Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The portal is cold and smothering, ice creeping alongside Link’s bones and slipping down his throat. It lasts only a few seconds, but the feeling is as nasty as it is familiar. He shudders on the other side, shaking out his hands to get the pinpricks of cold static from his fingers. 

He barely gets a moment to orient himself before he stumbles right into someone else. 

Said someone else promptly goes sprawling, and Link sees it’s a kid. He peers up at Link with hazel eyes blown wide, seemingly frozen where he fell. 

Link’s heart gives a pang when he processes how skinny the kid is. His wrist bones jut out of threadbare sleeves, cheeks thin, and Link can count his ribs from here. He can also see the fear painted on the kid’s features, plain as day. 

Link raises his hands on instinct, taking a small step back to reassure the kid. “Ah, ‘m real sorry ‘bout that,” he offers, keeping his voice low. He carefully drops to a knee, making sure he’s just as disadvantaged as the kid is, and reaches out a hand up. “You alri—?” 

The kid punches him in the face. 

It’s… actually a fairly good punch, strong enough that Link’ll probably have a bruise where the kid’s bony knuckles dig into his cheek. And just as fast as the punch, the kid is on his feet and running. He nearly smacks into a tree as Link watches, taken aback and blinking. Then he moves, scrambling to his feet a second later after the kid with a small, “Hey!”

Link quickly discovers that the kid is fucking fast . He slips around the trees that Link bumps with his shoulders like water, even as he weaves around the trunks nonsensically. His small wiry form is a direct contrast to Link’s own broad chest, and the difference proves itself amongst the densely populated trees. Link feels like a bulbin chasing after a hare. 

At least four yards ahead of him, he catches sight of the kid clumsily sliding over a large, moss-ridden log, losing his footing on the damp lichen. He falls hard enough that he nearly bounces on the forest floor, and Link cringes in sympathy even as he moves to close the ground between them. 

It’s easier than he expected, because the kid doesn’t move again. He stays crouched in front of the log, so still that Link blinks and has to differentiate between the wood of the log and his hair. Link feels his heart start to pound in his chest, because whatever’s over there has made the flighty kid pick his poison— and he chose Link. 

He slows, half to not scare the kid back to his feet and half to keep quiet from whatever’s on the other side, but he hears the voices long before that. They all fall silent, however, when Link hauls himself over the log and lands next to the kid, hand on his sword hilt. 

There are no less than six Hylian men gathered in the clearing beyond. And they’re all armed to the teeth— one’s in full plate armour, others with chainmail peeking out here and there, and one of them actually has his sword drawn and pointed at the others. 

A fight? Link wonders, narrowing his eyes slightly. He tightens his grip on his sword, letting his gaze flick over to the kid again. His eyes move continually from one man— one threat— to another, muscles coiled to run whenever he finds an opening. 

Without thinking, Link steps halfway in front of the kid. His gaze is caught by the man across from him, the one in plate, and Link falters. His heart freezes in his chest for a second too long, an icy wave like he’d just stepped through another portal washing over his skin. 

He knows that armour. 

The man’s single blue eye is steady and calculating, studying Link’s face slowly. Link tries not to stare back, but he’s not sure he accomplishes it well with the way his throat is slowly closing. 

“Evening,” the living, breathing Shade greets cooly. 

Link is saved from answering by the kid who falls from the sky, hollering his lungs out. 

After that, everything is chaos. 

“So,” says the established Hero of Winds— just Wind, for short— after everything manages to calm down. “This is crazy as fuck.”

Legend snorts to himself from where he’s leaning against a tree a few feet away from the group. “I’ve seen weirder.” 

Link, now Twilight because apparently the goddesses have no originality, silently agrees with Wind. Not that Twilight hasn’t seen some crazy shit before, but he can say being thrown together with eight counterparts of his own soul is definitely a first. Not to mention that… one of them is Shade. 

Twilight makes the executive decision right then and there to not touch that topic ever again, actually. It wouldn’t be fair to either of them to tell Time, Shade’s new nickname, of his desolate future, or for Twilight to expect him to be anything like the lonely stalfos that had guided him. They’re both different now— it’s as simple as that. They just… went opposite ways in time. Somehow. 

“There’s so many of us!” Wind continues gleefully, apparently uncaring about the fact that he’d smacked into a tree less than an hour ago. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Four comments, arms crossed over his chest. 

Twilight hums in quiet assent. He glances around the group from his own vantage point, slightly pulled away from the gathering of heroes. It pulls at his chest to see how young a good portion of them are. Wind had revealed himself to be fourteen , after all, and that declaration made Twilight’s stomach flatten. 

Not to mention that the kid, the one who’d run like he was born with his feet under him, was also a hero. “The Hero of Hyrule,” Sky had pronounced him with a warm smile that quickly became confused when the rest of them shared common grins. 

Twilight’s cheek twinges as he studies Hyrule from afar— he’d inexplicably drifted to Legend's side. There’s dirt on his face, that flighty look still in his eyes, but he’s stopped trying to subtly disappear into the trees. His nervous gaze flicks to Twilight every so often, but he flinches and rips it away as soon as Twilight meets it. 

And, even though it hollows out his chest, Twilight gets it. 

Experimentally, he opens his mouth and to speak for the first time, “I dunno if I wanna encoun’er anythin’ that needs nine heroes t’ kill it.” 

The reaction is immediate enough that Twilight’s throat closes. 

Hyrule jumps so hard he nearly knocks into Legend, who narrows his eyes sharply at Twilight like his tensed shoulders weren’t obvious enough. Wild twitches, hand twitching towards his belt for a second. Four levels him with a flat, considering look, and Warriors’ amiable mask falters just enough that Twilight can see the harshness behind his cold blue eyes. 

Time just looks at him neutrally, eye steady, like he’s trying to figure out a puzzle with missing pieces. 

Ah, Twilight thinks, a pang ripping through his chest. Okay. 

Though he’s made a number of questionable decisions in his twenty-one years, Twilight is far from stupid. He knows he scares people. He hates it, but it’s a fact. 

Even though he’s on the shorter side, he’s aware that his large build and broad shoulders paired with his weaponry throw people, keep them guarded. But it’s him that makes them scared. His face, his markings, his canines that are just a little too long— all the pieces of him that were left changed after his adventure. Those are the only parts of him the people seem to see, even the ones that call him a hero. 

He is appreciated, of course. But he isn’t entirely considered a hero , per say. The people of Hyrule know of his efforts and what he did to stop the Twilight, know that he’s a close friend of Zelda’s and that he refused her offer of knighthood. That doesn’t stop them from skirting to the side of the road as he passes. That doesn’t stop the sidelong glances and hands in front of mouths when they think he’s not looking.

The best answer he’d gotten about that was Telma telling him he “felt like them .” Zelda had told him more plainly that he radiates dark magic— Twili magic— like he’d painted himself in the stuff. Twilight himself isn’t strongly magically inclined, but he’s good enough, so the admission had left him more than a little surprised. He just… hadn’t noticed. Gotten used to it, he supposes. 

But being amongst these other heroes, other chosen given Hylia’s blessing of love and light, he is viscerally reminded that other people aren’t. 

“Hylia wants us to whoop its ass thoroughly, you mean,” Legend says with a cutting grin, a heartbeat too late. 

Twilight huffs out a weak chuckle, covering the sinking feeling that, just like the folk back home, these heroes probably look at him and see nothing but the enemy.

It’ll be fine, he tells himself resolutely. He isn’t, and they’ll figure it out soon enough. 

At least, he hopes so. 

Travelling with heroes from across time is a bit… disjointing. Twilight isn’t entirely sure what to think about the eight strangers that share his soul. Sometimes it’s hard to believe they share even that with the way they keep colliding and tripping over each other, even accidentally. 

One week in, and Warriors and Legend can’t go three feet without nitpicking something about the other. Sky and Time have a strange sort of non -relationship of which Twilight isn’t even sure where to begin. Wind is somehow all over the place and nowhere at once. While they’re all stubborn as hell, Four and Wild especially struggle with communication. And Hyrule won’t even come close enough to look Twilight in the eye.

Out of the group, snarkily dubbed ‘the chain’ by a pun-happy Wild, Twilight thinks he’s figured out which heroes distrust him the most: Legend, Warriors, Time (and didn’t that just hurt), and, of course, Hyrule. While the others are cautious around Twilight to differing extents, those four are the ones who seem truly wary of him. 

And, out of those four, Hyrule is almost downright afraid of him. 

He doesn’t blame Hyrule, obviously— of course he doesn’t. For one, it stings to know that kids were thrown into the mess of a hero’s life younger than he was. But it also stings, just a little bit, when Twilight rounds a corner and Hyrule darts as far as socially acceptable from him. 

The others have noticed, too, of course. And as a result, Hyrule is never left alone within ten feet of him. 

Twilight will settle down his bedroll at camp, and Legend will immediately move so that he’s in front of Hyrule even if the kid is across the fire from him. Someone is somehow always between the two of them in their walking order. Time often pairs Hyrule with himself and proceeds to go in the direct opposite direction Twilight and his partner are going. If Twilight goes to scout, someone always, always does it again within the next fifteen minutes. 

Legend or Time is always a step behind the kid, watching Twilight while trying not to be obvious that they’re watching him. Well, Time, at least. Legend has no qualms about burning a hole into the back of Twilight’s head.  

And yeah, it hurts that their first thought is protecting Hyrule over trusting him, but that doesn't matter. Not when Twilight scares his sixteen-year-old counterpart. 

Twilight sighs to himself as he comes closer to camp from one of his wanderings. The voices of the other heroes fade in and out of the shifting of leaves above. Golden light dapples between the green, outlining the trees in shades of dusky orange-tinted black. A breeze picks up, tangling Twilight’s bangs and sending fallen leaves skittering across the forest floor. The longing cry of a nightingale brushes past his ears, carried by the wind.

He has no idea what time they’re in right now, the trunks around him unfamiliar. But so far, it never fails to send a twist of grief-laced nostalgia through him to see that wherever they go, the twilight is never different. 

“Do you feel a strange sadness as dusk falls?” Rusl had asked, centuries ago. Twilight knows what that sadness is now, where it comes from. 

Knowing doesn’t seem to make it any better, though. 

His fingers are tracing his marks without thinking, lingering on the perfect circle in the centre of his forehead that might as well be a scar. He drags them down to his cheek, over the now yellowed and mostly-healed bruise from Twilight and Hyrule’s first meeting. 

Ordona, he doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t know how to make it better. 

“He got you good, huh?” an amused voice filters through the air. With a flash of white, Sky appears next to him. He hums under his breath, soft as anything. “Pretty view.” 

Twilight stares at him for a second, before slowly sliding his gaze back over to the trees and the rich light of sunset spilling almost haphazardly between the trees. He opens his mouth. Closes it. Clears his throat of its suspicious thickness and croaks out, “Yeah.” 

Sky is one of the ones that actually doesn’t seem too bothered by Twilight, gentle enough that Twilight can always feel his sharp edges next to him. But Twilight appreciates the other hero more than Sky knows. He’s kind in a way that Twilight envies, somehow always able to say exactly what needs to be heard without it seeming fake. He’s a stable breeze where Twilight feels like a whirlwind, here and there and back again without taking the time to process what’s rattling around in his head. 

The unfortunate thing is that Sky is kind to everyone in equal measure, so Twilight can never tell if he actually doesn’t like him at all. 

“Any luck on that front?” Sky asks after a moment, and Twilight looks at him, confused until Sky smiles and taps a finger to his cheek. 

“Oh,” Twilight says, directing his gaze to his feet. “Nah. Haven’t ‘xactly tried. Kid’s flighty, y’know? I ain’t wanna scare’ ‘im more than need be. ‘N tryin’ t’ get past Ledge an’ all them will be a feat in itself.” 

He grins, only a little self-deprecating. Sky apparently doesn’t get the hint, nodding thoughtfully. 

“It’s a tough situation,” he acknowledges. “Especially with all these pasts that we know nothing about.” 

Twilight winces in agreement. Only two days ago, Wild had been sent into a panic attack after a nightmare, and Warriors pulled a dagger on Wind when the sailor snuck up behind him. Needless to say, they all silently agreed to never sneak up on Warriors ever again— or anyone, for that matter. 

“But, I suppose,” Sky continues, voice dropping into something softer. “that applies to you just as much as the others, doesn’t it?” 

Something deep in Twilight’s chest flinches at that, curls in on itself tighter. Twilight can feel his walls beginning to slide into place, almost like a reflex. Which is so fucking stupid, because Sky hadn’t said anything wrong, really. 

“I think the others aren’t being fair,” Sky says matter-of-factly, and Twilight finally looks at him. His eyes are gentle enough that the back of Twilight’s throat burns. “Sure, we’ve been thrown into this mess as strangers, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. There’s no point in trying to shut out one of our own.” 

And oh. Oh, Twilight’s going to cry. 

He looks hastily away from Sky, ducking his head. “Y’know you don’t hafta hang ‘round ‘f I scare ya,” he forces out after a minute, because there’s no way that’s the whole story. “It’s alright.” 

Silence follows, weighing heavy on Twilight’s shoulders. He can feel the tips of his ears start to burn where they’re pinned against his skull. It makes his insides squirm more than they already are. 

“No, Twi,” Sky says finally, voice firm in a way Twilight hasn’t heard from the easy-going knight before. “You don’t scare me.” 

Twilight lets his gaze meet Sky’s for a second before he darts it away again, shifting his weight. “I be serious, Sky—” 

“I’m serious, too,” Sky cuts him off. He bumps a shoulder against Twilight’s gently, and Twilight tries not to lean into the touch too much. “I admit, the first time I saw you I was a bit unsure. You cut an intimidating figure, after all!” he laughs softly. “But then over the week I got to know you. You might look a little scary, Twi, but you’re just a big teddy bear. Most of us have already realised that by now.” 

