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Chapter Text

A comfortable fire crackled merrily, making light dance in patterned delight, pushing the darkness away. It cast heavy shadows on the Fierce Deity as he watched the other men eat the fish he'd caught, and Abel finally raised an eyebrow at him.

"Do you ever eat?" the former knight asked.

"I require very little sustenance," the deity answered.

Rusl and Abel exchanged a glance and shrugged, both about to return to their own food when the mystical warrior's stomach growled loudly. Both men looked at him, waiting for an acknowledgement of the obvious.

When nothing happened, Rusl spoke up. "...I believe your stomach is telling you it's time for that sustenance, friend."

The deity blinked. "Is... that what that sensation is?"

Abel and Rusl once again exchanged glances, this time practically screaming how the hell is this man still alive . The more Abel learned about this mysterious deity the less he understood.

Fierce hummed to himself, grabbing one of the fish from the perch where it had been roasting over the fire. With a mumbled apology to the captain (since when did Fierce know Abel had been a captain?), he tore into the fish with fangs that were unnervingly large at such a close vantage.

"Forgive my curiosity, but..." Rusl started off, and Abel immediately leaned away from the pair in a reflexive response. He was just as curious as the Ordonian, but he was far more used to keeping his mouth shut no matter his thoughts on a matter. Apparently blacksmiths from simple farming communities had no such scruples. "How do you know how to fish? Your title and your skills, well, lean more towards fighting than pastimes."

The deity munched slowly on his food, staring seemingly at the fish for a moment before he swallowed. "I learned from Link."

This was another matter that confounded Abel. It wasn't unheard of for multiple boys to be named Link - it was a popular name, one drenched in the mythology of their people, of heroes and monsters and goddesses. But for a deity to be looking for someone named Link... it made Abel leery. Was Fierce searching for his son?

Abel wished things just made sense . Nothing had been normal since the calamity. He and Tilieth had finally gotten into an uneasy peace on the plateau before that had been shattered.

"So, Link is your... son...?" Rusl tried to ask as tactfully as possible.

The Fierce Deity blinked. "I don't have offspring."

"Link isn't biologically my son, either, but he's still my son ," Rusl clarified.

Fierce's head swiveled to Abel, an unspoken question in his tilted eyebrow. Abel was fairly certain he was simply asking if the former knight's Link was his biological son or not, but there was still that hint of unease that the deity was actually looking for his Link. Abel wasn't sure he wanted to reveal the truth of the matter.

He couldn't fathom why he was so mistrusting of someone who had clearly prove that they were both as otherworldly as they claimed to be and was also acting on his behalf. But... well... he didn't trust easily anymore.

Besides, there were so many things that didn't add up.

"What's your relationship with Link?" Abel finally asked, pushing past his old habit of keeping his head down around authority figures. It wasn't as if Fierce had asserted his power to either of the men, anyway. Mostly.

"Link is... a Hero of the Goddesses," Fierce answered slowly, as if he himself were choosing his words carefully. Abel felt like he simultaneously wanted to laugh and groan at it. It seemed they all had things to hide. But his phrasing also snagged at Abel's mind, making him stiffen. So the deity was looking for his boy. He'd never heard of him, though! "He is pure hearted and I chose to protect him."

"So you're his guardian?" Rusl surmised.

The deity tipped his head. "Yes. He is very young. He is capable as a fighter, but incapable in many basic mortal aspects. I do what I can to assist him in battle and in any other way possible, time willing."

Abel narrowed his eyes. This was... making even less sense.

"My Link is a sweet boy," Rusl said, leaning back and staring into the fire with a gentle smile. "He's a ranch hand. Or, well, he was, before he was dragged into destiny's greater affairs. He's a restless young man now. But his heart is still pure and gentle. He hardly needs my help in a fight, but I still try to assist him."

Before he was dragged into destiny's greater affairs? "Is--was your son a knight?"

Rusl looked at him, a little confused. "No. He worked on the ranch. I taught him sword fighting, though."

Then what was...? Actually, that brought up another question. "Yes, about that. You're a blacksmith, and I understand blacksmiths know a little of sword fighting so they can craft well. But you fight like a warrior, not someone who learned basic handling to better understand a weapon."

Rusl's smile pulled more at one side than the other. "Oh, I've had a few jobs in my life."

"Clearly," Abel quipped, dropping the topic. It wasn't worth poking him about it. He just needed to piece things together, little by little.

"What about your Link?" Rusl prompted.

"He's my flesh and blood," Abel answered simply, dropping the subject and looking at Fierce. "So, you learned to fish from the child you're protecting?"

"He knew a little of fishing, yes," Fierce replied, tossing the remains of his fish into the fire. It snapped loudly as it burned through fat and bone. "I perfected the method. It's surprisingly relaxing."

"Well, you are certainly good at it," Rusl muttered.

Abel looked away, pondering the situation. Link didn't know how to fish, not like Hylians did. He learned from the Zora, which usually consisted of attempting to chase them down and catch them by hand. Zora were clearly much better at it--and used nets, but that detail never seemed to deter Link--but his boy still tried, despite his Hylian capabilities, or lack thereof, in the water. The Fierce deity didn't catch fish in that manner.

"Yes," Abel said quietly, thoughtfully, before reaching for another fish and holding it out to the deity. "And you caught plenty of them. So eat."

"I ingested one, that should be suffici--"

"Eat," both Rusl and Abel emphasized at the same time. Hylia only knew how this mythical person had survived this long, honestly.

Chapter Text

Abel raised his (much cleaner and sharper due to his new companions) Sword and sliced into another Bokoblin with a huff, where were all these monsters coming from? Though he had been  with these strange new men searching for their sons, a scarce fortnight he could admit that having such skilled companions was beginning to grow on him. 

Far to his left he heard the awful sound of the Fierce Deity’s huge blade rend another limb from a guardian with almost disgusting ease, considering how many were mowed down in seconds when . . . No time to think of the past while an arrow flew far to near Abel’s face for comfort. He turned to check on Rusl and was nearly blinded by the flash of light coming from the direction of the Fierce Deity. Abel felt his stomach swoop as he spared a glance in the direction of his friend(?) only to see a conspicuous lack of the 12 foot warrior. He had no time to check on the state of his companion since the monsters swelled around Rusl and him, forcing them on the defensive while they struggled to keep their heads in the tide of battle.

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Link gasped in pain as his knees hit the ground. Looking up he saw smears of color and far too bright sunlight assaulting his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the pain, as the ringing in his ears faded enough to make out the sounds of . . . monsters squealing?

Oh no, the last thing Link remembers is putting on the near burning mask as he was surrounded by turncoats, which he knew the deity would have no problem getting rid of. The fact that the sounds around him were clearly of monster origin was . . . off.

He tried to stand up and almost tasted dirt as the world spun and smeared in confusing colors around him, the pounding of his head suddenly demanding all of his attention.

He managed to squint at the slowly coming into to focus trees around him as his head quieted to a dull roar. Then a unusual looking lizalfoes crossed his blurry vision, with something wooden clutched in its talons. Squinting harder, he was able to make out bright red and blue on the wood in the monsters grasp. A jolt of panic ran through him at the realization for some reason. But the only piece of wood with markings that vivid he could recall was-

Sprite! His cry came out whisper quiet and raspy from how dry his throat was. When was the last time he'd had water? Didn’t matter right now any way, with the shot of adrenaline to his body, he remembered Putting on the mask, having it sear against his face, and a voice whispering that they would both be safe? That might have just been Link’s imagination since the Deity hadn’t been very emotive when he had interacted with them before.

Link staggered to his feet, using a nearby tree as leverage to keep from falling over once more, feeling weak from however long he had been hosting the Fierce Deity and shaking from the adrenaline that was helping him stay upright at all. 

He was in bad shape and he knew it. Only a small dagger on his person, that he would be lucky to keep hold of with how badly he was shaking, a headache ferocious as though a nail were being driven in with every labored and raspy breath, exhaustion clinging to every corner of his body, only being held back by worry for the smaller Link who he would have seen already if he had been saved.

Looking down showed a shorn branch that was about as tall as he was. He managed to grab it, and started moving after the lizalfoes as fast as he could, uncaring of how the thump of the branch was surely giving away his position.

Luckily for him, the lizalfoes was paying little attention to it's surroundings and went down with one good wack to the back of the head. (Link is going to ignore that he fell onto the monsters still very solid body from the hit) he managed to scramble away from the lizalfoes with the mask clutched to his body and hide in a bush before the monsters angry screeches sounded.

Link looked down on the clearly ancient Wooden mask, pristine looking as always and traced the marks that had begun to cling to Sprites face for short periods after taking it off near the end of the War (and how his heart burned for the child that was so used to fighting a War god could cling to his form at all)

The realization that he had no clue if the long term effects of wearing such an object hit Link and he grimaced. He pulled the knife out of his boot and brought it to his face. His eyes had bags under them that resembled bruises more than anything else, his cheeks which had been compared to apples more than once were now sunken in and drawn tight over prominent check bones. But all the clear signs of malnourishment and no sleep were overshadowed by seeing his hair.

It had gone from a brilliant golden sheen that looked like sunshine had graced his head, to the pale yellow of a wilting dandelion, that had made the mistake of growing in the shade, it's color and life both doomed to fade without intervention. Link was brought out of his musings when he heard a call.

"Fierce! We could really use your help on this one!"

It wasn't desperate, not yet. Link forced his arching and exhausted body up and limped way to the treeline, where he was able to see a fairly large group of monsters surrounding . . . Something. He squinted and was blessed with a brief clear view of the commotion. Two hylians both fighting with blood soaked swords, sporting various injuries that would need attention soon the way the battle was going.

The sight of them sparked a flurry of fondness? In Links chest. He felt the need to help well up in him, but even he could admit that in his current state he would be more of a liability than an asset. He brought out the mask with trembling hands. This was the only useful weapon he had, but the consequences. . .

He spared a glance at the cursed thing and did a double take because the mask's expression seemed to shifted slightly, with one perfectly sculpted brow millimeters higher than the other.

" I can't fight as I am, but I think putting you on might get me killed too." He whispered

The mask in his hands jumped in temperature before cooling rapidly. What was going on??

On the field the shorter man cried as he was stabbed in the thigh and without wasting another second in thought, the warm mask was slammed on his face.

_—--------------------------------

Abel cried out knowing that he might have just ensured Hyrule's total destruction. Just as Hylia had abandoned her people in their time of need, so too had the so-called Fierce Deity left him and Rusl to die, desperately searching for their sons. Rusl crouched closer overhead with his shield held to try and cover Abel, but he could tell from the tension in the others back that they both knew how bad it was.

Then Abel was blinded momentarily by a bright Flash of light, by the time he managed to blink the spots away only the rapidly dissipating bodies of the monsters were left, and standing as though the hoard about to overwhelm the two mortals were merely an annoyance, was the Fierce Deity.

" Thanks for the save." was Rusl's mild reply to the sudden appearance of their missing Companion.

Abel felt the ground tilt, and only realized he had been scooped up like a child when his cheek touched soothing cool metal.

“Apologies. . . It appears I have miscalculated, I will be better prepared should my connection to this world be severed again.” Abel could barely feel confused before sweet unconsciousness took hold and he knew no more.

Chapter Text

Rusl stared ahead confusedly. The Fierce Deity had suddenly changed their route; typically Abel was leading the group as this was his Hyrule, but for some strange reason, their mystical companion had taken charge and dragged them into a nearby grove. All Rusl could see was a clearing filled with enormous flora and a strange energy in the air.

"What is this place?" Rusl asked. It felt like a sacred grove, in a sense.

The Fierce Deity stared at the area, seemingly contemplating something, and didn't answer.

Abel sighed. "We should head back to the field. If we stay on the path we can make it to the next village by nightfall... assuming it's still intact."

Rusl glanced at the knight with a sense of dread. "Is there anything left of your land?"

Abel looked at him tiredly. "I'll let you know when I figure that out for myself."

As the pair spoke, the warrior deity stepped ahead towards the large plant in the clearing's center, placing his hand on it. The plant shuddered and moved, and a strange noise emitted from it, startling both men behind him.

"What did you do?" Rusl yelped as the ground shook a little.

Before anyone could say anything else, the plant opened with a frightening wail and a bright light, making Rusl and Abel flinch and avert their gaze. When Rusl finally blinked the spots out of his vision and turned ahead once more, he gasped and stayed Abel's hand as his friend reached for a blade.

An otherworldly, large womanlike figure with glittery speckles of light and color on her skin watched them, radiance emanating from the pond where she was partially submerged. She brushed some violet hair out of her face and smiled in relief at the Fierce Deity.

"Oh, thank you for restoring-- oh !" she spoke, covering her mouth and then smiling in delight with a bow of her head. "Your Grace, it's been so long!"

"You've grown weak," the Fierce Deity commented a little dryly. "You let that demon corrupt this land so?"

Rusl stared, completely lost. What sort of mythical figure was this? Then it hit him. "A fairy?"

Abel jumped, looking between Rusl and the woman. "Fairies aren't that big, not from my understanding."

"The regular ones aren't, no," Rusl continued. "But great fairies are, from what I've heard."

Their comments were drowned out by the huff of protest from the great fairy. "If I had power to vanquish such a vile creature, I would have done so! All I am capable of is assisting those in such a quest."

Reaching forward, the great fairy's shimmering fingers brushed under the Fierce Deity's chin, and for just a moment, Rusl had to do a double take.

The Fierce Deity's white, perfectly parted hair grew wavy and thicker in texture, bouncing around him as a breeze blew through the area. His white orbs took on a more humanlike form, with silver irises watching the fairy intently before he closed his eyes a moment, basking in the subtle shift in his appearance. Then he stepped away from the great fairy, and his original appearance returned.

"You cannot undo the curse," he commented. "But you can heal my companions."

"Oh!" the large creature gasped as if she had only just noticed Rusl and Abel. Then she giggled. "Well, of course, Your Grace."

And suddenly, as if on command, dozens of little lights floated into the air, like multicolored fireflies, chattering and ringing like little bells as they flew around the two men. Abel and Rusl both jumped and backed into each other with a yelp before warm magic spread over them both, healing the multiple wounds they'd acquired over the last few days.

Chapter Text

Rusl was glad to have his companions, strange though they were. The Fierce Deity was clearly unused to interacting with people outside of battle, with their awkwardness in conversation and confusion around basic chores.

Abel on the other hand was in desperate need of new clothes, a month of Uli's cooking and a laugh or two. The tales he told of complete ruin for his kingdom made Rusl shudder, since the Twilight invasion decimated large swaths of Hyrule, Ordon was spared because of the light Spirits protection, and as he had only recently heard the details of, Links intervention.

Finding out about his sons little furry problem meant that he got to hear far more detail about just how much his son had been through in the name of a kingdom he'd never seen before being asked to save it.

Suddenly, as if summoned by his thoughts Rusl heard a howl break through the trees and his thoughts.

Both Abel and the Fierce Deity had their swords out in an instant, looking through the treeline for danger. Rusl felt a swell of panic attack the thought they might make the same mistake as him.

Then the wolf stepped through the treeline and Rusl froze.

It couldn't be his son, beautiful crystal blue was replaced by baleful yellow, this wolf was much smaller than his (frankly far bigger than he had any right being) son, it's coat was nowhere near as glossy and thick as Links coat had been the last time he saw it.

Even with the obvious differences all Rusl could see was his boy, whimpering in pain after he had just shoved his sword through, eyes bright with tears but unwilling to hurt the one who had raised him.

Rusl felt his throat burn with bile, his chest squeezing tight so that each breath was a wheeze. His hands were shaking so badly drawing his sword was out of the question.

Next Rusl knew his face was in the dirt as a hand larger than his head held the wolf by the throat. Then a beautiful blue and green blade removed the head from the body.

The owner of said sword crouched over Rusl defensively. When they had decided there was no immediate threat around the Fierce Deity turned their blank eyes to Rusl.

"Little farmer, are you well? I did not see you draw your sword at all? Are you injured? Do you need more food or rest?"

Rusl simply spit the bile that made it to his mouth on the grass.

Chapter Text

Rusl stared blankly at the lake in front of him, watching the sun slowly disappear behind the mountains. It was quiet, save for the trees blowing in the wind and his friends working on a fire. He was supposed to find fish in the lake for Abel to make something for dinner, yet, despite the empty feeling in his stomach, Rusl couldn’t bring himself to catch fish. Fishing was something he did with his sons whenever he got the chance, and with the sun setting and him being alone, the pain lingering in his heart since the beginning of this adventure started to overwhelm him

He was so worried about his dear son. He was ashamed of himself for not protecting him when those red men attacked. From what Abel told him, the red strangers were dangerous, and wanted nothing more but for the calamity to return. Seeing Abel’s Hyrule, Rusl could understand how devastating a calamity’s return would be. And it only made him more worried for Link.

He clutched the fishing rod in his hands, looking over to his side where Link would normally sit when they sat at the Faron spring. They used to sit and talk for the short time they had before they had to head back home. They don’t have those talks much anymore, and a horrifying thought entered his mind, that he’d never have those talks with Link ever again if he’s unable to save him.

He took in a shaky breath and hunched forward, feeling the tears coming to his eyes. He’s been trying to be strong and optimistic for his friend’s sake, but he couldn’t keep that up anymore. Paralyzing fear overwhelmed him for his son’s life, and for a while, he just sat there crying.

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but the sun was well behind the mountains now. He sniffed and wiped the tears from his eyes, starting to calm down just enough for him to hear movement behind him. He spun around and saw the Fierce Deity slouched over near him, his hand hovering inches above Rusl’s back. Abel was behind the war god, reaching for the hand. He looked at Rusl and pulled back, scratching the back of his head.

“I-I’m sorry Rusl,” Abel said rather awkwardly, “he— we — just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“I was just about to console you,” the Fierce Deity said, his hand not moving.

“I told him not to do it this way though,” Abel muttered, glaring at the war god.

Rusl stared at them bewildered, and almost let out a laugh. He wiped the remaining tears from his eyes and forced a smile.

“Thank you, I’m alright though… I uh… don’t need a pat on the back.”

The Fierce Deity nodded and lowered his hand, standing to his full height.

“So, you are no longer in need of consolation?” The war god asked, looking at Abel for help. The tired man only shrugged.

“I-I’ll be fine, thank you, really.” Rusl gave a more genuine smile.

