Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Being the wolf offered a perspective on the world Twilight couldn’t really put into words.

Most of it was sensory orientated. The change to his vision, flickers of movement jumping readily to his attention. The feel of dirt and grass underpaw. The wind stroking through his fur, the brush of tree bark against his whiskers. The sounds of the forest come alive, the smell of it all.

Gosh, the smell. It was without question the biggest difference. Everything became fuller, richer, deeper . The world had so much to say through smell alone—what had been there, how long ago events had occurred, what kinds of things had just passed through and what kinds of things lived where. It was useful for scouting, yes, and even more usefully it let him track a wild Link or two down when a portal mishap separated them, but more than anything it told the story of nature; of living.

When it came to the rest of the Chain, that was no different. Each of them, naturally, had their own unique scent, but like everything else they were beholden to the forces around them. The smell of Hylian blood indicated a hidden or unnoticed injury. An infected injury had its own smell to it, too, before it gave any visual signs. Thrice before Twilight had noticed sickness before it hit one of his companions. He could predict a dizzy spell from blood loss before it happened and nudge them into sitting.

He could also tell when someone in the Chain was stressed. It had a unique way of souring their scent. And, honestly, it gave Twilight a lot of insight to them he wouldn’t have otherwise. If someone was shaken from a fight, or having a bad morning, then he knew he needed to tread differently. 

Twilight’s senses weren’t as enhanced when he wasn’t the wolf, but he was finding the more frequently he transformed, the more certain traits began to… linger. Stress scents, he found, were particularly hard to shake. It was why he knew cold nights made Legend’s joints ache and that Warrior’s prickled with constant paranoia when they were in towns. That Hyrule kept more rations than anyone else stored away and hated being the center of attention. That when Time pushed them, it was always accompanied by a pungent worry, even when there was no describable cause. How he could tell when Four’s quiet was out of overwhelm and not thinking deeply, when Wind was loud and fidgety from anxiety and not just because he was being hyper. How he knew when Sky was exhausted from a restless night or content and sleepy, when Wild’s restless nature was from a good mood rather than anxiety.

Warriors had called it uncanny, once—Twilight’s ability to detect a subtle change in mood without any of the normal indicators. In some senses, he supposed that was a correct way to describe what he did. Most of his companions had perfected a perfect, impassable mask, and he knew he’d be irritated if he spent years doing that only for one person to bypass it by smelling something he couldn’t control . 

Twilight had memorized the stable, baseline state of his brothers’ smells months ago. He needed to, if he wanted to be able to understand the intricacies and nuances that popped up.

All of that to say, Time smelt… weird. 

Not always, of course! But there was something… different about him.

They’d been abruptly portaled right into a snowy monster camp, and in the aftermath of it all, Twilight had begun circling around and checking for wounds with a soft sniff in each of their directions. It was something he stood firmly by doing, when he was already shifted, since several somebodies liked to brush off injuries (hypocrisy, he knew, but still).

“No one’s hiding anything, are they?” Time asked him directly. Twilight shook his head, nosing obviously into Wind's side where he was most ticklish to ‘double check.’ Predictably, Wind whipped himself away with a loud expletive and a giggle, slapping Twilight away half-heartedly.

“That was once," Wild objected immediately to Time, quickly followed by Legend’s snarked, “Says you.”

Time gestured vaguely towards all of himself, body language loose with calm. “Check if you must.” His expression was neutral save for a slight amused quirk to his brows.

Dutifully, for the sake of the bit, Twilight padded over, reaching his snout out to sniff him over even though he didn’t think anything was wrong. Metal, monster guts, sweat, the fading dredges of adrenaline, and…

…huh?

Twilight did a full circuit around Time just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The odd smell remained. It was definitely coming from Time, but what was it? He nosed into the loose curl of Time’s hand briefly, before pressing closer, snuffling into his hip so he could try and discern what in the Three he was smelling.

“…Is he hiding an injury?” Hyrule asked eventually, as the seconds stretched by. 

“No, I'm not,” Time replied, seemingly just as confused as Hyrule. He stared down at Twilight, eyes pinching in concern. “What are you…?”

Embarrassingly, it took several heartbeats after Time trailed off before Twilight realized that, perhaps, his vigorous sniffing was a little weird. He reared back with a forceful sneeze, giving his fur a good shake as he stumbled away to transform. With a curl of shadow, he stood, nose wrinkled and lips curled back as he tried to think. 

Whatever was up with Time was something familiar, but frustratingly he could not place it. It was just… different. Weird.

Twilight sneezed again—briefly, in one of the little play sneezes he wasn't quite sure how carried over as a Hylian—and rubbed at his face. He breathed in deeply, taking in crisp mountain air and the smell of dead monsters to clear his pallet.

“Sorry,” Twilight said abruptly, feeling his cheeks and ears burn from more than just the cold. This was awkward. “You, ah. There was an… interestin’ smell on you.”

Time eyed him warily. “Interesting how?”

Twilight shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his tunic. He didn’t know how to possibly explain it. “Just… interestin’.”

“Wow,” Legend deadpanned. 

“From one of the bokoblins, you think?” Four asked. In the light of dusk, his eyes had an almost purple shine to them.

Twilight shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Didn't smell particularly like any of ‘em. But…” He frowned. Why was it so familiar? It itched in the back of his mind, just out of reach. It probably wasn't that important, but…

Twilight shook his head aggressively to clear his thoughts, ears slapping into the side of his head with the force. “Eh, maybe. What do I know.”

