Chapter Text
Link and Zelda were taking a nice riverside stroll when a portal appeared.
All they could do was stare. Then, ten seconds later: “Number nine!”
Zelda nearly shrieked with laughter.
Link slumped, the entire upper half of his body dramatically facing the ground. Zelda, disbelieving and incredulous laughter doubling her over, held onto his shoulder so as not to do the same.
A ninth adventure — he might have groaned if Zelda’s glee wasn’t so damn endearing. His smile was quickly becoming impossible to suppress.
“Well, at this point, you might as well shoot for ten,” Zelda joked.
He rolled his eyes but they shone with a hidden anticipation, a secret that Link—who had once spent an entire year called by his hero title—would once have been indisposed to admit. Six adventures, compared to the other heroes’, at maximum, three (and even that was questionable — Four was never very forthcoming about whether his time with the Colors constituted only one or two adventures), left him indignant, isolated, and impious. Seven years on, thanks to them, Link knew himself, why he loved adventuring, and why he loved being the Hero.
And maybe he would return from adventure number nine with a slew of new scars, but they’d make for some bitchin’ stories.
He brought Zelda’s hand to his lips and gave it a long, strong kiss. She felt his smile, just as powerful, through them on her knuckles. He took off running for the portal in the distance.
“Don’t die!” Zelda screamed.
“You know I can’t!” He screamed back. He thrust his finger to the sky. “They won’t let me!”
His words may have been coarse, but Link’s ear-to-ear smile shone brighter than the sun. He laughed, and it wasn’t the contemptuous snicker of his that Zelda grew so terribly familiar with, but a bona fide, downright joyful sound that spoke of his excitement in a way that he could never find words for.
Zelda would (for the ninth time) miss him, but how could she deny him an adventure he seemed so eager to experience?
Link sprinted into the portal.
“No fucking way.”
A group of men stood in a circle at the center of a village.
Link looked at one man’s facial markings, and another’s green-blue-red-violet eyes. A different man’s eyes, big and expressive, belonged to a body much taller than the others; much taller than Link remembered it being; much taller than he had any right to be. The man with the burn scars had short hair. That scarf was still obnoxiously long, and a bare shirt back showed where a sailcloth once covered, and when he saw his successor — well, nowadays, Link would happily admit to the disbelieving guffaw of glee that left his mouth in response.
Link—Legend—shouted “Hyrule! ” to Hyrule himself for the first time in seven years, and just as fast as he ran into the unknown did he run to his favorite person in the world.
The shock faded. The Heroes of Hyrule crowded each other.
Among the others, Twilight looked for Time.
Wind looked for Time.
He found Warriors.
“YOU!”
Wind’s scream startled a conversation or two to a pause, and heads turned as he stomped across the circle.
“YOU KNEW THE ENTIRE FUCKING TIME!”
The youngest among them towered above Warriors, glare as hot as the volcano nearby; the Captain felt small, and not just in height.
“Oh, what the fuck,” Warriors muttered.
Wind pointed a finger down at Warriors’ face. “I know you knew it was me! I always wondered what those stupid ass glances of yours meant and you let me have to find out by being dumped into your stupid ass war where my stupid ass brother doesn’t even know it’s me!”
“Sailor—”
“I can’t believe you!” Wind loudly continued. “I can’t believe I looked up to such a dumbass! You knew me for an entire year and never once considered how I would take that in my future? You loved me as a brother before I even met you! How could you not tell me?!”
Warriors, the respectable Captain that he was, held up his hands in defense and said, “He was worried about messing up the timeline—”
“Oh, fuck the timeline! We all know it doesn’t mean shit!”
“Take it up with Mask—”
“With Mask?! ” Wind screeched. “First of all, like I’m going to ever yell at Mask. That kid could bring the damn moon down again and I’d tell him how proud of him I am. No no no, Mask gets off scot-free, and second of all, don’t try to pin the blame on a nine-year-old with time travel trauma, you bastard!”
“I’m not!” Warriors squeaked.
“You absolutely are. I don’t care where the idea came from, because you knew, and you said nothing!”
“What were we supposed to say?! ”
Wind scoffed. “I don’t know, maybe a we’ll meet again when we were saying goodbye? A letter? A hint? Instead you just let me flounder in the War like an idiot who didn’t know his brothers hadn’t met him yet!”
Warriors’ face warred with shock and indignation and relief and then, it won, and it relished in happiness.
“…It was still a good surprise, though, wasn’t it?”
A beat passed. Wind’s scowl slowly morphed into a shit-eating grin. “Oh, yeah. It let me fuck with you two so bad.”
“I am so glad to see you again, Tune,” Warriors said, his own smile eating just as much shit (“Oh, don’t you fucking dare” from Wind). He threw his arm around the sailor’s shoulder. His hold on his younger brother was more akin to being supported than supportive , with how much shorter he was—how did that happen both times, Warriors wondered—but to hold Wind again like he did in the War graced him with a happiness he was fourteen years removed from.
