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Chapter Text

There is no way to describe the abstract terror that courses through Link’s veins. No words in the Hylian language to describe his visceral reaction. Something in him shrieks, the more sensible, primitive part of him begging to turn back. It's bad. Whatever is in there is something pure evil, and he didn’t have to see it to know.

The air around the castle is thick with malice, even more so near the sanctum. Almost like a cloud, It settles heavy in his lungs. It makes the sword resting on his back glow brighter. The blade purified the air that touched her. And when he took her from her sheath, she would purify him as well, though it was much too late for that.

Link steeled his already trembling nerves, knowing that he had already crossed the point of no return. Zelda was in there, and he had already kept her waiting much too long. With a heavy heart and a healthy amount of terror, he entered the sanctum.

Immediately, he took note of the destruction that had befallen the room. The carpet was torn, long thin shreds that gouged into the floor below. The stonework was shattered, crumbling down in piles on the floor. Even the windows had not survived the calamity’s rage, and he could hear the beast howl.

“Link…” A voice whispered quietly. He stiffened, ears twitching, he already knew whom it belonged to. The faintest hint of Hylia remained in her descendant, through the feeling of sun on skin, the featherlight brush of the breeze, a whisper of pure white snow. Zelda murmured, her voice so quiet in her exhaustion. “I’m sorry… but my power isn’t strong enough.”

His gaze was drawn upwards, and he recoiled at the sight. Like a spider’s cocoon, a ball of malice laid on the roof. Pulsating a deep red as the bright divine power bled through, dowsing the room in a pale light. “I can’t hold him…” Zelda breathed, her voice heart jerking. The light was soon replaced with an all too familiar sound. He braced himself, mentally and physically, as beams of light broke free from the cocoon. Stumbling back to avoid being hit, his heart pounded in his chest.

Link’s dread only mounted as the cocoon wriggled. It was trying to get free from its prison. He stared, wide eyed at the horrific amalgamation of technology and pure evil as it burst from the sac. Malice rained down on the room, and he hissed as it splattered against his pant leg, eating through the material with violent ease.

Shortly after the malice, came Calamity Ganon.

A cloud of dust rose from the impact as the large figure hit the floor. The ground rumbled, and Link bit down a gasp as cracks began spanning the surface. He stumbled, trying to retreat as the floor crumbled beneath his feet. In an instant, he was falling. His panic was diluted by curiosity as he scrambled for his paraglider. There was a deep cavern beneath the floor of the sanctum, lined with what looked like Sheikah tech. He could only wonder what it was used for.

However, the hero had no time to contemplate as he wrenched open his paraglider. His whole body recoiled at the sudden motion, and he winced at the painful sensation in his shoulders. Link looked down towards the darkness he was descending into, and nausea curled in his gut at the sight. The Calamity was a disgusting figure. Oozing and spilling malice, guardian weapons hastily pasted onto its body as if a child had done it. It was awful, nauseating, terrifying.

As he stopped to the floor, he could say that it was even worse up close. A mane of wild hair framed glowing orange eyes. A vaguely Hylian face looked back at him, a facsimile of teeth gnashing formed of malice. Its limbs were awkward and splaying, some large and bulky, whereas others were thin and weak. All the same, he knew he was looking at a monstrosity. Created from the Sheikah Tech that had failed them the first time, repurposed into Link’s own personal nightmare. This monster had plagued Hyrule for too long.

(He allowed it to plague Hyrule. He had doomed many people to suffer for his inadequacies.)

Link had to defeat it… failure wasn’t an option.

___

Later, when it feels like the mere hours he had been fighting had been days, is when it finally ends. Zelda’s voice rang out clear in his mind, commanding him forwards. “Link! Now!”

His tongue was coated in iron. His fingers ached and his palms were scorched. Link couldn’t feel the pain as adrenaline thrummed through his veins. He exhaled harshly, bones creaking as he moved forwards. The Master Sword crooned on his back, a weak, melodic sound that was as much of a comfort as it hurt.

Almost over, he promised both himself and the sword. His eyes flickered towards the towering beast, when it's over, we can rest. The sword flickered weakly, but her glow remained strong. Link pretended that it was her way of agreeing with him. They were both so very tired. Already, it felt like his bones had begun to fail him, as the Master Sword had failed him many times. But, he wondered if he could truly blame her.

Now though, he had no time for rest.

“Revali.” Link rasped. The words sounded like sandpaper—throat aching at the simple three syllables. He crouched, paraglider ready as the familiar surge of magic surrounded him. Ghostly teal flames burst up around him, bringing a gale of wind. The fire licked at his skin, yet he felt nothing more than a slight tickle as it sent him spiraling into the sky. His forearms burned with exertion as he clung to his paraglider.

The creature that Ganon had become is a ghastly figure, though less terrifying than the form it had taken prior. Larger than any creature he’d ever seen, its skin was a coat of pure malice stretched over a faintly boar-like figure. Its large, bulbous eye stared at him, outlined by the two smaller yellow pinpricks. He inhaled deeply, trying to ease the crushing weight in his chest. He had to end this now.

(His arms ached fiercely, the slashes in his sides burned like liquid fire. His lungs were choked with smoke and malice. His mouth was dry, parched, and he was burning up.)

Abruptly, he closed his paraglider and dropped. Warmth pooled against his fingertips, Zelda’s voice echoing in his head once more. “Link, now!” The Bow of Light felt like it was made of air. The divinity it contained made his blood boil in his veins. He wasn't meant to wield something so divine. The Master Sword had been watered down enough overtime, but this was pure.

As he has done many times before, he tugged on an invisible string. A magic that pooled deep in his chest, something that was undoubtedly his, unlike the Champion's abilities. Time slowed to a drizzle, a drip, and he observed. An arrow formed at his fingertips with a burst of scorching warmth. Fletching brushed his knuckles.

He inhaled, eyes sharp. Carefully aiming, he prayed to Hylia that he wouldn't miss. He didn’t know how much longer he could go. He released the arrow. A breath of air, the light arrow hurtling towards the monster, his trembling breaths. As quick as it had stopped, time became a raging waterfall once again.

Link scrambled for his paraglider, clinging to the wooden handles as the arrow sunk deep into the glowing yellow eye. The beast shrieked, a horrible pained noise that penetrated his eardrums.

Still, he felt no pity for it as he slowly drifted to the ground. His feet brushed the floor just in time to see the golden power seep from Zelda. The air tasted electric, and it burned. As he inhaled, it felt as if his lungs had been set ablaze. The ethereal light vanished, and he could see the lone figure of Zelda on the field. Her arm trembled as she held it high above her head.

It's gone. He thinks numbly, almost disbelieving. Something that was curled tight, painfully so, in his chest lightened. It's over.

Blood pooled beneath his tunic as he stumbled towards Zelda. The fabric torn to shreds, pressed deep onto the wound. The Master Sword chimed weakly, comfortingly, and he can’t help the faint traces of fondness and bitterness he feels. Zelda is the same as she was in the last memory. Hair long and golden, dress no longer pure white, now stained with a myriad of different things, and ripped to ribbons. Her green eyes pierced his soul, incomprehensibly old, yet holding the same youth he remembered.

“Link.” Zelda murmured quietly, her eyes imploring; desperate. “May I ask… Do you really remember me?”

And he freezes. Already, they both know the answer. His eyes, unnaturally bright, are those of a stranger’s. While he may have memories of her, limited as they are, he is not the person she knew. He isn’t her Champion. Link’s mouth is dry as he opens his mouth to speak. He tries. Yet he can’t bear to lift his heavy tongue. His throat swells, and his mouth closes with an inaudible click. Slowly, very slowly, he raises his hands.

‘No.’ he signs. ‘I’m sorry.’

Disappointment flitted across her face, and something close to devastation followed. She breathed in and out, smoothing the negative emotions from her expression. She gave him a wobbly smile, and nodded. “It's alright.” She assured him, her voice trembled. Then, quieter, she adds. “I should have expected it.”

Link swallowed thickly, eyes dropping to the scorched grass. ‘Impa will be waiting for us,’ he tells her, unsure of how to lead the conversation. ‘We should head to Kakariko Village.’

“Impa.” Zelda repeated slowly, as if savoring the words as she spoke them. “She’s alive?”

Link nodded. ‘She has a granddaughter. Paya’ He fingerspells Paya’s name carefully, before repeating her sign name, a mix of Papaya and shy. It was a little cruel, he thought wryly, to make that her sign name, but he hadn't chosen it.

“Paya,” Zelda said, her pronunciation slightly off, and she smiled. A small, withered expression; but a smile nonetheless. Her eyes were far away when he looked at them. “I’m glad the people of Hyrule could move past the Calamity’s devastation. Amazing, isn’t it?”

Yes, he thought warmly, his fondness for the people of this land burning through, they are amazing.

“I suppose we should begin moving?” She asked hesitantly.

‘Wait a moment.’ he signed, and she blinked curiously. Then, he whistled. A sharp noise that pierced the air, and they waited. A moment passed, then a responding whinny.

Zelda jolted in alarm as a cream colored mare burst into their line of sight. Link had no such issues, and stepped forwards to stroke her mane. Her braids were no longer neat after their battle with the Calamity. He cooed wordlessly at her, and she mussed up his hair with her snout in return.

He turned his head to look at her as she walked up beside him, brushing her hands across the horse’s pelt softly. “What’s her name?”

‘Radish.’ He admitted, somewhat embarrassed by the juvenile name. Though, she was the first horse he’d caught, fresh off the Plateau.

Zelda giggled awkwardly, and he flushed. “Why Radish?”

He pointed at a patch of white fur, vaguely heart shaped. ‘It looks like a hearty radish.’

“Oh, It does!”

Link gnawed on his lip. How did one lead a conversation with a princess? He didn’t know, he should know. He swung his feet into the stirrups, and pulled himself onto Radish’s back, ignoring the sharp spikes of pain blossoming in his abdomen. He offered the princess a hand. An olive branch.

“I’m not who you expected.” He murmured, voice almost too quiet to hear. Each word was painful, like choking down glass. He was sure it wasn’t a pleasant sound. She jolted though, and stared at him as if he were something strange. “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, Link…” she breathed, shaking her head softly. Her eyes held a somber light. “You’re not what I expected.” Zelda agreed. “But that may be for the better.”

Link blinked. His hand trembled from where he held it out. For the better? “I’m not the hero. I’m not your Champion.”

“You are.” Zelda disputed easily. “Just without the weight of a kingdom’s expectations pressed on your shoulders.”

She took his hand. All he could process was her smooth skin on his calloused hands. She squeezed his fingers in her weak grasp, her face startlingly open. “You are Link—” She told him, her face an array of shifting emotions. Grief, hope, happiness, sadness, pain. “—and that is all you ever need to be, my knight. I failed you once, and I shall never do so again.”

“Oh.” he breathed, then quieter. “oh.”

Zelda sighed, and smiled up at him. “Will you help me up now?”

Link snapped out of his stupor immediately. Tightening his grasp on her delicate hand. He almost feared he would break her. “Yes. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize,” Her eyes sparkled in concealed amusement as he pulled her up behind him. Her arms tangled around his midsection in a practised motion. The contact set his nerves on fire, and her hands hesitated. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” He lied. “I took a Hearty Elixir.” Her hands still hesitated, but carefully rewound around his abdomen. He hoped the blood didn’t stain her skin.

“Let’s not keep Impa waiting any longer.”

___

They arrive at Kakariko hours later. The sun has long since set, and the cold is settling in. Normally, the trip from Hyrule field to Kakariko Village would take days, going along the official roads at a normal pace. Link had chosen a quick pace, cutting through the wilderness and mostly ignoring the official paths in the name of speed. With the Calamity’s demise, it left a gaping hole for the Yiga to attempt to assassinate him or Princess Zelda while they were vulnerable.

(He wished that the Sheikah Slate was powerful enough to take two people to a separate location, but Purah had advised him against it. Despite its functions being restored, that didn’t mean it was as powerful as it was one hundred years ago. Moving more than him was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.)

Approaching the gates of Kakariko was nerve-wracking, and relieving at the same time. It felt too easy, getting here without any interference. Yet, nothing stopped them as they crossed the threshold. Immediately, Link could feel the magic barrier of Kakariko surrounding them, a mix of the Sheikah arts, and a reinforcement from the Great Fairy Cotera.

Cado and Dorian guarded the entrance of Impa’s home. Their stony faces slackened at the sight of them. Him, the hero, and Zelda, the princess. They stayed at their positions, but bowed their heads in respect.

“Come along, Master Link!” Cado ushered them up into Impa’s abode as soon as they dismounted. Dorian stepped forward to grab Turnip’s reins, and offered him a tired smile. His eyes flickered to his tunic, but he stayed silent. Quiet concern as he took Turnip to be boarded. “Queen Zelda, Impa has been awaiting your arrival since she felt the disappearance of the Calamity.”

Link nodded, and quickly followed behind him. Zelda flushed.

“Queen?” She whispered dizzily.

‘You are the queen now.’ he signed back. ‘Would you still prefer princess?’

“Please,” She responded almost feverishly, something close to distress in her eyes. “I am not a queen. Not yet.”

He nodded. Cado remained at his post at the bottom as they ascended the stairs. He inhaled softly, glancing towards Zelda briefly, before pushing the door open. Impa rested on her pillow as usual, with Paya sat fidgeting at her side. A tray of tea was discarded nearby as they both waited anxiously.

Paya flinched as they entered, but she soon surged forwards, her arms wide as if to embrace them. “M-Master Link! Queen Zelda!” She cried out, “You’re okay!”

‘We’re alright,’ he assured at the sight of her teary eyes.

“Are you sure… y-your tunic?”

‘Fine’ he lied once more, waving her off. ‘Thank you.’

“O-of course.” She mumbled. “Would you like some tea?”

‘Tea sounds nice.’

He glanced towards Zelda, only to find her knelt in front of Impa. The old woman's hands cupped her face, and Zelda’s own were clasped over hers. It was an intimate moment, and vaguely, Link realized that they had been close friends. Or, he thought they were.

Politely, Link averted his gaze and tried his hardest to ignore their murmured conversation. Paya had busied herself with making more tea. His eyes slid to the door, and back to Zelda. Could he? He wondered, but was reassured by the sight of both Paya and Impa. He was silent as he slipped out. Not unseen of course, as Impa is sharp even in her old age and Paya is not someone to be underestimated, even with her shy nature. He’s sure both of them are aware of his departure. He knows they are both strong enough to protect her in his absence.

His side pulsed in pain as he stumbled down the stairs. He walked past Cado, who acknowledged him with a brief nod. He continued towards the little pool that held the goddess statue. He didn’t know why he sought it out, but he did. Perhaps he wanted reassurance that he’d done a good job, but he expected nothing but silence. He pressed his back against the cool stone of Her statue and shut his eyes.

And She watched him.

She felt like a cool breeze on a hot summer’s day. She was the silver light of a pure moon and the brightness of the sun. She was the morning dew and the songs of birds in the morning. She was the pure, undisturbed snow on the peaks of Hebra and the soft sands of Gerudo Desert. She was the clap of thunder in Faron and the lapping of waves on the shore in Lanayru.

She was indescribable. She was familiar. Her presence enveloped him like a cloak of furs. A heavy weight that pressed against him, a minor comfort reminiscent of the wolf whom he had traveled with. A beast of Hers, no doubt, as Her touch lingered on his being.

My Hero, She crooned from her statue. He tilted his head back to rest against the stone. Would you like to exchange your Spirit Orbs?

His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, and it took him a moment to respond. He shook his head. “No.” He murmured with a heavy tongue, voice slurring slightly. “I don’t ‘ave enough.”

She was silent for a moment. Her holy presence pressed against him and Her statue glowed brighter. Just this once, She whispered in his ear, a breeze rustling his loose hair. An invisible hand brushed his scarred cheek, unbearably gentle. I shall help you.

He shivered, pressing a hand to his wound as it grew hot. He lifted his tunic, and blinked tiredly at the puckered scar in the place of an injury, crusted with dark blood. He let the fabric fall over his stomach again and yawned. Closing his eyes as Her voice brushed over him once again.

Go, She beckoned him softly, and bring peace to every Hyrule.

“Okay.” he whispered tiredly, too tired to decipher the strange phrasing of her words. “Thank you.”

She didn’t respond. Even if She did, he wouldn’t have been awake to hear it.

___

Zelda didn’t notice when Link vanished. She assumed—hoped—that he would stay. Like how he once did. A silent protector, her knight. Yet he had gone without a trace, no sign of him at all. It made something in her stomach swirl, and she wiped away the gathering tears in her eyes.

“Impa…” Zelda murmured after a few moments of silence. Her tea had gone cold, but it was the best thing she had ever tasted. She savored the flavor—marveled at the fact that she could taste things. “What happened after..?”

Impa sighed heavily, shaking her head. She folded her wrinkled hands in her lap. “The mind is a fickle thing, my friend.” Impa warned. “After the shrine, his injuries… did you really think he’d come out unscathed?”

Zelda frowned. In all honesty, she did. She thought he would be fine. Link, her knight, had always been impervious. Taking down monsters and assassins with an ease she had never been able to possess. The sword was an extension of his arm, whereas her magic was an invisible blockade. Zelda had never been able to decipher him fully, even after she had stopped her ignorant hatred. He was always silent, never a word leaving his lips. He was so strong, so good… So much better than she ever was.

Zelda never thought injuries, even as egregious as they were, would hold him down for long. He was always up and moving. Now, with a moment to reflect, she’d never even seen him asleep. He seemed so much stronger than her. Always a staunch, immovable figure in the corner of her eyes.

And she had been foolish to think of him as someone who was impervious. He was as Hylian as she was. It was sad that it took her one hundred years to realize. Only after the proof flashed in front of her face, in the form of the stranger her knight had become. Not even his face was spared from the tides of time. Scars marred his skin like a morbid portrait. A reminder of his fate.

He spoke now, another change she hadn’t expected. She had no recollection of his voice. Yet the first thing she ever heard him utter is an apology of all things—for not being the same. For not remembering her. Oh, it hurt to be forgotten; but it hurt worse to look at a sincere, familiar stranger as they apologized for it.

Link was a wild looking thing. His hair long and tangled, clothes shredded and stained beyond repair. Even his champion’s tunic... She’s unable to name what she feels at the thought of it. The garment she had made, many years ago, was reduced to tatters. Her last champion…

Zelda remembered the days and nights she agonized over the pieces of fabric. Carefully treating them to be as impervious to damage as she could manage. Soaking them in elixirs, and embroidering what little runes her mother had taught her into the hems. They were created with as much love and care as she, a broken doll, could muster for people like her Champions. Now, she wishes she had been kinder to them—all of them.

She could have connected with them more. Laughed with Daruk, and spoke softly with Mipha. She could have indulged Revali when he wanted to brag, desperate for recognition, and sat more with Urbosa as she told tales of her mother. She could have done an infinite number of things better with Link. She had many regrets—too many.

Zelda would make him another one. Imbued with all the protection and love she now held, for him, for her fallen champions, and for her kingdom. She inhaled, pressing the heel of her palm against her eyes. Hard enough that her vision flashes white. Slowly, she exhaled, and let her hands fall into her lap. Impa sat patiently, her eyes like two specs of obsidian from Death Mountain as she observed.

“I wanted… I wanted something that had escaped the calamity. Something time had barely touched.” Zelda confessed quietly, hands clutching at the hem of her ruined prayer dress. “I want someone that knows. That remembers what we lost—who we lost.”

“And without his memories, Link is nothing more than a stranger.” Impa’s gaze was fixed onto the wall. Zelda followed her gaze, and she felt like she had stepped back into the Spring of Wisdom as she laid her eyes on a photo of Fort Hateno. She could recognize it now, even as nature encroached. How could she forget such a terrible place? “He is no longer the solace you thought he’d be.”

“Yes.” Zelda agreed, finding her voice after a few, stiff seconds. “A stranger in the body of my knight. My perfect stranger.”

Impa smiled briefly, shaking her head. Zelda felt strange as she stared at her face, the laugh lines around her mouth and crow's feet in the corners of her eyes. It spoke of decades of hardship and joy and laughter. A whole life that Impa had lived, one that Zelda hadn’t been afforded. If the Calamity hadn’t happened… would she have grown old? Would she have wrinkled and aged? (Would she have withered away, young and beautiful and taken too soon, like her mother?) She can’t help but wonder.

“Zelda.” Impa started sympathetically. “You can’t escape time. Even you are not unscathed by it.”

“I know.” She kneaded the fabric between her fingers. “But I wish we could escape it.”

Impa laughed, a throaty, creaking noise that made a small smile bloom on Zelda’s lips. “Don’t we all?” She gestured at herself. “Purah is the only one to have disobeyed time, but that may be because she’s simply too stubborn for it.”

“Purah?” Zelda repeated, intrigued. “What has she done now?”

“Oh,” Impa shook her head in a mix of amusement and exasperation. Her eyes had come alive, twinkling like stars. “That older sister of mine. What hasn't she done?”

___

Master Link slept peacefully, though Dorian didn’t know how such a position could be comfortable. Back pressed to the Goddess statue, he had curled in on himself tightly. Knees pulled closely to his chest, and his hands pressed between them. His face was peaceful—a stark contrast to the tense, somewhat uncomfortable expression he wore when he and the Princess arrived.

He sighed, a mix of fond and tired. Master Link, despite Dorian’s utmost respect for him, was rather bad at taking care of himself. His eyes lingered on the tangled hair, and blood crusted outfit. Concern burned in his stomach, just as it always did when it came to Master Link or his daughters. It put a bad taste in his mouth knowing that the one they relied on was so young. Though, it was none of their decisions, but rather Her divine judgement that led them along this path.

Dorian signed once more, crouching down to examine the hero. His breathing was even and steady, no wounds seemed to affect it. When he pressed a hand against the boy’s forehead, he found it slightly colder than normal, rather than feverish as he feared. Even summer nights brought a chill, he supposed. And the ripped tunic certainly didn’t help.

“Master Link?” He asked softly, trying to wake the boy without needing to touch him. But Master Link didn’t stir, and Dorian tried again, louder this time. “Master Link?” The boy twitched, and for a moment he thought he’d awoken, but the hero buried his head deeper into his arms, and continued to sleep.

Finally, Dorian made his decision. He slotted his arms beneath Master Link carefully, one beneath his knees and the other at the small of his back, before lifting him into his arms. His weight was nothing compared to Cado, Dorian thought wryly. The amount of times he’d had to drag the man away from his cuckoos was immeasurable. Though, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at the mess of a tunic, and the blood crusted on it. Originally, he had noticed it, but had been assured that Master Link wasn’t truly so foolish as to wander around gravely injured.

He shifted Master Link in his arms, pressing him tighter to his chest in order to shift the fabric clinging to his stomach. Dorian breathed a sigh of relief as he found a healed wound, instead of an open one. The blood was old and crusted, nothing fresh clinging to his skin. So, he shifted the boy back into what he hoped was a comfortable position in his arms. Master Link’s head rested against his collarbone, and his hands laid curled in his own lap.

He carried him towards the inn, knowing that waking up in Lady Impa’s would unnerve him. Similarly, waking up in Dorian’s home would do the same. Even if Cottla and Koko would adore having a sleepover with Master Link.

He struggled for a moment with the door, trying not to disturb Master Link as he slept. He had plenty of experience, since his daughters loved to be held when they fell asleep. He pushed the door open, and carefully maneuvered through the doorway to avoid hitting any limbs on the frame. At the desk, Ollie yawned, perking up as Dorian entered.

“Ah- D-Dorian?” Ollie said, voice tinged with his own exhaustion. It was rather late, so he couldn’t blame the man. “Is… Is that Master Link?” His voice softened, quieting as he realized the hero was asleep.

“Yes,” Dorian confirmed, “Could I get a soft bed for him?”

“O-of course. Just put him down on the bed to the—the right.” Ollie stuttered, and Dorian obeyed. He propped Master Link against himself as he peeled the blankets back. He laid the boy down in bed, before pulling the shoes from his feet, and placing them on the floor. Then, he carefully stripped the belts off, taking extra care when it came to the Sheikah Slate. He placed the artifact down on the bedside table. He looked at Master Link, pursing his lips.

He was loath to allow Master Link to sleep in soiled clothes, but he knew his boundaries. Already, he had likely pushed them. So, he pulled the covers up to the boy’s chin, hesitating for a moment before smoothing back his hair. Then, he walked back to the desk to settle the payment.

“Is he alright?” Ollie swallowed thickly, glancing over at Master Link. “That—That was a lot of bl-blood.”

“He’s fine.” Dorian confirmed, already reaching for his rupee pouch. “The soft bed is forty, yes?”

“Yes.” Ollie confirmed, and Dorian easily handed the money over. “When… When should I wake him?”

Dorian paused, before deciding. “Let him get up on his own.”

“Alrighty… have a good night, Dorian.”

“You too.”

He left the inn as soon as he came, assured that their hero was alright, safely inside the inn, and without injury. He nodded to Cado as he passed on his way home. At night, it seemed his heart weighed heavier in his chest. The guilt of all he had said and done became more of a burden. His mind went back to Master Link, and his heart ached.

The front door opened with a soft creak, and he shut it behind him. His daughters were sure to be sleeping already, so he took care to be quiet as usual. He stripped off his sandals, and hung his hat on the hook. He didn’t remove his weapon. He never did.

Silently, Dorian crept through the house, softly illuminated by a single lantern, as Koko, as much as she denied it, hated sleeping in the dark. He paused before sitting down on the edge of the girls’ bed, which was once their mother’s. Koko was clingy in her sleep, gripping Cottla close with a protectiveness he wished she didn’t have to possess. He smoothed back his daughters’ hair, pressing a tender kiss to each of their foreheads.

For a moment, the weight of his guilt seemed to lessen.

Chapter Text

Even without the threat of the Calamity hanging over their heads, there was much to do.

Impa could not describe the joy she felt as two of her old friends returned to her side once more, alive and safe. As much as she wished for it, she couldn’t quite call what either of them were ‘healthy’.

The Zelda that returned to her was skin and bones, thinned from a hundred years without a body—a hundred years keeping the beast sealed within the castle. It pained her to see her dear friend so unhealthy, her collarbones pronounced, and she was sure she would be able to count the Princess’ ribs. That wasn’t even accounting for the exhaustion.

Her magic had ignited like a fire, burning bright and using Zelda herself as the fuel. Now, that flame had dulled to an ember, and her exuberance had faded. She had to battle with bouts of exhaustion and fever as she recovered from the Calamity’s influence. She had filled her time with reading up on recent politics (which Impa had to specifically request from Link), taking walks around the village with Dorian, Cado, or Link to act as her guard, and the occasional catnap. That was, when she wasn’t bedridden and ill.

Link, on the other hand, had chosen to throw himself into the unknown. After the first two weeks, it was rare that she’d catch a glimpse of him in Kakariko Village. Each time, he looked a little more tired. A little more hopeless. Yet, he didn’t quit his search, even when she’d implored him to take a break. But Impa could not blame him for it. She remembered well the companion he’d mentioned. The pictures he’d shown her of the wolf that looked startlingly similar to the blue-eyed beast of a past hero. But, she kept her mouth shut.

Link did not ask, and she did not tell. So, all she could do was wait for him to burn out, and welcome him back with a stern look, and a bed to lay his head. It would happen eventually, as it did to all people. Still, Impa had her duties as the Elder of the Sheikah. People to speak with, many factors to consider, and a festival to plan.

This year, the festival was sure to be extremely big. Already, they had some of their more adventurous kin returning home to help set up. Even Purah and Robbie, who hadn’t come to Kakariko for a festival in a long time, had agreed to attend. But, she supposed that this festival was different. No longer did they hope for change—they celebrated the change that had come, and that would continue to shape Hyrule in the future. Even her dear granddaughter seemed to grow more bold as the festival approached. She took care of the things that Impa herself could not, as well as assisting Zelda throughout the day.

“What are they preparing for?” Zelda asked one evening, curled on a pillow beside Impa. She’d been badgering Impa about Purah and Robbie’s more recent escapades, though she wasn’t fully aware of what they were up to in the hundred years since they’d separated. Letters only told so much, after all. “Is there a festival?”

And Impa laughed. It slipped her mind, and she’d neglected to inform Zelda of the most important festival of the Sheikah. She’d thought Paya would have told her, or anyone else in the village, but she supposed leaving it to be a surprise would be more fun.

“Just wait, my dear friend.” Impa smiled, tracing the letter Robbie had sent. He was already on his way to Kakariko, and she expected Purah to arrive in due time as well. “You’ll see.”

Zelda pouted, and begged for more information. But Impa’s eyes simply shone with amusement as she kept tight-lipped about the festival.

___

It was a rather lovely day for a walk, Zelda noted. But she wished she could enjoy it more. Link walked beside her, looking more tired than even her, but seemed content to stay in the silence they’d made. The sun shone down nicely, the feeling of heat on her skin so different from the scorching of the Calamity, that she had begun to appreciate it even as her face flushed.

She wished she had more stamina, but her legs ached fiercely, and trembled like a fawn’s. Her lips turned downwards in displeasure at the state of her body. Link didn’t say anything about her lack of athletic ability, only slowing his pace to accommodate her. Still, it made her ears flush in embarrassment.

“Oh, Linky!” A chipper voice called out, and Zelda jumped slightly. Link, standing beside her, simply sighed.

“Who’s that?” Zelda asked, watching the rapidly approaching child, followed by a harried looking man. The girl seemed rather determined, and Zelda internally cooed at the adorable little puffy dress she wore.

“Purah.” Link intoned gravely. Zelda blinked, that was what Impa meant by her disobeying time?! She stared at the little girl, who was also a hundred year old scientist, and realized that Impa had left out some key details in her recount of Purah’s experiments. Zelda grinned, vibrating in place. She had so many questions!

“Hiya Linky! Hi Princess! Good to see you again!” Purah paused, hands on her hips as she squinted at Zelda. It was an extremely cute expression on such a youthful face, a stark contrast to the more matured form she remembered. “You still remember me, right Princess?”

“Of course, Purah.” Zelda giggled, but glanced back at Link with worried brows. Link was rather affected by his lack of memories, and she hoped Purah’s words didn’t hurt him. “How have you been? You’re much smaller than I remember—you must tell me about that experiment!”

“I've been fine, Princess! And no way! That’s way too embarrassing.” Purah pouted, and the man behind her chuckled. She whirled around, glaring at him. “Not a word about it, Symin!”

Symin lifted his hands in surrender, smiling softly. “Of course, director.” Then, to Zelda he added. “I happen to have Purah notes on the whole fiasco, if you’d like to read them.”

“NO!” Purah shrieked, “Don’t you dare, Symin!”

Symin smiled. “I haven’t said a word about it.”

“Traitor!” Purah accused, before whirling on her heel. “Let’s go Princess! I have many—MANY—questions for you!”

“Of course! Link—” She turned, only to pause as she spotted her Knight. He crouched beside the two sisters, darling little girls that Zelda adored. Koko and Cottla seemed so happy speaking to him, and his eyes held a light she’d seldom seen. Zelda smiled, a secret little thing, and turned back to Purah. “Let’s go to Impa’s house.”

“Alrighty Zeldy!” Purah chirped, already skipping in the right direction. She followed, listening to Purah babble about various things—what caught her attention, really. Zelda had to wonder if her brain had also been set back to a six year-old state

“Princess Zelda…” Cado bowed his head respectfully, and Dorian followed his example. However, his eyes remained faraway, back in the direction she knew Koko, Cottla and Link stood. “Who’s child is this?”

“Rude!!” Purah huffed, scowling up at the guard. It didn’t help her case really, as it just made her look even cuter. “I’m older than you, thank you very much! Science is a fickle art!”