“Does anyone recognize where we are?” Time redirected. If he wanted a better explanation, his face didn’t show it as he turned to face the group.

Wild’s hand shot into the air. “Yes sir!”

Immediately, his words were followed by several (valid) groans of despair. The Hebra mountains of Wild’s era were vast as they were barren, with a deadly chill none of them wanted to contest with longer than they needed.

“Please tell me we’re at least close to a cave of some kind,” Warriors shuddered, hands moving to sweep his scarf up around his head.

Wild frowned in concentration, looking around briefly before pulling out his slate to check. While he did that, everyone else began tugging on what winter gear they had with various grumbles. Twilight sent a look around the group, before shrugging his pelt off to drape it around Wind’s shoulders—unarguably, he had the least cold weather gear, and his clothes were made of a thin fabric suited for much warmer weather.

“Keep track of this for me,” Twilight told him. Wind didn’t protest his fussing beyond a put up scowl that was closer to a pout than he probably wanted. Struck by an idea, Twilight flipped the hood of the pelt up and pulled in front of Wind’s eyes.

“You fucker,” Wind swore, using both hands to sweep the hood back up. Even still, the snout of the pelt fell a bit farther over his forehead. Twilight just grinned at him, heart warm. 

“Cave nearby,” Wild declared, earning several relieved sighs and shoulder slumps.

“Any farther away and Legend might just wear pants,” Hyrule commented slyly.

“Obviously I’ll put pants on when we camp, I’m not stupid,” Legend glared. His arms were folded firmly as he shivered, and Twilight could see the goosebumps speckled across his shins. Twilight would’ve spared his pelt for him, but he would’ve taken much more offense to it than Wind.

“Lead the way, then,” Time nodded.

Not needing any more encouragement, everyone began to follow Wild’s lead. Twilight let everyone filter past him before reaching up to grasp his pendant, allowing shadows to sweep across him until he was on four paws once more.

He shook himself off briefly before bounding to catch up to everyone. Just once, he allowed himself another sniff and found that strange smell lingering on Time still.

Weird.

By the time they reached the cave, night had long since fallen, and everyone was downright miserable.

“Champion,” Four said, breathless from the cold and eyes shining blue in the moonlight, “I think you have a very different definition of nearby than the rest of us.”

“Sorry,” Wild said, rubbing the back of his head. He at least had the decency to look sheepish, underneath the shadow of his cloak’s hood.

“I can't feel my ears,” Four moaned, tugging his hood down uselessly. He had latched onto Warriors’ arm an hour ago, but it didn't seem to have helped stave off the cold much.

Twilight gave a rumble of displeasure at the situation, padding a few ways off to shake off the snowflakes that had settled on him. He wasn’t that cold, but his paws ached from the ice packed under the snow, and his nose and ears had gone numb long before the sun had set.

“At least there weren’t any monsters,” Sky remarked cheerfully. With all of his layers, he seemed to be the least affected from the chill, but there was a concerning wheeze to his breaths.

“Oh, now you’ve gone and jinxed it,” Legend snarled from under Sky’s sailcloth.

Legend had refused to stop their trek to put pants on, because, ‘the cave is nearby, that would be a waste of time.’ But as the wind picked up and “nearby” proved to be a lot farther away than previously thought, Sky had blazed past all his protests—quite literally just forcibly shucking his sailcloth off and tucking it around him. Similarly, Warriors’ had wrapped his scarf neatly around Time’s head in a practiced motion, the blue fabric warming his breath and protecting sensitive ears.

“No, we should be safe,” Wild said with a shake of his head.

“Let’s maybe argue after we set camp up?” Hyrule suggested. He looked a little ridiculous, unruly hair stuffed into a woolen cap and an oversized cloak draped around him.

“Let’s,” Time agreed stiffly. 

“Twilight,” Warriors called, “Go sit with Four and Wind while we set camp. They need to warm up the most.”

Twilight barked quietly in acknowledgment. He caught the way Warriors’ eyes slid towards Legend and Time—both of whom were shivering as hard as the smallest members. Time’s eyes were a little glazed, and as Legend readjusted the sailcloth his red knees stood out starkly against the pale of his skin. They need it too, Warriors was saying. Twilight dipped his head in a nod to the unspoken command, making his way into the cave to where Wind had already rushed ahead and spread out his bedroll.

“Being small has its perks,” Wind whispered gleefully to Four with a grin as the other approached. “We don’t need to help set up camp at all.”

“Could do without the cold, though,” Four muttered, hands gliding over Twilight’s ears as he passed. “Jeez, your ears are freezing too!”

Twilight twitched the ears in question, the closest to a shrug he could manage as a wolf. As Four set out his own bedroll, Wind tugged off his boots, grumbling a slew of curses.

“My fuckin’ socks are wet, this is heinous,” Wind muttered. 

“Oh, Goddesses,” Four shuddered. “Not the socks.”

“Wolfie,” Wind held up grabby hands. “I mean, Twilight.”

With a huff, Twilight obliged—spinning around the pile Wind and Four had made their bedrolls into a few times before unceremoniously flopping to the floor. Wind snuggled into Twilight’s side the instant he laid down, pillowing on his shoulder with a sigh of relief. “So warm,” he mumbled, voice swallowed by fluff. 

“Scoot over,” Four grunted, tugging their blankets over the three of them and invading Wind's personal space.

With some shuffling and jabbed elbows, the two eventually settled in a pile of tangled limbs, Twilight curled around them protectively. He settled his head onto his paws, watching the cave entrance as the rest of the Chain set up camp. 