Twilight blinks a few times, swallowing hard against the lump that’s risen in his throat. “Thank ya kindly,” he croaks out. He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, glancing away. “That means a’lot.”

“Of course,” Sky replies warmly. He pokes Twilight’s arm, smiling a bit. “They’ll come around, I’m sure. Give it time.”

Twilight quirks an eyebrow, fighting down a smirk, and Sky rolls his eyes. “The concept, not the person.” 

“It’d be mighty hard t’ give someone Time, after all,” Twilight says with a sage nod. “All tha’ plate must be heavy. Think he could take outta moblin ‘f I threw ‘im hard ‘nough?”

Sky shoves his shoulder that time, grinning, and Twilight can’t help the laugh that bursts out of him. It’s loud and warm and melts the heaviness from his chest, growing stronger as Sky dissolves into helpless giggles too. It was such a fucking stupid thing to say, but that only makes it ridiculously funnier. 

And, with the sun disappearing into the horizon with one last burst of gold that’s almost tangible… it feels good. To be here with someone who’s willing to give him a chance. 

“One of our own.” Sky had said, and Twilight thinks he could get used to that.

Chapter Text

“— and then I was like, what the fuck, because the bastard was tearing holes in a perfectly good ship—”

Wind prattles on, waving his hands in the air and wriggling as he describes the giant squid he’d apparently gone head-to head with at some point in his adventure. Twilight listens with half an ear, watching as he hops around Warriors’ legs in a dizzying fashion. The sun bears down on their backs until Twilight’s clothes are too warm, chafing uncomfortably against his skin. 

His tunic catches on the burn scar that stretches down the side of ribs, and he winces at the resulting aching pull. He grabs at his collar, pulling it away from his skin as he feels sweat drip down the back of his neck. 

Twilight tries very hard not to look at the way Time smiles gently at Wind, or the way Warriors shoulder-checks him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Off to the left, Hyrule doesn’t jump when Legend picks a leaf out of his hair. Sky’s behind Twilight somewhere— he can hear the way his and Four’s footsteps are in sync and Sky’s soft humming that floats over it. 

Just over a week in, and small lines have already been drawn. Twilight doesn’t know how he’s going to step over any of them. 

He knows what Sky said. He knows that the other hero is trying, and Twilight does appreciate it. But it feels— rude, wrong, whatever you want to call it, to break those lines, to try and jam himself into some one-sided relationship. Because maybe… maybe he’ll forget. That it’s one-sided. 

Twilight knows his weaknesses intimately. He knows that he has emotions too big for himself, a heart too soft for the calluses and blood on his hands. He’s learned that lesson, been burned before. When you step into someone’s life, it gives them the right to turn around and step back out of yours. 

It goes like this: either Twilight gets overly attached to a relationship that never gives back, or they’ll try and trust him and he’ll prove them right anyway. 

Really, Twilight just feels shitty about the situation as a whole. 

A few feet away, Wild’s scars are an angry red in the face of the unrelenting sun, and Twilight grimaces as he watches him pick at the edges of them. The cook had been inconspicuously following Twilight this past week, hovering around his general vicinity like Wild was now Twilight’s personal phantom. Twilight would maybe be a little more unsure about it if Wild wasn’t seventeen and with some of the most glaringly obvious deep trust issues Twilight’s ever encountered.

Wild had been one of the ones to immediately focus on Twilight when they were all first thrown together, hands that Twilight now knows try to go everywhere at once steadfastly on his bow and slate when they first met. Twilight hopes it was just because he looked intimidating back then, since the kid hardly lets come close enough to touch him. Yet he’d started to gravitate towards Twilight anyway. 

He wonders if it’s because the kid feels like he has nowhere else to go, too.

Plus, it was… nice, having one of them around, even if it was to help Wild feel safe.

Twilight nudges him, then immediately wishes he hadn’t when Wild jumps hard enough to scare a bird into flight off the dry ground. 

“Sorry,” he murmurs, taking a step to the side to give him some room. “Don’ pick ‘em, though, only makes ‘em worse.” 

Wild looks at him with those teal-blue eyes that seem to see straight through Twilight. Twilight blinks back, that feeling of Wild truly being something, well, wild, prickling over his skin. 

Twilight’s not sure if the others have noticed the same things he has, or if he can only recognise them in Wild because he has some of them in himself. It’s in his scent, as open and clear as the mountain air and just as free, in the way he smiles with too many teeth sometimes, or how he walks among the trees like they’re old friends. Not quite like Hyrule, who goes quiet and outwits and blends— Wild stands among nature like the Mother herself made way for him. 

And, Twilight thinks, watching the blue of Wild’s eyes shift with the foliage, he sometimes acts just as much of a predator as a wolf.

Wild’s fingers twitch where he’d lowered them, and Twilight grabs his hand on instinct to try and keep them from the angry scars. To his surprise, Wild doesn’t pull away immediately, staring down at their joined hands like they’re suddenly foreign. 

Twilight lets go anyway, a hot spike of shame making him rub the back of his neck on habit. “Sorry,” he says again, because grabbing someone who probably doesn’t actually trust him was definitely his best idea yet. “I didn’...”

He feels eyes on him and glances over, hand still on the back of his neck. Warriors meets his gaze head on, expression effortlessly flat. He flashes Twilight a smile that doesn't reach his eyes and turns back to Time, falling into easy, lilting conversation that Twilight does his best not to hear. 

Twilight flinches as fingers brush his shoulder. Wild snatches his hand back just as fast as it had come, a small wince of apology twitching across his features. 

“It’s okay,” he tells Twilight in a quiet, gravelly voice. And though his smile is a little hesitant, it’s sincere enough that Twilight feels a dull pang in his chest. “Thanks. And, uh, I get it.” 

Twilight blinks at him dumbly. Wild stares determinedly back, apparently for some sort of reaction, but Twilight has not a single thought in his head as to what Wild is referring to. 

A little wrinkle forms between Wild’s eyebrows, contemplative, as awkward seconds tick by. Twilight forces away the pit in his stomach as he waits for Wild to drift away from… whatever they were doing, because Twilight’s not sure it counts as conversing. He hadn’t heard the cook speak all that much since they were all thrown together, him preferring to keep to his cloak and cookpot unless someone (coughWindcough) approaches him first. 

“Do you like cheese,” Wild asks instead. 

Twilight opens his mouth. Closes it. Wonders if this is what people refer to as ‘bonding’. “I, uh. Like cheese, yeah.” 

Wild peers at him clinically. “What kind of cheese?”

“Goat…?” it comes out like a question, and Twilight grimaces. “I mean, my village raises goats, so we make a’lotta cheese ‘n stuff.” 

Wild nods thoughtfully, and Twilight has the disarming feeling he’d just passed some sort of test he’d been previously unaware was happening. “I think I have cheese, but it’s cow. What do you like to eat it in?”

Twilight takes a second to evaluate whether or not the sun had scrambled his brain and he was currently having a heat stroke-induced hallucination. Wild is talking to him. Wild is talking to him, like he hadn’t been casting a shadow for Twilight over the past week. 

He figured once Wild was more comfortable around him, the cook would wander away to some other Link since he felt like he didn’t have to worry about Twilight anymore. Wild is doing the exact opposite of that, apparently, and that opposite includes asking Twilight about his cheese preferences. 

The opposite is maybe, just maybe, trying to reach out— Wild taking a step in Twilight’s direction. 

It’s inordinately terrifying. 

“I like, uh,” dammit, Twilight wishes he could actually speak , the words tripping over themselves in his head. “The cheese.” 

Wild immediately bursts into laughter. The sound hits Twilight like a sunbeam, bright enough to burn. Distantly, he thinks that it’s the first time he’s heard Wild laugh.

“I know you like the cheese , dumbass,” Wild gasps out, giggling helplessly. Twilight has to grab his wrist to keep him from running straight into a tree. “I meant, what kind of dishes do you like it in?”

“Oh,” Twilight says, decidedly ignoring how the tips of his ears burn. “We, ah, put it’n pumpkin soup typic’lly.”

Wild nods contemplatively, fingers tapping idly on his apparently not magic slate. “I should have at least two fortified pumpkins, I think...”

“More’en four?” Twilight asks the first thing to pop in his head. It, of course, does not make any damn sense, and Twilight is sorely tempted to walk himself into a tree.  

Wild doesn’t seem to notice the nonsensicality, actually pulling out his slate and swiping through the inventory. His eyebrows raise, and he flashes the screen at Twilight, his grin a sudden burst of starlight. “Hah, yeah, more than four.” 

Twilight, despite part of him yelling that he is being immensely stupid, smiles hesitantly back.

Time calls it a few sunburnt hours later once they emerge from the thin trees they’d been trekking through. The field beyond has grass almost to Twilight’s knees, rippling over small hills with smatterings of trees here and there. 

Beside him, Wild’s teal eyes reflect green as he gazes over the field. ‘Looks like home,’ he signs, and then he’s gone, jumping about the grass and foraging around for… something. Even after just a week, Twilight’s not sure he’ll ever fully know what Wild is doing at any given time. 

Twilight runs a hand through his lank hair, pulling his damp bangs back from his forehead. He hates heat, hates the feeling of the overbearing sun on his back, hates how it makes him think of sand under his boots and a cursed sword and a broken mirror. He wishes for the coolness of Lake Hylia, with the shadow of the bridge above and the stillness of the water. He knows all of the nooks and crannies and ledges— places where no one could find him unless he wanted them to. 

He misses his basement distinctly right then with its lack of eight other heroes. With a sigh, Twilight drops his hand and lifts his gaze absently, only to find Time’s already on him. The older hero is pulling off his plate armour, single blue eye watchful as he flicks it between Twilight and Wild, who’s currently running around like a man very attached to grass species. 

Twilight bites the inside of his cheek and turns away. He hasn’t actually talked to Time yet and isn’t sure he ever wants to. The void in his chest steals all his words whenever he glances at the man, and he knows it’s unfair because Time isn’t Shade— a point he’s proven multiple times already. Time isn’t Shade, but the grief feels entirely the same. 

And, if he admits it to himself, Twilight can’t bring himself to know the man Shade once was, because then he’ll truly know how much he lost. 

It’s unfair. Twilight’s being unfair, but Time doesn’t know him either, so what does it matter? 

“You’re wallowing again,” Sky’s quiet voice says next to his ear. 

Twilight’s hand is halfway to his sword before he fully registers the words, turning halfway to face Sky. The man just raises his eyebrows at him, and Twilight drops his hand, huffing. 

“Don’ scare me like that,” Twilight mutters, carefully not looking in Time’s direction. 

“That’s how I know you’re wallowing,” Sky says matter-of-factly, though his eyes are teasing. “You didn’t sense my amazingly wonderful presence.” 

“Tha’ hill looks mighty fine to roll down,” Twilight returns without true bite. “Wanna find out?”

Sky snorts, flashing a smile. Twilight has no idea how he’s so good at that— commandeering an atmosphere with only a look. “How’d you know rolling is one of my most patented skills?” 

“Psychic, I guess.” And there it is; Twilight’s shoulders relaxing without him realising, the weight on his chest lightening like someone’s taken the other side. He knows what Sky’s doing, and he appreciates it nonetheless. 

“Nah,” Sky says. “If you were psychic, you wouldn’t be this stupid. Oh— no, that was too mean—” 

But Twilight just laughs, a small thing, but a laugh nonetheless. He tries to keep his shoulders from jumping right back up around his ears as he feels eyes on him. The gaze isn’t hard to trace, and a glance confirms that Hyrule is watching him from a perch on one of the last trees before the field takes over. They both look away at the same time, something in Twilight curling up tight. 

He’s not trying to scare Hyrule, he tells himself again and again. He’s not doing anything wrong. 

Except it feels like he is, and the overwhelming feeling of being what he is, being him, is suffocating enough that it makes Twilight want to tear at his own skin. 

(“Back, monster!”) 

The burn scar that stretches up the side of Twilight’s ribs twitches dolefully, and he resists the urge to scratch at it. 

“Hey,” Sky says quietly. “It’s okay if you need space—”

“Oi,” Legend’s voice, lightly accented yet sharp as steel, cuts off the rest of Sky’s sentence. Twilight buries a flinch, turning toward the sound before he realises what he’s doing. 

Legend glowers a few feet away, arms crossed tight over his chest. He’s strangely intimidating for being one of the shortest of their group— half a foot shorter than Twilight at least— but the set of his feet and square of his shoulders tells the stories he never will. He’s also been on more than triple the adventures Twilight has, and even though he’s not sure how old the veteran actually is, he can’t be more than twenty or Twilight’s a goron. 

Legend flicks his violet eyes between Sky and Twilight before narrowing his gaze. “Time wants to make camp,” is all he says, even though he’s studying Twilight like Twilight accidentally left all his secrets on his sleeve. “Birdbrain, he asked about your bellows thing for the fire.” 

Sky blinks, glancing at Twilight. “Oh! Ah, okay, then. I’ll be right back.” 

He then pins Legend with a look that Twilight could’ve sworn was a warning before heading off towards Time and Warriors. 

Twilight meets Legend’s eyes, unable to stop the little not-smile from twisting across his mouth despite his heart giving a nervous thump in his chest. “You jus’ pulled that outta yer ass, didn’ ya?”

Legend flashes a grin. “It was a suggestion.” 

“Mhmm,” Twilight hums pointedly, crossing his arms over his chest in a mirror of Legend’s stance. 