The war god nodded again and turned around, “I was able to find a deer in the forest, we’ll have that for dinner,” he stated.

“So you don’t have to worry about catching any fish, alright?” Abel said softly.

Rusl stared at them for a moment, feeling guilty that he didn’t do what he was supposed to do.

“I’m sorry—“

Abel raised his hand to stop him. “It’s fine Rusl. There’s not a lot of fish here anyways.”

Abel looked at the fierce deity and gestured towards the fire with his head. The war god nodded and gave Rusl a small smile before walking towards the fire they built. Rusl smiled back and turned to look at the lake again, the anxiety returning to him. But before it could overwhelm him again, he felt a gentle hand rest on his shoulder. He turned around and saw Abel staring at him with a sad expression. The look of understanding was in his eyes, and he gave Rusl a nod. Though he didn’t speak any words, Rusl knew that Abel was determined to save their sons, and a sliver of hope shone through the darkness lingering in his chest. Rusl nodded back and patted the hand on his shoulder gratefully. Abel smiled slightly before turning around and joining the war god, who was watching them curiously. Rusl watched them for a moment as they began to prepare the meal, and he felt alone again. He looked up at the stars, beginning to shine among the dark sky.

Spirits… goddesses… anyone from this world… Rusl prayed silently, his hand clutching his chest, please, please keep our sons safe, please let them return to us. Please have Link and I return home safely…

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Chapter Text

Rusl finally got told that the Yiga had only been spotted towards the Hebra region after an hour of discussing the difficulties of salvaging steel that wasn't scrap and cleaning it for the forge welds of any useful tool.

Course he knew it would take a while since he had come in a total stranger. But Rusl hadn't been in charge of the southern half of Hyrule for the resistance just because he lived in Ordon. Long before enough trust has been built to discuss something as delicate as a group of assassin's he had learned where the best cobbler in the town was (Abel desperately need new shoes, but would never admit it since that meant spending more money)

He also helped in the forge while getting his info, which meant he would get a discount at the inn. A slightly surprising but a welcome treat considering the circumstances.

Then he nearly dropped the soon to be nail on himself when the door slammed open and a frantic looking Abel came in.

He locked eyes with Rusl and the tension visibly drained from his figure. Conner gave Rusl a questioning look and moved so that he could block Abel if he ran at Rusl.

"Is this where you've been for the past 2 hours?!! Even Fierce was starting to get worried since we couldn't find you after the kids finally stopped using him as a tree!"

Rusl gestured to Conner and shrugged apologetically before smiling lightly as he walked out of the door with their sharpened swords and repaired armor.

Once the door closed behind him the smile dropped and he started telling Abel the rumored recent whereabouts of the Yiga.

Chapter Text

This new village was a quaint one, and, most notably, actually intact . So far in their journey only one other village could boast such a feat, as the rest had been ruins or encampments scattered amongst the bones of former glory.

Despite the circumstances, the village was quite friendly and welcoming once they passed the initial inspection. A quick explanation that their sons had been taken by kidnappers earned them sympathy and allowed them entry.

It also opened them up to greeting customs.

Rusl had traveled to many places, but few seemed to have so many traditions to welcoming strangers. Then again, he supposed there weren't many passing through these days, so it made it more notable.

Either way, the smiling faces and gifts were quite welcome. The girls of the village presented them with flower crowns and Hylia's blessing (he'd have to figure out who this Hylia was - Abel and Fierce had both mentioned the name, but he'd yet to figure out if it was a light spirit or not). Rusl had smiled and knelt down to receive the flower crown, thanking the beaming little girl who had presented it. Abel had knelt as well, though his cheeks were blazed crimson and he mumbled his response.

Fierce, on the other hand, stood still and stared.

Rusl thought for a moment he'd have to intervene and explain for his otherworldly companion, but the war god's lips pulled mildly, his painted face softening, and he reached down to pluck the flower crown out of the girl's hands. He gave her a little nod of acknowledgement, holding the wreath between his fingers and looking at it.

As the trio made their way to the inn where they would be accommodated, Rusl remarked, "You should put it on, Fierce. I bet it would look rather fetching on you."

Fierce stared at him blankly. "Is it not an offering?"

Abel stuttered in his already stiff pace before shaking his head and continuing, muttering some petition for sanity under his breath.

When the three were finally offered accommodations and given some privacy, Abel hastily took the flower crown out of his hair, running his hands between knotted mattes to ensure there were no petals remaining. Rusl smiled at the offering wistfully, thinking of traditions and festivals back home, and his heart ached for home. As much as he enjoyed adventures, he still missed his family dearly, and given the gravity of the situation, he could only maintain levity for so long.

He hoped Link was okay.

Sighing, he placed the crown on the table while the Fierce Deity started to clean his weapon, having seemingly forgotten there were still pink petals adorning his hair.

"The people of this village are very kind," Rusl remarked, needing to fill the silence to push the heartache away.

"Too kind," Abel muttered darkly, uneasy suspicion Rusl had grown familiar with seeping into his words.

"Did your home village not have such traditions?" Rusl questioned. Despite knowing that Abel was naturally a suspicious man, he had to parse out what brought it about. Was it simply that a calamity had befallen his land? What had he experienced in the time since then that had made him so hardened and world weary? Rusl had seen his land get overtaken in twilight and he...

Well. He, the resistance, the queen, and Link had fought it back, had defeated the cause of the malice. He supposed he wouldn't likely be as cheery if he had lost the war as Abel had seemed to.

Then again, if one's outlook on life was as bleak as life itself, it would be quite the miserable existence. Rusl supposed Abel was prone to melancholy, but that didn't mean it was good for him.

It wasn't as if Rusl himself wasn't prone to be melancholic at times. He just chose to keep looking up.

"We didn't shower people in accolades and believe everything they said," Abel remarked as he stared out the window, beyond the horizon. "Strangers and visitors were not unheard of where I grew up."

Rusl hummed, glancing down at the crowns once more. The worry and loneliness in his heart only intensified, barely eased by Abel's vague response. He sighed. "I wore a crown like this when I got married."

Fierce paused midway through another stroke on his blade, glancing at the Ordonian. "These objects are for mating customs?"

"Well, they can be," Rusl shrugged. "In Ordon they are."

Fierce looked at the crowns a moment and then back to the other two men. "I do not partake in mating rituals."

Rusl choked on his spit.

"That's not what these are for!" Abel spluttered.

Fierce blinked. "So they are offerings, then?"

Abel muttered another prayer to that Hylia figure and rose, rubbing a tired hand over his face.

"They're gifts," Rusl explained after stopping himself from dying from asphyxiation. Honestly, he deserved a gift for putting up with these two sometimes. "It's meant to convey a sense of belonging and welcoming."

The Fierce Deity's expression was unreadable, though there was something going on in the otherworldly figure's mind that Rusl couldn't pinpoint. He slowly pulled the flower crown off his head, and Rusl presumed based on the angle of his face he was looking at it.

"I've seen such gifts before, I think," Fierce said quietly.

Abel threw the deity a strange look, brow pinched in confusion but lips tightly sealed. Rusl took the bait. "You think?"

Fierce's eyes grew heavy lidded, pensive and distant. "I remember very little of times past."

Abel's closed off expression grew more open, a strange comprehension on his face. "You have memory loss?"

"I remember what I need to," Fierce answered dully, a heavy, deep ache seeming to pull at him before he grew cold, letting the crown slip out of his hand onto the table. "I do what I need to."

The room grew too quiet, the air seemingly sucked out by the abrupt shift in demeanor of their usually neutral friend.

Rusl supposed even gods had feelings and histories to them. It was silly to assume otherwise.

Trying to lighten the mood, the Ordonian said, "Well, in my culture they're used in many different festivals, including weddings. Uli, my wife, looked radiant in hers. We buried the crowns together by our home, and a flower garden has grown there since then."

Abel's face softened with a smile. "That sounds nice."

"What wedding traditions do you have?" Rusl asked, offering to share the moment with the former knight.

"Weddings are... different," Abel said slowly. "In my culture we don't show affection openly that much. But at a wedding that rule is nullified; there's a tradition where if people tap their glasses they expect the couple to kiss. I swear my troupe just wanted to torture me with the amount of times they did it."

Rusl laughed. "Well, you get an opportunity to kiss your wife!"

"Yes," Abel huffed, finally smiling. "It's still mortifying doing so twenty times in front of an entire crowd of people who knows you."

Chuckling, Rusl glanced at Fierce, trying to gauge if the deity had settled. Instead, he was watching them pensively.

"Did you ever have anyone you cared for in such a way?" Rusl asked, genuinely curious. Then he immediately felt a little bad, as if he had stepped too far.

"Such love is not one I indulge in," Fierce replied evenly, seemingly taking little offense. "I express my care in other ways. I have little need for such a companionship. My duty was clear."

"Fighting?" Abel offered hesitantly.

Fierce smiled sadly. "Protection."

Abel and Rusl both grew silent. It was a pity that the god was known for war specifically. Soldiers often fought to protect those they cared for, but wars themselves were not exactly associated with love. And this deity seemed so full of love, despite his odd way of expressing it.

"We appreciate your protection," Rusl intoned with a bow of his head. Abel followed suit sincerely.

Fierce's smile pulled, brightness seeping in and pushing the melancholy away. "And I am grateful to have such brave warriors at my side."

Chapter Text

The Fierce Deity looked over at his companions, concerned. He knew mortals were fragile beings and he was at a loss for how to help in this situation. If it had been a wound from battle he would have some knowledge of how to help, but after walking through the cold downpour the other day both Rusl and Abel began coughing, constantly sniffling, and had flushed faces that seemed to get worse the more they walked.

Unfortunately they were in no place to set up camp and both men were as stubborn as the Hero the Deity was searching for. When the pace started slowing due to both men struggling to breathe he made sure to match the pace and stay quiet about how slow they were currently traveling, with the hopes that they would soon find a place to take shelter while the two recovered.

As had been their luck so far on this quest, they soon ran into a group of monsters, which was smaller than what they had been encountering thus far. As soon as they were within sight he rushed ahead in the hopes to vanquish the enemy before Rusl and Abel could injure themselves in the conflict. With the last of the monsters slain the Deity looked back and felt the near foreign concern spike at the sight of Abel collapsing on the ground.

 Time seemed to slow despite the speed with which he was moving, as hacking coughs were heard escaping Abels chest, where his hands were clenched and his eyes were squeezed tight in pain. Rusl was giving Abel a pat on the back (something the Deity was … less skilled at), before breaking into wet rattling coughs himself. He feared at this rate neither of them would make it to shelter on their own.

While they both insisted they were grown adults,  both were small enough that Deity (gently ever so gently with delicate mortal organs) scooped a hand beneath each and cradled them to his side to be able to move swiftly, hoping that help could be found in time. While the sun had been high in the sky when the monsters attacked it was beginning to set by the time the forest they had been in was thinning. 

He finally slowed down when they saw smoke in the air and adjusted course to head directly to the signs of civilization. He nearly sighed in relief upon the sight of a small cabin, wood stacked neatly at the side and smoke smelling of roasting meat rising from the chimney. He set the two down softly by the front door and they both broke out in a fit of coughing.

He crouched so that he could knock on the door; that was what Rusl did before entering personal dwellings and he seemed to get the most positive response from people. After a moment waiting where he could hear movement behind the door, it opened. A hylian taller than both Abel and Rusl (though still small to him) with black hair and brown eyes looked at the sash on his waist. His eyes moved up the breastplate, skin turning from a healthy tan to a more pale complexion. Then his eyes rose higher, skin losing blood to an alarming degree. When his eyes landed on the Deity’s face the hylian tipped over, lying unmoving on the floor.

This was … not ideal.

Before he could move to resolve the situation a hylian woman moved into view, saw the man on the floor and glared at him. He raised his hands to show that he was holding no weapons. (he could almost feel the sword on his back burning). The small woman crossed her arms and looked him in the eye

“Well? Ya gon help me move ‘im since ye scared ‘im face paint?” 

Before he can do more than blink, a cough from his sick companions catches the woman’s attention. He backs out of her way as she frets over the men, before following her commands to bring them inside. He follows her curt instructions without question, amazed by the courage being displayed despite what he knew would be an intimidating sight, seeing as he was still covered in monster blood.

—--------------------

Abel groaned as he came to, his head felt like a Talus had stepped on it. He started sitting up and paused as a cloth fell to his lap with a muted plop. He started for a moment uncomprehending, before it clicked in his mind that he was in a bed and not a stable one.

Feeling alarm shoot through him, Abel nearly collapsed on the floor attempting to stand. A pair of hands steadying him before he could hurt himself on the wooden floor. A glance revealed the enormous hands belonged to the Fierce Deity. Abel felt relieved at the familiar face, then strange looking at his companion who was not wearing his armor, a sight so unfamiliar that Abel blinked to make sure it was real.

Rusl moved into view holding a bowl that smelled amazing, his face breaking into an easy smile at the sight of Abel.

"You're awake! How do you feel?" Abel's growling stomach got a chuckle out of Rusl as the bowl was pushed in his hands, warmth seeping into his chilled fingers.

Abel decided questions could wait after the first spoonful, which was soup of decidedly better quality than either of his companions could make. 

Once he'd scraped the bowl clean Rusl handed him his clothes, much cleaner than they had been in … a while. A woman came around the corner with the Fierce Deity trailing behind her, holding several ridiculously large pieces of wood.

"Oh! Yur up then? Let me know if ya need anythin else while you's here. The big ones been an amazing help during you's recovery!" This was said with a smile which seemed rare on her worry lined face.

Abel gave a nod and let her move past unhindered. Rusl had left at some point during the exchange and came back with a bag? Then he opened it to bring out Abel’s sword, which looked more polished than it had ever been since the calamity.

His head whipped up to see a slightly penitent smirk on Rusl's face.

"I hope this helps, I always feel safer traveling with a freshly cleaned and sharpened sword."

Abel simply stared, noting that Rusl still looked pale himself. The lengths these men would go to, for someone who refused to talk about his life before the calamity…

Abel felt a smile tug at his lips, unfamiliar after so long spent with despair as his companion.

Chapter Text

The stables were by far Rusl's favorite part of Abel's world... at least the ones that were somewhat functional. It gave him a little piece of home, though it made his heart ache because oh how Link would adore these places.

Rusl found his heart heavy once more, riddled with worry for his boy. He tried to push past it as best as possible. Link was a strong young man, and though Rusl was absolutely doing everything in his power to find him, he had to remind himself that Link was a capable fighter on his own as well.

But if those Yiga hurt a hair on his head... or pelt...

"A what?"

Rusl turned as he listened to the gossip of the few travelers in the area. Most of Abel's Hyrule was fairly desolate, but this one stable was known to be the most visited in the entire country. They'd headed here in the hopes of getting some intel since it would be a haven for people from all over Hyrule, each of whom might have some different information for them.

"I'm telling you, it's true!" the other person said to her companion. "The cucco actually spoke! The rumors were true! This was so worth the journey."

Rusl furrowed his brow. A talking cucco? What?

"I need to go talk to it too!" her companion announced excitedly. "I hear its prophecies are always true!"

A prophetic talking cucco??

Rusl watched the pair rush up a hill, tracing their path towards a large tree. A distinct clucking emitted from just in front of it, though the small crowd gathered there made the cucco impossible to see.

Well. It certainly wasn't the strangest thing that Rusl had encountered. The Ordonian headed to the other side of the stable where Abel and Fierce were quietly eating some food Rusl had forced into their hands. It was already apparent that Abel was quickly slipping into an exhausted and food-driven nap, barely able to hold himself up. Rusl really wanted to let his friend sleep, but this phenomenon required investigating. It could potentially give them a lead, assuming it was true.

"Have you heard of a clairvoyant cucco?" Rusl asked.

Abel froze mid bite and stared at him, brow furrowing in a manner that quite clearly said what the actual hell did you just say.

He supposed he hadn't heard of it, then.

"Is it your golden cucco?" Fierce questioned curiously.

Rusl laughed. "Oh, no, she isn't clairvoyant, just strong as an Ordonian goat."

Abel remained motionless as if he were still trying to process Rusl's first statement.

"The folk here are talking about it," Rusl explained before his friend's mind shorted out. "They say there's a cucco that can talk and tell prophecy. Everyone's flocking here for answers."

The joke immediately went over the deity's head, as predicted, but it at least spurred Abel to unfreeze. The former knight straightened instead, lowering his food to his bowl, though the look of utter bemusement hadn't faded.

"Perhaps it can guide us in finding the yoga performers," Fierce suggested, rising.

"They're not--never mind," Abel tried to say before sighing heavily.

Rusl was going to offer to investigate the matter himself; he simply wanted them to be informed. Nevertheless, both Fierce and Abel followed him to the hill where people had gathered. The warrior god clearly didn't understand the concept of a line and walked by everyone, and though some threw him annoyed looks, no one dared speak to the massive otherworldly man. Rusl gave an apologetic smile as he followed him, while Abel had the look of a man who would prefer the sweet embrace of death over investigating a talking cucco.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep?" Rusl offered to his friend.

"Oh no," Abel replied dully. "I have to see this."

The clucking grew ever louder until Rusl saw Fierce approach the seemingly normal-looking cucco. The bird watched him a moment before flapping its feathers excitedly.

"Thou hast come," came a strange voice from the cucco, though its beak didn't quite move in sync.

Rusl and Abel stared.

"It does talk," Rusl commented aloud in wonder. "Ha! Maybe it can help us, after all."

"This doesn't... this is..." Abel muttered, clearly trying to wrap his mind around the situation.

Rusl laughed, patting him on the back. "The world is filled with far more strange wonders than you can imagine, friend."

Fierce cocked his head to the side. "You carry a strange magic to you, feathered one."

"I am a sage of prophecy," the cucco answered. "Thou must comprehend that I can give thee what thou seekest."

This cucco kind of spoke like the light spirits. Rusl stepped forward hopefully. "Do you protect this land?"

"I do," the cucco replied.

"I'd love to see it fight a guardian," Abel grumbled.

"Thou seekest... a Hero," the cucco said slowly, immediately garnering the men's attention.

"Yes!" Rusl immediately confirmed. "Do you know where they are?"

"For thou to gain such knowledge, thou must complete trials," the cucco pronounced gravely. "Dost thou wish to continue?"

