Work Text:
This wasn’t right.
The sound of the ocean lapping on the shore, the melody of sea sighing against the long withstanding shores, the gentle roar of waves that could crush and drown and kill rang in Legend’s ears. The delicate, enticing lull of a siren’s song calling out; the pulse of dangerously calming lies filling his ears and soothing his nerves while simultaneously pushing him off the edge. A song he’d known longer than that of the percussion and cacophony of sword against sword, longer than he’d known the numbing sensation of adrenaline thrumming under bruised skin. He’d known the song of the sea even before he had to face his uncle’s untimely death.
And by Nauru how he wished he’d never had to hear it again.
Because this wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He promised himself he wouldn’t come back wouldn’t do this again couldn’t come backcomebackpleaseLinkcomeback-
There was sand caked under his nails instead of blood. Where a sword’s hilt had sat in his hands not a moment before there was now the course, grinding feeling of fine-ground rocks.
Good goddess above. Why him? Why now?
The world was dark. He could feel the creases in his forehead as he forced his eyes shut tight and he prayed for. . . wait, where was he again? Why was the world dark?
The ocean. The dark ocean, the dark thunderheads. The black, thrashing, screaming waters. He could hear the. . . hear the storm. The thunder. The smell — the taste, even — of ozone overwhelming his senses as he yelled. The world had gone dark then too. He hadn’t felt the pounding rain bruising his skin as it hailed down. Hadn’t felt the rigging of his ship as it bit into his hands with the death grip he held in it. He could hear-
No wait. The calm ocean again.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t right.
He shot up — a jolt of electricity running through his spine and coursing through his body like that damned lightning had — the blood rushing to his head and causing spots to swarm his vision.
He couldn’t be seeing this right.
But there it was. That distant peak in Tal Tal Heights with its seemingly unreal enormous egg sitting atop it. The tips of the towers to Richard’s castle. The laughter of children spilling out from Mabe Village, the town itself sitting not too far from where Link stood.
He swayed as a delirious chuckle left his lips.
“No,” he murmured, still light headed, still suffering the vertigo of being thrown from battle, from the heat of the moment, to this sudden, familiar, chillingly calm hellscape. “No. No. No no no no NO NO!” His chuckling escalated into laughing. Into the kind of laughing that hurts. The kind of laughing that was borderline screaming, tearing at his vocal cords until they were raw, until tears ran freely down his cheeks, until that single word felt real. At least until it felt more real than this. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t real this wasn’t was wasn’t was real. This was real. This was right.
No. No it was not. You couldn’t have this. Remember? You hate this. You can’t be here. You love this. You want nothing more than to stay here forev-
Lies. Lies. It’s that goddess damned Windfish. It’s his lie. His lies? No. Legend — Link — had been the only one he hadn’t lied about the dream. The Windfish had lied to him in other ways, though. So many other ways. He should’ve listened to their warnings. The monsters.
The Nightmares that supposedly plagued the lands.
The beasts that with their final breath repeatedly told him, You’ll regret this. You’re going to kill us all. You don’t understand. You’re just his pawn. Don’t you get it? Please, please, PLEASE-
And then he’d killed them. He’d watched them all vanish into the ashes they’d come from. Swallowed whole by a nonexistence and looming back into the subconscious of that deity. Tormenting him no longer. Protecting their home no longer.
Their protests, their pleads, their begging, all of it had followed Legend years afterwards.
Not in dreams of course.
No. Link didn’t dream. One sip of that tea he brewed with that strong Lorulian root and his sleep was dreamless. His sleep was pristinely deprived of Koholint Island ever since Ravio had begun shoving that bitter root down his throat, trying anything to get him to finally rest. Link had been so careful. So careful. He always had more than enough of the drug in his pockets, in his collections, brought it on his journeys, knew alternatives with the same effect in case he ran out. He never thought he’d have to set foot on these goddess forsaken shores again.