Legend is… Twilight’s not entirely sure what the right word is, but prickly fits well enough. He’s a bit snappy— also more than a bit snappy, sometimes, and with Warriors in particular— but he’s always a step ahead of Hyrule in a way Twilight doesn’t fully understand yet. He knows others like Time are more protective of him because he’s one of their younger members, but for Legend it seems different somehow. Even so, Hyrule seems to trust the vet at least minimally, and Twilight really has no place to say anything at all. 

“I’m only gonna say this once,” Legend says, voice like iron as he locks Twilight’s gaze with his. “I don’t know what your past is, or how you even found yourself to be here in the first place. But if you end up betraying us— if you ever try to hurt any of the heroes here— then it’s your head on the line. Understand?” 

Twilight’s heart beats messily, thoughts silent in his head. Legend watches him with that almost analytical look he always wears whenever he sends a jab Twilight’s way; a look that says he knows Twilight has a temper. A look that says, ‘How far can I push you before you snap? What are you going to do if you do lose it?’

“Sky is far more trusting than anyone else here and more susceptible to pity,” Legend tells him. “If you're trying to fool us, then you're the one playing the fool, Hero of Twilight. That dark magic of yours is louder than words.” 

Then, without waiting for a response, Legend turns on his heel and walks away. Twilight’s insides feel numb as he watches him go, watches Sky grab the vet by the shoulder with a sharp frown. Twilight looks away when Sky glances over, turning to face the sun that’s begun its descent, turning the grass gold in its wake. 

Why, Twilight thinks as that distant ache starts again, does it always happen like this? 

(“See you later.”) 

He knew; of course he did. He knows he's not someone other people try for, but hearing the words makes something he thought he'd carefully constructed in his head crack right down the middle. 

A hand grabs his wrist; Twilight’s pulling out of the hold before he even sees Sky. His cornflower-blue eyes are pinched at the corners in concern (pity). “Twi—”

“‘M fine. Goin’ patrollin’,” Twilight cuts him off, already moving through the grass towards the next copse of trees. 

“Wild’s making dinner—” Sky tries again. 

“Be back later,” Twilight has to fight not to snap out the words, one of his canines digging into his lip. 

Sky backs off then, and Twilight grabs his thoughts by the throat and shoves them down, down, down. It’s fine, he tells himself as his steps jolt up through his spine. Legend is always like that, always trying to get under his skin. He wants Twilight to prove him right but he won’t. He will not.

Except Legend is fucking right, and he knows that Twilight knows he is.    

He and Time won’t talk. Warriors’ smiles are never real. Wind only ever bounces close enough to touch his pelt, clearly unsure about Twilight’s general being and with the others. Four doesn’t seem to want to get close to any of them at all. Wild just talked to him for the first time today, Sky is sympathetic towards him, and Hyrule—

“Fuck,” Twilight spits, digging a hand into his hair. His nails scrape at his scalp. “Shut up, Link. It don’ matter. It don’ matter, this adventure’s gonna end ‘n by Ordona it won’t matter.” 

It always does anyway, though, no matter his efforts to forget.

He hits the trees and lets the magic take him. And then, eyes sharpened and ears twitching and finally on four legs, he runs. 

It’s the first time he’s transformed since going through that cursed portal, and by the Light spirits, it feels good. The trees end quickly enough, and then it’s the grasses that whip past his fur, rustling in the soft breeze alongside him. The sky is in hues of orange and pink above him, the sun a deep red on the horizon. The air is fresh and cooling from the midday heat, running its fingers over the tips of the grass. The taste of it is delicious on his tongue. 

It's easier after that; easier to get lost in the world, to nose his way through grass and watch dusk creep in alongside the dying light. At some point, the weight on his chest lessens. At some point, Twilight feels like he can breathe again, though it's the careful type of breathing, trying not to stir again what lies beneath. He thinks of Legend's matter-of-fact words, something tearing slightly in his chest, before burying them again. 

It's not worth it, to mull and ponder and hurt. Twilight had already known— all Legend had done was confirm it. What kind of group of Hylia's heroes trusted the one who was stained with power opposite to hers? 

He just... wished it didn't have to feel so much like betrayal. That's all. But at least Legend doesn't pretend everything's fine between them, not like Warriors. 

...did Sky really only feel bad for him? 

Twilight bites the thought off before it can fully realise, digging his paws into the dirt and taking off again to distract himself. He should probably head back to camp, realistically, before the others think he'd run off on them permanently. Though, he thinks cynically, they'll probably welcome that. 

Then he smells it— overturned dirt and petrichor and sun-warmed skin. Hyrule’s scent. 

Are you serious, he thinks. 

Twilight blinks back out of shadow carefully, heels rolling into the dirt. Eyes squinting from the sudden decrease in preciseness, it takes Twilight longer than he’d like to admit to find Hyrule’s thin form in the distance. 

Hyrule turns as soon as Twilight takes a step forward, staring at him when Twilight sees him like he’d known the other was there all along. It sends a prickle of unease across Twilight’s skin, because not half a minute ago he’d been in his wolf form. Still, he smiles as he inches closer, close-lipped just in case, stopping a good five feet away. 

Hyrule doesn’t move back immediately, only watching him carefully. Regardless, Twilight knows the kid’ll spook if he moves too quickly, so he simply doesn’t.

“What’re doin’ so far out ‘ere?” he asks, shoving his rotten emotions into his head and locking the door. He makes sure he has no tone at all. “Ya lost ‘gain?”

Hyrule stares at him with careful hazel eyes for a few long seconds— seconds in which the traveller doesn’t blink. His gaze is trained on the diamond shaped marking on Twilight’s forehead, half-hidden by his bangs. Twilight feels increasingly awkward as heartbeats tick by until something considering crosses Hyrule’s features, and he finally blinks. 

‘Maybe,’ Hyrule admits in a tiny gesture, shifting a foot back, glancing to the side. Twilight hopes he doesn’t run. ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’

“So… yeah,” Twilight translates, his smile real this time. “Hard t’get lost in a field. Why’d ya go so far?”

Hyrule bites the inside of his already hollow cheek, cheekbones standing out eerily. His eyes are a little too big for his face, Twilight observes, and it makes him look just this side of ethereal. Not Twilight’s kind of not quite human— the kind with careful beauty and long fingers and smiles that are too pretty instead of too sharp. 

‘I don’t know,’ Hyrule says. ‘I wasn’t paying attention.’

“So you said,” Twilight watches the final light of the sunset spill over the field, framing Hyrule along with the grass. His ears are more pointy than Twilight remembers. “D’ya know how long you've been gone?”

Hyrule’s mouth forms a tiny ‘o’. He shifts his weight again, looking past Twilight instead of at him as he shrugs. 

“...’kay. Well, last I heard dinner was in the makin’,” Twilight then recalls Hyrule watching him from that tree not an hour and a half ago, and a chill touches the back of his neck. “Did– ya follow me out ‘ere?”

Hyrule’s eyes go wide, and he shakes his head vehemently. He takes another step back. His hands are fisted at his sides. 

Twilight sighs, raising his own hands in a show of defense. He’d thought he’d gotten used to this, but the raggedness in his chest says otherwise. “Not that’a way, kid, don’ go gettin’ lost in the grass ‘gain. C’mon, then.” 

Hyrule flinches minutely, and Twilight grimaces when he realises his tone was too harsh. Stop fucking up, he tells himself, digging his fingernails into his palm.

“‘S alright,” he tries, making sure to gentle the edges of the words. “I can jus’ point ya in the right direction. Would’ya rather me be behind you or ‘n front?” When Hyrule remains silent, Twilight decides: “Front. Then you can see me.”

Then, to save them both the awkwardness, Twilight turns and starts for camp. He doesn’t hear Hyrule begin to follow him until Twilight’s a good few yards out, but at least he’s following at all.

Legend’s absolutely going to have his head when they get back to camp, but at this rate, the kid might kill him first.

 Twilight catches the smell before he can see the fire. The thick aroma of pumpkin and melting cheese wafts through the dark, and with the open air and grass all around, it smells so distinctly like home that his eyes burn. 

Wild gives a small wave as Twilight comes into sight, ladle proudly in hand. Soup simmers in the pot over the fire, the light cast from the flames orange and gentle. He holds a pumpkin in Twilight’s direction, soup sloshing inside. The immensity of the gesture is entirely overwhelming, crashing over Twilight until he has to clear a lump from his throat. 

“Wild,” he croaks out, words abandoning him. 

“Oh, good, you have Hyrule!” is his response, and Twilight twists to see the traveller slipping into camp behind him. “We were just about to assemble a search party. But here!” 

Wild places the pumpkin in Twilight’s hands, dropping a spoon in a second later. He watches anxiously as Twilight takes a sip, trying very hard to pretend his hands aren’t trembling. 

And it’s not perfect, it’s not exactly like Uli’s and it’s cow cheese, not goat, but it’s… 

“Good,” Twilight whispers, blinking hard. “‘S really good, Wild.” 

Wild beams, though the edges of the smile soften into something more gentle, more knowing. “Told you I had more than four,” he teases, bumping Twilight’s shoulder with his as he gestures to the other pumpkins the heroes are eating out of. Twilight barely even registers Legend’s glare with the lingering taste of the soup in his mouth. 

Twilight’s smiling back before he can even think, a little wobbly, but he can’t bring himself to care. The hollow pumpkin in his hands is warm, sending bits of heat up through his arms to settle in his chest. He watches Wild move around his pot, watches Sky nearly fall asleep into his soup and Four smile to himself and Wind laugh and Time breathe, and it's suddenly, inexorably real. 

Okay, he decides. Legend and Hyrule will probably never see past his magic— Warriors may not ever trust him, and Time will probably never care about him in the way Twilight cared about Shade. But this? 

Maybe he can do this— actually do this, despite Legend's words, despite that their turn from him feels inevitable, despite everything. Despite Twilight himself. 

On purpose, he thinks, looking at Wild, then Sky, then the soup in his hands. I am choosing this on purpose, because the choice is mine to make, despite everything. 

“What?” Four asks, bewildered, and Wild’s giggles drag Twilight down with him.

Chapter Text

“So,” Legend starts, stretching his heavily jewelled hands over his head as the flames of their campfire dance along the long shadows of sunset. “Hyrule says I’m the hero that comes before him in whatever goddess-forsaken fucked up timeline we have. Anyone else got any idea of placement?”

Twilight forces himself not to look up from his food, scooping more soup into his mouth. His stomach knots tightly, hands going tense around the wooden bowl as he tries not to be overly aware of Time’s presence to his left. 

It makes sense, really— Hyrule has been an inexplicable step behind Legend for almost the whole time they’ve been together, despite the hero’s sharp tongue and Hyrule's general skittishness. Twilight couldn’t quite figure out why Legend of all people was the one Hyrule chose to hang onto, but if he already knew Legend was his predecessor, of course he would. 

Of course, Twilight thinks, just a tad bit of bitterness sweeping the back of his throat. He checks himself a moment later, even with the taste of it still in his mouth. He has quickly found that it's easier to decide to love, to justify it in his head, than it is for his heart actually to comply alongside him. He wishes he could just be a rational fucking person, but he can't keep everything together and be that at the same time. 

In his peripherals, he sees Warriors shoulder-check Time, which causes him to whack into Wind and nearly shove him off the log the three have piled onto. The gentle smile Time gives the sailor as he grabs the back of his tunic to steady him makes something hot and painful poke at Twilight’s chest. He doesn’t dare try to decipher what it is. 

He hasn’t really had a conversation with Time yet besides a few brief words, but those words always leave him feeling scraped out and hollow. He’s the one that watches Twilight the most— not that he’s rude or even outwardly antagonistic. He just continually watches with that piercing blue eye like he can see every thought in Twilight’s head. It’s disarming, and even more so because Shade used to look at him the exact same way. 

From Twilight’s own position at the edge of the trees, he can see Sky sprawled close to the fire, propped up on his elbows even though he looks like he’s about to conk out any second. Four leans on a tree a few feet behind him, watching the flames with his dizzying eyes, and Legend is already back to picking leaves out of Hyrule’s hair with an unfocused hand. 

The others had sat down earlier like their places had somehow already been decided and broadcasted telepathically, leaving Twilight to fumble and go with the safe option: right on the edge, where the shadows grab at his back. Wild had joined him without a second thought, settling down close enough that Twilight could stretch out a leg and nudge him if he wanted to. 

Twilight snaps back into the present as Warriors speaks, shrugging a shoulder in response to Legend’s question. “I’m not sure. We don’t have legends or anything from before.” 

“I do,” Four says, and what could be a flash of a smile crosses his lips, his eyes brightening. “The hero before me was the Chosen Hero. There are a lot of preserved records about him in the royal library.” 

Sky thumps to the ground, hands and dirt tossed into the air at his abrupt movement. He pulls himself up to a seated position, scooting himself around to face Four. 

“That, ah. May be me?” he says with an abashed smile, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “That’s my other title, at least.” 

Four’s mouth drops into a small ‘o’, his eyes shining a bright hazel. He closes it, and Twilight has to fight down a smile at how obviously the smithy’s words are getting messily bundled up in his head. 

“The hero before me was killed,” Legend says matter-of-factly, always knowing how to have a great conversation. “Not that I can exactly blame the guy.”

Twilight winces, dry bones and ivy-coated armour flashing in his mind’s eye. He doesn’t know what he should say— that he didn’t know who it was? He only just learned Shade’s hero title, after all. That there were no records, maybe, because there aren’t; just a lonely grave with no mourners and the ghost it left behind.

