and lavender and, underneath that, something more earthy.

“For your ears,” Tas’tava explained, and scooped a generous dollop out before dabbing the poultice onto delicate skin, which Legend hadn’t known was burnt until now.

“Thanks,” he said flatly.

He didn’t bother asking about Wild, who had probably gone up the mountain on his own, leaving Legend behind in a rotting shack with a stranger. It was just a few short weeks ago when they would have been inseparable. Or perhaps Wild was just too new back then to go on his own, and had taken Legend along simply out of self-preservation instincts. Maybe this was the natural course of their meeting; the two were destined to drift further and further, like two sister ships lost at sea.

When the sun began to set he excused himself from the shed. The Gerudo woman didn’t seem to care; she had set herself up in one corner, doing what Legend guessed was inventory for all her supplies. She was meticulous with her work, taking out dozens of vials, tins, and bottles, the contents of every one a mystery to Legend, before writing something down in a neat script he didn’t recognize. She only acknowledged his leaving with a vague wave of her hand, before going back to work, mumbling under her breath.

Outside, he could see the embers at the peak of the volcano, golden and seething, and a phantom flash of heat travelled through him. He twitched his ears, which still tingled even after the ointment Tas’tava gave him. During his time in Wild’s world, he had come closer to death more times than he would have liked. When would his luck run out? When would the fine line between life and death snap? He grimaced, pushing the thoughts from his mind uneasily.

Suddenly, he saw a stirring at the peak of the volcano. At first, he thought a fresh eruption was boiling over, and Legend felt his stomach drop. But then, like a blazing arrow, a red light pierced through the ash, homing in on the castle with an accuracy nothing living was capable of. Legend shivered. What would happen if something of that power was aimed at a human?

“It looks like your hero did it.”

Tas’tava had come to his side without his notice, and was shielding her eyes as she gazed at the intense carmine light. An unreadable look crossed her face. “My home is one step closer to being freed.” The look disappeared, and she clapped her hands. “Come, we have much preparing to do.”

Together, Tas’tava and Legend went back to the shack, where Tas’tava began to pack a small satchel of medicine. As she did she explained the use of each tincture, which Legend committed to  perfect memory; anything less could mean the death of Wild or himself. He picked it up easily. Through past journeys it was inevitable he learned about healing, and with his body as battered as it was it was useful to know a few tricks. Finally, after the sun had fully set and stars blinked into the sky, Tas’tava held up a scuffed, copper vial, rusting to green and innocuous without a label.

“This is the most precious thing I own,” she began.

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By the time Tas’tava was done explaining everything, Legend could see a head of blond hair running down the mountainside. Soon he was able to make out Wild’s face. He was smudged with soot and ash, his hair a tangle on his head, and there was the slightest charring at the edges of his tunic; but he was whole, and healthy if judging by the way he bounded towards them. Legend supposed he couldn’t ask for more.

A gust of wind rippled past him. Legend tightened his cloak at the unexpected chill, having put it on after Tas’tava had finished putting together the medicines for him and Wild.

“Sav’orr, hero!”

The Gerudo waved her arm in greeting. Wild waved back with his free hand. In the other, he clasped his bow and arrow. As he got closer to them, he slowed to a jog, then a walk, before stopping just a few feet from them. Even that was close enough for Legend to smell the sharpness of smoke and flame, the scent tingling in his nose.

“Hey,” Wild breathed, grinning. “Did you see Vah Rudania?”

Tas’tava let out a laugh deep from her belly. “Did I see him, you ask. I don’t think I could avoid it even if I wanted to! Even with my eyes closed that red glow pierces through. It is a sight that is long-awaited, I must say.”

Wild braced his hands on his knees and looked down at Legend, smile softening. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Legend echoed. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. What about you?”

Legend snorted. “You don’t have to worry about me. Is it really that big of a surprise that I don’t do well in the heat?”

Wild laughed lightly, then straightened to standing.

“So,” he started, looking at Tas’tava. “Gerudo Town?”

“Yes.” Tas’tava rubbed her hands together, eyes glinting. “My people at last have their chance at freedom. When you reach Gerudo Town, tell old vaba Mauro that Tas’tava sent you. Usually men are forbidden from our village, but she’ll find a way. She always does, that crafty coyote.”

Tas’tava handed Wild the satchel of medicine, winking at Legend as she did so. Legend scowled, but quickly schooled his face when Wild unlatched his Sheikah Slate and knelt at his side, blissfully oblivious to the pair’s interaction.

“This is where we part, now,” Tas’tava proclaimed. “I wish the two of you luck.”

Wild dipped his head to her. “Thanks. For everything.”

The Gerudo only gave him a languid wave before heading north, her form slowly morphing into the darkness. All too soon, she was gone, not even the shock of her red visible in the night.

“Ready?” Wild asked. He had the map, only partially pieced together like an unfinished puzzle, open on the slate, and was zooming in on one section. “I thought we could teleport to the plateau where we first met, then glide into the canyon from there. It’ll save us lots of time; if we’re lucky, we’ll even get there before the full moon.”

Legend shrugged. He had no argument, and Wild’s plan seemed sound. The idea of skipping past the wide expanse of Hyrule Feild also appealed to his achy joints, but Wild didn’t need to know that part.

“Sounds good to me.”

Wordlessly, Wild drew Legend to his side, before tapping against the smooth surface of the slate. Legend clenched his eyes shut just before he was engulfed fully by light. Then he fell. Wild was whisked from his side like a leaf in the wind, his presence vanishing so that Legend was tossed and pummeled through the paths between worlds. He felt like a ship at sea, barely able to stay afloat, helpless to the nature of the ocean and only able to pray that its endless power would have mercy on him. Then, as suddenly as it began, it was over. Legend was dropped on his feet, this transition sudden and jarring enough that he felt the stirrings of nausea in his stomach. He panted,closing his eyes and desperately gasping for air.

Only when he got his breath back and head clear did he realize that where they were was too dark. There was no moon or stars above him, just a sheet of solid black. Behind him, he heard the slight breaths of Wild.

“Where are we?” Legend asked, voice echoing around him.

There was no response from Wild, only the sound of the Sheikah Slate beeping, before it lit up, illuminating the cave in a watery blue glow. Ahead of him, Legend saw a shallow pool, empty of water. It lit up as if in response to the Sheikah Slate, and he couldn’t tell if it was organic or man-made. A tube hung over it, and Legend craned his neck, following the blue lights that pulsed like veins as they trailed their way through the stone.

“What is this place?” he whispered.

Wild looked around the room, eye glazing.

“We’re in the Shrine of Ressurection,” he said. “My hand must have slipped when I was choosing where to teleport us.”

Wild stared into the empty tub, arms hanging limply at his side. Slowly, he fell to his knees beside it, laying a hand on its rim. The look on his face was contemplative, and Legend thought he saw the smallest hint of longing.

“Sometimes I wish I had never woken up,” Wild whispered. “If I hadn’t woken up, I wouldn’t have hurt so many people. I never would’ve had to kill anything.”

The Yiga. Were the two of them still on Wild’s mind, even during everything else they had encountered? But then, a flash of carmine fell across Legend’s eyes, wet and glistening and bright , even in the dimness of torchlight. Beneath him, men groaned as puddles grew, red filling and running through cracks in stone like miniature rivers. And a boy, not yet thirteen, trembling as the steaming blood cooled on uncalloused hands. So Legend told Wild the only thing that had helped him in that moment, the old words spoken by a princess with strawberry blond hair.

“It was either you or him,” Legend said. “With every death on your hands, remember it and what you’re fighting for.”

Wild trembled finely. “But I killed someone. I killed a person who probably had his own family, his own dreams. And I took all that away. I took all that away twice , Legend. How does that make me any better than Ganon himself?”

“Oh, Wild, can’t you see?” the other hero asked. “You’ll carry a piece of them with you forever now. For better or for worse, they’ll never be forgotten because they exist in you. You might go days or months or even years without remembering, but they’re as inevitable as the sunset; they’ll always come back, and you’ll always be there.”

Their blood would be on Wild’s hands, and no matter how hard he cleansed them the blood would remain, burned into him like a brand. But not all scars were bad, and death was inevitable for everyone. When Legend told Wild it was either him or the Yiga, he was being honest; in moments like that, there was no negotiating.

“That sounds awful,” Wild whispered.

“It is,” Legend said. He remembered his first kill like it was yesterday, and he knew the nightmares would never let him forget. “But I don’t think a monster would feel that way. I think a monster would wash their memory from them the same way they’d wash the blood fromt their hands. At least with you, they’ll be remembered.”

At first it was just one or two drops, but like the breaking of a spring storm, tears began to fall from Wild’s cheek in rivulets, as whatever dam that had been holding them back finally broke. With a jolt, Legend realized that they were coming from only one eye, his clear blue one; the foggy one, damaged by things unknown, remained unmoving and flat.

“I’m sorry,” Wild choked. “I just can’t seem to stop crying.”

Legend stretched high on his hind legs, cradling Wild’s face with his forepaws. How he wished so badly that he was back in his Hylian form, just so he could hold Wild properly, run his hands through his tangled hair. Instead, this would have to do. “Cry all you need to. I’m right here.”

Wild whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. He breathed in sharply, once, before holding it in tight. Then he collapsed in on himself. Great, heaving sobs spilled from his chest, echoing through the night. Shaking hands wrapped around Legend, bringing him up so Wild could bury his face in his neck fur, soaking it through with warm, salty tears.

Legend wanted so badly to cry with him, but this body he was stuck in wouldn’t even allow him that. 

Chapter Text

Legend peered through the gap in the crumbling stucco out at the moon. It was almost full, its silver glow making its way through the square gap in the wall, turning his paws from pink to gray. Barely risen, Legend imagined it was being held between the two mountain peaks outside, like a pair of hands gently cradling the fragile faberge eggs Ravio loved to collect.

Across from him, Masranni followed his gaze, snorting at what she saw.

“Same damn thing every month,” she muttered, before craning her head back and downing an impressive amount of spiced wine in a single swallow without making a single face. “We never get a break.” After that statement she fell silent again, glowering deep into her cup of spirits.

While Legend had originally thought Tas’tava to be on the more blunt spectrum of personalities, he soon learned that it was a staple disposition among the Gerudo, like their height or scarlet hair. Masranni, the guard who was sitting across from him on break to eat her evening meal, was straightforward and curt, her words few and far between. Oogera, the owner of the inn at Kara Kara Bazaar and where Legend was now eating, was unyielding, refusing any of Wild’s attempts at bartering for better room prices. She had almost laughed him out of the inn when he tried. Fesaam, who Legend was able to learn by some eavesdropping was a messenger or scout of some sort, was brusque and indelicate, announcing her arrival several hours earlier by kicking the door open, making a dent already on the wall bigger. It made Legend suspect that it wasn’t the first time she had made such a dynamic entrance.

He couldn’t help but think it was because of the sandstorm looming on the southern horizon. Though he was seperated from the cloud by miles upon miles and four solid walls, he could still feel the thunder rumbling deep into his bones. The exact second he and Wild had stepped out of the confines of Gerudo Canyon, they could feel the electricity kicked up by the constant friction of the hundred year sandstorm. It was enough to make lightning and thunder ripple across the entire valley like a wave, and Legend could still feel errant strands of static running up and down his fine strands of fur, making it fluff up and spike haphazardly until he looked like he had run into a patch of burrs.

 While a literal shadow had been cast over Hyrule Castle, another kind spread its reaches across the rest of Hyrule, creeping into the minds of its denizens like poison. While Vah Rutah had made the Zora stagnant, beleiving in a savior that was long-dead and never returning, and Vah Medoh made the Rito too fearful to fly in their own home, Vah Naboris had made the Gerudo bitter. A blinding sandstorm with the strength to rend flesh from bone had plagued them for generations, whittling them down to their very marrow. And now Legend was seeing the consequences of the generational curse.

“Oi!” Masranni slammed her empty mug on the table. “Oogera, fill me up!”

Legend squinted at the dark flush painting its way across her high cheekbones and the heavy dilation of her pupils. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I thought you were on the clock.”

One of Masranni’s pierced brows quirked. Slowly, she leaned over the table, until she and Legend were nose to nose and he could smell the wine on her breath.

“I know I’m drunk,” she said. “But I haven’t had enough to drink for a rabbit to start giving me advice.”

