Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At the end of autumn, Link returned from his most recent adventure. In the first week of winter, he spoke to Ravio only in short, stilted sentences. In the second, he dropped to single words.

In the third, Ravio woke and Link had stopped speaking entirely. 

The day started like any other, with pale morning light streaming in through his bedroom window, crawling over his frame. Sheerow chirped her good morning as he lifted himself from his nest of blankets, rubbing his eyes as he did every other morning. He pulled on his warm robe as he left the safety of his blankets, stuffed his socked feet into his slippers, and made his way downstairs to light the fire. The house would warm with time, but for now, he rubbed frigid hands together, blew warm air over them, as he made his way downstairs. 

Once the fire was lit and a pot of water had been boiled over it, Ravio set to work preparing his usual cup of coffee. He poured scalding water over the grounds, relishing in the earthy aroma that filled the air as steam rose from his cup. He left the pot on a wooden trivet by the sink, settling down at the table to wait for Link, his fingers curled around the pleasantly warm mug. 

Today, Link joined him later than usual, when Ravio was halfway through his second mug of coffee. Ravio perked up when he heard Link’s soft footsteps slinking down the stairs, greeted his best friend with the brightest grin he could offer. “Morning!” 

Link turned to him, his eyes dull, the shadows beneath them heavy, and smiled weakly. He did not speak. He did not prepare his usual cup of coffee. He simply sat at the table, his gaze lowered. His normally vibrant pink hair was messy, thrown back into a knotty bun to keep the worst of it from his face. The front lay limp against his forehead. 

Concern flared, burning bright and deep within Ravio’s chest. “I’ll get your coffee,” he said, pushing himself to his feet and busying his hands. He prepared the drink just the way Link liked, with a dollop of honey to balance out the bitterness of the coffee. 

Link did not react when he set the cup down. He did not curl his hands around the mug to warm them. Were it not for the slight rise and fall of his chest, Ravio might have worried he was no longer alive at all. 

“Link?” he prompted, reaching across the table to take Link’s hand in his. Link’s fingers curled around Ravio’s, if only slightly, and that was enough for now. “Is everything alright?”

A long moment passed between them. Ravio squeezed Link’s fingers and got nothing in return. Link opened his mouth to speak, inhaling audibly, but only empty air escaped and after a beat, he shut it again. Finally, Link shrugged, a barely-there movement that left Ravio’s heart twisting. 

“Okay,” Ravio said, though this was anything but. “Let’s go sit by the fire for a bit. It’ll help warm you up.” Tightening his fingers around Link’s, he pulled his friend to his feet, gathered Link’s mug of coffee, and led them over to the couch. They settled in the soft cushions, Ravio pushing the steaming mug into his friend’s hands, encouraging him to drink. “It will help you feel a bit better,” he said, and prayed he was right. 

Link took a hesitant sip, lowering the mug all too soon and ignoring it once more. Ravio was again struck by the thought of Link no longer being alive, wondered if it was possible to still be breathing and moving, yet no longer alive deep within. 

He didn’t like that train of thought. Link was having a bad day, was all.

Except the next day, Link did not speak again. 

“Link?” Ravio spoke up when the silence became too much for him to bear. “I think… I think maybe you should try and speak with a professional. Zelda should have someone in the castle—Hilda does if not. I think it would help with…” With whatever this was. With the hollowness overtaking everything he adored about his best friend, his Hyrulian counterpart. The other side to his coin. 

Link shrugged, disinterested, and Ravio’s eyes began to sting. 

“It doesn’t need to be today,” he continued, unable to sit in the silence for too long, when it felt he might lose Link entirely to it were he to allow it to settle. “We can stay here today. But… please think on it.” 

Nothing. Not even a nod from Link.

Ravio bit back a whimper. “Would you… would a hug help?” 

Another lifeless shrug. 

“Okay. Come here. I can take care of both of us for a little while, alright, Link?” 

Link gave no response, nor did he return the embrace. He sat there, as lifeless as a doll, while Ravio’s heart began to crumble. 

From that day on, Link no longer spoke.

Two weeks later, when Ravio climbed the stairs to search for his absent best friend, he found the pink bunny in Link’s place.

Chapter Text

Years ago, not long after they first met, Link had told Ravio of his first adventure, back when he had been scarcely twelve. He had told him of the dark world, where his form had shifted, his flesh sprouting fur the colour of his hair, and his bones breaking and twisting themselves into something new. He had told him of the strange new form he had taken, meant to reflect who he truly was on the inside. 

Link had told him of the pink bunny form he had found himself stuck in in the dark world, defenceless and fragile until he secured the moon pearl. 

Ravio had never thought he would bear witness to the form. 

“Link?” he breathed, slowly lifting a hand to pinch himself, certain this was a dream. But his flesh burned where he had pinched, and the pink bunny nestled within Link’s blankets remained. “Oh, Link. What did you do?” 

Link had also told him he had retained the ability to speak in this form. And yet, despite the unfounded hope swelling in Ravio’s chest, it came as no surprise to him when Link remained silent. In his bunny form, he turned away from Ravio, huddling down farther into his blankets. Ravio had never thought it possible for his heart to ache so terribly for so long, and yet it found a way to twist itself into something more agonising as he gazed down at his despondent best friend. 

Slowly, he slipped into the room, picking his way over discarded clothes and sheets of paper. Distantly, he wondered when Link’s room had become so disorganised. Wondered if he should have checked in on his best friend weeks ago, before it had gotten this bad. Wondered if he had failed Link. 

The bed dipped as he sat down on the mattress next to his hurting friend. A part of him was grateful he had sent Sheerow on her morning flight before seeking out Link, if only because it meant she wouldn’t push him beyond what he could handle right now when she panicked at the sight of him. He loved his bird, but she wasn’t Hylian or Lorulian—she hadn’t the tact they did. Tentatively, he set a hand over Link’s furry back, face softening when he didn’t flinch nor try to run away. He began to run his fingers through the fur in a motion he hoped was comforting for his hurting best friend. 

“Hey,” he said. “It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” With himself, he was furious; he should have tried harder, done more for his best friend before things got this bad. But he would make it up to Link—he could fix this.

Link turned to him slowly, violet eyes wide and wet, and Ravio felt tears begin to burn in his own eyes. When he patted his lap, Link crawled over, slow and sluggish, until Ravio carefully picked him up, forgoing setting him in his lap in favour of holding him to his chest, close to his heart. 

“You need time,” Ravio said. “Take as long as you need, Link. I’ll be here for you every step of the way, okay?” 

A soft whimper, the most he had heard out of Link for some time. He held his best friend closer and waited for as long as Link needed to start feeling better. When Link began to fidget, he carried him downstairs and set him on the kitchen table while he prepared them both breakfast. He could start to make it up to Link now. So long as he kept it together and tried this time, Link would be okay. Ravio would make sure of it. And with his help, Link would be back to his usual self in no time. 

When Link flopped against him on the couch after breakfast, seeking out his comfort, Ravio was certain he was already on the right track. 

Chapter Text

Two months. Two months had passed since Link had given up his Hylian form. Two months had passed since Ravio had last heard Link’s voice. Two months had passed, and Ravio felt he was holding on by terribly thin threads.

Every morning, he would wake with hope thrumming in his veins, golden yet growing weaker every day, and make his coffee, take a few minutes to himself to breathe shakily and splash water of his tear-stained face and red eyes before Link slipped downstairs, still in that little pink bunny form of his—if he came downstairs at all. Every day, Ravio would take him out for walks or on errands, murmuring softly to him and telling people Link was unwell at home when they asked of him.

Every night, once he had put a solemn Link to bed, he would sit before the fire, arms wrapped around his middle, trying to hold himself together, until the pain won out and he crumbled before the cavorting flames. The days’ worth of stress and worry and despair would come tumbling out of him and he would slap a hand over his mouth lest he alert Link. He would weep and weep until he had nothing left within him, until he felt as much like a hollow shell as Link had become. Then, he would push himself to his feet, cheeks glittering under the dying embers, and head to bed, preparing himself to do it all over again tomorrow.

Link had enough on his shoulders. He didn’t need Ravio’s stress resting there too. Ravio was meant to be taking care of him, not the other way around.

That morning started like no other, with pale winter light stretching across Ravio’s half-asleep form. He cracked open sleep-crusted eyes, felt his tired and fragile soul beg him for more rest, to lie back down and sleep until it felt like itself again. He ignored it, pushing himself up on arms that felt as heavy as the hammer the blacksmith wielded. What was wrong with him today? He was meant to be the strong one, and yet his body was betraying him.

He ignored it, smiling weakly at Sheerow as she fluttered over, curling up on his shoulder and waiting for him to scratch her belly.

The cold pierced his flesh as he slipped downstairs. He hugged his frame, wishing his traitorous body would stop shivering so he could focus on lighting the fire and warming the house for Link. It took several attempts with the flint and a couple bruises on his thumb, but finally, he struck true and the kindling took to the sparks. His body took over then, his tired mind and soul taking a break as he methodically prepared the pot of water over the fire, set up his mug of coffee with extra grounds, his body begging him for more caffeine than what he normally took.

Only once he settled down at the table and took his first sip of the painfully bitter drink did he come back to himself. He felt every wear and tear in his exhausted body and mind, and he slumped over his drink. What was wrong with him today? He had one job to do. Link had done so much for Hyrule and for Lorule; the least Ravio could do was take care of him in turn.

His second cup of coffee was working on making a dent in his fatigue as he made his way upstairs an hour later, after sending Sheerow off for her morning flight. Link would normally rise by now and meet him at the table, had managed to do so for the past week. For him to remain in bed… Ravio feared he had fallen back down again, after he had worked so hard to lift his friend up.

Heaviness clung to his soul and his frame as he pushed open the door to Link’s room after knocking gently. He hadn’t expected anything, but the lack of response still cut through his heart. Link was curled up in his blankets, as he had been two months prior, when Ravio had found him. His eyes were open and unfocussed, and he didn’t react as Ravio joined him in the bed.

Link had fallen again.

Tears burned in Ravio’s eyes at the futility of it all, but he pushed them back and smiled shakily down at his hurting friend. “Hey, Link. Why don’t we go have some breakfast?”

Nothing. Not even a blink of his eyes. Link’s back barely rose with every breath.

Ravio feared the worst, but he swallowed back the terror and fought to keep his smile in place. Carefully, he reached out, picking his despondent friend up and holding him against his chest. “Come on,” he murmured, holding his best friend tighter as he slipped downstairs again. At the kitchen table, he set up a soft pillow for Link to rest in, gently placing him in the plush fabric. “I’ll get you something to eat.” His words fell on deaf ears, but Ravio had been speaking to fill the silence, not in hopes of receiving a response. The silences were the hardest, these days.

Hands trembling, heart tearing, Ravio set to work preparing a small salad for Link to nibble on, forgoing anything extravagant when his best friend was so unresponsive. Lettuce, cucumber and carrots, that would have to do. Tomorrow, he could try and get him to eat more.

“Here we are,” he said, and if his hands shook something terrible as he set the little bowl down for Link, neither of them acknowledged it. He clasped them together once they were free, just in case. Link needed to focus on himself, not worry over Ravio being a little strung out.

Link stared blankly at the food for far longer than Ravio felt comfortable with—then he turned away. First, Link had stopped speaking. Then, he had stopped being Hylian. Now, he was refusing to eat, too.

What was Ravio doing wrong?

“Please,” he begged, pushing the bowl closer to Link. “Eat something. It will help you feel better.”

Link turned away again.

And something within Ravio snapped.

He slammed his hands on the kitchen table, tearing a flinch from his friend. “Please! Eat something, Link!” Link turned to him, alarmed, but Ravio couldn’t make out his expression when his vision went blurry with tears. “Come back to me already, I miss my best friend, damn it!” He clenched his hands tightly, nails digging into his palms. “What—What’s wrong with you?!”

Silence rang out between them, as it had for months now. And then—

Link whimpered softly, a terrified little thing that had Ravio’s breath hitching.

What had he done?

“Link, I—I—”

Another whimper when Ravio reached for his friend, and then that blur of pink darted away from him. Ravio scrubbed at his eyes, vision clearing in time to see Link dart out of the open kitchen window and into the snow. A gasp tore from his throat and he raced to the window, leaning out as desperation swelled within him.

But Link was already gone.

Link was… gone.

What had he done?

Another sharp gasp, which turned into a hitch of his breath. Ravio turned back to the empty kitchen. He should go out there and find his best friend. He should apologise for being so awful, for not being enough. He needed to fix this.

Ravio leaned back against the wall, slowly sliding down the old wood. His vision blurred as hot, sticky tears dripped down his chin. He dropped to the floor, gazed down at his shaky hands, hands that had scared his best friend. With a choked sob, Ravio buried his face in his hands, curling up on the kitchen floor, alone.

What had he done?

This was all his fault.

Chapter Text

How many Heroes were out there? Just how many of them had the Goddess created to fight Her battles, and how many more would be joining them? Already, they had a group of eight, their Hero’s Spirit reincarnating over and over again for at least a millennium. He feared the knowledge of just how long they had been fighting this battle.

In his wolf form, Twilight lowered his nose to the ground in the dim dusk light, following the familiar, faint scent, dampened by the heavy snow. Or so he hoped. Only once before had he struggled to locate the Hero’s Spirit of an era with his trusty wolf-nose, and the devastation that had befallen him and the three others he had then travelled with upon realising the Hero of that era had passed was not one he wanted to experience again. But She had provided them with another four Heroes since then, and he would not allow his spirits to sink this early on in their search.

The scent was faint, but consistently so. It was one he could follow, so long as he took his time and was careful to not lose it. Before, the scent had been faint and fading with every passing day, where this one held steady. Twilight held onto that hope, cupped it with hands he did not currently have and carried it close to his heart as he pressed onward through the snow.

On the seventh day of their search, he found the pink rabbit.

It happened suddenly, unexpected where he was used to the tell-tale sign of something crashing through the woods well in advance. One moment, he had his nose to the ground, sniffing furiously, trying to keep a hold of that faint scent; the next moment, his head bumped into something soft and frail. Twilight flinched back in surprise, noticing he had bumped into a little rabbit, its fur matted with mud and twigs and leaves. The few patches he could make out beneath the filth were stained pink with what he feared was blood.

Twilight nearly left the poor creature—it couldn’t be alive, not in such terrible shape—but something burned within him, a deep desire to protect, one he felt only with the younger Heroes he travelled with. He wondered if the faint scent of the Hero’s Spirit the bunny was swaddled in was the cause this desire. Could it have been a pet of the Hero?

What did that mean for the Hero they sought?

All thoughts were dashed away when the rabbit blinked open brilliant violet eyes, turning them upon him slowly. Those eyes widened in understanding far too Hylian for a simple rabbit—but it only flopped into the snow, accepting its fate. The urge to protect swelled bright and golden within him, overwhelming his senses.

Twilight couldn’t leave it here.

With a low keen, Twilight inched closer, nudging the rabbit with his nose in hopes sense would overcome it and it would dart away. Nothing. Had it not been for his nose pressed into its filthy side, feeling the slight rise and fall there, he would have thought it had died in their brief moments together.

And in that moment, Twilight made a decision. At the time, he couldn’t comprehend how such a quick and fleeting choice could be so important. In the future, he would look back and thank the Three Goddesses he had made the right choice.

At present, he pressed closer to the sick and frail rabbit, carefully grabbing it by its scruff and lifting it from the patch of muddy snow and blood it lay in. The rabbit gave no response, and urged on by the fear it might pass were he not quick enough, Twilight turned tail and raced back to camp in the dusk light, the rabbit swaying in his jaws. He leaped over boulders and fallen trees, wove between boughs, his years spent in his wolf form granting him the agility to move seamlessly through the forest.

The sun had set entirely by the time he made it back to the clearing they had decided to call camp for the night. Seven other Heroes turned in alarm as he burst through the bushes, injured rabbit in tow. Their shoulders fell in relief when they saw it was only him—or ‘Wolfie,’ as they had dubbed this form—and hands were pulled away from swords. When they saw the rabbit clutched between his teeth, they inhaled sharply, jolting to their feet.

Naturally, his Cub was ready with an insensitive comment: “You brought us dinner! Good boy, Wolfie!”

Twilight tore the rabbit away from Wild’s hands with a snarl. He ignored the hurt look in Wild’s eyes, darting over to Hyrule at the back—their resident magic-wielder and healer. He set the rabbit down before Hyrule with a soft whimper, and Hyrule was quick to inspect the mound of fur and mud dumped in front of him. Hands hovering over the rabbit, Hyrule froze, a flash of gold lighting up his eyes. He shared a look with Twilight, and Twilight wondered if he felt that same curious desire to protect overwhelming him.

It did not matter, so long as Hyrule helped the poor creature.

Hyrule met his gaze with a firm nod, turning back to the rabbit, and relief washed over Twilight’s furry shoulders. Hyrule carefully poked at the critter, murmuring an apology when it keened as his fingers danced over a patch of mud on its side. Hyrule paused there, pulling a rag from his pocket and gently clearing the grime. Blood welled up as he worked, and it wasn’t long before a nasty gash in the rabbit’s side was revealed. The wound had reopened with the aggravation, and it wept ruby-red onto the ground between them. The fierce scent of iron struck Twilight’s nostrils, making him turn away as Hyrule set hands glowing gold over the rabbit’s side. A soft moan escaped the rabbit and it slumped as Hyrule worked. Fear overwhelming him, Twilight nudged the rabbit’s head, terrified it had finally passed, the shock too much for its tiny body.

“It’s okay,” Hyrule murmured softly, pushing Twilight away by the muzzle. “I can feel it’ll be alright. It’s only exhausted and resting.”

A huff escaped Twilight. He nudged Hyrule in the arm to show his appreciation before settling down alongside the rabbit, watching as it slept. Under Hyrule’s care, the rabbit would be alright. It would survive this. And maybe, when the rabbit woke come morning, healed and feeling better, it would have information for Twilight on where the Hero of this era lay.

He prayed to the Three Goddesses the rabbit would not tell him the Hero lay within the ground.

“Hey,” Hyrule said, bringing his attention back to the present. Hyrule was wiping his hands on another, less filthy rag. Come morning, Twilight would help him wash the rags in the stream nearby as thanks. “It’s okay, thanks to you. Something about it… it feels oddly familiar. Did you notice that too, or were you just worried?”

Twilight gave a tilt of his head, one that would keep Hyrule off his tail. Only his Cub and the Old Man knew of his wolf form, and he would prefer to keep it that way. His Cub’s reaction had been… less than ideal, and Twilight feared the worst for the rest of them, when they scarcely knew him.

Hyrule chuckled to himself, as if the thought of a wolf, intelligent as ‘Wolfie,’ was, understanding his words was one step too far for tonight. “Never mind. I just felt… something interesting when I saw it. I’ll keep an eye on it tonight. It’s safe in my hands from our ruthless Champion.” Hyrule winked at him, and Twilight knew the rabbit would be secure for tonight.

With a breath of relief, he slipped away into the woods to return to his Hylian form. A few minutes to adjust, to wipe his mouth of the mud still caked there and to prepare himself to act surprised upon seeing the rabbit for the ‘first time,’ and he would return.

Or… perhaps he would try and seek out the Hero’s scent one last time, first.

Chapter Text

Something about the rabbit… Hyrule couldn’t place it, but the creature seemed familiar to him. It was the same sensation that had crawled up his back when he returned to the cave where he had first begun his adventure, years later, only to find the Old Man gone. Except in the case of the rabbit, the feeling made no sense; why did the sight of the rabbit leave his heart mourning?

Could it be related to the Hero they were trying to find?

Hyrule dashed away the thought quickly, before he laughed and woke the rest of the group. How could this rabbit be related to the Hero? It was a wild thing, filthy and blood-stained and oh-so fragile…

Hyrule’s heart was hurting again. He had felt this before, when woodland creatures of his own era suffered. Being part-fairy, he felt their pain stronger than any Hylian could, felt it draw him to them so he could provide aid with his magic. That had to be the sensation buried within him.

A soft whimper escaped the rabbit, and Hyrule shifted closer to the little animal, setting a hand over its muddy side to send a pulse of warmth through it and comfort it in its sleep. The rabbit began to rouse, and Hyrule shifted to sit at its side as it stretched, a low keen escaping it when still-healing injuries were pulled.

“Hey,” Hyrule said softly. “How are you feeling?” He knew the rabbit couldn’t answer. It would not be able to understand Hyrule, but the soft-spoken words should help to soothe the poor creature when it inevitably panicked upon waking in an unknown place, surrounding by Hylians and a wolf.

The rabbit turned bleary violet eyes to Hyrule, and Hyrule’s breath caught in his throat. Those eyes… he had never seen a rabbit with violet eyes. But it was probably an odd part of this era, a common occurrence not present in any other time.

The rabbit blinked, turning to inspect its surroundings, slow and uncertain. Hyrule prepared himself to grab it when it tried to flee; the rabbit was in no condition yet to be up and about. The rabbit pushed itself to its feet, attempting a few feeble hops forward.

“You’re hurt,” Hyrule said, shifting closer in preparation for the inevitable.

The rabbit’s ears twitched. It turned back to Hyrule, those curious violet eyes watching him. It tried to hop in earnest, only to whimper and fall forward when its injuries were too great in spite of all his healing. Hyrule was quick to reach out and catch it before it fell and hurt itself further.  “Hey, careful there,” he murmured. “You’re still not well. A couple of days under my care and you’ll be good as new.” He flashed a grin at the rabbit, faltering when it only stared at him.

Hyrule cleared his throat, reaching behind himself for the little wooden bowl of water he had prepared earlier. “Here,” he said, setting it down next to the rabbit and nudging it closer. “I doubt you’ve had fresh water in a little while, and…” he trailed off when the rabbit pushed closer, lapping up the water with the desperation of a man who hadn’t had a drop of liquid in a week. “A long while, then.”

Hyrule waited while the rabbit lapped up every last drop of water, soothing the concern nuzzling against his heart. He took the bowl back, refilling it with fresh water from his canteen, before picking up the other prepared bowl for the rabbit. “Here,” he said. “I’ve some food for you too.” He set the second bowl, packed with diced vegetables, down by the rabbit.

This time, it turned away from the bowl, much to Hyrule’s confusion. It had drunk the water with fervour, and he had no doubt it was starving, too. Why would it refuse to eat?

“Please,” Hyrule begged. “Eat something. You’ll feel better.”

The rabbit’s head whipped up at his words, and fleetingly, Hyrule wondered if it truly could understand Hylian. But again, that was silly. His long day had to be catching up to him, and first watch wasn’t helping any.

