Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Ah, Link! There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Link blinked and yawned, emerging from his curled up position next to the fireplace in the downstairs drawing room. “Hello, Mistress,” he smiled groggily, turning to face his wife. “I’m happy you’re back. You were gone for such a long time.”

“Yes, well, I had something very important to take care of. Namely this!” Cia’s long, slender form stepped to the side, her skirts sweeping away to reveal…

“Link, meet Link,” she said with a flourish, gesturing to a tiny person dressed in one of Link’s tunics that he’d left in his Mistress’ chambers last time she’d summoned him. It looked comically large on the small, slender frame. “Say hello, Link.”

The little thing waved at him, seeming both eager and shy at the same time. Large, emerald eyes gazed at him curiously from a sharp, angular face that reminded Link slightly of a cat’s. Sheets of straight, pale hair fell below his shoulder blades, framing those delicate, elfin features.

“Mistress…” Link breathed, delight bubbling up from inside him until he was positively giddy with it. He sprang to his feet, bouncing on his toes in excitement. “Mistress, is… did you decide to have a child after all? Our child?” 

“Did I-” Bright purple eyes flicked from him to the little one in confusion before understanding dawned in them, and a peal of bell like laughter rang out through the hall. “Oh, no, darling, he’s not a child. He’s as just as much of an adult as you. He just happens to be smaller than usual, is all. ‘Is he a child,’ ha! What a silly question.”

Link’s ears burned with embarrassment. Now that he looked closer, he could see that the little one’s proportions were indeed somewhat off compared to the pictures of children he’d seen in books and glimpsed through Cia’s time window. He did indeed look like a young adult, just in miniature.

Trying to mask his immeasurable disappointment, Link managed to ask, “Then… who is he, Mistress? You said his name was Link, too. If he’s not a child, then is he… me?”

“Hm. I suppose in a roundabout way, you could say yes. You both are extensions of my beloved Hero, since you share the same essence,” Cia said thoughtfully. “But I suppose you could call yourselves brothers as well.”

“Wait, if he also is made from your Hero’s essence, does that mean he'll be...?” Link trailed off, eyes darting from the little person to Cia and back again.

His Mistress chuckled. “He'll have marital duties just like you, if that's what you mean, yes.” She looped an arm around the little one’s shoulders and pulled him close to her. He went readily, leaning up against her with a content little smile. “He’s my new husband.”

“Oh.” Link considered this. Why would the new person be taking his job? Unless... grief hit him like one of Mistress' whips, and tears stung his eyes. In a shaky voice filled with heartbreak, he said, “Have I displeased you in any way, Mistress? Are you... are you replacing me? Is it because I got sick again?”

“Oh, dearest, no, not at all!” Cia immediately left the interloper's side and enfolded Link in a comforting hug. He clung to her shamelessly, burying his face in her neck and inhaling large breaths of her saccharine perfume to keep himself grounded. “Even if you are not a perfect replica of my beloved, you will always have a special place in my heart as my first attempt to recreate him. And now, this one will as well. He carries a piece of my beloved inside him, too, and that makes him just as precious as you, even if he might be, mmmm, somewhat flawed.”

“'He' can hear you, you know,” came a voice from below them both, deeper than Link had expected. He looked down to see the new Link staring up at them with one eyebrow raised and small mouth turned down in a frown, large, doe eyes a vivid, cerulean blue. Strange. Hadn't they been green a little while ago?

“It’s rude to eavesdrop, dear,” Mistress Cia said mildly.

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk so loudly, then,” he shot back, and Link’s heart lodged in his throat at the sheer impudence.

Instead of backhanding him across the face for his disrespect, though, Cia merely chuckled indulgently and reached out to pat him on the head. “Aren’t you just a little bundle of sass. We’ll fix that soon enough. But first, time for supper. Come, both of you.”

Link allowed Cia to take him by the hand and lead him out of the room along with her newest creation. He stole furtive glances at the little one all the way down to the dining room, inwardly mourning the loss of the child he’d longed for since the day he’d realized that husbands and wives could make babies of their own. Cia had noncommittally dismissed his shy question if they would ever have any, and he’d never pressed after that, but… it had been nice to think that someday, he would have something to protect and care for other than the cuccos and Apple, something little and sweet and his. Something to love him back unconditionally, to make the long days less achingly lonely.

He knew his creator-wife was a busy, powerful, important woman, so much stronger and more important than a mere lowly aspect like him would ever be. Still, his traitorous, ungrateful heart desired more, no matter how much he tried to throttle it into submission. He longed for her to someday treat him like the wives in the books and fairy tales he read treated their beloved husbands, like an equal, a friend, the center of her world the way she was the center of his.

And now this unwelcome little interloper would steal even more of her precious time away from him now that she had to split it between two of them. It just wasn’t fair.

They arrived at the dining room, with Link taking his usual seat across from Cia, and Cia placing the little one next to her after fetching a large book for him to sit on so his chin wasn’t level with the top of the table.

The kitchen charm brought out that evening’s supper, three steaming bowls full of sweet, hearty, creamy heart soup, three goblets of mild cider, and a platter of warm, sliced bread along with bowls of butter, jam, and honey floating along in midair, before being set before each of them. Cia barely stopped the little Link from attacking his food with his bare hands, showing him instead how to hold his spoon and knife and use them to convey his food to his mouth. The little one’s table manners still left much to be desired, and food quickly splattered the oversized tunic Cia had dressed him in as he stuffed his face.

Cia simply sighed and smiled ruefully, before glancing across the table to where Link sat primly sipping his soup. They shared identical exasperated looks before Cia turned her attention to her own food. They ate in relative silence, with the little one finishing first, predictably. The kitchen enchantment immediately floated out a plate of chocolate cake to him, which he wolfed down in just a few bites.

“He has so much to learn,” Mistress Cia sighed, pulling apart a slice of bread. “You can start him with combat training tomorrow, Link. He came out as such a puny little thing. He’ll never reach your level of skill, I’m sure, but he should at least reach the point where he’s not an embarrassment to his progenitor’s name. I leave the matter in your hands, Link. I have faith in you.”

Link’s chest swelled with pride at her coveted words of praise and the importance of his mission, and he nodded readily. He had never taught anyone before, but he had learned a lot from just the Instructor. Surely it couldn’t be too difficult.

She delicately wiped her lips with her napkin and turned to the little Link. “Pet, could you go get me some of that lovely chocolate cake from the kitchen charm?”

The little one nodded, pushing back his chair, hopping down to the floor, and running to the kitchen.

“Thank you, that’s a good boy.” She turned back to Link. “You can also start introducing him to the library, music room, and various hobbies and diversions. He will need something productive to occupy his mind with when not in my bed, just like you did. Oh, and speaking of which, don’t give anything away to him about bedroom matters, dear. I want to instruct him in the ways of pleasure myself. It has been so long since I have had a true novice in my bed, and breaking them in always so satisfying.” She smiled at him, her gaze turning dark, suggestive, hungry. “Don’t you remember, birdie? How much fun we had back then?”

Link wished he didn’t.

“I do, Mistress. Speaking of, will you have need of me tonight?” he asked demurely. Cia always liked it when Link seemed eager to come to her bed instead of having to be ordered. No harm in trying to stay in her good graces while he still could, either.

“Well, aren’t you eager tonight?” she said as the other Link trotted back from the kitchen, another plate of cake held in his little hands, a look of utmost concentration on his face. She smirked, taking the plate from him without even looking in his direction. “Feeling a little jealous, are we?”

Link froze, trying to figure out how to answer that question without accidentally saying something he shouldn’t, but he needn’t have bothered.

Without waiting for him to even open his mouth, Cia continued, “As much as I would love to take you up on that offer, birdie, I’m sorry, but I can’t play with you tonight. I’ve used up nearly all my magic, and I’m very tired. I’ll need to leave for a couple of days tomorrow, too.”

“You’re leaving?” Link asked in dismay. “So soon?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed. “While my new Link is perfect in so many ways-” And here she finally sent the little Link a beaming smile, which he returned, “-I unfortunately wasn’t expecting him to turn out so small. None of the clothing I prepared will properly fit him, and he needs some other accessories as well, especially for that hair of his. I was not aiming for that length or color, but I’m not necessarily upset about it.”

She reached out and picked up a lock of long, straight, blond hair, rubbing it between her fingers. “So, I need to make a quick run to a few nearby towns and cities to pick up a few things for him, along with supplies for the rest of the mansion. I was already planning on doing that next week after showing this sweet little thing some proper love and attention.”

She leaned over and pressed her cheek to the crown of the little Link’s head with a rueful sigh. “I’ll just have to move that up a little bit. Not to fret, though.”

She leaned back and pressed the little Link’s cheeks between her palms, touching their noses together. “When I get back, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

Link silently watched the display, unable to pinpoint exactly how he felt about it. Was this disappointment? Jealousy? Relief? 

“Now come, both of you.” Cia let the little Link go and pushed her chair back from the table. Link followed suit. “It’s time to show the newest member of our family to his quarters.”

She led them upstairs to the second floor where all the guest rooms were, and down the hall to the East Wing where Link’s own room resided. She stopped in front of the door directly across from Link’s, the one with a large feature window and fantastic view of the gardens that was Link’s favorite place to practice his harp.

She pushed the door open to display the opulent, yet sparsely furnished room, with a bed, a chest of drawers, a vanity table, a simple, mostly empty bookshelf, and a side table with a lamp next to the bed. “This will be your new room, little one. We’ll have to see about getting you some decorations and things to really make it your own, but that can come later, once you figure out what interests suit you. Link will help you with that, won’t you, Link?”

“Of course, Mistress,” he said tightly. 

“Well, then. Off to bed with all of us. Sleep well, my dearest husbands.” She kissed them both on the cheek, opened a portal to her room, and departed with a loud, cute yawn.

Link stood awkwardly in the middle of the hallway next to the half-baked intruder.

“Well.” He deliberately kept his eyes trained on the thick, dark carpet beneath them as he crossed the hall to his own room and opened the door. “Good night.”

“Good… night?”

Link shut his door behind him with more force than was strictly necessary.

Link woke up to birdsong outside his window the next morning. The family of robins who’d built a nest in the tree just outside had gotten an early start that morning, apparently. He yawned, sat up, and stretched luxuriously. Hm, he didn’t feel achy or sore at all today. In fact, he felt quite refreshed. Had Cia been in a good mood last-?

The events of the previous night came back to him, and his good mood sizzled out like water on a hot skillet. Cia was gone, and he’d be stuck with some random interloper in his own house for who knew how many days. And he was expected to train him to boot.

Link grumpily threw on a plain tunic and trousers, put on a simple pair of stud earrings in the shape of triangles that wrapped around the bottom of his earlobes, and headed to the bathroom for his morning ablutions. Once he returned to make his bed, he noticed something under it that definitely hadn’t been there the previous night.

He approached cautiously and bent down. Curled up underneath the foot of Link's bed was the interloper, sound asleep and wrapped in a soft, knitted blanket all the colors of fire. He looked very peaceful. Maybe even kind of cute.

Link jabbed him hard in the ribs with his bare foot. 

“Wha-?!” The other Link jerked awake, banging his head on the bed above him. “Owwwww...” He doubled over and grabbed his head with both hands, a reproachful blue eye glaring up between the curtain of straight, blond hair. “What was that for?”

You stole my name, my wife, and my favorite harp-playing spot. The least you could do is let me keep my privacy.

Link swallowed this knee-jerk, caustic retort and simply said, “You do have your own room, you know.”

“I know,” the little Link replied, crawling out from under the bed with the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, still dressed in the oversized tunic he’d worn the previous night. “But it was too big. Too quiet.”

With a sigh, Link said, “Whatever. Get washed up, it’s almost breakfast.”

“Break… fast?”

“First meal of the day.”

“Oh! You mean we get to eat again?”

“Yes.”

“Good! I’m hungry.” He glanced around at Link’s room curiously. “It was too dark for me to see much last night. Is all this yours?”

“Yes,” Link said, trying not to sound too defensive.

“You must really like birds,” the little one observed, craning his head up to look at the ceiling, which had been painted to look like a blue, cloudy sky, with carved wooden and folded paper birds hanging at various intervals from it.

“Yes.”