Hyrule was starting a fire, knelt on the stone with Wild’s slate powered on next to him. Legend bustled about helping set up everyone's bedrolls and strategically placing fire rods and other heat producing equipment around the camp edges. Sky and Wild were hooking up large cloths to block out most of the draft. Warriors was helping Time take off his armor with a frown, tutting to himself as he undid straps.

“Is this even worth it?” Sky complained, after earning a face full of cloth for the fourth time in a row. He didn’t seem to be very good at the job he’d been given.

“Yes,” Wild and Hyrule answered in unison. 

“The caves breathe,” Wild added, in the same casual tone as someone remarking on the weather. “We don’t want them doing that in this cold.”

“The fuck you mean they breathe?” Legend said. “That’s called airflow, Champ. .

“So breathing?” Wild replied with a little tilt of his head.

“You are actually joking me,” Legend said. “It’s a cave. It can’t breathe.”

“Have you never heard of a metaphor?” Warriors asked, leaning around Time’s head to raise an amused brow at Legend.

Legend flipped Warriors off.

“Sometimes it’s in, sometimes it’s out,” Hyrule shrugged, raising glowing palms to the neat stack of firewood.

“That’s personification,” Four corrected grouchily. His words were followed by a crackle of flame as the fire was lit.

“Finally,” Wind groaned into Twilight’s side.

“Swap with me?” Wild asked Hyrule. Hyrule nodded, brushing dirt off his knees as he moved to help poor Sky.

“Also, cave wind is basically the same as normal wind,” Four explained. “Pressure, density, weather,” his voice cracked with a yawn, “and all that stuff.”

“Exactly!” Wild nodded vigorously. “Barometric pressure!”

“Baro-what?” 

“Like, from the atmosphere?” Wild said. He scratched his cheek. Silence met his words.

“Um,” Hyrule said. “What is that…?”

“Dinner first,” Wind demanded before Wild could say anything. “If you take any longer I’m gonna lose it.”

“Be patient,” Time chided, wriggling his way out of his breastplate at last.

“I’m cold, I’m tired, my feet hurt, you said the cave was nearby and it wasn’t, and I’m starving!” Wind cried indignantly. “I’m allowed to complain! This sucks ass!”

“Hear ye,” Legend grumbled. He’d finished with everyone’s bedrolls and was sitting on his own, Sky’s sailcloth wrapped tightly around him like one would swaddle a baby as he pulled his Pegasus Boots off. It was honestly adorable.

“Why don’t you go sit with them?” Warriors murmured, repositioning his scarf so it was both wrapped around Time’s shoulders and covering his red ears from the cold. The words were clearly only intended for Time to hear, but Twilight couldn’t stop his ears from swiveling in their direction.

He’d noticed the Old Man’s shivering, but had figured he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and push through it. A false hope, evidently—stubbornness was in their blood, it seemed (thanks, Sky).

“I told you, I’m fine,” Time protested back, voice soft—somewhere between dismissive and reassuring. In any other situation, it probably would’ve worked. Of course, Time was a Link, with all the luck associated that came with the Hero’s Spirit, and as if to disprove his point, his entire body was wracked with a shiver a mere breath after his words were spoken.

“No you aren’t,” Warriors said in mild disbelief. “Your teeth are chattering. Actively.”

“A little cold won’t kill me.”

“That’s a terrible argument and you know it.”

“You’re shivering too,” Time pointed out. “We all are. I can help with camp. It’s pointless to—”

“Wrong,” Warriors interrupted. “You didn’t protest when I sent Wind and Four to rest. How is that any different?”

“They’re smaller, they lose heat faster,” Time dismissed.

“Exactly,” Warriors hissed, gripping Time by the shoulders. “And you were wearing armor that was stealing your body heat, making you lose heat faster. Go sit down, Sprite.” And then he shoved Time in their direction. 

Their eyes met across the fire. Twilight tilted his head. With a put on sigh and another nudge from Warriors, Time made his way over, arms curling around his midsection as he shivered again.

“You two settling in okay?” Time asked. Somehow, he managed to sound nonchalant.

“Mmph,” Four said, which might have been an attempt at words.

“Other than being starved?” Wind grumbled. “Yeah, I’m alright. Wolfie’s warm.”

Twilight thumped his tail a few times in agreement. Wind gave his flank a half-hearted pat.

“That’s good,” Time said. He faltered for a moment before settling himself down on the floor nearby—close enough to be considered sitting with them, but not enough to get any actual benefit. 

If Twilight were Hylian, he would tell him to get his ass over here. As it were, he was a wolf, and therefore could not talk. Settling for the next best thing, Twilight flattened his ears back in his best version of puppy-dog eyes and whined softly. Time turned to make eye contact. His face gave away nothing. Twilight wagged his tail a few more times.

Attention grabbed by the sound, Wind—who could, in fact, speak—propped himself up to throw a disgruntled look in Time’s direction. “What are you just sitting over there for? Get your ass over here.”

Goddesses, Twilight loved that kid. 

Something in Time’s countenance softened with an overwhelming fondness. “If you insist,” Time agreed, like that wasn’t the entire reason he was even there.

It took some shuffling around and grumbling, but eventually the three of them settled back down against Twilight: Time with Wind tucked under his arm, and Four clinging onto Time’s back, their legs piled together and blankets tucked around them to trap in the warm air. 

Twilight resigned himself to being used as a pillow all night.

Come morning, sure enough, everyone had more or less ended up in a loose circle around him.