“This must be Lady Purah, then.” Cado decided, his face a mix between stony and uncomfortable. Dorian looked faintly amused at his fellow guard’s misstep. “Forgive me, Lady Impa is awaiting your arrival.”

Purah hmph’d, and headed up the stairs. But Zelda smiled, feeling a bit bad for giggling as he was thrown to the wolves. “Thank you.” She said, before quickly following Purah, who was extremely eager. She threw the door open with a bang, announcing herself with a loud “SNAP!”

“Hi little sister!” Purah grinned, skipping forwards and dropping to the floor with ease. Zelda followed a more sedate pace, closing the food and settling beside her carefully. “Letters aren’t nearly as nice as seeing you in person.”

Impa choked on a laugh, eying her sister. “Good to see you again too, Purah. You’ve been rather busy, and please mind the doors.”

“Psh—” Purah waved her hand. “This is nothing! Just wait ‘til I tell you about my other experiments!”

Zelda pursed her lips, interlacing her fingers together so she wouldn’t fidget with them. “Before that, I have something more serious to discuss with you.” She said, “If you don't mind?”

Purah grinned and snapped her fingers. “Let’s hear it!”

___

Impa will always remember their reaction.

Zelda’s eyes had widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. Tears quickly welled in her eyes, making her cheeks flush as she stared at the festivities below. Link’s mouth was open just a smidge, his own eyes wide and shining with what looked to be excitement. They both looked lovely in their yukatas, blue and green for their respective roles. She eyed Link’s with a smile, knowing Dorian must have helped him, as she and Paya did for Zelda.

Just ahead, she gazed at the village, usually calm and sedate, had come alive with a new fervor. The Goddess statue had been covered in floral wreaths, and the few children they had ran around in their colorful yukatas, gleeful as they collected their flowers and leaves. When it got dark, it would be time to light the lanterns and the bonfire.

“Impa, what is all this?” Zelda breathed.

“The Silent Princess Festival.” She smiled, easily beckoning them forwards towards the festivities. “Come, why don’t we take part? Everyone will be overjoyed to see you both.”

And they both hesitated, holding the weight of the world on their shoulders, each in their own way. And Impa had known how young they were before. But now, it felt all the more apparent, staring at their youthful faces, barely shedding the baby fat of childhood. They hadn’t yet even reached the age of majority. Too young to drink—too young to die.

(But now wasn’t the time to contemplate such dark things.)

Impa herself didn’t even have to coax them down. Instead, her job was done by two little girls, and their father.

“Miss Princess!! Master Link!” Koko waved eagerly, hanging off her father’s sleeve. Cottla grinned from beside her, her missing tooth making the smile more endearing. They were adorable in their bright blue yukatas, with their hair pulled up into buns, with flowery hair sticks Impa knew belonged to their mother. “Come join us!! We’re going to find our wishing leaves!”

“Koko,” Dorian scolded, but the man was as soft as always with his daughters. “Master Link and Princess Zelda might be busy, we shouldn’t bother them.”

“No.” Zelda breathed, finally coming to life beside Impa. She smiled, something tender and weak, but undeniably hers. “We’d love to, wouldn’t we, Link?”

Zelda moved forwards, but not before grasping Link's hand in her own. Pulling him along as she joined Dorian and his daughters. She turned to Impa, smiling softly. “Won’t you join us?

“Of course,” Impa stepped down the stairs slowly, careful not to fall. Dorian offered her a hand as she reached the bottom, helping her off the last step. “We have a festival to enjoy.”

This, she decided, was what she hoped for the future. She wanted her friends to carry this joy with them for as long as they lived. The bright sound of Zelda’s laugh, and the concealed giggles that Link thought no one noticed. The way the children were so bright and happy, and the glee on her older sister’s face as she pestered Robbie for the first time in a hundred years

For one single night, the world seemed so small, and so peaceful—

___

—but nothing can last forever.

“I hate to leave Kakariko so soon,” Zelda sighed quietly from atop her white horse. An ill-tempered creature that Link struggled to catch, and regretted doing so a bit more every time he had to deal with him. But, when he’d taken her to the stable, she seemed to have bonded with him. So, he was stuck with him for now. “Must we really go see the Zora?”

Link stifled a sigh at her words. They were rhetoric, of course, as she knew the importance of visiting the Zora despite their reticence. It had been a little over two months since the defeat of the Calamity, and her much deserved break had to be cut short. After the festival, it became pressingly clear that it was time for her to reenter the spotlight. Politics were something he was unfamiliar with, but Zelda was insistent that she needed to reestablish connections between the monarchy and the other races.

The Zora deserved to know of their triumph against the calamity, Zelda had said, her eyes haunted at the mention of the fallen champion, they deserved closure for the loss of their beloved princess. The Zora were first on their list, followed by the Gerudo, Rito and the Goron. Realistically, going to the Zora, then the Goron would be more practical—but in the face of Zelda’s poorer health they decided that they would save the two more extreme climates for the end.

And unfortunately for them, the Zora had long lives. Long enough that they remembered the time before the Calamity, and thus, remembered them. Link learned that the hard way. He ignored the tenseness that worked its way into his shoulders. The Zora had many expectations that he could never meet. Memories that he couldn’t recall. Accusations that he couldn’t confirm nor deny. (Was it really his fault that Mipha had died?)

He didn’t voice his doubts aloud. Didn’t dare sully the excitement that Zelda was feeling, finally getting a taste of her own independence. He looked at her, and at the prototype ‘Purah Slate’ (name in progress), on her hip. Before they’d returned home, Purah and Robbie left it in her hands, promising upgrades to come.

Amazingly, it maintained some of the features that his Sheikah Slate had. The main difference being the lack of teleportation ability. His Slate had connected to the shrines a long time ago, even if he hadn’t been able to access them until he discovered them. But, the shrines refused to recognize the newer technology. Another difference was the lack of runes. The only one that really worked was the picture function, but Zelda didn’t seem at all upset. Instead, she’d taken to snapping photos as they travelled, just as she did before.

‘Sidon and King Dorephan will be pleased to see us,’ He signed, and Zelda’s face scrunched in confusion. He paused, and repeated the sign names alongside a verbal version of them. Comprehension dawned in her eyes and she nodded.

“I suppose they will,” She mused, staring at the landscape in front of them. “Are they well? Prince Sidon was just a baby when I saw him last.”

‘Sidon’s tall. Very… happy—Loud?’ He tried, unable to remember the correct word in sign. Aloud, he told her, “He’s enthusiastic.”

Zelda hummed in acknowledgement, stroking the mane of her horse, aptly named Snowy. “And King Dorephan?”

“Kind and loud like Sidon.”

“Ah, it seems he hasn’t changed much since we last met. King Dorephan had always been a kind Zora.” She smiled nostalgically, glancing over at him as she spoke again. “I remember he often had children hanging off his fins whenever I visited the Domain, you included.” She giggled to herself and looked away once more.

Suddenly, Link’s chest swelled with yearning. He wanted to know. He wanted to know who the Champion was. He wanted to know the stranger that Zelda has been so attached to. His mouth opened before his brain could catch up, and in the quietest voice, he asked;

“Can you tell me about him?”

Zelda paused at the unexpected question.

“Who I was before, I mean…” His voice trailed off, and he stared down at his hands. Carefully clenching and unclenching Turnip’s bridle. Zelda was silent, and he mentally floundered at her lack of response. “You don’t have to-”

“No,” She interrupted, voice quivering lightly. “You surprised me, is all. I’d love to tell you about yourself.” She put an emphasis on ‘yourself’, as if he was the person from a hundred years before. As if he hadn’t been reborn in the depths of a shrine. As if he was the Hero who hadn’t yet failed her, and all of Hyrule.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat and nodded quietly as she began to speak. Menial, simple things. Yet he devoured it with a vigor. Desperate to know about the hero from one hundred years ago.

___

When Zelda first met Link, she hated him.

Envy burned like a forest fire in her gut. Rage that had no release as she watched this boy, younger and smaller than her, claim his destiny. The sword in his hand felt more like a slap to her face than her father’s joyful words. Proclaiming this boy to be their savior, the Hero.

His appearance, she knew, meant her time was running out. Now, all eyes were on her to play her part, to awaken her magic and burn just like her mother did. To be the guiding star for the kingdom. Afterall, there was one thing taught to the daughters of Hylia. They were taught to burn bright, like stars. They are glorious and powerful, their magic a gift from the Goddess Herself. Their light was stolen away pieces of Her radiance, a fleeting taste of their creator. What they didn’t tell them was that to burn bright, they burned out young.

She thought of her own mother, lively and beautiful and everything a Queen should be. She thinks of how her power ate her alive, until all that remained was the thin-limbed, frail corpse laid upon her deathbed. Death was a fate that they were familiar with. Not all succumbed to it, if they were lucky, but power comes with a price.

That is why Zelda was both grateful, and remorseful at her lack of power. She would not burn out nearly as fast as her mother had, yet it's what the kingdom needed. It's what her position demanded. They needed her light to guide them, but she couldn’t even give them that. All she could do was sit and watch as the Hero found his destiny as she waited for her own.

Zelda never noticed how the Hero shied away from the eyes of nobles—hers most of all. She never noticed him, unless it was to stare hatefully at the boy who could do what she couldn’t. The knight who her father wouldn’t stop praising for his skills, dedication, for being better than her. For holding the power that she couldn’t manifest, despite her desperate efforts. Her days and nights dedicated to prayers that the Goddess wouldn’t answer.

Now, as she recounted moments from the past, she realized Link was scared. Just like her.

___

As the day pressed on, and the sun began to fall, a chill settled in his bones. He shivered from atop Turnip, who nipped at his fingers when he leaned forward to touch her face. Even as he layered his doublet atop his tunic, the cold still creeped through. Zelda had taken her own doublet out as well, snuggling into the wool. She leaned forwards eagerly in her saddle as the approached Riverside Stable.

Despite not showing it as clearly as the Princess, Link was relieved as well. He swung off his horse with practiced ease. A dog darted out to greet them, barking and licking at his fingers when he reached down to pet the wily thing. He was fond of canines.

Briefly, he mourned the presence of his wolf friend. Weeks of searching, weeks of nothing at all had quelled his search. Whenever he asked, She stayed silent, something amused in Her aura. He stopped asking quickly. For a moment, Link pretended that the dog was his companion, but the illusion didn't hold. Its fur was too soft, not thick enough. Still, he scratched it behind the ears just how Wolf liked.

He turned, after a few more precious moments of petting the dog, to look at his current Hylian companion. Zelda was less practiced when getting off her horse, she stumbled off. Link could tell her legs were numb from riding all day. He reached out to steady her, and the dog threaded through his legs to greet her, throwing his balance off. Her laugh was bright as she bent down to pet it, a carefree smile on her face.

Link looked toward the stable. He could spot Ember peering out at them from inside. At the side of the stable, Parcy tended to one of the horses. Beedle sat by the fire, and he waved excitedly at Link, his trading table already set out. He waved back, albeit less enthusiastically, and headed towards the entrance. He left Zelda with the dog, leading their horses forwards towards the Stablemaster.

“How’s it going, Link?” Ember greeted from the counter, “Need to board or take out a horse?”

“I’m boarding Snowy and Turnip for the night.” Link nodded back towards the two horses. “Thank you.”

“Alright, Parcy’ll come get them in a moment. Is that all you need from this side of the counter?”

“Yes.”

“Come inside then, and I can set you up for the night.”

Link personally thought that the system of stable business outside only and inn business inside only was dumb. He wasn’t planning on disputing it though, so he went inside to meet Ember at the counter once again.

“What’ll it be for you today?”

“Two beds please, Ember. One soft, one normal.” Link requested quietly.

“You know the price,” Ember grinned. “And I’ll make it two soft, I can't imagine you getting the soft one for yourself.”

Link frowned in displeasure, but didn’t argue the change in beds. He extracted the proper amount of rupees from his slate, and Ember tutted scoldingly. He placed his hands on his hips with a lighthearted scowl. “You are not paying me for a bed, Link.”

“But—”

“No. You’ve already given everyone more than we could’ve asked for. Parcy agrees with me.”

Link sighed. He had been through this song and dance a few times already. He already knew this was a fight he wouldn’t be able to win. Ember smiled triumphantly as he put his rupees away, and waved him towards two beds.

“Those’re yours for the night. When d’ya want us to wake you?”

Link contemplated for a moment. “Nine,” He decided, it wouldn’t hurt to let Zelda sleep in.

Ember bobbed his head. “Alright, we’ll wake you in the morning. Go get settled in.”

“Thanks.”

As Link went back outside, the sight that greeted him was quite wholesome. Zelda sat on the floor with a very happy and very fluffy dog in her lap. Absolutely beaming as she rubbed its fluffy tummy. Link stifled a snort, but it was enough to draw her attention. Her cheeks flushed slightly, but he didn’t comment on it.

“I got us two beds, second and third to the right. You can choose which you want.”

She stood and brushed her pants off, trying to maintain some semblance of her dignity. “Thank you,” She turned to head towards the stable, but glanced back when his footsteps failed to follow hers. Her ears twitched as she looked back at him. “Are you not coming as well?”

“I need to talk to Beedle,” He smiled awkwardly, twirling his hair around a finger absentmindedly. “I’ll be inside soon.”

Zelda studied him carefully, and he shifted his weight from foot to foot. She nodded at him, quietly accepting his words. “Alright. Goodnight, Link.”

“Goodnight.” He echoed as she walked away. He stood in place and stared at her back as she disappeared inside. He sighed, and rubbed his eyes. Sleep later, he had to buy some arrows from Beedle.

“Hi Link! It’s good to see you again!” Beedle’s voice held its usual bolster as Link approached. He dropped to the floor tiredly, sitting criss-cross. “I heard you’ve been busy. The Calamity, huh?”

Link grimaced at the reminder. “Yeah…”

Beedle, kindly, didn’t push further, a small mercy. As much as he loved a good sale, he wasn’t one to trade in information. “All of my arrows, as usual?”

“Yep.”

“That’ll be a hundred sixty rupees, ‘kay?”

“Mhm.” Link tapped at his slate, distracted. The rupees materialized in his lap in a swathe of blue light. Beedle, already used to it, paid little attention to the slate as he pulled the arrows from his pack.

“I’d be careful if I were you, Link.” Beedle warned as he handed them over. Link perked up, suddenly more alert. “The Yiga Clan has been pretty active recently.”

“Yiga?” He clutched the arrows tightly as he accepted them, passing over more than the normal amount of rupees owed.

Beedle sent him a flat look when he noticed, but put them in his pocket. He shook his head. “Mhm. They’ve been spotted on the roads. Nothing a banana won’t fix but you should be careful.”

“They’re angry about the Calamity?” Link guessed, though he hoped he was wrong.

“Yep.”

“How did they find out?” Link frowned, and Beedle rolled his eyes, folding his arms atop the foldout table.

“It's been two months, and you know information spreads quickly,” The merchant sent him a teasing smile, the skin around his eyes crinkled. “Who else is crazy enough to go into the Castle and come back alive? Certainly not me!”

While Beedle may be right, what he said was not good, Link grimaced. Not good at all. He sighed, and smiled weakly. “Thank you for the arrows. I should head to bed.”

“Thanks for your continued patronage!” Beedle waved at him as he stood, his voice chipper. “Buh-Bye!”

As soon as he left the friendly atmosphere, a feeling of unease settled over him.
He threaded his fingers through his hair and tugged. The pain helped clear his racing mind. He had to take the new information he learned into account now, and make a new path forward for them. The Yiga were looking for them, and oh, how he loathed assassins.

Link huffed tiredly. Goddess, could anything ever go to plan?

No. The answer would almost always be no.

Going through the Lanayru Wetlands was a bit riskier, but likely their best bet to avoid the Yiga. They tended to stick to the main paths, with a few exceptions. But going through the wetlands would also mean bypassing Wetland stable, and continuing to the Domain on foot. Would Zelda be fine camping out for the night? Would she be fine walking such a distance?

And that wasn’t considering the dangers of the Wetlands themselves. He wasn’t sure if the Lizalfos there had been killed yet, but he was fairly certain he’d killed the Guardian for its parts. Was it really worth it to avoid the Yiga?

(The monsters had no need for revenge, but the Yiga did. Link knew well the taste of their vengeance. Of blood filling lungs, and gasping for air as they laughed. Their revenge was swift and painful when it came to Kohga. For their God? It could only be a thousand times worse.)

Silent as a mouse, he peeked inside to look at Zelda. He found her asleep in one of the beds, her shoes set carefully beside her bed, though she was still in her day clothes. Carefully, so as not to wake her, he crept inside. She wasn’t a heavy sleeper by any means, and he had learned the hard way that she was not very graceful when woken up.

He toed off his boots and set them down next to the bed. He didn’t bother changing out of his tunic, only stripping the belts from his torso. He sank into the plush mattress with a pleasant sigh, and buried his face in the cucco feather pillow. He held the slate close to his chest, cradling it in his arms.

Sleep didn’t come easy.

Chapter Text

The sun was setting as they decided to settle down for the night. It was a bitter pill to swallow for Link as he peered at the map on his slate. They had made little progress on their journey to the domain. Going by foot in a place like the Wetlands was arduous, and Zelda was still recovering. Even if she was stronger now, she wasn’t fit for long, hard travelling like he was used to. She wouldn’t be able to walk and run without sleep for hours on end. She had to rest.

So, it was fine. He balled up the little feeling of frustration in his chest and buried it. His job wasn’t to complain about their lack of progress, or get upset over Zelda’s slow recovery. No. He was there to protect her. He was still her knight, after all.

He exhaled calmly, sitting on the floor of the Daka Tuss Shrine as Zelda hemmed and hawed over the mechanisms of it. Of course, there wasn’t much for her to look at. Not without needing the runes, or jumping into the water to examine it. He glanced over at her nervously, hoping she wouldn’t resort to that. But, she seemed fine with examining the space the monk once occupied.

All he could really day was that he was glad to be inside, and out of the wetlands. His boots were soaked through, and he had to dump the water from them. He didn’t like the Lanayru Wetlands. He wouldn’t say he hated it, but he disliked it… To a great extent. The area was inconvenient for travel, and a miserable battlefield. Even with the wooden pathways, you still had to walk through ankle deep—sometimes calf-deep—water. It was hard to maneuver, and it left him uncomfortably damp.

He sighed, frowning deeply. His hand ghosted over the sword beside him. Not the Master Sword, as they were trying to remain inconspicuous to the Yiga he had been warned of. The Knight’s broadsword he carried instead was a familiar weight. He held the blade in his hands, carefully testing the balance, inspecting the bloodstained edges as if there were something hidden on them.

He often used one when he was a knight, since the Master Sword was considered an advantage.

Link blinked, a cottony fuzz invading his mind as he stared at the sword. When had he…? He didn’t remember that. Why did he think that? His nose scrunched, and he shook his head, forcing away the fog. He dropped his arm onto his knees, letting the tip of the blade scrape the floor.

It didn’t matter.

He huffed, unenthused at the idea of waiting in here, yet, he had nothing to do. He could look through the gallery, or the compendium, but… he didn’t feel like revisiting old memories more than he already did. He wasn’t particularly hungry either, so cooking was out the window. If Zelda was hungry, he could give her one of the many meals already in the slate. And he was sure she had some stored in hers as well.

Link stood, exhaling harshly. He picked up the sword, and made his way to the entrance. He paused, thinking better of leaving without informing the Princess. “I’m going outside, I should be back within an hour.” An hour would be long enough to clear more monsters from their route, and it was likely the best and only opportunity he’d get. Leaving her in the shrine meant she was protected, but any other night they’d be camping outside.

“Oh, alright!” Zelda called back distractedly, and Link took that as his que to leave. “Be safe!”

“...I’ll try.”

___

The air was knocked from Time’s lungs as he fell to the floor. The residual nausea from the portal ebbing away quickly, instead leaving a pounding headache in its place. “Everyone here?!” He called out, receiving a chorus of varying replies.

“Think so.. Urk—” Four whined, clutching their stomach tight. “Damn portals…”

“I’m fine! Feelin’ good!” Wind called, easily getting to his feet. Time felt slightly resentful of the resilience of youth. That vanished quickly when he yelped, arms flailing as he backed away from Four. “Ay! Don’t puke on my shoes!”

“Not sorry,” Four groaned, sending a glare towards the youngest. “Stop braggin’ abo’ not bein’ sick.”

“Got ‘Rule and Bird-brain ‘ere.” Legend called after a moment, sounding a bit queasy himself. “M’ not feelin’ too bad.”

“Got the country boy. Up you go—” Warriors called, hefting Twilight up from the floor.

“Thanks,” Twilight huffed, stumbling onto his feet. After a moment, he glanced around, eyebrows furrowing in contemplation. “Any’a y’all got an idea where Hylia spat us out?”

“Not mine!” Wind quickly chimed in, kicking up more water. “Not enough water—but better than yer Hyrules!”

“No fuckin’ clue.” Legend grunted, wringing out his hat. “Couldn’t the dear Goddess spit us out somewhere better? Her standards are real fuckin’ subpar.”

“Legend—” Sky started warningly, slowly rising from the floor. Legend cut him off with a wave of his hand, scowling.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t badmouth yer damn girlfriend, even if she’s sendin’ us on a wild goose chase. I get it.”

“Cool it,” Time said, rising to his own two feet, and grimacing at the way water clung to his armor, and swished in his boots. “Now’s not the time for theological debates.”

“Theo—what now?” Hyrule repeated, large brown eyes blinking in bewilderment.

“Religion, basically.” Four provided after a moment. Their face was a bit green around the edges, but they managed to get to their feet.

“It isn’t mine,” Hyrule commented softly, and Time could acquiesce to that observation easily. Hyrule’s time… well, there was too much foliage to be his. “Could it be a new one?”

“Really? Another hero?” Warriors asked. “Are we sure?”

“No,” Time frowned. “It could be an in-between era.”

“The land ain’t like nothin’ we’ve seen before! Ya sure?” Twilight pointed out, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Look at the mountains! There’s some sorta encampment there too! The place’s massive, Old Man.”

“Are those giant bones?” Sky wondered, squinting at a structure in the distance, shadowed by the dwindling light.

Four nodded, face scrunching in displeasure. “Pretty sure.”

Wind cheered, a wide grin splitting the boy’s face. He peered at the possible bones excitedly. “Cool!! We gotta go look at em!”

“Don’t go lookin’ for trouble,” Hyrule warned softly, gaze lingering on the structure as well. “Otherwise you’ll bring us bad luck.”

Time pursed his lips. He didn’t like the possibility of another hero. That was another variable to account for, another life that was placed in their unsteady hands. “We should find stable ground. We can reassess in the morning.” he decided after a moment.

“No use in finding a dry spot, I’m damn near soaked through.” Legend grunted, pulling a ring from his hand to wipe off. He put it on immediately after.

The captain rolled his eyes, carefully winding his scarf around his neck. “You’re not special, look at the rest of us.”

“You look like a drowned rat.” Legend snarked, “No amount’a preening can fix that face o’ yours.”

Warriors huffed. “Look who’s talking. The extra jewelry doesn't make up for your lack of charm. It's like trying to have a civilized conversation with a Bokoblin.”

Wind perked up, always ready to encourage chaos. “Fight! Fight! Figh—”

“No.” Twilight interrupted with a heavy sigh. He dragged a hand down his face. “Stop encouragin’ it Sailor.”

“Let’s just find a place to camp.”

___

Their camp isn’t particularly comfy or glamorous, but it's functional.

Sky didn’t bother doing much more than lying down on his bedroll, trying to ignore how damp everything here was. Exhaustion was a familiar opponent now, yet it was one he still couldn’t beat. His eyes were heavy as their subpar fire flickered and crackled. Barely staying lit even as Hyrule tried to coax it to life. It was a miracle they’d been able to find enough sticks to even make a fire. Forget proper firewood. All the trees were sparse and thin, but without knowing what lurked in the dark, they weren’t willing to make such a racket. Their dinner consisted of poorly cooked meat from a few fish they’d managed to skewer in the water, and hardtack.

The portal showed up as they were trudging through Warriors’ Hyrule on a hunt for monsters. After landing, they’d trudged over to one of the little, barely dry, islands and settled down. That didn’t stop Hyrule from eyeing the glowing blue structure they could see from afar.

(“No.” Legend spoke without even looking up. “Not a chance.”

Hyrule jumped, then sputtered. His ears were twitching, and flushing faintly. “Wha—huh? Whaddya ya mean?”

“You’re not runnin’ off to go investigate. Sit your ass back down and gnaw on the hardtack, ‘Roolie.”

The medic pouted, but followed instructions anyway. Sky couldn’t conceal his amusement at the scene, earning a sharp glare from Legend, and another, deeper pout from Hyrule.)

Vaguely, he could hear Twilight and Time discussing the plan for tomorrow. Warriors settled down near his feet, occasionally calling his own input to Time and Twilight. Wind shamelessly leaned on Sky’s legs, jeering at the Captain every so often and jabbing his bony elbows into Sky’s legs. Hyrule and Legend gathered at the otherside of the fire, their voices hushed in their discussion. Four sat with them, grinding their whetstone across the surface of their sword.

Really, they should’ve all been trying to sleep. He was sure it was well past ten at least, but the portal jumps never really translated time well. Days become nights, afternoon to early morning, evening to midnight. It was disorienting, and irritating, depending on how big the jump was. Sky resolutely buried his face in his bedroll, hoping that sleep would take him.

“Hardtack?” Warriors offered, the scarf was wrapped carefully around his neck so it wouldn't get dirty. Sky rolled onto his side, nose scrunched, but he took it. He grimaced as he stared at the cracker-like food, already knowing it would taste awful.

“Thanks.” He offered, and Wind snorted.

“Don’t thank ‘em, hardtack’s awful!” Wind complained, pressing harder against Sky’s legs. “Even Tetra hates that stuff.”

“Mind your manners, your grandma’s going to think we let you run wild. And it's really not that bad.” Warriors commented as he took a bite of his own. Or, rather, he tried to take a bite. It refused to break apart, and he huffed, detaching his teeth from it. “As long as you soften it.”

“Mm.” Sky hummed, wisely choosing to dip it into his canteen since he valued his teeth. Still, it did little to make it more appetizing. Not to mention the bland taste when it was finally soft enough for him to chew. It was like gnawing on soggy sawdust. He swallowed with a grimace.

Warriors grinned. “Not that bad, right?”

Sky didn’t have the heart to tell him it was awful. But it was better than any monstrosity of a meal any of them could create. He would take this over half raw, half burnt meat any day. Or the living stew. Sky shuddered at the memory. “Not bad.” He agreed, not mentioning the sawdust still lodged in his throat. When he was offered another piece of hardtack, he graciously said no.

The camp fell into a calm lull. Night fell in earnest, the moon hidden behind the sparse trees. With the dark of the night, brought a chill that had them all huddling closer to the sputtering fire. Sky shivered beneath his sailcloth, and pulled it tighter around his shoulders. Wind had stolen a part of Warriors’ scarf to wrap around himself, and the captain graciously didn’t comment. If Sky could ignore the strange unease that had sunk its claw into him, he would call it peaceful.

“Sonova biscuit eater—!” Wind shouted, jolting up in his spot. The scarf over his shoulder fell into the mud. His arms flailed as he got to his feet, and Warriors scowled

“Wind!” He chided, gathering up the end of his scarf. “Language!”

Wind shot him a dark look, though to Sky it looked more cute than menacing. “I'm a pirate! Get over it!”

“Why are you upset, anyways?” Four questioned, their gray eyes flickering in the dim fire light.

And Wind looked at them as if they were stupid. All of them. He bristled like a remlit, glancing back up to the sky. “Do you not see it? The fuckin’ moon!”

“What’s up with the moon?” Sky interrupted, and Wind huffed angrily, making a large motion with his hand. He pointed towards the sky.

“Look at the damn thing! It's as red as blood!”

Immediately, Sky craned his neck back to look at it. Wind wasn’t lying, the moon was washed in a deep red that bled into the sky around it. Anxiety prickled in his chest, and he glanced over at Warriors, who had quieted as he set his gaze on it. Everyone else had taken notice of it now as well, and Sky could see the unease setting in.

“What’s wrong with it?” Warriors asked, disgruntled. His lax position had fallen away into that of a soldier. He was already reaching to reattach his armor. “Is this a discrepancy in eras or…?”

“I have a feeling that’s the work of dark magic,” Legend glared, thinly veiled unease hiding beneath the expression. He twisted one of the rings on his fingers. “There’s no way that's natural.”

“Should we move?” Hyrule wondered, nervously picking at his fingers. He glanced towards Legend questioningly. “It's… not doing anything.”

“Yet.” The vet pitched in. “Hasn’t done anything yet.”

“We don’t know if it’ll do anything.” Four commented, eying it warily. They put his whetstone back in their pouch, but kept the Four Sword in their lap.

“I reckon we gotta go,” Twilight murmured, something frantic in his gaze as he looked around. “I don’t got a good feelin’ bout this.”

Staring at the water with the red moon’s reflection, Sky realized something important. It was so obvious, how hadn’t they noticed? The birds had stopped singing, they hadn’t spotted any animals since they’d arrived. Nothing dared dart through the wetlands around them. It was unnatural, unnervingly still. As if Hyrule itself was holding its breath. Waiting for something.

“The animals are all gone,” Sky said slowly, rising to his feet. “It's too quiet.”

“Yer right!” Wind gasped, and he whipped around to see if he could spot any animals. He cupped his hands around his eyes. “There were some fish when we arrived! Ain't even any mosquitos about!”

“Pack up.” Time spoke, his voice tense. “We’re moving. The mountainside should give us more natural cover.”

No one protested. As they gathered up what little they had set out, they kept their voices quiet. Complaints and humor diluted by the metaphorical axe hanging over their heads. Sky was the one to stomp out the fire, and he ground his heel into the embers for good measure. The feeling of dread only strengthened as the moon rose higher into the sky. The air seemed to grow thicker as the minutes ticked past, the only sound being their footsteps as they trudged through ankle deep water.

Wind stumbled in the water, and Time steadied him with a heavy hand. “Careful.” The Old Man warned softly.

“M fine,” Wind huffed. “Ain’t like a lil more water’s gonna hurt.”

Sky hoped that the moon would be the most of their worries. Yet, as they continued to walk, something else quickly caught their attention. Particles of something—feeling indescribably wrong—rose from the ground. A mixture of something smoke-like and little red embers rose from their feet. The air was stifling, thick and viscous with the foreign magic. Somehow, it felt familiar.

Hyrule gasped, jolting back to avoid touching it. He clutched Legend’s arm to steady himself. He inhaled thickly, as if their air itself had gotten heavier. “...what is this?”

“Hylia’s time o’ the month?” Legend asked sarcastically. “Could this get any worse—shit!”

“Legend!” Sky hissed, scandalized. “Not the time!”

“The moon—” Four forced out breathlessly. “Look at the moon.”

“You fuckin’ jinxed it!” Wind cried out in panic, latching onto the closest person. Twilight grunted, letting the kid latch on. “Asshole!”

Sky could never remake the sound that came from him, even if he tried. The clouds seemed to race across the sky. The world seemed to move faster and slower. The magic in the air was building, like a song reaching its crescendo. The dark magic swelled, and when he inhaled, all he could feel was the burning sensation in his lungs. He coughed, lungs convulsing as he took in the burning air. He couldn’t breathe— Tears pricked in his eyes as he choked, his hand pressed firm against his ribs as his diaphragm spasmed. His chest ached fiercely, lungs burning as the slimy magic crawled inside. It was smothering him, like smoke from a fire.

