Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Shit! Look out-!”

The battle is too hectic.  Too disorganized.  He doesn’t even have enough time to question which of the boys is shouting before gravity shifts, his stomach flips, and his vision whites out. 

A frigid, all-encompassing cold pushes against his senses, bullying him to consciousness despite his best efforts to resist.  His first thoughts are slow, molasses filled and heavy, dragging through the shadows in his mind one after another, single file and shying away from his focus.  Slowly things start to solidify ever so slightly… the entire endeavor reminds him of waking from one of his long slumbers—seven years from past to future in the realm between, sealed away and hidden as his body aged but soul stagnated.  It’s jarring.

He shifts, and an unexpected pain shoots through his shoulder, branching out across his clavicle, all the way down to the very marrow of the smallest bones in his fingers.  It’s not the worst he’s ever felt, but it’s certainly sharp enough to at least start clearing the haze in his head.   

“Time!  Where-?!”

Oh.  OH.  He’s pretty sure it’s the Captain calling out to him with that terrified, frantic pitch he never likes to hear from any of his companions… however the wet denseness surrounding him makes it a tad hard to be sure.  This is different from the fog in his mind… no, this is something physical, he thinks.  Something outside of himself, tangible in a way he never really feels after shifting eras… and it would be wouldn’t it?  That journey of his has ended.  He’s not ten going on seventeen… he’s… well, he’s much older than that, but not as old as he should be, all things considered.

“Time!?”  The voice calls again, and with it, his thoughts clear even further.

Everything is just so… muffled.  It’s smothering him, pressing in all around…  Whatever it is, it’s annoying.  He shivers, and shivers, and shivers some more, and the stuff that’s surrounding him is seeping into the seams and cracks between his armor, making his tunic stick uncomfortably to his skin.

He opens his eyes—both of them, out of a habit he thought he’d long since kicked—but it doesn’t help.  In fact, it just makes him more confused because it’s dark and wet and now his good eye stings-

What in the world? 

He thinks past the haze, past the cold and wet and deep dark thoughts of times and places that have been reset, that no longer exist.  Past the constant, ever-present tick-tick-tick-chime that’s been with him since he was Ten-going on Seventeen-going on Twelve…  It’s there, he knows it is!  What is-

It takes an embarrassingly long time for his brain to suggest the idea that the cold wet stuff surrounding him might just be snow.

And then even longer still for him to consider confirming it, rather than just… laying there half out of his wits.

Hmmm…

He’s already established that it’s wet, cold and heavy.  No matter how many times he mentally repeats those three facts, they’re not changing.  And… hmm, if he just sticks out his tongue… it tastes like- yep it’s probably safe to assume he’s covered in snow. 

A lot of snow.  Huh.

Well now he feels just a little bit stupid.  Stupid and frozen.  Malon, what is wrong with him?

He groans, and once more tries to move at least enough to brush away the slush that surrounds him, but he doesn’t get very far.  He has to breathe deep just to keep himself from passing out thanks to the influx of pain, which is proving increasingly difficult in his current predicament.   He knows that the layers of thick armor he’s wearing are doing him no favors, adding to his agony in one sense, and dulling it in another.

He chokes and coughs when he inevitably inhales too deeply, his lungs rebelling against the chilling influx of air and moisture. 

It doesn’t take a genius to realize he must have landed hard, wherever they are, and if the rising rolling waves of nausea that have started to creep up are any indication, he’s looking at a possible head wound on top of whatever additional damage has been done to his shoulder and torso.

“Time-?”  Another call, this one much closer now he thinks, from one of his other brothers. “I can’t see fuck all in this shit!”  Ah, so it’s Legend then.  “Time, where in Din’s dimpled ass are you!?”

It would be in his best interest to respond.  He braces himself and clears his throat to call out, but before he gets the chance something that must be massive considering how heavy it is lands squarely on his back.   It pushes him deeper into the snow and forces what little breath he’s managed to reclaim from his lungs.

His instincts cause him to flail.  It’s a feeble attempt to buck off whatever monster has evidently stumbled upon him, which forces a short cry from his lips when his armor jars up against his shoulder again. 

This in turn causes the thing on top of him to yelp and whine, squirming distressingly… it leaps away… and then he’s being accosted, not by tooth, claw or club as expected, but by a damp snuffling snout digging into the snow near his face, and hot, panting puffs of air against his cheek.  There’s the sensation of damp fur and smell of dog breath—oh.

He risks opening his eye again, and this time, through all but frozen eyelashes and blurry droplets clinging to his eyelid, he can see.

Well.  Sort of.  It’s dark.  And now that some of the snow has been cleared away from his face, he can make out just how hard it’s coming down around him.  It’s no wonder he was buried so deeply, so quickly.  Even right next to him, the massive moss-gray wolf worrying over him is hard to make out.  There’s even a thin blanket of snow covering its back as it attempts to carefully dig the snow out from around his face without catching him with its claws.  The worry in its gaze is only visible due to proximity, but it shines with a level of intelligence that’s entirely too knowing to be natural.

“Twilight?”

Theres a high-pitched sort of chiming noise that’s not at all like the tick-tick-tick-chime inside his own head, a strange prickle of increasingly familiar dark magic pressing in around him and blotting out his vision, and then the warm, strained voice of their farmhand all in quick succession. “Oh thank all of the spirits.” 