“Oh! Did you do this?” he asked, crouching down to study the half-carved woodpecker sitting on the desk near the fire, surrounded by his carving tools, sandpaper, and other finished projects.

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing!” the little Link said, picking up a frog figurine to examine it more closely.

Link paused, unsure of how to react. Sure, sometimes Cia praised his artistic endeavors when he showed her, but other times she acted completely disinterested. It was… nice to have someone express appreciation for what he did entirely unprompted. “You think so?”

“Of course! Ah!” The little Link put down the frog figurine and crossed the room to Link’s bed, where Apple peeked out from between the covers. “What's that?”

Small, grasping hands reached for Apple, and Link moved faster than he had in a long time. He snatched Apple away, holding him behind his back possessively. This other aspect wouldn't take yet another thing from him.

“Mine. Not yours,” he said coldly. “Don't touch him.”

“Oh.” Hurt flashed across the little aspect's face as his eyes flared red. “Um. Sorry.”

Link thawed a little. “It’s fine, just… don’t do it again.” He stuffed Apple into a random drawer in his dresser. “Now go to the bathroom and wash up. I’m leaving with or without you in two minutes.”

Having company during his usual morning routine turned out to be strange… but not necessarily unwelcome, to his own surprise. The rare occasions Cia joined him for breakfast and spent time with him outside of the bedroom were the highlights of his week. As he watched the little one take such joy in consuming a piece of toast slathered in honey as fast as humanly possible, Link smiled into his cup of tea. It was hard to be completely resentful of this newcomer when his presence meant Link would finally have someone to talk to whenever he felt like it. He could maybe grow to be okay with this after all.

“So, what are we doing today?” the little Link asked as they deposited their dishes in the kitchen sink. He jumped back to hide behind Link as the enchantment on the kitchen immediately attacked the dirty dishes with a sudsy rag floating in midair.

Link gently steered the little one out of the kitchen to the front door of the mansion. As the door opened, the little one's large eyes went even larger as he took in the beautiful yard and gardens around the mansion. Impulsively, Link held out his hand to the other.

“Come on. I have something to show you.”

The other Link took his hand and followed him readily into the warm sunlight. Link showed him the gardens and some of the grounds outside on his way to their destination, and it took much longer than expected to get there with how often the little one wanted to stop and look at everything that caught his interest. He asked dozens of questions, darting here, there, and everywhere, enthralled by everything he saw, and it was...

It was charming. Endearing, even. Never before had anyone hung so breathlessly off every word out of Link's mouth, even if his response to too many questions had to be, “I don't know.”

“Oh!” The little aspect darted to a patch of clover to run curious fingers over the three leaved plants and their white flowers. “What's this?”

“That's clover, Link.”

“Why does it smell so nice?”

“I don't know. Maybe to attract bees?”

“What are bees?”

“You'll see them eventually, I'm sure. Now come on, Link, we're almost there.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” the little one said, tearing himself away from the clover reluctantly to follow him to the large maple tree sitting alone on the edge of the orchard.

A sturdy swing made of knotted rope and padded, polished wood hung from one of the lower branches. It had been a gift from Cia, his favorite gift she'd ever given him aside from his harp. He'd tentatively requested it after a particularly long, grueling session in her bed as they lay tangled up together amidst the rumpled sheets, the time Cia was most willing to grant small requests or favors. He'd worried she'd forgotten afterwards, or considered it too big of a request, but sure enough, a few days later, she'd tugged him out of his room, face wreathed in excited, girlish smiles, and brought him to the maple tree. She’d shown him how to swing on it, first by demonstration, then pushing him, then letting him swing himself. That had… been a good day.

“What is it?” the little one asked, poking one of the knotted ropes and watching the device sway slightly with the movement.

“It’s a swing. Here, sit down, I’ll show you how it works.”

The little one obeyed, holding on to the smooth, braided ropes curiously, only to yelp in surprise when Link planted his hands on his back and gave him a hard push. The yelps quickly turned to joyous laughter as he soared higher and higher, long hair whipping around his face and streaming behind him as he swung back and forth. Answering happiness bubbled up in Link’s heart, and soon, their laughter mingled together on the breeze.

Eventually, though, Link’s arms grew tired, and though the little one had quickly learned how to pump his legs and lean his body back and forth to make the swing go by himself, it was time for training. It proved difficult to pry the little one away from the swing, though.

“Come on, Link,” Link said, exasperated. “Mistress Cia said we were to start your training today, and I'm not going to let her down.”

“What kind of training?” the little one asked, not slowing down in the slightest.

“Guess you’ll just have to follow and find out,” Link said, turning on his heel and walking down the hill. Hopefully his bluff would pay off and the other Link would be too curious to stay behind. He didn’t fancy having to haul the little thing by the scruff all the way to the training grounds. Sure enough, though, the creaking of the swing quickly faded, and small feet pattered on the grass behind him.

“Wait! Don’t leave me!” the little one panted, falling into step beside him.

“Well, come on, then, keep up.”

Link led the little one to the training grounds. A shed holding all the practice weapons stood on the side nearest the house. A row of archery targets had been set up at the far end of the yard, along with an obstacle course to train dexterity and weights to train strength. A few dummies lined the yard as well, good for practicing swings against. The instructor stood like a sentinel in its usual place near the shed, blank, unmoving face gazing straight ahead.

“What’s all this for?” the little one asked, eyes round as they took everything in.

“Well, Cia says that since we were modeled after her Hero, we should know how to fight like one, too. So this is where we train, just in case we ever need to defend ourselves or her, like a good hero should. Wait there, I’ll get us some practice swords.”

As Link rummaged around in the shed, the little one wandered over to the instructor, curiously poking at it.

“What’s this?”

“Oh, that’s the instructor,” Link said, coming out with practice swords, shields, a bow, a slingshot, and a whip. “It’s programmed with a bunch of fighting styles and levels so we can practice against a moving target instead of just the dummies. I call him Eagus.”

“Oh.” The little one squinted at the instructor, then turned back toward Link. “Why?”

Because having someone to talk to when Cia is away or busy makes me less likely to want to smash things to get her attention or just lie in bed all day.

“Just because.”

“Okay.” He trotted over and took up a shield in his small hands. “What are all these for?”

“It’ll be easier to just show you.”

With a sword in one hand and a shield in the other, Link strode up to the instructor. “Instructor. Activate.”

The light came on in the golem’s eyes, and it drew itself up to its full height. “Activating. Do you wish to engage in combat?”

“I do. Swordplay, level four.”

“Understood.”

The instructor dropped into a ready stance, a sword forming in one hand and a shield in the other. “Let us put our skills to the test.”

Link braced himself, bringing up his shield just in time to catch the crushing blow aimed straight at his head. He then fell into the familiar rhythm of a spar, letting his mind empty of everything except the thrill of the fight. Finally, Link landed a strike directly to the instructor’s chest, and the golem stuttered to a halt.

“Match set,” Eagus intoned, straightening. It bowed, sword and shield rejoining the bulk of its body. “Challenger wins. Do you wish to engage in combat?”

“No, that’s enough for now. Standby.”

“Standing by.”

Link wiped his sweaty face on his sleeve and turned to find the little one sitting in the grass, looking at him with the most starry-eyed expression of awe and wonder he’d ever seen.

“That was incredible,” the little one said breathlessly. “You’re amazing, Link!”

Link’s cheeks burned with something more than exertion, flustered happiness bubbling up in his belly. No one had ever…

“It wasn’t that impressive,” he demurred. “It was only on level four. I have a lot to learn yet.” 

“Are you kidding?” the little one said incredulously, bouncing up and bounding over to stand beside him. “You were like a blur out there! Am I going to learn how to do that?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Let’s start right now!” The other Link ran over to the pile of practice weapons and grabbed the other sword. It was over half his size, but he hefted it determinedly. “I’m going to be just as amazing as you, someday, Link!” 

Link’s cheeks and ears burned anew. “I’m sure you will.”

And so, the little one’s training began. Link quickly realized that all the practice swords were simply too big and heavy for the little one despite his dogged determination to wield one and made a mental note to request a smaller one from Cia when she had the time to go get one. In the meantime, he somehow convinced the other Link to try the practice daggers instead of the unwieldy sword.

Even with the instructor on its easiest setting, the little Link kept getting knocked down over and over. But, to his credit, he got back up every time, indomitable fire in his eyes. Link was dutifully impressed.

As the little one pushed his long, tousled hair back for the nth time, and got walloped upside the head again for his trouble, Link finally took matters into his own hands. The little one would not be getting a concussion on his watch. Calling a brief timeout, he fetched a pair of garden shears, cut a length off one of the sheets of green fabric wrapping one of the new bundles of arrows Cia had brought back during her last shopping trip, and looped the makeshift headband around the little one’s forehead to keep the hair and sweat out of his face.

After a couple more rounds with the instructor, Link dragged the little one inside to get lunch despite his protests that he wasn’t hungry. He immediately contradicted himself by wolfing down his food so fast the elder aspect was worried he might get sick, and then dragged Link right back outside to continue training.

A few hours later, after being run through the obstacle course a few times, the little Link had finally exhausted his near endless supply of energy, and lay sprawled on the grass, panting and sweating in the sun after downing the tin mug of water Link had brought him in just a few gulps. Link sat beside him to keep him company, enjoying the warmth of the sun on his face. He’d definitely sleep well tonight.

The little Link finally pulled himself up to a sitting position, turned to him, and said, out of the blue, “What's a child?”

Link looked over at him in surprise. “What?”

“A child. You asked Cia yesterday if that's what I was. I don't know what that is, so I thought I'd ask.”

“You don't?” Link asked, bewildered. “I've always known what children were.”

“I mean, the word is up here,” the other Link clarified, tapping the heel of his hand against his temple. “But it doesn't... it has no meaning. I don't know what it is. I have a lot of words like that. Thunderstorm, element, mushroom, pinwheel... they're all in my head, but I don't have an image to go with them yet. But I know that this is grass.” He pulled up a blade and held it between his fingers. “I know that's a maple tree.” He pointed at the tree the swing hung from. “I know that's a cloud.” He pointed up to the partially cloudy sky.

“Ah,” Link said in realization. “Yeah, okay, I get what you mean. Um... well, a child is...” He trailed off, trying to think of how best to describe it. One of the cuccos strutted across the yard in front of them, her brood of nine chicks peeping and skittering around adorably.

He immediately pushed himself off the ground and approached the hen. She tolerated it, pecking at a blade of grass. Unhurriedly, so as not to spook her, Link knelt down and scooped up a little yellow fluffball, cupping it gently in his hands. He held it out to the other Link, who had followed him.

“This is a chick. It's a baby cucco. All creatures that are born naturally instead of through magic - like you and me - start as babies like this, small and weak and needing a lot of care and guidance until they can grow into their big adult forms, like the cucco over there. A child is a baby person.”

“I see,” the little Link said slowly, kneeling down as well and peering closer at the cheeping creature in Link's hands. A soft smile appeared on his small mouth. “It's... cute? Is that the word?”

“It is.” Link beamed, pleased and delighted that the other Link thought the chicks were as charming as he did.

“Mmm.” The little Link's face fell slightly, and he looked deeply troubled. “Does... does that mean you think I'm weak? Do you... wish I was a child instead of... me?”

Link froze. How was he expected to answer that question?

“You do, don't you?” A small, bitter, rueful smile appeared on the little Link's face, and it looked wrong there. “That's kind of funny. Cia wishes I was bigger, and you wish I was smaller.”

“Hey.” Link pressed the chick into the little one's hands to free his own, and placed one on his slender shoulder. “I admit, I... you aren't what I thought you were at first. You’ve complicated things a lot around here. But that's not your fault. You've already been full of surprises, and I've barely known you for a day. I don’t think you’re weak, either. Far from it, actually. A weak person wouldn’t get up so many times after getting knocked down.”

The soft smile appeared again, and small fingers delicately patted the cheeping chick. “Really?”

“Really. And I have to admit, it's kind of nice to have someone to talk to while the Mistress is away.”

“Wait, you never speak to anyone else? Just her?”

“Well, I mean, sometimes she invites people over,” Link said, thinking of Vaati, Bellum, Aveil, and sundry other associates of his Mistress that treated him either like he didn't exist, the dirt under their shoes, or a piece of meat they wanted to consume. “But they're not very nice, and they don't like talking to me.” 