Time, Wind, and Four had stayed right where they were, the heat slowly but surely returning to their bodies until limbs stiff with cold became loose and comfortable. After dinner, their growing pile was joined by Wild pressing himself into Twilight’s back, arm trying valiantly to wrap around him and only really succeeding in shoving his hand into Time’s hair. At some point in the night, the tangle of limbs known as Legend and Sky had wound up migrating (through a series of Legend-brought restless rolls) to end up against Wind’s back, Sky’s head awkwardly propped up on the Sailor’s hip.

After taking first watch, Hyrule had sprawled himself haphazardly across all of their legs like a blanket, face down and snoring softly. The only one who remained somewhat separate during the night was Warriors, but even still, as he took third watch (Twilight had been given second, considering everyone else clearly needed the rest) he had moved to sit close enough for Twilight to plop his head into his lap. Since then, however, he’d relocated himself to warm his hands at the fire.

Morning light was streaming through the gaps of the strung up cloth. Birds were beginning to chirp outside. The fire crackled softly. And Wild was wiggling against his back in a way that only meant that he was awake.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of persistent shifting around, Wild pulled himself away to sit up with a loud yawn and a rustle of fabric.

“Morning,” Warriors said quietly.

“Morning,” Wild replied, voice rough with sleep. “Time… yaugh,” he yawned again, “is it?”

Warriors laughed a little. “No, it’s Warriors.”

“Ugh,” Wild groaned good-naturedly. Warriors chuckled again, but said no more as he stretched his legs out.

The peace of the camp in the morning was something Twilight adored. Though he’d certainly rather be sitting next to one of his companions in a chosen silence, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t comforted by the scents of his pack—the Chain, he meant—surrounding him, calm and content, with all the stress of the day before melted off their shoulders.

As soon as Wild started on breakfast—a stew (how he made it so fast was an actual mystery) (Wind was insistent the cooking pot was magic) to help against the cold they were soon to face—Hyrule blinked awake with a start, limbs twitching.

“At ease, soldier,” Warriors cautioned fondly.

“Food,” Hyrule whined in greeting. “Oohhh, praise be.” He slowly pushed himself up to crawl hands and knees over to the fire and collapse against Warriors legs.

“Work up that much of an appetite?” Warriors raised a brow. His hand landed in Hyrule’s hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. It was the same motion he used when he pet Wolfie, and it was an excellent one, so Twilight had no judgment when Hryule sighed happily and slumped further against him with a sleepy mumble.

“Being cold uses a lot of energy,” Wild supplied. His eyes were bright, despite the slow way he was moving.

“Calories,” Four grunted. He was awake too, apparently. It took more effort for him to extract himself from the pile without waking up Time or Wind, but he managed—dragging a blanket with him and wrapping it over his shoulders like a cape.

“Everyone’s up bright and early this morning,” Warriors commented lightly.

“Mmm,” Hyrule said into Warriors knee. Four grunted again as he scooted over and curled up against Wild’s back, eyes reflecting amber red in the firelight.

“Mostly up,” Warriors corrected himself, unbelievably fondly. It wasn’t often the Captain let himself relax enough to show how truly sappy he was, but it was a welcome sight: his voice low and dripping with honey warmth, syrupy and sweet as he looked over them all.

The next 20 minutes or so went by in a companionable silence, with no other sound other than the quiet clinks and hums of Wild cooking and Warriors gently combing Hyrule's hair. Eventually, Wind stirred, but he was much less graceful than Four had been and somehow managed to kick Legend (“Wha’s fuckin’—?”) and Sky (“Aammm’sleepinnn’—”) in the head and stomach respectfully, which roused them from their slumber, until the only one not yet awake was Time. And that was unusual, but no one made any moves to wake him.

Another 20 minutes went by, wherein breakfast was served to everyone but Time and Twilight (rude).

“Is the Old Man seriously still asleep?” Legend asked. He was still grumpy from being woken up, but the concern in the words were genuine. 

“Apparently,” Wild replied, mystified. 

Time was normally one of the first of them awake in the mornings. His adventures and work on the ranch made sure of that. It was weird for him to sleep in when they were camping in the wilderness and not cozied up in an inn.

“He did seem kind of out of it last night,” Four frowned.

“He was wearing plate armor, of course he was out of it,” Legend scoffed. He gave a particularly forceful jab to where he’d been stoking the fire.

“Yeah, he was really cold,” Wind added, tugging Twilight’s pelt tighter around his shoulders.

Now slightly concerned, Twilight twisted his head around to gently sniff Time. He half expected to find a sickness smell on him with the fuss everyone was making, but the only unusual thing was the same strange smell from the day prior. Twilight pressed his nose into Time’s shoulder with a more aggressive sniff. The smell didn’t change.

“Maybe he’s sick?” Hyrule suggested, breaking the hush that had fallen over the camp. “Twilight did say he had an interesting smell on him.”

“He’s been able to tell when we’re sick before, though,” Sky countered. “He would’ve said something if that was the case.”

Making up his mind, Twilight did his best to carefully crawl away from Time’s hold. The man made a soft noise, but did nothing other than curl in on himself. Pausing to shake himself off and stretch—to the immediate chorus of Aww, big stretch! from several of his companions—Twilight plodded his way on sleepy legs to the pile of Time’s equipment.

With some thorough investigating, Twilight found that the strange scent was on every item Time owned, and had been for maybe a few weeks. That didn’t indicate sickness at all. Not only did it not smell like it, sick scents usually hit a day or so before symptoms showed. Whatever was going on with Time had existed for a while.