One large, calloused hand finds his own, the other fluttering about the back of his head and neck, no doubt checking for the most serious of his injuries.  “We’ve been lookin’ for ya for ages, and I couldn’ get much of a scent out here in the storm- Over here!  Guys I found him!”

He can’t stop himself from wincing—definitely a headwound of some sort then—when Twilight shouts for the others, which, in turn, just causes the younger man to fret even further. “Time?  I’m sorry, oh Gods, we gotta get you outta the snow.  Some uh’ the others are tarpin’ up a little alcove we found.  Can you move?”

Time considers it for a moment.  He wants to say yes, absolutely, everything is fine.  He wants to pretend like the numbness creeping through his extremities isn’t worrying at all.  The pain flaring up and down his arm and crossing his rib cage like small little jolts of lightning building up in his bones?  Nothing to be concerned about.

It would all be delicious little lies, of course, and as tempting as they would taste, he can’t help but feel they’d turn to ash the moment he tried to prove any of it.  And then Twilight would give him that look of his.  All wide eyes and fear, laced within an unamused glare. 

It’s the worst.

Not to mention that if word got back to Malon somehow—and there was no doubt in his mind that at least one of the boys would tattle the moment they found themselves back at the ranch—she’d have his head in a heartbeat. 

He loves Epona, he really does.  That horse has seen him through both the best and worst times of his life… and the day that old mare finally dies, a piece of him will be forever lost… but he would much rather sleep in his warm, soft bed, next to his warm, soft wife, than in the barn’s drafty loft again…

“I d-don’t know wh-what happened.  A p-portal?  Must have landed wrong… I blacked out.”  He admits, gritting his teeth to try and stop the way they chatter against each other with each word that slips between them.  Then again as Twilight wraps a hand around his upper arm, just below his pauldron, only to retreat at the first sign of pain.

It’s then that the Captain and Vet seem to materialize from the darkness, crashing through the knee high snow to kneel beside Twilight, who nods appreciatively when they start digging it away and off of Time without any sort of prompting or prodding.  Time takes that as his cue, “M-most of the pain is in my… my arm and chest.  Might have a c-concussion.”

“You’re slurring.”  Warriors confirms, prodding gently along the base of his skull in a much more clinical and precise way than Twilight had just minutes before.  After a few passes to make sure he’s not bleeding out or in danger of breaking his neck, the Captain shifts focus to carefully brushing through the hair around the crown of his head. “Could be the cold, but if you’ve got any of the other symptoms, then I’d not be surprised. There is some blood, and a nasty bump.  Not too bad, I don’t think, but the sooner we get out of this storm the better.”

“You got beamed in the back of the head by a moblin club right before the damn portal opened up beneath us.  The Traveler and I saw it.  Tried to warn you.”  Legend adds disinterestedly, though his concern bleeds right through his gaze.  A fire rod suddenly appears in his hands. “Hold this.” 

The rod is shoved unceremoniously into Time’s own hand, and its gentle, ambient warmth is an absolute blessing from the Gods.  He’d known his fingers had started going numb, but hadn’t realized just how cold he’d gotten.  Now they prickle and pulse as they warm, like little needle points barely pressed against skin, which is annoying, sure, but Time knows it just means a soothing comfort is fast approaching.

“Alright, I think we can move you.  You ready?”  Warriors doesn’t bother giving any time to protest before he and Twilight each hover over a shoulder. “Three, Two, and up!”

The boys are both strong and able bodied, especially Twilight, so Time goes from nearly laying flat on his stomach to on his feet between one blink and the next.  The world spins.  Black dots burst into existence at the edges of his vision, melting away to a thick haze that threatens to pull his consciousness right out from under him once more.  He feels himself sway, almost overtaken by a sense of vertigo, but Warriors and Twilight are sandwiching him between them and Legend wraps one hand around his own, keeping the fire rod secure as he braces the other against the armor plating at his stomach to give him one more point of contact to lean against.

They clearly try not to jostle him too much, but even the little bit that they do is damn near excruciating.  It’s probably only Legend’s, “You better not fucking pass out old man!” that manages to keep him grounded enough to remain solely in the present.  He’s bigger than the others, taller, heavier, and covered in plate mail… it takes everything in him to avoid collapsing right back down to his knees anyway, dragging the boys along with him.

“It’s not far.“  Twilight promises, as he and Warriors start dragging him along.  He tries.  He really, really, tries to pick up his feet, but it’s taking everything he has not to vomit down his front at the moment.  It’s happened once before, long before he met the boys, and once is enough.  Never again. “We weren’t separated by much, an’ can’t really travel far in this mess.  Can’t see a gods-damned thing, and even as a wolf it’s jus’ too nasty out ‘ere to find anythin’.”

“Monsters?”  Time manages to choke out as he slowly turns his head to take in their surroundings, in an attempt to focus on anything but how much he hurts.  Thankfully, the black in his vision has mostly bled away, and he’s feeling less and less fuzzy as time goes on.  But with more mental clarity comes more awareness of the very same pain he’s trying to ignore.

It’s not like he can see much through the storm that buffets them from all sides.  He spies what appears to be giant natural rock pillars sprouting like trees from massive mounds of snow, stretching up and up and up, only to be swallowed by the sheet of swirling grey that is the storm. 

The wind’s angry howl threatens to drown their voices out at times, and while some parts of him feel marginally better than they had when he’d woken, he still feels as if there’s cotton in his ears. 

