Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It's tense around the campfire, the oppressive weight that’d beared down on every member of the Chain in battle lingering long after their blades had been put to rest and their bedrolls rolled out.

It isn’t hard to figure out why. The Fierce Deity is among them, lingering at the edge of camp. It sets everyone on edge.
When Wild sets his cooking pot over the fire the tension strains and threatens to snap as the deity approaches, taking a seat; Time’s seat, and sits like it isn’t a disconnect in the Chain. Like it is meant to be there.

-

War is not pretty. It is not a seamless and gentle thing or poetic or Grand, despite all the poems and songs that paint it as so. Warriors knows this. He’s seen the horror of war, been on the front lines of it. He’s seen War and what it leaves in its wake, seen the ruined families and broken people left behind, the ravaged countrysides and torn apart landscapes. He stares at the Fierce Deity from across the fire, Wild between them and tending to the cooking pot. Warriors wants to get up and lunge for the god, tear the mask off Time’s face because he can’t picture their Old Man devastated in the same way. He clenches his jaw and forces his hands to stop shaking instead.

Wild presses a bowl of soup into his hands and slowly makes his way around the fire, serving everyone else as well. He stops when he reaches the deity, lingering. Warriors grips his bowl tighter.

”Wild.” He growls, willing the other knight to step away. Wild doesn’t listen. He holds up the bowl usually reserved for Time up, the creamy meat soup still steaming. The Fierce Deity doesn’t reach for it. “Wild.” He says again, getting ready to stand.

Wild gets down on his knees and places the bowl at the god’s feet before anyone can stop him. Warriors’ own bowl knocks to the ground and spills as he rushes over, grabbing Wild and yanking him to his feet, pulling him away and to the other side of the campfire, where the rest of the Chain had given the Fierce Deity a wide berth. “What are you doing?" He scowls, his hand still fisted in the back of Wild’s shirt. “I- That’s how food was given to Hylia.” Wild stammers. “I didn’t know how else to get him to eat.”

“Just- Don’t do that again.” Warriors lets go of him then, his gaze shifting to the god of war, who’s drinking out of Time’s bowl.

-

“Your sword.” Four says, trying not to crumple underneath the weight of the Fierce Deity’s gaze. “Er- the biggoron sword.” He corrects, his heart thumping against his ribs as the god stares down at him. The double helix sword glints under the sunlight, the blades twined together like snakes, monster blood dripping down its sharp edges like venom. Four steadies himself and meets the Fierce Deity’s gaze head on, extending his hands palm up as he asks “Can I see it?”

The biggoron sword has been unused since Time had put on the mask, sheathed on the Fierce Deity’s back. Someone’s hushed voice hisses in Four’s direction, scared and protective.

The noise Time’s sword makes as it’s slowly drawn from its scabbard makes goosebumps rise on Four’s skin, his heartbeat loud in his ears. The blade is heavy and cool against his skin when the deity hands it over to him.

“That was crazy!” Wind shouts in Four’s ear later that night, his hands gripping his shoulders from behind. Four feels guilty for making him worry⎯ for making them all worry, but he couldn’t let the Fierce Deity keep carrying Time’s sword like it was its own. “I’m sorry.” He says, his hands polishing the biggoron sword, steady and meticulous. He pauses. "I... couldn't stand seeing it in someone else's hands."

Wind is silent. His hands leave Four’s shoulders and his presence at his back disappears before returning, a solid warmth against Four’s side. Wind rests his head on Four’s shoulder, watching him work. "I understand." Wind replies, his voice small.

-

Hyrule flutters anxiously from between the boughs of the tree he’d taken cover in, the magic emanating from the Fierce Deity only somewhat bearable now, after having to endure it for so long. He was in fairy form, sensing the opportunity to figure out what this god wanted from Time. The Fierce Deity hadn’t breathed a word since Time had donned the mask, eerily silent, so desperate times called for desperate measures.
Hopefully he would go unnoticed among the other fairies; they too had darted away from the Fierce Deity once the Chain had entered the small forest grove, either hiding among the fauna like Hyrule or quickly tending to the heroes aches and pains in an attempt to get them away from their fountain faster.

The Fierce Deity is staring at its reflection in the fountain water, separate from the Chain. Hyrule steadies himself, trying to calm the twist of emotions in his chest as he tiptoes down the branch, the wood beneath his feet thinning and dipping down the slightest bit from his weight. Hyrule is close enough now that he can see what the deity is doing, its mirror image tracing the curve of Time’s jaw. Its hand drifts down, pausing over the pulse point.
Quietly, Hyrule leans further forwards and dips into his magic, setting his own feelings aside to sample the deity’s own.

Hyrule’s breath hitches at the sheer amount of feeling that invades his body, something heady and pulsating that leaves spots in his vision when he opens his eyes, blinking rapidly.

Want, intense and terrifying, soft breath and a beating heart, the vibrations felt as swords clash and blood so warm and a body so cold it burns.

Hyrule can’t close off the connection fast enough. He leaves the Fierce Deity behind and buzzes away, eager to reconnect with the Chain, his head spinning as dread settles heavy in his gut.

Chapter Text

“Worried about the Old Man?” Legend asks, his arms crossed over his chest.

“How can I not be?” Twilight sighs, rubbing the fur of his pelt between his fingers, twisting and untwisting the strands. The dirt and gravel of the river bank they’re on shift as Legend sits down.

