Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Link leaned against the tree behind him, his hazy left eye staring up at the dark canopy of leafless branches.

Fog curled around his worn and aged form, the armor on his limbs creaking like his bones. It was tarnished and rusty, and he pulled off the broken helmet in an attempt to breathe better.

Each inhale was a chore, and every movement spiked with pain.

Skull Kid leaned against his shoulder quietly. He seemed more docile and subdued than normal. Maybe he understood what was happening? “I can carry you out, you know?” He said softly.

Link rubbed the metal helmet on his lap with his thumb, tracing the grooves and scuff marks from battles long past.

“No,” He whispered in response, but not with any sadness. “We wouldn’t make it.”

“But I could try.”

“It’s alright. It’ll be alright.”

“Tael and Tatl could heal you.” The offers grew desperate.

The fairies in question sat side by side on Link’s drawn-up knee, quiet, staring up at him hopelessly.

“They can’t fix this.”

“Please don’t leave me,” Skull Kid muttered airily.

“You’ll be alright,” Link assured. “Sometimes, you have to learn to say goodbye.”

“I don’t wanna be alone,” The boy sobbed.

Pushing down a wince, he wrapped an arm around Skull Kid’s back, pulling his head to his chest where he cried softly on his breastplate. “You won’t be alone. You have Tael, Tatl, and everyone else who loves you very much.” His voice grew hoarse and rough, barely spoken above the breeze.

“But I want you!”

“I know,” Link said. How cruel must the Goddess be, he thought, to make a person that can never grow old? He wondered who Skull Kid used to be before getting lost in these woods. Where did he come from?

The eerie silence was filled only by Link’s struggling breaths and Skull Kid’s muffled cries. If he listened, he could hear the distant whispers of others who had become lost. Stalfos and Skull Children, forced to wander these cursed woods. Would he turn into them? Would the fact that he was the Hero of Time mean anything? It never seemed to.

No one would remember him except an immortal child, his fairies, and a Queen that didn’t speak to him.

The Hero of Time.

It was ironic to him; how almost everything he used to know changed with each passing second. He was supposed to be the one that could control time, not be victim to it.

But he was also supposed to be Hylia’s servant. She controlled their fates, in the end.

Maybe he would be granted peace? With the Sword in the pedestal and his duty over, he could rest. He could see Malon again. Hopefully, she wasn’t upset with him. With their children grown and gone, chasing their own dreams, there had been no one left to look after the ranch.

And after everything they’d gone through to keep it running...

He missed her dearly.

“But you have to say goodbye now. Be strong.”

Link squeezed Skull Kid softly, wishing he could hug him properly.

Looking back up at the branches, he settled further into the moss-covered bark behind him. He wished he could die in a prettier place, surrounded by his family and friends. He wished he could be buried with his wife, bound together as much as he was with the Master Sword. He wished he wouldn’t be forced to rot away here with a child as his only witness of feats. He wished he could have passed on more lessons, more teachings. He wished there would be more people to share his name and mourn his passing. He wished he could have saved more people. He wished he was faster, stronger, wiser, braver.

He wished to be at peace.

He wished he had never picked up that forsaken blade.

And at the same time, if given the choice once more, he thinks he would have done it all over again.

Link closed his eye, trying to picture all the faces he’d met in his life, even the bad ones. He tried to imagine all the smiles he’d created.

It didn’t feel like nearly enough to him. He could have made his daughter happier, instead of brushing off her familiar curiosity and questions until she learned to never ask. He could have been easier on his son, instead of projecting himself onto the boy when forcing him to learn swordsmanship and pushing him to become a knight.

He could have spent more time with Malon, a regret he’s carried for many years. He doesn’t think he indulged her enough in their moments alone; said the right things; listened to her.

Her death had changed him. Something inside himself withered away. He saw her everywhere and in everything. Their ranch, their animals, and their children. He had taken up Impa’s offer to join the Guard after, in an attempt to escape.

He had left behind everything else in the process.

Malon’s voice was unclear in his head now. After so many years, he struggled to even remember her face. Her beautiful face.

He wanted to see her smile again.

He wanted to hold her. Feel her.

The weight of his regrets sat heavily on his shoulders. The weight of an entire kingdom.

Would the next hero be more prepared? Would they be forced to abandon their country because the Goddess deemed them “too young”, leaving everything to ruin? Would they even know how to fight? He hadn’t.

Was he abandoning Hyrule once again by dying?