"Speak," Fierce commanded, crossing his arms.

"The first trial... is to feed all the horses in the allotted time."

The men stared. That... was a trial? What?

Rusl glanced at the stable and back at the cucco. He supposed, sage or not, the little feathered creature was just a cucco. Its priorities would likely be different than his own. Not that he didn't mind feeding horses, but... that was supposed to be a trial?

"Prepare thyself."

Rusl turned as the cucco gave them their time limit and counted down. As he quickly made his way back to the stable, he saw that Abel remained behind while Fierce accompanied the blacksmith.

"What sort of trial is this?" Fierce thought aloud. "It tests very little of our abilities."

Rusl shrugged. "I suppose its intelligence only stretches... so... far..."

Honestly, the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. The light spirits were no fools, after all. Nevertheless, they completed the trial quickly enough, though Fierce's offering to 'gather all the horses together to feed them faster' was quickly shot down as Rusl did not want to watch the strange man haul horses singlehandedly into the air to pile them together.

When the pair returned to the cucco, Abel was waiting with his arms crossed, and he cut them off.

"I know what's going on," he hissed quietly. "This is a Yiga trick."

"You think everything is a Yiga trick," Rusl pointed out. "I'll admit this is odd, but it's at least worth inspecting."

"Yoga performers do not have this magic," Fierce assured him.

"They're not--" Abel cut himself off, frustrated. "You know what, just watch."

Storming over to the cucco, Abel glared at it. "Oh great sage, I have a question for you."

The cucco clucked noncommittally.

"Do you like bananas?"

"Oh! I adore bananas!" the cucco immediately answered, its voice pitching in excitement. "They are the most blessed of all food!"

Abel looked pointedly at the pair.

"That... what?" Rusl stared at Abel, confused. Sure, a cucco liking some food he'd never heard of was different, but what in the world was Abel getting at?

"What do you mean what?!" Abel snapped, gesturing irritably at the innocent bird. "Don't you understand?!"

"We have completed the task," Fierce said instead, looking at the cucco as he gently plucked Abel out of the way, making the man hiss expletives his way and flail helplessly in the air, held in place by the back of his tunic. "Give us the information we seek."

"Oh, that's it!" Abel finally yelled, pulling out a bow and arrow.

Rusl yelled at his friend, trying to stop him from slaying a harmless cucco, but he loosed the arrow just as Fierce jerked him away. The knight really was erratic, attacking people (and now animals) at random. Thankfully, the deity's quick motion prevented the arrow from hitting its mark, but the bird jumped nonetheless.

And then vanished in a puff of smoke and red paper.

Rusl finally felt his patience growing thin. "Could you not attack everyone who isn't us?!"

"It's Yiga!" Abel snapped. "Now put me down, dammit!"

A laugh rung through the air, setting Rusl on edge, and immediately four people dressed in red--

Dressed in red. Like the attackers from before.

Fierce immediately dropped Abel as the knight drew his sword, and Rusl followed suit quickly. They dispatched the attackers swiftly, who left behind ruppees and yellow fruit in their wake.

"Those... weren't the performers from Clock Town," Fierce finally said.

"That's because they're not yoga performers." Abel said exasperatedly as he picked up the treasure. "They're Yiga traitors, and they're the ones who took my son."

"They're on to us, then," Rusl figured. Staring at the yellow fruit, he asked hesitantly, "Are those bananas?"

Abel shot him a flat look. "Yes. They are. Glad you have your priorities straight. The good thing about this is that it means we're close. They usually travel alone if they're venturing far from their base."

Fierce glanced off into the distance. "Then we should keep moving before their leaders notice their absence."

Rusl nodded in agreement, glancing a little worriedly at where the cucco had been. He had no idea how they could disguise themselves as such an animal, so he hoped they weren't actually abusing a cucco to use it as bait. When he saw no animal in sight, he figured it did indeed have to be some sort of magic disguise, and he sighed.

This place was stranger than he thought. Perhaps Abel's paranoia was... somewhat warranted. But at least now they had a lead.

I'm coming, Link.

Chapter Text

Abel gritted his teeth as the ground shook. They'd already taken care of a few bokoblins with little effort - what could be heading their way now?

The earth beneath his feet moved , and Abel yelled as he was flung to the side as rocks assembled into a massive form of a monster. Rusl scrambled to the edge of the clearing while Fierce glared defiantly, holding his ground.

"What the hell is that?" Rusl yelled.

"Stone talus!" Abel answered.

"A stone?" Rusl repeated, jumping to avoid a swing from the massive rock monster's arms. "Does it have weak points?"

The Fierce Deity yelled and swiped his sword low, slamming it into the talus' leg. Though the force of the blow made the talus stumble a hair, the blade barely chipped the rock it impacted, making the deity have to retreat when the talus kicked out.

Before Abel could answer, he heard an eerily familiar whirring sound, and he felt his blood freeze as he turned to see a guardian approaching. Cursing harshly, he took cover behind a few trees to stay out of its line of sight. Maybe it would go after the talus instead.

He doubted they'd be that lucky, though.

The cursed deity noticed the guardian's approach and swiftly made his way around the lumbering talus. As he passed Abel, he said, "I'll handle the metallic beast, you handle the stone one."

Abel wasn't going to argue.

The two rushed in different directions. Abel managed to reach Rusl, who was dodging attacks while trying to analyze his new foe.

"See the small glittering black stone on its back?" Abel pointed out as the two coughed from the dust cloud the talus' latest blow had kicked up. " That's its weak point."

"All the way up there, eh?" Rusl muttered, wiping some sweat off his face. "Fine. You distract it and I'll get up there."

Abel glanced at him, bewildered. "What? How are you going to--"

But his question was interrupted as the two had to leap away from each other as the talus' arm came swinging to the ground once more, splitting a tree in half. Abel gritted his teeth as the wind was knocked out of him from landing flat on his face. He quickly scrambled to his feet, pulling out his shield and yelping when the talus grew tired of trying to give chase and instead started throwing items large enough to destroy a house.

How had Link defeated the talus that had made its way into Hyrule field all those years ago?!

Ah, that's right , he suddenly remembered. Insane child climbed the damn thing.

Abel was a... decent rock climber, but not on something as mobile and dangerous. Link had been far more agile and, well, small .

And then Abel stared up at the sky, his mouth falling slack. Rusl was flying through the air, held up by a... a cuccoo??

What the actual hell was happening right now?!

The Ordonian blacksmith landed cleanly on the talus' back, letting the cuccoo continue its flight to the other side of the clearing, and drew his blade. Abel was too busy staring at the sight that he almost forgot there was a giant monster in front of him wanting to kill him, and he hastily rolled forward to avoid a tree heading his way. He heard Rusl chipping away at the talus' weakness, and realized he had to be more aggressive to keep it distracted.

Drawing his shield, he bashed the talus with it, unsurprised that it did no damage and feeling the reverberation of the blow climb from his forearm all the way into his shoulder. He was definitely going to feel that for a few hours.

The talus shuddered suddenly, as if Abel's blow had actually affected it, and it collapsed into multiple smaller stones as Rusl stumbled to the ground, covered in dust.

Abel put his shield on his back once more and strode over to his companion, helping him to stand.

"Well," Rusl grunted and coughed a little, staring at his now damaged blade. "That was an adventure."

Abel found he had no words left as he watched the man stroll over to his awaiting golden cuccoo and scooped the bird up into his arms. Instead, he just sighed heavily and watched as the Fierce Deity returned, looking satisfied with his own battle.

Chapter Text

Rusl turned once, twice, thrice before sighing and opening his eyes. He supposed he was spoiled; it had been a very long time since he’d had to camp outdoors, and sleeping on the ground wasn’t the most comfortable. It didn’t help that he felt so utterly exposed out here, even if the mythical warrior was keeping watch.

Turning, Rusl eyed the Fierce Deity a moment, still unsure what to make of him despite having spent some time together. Such a title was not to be overlooked, and the man certainly looked… well, otherworldly enough to fit the name… but Rusl had never heard of such a deity. The creature didn’t demand any kind of honor or worship, didn’t act remotely like what Rusl might expect… but he supposed he didn’t know what to expect of a deity. The Golden Three were… fairly hands off. They placed spirits in charge to protect Hyrule, and those were usually the ones Rusl prayed to.

But never mind confusing theology, something was amiss. Where was Abel?

Sitting up, Rusl asked, “Have you seen Abel?”

“He is by the river,” Fierce answered.

Rusl furrowed his brow. “Still? He said he was going to wash up long ago.”

“I can see him from here. He is safe.”

Rusl rose to get to Fierce’s vantage point and did indeed see Abel, who was sitting on the ground facing away from them, his shoulders slumped, elbows propped on his knees. When Rusl squinted, he could see the man’s shoulders shaking slightly.

“Safe he may be, but I don’t think he’s alright,” the Ordonian commented, slowly making his way to the river. He heard Fierce rise and follow him.

Abel’s crying was silent but clearly present upon closer inspection. But they subsided in an instant when he heard their approach, reaching for a knife instinctively.

“It’s just us, friend,” Rusl assured him with his hands in the air. He took in the tear-stained face. “Everything all right?”

Abel sighed, adrenaline draining out of him as he put the blade away. He wiped his face tiredly. “I’ll be fine.”

Rusl knew better than to push. They hardly knew each other, and this man struck him as quite private. Instead, he put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll find them.”

Abel took a steadying breath, his eyes glowing in the dark nearly as fiercely as the deity’s. Determination turned his previous distress to a stony expression. “I know. And I’ll murder every last one of those Yiga when we do.”

Behind them, the Fierce Deity smiled. “That does not seem within the realm of your capabilities, but I will happily watch you attempt it.”

Abel rolled his eyes, exasperated, while Rusl chuckled and said, “We’ll try to leave some for you, Fierce.”

The deity outright laughed.

Chapter Text

The air was uncomfortably thick as a heavy blanket of moisture clung to Rusl's skin. It felt like summer in Ordon Village, except he was in no place to be stripping off his shirt and going swimming to cool off.

Well, swimming might be involved. It depended on if there was a clear path to their destination.

They were following a lead he'd gotten from a nearby village. After the cucco incident, all it took was some conversations to figure out that a local cave had suddenly become more dangerous, that people were being harassed and attacked when they approached it. It didn't take much to ascertain, then, that if the Yiga had a holdout nearby, and a cave was being guarded, it was likely that the group would find Yiga there.

Abel led the group, tense with anticipation. Fierce was last, surveying the area and watching their flank. Rusl kept his eyes alert, wiping the sweat on his brow with his headband. His heart beat hard and fast, not so much from the exertion of climbing along the hill as they followed the river, but in the hope that they would find Link. It had been far too long since his capture, and though Rusl tried to stay focused on the objective rather than worry, the anxiety had steadily been growing.

It had been too familiar, having one of his boys kidnapped. He hated it. He'd been eager to push forward and find him. But when he'd realized he was in a completely different Hyrule, he'd recognized that he'd have to take a step back and figure this out. But now they had a lead, and now there was tangible hope that he could get to his boy, and now nothing was going to stop him from getting there.

They eventually reached the waterfall that supposedly hid the cave's entrance, and Rusl walked up to stand beside Abel.

"No guards," Abel noted quietly, his voice barely audible over the crashing water.

Worry wormed its way around Rusl's heart and mind. Abel was right, after all - the reason they had learned of this place at all was because people had been warded away with violence. The fact that no one had even tried to stop them was telling - either they were walking into a trap, or their lead was an old one.

"I have not noticed any scouts, either," Fierce added as he caught up with them easily. "This does not bode well."

Rusl drew his sword. "Then we should be ready for anything. Let's go."

The water was refreshingly cool on his skin as he passed through, bowing his head as the weight and pressure briefly beat down on him. He opened his eyes again quickly, blinking water away and surveying the area.

The cave was enormous, with moss and glowing mushrooms lining the stone path leading far beyond where he could see. He grabbed a lantern and quickly lit it, leading his companions into the darkness.

Bearing a torch and a sword while looking for lost children. This is too familiar. Rusl bit his tongue, shaking the thought away. He had to focus.

A particularly large water droplet fell from the ceiling, splashing on the top of his head and startling him back to reality. He gave a quiet huff, thanking the goddesses for the help focusing, and gripped his sword more tightly.

The farther they walked, the worse it felt. The waterfall drowned out any sound that could have tipped them off if there was someone nearby, and the very distinct lack of people made Rusl's skin crawl. The Yiga had already tried to ambush them once, and they were defeated fairly easily, but still... a place like this could make matters difficult if they were attacked.

There was a faint glow ahead, bluish in color. Rusl lowered his lantern slightly, squinting and looking for movement. He pulled the wick back a little, dimming the light so they wouldn't be as obvious as they approached. Though Fierce's steps were much louder than theirs, he still tried to creep along as quietly as Rusl and Abel did until the trio had reached a bend in the long cavernous pathway.

When Rusl peeked around, he saw litter and debris, and he immediately knew they were too late. The tension drained out of him with a heavy exhale, disappointment filling the void. His eyes were attracted upward, however, to trace the blue light to its source. It was a strange, frog-like creature clinging to the stony walls and hopping around easily. Rusl stared at it in wonder, reminded of the light spirits, and wondered if it was kin to them.

Abel swore softly, walking into the room, seemingly ignoring the creature altogether.

"Hello, little sprite," Fierce called to the animal. It turned, glancing at him, and continued to bounce around cheerfully.

"What is it?" Rusl asked, curiosity holding his anguish at bay.

"I am not entirely sure," Fierce answered, catching Rusl off guard. "I can sense its magic, though. It is not of the Yiga."

With that little knowledge, Rusl returned his attention to the large room the creature was illuminating. The room had a few barrels, a desk with some notes, but most of what was there had been removed. Abel was busy perusing a book of some sort that was on the desk.

Approaching, Rusl asked, "What did you find?"

"Notes," Abel answered simply, engrossed in his reading. Rusl didn't bother pushing the matter, waiting for him to finish.

The loud meow that emitted from one of the barrels distracted him well enough. All three men turned their gaze, though Abel resumed his reading quickly, and Fierce and Rusl walked to the nearest barrel.

Inside was a kitten, creamy white fur blending with patches of buttery brown. It meowed again as it looked up at the pair.

"What are you doing here, little guy?" Rusl asked as he cautiously reached in. The kitten didn't swat at him, allowing itself to be hauled gently out of the barrel where it had been trapped.

When Rusl turned to ask Abel if he had finished reading, he saw the knight staring at him with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, as if he'd just been given some sort of life altering news. Ice filled his veins, worry for Link immediately shutting out any other thought. "What's wrong?"

"The Hero of Time," Abel said. "That's... your son is the Hero of Time?"

Several thoughts clamored for attention all at once in Rusl's mind. The Hero of Time was a figure of legend, and he had been the one to train Link. Did.. did that mean Link inherited the title? He supposed that wasn't unreasonable. But that meant the Yiga had written about him in their log, and that meant he had to be alive still, because his title would not have been the first piece of information Abel had clung to if it were otherwise.

Hopefully.

Rusl walked to his companion in three large steps, the kitten bouncing in his arms, and he demanded, "What did they say about him?"

"T-they..." Abel glanced between Rusl and the kitten, temporary confusion flitting across his face at the sight of the animal before he continued, "They said he's---he's, ah, been fighting them off."

Rusl's dread vanished in an instant and was replaced with hope. "What? But..."

They hadn't captured him after all? Was he out here somewhere, lost and injured and alone, searching for Rusl as desperately as Rusl was looking for him?

"They escaped," Abel explained, holding the book close to his chest. "They escaped the main Yiga stronghold. They've been spreading their forces to find them."

The kitten was suddenly plucked out of Rusl's arms, held by the scruff of its neck by the fierce deity as he stared at it. "And this tiny furry creature was supposed to track him?"

Rusl's eyes stung unexpectedly with tears, and he let out a wet laugh, blinking them away. "I think maybe this little guy got lost."

"The kitten was supposed to be bait..." Abel added with a tone that was just as confused as Fierce's. "Apparently to lure the dog in."

Rusl whipped his head towards the knight. "Dog? What dog?"

Rusl immediately snatched the book before Abel could answer, courtesy abandoned, and the knight snarled, grabbing it back.

"This isn't time for your paranoia," Rusl snapped. "Whatever you're hiding, unless it has to do with my boy, I don't care. Let me read it."

Before either party could continue the argument, the book was taken out of Abel's tight grip with ease, making the knight yelp. The Fierce Deity flipped it in his hands, reading it aloud. "We have arrived at the designated site per our leader's orders. We're currently looking for a good way to lure the wretched heroes. The Hero of Time has been a constant thorn in our side in every encounter. He even took our bananas during the last fight."

Spirits above. Link's alive. He's alive and he escaped.

Of course he did. It was Link. His boy had fought Zant and Ganondorf, had been trained by the Hero of Time (the previous Hero of Time...? Did they all have that title, then?), had been forged into a strong warrior through the dark flames of twilight magic. Link could handle anything. Rusl shouldn't have worried.

Except he still did. Because he didn't know if Link was hurt. He didn't know where Link was, and the Yiga were hunting him.

What did these people want with him?! All Rusl knew of the Yiga was that Abel said they were traitors to the crown who wanted to see Hyrule fall. He said they were a cult of sorts, and they worshipped a demon, the same one that had destroyed Abel's Hyrule.

The deity turned the page with a thumb, carelessly tossing the kitten towards Rusl, who jumped, startled, and quickly caught the frightened little animal. He leaned it against his chest to soothe it as Abel grew steadily more wound up watching their companion.

"We've got a lead on their whereabouts," Fierce continued reading. "It appears the Hero's condition has improved somewhat, or at least enough that he is still alive. We have to ensure we catch him before he dies."

Rusl's breath was stolen from him. "What?!"

Fierce also stared worriedly at the pages, reading silently to gather more information quickly. It left Rusl in too much suspense, and he said, "Fierce, tell us what the hell is going on. Is my boy okay?"

"They're referring to three figures," Fierce answered as he read. "The Hero of Time, the Hero, and the dog. Sometimes they mention a mutt... I assume that must be the dog."

The uncertainty and anxiety were going to drive Rusl insane. "Just read it aloud. Please."

"Our camp was raided by the Hero of Time last night," Fierce obliged. "He took all our food and smashed all our bananas. One of our scouts spotted his dog but then we lost contact with him."