Though unlike the War, there was currently only one boy in his arms. Warriors was missing someone.
Warriors looked for Time.
Permanently pink hair caught his gaze instead, its color as blinding to the eye as his other little brother’s wound.
“Hey asshole!” He shouted happily, just as Wind found another target and called out, “Rulie!”
Said asshole jerked around to face the voice.
Legend was back to blond for a while after his first dye job. Then shit happened, and he got cursed again, and changed back again, and the pink didn’t fade, and everyone gave him shit for it for the remaining two months of their journey.
Legend said, “Yeah, dipshit?” as he strut towards Warriors with a smile.
Nearby, Wild looked for Twilight, and found him.
He skittered up to the older hero, smile titanic it was so close to Twilight’s face.
“You just can’t get rid of me, huh?”
“Oh, not again,” Twilight smiled back.
Today, Twilight has met with Wild four times. In four different years. For four different purposes. Twilight has said goodbye to Wild three times, and surely, he thought, the third time would be the last. Wild had cried. Had hugged his wolf form and been hugged back (as best as the wolf could manage). Mineru and Twilight, two of Wild’s third-journey companions, faded from his reality on the same day.
Wild, once so closed off that he stopped speaking entirely, now openly wore his raw and intense happiness on his face. So intense, in fact, that tears fell from his eyes into a mouth that was open from a watery, hiccupy laugh.
“C’mere,” Twilight said, pulling Wild into his arms in a tight hug.
As they held each other, Hyrule’s loud and thunderous voice was heard over the chaos (“Holy crystals you are so tall.”).
When he pulled back, Wild said to Twilight, “You don’t look that much different! How long has it been for you?”
“Seven years,” Twilight answered. “Three since I was with you on your third journey.”
“The same for me.”
“Really?” Wild nodded. “That’s so weird.” Twilight laughed. He shook his head. “Four times I’ve met up with you, now.”
Wild agreed happily, “Four! ”
“Yeah?” Four inquired across the field.
They looked at him. They smiled, but Twilight wasn’t done with Wild. “So how are you?”
“I’m good! I’m really working hard on restoration efforts — I’ve taken up carpentry! I work with Hudson all the time, and I built a house. I’ve actually permanently moved to Tarrey Town with—”
“Your hair!” called Four, attention since grabbed away from his conversation with Sky and Sky and Four then ran over to Twilight and Wild.
“Yours!” responded Wild.
Wild had cut his hair the previous year and kept it short, trimming it whenever it grew past his ears. Four, meanwhile — Wild wouldn’t have been surprised to hear if he hadn’t cut his at all in the seven years that have possibly universally passed. Four’s hair touched his waist. “What’s your problem, Mr. Even-I-Have-To-Say-Your-Hair-Is-Too-Long?”
Four laughed.
“You don’t even keep it up?” Wild asked.
“You’re one to talk.” Twilight smacked Wild’s arm. From around, Legend and Warriors came over, the Veteran running to Sky and the Captain smacking Twilight’s own arm in greeting.
“Hey. Almost die again?” Warriors asked him.
“Shut up. You crawl through your second dungeon yet?” Twilight threw back.
“Yes, actually.”
“You’re lying.”
“Fuck you.”
Warriors scoured through his pouch for that second dungeon item of his. Sky had his hand on Legend’s shoulder. Wild was telling a wild story to Wind, gesturing frenetically and waving his arms around in the air.
Warriors noticed it and was the first to ask Wild, “Uh, Champion, what the fuck happened to your arm?”
The Heroes stopped talking to witness the arm. The Champion glanced down at the bizarre gray skin, long nails, serpentine wraps, and the number of rings to rival Legend’s on the length of his right arm.
He laughed. “Oh, funny story! I met Ganondorf.”
“I’m sorry?”
Wild now in conversation with Warriors, Twilight looked for Time.
Sky saw Hyrule.
“Hyrule!” Sky waved their traveler over. “You look so different! Good, though, it’s a good different — how have you been?”
“Good—”
“Sailor?! ” Legend screamed.
“Oh…my Goddess,” Sky whispered.
“Yeah, that’s fuckin’ right,” the youngest said, staring down (figuratively and literally) at those below him. He was tall. Very tall. He must have been taller than the Old Man. In fact, Sky thought, where’s Time for comparison?
Sky looked for Time.
Twilight looked for Time.
The group at large gathered in a huddle, breathless from laughing and reuniting. Wind, now the head that stood the tallest, made an announcement.
“I got married!”
“What?!” Hyrule said, shocked.
“You’re married!? ” Sky said, happy.
“When?” Legend said, baffled.