She locked Legend in a heated staring contest, and right when Legend had thought he may have gone too far, the Gerudo woman burst into rough peals of laughter. Slamming her mug on the table again, sending tiny droplets of drink sailing through the air and into his fur, she threw her head back.

“Oogera, my drink! And get a cup for the little guy, too! Or a bowl or platter or whatever the fuck a rabbit uses to drink. On me!”

Legend sat back, combing sticky droplets from his fur. “Right,” he muttered to himself. “Never get between a soldier and their liquor. How could I forget?”

He relaxed into his chair again, watching as Oogera brought out a cup, and -to his chagrin- a saucer of spiced wine. Misranni had grabbed her serving before the mug had even touched the table, yanking it from Oogera’s hand, and was already deep into the flavorful drink. Legend was slower to act; he had drunk in his human form often enough, yes, but never as an animal. Who knew how he would react if he allowed this body alcohol. It was… tempting, though. The wine shone a deep crimson in its saucer, and he swore he could smell cinnamon and cloves, maybe even a hint of anise. How long had it been since he had a chance to wind down with a drink? He leaned forward, nose twitching, and opened his mouth.

“Hey.”

A hand grabbed his scruff, lifting him effortlessly before plunking him unceremoniously onto a muscled lap. Legend glared upwards into a pair of mismatched eyes.

“What did I tell you about picking me up without warning?” he snapped.

Wild only shrugged, an easy smile on his face. “But you’re the perfect carrying size. What else am I supposed to do?”

Across from them, Legend heard Masranni snort a laugh into her drink, and he felt his ears turn warm.

“Yeah? Well do it again and you’ll have to start watching out for teeth nipping your toes in the night.”

Wild only rolled his eyes, unfazed, having learned long ago that Legend was all bark and no bite. He leaned back in their booth, working his hair loose from its tail before shaking the strands free of sand. Suddenly, he perked up, jolting in their chair so fast that Legend would have toppled from his lap if not for a steadying hand.

“Is that wine? ” Wild peered into Legend’s saucer, before dipping two fingers into it then sticking them in his mouth.

“It is!” he exclaimed after sucking his fingers clean. “Legend, how’d you get this stuff? Every time I asked for some, the bar tender would just laugh at me.”

He reached his hand forward for another taste, but Legend batted his questing fingers away with a fluffy paw.

“So you think you get to drink mine?” he snapped. All previous worries about what alcohol might do to his rabbit body had vanished. Now he had to defend his treat.

Across from them, Masranni laughed again, this time much more audibly. Her cheeks were now flushed a red closer to that of the wine, richer and darker than the faint blush that Legend had watched grow across her face minutes ago, and the shade was starting to spread down her neck.

“Oogera won’t let you drink until the baby fat on your face is gone. Or until you fess up and tell us your real age.” Masranni grinned at them from over the lip of her cup. “You really thought anyone would believe you when you said you were 117? We were born in the desert, not in stupidity.”

“But I am 117!” Wild burst out. “It’s not my fault none of you believe me!”

“Shave a hundred years off that number, little voe, and then I’ll believe you.”

Legend privately decided not to tell any of the women that he was seventeen too. Technically, if his math was right, he’d be eighteen in about a week or so anyway, so it wasn’t like a drink now would be the end of the world. If he was being honest, he thought it strange how strict this world was about their youth and alcohol. Back home, once you were old enough to hold a sword, you were old enough to drink; there was no official age that drinking was meant to start. Legend was actually a late bloomer, if he went by those terms. As a child he was smaller than the other boys and most of the girls, and had his first taste of liquor later than the rest of his peers, much to his chagrin. Now, after all he had seen and experienced, the taste of alcohol didn’t even give him pause. It was even less so with Ravio, who had his own homemade brew that was thick as syrup and strong enough to peel bark off a tree. Sometimes, they would while away the evening hours drinking together, and it always ended with the merchant helping him to bed before collapsing into it alongside him. Legend felt a pang of homesickness at the thought.

Wild leaned forward, the motion breaking Legend from his thoughts. “C’mon, just a sip. Look at my face! I have battle scars . Surely that deserves at least some celebration.”

Masranni hummed, scanning Wild up and down, gaze lingering thoughtfully on his eye. “Fine.” She knocked back another swallow of her wine. “I’ve been looking for a new drinking partner, anyway. But don’t blame me if it sets Oogera on your ass.” 

Grinning, Wild reached for Legend’s dish and took a small sip. It only spiralled from there.

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“So you- you just pushed him off?”

Masranni shrugged. “He was a voe on the walls of Gerudo Village. Technically, I was just doing my job.”

Wild cackled, slamming down his empty saucer. “I wish I had seen it! I bet he was cleaning sand from his ears for days!”

From his newly sanctioned spot, which was a cushion at the head of the table, Legend watched the two swap stories and laughter, idly lapping at his own wine, the drink creating a pool of heat in his belly. The moon had risen from its place cradled between two mountains to the peak of the sky. Wild and Masranni, similarly, had risen in spirits until the pair were loud enough that they were getting sent dirty looks by the few other patrons gracing the inn’s kitchen at the late hour. The only reason they hadn’t been kicked out, Legend guessed, was because they were very thirsty paying customers.

To Legend’s surprise, Wild handled his drink better than most. His cheeks only held a light flush, as opposed to Masranni’s dark one that had migrated over the rest of her face. Legend watched in fascination as she swayed, tilting dangerously far on her axis, before magically righting herself on her chair again.

“You have any other stories?” Wild asked. “Maybe things you got up to with partners in crime?”

Masranni took on an overexaggerated look of contemplation. “Don’t know. Or at least I can’t remember right now.”

“Are you sure? No other Gerudo that you’ve worked with on guard duty or patrols?”

Legend blinked. Wild’s tone had turned to something more cajoling, secretive. It was the type of act he’d take up whenever he’d try to wheedle himself into someone’s good graces, but Legend had never seen him use it like this before. What was the archer hoping to find?

“There are a few,” Masranni replied. “But we always got caught before we could get into too much trouble.”

Wild glanced quickly yet subtly around the room, but it was almost empty, with only Ooger left to clean the bar. He leaned into Masranni’s space. “None? What about other Gerudo? I heard that one can get into things and just as easily slip out. What was her name again… Mora? Miro? M-”

“Mauro,” she interrupted, squinting hard into the bottom of her cup like she’d found the name there. “If there’s one Gerudo that knows anything, it’s that crazy old bat.”

Wild sat back, looking for all the world like the cat that got the canary. “Mauro. My guesses were pretty close. So what’s old Mauro like?”

A smile flickered over Masranni’s face, barely visible yet fond all the same. “She’s just as tough as any Gerudo, but as slippery as a Yiga. Broken more laws than we have, but never been caught. She’s so old she doesn’t get up to anything now, but still likes to keep the mystery around her. It’s the principle of the thing, I guess.”

“So she stays in the village?”

Masranni nodded -or her head was just lolling drunkenly, Legend couldn’t be sure- before drinking the last sip of her nth cup of wine. “She stays mostly on the outskirts. Owns a shop or some shit.”

“Right.” Wild nodded along with her, before pushing his own glass her way. “Hey, I can’t finish this, but it would be a crime to waste wine this good. Wanna finish it for me?”

Masranni eyed it greedily before snatching it from Wild’s hands. “Your loss,” she said, words muffled as she helped herself. Legend hoped for her sake that it was her last glass of the night.

With a wave, Wild took his leave, standing from his chair before grabbing Legend and cradling him in the crook of an arm.

“You’re evil,” Legend said once they had gained distance enough that no prying ears could hear them. “ Evil. That woman’s going to wake up with the hangover of her life because of you.”

Legend could still barely process what had happened. He had watched Wild finess someone right under their own nose with a proficiency that would have made Ravio proud. It was something wholly unexpected because yes, while Wild showed skill at many things, he hadn’t expected cunning to be one of them. It was like watching a fox kill a python. 

Wild laughed. “Well we got what we needed, right? I didn’t want to try to break into a village full of trained soldiers, so I figured asking after Mauro was our best bet.”

He transitioned Legend from his hand to shoulder, only struggling slightly as he opened their room’s door. Legend peered over his head at the sparse decor and the pack that was already left in a heap at the floor; the bed was a plank of wood with a few gray sheets on it, and there was a washbasin in the corner, the edges corroded with rust. He hoped that there was plenty of water in it for Wild’s sake; he’d need it after the night he had, even if he hadn’t drunk as much as Masranni. With the trek they were about to go on, being dehydrated was quite possibly the worst thing that could happen.

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” he asked the blond.

Wild frowned, then shrugged. “I guess,” he said, kicking off his boots. “It’s not really like we have a choice, though. If we don’t save Hyrule, who will?”

He collapsed onto the cot, placing both hands behind his neck, eyes half-closed as he stared up at the cieling. Legend curled up at his side, gazing out at the silver moon. Wild was right; if they weren’t here, who would save Hyrule? The choice was never theirs.

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There was a sudden give under his paws, and Legend felt the quick surprise that came with the realization that the earth beneath his paws wasn’t entirely stable. He squeaked, sliding down the dunes in a cascade of golden sand, unable to stop himself. There were no handholds or solid ground, just more sand that crumbled underneath him.

“Whoah!”

He felt Wild’s hand clamp around his scruff, pulling him back and up from the waterfall of sand and into the safety of his arms.

“You all right?” Wild hoisted Legend onto his shoulder as he spoke, where Legend burrowed under the safety of his hair. His own cloak was too hot under the desert sun, so he had left it to hang around his shoulders.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I just forgot how much I hate deserts.”

They had left the inn right before the crack of dawn, trying to time their crossing between the intense heat and deadly cold of the desert. For the first hour, all had been calm, and while the walk wasn’t pleasant , Legend hadn’t felt the urge to tear off his own ears either. But now as the sun rose it didn’t just bring a new day; it brought desert heat as well. It had just barely peaked over the horizon, casting the sands into a fiery glow until it looked like gold dust filled the valley.

Wild snorted. “You hate anywhere that doesn’t have moderate weather.”

“That’s because anywhere that doesn’t have moderate weather hates me ,” Legend grumbled.

It was almost impossible to escape. If it was too cold, his joints would ache, old wounds would flare up, fingers and toes would numb and become stiff, and moving through snow without any tools that allowed him to walk over it left his knees and hips burning days after. When he was in excessive heat, he felt the sun as a physical force, beating down on him like a club. After his quest, or mission, or errand, his lips would become cracked and bloody, and the brightness of the day almost always left him with a migraine.

It was, at least in part, why he had started his collection of jewelry and baubles. He found himself missing the feeling of rings and bracelets and earrings donning any spot there might be room; it was, in part, a shield for him. A shield that protected him from the merciless elements in Hyrule and beyond.

“You won’t have to worry much more,” Wild replied, and pointed across the desert. “Look, I can see the village.”

Legend followed his gaze, laying his eyes on what at first looked like a mirage. He brought a paw up to shield his eyes, squinting, and was just able to make out the shape of a stone wall, too sudden and geometric to be an illusion. There was some relief felt at seeing proof of life in the wasteland, but they were still so far.

“You think we’ll reach the village before the sun rises too high?” Legend asked, voicing his concern.

Wild hummed, unbuckling his shield from its holster. “Probably, if what I have in mind works. It did in Hebra, so I don’t see why it wouldn’t here.”

Legend had the sneaking suspicion that Wild wasn’t telling him the entire truth. The blond had the carefully blank look he used only when he was hiding something- or when he knew Legend wouldn’t be happy with what he was about to do. He narrowed his eyes.

“Don’t-”

Too late. Wild jumped down the hill, placing his shield as a barrier between himself and the ground at the last second. Then they started moving, sliding down the hill almost as fast as if they were on a horse. Legend clung onto anything in the nearest vicinity that wouldn’t send him sailing off Wild’s shoulders like a bug that had been swatted at. In this case, it was his braid, which he held onto like a lifeline. If they weren’t hidden by his fur, Legend imagined he would be able to see his knuckles turning white.

As they picked up speed, Wild let out a whoop, making a jump that put them sailing high into the air. Legend grit his teeth, squeezing harder onto his braid, resisting the urge to scream. Just as Wild came down from the apex of his jump, something lunged from the sand; the beast was brown, leathery, and big, enough that for a moment Legend thought he was looking at a walrus. Then, it hit Wild, and the blond was thrown from the shield under the thing's immense weight. Legend was thrown much further.