"We've made a discovery. The dog likes hanging around other animals. One of our scouts saw it playing with some kittens. We've since acquired one of the kittens and will be utilizing it to lure in the dog. If the mutt comes, then the Hero of Time will follow. Then all we have to do is find his base of operations to get the Hero."

"We've been in this cave for two weeks, and it's been almost a week since there's been any sign of our targets. The kitten ploy has not come to anything. Another group reported in that there are warriors looking the heroes. We will attempt to set up a trap for them. In the meantime, I've decided we need to move camp."

The longer Rusl listened, the more he realized that the Hero of Time was not, in fact, his Link. He could easily see his boy attacking the Yiga encampment, but he wouldn't simply raid it for supplies and leave. Link was too self reliant for that - he would gather his own supplies. He would only enter an enemy camp to eliminate it. His sweet boy was gentle in all ways but battle, after all.

Also, he knew, out of any group of boys, who would go running to the nearest pile of cuddly animals.

He knew exactly which one was his Link.

Which meant...

Rusl glanced over at Abel, really looked at him, and he saw the subtle signs in the man's stony demeanor. He saw the worry, the fear, the way the man's hands trembled.

"The injured one... that's your son, isn't it?" Rusl asked quietly.

Abel's expression darkened, a fierce, nearly feral glare crossing his face. His look dared Rusl to say anything else.

So this was the unspoken fear Abel had been carrying with him. This was the reason he didn't dare speak much about his boy. Had he thought they'd take advantage of his boy's vulnerable state? What else was Abel hiding?

"The Hero of Time is my child," Fierce said firmly, closing the book with a quick snap. "That is his title. And his tactics match. One of your children is missing."

Rusl bit his tongue as he smiled and choked back a snort. "Well... we'll find my boy. Let's start by finding yours."

"The Hero you've been protecting is the Hero of Time?" Abel confirmed.

"Yes," Fierce answered with a nod.

Abel let out a sigh of what seemed to be relief.

"What's wrong with your son?" Rusl asked gently.

The knight closed his eyes, his body stiffening. He didn't trust them. Rusl almost felt hurt, but then again... he had just withheld vital information about his Link as well.

But why wouldn't he? Telling them his boy could turn into a beast was a recipe for disaster.

Then again, them not knowing was equally bad. He knew that from experience. They'd already had to battle one pack of wolves and he'd nearly had a meltdown. He had had a meltdown.

What secret was Abel keeping to protect his boy?

Rusl's train of thought was interrupted when the strange blue bouncing creature hopped over, hovering directly over Abel. Seeing as the man wasn't reacting, Rusl hesitantly pointed to it. "You... can see that thing, right?"

Distracted, Abel glanced upward. Then he huffed. "It's a bubbulfrog."

"A what?"

"Bubbulfrog," Abel repeated, glancing at the pair. "Legend says if you strike one down you can obtain a mystical stone from it."

"You don't seem very fazed by this," Rusl noted.

"Link and I have found plenty in different caves when he was little," Abel sighed. He raised an eyebrow as he looked up. "I'm surprised this one isn't blowing bubbles at us, though."

"They do that?"

"Often. Link loved popping them. But we... never got this close," Abel went on uncertainly. "I wasn't sure how dangerous they were. They usually stay away from people."

"It won't harm you," Fierce said.

"Either way," Abel continued with a dismissive wave. "They don't hang around people. If there's one here it means the Yiga left long ago."

The kitten meowed again, pawing at Rusl's tunic. The Ordonian smiled down at it before looking back at Abel, whose gaze had grown distant. Meanwhile, Fierce turned, motioning towards them. "We should move on. It is clear the boys are not here and have not been in the area for some time."

Nodding, the two men followed him out of the cave. Rusl ran a hand gently over the kitten, which purred in response, relaxing him a little. They really needed to get to the bottom of all of this. Abel needed to open up and tell them more about the Yiga. And maybe... maybe Rusl should tell them about Link's transformative abilities before something terrible truly did happen.

Rusl sighed, looking around as the humidity came back in full force upon exiting the cave. This was... a mess. But at least he knew Link was alive, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

"and that Stupid Wolf too. Next time we'll break his leg so he can't run! There's no way they can carry the Hero without that Mutt."

Rusl felt his stomach drop with each poisoned word coming out of the Yiga's mouth, While Link was the strongest person he knew, anyone would struggle to escape with a broken leg, much less carry someone else with them, and with how much trouble the boys had been causing the red clad traitors, Rusl didn't doubt they were becoming desperate.

"Look out!"

Rusl felt his head get pushed down by an oversized hand as an arrow flew where his head had been. then the Fierce deity was away and fighting the largest Yiga, with a magic sword.

Rusl shook his head to clear it. If he died because he wasn't paying attention there would be no helping Link with anything.

Abel came into view, snarling with an unmatched ferocity as he went for lethal hits, with the Yiga disappearing in clouds of smoke only to reappear behind him, though Abel wasn't deterred by this and continued to keep the three Yiga he was battling well occupied. Rusl flinched when a Yiga appeared in front of him and pulled out a piece of strangely shaped metal, with reinforced leather straps along the back. Rusl continued to fight until the Yiga called out gleefully,

"With this, we wont need to break that Mutt's legs! if he cant bite, he can be tied up, and the child is too attached to even think of leaving his pwecious puppy behind."

The Yiga continued to talk, but it had all turned to buzzing in Rusl's ears. suddenly keeping hold of his sword was a struggle, as was keeping his breakfast inside, his eyesight was blurring, it was too hot and too cold all at once, Spirits the thought of his Son being forced into a muzzle was too much, no creature deserved such cruelty, especially not the wonderful Boy he had watched grow up to take on the mantle of a chosen hero.

Rusl looked around and didn't see anymore red moving, (the cave seemingly empty now) but his hands still shook and his breath was coming too fast, he needed to stop, to start, clean his sword? check on Abel and the Fierce Deity. Then he felt hands on his arms and whirled around, seeing Abel's shocked face as Rusl started seeing spots. then he felt himself get lifted, like he would do for Colin. and Rusl broke, sobbing into the arms of the Fierce Deity, a distant part of him noting the scent of copper in the cave, the rest of him too upset at the thought of his boy getting more scars like the one that wretched shackle had left.

"Sleep little Farmer, no harm will come to you while I am watching."

, Abel's worried face was the last thing he saw as Rusl felt his eyes grow heavy as he gasped for air, and he let darkness take him far far away from the thought of a Muzzle on Links face.

Chapter Text

Rusl was sitting by the fire listening to Uli sing softly somewhere behind him as he ran his hand through his son’s fur. The fact that it was so soft still surprised Rusl everytime he had the privilege to feel it. He looked over and saw Link with half lidded eyes, tail slowly moving back and forth in contentment, and Rusl’s heart felt full looking at his son, content in his more furry form.

Hana woke and cried behind him so he turned to see Colin holding his sister and staring at Rusl, eyes that were usually full of emotion seemingly blank.

“Something wrong with Hana?”

“Why’s your hand red?” This was accompanied by a head tilt that cracked loudly in the suddenly silent house.

Rusl jerked around to look at the hand that had been going through Link’s Fur, only to see it coming back stained a sticky red. He looked down at where the blood had come from only to see Link on his side Blood gushing from a laceration, ears peeled back and eyes blown wide in fear.

Rusl dropped his sword (when did he grab it) and knelt in the sacred springs water, bile burning his throat as he gazed at what he’d done. The moon shone a full sickly red making the spring look like Rusl was in a pool of blood.

Link’s now Hylian face was almost submerged in the water as he cried, crawling as best he could to get away from Rusl, fear clear on his face. Rusl tried to reach out, but saw his sword flash in the moonlight (hadn’t he dropped it?) and Link’s shaking arms gave out on him, dropping him face first into the glistening red beneath him. Rusl moved to grab his boy, but as he went to touch the pale skin it turned to smoke, dissipating the way monsters would once they were vanquished.

Rusl shot up with a gasp, his heart racing. He looked around the clearing and started to get up so he could check on Link, before a hand the size of his torso applied an ever so gentle pressure keeping him from getting to his feet.

Rusl gazed upon the poised face of the Fierce Deity, and felt reality clicking back into place with each passing moment. He settled against the bedroll he’d been placed in with no further argument and saw the deity shift uncomfortably, clearly wanting to ask about what had happened in the cave, but unsure of his approach.

Abel interrupted the fidgeting with a water skin being shoved in Rusl’s face, while he refused to look him in the eye. Rusl felt hot shame creep up his back, he had no right to fall apart during a battle, even if the Fierce Deity needed little help with most battles. He had let the Yiga get away, all because he reacted so strongly to a twisted piece of metal.

Some blacksmith he was.

Abel came back with a roasted skewer of fowl and wild greens, and Rusl ate more to delay the inevitable conversation than out of any desire for food.

Eventually though, he had finished and Abel finally looked him in the eye, the glimmer of sympathy quickly drowned out by a cold displeasure, his face turning to stone before Rusl’s eyes. “Rusl, this can’t keep happening.” 

Rusl looked down, shame hot in his throat, choking any words he might have been able to say in his defense.

“I don't know what has been done to you in the past, but if you keep freezing up in battle it could get us killed.” Abel’s face looked as though he had bit into a lemon with his next words. “I know I haven't been very … open about my situation, but I almost lost my son to the Calamity and I refuse to let the Yiga kill him because you’re getting distracted. I can’t— won’t fail him like that again. I know that the lack of news about your son is hard, but—“

“They want to put a muzzle on my boy!” it gushed out of Rusl like blood from an open wound, hot fast despite the attempts to keep it all inside.

Instead of the shock or disgust Rusl was worried he would see after that exclamation, Abel’s face shifts from bafflement to outrage. “What do you mean?”

“What other news is there of your child, little Farmer?”

Fierce’s question made both of them pause, and Rusl felt heat rise to his face because this was a terrible way to tell them about his son’s gift but he’s already brought it up, and Abel was right about the secret hiding crippling their effectiveness. (the knowledge that Link almost died because Rusl hadn’t been trustworthy burned)

“My son is the one they are talking about when they complain about a Wolf.” 

Rusl closed his eyes despite knowing it would do nothing to stop reactions from the others and heard concerning choking noises from the direction of Abel.

"Oh. Is he cursed then?" Rusl's eyes opened to the sight of the Fierce Deity kneeling close to him. "If they are able to reacquire Link's gear he has a way to reverse such a fate." 

Rusl felt his jaw drop at the implication that Fierce's son had been in a similar position.

"Your son is… a wolf??" Abel questioned.

"Only sometimes." Rusl is considering putting his headband in his mouth at this point.

"And you didn't tell us about this sooner?"

"How exactly do I bring up that Link is a wolf sometimes, without sounding like my head is full of cuccoo feathers?"

Abel's mouth opens and closes several times before he thinks better of it and just shakes his head. 

Rusl begins to feel tension he hadn't even been aware of holding drop from his shoulders. Neither of the other Father's were truly angry, and in fact seemed more determined than ever to help make sure that all their sons were returned safely where they belonged.

Chapter Text

The building was vaguely familiar in an almost haunting way. Rusl had spent a fair amount of time in most parts of Hyrule, including its pilgrimage sites, so he was fairly convinced he'd seen this location before. Given the circumstances... well. This was a different Hyrule. It was possible that this wasn't the temple he was thinking of.

It certainly resonated with the other two, though.

The Fierce Deity stepped forward, his imposing figure towering over the rotting wooden pews, dirt scuffed up from the remains of the stone floor with each step. A massive statue that was unfamiliar to Rusl watched over all of them, pewter eyes somehow communicating with the strange man. Abel stood a few paces away, watching him.

"We should go," Abel slowly said, as if he were trying to be considerate but was just impatient enough to press.

The Fierce Deity quietly stood at the foot of the statue, suddenly looking so small. "This was the Temple of Time, wasn't it?"

Rusl blanched. He knew that temple. This ruined building was what was left of it?

Abel sighed, looking tired. "Once."

Fierce reached out, his hand brushing against the statue. Eventually he pulled his hand away towards his chest before letting it fall at his side.

"Are you okay?" Rusl asked, taking a step towards him.

"The mortality of your kind is... sometimes more distressing than other times," Fierce eventually answered. "I will be fine. Let's go."

Chapter Text

Rusl moved towards the camp that Abel had set up, with his chest light. Now that he wasn't trying to keep the fact Link was able to be a Wolf a secret, he felt as though he'd been carrying an Ordon goat on his shoulders and finally set it down.

Fierce was tearing a tree into more reasonably sized pieces for the fire. The tree looked like a large branch in the Deity's hands. Abel was grumbling about something while he worked on making rice balls. He felt a surge of gratitude that one person in the group knew how to make food that wasn't burnt or inedible.

He walked up to Abel and gave him a pat on shoulder while dropping the now full waterskin near him.

"Thanks for cooking every night. I'm glad that one of us can actually cook here"

Abel shot him a exasperated and maybe fond? look

Rusl continued moving before coming to stand in front of the warrior that towered over the group even while sitting.

"Guess that log's bark is worse than it's bite, huh?"

When the Deity furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, Rusl discovered his shoes were suddenly very interesting, with his left one still having a stain from standing too close to Link during a fight with a bokoblin.

the deity's expression cleared and Rusl saw a small soft smile on the usually impassive face.

Rusl was struck then by the fact that this was the first time he'd seen the being smile, small as the expression was. He decided that the deity should do it more often, and Abel could do with more smiles and less scowls himself.

Chapter Text

Despite the initial confusion and embarrassment at the start of their visit to this village, the trio of men had managed to obtain both valuable information and supplies. Abel had stocked up on weapons and food while Rusl had obtained information. Fierce had been wandering the village seemingly aimlessly, piquing the Ordonian's curiosity, but he didn't pester him over the matter. Every other time the deity emerged from an alley or shop a child would be following him, giggling and running around or asking questions.

After just two days, Abel had grown far too restless to remain, and Rusl had to agree with the man's anxieties - they couldn't afford to linger too long. Their boys were still missing.

As they exited the village, Rusl saw the Fierce Deity turning an item over in his hands. "Did you find something useful in the village?"

Fierce gazed at the item a moment longer. It was very small in his hands, oval shaped with what seemed to be some kind of mouth piece and holes carved into it. An instrument, then, Rusl surmised, though he wasn't familiar with it.

"An ocarina," Fierce explained. "My little hero has one. It is not this particular one - his is filled with magic. But it caught my eye nonetheless."

Rusl and Abel exchanged a look, the usually hardened knight softening his expression as he watched the deity walk ahead.

"Does he like to play it?" Abel asked.

"It has special enchantments to it," Fierce answered, his fingers brushing over the instrument. "There are certain songs he plays to accomplish tasks. But in his free time, he does like to play other tunes on it, though he is frightened of what might happen. I believe he often whistles instead if he is scared the instrument might do something."

Rusl furrowed his brow. "Why is he scared? What does his ocarina do with its magic?"

"He can manipulate things with it," the deity explained. "Matter, location, weather, time... they all bend to its notes. But only with certain songs. I think he is beginning to figure out it is an innocent instrument with regular tunes. I am glad for it. He likes to play."

This instrument certainly sounded powerful. Rusl marveled at the thought of it, but his attention was quickly diverted when a few bokoblins caught his eye.

A brief skirmish followed, with very little to show for it. There had barely been enough bokoblins for all the men to even fight. Fierce had eliminated three in one fell swoop, leaving just one straggler that Rusl picked off with his bow and arrow. Abel had huffed out a laugh, muttering something about wishing the deity had been around before, whatever before must have been. Rusl could only guess it was the war that had caused this mess.

As they set up camp, Abel made a quick meal for the group to eat, which they did in silence. Rusl stared up at the sky, lost in thought about his boy and wondering how he was doing. This wasn't... quite as terrifying as when the village children had all gone missing, but he still worried for Link. He didn't know what those red soldiers wanted, who they were, anything , really. Being trapped in a foreign Hyrule didn't make the matter much easier.

Still. At least he had companions.

The silence of the night was broken with gentle, mellow notes filling the air. Rusl turned to look beside him, where Fierce had started to play softly on the ocarina. He was surprised at how gently the mythical being played, what with his large stature and immense energy and power. The melody was simultaneously haunting and soothing, and somehow strangely familiar.

Rusl wasn't the most musically inclined, but he swore he'd heard this piece before. The tune played over and over in different gentle variations, embellishments highlighting certain parts before it slid back into the main melody. The deity didn't tire of playing, and Rusl didn't dare interrupt. The longer Fierce played, the more Rusl relaxed, a smile playing at his lips as he laid back against his travel pack. Between the crackling of the fire and the soothing melody, Rusl started to nod off before he had a chance to really ask anything, but in his mind he could hear the tune repeated in a different voice, breathy and quiet and deep, interrupted with little inhales in the nose, accompanied by the crickets of the forest at night.

Link. Link had hummed this tune before. He'd learned it on his adventure.

Rusl's smile lingered as he finally fell asleep, thinking of his boy.

Across the camp, Abel sat beneath a tree, a silent princess twirling aimlessly between his fingers. He stared off at nothing, the tune playing gently in his mind and heart, though he knew little of it. At first it had startled him and irked him - he hadn't wanted to attract nighttime beasts with noise. Nevertheless, given who was playing it, he wasn't likely to win the argument, nor did he really care to. If the deity wished to be reminded of his boy, he wasn't going to stop him. It wasn't as if any monster could be a threat to him.

The silent princess lost a petal as Abel rolled it roughly in his hand. His heart felt empty. He felt exhausted. The melody continued, and Abel sighed, leaning his head against the tree he sat under. Eventually, the silent princess stopped twirling aimlessly under anxious hands, glowing gently in the moonlight as Abel started to settle into an uneasy sleep.

The Song of Time continued to float in the air, heralding a bygone era, calling to heroes who were too far gone to hear. Eventually, the fierce deity stopped, glancing at his companions as they rested. Sighing, the deity rose to cover each man with a blanket, tucking a stray strand of Abel's hair behind his ear. Then the deity glanced up at the sky.

What a bizarre situation to be in , he thought to himself. He'd never been outside the mask for so long. He could hardly remember having time to spend with anyone. Were it not for the circumstances, he would be grateful for it. Instead, the ocarina felt cold in his hands, lifeless, like an empty reminder of who he should be with.