“What…” Time breathed, and for once he seemed unsure of himself. His face was pale, almost sickly looking. He coughed softly, before it increased in intensity. They had no answers. Only the sound of violent coughing as they struggled for air. It lasted what felt like an eternity, all he could focus on was the pain in his chest, trying to dislodge the slimy feeling permeating his lungs.

Then, it was gone.

Sky wheezed, dropping all his weight into leaning on Time. The man grunted, but held him up. The magic had vanished, only faint traces of it lingering in the air. When Sky finally cracked his eyes open, he found a white moon sitting in the place of the red one. As if nothing had happened at all.

“What was that..?” He asked, voice cracking. Time, the saint, pulled his canteen off his hip to offer him. Sky drank it greedily, handing it back over when he finished. He released his grip on the old man’s armor, wobbling slightly.

“Something awful,” Legend hissed, a queasy expression on his face. “Fuckin’ unnatural.”

“Urgh” Hyrule stated eloquently from his spot on the floor. Warriors rubbed his back soothingly.

“You said it, Roolie,” Four groaned, massaging their temples. “My head feels like it's on fire.”

“Are you okay?” Wind asked, leaning into Four’s space. The smith grimaced and leaned back.

“Headache.” Four mumbled, and Sky smiled sympathetically. His own head was starting to pound as well.

“Is it gone?” Warriors glanced around. “Nothing seems to have changed.”

Twilight, unnaturally silent this whole time, stiffened. A look of blatant alarm on his face as he whipped around to look behind him. “Oh fuck.”

“Rancher-”

Cresting the hill, came a creature that Sky had never seen. Vaguely spider-like, its mechanical legs moved it towards them. It moved unnaturally fast, and lit up a deep pink color. Its single blue eyes locked onto them, and a red dot plastered itself right onto his chest. It beeped, the noise becoming more and more insistent as time pressed on.

“Move!” Twilight howled. He lunged away from the creature’s gaze. None of them needed to be told twice.

Sky stumbled forward. The water sloshing around his ankles made it hard to move and his chest ached with leftover pains. He couldn’t stop himself from tumbling down into the frigid water. His skull rattled in his head as he hit the floor, a sharp pain igniting in his temple. He blinked blearily, glancing up, and his mouth went dry.

Above him, a beam of light appeared right where his chest was a few moments prior. His skin warmed uncomfortably, his fingers pressing deeper into the mud below. Sky’s eyes widened, and his heart pounded in his ears. All he could think was, is this what the dark magic brought?

Chapter Text

Hylia did not pay Legend enough to deal with this.

Actually, she didn’t pay him at all. At this point, any compensation she could give him wouldn’t even be worth his suffering. Beamos, he could deal with. They were stationary, and shot a small laser that produced a second degree burn at worst. This, however—whatever the fuck this spidery monster was? No. He did not want to fight that thing.

He didn’t get a choice in the matter, unfortunately.

Legend grunted as he hurried to pull Sky up, draping an arm across his shoulder to help support his weight. Blood dripped down Sky’s forehead, and Legend could practically feel the concussion he had. A repeating mantra of fuck, fuck, fuck, ran through his head as he yanked him along carelessly. A red dot affixed itself to Legend’s chest, tracking his movements like it had done to Sky before releasing a fucking death laser.

“The fuck is this thing?” He shouted angrily, glaring over at it. Its long, metallic legs moved unnaturally fast, and its head swiveled to follow his movements. The only thing any of them could see in complete clarity was the spider, lit up a bright pinkish red color.

“I don’t know!” Sky panted, kicking up water with each clumsy step he took.

Moving in close, Time and Warriors’ swords seemed to bounce off its hard shell uselessly, barely making a mark. Its spidery legs narrowly avoided crushing the two heroes as they ran around it. No matter how many times they struck, it didn’t spare them a look. An arrow dinged across its metal body, and Legend would bet his hat that it was Hyrule or Twilight.

More arrows continued to bounce off its exterior, and Legend was preparing for the worst as the beeping grew more incessant, more foreboding. He hissed through his teeth, and another arrow whizzed towards it, just at the right angle to hit the eye. The red dot on his chest vanished, and its light’s flickered.

“Aim for the eye!” A distinctly southern voice hollered. “Tha’ stops the beam!”

“I got it!” Wind responded. Not the one he expected, but half points.

“Thanks,” Sky murmured after a few moments, blinking dizzily. He pulled his arm free, stumbling upright. Legend had to adjust to the lack of weight. “We need t’ spread out.”

“How’d you figure that one out?” Legend shot Sky a harsh look, though it softened when he saw the dazed look in his eyes. He frowned. “You’re right. Try to get back, and find Hyrule.” Sky opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by another dot appearing on Legend’s chest.

“Son of a fuck—” Legend cursed. He took it as their cue to scatter and get further away from that beamos on crack. “Find Hyrule.” He ordered curtly, pushing Sky in the opposite direction as he ran. Water doused his bare legs and filled his boots as he zig-zagged, trying to pull the thing’s sight off of him. There were no trees close enough to act as a cover, just open, watery fields. He cursed, and a blanket of dread fell over him.

A white-hot beam sailed through the air. The ominous sound the creature released punctuated its attack with a feeling of terror. In an instant, Legend dove for the floor, hoping that would be enough to avoid it. He fell with a wordless scream. Coughing as freezing water shot up his nose. He grunted as he pushed himself up, blinking rapidly as water dripped into his eyes. Dimly, he recognized the throbbing pain in his leg. When he looked down, he found blistering redness and dark burns covering his calf.

“Shit.” He spat, fingers moving to circle the wound. He hissed as he prodded at it, and sharp pain shot through his body.

“Legend! Are you okay!?” Hyrule called from across the wetlands, his voice barely carrying over the sound of the other’s shrieking.

“Do I look okay?!” He yelled back, but his voice devolved into a pained hiss as he tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The burn on his leg protested vehemently, and bit down on his lip to repress any pained sounds.

How did this Hyrule deal with these damn things?

He almost screamed in rage when another dot appeared on his chest. Bright red blinking in the darkness of the night. “Can this thing fuckin quit it?!” He growled, but fear seeped through his voice. He couldn’t get away fast enough, not with his mangled leg. His fingers scrambled to unlatch his shield from his back. Would it even work?

The arrows pelting the beast got more insistent as Twilight and Wind grew more desperate. Each one just a hair away from the eye. Warrior sawed at one of the legs, and Time continued to hack at the body. Someone ran towards him, a shadowy figure, their cloak barely illuminated by the moon.

“Move!” The person called, and Legend wished he could tell them that he would if he fucking could. His leg throbbed, the stagnant water lapping at the blackened skin. The beeping got more insistent, faster. He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the shouting of the group. He raised his shield, propping it against his arm and obscuring the machine from his sight.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

His breath hitched as it fired. The distinct noise reverberated in his ears. This better work, he thought bitterly, if not, I’m fighting Hylia as soon as I see her ass. He waited for the blinding heat, the horrible, numbing pain; for pressure to press against his shield. Anything at all to hint at what his fate would be. Death, or a few more minutes scrounged up by the merit of his shield. Yet, nothing.

The water around him rippled, splashing across his bare skin and soaking his tunic further. He was enveloped in a soft warmth—nothing like the scalding heat of the laser. His eyes shot open. Around him was a curtain of magic, bright orange and curled around him. It was pleasant, a whisper of protection and trust. At the center of it, just in front of him, was a stranger.

“Who the fuck’re you?” He hissed, instinctively curling his injured leg closer to himself. The stranger didn’t respond. Their magic faded away quickly, taking the unnatural heat with them. Legend shivered at the loss. In a quick motion that Legend tracked, they pulled their bow from their back, and released an arrow.

“Get it’s legs!” They bellowed to his brothers, looking at the two attempting to hack at the body. They didn’t wait for anyone to respond to their command. Instead, they hurried forward. With water sloshing around their ankles, they scrambled around the beast's spindly legs. Weaving through them not quite gracefully, but in a practiced motion. They took a running start, and leapt onto its main body.

Time and Warriors followed their command. Their swords slashed at its legs, and subtle blue sparks began sizzling from the small gouges they managed to carve out in the hard material. He glanced around the field, deftly picking out where the others were located. Hyrule was rushing towards him, steering away from the main battle, and that Beamos on steroids. Sky stood to the side, with Four beside him, trying to coax the concussed Skyloftian away from the battle.

Legend watched, almost entranced, as the stranger’s hands scrabbled for a grip. He was certain they’d fall down, back into the water to be crushed like a bug beneath the monster’s heavy body. They pulled themself up, finding invisible handholds on the smooth material. Legend’s heart skipped a beat as they slipped, expecting the worst to happen. But their hands caught onto an end, and they hauled themself back upwards. Their hood fell back, revealing a burst of wild blond hair beneath.

They heaved themselves closer to its head, clinging to the rotating neck desperately. They settled right in front of its eye. Legend’s heart rate spiked as the red dot trained onto them. He held his breath as they raised their sword high above their head, and plunged it deep into the beast's eye. The blade of their sword vanished completely, leaving only the hilt visible.

The stranger clung to its head as it turned violently, sparking and jolting strangely. Malfunctioning? Legend didn’t know. He had never been able to destroy the beamos in his Hyrule. Though, he assumed it would be similar. Either way, the sounds it made was a good indicator that they’d managed to damage it.

They flinched, uncurling their hands from the sword sunken into the socket. They moved frantically, diving off the body. They weren’t fast enough to avoid the blast. Legend winced as he watched them get flung onto the ground, rolling through the water with hacking coughs that seemed to wrack their whole body. Time and Warriors got caught by it as well, the heavier of the two laid on his back while the Captain grimaced, legs folded beneath him. Thankfully, they seemed alright.

“Let me see your leg,” Hyrule dropped onto the floor to sit next to Legend as soon as he got close enough. One hand reached for Legend, while the other dug through his pouch in search of healing supplies. Legend shifted his leg away before he could begin prodding at it, grimacing at the pain.

“Don’t go poking at it!” Legend grimaced, gritting his teeth.

Hyrule narrowed his eyes dangerously, staring him down. “Show me it.” The traveler demanded, and Legend huffed, but shifted to allow him to see. Hyrule hissed quietly, examining the wound. His eyebrows furrowed more as he looked. “Third n’ second degree. I can heal it, but I don’t know how much it’ll help,” he murmured with furrowed brows. “Th’ water helped cool it down, but it’s not good for open wounds.”

“Just give me a potion, don't waste your magic.” Legend grumbled, though it came out more rough than he wanted. The pain was finally starting to kick harder as the adrenaline dwindled. He winced as thin fingers continued to prod at his leg, and Hyrule scowled at him.

“Don’t tell me how to use my magic, I’m healing you.”

Hyrule left no room to argue, and Legend refused to admit that he relaxed as the soft tendrils of the traveler’s magic swept through his leg. He glanced up, and paused, watching their savior as they approached, stumbling slightly. He couldn’t blame him, after being tossed off a thing like that. Legend could finally see their face. Glowing blue eyes met his, and he resisted the urge to blanch at the scars covering the half of this guy's face. He could see them, illuminated beneath the moonlight. Twisting in a gruesome pattern of burns, thick and silvery-pink, and long past healed. They looked tight and painful, trailing down to his neck. Legend couldn’t stop himself from wondering how young he was when he got them?

Too young, he decided quickly, making eye contact with the stranger. His mouth pulled into a shy, awkward smile and his hand clutched his hair nervously. His eyes darted from Legend to Hyrule, then towards the approaching forms of his companions. This boy was about the same age as Hyrule, give or take a year or two.

Then, realization struck. Were those burns from that thing? He looked at its corpse. A mix of mangled metal and little parts that were now dotted around the water. They sizzled, excess heat from the magic evaporating the water.

A bitter taste invaded his mouth, and he couldn’t quite stifle it.

___

A blood moon was not on Link’s agenda.

He had planned and replanned again and again. Plotting the path to avoid injuries and danger to the princess as much as possible. Yet, here he was. Staring at the red sky as the blood moon swelled beneath the remnants of the Calamity’s power. He closed his eyes, inhaling harshly. The air felt fresh in his lungs, yet as he opened his eyes, ash rose from the tainted earth.

Link was grateful that Zelda was safely hidden away, unaware of the chaos outside. How would she react to a blood moon after all this time? Would her purifying power leave her unaffected, or would she be drained and ill? No, inside the shrines, the air was crisp and fresh. No malice could intrude, and for that he was grateful.

Though, this now meant he had more ground to cover, within less time. The most pressing issue, he decided quickly, would be the Lizalfos around the shrine. After that, he would need to deal with the guardian.

Carefully, he stood at the entrance to the shrine. Sword at the ready as the blood moon approached its crescendo. A fresh wave of adrenaline filled his veins, and he waited, gaze fixed on the dreaded moon high in the sky. He could feel the moment it began, the howling cries from afar as the dead monster rose from the ashes of the Calamity echoed in the wind. Immediately, he surged forwards, his sword cutting the throat of a freshly revived Lizalfos before it could call out a warning.

He crouched down, breathing muffled through his hand as he approached the second Lizalfos. Its back was to him, a perfect angle. He inched forwards, and it turned. A single bulbous eye caught his, and it hissed. Jumping backwards, it put distance between them, and Link grimaced. He had no desire to draw this out more than necessary.

He pulled his bow from his back, sending an arrow straight between its eyes. It crumpled to the ground, dark blood polluting the water. Soon enough, the body would disintegrate. He shifted his gaze to the rest of the Wetlands, scanning the subtly moving figures. More for him to deal with. And then, he stilled, because in the distance, a horrifyingly familiar light flashed.

His throat clogged, and he pressed a hand against his chest, trying to calm the beats of his frantic heart. Something between terror and anger rippled through him. He exhaled harshly, shutting his eyes. Guardians, oh how he loathed them. His scars throbbed, invisible pains ghosting through his nerves. Distantly, he swore he could hear the lasers as they fired. The searing, burning pain… the inability to scream—

Link tugged on his hair harshly, huffing quietly. Stop thinking about it, he commanded himself, opening his eyes once more. You're here, right now. You’re alive.

Link’s eyes were drawn back to the guardian, and his stomach lurched. Dread practically clogged his throat as he stared at the very active—clearly targeting something—guardian. He didn’t think twice before running towards it, because whoever was fighting it wouldn’t have a chance.

The scenery blurred together, and his breaths came out in short huffs. He could see the guardian in the dark, and the small figures circling it. His chest ached as he inhaled, releasing the loudest sound he possibly could with damaged vocal cords. “Move!” He bellowed, and his breath stuttered as the eye blinked. A laser, horribly familiar, hurtled forwards. He could hear the strangers shriek, crying out for their companion. It felt like he had blinked, and suddenly, he stood in front of the laser.

Daruk, he thought, praying that he could still draw upon the gifted magic. The ability swelled in his chest, ready to be used, and he didn’t dare shut his eyes as a bright orange light engulfed him. The familiar protection fell over him like a blanket of lava, the barest hints of the Goron Champion bleeding through the magic. A hint, an impression of what Daruk had once felt like. He couldn’t help but flinch as the beam bounced off of the shield, going awry somewhere behind the guardian.

“Who the fuck’re you?” The injured man hissed, and Link glanced back at him briefly to ensure he wasn’t critically injured. Sharp blue eyes took note of the strange clothes, particularly his lack of trousers. But he wasn’t in a position to judge, really. His own outfits had been… questionable at points. He turned forwards, silent words leaving his lips.

Thank you, Daruk. He mouthed, and in an instant the shield disappeared, taking the unnatural warmth with it. Link didn’t waste a moment, pulling the bow from his back and notching an arrow. With speed and accuracy that would make even Revali proud, he hit the guardian in the eye.

“Get it’s legs!” He commanded the remaining members of the group, who had continued their assault with little skill. Or rather, little experience with a guardian. Their hits bounced off the hull of it. At his words they burst into action, like a well oiled machine, changing their swings to aim for the legs, and arrows continued to ping off the main body.

Link lunged forwards, and the battle blurred into smears of moments. He climbed up the body of the guardian, sweat beading his brow as he tried not to think of how close he was, how easy it would be for it to kill him. He pulled himself up, raising the knight’s broadsword above his head, and drove it down into the guardian’s eye. He exhaled harshly, slumped over and clinging to the hilt as the guardian’s head twisted. Link didn’t bother pulling the sword from its eye as it sparked, unnatural heat pooling beneath the metal body.

I have to get off. He realized quickly, as the metal beneath him continued to grow hotter. He turned, using his legs to push off the body as the heat grew unbearable. He barely managed to jump off before it burst. The explosion sent him sprawling into the water, knocking the wind out of his lungs. His mouth filled with mud and water, and he coughed, trying to expel the mud, and get more air into his lungs.

He wheezed, breathing heavily as he pushed himself from the floor. His hair hung limply around his head, and for a moment he wanted to cry. Or laugh. Or both. Instead, he picked himself up off the ground, wincing at the tenderness of his ribs and the new bruises that would surely be aching by tomorrow. He stumbled, barely catching himself before he hit the ground. His gaze was drawn to the man he helped, his eyes already trained on Link.

He ambled forwards, awkwardly pulling on a strand of hair as he got closer. He made eye contact with the injured man, and he took note of the stripe of pink in his hair. Next to him, one of his companions fussed. He smiled what he hoped to be soothingly.

“Are you okay?” Link asked, voice hoarse. His throat continued to ache.

The man startled, and his eyes narrowed at him. Link flinched as rapid footsteps approached, and a young boy practically threw himself into his arms. “That was so cool!” the boy cheered, starry eyes as he clung to the front of Link’s tunic. His hair was plastered against his forehead, but Link’s eyes were drawn to the lobster shirt he wore. Familiar. “How’d ‘ya do that?! You climbed that thing like it was nothing!”

Abruptly, a hand latched onto the back of the boy’s tunic, an older, armored man dragged him off. Tall, Link immediately noticed, and well built. Like a Yiga blademaster. Link tensed up slightly, his hand ghosting his hip. But the man didn’t spare him a glance as he chastised the boy. “Don’t jump on random people Wind,” He turned to Link, and he realized that this man was very intimidating. One of his eyes was shut, a scar crossing atop it.. “Thank you for your help…?”

“Link.” He murmured, tensing even more beneath this man’s scrutiny. “Anyone would’ve been taken off guard by a guardian, it's no problem.”

The man stiffened at his name, and the kid beside him jolted. Before he could say anything, the man pressed a hand against his head. The man relaxed quickly, tilting his head, his single eye scrutinizing Link. “That was a guardian, you said?”

“They’re best to avoid,” Link confirmed, pressing his hand firmly against the slate. Red flags. Red flags. “Unless you have any ancient weapons.”

“Good to know.” He noted quietly.

“Are you alright? Y’got any injuries?” Another man asked, and Link came to the very scary realization that he was cornered. People on all sides, and all eyes on him. His throat swelled. Was this another Yiga plot? Corner him with a large group, and pick him off for their dead master? “I’m Twilight.”

“Strange name,” Link swallowed thickly, he tried to catalogue how many there were. One kid, two big adults, two on the floor—one injured. Another kid, and another injured. He didn’t untense. Even the unsuspecting ones could be dangerous. “I’m fine, bruises, mostly.”

The man stifled a chuckle. “I’ve got one of the better names,” He jabbed a finger at the one-eyed man. “His name’s Time.”

“Time.” Link parroted dubiously, debating on if he should get the bananas out yet or not, and Time nodded.

“They’re nicknames,” The healer chimed in, brown haired with large eyes. He groaned playfully as he pulled pink hair to his feet. “Imagine being named Hyrule.”

Wind snickered quietly, sticking his tongue out. “Yer parent’s must hate ya to name you that.”

“Or they’re patriotic,” The one with the blue scarf pointed out, his eyes felt calculative as they met Link’s. “Warriors,” He offered quietly, and it took Link a moment to realize that was his nickname.

“With a name like yours, they’d be a Kingdom nut.” The pink one snarked. “Hoping for their baby boy to join the military.”

“And it's an honorable career!”

“Not.”

“Get to the point.” Time interrupted, and Link froze. They were going to attack, weren’t they?

“Sky usually does the introduction, but he’s concussed!”

Pink hair fixed him with a deadpan stare, completely serious. “My name is Link. Their names are Link, and we’re all heroes that Hylia gathered across time for some goddess-damned reason.”

That, Link decided, was not what he was expecting to hear. He stared at Pink-Link, and Pink-Link stared back.

“Would you like a banana?” He asked. Pink-Link stared more, raising a single eyebrow at the offer. To the side, someone stifled a giggle

“Fuck no.” His nose scrunched. “Why’s that your first reaction to this shit-storm?”

Very, very slowly, Link nodded. Barely reassured by the rejection of the bananas. “...Can I have proof?”

“Where’s Sky?” Pink-Link asked abruptly, turning to the rest of the group, hands on his hips. “He has the Master Sword.” Link took a step back, putting a little more distance between himself and the group. He paused, knowing that the Master Sword was safely contained in the slate, away from Yiga hands. How had they..?

“Concussed, but here.” A child with a multicolored tunic called, supporting who Link assumed to be Sky. He was very disoriented looking. Sky lifted the sword, passing it to Pink-Link, and he held it out. Link resisted the urge to flinch.

“Here’s the sword, proof enough?”

Hyrule moved past him to check on Sky as he stared at the sword. Either, it was a beautiful replica, or they were telling the truth. He wasn’t sure which one he preferred, honestly. Carefully, he crept forwards to take it from his grasp.

In an instant, her blade gleamed a bright blue, and Link could barely suppress his wince. Through his gloves, she burned hot. She chimed, a sound like the coalescing of glass shards and windchimes. So crisp and clear, he could hardly believe it. She was much stronger than the one he knew, but it was her.

Wind stepped closer to peer at her, raising himself onto his tippy toes. “It’s never done that for me before!” he commented, eyebrows furrowed.

That means they were telling the truth. His job wasn’t done.

Ah, he thinks, staring at eight familiar strangers, this is what you meant.

Chapter Text

“Link?!” Zelda’s figure was barely illuminated by the glowing blue of the shrine as they approached. The bodies of the lizalfos still hadn’t fully disintegrated, dark blood spilling across the soil, but Zelda didn’t seem to care or notice as she rushed over. Her Purah Slate (name in progress) lit up in her hand, and she held it up to get a proper look at him. Taking in his soaked tunic and the scraggly group behind him. Her face twisted in concern. “What happened?”

“Blood moon,” he said, glancing back at the group cautiously. “They got caught by a guardian.”

Zelda paled, and her eyes frantically darted from him to the others, searching for injuries. “No one’s hurt, are they?” she poked at the slate furiously. Her eyes zeroed in on the blood crusting Sky’s brow, and the subtle limp in Pink—Legend’s steps. “There’s a few hearty elixirs in here, I believe”

“We’re alright Princess, only minimal injuries,” He murmured, and the group behind him seemed to ripple the moment he said Princess. Their eyes locked onto her curiously, and he resisted the urge to step forward, and shield her from view. He grimaced as he contemplated how to tell her of the other heroes that he had come across. “But, there’s a situation.”

In an instant, her green eyes sharpened. Shining with that familiar intelligence, sharp as a knife. “Yiga?” She asked in a low whisper, just quiet enough for only him to hear. Her hands gripped the slate tightly, and he shook his head. If only it were that. Yiga would be easier to explain.

“These are the heroes of the past.” He introduced, gesturing back at the ragtag group of very not-hero-like people. Especially considering two were barely upright and the rest looked more like wet dogs than Hylians. “Sent by Hylia on some sort of quest.”

“Truly?” She gasped, and Link already knew what that look in her eyes meant. She had found a new topic to research. She turned to look at the group, stepping closer to peer at them. “Are you really heroes of the past? Oh, our records are so minimal in what they say of heroes…” She trailed off, before whipping her head back to him, bouncing in place. “Is the library still intact? I must do some research into the old myths! Are any of them the heroes from ten thousand years ago?”

Link shrugged. “I don’t think so, none of them recognized the guardian.”

“Ten thousand years?” Twilight piped up, looked quite confused at Zelda’s verbal assault. The rest were doing no better, nodding along with her enthusiastic speech and not processing a single word she said. Except maybe Time. But Link had a feeling he had a really good poker face.

“Yes!” She affirmed. “Ten thousand years ago, our ancestors used the combined power of the divine beasts to—”

(“How far along is this Hyrule?” Legend hissed quietly, and Hyrule shrugged helplessly, looking lost.

“My head hurts.” Wind whined.)

“Princess,” Link interrupted softly, “I think that’s a story for later. Aren’t you tired as well?”

“Oh, oh! Of course!” The tips of her ears flushed, and her posture shifted into something more composed. She cleared her throat, clearly embarrassed. “Of course, shall we rest in the shrine?”

“Is that the glowing structure behind you?” Warriors inquired, he had a similar accent to Zelda, Link noted. Posh and regal—high society, something in his brain provided. “It’s quite impressive looking.”

“The ancient Sheikah constructed these all over the land,” Zelda informed them, happy to discuss her research. “I never understood what they were for, some sort of puzzle…”

“Challenges,” Link supplied. “They were made to be challenges for me.”

“Oh, that would explain it!” she snapped her fingers. Link eyed the motion warily. She was spending too much time with Purah. “Shall we split into two groups to enter the shrine?”

“I think that would be smartest, Princess.” Time confirmed respectfully, and Zelda laughed quietly. His eyes lingered on the subtle tremble of her hands. Despite the act she put up, he could easily spot the cracks. The happiness and curiosity was genuine, but she hid the fear she felt—that they both felt, really.

“Just Zelda, please. No need to be so formal.” She requested. “I’ll take the first group down, is there anyone who should go first?”

“Sky.” Four immediately said, pointing at the half dozing man on Warriors’ shoulder. “Hyrule may have helped his concussion, but he needs to rest.”

“Oh, does he need an elixir?” Zelda fretted, but Hyrule shook his head.

“He just needs rest,” Hyrule assured her, “I already checked him over. He should be fine.”

“Warriors should go, I reckon,” Twilight nodded towards the aforementioned man. “He’s the only thing keepin’ Sky upright.”

“I reckon,” Wind snickered loudly. Twilight, without even looking in the sailor’s direction, cuffed him on the back of the head. He gripped the back of his head with a scowl, crying out. “Ow! Child abuse!”

“Take Wind with ya as well.” Twilight leaned forwards, stage whispering. Zelda’s eyes widened in delight, and Link heard Legend guffaw. “You’d be doin’ us a favor.”

“Are ye tryin’ to get rid of me?” Wind demanded, still pressing a hand to the back of his head.

Twilight smirked. “Maybe.”

“You motherfucker!”

Zelda tittered, and Link bit his lip.

“Wind,” Time scolded, and Link didn’t know how to decipher the emotions on his face. Something about him put him on edge. “Don’t curse.”

“I’ll curse all I damn want!”

Legend cackled, and Time leveled him with a blank look, tired of dealing with all of them. “Take Legend too, he should be staying off his leg right now.”

Zelda sniffed, trying to keep from bursting out into laughter. “Yes.” She inhaled deeply, “Yes—So, Sky, Warriors, Legend and Wind?”

“Yes ma’am,” Warriors confirmed, hitching Sky’s arm further up his shoulder.

Legend rolled his eyes. “Suck up!”

“I’m being polite! Maybe you should try it sometime.”

“Come stand on the platform,” Zelda motioned them forwards, stepping back to allow them more room. They awkwardly shuffled onto the platform, standing closely together to fit.

“What now?”

Zelda smiled, a devious little expression that Link had grown familiar with. “I hope you don’t get motion sick!”

The platform lowered. Warriors’ voice echoed as they vanished, “What do you mean—?”

Then, Link was alone once more. With four heroes of the past. He twirled a strand of hair around his finger as he shifted on his feet, keeping his back straight. He studiously avoided the curious gaze of both Time and Twilight. Four’s eyes roamed, flicking place to place without reason, deep in thought. Hyrule seemed interested in the landscape, peering through the darkness at whatever he could see.

“Ten thousand years, huh?” Time commented, sounding carefully curious. His single eye seemed to bore into Link. “That’s a long time.”

“Yes,” Link agreed, unsure of exactly what he was implying. He wished Zelda would hurry back.

“Just ignore ‘em,” Twilight advised easily, slapping Time on the shoulder with a huff. “Time’s a cryptic bastard. Ain’t gonna make sense outta what he says ‘alf the time.”

That startled a laugh from him, a strange, half wheezing laugh that made Twilight snicker in response. Hyrule giggled, a sound like windchimes, and Time sighed tiredly. Link swore he saw the slightest quirk of his lips.

___

The inside of the shrine was looking very different from a few hours prior. The cold stone floors had been cluttered with bedrolls, and wet clothes had been laid out anywhere they could fit. Various weapons and pouches scattered the floor, and the heroes themselves were the biggest change. She walked to the outskirts of their group to settle for the night. Her knees ached as she knelt on the stone floor, clutching the Purah slate in trembling hands.

Zelda moved on autopilot as she removed what she needed. She was eternally grateful for the many features of the slate as she changed. Wisps of blue cloaked her as her clothes were swapped for comfier ones, more fit for sleep. Her eyes continued to wander back to the others, loud and boisterous. Very… boyish, she’d admit

They acted just like the guards had, when they believed no one was watching. Ribbing each other and playing around like children. There was an easy flow among them, only slightly disrupted by subtle tensions flaring between ideals. They were kind, she’d admit, but she didn’t know them well enough to truly call them that. In truth, she didn’t like them that much.

It was a childish dislike, Zelda reasoned as flattened her bedroll on the floor. She picked up her pillow, curling her knees to her chest. She didn’t like them because they were here to take her Champion. She pressed her face into the fabric, and scowled. How much must Hylia demand of her? She wondered, anger burning like a wildfire in her chest. How much will She demand of Link?

It hadn’t been long since she was freed, or since Link awoke from his long slumber. It was just shy of a year since he’d awakened. Zelda exhaled harshly, fingers curling into the pillow angrily. Stabbing at the feathery insides. Her knight hadn’t had time to heal, and neither had she. Was it truly too much to ask, to be able to live a full life, with Link by her side?

They already had so much work to do, restoring a fallen kingdom. But a quest given by Hylia on top of that..?

Link wouldn’t refuse this. He couldn’t refuse this, even if he wanted to. And as much as she hated to admit it, her Champion followed like a loyal dog. If Zelda ordered him to jump, he’d ask how high. His knight training had made sure that he knew his place in Hyrule’s food chain. It seemed to have stuck around, even after a hundred years. Not for the first time, Zelda yearned to go back in time and strangle her father, and perhaps Link’s as well.

Link would gladly die for her. Link did die for her. He was a servant to the Goddess, first and foremost, and she truly wished he wasn’t. The anger in her chest began to fizzle out like a dying fire, carving a space for her bitterness and despair. What would he be willing to do for Hylia? How far would he go before he destroyed himself for a Goddess who wouldn’t deign to answer her pleas? For a Goddess who let Her people’s kingdom burn to the ground?

Zelda’s eyes burned, breath hitching. She pulled away from the pillow to wipe away her tears. Don’t cry, the echoing voice of her governess demanded of her, a haunting memory. Good princesses don’t cry. Now wasn’t the time for this. Not in front of the heroes of the past would she allow herself to cry. She was no longer a little girl, asking her father when her mother would be back. Carefully, as she once did in front of the court, she leveled her expression. A calm, cheerful facade that held no unhappiness or ill intent.

She was Princess Zelda, she reminded herself. She had to be a Princess right now, not just Zelda. Not a researcher or a scholar, but the perfect heir to the throne. (A throne of nothing, a nasty part of her whispered.) She turned to look at the gathering heroes, and her face hurt as she smiled at them.