Skull Kid’s hand wrapped around his own, pulling it away from his helmet. Even though he could feel it, it was far away, like the nerves weren’t really there. It sat limply.

The boy said something, but the words were muddy and jumbled together. He could only muster a brief hum.

It was strange how tired he felt. It was like he had just spent the whole day on the ranch doing chores and had just come in for bed, muscles spent and refusing to lift so much as an empty pail. Did he remember to take Epona’s saddle off?

Maybe he was still in the barn, just laying in the hay as sleep tempted him. He knew better than to fall asleep in the barn. He’d only wake up with a sore back and a stiff knee in the morning. Dumb leg; not healing right. 

His daughter would come looking for him soon. She always did when he wandered. Despite the sadness in her eyes when she looked at him, she didn’t want him to be in pain.

Goddesses, he loved her so much.

Did she know how much her father loved her? Did she know how proud he was to see the beautiful and graceful woman she had become?

Did his son know how much it meant to him that he was protecting the royal family? Did he congratulate him enough during his promotions?

He should tell them both when he comes back inside.

The distant tug on his heavy hand grew insistent. Were the kids waking him up to play with them? They should know better than to wake him before the sun was up. Did they even do their chores, yet?

“Link,” He heard from a voice he couldn’t name.

Was someone calling him? Did they need help?

He should help them.

He’ll help them.

He’s just going to rest a bit first.

Chapter Text

Link was so tired.

The sun was gentle and the breeze was sweet, the smell of mildew and honey milk carried with it along with the ginger call of songbirds.

And Link was so tired.

The world passed by him fluidly. He counted every hour; every minute; every second.

He wondered what the point of him being here was. If there even is one.

The high-pitched cheer of children’s laughter pulled him out of his long. He supposed there might be.

A boy, no older than seven, chased a girl through the meadow as they grinned and shrieked. He was fair-skinned and broad-shouldered, with light brown hair pulled into a ponytail.

The girl he was chasing was shorter, leaner. She lacked the pointed ears that marked a Hylian. But she didn’t look like a Gerudo?

Have Hylians truly evolved in the one hundred years he’s been in the Twilight Realm? Has it been longer? Maybe he miscounted a few minutes, however improbable.

He had come back because he was curious, that’s all. Just because he wanted to see it. Midna could handle being alone for a day.

Link should’ve known that the trip back would be draining.

Light paws kneaded the grass as he padded through the underbrush, following the figures of the two children. The round-eared girl tackled the boy to the ground and they rolled around with playful screams.

“Ilia, Link! Time for lunch!” A feminine voice called from across the field. Link. His ears twitched to attention, head perking as the children ran over to a woman coming over the hill. Her red sash wrapped around her waist over a white blouse hemmed with patterns that Link didn’t recognize.

Following along the tree line, he found a blanket spread on top of the grass under the shade of an old oak. A man sat on a corner next to a woven basket, pulling plates from inside to place down. The woman sat down next to him with the kids and they ate the food around them, chatting about small things and joking around like a family.

The girl, Ilia, munched on a sandwich while giggling. “You should have seen Link on Epona yesterday. She’s still too young to ride, and Link slid right off her back and into the mud.”

Epona. Epona. 

His claws scratched at the dirt as he held in a whine.

“Ilia!” The little Link said indignantly, “I told you not to tell anyone!”

Something inside of him tugged harshly at his chest. He imagined that if he still had tear ducts, he’d start crying.

He stared at the little Link; the blue-eyed, dirty blonde-haired, pointy-eared little boy. He studied his nose, his jaw, his mouth, and even his hands. This little boy looked so much like him that it left Link with little doubt in his mind.

These two adults, the ones that looked at him with such fond endearment, but looked nothing like him, were not his parents.

But they acted like it.

Little Link leaned on the man’s shoulder as he finished his meal, talking about riding horses and working with sheep. 

This was his descendant.

Link watched them pack up their plates and remaining food, fold their blanket, and walk back to the village across the field. He moved to follow but stopped before he could step into the sunlight.

Midna needed him.

The Twilight Realm welcomed him back

It was much later that he saw little Link again.

He was certain of it this time. This boy was his descendant.

Not only that but his successor, as well. It was stronger than it had been that day on the field. He could feel the tug in his chest; that familiar ache. The Hero’s Spirit lived inside him.

What a wild beast it was.

He watched from deep within the foliage. Old regrets resurfaced. Were his lessons passed down? Was this boy from his daughter’s line or his son’s?

Creeping along the darkness, he watched little Link walk down the path, hands fisted and jaw clenched. There was a fire in his eyes. He wondered, had he looked like that, too?