The little Link looked strangely indignant on his behalf. “That's their loss, then. I think you're fun to talk to.”

Link had to take a moment to swallow the sudden, inexplicable lump in his throat. “Thanks. You too.”

The chick in the little Link's hands took that moment to decide it had had enough of being held, wiggled out of a gap between his fingers, and tumbled to the ground as if in slow motion.

The hen immediately whipped her head up and around, just in time to see her chick bounce almost comically off the grass, tumbling head over tailfeathers before it righted itself and scrambled back to her side, peeping at the top of its tiny lungs all the while.

The little Link looked stricken. “I- I'm sorry, I didn't- it was an accident, I- is it-?”

“It's fine,” Link assured him, patting him on the shoulder. “They're so light that falls usually don't really hurt them, and it was on grass besides. Uh... you might want to start running, though.”

“Wha-?”

With a loud, strident, clucking cry, the cucco stampeded directly toward them, murder in her beady, golden eyes. The little Link took one look, scrambled to his feet, and bolted in the other direction. Link made a valiant effort to grab the livid bird as she passed him, but she deftly sidestepped his lunge and continued tearing after the little aspect, who had nearly made it to the orchard. The sight was so comical that Link burst into helpless laughter.

“Stop laughing and help me!” came the distant cry of annoyance, cut short as the hen flew directly at the little one's head. He hit the grass just in the nick of time, and came up in an inelegant roll, holding a gigantic stick in one hand.

“Aha!” he crowed in triumph, turning toward the attacking cucco, who'd wheeled back around for a second go at him. She quickly realized the tides had turned against her, and when the little Link came at her with the stick, she swerved around him so fast she nearly fell over. He gave chase, screaming war cries all the way, while the hen tore across the grounds like a horde of moblins were in hot pursuit. 

Link absolutely lost it.

“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard in my entire life,” Link wheezed as the two made their way back inside after Link had pulled himself together enough to whisk his little companion away from Imminent Doom by Cucco. He giggled again just at the memory.

The small Link - hair in disarray, clothes covered in grass stains, headband askew - replied with a shove to Link’s arm that barely rattled him. Even so, he froze, bewildered at the aggressive contact that was nonetheless so clearly not intended to cause harm. The little Link moved to shove him again, and without thinking, Link shot out a hand and held him back with a palm pressed to his forehead. The little Link strained comically against his hold, his arms too short to reach him. A slow grin spread over Link’s face.

“Oh, now you’ve done it, pipsqueak,” he threatened, and the little Link squealed as Link grabbed him in a chokehold. He tried to squirm away, knocking them both to the floor in a heap. The world became a blur of shoves and kicks and breathless giggles and playful growls.

It was… fun, Link realized. Wrestling like that, clothes a reassuring shield between their bodies, not having to worry about someone else’s pleasure constantly, just a simple, no-stakes contest of who could get the upper hand. It was so different from how Cia played with him, but he found he liked it. He liked it a lot. Even when the little Link managed to squirm on top of him, sitting on his chest, hands on his shoulders, panting face inches away, wreathed in a triumphant, playful smile, only the barest twinges of panic went off in Link’s gut.

“I win!” the little one declared.

“You wish!” Link retorted, reaching up and easily flipping their positions. He tickled the other mercilessly until his shrieks of laughter filled the foyer. He reached up to push him off, and without thinking, Link grabbed those slim wrists and held them down above the little one’s head even as Link’s hips and legs pinned the other’s lower half and kept it firmly immobile. He then abruptly realized where he was, what he was doing, and he froze, his insides becoming a block of ice.

Anxiety gnawing at his stomach, he looked down and met the little one’s eyes, dreading the look of terror he would surely find within them… but instead, the emerald eyes that gazed into his shone and sparkled with mirthful defiance, wide and guileless and completely unafraid. He... wasn't afraid. Link could so easily hurt him in a dozen different ways, but even flat on his back and completely at his mercy, the thought that he could possibly be hurt (claimed, taken, broken inside and out) hadn’t even entered the little thing’s head.

The realization took his breath away, and for some reason, his eyes stung with tears, blurring the sight of trusting innocence gazing up at him. The little one let out another giggle, cheekily squirming against Link’s hold on him, and Link slammed back into his own body, ripping himself away as if the smaller aspect was made of red-hot metal. He fell heavily to his side next to him, and quickly turned over, pressing his palms to his burning eyes as he choked back a sob. 

As if from underwater, he heard the little one sit up, felt a tentative hand touch his shoulder. 

“Link? Are you okay?”

Link let out a long, shaky breath. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He sat up, shook his head hard, and firmly told himself to get it together. He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but it needed to stop, now.

He turned to the little Link and mustered a smile. “Come on, it should be dinner time now.”

After dinner, which they both readily devoured, famished from their day outside, they both went upstairs.

“You can have the bathroom first,” Link said, magnanimously.

The other Link gave him a blank stare. “Why do I want the bathroom?”

Link briefly closed his eyes and dredged up some more patience from dregs he didn’t even know he had. “To take a bath in?”

“Oh.” The little Link looked down at his dirty, sweaty, food- and grass-stained clothes. “It’s not that bad.”

“It’s not-” Link pressed his face into his hands and swallowed a scream. “Okay, that’s it.” He firmly grabbed the little one by the shoulders and marched him into the opulent bathroom adjacent to both of their rooms. “Clothes off, right now.”

“Bossy,” the little Link sniffed, but he did as he was told as Link also shucked off his dirty clothes, including his headband. Once they were both undressed, and Link had shown him where to put his dirty clothes, he crossed his arms and stared up at Link in clear challenge. “So, what n- ack!”

Link turned one of the glittering knobs sticking out of the wall, and warm water poured from the ceiling in a contained shower, soaking both of them in seconds.

The little one pushed the lank, dripping mass of his hair back out of his face, and glowered up at him, looking for all the world like a wet, miserable cat. “Why are you like this?”

“Come on, you’re already wet. Might as well. And then we can soak in the bath for a bit.” He pointed at the faintly steaming tub of water set into the floor, kept magically warm day and night and periodically draining and refilling once every three days. It was one of Link’s favorite places to be. He had fallen asleep in there multiple times. Nearly drowned a couple of those times, too, but it was worth it.

The little one huffed, visibly considered running out of the bathroom altogether, and then accepted his fate with a slump of shoulders. “Fine. What do I do?”

He eyed the bar of Link’s favorite rain-scented soap distrustfully as the taller aspect lathered up. “What is that?” He peered closer, nose inches from Link’s skin. “Bubbles? Why- pthfft-!”

Link planted a sudsy hand in the little one’s face and pushed him away. “Personal space. And yes. Bubbles. Gets you clean. Have fun.”

He shoved the slick bar in the little Link’s hands and moved on to his hair routine with the shampoo bar that smelled like apples and cinnamon. He made a valiant effort to stifle his laughter as the little one wrestled with the bar of soap for the next few minutes, then finally gave up and snickered openly even as he took pity on the other and helped him wash his hair.

Once they were both clean enough, Link led the other to the steaming bathtub.

“Okay, this is nice,” the little one begrudgingly admitted, chin brushing the surface of the water and hair floating around him like pond weeds as he sat on his knees to keep from being completely submerged.

“Told you,” Link said smugly, settling back against the edge with a content sigh.

They stayed in there soaking until the little one started panicking about his fingers going all wrinkly, so Link reluctantly left the water, dried off, and then retired to his room to get dressed.

Afterward, Link sat in the armchair next to his fireplace and read another chapter of the novel he was halfway through. He couldn’t really concentrate on it, though. He felt twitchy. And when he felt twitchy like this, the only thing that usually calmed him down was playing music. He grabbed his harp and let his feet carry him to his favorite playing spot.

He stopped short when he opened the door to find the little one blithely jumping up and down on the bed, a clean tunic he was nearly swimming in tied around his waist with one of the drapery ropes.

Oh. Right.

“Hi, Link! Did you want something?” the little Link said, continuing to bounce on his bed, green eyes sparkling with joy.

“I...”

I want my old music room back, you meddlesome runt, came the involuntary, spiteful thought, which Link immediately beat into submission with a club and stuffed into a chest at the back of his mind.

“No,” he said instead. “Sorry for disturbing you.”

The little one frowned and stopped bouncing, sitting on the rumpled bedclothes instead. “No. Something's bothering you. Out with it.”

Link gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

The little one looked away from him, playing absently with his fingernails. “Sometimes you look at me like... like I've done something wrong. Like you want me to go away.” Plaintive red eyes looked back at him earnestly, “So, if I've done something wrong, I'd rather you just tell me so that I can fix it, whatever it is. So you don’t look at me like you want me to go away anymore.”

Remorse stabbed Link’s heart like a knife. He hadn’t meant…  Did the little one really think…?

“I don’t want you to go away,” he said, and to his own shock, found that he meant it. “Don’t… don’t ever think that, okay? I’m glad you’re here. I am. And you…” He sighed, “You didn’t do anything wrong, Link. I just… I used to play my harp in here. Right there, actually.” He pointed to the window seat overlooking the orchard. “It was my favorite spot.”

“But because I’m here, you can’t do it anymore,” the little Link said, looking steadily at him with large, knowing eyes.

Link shrugged uncomfortably, averting his gaze.

“You can still play that thing in here, if you want?”

Link’s head snapped up, hope blooming in his chest. “Really?”

“Sure,” the little one said with a shrug of his own. “It’s not like I’m using the window right now.”

A sudden surge of affection and gratefulness briefly muted Link’s vocal cords, and all he could do was nod as he entered the room, closing the door behind him.

After situating himself in his normal spot, Link ran his fingers down his harp strings, tuned a couple that sounded a bit off, and then started in on a rendition of “The Twilight’s Lament.”

He played through it a few times before becoming aware of a presence hovering near his knee. He looked down to see the little one sitting on the floor next to the window seat, gazing up at him with that same starry-eyed look of awe and wonder he’d worn during their training session.

“That was amazing,” the little one said when Link made eye contact with him. A flush crept up Link’s neck and warmed his cheeks, and he looked away bashfully.

“I’m still not that great at it yet,” he mumbled, words finally working again.

The little one scoffed loudly. “Sounded pretty good to me!” He held out his hands entreatingly. “Can I try?”

Link considered. “Alright.” He offered the instrument to the little Link, who took it and eagerly strummed the strings with no finesse whatsoever before determinedly trying to pick out the tune Link had been playing before. 

After a couple minutes of plucking the strings, however, he stopped.

“Hurts,” he said, rubbing the fingers of his hand together, brow furrowed.

“It does at first. You have to keep going until you get calluses.” Link showed the little aspect the thick pads on his fingers. “These let me play as long as I want, but it hurt a lot before I developed them.”

“You play, then.” The little Link shoved the harp back at him. “You're better at it, anyway.”

“Well, if you insist,” Link said wryly. He began the song again, and the little Link hummed along, eyes fixed on the strings intently. His pitch wasn't half bad. Seized by a sudden idea, Link set his harp aside, ran back to his room, and rummaged around in one of his drawers before returning and holding something out to the little Link.

“Here.”

“What's this?” he said, turning it over in his small hands.

“It's an ocarina. I found it lying around the music room on the first floor, and it's pretty easy to play. You blow into this part here, and you change the sound by covering or uncovering the holes. Like this.”

Link demonstrated by playing the first few notes of the last song he’d played on his harp and then handed it back to the little one. Leaving him to experiment with it on his own time, he went back to his harp. Stilted, hesitant ocarina accompanied him a few seconds later, and it wasn’t pretty or polished in the least, not like when Cia would accompany him with the various instruments in the main music room, but it made Link smile all the same.

They played together for over an hour, and Link found himself in a much better mood at the end of it. He noticed the little Link constantly pausing to yawn, though, and his yawns were infectious. After his sixth yawn, Link finally gave up and resigned himself to turning in for the night.

“Well, that was fun,” he said genuinely, fingers finally stilling on the strings of his harp. “But I'm tired, and by the looks of things, so are you.”

“But I don't want to stop,” the little one pouted, gripping the ocarina with both hands. “I'm having fun!”