His hand brushed the scarf tied around his waist. At least one of his heroes was safe.

Slowly, the deity pulled the ocarina back to his lips and started to play once more.

Chapter Text

Rusl stared up at the stars, unable to fall asleep despite the warmth of the campfire, the food in his stomach, and the deity standing guard now that Rusl knew he required less sleep than a normal man. (he still made Fierce sleep at least a couple of hours a night, considering he hadn't known what a growling stomach meant.)

He looked at the sky and felt loneliness grip him. He missed Uli's gentle breath in his ear while sleeping on his soft bed. He missed tucking in Colin while they both gave a silent promise that they would both be there the next morning. He missed setting Hana in her cradle, with her chubby arms flopping aimlessly on the padding as she dreamed about whatever it was babies saw. and of course, he missed Link, his son who deserved every good thing he could give and more especially with what had almost.

Rusl's thoughts stopped in their tracks when familiar notes filled the air. It was a song he knew by heart because it was Epona's favorite and Link has a hard time saying no to her. As the song continued Rusl realized that what he was hearing ...

Was a Wolf's howl.

Hope bloomed in his chest, fast and bright. It chased out the dark thoughts he'd been thinking and filled him with the need to go to his son.

Before he could fully get out of bed, Abel was groaning and mumbling a compliant about the situation while the fierce deity tilted their head in his direction indicating they would follow Rusl's lead.

He was so glad that even though he was in a foreign land, with no resistance to ask for help that he had been lucky enough to have companions that were compassionate and brave. And despite his constant amazement that the Fierce Deity was able to keep a Hylian alive, his heart was in the right place

Rusl starting moving towards the song still ringing through the air, and he knew that he would find Link even if it wasn't tonight. He thanked the light spirits for the chance to hear his boys voice as he went.

Chapter Text

“Are you alright?”

Abel looked over to see the war god leaning on his knees, staring at Rusl who was laying on his back and staring at the sky.

“Yep, I’m fine, I’m just relaxing on the ground,” the blacksmith stated, laying on his hands casually. They had been walking in circles in this forest, trying to find a yiga rumored to be lurking around here. They knew the cultist was in this area, but for some reason they couldn’t find where specifically. After passing the same tree for the seventh time, Rusl simply laid down and stared at the sky. Abel took the initiative to see where they should go next that wouldn’t result in another circle, but the fierce deity seemed to be baffled by Rusl’s action.

“Are you injured?” He asked, and Rusl shook his head.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Do you need to be carried?”

“Nope, I just need a few minutes to rest my mind. Laying on the ground helps with that, you should try it sometime.”

The war god looked at Abel, his usual blank expression having a hint of confusion in it, and the man couldn’t help but grin at it. He gave the deity a shrug and turned back to the nature in front of him, trying to think of a route they hadn’t taken before, until his focus was broken by a very loud thud behind him. He spun around to see Rusl frantically getting on his knees, looking over the fierce deity who was now laying on his back.

“Sweet spirits above!” Rusl shouted, “are you alright?”

The fierce deity only gave him a look. “Yes, I am laying on the ground like you suggested. I am relaxing.”

“W-well, yes I did suggest for you to lay on the ground, but I didn’t mean for you to fall over!”

Abel couldn’t hold back the laugh as the two squabbled on. Rusl gave him a look, but he soon joined the laughter as well, rubbing his tired eyes and laying back down next to the war god.

“Oh goddesses,” he mumbled in between laughs, patting Fierce’s shoulder, “you are somethin’ else.”

The fierce deity looked over at him, then looked back at the sky, his milky white eyes seeming to focus in on the puffy clouds littered across the blue world. Rusl glanced over at Abel and patted at the spot next to him.

“Care to join us?”

Abel looked back behind him and gave a sigh, a smile tugging at his lips. “Ah, why not, I could use some ground time as well.”

Chapter Text

All leads had indicated that the Yiga hideout was in the desert, as it had been in the past. Abel shouldn't have been surprised, honestly.

The issue was that he didn't know exactly where the base was. But a group of warriors did .

Trust was nonexistent these days, in the years after the Calamity. Gerudo Town had managed to escape much of the damage, but it also was cut off from the rest of Hyrule as a result. The oasis was abandoned, only utilized by weary and lost travelers, but no Gerudo roamed the sands around it.

"So let's visit this town, then," Rusl commented after taking another swig out of his newly refilled water flask.

"We can't," Abel sighed, leaning against a rock and basking in the coolness of the shade. "The Gerudo is a matriarchal society. They don't let men inside their walls."

Rusl blinked. Blinked again. Bemused, he remarked, "Matriarchal doesn't mean sexist. Surely they'll let us in."

Abel bit the inside of his cheek. He'd made this explanation plenty of times to his men in the years past. "I don't think the Gerudo are necessarily sexist. They don't distrust or hate men. It's just their tradition - whatever the reason, only girls are born to Gerudo mothers. So they just... don't interact with men in their hometown. It's tradition at this point."

"Strange," Rusl muttered. "The Gerudo are... rare where I'm from, but their distrust was shared equally to all, no matter their sex. They just didn't like anyone who wasn't Gerudo."

Rusl's words reminded Abel that they had yet to address a rather glaring matter. Ever since they had raided the abandoned Yiga camp, Abel had been pondering the fact that the Hero of Hyrule who the Fierce Deity had been protecting was a different Hero from his son. The Hero of Time was a children's story, a tale of folklore so old that barely anything was known of it except that the Soul of the Hero had traveled across time to save multiple lands.

So little was known of the goddess' destined Hero that Abel had often questioned the validity of any of the stories. He'd had no reason to disbelieve them, but... there was little reason to believe them either.

At least until his boy had come to him holding that sword.

So if the Hero of Time was one of Links being pursued by the Yiga... that just led to so many questions . Firstly, how the hell had they managed to do this??

Secondly... what was Rusl's boy? A potential Hero who could turn into a wolf? Abel had never heard of Ordon, so perhaps this Link was different - not of the Soul of the Hero but a savior to his own land nonetheless?

And now, this talk of different Gerudo cultures. Not only were these Heroes real, they and their guardians were plucked from Hyrule's history and thrown here.

I wonder their opinions on the state of things , Abel thought bitterly. How utterly we failed to maintain what they'd fought for .

It was a good thing his son was in a coma. He knew Link wouldn't be able to stand the judgment from the other heroes, whether it was good or bad.

"Either way," Rusl said, rising and interrupting Abel's musings. "I'll scout ahead to see if we can figure anything out without talking to them."

"The desert is treacherous," Abel warned. "It's foolish to go alone."

"I've gone to plenty a dangerous place alone," Rusl reassured him with a smile. "I won't engage in anything foolish, don't worry. I'll be back before sunset. This is just reconnaissance."

Abel supposed another issue to ponder was how little Rusl spoke of his past when he was clearly more than a blacksmith who knew some sword skills, but now didn't seem the time to argue it. He'd seen the man hold his own in battle well enough. Sighing, he waved a dismissive hand, watching the Ordonian walk away.

Glancing back at the oasis, he saw Rusl converse with the Fierce Deity briefly before continuing. The deity stared at the water curiously.

Abel wandered over to him. "Is something wrong?"

"This heat is mildly draining," Fierce remarked, dipping a finger into the water.

"You're more than welcome to swim in it if that's what you're wondering," Abel said. "But people do use it as a water source as well, so I advise cleaning yourself first."

"It does seem ill advised to drink from water that people can swim in," Fierce noted, raising an eyebrow. "My greater concern is hydration."

Abel blinked. If he was worried about hydrating, then why didn't he just drink?

"How much water does one need?" Fierce asked. "I have noticed you're both drinking much more since our arrival. Is it a matter of body heat regulation?"

"Have you never been to the desert...?" Abel questioned in disbelief.

"I don't recall," Fierce answered mildly, voice growing quiet. "I believe once, in battle, I was utilized, but not long enough for it to be a great concern."

Ah. Right. The things this deity did and didn't seem to know... it made Abel have so many questions. First and foremost, how the hell he was still alive.

But secondly... utilized ?

"Drink more," Abel advised. "The body loses more water through sweating, and we all sweat more in the heat. Even you are."

"I noticed that much," Fierce replied with a chuckle, as if he were entertained at being taught something so simple. He dipped the flask given to him by Rusl into the oasis and began to drink.

Abel sighed, squinting against the sunlight. Link would certainly need more water if he was being held here. Or, well, had been held here. It seemed silly to go to the desert when their lead had been near Akkala, but... all Abel knew was that the Yiga stronghold was here, and they had all woken at the other side of Hyrule. They'd not had any luck finding any hints of their boys the entire journey here, so they had nothing else to go off.

After several hours of silence (Abel wasn't a particularly talkative man, and despite the deity's curiosity, he usually wouldn't speak unless prompted), Abel recognized Rusl's wavy silhouette in the distance.

The brightly colored handkerchief he was using to wipe his face was new.

"Did you have any success?" Fierce asked.

"Not really," Rusl answered. "However, I did figure out a way that we could get in to learn more."

"Is there a secret passage into the town?" Abel asked, curious. He had always wondered. He had always respected things that were forbidden, but that hadn't meant he wouldn't imagine ways of getting around it.

"Not from what I can tell," Rusl said. "But, with my plan, you could walk through the front door."

Abel found himself both curious and skeptical. He crossed his arms. "Really?"

Rusl held out the colorful handkerchief to him. Slowly taking it, Abel recognized that it was not, in fact, a handkerchief.

"The way the Gerudo dress lends itself to disguise," Rusl explained with a mischievous smile.

Abel held the veil at arm's length as if it would attack him. "You want. To do. What ."

"Well if they only let women in, we have to obtain information somehow ." Rusl shrugged. "You're smaller in build than me, and your hair's all grown out."

If looks could kill, Abel would have cut Rusl into pieces. "Absolutely not."

"What is it?" Fierce asked.

"He's suggesting I dress like a Gerudo woman to get into the town," Abel hissed. "The answer is no ."

Rusl furrowed his brow, clearly frustrated. "Put your pride aside, Abel. This is important ."

"Do you really think something like that would actually work?!" Abel motioned angrily towards the deity. "We might as well let him stroll into town in such attire for all the good it would do us!"

The Fierce Deity plucked the veil out of Abel's grip. "Will this allow one to look like a Gerudo woman?"

"Not necessarily," Rusl answered. "The point is that it will hide that he's a man."

"The veil will, but the rest is fairly apparent ," Abel snapped. "I'm missing a few key components, Rusl."

"Nothing we can't tweak a little," Rusl replied easily.

This was insane .

"What other attire did you bring?"

Abel turned to argue with the deity about the stupidity of this entire half-witted plan when he saw the mythical man trying to figure out how to put the veil on.

He can't be serious .

"Well," Rusl said slowly as he pulled out more clothes. "I did grab varying sizes. The Gerudo are far taller and broader than I expected, so their clothes might actually fit you better."

"Very well," Fierce said casually, finally settling the veil in the right place. He started stripping his armor without a care, and Abel thought he was going insane. Was this actually happening right now?! A war god was going to cross dress in whatever insane attire the Gerudo chose to wear and--

And--

You know what, to hell with it. Better him than me.

When the Fierce Deity had finished switching clothes, the other two stared at him. Rusl crossed his arms, examining the disguise carefully while Abel just felt his sanity continue to slip away. He wasn't sure he cared at this point. Perhaps he could at least find some entertainment from this?

No, no he couldn't. It was too stupid.

Count your blessings , he reminded himself. At least they actually believe you about the threat the Yiga present now. They believe you enough to even try this fool's errand.

The Fierce Deity, usually a foreboding sight in his pale blue tunic and silver armor, striking attention with the royal blue scarf tied around his waist, was instead adorned in fiery red, which emphasized the paleness of his exposed, muscular abdomen and shoulders. He wore loose, baggy pants and flat footed shoes, silver hair and eyes glittering against a red and gold veil.

"This is not going to work," Abel immediately commented. "He's too big."

Too big, too broad, too muscular . The women of Gerudo were strong enough to probably lift an entire guardian off its feet, but their muscles were still distinctly patterned differently. Women's shoulders were not so broad, nor chest and waist so box-like. Whether the Gerudo assumed he was one of theirs or Hylian, he would still look too masculine to play this part.

"They'll find out immediately," he continued, feeling his stomach churn at the thought that came next. Maybe I should do it... it would be more reasonable, but... no. This entire thing is idiotic. It'll never work.

Rusl, who had been foraging for something else in his bag, suddenly pulled out two hydromelons. "Here, put these in your top."

Fierce took the fruit without argument, and Abel stared, eyes widening. Well, Rusl was certainly committed .

"Giving him breasts isn't going to fix the obvious issue that he is a man ," he argued.

"Of course it'll help," Rusl replied. "He just has to... well..."

Rusl paused, staring at the deity as he fumbled to stuff the fruit in his top without them falling out and splattering on the ground.

"Play the part," Abel finished for him flatly.

Chapter Text

Well... it wasn't an immediate disaster.

Abel and Rusl hid behind a dune as they watched Fierce approach the guards, who exchanged... baffled looks from what Abel could tell.

"Hello, fellow women," the deity greeted.

Rusl choked back a cough.

"This is not going to work," Abel hissed, his own voice strained in a competition between secondhand embarrassment, horror, and losing it .

"Hey, it would've been better if you did it!" Rusl whisper back.

Over my dead body.

Surprisingly, the guards shuffled aside to allow him passage after a few confused glances.

Abel stared .

"Ha!" Rusl huffed in triumph. "I told you it would work."

"You didn't know it was going to work!" Abel accused, turning to glare at him.

Rusl ignored him. "Let's see if we can get closer. We can peek over the far wall a little bit."

Abel sighed heavily, dragging his feet through the sand as the pair practically crawled around the edge of the town before climbing the wall opposite of the entrance. Abel half wondered why they couldn't just enter that way, but he supposed in such a small area they were bound to be noticed.

The pair peered over.

It was immediately apparent which one was Fierce. He was simultaneously blending in and sticking out like a sore thumb. His silver hair caught the sunlight, and his towering, imposing figure managed to outshine the Gerudo. Every woman who passed paused and gave him a strange side eye, but no one outright said anything. For his part, Fierce was standing still, surveying the area.

Abel groaned, pounding his forehead against the wall. "He doesn't even know what to do ."

Rusl bit his lip, slowly climbing the wall and kneeling in the water that bordered the edge of the town. Abel hesitantly followed. Fierce immediately noticed of them with his superior eyesight. Rusl made little gestures, wiggling his fingers and mouthing words even Abel couldn't understand.

"What are you doing ?" he hissed. "He'll never know what you're trying to tell him!"

Fierce nodded, walking slowly around the town.

"He's doing quite well for his first espionage mission," Rusl commented with a chuckle.

Abel groaned. "You're insane."

"Oh, Abel, you should lighten up. There are many ways to achieve a goal, it's not all about the sword."

"I'm aware of that."

The deity finally started to talk to women, disappearing in and out of the men's sight. Abel sighed, rubbing his face as he felt it steadily burning. Between the bright rays and the reflection from the water, he'd rival a Hylian tomato by the end of the day.

"Hopefully he can get some legitimate leads," Rusl muttered. "The sooner we can find the boys, the better."

Abel wanted to face plant into the water with the heat as bad as it was. Instead, he splashed a little on his face. "Yes, well, you're forgetting something very important."

"What?"

"Our esteemed deity is a war god with no idea how mortals function. He's probably going to ask them how they braid their hair."

"Come now, don't disrespect him like that. He's not an idiot."

"I didn't say he was an idiot. On the contrary, he's very curious. That's the problem."

"He'll focus."

Abel hummed, immediately thinking of his wife, Tilieth. Rusl clearly wasn't used to the mischief an inquisitive mind could stir up. Not to mention the deity wasn't exactly subtle . He was certain the deity's concern for his own Link would drive him forward, but he was likely to get distracted as well.

Assuming he could even keep the act up.

"A voe has been spotted! Up there!!"

Abel and Rusl both jolted, eyes wide as they looked down to see guards running their way with spears in hand.

"Time to go!" Rusl said quickly as the pair leapt over the wall back into the sand and scurried away.

Hours later as the sun cast long shadows and brought a chill to the air around the oasis, Abel paced anxiously until he and Rusl both caught sight of their companion's return.

"What did you learn?" Rusl immediately asked.

Fierce pulled the veil and top off, clearly having grown uncomfortable in it, and headed for his armor. "Mating customs are strange."

Abel immediately burst into laughter, vindicated. He honestly hadn't expected anything else. The day was wasted, but he supposed he could get what entertainment was available from it. Even he hadn't expected that to be the first thing out of the deity's mouth.

Rusl frowned. "What...?"

"Did Uli, your wife, assert her dominance to you, or is that a Gerudo custom?"

Abel's amusement multiplied tenfold, and he wheezed as he doubled over. Rusl stared at the deity in horror.

"I seem to recall you both spoke of varying mating customs in that village, after all."

Rusl immediately face palmed. "This... those are not the details you were supposed to be investigating."

"Fear not," Fierce continued, slipping on his trousers and under tunic. "I also learned the location of the Yiga hideout. One of the women reported having seen two boys and a wolf as well."

Abel and Rusl snapped to attention, earlier amusement forgotten.

"The Gerudo claim that the hideout was set on fire," Fierce explained. "They investigated it and discovered our heroes. My little hero apparently did not let them near him or his companions, but they were all alive as of one week ago."

One week. A million things could happen in that span of time. Link could have died in that time.

"Does anyone know where they went?" he asked breathlessly.

"The guards tracked them for a few days until they left the desert."

"They left the desert a week ago?" Rusl repeated. "That... so we must have--"

The Ordonian let out a strangled, frustrated groan, turning away as he shook his head. Abel felt similarly. They'd just missed them.

He wondered if the encampment near Akkala had been a more recent lead, after all. Then again, it had taken them a week to get here.

"We need to leave," he said. "The coolness of the night will be good to travel through in the desert."

The other two didn't argue. Rusl was growing frustrated and concerned at how long it had been. Abel was panicking at his son's condition. The three set out within minutes, determination set on stony faces.

Hylia... I... haven't prayed lately, I know, but... please...

Protect him. Protect... protect them all.