Little Link was older now, scraping on eighteen. His sash was belted around his waist and his white tank was stained. He looked bedraggled with worry, and fear-scent rolled off of him in waves. “Taloooo…! Maloooo…! Where are you!?”

Link stepped forward from behind a tree, his golden fur almost glowing in the Twilight-infested air.

The boy gasped and stepped back. His heartbeat was loud like a jackrabbit.

Link was gone before he could speak.

A howl cut through the Twilight. The two bleeding worlds being merged created an air that felt poisoned and stifling.

His paws pounded on the ground as he huffed, following the fear scent and the grieving call.

There was a part of him that was perplexingly agitated at not being the hero that would save the kingdom. He could never ignore the call in his soul for adventure. But this adventure wasn’t his, and Link was delegated to the sidelines now.

His journey was over. It had been over for more than a hundred years.

He smelled it far before he ever saw it – the shadow demons.

Their gangly limbs and stringy hair, dark skin covered in glyphs and swirls. They screeched and clicked as they twitched toward the hero and the princess.

Link pounced with all the strength his hind legs could offer, ripping into the monsters with a snarl. His claws scratched the Earth as he landed and licked the blood from his maw.

They both stared at him uncomprehendingly.

He took off running. The sound of paws racing behind him and he knew that little Link was following him.

They ran out of the village and into the ravine. Twilight stretched out around them like a suffocating blanket, smoke billowing as he kicked up dust. When he thought he ran far enough, he let himself shift, nothing more than the wind that blew. He felt the magic coursing through the sky – through them – before reappearing atop the cliffs.

Throwing his head back, Link howled long and loud.

The boy responded to the call before collapsing. “Hey!” Midna cried looking down at the black-furred hero. “What happened? Wake up!”

“Do not worry,” Link said as he padded up to them “I have taken him to my realm.”

The princess’s visible eye teared up, and Link knew that even in a different form, she was still the same girl he knew. He had grown rather attached to her, he’ll admit. He had only gone to the Twilight Realm for his own selfish reasons.

He had wanted to watch over the banished bandit king, but he can’t deny that he had also wanted to escape. He couldn’t bear to watch his family line go on in the endless cycle anymore with no way to interact with them. Link watched his grandchildren become grandparents and so on, their little faces getting older with no mention of him or Malon.

So he had left the Realm of Light, telling himself that it was just to make sure Ganondorf didn’t escape so Hyrule could be safe. Meeting the princess of the Twilight Realm made him realize how this other realm, this realm of sorcerers, was full of actual people.

They weren’t just monsters with no sentience. They were people who lived their own lives. He felt the same protectiveness over them that he did for the Hylians of the Light Realm.

He’d been a shoulder for Midna to lean on and an ear for her to talk to. He never told her who he was or why he was there, but she never asked to know, either.

And now, as she reached forward and hugged his large muzzle with her small body, he regretted leaving. He always leaves. He’s abandoned so many people that he cared about. He leaves and he always regrets it.

Even now, he was about to leave.

“You were alive, huh?” She whispered. He wanted to correct her, but no words came to him.

Pulling away, she held his jaw to look him in the eye. “Alright. I leave it to you. Do as you wish.”

And with one final bow, Link disappeared.

“There is an opponent you cannot beat now.” Link reappeared behind the younger wolf. “Will you open the door… or not? Will you train your fangs… to be a sword… or not?”

Little Link stared, tail swishing in the dark, before baring his teeth and growling. Link huffed, turning around and sprinting.

“Then follow me!”

It was a rush, honestly, to be doing this with his descendant. He could hear the chuffs from the young hero and felt a strange kind of giddy excitement. He would no longer be powerless in the passage of time. He could finally fulfill one of the many regrets that plagued his soul.

The air around them became lighter; more pure and bright.

He could feel his fur begin to shed as paws became feet and claws became fingers. Behind him, little Link groaned on his hands and knees. From the mist, he saw his green tunic and cap. It was similar to the one he used to wear.

As the boy stood up, he looked around the white expanse of the spirit world, the silhouette of Hyrule Castle in the distance. In this place where scent and wind didn’t exist, the ground beneath their feet was nonexistent but sturdy, it was like walking on clouds.

Link watched him study his surroundings, calling out for the princess of Twilight, before appearing behind him. It had been a while since he took this form. He’d become so accustomed to being a wolf that his skeletal limbs felt strange.

But not strange enough to fight.