Twilight padded back to sniff Time again, just to truly confirm his suspicions. 

“Is he sick?”

Shadows curled as Twilight transformed back. “Nah,” he said, frowning down at Time’s figure. “He’s… probably just tired?”

Even as he said them, Twilight quite didn’t believe the words. Being tired wouldn’t produce this sort of scent.

“Sky is awake before him, though,” Hyrule pointed out. “Sky. That’s like… not possible.”

“Only because Wind kicked me,” Sky muttered into his stew. 

“I wasn’t trying to!” Wind defended immediately, far too loudly. “It’s not my fault you were right by my feet!”

“Guys,” Warriors tried to interrupt. 

“We literally weren’t, we just happened to be next to you,” Legend fired back.

“For warmth! Not violence!” Sky added. The two of them were still huddling together under Sky’s sailcloth, their arms linked and Sky’s chin hooked over Legend’s shoulder. It was a sweet sight, ignoring their murderous expressions.

“I wasn’t being violent, I was just- waking up! Innocently!”

“You stopped being innocent the moment you disturbed me,” Sky threatened back, incredibly ominously. Legend nodded solemnly in agreement.

“Y’all’re gonna wake him up,” Twilight interjected, gesturing down towards Time. He didn’t look any closer to waking up than he had an hour ago, but with the racket they were making he probably would. It was the principle of the thing.

“You did not seriously just say y’all’re.”

“Quiet, Legend.”

“Well, breakfast is ready, and he might be upset we didn’t wake him…” Wild trailed off. If there was anything Wild was stubborn about, it was feeding everyone in the Chain.

“Breakfast,” Twilight whispered back, immediately and intensely distracted by the yawning hunger in his stomach.

“Shoot, you haven’t eaten either!” Wild realized. His hand thwacked into his forehead. “I’m sorry, Twi,” he apologized, already turning to serve another bowl. Lured by the promise of food, Twilight abandoned his post at Time’s side to sink down onto crossed legs next to the fire.

“Ohh, bless,” Twilight groaned, stuffing a large spoonful into his mouth the second the steaming bowl was in his hands. It was warm and spicy on his tongue, and the roof of his mouth was totally going to be burnt later, but he didn’t even care because it was cold out and he was tired and it might have been the best thing he’d eaten, ever.

“If he’s still sleeping, he probably needs it,” Hyrule said wisely.

“Food is important, though, and he can always go back to sleep…”

“Not all of us can nap like you do, Sky.”

“He's old, though, he can just “rest his eyes” like every other old person and then boom—!” 

“Quiet,” Warriors hissed.

“—out like a candle!” Wind snapped his fingers for dramatic effect.

“He's like, 30, he's not actually old. Old people don’t do that until they’re like, 50.”

“Uh, yes he is. He’s the old man. Duh.”

“For our lifestyle, being in his 30s makes him old.”

“Allegedly in his 30s,” Wild reminded. “Who knows what the truth is.”

“His wife, probably.”

“I think he's 67!”

“You grew up in a cave, Hyrule,” Legend sighed. “I’m not trusting you to estimate how people age.”

“Well that’s just rude. And hey, so did you!”

“Why are we even arguin’ about this again?” Twilight asked, before they could get into it.

“We’re Links,” Warriors said, fond and exasperated in one. “Any deviation from the status quo is stressful, and Goddesses know we can’t be normal about it. Personally, I say let him sleep.”

“Time can eat whenever, but going back to bed isn’t always so simple,” Four—always one of the more sensible ones in any given situation—pointed out. 

Legend snorted. “Don’t we know it,” he muttered wryly. 

Sky raised his hand. “Does this mean I can go back to bed?”

“…Sure, you can. We could all use the rest, I suppose,” Warriors said slowly. 

“Okay,” Sky mumbled, eyes already slipping shut. “Yay.” 

“Naptime!” Hyrule cheered, moments before flopping face-first into the ground.

“Dude,” said Legend, who Sky had fully latched onto with both arms and was now softly breathing into the neck of, “Why didn’t you tell him to lay down first?”

Warriors lips twitched into a satisfied little smirk. “You two seemed perfectly content where you were.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Legend warned. “It’s cold as balls and the sailcloth is still warm. This is tactical.” Notably, he kept his voice nice and low and made no move to shrug Sky off. In fact, he readjusted so Sky would be more comfortable. It was adorable.

“Tactical cuddling?” Warriors repeated, delighted.

 “Aww,” Twilight said around his spoon. “Ya do care!”

Legend gave him a scandalized look.

“Finish chewing before you talk, Rancher,” Warriors wrinkled his nose. Twilight flipped him off.

“Wait, guys,” Wind said suddenly, grabbing onto Four’s shoulders in excitement, “I think he’s waking up anyways.”

Everyone grew silent before they all turned to look at Time in unison.

Sure enough, the man of the hour was shifting around slightly, face twitching. A few seconds passed. Time’s face tightened, entire body shuddering as he curled in on himself for just a precious few moments.

And then he lurched upward to vomit over the side of his bedroll.

“Ew!” Wind shrieked immediately, as was his due diligence as a 13 year-old.

“Eughoonoo,” Four said immediately after, face pale, as was his due diligence as a 16 year-old (three years weren’t much of a difference in this department).

“Oh no,” Sky gasped awake, followed by Wild’s incredibly mild, “Uh oh,” and a, “Eugh, yikes,” from Legend. 

By the time Twilight had safely set down his bowl of half-eaten breakfast, Warriors had practically teleported across camp to Time’s side.