Chapter Text

Rusl glanced at Abel as the latter set up a fire for the night. When the Fierce Deity walked up beside him, the Ordonian could sense the mythical being’s eyes on him.

“It’s Abel,” Rusl said quietly. “I don’t think he’s sleeping.”

“Perhaps his increased irritability gave it away,” Fierce intoned with just enough sincerity to almost make Rusl think he was being genuine. When he shot the deity a quizzical look, Fierce flicked his eyebrows with enough sass that it made the resistance member laugh.

“Look at you, knowing what sarcasm is,” Rusl chuckled. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“There usually seems to be enough coming from our knight to make up for it,” Fierce sighed. “I must admit, though, he does seem far more exhausted.”

“I doubt he’s been sleeping well,” Rusl noted, crossing his arms. “You’ve been keeping watch, has he been sleeping?”

“On and off,” Fierce answered. “It’s unclear if that’s his usual habit. I didn’t comment on it before as a result.”

“Exactly how much sleep do you think mortals need?” Rusl asked, finally curious enough to push the matter.

“Based on the little hero, around four hours.” The deity watched Rusl’s expression shift, and the reaction made him almost nervous as he fidgeted in place. “Is that incorrect?”

“We usually need seven to eight,” Rusl corrected. “Children usually need more. Your boy only sleeps four at a time?”

Fierce’s eyes narrowed as he turned his head slightly, seeming to be looking at nothing. “I knew that child was doing it wrong.”

“More to the point, is that how much Abel is sleeping?” Rusl pressed. They could address the other issue later.

“Oh no,” Fierce answered easily. “Far less than that.”

Rusl groaned, rubbing his forehead as a headache developed. “Well we have to make him sleep someho—Fierce, wait!”

The deity didn’t listen, picking Abel up by his tunic as the man spluttered in protest.

“What are you—”

“It’s time for you to rest.”

“Put me down—”

Rusl sighed heavily. This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

They were following fast on the trail of a group of Yiga, almost where they could touch them, Abel was positive. If they could capture just one, then he felt sure they could finally get some straight answers about where to find Abel’s son, along with the others. They moved down a slope lined with colored rocks with a dip in the middle of the path from the many feet that had trodden it in times past. The Yiga scum slipped into a small opening between great wooden doors that had seen much better days. Peeling paint and chipped carvings aside, the doors were magnificent in scale and in lovingly rendered carvings of something Abel didn’t pay attention to as the Fierce Deity nearly threw the doors off their hinges in his haste to enter the space.

They finally cornered the Yiga against a wall only to hear dreaded giggles of the sort that were part of Abel’s nightmares. He could have sworn he saw one of the blasted traitors wink at him through the mask before the air was filled with dark, sickly sweet smoke and mocking laughter. He felt air move on his back and he whirled around, squinting through the thick smoke trying desperately to get a hit on one of them.

The air finally cleared enough to see more than the sword in front of his body. Abel felt a familiar bitterness well up as the great wooden doors slammed shut with finality. He had a feeling that there would be no getting out that way, even with the Fierce Deity’s absurd strength. 

“Well, that didn't work out,” Rusl said with a scowl on his face.

Fierce simply turned away from the door, sheathing his huge blade as he did so. He inhaled very loudly and held it for what would have been a concerningly long time for a mortal, then let it all out in one annoyed exhale through his nose making Abel’s heart jump even as he had kept an eye on the deity.

“I sense a great darkness further in this building and it grows, even now… My little one would feel obligated to clear the place, to protect the land from whatever may emerge from the depths. I suggest we do the same in their places.” Abel could’ve sworn he saw the shadow of a smirk on the deity's face, but a blink later and it was as impassive as ever. “Besides, the items sealed in such places are often very helpful.”

Abel raised one exasperated eyebrow. They didn’t have time to clear some forgotten ruin of monsters! They already dealt with far too many just trying to get to the next town, the next clue to where Link (and the other Links) could be. He turned to Rusl for help and found him lighting a torch, already moving to follow Fierce further into the foreboding dark. Abel felt a headache start behind his eyes as he went to follow, hating that Fierce was right and knowing that the kind of man he’d been before the calamity wouldn’t have thought twice about trying to help.

The group started down crisp, sharp stairs which after a couple dozen steps turned a perfect 90 degrees to the right. Then again and again and –

Abel was right back in front of the giant wooden doors. 

He groaned in frustration because he had heard tales of people getting lost in seemingly simple dungeons and dying. He didn't have time for that!

He finally took his hands from his face only to see Rusl standing uncomfortably close to the edge, stone held in hand. Before Abel could ask how it would help, Rusl dropped the stone straight down.

Abel felt something hit his arm. He turned to the threat, drawing his sword as he did so, only to see –

The stone?

Rusl grinned at him and Fierce, then confidently walked off the side.

When no sound of Rusl’s body hitting the stone far below came, Abel began frantically looking for his brave but far too reckless –  

A whistle broke his thoughts and pulled his attention to a wall on the side of the stairs beneath him, where Rusl stood casually, as though he wasn’t defying the laws of physics and oh look, Fierce was joining him.

Abel brought a hand to his nose and tried not to scream; no wonder dungeons were so deadly if this was the kind of thing required to even get to the next door. Abel let all the air inside him out in a huge, disapproving sigh before following his companions, since he wasn’t going to let common sense of all things get him killed.

It quickly became apparent that nothing in this dungeon was as it seemed at first glance. Normal doors when approached turned out to simply be startlingly realistic paintings, the actual doors being cleverly hidden until you were at just the right angle, or needing to do things like leap across a series of poles to reach the ledge containing them.

Upon reaching the first such door, Abel leaned his head against the smooth wood to catch his breath and wait for his heartbeat to slow, after all Tilieth was the one with the paraglider and he did not want to end up as a hylian pancake on the floor. He looked back just in time to see Fierce take a couple steps back, run at the wall and scramble up it smoothly in his armor, grabbing the ledge in one hand and pulling himself up with ease. Abel swallowed the hot envy in his mouth and went to open the door –

Locked

Why was it locked? Fierce seemed unsurprised, as did Rusl from where he perched a pillar way, since there wasn’t room for all three of them in the doorway at once.

“The key must be elsewhere,” Fierce said, nodding as though this was expected.

He simply lowered himself and dropped the remaining 15 feet with no problem. Abel’s knees groaned at the thought of having to cross those stupid pillars even once more, much less twice more just to make it back to this door which was most certainly not the end of the dungeon from the few bits of conversation Rusl and Fierce had shared on the subject.

“Hey Fierce, could you catch me?”

“Of course, little Farmer. It would be more efficient than crossing the pillars, in fact.”

So of course Rusl jumped down, Fierce jumped up and… huh, that actually looked way more comfortable than Abel had imagined.

Fierce turned in his direction and raised one perfectly sculpted brow in silent question. Abel was grateful he didn’t have to answer out loud as he closed his eyes and took one small step over the ledge. Despite the armor the deity wore, his arms were gentle as he cushioned Abel’s fall, and within minutes he found himself set back on solid ground.

With that done, Fierce turned and began walking a direction they hadn’t gone yet. They found some red bokoblins camped around a fire soon enough and Abel almost relished something simple to do. Once they were defeated the group moved on, coming to a strange, smooth, curved wall.

Rusl’s torch flickered and in the corner of his eye Abel spotted scratches. He approached and based on the regularity and uniformity he felt sure it was writing! 

Writing he couldn’t read.

“Can either of you read this? Since we all apparently have different writing maybe it’s one of yours?”

Abel couldn’t help the hopeful note that crept into the end of his voice. He may not be a soldier anymore, but he still craved the easily understood nature of it. Stand here, fight these monsters, try not to claw your eyes out over this paperwork. He was starting to be more impressed with the others’ sons if they had had to deal with things like this on a regular basis.

The others shook their heads and Abel felt his heart sink a little, but then Fierce tilted his head, walked up to the wall and raised his arms, the tops of which easily cleared the wall. Rusl came over quickly and Fierce lifted him to the top of the wall, then turned to Abel, grabbing him in an embrace with hands that nearly wrapped around his entire torso and lifting him up to join Rusl on the top of the wall.

Abel looked around and from this angle was able to see that the wall was entirely flat, save for a few areas that bulged out. He looked to Rusl who grinned at them.

“Looks like we just avoided a whole puzzle with Fierce’s height. Guess they didn’t expect anyone eight feet tall to come here.”

Fierce jumped the wall and helped them down from the other side without a word. Abel was starting to feel as though he wasn’t pulling his own weight with this whole dungeon exploring thing. Rusl had figured out that the whole dungeon didn’t follow the rules of physics as he knew them, while Fierce had been making what were surely meant to be dangerous and difficult obstacles seem like child’s play. Before he could back down Abel mumbled out a thanks, and felt his heart sink a little bit at the way Fierce’s eyes widened minutely at the words.

Finally looking forward, Abel wanted to throw his hands over his eyes at the sight. In front of them was a stairway stretching as far as the eyes could see in stark black and white, somehow seeming to go both up and down at the same time, almost looking as though someone had taken a chessboard, broken it into the individual squares, and then put them back together in the most confusing manner possible.

They moved until they were almost to the staircase and objects dropped from the ceiling! One black, one white and one half and half. Abel ignored them and went to put a foot on the stairs? If that’s what they were, but felt as though he had been doused in ice water when his foot went through the square. He pulled it out quickly as though it had been burned and fell from the sudden change in momentum.

Rusl looked at him, looked at the stones? Boulders? Things that were round and large enough Abel would have to use 2 hands to hold them properly. Then his eyes lit up. He grabbed the white one and stepped confidently onto the white square next to Abel. When Rusl didn’t fall through, Abel realized the colors weren’t just there to mock his eyes, but to make even moving on this strange staircase a puzzle of its own. He picked up the black stone and felt its weight heavy, but not so much that he would tire quickly. Fierce of course picked up the swirled stone in one hand while holding his sword in the other, and they all began to move on their designated squares. Rusl’s took him up, Abel’s took him down, and Fierce’s went sideways … for some reason.

Abel felt nervous separating from the others for any reason inside something as dangerous as a dungeon. He got to the bottom of the long walk and saw black on his left, with white to the other directions he turned; so he held his head high and walked straight through what looked like a solid wall to find himself in a room with water running down open archways on all sides, bright starlike lights wavering beyond the water and beautiful cerulean fishlike creatures swirling and occasionally blocking out the light. 

He looked down and felt his stomach roll at the deep depths yawning beneath him, the only thing keeping him aloft being the water flowing around his boots and into the ledge of the open arch he was standing in the middle of. He moved without thinking, getting onto the solid stone making up the rest of the room not dominated by waterfall filled arches. His back hit something and when he turned there were four statues, one a bird with open wings, one a lizard sunning itself on a rock, one a horse-like creature with lumps on its back. Then the last statue, so intimately familiar Abel’s heart hurt looking at it, for it looked like Mipha’s divine beast, which he believed the girl had once said was based off of something called an elephant.

He walked around the room trying to take in every detail and figure out what the trick was, trying not to think about how he was able to feel the cool trickling water under his boots and what appeared to be open space should he fall through.

His neck hurt from looking down so much, and Abel stretched it back as far as he could comfortably go, relishing in the relief it brought him before opening his eyes and immediately feeling stupid.

There was a bright shiny chest on the ‘ceiling’ in plain sight, and it probably held something that he very much needed to get out of here. Abel walked over to one corner made of good solid stone and put his foot on the wall wanting to see if he could walk up the side. He lifted his other foot –

And his back hit the ground, a long low groan being drawn out of him at the pain. He was never a thinker, it had never been his strong suit, but he was going to have to figure it out if he wanted to get his son and wife back, or ever leave the dungeon for that matter. Rubbing his likely bruised backside he got up and shook out his arms, now that they weren’t holding the weight of the stone –

Wait, where had it gone?

He looked and saw it had rolled just out of reach on the water he’d been standing on moments before. Moving a boot off the stone and into the water it went through, and Abel breathed out an annoyed sigh.

Great, now he was confined to the stone ledges on the edges of the room since he didn’t want to find out just how endless the space below was and he didn’t have a way to reach the stone yet. He got up and seeing as his hand was able to pass through the water of the arch he was next to very easily, Abel decided to lean on the stone and stick his head out, to see just how distorted the space beyond had been by the water.

The outside looked like piles and piles of deep indigo velvet layered on something, soft and luxurious and almost calling to be touched, though he knew that it was too far away if it was even something that could be touched. Studded along the background were dots of pure white light shaped like tears. What Abel had first thought to be fish now appeared to be whales in a deep blue at their center, lightening as they went out, with delicate porcelain white patterns scattered along their surface as they swam peacefully in the velvet skies. The one he was watching moved enough to reveal the area and Abel sucked in a breath.

He knew that symbol in the not sky, everyone did; it was the one that had been stitched into the champion blue cloth for Revali. Abel quickly pulled his head back through the water, heedless of how much splashed everywhere. And he looked –

There

In the farther left corner from where he currently stood was the bird statue. Abel looked out the arch to his right and squinted, seeing the lizard of Daruk studded in the sky. He moved to the nearest statue, which was the lizard curled on the rock, and started pushing with his whole body, gritting his teeth against the awful grinding noise made by the statue's movement. After continuing for some time and turning the corner he felt the statue click into place, and for a moment he wanted to jump in the air! He’d figured out some strange part of this all on his own, but then he remembered the other three statues and winced.

He cracked his knuckles and got to work. Eventually, when the last statue (Mipha’s) was pushed into place, after the light click there was a loud thonck as the Chest fell to the ‘floor.’ Abel sighed, wondering just how he was going to get out there, before realizing that now the archways appeared to have been filled in with translucent glass. He almost lamented the beauty lost before testing the sturdiness and going to open the Chest. Inside was a silver key along with a purple rupee, which he was glad to see because now that he was visiting towns more often, money was something he had more need of.

Abel stuffed the key in his pocket, grabbed the stone, and found the area of the wall not as solid as it appeared to go back and hopefully meet with his companions. When he got back to the place the stones had first dropped, he blinked at the pedestals that were definitely not there before . They appeared as though they had simply grown out of the stone Abel stood on, with no joints or lines to separate them at all. As he watched, a third pedestal bloomed in front of him to make three, and Abel got a feeling that the stones they had just used were meant to be returned here.

Rusl called out to him and Abel turned to greet him, only to begin laughing when he saw that Rusl’s clothes and hair were covered in splashes of various colors, all bright, none matching, and with his headband hanging askew on his head, nearly covering one eye. Coming from the opposite direction of where he had disappeared earlier was Fierce, whose boots were once more bloodstained, though it was such a usual sight it took Abel a minute to realize most was fresh. 

They showed the things they had gathered in their individual rooms. Rusl had gotten quite a few rupees, Abel had his key and Fierce had a key for the dungeon. They put their stones into the pillars and watched as they receded smoothly into the floor. Behind them the strange stairway was disappearing, step by step, until a rather small door was left revealed. 

Abel frowned at it. So far everything in the dungeon had been spacious, to the point Fierce didn't have to duck his head to enter doorways, but this door was so short that even Abel, shortest of the group, would need to crouch to enter. He grimaced at how much his back would hurt from just this room and moved forward. He went to put his key in the lock and Rusl put his hand on the door. Abel looked over and raised an eyebrow in question, far too tired for words already.

“We’ve been in here a while now, I think before we head in there some food might be a good idea.”

Abel wanted to get this over with and leave , but he saw the sense in Rusl’s suggestion and was also the only one of the group who could cook anything decent. Fierce made sense, but how Rusl managed to char a sandwich? Abel didn’t want to know.

They sat on the smooth, cold floor. Abel took some of the leftover rice from the night before and began shaping it, adding salt, pepper and some Hyrule herb as he went to make rice balls. He made sure to make ones too large for one hand so that Fierce would have an easier time holding them. He grumbled about others who were no good at cooking for themselves while Rusl sliced a few apples, but felt his chest warm when both Rusl and Fierce hummed appreciatively at the rice balls along with the apple slices.

When that was finished, Abel took several long drinks from his skin, swishing the water around inside to dislodge any random food bits and trying to decide how much to ration should they be stuck in this dungeon for days.

Then he got up, rolled his neck and marched forward. Immediately upon entering the small room he saw a river rushing along inside a built stone bed, with pillars holding up the impossibly zigzagging structure. Abel mourned his briefly dry self before stepping into the cool water, since the ledges on the edge of the bed were quite thin and he didn’t want to test his balance. Then he realized the bed sloped downward, like an artificial hill in all the zigging and zagging, yet the water ran up? He turned to investigate and followed the flow of the water, feeling like that was the closest thing to a clue he’d encountered thus far.

Eventually he got to the top where the water arced beautifully off the stone as it was released to a water wheel? A water wheel that somehow held the water as it went upside down and deposited the water back at the bottom to move up again.

Looking closer at the water wheel, Abel could see that it was guarded by a group of fish with extremely sharp teeth and that something was glinting at him from in between slats in the wheel.

It was times like these that Abel really missed the infinite bomb capacity of the sheikah slate. Instead he looked inside his bag, rooting through to see what useful items he –

Aha! He pulled out a spear triumphantly, then thought better of it and pulled out some rope as well.

After securing the spear with rope, he threw it towards the bottom; it did not reach. So Abel trudged down a few levels, ignoring how his head hurt when he looked too closely at the nonsensical architecture. He threw his spear once more and hit a couple of the fish head on, confirming they were monsters with the puffs of smoke they emitted upon death.

With that out of the way, it was simply a matter of getting more accurate in his throws the less fish there were to hit. When the area was cleared the water changed direction, and Abel was swept off his feet, unprepared for the change as he slid down the slope.

His arm jolted uncomfortably in its socket as the spear clenched in his hands caught on what felt like every corner and his legs hit walls before he could turn. Eventually he was deposited into a body of water, and once he got his head above water he saw the water wheel.

Alright then.

He swam over to it and saw that there was now a solid stone platform he could climb on next to it. It put him at just the right height to grab the strange object in the middle. There was a delicate sphere that looked like it was made from metal spidersilk surrounding a triangle that didn't make sense. The triangle was made of a thin square piece of metal twisted upon itself in a way that just didn't work, yet here it was in front of Abel.

He twisted the sphere to get a better look at the triangle, where the blue side had been down, and once the red side was down there was the door in front of him.