Twilight looks over as Wild’s hands come up, hesitating. ‘Don’t know either,’ he signs carefully, eyes down. ‘We lost all of that.’

“The First was directly before me,” Sky says quietly, fingers tracing the stitches of his cape— sailcloth, he called it. Twilight feels something deep inside him go still at the words, at the mention of the man to first hold their spirit. “Hylia’s original knight. He was killed in the battle against the Demon King.”

‘So… you’re our first,’ Hyrule whispers, Legend translating for those who are unfamiliar with sign— or just his sign dialect, as his gestures are generally more simplified than what Twilight knows. His shoulders curl in when they look at him, a faint pink blush rising in his cheeks as he ducks his head. 

Twilight barely has time to catch something tight and painful behind Sky’s expression, left hand tucking under his thigh, but he’s smiling again in the next blink. “I guess so.” 

“I know nothing about my predecessor,” Time says simply.   

Wind is uncharacteristically quiet, bottom lip worried between his teeth. Twilight accidentally catches his gaze, his dark eyes heavy and unsure as the silence ticks on. With every beat, with the way Wind is suddenly angling slightly away from Time so that their shoulders no longer brush, a tiny voice grows in Twilight’s head.  

“I don’t want to talk about it,” the sailor announces.

Twilight’s heart is suddenly too loud as eyes turn on him. He wonders if the others can see it through his chest, if it’s as much of a giveaway as a beacon. He rubs a thumb under his eye, over the marking, before dropping it and shrugging in what he hopes is a casual manner. 

“Dead,” he says, and prays that’s enough. 

Legend cocks an eyebrow at him, but sighs dramatically and points at Sky. “So, first,” he points at Four– “Sky,” –then at Hyrule. “Me,” Warriors, Wild, and Time are next up, “Don’t know.” 

He gestures between himself, Sky, and Twilight with the ‘same’ sign, probably without even realising. “Dead, and you,” he looks at Wind, dropping his hand. “don’t want to talk about it.” 

Wind replies, “Fuck off,”  in the way only a teenager can do. Twilight buries a snort in his soup. 

“But you know who it is?” Four asks, more gentle. 

Wind hesitates, but nods after a moment. His hands are fidgeting with this spoon in his lap, his empty bowl having been set on the ground. He opens his mouth, closing it halfway again as he thinks. “It’s…” 

“Complicated,” Twilight finishes quietly, the word leaving his mouth before he could even recognise it on his tongue. He feels the tips of his ears pinken.

Wind looks at him, a sideways not-smile on his lips. “Yeah. That.” 

“Yours being dead is ‘complicated’ ,” Legend deadpans. “Okay. Clarify.” 

Twilight catches a hint of scowl from Wild in his peripherals. Twilight just taps his spoon on the bottom of his bowl, matches Legend’s gaze and says, “You first.” 

Legend’s eyebrows twitch up. His smile is a slash across his face. “Touche, country boy.” 

Sky inches over enough to smack Legend upside the head, and Wild snorts out a laugh. They break for sleep after that, each wandering to their own section of camp— or trees, in Wild and Hyrule’s case. Wild holds up a hand for a high-five as they pass by each other on their way to said trees, and Hyrule just stares at his upraised hand, confusedly raising his own to mirror Wild’s stance after a second. 

Wild giggles and smacks his hand into Hyrule’s, doing a little “see?” gesture afterwards. Hyrule looks at his hand and smiles hesitantly back. It’s small and close-lipped and just this side of uncomfortable, but it’s the first time Twilight has seen the kid smile. It pushes up the bit of baby fat left on his cheeks, rounding out his features and turning his face soft. 

Hyrule glances over, freezing at Twilight’s gaze. On habit, Twilight rubs the back of his neck, though he quickly drops the hand when he realises what he’s doing. He doesn’t think about the smile he gives the boy. 

“Looks good on ya,” he tells Hyrule, and moves on before he can see his response. 

He’s chained again. 

Link stares at his human hand, at the thick chain that’s bolted into the floor with the shackle around his wrist. Blood drips from underneath it, little crimson drops that run down his arm and shine like liquid ruby. He isn’t in the cell, though there’s cut stone under his feet. The sky is above him, the trees impossibly green, and the Master Sword is mounted in its pedestal three feet away. 

Link reaches for it. The chain catches at his wrist and pulls him back, biting into his skin. He winces but keeps straining anyway, widening his stance and stretching his free arm towards it as far as he can reach. 

His fingertips just barely brush the hilt. Link’s marks scream. 

His knees hit the stone. He can feel the magic twisting inside of him, dark and angry, so, so angry at the Sword of Light feet away from him. His hands are shaking as he presses them to the ground. Something crawls beneath his skin, the back of his hand beginning to split in little cracks. 

Time is standing behind the Sword. His scarred-over eye is open and staring, blankly white against the other’s blue. 

“Shade,” Twilight gasps, stretching towards the Sword. “Please.” 

His cracking hand doesn’t bleed red. Black, coagulated liquid spills from the breaks instead, dropping in thick rivulets and running between the cracks in the stone. The curse is screaming, screaming, screaming. 

“Please,” Twilight begs again. 

Time places a hand on the pommel. Reality warps, the image of it bouncing in Twilight’s vision. The blade of the sword becomes older and scratched, the crossguard melting and molding into something less ornate. The gem’s glow flickers and dies and it’s the Gaurof Sword in the pedestal, tilting to the side. 

Time’s still holding it. Half of his face drips off much like the dark liquid from cracks spreading up Twilight’s arm, revealing grey bone underneath. His teeth are bared through his cheek in a skeletal smile. 

Twilight recoils, even as the curse in his blood shrieks happily. Skin tears; the manacle goes tighter and he chokes.  “No, no, no, no,” he whispers. “Wait. Shade, wait, don’t— don’t!” 

Time’s— Shade’s— head tilts. His jaw cracks when he opens his mouth, skin splitting into a too-long smile and it’s Zant’s smile, Zant’s warbling, triumphant, insane laughter that escapes his lips. He’s cackling like seeing Twilight chained to the floor and watching as the curse eats him from the inside out is the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. 

Twilight’s vision blackens at the edges, threatening to overtake him. Shade-Zant doesn’t seem to notice. He draws the Gaurof Sword. 

Link thinks he tries to scream, but no sound leaves his throat. Fingers of twilight reach across the courtyard, seeking and swallowing structures whole— condemned, condemned, condemned again— 

Fingers brush his arm. Twilight sits up so fast it feels like the dream tears out of his head. He doesn’t even realise he’s moved his hands until his fingers catch in fabric, jerking down, and he throws the crown of his head into something hard. 

A muffled swear filters into his ears, but it’s the hand that pins down his left wrist that really wakes him up. His eyes fall on Warriors and his bleeding nose, unknowingly pressing his palm to the light ring of damaged skin that never healed properly. Knuckles crack open black in his mind’s eye, and Twilight grimaces, jerking away.

Warriors lets him go, something flitting through his gaze before he settles on entirely passive as he pinches the bridge of his nose that’s dripped crimson all over his undertunic. "Ow," he says, flat. 

Ah, Twilight thinks foggily, fuck. 

“W’rs,” he mumbles, haven’t quite gotten a conscious grip on his tongue yet. “Shit, ‘m sorry, can I—”

He reaches up a hand, not sure what he’s gonna do with it but damn him if he’s not gonna try anyway. But Warriors flinches the moment he moves— just a small one, a twitch and a hand reaching for an invisible sword, yet Twilight recognises it all the same. Most of the knights, especially the city guard, have the same reaction. 

“Sorry,” he repeats, dropping his hand. His head feels dreadfully unstable, like the world is gonna rock out from under him any wavering second. Just like with the Gaurof Sword. Just like with the Twili beasts. Just like everything else. 

Warriors raises a palm to cut him off, though Twilight wasn’t going to say anything else. It’s less of a ‘stop’ and more of a 'drawing a line' gesture, which Twilight could’ve guessed just from his body language. Warriors exhales a second later, relaxing his shoulders, and Twilight has a brief moment of wishing he hadn’t woken up at all. 

“It’s fine,” he says, a touch nasally. Twilight feels like he’s watching the pieces of some kind of mask click together right in front of him as the captain flashes him a small smile. “Figured it’d be nicer to wake you than have you roll into the coals.” 

Twilight glances over, noting that his foot is just too close to their dying fire. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes. “How long…?”

“About three hours,” Warriors says. He swipes a thumb under his now sluggishly bleeding nose, smearing red across his upper lip. Guilt spikes in Twilight’s gut as Warriors studies his reddened thumb with a bland expression. He seems more tired than Twilight thought, his under-eyes shaded and dark in the dim light of the coals and stars. He can’t recall if Warriors had eaten with them earlier or not, now that he thinks about it.  

“I can take ov’r watch,” Twilight offers, because he’s pretty damn sure he’s not sleeping again tonight— and Warriors looks like he could use it. 

Warriors shuts him down immediately, which Twilight half-expected. “That’s alright.”

He moves away, back towards his spot next to Wind. He picks up a journal off the ground, settling it into his lap as he flips through the pages. Twilight’s seen him with that journal a handful of times, usually in evenings or early mornings as him, Twilight, Time and Hyrule are the ones who get up the earliest (before sunrise). He doesn’t think Legend counts because he’s not sure he’s ever seen the vet actually asleep. 

He peeks over to where Legend had set up at the base of Hyrule’s tree— and yup, there he is, what looks like a glowing ring held between his teeth to cast light on something he’s sewing. Twilight looks away before Legend can catch him watching, curling himself onto his side and erasing his view of both him and Warriors for the scent of his pelt beneath him. 

Warriors is the hardest of the heroes to pin down, honestly. Twilight’s figured out where he stands with some of the others, at least— Wild and Sky seem to like him, Wind and Four don’t seem to not like him, Time is a topic not to be breached, and Legend is hostile. But Warriors doesn't seem to be on one end of the spectrum or the other, despite not really interacting with Twilight. He can’t shake the feeling that Warriors is somewhat fake, though, and not just when Twilight’s around. He just can’t tell what it is that Warriors is being fake about, or where the real one starts and ends.

Warriors, whoever he really is, is a damn good actor. 

Twilight’s eyes slip closed at some point and he falls into a sort of doze, one hand tangled in his pelt. A breeze picks up around him, meandering past his ears as he listens to the pull of Legend’s thread through taught fabric and the scratching of Warriors’ pen. Someone shifts across camp; a tiny exhale follows. Twilight breathes in, out, jerking awake in between when memories of bleached bones and burning blood surface.

Small-spoken words touch the air, whispers and under-the-breath tones pulling Twilight towards higher consciousness. He recognises Time’s voice immediately, Warriors’ following soon after. It takes a minute for the words to process in Twilight’s brain, and he has to force his ear not to twitch towards the low sounds. 

Time’s asking something of Warriors— about sleep, it seems. “How long have you been on watch?” 

Warriors’ answer is a half-gone noncommittal hum. Time’s sigh is barely there, but Twilight would recognise that sound a mile away. There’s a tiny thump of unidentifiable source, followed a second later by a barely-contained squawk of indignance. It takes Twilight a moment to realise Warriors had made that sound, childish as it is. 

“Go to bed,” Time hisses.

“Fuck you,” Warriors hisses back, only somewhat playful. 

“I’ll take over watch,” Time persuades. “Rest of the night, or I’ll wake up Wind in a few hours.” 

Warriors mutters something too quiet even for Twilight to catch. Silence reigns for the next seconds in which Twilight almost dozes off again— until his heart gives a messy thump at Warriors’ voice next words: “Wolf boy had a nightmare.” 

“You’re changing the subject,” is the only thing Time says in response. 

It goes quiet again. Twilight has to fight not to open his eyes, to keep his breathing rhythmic. The air seems to have pressurised; he has the itch to run again. 

“Why do you look at him like that?” Warriors asks in a whisper. 

Twilight’s heartbeat fills the quiet between them, pounding like a drum in his ears.  

Time says, “He reminds me of someone.” 

Warriors hums lightly. Twilight digs his fingers deeper into his pelt and forces himself to breathe against the tightening of his lungs. It don’t mean nothin’, he don’t know me, he ain’t dead yet—

Monster snakes through the air like a phantom. The ground rattles just slightly under his head, but Twilight’s already up and moving, hand steady as he pulls his sword out of his sheath. His heart is still pounding, but it’s a different sort of beat now. It’s a welcome distraction. He tries not to drown in the familiar adrenaline rush, as nice as it would be. 

Someone calls his name softly, but he closes his eyes and listens, the world slowing around him. At the treeline, the air bends, a quiet whistle that makes Twilight’s hair stand on end surfacing against the night breeze. 

Twilight swivels, movement caught in the corner of his eye. Warriors is starting to stand up, eyes locked on him, his light hair a practical beacon in the moonlight and all too obviously close to the treeline. 

Fuck. 

Twilight drops his sword and runs. 

“Ambush!” Wild screams. 

Dust coats the back of Twilight’s throat when he tackles Warriors, the latter going down soundlessly into the dirt. The arrow whizzes by overhead, slamming into the ground a couple yards away and exploding in a blinding mass of fire. The heat sears Twilight’s face, the force of the bomb arrow trembling the earth underneath him. 

It’s not enough to distract him from Warriors’ dagger at his throat. 

Warriors’ eyes are narrowed and cold enough that a chill rakes its fingernails along the back of Twilight’s neck. The dagger’s edge digs into Twilight’s skin, and he feels it start to split, warm blood dripping towards the hollow of his collarbone. 

Twilight jerks away at the same time a hand latches onto the back of his undertunic and yanks him off of Warriors. The extra momentum sends him skittering, but Time’s hand stays steady, letting him find his footing. Time glances at him for less than a second before letting him go, moving to grab Warriors by the arm and haul him up. 