“Easy, soldier," Warriors murmured softly, hand landing on Time’s back.

Time vomited again.

“Eww!” Wind shrieked again, with great feeling.

Twilight quickly found his way to Time’s other side, making a soft sound of sympathy as he placed a hand on Time’s shoulder and found it shaking. “Relax, Wars ‘n I gotcha,” he soothed, leaning forward to swipe Time’s bangs up with his free hand. It was an awkward position, straining several muscles, but he’d manage.

“…Fuck,” Time whispered, thready and breathless. He shuddered under Twilight’s hand once, twice, and then vomited again.

“Goddesses,” Warriors laughed a little, disbelieving and concerned. 

Time coughed a few times, hacking up some spit and shivering. Mercifully, he did not throw up again. Time groaned in misery, but it came out far closer to a whine than the man probably wanted.

“You feelin’ sick?” Twilight asked softly. He moved his hand from Time’s hair to feel his forehead. “Not runnin’ a fever, at least.”

Time shook his head, leaning back into Warriors’ steady arm. His face was still pinched, skin a little pale. “Don’t think so,” he rasped. “Just… nausea out of nowhere.”

Warriors tutted, pulling a handkerchief out of nowhere and pressing it into Time’s hand. Time gave a grateful smile that looked more like a grimace, wiping his face clean as he sunk further against Warriors’ hold

“Let me check?” Hyrule offered suddenly, spawning in at Warriors’ side.

“Mother of- goodness gracious, Hyrule!” Warriors scolded, free hand flying to his heart.

Hyrule’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Goodness gracious?”

“Dinner last night must not have agreed with me,” Time said, ignoring both of them. He took in a few steadying breaths. “Thank you for offering, though.”

“Let me check anyways?” Hyrule said. He wiggled his fingers.

“…Sure,” Time agreed. He seemed more alert to his surroundings, but judging by his face, it didn’t seem like throwing up had helped with the nausea very much. 

Hyrule’s tongue poked out a little in concentration, but after half a minute elapsed he pulled his hands away with a frown. He looked incredibly deep in thought, and did not speak for another half minute before he jerked in realization. “You’re definitely not sick, or poisoned, but…”

Time’s face shuttered. “There’s a but?” he asked, voice still a little whiny. Twilight didn’t blame him—vomiting even once was terrible to begin with, let alone three times.

“There’s… it’s probably nothing!” Hyrule lied terribly, cheery smile strained. His eyes shifted over to Twilight for just a moment, before going back to Time.

“But there’s something?” Warriors pressed. His brows were drawn and serious.

Hyrule chewed his lip for a few seconds before replying. “There’s something,” he agreed. “I’m not really sure what, but I’ve never examined Time this closely, this long before. It’s probably a thing from one of his adventure’s, it doesn’t- it doesn’t feel bad, so I don’t think it’s related to this.”

“If you’re certain,” Warriors said after a moment.

“Ease up, Cap’n,” Twilight told him. He flicked Warriors in the nose for good measure, grinning at his offended scoff. “‘Rule ain’t one to lie, not about these things.”

“No, he isn’t,” Warriors grumbled. He sighed, shoulders slumping, and Twilight had to bite back a laugh. For all their posturing otherwise, Warriors and Legend were just as soft as the rest of them and twice as worried. It was as endearing as it was infuriating. 

“Maybe later you can look more?” Time offered.

Hyrule looked startled by the offer. “Oh- I mean, if you’re sure—” 

“Hello,” Wild awkwardly announced his presence, making everyone but Twilight jump. “I brought water, to wash your mouth, and then I’m making a tea that’s supposed to help with nausea.”

“Much appreciated,” Twilight smiled. Time nodded his own thanks to Wild, but didn’t reply.

After rinsing his mouth and taking a few sips, Time still looked queasy, but less like he’d sucked on a lemon, which was a marked improvement.

It took some prodding, but eventually Time allowed himself to be guided over to fire and plopped down into Sky and Legend’s laps. Legend didn’t even pretend to be upset at the invasion of his personal space, checking Time’s temperature and pulse the second he was in reach. Sky’s hand landed in Time’s hair, scratching heavy but rhythmic circles into Time’s scalp. That proved quite effective at bleeding the tension out of Time’s shoulders, though the man still attempted to protest that ‘all of this wasn’t necessary.’ Lucky for Twilight, he didn’t need to tell him how bullshit that was, since nearly every member of the Chain jumped at the chance to call him out for being an idiotic hypocrite. 

Twilight dragged Time’s bedroll—somehow unsoiled—away from the scene of the crime, while Warriors frowned at the pile of vomit before eventually just tossing his already dirty handkerchief over it with a shrug.

When the tea was done, Time thanked Wild sincerely, cradling the mug close to his chest. It seemed to help settle his stomach well enough, and by the time (hah) he was done with it, he proposed continuing on for the day.

“I’m ready to move. You said there was a stable nearby, correct?” Time asked.

Wild nodded. “We should get there before the sun sets, easy.”

“And you’re sure of that?” Legend questioned sardonically. 

“Yes! I already said sorry.”

“Boys,” Time chided. They both shut up. 

“How safe is the journey?” Warriors asked. He still seemed a little frazzled.

Wild thought for a moment. “Nothing super dangerous should be nearby.”

“Good,” Warriors nodded. He turned to Time. “I’m banning you from your armor.”

Time’s face twisted. “What—”

“Banned,” Warriors repeated. “You aren’t feeling well, and the last thing you need is to catch a cold on top of that. Wild says the journey is safe, and I trust him.”