“Two years ago!” Wind said. “Tetra! She’s the most wonderful woman I’ve ever known and we’re so happy together. It’s everything Time”—he cast a quick glance aside, Wind looking for Time, then he turned back—“said it was. Wild, are you finally together with Zelda?”
“Um,” Wild said.
“Four?” Wind asked.
“Well—”
Wind’s jaw dropped. “Wait, am I the only one here who’s married? I mean, other than—”
Sky interrupted, “I’m—”
“You don’t count, you were already basically married,” Wind interrupted again. Sky could not refute the claim. Still, Wind grinned and offered his hand to the others, and despite the teasing he appraised the ring on Sky’s finger just as a good pirate should.
Wild scrolled through his redone and extended Hyrule Compendium with Legend.
Four and Warriors were talking about smithing and the Captain said something about taking it up.
Hyrule, ever concerned, lifted Twilight’s tunic to examine the seven-year-old scar from the Iron Knuckle’s attack.
“Wait—”
The boys stood at attention. Now condensed, Sky searched among their numbers. Sky looked for Time.
“Where’s the Old Man?” he asked.
“He’s not…?” Four spoke quietly. Four looked for Time.
Wind looked for Time. Head high above the others, he counted heads.
Two. Four. Six. Eight.
In the high of seeing seven of their brothers, each of the heroes hadn’t noticed the eighth’s absence.
Eight heroes surveyed the village they’d found themselves in, looking for number nine. A windmill, observation tower, volcano up the nearby mountain. A nagging tingle of familiarity was clawing up Twilight’s throat. The dusty air, the Cuccos, the buildings. Something was screaming at him that he’d been there before even though the village was foreign and the feeling felt like rocks in his stomach.
Once again, Twilight looked for Time.
He found Four and Hyrule and Legend and Sky and Warriors and Wild and Wind. But not Time.
Time was not there.
“Well, I’ll be goddamned.”
Eight heads snapped south at the voice.
Red hair, fierce as fire, wafted around the stock-still image of a woman with her jaw open and her hands on her hips.
“Missus Malon!”
Wind laughed and ran to her. Relieved smiles graced the heroes’ faces as they crowded Time’s wife; the cacophony of voices in a group of eight boys was still familiar to her even after just the one time she met them. They met her here where she stood by the tree.
Her eyes were big and wide and blue. She huffed, in shock and happiness and gratitude.
Wild greeted her, seemingly a ball of eternal sunshine, “I’m so happy you’re here, Malon!”
“As am I! Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would see you boys again!” she said. “I’d ask you how you’re here, but I know now nothing makes sense when it comes to y’all.”
“It was a fucking portal again!” Legend loudly announced, melodramatically throwing his hands in the air.
“It came out of nowhere,” Sky said. “I was just having lunch with Zelda when it showed up. I don’t even have the Master Sword with me.”
“Did you come through the portals, too?” Hyrule asked.
She shook her head. “No portals for me. Seems like you’ve found yourselves in my Hyrule.”
“Are you serious?” Legend questioned.
“Yes! I missed you, Malon!” Wind exclaimed.
“So are we close to the ranch?” Wild asked.
At Wild’s question, Malon caught sight of him, and jerked back. “Oh, Goddesses, your hair, Champion!”
“That’s what I said!” said Four.
She studied him. She learned the grooves of his burn scar, much more visible now without his sideburns but much more faded after so much time. She happily decided her stance. “It suits you.”
Wild’s smile was blinding.
“You look wonderful. Happier. Older. You all look so much older!” Malon marveled. “So different, and so true to yourselves. Sailor, you look so grown up, and Traveler, you’re glowing. Twi—”
She paused.
“Twilight,” Malon breathed, catching his eye and approaching her descendant.
His breath, and body, was shaking.
“My boy,” she said to him. She laid her hands on his shoulders, and Twilight wanted to smile, because this was Malon, but he couldn’t; Malon understood his language of silence, and she smiled in his stead. Her eyes were full of tears. Twilight choked on his own.
She held him like that for thirteen precious seconds. When she pulled away, Twilight felt empty.
Malon exhaled and said to the others, “I gotta say, when I came to Kakariko for the milk deliveries today the absolute last thing I was expecting was to see you all again!”
“Your husband always did tell us to expect the unexpected,” Warriors conceded.
“Where is Time?” Hyrule wondered.
“Is he here with you?” Sky asked.
The Chain looked for Time.
Malon opened her mouth. Glanced across the group of heroes. Closed it. Bit her lip. Looked beyond them into the village for just a moment, then caught Twilight’s gaze, and then cupped his scarred cheek in her calloused hand.
She spoke, “Why don’t you boys come with me?”