Yet here he was. His worst failure. His most desperate mistake.
He couldn’t breathe. He was choking on his own fit. The tang of salt danced on his tongue as his tears ran over dry lips. He laughed until he could no longer tell where he was in space, until the world no longer felt real, until he could feel nothing but the tightness of his skin and his soul trying so hard to push its way out of his body. His dizziness increased until he was suddenly back on the ground again, his head slamming into the sand and the water rushing into his ears as the tide pulled forward. Salt water clung to his skin, soaking through his clothes, feeling so cold, sending shivers down his arms all the way to his fingernails. He was sopping wet and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because this wasn’t real. He’d wake up without the salt breeze in his hair, without his tunic clinging wet to his everything. There’d be no sand. No, the blood would be under his nails again. The wounds of a fresh battle would grace his hands and exhaustion would pull down on his limbs. He must’ve been knocked out somehow. That would hurt too.
“Link?” Her voice was barely a whisper on the breeze. So distant, it could’ve been a hallucination. Legend knew better than to hope, though.
Hylia no. Don’t do this. Not today.
“I haven’t seen you in so long.” Her melodic, enchanting voice hitched. The voice that rang louder than any other in his mind when the guilt that still trapped him tightened its iron grip whenever he hoped it’d loosen. Link heard the sound of sandals against sand sprinting towards him, getting closer until he could feel the vibrations of her approach be absorbed by the ground.
Dark, sun-kissed arms the color of hazelnuts and bitter chocolate scooped Link in their warm embrace. Marin didn’t soothe him as he held her back, as he cried into her unbearably soft, sky blue dress. She didn’t shush him, didn’t tell him to quiet down. She just held him. She let her warm arms wrap tight around him. She let her fingers card through his messy, sand-caked hair. She let her thumb run over his scars, knew and old, before they trailed up his chin and she brushed the tears spilling from his ice blue eyes. She let Link’s shaky, ugly sobs shake her body as well.
Link knew he should pull away now while he still could. He should stop now while it wouldn’t hurt.
Then goddesses above and below. Caretakers of Holodrum and Hytopia and every place near far and in between — she started to sing.
Her voice rang through the air, clear and nostalgic as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear through the muse of a tune. And it burned. His heart stuttered in protest as her song carried out with the sadness and love and calm and promise that the song of the ocean could only yearn to behold. A song that held so much emotion though it was barely a hum. The ocean can sing forever with the same drone behind it, but a living being sings only a minute with a different hope each second.
A dream though? A dream can last millennia. It can overlap infinities. It can defy death and time. Then it vanishes faster than vapor over fire, showing no trace of its timeless tales, leaving no footprint to follow.
But he couldn’t go. It would hurt so much either way. He’d leave again because this — her warmth, her embrace, her voice — didn’t exist. She wasn’t real.
But that wouldn’t make it hurt any less. No matter how many times he did this, he would wake up with that song still throbbing in the back of his head, soothing the blood that would roar in his ears as he seemingly hopped through dimensions, through time itself.
The song. Her song. The Ballad. That was one of the few things he could take with him into the true world. One of the few things he could hold on to; one of the few things he hated with every fiber of his being yet still held onto because he loved it like a lifeline.
“Why does it hurt so much,” she asked, pulling back just enough to cup Legend’s face and have her eyes meet his. “Why does it always have to be you who goes through so much pain?”
What? He blinked. Was she disappointed? Was she mad? Did she expect more–
Of course she did, didn’t she? Here was the Hero of Legend, crying like one overcome by madness on an imaginary island, right when he should have been defending his comrades in battle. When he should’ve been distracting himself with the mindless tasks of a hero. The mindless tasks that distracted himself from facing and evaluating each adventure and all the mistakes he’d made, all the lives that’ve been lost–
“It’s not fair,” she whispered, but her voice was firm and borderline angry. “I wish I could go back with you. I wish I could help you. You shouldn’t have to do this on your own.”