He flew through the air, the gold sand blinding him one moment, before the gold sun took its turn in another. So great was his disorientation that when he landed in a heap with a cloud of sand puffing up around him, he was hardly aware of hitting the ground. He sat up coughing, spitting out grit, trying to force the grains of sand out from between the cracks in his teeth…

Sand…

-stuck

tiny granules between his teeth

inching their way up into his gums

grinding, chafing until he drooled blood-

But what was there to do on that accursed beach of black sand? It was everywhere; in his clothes and dulling his weapons, building at the roots of his hair until his scalp itched, flecks falling into his eyes until they streamed with tears. There was no escape, not unless he left with the crew he hired, which he had no plans to do until he finished what he came for.

He had to- to…

to do…

“You don’t understand. I have to do this.”

“No, you don’t understand. You can’t bring back someone that never exis-”

“I’m a hero. Aren’t we supposed to be able to accomplish the impossible?”

“Not this. It goes against the very laws of nature. The laws of magic .”

“The one time I want to do something that could actually make me happy, and you don’t want me to. Why am I not surprised, Princess?”

“Link, please, I’m telling you this not as your Princess, but as your sister -”

“I’ve heard enough. I’ve already bought my place on a ship that sails tomorrow; don’t try to stop me.”

Stop me…

stop

please stop-

But he couldn’t stop it. When the gate opened with that eldritch glow, all he could do was not get swallowed by a dark so deep that not even his reflection dared show its face in the inky, viscous spill growing across the beach. He ran from it, the visceral fear and disgust burrowing so deeply into his bones that it was all he knew to do, jumping on the ship and sailing for days until a freak storm took him away, until he was found by…

Who?

“...ey! Can you hear me?”

There were hands on him, one cradling his neck and the other supporting his back. Legend tried to jerk away, but his limbs were shaking like a newborn’s. Instead, all his efforts earned him was his head lolling awkwardly to one side.

The hand at his neck moved up slightly, big enough to still support him there but at his head too.

“Are you with me now, Legend?”

The hero stirred at the familiar name, forcing his eyes open to a well-known face.

“Wild?”

A shaky smile took over Wild’s face. “Yeah, it’s me. How’re you feeling?”

Legend blinked slowly, and his eyes felt dry and itchy. Above him, the sun glared at him hatefully, pushing all of the desert heat into him.

“Wha-” Legend choked on the word, and let out several deep, hacking coughs. Turning his head to the side, he spat out granules of sand. “What happened?” he tried again.

Wild grimaced, then wordlessly shifted to the side, repositioning Legend so he could see a shield half-buried in the sand. “We hit something. It came out of nowhere and took my feet out from under me. You were sent flying down the rest of the hill. I think the only thing that saved your skull from being bashed open was the sand there to break your fall.”

What luck. He was saved from a concussion and instead was thrown into an episode. Hylia loved to close doors and open windows.

“Does anything feel broken?” Wild asked after a short period of silence.
After taking a moment to think, cataloguing from his toes to the tips of his ears, he decided that nothing hurt more than it usually did. Legend managed to shake his head. “No, ‘m okay.”

Wild heaved a sigh. “Good. I didn’t want to have to try any of Tas’tava’s supplies on you this soon.”

With Legend still cradled in one arm, he started to dig out his shield. Once he pulled it free, he shook it out, the falling sand making a gentle sussuration as it waterfalled back to the ground. “Are you ready to keep moving, or do you need another minute?”

“We can keep going. Maybe stick to walking this time, though. Just a thought,” Legend said dryly.

Wild laughed before trailing off, rubbing the back of his head. “Yeah, we’ve met our quota of accidents for the day. I’ll try surfing another time.”

At first, when Wild started walking the swaying motion made Legend’s head spin. The heat didn’t make things better, so once his shock had worn off at getting thrown, he moved himself back to Wild’s shoulders, taking shelter under his hair and flattening his ears against the heat.

Just as the sun reached its peak, and just as the two heroes had reached their limit, they crested the final hill of sand before the village came into their sights. Legend’s throat was too dry to say thanks out loud, but the thought was certainly heavy in his head.

The village was made to weather its surroundings. The walls looked like they were sculpted straight out of the ground, made of clay and earth most likely to keep the inside cool. At one end of the village, a pillar of rock jutted upwards, high enough that it could probably be seen even through a sandstorm. A glittering thread of something ran down from it, bright as dew-covered spider silk in morning light. Legend’s ears pricked when he finally realized that what he was looking at was a waterfall.

They came upon one side of the village who’s wall was largely blank. There was only one entry, an archway barely wide enough for a cart and cattle to fit through, but nothing bigger. Standing guard were two Gerudo in plate armor. Legend didn’t know how they weren’t roasting in the midday sun. Wild walked up to them warily. The two soldiers seemed to have no issue with his being there, until he lifted his foot in the final step that would take him under the arch and into the village.

Faster than Legend could blink, two spears came down in front of them, barring their way with a clang. Wild jumped back, barely saving his nose from getting clipped by the spears.

“Halt! Voe are forbidden from the village, as per the orders and will from the great mother Din!” The Gerudo on the right glared as she barked the message, towering over Wild.

“But I’m here to stop the Divine Beast,” Wild tried. “Don’t you think you could make an exception?”

The Gerudo to the left let out a short laugh, while the one on the right only glared harder.

“No. Exceptions.”

“Okay, okay.” Wild held up his hands. “Sorry I asked.”

He walked along the edge of the wall until the two of them disappeared around the corner.

“Did you really think that would work?” Legend asked.

“No,” Wild said. “But I wanted to try anyway, just to see if we wouldn’t have to sneak in.”

They kept walking around the wall of the village, passing two more entrances. Wild stuck close to the wall, trying to keep in the shade as much as possible. Finally, they came to what looked like a small fissure in the wall, probably not even big enough for Legend to squeez through in the form he was in now. But, as Wild walked past it, Legend saw it almost grow. He gasped when he realized it wasn’t growing, it was just built to be hidden from the average passersby. It had to be looked at at the perfect angle. It was a puzzle for the eye, something that couldn’t be seen unless you were looking for it.

“Wait,” Legend said, pulling on Wild’s braid. “Look there.”

The cleft in the wall was thin, but big enough that someone like Wild, all lean muscle and pointy elbows, would be able to get through fine.

“Nice find,” Wild whispered, already halfway into the wall.

Legend slid off his shoulder, scurrying under his feet like a rat, forging ahead to make sure there were no surprises waiting for them on the other side. He slunk through the wall, the stone that brushed over his sides blessedly cool. All too soon, he reached the heat and light of the other side, a rotting smell accompanying it. The entrance was hidden behind a trash heap. No wonder why it had been left undiscovered.

“No one’s here,” Legend hissed into the wall. “Still, try to be quiet.”

Wild only grunted, squeezing out of the last stretch and into the open, blinking in the bright sun like a startled owl. They had made it into Gerudo Village, smuggling themselves in to emerge in a dirty, stinking alleyway.

“You know,” Wild said after taking his time to look around, “I’m a little disappointed. I thought the village would be more impressive after everything I’ve heard about it.”

“Oh? And what right does a tresspasser have to judge my village?”

Legend jumped, spinning around at the voice. It was unexpected; with his ears he could hear much more keenly, and should have known if anyone was walking their way. What he saw made him even more surprised.

Incredibly, she was shorter than Wild. Apart from the few children they saw, all the Gerudo towered over him head and shoulders, sometimes more, but she was shriveled and hunched over in a way that made Legend’s back ache in sympathy. The woman in front of him was so withered and wrinkled she was like a husk, and Legend worried that if a strong breeze blew down the alley she’d be blown away. She watched the two of them steadily, her face an unreadable mask of wrinkles.

Wild cleared his throat uncertainly. “Are you… Mauro?”

She narrowed her eyes, the crows feet at the corners impossibly growing more pronounced. “I am. Who’s asking?”

Wild climbed over the trash heap, almost falling when his foot sank into a rotting melon. Legend’s nose wrinkled at the smell.

“I’m Wild and this is Legend.” Wild dipped his head to her gracefully, like he hadn’t just scaled a heap of garbage. “Tas’tava said you could help us.”

“That little brat? What does she think I’m running, a halfway house?  After all I taught her…” Mauro trailed off, shaking her head. Then, a glint sparked in her eye. “Fine, but I don’t work for free. What do you have that’s worth my time?”

Wild and Legend glanced at eachother, before Wild shrugged.

“We have diamonds?”

Legend resisted planting his face in his paws. With the way Wild had phrased it, it sounded more like a question than a statement. And, judging by the way Mauro’s eyes sharpened at the word, she was going to bleed Wild dry of them before the day ran out. Legend scowled, and sent a grudging prayer to Ravio for all he had taught him so he wouldn’t be robbed blind by the first opportunist that came his way.

Suddenly, Mauro whipped around, setting off down the alleyway. “Follow me then, and pray to Naboris that you don’t get caught. If anyone else sees you, you don’t know me.”

The old woman led them through a winding maze of alleyways, moving with an easy speed that betrayed her familiarity with the buildings around her. Wild followed, and Legend hopped behind, jumping over piles of sand or fallen brick. The three of them ducked around fallen tarps that once hung over the alleys for shade, squeezed under crumbling archways and fallen beams, and kept to what little shade there was. When Legend heard people ahead, he’d hiss a warning, and Mauro and Wild would press their backs against the wall, holding their breath until the passing sound of people faded.

They came upon a door, wooden and bleached by the sun just like everything else was. Legend would have walked right past it if he were alone, but Mauro trailed to a stop, holding up a hand to halt Wild and Legend. She glanced side to side, looking for any nosy neighbors, before rapping sharply on the door twice

A tiny peephole opened, revealing one gold eye, and Legend hopped back in surprise. “Password!” the owner of the eye barked.

Mauro rolled her eyes, looking to the sky and murmuring something that sounded like Din give me strength. She kicked the door once. “It’s Mauro, you skittish brat. Now open the door, I have guests.”

The gold eye narrowed. “Paying guests?”

“Yes, yes.” Mauro waved her hands. “Now open the door! Or do you want me to become more wrinkled than I already am?”

Begrudgingly, the door creaked open. Mauro ushered Legend and Wild inside, darting one more suspicious look around the alley before darting after them. As soon as she crossed the threshold inside, the door slammed shut.

Legend was left blinking in the sudden darkness. The difference between indoors and outside was night and day; he probably couldn’t see his paw in front of his face even if he tried. He shifted, pressing against a wall and hopefully away from any stray feet, ears pricked.

Above him, he heard shuffling. The steps were too heavy to be Wild, and too spaced for Mauro. Legend didn’t have long to wonder, as a thick curtain was thrown back, revealing a hall lined, blessedly, with lit sconces. The one who had pulled the curtain aside had familiar gold eyes, and red hair so dark it was almost black. She was a Gerudo girl, young enough to still have baby fat on her cheeks, but old enough to have reached the towering height that was so common in the village. Put together, she looked gangly and coltish, and Legend felt a pang of sympathy remembering his own awkward phase, where he felt he was just an amalgamation of long legs and knobby knees.

“Excellent.” Mauro pushed her way past the girl and shambled down the hall. “Follow me, Fenaora!” she called over her shoulder. “We need to do a fitting.”

With one last mistrustful look at Wild, the girl -Fenaora- , followed after Mauro, dragging her heels.

Wild trailed after them and craned his head back, letting out a low whistle. Following his gaze, Legend saw that there were tiles in the ceiling, each hand-painted and depicting a different part of a story. Even from where he stood Legend could see the care put into them.

“Pretty cool place, huh?” Wild commented.

Legend nodded in silent agreement. He wasn’t sure if Wild meant cool in terms of aesthetic or temperature. Legend went with his second guess, because as soon as they had stepped inside a delightfully chilled curtain of air had welcomed them. It was the first time all day Legend had felt comfortable in his fur.

“Boys!” a voice barked from down the hall. Beside him, Legend heard Wild jump. “Get down here now!”

Wild darted down the hall, firelight making his hair more copper than gold, Legend hopping at his heels. Around a corner bend, they emerged into something that resembled a boutique, and Legend’s ears pricked. He was standing in a textile jungle; red silks hung from the ceiling alongside gold velvets and silvery satins. Cottons and lace held every pattern imaginable stitched onto them, from swooping cranes to leaping swordsmen. Fabric half hung from pots of dye while three looms sat undisturbed, all holding half-finished projects.