“You'll have less fun when you're so tired you can't get out of bed tomorrow,” Link pointed out, reluctantly moving from his comfortable spot. “Didn't you say you wanted to train some more?”

The little one wavered, then gave in with a slump of his shoulders. “Okay, fine.” He bounced up to his feet and held the ocarina out to Link. “Thank you for letting me borrow it.”

Link waved him away. “Keep it. I barely ever play it, anyway. You'll probably get more use out of it.”

“Really?” The little Link's eyes sparkled emerald as he clutched the ocarina to his chest.

Stars, he's so cute, came the stray, startling thought.

“Sure.”

“Thank you!”

Link couldn't handle the look of pure adoration in the little one's eyes and quickly turned away, his stomach doing odd flip flops in his middle as his cheeks burned scarlet. “You're... welcome.” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Alright, well. Good night.”

“Do you… do you really have to go?” said the little one from behind him as Link opened the bedroom door, voice strangely small and subdued.

“Well, since this is your room, and I have my own room, that’s kind of how it works.” He paused, and then narrowed his eyes at the other. “Am I going to find you under my bed in the morning again?”

The little one looked everywhere but at him, squirming under the scrutiny. His silence spoke volumes.

Link let out an explosive sigh. “Fine. You can stay in my room one night. But you stay on the other side of the bed, got it?”

The little one nodded so hard Link thought his head might fall off, gently placing the ocarina on his bed before darting from the room so fast he was nearly a blur. Link rolled his eyes toward the ceiling and followed at a more leisurely pace. The little one was already bundled under the covers on the other side of his bed when he arrived across the hall, the gold of his hair on the pillow and the small lump under the quilt the only evidence of his presence. Despite himself, Link huffed a laugh as he turned down the lights and retrieved Apple from the drawer he'd been stuffed into.

As he also got under the covers, part of him fretted that this might have been a mistake. That he wouldn't be able to sleep a wink with a stranger in the same bed. But he needn't have worried.

With a groggy “Good night, Link,” the little one turned over to face him, his mussed hair falling into his eyes, and fell asleep within seconds. Link stared at him, bewildered and a little jealous that he could fall asleep so easily in a stranger's bed without a care in the world. Hesitantly, he reached out and tucked a stray lock of long, straight, blond hair behind a pointed ear.

“Good night, Link,” he murmured, voice swallowed up by the quiet of the room. He turned over, held Apple close, and pulled up the covers.

To his own surprise, Link fell asleep in under a minute, lulled into slumber by gentle, undemanding warmth behind him, the sound of soft breaths in his ears, and rain drumming against the roof and windows.

Chapter Text

Link gradually awoke to the sound of rain pounding against his bedroom window. He stretched, yawned loudly, buried his face in the fabric of Apple's body, and took a deep breath of his oldest companion’s familiar, comforting scent. The rain drummed louder against his window, on the roof. Ugh. Maybe he should just go back to slee-

“You're awake! Finally!”

A little, catlike face popped up in his vision as the other Link poked his head over the side of the bed. A glance at the floor showed a number of Link's carved figurines scattered about where they most definitely had not been the night before.

“I was waiting for forever,” the little one continued blithely, clambering up onto the bed beside Link and bouncing on his knees, making the whole frame shake. “Are we going to go out and train now?”

“Aren’t you sore?” Link asked in bewilderment.

“I mean, yeah, my arms and legs and other things hurt, but I want to go out! I want to be as good at fighting as you!”

Link eyed the sweat-stained scrap of ragged, green cloth encircling the little Link's head dubiously. “Why are you still wearing that?”

“Because that’s what I wear when we train!” A slight flush appeared on angular cheeks. “Besides, you gave it to me.”

Link handily ignored the warmth that flickered to life in his chest at that and said, “That was just meant to be a temporary solution yesterday. You know you can make yourself a better one of those, right?”

Intense violet eyes fixed on Link, the gears visibly turning behind them. “I can?”

“Yeah. You can make a lot of things with fabric, and a lot of them are really complicated, but headbands should be easy. I’ll find you a book on sewing in the library later, and I’ll lend you my sewing basket if you want. I can only patch up my clothes, but I can show you how to thread a needle at least.”

“I understood about sixty percent of those words, but sure! But wait, what about training?”

“We can't go out when the weather is like this,” Link explained patiently. “We would get wet and might get sick.”

“We got wet yesterday in the bathroom, and that was fine,” the little Link said skeptically. “And what's 'sick'?”

“Water in the bathroom is different than water outside,” Link sighed, flopping over onto his back. It was too early for this. “And believe me, being sick is awful. You don't want to be sick.”

Well. That was true, but though Link would never admit it to the little one, being sick did have its upsides. He recalled the time he'd gotten very ill his first winter, so ill he couldn't even lift his head from his pillow, let alone get out of his bed, and Cia had come and sat with him, tenderly wiping his fevered brow with cold, wet cloths, holding his hand as he tossed and turned fitfully, helping him take small sips of plain broth to soothe his roiling stomach. Despite how awful he had felt, he'd also never felt so loved and cared for before.

However, he'd been sick a few times since, none of them quite as serious as that illness, and Cia had only come to check on him a few times during them to make sure he wasn't getting worse, leaving him to convalesce in solitude. Getting sick ultimately just wasn't worth it. Even if he would have given so much to have his beloved Mistress treat him so gently and kindly again.

“Well, okay, then what do we do all day?” the little Link was asking.

“Well… how about I give you a tour of the mansion after breakfast?” Link suggested. “Unless Mistress Cia showed you around yesterday?”

“No, I only saw the rooms we went to yesterday,” the little one said, a curious, excited gleam in his eyes. “I suppose exploring would be fun.”

“Alright, then, let's go,” Link said, throwing back the covers.

After breakfast, Link showed the other Link the music room, full of enchanted music boxes, artifacts that played various tunes, and other musical instruments, including Cia's favorite instrument, the grand piano sitting in one corner of the room. He showed the little one the opulent ballroom that Cia used as a meeting room and that Link used as a skating rink when no one else was around, and the first floor atrium filled with all sorts of hothouse flowers and plants. He showed him the opulent drawing room that Cia used to entertain guests.

Finally, he led the little one upstairs, down the back hall to the room at the very end of it and pushed open the door to reveal an expansive room filled with shelves upon shelves of books. A few desks lined the walls, and every window had a padded window seat and cushions in case someone wanted to curl up there and read a book.

“This is the library,” Link said with a flourish. “It's probably my favorite place in the mansion aside from the music room. Now, come on, I need to grab that book on sewing.”

Link ventured deeper into the library and clambered up one of the rolling ladders.

“It should be around here somewhere…”

“Link!”

Link whirled around at the alarmed shout, nearly falling off the ladder. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

The little Link's large eyes had become positively enormous as he stared down at an open book sitting on the nearest desk. Cia must have left it there earlier. “It's talking to me! The paper is- it's talking to me!”

“Yes, that's called reading, Link,” Link said with a roll of his eyes. Had he been this excited when he'd read something for the first time? He didn't think so.

The little Link looked around at the shelves and shelves of books all around them, his eyes getting so big and wide Link thought they might just fall out of his head entirely. “Do they all talk like this?”

“Sure?”

“What kinds of things do they say?”

“Everything? These ones,” Link pointed at a row of multicolored tomes, “are about cooking. Those ones,” A series of red books with gold trim, “are about weapons. There's a whole section of atlases on that third shelf over there, er, that is, books with just maps in them. And-”

“I'm going to read them all,” the little Link declared, picking up the open book on gemstones and hugging it to his chest determinedly.

“You do that,” Link said in amusement, resuming his search for the sewing book.

He found it a few minutes later and handed it off to the little one, who thanked him, added it to the rapidly growing pile on the desk, and then resumed his manic skittering all over the library. Link ensconced himself on one of the window seats and watched the little one scamper hither and yon, flipping through books, adding some to his rapidly growing pile, while reluctantly shelving others. How did such a little body manage to contain so much energy? Just watching him made Link tired.

“Link!”

Link jerked out of his light doze with a gasp, looking around wildly. When someone yelled for him like that, it never boded well. Instead of a furious or annoyed Cia striding toward him, though, it was only the other Link, waving a sheaf of papers as he trotted up to the taller aspect.

“Link, what is this?” He shoved the papers in Link’s face. “See, it says ‘Fairy Fountain’ right up here, but the rest of it are these weird lines and dots, they’re not letters. I found even more of them in these drawers over there.”

He pointed to the pair of filing cabinets lining one of the walls where maps, music, and other loose paper were organized. Link snatched the papers away before the other could hit him with them.

“Link, this is music.”

“Isn’t music what you played on the harp and ocarina last night?”

“Yes, but this is sheet music. Written music, like the words on the page are written spoken words.”

“You can write down music, too?” the little Link said incredulously. “But then, why can’t I read it the way I can read normal words?”

Link shrugged. “Maybe Mistress Cia didn’t think you needed to know how to read music.” The little Link looked so crestfallen that Link couldn’t help but add, “But that doesn’t mean you can’t learn.”

Hopeful red eyes looked up at him. “Really? How?”

“There’s a book with instructions and charts around here somewhere. It’s how I taught myself.”

“You taught yourself?” The starry-eyed, awed look was back. Link’s face grew warm again.

“Sure. Was something to do.”

“That’s amazing.” The little Link stood up and ran off. “I’m going to go look for it right now! What is the book called?”

Link glanced to the side, spying a familiar brown tome resting on one of the desks. “Music Theory Made Easy, I think.” He sidled over to the desk and grabbed the book, holding it casually in front of him. If the little one stopped tearing around the library like a headless cucco for just a couple seconds, he’d surely see it.

“I don’t see it, Link!” came the distant shout from atop one of the ladders lining the bookshelves.

“Mmm, maybe I was wrong, it could be on the top shelf over there,” Link pointed to the opposite end of the library.

The little one dragged a nearby ladder over and clambered up it, pulling out books and pushing them back in after he'd checked the titles. “It's not here, either, Link.”

“Have you tried over there?” Link pointed to a middle shelf near the middle of the library, disguising a cackle with a cough as the other Link skittered right back down the ladder like a spider.

After a few more minutes of this, the little Link eventually figured out what was going on, probably clued in by the gigantic smug grin Link could no longer keep off his face, and set upon him with a vengeance, chasing him around with a large cookbook before pouncing and dragging him down to the floor in a headlock. A few jumbled minutes later, they lay together in a patch of weak sunlight from the window, giggling and breathless. Link turned his head to see the other gazing back at him, something warm and soft in those laughing green eyes that caused something in Link's middle to lurch strangely.

To distract himself from the strange feeling he wasn't prepared to examine too closely yet, Link said instead, “Seriously, why do your eyes do that?”

The other Link blinked at him, said eyes flickering from green to violet. “Why do they do what?”

“That!”

The other Link’s eyes crossed as if he were trying to look at them. “I don’t…”

“Oh, for-” He sat up and stood, beckoning the other to follow, and led him over to one of the reflective metal panels decorating the walls. “Why are your eyes that color?”

The little one gave him the single most unimpressed look he'd ever seen, putting all of Vaati’s to absolute shame. “I don't know. Why are your eyes that color?”

“My eyes stay the same color. Yours don't.”

The other Link looked at himself again, intrigued. “They don't?”

They both waited in anticipation for about a minute, but the little one's eyes stayed stubbornly violet.

“You sure my eyes weren't always this color?” the little one finally asked doubtfully.

Link thought back to all the times he'd seen the little one's eyes change.

“I'm going to tear up that gemstone book,” he declared suddenly.

“No!” The little one whirled to face him, eyes flashing a brilliant blue. “Don't you dare! Why would you- I even haven't finished reading it yet!”

Link simply pointed at the metal panel, and the other Link confusedly followed his finger, stopping short when he saw blue eyes reflected back at him instead of violet. “What...?”

“See? I told you they change color. I think it's connected to your emotions. Your eyes turned blue when you got angry.”

“You better not tear that book-”

“Don't worry,” Link assured him. “I'm not. I was just testing a theory.”

The little one huffed and crossed his arms, glaring up at him. “You could have tried telling me a joke or something instead.”

Link grinned. “Where's the fun in that?”

The little one kicked him in the shin.