“Have some faith.” Legend says, flicking a stray pebble into the river. Twilight opens his mouth to object, he does have faith in Time, but Legend cuts in before he can get a word out. “Time is tough. We’ve all seen how he fights in battle, what he can do. That kind of skill only comes from years of experience. If anyone could get out of a situation like… getting a mask stuck to your face, it’d be him.”

Twilight can feel himself frown. He avoids Legend’s eyes as he stares steadfast at the river. “But it’s not just a mask, Legend. That’s- That’s a war god. What if it's too much for him? What if he can’t get out of this one.”

Legend punches him in the shoulder, the sting makes Twilight yelp. “Are you doubting him?” He asks, his fist still raised and ready to do it again.

“What? No-”

“Then don’t say things like that.” There’s a fire in Legend’s eyes, despite how his hands shake.

Twilight pauses, wetting his lips. He doesn’t know what to say.
“Okay.” He finally settles on. Legend nods, not saying anything else. They turn their gazes to the river, together this time, the quiet rushing fills the silence like whispered reassurance.

-

“What are we going to do, Fi?” Sky mumbles, holding the hilt of the Master Sword tight. Fi’s magic thrums beneath his fingers, a warm pin and needle sensation pressing against his skin.
His gaze remains steady on the deity at the front of his group, and unbidden, memories of Demise surface in his mind.

Will he have to do the same to the Fierce Deity as he did to Demise? Sky's breath leaves him in a rush, and Fi's magic buzzes. He sucks in air with a hiss. Can he?

Fi’s magic sweeps down his arm, Sky grips the hilt tighter and squeezes his eyes shut. The Master Sword hums with power, rhythmically pulsating to the beat of a heart calmer than his own. Slow and steady.

Sky takes a deep breath, opening his eyes and turning his gaze toward the night sky. He lets out a sigh, tries to find familiar constellations, and takes another deep breath.

“We'll be okay.” Sky whispers, loosening his grip on the Master sword until he lets go, focusing on the feel of his boots hitting the earth underfoot, Fi's warmth at his back, the fact his brothers are still here and breathing. Time is still breathing, regardless of the god housed in his body.

“We'll be okay.”

-

The Chain wakes to Time screaming. It jolts each and every one of them upright, adrenaline sending their hearts pumping and their hands to their weapons.

Time is on the ground, braced on his hands and knees, his breath coming out in strangled wheezes. The Fierce Deity mask lies in the dirt.

”Time!” Warriors gasps, dropping to his knees to grasp Time by the shoulders, steadying him.

“Is he alright!?”

“What happened?”

“Is he okay!?”

“Give him space, let him breathe!” Legend snaps.

Warriors whispers quiet questions to Time, quiet enough that the Chain can’t hear what he’s saying.
Eventually, Time’s breathing evens out. He looks tired. Slowly, the two of them stand. Time sways in place, hands reach out to steady him. Warriors shifts, Time’s arm slung over his shoulder, and leads their Old Man to sit.
The Chain follows, a mass of worried faces and hushed murmurs.

Sky lingers, staring into the now empty eyes of the Fierce Deity.

He presses down on it with his boot. The wood threatens to give, digging into the dirt.

Sky hesitates, thin cracks forming in the paint with each second he leans his weight onto the mask.

He stops. Bends down and runs his fingers over the worn paint, he curls his fingers around it and tucks it away into his bag. He doesn’t bother to brush away the dirty imprint his boot had left behind.

Chapter Text

They approach Time one by one throughout the day. For Time’s sake, they hadn’t disbanded camp.

Four approaches first, after the flurry of movement and shouting that had been that morning. “I suppose you can have this back now.” He says, smiling as he presents Time with his sword, but his face is still creased with concern. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

Time reaches out for the biggoron sword, letting it lay flat in his lap. “You took care of it for me?” He asks, appreciating the sharpened edge and how the blade glints in the sunlight.

“Yeah.” Four says a bit lamely. “I… I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I am.” Time agrees. He places his hand on Four’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a problem.” Four nods and takes a seat next to Time, frowning. “I don’t like what you did,” He says next. “None of us do.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Time-” Four hisses, a sharp exhale of breath. He inhales and runs a hand down his face, settling himself before he continues. “I want you to promise me you won’t do something that reckless again.”

Time remains silent, he can’t make that promise and Four knows he’s not one to lie.

“I’ve seen people lose themselves to powerful items like that mask of yours. Changed beyond recognition.” Four meets Time’s eyes then, his expression serious. “None of us want to lose you.”

“I…” Time pauses. Discomfort settles heavy in Four’s chest. “I won’t leave you boys anytime soon.”

“... Alright.”

-

“Can I trust you with this?” Sky asks, his grip on the Fierce Deity mask tight.

“Sky.” Time’s expression is worn, tired and weary. “You can’t keep it from me.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Sky-”

“Did you think we would be fine with it?” Sky cuts Time off, his hands shaking. “Did you think any of us would have accepted it. Your self sacrifice.”

“The journey would have succeeded without me.” Time reaches out. Sky jerks back, keeping the mask out of reach.

“But what about after?” Sky’s voice wavers against his will. “You know how cruel that fate would have been. What would we have told Malon, Time?”

Time flinches at the mention of his wife.

“What if none of us could tell her?” He stresses.

“Enough, Sky.” Time murmurs, running a hand down his face. “I understand. I’m sorry.”