“He also said this cave was nearby,” Four muttered, before stiffening like he hadn’t meant to say that. 

“Here,” Wind said, and then he threw Twilight’s wolf pelt directly into Time’s face. “Now you won’t be so cold!

“You still—”

Wind reached up and tapped at the feathered headpiece that normally came with Wild’s Snowquil set. “I’m a hero,” he declared. “I can survive being a little cold.”

By the dubious look Warriors shared with Twilight, he got the impression that wasn’t exactly true, but Wind was a force to be reckoned with when he’d set his mind on something.

Under the weight of eight heavy stares, Time finally relented with a tired sigh. “You’re right.”

Wind actually cheered in response.

“Of course we are,” Wild folded his arms sternly, giving their leader an unimpressed look. “The weather is just as much of a beast as any monster we could face, and far more deadly. If you don’t have the proper gear out here, you die, plain and simple.”

A grim message, but not untrue. 

“I’ll feel better with fresh air,” Time said, and that was that.

Twilight helped Wind and Warriors break camp, resigning himself to more sore paws and frozen noses. Being Wolfie had many benefits, but he feared any longer in the icy tundra and his hands and feet would be aching for days afterward.

It was a slow start to the day for them. Not the slowest, but still of note. While everyone chatted and finished lacing up their boots, Twilight hung back, shadows curling as he sniffed around. Announcing out loud I’m gonna go sniff your puke sounded mortifying, so he was using their propensity to shenanigans as a distraction to do just that.

No sickness or poison smells met him. It was just vomit. With that same damn smell.

Twilight stalked back, ears pinning in frustration. Clearly something was up with Time. He couldn’t exactly prove the smell was related to the vomiting, but he was suspicious. He’d just have to… gather evidence, so he was off of more than just intuition. Never-mind that his nose had yet to lead him astray, and his companions had always believed him when he told them he smelt something important. He’d find a logical concern first, if there even was one.

It was probably just a coincidence. 

(Twilight allowed himself another experimental sniff of Time.

The damn smell was still there.)

It was officially later, and Hyrule was officially freaking out.

To recap: earlier that day, Time had (so very generously!) given Hyrule permission to investigate his magic more thoroughly, so Hyrule could try and identify what he had detected that morning. That wasn’t the issue he was having, though, no—the issue was that he was detecting it, lots in fact, and he had zero clue how to explain it and even less clue why it was happening in the first place.

The stable they’d arrived in was warm and cozy, everyone there greeting Wild happily like old friends. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as some of the stables they’d stayed in before, which made it much less anxiety-inducing to linger in the common spaces. After a long, cold journey, Hyrule was grateful to settle himself by the fire and let the heat soak into his bones. With the rest of the Chain around him, Hyrule felt no fear. Aside from the fear of explaining what was wrong with Time.

Okay, wrong was maybe a little bit extreme, but there was… something. Something interesting, just like Twilight had smelt on Time earlier. Something… possibly related?

The man in question was settled with his head in Hyrule’s lap, eyes closed but tense as Hyrule rested his fingers glowing and careful against his temples. Time’s nausea had calmed down during the walk over, but he’d been exhausted by the time (hah) they’d begun a late lunch. So there Hyrule was, letting his magic flow over Time’s while Wild prepared a veritable feast for the entire stable.

Hyrule was infinitely grateful no one had questioned his innate magical abilities yet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get into the whole half-fairy thing, especially considering he didn’t know much about it either. He really, honestly hadn’t been joking when he said that he’d just… appeared in a field one day, young, scrawny, and scared. He knew they’d ask: was he born a fairy or a human (Legend)? Which was the mom and which was the dad (Wild)? Follow up: how in Farore’s lace-lined undies did that work (Wind)?

Hyrule’s face flushed at even the thought of the question. Not because he didn’t know what sex was, but because, well… he didn’t know either, okay, and he didn’t like thinking about it. He wasn’t exactly raised, by humans or faires, or anyone for that matter. He just… woke up one day. Or remembered waking up—if there was a before, he certainly didn’t know it.

Back to the point: there was something… up, with Time. Hyrule hadn’t been lying when he said nothing felt bad— there was no malicious intent lurking unseen in the corner of Time’s magiks. But there was something.

A… presence, for lack of a better word, of something. 

It was a small thing, really. Akin to tiniest of seeds under fresh soil, not yet even taken root. A beginning, soft and precious. A gathering of love. A collection that was something held close, tucked away from the dangers of the world. Something adored fiercely, that he was being allowed to witness. That he was being trusted with, implicitly, without hesitation or worry. It felt… monumental. Like a gift. Something to treasure. Something that was not quite yet something, but could be something. Would be something.

Hyrule had no fucking clue what it was. But the fairy in him sang for it. He wanted nothing more than to free his wings and chime in joy, fluttering and smiling in delight of it all. Yet the question remained, what is ‘it all’?

“Is he gonna live?” Wind asked dramatically, climbing over the couch to press against Hyrule’s back and stare at Time over Hyrule’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Hyrule joked, poorly concealing a grin. “He seems pretty diseased.”

Wind laughed in Hyrule’s ear. “Gone so soon,” he giggled. “Poor, poor Old Man.”

“I’m still awake, you know,” Time said flatly. He gave Wind an unimpressed stare through his eyelashes.

“Sometimes I can still hear his voice,” Wind sighed, going limp.

“Hyrule?” Time prompted.

This was the part where he lied. Expertly and smoothly, because he was famous for his conversational skills and social confidence. 