“It’s rude to keep a lady my age waiting.” Mauro sniffed, coming up to their sides. “I could drop at any minute, you know.”

At her side, Fenaora yanked a swathe of linen from the wall, looking between it and Wild, befor tossing it away, mumbling something about the vibrancy of the yellows washing out his skin tone. Legend perked up as he caught sight of the discarded bolt; it was such a rich yellow it could be likened to gold, holding a sheen than almost made him think of-

“Gold Skulltula silk?” Legend asked, peering closer at its shine.

Mauro’s eyes glinted, and Legend wasn’t sure if the flicker of appraisal he had seen in them was real, or his imagination. “That’s a good eye you have,” the old Gerudo said thougtfully. “If only my apprentice put as much thought into my work as you did.” Then she clapped her hands, the noise echoing through the stone room. “Now strip!”

At first, Wild seemed tentative, but when Mauro didn’t do anything except scan a cursory glance over the silver scars on his body, his modesty vanished. He even, much to Mauro’s amusment and Legend’s horror, tried to take off his thin, black underthings. Fenaora’s face bloomed a furious red at that, and stayed red the rest of the fitting.

As Mauro put on the finishing touches, Legend trailed through the room around silk curtains that felt tall as trees, and under tunnels of plush velvett that loomed like mountains, running his paws over the priceless fabrics. He felt a pang of jealousy, that Wild would get such a masterpeice of handcrafted clothing, yet he was still stuck in this lesser body. As soon as the thought came, Legend pushed it away guiltily; it wasn’t Wild’s fault that he was like this, but it had been so long that Legend was in his Hylian body. He had started to yearn for the things he used to take for granted, like the nimbleness that came with having fingers, and being able to get around without having to ride on someone’s shoulder.

“Hey!”

Legend turned around at Wild’s call and blinked.

Wild grinned, and gave him a twirl. “How do I look?”

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Legend took it back; he was jealous. He was endlessly jealous.

“Oh, come on Legend.” Wild petted his ears. “Don’t feel bad that I look amazing. I can’t help it!”

Legend huffed, scowling at the hero. Half of Wild’s face was hidden by his new purple silken veil, but the crinkle at the corners of his eyes was unmistakable. He was laughing at him.

“You’re lucky we’re on a mission,” Legend whispered. “Or I’d yank that mask right off of you!”

“Hey, that’s a good idea! This veil is the perfect size for you!”

Legend flattened his ears against Wild’s laughter as they walked up the steps to the Gerudo Headquarters. All around them swarmed soldiers, towering over Wild, yet they didn’t give either of them a second glance. The old seamstress did good work, it seemed, the traditional Gerudo garb making him blend right in. Even his voice fit. Mauro had counciled him on how to pitch it slightly higher, but not too high to be suspicious. To them, Wild was just another hylian vai, hit with a wanderlust and marking off the desert as their next destination. It made Legend wonder how often Mauro snuck in voe, and he eyed the other visitors around him curiously.

The inside of the Headquarters was as pleasantly cool as Mauro’s shop. Somehow the smooth stone walls managed to house more people inside than out, all around them walking scribes, soldiers, gaurds, and merchants, each with their own errands, each barely paying a glance to a little vai with a rabbit on her shoulder. The dashed to and fro, carrying messenges, platters of food, or boxes of books, ignorant to everyone that wasn’t a part of their mission. All except one.

Legend felt the heat of a stare on his back, his fur prickling in response. Subtly, he swiveled his ears to the origin of the stare. He heard nothing. Actually, he heard too much. The clopping of shoes, raised voices, and shuffle of clothing swarming him like a cloud of gnats. It made his teeth click against eachother, and he felt a headache blooming behind his eyes.

Leaning into Wild, he flattened his ears. “Be right back,” he hissed, and jumped off his shoulder before the boy could say anything.

He scurried between a forest of legs, dodging sandals and boots, peering through billowing skirts and loose harem pants. He saw a pair of legs making their way through the throng with a different air of urgency than the rest; everyone here had something to do, but the way they moved was quick yet smooth. They weren’t bumping into anyone. They were used to moving through crowds unnoticed.

The shoes moved around a corner, and Legend’s ears pricked as the noise around him began to lessen. The crowd was thinning. Just a few more hops and he’d be able to-

Something firm came crashing against his side, sending his tiny body skidding over the ground like a skipping stone. Legend heard surprised shouts and yelps, thumps as people jumped out of the way of this tiny animal they had failed to see until it was hurtling at them. He slid to a dazed halt at the hand-held cart of a merchant. She peered down at him unblinking, reaching out to lift and gently right him on his paws.

“Alright?” she asked.

“Fine,” Legend muttered, brushing his fur off.

People had started to gather around him, including a pair of guards. There was no sign of the person he was tracking, and it would probably be impossible to find them again in the sprawl of  the fortress. Legend hopped away, staying close to the wall opposite of the guards, rubbing his aching side as he trailed his way back to Wild.

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The disguise worked well on everyone except the Gerudo leader. With the luck they were having, it tracked. On the other hand, the head of the village was surprisingly amiable about it, and had a great laugh when she perceived Wild’s silky camouflage.

“Don’t feel bad, Link,” Riju said, patting Wild on the back. “I just know what to look for, that's all.”

Wild slumped. “But I was having fun. I felt invisible!”

Even now he still kept Mauro’s work on him, partly out of his inclination to it, partly to stay hidden from the rest of the village. Riju had told him nothing good would come if he revealed his true self inside village walls. Best to stay undercover until they made it outside.

Riju laughed and she guided them through the village outskirts. Over the walls, Legend could see roiling clouds of sand, flickers of lightning flashing through like fish scales in a river. That was where Wild would be going.

He felt his fur spike, and he wasn’t sure if it was from the ever-present static in the air, or something deeper.

They did their planning while they walked to the southern gate. When they reached the entrance, a solemn silence had fallen over the trio. As Wild readied his gear, hooking himself to a sand seal, Legend crouched at his feet, paws repeatedly massaging at the sand. He and Wild had already agreed that it would be best if Legend stayed behind, just as he did with the three other beasts. A machine so infected with calamity was no place for a rabbit, and no matter how hard he tried, Legend would probably just get in the way.

The thought stung; for so long his life had been about taking action, whether it be with a sword, a shield, or magic biting at his fingers. Now, he could only watch.

Wild tightened the final strap on his shield, nodding to himself. Legend tried to catch his eye, but the seeing one was turned away from him.

“Ready?” Riju asked. A serious air had fallen over the girl. There was no laughter now, only eyes set in a face of steely determination.

A glint of excitement entered Wild’s eye. “As I’ll ever be.”

Legend shifted, tail twitching. “Good luck out there,” he said. “Don’t keep me waiting, got it?”

Wild grinned, reaching down to gently run his fingers over his ears. “Right. See you soon.”

Goodbyes finished, he and Riju pushed off, their seals dragging them through the sea of sand towards the fourth and final beast Wild had to defeat. After that, there was Ganon, and after that… Legend supposed he wouldn’t be needed anymore.

For a while, as Legend watched their figures grow smaller and smaller in the horizon, everything felt normal right up until the moment it didn’t.

There were three things that happened at once.

Behind him, bells started to ring, first one than many, like a flock of birds set screaming through the air. Legend winced as one particularly base gong vibrated through him, and he flattened his ears. That was when he felt a familiar prickle run over his fur. The same person that had been watching him in the Gerudo Headquarters was back, their presence a dark cloud behind him.

At the very same time, the sand where Wild had been standing shifted, swirled, then lifted, the tiny motes glowing in the sunlight. But sunlight didn’t make sand glow purple.

The glow reached Legend right as a pounding set of footsteps did the same. Legend’s haunches bunched, a bell rang, and metal sang through the air.

The hero jumped, feeling a blade whisper across his fur, and whirled around to face something that made his heart lurch. Yiga were swarming over the walls of the village like a nest of disturbed ants; in front of him was one such Yiga, panting and holding a wickedly curved sickle in either hand.

Legend felt his ears press themselves flat to his skull instinctively. He was alone; there was no one to hear him scream, nothing to help him. Nowhere for him to run.

Another violet sheen hit his eyes, making him squint. Ahead of him and slightly to his left, the sand began to swirl, making a vortex even though there was no wind. He heard the Yiga start to move again, and Legend made the only choice he could.

He jumped through the portal.

Chapter Text

Black…

…black…

…black

It got in his nose, his ears, his mouth. It burrowed under his eyelids like worms, burning him, blinding him. He couldn’t hear, couldn't feel, yet at the same time pain hurtled through his body wrathfully enough that he felt sick. He tried to sink back into the oblivion he came from, but he was stuck, something oil-thick and viscous sucking at his limbs and mind both.

Why was he here?

His thoughts tried to convalesce to resemble something halfway to reason in this haunting limbo, but each time he got close they scattered like a spooked flock of birds. 

Something touched him and his skin shifted and his lungs lit on fire.

Cold hands grasped under his arms and squeezed. He was being dragged, he thought, and felt something steel-wool rough scrape over his fingers. It was sand.

Link was on the beach again

Oh, Hylia, what had he done?

Tar seeped from the sand, staining the smooth leather of his boots and lapping greedily at his ankles.

He did it, started it all, just because he couldn’t handle being left-

Water brushed dangerously close to his mouth. Link lashed out, and he thought he screamed but couldn’t be sure, all he knew was he couldn’t do it again because something was forcing itself from his throat.

Hands fell over his body, all unwelcome and leaving trails of fire when they brushed his bare skin, but Link was as weak as a kitten. He couldn’t fight them off. A nauseating lurch hit his stomach, and suddenly he was airborne. He was flying .

Mercifully, Link lost consciousness.

.-.-.

Something nudged his tender side. He could hear their breathing, and below that, a rumble that faded into the background but was ever-present, like a shadow.

His fuzzy thoughts cleared for a moment when a cool cloth skated over his brow. Link grunted. To his regret, the cloth disappeared.

“Big brother!”

His ears twitched at the familiar words.

“Zelda?” Link murmured, struggling to open his eyes.

There was a moment of stunned silence, then the same voice called out again, pitch gratingly high. “Big brother !”

Definitely not Zelda.

Footsteps sounded, one pair receding, one approaching and stopping right at Link’s side.

“Aryll!” a boy gasped. “Are you okay?”

“I’m okay. But that man, he- he said…”

The words dropped into whispers too faint for Link to hear. It didn’t matter. His arms wouldn’t move and neither would his legs, but he could finally force his aching eyes open.

He was met with a thatched roof, polished wood walls, and a head of sun-bleached curls inches from his nose. They were attached to a deeply tan face with a generous smattering of freckles, the kind that blended into one big patch that covered more skin than not. Rich brown eyes widened when they met Link’s, and with a whistle the freckled stranger had pulled a sword from their belt.

“Aryll, go outside!” he snapped, and the girl -who shared an uncanny resemblance with the boy standing over him- scrambled out on bare feet.

Link… still couldn’t move. He feared that if he tried to get out of bed, he’d only fall into a heap at the boy’s feet like a pile of dirty clothes. His whole ody ached, like the first time he had been forced to take the form of a rabbit. He tried lifting his hands, and though they shook, he was able to hold them up in a sign of surrender.

“I don’t know what I said to offend,” Link started. “But whatever it was, I didn’t mean it.”

Link wasn’t going to pretend he didn’t know what was happening anymore. The pattern to him was obvious; he was in a new world, the sixth in a row, and it came with different mores and morals. Perhaps uttering the name Zelda was some kind of cultural faux pas here, or maybe he had been unlucky enough to land in an enemy kingdom.

The boy frowned. The motion seemed to enhance the baby fat still on his cheeks, soft with a youthful flush. Just how young was he? The boy swallowed, and Link could almost see him working up his courage in the face of the stranger before him.

“You said ‘Zelda’. What does that word mean to you?” the boy asked warily.

A thousand thoughts rushed through his head, all tumultuous, all painful. Confidant, friend, sister. Mage, princess, seer. Ruler, politician, monarch. When did they reach the tipping point? When did she turn from familial to controlling? What did Zelda mean to him ?

A dozen words pressed against Link’s tongue, and a dozen fell away just as quickly. A sudden onset of weakness rushed over his body, and in that moment, Link wanted nothing more than to slip back into sleep.

“...nothing,” he said lamely, sinking into his pillow. “I was just dreaming.”