Abel blinked and looked behind him. The room he'd just been in was still there, but now he didn't have to go all the way back up the stone banks, so he shrugged, put the triangle sphere in his pocket, and moved on.

He exited back to the now smooth room. Rusl was busy organizing arrows while Fierce watched on with interest. Rusl jumped a little when he noticed Abel. 

“That was quick, thought you’d be in there longer!”

Abel didn’t take offense to the statement, though he felt like he’d spent a long time spearing the fish; guess he lost track of time in doing so.

After Rusl had put all the good arrows back in his quiver they continued on, going back to the door by the pillars, though having Fierce lift them up and hand them the key was far easier on Abel’s joints than the alternative.

Rusl turned the key this time and they both pushed open the door, waiting inside for Fierce to lift himself and join them. Once he crossed the threshold the door slammed closed behind them and Iron bars slammed down over both the set behind them and the one in front, trapping them inside. 

Then the room rumbled and a paper crane fell on the floor? Abel furrowed his brow and went to pick it up, but at that moment a wave of paper cranes swooped down, seemingly of their own accord, all moving in one great rush to form some sort of giant creature. The thing roared at them and Abel couldn’t help wondering a little hysterically if this was one of the fabled dungeon monsters, something so dangerous it had been confined to this place for who knows how long.

Abel readied his sword, feeling like the steel in his hand was woefully inadequate for the task before him, but prepared to fight with all his might –

Then Fierce almost lazily unsheathed his giant sword, slicing it across the air nowhere near the monster shifting towards them, and Abel watched with something like disbelief as a beam of light was emitted, moving unerringly towards the monster and burning the cranes it came into contact with. They were packed so closely together to make the creature that they were all ashes in moments.

Wait, something was still moving! Abel turned and almost felt pity at the sight of a lone crane, charred on one wing, pathetically shuffling along the floor trying to get away from them. Fierce walked over and set one large boot on the thing, slowly grinding it underfoot with an expression of boredom, like this was beneath him. Abel felt ice in his veins at the reminder of the terrible power the deity wielded so casually.

The bars slid up from where they came and a loud click was heard as the doors unlocked. Rusl ran up to Fierce and clapped him on the back, grinning at him, and Fierce seemed happy? Pleased? Less bored at least with Rusl asking about the sword beam and thanking Fierce for taking care of the thing.

Abel shook his head to try and clear it of such gloomy thoughts, sheathing his sword for the moment and following the others out of the doorway. They came out on what appeared to be a pair of giant hands, where they stepped out on the cupped palms of the hands, with the fingers coming up to act as a guard from falling. On the wall opposite them were notes? And under each note was an illustration of the hands with a finger raised, to make a total of 8 different images. But why!

Fierce made a little noise, one that sounded almost delighted? And pulled out a lump, with holes. He blew into the spout? And a note came out, smooth and windy sounding, though the grind of stone behind him quickly distracted Abel. The index finger on the right hand had lowered with the note, but when Fierce went to play a different one the first snapped back into place with a loud crack that made both Abel and Rusl jump. Fierce hummed and and played some more notes in varying orders, managing to find 2 that when played sequentially, kept both fingers down.

“This method is inefficient, there must be a clue elsewhere in this room that we can access to get the correct order of notes.” 

 Abel and Rusl both did their best to see what else may be in the room. It was Rusl who leaned around the hands and noticed the nails were painted in different shades. This made the fact that the illustrations on the other wall were colored more significant, though it didn’t help them know what order to play in. Abel, tired of staring down a seemingly endless abyss turned back to maybe see if they had missed something previously and noticed the door they came through was outlined in a rainbow of color. The rainbow was off, because it wasn’t in the right order! 

“Fierce! The colors around the door must be what order to play in!”

Fierce nodded, and immediately began playing from the innermost to outermost color. When he did, an object appeared in the middle of the room, another chest, joy.

Fierce then played from outer colors in, and once the simple melody was finished, the hands now flat underneath them jolted and began moving towards the far side. They stopped at the platform (held by nothing as far as Abel could tell), opened the chest and pulled out a map and compass? Fierce gasped and seemed happy to hold onto the items, Abel didn’t understand why you would need to solve a puzzle in the middle of a dungeon to get the map.

Chapter Text

They entered the next room and Abel had to close his eyes against the crime against architecture. There were pillars everywhere, going every which way, colliding smoothly before splitting gracefully like carved tree branches. It was horrible to look at, especially with the red, green, and blue intermingling with no rhyme or reason.

Wait… red, blue and green? Abel pulled out the triangle held within the delicate looking metal orb and held it out squinting.

“Well? The colors match up pretty well at least?” Rusl gave him an encouraging grin. Abel huffed at him, how helpful .

He turned the sphere and watched as the whole room, multiple large intersections as well as free floating pillars, moved–or at least the red ones did, which was the color the triangle inside now had facing downwards. Abel rubbed the spot where his growing headache was worst and walked onto the now conveniently placed pillar, walking up the somewhat steep incline until he got to the end, where he had to jump to another pillar. His foot slipped upon landing and Abel scrambled not to fall off the cylindrical object.

Heart pounding and feeling cold sweat run down his neck, Abel sat in place for a few precious minutes squeezing his eyes shut against the drop so long that it simply faded to black below him, with no end visible in sight. Rusl was calling something worriedly to him, and even Fierce’s loud rumble joined in, but Abel stood up and ran up the rest of the pillar.

Rusl and Fierce joined him on the now rather tight platform and upon realizing that there were many different nooks hidden around the room, had Abel stand in the middle and turn the triangle to whatever side was needed to get to the next platform for his companions. Abel was grateful they said nothing about him falling on the very first pillar, but by Rusl’s pat on the back he was sure they had noticed.

After far too much spinning of the room and a lot of backtracking that Abel was glad not to participate in they were finally able to leave the room with more rupees, arrows, and knowledge that the ‘twister,’ as Rusl had named it, was able to not just change orientation of things, but moved space as a whole. Abel was already planning on how they could use it to get to Link.

The next room was filled with lizalfos and easily taken care of by the trio; they didn’t even have anything besides pots to camouflage with! Once they were defeated, the hallway split in two directions. They took one and opened the door to many moving platforms that, after watching for a while, emerged a pattern. Rusl went across and came back with bombs and a smear of blood on his cheek, telling them there had been a Deku baba on the other side. The living, biting plant he described made Abel shiver, trying to imagine having to watch the very plants around them for attacks taluses were bad enough as it was.

They went back through the split and found the door needed a key, which they quickly inserted. The room opened up, yawning wide, and on the other side was an enormous staircase. Only problem was, the staircase seemed to start melting only a short distance from the top. The first steps to be affected looked like chocolate that had been left in the sun on a hot summer day and then moved somewhere cool and dark to resolidify. Then they distorted step by step until the last clinging drips of stone stair led the eye towards the ground where a pile of what was likely once the rest of the stairs sat, utterly unrecognizable.

Why? Who would build stairs on such a grand scale only to then destroy them in such a strange manner? It made no sense to Abel. The shrines were bad enough, and those had the explicit purpose of training the hero for trials ahead.

Before he could think much more on it, skeletal hands pushed themselves out of previously unnoticed alcoves and revealed stals which attacked them in droves. Fierce took one side and Rusl and Abel took the other. Soon they discovered that those bombs were needed to keep the stals from simply reforming once defeated, though when Abel glanced over it seemed Fierce had no such trouble, figures .

After cleaning his sword and sheathing it for the time being, Abel began to explore the room. He hoped this one would have obvious clues, his head still ached from the pillar room. Eventually he realized there was a triangle motif cut into the ground reflecting the one he held in one hand, with a seed on one side, a healthy looking tree on another, and a stump on the third. He looked at the images and tried to figure out what in the world they meant!

Abel decided to simply turn the triangle blue side down to see what happened. He noted that like the other times he held the object, sides only seemed to shift when intent was involved, or else he’d have likely been flung off into the abyss when he slipped on the pillar earlier. So caught up in these thoughts he nearly missed the stairs moving, though not in a way he wanted. The stairs now dripped like melting snow rather than staying solid.

When he turned the red side to be down, the stairs flowed in reverse. It was almost beautiful to watch and see how they constructed themselves before him, looking as solid as any stone structure he’d known once every grain was in place. There was a click and Abel, remembering how the other stairs here had treated him, gingerly put one foot on the bottom step, hoping it wouldn’t be soft as sand to step on. To his relief it was solid, and together the group ventured up.

As it turned out the stairs continued beyond what they had been able to see from the floor below, though once they got out of the lighting from the last room, an alarming amount of webs started appearing, and they grew in size the further they went up. Rusl was happy enough to use an iron lantern to burn away the webs, but Abel couldn’t help shivering at how large a spider would have to be in order to make a web so thick.

He noted idly how even the webs were twisted by the dungeon, being circular, swirling things with twists and folds that hurt to look at too long instead of the normal patterns of sagging boxes Abel was used to seeing. He shuddered at the implications that any being within a dungeon long enough was changed by it, and felt his desire to leave increase to a painful degree, making his skin buzz uncomfortably.

They got to the top and torches lit up upon them stepping foot on the floor. Abel took two steps forward, felt something drip onto his head, and had the sudden overwhelming feeling that he was about to be attacked. Before he had finished turning around, Fierce had pushed him out of the way and a simply enormous spider was skewered on his sword. Abel shuddered but saw webs on the edges of his vision vibrating, so he stood up to defend against the beasts three men tall and very, very angry at being disturbed. Abel slashed and stabbed but his sword continued to bounce off the hard carapace of the thing.

“You have to hit them underneath! It’s the only place they’re soft!”

With that, Abel was finally getting in hits that pierced and caused sticky fluid to come out, until finally the spider could no longer hold itself up and he managed to decapitate it, watching its legs curl up so that he was sure it wouldn’t get back up for another round.

He fought another with Fierce, finding it almost laughably easy when the Deity simply flipped the thing over and stabbed into the floor before backflipping off with as much ease as he did anything.

When the last of the spiders was vanquished, a chest appeared in a burst of life, this one noticeably bigger than the other and decorated with horns at its corners. Fierce lit up, his eyes glowing brighter in his visible excitement as he went to the chest, pulling it open and presenting a much larger key than the ones found previously, the blackened metal twisting sharply around what appeared to be a ruby, managing to look both dangerous and wasteful at the same time.

Abel was not impressed.

Regardless, Fierce pocketed the key and they moved to the next room, which was empty. Immediately Abel looked up, wary of attacks from above after the last room. He found nothing. The room was almost painfully plain after the sheer obnoxiousness or feigned grandeur the others had offered, with only some plain ceramic pots in each corner to prevent it being entirely empty. That and the multitude of giant chains on the door, leading to a centralized lock that only Fierce could comfortably reach.

With a lack of anything better to do, Abel began looking in all the pots one by one. The first held a green rupee, which he grabbed and put in his pouch carefully. Pottery this old should be preserved after all, and he wouldn’t put it past the dungeon to have something horrible happen if one were broken. In the third group of pots he checked he found a fairy, napping at the bottom of the thing!

Abel dug around in his pack and found a spare bottle from something or other. He went to scoop up the fairy and hesitated. He knew it would be so helpful to have one, but could he really trap such a creature? He thought of Link’s scars that covered far, far too much of his boy, he thought of Tilieth’s absolutely gorgeous smile, and before he could second guess himself the fairy was bottled and being shoved inside his pack where he didn’t have to look at it.

Once all the pots had been checked, Rusl suggested they rest before going to the next room. Abel’s aching bones and head agreed, so he spent some time with his cloak over his eyes just breathing. Rusl came over and pushed him to sit. Abel grumbled minimally before–

Oh sweet Hylia , that felt amazing, no wonder he had a headache when his neck was so tense. Rusl continued to softly rub circles in the muscles and Abel could feel his shoulder come down from where they had moved up around his ears without him noticing. By the time Rusl stopped and shook out his hands, Abel was nearly slumped against the floor from the sheer relief the supposed farmer had provided without complaint or asking for anything in return. (He still remembered with dismay how much lighter their rupee pouch had been when Fierce came back from Gerudo Town.)

“Better?”

“Much, but uh how did you…?”

“You got that pinched look Link gets when he’s spent too long without a proper break, and you seem to carry your troubles on your shoulders, jus’ like him.”

Abel decided they have been in here for more than a day because such a simple sentiment had no right making him feel like chu jelly inside.

Then Fierce came over and glanced at Abel and Rusl.

“How did you do that, little Farmer? Is it possible to learn this? My Link could certainly do with that more often.”

Abel felt a flash of fear at the thought of the Deity trying to give anyone a neck massage; his back ached just thinking of the ‘pat’ Fierce had once given him.

Rusl’s sudden interest in the floor had Fierce huffing as he stood to his full intimidating height and pulled out the key. He inserted it into the lock, and Abel watched the waste of metal clatter to the floor before the large doors were pushed open and they entered, wary of danger. 

Standing in the center of the room was a pillar much like the ones they had set the stones in earlier. Where the others had shown a smooth dip in the middle for the stones to rest in, the one before him now had curving grooves carved into the bowl-like hollow that met smoothly in the middle. Abel pulled out the cage holding the triangle and felt a pang at the fact that he was about to give it up, but it seemed this was the clue he had on what to do next for the dungeon.

He gently set the thing down into the basin, having to twist it a bit to get the spindly metal aligned with the grooves of stone. There was a strange sound, like someone had taken a wind chime and thrown it at a wall. The sphere expanded impossibly, growing larger and larger until it filled the stone room and the pillar that once housed it had vanished. Abel nearly fell as the metal beneath his feet started turning, finding it hard to stay on his feet with the now constantly changing terrain.

He managed to find his feet among the swirling and turning just in time for the very walls to begin peeling away. The stones making up the walls churned and changed. For a moment Abel was worried they would be fighting some sort of talus! He watched as once the walls had created four legs and a body, with a blocky curled tail, the floor strayed towards the beast being made, to make the head. He felt a small shiver of relief amongst the heart-pounding fear as the spirals slowed, then stopped as less and less floor remained, leaving only a gaping, yawning black pit almost hungry in its completeness around them. Abel didn’t like his chances of having been able to jump from piece to piece, much less fight while doing so!

Finally the stone being was completed. It shuddered, glowing. Then horrible yellow and red eyes opened, glaring balefully at the group of trespassers. They drew their swords and began to fight. 

Immediately a rather large problem emerged. The lizard of sorts had used its tongue against Fierce, but in dodging he had fallen neatly through the gaps in the metal. Abel felt the whole structure shudder as a horrible screeching cry rang out from what he suspected was Fierce stabbing at the floor itself to stay airborne. The very tip of the double helix blade poking out of the metal proved his theory, but it was so smooth that it started slipping as fast as it had appeared.

So now they had lost their best fighter, had to fight in a hazardous battlefield–which would become more so the longer they took with the way another hole in the floor near the first puncture mark was made– and the lizard was made of stone, with no obvious weak point of ore like a talus.

Great.

Rusl jumped the gap and pulled out his golden cucco, hovering in the air with one hand and slashing at the creature’s tongue when it flicked out to try and harm him. Abel grimaced as he got out his bow, since Tilieth and Rusl were both better shots than him, but he truly couldn’t make himself even try to cross the gap. He’d noticed that the monster kept its eyes barely open until its tongue shot out, at which the lids flew wide open and the eyes nearly seemed to bulge, making them the perfect target to incapacitate the thing.

He missed twice before his third arrow landed right in the pupil of the giant lizard. It thrashed and stone blocks came flying off in all directions. Abel had to duck and weave around the shrapnel, coming dangerously close to the edge more than once in the effort to avoid getting hit. Rusl had dropped on what counted as the floor to avoid the flying rock, but once things settled he ran up the slope until pushing back into the air with his cucco.

“Now we just have to keep doing that! Good work Abel!”

Abel wondered at the complete trust Rusl was putting in him, and at the confidence that they would defeat the thing, Fierce or no Fierce. Abel pulled out another arrow and brought up his bow.

He ducked on instinct to avoid the tail sweeping his way while the tongue once again went after Rusl in the air. He blew some hair that had fallen over his eyes in annoyance, of course the monster was smart enough to try and prevent them from abusing its weakness the same way once more. This meant Abel had many more false starts, where he had to drop to avoid a tail swinging his way, but it was only the second arrow he fired that landed in the eye.

The rocks were more numerous this time, and faster too. He panted with the exertion of trying to dodge them all while staying on the narrow strip of metal that kept him from the abyss. He stumbled after a particularly tricky dodge and watched with a numb sense of impending pain as a stone came at him faster than he could move.

Suddenly the ear-splitting screeching of Fierce’s sword rending metal was much closer than heard previously, and Abel’s vision was overtaken by the large blade, only inches from his face. The rock plinked harmlessly off of the strange metal and the sword retreated back below the ground as the last of the rocks flew by.

Abel hoped that had been on purpose. He suspected that not even the mythical healing of a fairy would save him from Fierce’s disgustingly effective sword.

With the return of their ability to fight came a new challenge, because why would things stay predictable? The lizard would, after Rusl got a slash on the tongue, turn the color and texture of the metal and abyss, moving around and only regaining its stonelike state when it was about to attack them both again. So it took Rusl and him a considerable amount of both time and arrows to manage hitting the third time. Both acquired some cuts and bruises along the way.

Then the lizard rolled up, moving through the air like a wagon wheel from a particularly violent cart crash. Abel hit the floor as it came whizzing by and only cautiously peeked out from his hair when the sounds of displaced air stopped. 

It appeared that the lizard had changed tactics, for now it curled up and hid, sending bits of stone out that remind Abel eerily of pebblits to fight them. He had no blunt weapon with which to attack the annoyances, but when he caught a glimpse of the lizard out of the corner of his eye, it looked soft .

He managed to dig out a bomb while dodging the rocky pebblits, lobbing it almost desperately at the creature. He hit! Then the pebblit gave him what was sure to be a nasty bruise on his shin before retreating.

When the lizard was done moving violently through the air, the pebblits sent this time were noticeably more aggressive, and Abel found himself panting to keep up and dig a bomb out of his bag. He threw it, missed terribly as he had to jerk at the last moment to avoid getting clobbered again, then watched as Rusl was hit with a flying stone from the pebblit attacking him.

Rusl crashed to the ground, and instead of hopping up and going at the wall again like a madman, lay as a puddle of red grew beside him. Abel felt his eyes widen as he scrambled, what could he do? He had no hope of taking on this monster by himself–

The fairy!