A roar shatters whatever was left of the night, and Twilight scrambles for his sword. 

“What in Hylia’s terrible naming skills is that?!” Legend hollers. 

‘That’ is a monster that must be at least twenty five feet tall and just as wide, tearing trees out of the ground as it moves through them. Smaller monsters start breaking out of the treeline, swarming a safe distance from the hulking creature’s feet. An entire tree , roots, foliage and all, whizzes by, casting clumps of grass and dirt into the air when it slams down barely a foot from Sky, who yelps in surprise. 

“Hinox!” Wild yells helpfully from his tree, a metallic-looking bow with no less than three arrows knocked in his hands. They all slam into the side of the large monster’s— hinox’s?— head, two of them skimming its yellow eye. The hinox howls in rage, dropping to the dirt with a slam hard enough to rock Twilight’s footing. 

A shriek comes from Twilight’s left, and some sort of goblin-bokoblin-thing swings its club wildly at his head. He ducks, shoving his sword through its torso hard enough that it sinks it hilt-deep. He rips it out again, grimacing at the gore that splatters his pants and boots, just in time to whirl and catch another club on the edge of his blade. 

It’s the same kind of monster, but blue instead of red. It snarls at Twilight, ripping its spiked club away and lunging in again. Twilight parries, sliding to the right out of its next strike and slicing at its leg. 

His sword barely gets through the skin— with a move that normally would’ve taken the monster’s leg clean off. The blood that leaks onto his blade is an oily black, and Twilight recoils, gagging at the sudden smell of decay. 

The monster’s dangerously spiked club nearly smashes his knee in during his moment of distraction, but Twilight spin-attacks away fast enough that it just chisels a gash in his calf. When his sword hits the monster’s side, the same thing happens: a deep flesh wound, instead of the strength Twilight knows he hit it with cleaving it in half. 

This time, the monster bleeds enough black to splatter the ground, and Twilight knows it wasn’t just a trick of the light. 

Fear-laced dread coils in his gut as the monster screams again. His marks give a phantom twinge. 

The monster finally goes down in a gurgling mess when Twilight slices its throat. He pants, the black blood that sprayed on his face reeking and tasting of death. He dry-heaves once, fist digging into his abdomen at the feeling of suffocation, and spits into the grass. It doesn’t help. 

The only thing he knows that bleeds black shouldn’t exist anymore. 

The roar of the hinox sounds underwater as he lifts his head, shaking it harshly to try and clear his thoughts. Something wraps around his ankle as he does so, yanking him back hard enough that Twilight faceplants. He rolls onto his back, slashing blindly, though he hits nothing. 

He’s back on his feet a second later, sword gripped in both hands as he stares down blood-red eyes. 

The deep black lizard stares back, the hues of its skin shifting like shadows. Its hiss is discordantly melodious, a hundred voices over one. Twilight realises it’s laughing at him. 

Twilight blinks, and then there’s only grass whispering where it once was. The hinox screeches out a death knell behind him. Wind gives a tired cheer alongside it.

Twilight closes his eyes and prays to any deity listening that this will amount to nothing at all. 

The camp reeks by the time the rest of the smaller monsters are killed. Twilight can almost feel the smell like a lump in the back of his throat, rot twining suffocatingly alongside the scent of dewy grass. 

The sun rises red in the east, casting pale light on the black-slicked grass. The unnatural blood spilled glistens an oily hue, slick and disgusting as it sticks like tar to the underside of Twilight’s boots. Wild, too, is grimacing and wrinkling his nose at the base of his scorched tree, a couple of soaked arrows clenched in his fist. 

“Those bokos were nastier than usual,” he says to Twilight as he passes him by. 

Twilight stops, trying not to care about the trembling still in his fingers. “Ya know those monsters?”

Wild nods, inspecting a shredded fletching on one of the arrows and making a face at it. “Mhm. The black blood is new, though.” He glances up, eyebrows furrowing. “Looks like one almost got you, huh?”

Twilight blinks in confusion, his calf giving a dull throb. That wasn’t nearly anything, and definitely not considered a “close miss”. Only a second later does he remember the split skin on his throat. He touches the now-dried blood with his fingertips, a hot rush of almost shame welling in his gut. He recalls Warriors’ expression, blank and cold and deadly like he wouldn’t hesitate to actually slit Twilight’s throat in a second, and wonders if that's what he's been hiding. 

The fear was still there, though. Twilight would recognise fear anywhere, even if it's the unrealised kind that sends men for their swords without them knowing why. 

Innate, Zelda had called it after Twilight had been jumped by some city guards. Fight or flight; it's the Twili's invoked nature. 

“Ah, well,” Twilight gives a half-shrug, gaze darting away from Wild’s. “Anyone else get injured?”

“Sky caught an arrow to the arm, but he said he doesn’t even feel it. Hyrule’s got him.” 

The voice feels like lightning along Twilight’s spine, and he straightens up so fast he might as well have been a puppet pulled taught by the mere sound of Shade’s living voice addressing him. Twilight is proud of the way he doesn’t whirl, only swivelling halfway round with one foot, casual-like. He feels immensely stupid as soon as he does it, though, his blood-slicked boot losing traction on the wet grass and causing him to stumble a bit. It’s just as bad as whirling, if he’s being honest with himself. 

Twilight swallows. Tells his voice to be even. “Hyrule?”

Time indicates with his chin to where Hyrule sits with Sky, hands glowing golden over Sky’s arm. If he concentrates, Twilight can feel the pulse of the magic from here. 

“He’s a healer,” Time explains. 

Twilight’s brain is positively devoid of any words conversation worthy. He runs his tongue over his teeth, too conscious of the points. “Ah,” he says again, little more than a mumble. “That’ll be a help.” 

“I imagine so,” Time agrees, and Twilight has to fight back the feeling of being condescended to. Time isn’t trying to sound that way, Twilight can tell, even if Shade had criticised him on more than one occasion. It’s just that Time speaks with hardly any inflection most of the time, making it hard to decipher any sort of subtext he might be aiming for. 

“I apologize for Warriors,” Time tells him suddenly. 

Twilight feels his mouth freeze. He glances over, but Wild has moved on, towards Wind and Legend. His throat gives a twinge of acknowledgement; Twilight presses a hand over it for a second time. 

“‘S my fault,” he replies, dropping the hand. “I shouldn’ have jumped’im like that. I jus’ sm– heard them monsters comin’, an’ the arrow— I didn’ think ‘bout it.” 

A bead of sweat rolls down the back of Twilight’s neck. It’s not hot out yet. Stop bein’ suspicious, he tells himself even though he's aware he hasn't done anything wrong. Stop.  

Time’s eye flicks to one of Twilight’s ears, like considering the validity of that claim, before settling back on his face. Twilight has the distinct, discomfiting feeling Time isn’t really looking at him. 

“I also wanted to thank you. Warriors... is complicated,” Time says, and Twilight has to bite down a terribly timed laugh. It doesn't escape him how comfortable Time is describing Warriors, though, and their familiarity is obvious enough already. They knew each other before this, somehow, and Twilight is morbidly curious about the details even though he knows it will do him know good. “He’s adjusting. But I thank you for looking out for him anyway.”

“Most ev’ryone is adjustin', I’m afraid,” Twilight says without thinking, then kicks himself for the slightly razored words. “What I meant is—” 

Twilight cuts himself off, and Time’s lips twitch slightly. “You’re right about that. I’ve never been a part of a more chaotic fight in my life.” 

Twilight does remember something about Four accidentally tripping Legend, who then accidentally set a tree on fire, which then sent Wild scrambling to the ground, which then caused him to land on top of Time who smacked him in the face with his shield. A bit of a grin escapes him, though he tamps it down immediately. “Yeah, hell of'a first fight. I'm thinkin' most’a us are used t’ workin’ solo.” 

Time smiles— actually smiles, even if it’s just a small quirk of his mouth. Shade never exactly had the option to smile (Twilight shoves the memory of his nightmare down, down, down), and the sight of it directed at him makes a place deep in his chest twinge. Exhausted, with adrenaline crashing in his blood and the black sticking to his skin, this, Time, makes him want to either lay down forever or cry, just a little bit. He runs a hand through his hair to distract himself and instantly regrets it when his fingers catch in knots and clumps of congealed blood. 

“Would you like Hyrule to look at anything for you?” 

Twilight nearly chokes at the question, turning to cough into his sleeve. “‘S– ‘s, uh, alright,” he manages, cheeks flushing. “Don’t need’ta, ah. Bother him more than need be.” 

Time regards him, expression inscrutable. His words to Warriors come back to Twilight then, fogged over by the events of the night: “He reminds me of someone.” 

I know where you’re buried, Twilight thinks, wants to say to him so badly that he doesn’t even consider it. He wishes that maybe one day looking at Time won’t hurt; won’t make him want to tear himself apart. I know your skeleton better than I know your face. I know your ghost better than I know you. I know that I'm the only one who does, and I don't know if that makes me guilty or not. I think it does. I feel like it does. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

 Wind calls something, voice jubilant. Time turns away. 

Twilight drags his fingernails across his forehead and wishes.

Chapter Text

Twilight wakes a few hours later to the admittedly familiar sounds of bickering. For a second, he thinks that Talo and Beth have managed to sneak their way into his house only to give themselves away over something stupid. When he opens his eyes, though, the open sky is above him and Legend’s voice is grating. 

“Oh, I forgot that you think you’re better than us,” Legend taunts, and Twilight feels more than sees him put his hands on his hips. “Last time I checked, we don’t bend knee to ranks, captain.” 

Ordana, even better. It’s not the first time Warriors and Legend have squabbled, but this time Legend seems actually agitated instead of his usual prickly jabs. From the way Legend hadn’t even bothered to show any pretense of sleeping last night to the attack still weighing everyone down, it’s not a big surprise that patience runs thin. 

Still, though, Twilight thinks as he hauls himself up, it’d be nice if Legend could let anything go for once. 

Warriors’ voice is tight when he responds, the only thing about him that’s not perfectly pieced together this morning. Even his hair gleams in the morning sun. “I wasn’t ordering you around. I was just requesting that you help start picking things up, since we should get going as soon as possible. Unless you forgot that we were ambushed last night?” 

Twilight exchanges a tired look with Sky as they both get to their feet, though Sky looks like he might just wander away to find a quieter place to sleep. Twilight’s expression asks an annoyed, “why” . Sky’s responds with an exasperated, “always.” 

Legend rolls his eyes. “Why, of course, how could I forget? And who was it on watch when that happened? Oh, wait—” 

“Y’all shut it,” Twilight finds himself grumbling, the words falling from his lips on habit before he’d even realised he’d opened his mouth. 

It’s an echo of the exasperated words he’s said a million times when Malo, Talo, and Beth become too much to handle— and must be a testament to how tired he is, because what the fuck. Legend and Warriors aren’t children. 

He winces as soon as the words land. He winces even harder when his gaze accidentally catches on Time’s and realises he’d cut the other man off from speaking first. Fantastic, Twilight thinks, wondering how quickly the earth would be able to swallow him if he started digging first. 

“How about you shut the hell up,” Legend snaps immediately. 

Twilight raises his hands in defence and lets the matter drop. He’s never been good at picking his battles, but he’s not that stupid. 

Still, Legend and Warriors’ voices grate against his nerves as he packs up his bedroll. Irritation begins to build under his skin as the argument intensifies, but Twilight is unsure whether it’s actually his or if it’s just his emotions bouncing off of the others’. 

The way his heart gives a hard, skipping pound when Legend begins to shout is definitely all him, though. 

“Seems like if you were able to stand behind your title you would’ve noticed the fifty fucking hellion monsters that nearly killed us all last night!” 

“You clearly have no sense of what an ambush is,” Warriors grits out, arms crossed tight over his chest even though Legend is one step away from being practically nose-to-nose with him. “Do I have to spell it out for you, veteran, or is your skull simply too thick for the concept of strategization?” 

“Hah! I would look in a damn mirror if I were you— wait, you do that anyway! You must’ve lost your touch since your eyeliner wasn’t perfect, right, dollface? Meanwhile we were trying not to get fucking trampled! ”

It’s the most serious argument among them so far despite it going in circles, clearly borne of sleeplessness and the lingering high emotions of the ambush that was really just a few hours ago, and nobody seems sure how to handle it. Wind starts trying to help out Warriors but ends up getting yanked right into it until his face goes a blustery pink. Time’s expression is mystifyingly foreign while he says something that’s lost to the tension between Legend and Warriors. Even Warriors, ever steady, is losing his cool. His hands are gripped so tightly around his biceps that his knuckles are nearly see-through. 

Twilight’s throat gives a phantom twinge. He resists the urge to touch the scabbed-over cut, instead forcing himself to turn away from the spectacle until he feels less like throttling the both of them. 

His eyes catch on Hyrule’s small form, retreating towards the edge of camp. His thin shoulders are nearly touching his ears with how tight they are, apparently attempting to curl in on himself in a way that’s achingly familiar. His gaze is darting, flighty, the knuckles of one hand knotted in the hem of his tunic. With a pang, Twilight sees that Hyrule clearly deals as well with raised voices as he does— which is badly. 

“It’s always the fucking soldiers!” Legend is shouting, eyes flashing. “Raised in a barrack, were you? I should have fucking figured, with the lack of common goddess-damned decency that you subject everyone to!” 

Warriors’ close-lipped smile is a brittle thing as sharp as his dagger. The bags under his eyes look almost as dark as Twilight’s markings. “At least I was raised at all, it seems.” 