Link could tell the boy was trying to keep his face blank, but his youth was against him; he probably had little to no experience in keeping up facades, and the furrow in his brow betrayed it. At last, he sheathed his sword.

A head of blonde hair, a mirror shade to the boy’s, popped around the doorway.

“Big brother,” a voice whispered. “Can I come in now?”

The boy, presumably big brother, frowned at Link. Link didn’t know what picture he painted half-melting into the mattress, but it must have been a pitiful one because the boy finally nodded. Letting out a squeak, the other blonde trotted into the room; a little girl, Link realized, and so similar to the boy in front of him that they must have been siblings by blood.

A weight landed on his middle. Link wheezed, looking at the deceptively heavy girl who had just thrown herself on him.

“I found you asleep in the tide pools,” she said proudly. Taking Link’s face in two pudgy hands, she brought it eye to eye with hers, peering at him closely. “Why were you sleeping in the tide pools? Gran gran says that’s the stupidest way to die.”

“Aryll!” the boy sputtered, yanking her off of Link. “You can’t just say that to someone!”

The girl pouted, her feet swinging to and fro in the empty air. “But Gran gran said it!” She slithered out of his hold, landing lightly on the planks of the floor, before darting to the room’s exit.

“Gran gran should know better, too!” he called after the quickly disappearing head of blond hair.

“Gran gran?” Link asked, even though he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know.

“Our Grandma,” the boy said, sighing. “She and Aryll were the ones that found you.”

“In the tide pools.” Link hesitated, before forcing the next words out of his mouth even though they tasteed like bile. “So you live by the ocean?”

The boy gave him an unreadable look at Link’s question, but nodded in confirmation anyway. Link wasn’t sure why he had bothered asking. Even now he could hear the telling susurration of ocean waves right outside the door, beating against the walls like thunder given physical form. The sound made Link sick with fear. He wondered if the boy would let him hide under the bed until a portal called him back.

“Do you want to try to get up?” the boy asked after a couple minutes of awkward silence.

Link weakly shook his head side to side. He was perfectly fine where he was, in this stifling wrap of sheets and blankets, and he wanted to keep the walls between him and the water as long as possible. Preferably until the portal came for him.

“Do you want something to drink?” the boy tried.

Again, Link shook his head.

“Well, alright,” the boy said doubtfully. “Call me if you need anything, then. The name’s Link.”

Ha.

“Legend,” Link replied, then closed his eyes in obvious dismissal.

There was a moment of hesitation, then the tap of footsteps slowly fading the further they got from Link’s bedside.

.-.-.

The night’s chill air curled around Link’s neck like icy fingers, stirring him from sleep.

His eyes blinked open to the same thatched roof. Link smothered a groan, rolled over, and buried his face in his pillow.

“Goodness!” a voice said from the doorway. “One would almost think that you’re not happy to see me.”

Struggling from his tangle of blankets, Link saw a tiny woman hobbling into his room, holding a steaming bowl in her hands. The boy -Link, his name is Link just like you- followed closely behind, balancing a pot and carafe precariously on a tray. Link blinked at them groggily.

“Legend, this is Gran gran,” the boy said. “Gran gran, this is Legend.”

“Nice to meet you, boy.” Gran gran plunked the bowl into Link’s lap. “Much nicer to see you asleep in a bed instead of the beach.”

“Thanks,” Link replied. A stew filled the bowl, thick and steaming and giving off a smell that made Link’s mouth water. Bringing it to his lips, Link had to hold back a groan as it touched his tongue. Salty, thick cuts of bacon and fish filled his mouth, seasoned with garlic, pepper, and a unique bite that he couldn’t identify. Maybe this world had spices that his didn’t.

Something solid hit the back of his head. Link forced himself away from the bowl, and Gran gran took the chance to thrust a spoon into his face.

“I know my cooking’s good, but you could at least have some manners while you’re in my house.”

Link took the spoon, using it to shovel in another mouthful of soup. “Sorry,” he mumbled around the spoonful. Hylia, it was the best thing he’d tasted in months.

Gran gran snorted, shuffling out of the room. Now it was only Link and the boy, the latter of the duo sitting at the foot of Link’s bed. Over the rim of his bowl, Link quirked a brow. For having held him at swordpoint just hours ago, he was certainly friendly.

“It’s good, right? The soup?”

Link only nodded. When the boy realized Link didn’t have anything to say, he kept talking.

“My grandma made it. Everyone on the island loves it, but she’s the only one who knows the recipe.”

Island.

Link’s fingers twitched.

“Sometimes my friends will cross half the ocean just for a serving,” the boy carried on. “It’s just that good.”

The food started to taste like ash on Link’s tongue. He carefully set the bowl aside, stomach churning. The roar of ocean waves could still be heard right outside his room.

“Do you all live on islands?” Link asked.

The boy blinked. “What?”

“You said you live on an island. Does everyone, or just your village?”

The boy stiffened, then suddenly shot up from Link's bed, and an understanding washed over his eyes. An understanding of what, Legend didn’t know. He was busy making sure the soup didn’t spill onto the sheets from the sudden move.

“So it is you,” the boy said quietly. Gaurdedly. “At first I wasn’t sure, but now…”

Link wearily gathered the blankets closer to himself, eyes scanning up and down the suddenly stiff boy.

“Who am I?” Link dared to ask.

The boy’s eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared. “Don’t talk to me like I’m an idiot. You’re the Hero .” He spat the last word like it was poison. “You’re from the Mainland, right? Old Hyrule, the one before the Gods sunk it under water because you left us.”

Link’s hands gripped the bowl bruisingly as he stared at the boy, speechless and entirely confused. The boy didn’t seem to care as he plowed onwards, spittle flying from his lips.

“As soon as you’re better, you need to leave. I’ll have a ship ready to take you wherever you want to go.”

The door slammed shut after his fiery incarnation. Link felt something in his chest clench. He had… left?

Would he abandon Wild? Really truly? Early on, maybe, but now he was determined to stay by his side until the very end. Unease curdled in his stomach. Sometimes it didn’t matter what a single person wanted; the whims of time could be finicky at best, and cruel at worst. Link solidly believed that he wouldn’t abandon Wild by choice, but there were many things stronger than him that could use force.

Like a shot, Link sprang from his bed. The bowl fell at his feet, sending soup everywhere, and the noise it made jarred his already strung nerves.

He ran from his room on bare feet, the thumping of his pace irregular in his panic and exhaustion. His knee hit a wall, then his head as he lost his balance and tripped. Link blinked, then blinked again, like he expected it would clear the throbbing building in his skull.

Footsteps sounded from the other end of the hall, and the boy swung around a corner. When he saw Link, his eyes widened. There was a window by Link, and before the boy had time to utter a word, Link had flung himself from it. There was sand to cushion his fall, but he still heard something crack deep inside him.

“Wait!” the boy shouted. He was vaulting himself through the window, while behind him Gran gran and Aryll watched with horrified faces.

His knee shook, and while his headache only grew stronger, Link forced himself forward. His destination was the water, and he had no time to stop; all he could do was pray that it would work the same as last time.

He threw himself into the sea, the shock of cold like a bucket of ice water turned over his head. Soon, the gray, frothing water reached past his knees, then his shoulders, until it was too deep for him to touch.

“Come back!” the boy begged, waist deep in the waves. “There’s riptides out there, you’ll drown!”

“I can’t leave him!” Link snarled.

The boy shouted something else, but his voice was lost in the roar of the sea.

Link crested a wave sharply, choking on the rush of saltwater that hit him across the face harder than a slap. The tide whisked him away further from shore, roughly pushing him wherever it pleased like Link was a rotted leaf caught in a storm. He couldn’t see a thing, the encroaching night making the water an inky black that mirrored the sky, and Link started to struggle to tell up from down. He kept swimming out of stubbornness alone. There was nothing else to do but furiously kick his feet, not unless he wanted to die, and so the Hero pushed forward into wherever the tide wished him, be it land, sky, or his grave.

Exhaustion ran through him like icy needles, sapping any of the burning energy Link might have had left. His fingers went numb first, then his toes. After that were his hands and, damnably, his feet, until Link only knew he was swimming by the blur of his legs moving through the water. He stil pushed -harder -harder - harder! Until he saw it.

For one of the few times in his life, Hylia was on his side, and Link welcomed the familiar shroud of indigo swallowing him whole.

.-.-.

Plush fur did nothing to cushion Legend’s fall onto packed, dusty ground. Rolling onto his back, Legend wheezed, the human sound replaced by the softer whistle of a rabbit. He allowed himself to take in the beauty of the sky above him -blue, not black, with the sun’s rays slowly but surely radiating an addictive warmth through his fur. Then he threw up a mouthful of saltwater.

Chapter Text

Legend licked his lips, his tongue skating over dried teeth and cracked skin. When he was done, all he could taste was blood and dirt, the flavor seeping deep into his tacky gums and lingering with a nauseating flavor. He tried to spit the taste away, but it sunk impossibly deep into his throat, making his stomach churn. He would have thrown up by now, Legend was sure, but there was nothing to throw up. He was as dry and brittle as a bone.

As far as he could see there was sand, blindingly golden waves spanning in every direction, and not a drop of water. He had drawn his cloak tight around his head to keep the thin skin of his ears from burning, but the tradeoff was that the thick fabric draped around him only made him hotter. Holding back a hiss, Legend fought to stay on his feet as he slid down a hill, burning granules of sand worming through his fur and stinging skin. There was no avoiding it; it was in his fur, his ears, and even between his teeth.

He was reminded of a poem that told the story of a great king lost to the desert, shattered and half buried in sand while time eroded around him. Never would he admit out loud that he related to royalty, but in his mind he had never felt more like that king.

To his horror, Legend realized he missed the beach.

Salty, damp air and the roar of the ocean had been replaced by a bleak, burning wasteland. Legend knew he was somewhere in the Gerudo Desert, but that was as far as his knowledge went. The portal had spat him out where it had pleased, trading his watery prison for a feiry one in a fraction of a heartbeat with the nonchalance of a cat dumping a dead rat on the porch steps. He was still drowning, just in a different way. 

Where he was in relation to Gerudo Village was a mystery. He knew where East and West were, but he didn’t know what direction the village was, and with the constant shift of sand there wasn’t anything to guide his way, not even a game trail to follow. There were no landmarks except for the red blur of the Gerudo Mountains, and with those as his only guide, the rabbit started walking through the searing sun. If he was lucky, he’d make it to the shaded base of the mountains before the elements ended him.

He kept his cloak wrapped tightly over his head, desperate to keep his ears from getting burned. The only thing his cloak held was the vial from Tas’tava, and that would do nothing to help him.

His only option was to soldier on, and pray that Wild could find him soon. The sandstorm that sat perpetually on the horizon had disappeared since Legend had last been in the desert, which he hoped meant that Wild had been successful in cleansing Vah Naboris. At the same time, the thought made something heavy weigh his chest, because now all that was left was Ganon. After that he and Wild would…

Legend shook his head. Vertigo had begun to build behind his eyes. He felt like he was looking through a kaleidoscope, the shimmer of mirages over burning sand making his vision blur, and he struggled to stay on his feet. Stumbling to an outcropping of rock, Legend forced himself into one of the crevices, burrowing as far as he could get from the desert sun. The air cooled almost instantly, and through his relief Legend prayed that no snakes or scorpions had chosen to make their home here. Then, before his head hit the ground, he was asleep.

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“...up, idiot, they’ll hear you!”

Legend almost panicked when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but pitch dark, before remembering that he had fallen asleep. Enough time must have passed for the sun to set.

“Not a chance. The soldiers don’t go this far at night.”

He stiffened. Directly overhead, two sets of feet shuffled, sending grains of sand raining over the rockface and onto his fur. Pressing deeper into the crevice, he prayed that neither stranger would see him.

“They’re not the only ones out here, now. Nemir told me that one of the spies saw the champion surfing the desert.”

More sand fell, cathing in his whiskers. He held in a sneeze.

“I thought Master Kohga wanted us to catch the champion?”

Legend’s breath hitched.

There was a long, drawn out groan above him. “No, stupid. Master Kohga doesn’t care what happens to that waste of skin, he wants the rabbit. He told master Kohga to get him, or He’ll take another one of us.”

Despite his thick fur, a chill ran down Legend’s spine. Had his actions on the beach followed him this far? Ears flattening, he shuddered, now more than ever wanting to find Wild.