“Did you know there are over three hundred different kinds of materials that are commonly used as gems?” the little one chattered excitedly as they walked down to the kitchens to pick up their lunch. Sandwiches again this time. Oh well, at least they got an apple with them, too. A little more variety would have been nice, but he knew better than to seem ungrateful for the food Mistress Cia provided. The one time Link had dared broach the subject, he couldn’t swallow properly for days afterward.

“I didn’t,” Link said, when the little one paused, clearly expecting him to respond.

“Well, there are,” the little Link said happily. “Amber is an organic gem that’s made from tree sap, and coral is an actual creature that people harvest from the sea, and did you know that it takes one to three years for an oyster to grow a pearl? Pearls are associated with water, so if you wanted to enchant pearl jewelry with something, it would naturally turn toward boosting or shielding water magic, and therefore-”

The little one continued to natter about gemstones and jewelry and enchantments for the entire duration of the meal. Link made interested noises or comments in the appropriate places and paid attention to as much of the conversation as he could follow. And it was interesting. Link had never been overly interested in gemstones or jewelry or even enchanting before this, his own pitiful reserve of magic so disappointingly weak that he could barely manage the most basic of utility and combat spells, despite his poor, patient wife's best attempts to teach him. Still, the little one’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“So,” Link asked as the little Link paused for breath. “Did you read that sewing book I gave to you yet?”

The little one flushed. “Oh, I… I haven’t gotten around to it. The gemstone book was just so interesting! But I’ll read the sewing book when we get back, I will!”

The little Link scarfed down his food in record time and dragged Link by the hand back to the library, desperate to get back to his reading. Link let him, exasperatingly fond. The little Link plopped himself back down on his cushion and, true to his word, set aside the book on gemstones to flip open the one on sewing, quickly becoming engrossed in its pages. Link picked out an atlas he’d only gone through once before, leisurely turning his pages and dozing from time to time, pleasantly full from lunch.

Finally, after he felt he’d waited long enough, he stood and meandered over to the little one.

“Hey.” He nudged the other’s hip with his foot. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What?” the little one said in disappointment. “But I haven't finished reading the books yet.”

“I thought you wanted to see the rest of the mansion.”

“Oh! Yes, I do!”

So, Link took the little one out to explore the second floor, showed him all the different bedrooms, bathrooms, and studies that populated it. There was even a spare enchanting room next to the library that Link almost never used because most enchantments were beyond him, but maybe the little one would get more use out of it. He took him up to the third floor, too, but did not allow him to peer inside the rooms Cia had made strictly off limits to her aspects. Instead, he simply showed him her bedroom door, and then showed him the servant's secret passageway, which led to all three floors, plus another secret, fourth stair that led up to the roof.

“This is my favorite place,” Link found himself confiding in the other as they climbed the stairs. “I keep a blanket up here, and sometimes on nice nights, I'll come up and look at the stars.”

“Can I come up and look at the stars with you?” the little Link asked eagerly. “That sounds like so much fun!”

A small part of Link snarled in annoyance at the little thing's presumption. This was his special place, his sanctuary. The other, much larger part of him rejoiced at the notion that someone wanted to share his most special place with him, that he would have company on those long, lonely evenings that Cia had no need of him. 

“I don't see why not,” he said, opening the hatch to the rooftop so the little one could peer out at the rainy afternoon.

“Woah!” the little Link exclaimed, standing on his tiptoes to look out across the roof and into the area surrounding the mansion and its walls. “We're up so high! Hey, what's that over there?”

He pointed at the distant cluster of buildings far, far in the distance, barely discernible amidst the sheets of rain and trees and rolling hills surrounding the mansion on three sides and the forested mountain on its fourth.

“I think they call it Horon Village,” Link answered. “Mistress Cia goes there sometimes for supplies and to sell her enchantments and potions. She goes other places, too, but that one is the only one we can see from here.”

“Oh! Does that mean there are people there?” Violet eyes looked toward the smeared, distant lights with keen interest. “Can we go see them?”

“No, never,” Link said firmly. “People would steal us away from Mistress Cia if they knew we carried pieces of Link the Hero's essence within us. They would use us, hurt us. We're just aspects, after all. We're not real people, so they're allowed to do whatever they want to us. But here, Mistress Cia can protect us, keep us safe.”  

“Link the Hero?”

“Come on back to the library,” Link said, taking the little one's hand and tugging him away from the roof and driving rain. “I'll tell you the story.”

Link yawned, stretching as he woke up from his latest nap. That had been a nice one. He was almost sorry to leave it, but his stomach growled, signifying it was nearly dinner. He glanced around the library, looking for the little Link, but strangely, he was nowhere to be found. Had he gone out exploring on his own after Link had told him the tale of their famous progenitor?

He left the room and began searching. Mistress Cia always became cross if they missed out on a meal. Somehow, she always knew if he hadn’t eaten, even if she wasn’t around to watch him do it.

“Link!” Link yelled, trotting through the halls, searching for the little aspect. Where was he?

Just as genuine worry began to settle like a stone in Link’s stomach, a distant voice sounded from… the third floor?

“Here!”

Oh. Oh no.

Link pounded up the stairs to the third floor two at a time, heart in his throat. The door to Cia’s alchemical laboratory was ajar, and inside, near a bookshelf of thick, jewel-colored tomes, sat the miscreant, absorbed in the pages of an old journal, the pages yellowed and brittle.

Link was moving before he could barely even process it.

The idiot looked up at his approach, emerald excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Link! You wouldn’t believe what I-”

SMACK!

Link’s palm stung sharply. The little Link raised his own hand to cradle his reddening cheek where he’d been struck, his expression a mask of blank shock as he stared vacantly into space a little to Link’s left. As Link watched, the other slowly raised his head to look at him, the shock turning into a devastating mix of betrayal, sorrow, fear. To his horror, red eyes welled up with tears.

(“Oh, don't look at me like that, Link! How else are you supposed to learn to be good when you're bad if I don't punish you? If I didn't love you, if I didn't care, I wouldn't even bother. If anything, you should be thanking me for helping you be better. Now stop crying, you'll ruin that pretty face.”)

Link couldn’t stand the look in those eyes any longer. He bent down, grabbed the journal, which had fallen from the little one’s lap to the floor, and carefully placed it back on the shelf, and then grabbed the smaller Link by the wrist, jerked him to his feet, and dragged him out of the room. He briefly paused to carefully close the door behind them, and then tugged the other down two levels of stairs at a dead run, not stopping until they were in the kitchen.

“Link, it hurts…” came a small, tremulous voice behind him.

He realized he was still holding the other Link’s wrist. He let go of the wrist as if it burned him, but he didn’t turn around, afraid of what he might find. 

“Never do that again,” he ground out tersely, grabbing a bread roll and a bowl of soup to pacify the kitchen’s enchantments and retreating from the room with all possible haste.

Link sat forlornly on his bed, having finished returning the carvings the little one had played with that morning to their rightful spots on his desk and shelves. The remains of his half-eaten, abandoned dinner, long gone cold, rested on the small table near his window. As it turned out, he wasn’t really that hungry after all. The look in the little one’s eyes haunted him too much for him to have much of an appetite.

Guilt and regret gnawed at his stomach now that his anger had burned itself out. The little one hadn’t known why he shouldn’t go in, just that Link had said not to, and he should have known that by itself wouldn’t be a good enough reason. It hadn’t been for him, all that time ago.

He needed to make things right between them. He didn’t think he could bear it if the little one was upset with him forever. But how? The way he normally made things right with Cia… for some reason, his skin crawled, and he discarded that notion almost the moment he thought of it. No. Absolutely not.

On the other hand, though, the few times Cia had felt genuinely apologetic about something she had done, she had given him gifts or otherwise let him do something that he normally couldn’t. He recalled one occasion where she had been so angry about something – he still didn’t even know what – that she grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the floor so many times he’d lost consciousness. It had taken him three days to wake back up, even with the potion she’d poured down his throat, and when he finally opened his eyes to see her hovering near his bedside, she’d cried and hugged him, apologizing over and over for going too far. Of course, he’d forgiven her immediately despite the pounding ache in his skull.

The next time she summoned him to her chambers, she had not required him to pleasure her once during the entire night. She simply cradled him in her arms, let him rest his head on her bosom, and just held him. She petted his hair, caressed his shoulders and neck, hummed to him sweetly in her melodic voice, and tenderly wiped away his tears when he started to cry, too overwhelmed with sheer gratitude and relief and love to express it in any other way. He finally fell asleep like that, cradled and coddled in a way he’d never been before or since.

That night was one of his most cherished memories, and he often returned to it when Cia was busy, when she was terse and distant, when she was rough, when she yelled at him, hit him, used him, when the loneliness almost became too much for his soul to bear. He wished more than anything she would let him have another night like that, but he knew better than to even ask.

So, what was something the little one wanted? He’d only known him for a couple days, but… Link thought back to when the little Link had curiously reached for Apple. He lifted the stuffed bird onto his lap, looking into those blue, glass eyes as he remembered how he’d snatched his friend away from those grasping hands possessively. Apple was his. The only companion he’d ever had. Well, and the cuccos, but the cuccos belonged to themselves first and foremost. He didn’t think the little Link liked the cuccos much after his run-in with them yesterday, anyway.

The memory made him smile briefly despite his melancholy. He then sobered and seriously considered the option, the doll looking back at him with a knowing glint in his eyes. He supposed… he supposed it was worth a try.

The little Link looked up from his book as Link set Apple on top of the stack of tomes beside him, but he didn’t look directly at Link. He kept his face and eyes averted. Even when Link sat near him on the thick rug, he didn’t look up.

They sat for what felt like hours, the silence between them loud and stifling in a way it had never been before.

Finally, just when Link thought he might scream, just to hear something besides the oppressive silence, the little one said in a small voice, “Are you… are you still mad at me?”

Link didn’t even try to hide his relief that the little one was talking to him again. “I’m not mad, Link.”

The little Link huffed. “You sure seemed like it.”

“I was, at first. But mostly I was just scared.”

A violet eye finally glanced up at him through a gap in the pale curtain of hair. “Scared? Why?”

“Because Cia keeps a lot of dangerous things in her private rooms upstairs. You could have hurt yourself. Also, if she had caught you, she would have… been very angry. Trust me, you don’t want the Mistress angry at you. So, I was mad, because I already told you not to go up there, and you did anyway. But I’m sorry I hurt you.”

The little Link worried at his bottom lip for a couple moments, reached out, and hesitated, glancing up at Link again, as if asking for permission. At Link’s encouraging nod, the little one carefully lifted Apple and turned him over and over in his small hands, stroking the soft, worn fabric. He looked up at Link again, something achingly vulnerable lurking in the depths of his eyes. Finally, he asked, “Will you do it again?”

Link opened his mouth to say, “If I have to,” and stopped, the words getting caught somewhere between his throat and mouth.

He thought back to all the times Cia had struck him. Because he backtalked, because he messed up, because she was angry or upset and he was a convenient outlet to vent her frustration on. And she had been right to do so, because it was her role as his creator to instruct and discipline him. She was a person; he was a mere aspect. But so was the other Link. What right did Link have to mete out punishment on behalf of their Mistress? On top of that, he found that he didn't want to. He never wanted the other Link to look at him like that ever again.

“No,” he said instead. “Never. I promise.”

The little Link stared at him searchingly for another couple of seconds, and then he visibly relaxed and nodded. “Okay. I’m sorry I made you so mad, too.”

Feeling lighter than he had in days, Link added, “I also went snooping upstairs on the third floor myself, but Mistress Cia caught me, and... well, you don't want her to catch you snooping, okay? So, if you want to do anything, ask me first, and I'll tell you if it'll get you in trouble, and if you still want to do it afterwards, you can't say I didn't warn you. How does that sound?”

The little Link considered this, and a lopsided smile finally appeared on his face. “Fair enough, I guess.”

The strange urge to hug him came over Link. He settled for scooting closer, putting an arm around his shoulders, and pulling him close to his side. The little Link didn’t resist, leaning up against him. And when he finally crushed the toy to his chest, Link didn’t mind nearly as much as he thought he would. Being able to hug a warm, alive, trusting little body so close to himself more than made up for it. It was like hugging his favorite hen, but better somehow. He didn’t think the other would appreciate being compared to a cucco, though, so he kept that observation to himself.