Oh. He was reminded again of why he loved her in the first place.
People aren’t supposed to personally care about heroes. Especially not bystanders, mere citizens like Marin was. Sure, Legend had many deep connections with people he had needed to be involved with, but Marin had been a first. Everyone else in Mabe Village just expected and then accepted his help as if it were a favor they were entitled to. But Marin? She’d stood out because she wasn’t just worried about saving herself.
Of course someone like her was too good to be true.
And yet she was still here, and she still hurt everytime he left. That was his fault too. This is why he needed to be careful. This is why he should’ve listened to the scourges of this place. He should’ve known the real one to fear was the one who lied to him right until the last moment. He lied, right? Or had Link been the true evil of this place?
“‘M sorry,” Link murmured, and those two words took all the strength he could muster.
“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Her voice was still firm, still shaking with. . . with something. Fear? Regret? Link couldn’t tell. He was too tired to tell. He didn’t want to read too much into it. Just like he hadn’t when he’d been here the first time.
Ignorance truly is bliss.
“I just hate that you’re so sad every time you come back,” she admitted, “after everything you’ve seen. Don’t you think you deserve to be happy too?”
No. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve it at all. You don’t deserve it one single bit.
That’s what he’d tell himself. And every single adventure, every single time the goddess called him to do something else, he was only fueled to keep going by the thin hope that he could somehow make up for his mistakes. Maybe he could still be the hero everyone was hoping for. The one the world needed after the praised Hero of Time had failed them all.
“You don’t believe me,” she sighed, the realization souring her tone. “You really don’t think that you’re allowed to be loved, now do you?” Her eyes bore into him now, shifting from sea-green waters to a churning storm. Link knew though, that the storm wouldn’t touch him. Somehow he knew, even though he wanted more than anything for her to just say that she hated him so he could move on.
“Look at me, Link,” she said, and now there were tears in her eyes too. Link made her cry, didn’t he? Why did he always have to do that? “You’re our hero. You’ve done so much for so many people. More people than I could imagine. Link, it’s okay to mess up, but you have to remember that you’re human too. You don’t have to be everything for everyone.”
“Marin, I–” Link – Legend? Vet are you there? – Link’s eyes widened as the corners of his vision were swallowed in darkness. “I can’t–”
And the girl from the unheard island of Koholint pressed her insistent lips against his, stealing what little breath Legend had in his lungs away. She caressed his cheek with all the love she could force into such a feather-soft touch, holding him as the breeze does a falling leaf. With every word she didn’t know how to say, every assurance she couldn’t voice, she let her kiss tell.
And Legend – Link? Veteran?! C’mon, please wake up! Please – let himself – just for a moment – untense his muscles, unblock the barricades that kept the guilt from touching his wit, force down the walls that separated his emotions from the rest of him. He allowed himself just a crack in the door so her love could seep into all his scars and hatred.
The sound of waves lapping against the shore dimmed and a hollow ringing began to pound in his eardrums. Time was running short.
She pulled back just enough to whisper, “Link, if you won’t do it for yourself – if you won’t let yourself accept others' love and thankfulness – then do it for me.”
And Legend offered her the faintest ghost of a smile, as her face was consumed by the ever growing darkness of his vision. He could still feel his attempt to console her even when he couldn’t hear her voice when she kept talking. He could feel his emotional barricades rising back up – his purpose as the hero falling back into place – as he faded from this world. As the now painful ringing in his ears escalated into words as Hyrule spoke to him. Instead of Marin’s arms around him, he felt the cool touch of healing magic as it worked through his bones and tied his torn skin back together.
When he opened his eyes, everything about this place would only exist in his head again. Everything except the tears that were currently running freely down his chin, stinging against well run roads. He’d been here enough to know that when he woke up, he’d still have salt tracks on his cheeks.
Because, verily, it is the nature of dreams to end.