“Well I’m not gonna sit here freezing my ass off while I wait for it to happen. Let’s finish patrol and go home.”

“Shut up. Not another fucking word until we reach the hideout.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

There was the scuffling of feet again, falling sand, cracking knees, before the unmistakable sound of running echoed through the ground. Legend pressed his ear to the dirt, straining to hear the retreating footsteps as they faded into silence. He counted to five hundred before finally squirming free of his shelter.

Fur spiking outwards, he jumped onto the rock and was met with a trail of two sets of feet. The wind was quickly covering the the footsteps, but Legend could still see that it led directly to a jutting cliff face of red rock. He scampered away in the opposite direction, hind legs kicking up cloud after cloud of sand.

Pins and needles scittered up and down his skin like claws; Legend was plageued with the oily sensation of being watched, and soon every stray shadow or shifting dune became a hunter bearing down on him. He pushed himself harder.

He ran until the sun came up, until every breath burned and every step sent a jarring pain through his bacl, and by then he was close enough to the red mountains that their looming shadow cast shade for him. A jagged gash like an open wound yawned from one of the sheer faces, and Legend veered toward it. As he clung to the mountain’s shadow, he could only hope that it was the entrance to Gerudo Canyon.

For once, luck was on his side. The mouth of the canyon yawned open, the red rock like inflamed gums, and a giant horse head towering before the first major bend of the trail. Claws scittering over rock, Legend hurried to reach the stable. He’d finally found people, shelter, and water.

The stable almost looked picturesque, a startling pop of shape and color amid the desert backdrop, and the closer he got the more slowed. It was very… still. There was an emptiness to it in the way only abandoned things were. The stable doors stood ajar, and through them he glimpsed unmade beds, pillows and blankets strewn haphazardly over the floor. A firepit in front of the stable was just guttering out, the flames dying before Legend’s eyes, while abandoned plates were left at its edge. On one of them he saw a pile of rice and vegetables only half eaten. As he hopped closer, Legend saw a steady increase of boot and hoofprints of every size packed into the dust until it was solid beneath his paws, and all went in the same direction; deeper into the canyon.

The stable was picturesque, in that it was stagnant and unmoving as a literal picture. There wasn’t even grass to sway in the wind. Legend’s ears flattened. Through the deafening silence, the wrongness of it all screamed through his mind.

In the end, his common sense lost. The call of water was too strong. Hovering on the edge of the stable grounds, Legend circled it until he found the feeding troughs around back. He scurried through the empty pens, no horses or goats there to fill them, just matted, rotting straw. Legend jumped onto one of the trough’s edges, and he felt like he could cry when he saw that it was filled with fresh, damn near sparkling water. 

He drank big, greedy gulps, and even though it was lukewarm and tainted with the flavor of iron and horse, it was the best thing Legend had ever tasted. Then his stomach lurched dangerously at the sudden flow of water after being empty so long, and nausea swelled in his throat. Legend lifted his head for air, breathed in a dry breath, and locked eyes with the woman standing just feet away from him.

Neither of them twitched, as if both were scared to make the first move, and so Legend and the woman stayed caught in a deathly silent impasse, where not even wind dared to whistle between them. Finally, it was the woman who decided to break their unspoken stare-down.

When she walked, her shoes made no sound across the pebbled ground as she moved towards Legend. She fell into a crouch so gracefully, he almost didn’t notice the bright carmine of her gaze or the knife strapped to her hip.

Legend eyed her warily.

“Hello,” she said, and a smile bloomed over her face. She was pretty, with her long white hair and big eyes, but Legend had seen plenty of pretty people before. He wasn’t phased.

“Hello,” he replied flatly.

She kept up her smile and wrapped her arms around her legs, making herself small and contained like she was trying to soothe a cornered animal. Legend felt his hackles raise.

“I was sent here after Impa heard that the Chosen Hero had cleansed the final Divine Beast. She wants to speak to you and Link before you face Ganon.”

Legend’s teeth clicked. “Yeah? And who’s Impa?” Legend wasn’t sure if the Woman was Yiga or not; her clothes were vaguely similar, but he had never seen the bloodthirsty clan wearing blue or white like she was.

The girl’s eyes widened, creasing the eye painted on her face. “Oh! I’m sorry, I thought you knew who I was.” She laid a hand pockmarked with old scars on her chest. “I’m an envoy of the Sheikah Tribe, sent by our Head, Impa. We’re servants and guardians of the crown; we only want to help you and Link.” She looked abashed, a faint flush rising on her cheeks. “I promise I didn’t mean to scare you. I have my Tribe’s symbol here-” she gestured to her face “-and on my clothes. Everyone in Hyrule recognizes it.”

Legend sniffed. “Well I didn’t.” He was lying. The symbol had been constant in his and Wild’s journey, engraved on the back of the Sheikah slate. He just wanted to see how this strange woman would react- be it with benevolence or violence.

Without warning, her ears drooped. “My first independent mission, and I already messed it up!” Hiding her face in her hands, she let out a long sigh. “I can’t let grandmother hear about this, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Hey,” Legend uncertainly put a paw on her sandalled foot. “It’s… okay?” He was struggling with watching a girl hiding behind hands that were very, very battle-scarred. The dissonance was making him dizzy.

“Thanks,” she squeaked from behind her fingers.

“Sure,” Legend said doubtfully.

The girl took another deep breath before letting her hands fall, face awash in a new mask of determination. “Right. I need to bring you and Link to Impa.”

Legend’s ears perked. “You know where he is?”

“Of course. He’s at the halfway point of the canyon. It took us so long to convince him to go there; we were only able to by getting him to escort the stable owners.” She shot a gentle smile at him. “He cares about you a lot.”

Legend pushed the sensation of warmth in his chest away. Now was no time to be soft. Instead, he had to hold in a squeak of surprise as a pair of hands wrapped around his middle without warning, lifting him so he was level with a pair of carmine eyes.

The girl’s smile spread wide across her face. “Hi.”

For a heartbeat Legend considered struggling, before deciding that he was too tired and going limp in her hands. “Hey,” he replied weakly.

“You’re softer than you look,” she said as she started to tuck him into her shirt’s front. “And your fur is such a pretty color. I wonder what I would look like if I had pink hair!”

“Probably the same, except with pink hair,” Legend muttered under his breath.

He obviously wasn’t quiet enough, as a laugh from the Sheikah vibrated through her chest and into his, before she started moving down the worn path of the canyon.

She moved fast, with a nimble and easy grace that Legend had seen mirrored in the Yiga more times than he had ever wanted as she sprinted down the path. Just who was this girl, who darted through the canyon like a fox yet blushed at the slightest provocation?

The constant jostle and blur of rock made him dizzy, so Legend tightly closed his eyes and nestled deeper into her shirt. Wild moved more smoothly, and would have set him on his shoulder so he could see everything around them, like a lookout, and it was there where Legend saw much of the alternate Hylia he had been forced into.

How long had it been since Legend had fallen into this eerily familiar, yet entirely foreign world? He took a moment to think, before realizing it would be a month in a few days, which felt too long and too short at the same time. Back home, it would almost be his birthday. He had seen and experienced so much, enough that new aches made themselves known in his back and legs and dozens of other places people never even thought of. But this time it was almost… worth it. Maybe he had spared Wild from something, a hurt that now would never get the chance to wake him in the night or throb when it rained.

Maybe going to the beach hadn’t been a total, utter failure.

Chapter Text

They made it to the stable at sunset. He was roused from his uneasy rest by the sound of two female voices, one of which vibrated through her chest and into his own, chasing away the last of his dreams. He blinked the fog of sleep from his eyes, and peered out of the woman’s shirt through the setting sun at a familiar face.

“Riju?”

It certainly looked like the Gerudo Leader, apart from the hair. What was once waist-length had now been cut pixie-short in a choppy and uneven style, like she had done it with a rusted blade and no mirror. She seemed healthy enough, though, and Legend was glad to see her alive since the encounter with Vah Nabooris. A death like that would have weighed heavy on Wild’s heart.

The girl smiled, and while it was wan and thin, the genuineness of it shone through. “That’s me. I’m glad to see you’re alright, Legend. I don’t know what I’d do if you or Link got hurt helping me.”

“What are you doing here?” Legend asked. He would have thought she'd be at home, celebrating the cleansing of the blight that had so long plagued her people.

“I thought I’d escort Link through the canyon; it’s the least I could do. Buliara can handle things without me for a few hours.” She paused, running a hand through her cropped hair. “And… well, I thought I’d ask you how Tas’tava is doing.”

Legend blinked, brain stuttering for a heartbeat, before a familiar face materialized in his mind; the Gerudo woman who had given him the vial back in Eldin. While it had only been roughly a week since he had met her, it felt like a lifetime. “She’s fine,” he finally said. “Why do you ask?”

Riju’s mouth did something between a smile and a grimace. “Link told me about your meeting back in Elden. Tas’tava is my second cousin, and the only other living descendant of Urbosa. When the Divine Beast was cleansed, I thought of her, and her… ways.”

The Sheikah woman that was holding him spoke up. “Ways? What does that mean?” Her eyes held a shameless curiosity in them, curiosity which Legend suspected he mirrored. In his cloak, the vial hung heavy.

The Gerudo Cheif stayed stilent for a long time, face going distant, like she was trying to recall a story she only knew half of. When she spoke, it was slow and stilted. “Our people have a history with beasts, divine and not, animal and not. Before Link came to us, Tas’tava thought that the way to defeat the Divine Beast was to make one of our own. Ancient stories told us of shapeshifters turning into things like boars and wolves, but my cousin’s ideas were-” Riju cut off, a scowl warping her red brows. A puff of air left her chest in a loud huff, something very much not like an esteemed village head. “Some of the things she practised put the village in danger, so when I was very young, she was banished by the last leader. I haven’t seen her since.”

For a second, Legend thought of telling her about him, about Tas’tava, about the vial and every other disaster that had happened in the span of a single month. The entire story almost came spilling out like a cork popped from a bottle. Instead, he only said; “She was healthy, and she seemed happy with where she was. I think traveling suits her.”

A blanket of relief curtained Riju’s features, making the lingering baby fat on her cheeks stand out. “Good. I don’t remember much of her, but she’d always bring me candy, even when I wasn’t supposed to have it.” Riju’s face dimmed. “She’s the only family I have left.”

Legend sent a pointed look at the Divine Beast perched high on a red rock plateau. The gentle blue light it radiated reached all the way to the bottom of the canyon. “Times are changing. Maybe she’d be happy to hear from you.”

“Maybe so,” Riju murmured. She shook her head, sending her earrings into a frenzy of clinking. “Well it was nice to see you again, Legend, but I think now it’s time I went home. Too long have my people been burdened by the Calamity. I’d like to see them free.” Her hand pressed against her chest, before falling, palm out, towards Legend and Paya in a type of salute. Then, Riju was on her way.

Together, Legend and the Sheikah woman watched Riju’s figure fade into the slot of the canyon, until even the bright shock of her hair blended into the cliffs around her. Legend wondered if he would ever see her again. A heaviness in his heart told him he wouldn’t.

“She’s a sweet girl,” the Sheikah woman said. “I’m glad you and Link were able to help her.”

Teeth clicking, Legend held back a retort. He wasn’t not glad that they were able to help Riju and the Gerudo, no; helping was what Wild did. Legend just didn’t understand why no one else tried, or, looking at what happened to Tas’tava, why they were banished when they attempted to try. Every village Legend had seen here had people that knew how to fight and lead, but instead they sat hunched under their roofs, ignoring the threat that hung over their heads and those of their families. Why, Legend thought. Why hide when you can fight.

“She’s scary too,” a familiar voice called. “Lightning burnt off her hair fighting Vah Nabooris, and she barely blinked.”

Legend felt his heart leap. “Wild!” he gasped.

Just feet behind him and the Sheikah woman stood Wild, dirt-stained and sunburnt, hair windblown and tangled and-

Legend’s breath hitched at the new marks coiling their way over Wild’s right arm like ferns, swooped and graceful; lightning scars.

Before he could say anything, Wild had lifted him into his arms and was bringing him into a tight hug. For a moment, Legend let himself relax and closed his eyes, allowing himself a few precious seconds to bask in the sound of Wild’s heartbeat- but it was only a moment. Regretfully, he opened his eyes to come face to face with Wild’s sunny smile and tried to ignore the way his new scars skated just under his chin.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Wild said, and the genuine joy his words carried made Legend’s heart ache.