“None of the ones we were fighting came through this time.  Sky landed right on top of some weird looking Lizalfos, but said he killed it fast.  I ran into another one when I was looking for you.   It was sleeping, and I surprised it by tripping over it.  It’s dead.”  Legend shrugs, nonchalance doing very little to hide the tension in his jaw, “Could be more, but I think they’re spread out, and aren’t exactly out hunting.  The storm has them all hunkering down just as much as we need to.”

“Any-ag-anyone else hurt?”  Time bites back a curse.  Warriors had stumbled—most likely tripping over a dip or curve in the ground beneath the snow, and his shoulder flares up with the unexpected movement.  His entire arm spasms, fingers going tight, and then lax against his will.  Legend’s fire rod slips away from him.

The Veteran sweeps forward to scoop it back up and shove it back into Time’s hands without acknowledgement or complaint. “Wind had a broken ankle.  All of us got some cuts and bruises, and it’s cold as a witches left tit, of course.  Roolie took care of the worst of it all, but he was already low on magic thanks to the fight, so he’s got nothin’ left.  After they get the tarps tied up and a fire started, Wind’s suppose to start going through our packs to try and find any potions we might have missed.”

“You got the worst of it, old man.”  Warriors teases, but there’s a thick underlying note of concern layered along each of his words. “We need to get you out of your armor to see what’s actually going on.”

Thankfully, it’s not much longer before they finally crest a small hill, and Time catches sight of the glowing light of a struggling flame from between some staked up tarps and an outcropping of rock.

Their makeshift little cavern-tent isn’t much, but it’s better than braving the raging elements to find something better.  The boys had managed to secure a carved-out crest in the rockface, beneath one of the stone pillars, that curves just enough over their heads to be called the beginnings of a cave.  It’s angled in a way that blocks the vast majority of the wind, and with enough rope and staking, they’d managed to produce something suitable enough to last until daybreak. 

Time will have to thank Wind at some point.  Their youngest had been the one to convince them to pick up several water-proofed canvas tarps the last time they’d found themselves sailing the Great Sea, claiming they’d be a massive boon to their travels.  Legend had begrudgingly backed him up, claiming he’d seen their use in a past adventure of his own.   

Tetra had called them Tarpaulin.  With just a bit of good-natured ribbing from Wind, she’d gifted them with little more than some half-hearted and clearly farcical grumbling…  Along with a much more serious warning to keep them from stray sparks or flames. 

Which the boys had clearly taken to heart.  Those very same tarps were situated in a way to keep the fabric safe from the small campfire they’d managed to build, leaving just enough of a gap beside the rock face to vent any smoke that may end up building up.

Time had been ushered right up next to the fire the very moment they’d stumbled in, next to a portal-sickened Four, and his armor and wet clothing had been carefully and painstakingly removed bit by bit as his brothers carefully moved about, checking his injuries.   Even with the struggle that redressing had been, he’s happy to finally be dry and relatively warm. 

He’s broken his clavicle, that much is obvious.  Hyrule and the Captain suspect deep bruising and possible fracturing somewhere in his upper arm and a few of his ribs as well.  He was also right about the concussion—though it appears to be of the minor variety, and he’s certainly had worse. 

Unfortunately, all they’d been able to find was half a healing potion… and not even a very strong one at that…

 …which doesn’t really surprise Time at all, honestly.  The last few battles and portal trips had happened in quick succession, and they haven’t had the opportunity to stock up on supplies in a considerable amount of time.

No fuss or argument against swallowing it down is made, and while it has managed to help some, it hadn’t been nearly enough to handle much more than the most serious bits.  His arm and shoulder are basically out of commission until Hyrule can recover enough of his magic stores to knit everything back together, or until they manage to find more fairies or potions. 

His armor had been damaged as well, and while Four had taken a cursory glance and deemed it repairable, it would have to wait both until the Smithy was back on his feet, and until they could procure a replacement set of tools he’d lost a few portals back.

Time takes a moment to rest his eyes.  A headache has formed, but it doesn’t seem to be growing much in tempo beyond a dull throb.  He’ll survive… but not before discreetly checking on the others once more. 

Twilight, who’s shifted back to Wolfie, rests atop his own bedroll at the entrance of their makeshift tent, Wind curled up against his side and smothered in a pile of various blankets.  The wolf’s keener canine senses and protective layers of fur will at least give him a slight advantage that the rest of them lack in their current environment, so he’s set on keeping watch. 

Warriors and Legend are working to dry out their clothing and supplies, acting as backup in case Twilight notices anything that could be a threat.  Both are sporting a few bruises of their own, but are hale enough to do what needs to be done for the betterment of the group. 

Four, Sky and Hyrule are all dozing, or near enough it that Time can’t tell the difference from where he’s situated.  He himself has been ‘ordered’ to rest as well.

He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to sleep at all, but he doesn’t have the strength to argue against it either.  He does know that he has to try, and so he does.

He’s abruptly woken some time later by a snarling, barking wolf just outside their makeshift tent.  He scrambles to his knees—remembering his injuries too late—and nearly faceplants as his body rebels against the harsh treatment.  His brothers are all in various states of springing up and out of their bedrolls around him, scrambling for their weapons and shields.

Time does his best to ignore the pain in his limbs and eventually manages to join them outside, just as Twilight’s angry growls begin petering out to something less hostile, and more confused.