The rabbit turned back to the food before he could linger on the look in its eyes and, to Hyrule’s immense relief, began to nibble on a piece of radish. Then a chunk of lettuce. And then onto a cube of cucumber. As if suddenly spurred on by a reawakened stomach, the rabbit devoured the little bowl of food, lapping at a little more of the water before settling back, shooting Hyrule a look.

Hyrule smiled at the creature. “I’m sure that feels better,” he said, clearing away the bowls. As he reached over to set them back on top of his bag to clean later, soft whimpers met his ear. He paused, eyes widening. Quickly putting the bowls somewhere off to the side—he would find them again in the morning—Hyrule turned back to the rabbit to see it had curled up into a tight ball, tiny whimpers escaping it and pulling at his heartstrings.

He was by the rabbit’s side again in a beat. “What’s wrong?” he asked it softly, setting a hand over its back and sending a pulse of warmth through it, seeking out the source of its pain.

Nothing. The rabbit had no physical ailments Hyrule hadn’t already set on the path to healing.

So why was it crying?

It had to be terrified. Wolfie had plucked it from who knows where and tossed it into the middle of a large group of folks armed to the teeth. No wonder the poor thing was crying.

Hyrule shifted closer, bumping against the rabbit with his thigh. When the rabbit didn’t acknowledge his presence, perhaps hadn’t even noticed it at all, he set a hand over its filthy side, beginning to pet it gently, a smooth running of his fingers through mud and filth. The rabbit gave a soft squeak, stiffening. Before Hyrule could pull away, fearful of making its situation worse, it settled beneath his pats, relaxing. Hyrule wondered if it wasn’t as wild as they had all thought, wondered if someone had lost their beloved pet, and the rabbit couldn’t find its way home. Next time they were in town, he would ask around and see if he could find its rightful home.

And then, with a heavy sigh, the rabbit flopped against him. Hyrule froze, breath catching in his throat, hand stilling against the rabbit’s side. A smile lifted his lips, and after a beat, he began to pet it again, slow strokes down its side as its breathing evened out. Having only met the rabbit a few scarce hours ago, he hadn’t anticipated such a show of trust; his heart warmed with soft amber fondness, his eyes crinkling. When another soft whimper escaped the rabbit, it pushed itself farther into his leg in its sleep, seeking out his comfort to soothe its nightmares.

It was that moment Hyrule decided he would keep this rabbit safe for as long as it was with him.

Chapter Text

“Are ye sure I can’t carry it?”

Hyrule shook his head, leaning his left side, the side where the rabbit was curled up in his arms, away from Twilight. “No. It chose me.”

“But I saved it…”

“Alright, Pup, that’s enough pouting for today.” Time set a hand over Twilight’s shoulder, guiding him away from Hyrule and back to their task at hand: locating a town so they could find information on the Hero of this era. With his Pup’s trusty nose failing them, this was their last resort. “I’m sure you’ll get your chance to hold it soon enough.”

“Not if we find its owner.” A look from Time, and Twilight relented. “Righ’. Sorry. It’s jus’… somethin’ ‘bout it makes that side o’ me incredibly protective. Tha’, and I think I could smell the Hero’s Spirit on it.”

“The Hero’s Spirit?”

Twilight hummed. “T’was faint, but beneath all the sickness an’ injury, I could smell it. I reckon it may belong tuh the Hero we were sent ‘ere tuh find.”

Time nodded. All the more reason they needed to find a town. The sooner someone identified the rabbit and sent them in the right direction, the better. If the rabbit wasn’t related to the Hero, they could split up and find their new Hero while Hyrule and Twilight set out to return the rabbit to its no doubt worried owner. “That’s good,” he said. “For a while there, I feared…”

“Same ‘ere. We’ve been ‘ere a week already, an’ no sign o’ the Hero.”

“I’m glad you found something. Great work, Pup.” Twilight brightened under the praise, and Time was reminded as to why he chose the nickname for his descendant. Twilight had no doubt assumed it was in relation to his wolf-form, but Time had chosen it for the adorable, canine-like responses his descendant gave, so similar to the joyful Hylian Retrievers they had the pleasure of meeting in Wild’s era.

As Twilight moved ahead, eager to help find the rabbit’s owner or the Hero they had been sent here to locate, Time fell into step with Hyrule at the back. “How is it doing today?”

“Better,” Hyrule said, gently scratching the rabbit’s head, smiling when it leaned into the touch. “Although it still seems to have trouble with eating… It didn’t want to eat anything last night until I pushed it, and it refused anything more this morning.”

“It must be feeling quite out of sorts,” Time surmised. “Hopefully when we find its owner, it will find its appetite again.”

Hyrule smiled. “I’m sure it will. For now, I’m making sure it drinks plenty of water and rests.”

“And how are its injuries?”

“Better,” Hyrule said. “My magic has set it on the right path, but it’s a bit tricky working with all this mud and blood… I want to give it a bath, but we should probably let its owner handle that.”

“I’m sure we will find them in Castle Town,” Time reassured him. Hyrule gave a wan smile, holding the rabbit closer, and Time knew it wouldn’t be easy for him to let go of the creature, even if it needed to go home. He would check in on Hyrule tonight once this was all sorted, and send Twilight over for Wolfie comfort if need be. Twilight owed him one, after all.

It wasn’t long before Wild gave an excited shout at the front of the group. As he and Hyrule joined the rest of the group, Time spotted the tell-tale wooden archways at the entrance to what he knew to be Kakariko Village. In almost all of their eras, the town was eerily similar, its design withstanding for generations.

With a sage nod shared between them, Time and Hyrule followed the group through the archway and into the bustling town. Hyrule stuck close by, uncomfortable in such a crowded place, and Time set a hand over his shoulder so they wouldn’t be separated as they pushed their way toward the circular fountain in the middle of town, where they had space to speak.

“We should split up,” Time said the moment they all stood together, out of the throng of people. “I’ll stick with our Traveller and see if we can find the owner of our little friend. The rest of you, split up into two groups and find out whatever you can about the Hero of this era while you stock up on supplies. Got it?” They all nodded, and Time noticed a glint to a certain Hero’s eyes. “Pup, keep an eye on our Champion. Don’t let him slip away or we’ll be looking for him for days.”

Wild pouted as Twilight swiftly linked arms with him, latching onto his wrist for good measure. “Noted.”

“We’ll meet back here in an hour or so.” And with that, the group dispersed. Warriors and Wind made a beeline for the general store, while Sky and Four led Twilight and Wild over to the markets, eagerness shining within their eyes as they took in the fresh food and treats for sale.

Time turned back to Hyrule, smiling when he noticed Hyrule had taken to stroking the rabbit’s head. Definitely attached. He hoped they found the owner soon, before Hyrule decided he couldn’t give up the pet and ran off with it.

“Where shall we start first?” Time asked.

Hyrule pursed his lips in thought, but before he could speak, another voice piped up: “Excuse me?”

Together, they turned to face the short plump woman behind them. She wore her hair back in a bandana, and the edges of her eyes bore crows feet. “Good morning, miss. What can we do for you?”

The woman wasn’t looking at Time. She had eyes only for the rabbit in Hyrule’s arms. “I thought that was him!” She leaned closer to inspect the rabbit, and Hyrule instinctively moved back. “Ah, so sorry. My name’s Trishe.”

Time nodded. “Do you know this rabbit? We found it—him—yesterday in our travels through the woods, looking worse for the wear. Is he yours?”

Trishe shook her head, and Hyrule’s shoulders fell in relief. “No, no. There’s only one person around here with a rabbit. Poor Ravio has been running himself into the ground looking for him.”

The rabbit whimpered.

“Aw, you poor thing,” Trishe said. “I bet you miss him. He misses you too.”

“Ravio?” Time asked.

“Yes. Lives up on the house on that hill over there.” Trishe pointed behind them, to a cottage set out away from town. “Oh, Ravio will be so happy you found him! As if things weren’t hard enough for him with Link being unwell.”

Time inhaled sharply. Shared a fleeting look with Hyrule. “Unwell?”

Trishe nodded forlornly. “Poor thing has been sick for months now. Ravio has been looking after him, but he won’t tell us anything more. I think he got the rabbit to help Link feel a bit better. When you go up there, can you give Link our thoughts?”

They would be giving him more than that. Hopefully, whatever illness had taken over him could be cured with one of their Champion’s homemade potions. “Of course. Thank you, Trishe. We’ll see to it that this little one gets home. Does he have a name?”

Trishe frowned. “I’m not too sure. Ravio has been keeping to himself these days… I think looking after Link has started to take its toll on him, poor thing. We’ve offered our help, but he always waves us off with a smile.”

“We’ll see if there’s anything we can do,” Hyrule assured her. “I’m a healer myself—I might be able to help.”

Trishe brightened. “Would you? Oh, thank you! Link has done so much for us over the years, it’s terrible this illness has befallen him.”

Time nodded. “Terrible,” he agreed. For all each Hero did for their era, they seemed to suffer thrice as much. “We’ll see what we can do and return Ravio’s rabbit while we’re there. Thank you again.”

Trishe waved them off, beaming as she left. Time wondered just how deeply this era’s Link had affected his people, how much he had done for them.

When they returned to the fountain a half hour later, after stocking up on potions and encountering more folks enquiring about Ravio’s bunny, they discovered none of their group had found any information.

“No one wanted to tell us,” Wild said as he chewed on a mushroom skewer.

“As soon as we mentioned Link, everyone clammed up,” Wind said.

“I wonder if they thought we might have ill intents toward him,” Sky added thoughtfully.

“They worry for their Link,” Time said. “We were able to find some information.”

“We found this little one’s owner,” Hyrule said, his eyes downcast. “Someone named Ravio.”

“He lives in the house up on that hill over there.” Time jerked his head in the direction of the little cottage with its green shingles. “Along with Link.”

The group gasped. “Link?”

“Yes. I think I know why the townsfolk did not want to share anything with you: it sounds like he’s been unwell for quite some time.”

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Wild asked, already perusing his slate. “I’m certain I’ll have something to get him back on his feet in no time.”

“That’s the spirit.” Time smiled warmly, reaching out to ruffle Wild’s hair. “Let us go. I don’t like the thought of one of our own suffering.”

They set out with Hyrule leading the way, eager to help this era’s Link despite his reluctance to let go of the rabbit. Time fell to the back with Wild when Twilight sent them both a significant look.

“What’s going on, Pup?”

“I’m glad ye found the Hero,” Twilight commented, shooting a wary look ahead, before continuing in a lower voice. “I had another look las’ night after I brought the rabbit tuh camp, but the scent had gone completely. I was beginnin’ tuh worry…”

“We know where he is now,” Time assured him. “This won’t be like last time.”

“We can help this time!” Wild added. “We will help.”

Twilight smiled, wrapping an arm around both their shoulders. “I appreciate ye both. Yer the best ancestor an’…” Twilight paused, eyeing Wild off. “Menace, a man could ask fer.”

“Menace!?”

“He’s right about that, Cub.”

“Oh, not you too. I tried to ride a bear once.”

“You did what?” That was where the nickname came from?

“Not even the Golden Goddesses coulda’ stopped ‘im.”

Wild gasped, setting a hand over his chest. “I—”

A shout from up ahead. Their conversation was forgotten immediately. Swords in their hands—or, in Wild’s case, a rake he had found on the trail a few days back—they raced up to join the rest of the group in battle.

Only to pause when they saw the looming arch of swirling purple instead.

Time’s blood ran cold. Next to him, Twilight’s face was white as a sheet and his sword fell from his grasp. His eyes were wet.

“No…”

The little green cottage was only a few minutes farther up the hill, beyond the portal. But they wouldn’t make it now, not with the portal blocking their path. Not with their main reason as to why they were here gone.

Not now that this era’s Link had…

Time sucked in a breath, held it, then breathed it out through his teeth, slow and long. A whimper came from Sky. Four’s eyes were a fierce amber, and he blinked rapidly.

“Let’s go,” he said. “There’s nothing left for us here.”

“But the rabbit…”

Time smiled wanly. He hoped Ravio wouldn’t be too crushed that his rabbit would not be returning, but they couldn’t push past the portal, not when it blocked their path entirely. They had tried to move around it before, but it had moved with them, demanding they pass through it. “You know we won’t be able to return him now.”

“I can’t leave him here like this. What if he runs off again and we’re not here to save him?”

Time had feared this might happen and had planned for it. “Bring him with us. If he belonged to the Hero as well… the least we can do is take care of his rabbit.”

“Since we couldn’t save him,” Sky murmured, eyes clouded.

Time hummed his assent. “Yes. Let us go. We’ve spent enough time here already. There’s nothing more we can do.” While they had been taking their time searching, the Hero had been getting worse and worse. And now, he had given in when they were so close to him.

They were too late.

As the rest of the group filed through the portal, Hyrule waited with him, nervous as to what the portal might do to their rabbit. Time cast a glance over at the cottage, wondering if he might hear a grief-filled shout. But silence remained. He hoped the Hero’s end was painless, hoped he went in his sleep. He hoped Ravio wasn’t too grief-stricken.

He wished they had been faster.

“Let’s go,” he said to Hyrule.

Hyrule nodded, and together, rabbit in tow, they slipped through the portal, leaving behind the era they had failed. At least the Hero wasn’t suffering any longer.

Chapter Text

He should be looking for Link. His best friend was still out there and alive; with their connection, Ravio could sense it. But he had been looking nonstop for two weeks now, and if Link wanted to be found, Ravio would have long-since ended his search.

Link didn’t want to be found.

Ravio had chased him away, perhaps forever.

A soft whimper escaped him, a hitched breath. He sank farther into the plush blankets of his bed and wished it would swallow him whole. It was the least he deserved, for being such a terrible friend. For not doing enough, not being enough. And now, he was alone again. Not even Sheerow was with him today, and a part of him wondered if she had run away from him too, if he truly was destined to walk this world alone.

He needed to get up. Link needed him to get his lazy, good-for-nothing ass off this bed and find him before something else did, and—

—and he was so tired. His limbs refused to move, to lift him from the bed and continue his fruitless search for his best friend.

Or, ex-best friend, if Link had finally had enough of him.

With the hours upon hours he spent searching every day, and his mind keeping him up every night with thoughts of Link, all alone out there in a form in which he couldn’t protect himself, Ravio had barely slept in two weeks. And he had barely eaten, every meal tasting like ash and dirt upon his tongue until he gave up and ate only when his head felt too light to continue his search, or when Sheerow flew in front of his dazed eyes and chirped and squawked until he sat down with a stale bread roll and block of cheese and ate.

But Sheerow wasn’t here. Neither was Link. Ravio was all alone, wallowing with only his rotted, useless brain for company. It was no wonder Link had left him, had taken his first chance to escape.

The first tear pattered onto the soft fabric of his blanket beneath him, startling Ravio. He flinched back with a sharp inhale that quickly dissolved into a sob. He buried his face in his hands and finally, after two weeks of rushing around, of missing his best friend, of hating himself, Ravio let himself weep with grief. Link was gone. He was never coming back—it was clear as day.

Why was Ravio so awful?

A choked sob, and he curled up tighter on his bed. He had asked Link what was wrong with him, but perhaps he should have asked the same of himself instead. There had to be something so deeply wrong with him. Why else had he failed at helping Link? Why else had he snapped at his hurting best friend and chased him away?

He was broken, that had to be it. He certainly felt it, when his breath shuddered and hiccupped, when his lungs felt as if they were collapsing in on themselves and his ribs began to cave in and these stupid tears wouldn’t stop and—

Fierce squawking. Ravio flinched when Sheerow landed on his head, panicked chirps escaping her. Why had she even bothered to come back? Didn’t she know he was awful and broken?

“Leave me alone,” he rasped, his voice strained and wet with tears. “Let me rot.”

“Absolutely not.”

Ravio’s head snapped up at the new voice. He sat up quickly, scrubbing at his eyes, when he saw who it was, her royal purple hair braided down her back and her eyes narrowed—in annoyance? Concern? Ravio couldn’t tell when his vision was blurry. “Hilda! I—erm…”

Hilda’s face softened, and she made her way over to join him on the bed. Ravio turned away, his cheeks burning darkly. “No wonder Sheerow came to get me,” Hilda said, her voice much gentler than he deserved. Ravio sniffled, couldn’t look at her as shame burned bright within. “What’s going on, Bun? You look terrible. And where’s Link? Why isn’t he helping you?”

Her words, so soft, so concerned, made Ravio’s breath hitch all over again. And then he was dissolving into sobs once more, burying his face in his hands to hide himself away from her and wishing she would just leave him alone.

A noise of concern escaped Hilda, and she shifted closer. “Oh, Bun…” She curled an arm around his shoulders, and Ravio… Ravio couldn’t help himself. He didn’t deserve the comfort, but he turned and latched onto her like she was the only thing holding him up in this sea of loneliness and misery; a light in the ever-persistent darkness that had become his life.

Hilda began to run a hand up and down his back, slow and sure. Her other arm squeezed him closer, holding him together as he shuddered and broke to pieces in her arms. “Just let it out, Bun. I’m here.”

Under her comfort, it took far too long for Ravio to settle. But he hadn’t had an embrace in months, hadn’t had someone comfort him when he had taken up the role of carer for Link and spent his days comforting. When he finally pulled away, Hilda was there with a clean handkerchief, wiping away the tears and snot smattered across his cheeks with a tenderness he didn’t deserve.

When she was done, Hilda tossed the filthy handkerchief aside, took both of his hands and drew his attention back to her. She waited with more patience than he felt was justified as he slowly turned his teary gaze to her, then said firmly, “Tell me everything.”

And so Ravio did. He told her of how Link had come home from his most recent adventure and slowly grown quieter and quieter, and then of how Link had stopped speaking entirely. He told her of the morning he had awoken to find the little pink rabbit in Link’s place, and of the long months spent trying desperately to bring Link back from where he had fallen, all for naught; he told her of how he had snapped at Link and chased him away, and of how he hadn’t returned yet, likely never would, because of what he had done. He told her of the past two weeks spent searching and searching, only to come up with empty hands and an empty heart; Link didn’t want to be found.

And then, as his voice faded and the room fell silent once more, he waited for her to tell him he was awful, to tear her hands away and shout at him. For her to leave him too.

Hilda set a hand over his still-damp cheek, ran her thumb over the stubble beginning to grow there in his lack of care. “Oh, Bun. No wonder you’re so strung out.”

“What?” Ravio whispered.

“You’ve been trying for so long… Anyone would be exhausted in your position. Come with me back to the castle for a little while and let us take care of you.”

“What—but what if Link comes back? I have to be here, I have to—”

“You need to take care of yourself, Bun. You look terrible; when was the last time you slept properly, or had a full meal?”

Ravio averted his gaze. He couldn’t have answered her questions if he wanted to. Weeks, or perhaps even months. Ravio couldn’t say. It felt as if this awful, bone-deep fatigue and hollowness to his stomach had become his way of life now—he couldn’t remember what he was like before this.

Hilda hummed. “Thought so. We’ll get our knights to search, and the townspeople will be glad to help if you only ask. We’ll have someone check the house every day for you, and we can leave a note behind for Link as well, if that would make you feel better.”

“But…”

“What is it?”

Ravio sighed. “Nothing. It just… I feel like I’m abandoning him.”

“I understand,” Hilda said, to Ravio’s surprise. “You took care of him for so long. But you’re not abandoning him; you are taking care of yourself, and you will have others search in your place. Link would want you to take care of yourself, Bun.”

Ravio sighed. “I know. You’re right.”

Hilda grinned, standing and pulling him up with her. “Good! You know I love to hear those words.”

Ravio huffed a laugh, and by the way Hilda’s eyes crinkled, he knew that had been her intention. She turned, letting go of one of his hands to lead him out of his bedroom, only to falter when Sheerow began to squawk and flutter her wings, causing a ruckus by the window.

“Sheerow, what’s wrong?” Ravio hurried over to her, but his legs were weak, and he stumbled, dropped to the floor. Hilda was by his side in an instant, her warmth washing away the pain in his knees from where they had collided with the wooden floor.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry.” Ravio took her hand, let her help him up and steady him when he swayed. “I think I’ve been running on dying embers for some time now. My body is… so tired, Hills.”

Hilda made a sad sound, pulling him close to embrace. “We will take care of you at the castle, Bun. And you need to take care of yourself, too. That starts with sleeping and eating properly, okay?”

“Okay,” Ravio agreed. As terrible as the guilt within his chest was, he couldn’t deny the sound of giving in and resting made his body glimmer with a golden pleasantness he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Hilda grinned. “Good! Now let’s see what that little bird of yours is worried about.”

Ravio had almost forgotten about Sheerow’s urgency. He should have known better by now, but a part of him lit up with hope that Sheerow had spotted Link, that he would see a little pink bunny making his way up the front steps. With Hilda’s help, he made his way over to the window Sheerow was still chirping at, only to see the trail to his and Link’s house, barren. That glimmer of hope within him died, and he turned away. “There’s nothing there, Sheerow.”

“Oh, Bun…”

Ravio couldn’t meet her eye. With a sigh, she squeezed his hand and helped him out of the room. They took the stairs one at a time when Ravio’s head went fuzzy with fatigue and hunger, and she sat him down in the kitchen for a quick meal, just enough to keep him going.

“Feel better?” Hilda asked as she helped him back up not fifteen minutes later, once his head stopped spinning and he had rested his eyes enough to keep going a little while longer.

“Better,” Ravio agreed. “But still tired.”

“We’ve got a plush bed at the castle waiting for you,” Hilda promised. “You’ll feel better. We’ll take care of you.”

“Thanks, Hills.”

They paused in the entryway to put on coats and boots and gloves. Hilda waited while Ravio looped his favourite scarf around his neck and drew his hood up, the ears flopping down on either side of his face.

“Ready?” Hilda stood in the open doorway, her hand outstretched, waiting for his.

Ravio hesitated, taking one last look back at the cottage he called home. At Link’s cottage. He took in the firewood and blankets scattered around the living room, the dishes piled high in the kitchen, the clothes draped over the backs of chairs and piled on the dining table, and a heaviness settled in his chest again, one that had been a constant companion over the past few months, growing and growing, until he broke.

Ravio turned back to Hilda and took her hand, stepping through the doorframe and out into the world. “Ready.”

Chapter Text

The Great Goddess had to be laughing down at them in Her golden abundance. They stepped through the portal, swirling purple enveloping their vision, and were immediately dropped into a swamp.

“Why?!” Wind shouted as his pants became drenched and filthy.

Warriors hauled his head out of the swamp and glared at the sky. Four rolled over onto his back in the muck, accepting his fate wordlessly. Sky began to grumble about soggy boots, but remained upright. Wild, Time and himself had thankfully landed on the shore of a grassy island in the middle of the swamp, connected to other small sections of land by rotted planks of wood. And Hyrule…

Hyrule fell face-first into the swamp, the rabbit still in his arms.