“Warriors,” Time rumbles, finally managing to break through as his hand lands heavily on Warriors’ shoulder. 

There is something undeniably cold radiating off of Warriors, just like last night. His hand is hanging by his thigh sheath where he keeps his dagger. Legend’s answering snarl falls on deaf ears as, out of the corner of his eye, Twilight sees Hyrule flinch. 

A different kind of emotion swells behind his lungs, hot and edged with red. He’s grabbing the back of Legend’s tunic before even deciding to move his hands, dragging the younger hero away from Warriors and behind Twilight’s back on habit. 

Warriors looks at Twilight like he’s never seen him before. There’s something complicated playing across his face, his eyes dropping to Twilight’s throat before he tears his gaze away, shoulders tense. 

“‘Re y’all five years old?” Twilight snaps louder than he meant to, decidedly retracting his earlier statement. He turns, stepping back so that Legend’s in his field of view again as well. “Last time I checked, we got shit t’ do, ‘n I doubt them goddesses want it done by some cuckoo-shits actin’ like the sun rises the faster they caw.” 

Legend glowers at him, though Twilight can already tell his temper is exhausting. “Are you—” 

“I’m callin’ ya stupid,” Twilight clarifies helpfully, biting down on the inside of his cheek to keep the words steady. “Get it together ‘n shut the hell up, ya hear? ‘Fore we decide t’ leave y’all’s asses here, ‘cuz we sure as hell don’wanna hear y’all shoutin’ our ears off!” 

It’s probably the most words he’s ever said with these people, he realises dimly. They all seem to realise it as well, with the way eight pairs of eyes are suddenly latched onto him. 

Legend drags his gaze away a second later though, looking over to where Hyrule is. For a moment, Twilight sees something in Legend’s face he’s never seen before: regret. 

He knocks Twilight to the side with a shoulder, but not hard— just enough to get past him. Twilight lets him go, a quiet roaring in his head that gets louder with every stare hanging off him taking precedence. He takes his pack from the ground and bites his tongue hard like that’ll magically take back every word that put him in the middle of that mess. 

Time is looking at him in a way that makes Twilight’s skin burn. Twilight feels his lungs freeze, holding his breath as he waits for… something. To be yelled at, for a lecture, for even a damn frown. He shouldn’t have snapped at Legend— shouldn’t have grabbed him or put himself between him and Warriors at all. It wasn’t his place and Time definitely knows that.

But Time turns away a moment later, giving Warriors a look Twilight recognises well. At the same time, though, and as much as he hates it, the sympathy he has for Warriors is double-edged. 

A beat too late, Wind lets out a low whistle. “Damn, you schooled them,” the younger hero says, almost appreciatively. “I thought for a second you were gonna actually toss Legend into a tree!” 

“Oh,” Twilight says, like a dumbass. “Nah, I—” 

“Not that he wouldn’t deserve it,” Four adds on before Twilight can embarrass himself even more. 

His dry tone is at odds with the actual amusement dancing in his eyes. He doesn’t shy away when Twilight looks at him, instead offering him a small, conspiratorial smirk. Twilight returns it hesitantly, wondering how obvious it is that he half-expected one of them to yell at him on the spot rather than whatever this is. 

Wind considers this seriously, hand on his chin. “Smithy, how many rupees would it take for you—”

“I’d pegasus-kick him in the face for free,” Four says before Wind can even finish. 

Wind bursts into giggles, definitely more than a little sleep-deprived as the force of his laughter sends him stumbling right into Four. Four rolls his eyes as he shoves the pirate away, a tiny smile on his lips. Next to Twilight, Sky’s own smile is full-blown across his cheeks. He nudges Twilight’s shoulder in a small point of support. 

There’s a gleam in his clear blue eyes that looks suspiciously like pride. Over what, Twilight has no idea. Still, he can hardly stomach a look at Sky without a tightly wound knot of emotions he’s been carefully not touching rising to the surface, so he just shrugs. 

Apprehension slides down his spine as Warriors steps past him. The captain doesn’t spare him a glance, though, moving robotically to finish packing up his stuff. Twilight can hear Legend talking lowly to Hyrule somewhere behind him, but neither of them have come back in sight. 

Congratulations, Twilight thinks to himself, you’ve managed to piss off the guy who hates you and the guy almost killed you even more. 

Hyrule still stands by himself, one thumb pressing and sliding across his palm over and over again. Legend had gone somewhere to cool off, he guesses, so before he can overthink it, Twilight lifts a hand and asks, ‘Okay?’

Hyrule’s eyes are round as he cocks his head, considering this. His gaze drifts from Twilight’s face down to his chest as if trying to find Twilight’s meaning by staring straight through him. 

Before he can, the ground rumbles beneath them, sending bone-deep vibrations up Twilight’s calves. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sky’s mouth drop open as reality tears in front of them. Spiralling violet-black veins of dimensional void split the air and twist into a magical archway. 

Twilight’s heartbeat drums in his temples as he stares at the swirling mass. What feels like tiny hands begin to tug at Twilight’s clothes, the portal a gravitational centre of its own creation and happy to drag him into its depths if he dares try and ignore it. 

Of course, Wild walks right up to it. He pokes at it, once, twice, fingers disappearing into whatever’s behind it. He glances back at Twilight and gives a dramatic shiver with a grin. He sticks his arm in up to the elbow— then yelps as he’s promptly sucked right through with no ceremony. 

“Oh, joy,” Sky says flatly. 

Twilight’s head spins a bit when he stumbles out, stomach flipping slightly as he regains his balance on the other side of the portal. Wild waves at him, and Twilight lifts a hand back to signal that yes, he is alive. He winces as Four spits out a mouthful of bile a few feet in front of him while Sky rubs a sympathetic hand on his back. Clearly the passage is easier for some than others as Hyrule doesn’t look amazing either, his eyes glassy and skin tinged green where he’s sitting on the ground next to Time. 

Warriors bursts out of the portal a step behind Twilight. He collides with Twilight’s shoulder, unsteady, and Twilight has his hand on his sword hilt before he even knows what he’s doing. Quick as lightning, Wild’s next to him, grabbing his elbow and yanking it down before dragging him away from the captain. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” he whispers, stepping in front of Twilight to block his view of the others. “It was just Warriors, you’re okay.” 

Twilight stares at him. His heart doesn’t seem to be beating quite right, heady rushes of blood making his fingers tingle down to the bone. He can’t stop thinking about the look in Warriors’ eyes as he held a dagger to his throat, when Twilight got between him and Legend this morning. “What?” 

Wild opens his mouth and slowly closes it again as he scans Twilight’s face. “Oh,” he says, and releases Twilight’s elbow just as quickly as he’d grabbed it. The tips of his ears go pink. “Nothing, sorry, I just thought—” 

“Sound off!” Time’s voice overtakes whatever Wild was going to say. He lets go of Twilight’s hand and heads off towards the others, his jubilant call of his name the flip side of Twilight’s own murmured one. He watches Wild’s back and wonders after what he was trying to say. He also wonders if Wild knows there’s a stick in his hair. 

He hasn’t been able to shake the jumpiness from earlier, nerves skittering around his bloodstream like biting ants. Nor the irritation that blooms around it, born of nothing but some bickering and raised voices that keeps his chest tight and the set of his jaw hard. The snappish feeling will strangle him if he’s not careful, evident in the way he catches Warriors again in his peripherals and has unrestrained thoughts of various swears. 

He knows it’s not Warriors’ fault, really. He just wishes he felt less shitty about everything in general. 

Warriors stands next to Time, saying something quietly to him as Time nods. Warriors flexes his hands, drawing them up, and for a second Twilight could swear that a soft glow had backlit his fingers. 

“It’s mine,” the captain says. There’s something on his face that makes Twilight narrow his eyes, though he can’t quite figure out what it is. “The portals are capable of bringing us to our own times, it seems.” 

Time hums. “Fitting that we’re here first,” he says vaguely, and does not elaborate. 

Him and Warriors break off a little from the group then, letting them all get their bearings while they discuss a plan. Twilight lets his eyes go to the horizon, tracing their rocky surroundings. There’s a looming mountain not too far off and the air is slightly heavy, so he’d guess this area is something similar to his own Eldin. Twilight wonders how far they've been shoved through time. How far Warriors’ world is from his own. 

He glances back over at Warriors and Time. They’ve got their heads bent together, Time doing some sort of complicated gesture as Warriors shakes his head and says something about Zelda. 

Time, Twilight thinks, watching them together, had only talked to him when it was about Warriors. He’d dragged Twilight off of Warriors when the captain had almost killed him, but barely looked at him before reaching for Warriors. He’d told the captain Twilight “reminded him of someone”, and yet— 

Hylia. Twilight snorts to himself humorlessly, pulling his eyes away from the pair again. How pathetic of him, chasing after a ghost he’d already decided was gone. He can’t be angry at someone who doesn’t exist anymore. 

Wild appears next to his side again, making Twilight’s heart jump threateningly as the other squints up at the mountain and its generally red hue. “Mine’s taller. With a lot of lava. Like, everywhere, in pools.” 

“Mine’s gotta lot ‘o hot springs,” Twilight offers, attempting to unhinge his clenched jaw. It’s just Wild, for Ordona’s sake. “An’ boilin’ steam. Don’ really hafta deal with lava unless yer inside the mountain or the mines.” 

Wild’s mouth drops open before he shakes his head with a smile. “Lucky! What does your heat armor set look like? Mine’s really heavy, so a lot of the time I just use elixirs.” 

Twilight blinks. “My... huh?” 

“Like, for heat protection?” Wild cocks his head. “Sky’s just got earrings, the bastard.”

“Heard that!” Sky calls from his seated position next to Four.

“Oh,” Twilight says, stomach coiling tight. “I didn’...” 

The sun is high above them, beaming bright across the red-brown rocks. Twilight’s shadow isn’t cast. It puddles around his feet, hands around his ankles, small and forgotten and empty. Sometimes he thinks it might choose to swallow him instead. 

He clears his throat, awkward, glancing away from Wild. The words don’t come out right as his fingers curl into fists at his side. “I jus’ used magic.” 

Wild’s gaze doesn’t match his smile. Twilight wonders what went wrong in his face for Wild to look at him like that. But he just says, “Sounds handy,” and leaves it at that. 

Legend is watching him now, eyes narrowed into shards of amethyst. His barbed words echo in Twilight’s head, unyielding: “Don’t think you’ve fooled us, Hero of Twilight.” No doubt any mention of magic from Twilight will reinforce his idea that Twilight’s just here to go after their heads. 

A spark of heat lodges between Twilight’s ribs. He’s tempted, so, so tempted, to bare his teeth back at the other hero, to grin and show Legend just what it is he’s worrying about. To let the veteran see the temper he keeps trying to shove down Twilight’s throat. If he’s oh-so-convinced that Twilight’s taint is one of monstrosity, if they all run circles around him just to keep space between them, why is Twilight even bothering—? 

The red eyes of the Interlopers burn in the backs of his eyelids. Twilight’s stomach drops faster than stone, an icy chill smothering the creeping heat of anger. He turns away from Legend, his forehead giving a phantom twinge. Hylia, what is wrong with him today? 

Time calls them to attention to start moving towards Warriors’ Castletown. Twilight holds his irritation under his tongue and follows. 

As soon as they enter, Twilight wants to leave. 

Warriors’ Castletown can’t even be described as a “town”; it’s a full-blown city, and easily the biggest one Twilight’s been in at that. There are people positively everywhere, bumping into each other’s shoulders, lifting boxes and baskets onto heads and hips to get them out of the way. The smell keeps Twilight breathing shallowly while children crowd against legs, both street kids and not. Twilight ends up grabbing one by the back of the collar not two minutes in to keep her from running in front of a cart. 

She has soot on her face when she looks up at him. She’s maybe ten or eleven, her dress hanging raggedly from her shoulders and her feet bare. There’s a small cut on her chin. 

Twilight places her back on her feet gently with a rumbled, “Careful.” 

She’s clearly unsure what to make of him for the first second, but gives a cheeky salute a moment later and scrambles away. Twilight watches her go with a small frown, noting the way she ducks in and out of people that don’t even look at her. It leaves a sour taste in his mouth. 

“You seem good with children,” Warriors’ voice comments. 

Twilight glances over, very casual-like, to see that Warriors has stopped with him while the others continue to mill about the streets. Someone shouts somewhere; Twilight feels one of his ears flatten for a second. Hylia, his heart won’t slow down and there’s too many damn people for him to even hear the others properly to keep them from sneaking up on him. 

“I’ve jus’ had practice,” Twilight says, forcing his voice to come out clearly. He wonders if he sounds as awkward as he feels; he wonders if the tight fist on his belt is obvious. 

“She’s a war orphan, most likely,” Warriors says. The way his voice is carefully measured doesn’t escape Twilight. “It ended three years ago, but the effects are still ongoing.” 

Twilight fights to keep his wince off his face. The words are familiar, even if his fight against Zant and Ganondorf was more of a one-man battle. The Twili Invasion had killed many people, yes, but never had the chance to grow into an all-out war because of the ambush. Orphans are still found by the plenty, however— Zant had wiped out nearly their whole army as well as many civilians that day.

“I know the feelin’,” is all Twilight says. 

Warriors eyes him for a second, then sighs and puts his hands on his hips. “Look. I know we— I wanted to apologize. For losing my cool with Legend this morning, and…” he winces, “everything else. We didn’t really start out the greatest, I know, but I wasn’t fair with you. You were right about us having something we’re supposed to do, and being at each other’s throats isn’t it.” 