The little Link held Apple for the rest of the evening, perched in the crook of his arm or squeezing him absently in his hands as Link managed to tear him away from his books long enough to teach him to play chess. Link wasn’t the biggest fan of the game, but he’d actually managed to beat Cia at it a few times, and something told him the little Link would enjoy the cerebral nature of it.

Sure enough, the little Link took to the game like a duck to water, and only lost two matches to Link before he won his first one. He beat him two more times, and then the clock was striking ten.

“Ah, that’s our cue,” Link said, pushing himself to his feet.

“Nooooo,” the little one said, hugging Apple close and pouting up at Link with the biggest, saddest eyes he’d ever seen. “I’m not tired.”

Link shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself. But I’m going to bed. Can I have Apple back, please?”

The little one obediently handed him over, visibly wavering. “You’re just… going to leave me here by myself?”

“I trust you can get back to your room on your own,” Link said wryly. “The mansion’s not that big. Besides, weren’t you the one who wandered off on your own earlier today?”

The little one scowled, eyes flashing blue. “That’s not- I mean, I don’t-”

Link smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.” 

“I’m not scared!” came the indignant squawk.

“Alright, so you’re not tired, you’re not scared, why can’t I go to bed again?”

“You can, thank you very much,” the little one sniffed, grabbing a nearby book and flipping to a random page.

“I will,” Link said with great dignity, reaching down to muss the little one’s hair as he walked by. “Don’t have too much fun without me."

“I’ll have so much fun,” came the snippy response as the little one batted his hand away halfheartedly.

Link chuckled silently to himself as he left the library, letting out a great yawn when he stepped into the hallway. Despite his fatigue, he found himself humming softly to himself as he completed his nightly routine, changed into his nightclothes, and turned his covers back, preparing to climb under them. A soft knock at his door startled him into silence. Cia never…

Another knock, a little louder.

“Come in,” Link said once he finally found his voice again.

The door opened silently, and the little one tentatively poked his head into the room.

“Changed your mind, did you?” Link said wryly. “I’m not going to say I told you so, but.”

“Good, because if you did, I’d have to kick you again,” the little one threatened, closing the door behind him. He marched over to the bed and wriggled under the covers before Link could get a word in edgewise.

“You’re going to have to learn to sleep in your own bed eventually, you know,” Link said mildly.

“I will!” the little one insisted with a mulish tilt to his chin, bundling himself up until he looked like a loaf of bread. “But you seemed sad today. You shouldn’t be alone when you’ve been sad.”

“Flawless logic, that,” Link drawled.

“I know.” The little one squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Good night, Link.”

Link couldn’t keep the laughter out of his voice when he replied, “Good night, Link.”

The little one hid his own smile behind the comforter. Link crawled into bed alongside him, tucking Apple under his chin. He turned on his side to face the other occupant of his bed, gazing thoughtfully at the peaceful, half-hidden face resting on the pillow opposite his own. For the first time in his entire life, he found himself hoping that Cia wouldn’t come home for a little while longer.

Chapter Text

“Time for training, Link! Time for training, get up, get up, get up!”

Link groaned as jostling to his shoulder and the entire bed shook him out of peaceful oblivion. “Five more minutes…”

“It’s nine o’clock, sleepyhead! And it’s not raining! Come on, I’ve waited so long, get up, get up, get- ack!” 

Link grabbed the small body that had so rudely woken him and pulled it into bed with him, rolling on top of it and sprawling as heavily as he could. “Shush.”

“Link!” came the disgruntled, muffled squawk. “You’re squashing me!”

“Good,” Link hummed, nuzzling his nose into soft hair with a sigh. “Maybe I’ll finally get some peace and quiet 'round here. An’ to think, you were so well-behaved yesterday mornin’, wha’ happened?”

The warm body pinned beneath him squirmed insistently. “Get off, you big… you big turkey, get off!”

(“Mistress, please, please, get off, it hurts, please, it hurts-”)

Link was suddenly very, very much awake. His eyes flew open with a gasp, and he jerked away from the little body underneath him so fast he lost his balance and fell entirely off the bed in a tangle of sheets and blankets. As he stared up at the ceiling, trying desperately to calm his racing heart, the little one poked his head over the side of the bed, hair mussed and headband askew.

“Serves you right,” he sniffed, and then brightened. “Can we go train now?”

“Alright, fine,” Link said resignedly. No way would he be able to go back to sleep after this. “Let’s go get some breakfast, and then we can train.”

The little Link let out a cheer, sprang off the bed, and sprinted out of the room. Link watched him go, then groaned quietly and rested his head back on the carpet. It should be illegal to have this much energy this early in the morning.

True to Link’s word, after breakfast, they started up training again. The little one threw himself into it with immense gusto. Link had them both run through the obstacle course twice before he even let him touch a practice weapon, and the little one spent the next couple of hours alternating between getting pummeled into the dirt by the instructor and raptly watching Link pummel the instructor into the dirt.

As the little one was helpfully fetching Link a mug of water from the pump after his latest spar, he caught sight of a couple of the cuccos, a hen and one of the two roosters, from the looks of them. The mug clattered to the grass as the little one sprinted to Link and dove behind him.

“Link, it’s those feathery monsters, what do we do?” he whispered desperately. “Cover me until I can get the practice daggers, we can fight our way out.”

“Relax, Link,” Link said, greatly amused. “If you don’t provoke them, they’re perfectly safe. See, look.”

Despite the little one’s hissed protests, Link boldly approached the hen and rooster, and knelt down to give the rooster scritches. He tolerated it, clucking contently as his lady friend pecked in the dirt.

“See?” Link called to the little one. “They’re friendly.”

When the little one tentatively approached, the rooster and hen both swiveled their heads around at the same time, fixing their little eyes on him intently. The little one froze and started backing away slowly, before turning tail and sprinting to the equipment shed.

“Stop trying to make a liar out of me, you two,” Link said exasperatedly to the cuccos, standing and making his way over to the shed. “Come out, Link.”

“Are they gone?”

Link glanced at the pecking, scratching birds. “They’re leaving.”

“Are they gone?”

“They live here, too, you know.”

“Not what I asked!”

Link opened the door and peeked his head in. “Does that mean training is over for the day?”

Rebellious blue eyes glowered at him. “I can keep going.”

Link glanced him over appraisingly and made a unilateral decision. “Nope, I think we’re done. Besides, it’s lunch time, and I’m hungry. But first...”

He picked up the garden shears he’d used two days prior and cut another length of the cloth off the arrow wrapping, and then a large square for good measure.

“What’s that for?”

“You wanted to make a better headband, right?”

“Oh!” The little one perked up considerably. “Yes, I did! What’s the second piece for, though?”

“You should probably practice before actually trying to make something,” Link said practically, tucking both pieces under his elbow..

The little one nodded thoughtfully. “Good point.” He beamed up at Link. “You’re really smart, Link. At least when cuccos aren't involved.”

Link hid the flush that burned his ears by pulling the little one’s sweaty, ragged headband down over his eyes and fleeing the shed before he could retaliate.

“How’s the finger, Link?” Link said as the evening sunlight streamed through his window, bathing his room in orange gold light. He put down his carving knife and the nearly completed woodpecker figurine he’d been working on before Cia had created her newest aspect and turned to where the little one sat on the rug, hunched over his sewing. The sewing book lay open to the section on stitch types next to him.  

“One second,” the little one said distractedly, studiously jabbing his borrowed sewing needle into the practice square of fabric yet again. Leaving it there, he examined the small strip of cloth wrapped his left index finger where he’d stabbed it with the needle by accident and torn a small gash in the skin about an hour ago. His thumb and middle finger had also turned red from pushing the needle through the thick material again and again. He untied the makeshift bandage. “Feels better, but there’s this weird crust on it now.”

“That would be a scab. Means it’s healing. You can probably leave the bandage off unless it starts bleeding again. We’re going to have to tell Mistress to get you a thimble. Maybe two.”

“That would be nice,” the little one sighed, setting the bloodstained scrap of cloth to the side to peer critically at the many crooked rows of stitches on his practice fabric. “This is harder than it looks.”

“It is,” Link commiserated. Parroting what he read in a book once, he added, “But you only just started. You can’t be good at everything immediately. Even though I know we wish we could. Do you know how long it took me to be this good at carving? A lot of my early attempts went into the fireplace. And I have a lot to learn still.”

 “That makes sense,” the little one said thoughtfully, before he frowned. “Why can’t I just know how to do it, though? Like I know how to read?”

“Those are the questions,” Link said with a chuckle. “But… well, I suppose there’s something to be said for knowing you’re only good at doing something because you worked hard for it.”

The little one looked thoughtful again. “I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m right more often than you think,” Link said lightly, smirking at the immensely unimpressed look the little one sent his direction before a familiar twinge in his abdomen made him frown.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, pushing his chair back. “Keep at that row of straight stitches, and then do another row of backstitches once you finish.”

“Okay,” the little one said absently, resuming his determined cloth-stabbing as Link left the room.

Link closed the door to the bathroom behind him, and then stopped short.

“M-Mistress?” he stammered, the sight of his wife like a bucket of ice water directly to the face.

“Link!” Cia smiled warmly and strode briskly down the hall, the skirts of her fine, modest travel dress swishing around her legs, her cloak billowing out behind her. “I came the moment that lazy, good for nothing tailor finished the last of my newest husband’s clothes. I hate that he made me wait so long. Almost three whole days, can you believe it? When I could have been spending that time with my lovely aspects instead.”

She pecked his lips and nudged her forehead against his affectionately. “Ah, I missed you so much, my precious birdie. Speaking of my newest husband, though…”

She swept by him and continued down the hall, peering into both rooms at the end and lighting up like a festival lantern when she caught sight of her newest creation in Link’s bedroom. “There’s my handsome little mouse!”

She flounced over, dropped into a crouch, caught the little Link’s face between her hands, lifted it up, and pressed her lips to his. Green eyes went wide with surprise, flicking over to meet Link’s, a panicked question deep in their depths. Link didn’t know how to answer. Seeing Cia kiss someone else so passionately caused his stomach to tie itself in knots. Was this what jealousy felt like?

Luckily, Cia let him go relatively quickly, letting him come up for air. Her tongue darted out and licked her upper lip, like someone preparing to devour a delicious meal. The strange urge to stand in front of the little one, to shield him from that hungry, violet gaze, briefly struck Link, but he held himself back.

“I’ve dreamed every night of finally getting to claim you, pet,” she purred, hands still cradling his face. “Are you as excited as I am to finally consummate our love?”

“Uh…” The little Link still looked dazed and bewildered from the kiss, clearly having no idea what she was talking about. “I don't know, maybe?”

Link’s heart skipped a beat. To his immense relief, however, Cia simply laughed, seeming once again charmed at the little one’s impudence and confusion rather than offended.

“You’re adorable,” she said fondly.

The little Link beamed. “Thank you, I try.”

She laughed again, tucked his hair behind one ear, and reached into the basket on her arm, rummaging around inside. “I would stay longer to catch up about everything you both have been up to while I was gone, but I need to go start preparing for our wedding night. Ah, there is so much to do!” she fretted, her other hand flitting around as she spoke like an agitated bird. “Link, could you be a dear and help him with his hair and makeup? I bought him his own set of everything, but he still needs to learn how to use it.”

She reached up and handed him a set of surprisingly heavy parcels all wrapped in thick, brown paper, the faint clink of pottery and metal inside. “Of course, Mistress Cia.”

“And my little one, I expect you to be wearing this when I come to pick you up at eight o’clock sharp.” She deposited a small parcel wrapped in fine, plain white cloth into the little Link’s arms. “I’ll put the other sleepwear and daywear I commissioned for you in your dresser on my way out. See you soon, my dears.”

With that, she pressed a kiss to each of their cheeks and departed in a swirl of skirts, closing the door behind her.

Link glanced at the clock on the wall. Six-fifteen PM. Okay, at least she’d given them enough time to work with, probably. Thank goodness they’d already bathed.

He crossed the room to set out the packages she’d given him on his bed, four in all. The heaviest contained jars of face powder, rouge, and kohl, along with a flat, covered tray containing small cakes of eyeshadow in varying shades of brown, gold, green, red, blue, and purple. She’d also included brushes and a sponge for easier application.