The rabbit squeaked in pain as Hyrule landed on him and jumped out of Hyrule’s arms, his eyes wild and alarmed and more responsive than Twilight had seen them in the day and a half they had been together. He struggled to stay afloat in the shin-high water, frantically flapping his little arms and kicking his legs, but his head sank beneath the murky water.

Twilight rushed over, kicking up swamp water and not caring when it filled his boots and drenched his socks. He crouched, grabbing the rabbit by the scruff and hauling him out of the water and into his arms. The rabbit latched onto him as he pulled him to his chest, shaking like a leaf, and Twilight was quick to murmur soft reassurances to the poor thing. Where he had been filthy before, the rabbit now appeared grey with dirt and grime. Twilight hoped Hyrule had managed to heal his wounds enough to keep the swamp water from entering them. He would have their healer check later, once they were all dry and safe.

“Yer okay,” he repeated softly, over and over, holding the rabbit close and walking them both out of the swamp. Hyrule hauled his head out of the swamp, face falling when he saw the rabbit in Twilight’s arms.

“Shoot, I’m so sorry!” Hyrule was up and sloshing water everywhere in a beat. Drops pattered down from his chin and drenched clothes, but he paid them no mind. “Is he okay?” Hyrule reached for the rabbit, only to pause when he whimpered, his face stricken.

“Ye fell on ‘im,” Twilight said, pulling the rabbit away from Hyrule’s arms. “We’re both mad at ye.”

“What—It was an accident!”

Twilight hummed. “I think ‘e’s better off with someone who ain’t soppin’ wet.”

“You just want to hold him.”

“Perhaps.”

“Rancher—”

“Leave him be,” Time said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We’ve enough to deal with without you two fighting.”

“Ya can check him later fer any more injuries,” Twilight said, turning away and walking over to his Cub, adorable rabbit in tow.

“But—”

“Traveller, I know you’re attached, but leave it for the time being. I think our Rancher needs this after…”

Twilight turned away from them, refusing to think about the Hero they had lost. If he held the rabbit a little tighter, neither of them needed to know about it. “Where do ye reckon we are?” he asked his Cub instead, because this could only be his world, with that odd, mingled taste of rain and metal to the air.

Wild already had his slate out and was tapping away on it, the shrill hum of electricity making Twilight’s eye twitch. Upon seeing him, Wild quickly turned the thing off, and that low thrum disappeared. “Lanayru Wetlands,” he said. “Close enough to the Zora to make it to their domain in a couple days. With the trading routes re-established, they should be able to point us in the direction we need to go. Do you think…”

“There ain’t any more o’ us comin’? I do,” Twilight said, his eyes drifting down to the rabbit in his arms, all they had left of the Hero of the previous era. Their final brother they had failed.

Wild hummed, running his thumb over the ridges on the edge of his slate. Twilight realised with a start Wild was thinking of their lost brother as well. He nudged his Cub in the side, securing one arm around the rabbit so he could throw his other around Wild’s shoulders and squeeze. Wild took a deep breath in, relaxing under Twilight’s arm as he let it out. “Thanks, Twi.”

“Course, Cub. I know it’s hard…”

“You’re hurting too.”

Twilight looked away. Wild reached up to take Twilight’s hand, still resting over his shoulder.

“That’s okay too, Twi. We all understand. And if you want to do Wolfie cuddles again…”

Twilight couldn’t help the smile that lifted his lips. “Noted. Thanks, Cub. I think… I jus’ need a li’l time.”

“Take all the time you need. We’ll be here with you.”

Twilight nodded, and they left it at that. They stood together, the rabbit still curled up in Twilight’s arms, his shaking ebbing, while they waited for the rest of their group to haul themselves out of the swampy water and slosh their way over in the fierce midday sun. Wild passed on his plan to travel to the Zora Domain, and then they set out, the sun burning the backs of their necks and drying sopping clothes.

Hyrule joined him in the middle of the group, reaching out to pet the rabbit, before he hesitated. “I really am sorry,” he said, and Twilight wasn’t certain if Hyrule was speaking to him or the rabbit. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” Twilight assured him. “We both do. I was jus’ messin’ with ye. I’ve been wantin’ to cuddle this li’l one fer days now.”

Hyrule chuckled. “He is very cuddle-able.”

“Tha’s not a word.”

“It can be!”

And the tension between them dissipated like the steam rising from Hyrule’s drying clothes.

“I think,” Hyrule said as they were clambering up a boulder on the trail to the Zora’s Domain, “That he needs a name.”

“What?”

“Well, if we’re going to look after him for a while, since we can’t return him to his owner”—Hyrule looked away briefly then, guilt pinching his features—“then we should give him a name. We can’t keep calling him ‘the rabbit’ forever.”

“Ah…” Twilight hadn’t even considered giving him a name, beyond, ‘the li’l one.’

“I was thinking,” Hyrule continued. “We already have Wolfie. Why don’t we just name him, ‘Bunny’?”

“Bunny? That’s a li’l on the nose, isn’t it?”

“Wolfie,” Hyrule emphasised, and Twilight cursed his Cub for the silly name that had stuck. “It fits our little group well,” Hyrule continued. “And it’s better than ‘the rabbit.’ Unless you have something better?”

“Well—”

“Bunny it is then!”

With a laugh, Twilight rolled his eyes.

And from then onward, the little rabbit was known as Bunny.

Chapter Text

Evening sun bore down on them as they set up camp. They had chosen a twist in the trail where monsters had been holing up until Time and Sky had picked them off swiftly. With logs already nestled around a crackling fire, all they had to do was spread out their bedrolls and set up a cooking pot, courtesy of Wild. Time took a shot at cooking, and Twilight stood behind him, overseeing the process and making sure they wouldn’t end up heaving up their guts overnight.

After he deemed Time’s meal safe enough to not be watched over with a hawk eye, Twilight turned to the rest of them, wrinkling his nose. “Ye lot need tuh clean up.”

“We’re not that bad,” Hyrule argued. He had certainly smelled worse on his own adventure.

“Yer not good either. You too, Cub. Ye reek.”

“Please,” Time added. “I fear the swamp may seep into my soup at this rate.”

With a huff, Hyrule pushed himself to his feet. “Fine. But I’m giving Bunny a bath, too. He needs it.”

Twilight hesitated, reluctant to let Bunny out of his arms when he had fallen asleep there. But then his sniffed the rabbit and made a face, and Bunny was quickly passed over to Hyrule. Hyrule took him gratefully, holding him close to his chest. Still half-asleep, Bunny shifted to rest his head over Hyrule’s shoulder, cuddling closer, and Hyrule nearly cooed. “I reckon so. Take care of ‘im, ye hear me?”

“I will be careful,” Hyrule promised. “Now come on, Champion!”

Wild groaned as Hyrule hauled him to his feet. “Why do I need to bathe? I didn’t fall into the swamp.”

“Because ye’ve always got a stink about ye.”

“What? Twi!”

“Off ye go. The sooner y’all head off, the sooner dinner’ll be ready.”

“Let’s go!” Hyrule linked his arm with Wild’s, dragging him away before he could argue any further with Twilight. Wild scoffed, more for show than anything, but moved when Hyrule tugged him away, easily falling into step with him. The others dispersed in groups, making their way to the river with dirty clothes and skin. Hyrule led Wild a little farther upstream where the others wouldn’t bother them and Bunny, but close enough to shout for quick help if need be. The group’s chatter faded into the background, washed away by the babble of the river. Not gone entirely, but quieter.

Wild dealt with the Octoroks swiftly, and then he was throwing his clothes off and jumping into the water in spite of his groaning at Twilight. Rolling his eyes, Hyrule crouched by the water, testing its temperature first. Cool, but not painfully so; the river had been warmed by the long days of heat and sun. Next, he pulled Bunny away from his shoulder, murmuring an apology when he gave a soft whimper.

“Sorry, Bunny. But you need a bath. You’ll feel much better once you’re clean,” he assured. The rabbit gave a heavy sigh, and Hyrule raised a brow, curious. Was it that exhausted? Their shift through time and his landing on Bunny couldn’t have helped, but he had been nestled in Twilight’s arms for the better part of three hours now, resting away. Was Bunny unwell? Hyrule would check over him once he was clean and send some warm healing magic through him.

“How do you feel about water?” he asked the little rabbit, smiling brightly when Bunny tilted his head. “Alright, here we go—please don’t panic,” he added as he crouched by the lapping shore, setting Bunny down in the foamy water.

Bunny gave a curious squeak, lifting a paw out of the water then setting it back in, as if testing the temperature himself. He turned back to Hyrule, watching him with big eyes.

“Guess you’re okay with the water,” Hyrule said. Bunny watched him a moment longer, before turning back to the water, pushing himself back and away, as if nervous. “Or not…” Hyrule felt for little Bunny; he could barely feel the push of the river, but at Bunny’s size, it had to be scary, his instincts telling him to get away from the danger. “Don’t worry,” Hyrule added. “I’ll take care of you, I won’t let you go. And… I’m sorry about earlier—it really was an accident, and I’m glad you weren’t too hurt. But I’ll keep you safe from now on, I promise. I’ll protect you.”

Bunny was watching him with wide violet eyes. A soft breeze brushed by, picking up his lop ears, making them sway. His fur remained idle, too caked with mud to be moved by the wind. Bunny dipped his head, just once, yet it couldn’t have been anything but a nod from the creature. Did Bunny understand him? Hyrule had never met such an intelligent rabbit before....

Bunny sneezed, and Hyrule quickly shoved aside the observation. “Alright, let’s get clean before our Rancher comes and shoves us into the water.”

Bunny waited as he shucked his filthy, stinky clothes to be cleaned later. He watched as Hyrule carefully lifted him up into his arms once more, cringing as his matted fur pressed against his bare chest and shoulder. Soon, Bunny would be soft and fluffy again. Hyrule would make sure of it. And, he was eager to see what colour Bunny’s fur would be, when it wasn’t darkened by filth.

Holding Bunny close, he began the walk into the pleasantly cool river. Covered by rocks on both sides, the rapids couldn’t reach them in their entirety, and Hyrule used that to his advantage as he lowered Bunny into the water once it was up to his waist. Bunny kicked his hind legs, uncertain, and Hyrule couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Don’t worry,” Hyrule said. “I won’t let you go. I hope it isn’t too cold for you.” Bunny slowed his kicks, relaxing in Hyrule’s arms at his words. His front paws swiped at the water, sending tiny splashes up in their wake.

“Aw, I wish I had my slate.” Hyrule jumped, having forgotten about Wild entirely, with his focus on Bunny. “Doesn’t he look so adorable?”

“He does,” Hyrule agreed as Bunny continued to splash the water, fascinated by it. When Wild began to wade closer, Bunny paused, stiffening in Hyrule’s arms, uncomfortable. “Um, hold on there, Champion.”

“What’s wrong?” Wild tilted his head in a similar fashion to when Wolfie was curious. He moved closer, and Bunny whimpered, scrambling back and away from him. Scared.

“Wait, stay there.” Wild paused, a hurt look in his eyes. Hyrule gave him a quick, comforting half-smile, then turned ack to Bunny. “Is everything alright, Bunny? You didn’t react this way around Wolfie or our other friends. It’s almost like you’re… scared.”

Bunny whimpered again, pressing farther into his arms as if in agreement.

“Oh,” Wild said. “Is this because of what I said on that first night?”

“What you said?”

“When I made that joke about him being dinner,” Wild explained, and oh. Hyrule had forgotten about that, had barely heard the joke when Wolfie came thundering over with determination. Bunny did seem to be more intelligent than the average rabbit; had he understood Wild’s words back then? Did they still swim within his mind?

“Bunny?” Violet eyes turned to face him, wide and pleading. “He didn’t mean it.”

“I didn’t,” Wild agreed. “It was just a joke—a poorly timed one.”

Bunny still wouldn’t look at Wild, still pressed closer to Hyrule.

Wild sighed. “Okay. I’m sorry. I promise I have no intention of eating you. I do want to help clean your fur. I’ve been caked in mud for weeks before, and I know it’s itchy and awful.”

Bunny was slow to accept his words, but after a long beat between them, he pushed away from Hyrule’s arms. He made no move to swim over to Wild, but for Hyrule, it was close enough to forgiveness.

“That works,” he said, waiting for Wild’s nod before he adjusted his grip on Bunny, shifting him into one hand so he could begin to brush the flakes of mud from his back. He dipped Bunny farther into the water, wetting his fur, and gently brushing water over his head and ears. “You’ve got the soap?”

“Twi gave it to me hours ago,” Wild said sourly, passing it over. Scented with lavender and honey, it was Twilight’s favourite soap to force onto the group. Something about it smelled like home, comforting and pleasant. Hyrule didn’t mind, when the lavender helped even the most restless of them relax and sleep.

Holding Bunny under one arm, Hyrule slathered soap over his hands, then passed the bar back to Wild. Then, he began to scrub at Bunny’s fur. To his credit, the rabbit remained mostly still over his arm, his hind legs occasionally kicking in the water. The soap suds quickly turned brown with mud, and once every inch of Bunny was brown and sudsy and smelling of lavender and swamp, he dipped the rabbit in the water again, washing away the suds. He ran his fingers through Bunny’s fur, easing out clumps of mud and blood, watching as they trailed downstream.

Hyrule frowned as he worked, clearing the soap from Bunny’s head. He applied another layer of soap to the cleaner fur, taking care to scrub right down to the base of his fur, to gently massage it into his ears, but the second wash did nothing to clear the strange new colour.

Bunny’s fur was bright pink.

“I’ve never seen a rabbit with pink fur,” Wild commented, reaching out to pet Bunny’s head, reeling back when Bunny snapped at him. “No touching, got it!”

“We thought all this was blood, buddy,” Hyrule commented, scratching lightly at Bunny’s head, smiling when he leaned into the touch. Bunny let him pet him, and Hyrule felt special for it. “I’m glad it isn’t. You’ve a lovely coat on you.”

Bunny lifted his head and preened at the comment, to Hyrule’s amusement.

With Bunny clean and beginning to shiver, Hyrule was quick to call Twilight over to the nearest rock and pass the rabbit off to the only other Link he was comfortable with. Twilight was ready with a fluffy towel and scooped Bunny up into it. As Twilight began to dry Bunny, scrubbing at clean damp fur, Hyrule rested his arms over the sun-warmed stone, setting his head over them and watching contentedly

 “Pink’s an interestin’ colour,” Twilight commented as he ran the corner of the towel over the space between Bunny’s ears. “I was worried ‘is fur was stained with…”

“Me too,” Hyrule said. “I’ve never seen a rabbit with pink fur.”

“Could be an era-specific thing,” Twilight said with a shrug. “I’ve learnt not tuh question it.”

Hyrule chuckled, watching fondly as Twilight began to carefully dry Bunny’s ears, one at a time, pressing the towel over them. Bunny’s eyes began to droop, exhausted. Twilight finished up with one last run of the towel over Bunny’s back. When he removed the towel, Hyrule couldn’t help the snicker that escaped him when he saw Bunny’s fur. With Twilight’s firm drying, his fur had fluffed up so he looked twice his usual size.

“Awww,” he couldn’t help but comment. “Bunny, you’re all floofy.” He reached out for the rabbit, but Twilight slapped his hand away.

“Absolutely not. Yer all wet and dirty still. Now finish up with yer own bath—ye reek.”

Hyrule stuck his tongue out at Twilight, but acquiesced, sinking back into the cool water. He watched fondly as Twilight scooped Bunny up into his arms, Bunny easily settling his head over Twilight’s shoulders, his front paws beneath his chin. He watched Bunny’s cute little face as it drifted away from him, back over to the fire. And then Wild pounced on him, dragging him underwater and tearing him out of his fond reverie.

“Champion!”

Chapter Text

“Sit still.”

“But dinner’s ready! You know I’m a growing boy, Wars.”

“It will take me no more than two minutes to dry your hair. The last thing you need on top of swamp muck in your system is a cold.”

“That’s just a myth, Wars. You’re worse than my Nana.”

Warriors scoffed, shoving his young friend down onto the rock again. “I am not taking any chances. Sit still.” He clamped one hand down over Wind’s shoulder as he reached for the towel resting atop his bag a pace to the left.

Wind blew out a breath and slumped. “Fine. Hurry up already.”

Rolling his eyes and not wasting his breath on the juvenile comment, Warriors began to dry Wind’s still-dripping hair. What his young friend was thinking, heading to bed on a cool night with his hair sopping wet, Warriors hadn’t a clue. Perhaps he wasn’t thinking at all; youth often clouded judgement. As the second eldest, Warriors was not about to let their youngest tempt fate, not when he would no doubt come and cry to Warriors with a sniffling nose and sore throat, and then Warriors would catch it, and—

He didn’t want to think about getting sick. Not while out on another long quest.

Wind began to hum absentmindedly as Warriors towelled off his hair, cheerful despite his earlier complaints, and Warriors couldn’t help the smile that lifted the corners of his lips. He took more care with drying his young friend’s hair, pulling the damp strands out of Wind’s face, tucking a lock behind his ear.

Wind groaned. “Wars, you’re babying me again.”

“I would never.” Warriors definitely was. How could he not, when Wind was like the little brother he never got to have? When Wind reminded him of his boisterous little sister back home?

“You are. We should start calling you ma.”

“If that would make you happy,” Warriors said, smile turning into a smirk as he finished off drying Wind’s hair. “Done. Was that so bad?”

Wind scoffed, but when he stood, he leaned into Warriors’ side, a brief moment of affection to show his appreciation. “Terrible,” he said.

“Truly terrible,” Warriors agreed. “And you are welcome.”

“Thanks, Wars.” Wind smiled at him, that toothy grin that made Warriors think of his little sister, and he couldn’t help but pinch Wind’s cheek. “Ah—don’t!” He shoved Warriors’ hand away, cheeks aflame.

“Alright. Go have your dinner now.”

“Yes, ma.” For that, Wind earned Warriors’ hand ruffling his hair, messing it up even more. “Ugh, Wars.”

“Wind.”

“You need to eat too.”

“I will once you have all eaten.”

Wind, more than used to his idiosyncrasies by now, nodded, grabbing his arm and dragging him closer to the fire, where Twilight was dishing out the soup he and Time had prepared. He shared a nod with Warriors, ladling out a bowl for Wind and passing it over before moving on to the next hungry mouth. Only once they had all eaten their fill could Warriors pick up a bowl and spoon and dig in himself, once he was certain they were all fed and not going hungry. They all knew that well by now, didn’t try and push him before he was ready.

Once Wind had his dinner served, Warriors let him go, moving over to sit alongside Hyrule closer to the fire, where warmth pressed against his chest and legs as he sat on the log left behind by the lizalfos.

“You smell better,” Warriors commented.

“Likewise,” Hyrule said, and they shared a grin. It was then Warriors noticed the little rabbit—Bunny, as Hyrule and Twilight had taken to calling it—nestled in Hyrule’s lap, clean and fluffier than ever. And pink.

“Huh,” Warriors commented, his eyes on Bunny.

“Yeah,” Hyrule agreed. “We think it must be an era-specific thing. I’ve never seen a rabbit this colour in my era.”

“It could be dye,” Warriors offered.

“We thought that too, but I’ve checked and the colour goes right down to the roots. If he’s been out in the wild for weeks, then his natural colour would have started to grow back by now. So… pink fur it is.”

“Pink fur it is,” Warriors agreed, and when Hyrule hummed, beginning to run his hand down Bunny’s back, smoothing out the fur, that warm affection leftover from his time with Wind swelled in his chest. He reached out to pet Bunny’s fluffy pink head as Hyrule was doing. It happened fast, a blur of pink and then sharp, fiery pain along the back of his hand.

“Ow!” Warriors tore his hand back, inspecting the little bite mark, lazily weeping ruby red. “Did he bite me?”

“Oh my—Bunny!” Hyrule began to chastise the rabbit, but Bunny only had eyes for Warriors. Violet narrowed at him, watching him with suspicion, and Warriors found all frustration dissipate.

“It is okay,” he assured Hyrule despite the throbbing of his hand. “I should not have tried to touch him without permission.”

Violet eyes widened slightly. Warriors thought back to Twilight’s comment of Bunny being a lot smarter than the average rabbit. Wondered if Bunny could understand him—perhaps not his words, but the meaning behind them, his tone of voice.

“I am sorry,” he said. “I made you uncomfortable by touching you without your permission. I swear I will not do it again.”

Bunny watched him for a long moment, curious. He blinked slowly. Then he dipped his head, the gesture far more Hylian than Warriors anticipated from the rabbit.

Could Bunny understand his words? He had thought Bunny had felt more than understood the apology, but perhaps… perhaps Bunny could understand Hylian as Wolfie seemed to be able to. He was the pet rabbit of Link and Ravio—and Warriors wished they had been able to visit, if only to see his old friend from the war one more time. Wolfie was akin to a pet to Wild, if not more his own creature than loyal pet. Warriors wondered if Bunny had travelled with Link too, before he became unwell. If Bunny knew more about Link’s situation.

If only he could speak with the rabbit.

Blowing out a breath and smiling at Bunny, Warriors turned away, offering his hand to Hyrule when their healer began to fuss over the bite there, muttering about infections. Tonight, he was much too exhausted to try and consider just how special Bunny could be. Just what his presence might mean for them, if he were capable of fighting like Wolfie, or helping them like Epona did for so many of them. Or perhaps, he had his own way of helping, perhaps he could lead them to treasure or monsters, once he was better.

“Stop thinking so hard,” Hyrule chastised him, flicking him over the head. “There’s something about Bunny, Rancher and I know it. But we’re not certain yet as to what.”

At least he wasn’t the only one pondering their new little rabbit friend. “Perhaps his bite will grant me a new power.”

Hyrule snorted, shaking his head as he cleaned the wound. “Perhaps it will teach you to not touch him without permission.”

“Perhaps,” Warriors agreed. “You must feel special, when he lets you hold and pet him.”

Hyrule grinned, casting a glance down at Bunny, who was watching them curiously. Watching as Warriors flinched at the bite of Hyrule’s fierce healing spray, his eyes apologetic. Definitely too smart to be a normal rabbit. “So special,” Hyrule agreed, setting his spray down and grabbing his bandages. “It feels like I’ve been chosen, and I’m determined to make him not regret that. And…”

Warriors smile faded as curiosity bloomed within his chest. “’And’?”

Hyrule began to wrap his hand, lowering his eyes. “Something about him… I don’t really know how to explain it, but he feels familiar to me. And when I first laid eyes on him, I was hit with this overwhelming urge to protect.”

“He was in a terrible place when Wolfie brought him to us.”

“Not quite like that. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s… it’s like it’s thrumming within my bones. Sorry, it doesn’t make sense at all.”