Twilight blinks. He blinks again for good measure. He replays the moment Warriors had looked at him after the fight, how he’d seemed to have forgotten anyone else was there but immediately retreated back into that mask of his as soon as Twilight was in front of him. It was… odd, to say the least. Warriors usually comes off as unflappable, yet Twilight has seen another side of him twice now in barely two weeks. 

“Ah,” he says, rolling his tongue in his mouth for the right words. “Well, I seen my fair share o’ squabbles in my day. Even though I usually be separatin’ some nine-year-olds over a slingshot rather than heroes, but…” 

“I can’t say we were acting all that differently,” Warriors replies good-naturedly, lips twitching. 

Twilight lets out a small hum, neither confirming nor denying for his safety. For some reason, Warriors’ eyebrows raise a hair at that. 

“And the,” Warriors continues, gesturing at his throat before looking away, off to the side. A muscle in his jaw is tight enough for Twilight to see it. “I didn’t mean to. I just wasn’t expecting—” 

“‘S fine,” Twilight interrupts to save both of them the awkwardness. They both knew the truth: he’d scared Warriors, but Warriors had done the same to him. “I hit ya too, so we’s basically even.” 

Warriors flashes a smile, but it doesn’t feel all fake. “I forgot about that, actually.” 

“It were last night,” Twilight says disbelievingly. “You bled!” 

“A lot of things have happened since last night, I’m afraid,” Warriors dismisses. “Truce?” 

He extends a hand. Twilight, embarrassingly, stares at it for a good two seconds before he processes the action and takes it. Warriors’ grip is sturdy, his gloves slightly worn, and even though Legend was right that Warriors puts effort into his appearance, there is nothing “dollfaced” about him. Twilight thinks it might be the insignia on Warriors’ armour that Legend hates more than Warriors himself. 

“I have to head to the castle, but Time can show you guys to an inn,” Warriors says. He turns, raising a hand and calling over his shoulder, “Don’t get lost!” 

“Right,” Twilight mutters. 

He finds it a bit ironic that he loses Warriors around people and buildings a few moments later. It’s disarming, but even more so is the fact that he can’t tell how much of that conversation with Warriors was real. 

Warriors remains gone as the afternoon twists into dusk. He, Time, and Twilight are supposed to be sharing a room, but Twilight’s been the only one in here for hours. Time has left his armour in a heap that would send Four to the Dark Realm. Twilight has been avoiding looking at it in general, seated on the floor with his back against one of the beds. 

The room is quiet around him. Something in Twilight stills as he beholds the silence, fragranced with a hint of incense and freshly washed sheets. The small and cozy wood-built inn reminds Twilight of home. If he pretends hard enough, he can envision his circular window being the one to cast sunlight along the floor. 

Someone laughs from down the hall; Wild, he thinks, closely followed by an exclamation from Wind. The sound sends a bit of warmth through him, memories of hauling children to bed swarming him. It leaves the bitter taste of nostalgia in the back of his throat. 

Twilight doesn’t realise he’s closed his eyes until the door creaks open. Coddled by the warm sun puddling the room as it sets beyond the windows, Twilight merely cracks open an eyelid. 

It’s Time. The older man closes the door near-silently behind him, which could be considered a miracle given the state of the hinges. His blue eye sweeps over Twilight, seeming amused, and that sense of nostalgic homesickness only grows stronger. How impossible it is, he muses, that he’s missing the man who’s standing two feet away. 

Twilight admits that he found it more than a little strange when Time had parsed out the rooms with them and Warriors together. Just him and Time he can understand, as the leader in all but name of the heroes has always kept an eye on him before. But Warriors? 

Either Time is trying to scare the hell out of Twilight, or he’s trying to keep them from nearly killing each other by accident again. Twilight isn’t sure which is worse. 

“Evenin’,” Twilight says quietly, thankful for the yawn that keeps the greeting casual. “Everythin’ alright?” 

“Everyone’s settled,” Time replies, as neutral as ever. His gaze returns to Twilight, a bit sharper, as he continues, “Warriors may be back late, however.” 

“Ain’t he already,” Twilight murmurs. He then gives his head a shake, ears going hot. “'S that normal?” 

Time hums noncommittally. “Sometimes.” 

Time has been here before, Twilight solidifies in his head. No wonder he and Warriors act the way they do— if Time’s been here in the past, then they met before this whole portaling mess. Their connection isn’t random and it never has been. Time knows Warriors. He always has. 

Silence falls over them again like a heavy blanket. Time shuffles around on his side of the room doing… something. Twilight watches the oil lamp on the bedside table, the flame flickering and dancing, weaving different shadows across the walls. After a minute, he gets up to flop right back down on his bed properly this time. 

“Where are you from, if I may ask?” Time’s voice almost startles him— Twilight had somehow forgotten that his presence could also mean words.

Twilight blinks slowly at the ceiling. Is Time trying to get information out of him? Assess his background and training or something? He can’t fathom any other reason for the man to be making honest-to-Hylia small talk. 

“Grew up in’a outpost ‘n the outskirts of Hyrule ‘fore movin’ to Ordona,” Twilight says slowly, deciding that’s as specific he’s willing to be about before. “Farmin’ community. I was a ranch hand, herded goats ‘n tended horses ‘n all that. It was… a good life.” 

Time’s voice is lighter now, more acknowledging. “Ah. I figured as much, though I haven’t heard of Ordona. Where is it?”

“‘S a province outside the border ‘f Hyrule, in my time,” Twilight tells him, and the conversation is easier when it’s just about his home. “Tiny li’l place with more pumpkins than people, but the ones that be there are made’a good stuff. Hardy, too.”

“But you are Hylian, correct?”

Twilight has to shove down his immediate, tongue-in-cheek but also very much not response of “probably?”. In truth, he figures he’s now a little less Hylian than he used to be after his adventure, and more of… something else. 

“Yessir,” he says anyway, tweaking one pointed ear. “Born ‘n— well, not raised. But born.” 

Time actually laughs at that. It’s just a small chuckle, but it’s deep and rumbly and real enough that Twilight finds himself smiling, too. 

He thinks, okay. 

He can do this.

Twilight doesn’t know what time it is when he wakes, only that it’s a time that shouldn’t be spoken of. Warriors had slipped in at some point without Twilight noticing, now huddled in the bed next to Twilight’s with Time. Time’s on his side with a leg thrown over Warriors’ stomach and Warriors’ elbow it tucked by Time’s ribs. Twilight has no idea how the hell that’s comfortable, but Time’s snores say that he doesn’t mind. 

There’s sweat sticking to the small of Twilight’s back as he shifts out of his blanket. He kicks his legs out, flipping it off him. It’s hot. 

That’s the only thought in his groggy mind as he wanders out to the hallway, absentmindedly tugging his undertunic over his head and intending to find some water. He drinks from the sink in the bathroom, the liquid cool on his dry tongue. Wandering back down the hall with one hand rubbing at his eyes, his shoulder collides with something that gives an “oomph”.

The something is a messy-haired Legend, apparently on a similar mission to Twilight. There’s a misting of sweat on his forehead. That combined with the bedhead and bleary eyes makes the vet look impossibly young. 

“F’ck off,” Legend yawns, eyes closing with the force of it. 

“Mornin’,” Twilight mutters. 

Their shoulders brush lightly as he moves past Legend, whose eyes look different now— sharper, their usually violet hue reflecting something softly orange. It seems familiar, but Twilight is already halfway back down the hall before his brain catches up with him. 

He curls into bed again. The memory falls through the cracks of sleep, and when morning comes, he doesn’t bother to remember.

Chapter Text

Twilight may be biased, but he doesn’t find Warriors’ Zelda quite as intimidating as his. It’s very close, though— both of them have that expression in their eyes, one that speaks of unyielding strength born from hardship. It’s the expression Athena is wearing now as she watches them from her throne. 

Warriors is tense. He’s trying not to be, trying to play it off, but there must be something getting under his skin because he’s not able to in the same way he usually can. It makes Twilight’s own muscles coil. Anything that can get to Warriors will most certainly get to the rest of them. Twilight just… isn’t sure what picture he’s looking at right now. 

They’d just been escorted to their meeting with Queen Zelda— Athena, as Warriors had nicknamed her— their first official morning here. They’d had to give up any and all weapons before they’d even entered the courtyard, passing squad upon squad of soldiers as they went, all of whom stopped to salute Warriors. Twilight had caught a glimpse of what looked to be a statue of the captain in one of the adjoining gardens, but Warriors had ushered them quickly onwards. 

Athena clears her throat. “These are the heroes? All of them?” 

Warriors nods once. “Yes. They can explain their titles if you wish.” 

Athena cracks a smile. It rounds her cheeks, making her look much warmer than the brilliant strategist and warrior queen she was apparently known to be. “No need to be so formal, Link. You all are certainly a sight to behold!”

She rises, tapping down the steps of the dais. Warriors doesn’t relax even as he smiles back at her. 

“So, a quest?” Athena inquires, but she doesn’t wait for an answer. “Link and I discussed it yesterday, but we assume it has something to do with these outside-era and special-type monsters that have been appearing recently.”

Twilight feels the muscles between his shoulder blades go rigid. He’s opening his mouth before his brain can catch up, the stench of tar at the forefront of his memories. “They be bleedin’ black?” 

Athena looks at him with an appraising gaze. “Some, yes, and much harder to kill when they do. They’ve only started appearing recently, except our watches have reported some portals sightings along with them. Which means our next step is to—” 

“Majesty,” Time rumbles, interrupting her and almost making Twilight jump. He sounds— stern. Clipped. “We’ll handle it.” 

He then turns away from the queen. Now, it’s not like Twilight has the best manners when it comes to nobles and royals himself, but doing that in front of a foreign queen seems… in poor taste. But when he glances back over at Athena, she doesn’t look irritated. In fact, there’s a heaviness to her expression that seems to ripple out over the room. She doesn’t say anything more. 

“We need supplies,” Time says. “We’ll split up. Wars, you know the merchants the best. Take Twilight with you. Sky, I need you with me. The rest of you can come or go find what you need. We’ll meet up back at the inn at sundown.” 

Even though Time had been subconsciously elected as their de-facto leader because of his age, this is the first time he actually sounds like one. It fits him, but it also doesn’t, which may be the other heroes’ faults. Time isn’t used to being a leader and the rest of them are certainly not used to being ordered around, thus the words fall into a strange in-between space as they consider each other. 

What a group we are, Twilight thinks dryly, before his mind circles back to Time’s statement and his heart trips over itself. Wait. 

He slowly swivels his head to look at Warriors. Warriors is already watching him, face blank and thumbs hooked in his belt. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Twilight. Even as they stare at each other, Twilight can tell that both of them know already that they’re going to listen to Time. 

“Excelsior, then,” Legend sighs quietly, but his eyes are cutting as they slide over to Twilight. 

The deja-vu that whispers in Twilight’s ear is gone as soon as it comes. 

Time pulls Twilight aside as the others separate into respective groups. Twilight’s heart jumps nearly out of his chest when Time taps a hand on his shoulder, tilting his head to indicate direction as he takes a few steps away from the others. Twilight, dread pooling in the back of his throat, hesitantly follows. 

“I know this is far from ideal,” Time starts, hands on his hips despite the tiredness of his voice, “but you know as well as I that problems like this won’t stand in the long run— which appears to be what we’re settling in for.” 

The “this” problem doesn’t have to be extrapolated on; Twilight can feel Legend’s eyes on the back of his head already. He hates the way his pulse pounds anyway. 

“Why’re ya tellin’ me?” he asks, just this side of hesitant, before he blinks. “Oh. I be damage control?”

Time’s mouth twitches. “Not really how I would put it, but I suppose. I would go with those two myself if I could. As it is, you seem to be the only one who can get between them and they need to figure out… general coexistence.” 

Twilight coughs out a laugh, but it’s more awkward than humorous and he feels his ears turn warm. “Right.” 

Damage control, he wonders with resigned morbidity as Warriors deliberately doesn’t look at either of them, or collateral damage? 

“You don’t like it here, do you?” Warriors asks mildly. 

Twilight glances at him out of the corner of his eye. They’re wandering about the merchant sector, bags at their sides and rupees spent intermittently. It is somehow even louder than the rest of the city and the noise of it pulls at something thready and loose in Twilight’s chest. His ears can’t decide how to lay, and somehow that’s worse than just the noise. 

“‘S loud,” he admits. “Lotta people.” 

Warriors tilts his head curiously. “Your Castletown isn’t like this?” 

Twilight bites the inside of his cheek lightly, considering, pretending not to notice how his memory banks toward the silence of his Castletown in the Twili Realm. “It ain’t… no, ain’t as big. Not like this.” 

Legend scoffs quietly. “I doubt anyone else’s is like this.” 

“That’s how Time’s is too, or so he says,” Warriors says, ignoring him. He sends Twilight a small smirk. “Don’t tell me you grew up in the woods as well.” 

Twilight raises his eyebrows back. He can’t help but log away that knowledge of Time, even though it wasn’t given to him by the man himself. “Nah, desert.” 

Legend has disappeared off somewhere; Twilight scans the people around for his red tunic. He’s not entirely concerned when he doesn’t find it in his immediate vicinity, then scolds himself over it. But Legend can take care of himself and Twilight is unfortunately sure he’ll be back. 

Warriors makes a dramatic ‘ugh’ face, pulling Twilight back to their conversation. “Sounds exciting.” 

Twilight only gives a shrug, pulling his gaze away. To be honest, it shocks him how easy it is to talk to Warriors, even when it’s about nothing or even real in the first place. For all of Warriors' charismatic theatrics, he hasn’t dropped his shoulders. He hasn’t let his eyes linger in one place for too long. Looking for something, or waiting for something, and either one makes Twilight brace his legs to run. 