The sight in front of him is odd, to say the least.  It’s still somewhat dark, but the storm has stopped, and a few faint rays from the sun on the horizon are promising to bathe their surroundings in a warm, amber hue.  The snow has settled, and the cold air billows out in front of each of them as they breath, in crisp clouds that glisten briefly in the dawn, before fading away.

More importantly, a small… green and gold creature?  Machine?  Rock-like being?  Has curled into itself defensively beneath Twilights paws, fearfully hunkered down in the snow several meters from their tent.  It lets out a strange string of layered notes, unlike any instrument Time has ever heard before, and does nothing but cower, as each of the chain draws closer, not even bothering to lash out at the wolf that had just moments before pounced on it.

Then it speaks.  “Danger!  Your actions are a threat!”

Chapter Text

As the strange mechanical creature huddles and trills beneath his paws, Twilight starts to think there may have been a bit of a misunderstanding.

He’s pretty sure they’ve landed themselves in a new Hyrule, and with Time badly injured, and Wind’s ankle still on the mend, they’re essentially down two fighters… and that’s not taking into account that Hyrule and Legend’s magical reserves must still be running on fumes.  He’d rather be seen as the big, mean wolf than take any chances with his brother's safety.  So no, he won’t be letting his guard down prematurely… not until he’s absolutely sure this thing means them no harm.  

Still… He takes a moment to cast his gaze about.  It’s early, and the sun is low enough on the horizon that visibility is poor.  The blizzard they’d been dumped into has come to a stop–Thank the spirits–but that does little to mitigate the harsh, desolate cold of their surroundings.  This awkward stalemate can’t continue much longer in these conditions… he has his fur to protect him from the elements, but his brothers are all half dressed and half armed, fueled by stubbornness and adrenalin.    

It’s Wind who breaks the silence first, shoving his way past Wars to stand at his shoulder.  He briefly tangles his free hand in Twilights fur, teasing and comforting him with a slight tug as he narrows his gaze on the creature before them, humming curiously. 

Even curled up as it is, it stands almost as tall as Wind does.

So, Twilight muses, one would think that would suggest caution.  He should know better.

Wind surges forward before anyone can get the chance to stop him, and raps the flat of his blade gently against the top of the creature’s frame.  “Eyyyy!  You in there buddy?”

The creature ripples beneath Twilights paws, responding with an alarmed chime and a rustling of its plates.  It reminds Twilight of the clinking of ceramic bowls being shuffled and tapped against one another.

Wars, to his credit, tries to snag Wind back, but is just a bit too slow.  The Sailor ducks away, dropping to his hands and knees in the snow.  He all but shoves his head into the concave gap between the plates making up the lower half of the creature, right between Twilight’s own paws.  “Hellloooo?  You in here or somethin, mate?”

“ Din smite me.”  Twilight catches Legend’s half exasperated, half amused grumble even above the protesting shouts and gasps coming from the rest of his brothers.  Several of them scramble forward a few steps in half aborted attempts to intervene, but Twilight beats them all to it.  He twists himself to catch the back of Wind’s tunic with his teeth, pulling the kid back and tossing him sideways into the snow.  He lands near where Time is propped against the rockface supporting their makeshift tent.

Wind seems entirely too unconcerned with this turn of events.  Within seconds he rolls forward to his feet in what should be a well practiced feat of acrobatics.  Unfortunately, it seems that he’s forgotten that his ankle may not be so agreeable.  Instead of landing surefooted and springing forward as he obviously intended, he stumbles, a startled yelp barely caught between his teeth.     

The only thing that saves him from faceplanting is the way Time jerks forward, wrapping his good arm around the boy’s shoulders and yanking him back against his chest.  It’s clearly a bad idea on Time’s part–he should have let Wind swallow snow, in Twilight's opinion–because the Old Man lets out a pained grunt and sways a bit on his feet.  He manages to stay upright, but his pallor is several shades lighter, and even in this unforgiving cold there’s a few beads of sweat on his brow.  Of all of them, he needs to find warmth and rest most.  

“That’s enough fooling around Wind.”  Time huffs, even as he uses the boy as a makeshift crutch of sorts.  Wind, to his credit, looks properly chastised.  Twilight catches how he braces his stance a bit to help support more of the Old Man’s weight, even as Hyrule and Wars hesitantly break from the semi-circle around the creature to check on them both.

Speaking of-  

The creature, apparently in response to all the nonsense going on around it, shifts beneath Twilight's paws just enough that its ‘face’ tilts upward.  The strange pinecone shaped bulbs on the top of its head glow faintly as it speaks, “You are injured?”  

Even through its slightly artificial sounding cadence, its tone is a mix of curiosity and concern.  It presents the furthest thing from a threat as possible, as far as Twilight can tell, but he still lets out a small growl in warning, just in case.

Instead of cowering back this time, the strange stone creature diverts attention toward the rest of the group.  It lets out a short series of bell-like chimes before stating, “I am not a combat-oriented construct, and offer apologies if I have caused distress with my appearance.  I must alert you that it is against the Queen’s law to assault or purposefully damage a Steward Construct such as myself.  If you mean no harm, then I would be happy to offer my assistance.”

It shifts its odd gaze toward Twilight directly.  “You do not seem to be a wild animal, even if you have the appearance of one.  After observation, I do not believe you are affiliated with the Yiga clan either, and most likely do not actually wish to cause me harm.  Will you please release me?”