Warriors hummed, lowering his eyes to Bunny again, who had drifted off during their conversation, leaning into Hyrule’s stomach. “It is very curious,” he said, and left it at that for tonight.

Chapter Text

The moon had begun her ascent into the sky by the time they finished up dinner. With Wind and Four on dish duty, Twilight grabbed his towel and made a beeline for the river, keen for his own bath while the opportunity was there and the youngsters of the group wouldn’t disturb him. The water was frigid, but it did well to wake him from the tired haze that had settled over his shoulders, and it washed away the dirt and grime from a week’s worth of camping on the road. The comforting scent of lavender and honey and sage washed over him from the soap, and if Twilight closed his eyes, he could imagine he was back in Ordon, taking a bath out in the river with Colin after a long summer’s day. 

When he opened them again and saw only a world that wasn’t his, a different kind of fatigue settled over him like a too-heavy blanket, making his shoulders slump and his ears droop. The sound of his companions bickering washed over him, Four and Wind fighting over who got to dry the dishes, and a small smile quirked his lips, a little of that fatigue lifting, enough for him to continue on. 

Once clean, Twilight threw on his softest clothes for sleep and towel dried his hair. Too much of that weariness still rested on his shoulders, so he hung his towel from a nearby tree to dry and, with a significant look sent to Time, he announced he was heading for a ‘scout.’ 

“Shall I come with you?” Warriors offered, as he often did. Most nights, Twilight wouldn’t mind their Captain accompanying him, enjoyed his company, quiet when he needed it, and playful every other time. 

“Not tonight.” Tonight, he wanted to be alone. Tonight, he needed some time as someone else. Something else.

“We know how dangerous our Champion’s world can become at night,” Warriors countered, already pushing himself to his feet. “Scouting in pairs will be safer.” 

Time paused him with a hand over the shoulder. “Let him go. You know he needs a little time to himself some nights.” 

Warriors seemed hesitant, and Twilight took the opportunity to slip away while their Captain was distracted. Back down the trail he walked, waiting until he slipped around a bend in the path to shake himself of his heavy, tired Hylian form. The black diamonds wrapped around him like a blanket, familiar and comforting where it had once been a cause for panic. His joints ached, fire spreading over his bones and flesh, flaring white-hot, and he squeezed his eyes shut, took a sharp hiss of a breath in. 

As quick as it came, it vanished, and Twilight was on all fours once more. He shook out his limbs to settle into the transformation, shivered as a cool breeze slipped over his frame, ruffling still-damp fur passed from his Hylian form to this one. A sigh escaped him, a little of that weariness dissipating with it. 

One glance back to ensure he was alone, and then Twilight took off down the trail, starting out in a trot, then breaking out into a full run, his wolf form ensuring he reached a speed his Hylian body could only dream of. He tore down the trail, thundering across the bridge, the old wood sending jolts through his paws, up his legs. He pushed onward, leaving the trail and racing up the hillsides, guided by the light of the moon and the desperation to shed the weight of the world, at least for a little while. 

By the time he made it to the top of a mountain peak overlooking the Lanayru Wetlands, his fur was long-since dry and his body warm. His muscles burned pleasantly, his mind empty. Curling his tail under him, Twilight settled down on his haunches, gazing down at the Wetlands stretched out beneath him, reflecting the silver moon and stars like a mirror held to the universe. Twilight lowered himself to lie down, head resting over his front paws, and he watched the stars slowly traipse across the night sky. 

By the time he returned to camp, most of his companions had turned in for the night. Sitting by the flickering firelight, Warriors was the only one still up, had likely put himself on first watch to wait up for Twilight. Mentally, Twilight gave Warriors an apology—he would be waiting up a little while longer. 

“Evening, Wolfie,” Warriors greeted softly, his eyes watching the trail beyond Twilight, searching for his Hylian self. 

Twilight dipped his head to acknowledge Warriors. By now, the group knew he was nothing to be feared, except by monsters; Wolfie would never attack them. He walked past Warriors, feeling the man’s curious eyes on him as he made his way over to where Hyrule slept. By Hyrule’s side, Bunny was curled up, twitching and whimpering in his sleep. That urge to protect overwhelmed his wolf senses, and he was plucking Bunny up by the scruff before he had so much as a thought on the concerning sight, bringing him closer to the light of the fire.

“Careful, now,” Warriors warned him. He held up his left hand, the red-spotted white bandages wrapped around his palm entering the light. “That one can be fierce.” 

Twilight huffed at him. Something told him Bunny would not bite him as he had done Warriors. Bunny knew him, had not once tried to hurt him in his Hylian form. Animals had an odd sense for creatures like him, that dwelled within two different forms: Bunny knew he was the wolf who had rescued him, could smell it on him, and had bonded with him swiftly, as he had done with Hyrule. It was the reason Bunny allowed Twilight to hold him, in his Hylian form. 

Twilight set Bunny down closer to the fire—not close enough to become unbearably warm, but enough for the light to banish the darkness of his nightmares. He nudged Bunny’s hide, continuing until Bunny roused from his fitful sleep, opening his eyes blearily. 

Behind him, he heard Warriors inhale sharply and shift, as if worried Bunny might jump up and bite him again. Twilight nearly huffed a laugh at the idea, but then Bunny gave a soft whimper. Attention back on the poor rabbit, Twilight nudged him again with his muzzle, eyes crinkling when Bunny looked up to him with exhaustion and curiosity. 

Twilight sat on his haunches, gazing down at Bunny, and said, “Hello, little one.” 

Bunny’s flinch was so fierce, he nearly knocked himself back and into the fire. Twilight was quick to grab him by the scruff again, pulling him farther from the flames. 

“Sorry!” he murmured once Bunny was safely set down. “I didn’ mean tuh startle ye. Are ye okay?” 

Bunny stared at him, eyes wide. Had Bunny… not spoken to other animals before? If his life was sheltered inside the Hero’s house, then perhaps… perhaps he had only ever had his two Hylians. Bunny remained silent. 

Twilight averted his gaze briefly, shifted his front paws, uncomfortable. “I wanted tuh ask a few things from ye while I was in this form. I wanted tuh know more ‘bout yer Link.” 

Bunny’s eyes dropped to the ground. His lop ears lowered farther. A tiny whimper escaped him, and he wouldn’t look at Twilight. 

“Do ye know ‘e’s…” 

Bunny turned away, confirming Twilight’s suspicions: Bunny knew the fate of one of his owners. 

“’m sorry we couldn’t take ye back to yer other owner—Ravio, was it?” Another whimper from Bunny. “Ye must miss ‘im.” 

Slowly, Bunny nodded. He stayed silent. 

Twilight regretted bringing it up at all. “Sorry, are ye okay?” 

A low keen from Bunny. A definite ‘no,’ even if not a word had left Bunny’s mouth. In his eagerness to finally speak with Bunny, Twilight had gone and upset the poor creature. First, they had taken him away from his home, and now Twilight was reminding him of his recent loss. 

“’m sorry,” Twilight repeated. “I shouldn’t ‘ave brought it up. If ye ever wanna talk, I’ll listen.” 

Bunny still wouldn’t look at him. Twilight had never known an animal to fall so despondent, and that protectiveness within his chest flared, bright and golden. 

“Aw, c’mere.” Twilight paced around Bunny three times before carefully lowering himself to the ground, wrapping his tail over his forelegs to complete the little circle around Bunny. Bunny made a curious sound as he was surrounded, but he didn’t try to run nor escape, only gazed at Twilight with intensity in his eyes. “Get some rest, li’l one. I’ll protect ye tonight.” 

Bunny’s violet eyes glistened. He dipped his little head, lop ears swaying. He paced in the small circle of space he had, three times just like Twilight, before settling down in Twilight’s fur, resting his fluffy head against Twilight’s. They fell asleep together, Twilight curled around his tiny pink bunny, protecting him from nightmares, monsters and the bite of the cold alike. 

Come morning, Wild would have a dozen new photos on his slate, but the teasing fell on deaf ears when Twilight could only fawn over how small Bunny was, encircled by his wolf form. The protectiveness bloomed brighter and he couldn’t help but draw Bunny into his arms, and though it wasn’t the same, Bunny still rested his head against Twilight’s regardless of his change in form, all drops of weariness gone from his shoulders and his soul.

Chapter Text

Hilda couldn’t stop staring at him. Ravio’s eyes had been downcast from the moment they stepped out into the snow, not taking in his surroundings as he used to, excited by the potential the world of Hyrule offered the both of them. His shoulders were slumped, drained and weary, and his mouth, normally upturned in a smirk that often annoyed her, had been in a permanent frown. Occasionally, he would look up, eyes hopeful, as if Link might walk out of the bushes, only to fall again when he saw only snow-covered forest. He hadn’t looked at her once.

Hilda prayed this would get better in time, that he would get better in time.

For now, she curled an arm around his, linking them together and drawing him closer to her in hopes the action would both comfort and ground. Ravio was stiff under the contact, and Hilda squeezed him tighter, though the attempt did not soothe him.

She held tightly to him as they made their way through the stone archway into Castle Town. No fresh snow fell today, and so groups of townsfolk were out and about running errands. Most moved aside to let her pass, but one paused them, her eyes wide with concern.

“Is that you, Ravio?” He looked up from his feet at her words, his face half-hidden by his hood. “Oh, I thought it might be you! I was beginning to worry when I had yet to spot you in town today.”

“Trishe?” Ravio’s voice was barely a whisper, and the woman—Trishe—frowned.

“Oh, you sound terrible, my dear. Are you feeling alright?”

“He is not well,” Hilda cut in when Ravio faltered.

“Oh, my Lady Hilda, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“It is okay,” Hilda cut her off. These weren’t her people, and they needn’t treat her with such reverence. “Sheerow came to fetch me this morning. She was terribly worried for our Ravio. I am taking him back to the castle to receive treatment.”

Trishe’s face fell. “Is Link already there?”

Ravio stiffened beneath her. “Link?”

“Poor fellow has been unwell for months now. Is he getting any better? I do hope you’re not unwell for such a length of time too, Ravio.”

Hilda smiled thinly. Ravio had a lot of explaining to do once he was better. Why had he chosen to lie to the town and to herself and Zelda, instead of reaching out for help? Why had he taken all of this upon his shoulders until he could no longer stand?

“Link is safe,” she assured Trishe. “And Ravio will receive the best care we have to offer. He’ll be back on his feet in no time.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Thank you, Lady Hilda. But what about Ravio’s rabbit? Is he with you?”

Hilda’s eye twitched. What had Ravio told the town, instead of the truth? “The rabbit?”

“Yes, where’s your rabbit, Ravio. Did you… They…?” Trishe paused there, voice lowering with uncertainty when Ravio slumped farther into Hilda. “I suppose not. I, ah… I do hope you find him soon, Ravio.”

“Thank you, Trishe. We both appreciate it.”

Trishe’s smile seemed thinner than it had been earlier. “We’ll keep an eye out for you. You just focus on getting better, alright?”

“You do not have to,” Ravio murmured.

“I know,” Trishe said, waving him off. “We’ve all wanted to help, if you would only ask.”

“I—thank you,” Ravio murmured, his voice a little too strained, too thick with emotion, for Hilda’s comfort.

“Of course. We take care of each other here, don’t you forget that.”

“I will make sure he doesn’t,” Hilda assured Trishe. “And thank you. Your kindness means more to both of us than we can express.”

“As soon as we find that pink rabbit of yours, we’ll let you know.” Trishe winked to Ravio, nodded to Hilda, then left, her strides purposeful. Hilda had no doubt she would be passing the information on to the rest of the town, that the folks would chip in and do their part in the search for Link. Had Ravio only asked for help, Link could have been found weeks ago.

Hilda would speak to him about it more once he was on the mend.

“Shall we?” she said to him instead of the dozens of other questions bubbling up within her chest, pressing down on her lungs.

Ravio nodded, and they made their way through Castle Town.

*

“Do you need a break?”

Ravio stumbled over his own two feet for the third time in the past few minutes, but he shook his head, still wouldn’t meet her eye nor admit he needed help.

“We are taking a break,” Hilda said, and she led him into the Castle Gardens. Hyrule Castle itself loomed before them, with its daunting and inaccessible stairwells that would only serve to take more out of Ravio than he had to give, currently.

“Hills, it’s okay.”

“You are exhausted, Bun. You look ready to collapse. We can take breaks.”

“But—”

“Is there a reason you do not want to rest?” Hilda asked, pausing them and looking him in the eye. Ravio’s green eyes widened, and he glanced away quickly, shoulders rising.

“No… Sorry.”

There certainly was a reason, but Ravio had already broken down today, had already confessed so much to her. With how strung out he was, it would be cruel to demand more of him.

“Okay. Here, there’s a bench just over here we can rest on for a little while.” She led him through the maze of hedges, dusted in crisp white. Snow crunched under their boots as they passed through the gardens. Most of the plants had either shed their leaves for winter or died, but the glittering snow created a beauty in of itself, and ice carvers had worked hard to create sculptures of flowers and fairies to liven the place up some. Hilda paused them before the bench, swiping away the thin covering of snow over its surface. From her bag, she pulled out her second coat, spreading it down over the icy wood.

With a nod to herself, she pushed Ravio down onto the seat, smiling wanly when a sigh of relief escaped him as his weight was removed from no-doubt exhausted legs. Hilda was once again reminded of how he had tried to refuse her offer to rest despite how he so desperately needed it. She tucked the example away for later, when she asked and Ravio tried to argue otherwise.

The old wood creaked as she settled down alongside her dear friend. She looped her arm around his again, drew him closer to lean against her, to stop forcing himself to carry the weight of the world. Another sigh escaped him, and she imagined his eyes slipped shut with it, wondered how rare it was for him to allow himself a moment of peace, as of late. By the time she and Zelda were finished with him, he wouldn’t neglect himself so easily again.

Sheerow chirped from atop his head as if reading her mind, and she smiled at the bird. She, too, would have a hand—or wing—in supporting Ravio through this time. And when they found Link, the three of them would stand behind him while they talked through this. Hilda would not let either of them try and dance around this again, not when they were both so clearly suffering terribly for it.

Hilda gave Ravio a good ten minutes to catch his breath and rest his overextended body and mind before she pulled him back to his feet. She gathered her now-damp cloak, folding it and setting it atop her bag for the moment to be hung out to dry by the warmth of the fire later.

She wrapped an arm around Ravio’s waist as they ascended the stairs one-by-one, his arm over her shoulder for support. When the guards reached out to help, she dismissed them swiftly with a wave of her hand and a smile. She sent one ahead to alert Zelda to their arrival and Ravio’s not-so-healthy state. As they slipped inside, warmth enveloping them, Ravio began to lean heavier against her, running lower on energy than she had ever seen him before. He clung to her tightly, desperate for her help, finally accepting it, and Hilda took a deep breath in and pushed herself onward, bearing the weight of the two of them as they walked upstairs and through hallways to a set of familiar double doors, leading to Zelda's personal chambers.

The guards stood at the ready, pushing open the doors for them and revealing Zelda still speaking with the guard Hilda had sent ahead, her face pale. It grew paler when she turned and saw the two of them, Ravio being heavily supported by Hilda, who couldn’t bear his full weight alone much longer. With a gasp, Zelda abandoned the guard speaking with her, rushing over and gathering Ravio in her arms, taking his weight from Hilda’s shoulders and pulling a sigh of relief from her.

“Dismissed,” Zelda spoke, waving her guards off. “Thank you,” she added, smiling to each of them, before the doors were closed behind them. Without a hitch, Zelda swept Ravio up into a bridal carry. “To the couch?” she asked, and Hilda didn’t bother fighting the blush that crept up her neck and warmed her cheeks.

“Let’s,” she agreed, focusing her attention on her unwell friend, clearing the couch of all cushions but one for Ravio’s head. Zelda set him down carefully, setting the back of her hand over his forehead. Her lips twisted, and Hilda followed suit. She hadn’t noticed before, but Ravio had grown warm with fever; no wonder he was so weak.

“He is feverish,” Zelda murmured.

“I did not realise. Oh, Bun…” She took his hand, squeezing tightly and wishing she had known sooner. Sheerow pressed closer, squeezing into the crook of Ravio’s neck and nuzzling against him to comfort. Ravio’s unfocussed eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

“What has happened?” Zelda asked, fetching a washcloth and basin of water. “You look terrible,” she added as she wetted the cloth, squeezed out most of the water before setting it over Ravio’s forehead. “And where is Link? Why is he not taking care of…” Zelda trailed off as a whimper escaped Ravio, his eyes watering all over again. She turned to Hilda, eyes wide, and Hilda shook her head, mouthed we’ll talk about it later.

“Okay, it is okay,” Zelda quieted Ravio’s whimpers and soft sobs, brushing his hair out of his face. “We are here now, and we will take care of you, alright?”

Ravio hummed. Sniffled.

“Let me get you some chamomile,” Hilda said, slipping over to the little kitchenette, where a pot of boiled water already awaited her. Zelda did love her tea, and fondness for the other girl warmed her bones as she set to work scooping out the chamomile, setting it in a little strainer in a clean mug and pouring hot water over it. “I will only be a minute, Bun.”

“Let me get my hairbrush. When was the last time you brushed your hair?” Zelda chastised him lightly. No heat lay behind her words, and it wasn’t a moment before Zelda was helping Ravio to sit up again, refreshing his washcloth and guiding him to hold it against his head while she began to pull his hair back and away from his face.

As Hilda made her way back over and passed Ravio the mug of steaming chamomile sweetened with honey, Zelda began to run the brush through his hair, careful and tender, wary of catching on a knot and hurting him. Hilda took the cloth from Ravio and refreshed it again, using the corner to clean his face, still tear-stained from his earlier breakdown. Zelda worked her magic swiftly and was securing Ravio’s hair into a fishtail braid before he finished half his cup of tea. Hilda encouraged him to lean against her again, wrapping an arm around him, smiling when his head fell against her shoulder, when he buried his face into her neck, accepting comfort.

Zelda pressed against his other side once she was finished with Ravio’s hair, taking his hand and twining their fingers together, a reassurance. Enveloped by the two of them and the blanket of his exhaustion and illness, it wasn’t long before Ravio drifted off against Hilda. She smiled as his breathing evened out, tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear that had found its way out of Zelda’s firm braid.

A good half hour, and they pulled away. Zelda guided Ravio to lie down on the couch while Hilda fluffed up his pillow and fetched blankets to tuck him in. Once the cloth was set back over his forehead and Sheerow given strict orders to squawk should Ravio wake, Zelda took Hilda’s hand, sending a thrill through her stomach, and led her into her bedroom.

Once the door was shut behind them, Zelda turned to her and asked, “What happened to him?”

Hilda blew out a sigh. She led Zelda over to the bed, curled up against her girlfriend when the offer arose. Zelda ran her fingers through Hilda’s hair, comforting and patient as ever.

“It is Link,” Hilda said. And she told Zelda everything she knew: she told her of Link giving up his form, of him running away after months of Ravio trying to help. She told her of Ravio running himself into the ground, trying to find his lost best friend.

She told her of how Ravio hadn’t told anyone, how he had kept this secret, until he had cracked and broken down in her arms.

“That is… something,” Zelda said.

“Something indeed,” Hilda agreed. “We cannot let him keep looking.”

“Absolutely not,” Zelda hummed. “He will stay with us and rest. He has done more than enough.”

“He will hate that.”

“That is too bad,” Zelda said. “I will send my knights out to look for him. I will have to explain the situation to them, but they will act with discretion. In the meantime, Ravio will need us.”

“Desperately,” Hilda said. “I wish I had known sooner. Before it got this bad.”

“You know now, dearest. We will take care of him. We can show him how to take care of himself.”

Hilda smiled, pressed closer to her girlfriend. “I like this plan.”

“I should hope so; I came up with it.”

Hilda blew a raspberry at her, and then they were laughing. The coming days, weeks, even, would be hard. But for tonight, she would rest easy with the comfort of her girlfriend and the knowledge that Ravio would be okay again soon. She would make sure of it.

Chapter Text

As early morning sun caught the dew drops weighing down grass along the edge of the trail, leaving the world glittering around them, the group finished packing up camp. Bedrolls were tightly rolled up and secured to bags, pots and pans and plates were stored back in Wild’s slate and the fire was put out with river water.

And, to Hyrule’s dismay, Bunny was swept up into Twilight’s arms once more. After having spent the night away, ‘scouting,’ as he liked to call it, Twilight had returned with nothing to pack away and gathered Bunny up before Hyrule even finished securing his bedroll to his bag. Bitterness swept over Hyrule and he crossed his arms as they began their trek for the day, watching Twilight’s back with narrowed eyes until Wild joined him with a hand over his shoulder.

“Jealousy isn’t a good colour on you, my friend.”

Hyrule blew out a breath, and some of that bitterness dissipated with it. “I know. Sorry.”

“Be grateful he lets you carry and pet him at all. Imagine if you were in our Captain’s position.” Wild winked at him, and Hyrule couldn’t help but snicker. “He likes the both of you, and that means sometimes Twi will be coddling him instead of you.”

“You’re right,” Hyrule said, lowering his arms from their crossed position.

Wild grinned, moving his hand across Hyrule’s shoulders to draw him close as they walked. “That’s better! I’m sure you’ll be coddling him by tonight.”

Hyrule couldn’t wait, if he was honest. That burning desire to protect only alleviated when Bunny was safe within his arms. “He’ll warm up to you soon, I’m sure of it. I was the one to heal him, and Twi just has a way with animals.”

Wild hummed. “It doesn’t surprise me, the animal that he is.”

Hyrule snickered, bit his lip as Twilight turned back to them, his ears twitching and his eyes narrowed. Together, they waved innocently, waiting for him to turn back to the front before they dissolved into sniggers.

They continued onward in companionable silence, Wild’s arm still around his shoulders as they made their way up a steep slope and around winding bends, then across the river twice when their path demanded it. Then, as par the course for Wild’s era, they had to climb another steep slope that left his calves burning and his breaths panting and wheezing.

“You’re my friend,” Hyrule huffed as they paused at the top of the slope, where the trail twisted around yet another bend. And up another slope. “But, my dear Champion, I hate your era.”

“You get used to it,” Wild said with a smug grin. The bastard wasn’t even puffed. The only other not looking worse for the wear was Twilight, who was scratching beneath Bunny’s chin, making one of his hind legs kick out in pleasure. “Don’t move too far ahead,” he warned when Warriors continued onward without the group. “There’s a monster camp up there. I’d like to speak with you all first before we engage. This group can be… troublesome.”

“Troublesome?”

“Very. They carry electric arrows that can leave you twitching for weeks afterwards. Avoid the puddles on the trail unless you want to regret the day you were born.”