She led the boys, men dutifully marching in the leader’s stead. While they walked, Four had to comically arch his neck to meet Wind’s eyes and tell him about his grandfather. Next to Twilight, Wild was talking to him again, saying something about Zelda, something or other relating to what they’ve been up to since Wolfie faded, but the rocks in Twilight’s stomach rattled, and that knowing feeling pawed at him, and it whispered a terrible fated promise that he had taken this path before.
Then the boys marched into a cemetery and the chatter died.
Malon stopped before one of the graves.
A slab, unremarkable to its neighbors. Chiseled Old Hylian that Twilight couldn’t read.
“He died four years ago,” Malon said.
Time’s tombstone.
“Heroically, of course. He saved…a lot of lives.”
Time’s tombstone.
“There was trouble in the woods,” she explained, voice but a whisper. “He might not have gone if it was anywhere other than there. He gave his life for his kingdom, as I always knew he would.”
Time’s tombstone, in Kakariko Graveyard, four years after his death.
“I’m sorry, boys.”
The boys, reunited minus one, seven years after their journey together, at Time’s tombstone, in Kakariko Graveyard, four years after his death.
“I’ll be in the village.” Malon’s eyes roamed the crowd, looking at each Hero in turn just as her husband—late husband—was once wont. “You boys take as much time as you need.”
She squeezed Twilight’s shoulder, and walked out of the graveyard.
Eight heroes stood on their ninth’s burial ground.
“Hylia,” Sky breathed. A prayer. A curse.
Twilight’s eyes were locked on Time’s grave.
Awkward movements, and shocked glances. Wild stood as a pillar of support next to Twilight’s stock-still size. Wind sulked. Four swiveled.
Legend laughed, startling the others in their respectful moment of silence.
“Veteran,” Warriors growled, an anger he’d never before aimed at any one of them lacing his words and heating his gaze.
Legend choked. “No!” He coughed away the laughter. “No, you don’t understand. After our journey ended, I studied—I wanted to learn everyone’s—I can read this,” he stressed fervidly. “The Hylian on the tombstone says his name. Link. Under that, Husband. Father. Old Man.”
“Really?” Wild questioned.
“Oh,” Hyrule said miserably.
Eight boys, reunited minus one, seven years after their journey together, at their Old Man’s tombstone, with the words Old Man forever engraved upon it, in Kakariko Graveyard, four years after his death, silent again.
There was nothing else to say.
“I…”
In the silence of the graveyard, fourteen eyes upon Four had him feeling very small.
“I…I’m going to go to Malon,” he announced quietly. He offered no other words.
In the silence of the others, he avoided both the others’ eyes and Time’s tombstone. He slunk away to join the woman outside.
“I am, as well,” Warriors said. Then he left.
Hyrule was third to leave. Sky fourth. Legend. Wind, the tallest, the youngest, the loudest, then left without ever saying a word.
What was left was Wild and Twilight.
“Twilight,” Wild whispered. “Do you want to be alone?”
He couldn’t speak. The feeling from before had made a home in Twilight’s throat, squatting in and stopping his words from being heard. The squatter’s residency hurt him, he was hurting, and all Twilight could focus on was the pain.
“Yeah.”
He had to force the word out. It hurt him to do that too.
Wild nodded. He patted his companion’s back. He turned; he paused to look at the tombstone; he left the graveyard.
Twilight faced Time’s gravestone, alone.
In the seven years that passed from their parting to today’s reunion, Twilight tried to find his teacher’s grave on multiple occasions. Time’s Zelda knew he was the Hero, thanks to his Triforce (and, inherited by Twilight, Twilight’s own Zelda also knew the same truth); Twilight thought it possible that Time’s Zelda had him buried in the Castle Graveyard as a way to honor him. When he looked, he found nothing, and when he asked Zelda if she knew anything, she asked him if by ‘Hero of Time’ he meant either of the two ancient heroes. “Are you talking about the Hero of the Sky or the Hero of the Four Sword?” she had asked. It had stung. Another brutal reminder of his forgotten teacher came when Renado also knew nothing of the Hero before him. Neither graveyard held answers, or Time himself.
He would have given anything to stand at Time’s grave after knowing him. He needed to pay his respects and say thank you—say all the things he could never say to the man alive—and cry. He would finally loose the tears held back every time Time unintentionally foreshadowed the Shade, like with his carefully spoken and powerful words; brushing greenery off a pauldron; existing less one eye.
Now he is here. Now he stands at Time’s grave — four years after he died, hundreds of years before Twilight is born, surrounded by the other Heroes that knew him and respected him and loved him just as Twilight had. The other Heroes gave him the space to be alone with the stone Twilight had looked and looked and looked for.
Now he is here.
All Twilight could do was stare.
Twilight could not read Old Hylian, but he trusted Legend’s translation.
Husband. He widowed his wife.
Father. He has a young child he is not able to raise — he could not pass on the lessons of his life to those who came after.
Old Man. He was not alive to reunite with the Chain.
All Twilight could do was stare.