They smiled back, seemingly none the wiser. Yet, when Link caught her eye, she knew he knew. He lingered at the edge of her vision, like a stray dog who wanted to be acknowledged. He crept closer, and she kept still in fear of scaring him off. What a wild thing you’ve become, she mused in a mix of fondness and sorrow. Yet you’re still so subdued.

Her lips curled into a small smile as he finally sat down beside her. ‘Are you okay?’ He signed, eyebrows furrowed in concern.

‘I’m alright,’ Zelda signed back, not wanting to be overheard. Hesitantly, she continued, ‘Are you?’

Link paused, staring at her still raised hands. His mouth opened and closed, but he did not speak. His face twisted, confused and frustrated. ‘They’re heroes.’ He started, but stopped nervously. Glancing up to look at her, she nodded encouragingly. ‘They succeeded where I didn’t.’

Ah. Zelda’s lips thinned. These heroes had saved their Hyrule and had their legends passed down. They had a kingdom to save, while Link only had the ruins Hylia let the Calamity create. Zelda leaned closer, pressing her head against his shoulder. He stiffened under her touch.

“You're just as much of a hero as they are,” She whispered. “You did all you could and more, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“You did too.” He whispered back. “You did too.”

She sniffed, and bitterness filled her chest.

Must Hylia really take all good things away from her?

___

Link slept fitfully.

His dreams were full of fragments. Little things that seemed significant, yet when he blinked, they vanished without a trace. Falling through his fingers like wisps of ribbon. He dreamt of swords, boys, little forest spirits and the ruins of the garrison. He jolted awake more than once, gasping for breath as he tried to control his fluttering heart. His only consolation was that Zelda was safe, and the heroes of the past remained asleep.

His breath was loud in his ears as his mind raced. Trying to decipher what exactly he dreamt of. He couldn’t remember it, as what tends to happen whenever he dreams. All he’s left with was the faint impression that it was important.

Link pushed himself up into a sitting position, grunting as his muscles ached. Twinges of pain shot through his nerves, his ribs aching, his joints stiffening beneath thick scarred skin. He slowly coaxed himself up, rising on unsteady feet. His eyes lingered on each of the heroes curiously, cautiously. Trying his best to not wake them.

He turned to Zelda, and the coil of worry in his chest loosened slightly. She was perfectly fine, asleep and drooling on her pillow. He snorted quietly as he crouched down beside her, brushing the hair from her face. He stiffened as she shifted, but relaxed as she simply turned to face the other direction.

Secure with the knowledge that Zelda—and the other heroes—were safe and still sleeping, Link tiptoed away. He flicked through the pages of ingredients in the slate not really taking them in. Curiosity burned in him as he debated breakfast. Could he set a fire in here? It seemed like an oversight that he’d never tried to. He glanced around at the sleeping group of lumps. Better question, would the smoke start suffocating them in here?

The answer is yes and no, to each question respectively.

The smoke simply drifted into the air, and he assumed the shrine purified it. How, he didn’t know, but maybe Zelda would. Link didn’t feel like questioning how the miraculous Sheikah technology worked. That was the job for Purah, Robbie and Zelda. He decided on a simple stew as he gutted one of the few pumpkins he had bought from Kakariko before they left. He hummed a tune to himself as he skinned it, the tediousness of the action proved to be soothing.

He’d finished skinning it when his ears twitched, picking up the soft sound of footsteps approaching. Link glanced back, and Sky met his gaze curiously. Briefly, he noted the redness in his eyes, and the blood still crusted in his hair. The Master Sword was carefully cradled in his hands. As if she were breakable, delicate.

For him, she was not.

“Good morning,” Link greeted as he began chopping the pumpkin up. He paused to reach over and stir the stew. The stock was good, but he needed to hurry and add the pumpkins so they had enough time to soften.

Sky nodded, the remnants of sleep still clinging to his face. “Good morning,” He responded, lowering himself to sit beside Link. He leaned forwards slightly to look at the cutting board. Link stiffened at the closeness, almost nicking one of his fingers. If Sky noticed, he graciously didn’t comment. “What are you making? It smells divine.”

“Pumpkin stew,” Link supplied, tipping the contents of the cutting board into the pot. He shook his hand out as the hot liquid nipped at his exposed fingers. “It should be done when they wake up.”

“Oh, that's one of my favorites at home,” Sky commented, pleasantly surprised. Link didn’t want to be rude, but he released a small breath as he leaned back, allowing Link his personal space once more. “The Lumpy Pumpkin serves the best pumpkin soup.”

“Do you miss it?” Link glanced over as he tipped a bit of Goron spice into the pot. Not a lot, just enough for a bit of extra kick. Zelda couldn’t handle the spiciness well, and he wasn’t sure if the heroes could either. He rather liked the burn. A lot of Goron and Gerudo cuisine contained heavy spices. “Your home, I mean. Not just the pumpkin soup.”

Sky chuckled softly, a melancholy smile on his face. “Yeah, especially my Zelda.”

“Are you close?”

“She’s my girlfriend, so yes, I’d say we’re close.” Sky laughed, amusement in his gaze. Link stilled, uncomfortable with the idea.

Link bit his lip, making it a point to focus on stirring the stew instead of awkwardly making eye contact with him. The idea of being in a relationship with Zelda was…Not bad, but strange. Something he couldn't really see himself being a part of. He tapped the ladle against the side of the pot, and rested it on the cutting board.

Sky had gone silent, simply observing him cook. Link’s skin crawled with the knowledge he was being observed as he shaved off pieces of the goat butter with his knife. When he finally turned to look at Sky, he carefully avoided looking the hero in the eyes. Instead, his gaze landed on the sword in his lap. “Would you like to know what she calls you?” Sky tilted his head invitingly.

Link startled, rearing back slightly. What she called him? Many names came to mind. The vitriolic ones spat at him when no one thought he could hear. Failure. Hyrule’s Doom. Blight. Cursed.

He swallowed thickly, unsure. “What she calls me?” He parroted.

“Your hero name.” Sky elaborated, terribly gentle with both him and the sword. “Your titles.”

Link sat still. Not fidgeting, not moving, just looking at the sword in Sky’s lap. The Sword that had been his beginning and his end. Haltingly, he nodded. He wanted to know, even if it hurt.

Sky’s finger traced the edge of the sword, careful not to cut himself on her. Link was unsure if she would allow her other masters to be harmed by her. His smile turned a bit more tender. “The Hero of the Wilds,” He said, almost reverently. His eyes lifted to meet Link’s, and something kind danced in his gaze. “Wild has a nice ring to it, no?”

“Yes,” He whispered quietly, and he repeated it. Sampling the name for himself. “Wild.”

“It’s nice to meet you properly.”

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

The newly dubbed Wild shrugged, unable to elaborate. Before Sky could press further, the shifting of a bedroll caught their attention. Legend emerged from his blankets, an imprint of his pillow on his cheek and his hair sticking up wildly. The softness vanished in the blink of an eye, and Wild instinctively stiffened his spine.

“What time is it?” Legend questioned, settling down on the floor with them. His joints popped in a way that made Wild wince in sympathy. Legend paused, assessing Sky sharply. “You’re not usually awake yet. Where’s the real Sky and where have you put him?”

The chosen hero laughed. “Still me. I just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Legend waved him off. “Shut. Too early to be talking. Time?”

Wild glanced down at the slate. “Seven-twelve,”

Legend looked satisfied with his answer, and he let them lull into silence. The only sound being their soft breathing, the echoing snores from the bed rolls, and the ladle scraping on the edge of the pot. Slowly as the smell of food began to waft around the large room, more bodies came to sit next to the fire. All in various stages of waking.

Wind brought energy that Wild was unsure how to deal with, peering into the pot, and attempting to stick his fingers in for a taste. Wild eventually let him take a sip from the ladle, if only to dissuade him from burning his fingers trying to get a taste. But the boy’s eyes lit up with a light that he didn't expect. “You can cook?!” Wind exclaimed, unable to calm his excitement. He looked near ready to worship the ground Wild walked on. “Thank Hylia! Finally, someone can cook.”

“Is it good?” Warriors asked, looking rumpled in the early morning, and awoken by Wind’s incessant chattering.

“Fuckin’ amazing.” Wind punctuated his sentence with a long slurp, finishing the rest of the stew in the ladle. Wild snatched it back before he tried to dip it in for more. “Aww! Just a lil more?”

“You’ll get a bowl.” Wild promised as Wind pouted.

“Listen to the man cookin’ Sailor. Otherwise yer gonna get a nasty meal.” Twilight grinned. “My ma loved ta’ say that ‘er meals were made with love. When she got mad at me or my pa, they’d taste different. Said she made ‘em with hate.”

“Hate can make it taste different?”

Twilight snorted. “Light spirits, no! Real reason was that she didn’t season it when we got ‘er mad.”

“Smart woman.” Time complimented, looking less intimidating without his armor. His lips curled in a little smile. “Handling you must’ve been tough.”

Four laughed. “Sounds like something Grandpa would do.”

“I dread to think of what a baby Twilight would do to get her so mad.” Sky teased. “Lots of mud, I bet!”

Wild didn’t understand the reference, or why Twilight's face flushed red as the rest of them laughed. He simply began dishing out the stew into ten different bowls, setting two aside, one for himself and one for Zelda. It smelled lovely, and he carefully ladled an even amount into each. Carefully setting them down where they wouldn’t be knocked over.

“Oh! Oh! Can I have a bowl now?!” Wind grinned, reaching out eagerly for the food.

“Manners!” Warriors chastised, but Wild didn’t really mind. It was nice to know his food was being enjoyed. “Don’t be rude.”

Wind stuck his tongue out at Warriors, before turning to beg. “Can I have a bowl, please?” Wild handed it over, resisting the urge to smile at the boy’s antics. Immediately, he began scarfing the meal down, and Wild handed off another bowl to Sky. He gave a polite ‘thank you’ unlike Wind’s manic enthusiasm.

“Slow down, you’re going to choke.” Time advised Wind, his eye firmly on him as he inhaled the bowl Wild gave him. Maybe it was a mistake to give him it first, Wild pondered. But it wasn’t like he could fix that. He handed two more bowls to Hyrule and Legend.

“‘M’ not gon’ oke.” He said through a mouth full of stew. Wild grimaced as a bit of spittle flew down and onto the boy’s night clothes. “I—” Wind broke out into coughs, proving himself wrong. Wild jolted in alarm, and he’s sure the rest of them did as well. He continued coughing until Warriors gave him a hearty slap on the back.

“You should’ve listened to Father Time.” Four said in a tone that Wild thought was joking? He couldn’t quite tell with the expression on their face. “Learned your lesson?”

Wind huffed. “Yeah.”

Wild handed out the remainder of the bowls and pulled his own into his lap. Zelda had appeared when Wind began choking, a startled look in her eyes until she realized everything was okay. “Feeling better?” he asked quietly as Zelda took her own bite of stew.

“This is good.” She said in lieu of an answer. “Don’t worry about me, my Champion.” She smiled, not quite as bright as usual, and he smiled back.

They would be fine.

(Hopefully)

___

Twilight can already say he’s not too fond of this Hyrule.

Maybe it's the giant killer machines that roam the land, or the potent dark magic that no one’s explained beyond “yeah, that’s the blood moon, it happens sometimes” (He was still concerned about that!). Or the odd sense of deja-vu he gets sometimes when thinking too hard or looking too long at a certain area. Or maybe it's the weather.

Rain beat down on them as they trudged through the winding path towards Zora’s Domain. The ground underfoot was soft, and he had already almost rolled his ankle multiple times now. Not to mention the smattering of lizalfos that lined the path. Lizalfos with electric arrows. How in the name of Ordona did they get those?

When they asked, all they received were shrugs.

They had been walking for close to a day by now. Despite the Princess’ assurances that the Domain wasn’t far, he had a feeling his definition of ‘not far’ wasn’t the same as her’s. When he’d asked, the new hero had told him they have one more day of walking before reaching their destination. Twilight, as much as he appreciated their hospitality, he wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in a damp bedroll tonight.

Their newest hero… His gaze strayed back to him. Wild, Sky informed them over an absolutely delicious breakfast cooked by their new hero, the Hero of the Wilds. Twilight thought the name suited him well. His hair swayed behind him as he walked, tangles and dirt threaded through honey blond. His red tunic was smeared with monster blood, and Twilight eyed the dark color distastefully. It seemed that the black blooded monsters were here as well. Wild, if he noticed the change in color, didn’t comment.

He fit in perfectly with the world he was raised in. Rough and tumble, and completely wild. His namesake fit scarily well. Not just in looks was he wild, but in the way he fought. Something distinctively feral coated his movements. Like a predator hunting for prey. It sent something in the back of his brain aflame, and he felt like he should’ve recognized it.

“Rupee for your thoughts, pup?” Time nudged him softly, raising a single eyebrow. “You look like you're thinking too hard.”

Twilight blew out breath, “‘M just thinking about Wild.”

Time nodded, his eye trained on the back of their newest companion. His voice took on a more contemplative tone as he spoke. “His Hyrule’s much different from ours.”

You can say that again, Twilight mused, eying Wild as he shot an octorok. It made a deflating noise before it vanished in a puff of dark smoke, and he picked up what remained. It vanished into blue strings into the strange stone on his hip. “Yeah. Worried about him fittin’ in?”

Time mulled his words over, and they both watched their new member as Wind badgered him. He seemed hesitant, drawing in on himself before offering up his bow to the sailor, who snatched it up greedily. He tried to pull the bowstring back, and guffawed as it refused to budge. “No.” Time decided as Wild’s quiet laugh met their ears. He crossed his arms over his chest, already looking fond. “I’ll think he’ll fit right in.”

“You sappy old man, you’re already getting attached.” Twilight accused through narrowed eyes. He grinned, knowing he was a hypocrite.

Time rolled his eyes, reaching out to ruffle Twilight's hair. “Whatever you say, pup.”

Chapter Text

“What’s wrong with ‘er?” Legend asked harshly, and Hyrule shushed him quickly. The others stayed silent, but he knew they were wondering the same thing. They’d been travelling for two days now with the princess, and they had quickly discovered that they couldn’t cover as long of a distance as usual.

And, it was because of Zelda.

Hyrule was actually rather concerned about her. Their endurance was naturally greater than a normal Hylian (except Sky and perhaps Wind), but the rate that she got tired was much quicker. They’d stopped multiple times in a day so she could rest. Her chest heaving and legs trembling. Wild had been right beside her, quick to help her sit down, and offer her a drink of water. To anyone else, it would look like he doted on her. To Hyrule’s sharp eye, he saw it as it was.

Zelda was unwell, and he was caring for her as best he could.

“Don’t say that!” He hissed quietly, glancing back at where Zelda sat. He scowled right back at Legend. He wouldn’t stand for him being rude about someone’s illness.

Legend scoffed. “‘M not wrong. Something's up with her, and neither she or her ‘champion’ are willing to share.” Hyrule twitched at the champion part, spat bitterly. He’d heard her call him that and ‘knight’ a few times now, and he’s certain he wasn’t the only one who noticed. Warriors may have restrained it, but Hyrule caught him eyeing up the fresh meat in a new light.

“She’s ill, and she doesn’t have to tell us anything.” Hyrule argued.

Legend quieted for a few moments, scowling at his boots. After a moment, he sighed, slumping back in defeat. His eyes flicked from Hyrule to the Hero and Princess behind him. “I didn’t mean to sound like such an ass.” Legend muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hyrule tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. “Mm-hm?” he hummed, letting him dig his own grave.

“She—I know what being ill is like. But I can handle it. She can't do it as easily.”

“We don’t know if it's the same thing.” Hyrule corrected easily. “She might have different symptoms, different reasons for her exhaustion. You know your own limits, you know why you feel like that, but she likely has different ones. Don’t project your problems onto her.”

Legend huffed a breath, leaning back on the rock he sat on. “Damn. Doctor Hyrule had his healer’s boots on.”

“I have to be ready if something goes wrong.” He reasoned. “What if someone gets hurt?”

“That’s what a potion’s for, Roolie. Cool it. You’re gonna stress yourself out like this.”

Hyrule frowned, glancing back at Wild and Zelda. Maybe he would. Wild seemed to have it under control after all. He watched as he took the water from her, pressing a different bottle into her hands. A magic potion? Hyrule could only wonder from the green hue of it as Zelda drank. She drained the bottle fully, and her lips pulled into a frown.

Wild’s face was unusually open, from what they'd experienced. Concern played across his face blatantly. His mouth moved in quiet words that Hyrule couldn’t decipher, and Zelda nodded. Handing back the bottle, and standing on unsteady feet. Wild hovered close, but let her walk towards the group.

“We’re ready, let’s continue.” Wild quietly offered, and Hyrule knew all of their eyes lingered on Zelda. “The path should be clear from here on out. The Zora maintain them after every blood moon.”

And so they continued.

___

Zora’s Domain is radiant. They could spot it from a mile away, glowing in the depleting light as sunset drew closer. Hyrule was slightly overwhelmed by the size of it, and the brightness. He’d expected something small, a village maybe. Not a large glowing structure, with plenty of people. He shuddered, discomfort prickling at his skin.

“Is that a fish?!” Wind gaped. He latched onto the nearest person, which so happened to be Warriors, and tugged on his tunic. “Look at it!”

“I can see it just fine sailor,” Warriors snorted, “It is quite beautiful.”

“Grand, isn’t it?” Legend commented, eyeing it thoughtfully, and Hyrule hummed in agreement.

“It's pretty,” The more fae-like part of him practically purred, but the more sensible part of him hated how open and visible it was. “Looks like a sculpture.”

“The Zora have beautiful architecture,” Time complemented as he walked beside Zelda.

“They’re excellent craftsmen,” Zelda told him. “They use luminous stone and stained glass in their architecture. Their weapons and jewelry are primarily made of silver, which makes it quite valuable.” Hyrule was astounded by how much she knew.

Twilight hm’d curiously. “My Zora make a lot’a jewelry, but it tends to be gold.”

“Interesting, usually silver’s too soft to make a proper weapon” Four murmured, intrigued at the mention of how they created their weapons. They blinked up at her, eyes swirling purple. “Do you think I could see them working on any weapons?”

Zelda laughed awkwardly. “I’m… unsure.”

“Dento may be willing to let you watch,” Wild offered quickly, glancing back towards the smith. “He’s one of the Zora blacksmiths. We can ask.”

Four nodded, appeased. “That sounds good.”

Wild offered a small smile, and resumed his silent role at the head of the group. Hyrule inched forwards slowly, gazing at his back. More than once, Wild took out a monster in the time Hyrule took to blink. There was an obvious divide between them and Wild, likely caused by the few amount of times they’ve actually talked with him. Most of their time was eaten up by traveling and fighting, with little moments in between to throw jabs at each other. Most of which Wild was excluded from since he didn’t understand the references or jokes shared between them.

Though, the divide wasn’t specific to them. Hyrule noticed the distance between Wild and his own Zelda. They revolved around each other, pulling closer, then spiraling away as soon as they got too close for comfort. Almost like magnets, pushing and pulling. They were uncomfortable around each other, yet not. Strange, was the best way to describe it. Almost like Legend and Warriors. They both pushed and shoved, exchanging barbs, but when it came down to it they could be as thick as thieves.

Knuckles rapped softly on his temple, and he flinched. Legend quirked an eyebrow, “Anyone in there?”

Hyrule flushed, shoving his thoughts aside. “Sorry, what did you say?”

Legend rolled his eyes in a way that Hyrule had come to decipher as in fond exasperation. “I said, do you want to explore when we get there?”

Hyrule perked up, it had been so long since he’d been able to explore. In this Hyrule they’d constantly been on the move (the one time he did try to investigate, Time had caught him with a disapproving glare). Not to mention in Warriors’. He mentally winced at the thought. Castle town was big and loud and so full of people. Even when they’d been sent off to deal with monsters outside of the Castle, they’d been stuck with a small troop of soldiers to accompany them. The men had been unpleasant, to say the least. At least it was amusing to watch Warriors set them straight.

At his side, Legend huffed, flexing his fingers. “You gonna get back to me, or no?”

Hyrule snapped back to reality. “Yeah. That’d be nice.”

“You’ve been awfully spacey today,” Legend noted.

“Sorry.” He apologized, though he didn’t quite mean it. “Just thinking.”

“Try not to get too stuck in your head.” Legend studied him briefly, before going back to staring at the road ahead of them. Something warm and fuzzy nestled in Hyrule’s ribs, knowing that this was Legend’s way of caring about him. He was too gruff to go about it in a normal way.

Zora’s Domain was better looking up close. Nothing in his Hyrule was quite as breathtaking as the architecture here. He could practically feel the effort poured into each and every piece of stone in the place. Even on the sculpture of the fish at the top, he could see each individually carved scale.

As they stepped onto the bridge, he stared at the floor. It was elegantly made, smooth stone carved with delicate and sprawling patterns. Mixed with what Hyrule thinks might be stained glass. The pillars themselves glowed, and he ran his fingers across the cool surface curiously. Condensation wet his fingertips.

“It's glowing,” Hyrule murmured, entranced by the subtle light coming from the stone work. “How?”

Zelda smiled, pleased to explain. “The luminous stones absorb the light from the sun, and give that light off when the sun goes down.”

“Fascinating,” Warriors said, absolutely not interested but trying to be polite. Hyrule felt similar, but he was the one that asked the question.

“Yes, luminous stone is notoriously hard to work with, you know.” Ah, the floodgates had opened, and words flowed from Zelda’s mouth like a waterfall. “It's typically too hard or too brittle to properly create such grand structures such as the Domain. However, the Zora created a technique that allowed them to use it in large amounts.” She swept her arm out to motion to all the luminous stone around them. “Though, they’ve chosen to keep their technique a secret.”

They nodded along, knowing full well they’d never need this information, nor would they remember it by tomorrow. Zelda, if she noticed, didn’t seem to mind, simply content to share her knowledge. Two guards stood at attention at the front entrance, their eyes already tracking the large group. The Zora were quite tall. Much taller than him at least. He had to crane his neck up to look at their faces as they began speaking.

Then, he realized, they weren’t much like the Zora in his era. Thank the Goddess for that. But, he wasn’t like the ones they’d seen in others, either. The closest match would be Twilight’s Zora, but even then, the coloration didn’t quite match.

“Hylian Champion!” The purple Zora straightened her spine, gripping her spear tighter. Was she talking about Wild? They’d only heard Zelda refer to him as that before. “Welcome back, who is this with you…?”

The other at her side, brown in color, made a somewhat strangled noise. Hyrule glanced at him in concern. Was he choking?

“Princess Zelda?” He gasped, quickly falling into a bow. “Welcome back, your majesty!”

The other guard’s eyes widened at the sound of her name, her purple fins flaring slightly. She quickly followed, bowing to her as well. “Your majesty!”

“No need to bow,” Zelda assured them quickly, her voice seeming to lack the exuberance it carried before when she was informing them about luminous stones. “Please, stand up straight.”

“Of course, your majesty.” The brown Zora seemed to compose himself quickly. He glanced towards Hyrule and his brothers. “I’m assuming you are traveling with this group..?”

“For safety,” Zelda said, easing their concerns with a few simple words, “These gentlemen have offered to escort me to Zora’s Domain so I may meet with the King.”

“Ah! Don’t let us keep you Princess. Please, enjoy the Domain!”

“Thank you,” Zelda gave him a charming smile as she passed. Hyrule felt nervous as the guards studied them as they passed, their sharp gaze somewhat reminding him of the Zora of his time. Hostile to Hylians, as communications collapsed between the people and grudges began to fester. Here, it seemed like there was no such thing.

“Is that a statue or a really big Zora?” Wind squinted at the very obvious statue in front of them. Warriors snorted in amusement.

“Do we need to get you glasses, kid?” Time wondered, concerned.

“Not a kid, and I’m just askin’!” Wind defended, “I’ve only seen the ones in yer era, Old Man!!”

Time pursed his lips. “Ruto isn’t the best example.”

“I wonder who that woman is?” Four murmured, and Hyrule hummed in agreement. Whoever she was, she was very pretty. She stood gracefully in the center of the square. She was loved, if the offerings of flowers and fish at her feet said anything. All freshly collected, Hyrule noted, their scent still strong and fragrant.

Zelda and Wild had gone eerily silent as they approached. Stopping just at the base of the statue to stare at the glowing stone face of the Zora. Her angelic face looked back, eternally calm. “This… is new.” Zelda muttered so quietly Hyrule had to strain his ears to hear it. Wild tilted his head, his hands raised to sign.

‘They created it for…’ Hyrule didn’t recognize the sign name he used. A mix of gentle and water, but it seemed fitting. Wild gave a melancholy smile. ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

“Yes,” Zelda said simply. “She would have loved it.”

She? Hyrule wondered, did they know the woman the statue was made for? Was that the name he hadn’t recognized? Hyrule didn’t want to push it, so he averted his eyes.

“Never mind that,” Zelda cleared her throat quietly, shaking her head as if to rid herself of her thoughts. She turned to look at their group, her eyebrows pinched in concern. “We must attend an audience with the King,” Zelda sent an indiscernible glance up towards the throne room. “We’ll see you for dinner, yes?”

“Of course, your highness.” Time nodded, and Zelda gave him a thin lipped smile in return. Hyrule could see the tension lining her muscles, and the way her smile had frozen on her face.

Wild pointed to a room off to the side. “Dento’s workshop is there.” Four turned to look at the workshop, their eyes gleaming. “Tell him Link sent you, he’ll probably be willing to let you watch.”

“Thank you,” Four grinned, and Wild nodded.

“We should get going,” Zelda shifted her weight nervously. She turned towards the stairs, waving at them. “Enjoy the Domain.”

They all stayed silent as the two disappeared up the stairs. No one spoke until they were well out of view, exchanging silent glances. “Ugh, politics.” Twilight voiced and Legend cackled. Time simply nodded in agreement.

“Did either of them mention where the inn was?” Warriors asked.

“Nope. I’m heading to the workshop!” Four waved. “Goodluck.”

“Traitor.” Warriors hissed back with no bite. He sighed. “Guess we gotta ask around.”

___

The throne room hadn’t changed in the few months since Wild had visited, still large and quite beautiful. The lack of Muzu standing at the king’s side was noticeable, as he wasn’t greeted with a heated stare. It was for the better, he decided quickly, the old advisor would be too quick to accuse and blame Zelda for… Mipha. She didn’t need that. Zelda walked gracefully, her steps echoing on the crystalline floor. His own were silent as he followed behind her.

“Link, my friend! You have returned!” Sidon grinned widely at him, showing off his sharp teeth. Wild gave his own small smile in return. “Welcome back—!” Wild could spot the exact moment Sidon realized who he was with. His eyes widened as they set on Zelda, and he froze in place.

“Princess Zelda!” King Dorephan greeted warmly, having a bit more tact than his son. “What a pleasure it is to see you safe and sound! You as well, Link.”

“It's been quite a long time, King Dorephan, Prince Sidon,” Zelda smiled pleasantly, tipping her head respectfully, “I’m glad to see you and your people have fared well over these hundred years.”

“Yes, it is truly a blessing from Nayru to allow us to remain safe and fed even with the Calamity’s sickly presence.” The King grinned, inclining a fin towards her. “And a blessing from Hylia herself to allow you to stand here before me.”

“Yes, it truly is a miracle.” Zelda’s smile grew imperceptibly tight at the mention of the Goddess. “I apologize for being so bold, but I’m unfortunately here for business, and not pleasure.”

King Dorephan let out a long hum, amusement sparkling in his amber eyes, “I expected no less, Princess.”

Wild could tell Zelda was nervous, the tips of her ears flushed a soft pink. She inhaled softly, gathering herself, and lifted her chin in mock confidence. “I venture to reconstruct Castle Town, and rid it of the Guardians plaguing it. I want to know if the Zora would provide any assistance for my project, and if we—I—may do anything in return.”

Wild jolted in alarm. What? His chest grew tighter as he stared. She never mentioned this. She told him they would be paying respects to each race for their fallen Champions, and informing them of the Calamity’s demise (if they weren’t already aware). She said that it was nothing more than formalities. But to reestablish Castle Town? He had no memories of the bustling city it was before, though he certainly spent a lot of time there. All he could envision was the smoldering ruins, infested with guardians and covered in malice. It wouldn’t be safe, especially not if the blood moon continued.

“Princess, the blood moon…” he started in a whisper, but it may as well have been a shout with how quiet the room was. He winced internally, well aware of whom they were in front of. Now wasn’t the time to question her judgment. Not so openly.

She glanced back at him, her emerald eyes steely and determined. “I am well aware, Link.”

“He poses a valid point, Princess Zelda.” Sidon spoke up from his father’s side, the usual boisterous tone exchanged for something more stringent and poised. It was a tone Wild rarely heard him use. “With the blood moons, there would be no safe place to properly begin construction. There would have to be guards ready each full moon, and it's rare to hear of anyone capable of handling a guardian.” Sidon sent a wan smile towards Wild. “Other than Link, of course.”

“You are correct,” Zelda agreed easily, and Wild could sense the oncoming but. “I’ve been in correspondence with researchers of the ancient Sheikah technology, and they are willing to begin the process of disabling those Guardians permanently. They have developed weapons that prove particularly effective against them as well. There would be no need to worry about the amount of manpower needed for such a job.”

Wild blinked, bewildered. He didn’t know she’d been in correspondence with Robbie and Purah, other than catching up and discussing what she missed. Was she always preparing something so ambitious? Wild swallowed thickly. Did she not trust him enough to let him know about her plans?

“I see,” King Dorephan rumbled, leaning forwards in his seat with a keen eye. “And what would you ask of my people?”

“Nothing at the moment.” She placated him, “I simply wish to garner your support and understand your position on this matter. If you are willing, we may discuss terms in full before you agree.”

“That sounds applicable, Princess.” King Dorephan assented, leaning back in his seat. “However, I must insist we place this conversation on pause for the moment. It's becoming quite late, is it not?”

“Yes, I suppose we must save the rest of the conversation for another time.” She smiled, bowing her head respectfully. Link quickly followed. “I wish you a good night, King Dorephan, Prince Sidon. Thank you for your time.”

“Of course, Princess. Best wishes, we shall speak again soon.”

Wild followed behind her silently, sending a glance back towards the Zora royalty only for a second. King Dorephan watched, his expression strangely blank, whereas Sidon’s face twisted in concern. He swallowed thickly, and hurried his pace as Zelda began down the stairs. He hadn’t let her get far from the throne room before he spoke up. A hoarse whisper tearing from his throat. “Why haven't you told me about any of this?”

Zelda faltered in her steps, her foot hovering over the stair below. She turned back to look at him, long hair falling over her shoulder. “You’ve done much for me, Link.” She murmured, “and now it's my job to clean up my kingdom.”

What..?

He stared at her, helpless. Her job? If anything, it would be his. After all, he allowed the Calamity to triumph the first time. He left the people to suffer for his own shortcomings. As a princess, he could understand that she felt the need to rebuild and move forward, but why do it alone? Why without him? “But I can help you,” his eyebrows furrowed, he swung an arm outwards. “it's not just your job—”

“I am the new Queen of Hyrule,” She interrupted, her voice growing hard. “I have a duty to my people.”

“And I have a duty to you!” He huffed, not upset, but confused. Hurt. “I’m supposed to keep you safe, how can I do that if you don’t tell me things?”

She inhaled a trembling breath, scowling back at him. “Drop it, Link.” She demanded.