Hyrule shuddered at the thought, wondered how many times Wild had been struck by the arrows and experienced hell. He shifted closer to his friend as discomfort settled over his shoulders, nudging him in the side.

Wild smiled reassuringly at him. “I’m fine now,” he promised. “But I don’t want that for you all. Be cautious and use the trees for cover when they shoot at you. Once you hear their arrows hit the ground—and you will—then strike. It’s best to shoot from afar and avoid close combat entirely.”

“Thank you, Champion. I’m sure we will all be careful,” Time sent a firm look to Warriors and Twilight, who preferred to get in close and swing until they won. Warriors dipped his head and began to search his bag for a bow, but Twilight only had eyes for Bunny, and Hyrule’s heart dropped as he understood why.

“Bunny’ll ‘ave to stay ‘ere,” Twilight said. “’m not taking ‘im into the thick of battle. I won’t risk ‘is life like tha’.”

“Agreed,” Hyrule said, stepping in. “He’s smart; I don’t think he’ll run away if we leave him with our bags while we clear the path. One of us could stay with him…”

“We need our full forces,” Wild said. “I’ve dealt with them alone before but… it will be smoother and faster should we all go, and I’ve a feeling whatever monster drew us together has also drawn more lizalfos together ahead. Bunny will be safe here. I promise.”

Hyrule held his eye for a moment, searching for any uncertainty. When he found none, he relented, pushing aside that frustrating, all-consuming urge to protect as Bunny was placed, half-hidden, within Twilight’s bag on the ground.

“Jus’ tuh be certain,” Twilight explained as he gathered sword and bow and followed Wild.

As the group began to clear out, leaving behind heavy bags and unnecessary weapons, Hyrule crouched by Bunny. “We’ll be back before you know it,” Hyrule promised. “Please don’t run away.”

Intelligent eyes seemed to understand his words, and Bunny dipped his head. With a smile, Hyrule gave his little head a quick scratch before rushing to join the group, bow in hand.

Everything went wrong within the first minute.

Wild had been correct in his assumption that the lizalfos camp had grown. As he struck down the first lizalfos on the closest tower, three dozen heads turned toward them. Wild’s face paled, and Hyrule knew they were in for trouble.

The lizalfos of Wild’s era were faster than they had any right to be, and they were upon the group in a heartbeat. A dozen still stood upon wooden turrets, lightning arrows aimed true, and the group jumped apart, quick to disperse so they couldn’t be surrounded. Swords were unsheathed, the ring of metal filling the air, followed by the sharp clash of steel leaving Hyrule’s sensitive ears throbbing. He shoved one lizalfos back, but couldn’t finish the job when another quickly took its place and forced him on the defensive.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins, making his movements quick, fuelled by instinct and rapid-thinking. He ducked under a spear, slashed out at another lizalfos’ chest, leaped out of a puddle when he found himself backed into one, then swung his blade in a circle, forcing the group surrounding him to jump back and give him space. Then, he cut the heads off three, twisted and jammed his sword to the hilt in the chest of a fourth.

Black sand exploded around him, and with half his group of monsters disintegrated, Hyrule had a second to breathe before the final four pounced all at once. A spear cut a fierce gash into his right arm, blood dribbling from the wound and staining his dark sleeve. Another nicked him on the calf. A third he grabbed by the shaft and twisted out of the monster’s hands, relishing in the way its eyes widened in alarm before he shoved the weapon back into its owner’s stomach, the monster crumbling into black sand.

A high squeal. That protectiveness within his chest swelled, forcing him to look up in time to see Bunny slam into a tree with a sharp shriek. Hyrule’s heart jumped into his throat as the little pink rabbit crashed to the ground in a heap. He didn’t move.

The fourth lizalfos took advantage of the distraction and sent its spear through the back of his thigh. Pain turned his vision white and Hyrule stumbled forward with a shout of pain, the spear sticking out from the front of his leg. Then, he caught sight of that tiny bundle of pink fur, of a lizalfos stalking over to it, a fierce bite wound in its arm, and a wave of blistering fury and golden desire to protect flooded his mind. The air around him crackled.

“Don’t touch him!” A sharp snap of his fingers, and then dozens of bolts of lightning slammed into the ground all around him, turning the world white. The ground shook and lizalfos shrieked—the sounds were cut off swiftly.

And then the lightning was gone, leaving behind seven stunned heroes, their hair frizzy and wild and their eyes wide. Hyrule paid them no mind, nor did he feel the normal drain such a significant spell would cause or the spear still embedded in his thigh; he frantically hobbled over to Bunny, kneeling alongside him and gritting his teeth as the spear in his thigh shifted.

“Bunny!” His hands were already glowing a tender pink, healing magic at the ready, and he pressed them against Bunny, closing his eyes as his magic sought out the wounds his little friend had accumulated. His chest pulsed with magic, a warning he ignored as he trickled more into Bunny’s still form.

“Traveller, your leg!” Wild had joined him at some point. Hyrule hadn’t noticed, when the edges of his vision were blurry, his ears roaring with blood. Now, his veins began to boil. “You need to—”

He turned to Wild, teeth bared. “You said he would be safe!”

Wild’s eyes widened and he flinched back as if Hyrule had struck him. “I—”

“Look at him! He almost died because of you! This is your fault!”

“I—I’m—” Wild’s eyes glistened now, and Hyrule found the flames were only stoked by the sight.

Before he could snap anything more, Twilight pushed himself between them. “Enough!” he hissed, pushing Wild away. “Take a walk, Cub.”

“B—but, I—”

“I know,” Twilight said, gentler than Hyrule thought Wild deserved. “We’ll talk later. I’ll take over.”

Wild nodded shakily, scurried away before Hyrule could say any more.

Twilight turned back to him, eyes alight with anger. “Ye need to get yerself together,” Twilight said. “Lemme see ‘im.”

“No.”

“Yer half a second from passin’ out. Ye need to pass ‘im over and let one of us take care o’ ye.”

“No,” Hyrule hissed. “I’m not—not leaving—” He inhaled sharply and began to sway. Twilight was there to catch him, carefully laying him on his side.

“Stay down,” Twilight said. “Yer in no condition tuh move. Tha’ was a neat spell, but I’m willin’ to bet it took everything out of ye?”

Hyrule hummed shakily.

“Thought so. We need tuh get this outta ye.” Twilight set a hand over Hyrule’s leg, above where the spear protruded from his flesh. Hyrule whimpered as the injury was aggravated, light as the touch was, and at the thought of one of them tearing it from his leg.

“The—the spear. I think it might be through an artery…”

Twilight cursed under his breath. “Right. Alright. We’ll get ye a potion. Be ready tuh drink.” Twilight fumbled through his bag, pulling out a handful of potions and a clean rag. “Bite on this. Close yer eyes. I’ll be quick as possible.”

Tears welled up in Hyrule’s eyes, but he did as he was told, squeezing his eyes shut and bracing himself. Twilight didn’t waste a second: he grabbed the shaft of the spear and in one swift yank, tore most of it from Hyrule’s leg.

A muffled shout escaped Hyrule, twin tears trailing down his cheeks. Bile rose up in his throat and he bit down harder on the rag.

“Almos’ there,” Twilight promised, squeezing his calf comfortingly, before he tore the remainder of the spear from Hyrule’s leg.

A choked groan. His leg was on fire, spreading down to his toes, up to his ears, where blood roared. Light-headedness slammed into him, and he listed to the side, quickly caught by strong arms.

The rag was torn from his mouth, replaced by the glass lip of a bottle. “Drink.” Hyrule did his best, but his throat refused to work properly and he choked, burst into a coughing fit. “Ye need to drink.”

“T—Try—Ah!” His leg flared white-hot as the rag was pressed against the exit wound. Hyrule nearly lost consciousness, but then Twilight slapped him, and that burst of pain across his cheek snapped him back to reality briefly. The potion bottle was pressed against his lips again and this time, Hyrule choked it down, forced it past the lump in his throat. Blissful coolness washed over his leg, numbing the pain, bringing his mind back from the cloudy haze it had settled into. He blinked open his eyes once he was finished, winced as another set of tears trailed down his cheeks, and looked up to see he was in Warriors’ arms. Twilight kneeled before him, preparing a second potion to finish healing the would-be fatal injury. Four crouched next to him, hands pressing the now-bloodied rag to his thigh, eyes wide with panic, though they crinkled when he looked over, relieved Hyrule was okay.

Bunny was curled up in Wind’s arms, still unconscious.

“I, I need—”

“Jus’ wait,” Twilight said. “Finish this first, then ye can ‘ave ‘im back.”

Impatience curdled in Hyrule’s stomach, but then he met Time’s eye, a silent conversation passing between them that he lost, and he sighed, accepting his fate. He drank half of the second potion as instructed by Warriors, then had Time help raise his leg while Sky wrapped gauze and cotton bandages around the wounds. They were mostly healed, but they preferred to play it safe. Another night, and he would be left with scratches in place of the gaping hole running right through his thigh.

Hyrule settled back in Warriors’ arms, spent, as Wind crouched before him, passing Bunny over. “I couldn’t feel any injuries on him,” Wind said. “Whatever healing you did fixed him right up.”

Hyrule breathed a sigh of relief, holding Bunny closer, feeling the way his little chest expanded against his own with each breath. Bunny was alive, and he would be alright with a little rest. “Thanks. To you all,” he turned his gaze upon the group, meeting each of their eyes in turn—all but Wild. Shame burned bright within him when he recalled how he had acted, how he had snapped at their Champion. Wild could never have predicted the sheer numbers they would be faced with, could never have predicted one would move out of its normal field of range and try to attack Bunny.

Warriors squeezed his arm. “Anytime, Traveller. But, uh, perhaps next time if you could refrain from scaring the life out of us like that, please? My heart cannot take that again.”

Hyrule smiled sheepishly, tiredly. “Right, sorry. I’ll be more careful next time.”

“And I’ll be sure to stick by ye next time. If I’d a’ known ye had such a spell under yer sleeve…”

Hyrule grinned. “They got what they deserved for hurting Bunny.”

“That they did.”

“Rest for a little while, Traveller. We will take a break, then keep moving. Our Champion says the Zora’s Domain isn’t too far off now.” Time settled in the grass next to him, and half of the group joined him. Hyrule didn’t miss the look shared between Wild and Twilight before the two slipped away to gather the loot dropped by the lizalfos, murmuring quietly together. Guilt swaddled his lungs, thick and constricting, and he turned away, though he found it no easier to breathe.

Bunny shifted in his arms, and Hyrule held him closer, pressed his cheek against Bunny’s side. His eyes slipped shut, his attention on the way Bunny’s chest rose and fell against him.

Chapter Text

Zora’s Domain stood tall and proud before them in all its glittering splendour. The long ocean-blue bridge stretched far, a luxury when they had been walking on dirt for so long. The pink coral bushes had begun cropping up soon after they set out again, Hyrule now in Twilight’s arms and Bunny still in Hyrule’s, and the closer they got to the kingdom, the more they seemed to sparkle, as if coated in shimmering pearls.

“Zora’s domain is at the end of this bridge,” Wild said, pausing them on the platform before the long stretch. “Please behave.”

Twilight snorted, jostling Hyrule in his arms. After a little grumbling from their Traveller, Twilight set him down, curling an arm around him to help support. Hyrule leaned into him, keeping his weight off his injured leg. He kept one arm free to carry Bunny, refusing to allow anyone else to hold him for even a second. Refusing to allow Bunny out of his arms and out of his sight after last time.

Wild turned away, guilt twisting his insides. It was his fault Bunny was injured; he should have known he wouldn’t be safe alone, should never have insisted otherwise.

“Cub, I never expected you o’ all folks tuh tell us tuh behave.”

Wild scowled, crossing his arms over the guilt cradled within his ribs. “What are you trying to say?”

“Ye know exactly what I’m sayin’.”

Wild pouted, if only for show, and moved to face the long bridge, beyond which Zora’s Domain rose tall and proud, glittering under the afternoon sun. The rush of water greeted his ears, a familiar comfort that left a part of his heart, a part he couldn’t quite access beyond the occasional memory, panging with nostalgia and regret. The playfulness in his chest evaporated, and he began to walk the long path. “The Zora are a proud people. Let’s go.”

Curious, if not concerned, hums met his words, but Wild continued onward. Being around others in his era tended to have an effect on him—that same, age-old part he could never recover fully. The sooner they made it back into the wilderness, the better.

Time wasn’t one to let odd behaviour go; there was a reason they had chosen him as their unofficial leader. He moved into step with Wild. “Everything alright, Cub? You don’t seem yourself.”

“I will be,” Wild said.

“Yet you’re not now. What’s wrong?”

Wild huffed a sigh. “It feels silly, but… When I visit certain places, it’s like a part of me—before me—rises up within me, and I find myself overwhelmed with a deep yearning for something I never knew.”

“And this yearning… It hurts?”

Of course, Time wouldn’t miss that. “It does,” Wild admitted. “It feels like I’m grieving, yet I don’t understand what I’m grieving for; another time, I suppose. Saying it aloud, it feels childish.”

“It isn’t,” Time said, setting a hand over his shoulder. “And you don’t have to hide when you feel this way. I’m always happy to listen if you need someone to talk to, Cub.”

Warmth bloomed in Wild’s chest. He set a hand over Time’s, on his shoulder still. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“Anytime, Cub. Rancher will listen too, if you let him.”

Wild chuckled. “But then he would give me those terrible sad puppy eyes until I hug him.”

“He does that to help you feel better.”

“Perhaps,” Wild said. “I think he likes to coddle me.”

“That he does,” Time agreed. “And if you want to talk about what happened earlier…” he offered, raising a brow.

Instinctively, Wild cast a glance back at Hyrule, but the other’s attention was on Bunny, cuddled close in one arm, still unconscious. He turned away sharply before Hyrule could glance up and meet his eyes. Something dark festered within his chest, and Wild grabbed a lock of his hair, twisting it between his fingers, absentmindedly pulling a little too harshly.

“Careful, Cub,” Time pried the lock of hair from his hand. “I don’t mean to bring up anxiety, but talking it through would help.”

“I… not yet,” Wild said, averting his gaze. The very thought of speaking about what happened, about how Hyrule had snapped at him and accused him of ensuring Bunny’s death, made his insides twist, and he would have reached for his hair again, were Time’s hand not still around his wrist.

“Alright,” Time relented. “I’m here when you feel ready.”

That darkness lifted a little, and Wild smiled. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Time smiled back at him, fondness and pride within his eye, and Wild had to turn away when that warmth in his chest burned too bright, became a little too much. Time let him be, and they walked on in silence.

Zora’s Domain loomed over them, and before long, they were walking through the smooth, pearlescent archway into the Zora’s home. Wild paused by the statue of Mipha. Within him, that deep, raw yearning felt as if it might burst free from his chest. He rubbed the area, grimacing, and turned away. Looking at her had never been easy since he had awoken, and he wished he could fully understand just how his past self had felt about her; a sister, a best friend and confidant, or… had they been lovers? No one knew, and his fragile memories granted him no assistance.

A shout tore his attention from his thoughts, and Wild had scarcely a second to prepare himself before he was hauled up into strong red arms and held close.

“Link!” Sidon held him at arm’s length, taking him in with delight, lips peeled back into a sharp grin. “I haven’t seen you in months, my dear friend! You look terrible.”

“Sidon! You’re not looking too hot yourself… Have you been missing your morning swims?”

Sidon’s grin widened, and he held Wild close for another brief embrace, one Wild got to return before he was set back down. “Oh, I have missed you, my friend! You have to tell me all about your new adventure and your seven new brothers—I am still your best friend, correct?”

“The one and only,” Wild promised. Pretended not to notice the way Hyrule flinched at his words and tried not to dwell on it. “We’ll talk later.” Remembering himself, he turned back to his group. “Everyone, this is Sidon.” Wild spared a moment for everyone to greet his dear friend, before rolling right into it. “Sidon, my new friends and I have been sent on a mission through different eras to hunt down a fierce foe, and it seems every era we’re dropped in has a terrible, infected monster causing chaos. Now that we’re back here, I fear a second monster has arisen.”

“Ah, the Octorok from three months ago was one of these?”

“Yes,” Wild said. “Have you heard of—Sidon?”

Sidon was no longer paying him any attention. He pushed past Wild, making his way over to Hyrule, his eyes wide and sparkling. “This little guy is adorable! Can I pet—”

“Don’t—”

“No,” Hyrule snapped, and Sidon flinched back in surprise. “I—I mean—he doesn’t like being touched. And he’s unwell at the moment.” 

“Ah, of course. I understand,” Sidon said, and he turned away slowly, appearing as if the action drained his very soul, to put the adorably soft little pink rabbit behind him. “Sorry, my friend. You know how easily distracted I am. Please continue.”

“Have you heard of any similar monsters popping up recently?”

Sidon put a hand to his chin in thought. “There hasn’t been much that has made its way out here. Our Domain has remained free of most monsters, and certainly free of something like you have described, but…

“I have heard something from Beedle recently. He was in Kakariko last week, and everyone was in a stir. No one wanted to buy his items. When he spoke to the villagers, they told him the Great Fairy has been poisoned.”

Horror washed over Wild like a frigid plunge in the Hebra Mountains. “The Great Fairy has been poisoned?”

Sidon dipped his head. “Yes. Beedle did not have much else to tell me. The villagers are very protective of their Great Fairy, even more so after this, and they wouldn’t give a humble nomad any more details. I am surprised he managed to find out she had been poisoned at all.”

“Only an infected monster would have the intelligence and strength to poison the Great Fairy,” Wild surmised. “We’ll head there at first light tomorrow. Do you mind if we…?”

Sidon grinned. “Of course, my friend! Stay and rest tonight. I’m sure you’ve plenty of long journeys behind you, and now another in front of you. I will clear the heated pools for you and your brothers.”

Muscles Wild hadn’t even realised were fatigued sang with joy at the thought, and he straightened a little, eager. “Thank you, Sidon.”

“Now, I would love to hear everything about this journey of yours. Shall we?”

“Of course.” Wild turned to face the rest of his group. “The heated pools are at the back of the Domain. There’s an inn and a store on the east and west sides of this level. Behave.” And then he joined Sidon, rolling his eyes fondly when his friend hooked their arms together despite their height difference. Together, they slipped away, back down the bridge and out of the Domain to find some privacy.

*

“I see. So, some higher power has brought together all the Heroes across time for this quest?”

“Most of us,” Wild said, his eyes firmly on the view before them. Sitting atop Ploymus mountain together was one of his favourite pastimes, and the cliff had quickly become an escape. “Two eras… we got there and their Link had already passed. Our last era was the hardest because we were—we were too late to save him. The portal appeared between us and his house before we could get there with potions and medicine.”

“I am sorry to hear that, my friend. That must be hard on you. On all of you.”

“It has been,” Wild admitted. Sidon set a hand over his back and he smiled. “Thanks, Sid.”

“Anytime. Now, what else is on your mind?”

Instinctively, Wild stiffened, the slow kicking of his legs over the edge of the cliff faltering. “What do you mean?”

“There’s something more, isn’t there?” Sidon pressed.

Wild blew out a breath, nerves settling when Sidon patted his back, even if the action was a little too rough to be as comforting as intended. “How do you always notice?”

“You have your tells, my friend. So?” 

“What tells?”

Sidon raised a hand, waggling his finger back and forth. “If I tell you, you’ll stop doing them.”

Wild blew a raspberry. “Fine. I… I had a fight of sorts with one of the others.”

“A fight ‘of sorts’?”

“Well… I promised him the rabbit—Bunny—would be safe where we left him, but there were so many lizalfos on the trail, dozens more than usual, and one snuck off and attacked Bunny. He hasn’t even woken yet, and it’s all my fault.”

Sidon made that disgruntled noise he always did when Wild said or did something he disagreed with. Normally, Wild heard it moments before performing an act of idiocy, and now it surprised him; he glanced over at his friend.

“How could you have known so many monsters would be on the trail?” Sidon asked.

Wild huffed. How dare Sidon use logic against him. “Still, I should have known better than to leave someone so defenceless behind.”

“You know now.”

“You’re too logical.”

“You,” Sidon said. “Are letting guilt cloud your judgement.”

“Maybe so,” Wild agreed. “But… what if he doesn’t wake?”

“How badly was he hurt?”

Wild shrugged, drawing a knee to his chest as that guilt returned tenfold at the thought of Bunny, crumbled on the ground. “He wasn’t moving when we got to him. Hyrule healed him, but… I don’t know. He’s still breathing though.”

“If he was healed and he’s still breathing, then he will be okay,” Sidon promised.

Wild hummed, resting his head over his knee and lowering his gaze to the water far below. A breeze brushed through his hair, catching it and lifting it briefly, before it settled back in place. “I guess.”

“Or, maybe that’s not what you’re upset about.”

Wild frowned. “What do you mean? Of course, I’m upset about Bunny.”

“Are you only upset about Bunny?”

“I…” Wild didn’t understand. Bunny was hurt because of him; what else would he be upset about?

“It seems this fight is affecting you more than you think it is,” Sidon clarified. “Are you close with the friend you upset? The one who was holding the rabbit, I presume.”

Wild shrugged. “I don’t know. I thought we were, but… Maybe not.”

“Maybe closer than you think,” Sidon said. “Talk with him. Settle this. Whether he considers you a close friend or not, you deserve to have this burden removed from your shoulders; you never asked for this.”

“When did you get so wise?” Wild joked.

“When you’re a prince, you have to say wise things on occasion. That’s how you get them.”

Wild snorted. Swiped at his eyes when he found them wet, and realised perhaps Sidon was right. Perhaps he was more upset about Hyrule snapping at him than he originally thought. Perhaps he was worried about losing someone he had become so close to so quickly.

Curse Sidon and his wisdom.

“I’ll talk to him,” Wild agreed. If anything, they needed to clear the air between the two of them so they could work together in battle. If it helped take this weight from his shoulders too, then that came as a bonus. “But for now… I want to stay here a little while longer. Will you stay with me?”

Wild didn’t need to look to know Sidon was smiling, something much gentler than his normal toothy grins and beams. “Of course. That’s what friends do.”

*

Sidon sat with him in companionable silence until the sun began to set, turning the world a brilliant hue of amber and gilding the river below them. The air turned brisk as the sun began to disappear, and Wild shivered, considering drawing out a scarf.

“This is my favourite time of evening,” Sidon said, pushing himself to his feet. “I would love to stay and watch, but I think it’s time we head back, don’t you?” Sidon offered his hand, and Wild took it. As someone who had been Sidon’s friend for years now, he was prepared for the fierce display of strength as Sidon hauled him to his feet and a little ways up into the air, knew to keep his grip on Sidon’s hand lest he stumble and fall backwards off the cliff. Again.