Warriors opens his mouth and closes it, then opens it again. "I don't really like it here either, truth be told." 

It's not what he was wanting to say. Twilight can tell by the way Warriors snaps his mouth shut and smiles before looking away again. Something distinctly unsteady crawls up the base of his spine. 

The weirdest part of talking to Warriors, Twilight thinks, is how the captain can act like nothing is wrong at all— like he actually trusts Twilight— when in reality there’s something wary hidden in the smile he keeps on his lips. 

If nothing else, Twilight wishes he would just stop acting. 

The silence they fall into makes it all the more obvious how people whisper when they pass. Eyes lock onto Warriors like he’s a walking beacon, heads ducking and hands tucking over mouths as guards salute. They don’t have to fight their way through people to make it across the street; they part themselves as soon as they notice Warriors. 

The attention isn’t fully positive. Twilight’s skin stings with the familiarity of it. 

Neither of them bring it up, though, and the day marches on anyway. Twilight feels dead on his feet as he leans against the outside wall of the shop Warriors had ducked into ten minutes ago. He wonders if Time and Sky are having any success, wherever they went. He nor Warriors had said what it was they were actually doing. Warriors’ white knuckles had told him not to ask. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” a lightly accented voice says. The words are slammed down one after another like hands on a table. Twilight doesn’t even need to look over to know who it is. 

“S’prised I’m able t’ see ya with all these people ‘bout,” Twilight says. “Welcome back.” 

“You’re so funny,” Legend replies venomously. “Hilarious, even. Pretty boy ditch you?” 

Twilight jerks his chin towards the door of the shop. “‘N there.” 

Legend raises one pointy eyebrow before glancing away. He settles next to Twilight, his bag strung across his chest giving a muffled clink when it hits the wall. He sighs into the silence; Twilight bites his tongue. 

“You know,” Legend says, strangely quiet against the din of the city. “He wasn’t going to hurt me.” 

Twilight furrows his brow a bit at the random words. He thinks back to the fight, to Warriors’ hands and Legend’s body language and how Twilight had pulled the vet away— behind himself.

Legend does not say “ wouldn’t hurt me” or “couldn’t”. He keeps his gaze narrowed on the street in front of them. There’s a strange air between them, tense but not with any particular emotion attached. It’s… a first. It feels like it'll break with one wrong syllable.

As a result, Twilight has no idea what he’s expected to say. Twilight understands that Legend is saying this because he feels he has to— not to be amiable to Twilight, but because he has to make sure Twilight knows he is the one Legend distrusts the most, not Warriors. Except the memory of Legend’s clenched jaw undermines his words. Twilight knows what bracing for a hit looks like. 

“Anyway,” Legend says, clearly uncaring for whatever was spawning between them. Something unsettled takes its place and spreads to Twilight’s gut. “I’ve been meaning to ask. That cord around your neck— do you always wear it? 

There’s a craftiness about him that sets Twilight’s teeth on edge. Legend had been acting strangely all day, and not his extra-asshole-strange that he was yesterday when he fought with Warriors. Goddess forbid, Legend has been quiet today, but the way he’s been watching Twilight is reminiscent of Time’s usual demeanour. 

It’s something in the way he keeps pressing his lips together like he’s holding something back, in his hair that’s messier than usual, in the gaze that keeps wandering away from Twilight’s face. 

Again, that little shiver drifts across the back of Twilight’s neck. There must be a reason, something that had shifted in the small hours they’d been here— 

(“F’ck off,” 

“Mornin’.”) 

Nayru, Farore, and Din above. 

He went to get water last night while he was barely awake and ran into Legend. He went to get water last night while he was barely awake and shirtless, and ran into Legend. 

There was no way he hadn’t seen the Twili crystal. 

How could Twilight have been so fucking stupid?

A light finger taps at the Twili crystal’s leather cord where it sits at the conjunction of the side of his neck and clavicle, and Twilight’s mind goes blank ( hand around his neck, long black fingers— crushing, crushing, claws digging into skin and tearing— warm blood slick on his throat and his hands clutching desperately at the grip before—). 

He yanks away, hand lashing out to the closest thing by habit. His fingers lock around a handful of Legend’s tunic at the chest as Twilight whirls, shoving him backwards into the wall of the shop with a thud . 

He can feel the vet’s heartbeat against his knuckles. It skips like a stone, fast and inconsistent, and that’s the only way Twilight is able to tell that Legend is even slightly nervous. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Legend’s ringed fingers twitch.  

“Your source is on that necklace, right?” Legend says, like nothing happened. “I could feel its aura from a mile away. I just couldn’t tell what it was exactly.” 

Twilight glances down, relief surging through him when he sees the crystal is still hidden under his tunic. Only the very tip of it shows, just an edge of black and a tinge of orange before he tucks it away again. Not that it matters anymore. 

He’d thought they were— fuck, they were actually talking just fine despite it being the three of them, despite the chaotic morning and Legend’s sharp edges and the multiple warnings he’d spewed about not trusting him. It was bound to go south at some point, but Twilight also thought maybe, maybe they were getting somewhere, or at least starting to take a single step towards some kind of common ground.

He should’ve known better. He should've known better .

“‘Re ya just tryin’ t’ get information outta me?” Twilight demands, chest heaving. “Is that it? Jus’ gonna put on a silver tongue ‘til I see through ya, or act like an asshole ‘til I punch ya ‘n then you can jus’ blame everythin’ on me? I was tryin’ t’ help ya with that damn fight this mornin’ but— what is wrong with you, Legend?” 

His chest is heaving, heaving, his head not on his neck correctly. The small puncture scars on the side of his throat ache with phantom pain.

“What’re you gonna do now, then?” Legend goads, leaning closer despite Twilight’s hold on his tunic. “Punch me? Run me through? Use that dark magic of yours? Wouldn’t be a good look for the others, I’ll tell you—” 

Twilight drops him. Legend stumbles a bit at the force of it, feet shifting and stance widening as he automatically tries takes a step back. But there’s nowhere to go with the wall behind him and Twilight doesn’t back up. The anger in his mouth tastes like righteousness, but the pounding of his heart against his ribs says otherwise.  

He can’t think past his shaking hands, the burn on his forehead, the look on Rusl’s face when he saw Twilight’s other form for the first time, the eyes of the others. Everything around him compounds until there is simply too much in his head. For a moment, with the walls of the city around them, the afternoon seems to take on a chill. 

“Shut,” he snarls, holding Legend’s gaze, “the fuck up. ” 

Legend freezes. Twilight watches the lines of his shoulders harden, his muscles stiffening as every part of him stills. Except his feet. His heels tap against the cobblestone beneath them, one after the other, each one a bit harder than the last. His eyes are wide and flighty and Twilight remembers the unsteady beat of his heart before— prey-like, a voice hisses in the back of his mind. 

Twilight recoils from Legend like he’s been burned, stumbling back a few steps. He blinks, the image of Hyrule burning on the back of his eyelids. For a second, predecessor and successor had been indistinguishable. 

And the common factor is him. 

Goddamnit, Twilight thinks, letting himself repeat it over and over again to regain some semblance of steadiness. Goddamnit. 

Yet he can’t bring himself to feel remorse. Instead, fury rears its brutal head, burning hot trails down Twilight’s veins. Maybe he’d overreacted, maybe he’s no better than Warriors, but what gave Legend the fucking right? For any of this? 

“I don’ care if ya dislike me,” Twilight snaps. “I don’ care if ya don’ trust me, or ‘f ya hate me, but if ya a’cuse me one more fuckin’ time ‘o shit I ain’t ever done nor will never do, I swear I’ll—”

“ ‘Scuse me ,” Warriors’ voice says. 

His hand is suddenly between them, waving like he’s simply trying to get their attention. He presses it to Twilight’s chest and shoves him back, grabs Legend’s arm and pulls him away. His movements are careful, but Twilight can see the tension in his shoulders. 

A rocking sense of deja-vu sweeps over Twilight, the fight from this morning playing out with roles reversed. He doesn’t want to think about it. 

“Okay,” Warriors says, hands on his hips like Uli does when she’s exasperated. “Why is it always like this.” 

“Fuck off, as if you can say anything,” Legend replies, but the heat isn’t there. Twilight can still hear the erratic beat of his heart.

Twilight backs up more, knocking one heel into the cobblestoned road by accident. He doesn’t look away from Legend for a second. There is something raw inside him, breathing next to his lungs and pulsing with his heart. He doesn’t know how to make it go away. 

“‘M sorry,” Twilight says, mouth moving despite the way he’s gone numb. He isn’t sure he means it. He remembers a knife at his throat and Warriors’ apology and cringes hard. 

Goddess, he can never be who he wants even when he tries and tries and tries. He’s still just the marks his father left wearing a different skin— still just the boy who was desperate enough to try drawing a sword no one else could.  

Neither of them stop him when he turns his back and leaves.

It’s a bad idea to find a pub. Twilight knows this, has the words running through his head in a silent mantra, but it doesn’t stop him from wandering around until he can duck through the door of one. Old habits cut deep, even if he feels shittier than ever ordering the rum. Still, after today, he wants a drink. And it’s not like anyone is going to be desperate to find him. Hell, they might even be relieved. 

Twilight rolls his eyes at himself as the bartender slams his drink down. He’s self-pitying and he knows it, yet thoroughly does not care as the rum burns its way down his throat. A stranger hollers from a large table, waving decks of cards in both hands, and Twilight follows a few other people to join in. 

It’s easy to lose time between rounds of twenty-one and king’s cup, and even easier between pints. It’s hard for Twilight to get seriously drunk unless he means it, and tonight he finds that he doesn’t really. He drinks, but he’s careful. He knows he is. 

That’s why alarm bells, dulled as they are, begin to ring in his head when he feels his skin start to go numb. 

Twilight’s knees bang against the table when he tries to stand up, grip slipping on the back of his chair. Others chortle and scoff as his vision swoops into blurs of colour. His ears ring abruptly, a high shrieking whine that deadens his thoughts and goes as quickly as it came. 

“Little unsteady there, southerner!” one of the men calls jovially. 

Twilight sticks on a grin without thinking, trying to escape the wrong feeling that’s creeping up his spine. He waves a hand at the table to indicate for them to keep playing as he stumbles over his own feet. It takes him a few tries to find and open the door, his limbs not entirely responding to his commands. Once he does, the evening air that washes over his face is a welcome balm. 

The hand that slams into his throat is not. 

Twilight chokes, black spots flashing in his vision. There’s breath on his skin, someone in front of him, but he can’t quite focus on what they look like. Nausea threatens in his gut, adrenaline trying and failing to stir beneath whatever it is that’s scrambling his brain right now. 

“Curious,” someone hisses. Fingers prod at his face. “I was wondering if this was a disguise or not. Either way, you look a little too much like our precious captain for it to be a coincidence. I wonder why it is that you have the same face?”   

The words are unsteady in Twilight’s ears, choppy and mixed with more ringing. He wants to pry against the fingers digging into his throat, but he can’t feel his hands anymore. Or his feet. His breath comes in too-loud whistles. Blood pulses at his temples, an ache beginning to rise behind his eyes. 

The only thing he can think is that he hadn’t drank that much. He hadn’t, not to be this drunk, though this doesn’t feel like any sort of drunk he’s been before. 

The breath comes closer. Lips brush Twilight’s ear; the sting of a cold metal blade presses into his jaw. The voice hisses: “Let’s make the pretty boy come running.” 

Twilight does the only thing he can think of. He turns his head as much as he can and sinks his teeth into their ear. 

They pull back in surprise, some word too garbled in Twilight’s head to make out dropping from their lips. Another shout comes from somewhere and then he’s being dropped onto his own unsteady feet, the ground spinning out from under him while he tries to catch it. 

Sun-bleached blond and blue flashes in Twilight’s vision. The recognition that surfaces is muddled, his nose twitching at Wind’s scent. Hands reach out to steady him as a mouth grins. It takes a too-long minute of concentration for Twilight to get his vision to focus on the kid. Another hand prods at his face, and it’s unfortunate that Twilight puts the effort into figuring out it’s Legend. 

He’s saying something. They both are. Twilight can’t put the sounds together, can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his head. His vision goes gray again.  

“Wha,” Twilight tries, but it’s mostly just a breath of air. He feels like throwing up. 

“... drunk, ” Legend scowls. 

“...drunk!” Wind grins. 

Twilight’s tongue won’t work when he attempts to correct them. Whatever he tries to say gets jumbled up when it leaves his mouth, the words tilting and blurring like the world around him. Legend rolls his eyes. Wind looks delighted. 

Twilight doesn’t remember losing consciousness, but suddenly he blinks and he’s being dragged along by two people in colourful outfits. His skin feels bad, all tight and tingly and stretched. He tries to scratch it off, but the hands won’t let him. He tries to pull away but he can’t seem to find his arms. 

The next time his vision slides back into place, there’s a man with a missing eye in front of him. The scar is almost precise-looking, slicing through both eye and cheek and forehead neatly. Twilight curls away when he tries to touch him and finds he can’t fully back away because he’s sitting down. The fear that rises in him is dark and biting.

Someone is speaking rapidly, so fast that it almost seems like a different language. Twilight’s head spins around and around until the ache pierces white starbursts into the back of his eyes. 

There’s hands on his face. They’re gentle and cupping, thumb swiping carefully over a part of his face that stings. He flinches away from their touch, waits for the burn on his forehead, then flinches again when it doesn’t come. A small whimper forces its way out of his lips when they won’t let go. 

The mirror in front of him is wrong, he knows. 

Twilight doesn’t remember anything else.