“I’m glad you’re okay, too,” he replied weakly.

Without warning, Wild’s body stiffened, and he took on an aloof mask, narrowing his eyes. Their reunion had barely lasted heartbeats.

“And who are you?” Wild asked primly.

“Oh!” the Shiekah woman squeaked. She was still standing where Riju had left her, and Legend watched in fascination as a furious blush spread across her cheeks when she came under Wild’s severe attention, bright enough to be seen through the oncoming twilight. Wide, red eyes were focused on only him, the Sheikah oblivious to anything else around her. “I’m- I’m Paya! Of the Sheikah Tribe! N-nice to meet you!” She fell into a deep bow, but the curtain of hair falling over her did little to hide the red spreading over her face like wildfire.

Legend quirked a brow. Well, someone had a crush.

Turning his body so he put himself between Legend and Paya, Wild shot her a searing glare, the blue in his eyes glinting. “Yeah? Why haven’t I met a Sheikah before?”

Legend’s brow rose impossibly higher. Someone else was oblivious.

Somehow, Paya went even redder, until Legend was worried that she’d faint right there in the middle of the canyon. “Hey.” He tugged on Wild’s fringe. “She’s fine. Paya was the one that brought me to you.”

The trio held their breath, each leery about what the other might do in this strange meeting, sizing eachother up. Wild was the one to break their unspoken staredown. First his shoulders loosened, then a slow breath of air left his mouth until he had deflated around Legend.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Just being careful.”

Paya clasped her hands. She had risen halfway from her bow, wearing a shy smile. “Don’t worry. You’re the Hero of Hyrule, it’s to be expected!”

Only Legend was close enough to hear the grate of Wild’s teeth, scraping against eachother like nails on a chalkboard, and Legend found himself trying not to flatten his ears.

Despite that, Wild’s face stayed smooth as a river rock, and his jaw slowly unclenched. “So a Sheikah? I thought your village was closer to Zora’s domain. What are you doing all the way over here?”

“Oh, right.” Paya rustled around in the pouch at her side, pulling out a scroll with a shiny wax seal in the shape of a Sheikah eye, and cleared her throat. “I, Paya of the Sheikah Clan, the proud protectors of the Royal Family, have journeyed here by the word of our illustrious Clan Head Impa, daughter of Pana, Daughter of Imya. She requests both your and Legend’s presence in south Hyrule Feild, on the green banks of Lake Kolomo and the ancient Garrison Ruins, where she will give you your final send-off before your ride to the Castle and cleansing of the Calamity.”

That was a lot of talking for a message that didn’t have a lot of information. Wild looked confused and annoyed at the wave of words Paya had hit him with. Legend understood the feeling, and was happy to leave Wild to the task of diplomacy with his world leaders. He’d had enough of it, family or not.

Paya presented the scroll to Wild, but when he made no motion to take it, Legend took pity on her growing nerves and grabbed it for her.

With little ceremony, he popped the wax seal. Something slid through the paper, small and fish scale bright, and landed in the dirt with a tinkle of chains. Paya gasped.

Wild’s ears flattened. “What is it?” he hissed.

For the first time they had met, Paya’s attention wasn’t focused on Wild. Instead, she was staring at the ground, a delicate, scarred hand covering her mouth. While Legend hadn’t known her long, he had seen a wealth of emotions cross her heart-shaped face. Embarrassment colored her cheeks, excitement would cause her ears to stand at attention, her mouth would form a pout if she thought something wasn’t going her way, all of it working together to create a story. Until now, Legend had thought she was easy to read. Now, her face was a tumult, warping every second with something new until it settled into a vague resemblance of resignation. It looked like she was going to cry.

“It’s here,” she breathed, staring at Wild’s feet.

Legend wriggled from his grasp, jumping lightly to the ground to pluck the glinting piece of silver from the canyon road, ears pricked. A chain thin as spidersilk trailed from the dirt, attached to a pendant smaller than his paw. It was shaped like the triforce, and in the evening light the color flashed from crimson to violet to pink.

Paya crouched beside him and held out her hand. “May I?” she whispered.

Wordlessly, Legend placed it in her open palm, watching the chain spool around itself so it looked like liquid starlight had pooled between her fingers.

“This was my mother’s necklace,” Paya said, eyes misty. “And her mother before that, and her mother’s mother before that. I wonder why Impa would give it to you.”

Legend frowned. Above him, Wild looked distinctly uncomfortable, gaze shifting to anywhere but Paya. “You can take it back, if you want. Maybe it was slipped in there by mistake.”

Paya shook her head regretfully. “No, grandmother would never make a mistake like that. I think that for now, the two of you are meant to have it.”

She pressed it gently between Legend’s paws, cradling it like it was spun crystal, and gave him a look so raw he burned. Legend ducked his head.

“We’ll keep it safe,” he grunted, tucking it in his cloak.

“Thank you, Legend. I hope that it can help you on your journey.” Standing, she briskly brushed the dust from her knees. Politely, Legend and Wild pretended not to notice the new shine of water trailing over her cheeks. “I have to go now, grandma needs me for preparation. It was nice meeting the two of you, I hope we can meet again!” She sketched out a short bow, hair bobbing with her, before she straightened and set off down the canyon trail in the opposite direction Riju had gone. The sun had nearly set, so as she walked away her white hair glowed pink in the encroaching twilight.

“She was weird,” Wild commented.

Legend held in a snort at the irony. “No weirder than either of us, though.”

“Yeah~” Wild drew the word out. “But still pretty weird.”

“I heard you helped the canyon stable evacuate,” Legend teased. “Can’t stop being a hero even for a moment?”

Wild scooped him back into his arms and hoisted him over his shoulder, where Legend was able to settle comfortably into his harness. “Yeah, yeah. You’re just jealous you don’t get any credit.”

Legend laughed internally. He’d had enough awkward gratitude and hero worship to last him a lifetime, and was glad he missed out on the inevitable rush of people falling over themselves in their efforts to say thank you. Besides, Wild deserved to bask in the limelight himself, once in a while. It was the least these people could do. But all he said was: “As if anyone would believe that a rabbit helped save them.”

Wild’s face dimmed, causing his burns to crease the corner of his mouth into a crooked frown. “You shouldn’t say that. You’ve been as much of a hero as me, you know.”

“I-” Legend hesitated. Wild had turned to face him with his one seeing eye, and Legend found himself avoiding the knowing gaze. Instead, he looked at the moon, barely risen above the Gerudo Mountains and almost full. “I just don’t want to take away from the appreciation that you worked so hard to earn.”

Humming, Wild peered into Legend’s averted face, and there was something in his eyes that made the fur along Legend’s spine bristle. It felt like Wild was looking at him. Finally, he looked away and shrugged. “Alright. Just don’t sell yourself short. We’ve both been working our asses off, so we both deserve the recognition. Equally.”

Legend only nodded weakly, slumping on Wild’s shoulders and staring at the moon.

Together they made their way to the temporary stable. While the stable owners and visitors had only tents as shelter, there was, to Legend’s surprise, a copper tub. For ten rupees they could have a bath. For twenty, the water would be heated. They didn’t hesitate to splurge, and after the last steaming pitcher of water was poured into the tub, the pair piled in. The feeling of hot water loosening his muscles was, Legend thought, euphoric. Not even a red potion could warm him to the bones like a hot bath, and he felt his eyelids start to droop into a relaxed haze within a minute. Wild felt much the same. He slumped into the water until he was basically liquid himself, a lazy smile spreading on his face. He looked like a big cat sunning itself after a meal. 

They washed eachother with soap that smelled like mint and pine, something expensive that Wild had bought off a Gerudo back in the desert. Legend was pretty sure it was meant as a bodywash, but it did just fine on fur. When they were done, Wild dumped the tub and called for more hot water, before pulling out a bottle of kvass a goron had gifted him. They passed the bottle back and forth, savoring the unique flavor that was both sweet and earthy. 

Resting his cheek on the rim of the tub, Wild let out a sigh. “This is nice.”

Legend blinked lazily at him.

“We should do this again,” Wild continued. “Like, as a celebration after the Calamity is gone. Maybe we could go to Eldin, they have great hotsprings, and we deserve something nice for ourselves after saving the day.”

The bottle of kvass that was about to touch Legend’s lips stuttered. He glanced at Wild, who was sending him a crooked smile that bled innocence. Despite all that he’d been drinking, Legend’s through suddenly felt dry. “Sure,” he lied. “I could use a vacation.” 

Wild tilted his head back to look at the stars. “Me too.” His gaze grew distant. “Me too…”

When they finished their bath, they made their own camp close enough to the stable to hear if anything went wrong, but far enough away that they had the illusion of privacy. They curled up together, Legend nestled in the crook of Wild's neck, Wild nestled deep in his bedroll, and watched the moon rise. Soon enough, Legend started to slip into the state where he wasn’t quite asleep, but he wasn’t awake either.

Wild rolled over in their shared bedroll so he was face to face with him. “Legend?” he whispered.

“What is it?” Legend murmured, barely able to keep his eyes open. His independent foray in the desert had taxxed him like nothing else, and he was pretty sure he still had sand caught deep in his fur despite their bath. The nap he had taken in Paya’s shirt had barely put a dent in his exhaustion.

“You’d never lie to me, right?”

The question yanked him out of his blurred doze. It took everything he had to not bolt upright from the bedroll. Instead, he forced himself to stay relaxed, because if he tensed up Wild would definitely feel it. He met Wild’s gaze and whispered back: “Of course not.”

“I think I-” Wild paused, brows furrowing. “I think I might be getting more memories back.”

Legend’s ears pricked. “Really? What do you remember?”

“Lots of things. I remember I protected the Princess. I remember serving alongside the other champions. I remember my old friends.”

Legend couldn’t imagine. What must it be like, to be so misplaced in your own world, out of time and mind. He had lost much, but at least he could say he still had the luxury of his own memories unsullied. “I’m glad,” he replied.

Wild looked surprised. “You are?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? No one deserves to forget like that.”

“Yeah,” Wild said slowly. “But no one deserves to be forgotten, either.”

A frown started to form on Legend’s face. “That’s true…” he said, then trailed off when no other words came to mind. The vague words that Wild spoke were only filling his ears like fluff, fuzzy and irritating.

Wild huffed, then wriggled deeper into his bedroll. “Nevermind.” He rolled over in obvious dismissal, but right when Legend was about to close his eyes again, Wild perked up. “Hey, before I forget, when did that scroll that Paya gave us say?”

Giving up on a peaceful night's rest, Legend sighed and pulled the scroll from his cloak. When he read it, his frown only grew deeper.

~Meet me in the forest that only you would know

Impa~ 

“That doesnt make any sense.” Wild’s words were laced with disappointment. Tucking the blanket under his chin, he rolled onto his side again. “Well, goodnight Legend. We have a big day tomorrow, so sleep well.”

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

When he woke up, he was no longer in the bedroll with Wild. Instead, he was slumped at the base of a tree, roots coiling over his legs like snakes and big, leafy branches hanging over him and obscuring his vision. It mimicked the effect of hiding under the hood of a cloak, cutting him off from the world, and the world off from him.

The sharp scent of pine sap and the earthy tone of leaf mulch was thick in his nostrils, and it made Link feel like he had to struggle for every breath.

Link tried to hoist himself up, to get out from his leafy hideaway and see just where he had landed, but the roots over his legs stayed firm, and they held tight. Grunting, Link strained against them, but they were as solid as prison bars. He thrashed and kicked and clawed at the roots like an animal in a trap, but there was no sign of them giving way. Finally, he threw a punch at one of the coiled branches, putting all his momentum into it. His knuckles came back bruised and bloody. Around him, the forest sighed.

Link collapsed back against the tree, panting. Sweat had beaded on his brow from a struggle that had only lasted seconds, roots reigning victory over limbs that held less strength thawn a fawn. It was like the first time he trained with a sword, barely able to walk out of the yard while behind him, his uncle laughed. When he had heard the man’s great guffaws, Link, so small the training swords were half his height, had started to cry, but his uncle had only scooped him into his arms, face lit by a grin. He always laughed, even when Link started to win, and soon Link looked forward to hearing his cheer every time he grabbed a sword. It made him feel warm, like he had curled up by a kindling fire. The sensation spread upwards, leeching through his stomach, his chest, his arms. When it reached his head, Link felt an immovable weight caress his eyelids, and against his will they fell.