Wild stiffened, and his throat suddenly felt tight. Like a hand was pressed over his windpipe. He wilted, staring at the floor as he dug his nails into his palms. “Yes, your highness.” He murmured, trying his best to keep the bitterness from his tone. He pivoted on his heel, face blank. “I will be retiring for the night.”

Zelda stayed silent as he walked away. Briefly, he swore he caught regret flash across her face.

He didn’t dwell on it. Suddenly, Zora’s Domain felt stifling. Claustrophobic. His breath hitched as he hurried away from the central plaza. Away from Zelda. His feet carried him away from the soft sounds of Zora’s Domain, towards the thundering of the waterfalls. It's like he blinked, and suddenly, he stood just in front of one of the many waterfalls in Lanayru.

Oh. He thought, head fuzzy. When did I get here? Wild stumbled towards the water, nearly falling as his foot caught. The metallic clang told him it was a weapon that nearly tripped him. He huffed tiredly, ignoring it as he sat down, pressed against a cool, damp rock.

He didn’t feel much better, next to the waterfall. Yet it helps, somewhat. The soothing sound of water crashing down is nice, and his throat begins to loosen, if only just a bit. Tiredly, he stares at the discarded spear on the floor. Old and rusting, from long ago. He leaned forward, knees digging into his chest. His fingers brushed against the shaft, rust biting into his bare fingertips. He picked it up, testing the weight in his hands.

The memory comes suddenly. A haze that washed over him like a tidal wave. It felt like he was drowning in his own mind, and a gasp ripped from his throat. He blinked. His vision went dark. He blinked again, and something new flooded his senses.

“Hold it like this,” A soft voice commanded him as hands grazed over his own, adjusting his grip. They were cold and damp. He could hear the waterfall nearby, water hitting the rocks. “If you hold it like that, you’ll only hurt yourself.”

“Okay,” The words left his mouth before he could even think. His hands shifted as he allowed her to guide them. His grip was awkward and loose, unsure of how to hold it. “Like this?”

He glanced up, and Mipha met his eyes. Kindness danced in her gaze, and her lips curled in a smile. She pulled her hands back, pressing them together in front of her chest. “Yes. just like that.”

He giggled, the noise ringing unfamiliar in his ears. His voice was wrong, young.

“I want you to strike the dummy,” Mipha told him, motioning at the straw-stuffed creation in front of him. Her jewelry jingled on her wrist as she swept her arm out, his eyes caught on the sapphires gleaming in the sun. “Don’t worry about getting it right the first time, I just want you to hit it.”

He nodded, eyebrows furrowing as he concentrated on holding the spear right. His fingers were barely big enough to wrap completely around the shaft. He jabbed forward. A gasp tore from his throat as his grip slipped. The spear clattered to the floor, and his eyes pooled with tears. His palm burned, and he clutched it close to himself. Blood smeared his fingers and his green tunic. He sniffled as Mipha knelt down in front of him.

“May I see it?” She questioned softly, holding her hands out. “I promise it won’t hurt.”

Link nodded, sniffling once more as he presented his cut palm. Red blood pooling in the center. Mipha, like the angel she was, smiled soothingly at him, unbothered. Her hands, unexpectedly calloused, yet so very gentle, cupped his smaller one. Immediately, a blue gleam coated their hands, a cold sensation meeting his skin. He gasped, peering closer at the magic.

It was a strange thing, to watch your skin knit back together. Mipha seemed at ease—content even—as she poured her magic into the wound. The same serene smile on her face. The glow only began to die down as his palm finished healing, leaving behind only a warm, tingling sensation.

“Woah…” He murmured, awed at the clean skin. Not even a scar marred his palm, and he examined it closely.

“Let’s be more careful, okay? I’d hate to see you get hurt again.”

“Thank you,” He looked at the Zora princess, cheeks growing hot in embarrassment. “For healing my cut.”

And Mipha continued to smile. “It was my pleasure.”

…

When he came back to reality, an unknown amount of time had passed and the moon glistened on the water. Mipha was gone, and ‘it was my pleasure’ rang in his ears like a twisted lullaby. A cruelty only his mind could give him.

Chapter Text

Zora’s domain, Four learned, is very quiet. The only audible sounds were their brothers, chatting and squabbling. They hoped they weren't disturbing the Zora, but the group had a permanent noise level of way too loud. Four leaned against the wall of the inn. It wasn’t very big, since they didn’t get many Hylian travelers, but enough to fit them comfortably if they shared the beds. They fiddled with their kinstone bag, not paying attention to the pieces as they mulled over the information.

The Zora smith was a bit rough when they went to speak with him, but it reminded them of Grandpa Smith. He seemed to loosen when he mentioned Link—Wild—sent them. Apparently he was well liked in the Domain, or at least, the royal family was fond of him. Wootz steel, a metal he hadn’t heard of, was the key to their weaponry. Or at least, that was what the blacksmith had explained. He was kind enough to show them one of the pieces he was working on as he explained. It was the main bulk of their weapons, and later coated in a thick layer of silver. For cosmetic purposes, but it was fascinating nonetheless.

Already, Vio was drafting up weapon ideas that they could try next time they got access to the Forge. Nerd, Blue accused fondly.

“Hello!” Zelda called out. Four glanced up, breaking away from their own thoughts. “Would any of you mind helping me?”

Four glanced over, and grimaced sympathetically. Her arms strained under the weight of the basket in her arms. It was overflowing with items, and she readjusted her grip periodically as the basket began to tip. Warriors, being the man that he was, abandoned his sword maintenance and swooped in to assist her. “I’ve got it, Your Highness.” He flirted shamelessly. “I couldn’t let a pretty lady such as yourself deal with such a heavy weight.”

Legend groaned irritably. “Knock it off! Quit flirting with everyone!”

“I’m not flirting!” Warriors protested, rolling his eyes as he took the basket from her arms. “I’m simply showing her the respect she deserves!”

“And we call that flirting, captain,” Legend accused, pointing at him. “Or are you too stupid to understand the difference?”

“Oh? You’re talking to me about stupid, hm?”

“Says the man that’s lit himself on fire more than once ‘cuz he used his firerod wrong.”

“Hey—!”

“Quit fightin’!” Wind huffed, as the two continued to squabble. Crazy that the fourteen year old was being more mature than those two. “I want Zelda to actually make us dinner ‘n you lot’re distracting. So shut yer yap!”

Four resisted the urge to snort. Of course the sailor was focused on food, Blue commented. Not that any of them could blame him. They had eaten way too many subpar, maybe poisonous meals since they began their quest. What bad odds that all of us couldn’t cook, Red huffed. But, thankfully they now had an addition that could. And Wild was more than decent, it was easily the tastiest thing they had eaten since stopping by Miss Malon’s Ranch.

Four furrowed their brows thoughtfully, staring at the princess as she handed off a few items to Sky. Where was Wild, anyways? It was getting late, already time for supper. And they’d last seen him when he walked off with the Princess.

“Are they always like this?” Zelda asked, thoroughly amused as they continued to banter, sending insults back and forth like child’s play. Time looked equal parts tired of them, and amused by their words. He didn’t say anything, only giving a disappointed look when one of them said something too bad.

“Most’a the time.” Twilight confirmed, “Like cats ‘n dogs, those two.”

Zelda smiled, laughing softly as she settled down at the cooking pot. Warriors set her basket down beside her before going back to his abandoned sword and whetstone. Zelda shuffled through the basket, setting, setting out a cutting board, a knife, and the fish. She lit the fire beneath the pot, and dropped a generous dollop of butter inside to grease it. She left it alone as she prepped the fish.

“Where’s Wild?” Four asked, staring intently at her hands. Zelda skinned the salmon with only minor difficulties. Using the blunt end of the knife to wipe the scales off when they clung to her fingers. It was an unpracticed motion, she seemed to know the steps but muscle memory failed her.

She paused, only for a brief moment, before she smiled. It didn’t reach her eyes. “Link has some business to attend to in the Domain.”

Twilight raised an eyebrow curiously. “What kind’a business?”

“It’s not my place to tell you,” She informed him cordially, “His business is his own, afterall.”

Immediately, Four noticed the lie. Or, Vio did at least. The way she hesitated, and refused to tell them where he went was rather telling. But, they supposed that Wild deserved privacy. He could be saying his goodbyes, they reasoned. They had done the same when the Chain had shown up on their doorstep, asking for Link.

“That’s alright.” Time reassured her. “Do you know if he’ll be back soon?”

“My apologies, but I don’t.” She shook her head, only half paying attention as she dropped a fish into the pot. It sizzled lightly, and she pulled her hand back before it burned her. “Link is rather beloved by the Domain, so where he is, I can only guess.”

“Let’s hope he turns up soon,” Sky commented lightheartedly.

Maybe he’s dead, Blue volunteered.

I think we’d know if he was dead, Vio pointed out.

Maybe, Blue remarked.

They lulled into an easy silence. Zelda continued to cook, the smell wafting through the little inn. Twilight leaned against Time shamelessly, resting his eyes as the old man wrote a letter. Probably to Miss Malon, they reflected.

“Four?” Hyrule called, brown eyes blinking owlishly at him, “Dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks, Roolie.” Four smiled, inhaling softly, they added. “Smells good.”

Hyrule smiled conspiratorially, hushing his voice so the others wouldn't hear. “Yeah. No more hardtack, hm?”

Four grimaced. Thank Hylia for that. They’d had enough jerky and hardtack to last a lifetime. “Yeah, I don't think I could stomach anymore of that stuff. It's basically a brick.” They complained. Hyrule snorted, but didn’t agree. He stayed silent, motioning Four over to get their fill.

___

Twilight decided that this Zelda, and by extension, Wild, were gifts from Hylia herself.

He scarfed the meal down without any reservations. He felt no shame as the rest of his brothers did the same. Wind praised the meal through full chipmunk cheeks. Having so many good meals was spoiling them, and he hoped it would continue. You could only eat so much jerky, dried fruit and hardtack before you go crazy.

He stared down at his bowl, eyes melancholy. He missed Uli’s cooking

“Hero of Twilight, may I speak with you?”

Twilight blinked back at her, loosening his grip on his bowl. “Of course, Princess.”

“Just Zelda,” She reminded him, but the air around her set him on edge. Her eyes lingered a moment longer than needed, before roaming the room.

“Then it's just Twilight,” He responded in kind.

Zelda stifled a laugh, but it didn’t sound nearly as genuine as her ones before. “Of course, follow me please.”

They left the inn quietly, walking past the rest of the group. It was late enough that Sky was already laying down for the night, happily claiming one of the water beds. Then, the rest of them were already debating who slept with who. Twilight had already resigned himself to being placed with either Time, who snored horribly loud, or Wind, who had a major kicking problem.

Zelda led him to the statue they had seen earlier. Now, with the sun fully set, he could see how it glowed magnificently. Her eyes seemed to trace it, taking it in. She knew the woman, he could guess. He could also assume that something had happened to her. “Was she a friend?” He asked softly, and Zelda jumped.

“Yes.” She confirmed quietly, her face crestfallen. She looked like a kicked puppy. “Her name was Mipha.” His heart skipped a beat. For a moment he thought she said a different name. For a moment, the face of the Zora woman was replaced with that of a Twili’s. He drew his eyes away from the statue, uneasy. The Zora woman’s name was so similar… but it wasn’t her name.

“...May Nayru bless her soul, and allow her to rest in peace.” He murmured. The Zora worshiped Nayru, he remembered. Not Hylia as Hylians did, or Ordona as he did. Zelda gave him a smile that just barely fell short of being appreciative. It quickly fell into something more serious, her eyes narrowed as she took him in. He bit his cheek nervously.

“There are stories, legends,” Zelda started, her voice quiet. “Whether it be adrift in Time, Skyward bound, or steeped in the glowing embers of Twilight, a hero has always appeared in the kingdom’s time of need.” Her voice went up a pitch, the words were well rehearsed, like she had uttered them a million times. Twilight nodded, unsure of how to respond. Zelda’s eyes didn’t carry the same lightness as her words. Faintly, she reminded him of his own, Dusk was always sharp, her eyes like daggers whenever he saw her. “I need you to promise me something. I hate to ask this of you, but I cannot complete it myself.”

“What kind of promise?” He asked, because he knew better than to agree to something unknown. (An impish smile flashed in his memory.) “You can’t see it through?”

“I need you to keep Link—” She paused, correcting herself, “Wild, safe.”

He frowned at her, heart inexplicably heavier in his chest. “I can’t promise that.” He reasoned softly. “I wish I could keep them safe, but it ain’t realistic. We’re all heroes. Danger follows us wherever we go.”

Twilight thought of the sailor, too young to be stuck in the mess they were in. Only fourteen, and Hyrule was no better at sixteen. Briefly, as his gaze wandered the vulnerable, deploring face of Zelda, he wondered how old Wild was. How old was she?

Soon, he decided that they were too young. Zelda stumbled over her words, trying to piece them together in a way that made sense to him. Her ears grew increasingly flushed, tipped a bright red that matched her reddening cheeks. “I—that’s not—I didn’t…” She exhaled harshly, frustration lining her face. “That’s not what I meant.”

He tilted his head, a distinctly wolfish mannerism. “Then whaddya mean?”

She grew quiet. Very quiet. He opened his mouth to say more, but she beat him to it. Her voice was like a clap of thunder. “I need you to promise me that you’ll bring him home!” She snapped, desperate and so very angry. She glared at Twilight, teary eyed. “I need you to promise me you won’t let him die on this idiotic quest for Hylia!”

That was why, he realized quietly, why she pulled him aside. She didn’t want to lose another friend. Empathy swelled in his chest, he knew her feelings well. And as soon as Zelda’s anger came, it left. She crumpled in on herself, shoulders slouching, and her head hanging low. She stared at her feet, and he stared at her. His tongue felt strangely heavy.

“I’ll try my best,” He promised. “And I’m sure the rest of the boys will too.”

“Thank you,” She glanced up at him, eyes glassy. She sniffed, scrubbing her tears away before they had the chance to fall. “Link’s much too stubborn to admit it, but even he needs help sometimes.”

“Stubborn? He’ll fit right in.” Twilight smiled, “Don’t worry Princess, he’s in good hands.”

“I hope so,” She whispered, more to herself than him. “I really do.”

___

Wild woke up slowly. Like the gradual emergence of a caterpillar from its chrysalis. He didn’t want to open his eyes. The remnants of sleep clung to him stubbornly, and he didn't deny them. He dozed. He didn’t remember laying down in the grass, but it tickled his exposed neck and ankles. His shoes were off, thrown somewhere nearby. He was vaguely aware of the sounds around him. It all felt like he was underwater.

He was only half aware of the sound of approaching footsteps, but that didn't stop him from reacting. He jolted up, bleary-eyed as his hand whipped out to grasp at any possible weapons. His fingers curled around the rusted shaft of a spear. He blinked, and the wolf blinked back. Moonlight bounced off its gray coat, glinting off its sharp teeth. Two sets of blue eyes clashing against one another in a strange standoff.

Abruptly, Wild relaxed. He dropped his head back onto the floor, and released his hold on the spear. At ease despite the predator padding closer. “‘Ello Wolf.” He murmured, voice thick with sleep. “Y’ scared me.”

The wolf didn’t respond, but it was undoubtedly the wolf he knew. He closed his eyes again, still tired. How long had he been sleeping? Paws hesitantly approached, shy for a reason unfathomable to Wild. He patted the group next to him welcomingly, and Wolf paused. A minute passed. Maybe two. He lost hope that the wolf would join him. But, a familiar weight pressed against his torso. He froze, exhaling softly as the weight shifted, huffing quietly. He moved slowly, allowing time for the wolf to move as he buried a hand in the familiar fur. He could feel the rise and fall of Wolf’s chest, and he times his own to the slightly too-fast breaths of his companion.

He dozed. Wolf stayed, pressing down on his chest. So heavy he almost couldn't breathe. Any other time—any other creature—he would panic. But the bristling of coarse fur kept him grounded. The burning warmth, contrasting against the sharp cold of the night’s air kept him content.

Awareness came and went in small amounts. He wasn’t sure how much time passed. He simply listened to the falling water as it splashed against the rocks. Tasted the moistness in the air as he inhaled. The slightest scent of wet dog clings to his companion.

He dozed. One moment, Wolf was there. When he woke up again, Wolf was gone.

Wild’s eyes blinked open heavily. Lethargic as he stared, disappointed, where his companion once was. A dream, he realized. Both kind and cruel in equal measure. A taste of what he missed, what he won’t be able to have. He swallowed the distress rising in his throat, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. His scars ached, and he regretted his decision to sleep in the cold. The rising sun cast long shadows across the grass, but the wind was still nippy.

Did he really sleep through the night? Wild frowned. It wasn’t exactly rare for him to be tired after a memory (he winced, the thought of Mipha made his heart ache), but it was rare for him to sleep for so long. He yawned, his jaw aching as he tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. He pushed himself up onto unsteady feet. Then had the difficult task of locating where he had put his shoes.

He finds one on a coral bush, and the other in the pond. He walked back to Zora’s domain barefoot, not particularly perturbed. Standing outside of the inn felt like a death sentence. His chest tight, as if he were about to face down a blight, and not the heroes of legend. Though, one felt arguably worse. (He’d give a hint, it wasn’t the blights).

Wild felt like he did something wrong as he tiptoed inside. He expected to be called out immediately. To be scolded for disappearing. Nothing greeted him but peaceful, sleeping faces and he released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He had arrived too early it seemed. No one was awake. A blessing.

That relief was short lived as tired eyes blinked open to look at him. Hyrule stared at him, eyes crusted with sleep and not quite there. “You're back.” Hyrule slurred softly. “‘Was worried.” Wild didn’t bother hiding his surprise. He was worried?

“I’m sorry for waking you,” he whispered back, fingers threading through his hair. “You can go back to sleep.”

Hyrule smiled at him, still half asleep. He waved a hand above his head as if to say don't worry about it. “M goin’ back to sleep.”

“Goodnight,” Wild murmured, but he didn’t get much of a response back as Hyrule shut his eyes once more and rolled over. He stood awkwardly in the center of the room, pressing a hand against his chest as he thought about Hyrule’s words. Why would he be worried about Wild? It's not like Hyrule knew him?

Honestly, Wild had been avoiding speaking with them—making meaningful connections—because that meant he did have to go. It meant that he would be stuck with them, and he had to don a new mask. But, as his gaze lingered heavily over them, that didn’t give him his choices back. That didn’t change anything.

And maybe it was better this way. Zelda didn’t need him anymore, did she? Not as defective as he was. Wild pulled on his hair, the pain grounding him. He glanced at the cooking pot. Breakfast. Yes, he could do that. It was the least he could do.

He sat down, tapping through his slate before beginning preparations. Cracking cucco eggs into a bowl, stirring. Getting the rice started in the pot, and hoping it would be done by the time they awoke. It was almost unbearably awkward to be sitting at the cooking pot as they slowly woke up. They opened their eyes, looked towards the source of noise and light, and paused when they saw him. Only for a moment, before questioning where he went.

Of course, he has no answer for them. His memory… was an issue he wasn’t fond of sharing. The last thing he wanted was to be a liability. “I was visiting friends,” he lied, later when they had all woken up. Breakfast was simple eggs and rice. It was easier to only tell the lie once, telling one multiple times left room for him to mess up. To make inconsistencies in the story. “I lost track of time and stayed for the night.”

“Please don’t disappear without warning again,” Time requested, cradling his bowl in his lap. Wild sat similarly, the precious heat soothing the aching scars on his hands. “We were worried.”

“It won’t happen again,” He promised quietly, biting back the ‘sir’ he wanted to tack on at the end. He didn’t quite believe the ‘worried’ part, but he could read between the lines. They needed him around for convenience. “I apologize for the inconvenience.”

“It's alright,” Time reassured him easily. Wild still wanted to shy away from his eyes. All of their eyes, really. Hyrule was squinting at him, and Wild was unsure if he was upset, curious, or something else. Wind kept chattering on, trying to pull him into conversation. “We just don’t want you to get separated when switching eras.”

Wild flinched at the sudden pull. Like something heavy had appeared beneath his ribs, making itself at home in the cavity of his chest. The others groaned, irritated as they whipped around to stare outside. He followed their gaze, and outside the door was something that was definitely not natural. A portal, if he had to guess by their reactions.

“Perfect timing,” Four commented, staring at the portal.

“You jinxed it!” Wind accused.

“What the fuck! Not during breakfast,” Legend scowled. Warriors didn’t even look before swatting him. “Ow! What was that for?!”

“Stop swearing in front of Wind.” He chastised.

“Quit it! Get your stuff together,” Time sighed, tired of their antics. “Hylia waits for no man.”

Legend muttered something acerbic beneath his breath as he stood and headed towards his pack. Abandoning his mostly eaten food by the cooking pot. The rest of the heroes soon followed his lead. As they collected their items, Wild stepped out, moving as close as he dared to the portal before stopping. The pull was stronger, he noted, the farther you went from it. So close, it was barely anything. A soft nudge in the right direction. Unfortunately, in exchange for the lessened pull, he got an increased pressure in his head and an unexplained warmth that seeped into his skin. It was an almost feverish heat that pressed against his skin, and he stepped back once more, if only for a reprieve from it.

“Are ya alright?” Twilight murmured, and he jumped at his sudden appearance. Twilight chuckled, adjusting the pelt on his shoulders. Wild’s eyes traced the movement warily. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

‘I’m fine,’ Wild signed, omitting his blooming headache and the way his scars ached. Those were manageable. ‘It looks strange.’

Twilight grimaced, rubbing his neck. “It doesn’t feel great either.” He admitted, “But y’ get used to it a bit more as you go through.” Ah, wonderful. “We usually go in groups, so if we get separated durin’ the shift, we’ll be with someone.”

‘Smart,’ Wild commented, pursing his lips, he continued. ‘Am I going with you?’

“And Time.” Twilight confirmed. “We’ve got an uneven amount of people, so we’ll be a group’a three.”

Wild nodded, satisfied but not happy with the answer. He’d rather walk through alone, but he wouldn’t challenge their rules. He looked back to the portal, choosing to stare at it instead of needlessly stressing over how close Twilight stood, or where Zelda was. The more he looked, the more his eyes strained.

“Boys! Get ready to go through! Make sure you have everything!” Time called out to them all, his voice firm, reminiscent of the little he remembered of being a knight. Wild patted his hip, ensuring the slate remained where it belonged. Satisfied, he returned his gaze to the portal.

“Are you sure you got everythin’? Y’ain’t got a bag.” Twilight fussed, looking him over critically. Faintly, he reminded Wild of Saki. Not in looks, no. But the warm hospitality, and fussing over him as if he were something special. Saki always examined his outfits with a critical gaze, trying to make sure he stayed warm in the frigid temperatures of Hebra. She was always willing to press a warm bowl of soup into his trembling hands, and demand he stay until Tulin and Teba returned.

‘Yes,’ Wild bobbed his head in affirmation, awkwardly glancing away from him.

Twilight’s lips pursed, but he didn’t push it. He glanced back towards Time as he approached. He clasped a hand over Twilight’s shoulder. “You ready, pup?” He asked, and Wild tilted his head curiously at the nickname. He didn’t ask about it, and continued staring at the portal. His eyes ached.

“Yup. Ya sure your joints’re gonna hold up, old man?”

Time snorted, a sound that Wild could only interpret as fond, and rolled his eyes at the comment. He glanced towards Wild, as if realizing he was there. “And what about you? How are you feeling?”

‘Fine.’ Wild swallowed thickly. Again, with this question? His own traitorous hands fumbling slightly as he signed, giving away the anxiety bundled in his chest.

Time’s eye crinkled in understanding. “It's okay to be nervous.” He soothed. A lump formed in Wild’s throat as Time continued to speak. He didn’t have the strength to tell him that he was nervous because he was going through the portal, no, he had plenty of experience in plunging into the unknown. He was anxious because he was with them. Because they were real heroes. Because he wasn’t. “Portals are nerve-wracking, and you're leaving home for somewhere unknown.”

‘Thank you,’ his fingers moved in a practiced motion, and Time smiled, tightlipped but not unkind.

They stood in silence. A chill ran up his spine as he watched the first group go in. It was unnerving to see them disappear into nothing. No evidence of their existence other than memories. Was this what others felt when he used the shrines? No wonder everyone seemed so concerned about it—other than Purah, Robbie and Zelda, of course. They were more curious about how it felt and functioned. He frowned at the thought of Zelda. A pang of hurt going through his chest.

Twilight nudged him in the side, looking at him from the corner of his eye. Wild stiffened at the contact, resisting the urge to pull away. “We’re goin’ now. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” The words left his lips on autopilot, and he stiffened his spine in hopes that it would make him feel less afraid.

The portal felt worse as he got closer to it. The warmth increased drastically, he felt like he stood naked on Death Mountain. Sweat dotted his brow, and he wiped it away in hopes that it would remain unnoticed. Twilight had a similar grimace on his face and Time’s was stoic, but he could catch the smallest hints of discomfort. The first step into the portal wasn’t too bad, it was what came after that was.

His lungs seemed to convulse, and he choked on the feeling of all imposing nothingness around him. Hylia’s magic, so potent around him, was suffocating. Like he rested at the core of the sun itself. Hot. Burning hot. He felt like he was melting. His skin was on fire, and his lungs didn’t take in air. All his gasping did was prove the futility of the act. Yet, he continued, because his body didn’t seem to get the same memo.

And then, he was out.

His stomach tied itself in knots, churning violently as he stumbled away from the portal. He gasped, taking in heavy breaths. His lungs ached as he took in air, the precious substance that he had been denied for what felt like years. Yet, it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. The burning was gone now, replaced with the distinct feeling of wrongness that prickled across his skin. His head spun, and the floor shifted beneath his feet. His legs refused to cooperate, stumbling around like a baby deer. He tripped, falling to his knees as his stomach spasmed.

His eyes beaded with unshed tears as his insides lurched. His mouth was filled with the taste of vomit and acid burned his nose. His fingers curled into the dirt as he wretched. Coughing heavily as his stomach continued to roll. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so awful. Not even the shrine transportation had been this bad. He gagged again, pushing all thoughts away as more bile dripped from his mouth, mixing with saliva. Maybe this was punishment for being a smartass at her statue.

Cold hands brushed Wild’s neck, gathering the hair hanging limp around his head, and he shivered. He gagged one last time, breathing heavily as he blinked back tears. His stomach still churned, but there was nothing left. His throat felt raw, rawer than usual, at least. He blinked at the waterskin suddenly shoved in his face.

He slowly raised a hand to grasp it, and he had to stop himself from drinking the whole thing in one big gulp. Instead, he took a small sip, swishing the water around in his mouth to get rid of the bad taste. He spat it out quickly, taking another small sip. It burned as it went down his throat. He took one more before handing it back.

“Ah,” Wild’s voice cracked, and he turned to look at who helped him. Twilight met his gaze, concern etched in his features as he carefully released his hair, allowing it to hang limp over his shoulders. Time stood just behind him, holding the waterskin. Wild was careful not to make eye contact, shame making his face burn. “Thank you.”

“Feelin' better?” Twilight asked, and Wild hesitantly sent him a thumbs up.

“Alive,” He croaked, grimacing as he moved to stand. He wobbled on his feet, and Twilight grabbed his shoulder to steady him.

“Careful,” Time warned. “There’s no need to get up if you're still feeling dizzy.”

“Fine,” he said, like a liar. “Not dizzy.” Time and Twilight both seemed unconvinced, but Twilight let his shoulder go. Wild could feel their eyes on him as he got his bearings. His legs felt unsteady, but he didn’t fall over again. Small victories. He inhaled softly, eying the others scattered around them. Already mostly on their feet, and looking much less green than him.

They had landed in a clearing. The grass was healthy, and when he peered at the trees, he didn’t recognize the species. Or any of the bushes either. It was unnerving, especially since he knew almost every species in Hyrule. He had all of them in his compendium, and now he was faced with something new.

“Get ready!” Warriors’ stern voice bellowed. He sounded like a proper knight, commanding his soldiers. Wild’s hand instinctively went to his slate. “Monsters!”

Chapter Text

Warriors’ sword tore through thick hide and flesh, skewering the bokoblin in front of him with deadly accuracy. It released a guttural noise, and he yanked his sword back. From somewhere above, an arrow punctured the bokoblin’s throat, leaving it to gurgle on its blood before it dropped. He stepped over the body, and continued onwards.

Blood and death was a familiar song and dance now. Being a knight, a captain, he had long acquainted himself with the gore that came with the job. Still, it was never easy. The motions, the muscle memory was the easiest part. The memories were what really made it hard, and living with your actions knowing what you had done. Monsters were easy. Simple, even. They were unintelligent and easy to kill. They lack the proper foresight to plan, for the most part, and lacked the ability to speak. They were nothing like Hylians, and that made it easier for him.

Warriors’ expression twisted into a grimace, slicing through the throat of a moblin. More blood stained his sword. Black and thick, unnatural. His ears twitched as he scrunched his nose. “Careful! These guys are infected!” He called out. He slashed at another bokoblin, twisting awkwardly to avoid an oncoming darknut’s sword. He lunged forwards, pressing the sword into the space beneath the darknut’s arm where the armor didn’t reach. He didn’t stop to watch it fall.

“No duh!” Legend still somehow had the ability to snark, even while fighting two darknuts. Warriors glanced over just in time to see Wind stab at one of their weak points, taking one down. “What normal monsters would be this strong?”

Warriors flinched away from a sword, narrowly missing his arm being stabbed through. Instead, all he got was a slice against his bracers. Faintly, he worried about his teammates. Wind, for the most part. He would always coddle him, even if he didn’t want it. Him having to fight so young left a bitter taste in his mouth, even during the War of Eras. The other person who occupied his thoughts was Wild.

There was no reason for him to worry. Their newest member could certainly hold himself in a fight—if their first meeting was to be believed—but Warriors hadn’t been able to get a proper hold on his style. How would he hold up against such a large wave of enemies, compared to the single one they saw him defeat? Warriors grunted, blocking a blow from a bokoblin with his shield. His sword swung up to meet its unprotected throat.

After fighting for so long, battle grew tedious. Waves and waves of stupid monsters. Just extra warm, moving meat and muscle for his sword to tear through. Constant over-awareness grating on his nerves. Warriors’ gaze caught on a reddish tunic, eying the swinging hair he knew belonged to Wild. Too long, and too impractical to be anyone else’s.

He slashed through the scaly belly of a lizalfos, moving fast in an attempt to get closer to Wild to help. Not that he seemed to need it with the way he was tearing through monsters. He swung his sword—the damn thing practically the same size as he was—in wide arcs, tearing flesh and sinew with ease. His face was an expression Warriors hadn’t seen from him, an exhilarated grin as he was swept up in the fervor of battle.

Warriors huffed a breath, half in awe as Wild split a moblin clean open with his blade, and in the same breath whirled around to stun a darknut. He smirked, internally rolling his eyes at his own silly thoughts. He didn’t need to worry about Wild, he could obviously handle himself just like the rest of them. He glanced away, and met eyes with a lizalfos with a bow, arrow notched and ready to release.

Oh fuck.

“Wild!”

The shouted warning came barreling out of his throat a moment too late as the arrow pierced Wild’s shoulder. Wild grunted, stumbling back as his injured arm fell limp. It left enough room for the bokoblin in front of him to raise its weapon—and Warriors’ sword pierced its neck with a sickening squelch. He kicked it aside with an unneeded ferocity, his shoulders unusually tense. Warriors grimaced, eyes sharp as he offered Wild a nod. “Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Wild grunted, his weapon disappearing in a swath of blue, replaced by a smaller sword. His stance was a mix of the polished, knight-like one he was familiar with, and something unfamiliar. “Don’t worry.”