Twilight all but freezes in place.  He’s been in wolf form since the previous night, so there should be very little chance this creature–or construct, apparently–would know that he’s anything more than a tamed wolf.

Unless it was spying on for far longer than initially thought… or it can sense the dark magic that fuels his transformation.

Time sighs, and nudges his way past Warriors and Hyrule.  WInd is quick to offer his support, but Time waves him off and carefully brings himself to crouch at Twilights side.  One hand settles heavily on his neck, and Twilight doesn’t miss the slight hitch in Time’s breath that betrays his pain.

Now close to eye level with the huddled up construct, Time tilts his head a bit, offering a slight smile.  “I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot.  My brothers and I thought a monster had snuck up on us.  We don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Following Time’s cue, Twilight eases himself off the construct, and the others start to lower and put away their weapons.  After only a moment of hesitation and deliberation, the construct cautiously lets itself uncurl.

The construct is far lankier than it had originally appeared in the darkness.  Its plates shift and click into place, using some sort of glowing magical energy to hover about as it moves.  That same energy surges through the column of its neck, and as it reaches its full stature, the protrusions on its head and back grow brighter.

“Woah!”  Injury all but forgotten, Wind bounds forward again, “N-Neat!”

His teeth chatter, and suddenly Twilight is once more reminded of just how cold it is.  The icy snow beneath their feet isn’t the dry, powdery sort… no, it’s damp and heavy.  The pads of his paws are prickly and numb… he can only imagine how miserable the rest of his brothers must be.  

The construct cocks its head as if coming to the same conclusion.  “If I am not mistaken, the current temperature is far below what is considered safe for the average Hylian without proper attire.  I am not a medical construct and will not be able to tend to your injuries directly, but I was originally designed to teach proper fire construction,  as a source for heat and cooking, before the Queen offered me a redesignation.  Do you require assistance in building a suitable fire?”

Time shakes his head, clearly resisting his own bout of shivering.  His fingers tighten in the fur on Twilights back, and in turn, Twilight shuffles closer to share whatever body heat he can.  “We still have some warm embers from the fire in our tent, thank you.”  He exhales, and a plume of condensation billows out in front of him.  “We need to find a town, or at least an Inn, so that we can make some trades and recuperate safely.  Can you give us directions?”

Before the construct can answer, Wars approaches on Time’s other side.  “I think some of us need to start deconstructing camp.  We all need to get some warmer gear on as well.  None of us need frostbite on top of everything else.  Can you answer questions while we get ready?”

The construct gives a small bow, folding its hands in front of itself.  “Of course.”

“Might be a good time to send wolfie off to find our scouting friend as well.”  Time nudges Twilight's side.  “Go on, we wouldn’t want him left behind if we’re headed toward civilization.”

It’s the only excuse Twilight is going to get, and at least he won’t have to go far.  Now that the sun is rising he can see the way the odd stone pillars branch out above them, like dozens and dozens of massive stone trees stranded in a frozen wasteland.  He briefly wonders how this particular landmass was formed, but shakes the thought away.  The point is that he has plenty of little alcoves and snowbanks to hide behind.

It’s also a good opportunity to do a quick search for any nearby monsters.

So he does as Time suggests, putting his nose to the ground as if he were trying to catch a scent, and then darting off into the shadows.  Out of the corner of his eye he catches Four and Sky file in to flankTime, no doubt filled with a mix of curiosity over the construct, and concern for the wellbeing of their unofficial leader.  The last thing he sees before turning a corner is Sky draping his own sailcloth across Time’s shoulders.

With that image in mind, he sets quickly to work.  He keeps his eyes, ears and nose on high alert as he jogs through the snow in a wide circle, weaving in and out of what must be absolutely ancient rock formations.  He’s a bit surprised by how fresh and wild everything smells, and is more than keen to take it all in.  It’s a refreshing change of pace, considering the last few jumps had seen them traversing about the more populated, developed Hyrules.  Wars’ home in particular always carried the signs and scents of its denser cities, regardless of how far out  into the countryside their journey carried them.  

This place though… this place reminds him of his own Hyrule, or at least the outskirts.  More like Snowpeak and less like Ordon, for obvious reasons, but the homesickness starts to ache deep in his heart all the same.  It’s been so long since he’s seen home.

He pushes that thought aside and focuses on the task at hand.  It does him no good to long for home, not when he has no control over the course of their travels.  

It’s not long before he’s sure they’re relatively safe, the harsh weather notwithstanding.  Outside of stumbling upon the biggest Ice Chu he’s ever seen, there doesn’t seem to be many nearby monsters.  The wind still has a bit of it’s early morning bite, but by now the sky is really starting to flush with color.  It casts colder, deeper shadows, but bathes the snow in a sparkling golden hue that’ll no doubt be even more vibrant once he’s Hylian again.  He figures that’s probably his sign to wrap things up and head back.

He casts about for a good place to change, spotting a column on a little ridge that would provide ample cover.  He darts up the bank and past an outcropping-

Only to trip over his own paws and gape in shock at what he finds on the other side.

By the time Twilight manages to collect himself, transform, and return to his brothers, the makeshift tent they’d hastily thrown together the previous night is already dismantled.  Wind seems to have made fast friends with the construct, as he’s hanging haphazardly off the thing’s… shoulders? In some mockery of a piggy-back ride.  It doesn’t seem to mind at least.   It’s conversing quietly with Time, who’s seated on a nearby boulder.  One of the tarps is folded beneath him to keep the cold from sapping his strength further, and Sky’s sailcloth has been replaced with one of his spare cloaks respectively.