The boy lunged away from him and drew his sword and shield, the crest of his village on the face of it. “Are you gonna drag me into darkness again?” He growled.

How curious. He couldn’t say he knew what little Link was talking about.

Instead of answering, Link banged his sword on his shield.

Little Link scowled. “Minion of the Shadow King… and departed spirit!”

Link would have chuckled if he could.

The hero lunged forward to deal a barrage of swings. He couldn’t deny that he was skilled, but Link was a seasoned fighter. He blocked every flurry and parry with ease, clashing his chipped and aged sword against what would have been a lethal upper blow and knocking little Link back.

He panted across from him, staring into his glowing eye.

“Who are you!? Why… why do you keep appearing before me?”

A quick breeze.

“You determine who I am,” He said eventually. “If you rot away here, then I am the God of Death. If you survive… I may gain a different name.”

In this pocket of space, where neither of them was dead nor alive, where time was nonexistent and racing and crawling, where nothing lived and nothing grew, Link and the hero sparred.

He picked out every flaw in his stance, his swings, and his parries. He flung himself into his attacks only to be knocked back over and over again.

They fought for days. They fought for seconds.

They fought long enough for little Link to start looking ragged and tired. Link scoffed at the boy staring up at him from the ground.

“Power does not inhabit a blade without bravery. Do you think you are brave? As you stand before me now… you’re all desperation and bravado! That is not true bravery.” Little Link glared at him. “Fate has toyed with you, calling you a hero, but the way you are now… that green outfit weeps!”

He was being harsh, he knew. After all, Link had worn that tunic as well at only sixteen, mentally a nine-year-old. He had been weak at the time. And looking back, he wept at his lack of guidance. His father was murdered, and the world was too big. He was a boy raised in the forest suddenly thrust into a job that felt too large for his small hands.

Link had been weak. And that weakness led to losses.

But he could do something here. He could help this young hero.

“Be brave to gain strength… or gain strength… to be brave! If you wish to gain true bravery and save Hyrule from impending crisis with your own hands, then learn my sword technique the hard way! Stand up!”

Little Link glowered as he struggled to his feet. He held his scuffed wooden sword in front of him, the goat depiction on the front worn and chipped.

He could feel it. The wolf. The Hero’s Spirit. It burned brightly like a wildfire.

But a wildfire could cause damage if not controlled.

This boy had potential in bounds, but it was unmastered and untrained.

He swung his blade and twisted it around in his hand. They traded blows in a storm of attacks, the clash of metal on metal accompanying the sound of grunts and gasps.

Link aimed for his neck and the boy raised his shield to block it. The vines on his armor rustled as he swung again.

After several minutes (hours, days, weeks), little Link shoved his hand up with his shield, leaving him open. And before he could move away, he thrust the tip of his blade forward and into his breastplate, throwing him back.

He landed hard on his back, and he looked up to see the hero leaping into the air. Landing on his chest, he brought the sword down into the space where his neck would be.

His head rolled away, the metal clanking harshly.

A few seconds later, after little Link had moved to stand up, it started rolling back.

Link’s armored body realigned itself and he grabbed his helmet head to reattach it.

“That was… quite a devastating attack,” Link said, for a lack of better words. “The awareness of the right moment to strike a finishing blow when an enemy shows a momentary opening. Don’t forget that. I have more sword techniques I can teach, but only one with the blood of heroes, and equipped with the noble spirit of a beast, may receive them.”

He was thoroughly satisfied with how the lesson had gone. In fact, he could now recall a time he had performed that same attack. The thought made him smile.

Little Link looked confused. But that was alright. He had faith that he would soon understand.

“Gain power and polish your bravery, and when you need further power to destroy a new threat, we may meet again,” Link assured.

Their time had run out, this time.

The hero was needed.

He watched from the sidelines once more.

He stalked his every movement, his every battle.

He watched over their camp as they slept.

He patrolled up the path to make sure it was clear.

But he was never seen.

No, he was always out of eyesight. Always on the tops of cliffs or hidden in the grass.

Sometimes he’d whisper quiet suggestions, unbeknownst to either of them.

And he still managed to be led astray.

Link watched the boy fight against monsters, having just acquired the Master Sword. He moved faster than he could follow, weaving in and between foes like water. And when the monsters fell and the scene settled, Link could see the grin on the boy’s face.

He could see the exhilaration blazing in his eyes. Little Link stared down the large horned monster coldly, and with a small exchange of words, cut off its remaining horn.

A blazing fire, uncontained.