It didn’t take too much longer for the battle to wind down. The last of the monsters being struck down by Sky. The mud underfoot was wet with blood, and they all heaved with exertion. Wind plopped down on the first patch of dry grass he could find, groaning in complaint.

“Is anyone hurt?” Hyrule asked, flitting around the group.

“I think I sprained my ankle,” Four huffed from the floor, leaning forward to massage their ankle.

“Again?” Wind snickered, leaning close to peer at it.

“Again.” Four reaffirmed, rolling their eyes as Wind giggled more.

“Bad luck,” Time commented, he glanced towards Hyrule. “We should have red potions, need one?”

The smith rolled their ankle, wincing slightly. “One would be nice, thanks.”

Warriors waited for Wild to speak up about his injury, eyeing him critically. When he stayed silent, he took the liberty to. “Wild was shot in the shoulder.”

Sky’s head snapped up, and he grimaced sympathetically. “Are you alright?”

“What?” Hyrule was on him in an instant, much to Warriors’ amusement. He examined the arrow still sticking out of his back. He must have nerves of steel to take that and not even blink, Warriors mused, though his concern bled through. He should have said something sooner.

‘It’s not that bad,’ Wild waved them away, clearly downplaying the injury. Warriors felt his eyebrows raised incredulously. Nothing?

“Doesn’t it hurt? Moving your arm like that has to be painful!”

‘I just need it to be taken out, and I can deal with it.’

Hyrule hmph’d, shaking his head. “No, I’ll heal you.”

‘It's not necessary—’ Wild began.

“He’s not gonna give up,” Legend advised wisely, rolling his eyes. “Roolie’s too selfless for his own good. Just let him help you.”

Wild’s eyes narrowed, his line set in a thin line. Finally, he signed. ‘fine.’

___

Zelda watched from above as Link left.

She knew that the last thing he would want is to speak with her. More likely than not, he would ignore her words once more, and pretend that what she said to him hadn’t hurt. Just as he always did. And as always, her tongue had acted faster than her brain. She didn’t mean to be so brash, so hurtful… but that’s how it came out. She couldn’t take back the words, or the biting tone, but she wished she could.

The heroes of legend vanished one by one, into the portal that emanated with a power she recognized and despised in equal measure. A bitter taste settled on her tongue as she glared. Yet, her eyes softened as they caught on her knight. Face blank, but part of her knew that he was uncomfortable. The way he held himself spoke volumes, even as he disappeared into the swirling portal. In her chest, a heavy feeling weighed down her heart. She was mourning, for what? Link, perhaps, or their bond. She wasn’t sure.

She had always been a selfish girl. Wrapped up in her own mind, her own affairs. She rarely gave a thought to the servants that attended to her—the governess that raised her as her mother faded away. She never bothered to care for her knight, not until it already felt too late. Zelda was selfish. And selfishly, she wanted Link. She wanted him to stay. She wanted him by her side, her closest friend. Her knight. She hated Hylia for all she had and hadn’t done. Hoping for her to leave him was as good as wistful thinking.

Hylia loved her toys. And like children often did, she broke them. Perhaps the thought was callous, and one the people would disagree upon if she ever spoke it aloud, but that didn’t make it any less true. As Link disappeared, it felt like part of her did too. It was a loss that felt so very distinct, like her heart had been carved out by the Goddess herself. When she reached out—the power pooling in her stomach was still depleted and weak, but recovering, growing—she found nothing.

The emptiness was what unsettled her most. The knowledge that, no matter how far Link goes. No matter how hurt he was, or what happened, she isn’t able to rush to his side. It was the knowledge that she was well and truly alone now.

Zelda swallowed back any rising emotions. Holding her chin high, and keeping her face level as she gazed down at Mipha’s statue. At where her final champion had vanished. There was no use in her tears, she knew. Now, after her purpose had been served and her monster defeated, she ached to know that Link still had many more of his own to battle.

All she had was a decaying kingdom. The remains of the foundations her ancestors established years ago, another iteration of the blessed kingdom of Hyrule. Another line of royals in her long lineage. One that she was obligated to continue, to fix. And maybe it shouldn’t be, she thought bitterly. Maybe it would be better to let it fade, like a bad dream. But no. She inhaled harshly. She couldn’t evade her duties. She couldn’t leave behind her failures.

“Princess Zelda?” Sidon called out, “Are you alright?”

Zelda exhaled, and turned to look at the Zora prince. His eyes held a levity that she felt as well. He had watched the same thing after all, and Link seemed to be his dear friend. She smiled, a pretty, practiced thing that looked just right. The right amount of teeth and dimples. “I’m well, thank you. Shall we head to the throne room to resume discussions?”

She may not have her knight anymore, but she still had a duty to her kingdom. She still had to make reparations for her failings as its ruler. Perhaps, one day, she could stand tall as a queen who is proud of her actions, instead of a princess who cowered beneath the weight of them. But, that day was not today. Not anytime soon, she thought bitterly.

Prince Sidon bowed his head, but it did little to obscure her vision of his face considering his towering stature. Something Mipha had not shared—though she might have grown into it, if given the chance. “Of course, my father is awaiting us.”

___

“This will hurt,” Hyrule warned Wild as he wrapped his fingers around the arrow shaft. Wild made a noise that he took as consent. “Untense your muscles, or this will hurt more.” He ordered, pressing his other hand on Wild’s shoulder. Wild tensed even more at his words and touch, and Hyrule scowled. Before he could tell the other again, his shoulders drooped with a forced laxness.

He wasn’t one to complain. He had to get the arrow out before Wild tensed up again. Hyrule inhaled softly, steeling his nerves before pulling. He grimaced as the arrowhead ripped through more flesh as it came back out. Fresh blood wet the area around the wound.

When Wild requested to be treated away from the group, Hyrule had blinked, before ushering him away from the rest of them. His eyes lingered on the splotch of blood circling the puncture. He didn’t really care where he treated patients, as long as they were actively rolling in the mud (Wolfie was not a good patient, he’d learned). Hyrule pressed him to sit on the floor, for lack of a better space, before he began his treatment.

Times like now reminded Hyrule why he could easily admit that sometimes, he hated being a healer. Staring at the blood soaked arrowhead that was once embedded in Wild’s back. He was no longer squeamish at such sights. But, he hated having to hurt people more in the name of healing them. But curiously, Wild made no sound as he removed the arrow. He didn't even move an inch from his spot. He was completely silent as blood began to stain his tunic even more. Stock still, with the same forced laxness.

“It's out.” He said, and watched as the muscles in Wild’s back coiled tight once more. Didn’t it hurt, Hyrule wondered? But he had no place to speak on what seemed to bring Wild comfort. He wished Wild would trust them more, but that took time and effort, and a soft and steady hand. So, he cleared it from his mind, and focused on the treatment. “Take your tunic off.”

“Do I need to?” Wild’s voice was hoarse, as usual. Maybe some tea would help? Hyrule pondered it briefly.

“To heal it properly, and make sure nothing’s stuck inside, I need full access to it.” Hyrule shook his head, and paused as he realized Wild wouldn’t be able to see the gesture. “Or I can try and heal it like this, and leave your skin melded to your tunic?” He suggested darkly. He’d used that threat on a few others, admittedly. People didn’t like the idea of having their skin ingrained in an object, and were more inclined to obey him when he gave subtle threats.

Warriors would call it bad bedside manners, Hyrule preferred to call it efficiency.

Wild swallowed thickly, and Hyrule couldn't see, but he was sure he was gripping at his hair. One of the few habits he’d managed to notice of Wild’s. “Fine.” Wild agreed hesitantly, before beginning to strip the leather armor and belts from his upper half. Even more hesitantly, he lifted the edge of his tunic, pulling it over his head and letting it fall to the ground beside him. He curled in on himself, knees drawn to his chest and hands cradled to his chest in a protective pose. As if he were an animal, protecting its soft belly from a predator’s claws.

And instantly, Hyrule understood why.

Burn scars crawled across his bare torso, engulfing his left hand side and spreading further along the plains of his back, and along his shoulders. Hyrule couldn’t see his front, but he knew that the scars didn’t end on his back. They disappeared beneath the hem of his pants, and Hyrule dreaded to think about what other scars laid hidden beneath the article of clothing. They were pink, and obviously long since healed, but that didn’t stop them from pulling and growing tight. He could see where the skin had pinched and pulled, likely leaving Wild in pain.

How could someone survive these burns? Hyrule’s stomach twisted. Even worse, dispersed between sensitive burn scars, were the trails of claws and swords. Thick lines that laid over his shoulders, and layered onto his arms. “These…” Hyrule couldn’t complete his sentence, silencing himself before he said something unkind. Multiple words flashed in his mind. They were grotesque. Horrific. Painful. He didn’t say those things aloud, Wild had surely heard them enough. “Do they cause you pain?”

Wild turned slightly, allowing Hyrule a glimpse of his face, which twitched with discomfort. His answer was automatic, rehearsed. “Sometimes, but it's nothing I can’t handle.”

Hyrule swallowed thickly, it wouldn’t do well to push it. Not now. He stared at the puncture wound, and sighed silently. “I’m gonna touch your back now. I’ll be gentle.”

“Okay.”

Wild’s skin was hot beneath his hand, almost feverishly so. But, among their group, it wasn’t anything unusual. Twilight also ran hotter than normal, though Hyrule hadn’t managed to wheedle why out of the man. The moment he laid his hand upon the smooth pink skin, a jolt of energy ran through him. He could recognize it for what it was. Magic. Wild was full of unrestrained magic. So subtle that he missed it until now. His own brushed against it, feeling the shifting tangles of magic that were both foreign and native to Wild.

Hyrule let his own magic pool in his palms, pulling forth the familiar tingling feeling that left his fingers numb, and a chiming like bells in his ears. He coaxed it gently, pressing it into the wound, letting it saturate the skin and muscles around it. Letting it sew the skin closed until nothing but a pale scar remained. Barely visible overlaid on top of the many others. Wild’s own magic buzzed beneath his skin, and Hyrule wondered how he managed to act so calm with so much energy at his disposal.

Hyrule pulled his hand back, sweat pooling on his forehead. He inhaled heavily, trying to shake off the exhaustion that seemed to hit harder now after having a taste at the seemingly boundless amounts of energy within Wild. His patient’s arm bent awkwardly to touch his back. Prodding at the location of the now healed injury. He hummed, the soft noise drawing the fae’s attention.

“Thank you,” Wild murmured, his fingers messing with the stone in his hands. Suddenly, it lit up, a green potion appearing in Wild’s clutches. Sloshing in its bottle, with a little tag attached to the neck.

“How did—?” Hyrule flinched back, both intrigued and wary with the alien magic. “Where’d you get that?

“My slate stores things,” Wild looked up, blinking slowly, like an animal trying to convey that it meant no harm. He offered Hyrule the bottle, displaying his every move as he cradled it gently. “You’re tired, right? It’ll help.”

“Oh, that’s…” Kind. Thoughtful. Hyrule bit his lip as hope bloomed in his chest. Progress! He mentally jumped for joy, reaching out to take the bottle. Their fingers brushed slightly, and to his continued delight, Wild didn’t shy away from it like he often did touch. Even his own Zelda was unable to touch him for long, as far as he was aware. “Thanks, Wild.”

The green potion didn’t taste the same as their usual ones. It held a bit more kick, like the zap of lightning on the tip of his tongue. He smiled into the rim of the bottle. He looked towards Wild as he finished slipping a new tunic on. This one was a green, similar to the ones many of them tended to wear.

“You fit right in,” He teased softly, motioning towards the tunic and his own. “We all wore green on our quests.”

Wild blinked owlishly, glancing over as he reattached his belts over the leather armor fitted to his chest. “All of you?”

The fae nodded solemnly. “All of us.”

And Wild laughed. Hyrule hadn’t heard Wild laugh before, not like this. He’d heard half-laughs, and polite ones, but this one was genuine. A soft, rough noise that was purely Wild. Hyrule joined, giggling softly at the absurdity of green tunics. He’d liked to hear Wild’s laugh more often, he thought to himself.

Chapter Text

Wind was exceedingly thankful for Wild’s existence.

He didn’t feel like choking down more hardtack from the captain’s supplies, and he would rather drink a glass of salt water than eat anything the rest of them managed to cook up. Wild though? His food was like being served at a restaurant. Even the aroma wafting around camp was absolutely delicious. His mouth watered in anticipation as it was passed out.

“Thank you for the meal.” Sky said, prompting the rest of them to parrot their own thanks as well. Wild was silent as usual. Wind thought he was suuper cool, but he didn’t have much to say at all. A major bummer, considering Wind wanted to pester him about the giant metal monster he defeated, and his own journey. But, Time and Warriors were both being mother-cuccos. Something about not scaring him off?

But he wanted to hear more about his Hyrule. They didn’t see much of it, only the path to the Domain, but he knew that it had to be huge! They walked for so long just to get to one place. Not to mention how pretty it was there. Zora’s domain was very sparkly, and he wished he got the opportunity to take some photos for Aryll. She would love it.

Wind shoved as much of the skewer as he could in his mouth, grinning at the disturbed look Four sent him in response. “Whr’d y’ ‘earn t’ ‘ook?” he asked through chipmunk cheeks. He couldn’t help but try and eat so much, Wild’s food was insanely good! Almost on par with his Gran’s—though no one could replicate her food. That woman was an angel of Hylia herself when she cooked.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Time scolded, acting like the father that Wind did not have, thank you very much. He rolled his eyes, but obeyed. Chewing violently and as fast as he could. Time didn’t look impressed with him, but allowed it with a sigh.

He swallowed the last bit before re-asking his question—one deemed safe from mother-cucco interference—this time more coherently. “Where’d ya learn to cook?”

‘I taught myself,’ Wild shrugged, glancing towards the cooking pot contemplatively. He moved it off the fire, leaving it to the side to cool. ‘I learned a little bit from all over though.’ He paused, saying the names aloud alongside signing them. “From the Rito, Zora, Gerudo, and Goron.”

“That’s impressive,” Warriors waved his half eaten skewer around like Wind did when he used the Windwaker. But instead of commanding the winds, he succeeded in almost taking Legend’s eye out. “Most of us couldn’t make a decent soup if you asked us to.”

Legend hissed. “Aye! Watch it. And make sure you’re includin’ yourself.”

“Never said I wasn't included,” Warriors snipped, "It's a bit sad that with six quests you still can’t—”

“Wait, wait, wait! You have Rito?!” Wind sputtered excitedly, waving his hands around. Warriors sent him a dirty look for interrupting his petty speech. Like the crewmates, the lot of em. Meaningless drama. Wind ignored him. “Really?!”

Wild tilted his head curiously. ‘Yes?’

Wind bounced in place, a grin on his face. He pointed at the rest of the group, the suckers. “None of them got Rito like me! They got them fish people instead!”

Wild blinked, mouth opening a smidge before he frowned. ‘None? None at all?’

“Nope!” Wind grinned. “First time they saw one they practically shat their pants. Heroes of the Goddess can battle horrible monsters everyday, but bird people’re where they draw the line, eh?”

“We didn’t ‘shat our pants’, Wind.” Sky repeated the phrase with a look of distaste, and Wind giggled. Time levelled him with an unimpressed look. “We were politely surprised.”

“You were, considerin’ yer bird obsession Sky.” Wind rolled his eyes, and lowered his voice to mock the man. “Do those people have wings? Can they fly? Can a Hylian do that?”

Sky’s face flushed softly as the group laughed at his expense. “Hey! You can’t blame me for being curious! Flying’s amazing, and the fact they can do it without a Loftwing is incredible.” He defended, only growing redder as he continued to speak.

“If you could, you’d become a bird,” Time teased, patting Sky on the back. His face held a hint of something Wind couldn’t identify.

“He already hovers like one,” Legend scoffed light-heartedly. “That’s enough birdy-ness outta him.”

“Not a fan of birds?” Hyrule joked, and Legend made a so-so gesture.

“They’re alright. Useful lil’ buggers in the right scenarios.” Legend fiddled one of the various rings on his fingers. “As pets though? Annoying as hell.”

‘People have birds as pets?’ Wild asked, and Wind had to agree. People kept those things on purpose? ‘Usually we only have cuccos for egg production and meat.’

“They’re pets for wealthier families. Or the occasional eccentric.” Legend made a face, probably thinking of a specific person, and Wind grimaced at the idea of owning a bird. Imagine having a pet seagull! The damned thing would poop everywhere and never leave you alone. “Apparently they like to have songbirds to sing for them.”

“People who have pet birds are weirdos,” Wind added, “They’re just flyin’ rats! Nothin’ good about ‘em.”

“Hey!” Sky squawked in offense, sounding very much like the very creatures he was defending. “Birds are beautiful creatures!”

“Loftwings are pretty damn cool, and useful.” Wind acquiesced. “Other birds though? Nope. Not a chance”

Twilight snorted, leaning over to poke at Wind’s back. He straightened it instinctively, and curved away from the man’s touch. “I think you’re gonna regret sayin’ that when cucco-whisperer over here sets a bunch of ‘em loose on ya, Sailor.”

Sky smiled in a way that sent shivers down Wind’s spine. Oh, he was so screwed, wasn’t he? People thought Sky was chill and laid back, but no. His revenge was a horrible sight to behold. There was a reason Wind stopped hiding creepy-crawlies and other things in his sleeping bag. The last incident in Time’s era… ugh.

“Isn’t it a bit strange that Wild has Zora and Rito? It's usually one or the other.” Four wondered, leaning back a bit. “Wind, you don’t have them, right?”

“Nope. Pretty sure the Zora became the Rito.” He took a bite of his skewer between sentences. His next came out a bit muffled. “Didn’t list’n ‘oo ‘ard when they were explainin’ history. Borin’.” Warriors, Time, and Twilight gave him a disappointed look for that one.

“Huh. Weird that Wild has both of them.” Four turned their head to re-address Wild, who had been a silent observer. “Do you have any ideas why your Hyrule has both?”

Wild twirled a strand of hair absentmindedly and frowned. ‘I don’t know. A lot of our history isn’t well preserved.’

“What a shame,” Sky sighed, then paused. “But didn’t your Zelda mention a few of us by title?”

“She knows you,” Twilight inclined his head towards Sky thoughtfully, “The old man over here, an’ me I think.”

‘We know of some past heroes,’ Wild confirmed, frown deepening as he amended his previous statement. With that expression, he looked a little like Maggie’s father before he hit it big, tired and haunted by something. ‘And a lot of non-Hyrulean history isn’t well preserved.’

A good portion of them grimaced. Clearly well aware of what Wild was talking about. Leaving Wind (who had no interest in politics), Sky (who founded Hyrule sometime in his future and had no experience with kingdom politics), and Hyrule (who never went to school, and lives in a cave) confused.

“Ah.” Time intoned, somewhat bitterly. “The monarchy never changes, does it?”

“No it doesn’t.” Legend huffed. He took a swig from his waterskin and leaned back with a grim expression.

“What does that mean?” Wind asked, glancing at their dark expressions. Was this a weird adult thing or what? “Why are you all being so weird?”

“Do you mind explaining more?” Sky asked politely, and Wind was relieved to see that he wasn't the only one confused. Wild took a moment, and then obliged.

“Most of my Hyrule is composed of separate entities that have been imperialized by the monarchy.” Wild explained patiently, abandoning sign language to speak aloud. His voice was soothing, raspy and quiet. Like the faint memories Wind had of being read bedtime stories by people he was too young to remember. He could imagine being lulled to sleep by it now, if he wasn’t fueled by his curiosity. Wind definitely saw the resemblance between Wild and his Zelda now too. At first he thought they were complete opposites, but they were both huge nerds!

“The Rito and Goron don’t have many historical records because they were destroyed when the kingdom took over. The Gerudo are…” Wild paused, mulling over what to say. “They’re technically allies. Kara Kara was established with the idea of colonization in mind, and integrating them into Hylians.”

“They’re fools if they think the Gerudo would ever integrate into the kingdom,” Time murmured in amusement, and Wild dipped his head in silent agreement. “And more bold that they should be allowed.”

Legend made a noise of assent, watching Wild with narrowed eyes as he continued to speak. “The Zora are an allied nation, but technically not part of the kingdom itself. The Zora and Gerudo governments are independent, while the Goron and Rito defer back to the royal family’s authority. They have local governments that handle most things in light of… recent events.”

They could all read between the lines. Recent events being Ganondorf, or whatever equivalent he had. Another Vaati or whatever his name was? Wind wasn’t too bothered with it. That was the most Wind has ever heard Wild’s voice for (not that he had been with them too long), and he didn’t understand half of what he said! What’s a Kara Kara? Defer? Integrate? What did all those words even mean?

“What does ‘imperialized’ and ‘colonization’ mean?” Hyrule piped up, having been quiet for most of their conversation. Wind was grateful he wasn’t the one who had to ask. He didn’t need another reason to be seen as the baby of the group.

“Imperialization when one country rules another forcefully.” Warriors spoke, face carefully blank. Similar to the one Wild often wore. His words were measured and impersonal. “Colonization is when you set up a settlement to take the resources from that area or its people.”

“Oh.” Wind scowled at his skewer. “That's not very nice.”

“No, it’s not.” Sky agreed, shame-faced. It had to be hearing about the bad things the kingdom you found will do, Wind reflected. He didn’t reach out, as Twilight beat him to it. Resting a hand on Sky’s shoulder, and saying something that he couldn’t hear.

They fell into silence, conversation soured. As much as Wind was considered oblivious and childish by the rest of them, he seemed to be the only one who noticed the way Wild shrunk in on himself. The small downward tilt of his head to hide his face behind a curtain of bangs. Wind chewed carefully on the last remaining bits of his food. No longer hungry, but he knew better than to waste food. His Gran had always made them finish their dinner.

“So—” Wind purposefully drew out the vowel. “Who’re the poor motherfuckers on watch tonight?”

Twilight groaned tiredly, pointing at him in disapproval. “Language!”

“Hylian!” Wind huffed. “Mind yer damn business. Who’s on watch?”

Time sighed in a way that Wind knew meant he was amused but unwilling to admit it. “I’ll take first watch. Four, Legend, you’re on rotation too.”

“Ain’t it someone else’s turn?” Twilight gave Time a look.

Time smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, pup.”

“Damn!” Legend groaned dramatically. “I call third!”

“You suck.” Four informed plainly. Wind snorted at their tone as they sighed.

Warriors snickered into his hand. “Don’t be too upset Four, he definitely needs the uninterrupted beauty sleep.”

Legend paused, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the captain. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Warriors smirked and turned his head away, propping up his chin on his hand. “I think you know what I mean.”

“And I think you’re gonna get your ass beat—”

Quietly, Wild turned to look at Hyrule. “Watch system?” he asked, and Hyrule perked up, smiling widely as he began to explain their chore and watch rotation. Wind quickly tuned out of the second explanation of the night. No thank you! He’d done his good deed of the night.

___

Being on the second watch was the worst.

Or, at least, that was the general sentiment among their group. Sometimes, watch was desirable. If you wanted to spend some time alone, or if you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep that night. Too much pent up energy or just plain old insomnia. None of them were strangers to nightmares, and had all studiously avoided mentioning the subject each morning. However, no one ever wanted to be put on second. It was in the inconvenient little time where you had finally got into a good sleep, right as you had to be up. Then, after your watch, it left little time to get some actual restful sleep since the sun was set to rise in a few short hours.

And unfortunately for them, that was what they were experiencing now. Four rubbed their eyes tired, stifling another yawn as they sat near the fire. Minish Woods had always been a little chilly at night, contrasting the warm sun in the day. They were grateful for the heat the fire provided. They glanced towards the group of sleeping heroes, counting the heads of blond to make sure they were all there. Something undeniably fond filled their chest as they looked.

Wind, of course, felt the need to be as spread out as possible. His limbs were flung haphazardly over Twilight and Sky. The former was snoring quietly, despite the protests that, no, he didn’t snore. Sky was dead to the world, and drooling on Hyrule whom he’d captured in his grip. Time snored louder than Twilight, laying on his back with a hand thrown over his stomach. Wild slept further away from the group. Not that I blame him, they thought, they’re a lot even for us. He was unusually still in his sleep, curled into a ball with only the tips of his ears peeking out from the blanket. In contrast, Legend tossed and turned. Muttering to himself, restless in his sleep. A nightmare, they soon realized, as his face twisted into a pained expression and his hand flung out.

Four wasn’t petty enough to hold a grudge over Legend stealing third watch, and even if they were, leaving him with a nightmare was a bit cruel. So, they tiptoed through the throes of tangled legs in order to get close enough to poke the beast. Waking Legend up was a dangerous game, which often ended with a threat upon your person with either words or a weapon. Four knew Legend slept with at least one dagger on him at all times.

(Wind made a game of it once, seeing how close he could get before Legend woke up. Safe to say, Time put a stop to it real quick.)

Let's be real now, it's probably more than one. Blue huffed.

“Hey,” Four whispered as loud as they could without risking waking anyone else. They stayed a safe foot away from Legend in fear of bodily harm. Not that they would blame him, of course. “Wake up!” Legend went frightfully still for a moment. As if he were a statue. Not even his chest moved to breathe. Four was already moving back when his hand lashed out with a jewel encrusted dagger. They’d fawn over the craftsmanship if it weren’t aimed for their jugular. Four jolted back, stumbling over Sky’s legs to avoid the blow. Luckily, Sky didn’t so much as make a peep. Thank Hylia he slept like a log.

“Four?” Legend breathed, eyes hazy with sleep. His grip on the dagger relaxed, and he dragged a hand through his hair. He looked pretty bad, red eyes and deep bruise-like bags beneath them. He seemed genuinely remorseful as he apologized. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Four shrugged. They’d all lashed out once or twice in the throes of a nightmare. They certainly couldn’t blame Legend for it. “No harm done.”

Legend groaned, burying his face in his knees. Four smiled awkwardly, and returned to their spot by the fire. Distracting themself by poking at it with sticks and avoiding looking at Legend. There wasn’t really any privacy when you were traveling with seven—eight now—other guys, but Four wanted to give Legend the facade of privacy at least.

Legend came to sit by the fire after only a few minutes, looking like he’d lost a fight with a moblin. His hair stuck up unnaturally—Four was wise enough not to comment on it. “Do you want to match kinstones?” They asked instead of addressing the elephant in the room.

“Huh?” Legend responded inelegantly. Four didn’t mind, instead showing off the little bag full of kinstones. They picked through the bag, pinching a blue one between their fingers and offering it to Legend. His face simply got more confused as he accepted and began examining the piece with a critical eye. “What is it?”

“They’re kinstones. You try to match them together.” Four provided simply.

“Why?” Legend’s question was clipped and tense, not that they expected anything less from him.

Four shrugged, an easy smile on their face. “Because it's fun.” They staunchly refused to acknowledge the days spent hunting down the right kinstone to match with other people, or the temple entrance puzzles.

The veteran stayed silent, so Four dumped the kinstones on the dirt for him to pick through, if he wanted to. They turned back to the fire, leaving Legend to decide if he wanted to or not. After a few moments, they could see him reach down to start sorting through them. Organizing them by color. Then, once they were organized, he separated them by shape too. Even if Legend wouldn’t admit it, Four knew he enjoyed the simplicity of organizing something. With the way he religiously checked and re-checked his pack, it was somewhat obvious.

After a while, long enough for Four’s eyes to begin to feel heavy, Legend finally found the matching kinstone to his own. They slotted together perfectly in his fingers. Four leaned closer, squinting in the low light. They were close enough that he could smell the lingering scent of apples that clung to Legend, and smiled.

“You know, they say when you fuse kinstones something good happens.”

“Really now?” Legend huffed, unamused—but Four could see the slight curl of his lips. “I guess we could use a bit of good luck.”

Four nodded, pressing their back against the log. They leaned their head back to stare up at the sky through long, interspersed blinks. They didn’t even realize they were falling asleep until Legend nudged them awake once more. He gave them a look that somehow merged disdain and fondness into one.

“Go lay down,” Legend urged through narrowed eyes. “Your watch is over.”

“Okay.” Four agreed simply, very tired. “Thank you.”

Legend rolled his eyes, and nudged them more insistently. “Shoo.”

Chapter Text

Acclimation was slow.

Wild found this out the hard way. There was no easy way to get used to being in such a different environment. There was a constant noise that came with being in such a large group. Something was always happening, someone was always talking. There was no silence. There was no peace. He just had to stay quiet and tough it out.

The noise was the hardest part. His acute hearing had always been a boon. It made him an effective hunter, and a skilled fighter. He could hear the soft noise of prey skittering in the underbrush, or the footfalls of Yiga assassins moments before they struck. It had helped keep him alive, and for that he was grateful.

Yet now, it seemed like nothing more than an annoyance. His ears twitched unendingly as boisterous laughter erupted from the left, and an argument was warred on the right. Even behind him, he could hear the calm discussion of Twilight and Time.

The noise made him nervous. Never had he been in a group so lively. Sometimes the bar in Gerudo would get loud (not that he was allowed to drink, much to his displeasure), or the stables when they all sat around the cooking pot, but never like this.

His Hyrule was one composed of different types of silence. Ranging from the ringing nothingness of devastation, to the quiet whisper of danger on the breeze. The lull of nature, or the soft chatter of civilization. He had long since gotten used to it. It was not true silence. After all, the cicadas still sung their songs, the birds still filled the air with their sweet melodies, the wind still rustled the leaves and underbrush. Nothing was truly silent, but it lacked the Hylian noise that he was so unused to.

Zelda, on the other hand, was unaccustomed to the lack of noise. Disturbed, perhaps. It was to be expected, after living in the Castle at the heart of the kingdom. Noise was abundant, through the halls ran maids and guards, and outside you could hear the city come alive. Even in the night, the castle was never truly silent.

He couldn’t imagine living like that. Dealing with the people, the noise, everything.

This Castletown, he found, was even worse.

There were so many people. So many buildings. His head swiveled like a guardian searching for a target. Aimless in his actions, simply taking it all in. The colors seemed to swirl in his vision, blinding and almost nauseating. Was this what a world without Calamity Ganon was like? He couldn’t help but wonder, would the markets of his own Castletown be bustling with trade too?

Wild’s chest ached fiercely. Physical pains he was used to, his own aching bones had betrayed him many times. They would continue to do so for much longer. But this? The horrible, all encompassing ache. The loss of something he had never really known. It hurts. It hurts worse than any physical pain possibly could.

And they continue walking. As if this place wasn’t a glaring reminder of all that had gone wrong. Of all that could have been saved. His fingers tangled in his hair, and he tugged sharply.

They stopped. Wild bumped into Legend’s back, and he thought he uttered an apology. Legend glanced back, surely with some vitriolic words leaving his tongue from what he’d learned of his personality. Wild didn’t mind. He couldn’t hear it anyways. Legend seemed to pause, sharp eyes studying him for a few moments too many. Wild shifted in place, and Legend soon rolled his eyes, and turned away.

Wild’s fingers clenched and unclenched. He dragged one heavy hand up to grip a piece of hair. Even a harsh tug wasn’t enough to snap him back into reality. He pulled harder, staring at Time’s lips. He was speaking. Wild knew this. Yet no words reached his ears. The ringing was too loud. A song of the worst kind that left his senses fuzzy and his skin itching. The everpresent urge to leave bouncing around the back of his brain.

He stood at attention, but he couldn't help the slouch in his shoulders. Words continued to fly around him, but they never penetrated the bubble he seems to find himself in. It was all muffled. No words processed in his mind. They said something to him, or at least he thought they did. He dipped his head in acknowledgement. This seemed to be the right move. Time nodded in turn, before turning to Warriors. They left. Then, Legend and Hyrule vanished, followed by Twilight, Wind and Four. Until it's just him. Alone.