Legend, Four and Hyrule are semi-bickering over something probably inconsequential, while Wars and Sky are divvying up the loads of gear.

It’s Wars that spots Twilight first, sparing him a half-smile and wave.  “Welcome back.  We were just waiting for you to… are you alright?”

“Sure.  Sure.  I’m ok, yep.”  Oh yeah, that’s selling it all right.  Not suspicious at all.

“ Convincing.”  Wars deadpans in response.

Sky, meanwhile, furrows his brows and keeps his voice low.  “What happened?”

Twilight sighs, and runs a hand through his fringe.  “Nothin’ really happened.  There’s not any nearby monsters far as I can tell t’ worry over, but…”  

“But?”  Warriors presses, expression slowly shifting into that stoic military-esqu thing it sometimes does when he starts to worry.

“Ya can relax a bit Cap’, I promise it aint nothing pressing.  It’s jus… have ya gotten anything about this place out of our new friend over there yet?”  He nods toward the creature in question, who’s currently spinning  in a slow circle as it turns its head to speak with Wind.  “Anythin’ at all?” 

Wars gives Twilight a suspicious once over before admitting.  “Not a lot.”  He scratches his chin and gives a little distraught frown.  He’s clearly noticing how scruffy he’s getting–most of them are, honestly, with how rushed they’ve been over the last week or two of travel, but Warriors prides himself on his appearance.  It’s obviously starting to irritate him more than he’s willing to let on. 

In any other situation, Twilight might try to get a rise out of the Captain, but with how touchy the group’s moods have been overall, he figures it might not be the best time.  It’s not like he’s doing much better… even the ‘wet dog’ jokes have petered out, on account that he’s actually starting to smell like a wet dog.

Wars eventually shakes off his discomfort and continues.  “It told us that the closest town is a Rito settlement, which is why Wind is now its best friend… but its several days worth of travel.”

“Shit.”  Twilight groans… not the best of news.

“Right.”  Wars agrees, “Too far away with Time’s injuries for sure, and he won’t admit it, but I think Legend’s joints are acting up as well. “

“It also said the weather isn’t likely to hold.”  Sky adds, casting a weary glance at the snow surrounding them.  “It’s calm now, but probably won’t be by nightfall.  Apparently this region is particularly harsh.”

“So we better be getting on with it then.”  Twilight concludes.  “What's the plan?”

“Well, it said there's a stable not too far from here.”  Sky responds, “Apparently these stables act like roadside inns that also board horses for travelers.  They’re spread out between settlements.”

“Though, I think its definition of far, and our definition of far may not quite be the same thing.”  Warriors sighs.  “When we asked it about castle town it got sort of confused, and spoke about a ‘lookout landing’ instead.  Which is at least a week by horseback–if you run the horses hard.  It gave the impression that there aren’t a whole lot of towns or cities in this Hyrule.”

“That… actually doesn’t surprise me.”  Twilight slumps.

“Why do you say that?”  Wars asks, both he and Sky looking genuinely curious.

“Jus’ a hunch.  You’ll see once we head out.”  

Sky and Wars share another curious look, before the Chosen casts a brief, apprehensive glance over his shoulder.  Lowering his voice even further, he admits, “I think it keeps staring at me.  Or… rather, it keeps staring at Fi.”

“ What?”  Twilight realizes he’s far too loud when both Wars and Sky wince, so he reigns himself in.  “Any reason why?”

“Not yet.”  Sky responds, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.  “I think Legend’s noticed it too… but I'm not getting any sort of maliciousness from it or anything.  It just seems overly curious.”

Wars hums, taking a moment to cast his gaze over the hilt and scabbard of the Master Sword himself.  A slight frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.  “We’ll have to try and figure it out as we go.  Maybe…”  He shakes his head and waves one hand as if to brush the thought away, “For now, lets just focus on heading out.  I really don’t want us getting caught up in another storm like last night.”

Watching the shock and awe that overtakes his brothers faces as they crest a hill and finally catch sight of the sprawling snow covered tundra spread out before them gives Twilight a sense of mischievous satisfaction.  

Because he knows that it’s not the vast, untamed landscape that’s caught their eye first, even as impressively breathtaking–and daunting–as it is.  

“Is that the fucking castle?”  Legend’s voice cracks halfway through the word ‘castle’, and Twilight can’t help but snicker at his brother’s distress.  “Why is it floating?!”

“ Sky islands ?”  Sky’s tone is a sharp contrast to Legends.  He almost seems delighted beneath the confusion.  “ Where are we ?”

‘ When are we ?’ Twilight mentally corrects, just as the Construct leading them over the hill cheerfully responds.

“As my most recent redesignation is one of information gathering and scouting, I am equipped to answer this inquiry.  Currently, we are located on the surface, in the Hebra region.  It is known as the most northwestern region in the Kingdom of Hyrule.  More precisely, we are at the edge of the Pikida Stonegrove, which is at the eastern base of the Hebra mountain range.   Your camp was just beneath the Skyview tower on the upper rock shelf.”

His brothers continue to gape in silence for several moments before Wars clears his throat and asks, “And the stable you spoke of?”

The Construct points, and Twilight is just able to make out a faint column of smoke in the distance.

Far, far in the distance.