But, in order to give Rusl the fairy, he would need to cross one of these gaps. He shuddered, but the pebblit charging at him gave him no time to think as he leaped, his heart pounding in his ears and his stomach in his mouth. He nearly slid off the other side and scrabbled for purchase. A quick bomb was thrown at the approaching pebblit and he pulled out the bottle, trying to undo the cork with shaking hands. 

The fairy, apparently impatient, went through the glass bottle (why had they stayed in the first place?) and started flying in tight circles above Rusl, dropping glowing pink dust as they went. Abel held his breath, and only let it out when Rusl began to sit up.

“Wha? Oh! A fairy. I didn’t know we had one.”

“Oops.” Abel winced.

Rusl sent him a knowing look before clasping his outstretched hand and heaving himself up. With determination, they fought anew. It was hard and scary, but finally after two more bombs successfully detonated, the lizard separated into every individual stone, each vanishing one by one. The metal strips joined together to create a solid platform in the abyss with a strange door on one side. 

After the constant screech of metal and stone, arrows and bombs whistling through the air, and Rusl’s eye-burningly bright cucco’s cries, the silence was eerie, with only heavy panting breaths daring to be heard. Until Fierce’s head popped over the edge with a loud bang as his sword skittered away from where he was holding on with white knuckles to the platform and both Rusl and Abel were quick to help him up.

“I think… A nap is in order.” Fierce sounded strained, which was so strange coming from him that Abel blinked to make sure he was seeing things right.

“Cheers to that, Fierce!” Rusl only took the time to peel off his bloodstained clothes and use them as a pillow before he was asleep.

Abel couldn’t agree more, though before he joined his companions in the realm of dreams, he pocketed once more the strange, seemingly impossible triangle that had clattered to the ground in the middle of the platform.

Chapter Text

Fierce hadn’t moved since the last of the lizalfoes had turned to smoke and horns, and that had been well over 10 minutes ago.

“Everything alright buddy?”

Rusl was struck again by just how bizarre his life had become since Link was stolen from him by the Yiga. Fierce only seemed to snap out of whatever it was once he gently set an arm on his elbow. Rather than say any words, the towering man simply held out his sash towards Rusl, absolutely soaked through with blood and what might have been malice to the ends.

“Yeesh, I’ve never seen it so dirty before.”

“How do we fix it, little farmer?” Rusl was struck with the realization that he’d never actually had any of Fierce’s clothes (did he even have clothes besides the ones he wore?) in the laundry pile.

“Well friend, I have soap, but no washboard on me so we’ll have to go to a stable or town for that.” Fierce frowned, looking distinctly upset in a way that Rusl didn’t think he’d ever seen before.

Abel came stumbling over, covered in mud from where the lizalfoes had pushed him into the dirt and shot water at him, making him look more like a drowned rat than he usually did.

“I think it’s laundry time now.” Rusl tried to keep a smile from showing on his face at the way Abel’s hair was plastered to one side of his head, with several pieces clumped together and sticking straight up from the mud.

Fierce and Abel both looked uncomfortable, and Rusl noted that he had never seen the other two so much as look in the direction of a washboard when he had always made sure to keep an eye out for one at every stable, town, or lone house they passed by.

"Do either of you know how to do laundry?” Rusl couldn't believe that both of his companions didn't seem to know a thing about washing clothes. Fierce he’d somewhat expected, seeing as the deity was unaware of a lot of things that weren’t fighting and magic. But Abel? How did the survivalist manage to get through a decade of the calamity Rusl kept hearing about without doing his own laundry?

Abel spoke up. “ Before … back then there were maids who cleaned our uniforms, and on the plateau …” his face paled and he looked to be reexamining whatever had happened on this plateau.

Rusl shrugged since they had left a town just this morning and turned back around to begin leading the way back. They entered the small town again and he was pleased to see a washboard leaning against the side of a house where two of the people he had chatted with at the village gossip corner yesterday were themselves talking in front of the door. He let his sheepishness that this was needed so soon after leaving town show through and walked up to them, finding a spark of pride in the way their shoulders lowered and smiles crept upon their faces once they registered his presence.

He explained the situation to them, getting full bellied laughs out of the men, the one with facial scarring having to lean on the door itself not to fall over. Once they had mostly recovered themselves, the other man, the one who had first been willing to address Rusl the day before, put a hand to his chin in thought, then held up a finger and ducked inside the house.

Well that answered whose doorstep they were on. Rusl easily kept up a stream of pleasant small talk with the scarred man, who was eager to hear news of how things fared for the towns that had survived, as it was still extremely dangerous to travel, and he kept mentioning things called blood-moons, which Rusl tucked away as something to ask Abel about later.

The man came back out bearing something wrapped in cheesecloth, beaming. And then pointed at Rusl.

“As I recall it, you said yesterday that the goats from home made some of the best soap in the country.” Rusl blinked, surprised that the man had committed such a random detail to memory, but nodded, as it was true

"If you’ll give me some of that amazing soap, my wife’s birthday is coming up you see, then I’d be happy to give you, THIS!” with a dramatic flourish the man pulled the cloth off of the object, revealing a far more worn, but still perfectly serviceable washboard.

“Oh! Having one on the road would be so nice.” Rusl was quick to pull out the bag that contained soap, he was grateful he had so much on his person since originally when Link and he were heading to Castletown what seemed so long ago now, he was planning to sell some in town, using the transactions as a chance to see if any new problems were cropping up.

He asked the man if there was a particular scent his wife might like and the guy stopped, looking as though he’d been punched in the face. The scarred man leaned over and whispered that she liked the long purple flowers that smelled good. Rusl nodded and pulled out a bar of sweet goat soap, with lavender oil and bits of the flower itself sprinkled throughout the block.

The man’s eyes widened as he gazed on the indent of the Ordon goat circle that represented their town. Rusl was still rather proud of the metal stamp he’d made so that they could put the town’s mark on the soap with more ease than carving it in by hand. The man then shook himself and bundled the soap in the cloth, hiding it from view while the scarred man snickered at his friend.

“Thank you, uh, I didn’t actually expect you to have anythin’ so pretty, was trying to do a good turn since you seemed an honest sort, and being the only one in the group good at laundry? You’ll need all the help you can get.”

“Taking our soap to people who need it is one of my jobs! (it really wasn’t but he wasn’t about to tell the man that) besides, your wife deserves something nice for her birthday, I hope she enjoys it.

The man gave Rusl a brilliant smile, then in a move that surprised him, he was pulled into a rib squeezing hug. He hugged back a little tentatively but when he let go the scarred man was coming back from around the corner bucket in hand, handing it to him with a lopsided grin giving Rusl a firm pat on the back and handing him a fairly threadbare tunic with a wink.

Rusl gave them a heartfelt thank you and walked out of town, shaking his head at the tree that was too woefully small to hide the majority of Fierce’s bulk, though Abel was completely invisible until he came around the trunk.

“Abel, where’s the closest river?” Rusl hoped it was close, the mud was already dried and looked like it was pulling painfully on his hair.

Abel spun and started walking, Rusl and Fierce quickly followed and soon enough the cheerful bubbling of a brook greeted their ears. Rusl went to dip the bucket in the river water and Fierce simply plucked it out of his hands and filled it himself, appearing totally unbothered by what Rusl knew would be shockingly cold water. He pulled out the bar of honey scented soap he had been using this whole trip and began rubbing it in the water Fierce had provided to get suds in the liquid he got a few bubbles going before he stopped, realizing that the water he was working in was pleasantly warm. He looked to Fierce who started shifting from foot to foot.

“Is it not to your liking, little farmer? I’ve seen you pull your hands out of the water quite quickly, rubbing them together and looking pained. The blacksmith’s son of the village with apples we visited said that means it’s too cold and that it needs heating.”

Rusl blinked up at Fierce, he hadn’t realized the deity had been paying so much attention and felt touched that Fierce would warm up the water for laundry just because his forge abused hands were so pained by the cold.

“No, it’s really nice! I just wasn’t expecting it.” Fierce stopped shifting, and gave a sharp nod, carefully untying the blue sash from around his armored waist and bringing it over to Rusl.

It looked delicate and small on the deities waist, but in Rusl’s arms the length of fabric was long, at least twice his height, and about as wide as he could stretch his arms, yet the fabric felt like water woven into chain mail, slick and so soft Rusl felt nervous that his nails would snag the beautiful thing. He shook himself and got to work, rubbing a little of his soap directly onto the fabric, rubbing it into the fibers as gently as he could to try and make sure that the stains had the best chance of coming out with the soap itself.

He turned back to the bucket of water and (struggling a little to hold all of the very fine fabric in one arm because it kept trying to slide to the ground) put in the washboard, once again surprised by the pleasant warmth to the water. He gently lowered in the fabric, putting in first the bit that had been hidden in the knot and thus untouched. Once he had waited a few moments to let it absorb the soapy water Rusl knelt in the grass, finding one beautifully embroidered end of the sash, beginning to try and get out the blood and malice with his fingers alone, afraid that using the washboard on this strange fabric would ruin it beyond repair. He had never seen Fierce as worried about anything except finding his son safe and sound, and couldn’t help wondering just what this sash meant to his companion.

It took a long time, and Rusl had to stop more than once and stand up to get out the pins and needles creeping up from kneeling for so long, but he carefully worked his way through the entire sash, at one point asking Abel to set up the rope that would be used as the clothesline to hang the fabric on. When he finally pulled out the sash, looking much more uniform in color, he hung it briefly while he dumped the water from the bucket and prepared to fill it again, Fierce stepping in once more and doing something to the water, so the new batch was just as warm as the old had been.

Rusl could get used to this, though he tried not to take for granted the way the warm water felt on old hands better even than when he’d gotten to try a hot bath at the castle once, making more soapy water and taking Abel’s clothes, waiting until the man was watching to show him how to shake off as much of the dried mud as possible, before rubbing yet more soap into as much of the fabric as he could since it seemed to just be caked with mud, once the tunic and pants were soaking in the water Rusl handed Abel the soap and pointed to the river, letting the man roll his eyes before going to get as much mud out of his hair as possible.

Once Abel had put on his spare clothes and looked less like he’d fought a mud puddle and lost, Rusl showed him how to brace the washboard against his body and scrub the mud right out of the fabric, dumping and refilling the bucket several times when the water got so muddy it wasn’t useful anymore, then once both garments looked more clean he filled up the tub once more, rinsing out the soap from the fibers and wringing out as much excess water from both the sash and the clothes as his hands could before hanging them to dry in the sun and breeze, letting out a sigh of relief as he went to pop his aching back and neck. He looked to Fierce and Abel, who were giving him wide eyed looks, clearly unaware of just how much work went into cleaning the clothes.

“I should let you know, it’s usually a lot easier than that. Your things were especially dirty and needed extra care because of it.”

Abel still had wide eyes and Rusl heard a whispered “No wonder Tilly never let me touch the laundry after the bokoblin incident.”

They set up camp and Rusl checked the clothes every couple of hours, rearranging them when spots would dry to make sure that the most damp areas were fully exposed to the gentle breeze, wishing he had the pins from home that made this part of the process a lot faster.

Eventually though the clothes were dry and his companions were once again donning their usual garments, the trio prepared to continue their journey while there was still daylight to do it in. Abel’s hair got caught in his tunic and he fought with it for a moment, before his head popped out and he looked a little surprised, leaning his head down and giving his tunic a sniff.

“This smells like honey candy and flowers, How did you do that?” he looked baffled, and Rusl didn’t try to hold back his laughter at the statement.

“That’s my personal favorite scent that we make our soap in, but if you have local bees, or nice flowers, it’s not that difficult to add some scents to the soap during the process. Admittedly, Rusl had never done the whole process himself, but he’d helped Uli with different parts of the process.

“And I don’t remember putting flowers in this soap, huh.”

Fierce came forward and lifted his hands together, “Thank you little farmer, this is precious to my son, I would hate to return it damaged.”

So it had been given by his son, or belonged to his son? Rusl could understand holding onto something for the child they were searching for, and he’d want to make sure that if he had something of Link’s it got returned in good condition as well. With that, they took down the line and packed up, moving onward towards the next place they’d heard about Yiga activity, hoping they’d find the boys at this base.

Chapter Text

Abel saw the signpost ahead and brightened, this was the town he’d last seen Tilieth in! He could feel the surprise of the others as he picked up the pace. He couldn’t wait to tell his wife about everything that had happened, and especially about the hope brought by the father figures of other Links. Getting someone along who wouldn’t get tired of Rusl’s annoying optimism would be a breath of fresh air.

They approached the house where Tilieth had practically locked him out in order to get him to search for their newly missing son instead of taking care of her. He had been worried about her safety, but the rare letter carried and delivered by a rito had assured him she was doing all right, and had been working on getting rupees together so they could get that cold weather gear needed to traverse Hebra, where they were both certain shines would be hiding.

He opened the door with a grin so large his face hurt in place, then paused. The room was dusty and that didn’t seem like his wife. He moved towards the kitchen area only to see rotting fruit and his stomach clenched. Smile long since gone, he ran to the bedroom and opened it.

On the bed lay a single piece of paper, an upside down eye adorning it, and Abel saw red.

Abel felt his nose regain touch with the world first. The smell of sweat, rust and sickly sweet rotting fruit was not a pleasant one to wake up to. He felt his sluggish thoughts race along with his heart once he registered the cold prick of metal on his neck.

Wide awake in yet another nightmare Abel looked through his eyelashes, seeing something sharp being held threateningly against his neck. He managed to glance to his left under the guise of a lolling head with his captor’s swaying movement. His heart stopped as ice filled his veins, the sight of Tilieth her head bowed, looking broken in the dusty light of the Yiga stronghold, was this some cruel trick? Tilieth was strong, far stronger than Abel had ever been, always finding some small joy even when the world was literally collapsing around them. He never stopped admiring how she kept going, kept being a light and a pillar in the ugly and dark world that Abel had become well acquainted with.

Then the idiot in red behind him finally stopped talking, and Abel realized that kneeling before them was Fierce, far too large for the small cavern they were in. Before the shock of seeing his stupidly strong but well meaning companion on his knees could sink in, he heard a whoosh and a thud behind him.

The pressure on his neck was gone and Abel was quick to stand up . . .

Only to tilt too far as the ringing of metal assaulted his ears, the dust of the cave suddenly clogging his airways, but none of that mattered! Where was Tilieth, was she– 

He found her, beautiful with dirt smeared in her hair and clothes torn beyond repair, his face lifting in a smile without permission to gaze upon his golden light. Then his mouth opened in horror at the red-clothed traitor raising a blood stained sickle behind her. His arm raised as though he could reach her before the blade, but a large stick was thrown with terrifying precision into the Yiga’s head, the sickle falling from his hand shearing part of Tilieth’s beautiful blonde in a last disrespectful act from its owner.

Blinking at the sudden quiet, Abel jumped when he was touched only to breathe a sigh of relief that it was only Rusl, where had he come from? Next he knew they were emerging into painfully blinding sunlight, With Abel nearly being drug by the blacksmith until the Fierce deity simply scooped up Abel.

He went to protest until Tilieth’s curls fell against him as she too was placed in the deities arms. Just this once he decided, he would let his stupidly strong and unfairly tall companion carry him, since it meant he could simply lay and admire her, bathing in the light that simply seeing her alive and well seemed to pour on his weary bones, feeling tears come to his eyes at the sight of the closest thing to a goddess he still believed in–

“He’s definitely concussed Fierce, we need to find one of those stables and hope they can help.”

Abel felt a chin touch his head for a moment and looked up, confused. 

Oh!

Right He was being carried by Fierce, how could he forget? 

Fierce looked at Rusl, gave a little hum and scooped him into his other arm, jostling Abel painfully and making his teeth ache with each step, though eventually he grew used to it enough to take his arm off of his eyes. He looked in awe as the landscape blurred by them from the speeds Fierce was traveling, he’d never seen him move that fast, could he always do that? Eventually the familiar giant fabric horse heads adorning the tops of stable’s came over the horizon and quickly grew, almost like someone had dumped a glass of water on a dried apple and watched it expand with all the liquid at once.

Abel giggled at the thought of re-waterified apples but stopped when Tilieth looked at him with raw open concern, she shouldn’t be looking at him like that! She should be showing off her honey sweet smile to the whole world!

Fierce skidded to a stop outside out the stable entrance, grass being violently pulled from the ground as his boot dug deep into the packed earth. The stable hand waiting at the outside counter had his jaw hanging open and his eyes wide as he stared at the deity, standing tall in gleaming armor with three people being easily carried in his arms.

Fierce looked at Rusl, who simply offered a small smile before extracting himself from the arm and walking up to the man, knocking gently on the counter to get his attention.

The man jumped a little, before realizing Rusl was there band nervously straightening his hat a little.

“ Ah yes, w-what can a do for you, sirs?”

His smile looked more like he had just bitten into a voltfruit than anything, but once Rusl mentioned medical aid the man’s eyes sharpened and he nodded before bringing his fingers to his mouth in a short whistle, then a vaguely familiar man with a shaved head and short beard came to the front. Abel squinted at him, trying to figure out what–

His vision became smeared and confusing, and he felt as though the world was spinning, he felt something under his knees and despite not being able to make out anything in the sickening spin of colors, started trying to crawl away from whatever was so horrible as to make all this happen.

He continued crawling until a small hand landed in his greasy tangled hair, moving back and forth slowly, soothingly. He couldn’t help leaning into the one nice thing around him right now, and gradually the world stopped spinning and the man with the beard was crouched in front of him, a spoonful of something red and sickly sweet held in front of his nose. This close he noticed a faint scar running from the man’s temple, down to his lip, coming close to his eye and nose without damaging either.

Huh

The man tried to force the spoon closer and Abel turned his head away with pursed lips, he didn’t know who this was, and he definitely didn’t want anything this man had to offer. Tilieth gently grabbed the spoon and whispered encouraging things in his ears as she brought it around. He still didn’t like it, but if his wife trusted it then he had no choice but to agree, so he swallowed the chalky and oddly bitter liquid, feeling a little betrayed still, he stuck out his tongue at the man to let him know that he didn’t like it.

As the liquid dropped to his stomach he felt a warm tingling in his head, and then the pull of sleep was too much and he succumbed.