How nice would it be, he thought, if I could just stay here and sleep by the fire?

And so his body sank deeper and deeper into the cradle of the tree, and Link…

…fell…

…asleep…

A pair of gauntleted hands fisted into his tunic’s collar, yanking him from his slumber with little care. Feeling like he had just been plunged into a lake of icy water, Link took in a wretched gasp, but the gauntleted hands didn’t stop. They began to rise, and Link’s body rose with it like he weighed less than nothing. He felt the roots tighten around his legs, his torso -and when had they had the time to grow all the way up there?- and the pressure around his body grew so strong that Link knew he would bruise.

“S-stop,” he choked out, but the hands had no mercy.

They pulled, and dragged, and twisted, until Link was laying collapsed in a clearing, trembling like a newborn. His body ached, and he barely dared to move. Above him there was sunlight, but there were so many leaves that no matter the strength of the rays, it was only a green, soupy miasma once it rached him. A head cut off his view of the canopy, framed by a helmet with two horns on either side. It cut a daunting outline.

To his horror, it grew bigger and bigger until it blocked the entire canopy, and Link almost panicked until he realized that the owner of the helmet was just leaning down. Fingers wrapped around his jaw, and suddenly he was face to face with a man with only one eye. The stranger stared at him, single blue eye sharp and expectant, before he spoke.

“You’ve been busy. I can hear the song all around you.”

He tilted Link’s head from side to side, clinically detached in the action, like he was examining an apple for worms. All Link could do was lay there and stare, trying to breathe and remember how to use his limbs. Every second was a fight to clear the sleep-fog from his brain.

The man hummed, a frown of concentration furrowing his features, crow’s feet morphing into view at the corners of his eyes. He was the androgynous age of someone not quite old, but not quite young, a person that was vaguely between fifty and thirty. The sole eye mapping every inch of Link’s face didn’t help matters. It hid a timelessness deep inside it, with only the occasional flicker of emotion peering through.

“You don’t look too bad,” the man mused. “At least you’re not acting like the woods got its claws too deep in you.” Then he shook Link once, short and swift like he was a misbehaving kitten.

Link blinked against the sudden vertigo.

“...apart from the dizziness,” the man muttered.

Scowling, Link swatted his hand away. “‘m not dizzy.”

“Sure,” his strange rescuer said under his breath. “And I’m not ninety.”

Link… was pretty sure he heard wrong. The stranger had finally let go of him, so Link let his head fall back into the cool grass beneath him, staring at the horned helmet framed by the canopy above. It really was an ugly thing, with the plume of white feathers coming out of the top, the gold plating, Hylia, it was so neglected that moss was crawling from the cracks. Give him a forge and hammer and he’d make a better one any day, right… after he… fell-

A hand slapped his cheek.

“What the fuck!” Link sputtered, shooting upright.

“Language,” the man said, before thrusting a bottle into his face. “Now drink this.”

Before we had the chance to reply, a cloying liquid invaded his mouth, the syrupy sweetness overwhelming, spreading up into his sinuses like wildfire. Some of it dribbled from his mouth in a sticky trail, but the man wiped it away with gentle fingers.

“I know it doesn’t taste the best, but you need to swallow. It’ll keep you from falling asleep again.”

Link grunted around the bottle, wrinkling his nose, but forced himself to finish whatever it was. As he drank more and more, the world around him seemed to sharpen, as if each drop of the cavity-inducing sweetness was washing away the fog hidden deep in the corners of his mind like a cleansing balm. Finally, when the bottle was empty, Link took a moment to stare, eyes wide at the forest spanning around him.

“It looks different now, doesn’t it,” the man said. “When the spell is gone, you see the woods for what they really are.”

Link nodded dumbly. Where once the forest had glowed a warm, welcoming green, now a sickly aura leeched light from the crevices beneath rocks and around trees. If any sunlight was able to break through the canopy, Link couldn’t see it. Instead, the forest was draped in a gloom like a living shadow, thick and sticky as tar, casting a dark stain on anything it touched. And, Link realized, looking at the tree he had slept under, he had almost become part of it.

The man stood, offering a hand. “Up you get, Legend. We’ve got a long way to go.”

Link was hauled upward on unsteady feet, and around him the boughs swayed and creaked. He had to close his eyes at the nausea that washed over him, and focused on breathing to fight the bile that rose in his throat.

“The forest is angry,” the man said, his eye darting around. “It would have kept you if I hadn’t come when I did.”

“And who are you?” Link asked.

“You can call me Time,” the man replied. “I’d say nice to meet you, but…” the man trailed off, gesturing at the shadowy woodland around them.

“Yeah,” Link muttered, and cursed internally. Only his luck would land him in an alternate Lost Woods. The only thing it could possibly be was the Lost Woods; the magic sat heavy and physical on his shoulders. Titanic trees loomed, the thickness of their leaves latticed together so tight that no light broke through. Everything was too still, too quiet, with no animals letting out their calls, nor insects buzzing a background hum. There was only the groan of roots burrowing deep into the earth.

“Hey.” Time clicked his tongue. “Pay attention. It’s important you know your way through.”

“I’ve been through the woods before,” Link snapped, bristling.

Time only stared, unruffled. “Not these woods.”

A mix of emotions prickled over his skin- first, anger at this man and the way he spoke to him like he was a child, then something more animal. Was it fear? Weariness? The man’s bright, unnerving eye flickered, flashed, like the moon peeking out from behind clouds. It shifted, and Link almost thought he saw-

“...we’ve never met before,” Link tried. His voice lilted, unsure of whether he was making a question or a statement.

The man’s brows rose. “I don’t know. Have we?”

Slowly, Link inched back, rolling his heels and preparing for- something. He wasn’t sure if he was about to run or fight. The sword at his side hung heavy, a constant presence, and his palm itched to wrap around the cool metal pommel.

“Easy,” the man soothed. He held his hands up and cooed at him, like he was trying to calm a horse. Like Link was an animal.

“Don’t tell me to be easy,” Link hissed, and with a ring of metal he unsheathed his sword. “Tell me if we’ve met or not. Now.”

The man paused, looking at Link from head to toe. His gaze lingered at his feet. “...time isn’t as solid as most people think. There are pockets, folds, holes… And it doesn’t take much effort to find them. But you already know that, don’t you, Link?”

Link’s breath stuttered. Under the gaze of Time’s ageless eye, leeched of all colors except the faintest gray, Link felt like he was a child caught trying to hide that he had just wet the bed. Guilt, shame, and fear coiled low in his belly, until he felt nauseous with it. “So what? Everyone else gets to be happy, but I can't?”

The words felt flat, even to him. It was even worse when Time didn’t react. Anger, disappointment, hell, even disgust would have been better, not- not this blank apathy that was purer than even untouched snow. 

Time closed his eye slowly. “We’ve all lost. No one will tell you to move on, but you need to stop digging in the ashes.”

Link’s vision went red, anger building in his chest that felt raw and bloody. What did this- this stranger get from talking down to him? This man who wore gold plated armour with a missing eye, who spent his time wandering empty haunted woods, was trying to lecture him on grief?

“Fuck you,” Link snarled. To his horror, he felt heat boiling in the corners of his eyes, turning into tears burning a trail down his face. “You think you’re better than me? That you can talk down to me? I’m the fucking Hero of Hyrule!”

Time’s face took on a mask of perfect, infuriating neutrality. A stone wall would have looked more welcoming. He didn’t even grant Link the basic dignity of making eye contact while he spoke. Link had never done well with judgement from others. They would judge him for being too quiet or too loud, for being a bastard and a disgruntled, imperfect hero. Always, they had tried to hide it, but Link could tell what they were thinking because of their eyes. The eyes always gave it away.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!” Link’s voice had reached a ragged, hysterical pitch.

That eye- that stupid fucking eye- finally reopened. “Link…” For someone he had met only minutes ago, Time looked inexplicably sad for him. “Everything you’ve done has changed you beyond recognition. Even if you made it to that beach, it would never be the same, no matter how hard you tried. It’s a bitter lesson every one of us has to learn; you can never go back. It isn’t there anymore.”

Link tried to run away. It had been a panicked, messy escape, and one he only had faint recollections of starting. Branches whipped at his face and arms, covering him in burning, hair-thin lacerations. He hadn’t gotten far before thick brambles tangled in his tunic, holding fast. It didn’t take long for Time to find him. When the man caught up to him, his expression wasn’t angry or annoyed, but genuinely concerned. He helped Link free of the brambles, then ushered him back to a part of the forest that looked the same as every other part of the forest.

Link collapsed onto the grassy ground. There he did nothing but shake, mind spiraling. He hated this. Hated all of it. He hated the giant trees, the grasping roots, and the twisted magic prickling over his skin. He even hated the strands of grass that were tickling his cheek. How stupid he had been to think he had a chance- an inkling- of ever being happy.

“I think I’m going crazy,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands. “This has to be a dream, or it’s all insanity.”

A hand stroked his back. “It’s not a dream. For your sake, I wish it was, but just like what you did on the beach, this is real.”

He wished he could go back to the tree and lay down at its base. Let the roots climb over him, swallowing his legs and chest and finally, his mind. He probably would have laid there forever if Time didn’t guide him to his feet.

The old warrior ushered him through the forest where every twist and turn looked the same, but as he led Link through, he spoke. He pointed out notches in the trees, some that held the shapes of faces, or others that were charred black, engulfed by a fire long ago. Link could hardly imagine a fire strong enough to burn these trees whose trunks soaked up magic like a sponge soaked up water. When he asked Time what happened, the man only shook his head, saying the trees were burned long before he was born.

While there weren’t animals there was… something, darting in and out of the corners of Link’s teary vision. Gold eyes glinted from under ferns that loomed to twice Link’s size, and the hollow whisper of flutes echoed through his ears. Time told him not to pay it any mind.

How long they walked, Link wasn’t sure. The Lost Woods had always made him uneasy with its soupy, cloying magic, and this time was no different. Things always became… stretchy, in the woods, like he was a ribbon pulled taught enough for it to be just on the verge of tearing.

He didn’t know if it had been minutes or days, but Time brought them to a clearing where sunlight was able to kiss the ground. Link took a moment to just stand in the light, letting the golden warmth trickle down to his bones, and breathed.

“Hello.”

Link jumped, whipping his head around. He couldn’t find the owner of the voice; it was just him, Time, and trees.

“Down here!” the voice squeaked out.

When Link still couldn’t find it, Time took pity on him, nudging him and pointing to a cluster of flowers surrounding a sapling. A sapling with a face.

“Hi!” the tree said. “Nice to meet you. I’m the guardian of these woods.”

“They’re called the Great Deku Tree,” Time cut in. “We’re old friends.”

The skinny sapling at his feet certainly didn’t seem great. It barely reached Link’s shoulder, and he was worried to breathe too hard for fear of blowing it down. Still, Link found it in himself to return the greeting. “Hello,” he rasped. The surrealism of meeting a talking tree wore away quickly. Link had seen stranger, and he was too emotionally drained to put energy into anything more than a hello. He collapsed on the ground, holding onto fistfuls of grass.

Time sat beside him. “We’ll be waiting here for now. I can’t tell you for how long, though. The gate’s always been impossible to predict.” He pulled out a water skein and took a drink, before offering it to Link. Link shook his head.

“Can I have some?” the tree asked.

Wordlessly, Time poured water onto its base.

Link hugged his knees, gazing out at the treeline and the small things that scurried there. His eyes started to droop again, but this time Link knew it was his own exhaustion, not the will of the forest. He must have fallen asleep, because in one moment he was hunched on the ground, and the next Time was nudging him awake, lilac light casting a strange play of light and dark on his features.

“Up,” he said, unbothered by the soft purple mist boiling and writhing behind him. “Time to go.”

And in that moment between Time grabbing his hand then pulling him to his feet, Link realized he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here, with this strange man and this strange tree, and just sleep the days away in the cool, green grass. Here it was quiet, and calm, and if not peaceful at least isolated. Time seemed to know what he was thinking.

Time grasped his shoulders and peered deep into Link’s face. “You aren’t the first one to lose your shadow,” he said. “Just hang on a little longer. Soon you won’t have to do this alone, understand? You’re almost there.”

Link could only nod tiredly, before, in a flash of purple, he was gone.

In a forest glade where a twiggy sapling dug its roots, a man stood. He stared at the place where the gate had disappeared, before sighing and disappearing into the treeline.