“That is Snowfield Stable.”  It explains.  Several of his brothers squint.  “The route is quite clear at this time.  There have been very few monster sightings as of late.”  The Construct continues, “Though, I did make note that the frost Gleeok that resides in the south Tabantha Snowfield has not been dispatched since its last revival.  Please take caution not to stray too far.”

“I’m sorry.”  Legend’s voice reaches newer heights, “The fucking, what now?”      

Every hour or so they’re forced to rest.  Time’s injuries and Legend’s chronic pain flare debilitatingly, thanks to the fact that the undisturbed snowfields are actually colder than their shelter under the giant rock formations had been.  

Not that the rest of them are doing much better. There’s so few trees and the ground is so flat that there’s no resistance to the wind.  It cleaves through them all, right down to the bone, and e ach breath is host to a small sharp sting as the frost settles in their lungs.

They’re roughly halfway there, and the sun is high above them now.  It offers very little in terms of comfort, and Twilight can see a rolling sea of dark clouds in the distance slowly creeping their way.  It’s a little bit terrifying, but there’s also a sense of excitement building up with the anticipation of it all.   Even near Snowpeak back home there’s nothing quite like what surrounds them now.

“Oh!”  WInd exclaims suddenly, still atop the Construct’s back.  He flails a bit, “I could uh… help?  I can’t get rid of the wind completely but…maybe if it was at our back instead?”

  Wars and Time share a conspiratorial sort of look, before Time shakes his head with a wince.  He’s doing his best to act as if he’s fine… but the grimace on his face shows exactly how not fine he is. “Best not.  We don’t want to set things out of order for the locals…”

“ What locals ?”  Legend grumbles under his breath, but no one actually objects. Time’s point has been made.  

“That is the biggest gods forsaken Gleeok I have ever seen.”  Legend stutters.  His knuckles are white around Wind’s spyglass.  After a breath or two, he passes it to Hyrule, who’s been hovering between the Vet and the Old Man as they travel.

Hyrule takes the spyglass and peeks through the eyepiece.  He slowly turns the mirror tube-

“Oh my Gods!”

“Right!?”  

“Hey…”  Four’s voice breaks the anxious silence that hangs about the group as the skies darken bit by bit.  It’s not even midday, and they still have so far to go…

He’s been fiddling with the Spyglass for a bit now, silently taking in their surroundings.  He must have found something interesting–

”Does anyone else think the building sort of looks like a horse?”

All things considered, their guide has been extremely patient with them.  Having to stop so often means they’re making absolutely terrible time, but it doesn’t seem to be bothered.  It just continues to answer their increasingly probing questions with that strange, chiming lilt and gentle demeanor.

“So are there other weird robot things like you?”  Wind asks, still riding the poor thing like it’s some kind of beast of burden.

“Wind!  Seriously?”  Wars sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Weird is cool , Wars.”  Wind blows a raspberry, but then turns back to the Construct and murmurs quietly, “I don’ mean nothing mean by it.  Sorry.”

The construct just tilts its head, neck twisted so that it can properly address the teenager clambering all over its back.  It doesn’t sound offended in the least when it answers, “At one time, there were a great number of  Constructs such as myself.  We were originally created to aid in many tasks, though we had several different designations.  I am what is called a Steward Construct.”

“At one time?”  It’s Hyrule who extrapolates on the initial question, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders as he quickly shuffles a bit closer to the front of the group.  “That makes it sound like there aren’t as many of you now.”

“That is correct.  Comparatively, very few of us remain.”  The construct agrees.  Twilight isn’t sure if the thing is capable of showing much emotion, but he swears there’s a quiet hint of sorrow layered between its words.  “It has been many years since our initial creation, and the Kingdom of Hyrule has risen and fallen several times since.  We were what the current Queen refers to as ‘Lost to Time.’”

If Time had been in better shape, he probably would have gotten a crack at the very obvious pun there.  Instead, he hesitates a bit too long to catch his breath, and just as he’s opening his mouth, Legend beats him to it.  “Don’t you dare, Old man.” 

Time, their defacto leader, his cherished mentor, the oldest Link in the chain, honest to gods pouts.

Twilight is going to have an aneurysm.

Oblivious to Twilight's current health crisis, Legend just barrels on with his question, “The Kingdom fell?  Multiple times?”  He sounds almost scandalized by the idea… and Twilight can relate.  He’s not as well informed or as interested as some of the others on the details of their collective timelines, but even so, the fall of the Kingdom is hard to imagine … And he’s not even from Hyrule proper!   “ How long, exactly, were you ‘ lost to time.’”

“The best approximate estimate is a few centuries over ten-thousand years.”

Twilight trips over his own feet and barely saves himself from faceplanting right into the snow.  Several of his brothers let out various exclamations of shock of their own.  Time looks like he’s going through several stages of regret and grief over even considering making a joke.

“I’m sorry, did ya say ten-thousand ?”  Twilight doesn’t even realize he’s the one who’s asked, until the Construct turns its gaze on him and confirms.

“Approximately.” 

The slow, steady expedition across the tundra continues.  Their last conversation had quickly fallen way to a somber sort of silence, and focus had once more turned toward just making it to their destination.

Until Sky quietly asks.   “Do you have a name?”

The Construct turns toward the Chosen, once more tilting its head in that curious, contemplative manner, and responds.  “We did not have individual names.  We were referred to by our designations, most often.  For me, that would be ‘Steward.’”