No. Not just him.

His eyes painfully drag away from the colorful sight of the town. His throat was swollen with regret. Sky was here too, he reminded himself. Sky stared at him, concern plain as day on his face. His lips moved in a way that Wild knew meant that he said something. But he wasn’t sure what.

He wanted to respond. His mouth opened and closed like a fish in water. Nothing came out. His throat was filled with air bubbles, unmovable from their spot blocking his airways. His hands were trembling. Why were they trembling? He stared down at the floor. Focusing on the scuffs on his boots. Mud stains. Anything but the horrible, crushing sensation inside his ribs.

Sky’s voice raised in pitch—his words still indiscernible—like he was asking a question. Yes. A question. What was it? Sky waited for an answer, one that Wild was unable to provide.

No? Yes? He didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

His ribs felt like they had been caved in. He continued staring at the floor, flinching as a hand found its way onto his arm. He felt the pressure of it through his tunic. In the crook of his elbow, just before his bracer. It was soft, unsure, but it tugged him along, and he stumbled like a newborn fawn. His legs didn't want to cooperate. His brain felt sluggish, sending slow signals to each of his limbs. He felt like he was shutting down. Like the old, moss covered guardians that he always avoided. Even in death, their metallic bodies still sent thrills of terror through him.

Was Wild breaking down too now? Was he damaged irreparably? Panic continued to flood his chest, like water invading his lungs. It leaves no space for air. He couldn’t be broken. No. If he was broken then there was no use for him any longer. If he had no use left to people, then what was he?

By the time they stopped, the all encompassing noise had already vanished. His legs trembled beneath him. When the grip on his arm released, he couldn’t help the way he crumpled to the floor. Legs folded awkwardly beneath him. Another noise. Someone speaking again?

Abruptly, something was thrust into his grip. It was small, smooth against his scarred fingers. It took his attention away from the imposing weight in his chest. “Breathe,” a voice asked of him. They sounded far away, and he flinched again as his free hand was pressed against something solid. “It's alright, Wild. Follow my breaths.”

Breathing. Yes. He could do that. The surface under his hand rose and fell in an exaggerated motion. Breathing. In and out. Rinse and repeat. In and out.

“In and out. Just like that. You’re doing good.”

He was doing it right? Good… That was good. He could still follow orders. He wasn’t completely defective.

Wild didn’t know how long it took until panic no longer filtered through every one of his senses. His breaths came out in small but steady huffs. His ears buzzed, but now all he could hear was the twittering of birds, the rustling of wind and the person beside him. His hand fell from what he now realized was someone’s chest. The exaggerated motion was simply them breathing.

He couldn’t bear to lift his eyes past his lap. To peer through the curtain of blond hair obscuring his face. His face was surely painted a deep red by now, as he realized his own actions. His fingers flexed, and he was reminded of the wooden figure in his hand. His arm took a moment to comply, feeling impossibly heavy. Cradled in his hand was a small wooden bird. He ran his fingers over its form, pressing the pad of his thumb on the pointed end of a feather. None of the edges were sharp enough to cut.

It was a species that he doesn’t recognize. A long, thick beak, with little indents marking where the nostrils would be. Its faux-feathers are carved delicately, and he can’t help but marvel at the amount of detail put onto such a small figurine. Its wings were tucked into its side, head held high with what translates to him as pride.

He stared at it until he thought he could stomach looking at his silent companion. Slowly, his head lifted, and Sky was there to meet his gaze. Concern made the lines of his face harsher beneath the dappled light of the tree. “Are you feeling better?” Sky’s voice was quiet. Wild’s ears twitched, the noise not as grating as before.

‘Better.’ Wild confirmed, laying the little statue in his lap. He couldn’t find it in himself to use words. Hands were better. ‘Thank you.’ Sky’s eyes crinkled around the corners as he smiled. Relief filled the lines of his face, making it softer. It was a nice expression, Wild thought. One that suited him. He turned his gaze back to the little statue, running his fingers over the grooves, and relishing in the fact that he could feel them despite the condition of his hands. ’What kind of bird is it?’

“It's a Loftwing.” Sky sounded fond as he spoke of them. Vaguely, Wild remembered them being mentioned last night. “On Skyloft, every Hylian gets a Loftwing companion. Some say they’re a gift from Hylia, a symbol of her protection, while others believe that they’re the other half of our soul coming home.”

The other half of their soul? Wild hummed an acknowledgement, cupping the little statue in his hands. To have a creature so close sounded lovely. A companion that would never leave your side. A piece of you, that can make you whole.

‘How big are they?’ He asked, ‘On a scale of falcon to hummingbird?’

Sky laughed at his question. What was so funny? Wild tilted his head, displeasure beginning to pierce his gaze. However, his companion quickly waved it away. “I’m sorry, I'm sorry! It's just that—Loftwings are bigger than people. Maybe around the size of a… horse?” Sky smiled unsurely, like he didn’t just tell Wild that his Hyrule had horse-sized birds. Pardon? “We use them to get around the sky islands.”

Ah. Wild was going to ignore the information that they had islands in the sky. His brain wasn’t working enough to process that. Instead, he tilted his head back to stare up at the canopy of green leaves. He shut his eyes, enjoying the feeling of warmth washing over his face.

When he reopened them, Sky wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was enraptured by the sight of a finch resting on the branches above them. It twittered, releasing a call. Wild listened carefully, ears twitching. After a few more moments, he whistled sharply. A litany of short sounds that somewhat mimicked the bird's call. He quieted, and the finch chirped in response. He repeated it once more, and they responded again.

He leaned back with a soft huff. Enjoying the smile on Sky’s face. “Do you like birds?”

‘No better than any other animal.’

They were all part of the food chain in the end. They followed nature’s path, and he never claimed favorites. If he saw a hare being chased by a fox, why should he stop it? There is no lost love to be given to the hare, but he has no intention to help the fox either. If the hare is to live, then it will do so, and the fox will starve.

Animals were simple. They followed simple instincts and codes. It seemed at times that they understood him better than any Hylian ever could.

“Do you have a favorite animal?”

A favorite? Wild paused. No. It's not his job to pick favorites. The Great Deku Tree had regaled him with stories where nature’s flow had been interrupted by Hylian’s path. Where the outcome had been much worse than what was destined if fate had its way.

(Would he be fertilizer for the flowers by now if he hadn’t been saved? If nature had run its course, and he’d been allowed to rest. Bugs and worms feasting upon him, ripping his body asunder in search of whatever he could give. Red and warm and full of life. His flesh would be the bed for flowers, his blood nurturing new sprouts in the spring.

He would be at peace. Free of his duty. Is it a crime to yearn for something that you should have had? To yearn for something he shouldn’t want?)

Yet, despite his wishes, an animal did come to mind. One specific one that he had grown fond of. The gnashing teeth and rough, thick fur. Large paws and elongated snout, the wet nose that was always cold, and the pink tongue that would lap at his injuries as if to scold him. ‘Wolves.’ He signed, knowing he was fond of only a single wolf.

___

“Uhm. Where did Four say we could restock on potions?” Hyrule's voice always came with the clearness of a windchime. Soft and melodious as he spoke. Not that Legend minded, really. It didn’t take away from the meaning of his words.

“Some witch in the woods,” He commented as they stepped off the cobblestone streets of Castletown and onto dirt roads. They were backtracking towards Minish Woods, a waste of time in his opinion. What they should’ve done was head to Smith’s first, and then split from there. But, hindsight is ten outta ten. Besides, they were mostly trying to gather information right now. The usual schtick, monsters, strange things, etc. “Would’a been more convenient if she were in Castletown.”

“At least we’ll be first back to Smith’s hopefully.” Hyrule smiled. “Do you think we could…”

Legend raised his eyebrows, already knowing what the other wanted. “Go explorin’? Must be more interestin’ to explore here, compared to your Hyrule, hm?” He said, mouth moving before his brain could catch up. In an instant, he could see Hyrule stiffen, and he fell quiet beside him. Did that sound accusatory? He wondered, it wasn’t meant to. He grimaced, awkward as he continued. “I didn’t mean it like that. My bad.”

“It’s fine.” Hyrule said, but Legend could spot the tense lines in his shoulders. It wasn’t Hyrule’s fault that his era was like that. Likely his own, if anything. Hyrule was suffering for his own mistakes, not even literate, for Hylia’s sake. But there weren’t many people around. Much less pens capable of giving him a proper education. Legend was lucky in that regard. He got some form of education, enough that he could read, write and do math. It was more than quite a few people could say they knew.

He tried his best to help supplement the lack of education. Pulling Hyrule aside to teach him the letters of the Hylian alphabet, and teaching him how to spell both his real name and his nickname. There was only so much he could do though. Legend could never be an actual teacher, his patience was too short and his words too brash. Any learning environment with him at the helm was destined for lots of frustration.

He wasn’t sure if the others could be much help either. Warriors knew how to read and write, obviously, same with Four by merits of being besties with the princess. The rancher probably knew the basics, Time was a mystery, and Sky’s written dialect was different from modern Hylian. He had no clue if Wild could or not (he probably could considering the amount of times he’d heard his Zelda call him her ‘knight’ and ‘champion’. Probably had some kind of formal education.) and Wind was still schooling age. So, he just had to deal with what he could on his own.

The trek into the forest was harder than it seemed. With roots to step over and uneven footing to maneuver through. His joints ached, sore and swollen with pain. Likely caused by a mix of his poor sleeping habits and fighting. Legend had long since learned to grit his teeth and deal with it. Though, perhaps a good cup of herbal tea would help his pain not be so apparent. He flexed his hand, the compression gloves doing an adequate job of helping his fingers. Yes. Some tea would be good, maybe some aloe vera salve too.

“Do your joints hurt?” Hyrule asked, and Legend almost jumped. If he were any less aware, or less used to Hyrule, he likely would have. Instead, he turned his head quickly, eying the other’s earnest face.

“No more than usual,” He lied, the pain in his knees felt almost scolding as it throbbed.

The healer sent him a long look, and Legend knew he didn’t believe him. “I can try and heal you.” He offered, a familiar steely look in his eyes accompanying the familiar offer. “Once we get to Smith’s, at least.”

“No.” Legend denied immediately, and Hyrule’s face fell. He couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty over it. Legend didn’t need him trying to heal his aching joints, some things can’t be fixed. It would be worthless and tiring to try it. “There’s nothing you can do to fix it, no wounds. Just my body being a little bitch.” Legend huffed out a sardonic laugh.

“I could still try though!” Hyrule protested, pouting. “You don’t know if it’ll help or not.”

Legend shook his head, glaring straight ahead. “There’s no point in exhausting yourself over something that can’t be fixed, ‘Roolie. It's just a flare-up. Nothin’ I can’t handle.” He tilted his head, “If anything, you should be worried about the old man. Bet his bones are ready to give out any second now.”

Hyrule stayed silent for a moment, and Legend wondered if Hyrule would let him slip away from this conversation once more. After a few moments, he sighed. “When do you think he’ll accept his age? He’s been plucking hairs lately, I think.” With each step Hyrule took, Legend could hear the clink of bottles on his hip and from within his pack. Relief filled his chest, Hyrule knew not to push too hard, thankfully.

Legend took a moment to peer at the map again, mentally marking out where they were and laughed “Going grey already?” He wondered. He would never admit it, but he had a few of his own grey hairs, mixed in with the pink. Started coming in on his… second adventure? Third maybe? He wasn’t sure anymore, really. He just knew to pluck ‘em whenever he saw them. Not gonna give that military boot-licker more ammo. “Age ‘n stress’ll do it to ya.”

“Got plenty of both.” Hyrule agreed.

“We should be close,” He motioned to the path up ahead. “This way, I think. A little longer on the path.”

The trees loomed closer and higher before, and they kept to the obvious path. It wasn’t long before the trees began to thin out, making a little clearing. A little house with weeds growing all over the yard, and a bright pink roof sat in the middle. “Is the door blue?” Hyrule pointed out with raised eyebrows. Huh. Yeah, it was. Another oddity to add to the quickly growing list.

“Yeah, I didn't notice it because of the roof. The awning’s green too.” Amusement curled in his chest. The whole yard and house were placed higher, so he could peer down at the continuation of the forest below. It practically screamed that an oddball lived there. Legend’s nose scrunched as he observed the home. Yard work was apparently too much for the owner. He opened the blue door, peering in, and shut it quickly. “Hylia’s balls, the fuck?”

Hyrule looked half concerned, half amused. “What?”

Legend hushed his voice as if she could hear him through the door, voice somewhat incredulous. “Four didn’t say the witch was fuckin’ Syrup? How’s that old bat still kickin’ in my time?”

Hyrule giggled nervously, brown doe eyes looking between him and the blue door. “Maybe she’s like Beedle?”

“Maybe, odd choice of people to make return over and over though. Some heroic fuck, a salesmen, and a witch.” Legend huffed, choosing to ignore that he was one of said, heroic fucks. He straightened up again, wincing at the pain in his back. By the three, he wasn’t even twenty yet, but his body was that of an old man’s. His bones were going to be dust by the time he reached the captain's age. He pulled the door open again. “Let’s just get the potions and go.”

Hyrule hummed a silent agreement as they stepped in. He examined the woman. She had the same curly green hair, long fingers with even longer nails, and pronounced nose. The Syrup-lookalike didn’t do much but look up from her cauldron. Bubbling with a viscous green liquid, Legend had no doubt the smoke rising from it wasn’t safe for inhalation.

He stepped forwards, the old hag croaking out a quiet greeting to the two. Her potion continued to bubble ominously. As per usual, the potion sat in color coded cauldrons. Hyrule frowned when he looked at the price. Legend scoffed as well, hand flaring out to motion towards the red potion pot. “A hundred-fifty rupees for one potion is a scam!”

Syrup’s voice was like the croak of a frog, unpleasant and grating on his ears. “That's the price it's always been.”

“No way. It's worth a hundred at most. A hundred twenty five if you’re pushin’ it.”

The old bat stood her ground. “It's one-fifty.”

“Legend…” Hyrule muttered uneasily. Legend glanced back as Hyrule tugged at his tunic. He didn’t mention it, but he knew red potions were only around fifty in Hyrule’s era too. “It's fine, we have enough for two anyways.”

“No.” Legend crossed his arms. “Where I’m from, it's fifty rupees per potion. You’re runnin’ a scam out here.”

“Fifty?!” Syrup shrieked, her agape mouth revealed teeth like little pieces of corn. Her wooden spoon clattered against the inside of the cauldron. She raised a single, gnarled finger to point at Legend. “That’s practically nothing! No way I could sell it to you for that much! One fifty, take it or leave it!”

“We should just take it if that’s the price.” Hyrule insisted, and as blunt as he could be when he was comfortable, or in healer mode, it was like a whole different person in front of strangers. “It’s fine.”

“No. We’re leavin’ it, ya scam artist!” Legend grumbled, turning away with one last scalding look towards the witch. “Let’s go Roolie.”

Legend stomped out, irritation burning in his gut. It wasn’t even worth buying them at that price, especially since one person would only last for a few days with their group. And that was generous, depending on the Hyrule they were in. He didn’t even think to check that Hyrule was following behind him until the witch’s hut was already out of sight. He paused in his angry thoughts, tilting his head to the side. Just barely, he caught a glimpse of Hyrule trudging along behind him. Face clouded with emotion.

“Did you have to argue with her?” Hyrule’s voice was quiet. “We could’ve just bought them.”

“I wasn’t gonna to let her scam us.” Legend grit his teeth, the emotions in his chest tightly wound. Don’t snap at Hyrule, he reminded himself, he’s just looking out for you. “We can restock next time.”

Hopefully with more reasonable prices.

“But what if something happens before then?” Hyrule sighed, his steps faltering for a moment. He pursed his lips, eyebrows furrowing in concern. “There’re nine of us now, can we afford to be slowed down by injuries? Are we even making any progress?”

Legend sighed, the flickering anger disappearing like smoke from a campfire. Roolie was just concerned over everyone’s health, as he always was. “We’ll figure it out when it happens. I shouldn’t have started shit with her anyways.”

That was the closest Hyrule was going to get to an apology, and he knew it. He wasn’t upset though. He sidled closer, and Legend could feel their arms brush as they walked. A silent reassurance, Hyrule’s own way of saying, ‘it's okay’. “Four should’ve talked to Smith by now, Should we head back to his place?” Hyrule asked.

“Since we finished early, we should look around a bit.” Legend suggested, knowing exactly what the other wanted. Hyrule would never turn down an opportunity to explore. And he was right, a wide smile broke out across his face, lighting up his expression and making Legend’s shriveled heart feel lighter, in a way only his brothers could do.

“Let’s go! I think I saw some mushrooms on the way over.”

Chapter Text

Hyrule is somewhat ashamed of returning empty-handed.

Well, not totally empty-handed. His pouch is full of mushrooms he’s certain are edible, along with a collection of herbs he recognized from his own era. He isn’t empty handed, not really, but what he had only held value to himself. His fingers were dirt-stained, a grainy feeling on his skin. Legend huffed as he wiped away a spot of dirt from his cheek.

“You look like we let you eat mud,” Legend mused, folding the handkerchief back up to stash in his pocket. Hyrule was gravely offended. He did not eat mud, bugs sometimes, but not mud. “Someone’s gonna think we’re mistreating you.”

“Don’t you?” Hyrule questioned, blinking mock-innocently at him. Then, at Legend’s incredulous look, Hyrule clarified. “Feed me mud, not the mistreatment.”

“I thought you had something you needed to tell me,” Legend’s shoulders loosened, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “And it was one time. You can’t hold it against me.”

Hyrule shook his head, poking Legend’s arm for emphasis. “One time too many. You cooked mud into our food.”

“It was an accident.” Legend stressed, rolling his eyes. “It was that or hardtack.”

Hyrule giggled, batting his eyelashes playfully. “The mud made your cooking better, at least.”

“Would it make the hardtack taste any better?” Hyrule sincerely hoped that there was no next time. Eating mud wasn’t something he did for recreation. “And fuck you, I’ll just let you starve next time.”

“I’ve got mushrooms, you’ve got mud.” He pointed out, “You’ll starve first.”

“And how will you cook those mushroom?” Legend snorted, shoving the door open. He swept an arm out dramatically. “Get in.”

“This feels like kidnapping.” Hyrule commented lightheartedly. He had a bit of experience in it. Not as the perpetrator. Having cursed blood tended to lead to a lot of unfortunate situations.

“By the three. You travel with us. Shut up.” Legend concealed his grin by shoving Hyrule inside. Hyrule giggled as he stumbled inside. “Stop giggling.”

Smith wasn’t in the room when they entered, but Time was. They could assume the others were somewhere inside, and they could hear clanging from within the forge. Four or Smith, they could assume. Twilight, Wind and Wars were sitting on the floor, squabbling over a deck of cards, and yikes. Hyrule winced. That was not a game Twilight would be winning.

“Welcome back,” Time called from the table. He dropped the quill back into the ink pot, pushing the drying letter away from himself. He leant his elbows against the table. “You took a bit longer than expected. Got lost?” Time’s voice lilted with amusement, his eye gleaming knowingly.

Hyrule shifted, a guilty smile on his face. “Something like that?”

“I hope you had fun.” Time said, smiling at them. “Everything go alright?”

Hyrule pursed his lips, picking at the skin on his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted Legend grimacing. He took the burden of telling time, and in a quiet voice he said, “We didn’t get any potions.”

“Why not?” Time’s voice was, thankfully, not accusatory. His single eye narrowed slightly, and Hyrule averted his gaze to his feet. His tone shifted to something more concerned and wary. “Did something happen?”

Hyrule shook his head. “No, no.” He waved away the concern. But he continued to frown, looking at the potion on his belt. One red potion left. At the rate they went? It wouldn’t be enough. At any time, they could be injured, and at any time they could be sent to a new, even more dangerous Hyrule. “We—”

Legend interrupted, not allowing him to formulate a sentence to explain. “—I wasn’t about to let us get scammed, so we didn’t get any.”

“Scammed?” Four piped up, strolling in from the forge. They wiped at their forehead, face flushed red from the heat. Hyrule could never quite discern what was going on in the smith’s head, but they sounded concerned. “Was she charging you more than usual? They’re a hundred-fifty.”

“And you’re buyin’ that?! It’s a damn scam.” Legend grumbled, glaring at Four. They wiped their hands clean of soot, raising their eyebrows at Legend’s irritation. “Fifty’s fair. A hundred if we have to.”

“It’s alright. We just have to restock next Hyrule.” Time reassured them, but the shame still crept up Hyrule’s neck. Legend nodded, crossing his arms. “In the meantime, we have to be more careful not to get hurt.” Time raised his voice meaningfully, glaring back at the rest of them, sitting on the floor..

“We ain’t doin’ it on purpose!” Twilight huffed, waving a hand at Time mock-threateningly. His other was full of cards. “N’ you ain’t much better, old man!”

“Ask Hylia to take it easy on us,” Warriors suggested blithely from where he was playing cards with Wind and poor Twilight. No way he was winning with the professional cheater and Warriors against him. Hyrule didn’t even want to play cards with the two ever again. Wind would rob you blind if you weren’t paying attention. “We could use a break.” He laid down a card, and Wind grumbled.

“I swear yer cheatin’” He hissed through gritted teeth. He slapped his own down, and Warriors grinned.

“Says you, with a bunch’a cards stuck up yer shirt.” Twilight pointed out, poking at Wind’s belly. Wind flinched back, yelping as he batted at Twilight’s threatening hand.

“Stop it! M’ ticklish! And it ain’t cheatin’ if ya don’t catch me.” Wind complained, holding his cards close. He glared at the rancher, and Hyrule shook his head woefully. The fool just admitted his weakness.

Warriors grinned mischievously, putting his cards face down on the floor. “You’re ticklish, hm?”

Wind glared at Warriors. “Don’t think about it! None’a you!”

Hyrule watched with a delighted smile as Twilight pounced. Taking the opportunity, he tickled the boy’s sides ferociously. Wind shrieked with laughter, squirming on the floor. His legs kicked out, scrambling the pile of cards that sat between him and Wars. The captain laughed, and caught a flailing foot in his hands. “NO!” Wind shouted.

“I can’t hear you,” The captain sing-songed, already tickling his foot. Wind laughed harder, trying to curl away from Twilight’s tickling and pull his foot from Warriors’ grasp. “Bad idea to tell us you were ticklish, kid.”

Hyrule glanced at the rest of the room. Four shook their head in amusement, leaning against the wall as they watched the spectacle. Legend’s lips curled at the corners, betraying his own amusement. Time smiled, content and happy. Eye crinkling as he watched the boys wrestle.

“What’s going on?” Sky asked, standing in the doorway. Wild lingered a few steps behind him, warily eyeing the building. “Why is Wind screaming?”

“Wars ‘n the Rancher found out he was ticklish.” Legend offered with a snort as Sky and Wild entered, closing the door behind him. Wind continued to beg for mercy, laughing between words. Legend smirked, hands on his hands. “Admitted it, then didn’t expect to be tickled. Ha!”

Sky smiled, shaking his head in mock-shame. “I don’t know what he was thinking, admitting something like that in front of them.”

“May Hylia give mercy to his poor soul.” Hyrule chimed in, knowing that there would be no mercy. Wind’s laugh sounded like coyote shrieks, and Hyrule winced. “And to our ears.”

“Amen.”

“How’d ya like Castletown, Wild?” Legend turned his attention to their silent companion, who had taken to standing a little away from the rest, pressed against the wall. “First time in a different era’s always weird. First portal for me, we landed in the middle of fuckin’ no where.”

“Uh, Leg—” Sky started, hand reaching out to grasp Legend’s forearm. His eyes darted from him to Wild, concern plain as day on his face. Was something wrong? Hyrule looked between the two, but found nothing amiss. Perhaps a bit of tenseness in Wild’s shoulders, but he’d quickly come to take that as a norm with their newest companion.

‘Too loud.’ Wild signed with a frown, and Sky seemed surprised that he responded at all. His mouth opened a bit, but he quickly shut it.

Legend tilted his head, sharp eyes studying the worry-filled face of Sky, and the too-perfect blankness of Wild’s. Hyrule prayed he wouldn’t say anything uncouth. After a few moments, Legend nodded sagely. “Yeah. Castletown sucks sometimes. Kakariko’s usually better.”

‘Yes. Mine is—Small? Smaller.’ Wild signed, hands a bit stiff. Hyrule eyed the scars he could see peaking out of the gloves, no doubt causing him issues. He hesitated. ‘Castletown…’

“You don’t have to tell us.” Hyrule quickly added, sending a heavy look to Legend and Sky. “Don’t worry about feeling like you have to explain yourself.”

‘Its fine.’ Wild blinked, and Hyrule smiled soothingly. ‘My Castletown is ruins. Destroyed.’ He signed, looking uneasy as he shared. Sky seemed to freeze beside him, his gaze immeasurably heavy on Wild’s back. Hyrule would admit that he had also paused at the information. His era was familiar with destruction, after all, but Wild’s seemed so alive. Teeming with magic and wildlife.

“Ganon?” Hyrule murmured carefully, watching Wild for his reaction. “We’re no strangers to his destruction. Sometimes, you can’t avoid casualties.” He added, thinking of his own era. Of the bare lands and tough lives they all led. He felt a pang of something in his gut, like the gnawing hunger that plagued him—that sometimes still held him hostage. He pressed a hand to the hollow of his stomach, knowing that a scant few months ago, he could easily pressed his fingers along each and every rib.

Wild turned to look at him, and his eyes were piercing. Hyrule’s breath hitched, and he felt like a butterfly pinned to a board. Slowly, Wild’s hands moved. ‘Thank you.’ He signed, a bit more sincere than before. His eyes were bright blue, brighter than the sky and the sea. ‘You were talking about potions, earlier?’

“Yeah.” Hyrule patted his satchel. “We were gonna restock, but…”

“My bad.” Legend huffed, unrepentant.

‘Here.’ Wild pulled another thing from his magic device, a red potion? Hyrule’s eyes sharpened at the sight. It was a bit darker in color, less vibrant, yet undeniably one. ‘Its a Hearty Elixir.’

“Different name?”

Wild shrugged, and offered it out, similar to just the day before when he’d given Hyrule his own version of a green potion. His heart softened, and he smiled. Beneath the cold and blank exterior, Wild was rather kind. ‘Always called it that.’

“Thank you.”

“I gotta know what that thing is.” Legend announced, staring at Wild’s magic rock. “And get one. Willing to sell it?”

Sky laughed. “You don’t need more stuff to hoard, Leg. We’ve seen your house.”

Wild’s face twitched. ‘No.’ He denied quickly. ‘It's ancient technology. Not mine to give away. Speak to…’ He signed the word for scientist and snapped after. Hyrule could only assume it was someone in his era they hadn’t met.

“Does it hold stuff?” Sky asked softly and Wild nodded. “That’s useful. Pretty compact too.”

The champion nodded. ‘Very.’

___

Time massaged his temples, trying to stave off the impending headache. It seemed near-constant these days, making its painful way into his skull and not leaving, even in his sleep. He leaned back in his chair, silently observing the back and forth between Warriors and Legend, with the occasional comment from Wind to keep it going. They hadn’t had their fill of chaos earlier it seemed, so they took the time now to squabble.

Time scowled in disapproval, catching the younger’s eye to give him a disapproving shake of the head. When Wind looked away, chastised but unrepentant, Time’s eye crinkled in concealed amusement. Wind was a little shit stirrer, but he was one too when he was a kid. A childhood. That’s what he wanted for Wind. Solemn, Time shut his eyes and exhaled. If only Hylia could be so kind as to let Time give him that. If she was, he wouldn’t have been here in the first place. They wouldn’t have picked him up on that beach, his dark eyes squinted in suspicion. When he spoke, he revealed a gap where a baby tooth had fallen out.

Wind was the last hero they picked up, nearly three months since that day. And Time thought he was exactly what they needed. Someone to lighten their mood, to remind them why they continued on their journey. He just wished it didn’t have to be Wind. Time traced his teeth with his tongue, willing himself not to bite down and grit them. There was no use in being so upset over it, he reasoned with his own unreasonable mind. He can’t change anything now. What he can do is keep him safe.

He sighed heavily, dragging a hand through his hair. His eyes scanned the room once more, taking in the scene. Only, when they flicked to Sky, he found eyes staring right back. Determined blue against his own, duller, shade. “Time,” Sky called softly, motioning him over with a wave of his hand. Time couldn’t help but raise a brow in question. Sky glanced at the group, and shook his head. Concern flickered in his chest like a flame in a campfire, rising up his throat and covering his brain with the haze. What was so important to discuss, that he didn’t want the others to hear.

Time stood, clapping Twilight on the shoulder when he turned with a question in his eyes. Silently, he walked to Sky, stopping only a few feet away from the bedroll laid out on the floor. Sky looked up at him, leant up against the wall, messy blankets bunched around his waist, covering his legs. “Is everything alright?” Time asked. He wasn’t great at conveying his concern, but he hoped it came across as such.

Sky nodded his head. “Yes,” he confirmed, eyes narrowing in contemplation. One of his hands ran across the seams of his sailcloth. “But… I’m worried about Wild.”

Time inclined his head, tensing slightly. His single eye dissected Sky’s expression, hesitance written across the chosen hero’s face. “Did something happen?”

“What do we know about Wild?” Sky asked him, clearly seeking an answer. His eyes were intense and searching. Time paused to consider the question, staring back. What did they know about him? Wild was a very recent addition, one that Time had been keeping a close eye on. Quiet, too quiet. Easily spooked, but efficient and reckless in battle. He held some kind of responsibility towards his Zelda, likely related to the Knight and Champion titles he’d heard.

“He has scars. His Hyrule is in the far future. He and his Zelda are uncomfortable around each other.” Time started with the basics, things he’s sure most of them noticed. “His Hyrule is large, and the Zora are friendly with him and his Zelda. He likes animals. He likes plants.” Sky hummed, his eyes trailing away to look at something else. When Time followed his gaze, he found Wild silently slipping into the house, and Time realized he didn’t see him leave. Something in Sky’s posture loosened, and he sighed.

“Keep an eye on him,” Sky advised quietly, suddenly looking more exhausted than before. He shut his eyes tight, leaning his head back. His ears drooped. “He’s… He’s not used to this. I think his Hyrule was like Hyrule’s, to some extent..”

Like Hyrule's? Time didn’t push for an answer, and Sky was unwilling to provide one. His mind raced with possibilities. The Zora had seemed healthy, but did they see any other Hylians? There were ruins, he finally realized, in the wetlands. Broken down houses, is that what he meant? “I will.” Time agreed. He already was watching him, even without the extra incentive. He needed to know more, how to blend him with the already tense group. He got along with Hyrule, and seemed neutral with everyone else. He was tense near himself and Warriors, unintentionally leaning away when they got too close. “I trust you’ll do the same?

“Of course.”

Time observed the chosen hero for a moment. The downward slope of his shoulders; the bags beneath his eyes that never seemed to leave no matter how much he slept. The way his clothes rumpled as he leaned against the headboard, pulling his sailcloth closer to his heart. They didn’t always get along. Time was too bitter and angry to hold any semblance of respect for the Goddess, while Sky held only love and reverence for her. He had too many questions that would never be answered. Too much fear, knowing that his bloodline wouldn’t be free from the Goddess’ meddling hands.

(He loves Twilight. By the Three, he loves him like his own son. But, if he could, he would choose to never meet him, so long as that meant he wouldn’t suffer. So long as he didn’t have to be a hero.)