“What is this even for?” the little Link asked in bewilderment, and Link turned to see him holding up the gauzy, lacy, white garments from the cloth-wrapped package Cia had given him. “I’m going to freeze!”

“It’s warm in Cia’s chambers, you’ll be fine,” Link said absently. He pointedly did not mention the little Link probably wouldn’t be wearing them for very long. “Just put them on. She bought them especially for you, and you don’t want to be ungrateful, right?”

Mistress Cia had told him the exact same thing whenever he voiced anything but appreciation for the garments and jewelry she had him wear to her chambers, and he’d soon stopped saying anything at all. The sooner the little one learned to just be quiet and let her dress him however she liked, the better it would go for him. He could still wear what he wanted during leisure activities, anyway, it would be fine. So why did the words taste so bitter on his tongue?

“No, but…” the little Link was saying, a conflicted look playing over his face before he gave in with a loud groan. “Ugh, okay, okay, fine.”

He began shucking off his clothes. Satisfied, Link turned his attention back to the bundles. The next one held two ornate red bottles, the smaller full of fragrant perfume, and the other full of hair oil. Link glanced at a similar set of blue bottles that rested on his own vanity.

The third parcel held a delicate golden necklace encrusted with tiny rubies, emeralds, sapphires, and amethysts, with two thin, matching bracelets decorated similarly. No earrings, though, which was odd. Then again, the little Link didn’t have pierced ears, so the exclusion made sense.

The fourth and final parcel held six assorted silk ribbons in red, blue, purple, green, white, and gold, a set of intricately carved wooden combs, and a hairbrush. As Link was studying the craftsmanship of the combs and hairbrush more closely, taking mental notes on how to replicate it, a small, dismayed noise piped up from behind him.

“Um… Link?” With a silent sigh of frustration, Link tore his attention away from the hair care set and looked over to see the other Link being eaten or maybe strangled by the layers of delicate, shimmering fabric. He looked back at Link sheepishly. “I don’t think I did it right.”

A laugh burst out of Link before he could stop it. “No, you definitely didn’t.”

Before the little one could tear something, Link hurried to his side and helped him untangle himself.

“How did you do this?” he huffed in exasperation after lifting the third loop of fabric over the other’s head.

“I don’t know, it just happened. It’s not as if it came with instructions.”  Embarrassment and frustration turned the little Link’s face a hilarious shade of pink as his eyes sparked cobalt. 

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Link said, guiding the appropriate limbs through the appropriate holes. “There we go, much better.”

“Feels better,” the little Link said in satisfaction, smoothing his hands down the satiny layers with a sigh of relief. “Now what?”

“Put these on.” Link handed over the bracelets and stepped behind the little Link to fasten the necklace around his neck. “Okay, now time for your makeup.”

“Makeup?” the little Link asked as Link tugged him over to his vanity. He looked at the jars of pastes and powders with interest. “What’s that?”

“It makes you look nicer for Mistress Cia.”

“But she already said I was adorable,” the little Link protested.

Link wanted a nap. “And with this, you'll look even more adorable. Come on, just try it. It'll make her happy. You want to make her happy, right?”

The little Link glanced down at all the brushes and jars, considered them, then nodded.

“Alright,” Link said, relieved. “Go wash your face in the bathroom, dry off, then come back.”

“Why d-?”

“Everything sticks better when you have a clean face.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The little Link obediently ran off without further protest. Huh. Okay, note to self: Just explain why the little Link had to do something before he could ask too many questions or just go off and do the wrong thing and get himself in trouble. Simple enough.

As the little one slipped back into the room with a freshly washed face, Link wondered why Mistress Cia hadn't ever thought to do that with him. Would have saved them both a lot of unnecessary punishments.

“Okay, what next?” the little one asked, gazing up at him expectantly.

“I... you know, that's a good question,” Link said, considering his vanity table. “I've never done someone else's makeup before.”

He thought back to the first few times when Cia had painted his own face, all the different tips and tricks she'd given him as he perched in front of her vanity – over twice the size of his – and she flitted to and fro with brushes and sponges and jars and bottles. He hadn't particularly enjoyed the slimy, cakey application of the makeup at first, but having her attention and her praise after his face had been fully done up to her liking had made it all worth it.

“How about you sit on the stool, and I'll pull up another chair?” Link suggested. “And pay attention, you’re going to have to do this at some point for yourself.”

The other Link did as he'd been told, and Link opened the new jar of face powder Cia had handed to him. Right away, he could tell it was the exact right shade for the little one's skin. Cia really had thought of everything.

Link led his small companion through motions that had long since become routine to him, the process becoming fresh and new through the other’s eyes. A dusting of power covered his face, evening out his complexion and covering up the faint red mark still on his cheek, then a carefully blended application of rouge brought attention to his small, expressive mouth and high, defined cheeks, considerably sharper than Link’s own soft, round ones. Link considered the eyeshadow choices for a long moment before shrugging and showing them to the little one.

“Pick one.”

Violet interest lit those large eyes up. He briefly looked over his options, then pointed at the shimmering gold color. “This one.”

“Right.” The brush went into the lightest color, a creamy off-white.

“Wha- I said I wanted the gold!”

“And you’ll get the gold,” Link explained patiently, gripping the other’s angular little chin in one hand to hold him still while applying the first color to the inside corner of his eyelid. “But the first rul- close your eye unless you want the brush in your eyeball. Thank you. The first rule of eyeshadow is you don’t ever use one color. I mean, you can, but it never looks as good. You put the lightest color in the corner of your eye closest to your nose, then the main color in the middle, then do a darker color on the outside. It always looks better that way.”

“Oh, it brings more dimension, I get it!” the little Link replied excitedly. “Like the gemstone illustrations in that one book. Some of them were all one color and they looked all flat, but other ones had different colors and they almost looked like I could reach in and touch them. That’s amazing!”

Link smiled at the little one's enthusiasm, and quickly finished brushing on a generous dusting of eyeshadow, blending it out skillfully, before he reached for the kohl.

“Oh!” the other Link said suddenly, whipping his head to the side and nearly getting a black swipe to the cheek with the kohl brush for his trouble. “I found some more of that written music in the music room - you know, the black dots on the lines? - and I wanted to see what they sounded like when you play them on your harp. Maybe... maybe you can teach me later tonight? So I can play with you on the ocarina?”

He turned hopeful eyes onto Link, and something inside Link went all gooey and warm. If he stared into that guileless, green gaze any longer, he might have actually cried, so he nudged the little one's head back into the appropriate position to finish applying his kohl.

“I'd love to, Link,” he said honestly, deftly applying the kohl around one large eye. “We can get started tomorrow, if you want?”

“Tomorrow?”

Link rapped the top of the other's head with his knuckles lightly, earning himself a pout. “You're going to be staying with Mistress Cia tonight, remember? Come on, keep up.”

“All night?”

Something cold and squirmy and achy slithered its way into Link's guts, replacing the warmth as he said, “Most likely.”

“But then I won't get to play with you!”

“Cia wants to play with your first, and what she wants, she gets. That's just how it is. You can play with me tomorrow sometime.”

The cobalt of the little Link's eyes bled into fuchsia, then red. “...Do you promise?”

How in the world could Link say no to those eyes? “I promise.”

“Okay.” With that, the little one fell silent, obediently staying still while Link finished applying the kohl.

“Alright,” Link said, stepping back to survey his handiwork and judging it satisfactory. “Time for hair.”

He picked up the sturdy hairbrush, positioned himself behind the little Link, and began running the bristles through soft, golden hair until it shone like silk. He couldn’t resist running his fingers through it a few times, too, enjoying the smooth texture and the glossy sheen, so different from his own darker, fluffy, wavy locks. Judging from the way the little Link hummed contently, eyes falling half shut at the caresses, he was enjoying the attention as well. They would definitely have to do this part again sometime.

But now, what to do with all that hair? He supposed he could leave it down, but maybe Cia wanted something a little more special for their wedding night. Link wasn’t too good with hairstyling himself, his own hair always kept short enough that all he really had to do was keep it clean and brushed, but he could manage a low, loose ponytail, at the very least. He tied it off with the white, satin ribbon, and then turned the little Link around on the swiveling stool so he could see himself in the mirror.

He looked lovely. Small, dainty, exquisite, like a living doll. Nothing like the nigh feral youth who had been tearing full tilt across the garden just a couple days prior, screaming battle cries as he chased a cucco with a stick half as big as he was.

“…I look weird,” the little Link finally said, a myriad of expressions dancing across his face so fast it was hard to catch them all. The gold eyeshadow perfectly complemented any color his eyes became, especially the violet they currently were as he regarded his reflection.

“I think you just look different,” Link smiled, patting his shoulder. “But for what it's worth... I think you look nice, too.”

Violet flickered periwinkle for a moment before becoming fully green, and a small flush crept up the back of his neck. “Really?”

“Really.”

That small, painted mouth smiled wide and bright and pleased and ah, there was the little one. He hopped off the stool and gave a happy twirl, his light, delicate, sparkly clothing flaring out around him like flower petals.

“Do we have enough time to play music now?” the little Link asked, turning to face him. “Since we won’t be able to do it later?”

“I could play something,” Link offered, unable to deny him such a simple request, not when… not right now. “But you probably shouldn’t. You’d…” He gestured to his own mouth.

“Oh.” The little one reached up and lightly touched his painted lips, frowning slightly when he saw a small smear of rouge on his fingertips. “Okay, you have a point. This stuff is so annoying. I can’t wait to wipe it off. The… what did you call it? Eyeshadow? I like, that, though.” He turned and studied himself in the mirror again. “It looks nice.”

“It does,” Link agreed, the words tasting like poison in his mouth as he brought out his harp.

As he began to play, the other Link went and seated himself on the swivel stool again, absently spinning back and forth in time with the music, the faint squeaking annoying but ignorable. Link would happily listen to it for the rest of the night if it meant the little one didn’t have to leave.

And then, in the middle of a rendition of “Crimson Loftwing,” the golden band on his left ring finger sparked, an insistent chime ringing in his head. The music stopped with a discordant twanging of strings.

“She’s almost here,” he said in reply to the little one’s quizzical look. “Link, I…” The words he wanted to say stuck in his throat. There was… so much he could say. Things he wished he’d known during his first nights with Cia. How best to please her, what to avoid.

But she’d said not to say anything. That she wanted to instruct the little one herself. If he already knew what to do when she took him to her bed, she would know Link had obviously disobeyed her, and he shuddered to think what creative punishment she might enact on him in response for ruining her special night with her new husband.

All he could bring himself to say in the end was, “Don’t fight her.”

“Why would I fight her?” the little Link asked, tilting his head curiously, his large eyes appearing even larger when outlined in black like this.

“Just… do whatever she says, okay?” he said tightly. “Even if it seems... strange.”

“Okay...?”

His bedroom door opened with a loud bang, causing them both to startle violently. Their Mistress strode into the room accompanied by an invisible, cloying cloud of sweet perfume and dressed in a long, silky white nightgown that perfectly matched the shade of her hair.

“Hello, darlings! Is my newest little husband ready? Oh!” She gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth as she caught sight of the little one. “Oh, Link, you did such a wonderful job!”

She hurried to catch the little one by the hands, crouching down to get a better look at him. Meanwhile, Link stood by silently, unable to help the flutters of pride and happiness in his ribcage at his Mistress' praise and clear delight in his handiwork.

“Just look at you!” she gushed, reaching out to cup one delicately painted cheek in her hand. “Such a handsome little thing, all dolled up and pretty just for me.”

The little one squirmed under such scrutiny, his ears going red all the way to the tips, but his smile was all shy, flustered sweetness. In a soft, bashful voice Link had never heard from him before, he said, “You really like it that much?”

“Oh, I love it, dearest,” Cia assured him. She took his ponytail in one hand and let the soft, fine strands slip through her fingers, the adoring look in her eyes turning smoldering, possessive, ravenous. Her voice pitched lower, turning husky and dark as she stood. “I can’t wait to ruin you.”

The little one’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What does that mean?”

“How about I show you, pet?” she purred. “You'll love it, I promise. Come.”