“Did not?”  Legend cuts in, latching on and digging his fingers into the peculiar word choice, “ Past tense .  Do you have a name now?”

At this, the construct pauses.  Its head lowers slightly, and it lets out a melodic little string of whistles.  It takes a few seconds, but then-

“Are you laughing?”  Wind gives a tired, but genuine grin over the Construct’s shoulder, patting one of its bulbs with one of his hands. “Hah!  Does tha’ mean ya do have a name?  Is it embarrassing or somethin’?”

“The Queen’s Champion has taken to calling me Sparky.”

“Sparky?”  Wind’s smile gets wider, “Why’s he call ya that?”

“I believe it began as a joke.”  The Construct admits.  “As stated, my original function was to teach proper campfire building and basic cooking techniques for survival.  I believe he gave me this name after we initially met, and I offered to teach him.  I was delighted to have a new student after so long.”  It pauses, going completely still for several seconds before adding, “In retrospect, I believe he was already quite proficient with these skills, and had no actual need for my assistance.  But he kindly allowed me to fulfill my function anyway, and did not interrupt, even though the wood we used was damp, and the sparks from our flint did not catch very quickly.”

“The Queen’s Champion, huh?”  Wind wags his brows and gives the rest of the group a knowing sort of look.  Twilight can’t help but roll his eyes.  “Ain’t it kinda mean to give ya a name as a joke though?”

The construct shakes his head, “I must disagree with that assessment.  The Champion is the first living person many of us had interacted with in several millennia.  Over the course of his journey, he would occasionally return to check on our wellbeing, despite the fact that he was quite busy with his mission.  He did not speak much, but often, he would sit with us for company.  Before him, we simply existed without being able to truly fulfill the purposes we were created for.”

The spaces between them grow silent once again, though if the construct notices the slight bit of tension running between them all, it doesn’t show it.  Eventually, Sky states, “I’m sorry.  That sounds like it must have been pretty lonely.”

As if having never considered the thought before, the Construct pauses, giving Sky a long quiet trill before conceding.  “I suppose that it was.”

“Can you tell us a bit more about the Champion?”  Twilight listens in on Sky’s cautious attempt to gather more information.

Twilight doesn’t think any of them are expecting its open, somewhat pointed response.

“Certainly.  The first time I met the Queen’s Champion, he was carrying a broken blade that looked very much like the one you carry now.”

“ Broken!?” 

Twilight estimates that they’re maybe half an hour out, slowly trudging along in the too-deep snow and growling winds.  The storm clouds have overtaken the sky in earnest now, dark and heavily swollen–an ever present threat hanging low over all their heads.

It’s a good thing they’re close… He honestly doesn’t know how much more difficult travel any of them have left in them.  Especially Time.  Who has since shooed him away.  Again.

Twilight knows he’s a bit of a mother cucco, ok?  But in his defense, with this group?  It’s usually warranted.  

The Old Man may be the best of them when it comes to putting on a strong, stoic front and hiding his feelings, but his expert facade has long since fallen.  Each step deepens his grimace, and he doesn’t even bother to try and hide the way his breath catches on each inhale.   Twilight has already tossed his wolf pelt over Time’s shoulders, and Hyrule has spent what meager little bits of magic he’s managed to recover doing his best to heal him as they go.

But without proper rest for either of them, it's almost futile.  The cold is sapping all their strength with each step, but it’s almost double so for Time and Hyrule.  The former, because of his injuries, the latter because he keeps draining his magical reserves and leaving himself winded.  Twilight will be shocked if Hyrule doesn’t wake with at least a minor fever tomorrow at this rate.  

And, well, not that he’d wish harm on any of his brothers–except maybe Wars when he gets particularly obnoxious with that city-boy know it all attitude of his–but if it had been literally anyone else that had been injured as badly as Time had, Twilight would have been able to just carry them.  He’s the Rancher, the Goron wrestler, the Goat Herder.  He’s meant to be the workhorse of the group, and he welcomes the challenge!

He’s the strong one.   It’s a point of pride for him, even.  He once carried Wind on one shoulder and Four on the other for an hour for funsies, just because Wind wanted to see if he could.  When Hyrule had leapt on his back to try and throw him off balance, he’d clambered on for another twenty minutes before Time and Wars had called it for the day, and they decided to set up camp for the night.

But Time is just too big to do much more than awkwardly piggyback for a while, and more importantly, too stubborn.   

He takes a quick moment to check in on the rest of their group.  While everyone has at least something warm to wear, none of them were prepared for this…  Hair and lashes are frosted with icy snowflakes, and skin is flush and rosy with exertion.  Those with cloaks or hats have pulled them low to protect the tips of their ears, but  Wars are nearly beet red at the tips, and Twilight knows his can’t be any better by the way they tingle with each beat of his heart .  Legend has gone well past the point of complaining about his pain–the truest indication of his suffering, Twilight has learned over their time together–every single movement he makes is stiff and stilted.

And the winds have only continued to worsen.  Visibility is slowly vanishing.  It’s going to be another doozy of a storm, and none of them are equipped to handle it, mentally or physically.  They need to get to that stable, if it’s half as accommodating as he’s hoping, he’ll find a way to thank each of the Golden Three personally.

Damn, it’s starting to flurry .  It really won’t be long now. 

They make it, and by whatever Gods may be looking down on them, the storm holds just long enough.