“You’re right again,” Wild said, tapping his slate absentmindedly, his baby blue scarf appearing in his hands swiftly. He looped it around his neck, adjusted it so it sat snuggly over his shoulders to cover the worst of the cold, its tassels crawling down his shoulders and chest. Then, the two of them began their descent back into Zora’s Domain, the long grass brushing against their legs and the last few rays of the sun across their backs.

Hyrule met them at the end of the bridge, waiting just outside the Domain, his face pinched with worry. In his arms, Bunny still lay. Wild wondered if he had set him down at all since the incident. “Champion! Um… Sidon.”

“Good evening, friend of Link’s.” Sidon bowed in his usual fashion, and Hyrule shifted, uncomfortable.

“Good evening,” he repeated. “Champion, can we talk?”

Despite knowing they would have to, nerves still filled Wild’s chest. He shared a look with Sidon, found some comfort and strength in the reassuring nod he received. “Okay.”

Hyrule turned and with a deep breath, Wild followed him. Hyrule walked a little while, searching through the inn and the store for privacy, only to find the rest of their group already playing cards by the beds or perusing the potions on offer. With a shake of his head, Hyrule moved to the back of the Domain, where the pools of heated and chilled water lay for the Zora to rest their tired muscles at the end of the day. Steam rose from the heated pools into the chilled night. Cool air drifted in through the open sides of the room and Wild drew his scarf closer. The room was empty.

Hyrule led them to the back of the space, finding a dry patch of floor to settle down on. Wild joined him, keeping a little space, uncaring if his pants ended up damp with the distance he had placed between them.

When Hyrule was quiet, petting Bunny slowly, Wild elected to speak first. “How is he?”

“Better,” Hyrule said softly. “He’s awake, just… not very responsive. I don’t think it’s related to his injuries though, it’s too similar to the despondence he used to have when we first found him.”

So, Bunny was okay. A heavy weight slipped from Wild’s shoulders and he breathed a sigh of relief. Bunny had made it despite the injuries caused by Wild’s carelessness.

He could almost hear Sidon chastising him for that thought.

But why was Bunny so despondent again? What had caused him to be such a way once more when he had finally started coming out of his shell? Wild didn’t understand, and he worried for the poor little rabbit.

“He’ll be alright eventually,” Hyrule promised, a little too hopeful to be coming from his healer mind. “I think what happened today rattled him.”

Wild hummed. “Right. Today… Traveller, I—”

“I’m sorry,” Hyrule cut him off, eyes lowered with shame. “I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did.”

Wild blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Hyrule met his eye then, confusion and determination and remorse swirling together. “Of course! How could you have known there would be so many monsters? And how could you have known one would attack Bunny?”

“Right,” Wild said, feeling a little silly. He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Really, Champion. I’m sorry for what I said.”

 “But you were—”

“I know I was injured and upset,” Hyrule said. “But that’s no excuse… I’ll do better, okay?”

A deep breath in. A smile lifted Wild’s lips. “Thanks. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. He was injured, and…”

“It’s not your fault. Really, Champion, it isn’t your fault. Neither of us blame you.” He lowered his gaze to Bunny then, running a hand down the rabbit’s back. “And you shouldn’t blame yourself either.”

“I—okay,” Wild agreed. Wasn’t certain where to take their conversation next. His mind lingered on Bunny’s injuries, on Hyrule’s. An idea came to mind. “Come sit with me in one of the heated pools. It’ll help your leg while it heals.”

Hyrule smiled. “That sounds nice.”

Wild helped him back to his feet, making a face when he found the back of his pants saturated. Hyrule murmured soothingly to Bunny when he whimpered at the movement, and Wild suddenly understood why Hyrule was so protective of the little rabbit. Felt a little of that protectiveness pass on to him, though he wouldn’t try and take Bunny from Hyrule.

Shucking their outer garments, Hyrule set Bunny down alongside the edge of the pool of steaming water. Bunny lowered his head and turned away, and concern glimmered in Hyrule’s eyes, mirroring that which lay in Wild’s chest. Bunny had been so curious just yesterday. Had the fight rattled him so badly?

Wild hoped he would be better come morning.

“Oh, that,” Hyrule said as they sank into the water, “Is one of the best things I’ve ever experienced.”

“Hot pools,” Wild said. “I’ll have to take you to the pools by Eldin Canyon one day. Those are the best.”

“Better than this?”

“Much,” Wild said. “I swear they have healing effects—that’s how good they are.”

Hyrule made a noise of appreciation, sinking deeper into the water, his eyes slipping shut briefly. “If they’re better than this, then I look forward to it.” A beat, where Wild chuckled and found himself torn between revealing to Hyrule a special aspect of his slate and making good on that promise now, and letting his friend rest and recover. Then Hyrule’s shoulders stiffened and he turned back to Bunny.

“Hey, little guy. Everything okay?”

Bunny turned away from Hyrule’s hand, held out with his palm facing up, an offer for comfort. Hyrule’s face fell, appearing too much like Bunny for Wild’s comfort.

“Hey,” Wild said. “Give him time. I’m sure he’ll feel better in the morning. For now, I’d like to know everything about that spell you used earlier. I didn’t know you could do that!”

Hyrule hesitated, glancing between Bunny and Wild. Finally, he settled on Wild, a small smile lifting his lips, which Wild counted as a win. “I didn’t intend to use it,” Hyrule confessed. “I was just so angry, and I had to get to him.”

“It was amazing,” Wild gushed. “You should have seen the Captain’s hair afterwards. I’m willing to bet he’s still fixing it.” Hyrule snorted, and Wild grinned at a job well done. When Hyrule yawned, reaching up to cover his mouth, Wild took a moment to really inspect him. “It looks like it took everything out of you though. Those bags are quite impressive, my friend.” Wild poked at the space beneath Hyrule’s eyes. In turn, Hyrule blew a raspberry at him, so earnest and silly, Wild wondered why he had ever worried Hyrule might be finished with him.

Hyrule yawned again, and Wild shifted closer as his head began to drop to one side, too heavy to stay up. The heated pools tended to have that effect on folks. “It might have taken most of my magic reserves,” Hyrule confessed. “Between that and healing Bunny…” Another yawn. “Oh, thank you, Champion.” Absentmindedly, Hyrule’s head fell to Wild’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut. “I think I’ll rest my eyes a moment.”

Wild chuckled. “I think I might, too.” After their long day and hours spent fretting over what the future would hold for himself and Hyrule, Wild was strung out and spent.

A half hour later, Wild was shaken awake gently by Twilight. Blinking blearily, he glanced around, alarm jolting through him when he saw no sign of their little pink friend.

“Where—”

Twilight shushed him quickly, hooking his arms under Hyrule’s armpits and lifting him from the water carefully. “Don’ wake ‘im. He needs this more ‘an any of us.”

“Where’s Bunny?” Wild whispered, carefully dragging himself from the heated pool, shuddering as frigid air raked over his soaked skin. Twilight was there with a fluffy towel immediately, and Wild gratefully wrapped it around his shoulders. Hyrule was already swaddled in his own towel and patted dry.

“He’s with Sky,” Twilight said, his eyes softening. “Don’ worry about ‘im.”

With Sky? But he hadn’t once tried to bother Bunny, respecting Twilight’s and Hyrule’s connection with the rabbit.

Twilight smiled. “Get changed an’ warm. Then get yer slate. You’ll like this.”  

Chapter Text

The tune had been stuck in his head all day. Maybe some of last night, too, but Sky had been too exhausted to dwell on it then. In the morning, he had hummed it over and over, trying to pinpoint the exact notes, changing a major to a minor, moving a beat from here to there to make it sound just right.

All day, he had been waiting to move this tune from his head to his harp. And yet…

Sky blew out a frustrated breath, pulling a hand from his harp and running his fingers through his hair. Why didn’t the tune sound right when he tried to play it aloud? What was he missing?

“Having trouble?”

Sky glanced up, smiling when he noticed Four had joined him, Time not far behind. “Good evening, my friends. This melody... it doesn’t seem to be working with me tonight.”

Time hummed in thought, moving past him to lean back against the railing, his gaze turned out to the river, stretching far into the distance beyond Zora’s Domain. “What kind of melody are you thinking?”

“Can we hear it?” Four asked, clambering up the steps to sit next to him, a couple steps up so he was higher than Sky. Sky let him have it, just this once, even if the action reminded him of the toddlers back home trying to be taller than their adults.

“Of course,” Sky said. “This tune has been twisting around my mind all day. I’m trying to make something… soothing, I suppose. A comfort to the soul.”

“Is this brought on by Bunny’s sad eyes?”

Sky turned back to Four, lips drawn down into a frown. “He’s just so sad, Smithy.”

“I know,” Four said, eyes alight with mirth. “He seems to be one of the saddest creatures I’ve ever seen.”

“Well,” Time said. “I think our Rancher at dusk comes close.”

Sky gasped, while Four snickered. “You’re cruel, Old Man.”

“Perhaps,” Time said, a tiny smile lifting his lips. “Twilight is alright, however. He knows he has us. That little rabbit…” His lips pursed. “Let’s hear your song. I’ve played many in my time; I may be able to help.”

“I’ll see what I can do too,” Four offered.

Sky shrugged and lifted his harp once more. He played the quick melody that had been caught in his mind all day, running through the tune a few times for his friends, though he couldn’t help but wince with every play through. It just sounded… off. But he couldn’t place why.

Time had a certain light to his eye. “This sounds very familiar.”

“I can’t say the same,” Four said. “But I can hear what you mean. Something sounds out of place.”

Time took out his ocarina, fingers dancing over each hole. “Why don’t you try switching the C and D? See how that fits.”

Sky brightened at the idea. In the rush of the day and his fatigue, he hadn’t even considered switching the two notes. Everything else had fallen into place so smoothly; he hadn’t once considered such a simple solution, had been pondering what notes he needed to break up the disjointed sounds. “Okay!”

He played through once more, making the switch as Time suggested, brightening when he found the melody sounded just right, when a pleasant warmth washed over him as he completed his first run through, just as he had hoped it would. Four clapped excitedly, while Time brought his ocarina to his lips, nodding to Sky to continue. Together, they played the tune, the now-pleasant melody washing over Zora’s Domain and soothing the fatigue in Sky’s heart and body. As they played a third time through, Four joined in, humming softly, and Sky closed his eyes in appreciation of their company.

“That’s it!” he said as their final notes rang out across the Domain. “Thanks, Old Man.”

Time lowered his ocarina, warmth crinkling his eyes. His shoulders were relaxed where they were normally so tense, and behind Sky, Four had a content smile on his lips, his arms crossed lazily over his stomach, at peace. “It’s very familiar to a song I’ve heard before,” Time said, a certain light to his eyes that Sky couldn’t place.

“A song from your era?”

“I always knew it as that. But now I wonder if it has lasted many generations, passed down from you.”

“From me?” Sky asked. “But it’s just a silly tune I came up with.”

“Don’t the best songs start out that way?” Four asked. “I can see why this one in particular survived generations; I feel so relaxed after hearing it, like invisible wounds I hadn’t even noticed were healed.”

Sky couldn’t stop the smile from lifting his lips. “I’m glad. I hoped it would have that effect. Want to try one more time? I’d like to make sure it sounds just right.”

Time laughed. “It does,” he promised. “But I would love to play with you some more. Shall we?”

Sky grinned, and as he shifted his harp into place once more, Time lifted his ocarina and Four cleared his throat. Together, they began to play the little tune that had been nagging Sky all day long. As they played, Zora began to peek their heads out from behind columns or doorways. They made their way over, intrigued by the new sounds, and settled down in a semicircle around the three of them. A couple even joined in after a few playthroughs, pulling out flutes carved from coral or strumming guitars made from polished wood. Some joined Four in singing or humming along. The three of them were spurred on into continuing their tune when they had such an enraptured audience, and with a grin to each other, they started the song anew, now accompanied by half a dozen others.

As the final note rang out on their third playthrough, Sky noticed soft thumps beneath the fading music. Opening his eyes, Sky noticed Bunny slowly hopping his way over to them, unaccompanied. Hyrule had to be asleep to let the little rabbit out of his sights, but Sky was glad for it now, when it meant he could share this song with its inspiration.

Bunny glanced up and met his eye, and as the music halted completely, his little group waiting for him to guide them back into the notes once more, Sky patted the space on the steps beside him, smiling warmly at Bunny. His little face was still pinched with sadness, and as he hopped over, he lowered his eyes, as if ashamed. Sky had never met such a sad creature before, but he hoped his song would help soothe some of the aches tormenting their new little friend.

Sky waited as Bunny clambered up the two steps to his side, keeping his hands to himself, knowing the rabbit wasn’t comfortable being touched by anyone but Hyrule and Twilight. As Bunny settled next to him, a gap the size of the little guy himself between them, Sky lifted his gaze, giving his friends and the gathered Zora a nod. As he lowered his fingers back to the strings and began to pluck the first note, so did the rest of the group, raising flutes and ocarinas, plucking guitar strings or humming and singing along.

Sky led them through the song twice, when he saw Bunny begin to settle alongside him. Saw the way he seemed to melt into the blue stone step, the song working as intended. As they finished their second and final playthrough, Sky held a hand up, instructing the group to pause.

“I’ve one more song I’d like to play tonight,” Sky said, and though Bunny didn’t give any indication he heard Sky’s words, Sky settled his fingers over the strings of his harp once more. “Alone, please.”

Murmurs of assent met his words. Instruments were pocketed or set to the side, and the Zora began to make themselves comfortable, eagerly awaiting his next tune. Sky thought he might have even caught Bunny shifting a little, turning toward him ever so slightly, curious. He preferred the emotion over the despondency that seemed to shroud Bunny, hoped he could help it stay, at least a little while longer.

Sky began to pluck the strings for one last song, his eyes slipping shut as he thought of his beloved back home, often troubled by nightmares after her journey, similar to the ones that plagued him. He would sit by their bed after a bad dream of hers, once he had comforted her and wiped her tears away with his thumb, and he would play her this song. Zelda would never fall asleep in the first playthrough, rarely the second, but by the third, soft snores would always escape her despite her insistence that she wouldn’t be able to sleep again that night.

As Sky played the final note, letting it linger on the air sweetly, he opened his eyes, slow and calm. All around him, the Zora had fallen asleep, either leaning against each other, or curled up on the floor. Four had drifted off against the railing, his relaxed features making him look much younger than he normally did. Time leaned against the wall of the Domain, arms crossed and chin lowered to his chest, fast asleep.

And next to him, Bunny had slumped, his breathing deep and even as Sky had hoped it would be.

“Still got it,” Sky murmured to himself, pride glowing within his chest at having knocked out both their normally serious Smithy and the Old Man.

“That ye do.” Sky jumped, raising a hand to his chest when he realised it was only Twilight, leaning against the railing of the stairs, staring down at him with a fanged smile. “Sorry, we didn’ mean tuh scare ye.”

It was then Sky realised Wild stood across from Twilight, his slate out as he attempted to capture an image of Time, conked out against the wall. He snapped a couple before Twilight grabbed him by the back of the shirt and dragged him away.

“That’s enough. We need tuh wake ‘em up”—Twilight jerked a thumb back at the sleeping Zora—“and get this lot in bed. We’ve a busy day ahead of us tomorrow an’ the last thing I wan’ is tuh listen tuh the Old Man bitch about ‘is sore back.”

Sky couldn’t help but snort, raising a hand to his mouth to stifle the sound. Wild had no qualms with bursting into laughter, quickly achieving their task of waking the Zora with their sensitive hearing. Grumbles were sent his way, and they received a half-apologetic wave before they dispersed.

“I got this one,” Twilight said, already crouching by Time. Rather than shaking him by the shoulder to wake him, Twilight carefully picked up Time, carrying him effortlessly in his arms like Time was a toddler who had fallen asleep at a family gathering. Sky couldn’t help but chuckle to himself at the thought, turning back to Bunny and Four.

“How strong are you feeling today, my dear Champion?”

“We both know these two would weigh about the same,” Wild shot back. “Your choice.”

Rolling his eyes, Sky pushed himself to his feet, dusting off the front of his pants, a force of habit from the many times he had been knocked down on his quest that he couldn’t quite shake. He passed his harp to Wild to be stored in his slate for the moment. “We both know while our Smithy is small, he’s all muscle. I’ll ask again, how strong are you feeling?”

“In that case, I’m taking Bunny.”

“Ye jus’ wanna cuddle ‘im.”

“Perhaps,” Wild said as he scooped Bunny up into his arms, cradling him close like Hyrule and Twilight often did.  “Oh. Oh, I see why you two want to carry him all the time. He’s so soft.”

Twilight grinned a fanged grin. “That ‘e is. Be careful with ‘im, yeah?”

Where he might normally take the words as offensive, Wild merely nodded, as if the weight and warmth of a real, breathing creature on his shoulder gave something to Twilight’s words Wild never heard when he was handling an item. “I will,” he promised.

“In that case,” Sky said, not at all upset he missed out on carrying Bunny when it meant he got to ensure his new friend slept somewhere comfortable and warm. He gathered Four in his arms, grateful he had thought to consider Four’s strength rather than assuming their Smithy would weigh next to nothing with his height. “Shall we?” Sky asked, holding Four closer, smiling when Four leaned his head against Sky’s chest in his sleep, hands reaching out to grasp at the front of his shirt.

“Let’s.”

Chapter Text

Even after a full night of rest, Ravio still looked terrible. Hilda had taken over their queenly duties for a couple hours, giving Zelda some time to check in on Ravio and take care of him. They had been taking shifts since Ravio had arrived, waking through the night to make sure his condition hadn’t worsened, and to make sure if he woke, Ravio wouldn’t be alone. He had spent far too long alone these past few months, and neither of them were willing to let him experience another second of it.

Now, as midday sun poured over his still form, Ravio finally began to wake, shifting in the blankets. Zelda lean closer as anticipation built up in her chest. Not once had Ravio awoken since Hilda brought him in yesterday, teary and apologetic and far too sick to be managing by himself. His eyelids twitched, a soft groan escaping him. And finally, after a day and a half in their care, Ravio open his eyes.

The action was slow and confused, his eyes half-lidded and bleary as he took in his surroundings. Sheerow chattered excitedly, fluttering over and pressing herself into his neck, her own special way of saying you’re awake, you’re okay!

“Hm, Sheerow?” Ravio reached up and began to pet her underbelly, slow and guided by force of habit than anything else. Sheerow trilled cheerfully, pressing into his hand.

Zelda gave him a moment to wake fully, waiting until his tired eyes met hers, before she said, “Hey, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?”

Ravio stared at her for a long moment, brows furrowed. He glanced around, as if only just realising he was no longer in his own house. “What…?”

“You are at the castle with Hilda and I,” Zelda explained. “You were so exhausted when she found you. What do you remember?”

A few moments where Ravio’s brows furrowed deeper. A gasp escaped him, and then he threw back his blankets, tossing his legs over the side of the bed. The moment he tried to stand, his legs gave out and he fell. Zelda was there to catch him, carefully guiding him to sit back on the bed.

“Hey, slow down. You are in no state to—”

“I need to get up.” Ravio tried again to stand, but Zelda was quick to push him back onto the bed before he collapsed. Sheerow fluttered around Ravio, her squawks sharp and angry, as if demanding he stay and rest.

“You are in no state to leave this bed right now,” Zelda insisted. “You are unwell.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Ravio hissed, his eyes wide and desperate. “I need to go—he needs me.”

So that’s what this was about. Zelda fixed him with a firm look, daring him to try and escape again. “Stay,” she said, and all the fight seemed to rush from Ravio’s frame, leaving him slumping. As Zelda sat on the mattress alongside him, Ravio dropped his gaze to his hands, his breaths ragged.

“I need to look for him,” Ravio murmured. “He needs me. I can’t…”

“You need to rest,” Zelda said, setting a hand over Ravio’s shaking ones, as cold as ice. He flinched at the touch, but didn’t pull away. “I have dozens of soldiers out looking, and everyone in town is helping, too.”

Ravio didn’t seem comforted in the least. “But I need to—”

“Rest,” Zelda repeated. “Your condition will only worsen if you do not—”

“That doesn’t matter!” Ravio snapped, tearing his hands away from hers. “Link has done so much—the least I can do is get off my ass and find him.”

“Ravio…”

“He’s saved the world countless times,” Ravio continued. “He saved Lorule, even though he had no obligation to spend his wish on us. If I can’t even do this, then…” A soft whimper. Ravio’s shoulders fell, defeated, as if he had already given up.

This wasn’t working. Zelda changed tactics. “Are you hungry?”

Ravio blinked, turning back to her. “What?”

“Are you hungry?” Zelda repeated.

Ravio’s lips twisted. “No.”

“Too bad,” Zelda said. “We are having lunch.”

“What? No, Zel, I need to—”

“You need to eat. I am sure you must be starving by now.”

Ravio shrugged dismissively. “I can eat later, once I know Link is safe. Once I’ve found him.”

“We are eating now,” Zelda said, rising to her feet and pulling Ravio up with her. A sharp gasp escaped him and he swayed, making Sheerow squawk in alarm as she flew around the two of them in a panic. Zelda was there to catch him, looping an arm around his waist and holding him up. With his attention solely on staying upright, Ravio fell silent as Zelda began to walk them from the bed she had moved him to last night, more comfortable than the couch. Between their shifts, before Hilda had to slip back to Lorule to ensure things were running smoothly, they had set up plenty of pillows and blankets for Ravio once he awoke, had had soup prepared in the castle kitchens and a full pot of water at the ready to boil for tea.

Midday sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of her main rooms, where her kitchen, living area and work desk lay. A few new letters had been placed atop her work desk, which had been cleared only an hour before. Once Ravio was settled and resting again, she would tackle those and stay on top of her workload. She had to, lest it overwhelmed her.

But for now, her first priority was Ravio. No royal seals plastered the letters closed, and so they could wait until she was certain her friend was on the right path to healing.

She helped Ravio settle down on the couch once more, throwing a couple of blankets over his shoulders when he began to shiver, still feverish. Sheerow nestled into his neck, comforting him as best as she could. Next, Zelda fetched the little glass bottle left in her kitchen, the first of several prescribed by her royal physician. Sitting at Ravio’s side, she handed over the little bottle of orange liquid.

“Drink this,” she said. “It will help you feel better.”

Ravio took it with shaking hands, and Zelda wasn’t certain if he was cold, or if he was terribly anxious to get back outside and looking for Link. Perhaps both; she settled a third blanket over his lap just in case. “When did you…?”

“Mykal visited a few hours ago. She provided a brief check-up on you and prescribed this. Once you are feeling a little better, she will come and visit for a thorough inspection while you are awake. She fears you may have an infection somewhere from lack of care.”

Ravio hummed, low and thoughtful. He twisted the bottle in his hands, but didn’t try to uncork it nor drink its contents. “Why?”