She took his hand and extended the other to the side without taking her eyes off him even once. A dark portal open in front of Link's bedroom door, violet-black energy wisping off and curling into the air. Without even sparing a glance for Link, Cia led her newest toy away, and he followed her readily, trustingly.

As they stepped through the portal, the little Link turned and gave Link a little wave, a cheeky, lopsided little grin quirking his painted lips. Link numbly returned the wave. Then Cia’s darkness swallowed the little one up, and Link was alone.

Link stared at the place they’d disappeared for longer than he perhaps should have. He wrapped his arms around his middle, willing the churning mess of emotions roiling around inside him to calm down. What even was this? Relief? More jealousy? Fear? Something else? He had no idea. He didn’t even understand why he was feeling this way.

His room suddenly felt so empty. So big. He grabbed Apple from his bed and tucked him under one arm and his harp under the other, his feet making their way to the library under their own power. Immediately, he spied the stack of books in the little one's preferred reading nook, the book on weapons still open to the page he'd left it. The knot inside his middle twisted all up even tighter, and he sat on the other side of the library in a little alcove beside a window, where he wouldn’t have to see the traces of himself the little Link had left behind.

Sour notes ruined any music he tried to play, his fingers slipping and fumbling on the strings like they hadn’t since he first started practicing all those many months ago. But he doggedly kept at it, kept trying to play every song he knew. He focused only on the strings under his fingers, the notes ringing strangely in his ears, and very studiously thought about nothing at all. Especially not about the little one at Cia’s mercy as she-

Link’s entire hand slipped on the strings, and he leaned forward and slammed his forehead against the wood of his harp in frustration. He should go to bed. The morning would come faster if he went to bed, and everything could just go back to normal, and he could stop feeling like this.

He stood up so fast it nearly made his aching head spin and made his way back to his room with determined, brisk strides, Apple in one hand and his harp in the other. Bursting into his room, he deliberately didn’t look at the little one’s neatly folded tunic and his discarded sewing that still lay where he’d left them. Instead, he tossed off his clothes, threw on a random nightshirt, and burrowed under the soft, down comforter of his bed. Already, he missed the little one’s faint, reassuring warmth next to him.

He shook his head hard, pushing it further into the pillow. He needed to sleep. Any time, now, please.

For some reason, though, for maybe the first time in his entire life, sleep eluded him, no matter how much he tossed and turned. With nothing left to distract him, his thoughts constantly strayed back to the little Link, alone with their Mistress in her chambers for the very first time.

Something unpleasant and sick squirmed in Link’s middle as he remembered his own first time in Cia's bed. Parts of it had undoubtedly been nice, but other parts... it had been overwhelming. Too much. He hadn't understood what was happening. He'd been scared. She'd been so rough, she’d hurt him, and she kept hurting him even when he tearfully pleaded with her to stop.

Of course, as she'd explained when he'd regained consciousness to find her tenderly spreading ointments on his bruises and scratches, she was rough only because she loved him so very much that she simply couldn't control herself around him. He understood this now, understood that it wasn't his place to tell her no, that the very best way he could fulfill his purpose in life was to simply let her use him however she wished, no questions asked, no matter how much it might hurt in the moment.

But maybe... maybe she was being gentle with the little Link during his first time in her bed. She could be a considerate lover when the mood struck her, after all, and he was just so small. So slender and fragile. He didn't have Link's naturally broader frame or his sturdy muscles from countless hours of training, at least not yet. He didn't want to think about how easy it would be to seriously hurt the little one, but against his will, a hypothetical scene sprung to his mind anyway:

Bite marks bloomed across pale shoulders, and sharp nails scratched angry, bloody lines down that pristine back, each blemish an undeniable brand of ownership seared into living flesh. Pained, frightened tears filled confused, kaleidoscope eyes, which spilled over and trailed down painted cheeks as the little one instinctively struggled to escape his inevitable fate. Strong, slender hands (sturdy straps, silken ropes, gleaming metal, burning magic) grabbed, pinned, and trapped him, restraining him so tightly he could never possibly hope to free himself, no matter how much he might strain and thrash against his own utter helplessness in the face of their Mistress’ overwhelming, inexorable power as she claimed and bound him to her the same way Link had been claimed and bound all those seasons ago-

Link reached up and touched the single trail of wetness trickling down his cheek. Why…? He should be happy for the new Link, for their Mistress. This was what they'd been made for, to please her in all ways, and in turn, she protected them, provided for them, loved them. Pain was just another expression of that love. So then why did something deep inside Link cry out in grief at the thought of the little one suffering at her hands, of the trusting innocence in his eyes dying a slow painful death?

Another tear trickled down Link’s cheek. Then another. Then another. And then, despite his best efforts, he broke down and wept into his pillow, still not really knowing why.

Finally, heartsick and exhausted, he fell asleep.

When Link awoke late the next morning, he checked the little one’s room before he even got dressed. It was empty. When he went down to the kitchens and dining room, he wasn’t there, either. Neither was their Mistress. Okay. Okay, Cia must… must still be in the mood to play with her newest toy. That was fine. She’d get tired or bored eventually. He just had to wait.

Easier said than done. He ate a late breakfast, hardly even tasting the food, then fled outside at the first opportunity. He went straight to the training yard, turned the instructor to a higher setting, and battled it until sweat (it had to be sweat, that’s why it stung his eyes so badly), poured off his face and soaked his clothes.

As he caught his breath, hands on his knees, he spied his favorite hen contently pecking in the dirt nearby, her latest brood of six chicks following after her, peeping adorably. As Fun Fun scratched and pecked, they would watch and mimic her, just like the little one had followed Link around and-

Salt water burned his eyes, Fun Fun becoming blurry in his vision. He must have been sweatier than he thought. The training sword fell from his fingers, and he suddenly found himself on his knees next to the hen, reaching for her snow-white feathers longingly. She looked at him calculatingly with beady, golden eyes, cocking her head to one side, then the other. Before he could react further, she strutted right up to him and sat on his lap, clucking softly to herself, the little yellow balls of down clustering around his knees as they cheeped.

Carefully, so as not to startle her, Link wrapped his arms around the hen and buried his face in her feathers. It just wasn’t the same, it wasn’t what he wanted, but it helped soothe some of the ache inside him anyway.

When the sun dipped lower in the sky, nearing late afternoon, Link finally went back inside. He bathed (had his bathroom always seemed so large and empty?), dressed in a fresh change of clothes, and very seriously considered having a good, long scream into one of his pillows before discarding that notion. Instead, he decided he would organize the little Link’s room for when he got back.

The new cosmetics, perfume, and hair care products went on the vanity. Link went through the new clothing filling the previously empty dresser, finding a series of fine shirts, tunics, trousers, underthings, and nightwear, all perfectly sized for the little Link. He placed the ocarina on the side table next to the bed and, wavering and somewhat torn, he put Apple on the pillow. The little Link would probably need him more than he would tonight.

He should go get the little one’s favorite gemstone and weapons books from the library to put under the ocarina, just in case he couldn’t sleep and wanted to distract himself. Oh, and the sewing book, too, he hadn't finished it yet. He left to go fetch them, closing the door carefully behind him, and stopped short.

A small figure limped slowly, laboriously down the hall toward him, hugging the wall to his left. Bandages wrapped the forearm and wrist that braced against the wall to keep him standing, while a shaking, white-knuckled fist clutched a large bath towel tightly around the slender, trembling frame, the only stitch of any kind of fabric currently covering him. His head was bowed, long, pale, visibly damp hair hanging loose around his face, obscuring any expression from Link’s view.

Link must have made some kind of sound or noise, because the little Link’s head slowly lifted. Link’s breath caught in his throat as dull, haunted, ruby eyes met his. The delicate face looking into his own had been wiped carefully clean of makeup, fully revealing how mottled and blotchy it had become with tearstains and bruises alike. And then small knees finally gave out, but Link somehow caught him before he collapsed and steadied him on his feet.

The little one gave a harsh, convulsive gasp that sounded more like a sob, and he jerked away as if Link’s hands on his skin burned him. Link let him go, intimately familiar with the sensation of his skin trying to crawl off his body after being touched one too many times. He stayed close, hovering his hands over bruised forearms just in case the other looked like he would collapse again, but he did not touch.

The towel had fallen off the little one’s shoulders to pool around his feet, exposing the livid marks littering his entire body: the scabbing scratches on his chest and shoulders, the fingerprints and deep bite marks on his shoulders, upper arms, hips, and thighs, including one bite on his hip that had broken skin. Swollen, mottled bands encircled his throat and right wrist, replacing the jewelry their Mistress had given him yesterday. Gold still glinted on his body, though. Just not in the same places as last night.

Small, delicate hoops hung from tender, reddened earlobes, and Link winced. His own piercings had taken almost half a year to fully heal, despite him dutifully cleaning them every day the way he'd been instructed. They'd have to keep a close eye on the little Link's so they didn't get infected. A gold band gleamed on the other’s left ring finger, identical to Link’s in every way except for its smaller size.

A flush crept across the little one’s cheeks and ears at Link’s scrutiny, and he averted his carmine gaze, instinctually curling in on himself as shame and an anguish too deep to put into words twisted those lovely features into a broken mask of misery. Faint tremors wracked his small frame, clear signs of exhaustion. Of pain. Link’s heart wrenched at the sight, his grief from the previous night flaring back to life. Grief… and something else.

Something hot and simmering roiled and seethed in his chest, and the feeling took him so off-guard that he had to spend a moment to even place the emotion. Anger. Link was... angry. Angrier than he could ever remember being.

The little one had been happy. He’d been fearless, friendly, whole, and now he was devastated, afraid, withdrawn, broken. Their Mistress had extinguished the sparkle in his eyes, ripped something away from him that he would never get back, and for what? Why? Why had Link’s beloved creator-wife caused her newest husband so much needless suffering and pain? 

He was made to be broken. Just like you were.

There would have been a time Link would have sadly accepted that notion as an immutable fact of the universe. But now, he found himself rebelling against it for the very first time. The little one had been perfect just the way he was. So why did Cia prefer the subdued, heartbroken creature standing in front of him to the cheerful, confident one she'd had just a day ago? Why had he been forced to endure the same grief and anguish Link once had? It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

A small sob yanked Link’s attention back to the present moment. The sight of the poor little one trying to hide away from him, filled with so much sorrow, fear, and shame, broke his heart. His anger briefly forgotten, he reached out, touching two fingers lightly to the little one’s jawline, drawing his gaze back to Link.

A wordless understanding passed between them, an acknowledgement of shared suffering and heartache as vulnerable red eyes gazed deep into Link’s royal blue, as if searching for something. He must have found it, because those large eyes closed a moment later as he let himself go limp, falling forward into Link's chest with a sigh. Link caught him with a surprised grunt, quickly lowering them both to the plush carpet before they toppled over.

Something long dormant inside his chest sparked to life as small, strong hands gripped his shirt, and the slender, trembling body in his arms curled even closer to him, slotting perfectly into his hold and his heart as if he were made to fit there.

“I suppose you could call yourselves brothers,” Cia had said, but only now did the true meaning of her words actually sink in.

Brothers.

A brother.

His brother.

His.

This little soul in his arms, so bright, so sweet, so clever and curious, was his. His to teach, to protect, to nurture, to love, the same way the cuccos in the yard taught, protected, nurtured, and loved their chicks. He vowed silently then and there that this Link would never be forced to endure the same loneliness he had. He’d be there for him always, even when their capricious Mistress couldn’t.

Link carefully lifted his little one into his arms and stood. A small arm curled around his neck, holding onto him for dear life, and something he’d never felt before spread through his chest like a flood of liquid fire, something warm, protective, fierce.

“I’ve got you, brother,” he murmured, laying his cheek atop his little one’s damp head as he carried him carefully back toward their rooms. “I’ve got you.”

And I’ll never let you go.

I'm an atom in a sea of nothing
Looking for another to combine
Maybe we could be the start of something
Be together at the start of time

There's a ghost upon the moor tonight
Now it's in our house
When you walked into the room just then
It's like the sun came out

It's like the sun came out
And the day is clear
My voice is just a whisper
Louder than the screams you hear

It's like the sun came out

- “Start of Time” by Gabrielle Aplin