And the world faded to black, a hand on the boy’s shoulder, pale and white, clothes dark. A shadow. 

It was a battle he could not interfere with.

He had to let the hero face this shadow brought upon himself by his weakness.

Even so, dread curled inside his gut as he watched the Master Sword stop responding; as he watched the power rush in little Link abruptly disappear. The hero and the shadow fought each other with identical blows.

Link watched him thrust the blade forward, in a move not dissimilar to the one he had used to defeat him, and the roles switched.

The hero staggered back, and his double smirked. There was a moment of despair where little Link nearly fell to his knees, blood trickling down his chin and blossoming on his shirt. And the image fell away into the mist, along with the hero’s pain.

Laughter filled the dark air and Link growled. “Welcome, Hero of the Light, to a world of black insanity.” Zant chuckled. “Hearing your confused screams was truly delightful. I’ve never been so entertained!”

Little Link tried to raise the sacred blade against Zant and failed. The blade grew heavier and heavier until the boy needed two hands to even hold it up.

Link flew forward to reach them, hoping he could get there before it was too late.

Zant laughed at his struggle and sent blows of magic his way. He fell to the ground helplessly. “The hero on his knees! Quite a sight.”

The wizard held a hand up for one more lethal blast, and Link threw himself against the barrier.

The dark space contained by magic, suspended in a place neither Light nor Twilight, cracked.

Again and again, until the mirage shattered, and Link flew through. He pinned the Twilight King to the ground, mauling his mask with his fangs.

When he flew off to defend little Link, he could see Zant’s sneer. “You! You were with Princess Midna! I disposed of you then, I know it! How are you here?!”

Link growled lowly, more feral than not. “I’ve done nothing!” He said. “I didn’t create the dark double. I simply watched as this fool stomped around in the darkness, biting his own tail. Worthless Hylian. He’ll destroy himself without any help from me!”

Zant huffed and disappeared, leaving nothing behind of his presence except the lingering scent of dark magic and Twilight.

Link sighed, losing the tension in his body as he stared down at the unconscious hero.

It seemed, he thought to himself, as though there were still many lessons he ought to teach.

He shouldered the boy onto his back and picked the Master Sword up into his mouth, and ran back into the light.

The Hero of Darkness, the evil reflection.

Link remembers when he faced him. It had been in the water temple, while he was looking for the last key.

A small stone building stood alone in the vast space of stillness. A wilted and leafless tree. A large boulder covered in moss; eroded at the top.

Water reached up to his ankles, with no flow or disturbance except for the ripples caused by his movements. Even though it was as clear as glass, he could not see the bottom.

It was as far as the eye could see; the only things that existed there.

He had thought for a moment that he had died. Though different than what he had pictured the afterlife to look like, it was certainly still and quiet enough. And then, standing at the foot of the tree, a shadow appeared. It had his face.

Identical in every way, but with pale white hair and blood red eyes, skin black like a starless night sky.

It copied his every move. Every attack he sent was dealt right back at him.

They had fought for what felt like days.

Link watched from the shadows as his descendant cried out in fury, throwing his bowl of soup at his dark reflection. Tears flowed unabated down his cheeks.

When Link had brought the boy here for a reason; not just to recover, but to see for himself how deeply affected the people were with the Twilight invasion. He wanted him to see who he was fighting to protect in this journey, as well as the people who were scarred and tortured.

He wanted him to see that being a Hero, a true Hero, wasn’t about how strong you are or how powerful. It wasn’t about what foes you can or can’t beat.

It was about making sure that the people who are suffering, and the people that could suffer, don’t have to.

It was about keeping your people safe from tragedy, lifting their heads and their hearts to keep their spirits alive.

A Hero may only be mortal, with the limitations of their own body and soul, and may not be able to save everyone all the time, but they can reach out to millions and inspire them.

This was the lesson he wanted to teach.

The girl returned to the barn to find Little Link asleep on the floor, and with a deep sigh and a great effort, pulled the boy back into his bed of hay.

Later when he awoke, he guided him through this lesson and then comforted him in the face of his inescapable fate. He told him the source of his doppelganger, and how to overcome it.

And when he left towards the shadows, he smiled knowing the hero was one step closer to being ready.

Link taught him many more lessons in the weeks to come, his technique getting sharper and his strategy more advanced.

He was proud as he showed him his final battle with Ganondorf and watched him master his attacks.

Even more proud was he when he named him The Hero of Twilight. As the final blow was dealt to the evil king of thieves. 

The light was restored to Hyrule once more, and Link’s mission was finally over.