Zelda took the bottle, pulling the cork and offering it back to him. “Because I care for you and it hurts to see you so unwell.” She pushed the bottle into his hands and pressed his fingers closed around it. Smiled when Sheerow chirped in agreement. “Drink. You must be feeling awful.”

Ravio averted his gaze, took a sip of the liquid. He made a face, and she couldn’t help but laugh lightly.

“All of it,” she teased. “I have had this before, and I know how disgusting it is. But Mykal’s medicine is unparalleled, both in taste and efficacy.”

Ravio hummed and took another sip. She let him be, making her way back into the kitchen. She set her pot of water to boil over the fire, then ladled two bowls of steaming vegetable soup for them, one with half the amount of the other; with how little he had been eating, she knew Ravio’s appetite would be small for some time. It hurt, to see him eating so little when he came into Hyrule with the appetite of a beast. But she would set him back on the right path, she was determined to do so.

A deep breath in to steel her nerves, and she joined Ravio on the couch again. He had finished the medicine while she had been gone, the glass bottle glinting on her side table in the midday sun, pressing an array of ghostly shapes onto the wood around it. At least she wouldn’t need to push him to drink it.

“Here.” She passed him the bowl with less soup. Ravio took it slowly, hesitant to eat when he had no doubt neglected his stomach often over these past few months. Zelda refused to allow that to continue. “Eat. You will feel better once you finish, and we can go sit by the window and enjoy the sun after.” Ravio perked up at her words and she fought the smirk lifting her lips. After so long spent in darkness in Lorule, both Hilda and Ravio reminded Zelda of cats, with how they loved to bask in warm patches of sunlight. It might have been winter, but the sunlight pressing in through the glass panes of her windows should bring Ravio’s mood up a little, even if the sun provided minimal warmth. She hoped it would; she had never seen her friend so downtrodden, and even a slight smile she would take as a win today.

Zelda ate her soup slowly, savouring the hearty warmth that filled her belly when she so rarely got the chance to enjoy her meals, with how busy her life had been before Hilda. The other woman had shown her how to let go, how to let others take up tasks she didn’t need to handle alone. She was still the queen, but now that she had divided up her work, she could also be a friend, a source of comfort for those she was close to. She could enjoy her life, one day at a time.

Despite her slow pace, Ravio had eaten only a few mouthfuls by the time she finished. Setting her bowl to the side, Zelda shifted closer to her tired, hurting friend. “Finish your soup,” she said, gentle and cautious. Ravio had been quiet since she had given him the bowl, stirring his soup absentmindedly, lost within his head yet again. At her words, he jumped, as if he had forgotten she was there entirely.

With a soft hum, he dipped his spoon back into the soup and continued eating. Murmuring every so often to keep him present, Zelda waited patiently as Ravio finished off the meal, relief flooding her once he set the bowl down in his lap, finally empty. With a quick squeeze of his shoulder, Zelda took his bowl, piling it atop her own and moving them back into the kitchen for her staff to clean later.

Back in the living area, she took Ravio by his too-thin arm, pulling him back to his feet, prepared for when he stumbled again and catching him around the waist. Sheerow flew over ahead of them to settle in the little nest of blankets and pillows Hilda had left by the window permanently, her favourite place to bask, with her girlfriend closeby. Zelda often enjoyed curling up with her pleasantly warm girlfriend, running her fingers through Hilda’s long hair, unwinding the braids and redoing them tighter, over and over until Hilda dozed off in her lap.

Zelda helped Ravio settle in the nest of blankets, dropping down beside him and curling her legs up beneath her. She set a pillow over her lap, an easy routine that came naturally to her these days, and patted the fluffy pillow invitingly.

Finally, Ravio spoke again. “Zel, you don’t have to…”

“I know.”

“I can just lie over here, you don’t have to feel obligated—”

“I do not.”

Ravio watched her for a long moment. Zelda patted the pillow again, and Ravio caved, craving the comfort after so long spent hurting alone. Zelda grinned as he crawled over and collapsed in her lap, curling up just as Hilda did. Where Hilda loved to bury her face in Zelda’s stomach, Ravio faced the window, bringing his arms and legs close and curling into a tight ball. Zelda set a blanket over him when he began to shiver again, still feverish even after his medicine and bowl of hot soup. She tucked him in and set a hand over his shoulder, rubbing circles there with her thumb to comfort. A heavy sigh escaped Ravio, and he relaxed under her touch. The moment he settled, Sheerow hopped over, nuzzling her way into his hands and demanding he pet her.

They settled like that, Ravio’s eyes drifting shut as dim sunlight streamed over his pale face. Sheerow fluffed up her feathers, soft peeps escaping her as she curled up in her person’s hands. And all the while, Zelda continued to rub circles into Ravio’s shoulder, setting her other hand over his ankle.

As Zelda’s eyes slipped shut, at ease in her once-chaotic life, Ravio suddenly stiffened beneath her touch. She slowed, curious and concerned, but Ravio spoke before she could question the behaviour. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, curling up so tight, Zelda feared it might begin to hurt him.

“For?” Zelda asked, resuming the comforting circles in Ravio’s shoulder.

“Earlier… I snapped at you.”

“You were upset,” she said.

“Yeah…” Ravio trailed off. Beneath her, his shoulder was still stiff, his body still curled up painfully small.

Zelda decided to push, just a little. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Ravio shrugged, a simple lift of one shoulder. But then he began to speak, as if the words had been building up inside his chest for so long now, and a simple prod had brought them bubbling up to the surface: “It’s just… I feel so useless. I’m sitting here doing nothing while he’s all alone out there, hurting.”

Zelda hummed, kept her tone even in spite of the way her heart ached for Link. Her dear friend, suffering alone, not seeking her out… It made her want to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he understood that she cared, that she wanted to help.

But Link wasn’t here. As soon as he was found and returned to them, she would smack some sense into him—lovingly, of course, and maybe with a little too much force.

For now, she had another dear friend who needed help.

“You can still sense him out there?” Zelda asked, though she knew the answer. Ravio needed to speak more on this, and she would push him in the right direction.

“Somewhere,” Ravio mumbled. “He’s still alive, but… it’s faint. It’s been faint since yesterday like… like he doesn’t want me to know he’s still alive. Like he’s trying to break our connection.”

Zelda’s eyes widened. That made no sense; Link loved Ravio. They were best friends, as close as herself and Hilda. She knew how fond Link was of Ravio, knew his affection would never waver, even if Ravio upped and tried to resurrect Ganon.

So why was their connection suddenly fragile? She would need to consider the implications of such a thing, but that would come later, once Ravio was resting. She would speak with Hilda on this, try and make sense of it with her.

“Link would never,” she said firmly. “Perhaps…” she faltered there, uncertain. How could she know where Link might be, when he hadn’t come to her in months? “Perhaps, he has been called for another quest.”

Ravio scoffed. “He returned from one a handful of months ago. The Goddess always gives him at least a year between quests.”

Zelda was running out of ideas. She could sweet talk ambassadors from other kingdoms, could carefully guide her council into agreeing with one of her decisions. But here and now, she found herself frozen with uncertainty.

“I did this,” Ravio murmured. “I chased him away; this is all my fault.” His voice rose in pitch, and he was quick to clamp a hand down over his mouth as he shuddered in her lap.

This, Zelda could handle. “Oh, my dear. You do not have to hold it in. You have a right to be frustrated and upset.”

Ravio sniffled. “But, I…”

“You are hurting,” Zelda said. “You have been hurting for so long. It is okay if you need to cry; you do not have to hide from me.”

Ravio’s breath hitched at her words, and she was quick to bring him into an embrace, grateful for her strength as she held him as close as possible. As he dissolved into soft sobs, his chest heaving against her, Sheerow landed on Zelda’s shoulder, pressing herself into Ravio’s hair, trying to comfort. 

“You are okay,” Zelda murmured, holding him tighter, praying her words were enough. “I am here.”

“I miss him so, so much, Zel,” Ravio wept into her shoulder. “I miss m-my Link.”

“I know,” Zelda said, trying to keep her voice steady as her heart began to break in her chest. If she were in his position, if it had been Hilda who had disappeared… “I know,” she repeated, cursing the way her own eyes became wet.

“He—he hates me now. This is all my fault.”

Zelda shushed him softly, began to murmur comforts in response to his painful words, a vicious cycle that felt it would never end.

Finally, Ravio settled in her arms, slumping against her and sniffling occasionally. She began to run an arm up and down his back, smiled when he pressed closer.

“This is not your fault,” she said, now that he was in a state where he could listen.

Ravio hummed disbelievingly. Said nothing.

“It is not,” she insisted. “There has to be a reason for why your connection is so weak. But for now, I don’t want you to worry about anything. All you need to do is focus on getting better.”

“But… what about Link?”

“I have over half of my guards out looking for him. All of the townsfolk were eager to help. You should have seen Gulley.” She laughed lightly then, thinking back to when the young man had shoved his way to the front of the search party, eager to help a close friend of Link’s, even if he didn’t know they were searching for Link, and not Ravio’s rabbit. “Irene has been flying around nonstop all day, and at night she is staying in your cottage, keeping an eye out for Link.”

“She knows?”

“She put the pieces together herself. She will not tell anyone,” Zelda assured him. “She wants to help, like everyone else.”

“Oh…”

“You are not alone in this, my dear. We are all happy to take up the search, and we will bring Link to you the moment we find him,” she promised. Ravio deserved to be the first to know that the search was over, deserved the relief after everything he had been through.

Ravio sniffled, burrowing closer. “Okay.”

Zelda smiled, leaning her head against his as relief filled her. Finally, he would rest. He would let them take over. “Get some rest. Goddess knows you need it more than anyone.”

Ravio had nothing to say to her words, and when she hummed curiously, pulling away, she realised he had drifted off before she had finished speaking. With a soft laugh, she settled back in the pillows, Ravio asleep against her. She stared at the ceiling, warmth pressing against her chest, mingling with confusion.

Why was Link’s connection to Ravio suddenly so weak?

Chapter Text

It took them two days to make it to Kakariko. The weather held, which was a goddess-send when his Cub’s era often had the most temperamental weather at the best of times. Hyrule checked in on Bunny during every rest break, monitoring his wounds from their scuffle with the lizalfos, and Bunny was healing well under Hyrule’s hand, but… The little guy had been despondent for days. Sky’s songs had helped soothe him a little, and Twilight found himself sitting by Sky every night, Bunny in his lap, as their Skyloftian friend played his lullaby once more to help Bunny escape nightmares and sleep.

Twilight hadn’t a clue what had happened to their sweet and curious little friend, but he was determined to help Bunny feel better. He had picked up the tune to Sky’s soothing song, and during his turns carrying Bunny, he hummed it. Bunny seemed to settled more heavily against him each time, as if it were helping, slowly but surely, and Twilight hoped all he needed was a little more time.

Kakariko sat cradled within a cluster of mountains, accessed via a narrow pass between two of them. At this time of the evening, the rising cliffs on either side left the pass swathed in shadows. The group lit torches, holding them aloft as they proceeded. His Cub walked at the front with him, a mixture of eagerness and anxiety muddling his features, lifting and then pinching them, over and over, until Twilight had to step in.

Setting a hand over his Wild’s shoulders, Twilight said, “Everythin’ alrigh’, Cub?”

Wild, although normally used to Twilight’s physical gestures and affection, had been so lost within his own head he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Ah—Twi!”

“I’ll take tha’ as a no, then,” Twilight said. “Wanna share what’s on yer mind?” No one else walked close enough to hear them, and Bunny now lay within Hyrule’s arms, fast asleep. His Cub had no reason to wish to avoid speaking with him.

And so, he did: “You caught me,” Wild said, lowering his gaze. “I’m just worried about the Great Fairy. The Great Fairies helped me so much during my quest, and I could never repay them for their help.” He paused for a beat, and Twilight nudged him, knowing there was more. “And, I guess I’m a little worried about seeing Impa again. She always looks at me like she expects the old me to come back, like she wants him to. I always feel like a disappointment when we talk.”

Twilight hadn’t known that. The Great Fairy worries, he could easily pick up on. But even after journeying with his Cub for many, many months, he hadn’t picked up on the discomfort swaddling him before and after every conversation with Impa. “Yer not a disappointment,” Twilight said.

Wild offered a half-smile. “Thanks, Twi.”

“No, honest. How could ye be one? Ye saved yer era from calamity outta the goodness of yer heart—ye barely knew a thing when ye woke up again.”

“I guess…”

“An’ it’s unfair o’ her tuh expect so much from ye. She knows yer a different person, an’ if she prefers the ol’ ye, then ‘er loss!” He threw an arm around his Cub’s shoulders, drawing him in close. “This is me favourite version of ye.”

Wild laughed against him. “Twi, this is the only version of me you know.”

“I stand by wha’ I said!”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop moping.”

“Ye better.”

“Thanks, Twi.”

The smile back on Wild’s face and the skip to his step was more than enough for Twilight, but… “Yer welcome, Cub.”

Kakariko appeared at the end of the twisting mountain pass as the sun had nearly sunken into the horizon for the night. The sky was swathed in hues of deep blue and violet, and far to the east, the first stars twinkled to life above the edges of the cliffs. A gentle clinking filled the air, brought on by dozens of wooden wind chimes. As they turned the final corner, Twilight saw the cosy little village, with its bright red wooden archways and dozens of fireflies lazily trailing about.

“Here we are, everybody.” Wild’s words brought on half a dozen relieved sighs. With how immense his Cub’s era was, Twilight couldn’t blame them. “I’ll speak with Impa immediately. Best to do it now, before she retires. The inn is the first building on the right here, by the goddess statue.”

“I know the way,” Twilight assured him. “Ye’ll be alrigh’ by yerself?”

Wild’s smile wasn’t convincing, but it had to be enough for him tonight. “I’ll be alright.”

“Come talk with me after if ye need tuh, alrigh’?”

His Cub’s smile softened into something more genuine. “Thanks, Twi.”

Twilight squeezed his shoulder one final time before sending him off. He watched as Wild climbed the stairs to Impa’s home, chest buzzing with concern and protectiveness, until Warriors grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away.

“I know you are worried,” Warriors said as he led Twilight past the inn, over to the little wooden boardwalk that led out to a tiny island in a deep pond. Atop the island, a Goddess statue rested, flowers sitting by Her feet and in Her hands. Red wooden chimes were strung from cords reaching between the buildings on either side of the small worshipping space, and they clanked in the soft breeze, lifting a pleasant melody into the evening air. “But he is a tough one. He can handle himself.”

Twilight blew out a breath, settling down on the boardwalk with Warriors, waiting for the others to organise their rooms for the night. “I know. Ye know ‘ow I get, though.”

Warriors chuckled. “That I do, my friend. You can fawn over him later. Leave him be for now. Relax.”

“Fine, fine,” Twilight agreed. Taking Warriors’ advice, he let himself relax. Kicking off his boots, he slipped his feet into the cool water, sighing in appreciation as the soreness in his feet from a long day’s walk began to ebb. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine he was back home in Ordon, taking a moment to rest after a long day at the farm before heading inside to help Rusl and Uli with dinner. Colin would sit at the table with Izzy, the basket of crayons they had scrounged up sitting between them as they furiously drew whatever had inspired them tonight; Twilight often found little drawings of himself scattered on the wall the next day that always made his heart melt, even if they gave his stick-figure wolf ears and a tail.

Warriors settled back, his legs dangling, feet hovering just above the water, the toes of his leather boots sending gentle ripples through the still water. He leaned back on his hands, eyes slipping shut, and were it not for the fact that he knew Warriors, he would have guessed the man had switched off entirely. But his ears twitched with every sound, his shoulders tense. He was overthinking things again, while still on high alert.

And he wanted Twilight to relax.

“Stop thinkin’ so ‘ard,” Twilight chastised him, flicking him over the shoulder and causing Warriors to flinch. “I can feel meself getting’ a headache jus’ watchin’ ye.”

Warriors shot him a sour look, and so Twilight kicked up water all over his pants. “Hey!”

“Ye need tuh learn tuh relax, my friend,” Twilight said. “Take a few deep breaths and let yer mind switch off fer a bit. I promise I’ll listen out fer the both of us.”

Warriors scoffed, but Twilight had a feeling it was only for show, if the way a soft smile tried to lift Warriors’ lips told him anything. “Alright. I will try, I suppose.”

“Ye bet ye will. Breathe in with me.” And when Twilight made an exaggerated breath in, Warriors followed. Together, they took several deep breaths, Twilight watching as Warriors’ shoulders lowered, the tension bleeding out from them. “Good. Now lie back and rest, will ye? Yer one o’ the worst of us when it comes tuh sleeping.”

Warriors made a show of grumbling, but he lay back against the hard wood of the boardwalk, resting his hands over his stomach and finally letting himself relax. His eyes slipped shut, that soft smile still gracing his lips. His hair encircled his head on the dark wood like a golden halo.

“Tha’s better,” Twilight said, squeezing Warriors’ arm and earning a huff of laughter. With a grin, Twilight leaned back on his hands once more, leg resting against Warriors’ side, ears sharp for any sign of danger as promised.

Soon enough, he heard the soft footfalls of folks approaching. Cracking open an eye, Twilight smiled when he saw it was only the rest of their group, bar his Cub. “Evenin’” he greeted. “The inn too good fer y’all?”

Hyrule picked his way over Warriors, settling down on Twilight’s other side cross-legged, with Bunny lying in his lap. “The cook wasn’t prepared for a group of eight hungry Heroes and their horse and rabbit. She’s shooed us all away for the moment.”

Twilight laughed at that. They rarely stayed at inns, but the horror on every cook’s face never ceased to make him laugh. They always repaid the cooks with praise and tips to apologise for the extra work, and each of them walked away happy. As he settled, he turned his attention down to their newest member. “How’s ‘e doin’?”

Hyrule slumped slightly, running a hand over Bunny’s back and receiving no response. “He’s been despondent since the fight. I don’t think he’s sleeping much, either. He just doesn’t seem to relax. I’m worried…”

Twilight understood what that was like, to be so high-strung after a terrible fight and consequential injury. He understood how traumatising the experience was, how difficult it became to continue on afterwards, when it felt as if you were trapped in your terror. Instinctively, he raised a hand to his left shoulder, felt the phantom pain there from the beginning of his journey, scarcely a few years ago now. “Mind if I try somethin’? I’ll be gentle with ‘im,” he promised when Hyrule looked hesitant to part ways with Bunny.

After a beat, Hyrule acquiesced, lifting Bunny into his arms and holding him close for a moment, before passing him over to Twilight. Bunny was warm in his hands, a comforting weight he had been missing all day, when Hyrule had been reluctant to let him go since the fight. “Hey there, li’l one. I know ye’ve been through the wringer lately. I’ve got somethin’ tuh help ye relax some.” He set Bunny down in his lap, the rabbit facing him. Once Bunny had shifted and gotten comfortable, Twilight set his hands over the rabbit’s head, slow and careful so Bunny wouldn’t panic. Even in the gentle touch, he could feel how terribly Bunny was shaking, just how badly the fight was still affecting him. His heart ached for the poor creature, and the life they had chosen for him by tearing him away from his home. But Twilight reminded himself that if they had set him free again, Bunny likely would have run off into the wilderness once more, and this time, he wouldn’t have them to find him.

“Aw, ye poor thing,” he murmured, his face softening. He cradled Bunny’s tiny head in his hands, setting his thumbs over Bunny’s forehead. There, he began slow strokes, from the space just above Bunny’s little nose, up between his eyes, and to the back of his head, then back down to start again. With his other fingers, he began to massage behind Bunny’s ears. It was a trick Rusl would always do for him when he awoke from a nightmare, in his Hylian and his wolf form. In both forms, he would relax under the gentle pressure and drift off swiftly.

It had the same effect on Bunny. The little pink rabbit’s eyes began to droop, his body stilling as his muscles relaxed. With a smile, Twilight continued, warmth blooming within his chest as Bunny settled under his guidance and comfort, and eventually drifted off.

“Wow,” Hyrule said, leaning closer. “You must have a magic touch.”

Twilight shrugged. “It’s a thing with animals; helps ‘em relax.”

Hyrule hummed. After a beat, he shifted closer, leaning into Twilight’s side. “Thank you. For helping him, I mean. I was beside myself with worry…”

“Of course,” Twilight said, removing one hand from Bunny to settle over Hyrule’s shoulders, drawing him closer. “He’s family, now. That means we look out fer ‘im. Just as we look out fer each other. Get some rest, Traveller, you look a right mess too.”

Hyrule huffed a laugh, but Twilight wasn’t exaggerating. His concern for Bunny had been keeping him up, and it took no more encouragement for Hyrule to lean heavily against him, a deep sigh escaping him.

Twilight sat as he was until Wild came back, three sleeping bodies resting against him and a pleasant, tingling warmth pressing against his heart.

Chapter Text

Sky’s song was the last time Four had slept properly. It had come as a pleasant surprise, to be lulled to sleep like he used to, before he had become they, when his grandpa used to hum soft tunes until he drifted off, the restlessness of the day sliding from his young, unburdened shoulders as the melody washed over him.

Ever since he had pulled that sword, his mind had become too busy to turn off, and he was too embarrassed to go to his grandpa when he was meant to be a battle-hardened hero. He had bested dozens upon dozens of monsters and trials, had fallen apart and come together again to defeat Vaati and save his best friend and all of Hyrule, and yet when the day was over, he couldn’t sleep. His shattered soul struggled to settle, mind running overtime as it dwelled on betrayals, on frigid ice and the bite of loneliness and the terror of losing control. Even with the long days this new journey had graced him with, leaving his body numb with exhaustion, his mind still refused to turn off.

He couldn’t sleep.

Rather than dwelling on the many—too many—near-death experiences his fragments had acquired, both while separate and together, they had found a new target to linger on, to pick apart and put back together until he gave up on tossing and turning and nearly pulled his hair out from frustration, tears drip-dripping down his face.

The strange little pink rabbit they had picked up.

Amber warmth thought it was adorable, yet strangely sad for what appeared to be a normal woodland creature. He wanted to soothe it, to take on its burden so it may be free—as if Four hadn’t enough burdens already to carry.

Forest breeze thought it was careless of them to bring the creature along. Twilight could defend himself as a wolf, and Epona had given her fair share of kicks. They had doomed the rabbit by dragging it into this mess.

Cool water washed over his mind, agreeing with the last, calling him an idiot for letting them bring it along, as if he had a say in such a matter. He knew that part of him always came from a place of concern, but his words often left Four grating his teeth.

And sturdy violet came in after it all. Curious as that warm, gentle part of him was, considering his words further. Why was the rabbit sad? Why did it seem more Hylian than any other creature they had met? Why did it almost remind them of Wolfie? What was its relation to Link and his roommate, and why had it run away?