But their issues weren’t unique. Everyone had hang-ups and arguments. Legend and Warriors would bristle with their beliefs about knights, Wind would get irritated with the older of them for babying him. Even he would get irritated with Legend at times when he encouraged the bad behaviors they tried to prevent Wind from picking up. In the end, they were stuck. They had to make it work. If that meant he had to put in a bit more effort to mediate and keep peace? Then so be it.

Time sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a fruitless attempt to relieve the tension. It was at times like these where he missed Malon most. She would know what to do. She always seemed to know what to do. His hands ached with the ghost of her warmth. He just wanted to hold her, to feel her warmth and know that she was safe. (To know that he had not lost one of the last good things in his life.)

It had been so long since he’d seen her. Weeks? Months? The bitterness that simmered in his gut burst forth with a ferocity he’d always tried to stamp down. He missed his wife, the ranch, Epona. All of it. He missed the domesticity, even if somewhere in his heart always yearned for adventure. He was getting too old for that now.

Time let his eye stray from Sky, and he stepped back. “Goodnight, Sky. Sleep well.” Sky didn't respond, blinking tiredly. Time huffed in amusement, dragging his blanket to lay over him. The Chosen hero hummed what Time took to be a thank you, and curled into the fabric. Twilight greeted him with a silent dip of the head, an acknowledgement. Time ruffled his hair, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his chest.

What did you mean, Sky? He wondered, knowing he would receive no answers.

Chapter Text

The alcohol burned on the way down. That was how you knew it was good. By how much it burned your parched throat, and how bad it made you feel in the morning.

Warriors took another large gulp, savoring that signature burning sensation before swallowing. It was a relief to finally be in a place with a tavern. Hell, or at least some half-decent liquor. He wasn’t picky, and most of the stuff his knights drank was barely considered safe for consumption. So, cheap alcohol and some decent food was a blessing.

He’d fetched a few bottles for them all earlier, after their day spent doing reconnaissance. Three days of nothing, Warriors sighed, what were they even here for? The first had been spent camping after the battle, the second restocking, and the third with useless information. Alcohol was a nice way to end the night, at least for the older among them.

Wind was always trying to get his hands on any alcohol they had, the little menace. He may have been a pirate but he was still fourteen. Warriors understood the need for rum in their water while sailing. But for Hylia’s sake, there was no reason to drink with perfectly good, non-diseased water right here.

At least Four was smart enough not to beg like a dog for alcohol, and Hyrule was much more interested in the medical uses for it than drinking it. Both had already retired, along with Smith (they’d gotten a stern warning not to overindulge and mess something up). Smarter than the rest of them, clearly. They’d all be groggy and hungover in the morning. The moon was already dangling high in the sky, beckoning them to bed through the window.

Warriors took languid sips. Taking his time savoring the flavor and letting the burn hit just right. In contrast, Legend drank like it was his last day alive. Cheeks flushed pink to match the strip in his hair. Time and Twilight thankfully knew moderation, taking a mouthful between quiet words. The soft drawl of their accents slurring words together into something unrecognizable by Warriors’ ears.

It was soothing to be in such a familiar environment. Not the inn itself, but the people around him. They all slotted together easily at the end of the day, when they were all too tired to bristle and hiss at each other. A figure lingered in the edges of his visions like a green ghost from his memories. Mask wasn’t a little kid anymore, already older than him (though by how much, he wasn’t sure). But the sight of the green tunic was enough to make his mind race back to the War of Ages. Perhaps the alcohol was making him nostalgic.

“Ah…” He sighed, massaging the spot between his eyes tiredly. Look at him, reminiscing on the past like an old man. He was only twenty-six, damn it! He took another drink, hoping the alcohol would help him lose the edge.

The green ghost continued to haunt him, standing just within his sight. When he turned to look at it, he only found Wild. Wild with his wide, unnatural blue eyes. Wild with his long hair and pink burns across his tanned skin. He looked nothing like that little boy on the battlefield. The only resemblance they shared was their coloration. Blond hair and blue eyes wasn’t uncommon. But the way he held himself, like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, was what really got him.

Warriors huffed, amused. Like an unsure child, Wild lingered at the edges of the group twiddling his thumbs. Glancing between them all, searching for cracks where he could slip in unnoticed. The captain didn’t expect Wild to meet his gaze, but he took it in stride. He crooked a finger in a ‘come here’ motion. Wild followed.

“Want a drink?” Warriors asked when the boy drew close enough. Offering up the bottle, the amber liquid sloshed. It wasn’t the best, but enough to take the edge off of his stress, and it seemed Wild needed it. They all did, really. Warriors smoothed his face into a more relaxed expression, trying to coax him into relaxing a bit more.

Wild remained impassive, though his eyes darted quickly behind Warriors’ head, as if to ascertain what the others were doing, and if they had noticed him. Though, it only served to make Warriors a bit more curious. After a few moments, Wild shook his head. ‘No thank you.’ He signed in that familiar way. Like an itch yet to be scratched. Warriors lowered the bottle. Wild eyed it like it was a sword, and not simple liquor. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak. He didn’t voice his grievances. Instead, he turned his head away to stare out the window. Lips thinned with barely concealed displeasure.

If Warriors was any less attentive—if he wasn’t looking for it—he would’ve missed it. This, he slowly began to realize, is how Wild is. He didn’t tell others about what bothers him. Why he did that was still a mystery, but it was glaringly obvious now that he would rather stay silent rather than tell anyone that he was in pain.

He was a pushover, as Legend would probably put it.

The arrow incident had been the first strike, and this the second. In time, Warriors knew he would find countless other examples of the same behavioral patterns. Wild would rather suffer than bother anyone. He couldn’t say it was an uncommon trait among them. No, in fact, all of them had experience in the realm of sacrificing your own comfort for others. It came with the sword and the title of Hero.

If Warriors were any less kind, he’d call Wild out on it. Provoke him into speaking up for himself. Force him into a position that he obviously didn’t want to be in. But he had learned. Some things required delicacy, subtlety, and a gentle hand to coax them forward. Wild didn’t know him, and he wasn’t one of Warriors’ soldiers. (But he could be, something whispered to him. Not yours. Someone else’s soldier. Knight, Zelda called him, her knight. Look at how he walked, how he talked, how he fought.)

Wild wasn’t one of his, he reminded himself. He stilled his tongue, swallowing the words bubbling to his lips. Begging to be spoken aloud, to make his thoughts materialize into something tangible. He handed the bottle off to Legend as Wild slunk away. He watched the vet take another swig, knowing the inevitability of it being confiscated by Time.

He wouldn’t let any of them get shitfaced, knowing that they had the potential to be thrown to another Hyrule at any moment. And as much as Warriors trusted them all, he wasn’t willing to drink himself into idiocy with them. He had plenty of experience with drinking himself into an early grave. Chugging so much alcohol he couldn’t think straight. Not caring what he did or where he ended up at the end of the night. Of all the coping mechanisms to have, it was certainly the one he liked the least.

He would never want to make someone else as uncomfortable as he’s been on numerous occasions. And if that means sacrificing a drink? Then so be it. The subject of his thoughts disappeared just as quickly as he appeared. The door shut silently behind him, and no one seemed to notice his absence. Warriors sighed heavily, letting his half-lidded gaze stray from where Wild had gone. Instead, choosing to take in the rest of his men. They weren’t his to lead, not like his soldiers back home, but they were his brothers. They were equals.

Hesitating, he glanced back towards the beds. Sleep sounded pretty good right about now. He grunted as he stood, limbs crackling like breaking twigs. Legend sent him a commiserating look, before tipping back the bottle once more. By Hylia, he was going to be miserably hungover tomorrow. “Time for me to hit the hay.” Warriors punctuated the sentence with a yawn.

“You’re picking up on Twilight’s slang,” Legend commented, slurring the rancher’s name. “Night, city boy.”

“And I think that’s enough alcohol for you.” Time leaned over to pluck the bottle from Legend like a dad taking their kid’s toys for the night. “Drink some water.” he scolded as Legend scowled, spitting and hissing like a feral cat.

Warriors huffed a laugh, running a hand through his hair. He had to take back his words from earlier. Some of them still had the energy to fight, but only when alcohol was involved. “Night.”

“Night, Capt’n.” Twilight nodded, his accent noticeably thicker with the influence of alcohol and exhaustion. “We’ll be joinin’ ya soon.”

“Good luck getting Legend to sleep.” Warriors snickered, wiggling his fingers in farewell before he collapsed into the nearest bedroll. It wasn’t particularly graceful, nor comfortable, but it was better than the floor.

___

Four’s morning started rather abruptly.

They really would have liked to sleep in a bit more, but it seemed life had other plans. Their eyes cracked open, glancing at the source of the incessant noise that woke them up. Said noise was sound asleep, and snoring as loudly as possible. Four tried to roll over and ignore it, but they knew it was a losing battle. They were firmly awake, and it seemed that wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.

So, reluctantly, they wriggled out of bed. Doing their best to not disturb Wind, who had announced that he was going to sleep here, and didn’t take no for an answer. Four scrunched their face, and fished their pack from beneath the bed. They were quiet and efficient as they switched out their bed clothes for their usual tunic and pants, forgoing their boots.

They headed out of the bedroom, tiptoeing over sleeping bodies, to the little table shoved against the wall, noting how the room smelled faintly of alcohol. They spotted the empty liquor bottle hidden beneath the table. Wind was going to have a fit when he woke up, they mused, hopping up onto the chair.

They dropped their sword and polish onto the table, cringing at the thud it made. But, no one so much as stirred at the noise. Thank Hylia all of them slept like logs… or at least they did when they were hungover. Four wasn’t looking forward to dealing with them all hungover. Their eyes lingered namely on Legend and Twilight. But Warriors wasn’t too pleasant either after a night of drinking.

Before they could even think of beginning their sword maintenance, a knock echoed throughout the room. Four did not feel like answering. They sat with bated breath in hopes whoever was outside would go away. A few more moments of silence, and maybe it worked? Four turned to peek at the door. They jumped as another, more insistent knock came.

Damn it. They were going to have to answer it, weren’t they? They’ll wake everyone up if we let them keep knocking, Vio reasoned. Four huffed irritably. Was some quiet time too much to ask for? They had a date with their sword and some polish to get to.

The person on the other side knocked again, and Four knew that they’d have to deal with it now. They groaned quietly, sliding off the chair and moving towards the door. “Wait a second,” They called to the person, fumbling with the deadbolt. Everything had to be made with tall people in mind. They reached up on their tippy toes to undo the latch, and finally swung the door open.

Four blinked rapidly as light flooded into the room, more so than the curtains would allow. It hurt their eyes. They didn’t even have a chance to process the person at the door before she flung herself into their arms.

“Zelda?” Four sputtered, stumbling back under her weight. They set their feet, hands raising to hold her back and she squeezed them tight. They made a high pitched noise as she tightened her grip, quickly patting her back, “Too tight!”

Hesitantly, she released them. Her long blond hair ruffled their nose, and they resisted the urge to sneeze on her. Instead, they rubbed it gingerly with their sleeve, turning their eyes to her expression. “Wha—What are you doing here?”

Dot glared at them, closing the door behind her with her foot. “I'm here because I heard a certain dummy was in town and didn’t come to see me!” She put her hands on her hips, and narrowed her eyes, looking the part of an upset princess.

Four flinched as something heavy fell behind them. They whipped around as the object groaned, and Warriors popped his head up, looking at them across the other’s sprawled forms. “Wha’s going on?!”

Four tried their best to repress their laughter, nearly choking on their spit to keep it down. Warriors’ hair stuck up every which way, and clung to his face with the remains of what looked like drool. His cheek was red with a print of the sheet plastered on it. His hair! Red shrieked, giggling. What’s wrong with it?

Four swallowed their laughter, “It's fine, Warriors. It's just Dot.”

The girl in question hmph’d at them, and turned to Warriors. “Sorry for waking you up. Someone—” She glared. For some reason, they had a feeling she was talking about them. Crazy… “Didn’t come see me when they got back.”

“It's fine..” Warriors rubbed his head, grimacing in pain as he stumbled towards his bag. “I needed to get up anyways.”

“We only got here a few days ago,” Four defended, which wasn’t… inaccurate. It had been a few days. “I was going to come see you soon.”

“Were you?” Dot asked, sending them a pointed look.

No, Blue commented. Probably not.

Hush! Green scolded, and Four’s headache seemed to double in severity.

“Yes, we were just getting restocked before we went to see you, just in case.”

Dot narrowed her eyes, and Four sincerely hoped she’d believe them. It took a few moments before she finally acquiesced, and swept them up into another hug. Four sputtered as she squeezed their ribs, but hugged back. “You need to send more letters!” She scolded fondly, pulling back to pull on their cheek. Like this, she resembled her dad a lot. Stern, but good natured. Her eyes gleamed with happiness. “I missed my best friend, you know?”

“I missed you too,” Four admitted. They immediately regretted it as Dot cooed, pinching their cheek playfully. They were viscerally reminded of the old ladies who continued to dote on him despite his age.

“Aww!” She crowed. “You missed me!”

Should have told her no, Blue groaned. Four rolled their eyes, swatting her grabby hands away from their face. Their cheeks were sore, and they rubbed them gingerly. “How’s your dad doing?”

“Good!” Dot grinned. “He’s getting a bit tired of the whole King schtick, I think. He’d been hinting at me taking up the throne.”

“You, leading a country? I’m terrified.” Four teased. “I’ll try to stop by before I leave again.” They knew that they likely wouldn’t have time.

“Anything new since you last visited? It's been a while now…” Dot worried her lip between her teeth. “At least a month or two.”

“We have a new hero,” Four murmured, and Dot perked up. “His name’s Wild.”

“Another one?” Dot’s eyes turned to the bedrolls. Silently counting the bodies, her eyebrows furrowed. “That's nine now.”

“Wild’s a good kid.” Warriors piped up, his voice scratchy and tired. The drool on his face had disappeared, and his hair was in the process of being tamed with a brush. Four would never get used to the sight of him without his armor. It felt too intimate to see him without it, like he was peeling back a layer of skin. “Skittish, though.”

That's one way to describe him, Blue agreed. Though, it wasn’t incorrect. Just, not the whole of what Wild was. Not that they really knew that, either.

“I hope I get the chance to meet him before you leave.” Dot smiled, eyes crinkling. She brushed her bangs out of her eyes, glancing over to the beds once more. “Do you want to go get breakfast with me? Wheaton and Pita’s is having a sale right now, and I know you can’t resist a slice of their cake.” She snickered, and Four groaned. She knew their weakness!

“Sure,” Four turned around to pick up their sword from the table and pocketed the polish and cloth. They pointedly ignored the wiggling brows of Warriors and looked at Dot. “Ready?”

“Of course!” Dot giggled, taking their hand in her own easily. After so long of being her friend, they grew used to the casual touches. It was comforting. “Let's go before everyone snatches up the good stuff! I want some of that fruit pie!”

“Have fun on your little date!” Warriors called, a hint of mischief in his voice. But Four had no time to retort as they were dragged through the door.

“Not a date.” They muttered quietly, letting Dot drag them along towards Wheaton and Pita’s.

“Not a date.” Dot agreed with a scrunched nose. “I love you, but ew.”

“Ew?” Four repeated, not offended about her lack of interest (thank Hylia). “What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means!” Dot started dramatically, “That you are my best friend. And you just so happen to be a gross teenager that runs through the wilderness for days on end.”

“Shut up,” They rolled their eyes. “Not like I have a choice in the matter. I’d be in the forge all day if I could.”

“You’d be even stinkier then,” Dot giggled, but it died down quickly. Her eyes gained a pensive look, one that foretold their doom. Or an emotional conversation. Either way, they didn’t want it. “Stay safe, okay?”

Four’s eyes took in the area. So calm, so easy, and for a long moment, they wished that they could stay in this idyllic era. But that wasn’t their reality, it was wishful thinking, at most. They couldn’t stay. “Okay.”

Chapter Text

Twilight leaned on the window sill, watching Four, Wind and Wild as they walked away. Heading towards the Minish Woods, Four had said, to check in with some friends. Wind eagerly volunteered to join, and Four simply tilted their head at Wild, and asked if he would come. Maybe Twilight was a bit overprotective, keeping an eye on them as long as he could, but the others were no better. It was in their nature to be protective, he suspected, the old man certainly had no issues with it.

He didn’t move until Time came to stand beside him, something indiscernible in his eye. Twilight tilted his head slightly, acknowledging his presence but making no move to start conversation. Time was quiet, until he turned, clasping a hand on Twilight’s shoulder. “Will you keep an eye on them?” Time asked.

Twilight paused at Time’s question. He turned his head, raising a brow at the man as he stared right back. Unrepentant. Twilight really hit the nail on the head with that one. Time was definitely overprotective. “What do they need supervision for?” Twilight’s face scrunched in confusion. “They’re capable of handlin’ themselves, ain’t they?”

Time twitched, unnoticeable to anyone that wasn’t Twilight. He knew Time’s body language well. Knew when the old man was worrying needlessly over something, or in this case it seemed, someone. “I don’t want to leave Wild unsupervised,” Time admitted, and Twilight’s brows climbed his forehead. Wild? He would’ve thought Wind would be the issue.

“Somethin’ the matter with him?” He asked, crossing his arms across his chest. He could see why Time wanted him to watch. Wind was an unholy nightmare when unsupervised, and as mature as Four was, they were still seventeen and the same height as Wind. A bit shorter, since Wind had sprouted like a weed since he joined.

Wild didn’t have what it took to discipline Wind properly, with the constitution of a particularly frightful deer he wasn’t likely to take the reins. Though… Twilight thought back to their first encounter, and the way he commandeered the situation and took control of the battle. He had what it took to get the rest of them in line, so maybe he would surprise them a bit.

Before Time could speak again, Twilight continued. “I’ll do it.”

Time’s posture loosened slightly, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. His hand squeezed Twilight’s shoulder a fraction tighter, and released. “Thank you,”

“‘Course.” Twilight rolled his eyes. "Good luck tryin’ to pry anythin’ from the townsfolk. They’re a tight-lipped bunch.”

“Thanks.” Time sighed at the reminder, suddenly looking ten years older. Twilight laughed as he backed out of the door. He quickly quieted, peering in the direction he’d seen them go in. He wasn’t in a hurry to catch up to Four, so he allowed himself a bit of time to just walk. His ears twitched, listening to the sounds of the forest as it sprang to life. It was only after he had gotten a decent distance away, that he finally made his move.

He reached up to his neck, tugging on the chain roped around it. Twilight’s fingernails scraped the surface of the shadow crystal, catching on the jutting edges of the obsidian-like surface. It didn’t take much for the Twili magic to swoop forth, eager to be used. The feeling of melancholy swelled in his chest as it engulfed him.

The first time he transformed was agony. His bones breaking and rearranging to better fit the wolfish form, the unfixable itch across his skin as fur grew. The ache in his mouth as teeth elongated and pushed against his gums, fighting for space in his now-crowded mouth. His nail beds darkened, as if they were going to fall off, and burned as like frostbite had set in. As a wolf, he couldn’t cry. All he could do was whimper and whine, and wait for the pain to end.

It's been years now, and the pain has blunted into something easy. Manageable. He knew to expect the itch, welcomed it, really. His once blunted teeth had fallen out to accommodate the new fangs that peeked through his lips, sharp and carnivorous. Even now, his fingernails remained dark, looking frostbitten.

He bared those same fangs, shaking out his coat to rid himself of the residual wrongness that lingered. The height difference was disorienting as usual, but easily adjusted to. What he’d never get used to was the myriad of scents that assaulted him as soon as he transformed. The sudden influx of too many scents, not nearly as many as he could smell normally. He sneezed, snuffling softly.

It took a few moments to lock onto the familiar scents of Four and Wind, and he set off following them. The sea salt and sherry that clung to Wind, and the metallic, almost smoky smell that belonged to Four. The one unfamiliar scent had to belong to Wild. He inhaled deeply, trying to pick it apart. To take all the pieces that made up Wild and hopefully rearrange them into something he could make sense of. A scent revealed a lot, after all. He could tell where someone spent most of their time, what they liked to do. He could smell the subtle differences that came with emotions, the way sweat would cling on with fear, or the lighter, kinder scent of happiness.

Wild smelt like the forest. It was a pleasant smell. It blended in with the surroundings well, and Twilight could tell he spent a lot of his time there. But other scents clung to him, sandy and a bit sweet, spoke of a desert. The minty coolness of snow. The spice of heat, distinctly Goron in nature, revealed Death Mountain’s touch on him.

Wild travelled a lot, Twilight could tell, the touch of each area lingering on his person. But, just below the myriad of scents, he could smell the chemicals pressed into his skin. The rot that laid claim to his body as if he were decomposing. It was like death clung to his skin and he was a corpse. But, Twilight had seen him, undoubtedly alive as he was. He didn’t know what to think of it, the underlying scents. It wasn’t something he would ever think to associate Wild with.

His eyes sparkled with that lively, if subdued, light. Unnaturally bright and watching, taking in all that he could. There was something insatiable just beneath the surface, waiting for them to peel back the layers of Wild’s armor to let itself free. He was so infatuated with plants and wildlife, Twilight would be a fool not to notice. He was alive, even if his own stillness tried to convince him otherwise.

The rot was the same scent that seemed to linger around his Hyrule too. The death-like stench, as if something putrid had been buried deep beneath Hyrule itself, infecting the land with the rotten smell. It was hard to ignore once you finally noticed it. As he tailed the group, he familiarized himself with the newest one. Taking care to memorize it, just as he had done to the rest. Even if a more instinctive part of him wished to both shy away, and to move closer. A contradiction in of itself.

Twilight kept his belly low to the ground, as if he were hunting. He crawled through the underbrush to get a better view of Wind and Wild. Peering through the canvas of leaves to watch them. Wild was silent and still, as if he were standing guard. His alert eyes flicked around, his fingers flexing and ready. It reminded him of the Captain in some ways, the constant vigilance mainly. Walking just in front of him were Wind and Four, the former chattering on.

He followed for a long time. Waiting, watching. It was a familiar dance and song, long nights of hunting for his own food coming to mind—struggling to cope with the loss of his human form. Midna was of little help, laying across his back like he was her personal sofa, huffing insults into his ears when he failed to catch something. She was never so cruel as to deny him food though.

The bush rustled, the slightest movement from something distinctly not him, and Twilight stiffened. His eyes fixated on the moving spot, and out came an absolutely tiny creature. His eyes tracked it. Pale yellow peach fuzz coated its body, with an elongated face that formed a small muzzle, and long ears that twitched. Big dark eyes looked up at him, nearly hidden beneath a red cone hat. Its body was engulfed in a green leaf poncho, and a feathered tail swished behind it.

It squeaked, startled at the attention. “A wolf?!” Its little voice rang out, and Twilight was surprised that he could understand it. He lowered his muzzle to rest on his paws, curious about the little creature. It smelled like the forest—like Wild—and it didn’t seem to have any issues with him. Its surprise transformed into curiosity, and it scurried closer. “Hello, wolf?”

Twilight went cross-eyed trying to look at it as it laid a hand on his nose. “Hello,” He exhaled softly in amusement, blowing the little creature’s hat away. It squeaked in irritation and retrieved its hat. It shoved it back on its head with what looked to be a pout. It lifted a hand, four fingers that curled into a fist to shake at him. He resisted the urge to laugh once more, and the creature soon skittered off. Disappearing back into the underbrush.

Cute, he thought. Did Four know what they were?

Twilight paused as the fur on his neck prickled with unease. He looked away from the spot where the creature had disappeared, and found Wild staring right back. He resisted the urge to flinch at the expression on his face. Wild’s look was that of a wounded animal. Eyes large and face full of pain and longing. His mouth parted, to speak, to say something, but nothing came out.

It was an expression that had history. Haunted by the past, Twilight knew it well. Whenever he looked at himself, at the markings on his face, he made the same one. His ears flattened against his head, and Wild seemed stricken. Like Twilight had personally raised his hand to him with a simple action. His mouth moved, forming words that Twilight couldn’t hear. He could only stare, watching as Four and Wind slowly realized Wild stopped.

Guilt filled his chest as Wild turned to Wind, a panicked look in his eyes. His chest heaved with each breath, a reminder of his panic. Was he afraid of wolves? Twilight would frown if he could. Instead, he whined, and backed away from the group. He shouldn’t become Wolfie around Wild, he thought glumly.

A fear of wolves… Twilight’s heart twinged painfully. It was always fear.

___

Wild locked eyes with the blue-eyed beast, and his heart stopped.

He couldn't breathe.

He had spent weeks looking for him. Searching as he and Zelda healed. It had been weeks. Weeks of waiting, weeks of hoping for even the smallest hint. Trying to find something. Anything at all. He looked anywhere Wolf may have been. He searched the beach near Lurelin Village, the snowy peaks of Hebra mountains; he even braved the thunderstorms of Faron in his quest to find who he was looking for.

And he was here, all along. He stared into the underbrush, and Wolf stared back. His mouth was dry, his throat constricting painfully as he swallowed. The growing discomfort he had felt ever since he’d left his own Hyrule, left Zelda, seemed to lessen.

“Wolf?” He whispered, his heart beating like war drums in his ears. He wanted, needed, the confirmation. To know that it was him. But the creature staring at him did not reply. It didn’t whine and approach like his companion did. No pink tongue lolled out of its mouth. It stared. With those blue, so hauntingly blue, eyes.

And Wild understood. Or, he understood as much as he could. This is what Zelda felt. What Impa felt. What everyone thought when they first saw him. ‘This is not who I knew. This is an imposter, wearing the same face.’ It was cruel. So very cruel. Even worse was that it was irrevocably true. As much as this wolf was not his Wolf, he was not their Link. Like a cuckoo egg left in a nest—that was all he was. All this wolf was.

His chest hurt, and the moments stretched into minutes into hours. Locked in the gaze of the wolf. Until, finally, it was broken. Wind’s fingers wound around his wrist. They couldn’t even wrap fully around the length of his bracer. Suddenly, Wild’s lungs were full again. He was taking large, gasping breaths. His eyes slid off the wolf—not Wolf, for this wasn’t his own—and met Wind’s dark eyes.

Wild tensed, his muscles moving on reflex, ready to pull away, to grab his sword, or cower in fear. But he paused. Wind’s voice was quieter than usual, holding a note of concern. “‘re you okay? You stopped walkin’ ‘nd were breathin’ all weird.”

“We won’t be upset if you need a break.” Four chimed in, their eyes always seemed to struggle to decide what color to be. Any other time, Wild would be curious about them as their eyes cycled—red, blue, green, purple—a perfect coalescence of colors. “Just say the word.”

Wild inhaled softly. He didn’t know anymore. He hadn’t known ever since he met them. His eyes shut tightly, and he hoped they didn’t take offense at his lack of response. It was just… He couldn’t. He couldn’t respond to something he didn’t know the answer to. “Don’t worry about me,” His tongue was heavy, awkward as he spoke. He didn’t dislike speaking, it was simply more foreign than sign was to him. “I just… thought I saw something.”

And Wind raised his eyebrows, with that judging-but-not-judging look kids had down to a T. “Saw somethin’?” He let go of Wild’s wrist, and crossed his arms. His fingers fiddled with a butterfly pendant around his neck. “If yer sure.”

Four’s eyes lingered a little longer, a little sharper. They didn’t seem content with that answer. Or maybe they were, and still trying to dissect more from how he behaved. But, they said nothing about it. “Alright, let’s continue then. It's not too far.”

“Where are we goin’ anyways?” Wind grumbled.

Four smiled secretively. “You’ll see.”

When Wild returned his gaze back to where the wolf had been, it was gone. And he didn’t know if it made him feel better, or worse. So, instead of dwelling on it, he quickened his pace, and followed behind Four and Wind.

“Are we there yet?”

“No.”

Wind was silent for a few more seconds. Then, “Are we there yet?”

“If you say that one more time I’m sending you back.” Four threatened. Wild eyed them warily, would they send Wild back too? He didn’t particularly want to return… not yet, at least.

“Come on!” Wind dragged the ‘o’ out into a whine. “You can’t expect me to not be curious!”

Four huffed “I thought you had some patience.”

“Tell me?!”

___

“Here it is.” Four announced evenly, and Wind wasn’t impressed. ‘Here’ was a stump. A rather big one, admittedly, but nothing too interesting. Just located in a little clearing, Wind spun around, trying to spot anything more interesting, but it was just normal forestry sights. Nothing much.

“What’re we here for?” Wind blinked away the dizziness, and motioned towards the stump. “T’ look at a stump?”

Four gave him a flat look. Wild peered at it curiously, pressing his fingers against the rings. “It was old when it fell.” He said, and Wind followed his gaze. Nothing special, just a tree.

“How can y’ tell?”

Wild tilted his head, and removed his fingers from the stump. Four gazed at him appraisingly as Wild worked up an answer. “The rings.” He murmured. “One per year, usually. This one's pretty old.”

“Interesting.” Wind commented, not actually very interested. He wondered how old the Great Deku Tree was. Not that he'd cut the great tree down. “Cool. So, other than it bein’ fuckin’ old, what’s so interesting?”

“I can show you,” Four grinned, a hint of mischief not often seen from them in their eyes. “Watch this.” They hopped up on the stump, and Wind watched as some sort of magic glittered around them. To his delight, Four had become tiny! An itty bitty, bug sized person!

“You’re tiny!” Wind squealed, crouching down to peer at the mini-Four. “What the heck?”

“Huh.” Wild murmured, crouching beside him. Four seemed pretty pleased with themself, grinning up at them contentedly.

“It's Minish magic!” Four announced, and Wind tilted his head. Hadn’t they mentioned that before, the Minish? Wind reached out to touch the log, could he shrink too? “Don’t!” Four chastised. “Unless you wanna stay small forever!”

“Is this why you’re so short?” Wild asked, eyeing the magic log hesitantly. “The magic?”

Four huffed, displeased. “Yeah. So no touching Wind.”

Wind pouted, pulling his hand back as tiny-Four put their hands on their hips. “Yes mom,” He rolled his eyes.

“I’m gonna go talk with the chief! Don’t do anything stupid!” Four ordered, “Looking at you, Wind.”

“Rude!”

“We’ll be careful.” Wild promised easily. Four eyed him for a moment, before nodding.

“I trust you. Don’t let Wind do anything stupid.”

Wild froze, and Four scampered off, quickly disappearing into the foliage. After a few moments, Wild spoke up, voice cracking slightly. “Trust..?”

Wind glanced over at him, and Wild seemed frozen in place, staring at where Four had disappeared. “What about it?” Wind asked. “Yer one of us, ain’t ya?”

“But you barely know me.” Wild protested softly, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ve been here for barely a week.”

And Wind shrugged. “So? S’ not like there ain’t time t’ get to know ya. We’re all kinda stuck with each other anyways. If we didn’t trust ya, then this’d be a lot harder.” He reasoned, and Wild continued to watch with those bright blue eyes of his. Fuckin’ unnatural, those things. “I was the one before ya, a few months with those sad sacks, ‘nd I’m still finding stuff out! Hell, I ain’t been tellin’ them much about my second adventure. Leave it t’ Hylia to put together eight idiots who’d rather die than talk about feelin’s”

“Only eight?” Wild asked, and Wind was happy to see that he seemed to feel a little better. “Not including you?”

“Nah. The only person capable of actually talkin’ emotions is Sky.” Wind puffed out a breath, grinning crookedly. “He’d probably prefer to pull someone in t’ take a nap though.”

“Yeah…” Wild breathed, his own amusement bleeding through his blank expression. “I can see that. He’s very, uh, cuddly.”

Wind snorted. “That’s one way to describe ‘em!”