Had Four not been leaning against Sky, tired, exhausted eyes drooping and burning, he might’ve pressed a hand against his forehead a little too harshly, begging them to be quiet for just a moment so he could rest his heavy head. With his companions around him, he had to keep up a front. He would not give them any reason to believe he wasn’t capable, that he was as broken as he felt.

A headache had bloomed in his temple several hours ago. From fatigue, or his brain rushing back and forth, he wasn’t certain. All he wanted was for Sky to play that blessing of a song again so he might sleep through the night. If he couldn’t have that… It might be time for him to slip away and split again. It was risky, especially in a village such as this, where anyone might see him. Four feared if he waited another day, if he let his fragments chatter and grumble and bicker away, he might do something he regretted. Already, he had Hyrule watching him after he had punched a wall, Blue’s frustrations seeping too far into him and overwhelming his senses until all he could see was red. Red lining the edges of his vision, red staining his knuckles and the wall, Hyrule’s hands as he wiped away the blood. Red shame swelling in his belly as Hyrule questioned him.

He was meant to be more put together than this.

Before he could truly consider slipping away, Wild returned to the group, his face distraught.

“What happened, Cub?” Twilight was by his side immediately, leaving Hyrule to shake himself awake and stumble over; Warriors remained on the boardwalk, his sleepless nights catching up to him. At least Four wasn’t the only one who struggled with insomnia, even if he would never wish such a burden on any of his new companions.

“I’m alright,” Wild promised. “I’ll talk with you later. For now, Impa told me more of the Great Fairy.”

“Is it true she was poisoned?”

“Yes,” Wild said. “While she was helping a weary traveller a few weeks back, a monster snuck up on her and bit her with its venomous bite. Lady Impa was too distraught to say much more, but… she wants us to help, in any way we can.”

“That sounds dire,” Time agreed. “Let us visit tonight. The sooner we find a way to help, the sooner we can set out. I don’t want to waste any time.”

“Not after last time,” Twilight agreed, his eyes downcast. “We won’ make that mistake again.”

“To start, where there is venom involved, we need an anti-venom,” Warriors said, now awake. Four hadn't even noticed him sit up, in his exhaustion. He pushed himself to his feet, looking much better than he had only twenty minutes prior. But he swayed as he stood, and Twilight was quick to jump up and grab his shoulder before he fell, Bunny tucked securely under his free arm. “Sorry, sorry. I am fine.”

“Yer exhausted is what ye are. Go back tuh the inn and get some rest. Take Rulie ‘ere with ye.” He nodded down to Hyrule, who was struggling to keep his eyes open, as if his brief nap had only served to make him more exhausted.

“But…”

“I’ll give ye an update come morning so yer not left behind, alright? Ye need to rest, Captain.”

Warriors looked torn between the options, but a glare from Twilight had him relenting, and once he was ready, Twilight helped lean Hyrule against him for the walk back to the inn. Bunny still rested curled up in one of Twilight’s arms, and Four found himself impressed that Twilight had managed so much without waking the little rabbit.

Once Warriors and Hyrule were settled, Wild led them up a winding trail at the back of the village. They passed one of the odd shrines spread throughout the era—Wild’s version of a dungeon—following the dirt path into a small stretch of woodland. Flowers lined the edges of the trail, some glowing a faint blue under the moonlight as if to guide them back to the Great Fairy. All around them, the forest was far too silent for Four’s liking—amber warmth had him shivering disconcertedly, eyes darting around. A chilled breeze washed over him and another piece of him pulled his arms close, squeezing his eyes shut against the frigid memories.

A hand settled over his shoulder, snapping Four back to himself.

Sky was watching him worriedly. “Everything okay, Smithy?”

Instinctively, Four straightened. “Yes. I—sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?”

He wasn’t nearly put together enough for this tonight. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’m just… tired.” An understatement. But they couldn’t know just how bone-deep this fatigue ran, or they might deem him unfit for service and send him back home. And if Four couldn’t be of use any longer… He didn’t know where to go from there.

“You have looked quite exhausted recently,” Sky agreed. “Have you been sleeping well?”

Four hadn’t expected any of them to notice, when they had only known each other a few scant weeks. But he had never been one for lying. “Sometimes I have a little trouble sleeping.”

“I take it it’s been more than ‘sometimes’ recently.”

Four hummed.

Sky waited a few beats while they walked, as if hoping Four might say more on the matter. As if Four had the brainpower for initiating things right now. “Did that song help? You seemed to sleep right through that night.”

At Sky’s words, Four’s headache flared, bright and fierce.

Don’t you dare say anything, a part of him said.

Another agreed, I can think of a solution. This is our problem.

But it did help, a third argued. We need rest, and this works.

He wants to help; let him help! We need help…

“Four?” Sky nudged him. Four hadn’t even realised he had paused, the rest of the group continuing on without them.

“Sorry,” Four said, pressing a hand to his temple and pressing deeply, as if he might be able to push his headache back and away. “I’ve a terrible headache.”

“Oh,” Sky said. “I’m sure our Champion will have something for that after we speak with the Great Fairy. Just hold on a little while longer. Lean into me if that helps. There you go.” Sky wrapped an arm around his shoulders, supporting Four as they walked. It wasn’t practical, and it made it more difficult to continue on, but… it warmed Four’s heart, for Sky to care so deeply. He felt a wave of certainty wash over him. Maybe all his shattered pieces didn’t agree, but he knew who to trust tonight.

“Yes, it helped.”

“Really? That’s great! I thought it might’ve, by the way you and our Old Man were out cold.” Four huffed a laugh at that. He hadn’t realised even Time had been knocked out by Sky’s soothing song. It made the rush of betrayal from two pieces within sting a little less. “If you want, I can play that song again for you later?”

Four smiled. “I would like that. Thank you.”

Sky squeezed his shoulders, and they left it at that.

The Great Fairy’s home blended into the forest from afar, but the closer they got to the strange, bud-like structure, the harder it was to miss. Pinpricks of pink light drifted around it, smaller fairies sticking close to their queen, their lights reflecting across a shallow pool of water surrounding the bud. Flowers and herbs grew rampant here, and Wild was quick to rush about, foraging what he could with a delighted glint to his eye. The air grew warm with magic, and Four was grateful as his shivers began to settle.

The pod towered over them as they neared, at least thrice as tall as Time, their tallest, and wider than the eight of them standing side-by-side. Four had seen Great Fairies before, but only at Fairy Fountains, tucked away in caves and dungeons. He had never seen one out in the open, nor had he seen one living within such an odd structure.

“You might want to step back for this,” Wild said, lost in his delight.

He stepped up to the structure, knocking on it three times in rapid succession, before stepping back with anticipation. The seconds ticked by, and Wild’s smile faded. Finally, the bud bloomed, laying four large petals down on the ground around the clearing. Instead of appearing in a show of glittering magic and laughter, the Great Fairy hauled herself up and out of the depths of the pod. The first thing Four noticed was how ashen her skin was, as if all the warmth and colour had been drained from it. Her eyes were hazy with fatigue, and she leaned heavily against the edge of her pod. Four worried she may pass out at any moment. As she settled, his eyes were drawn to the welt upon her left forearm. A nasty bright green, with two bright-red indents at its centre. The green crawled up her arm to her elbow, streaks of sickly webbing that bespoke infection.

“Cotera!” Wild lurched forward, setting a hand over her massive pinky. “Who did this to you?”

“Ah, my dear.” Cotera pulled together a strained smile. “I was hoping you would stop by. I—“ A sharp inhale, followed by a soft hiss. “I am not quite myself.”

“Who did this to you?” Wild demanded once more.

Cotera sighed, leaning more heavily over the edge of her pod. “A strange moblin. It was thrice the size of any normal moblin. It caught me by surprise as I was aiding a weary traveller and bit me—well, you can see where.” The sickly green wound was impossible to miss, even in the low evening light.

“What can we do?” Wild asked. “How can we fix this?”

“I was hoping you would ask that.” Cotera straightened some. “This strange moblin resides at the top of Hebra Mountain, in a cave made by its own hands. There, it watches the world and waits.”

“What for?”

“I’m not sure,” Cotera admitted. “But my sisters saw it pass and have been keeping an eye on it. News travels quickly in our world, and travellers have told tales of the towering moblin watching them cross the mountains. If you can travel to the Hebra Mountains and gather some venom from this beast before the month ends…”

“Before the month ends?” Wild echoed.

“I’ve not much time left,” Cotera said. She glanced down at her left arm, where the webbing of infection crawled up toward her heart. “My magic is holding the venom back as best as it can, but it isn’t strong enough to repel it. I’ve got a month at best.”

Wild inhaled sharply, squeezed Cotera’s pinky. “We’ll head out at first light. The journey is a week long to the Hebra, but we will make it in time for you. Hold on, Cotera.”

Cotera smiled, soft and genuine. “Thank you my dear. I am afraid even this conversation has worn me out. I will return to my fountain now and rest. The less time I spend out here, the better. I will return only when you knock.” And with that, she pushed herself back and slid down into her pod once more. The fountain closed up behind her, and the world went quiet.

*

“How’s your headache?”

Worse than earlier. “It’s alright,” Four murmured, worried anything louder might make his head throb.

Sky hummed disbelievingly. “Wild’s elixir didn’t help much?”

“Not as much as I’d hoped,” Four confessed, caught in his lie.

“Do you want me to play that song for you? Maybe sleeping it off will help.”

Four wanted nothing more, had no doubt Sky’s song would lull him to sleep swiftly. But he would wake with the same headache if he didn’t do something about it now. “I think I might go for a walk first.”

“A walk?” Sky asked. “I think resting might be best, Smithy.”

Four’s eye twitched. “Walking always helps,” he said. “A bit of quiet helps my headaches.”

“Oh,” Sky said.

“I didn’t mean—” Four blew out a breath, frustrated. “Sorry. It’s not you, I just need a little space when I’m in this much pain.”

“It’s really that bad?” Sky asked. He reached out as if on instinct, his fingers dancing over Four’s temple, before he pulled away quickly. “Sorry. I should have asked first.”

“It’s okay.” Four didn’t mind the touch as much as he thought he would have, in such a state. Sky had been so kind and considerate of him from day one, had been trying to help all evening. Of everyone in the group, Four found himself most drawn to Sky. “I won’t be long,” he promised. Made to turn away, only to pause when Sky halted him.

“At least take Bunny with you.” Bunny. So, the rabbit had a name, now. “I don’t like the thought of you out there, in pain and alone, and animals can help with stress. Besides, I think he might need the quiet nearly as much as you.” True to Sky’s words, Bunny looked irritable; his ears twitched, eyes strangely narrowed in a Hylian-like indicator of annoyance, as if the world around him was far too loud for his comfort. Four of all people could understand how Bunny felt.

“Alright.” Carefully, he took Bunny into his arms, wary of the rabbit lashing out and biting him as he had with Warriors. When Bunny settled in his arms, settling his head over Four’s shoulder quickly, as if to hurry him out of the noisy room, Four turned back to Sky. “I’ll be back soon, promise.”

And with that, he turned and strolled out of the inn. Brisk night air washed over him as he left the stuffy space, and Four took a deep breath of it, relishing in the chill to his lungs, in the way it grounded him. The door slammed shut behind him, forcing a shard of pain through his skull, and he was reminded as to why he was out here.

“Let’s get away from here for a bit,” Four murmured to Bunny, smiling when Bunny pressed closer as if in agreement. He tried to ignore the fragments within him arguing on this strange reaction as he began the short walk to the hill Wild had taken them up earlier. Rather than continue on into the forest, Four settled at the crest of the hill, just behind the strange dungeon of Wild’s. Here, he could see all of Kakariko beneath him, glittering with the intermittent light of fireflies and amber flames of torches. Were Sky to follow him, Four would know swiftly.

“Here we go.” He set Bunny on the grassy hill next to him. He let the rabbit be, watching as he curled up in the grass and settled his head over his front paws, eyes drifting shut. As much as he wanted to do this alone, he couldn’t argue against Bunny’s company being soothing. Sky had been right.

Now, he hoped his fragments would stay quiet and leave Bunny to rest.

“Sorry about this,” Four said as he unsheathed his sword, running his finger down the flat edge, a ball of disdain swelling within him. This sword had been the source of so much strife within him. He had saved all of Hyrule with it, and now he had paid the price for it. Bunny looked up at him, warily eyeing off the sword, as if he worried Four would sink it through his middle.

Instead, Four raised the sword to the sky and let its magic course through him. In his place, his four fragments appeared.

“What is wrong with you?”

Green heaved a sigh. They hadn’t even been split for a second.

Blue shoved him back. Green took it in stride, letting the other channel out his frustration on him. If he did so now, their Goddess-awful headache would be better once they re-fused. “You made us look weak in front of one of the other Heroes.”

“I could have come up with a solution,” Vio agreed. “I was so close.” The darkness etched beneath his eyes said otherwise, but Green wasn’t here to argue. He was here to bear their fury so this damn headache would go away and they could hopefully sleep tonight.

“But Sky offered!” Red countered, the only other person on Green’s side earlier. “Maybe this is our solution. That song helped the other day—we haven’t slept that well in months.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Blue hissed. “We don’t need their help.”

“Asking for help isn’t a weakness, Blue.”

“Of course, it is! We only had each other on our quest; no one else wanted to help.”

“Did you forget about Ezlo—”

“Don’t say his name!”

“I’ve been reading up on sleeping patterns,” Vio said. “If you had just waited like I said, we wouldn’t need to rely on anyone else.”

“You know where that gets us,” Blue agreed.

“Well, not asking for help hasn’t done us any favours, either!”

With a sigh, Green sat down by Bunny, who had gone from half-asleep to wide awake and alert. The little pink rabbit gazed between the four of them, his eyes wide. “Sorry about this,” Green murmured. “I know you wanted to rest, but if we don’t get this out now…” Green mimed an explosion. “Our headache gets worse and worse.”

Bunny stared at him.

“Don’t worry, they’ll burn themselves out soon enough. I have a sure-fire way to calm everyone down afterwards. You can join too, if you’re up to it. Do you… do you want to sit in my lap? I know you like cuddling up in our Traveller’s lap often.”

Bunny still stared at him. After a few long moments where Green’s mind drifted back to Vio’s thoughts on the curious, too-intelligent critter, Bunny dipped his head. Overthinking Bunny’s quirkiness had already kept them up for far too long, and so for tonight, Green let it be. He was much too tired to think clearly, anyway. He picked Bunny up slowly, wary of being bitten despite the clear nod he had been given. Once Bunny was settled in his lap, he sifted through their bag, pulling out the old, well-worn book their grandfather had given them so many years ago. One corner had the gentle waves of water damage, and halfway through, a smear of red from that one time Vio had been eating berries and reading simultaneously. Yellow spots of age littered the edges of the pages. Green loved it and all its imperfections.

And sure enough, their fighting settled down after another minute, heavy sighs replacing heated words. Green waited patiently as the three pieces of himself settled down in front of him, one by one, as they always did. Blue was last, his arms crossed and his lips twisted. Fury still glittered within his eyes, and so Green opened the book to Blue’s favourite chapter.

He began to read aloud, eyes darting up from the pages every so often to gaze at his brothers, checking in to make sure the book was having the desired effect; Red curled up before Green had said his first word, and Vio leaned back on his hands, a content smile on his lips and his eyes shut. Blue still glared off to the side, but his shoulders had relaxed, and his hands were still and calm, telling Green the display was more for show than from any real irritation.

By the time Green finished reading the chapter, his brothers’ breathing had settled, their eyelids drooping. Bunny had drifted off completely in his lap, and Green felt a sense of achievement at having managed to put the anxious rabbit to sleep with his voice, alongside his restless and frustrated brothers.

Green let them rest for a few minutes, before he shook his brothers back to awareness. As nice as it would be to stay here all night, they had someone waiting for them back at the inn. His brothers were compliant, having spent their energy in shouting at him and each other, and together, they re-fused back into Four once more. This time, Bunny gave no reaction; he was out.

Four scooped the little rabbit up into his arms, waiting until Bunny had shifted in his sleep and gotten comfortable before beginning a slow walk back to the inn, wary of jostling his precious load. Waiting in the torchlight just outside the inn was Sky, his arms crossed and his chin to his chest. Four chuckled, nudging him as he passed to wake him. With a start, Sky awoke, eyes widening when he saw Four, and he began to apologise profusely. Even the most irate of his pieces couldn’t find fault in Sky’s actions—he felt warmth instead, for Sky’s intentions, and his kindness.

That night, under the guidance of Sky’s harp, Four slept all the way through, his headache gone.

Chapter Text

The weather held out for the first half of their journey to the Hebra Mountains, all bluebird skies and shimmering, sunny days. Near the end of their second, long day of travelling, heavy grey clouds swept in, darkening the land in what felt to Wind like a matter of minutes. Thunder rolled in next, with the daunting promise of more to come, and with wide eyes, the group had hurried along, wind whipping at their backs, to the nearest stable—Wild had called back the name, but his words had been swept up in the gales, and Wind hadn’t caught a single syllable of it. As the stable appeared over the crest of a hill, the sky split open above them and frigid, fat drops of rain battered down on them. With a shriek, Wind pushed his legs harder, racing toward the stable, adrenaline rushing through his veins when the world flashed white. Thunder boomed above, and then Wind was at the front of the group, terror pushing him into a full-bodied, panicked sprint.

Wind made it to the stable first, his boots thump-thumping on the old wooden floorboards. The stablehand’s head whipped up at his arrival, the brutal storm outside masking his presence until he was directly before her.

“Ah, good evening! My apologies, I didn’t think I would have any guests in this weather.” The rest of his group came thundering in at her words, and her eyes widened in alarm. “Uh—I mean—I am not sure I can accommodate a group so large, my apologies, I—”

Another boom of thunder. Wind jumped, and the stablehand’s words were lost to him. Time and Warriors were there to speak with her, and Wind left the hard work to them, turning his attention to peeling off saturated socks and boots, setting them out by the raging fire at the very back of the stable. Lightning flashed outside, lighting up the stable. Wind squeezed his eyes shut until the effects left upon his eyelids vanished, his heart thumping in his chest in time with the rolling thunder.

“Aw, Bunny, yer all soaked!” Eager for a distraction, Wind turned his attention to Twilight and Bunny.

As he joined them, Twilight looked up. In his hands was a dark towel, now damp from Bunny’s fur. “Evenin’, Sailor.”

“Rancher,” Wind said. Thunder rumbled above. Wind crossed his arms and straightened his back. “How is he?”

“Poor thing’s shakin’ like a leaf. I think ‘e’s freezin’.” Twilight adjusted the towel to a dryer patch, then set about gently towelling Bunny down.  “I wan’ ‘im to rest by the fire after this. Ye look like ye should too, Sailor; yer freezing.”

Wind cursed himself. He had thought he was hiding his shaking much better than he was, then. “Yeah, okay,” he murmured, now that he had been caught. At least Twilight hadn’t quite realized exactly why he was shaking.

Wind slipped away, ducking beneath a hand that promised to ruffle damp hair and squeezing around five other companions, all talking over each other as they tried to organize tonight’s accommodation. Wind tuned it all out, quickening his pace as he saw the welcoming fire. He dropped down before it, as close as he felt comfortable with, and set his bag in his lap, digging through it for a towel and some dry clothes.

Once he had shucked his sopping wet day clothes, strung them out to dry, and thrown on his comfortable pyjamas, Wind settled by the fire, inching a little closer when lightning lit up the room again in blazing white. Maybe, if he pushed himself close enough, the crackle and warmth and light of the fire would banish the storm from where it crawled over his shoulders and pierced his memories.

Another boom. Wind flinched, squeezing his eyes shut against the painful memories pressing up against the backs of his eyelids. Tried to focus on the warmth and the crackle of the fire washing over him and not the hard wooden floorboards of the ship swaying beneath him and—

A small sound. Wind looked up, curious. At some point, Twilight had dropped Bunny off beside him to dry and settle. Alone, Bunny shook like a leaf in a gale. He had curled up into a tight, likely painful ball, his face pressed down into his front paws and his eyes squeezed shut, just as Wind’s had been seconds ago. Another soft sound—a cry from Bunny, weak and whimpering.

Wind gasped, understanding washing over him.

“Hey,” Wind said, just loud enough to be heard over the storm. “Everything alright, Bunny?”

Bunny’s head whipped up. He stared at Wind with wide violet eyes, glistening with unshed tears, and Wind’s heart twisted. He had never seen an animal cry before.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” He shifted closer, but didn’t yet touch Bunny. He had seen the bandages on Warriors’ hand, had seen the nasty wound left behind by Bunny’s teeth. “Are you scared of the storm, little guy?”

Another boom of thunder that Wind barely noticed under his heavy concern for the rabbit. Bunny, however, let out a cry, scurrying closer to Wind and burying his face in Wind’s leg.

“Aw, that’s okay,” Wind murmured. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. Do you mind if I…” Carefully, he set a hand over Bunny’s shaking back. When Bunny leaned into his touch, he swept the rabbit up into his arms, cradling him close and pressing Bunny’s little face into his shoulder. “There you go. I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe.” Under his comfort, Bunny’s shakes began to settle quickly, and Wind understood Hyrule and Twilight’s infatuation with their newest member—Bunny was so soft and perfect to cuddle, and if his older brother protectiveness was running this high after mere minutes of interacting with the rabbit, then he could only imagine how whipped the other two were. And as Bunny heaved a sigh and relaxed completely into him, Wind knew he would die for this sweet little rabbit.

Lost in soothing Bunny as he was, Wind wasn’t prepared for another booming crack of thunder. He jumped with a soft eep!, head whipping around, wide eyes fixated on the outside world. With no doors in the stable, he could see the pounding rain, the world lit up by strikes of lightning. Fear turned in his chest. His breaths quickened.

Bunny let out a whine.

Immediately, Wind loosened his hold on the poor rabbit. “Sorry, sorry. Guess the storm startled me. Are you alright? That was a big one.”

Bunny was watching him thoughtfully, calm as ever under Wind’s comfort. He had been told Bunny was a little more intelligent that most beasts, but Wind hadn’t expected for the rabbit to be staring at him with genuine concern in his eyes.

That wasn’t any normal animal. Not even Wolfie seemed to understand to this degree, though Wind had his suspicions about the wolf.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Wind said, rather than the millions of questions in the back of his mind. “I’ll keep you safe tonight, alright? I promise. You can always come to me if this happens again—there’s no shame in asking for help.”

Bunny nodded slowly, another pebble on the ever-growing pile of Wind’s questions. But for tonight, with the raging storm outside, he would leave it be. He had a new friend to keep safe.

And if he comforted himself in the process, well then, no one else needed to know.