“You’ll be fine,” Hyrule told Time, pulling his hands away. That much was true, at least. He was confident about that. Now comes the hard part… “I didn’t, uh, actually find anything though. Thank you for letting me check, though,” Hyrule ducked his head with a bashful grin, which wasn’t part of the act.

He really was grateful—Time loved being as vague and cryptic as possible, and he kept much of himself closely guarded. But despite that, he’d let Hyrule in on something so vulnerable with such ease. It was hard not to feel flustered with the trust placed into his hands, especially with his instincts going haywire as they were.

“Of course,” Time said, like it was truly just that easy. He carefully sat up, hand moving to briefly ghost over his stomach. “I didn’t think it was anything bad. It very well could’ve been from the portal, it just might not have hit me until later.”

“That’s probably what it is,” Hyrule nodded, perhaps a tad too vigorously. Not what I’m sensing, though, he thought, watching with a careful eye as Time stood and went to talk to Wild. He also didn’t really think portal sickness had been what ailed him earlier either. He wasn’t sure if the thing and the throwing up were related, but it was… odd.

“Soo,” Wind trailed off. 

“What?” Hyrule asked. He couldn’t quite turn fully to look at Wind, considering the Sailor was flush against his back, but he did his best. 

“What happened to the thing you sensed earlier?” Wind asked, because he was a cheeky, perceptive bastard. “In the cave? You were makin’ some real weird faces just a second ago, so I know it’s still there, but you didn’t say anything to the old man. What gives?”

Hyrule deflated with a sigh. “It is,” he agreed. There was no use denying it. “But I don’t know what it is. Honest! And it’s not anything bad, it’s just not something I’ve felt before.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Wind said, and—

“What does that mean?”

“Well…” Wind shrunk back, and Hyrule took the chance to turn around so they were having a proper face to face conversation. Wind’s eyes darted around the stable in a headcount.

“Wind.”

“Okay, listen!” Wind waved his hands frantically, voice hushed. “This is just- I don’t want anyone overhearing because it’s really weird and embarrassing.”

Hyrule softened. Secrets were something of a coveted thing in the group—something he was eternally grateful for. It meant he didn’t have to explain what he didn’t want to, as long as it wasn't hurting anyone—like fairy ancestry and blood curses (okay, maybe that last one could hurt some people, but only in his Hyrule, probably!).

“Alright, alright, I hear you,” Hyrule soothed. “Do you wanna go outside for this, then?” 

“Yes,” Wind said immediately, and so they went.

“Where are you two—?” Warriors tried to ask as they passed him.

“Outside!” Wind answered sharply. He went to keep walking, but turned around when it was clear he wasn’t being followed—his hand tugging at Hyrule’s sleeve impatiently

“We’re just talking,” Hyrule smiled. He glanced around at their companions meaningfully, hand grabbing onto Wind’s to cease his tugging.

After a moment, it clicked in Warriors’ eyes. “Of course,” he said. He gave a little nod. Hyrule did not know what it meant. “Be safe.”

“Always, Captain,” Hyrule said. He saluted. A startled laugh escaped Warriors, and Hyrule promptly spun on his heel to scurry away in embarrassment. 

The air was cold and bitter outside, snowflakes whizzing past them as Hyrule hurriedly shut the door. Wind didn’t stop there, dragging him away from the stable into a little outcropping of trees.

“Where are we going? We’re already—”

Wind stopped abruptly. “Just here.” 

The cold nipped at Hyrule’s ears. Wind’s fingers were shaking as he gripped Hyrule’s own.

“Wind,” Hyrule said carefully. A gust of wind blew their scarves to the side. Concern flowered to life in his chest. What was it that Wind was so worried about saying? The Sailor had been so open about nearly every aspect of his journey and life, so to learn that he’d been keeping such a big secret was—

“I can see ghosts!" Wind blurted.

“What,” Hyrule said. He blinked a few times.

“I can see ghosts,” Wind repeated. Which.

Hyrule raised his free hand to count. “Well, first of all, I believe you, second of all, how, and third of all, how is this relevant to what’s going on with Time?”

“I was getting there!” Wind squawked defensively. “I can kind of- sense people’s souls, I guess?” Wind rubbed at the back of his head with his free hand. “It’s hard to explain, but Time’s is all—”

“What. Okay, no, back up, ” Hyrule interrupted. 

Wind had the audacity to look annoyed. “To what?”

“The sensing people’s souls part,” Hyrule hissed. Did that mean he knew? How much information did that power give him? “Explain that right now. Please.”

“Ohhh, right, yeah. I don’t even know where to fucking begin, it’s just a thing that I can do,” Wind said, not explaining. “So when you were doing your thing, I also was checking on him, and there was some, like,” Wind’s nose wrinkled, “I dunno. Wack ass shit going on.”

What a phrase. Wack ass shit. Hyrule would have to borrow that.

“Like… a little bundle? Of a thing?” Hyrule asked. If they were detecting the same thing, that would… well it wouldn’t really help, but it would be nice. 

“No,” Wind said, looking as confused as Hyrule felt. “Like.. I dunno, it was wavey-er than normal. But only just a little bit. What do you mean bundle? Is that the thing you were feeling?”

Hyrule ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking for a moment. “Sort of? It was almost like he was… gathering up little bits of his magic into a thing.” He gestured vaguely with his hands, twisting and grabbing at an invisible object as he tried to demonstrate what he felt. “But it wasn’t bad. I don’t think…”

“Ya think it’s different to the sickness?” 

“Totally. It’s weird, but I’m certain it isn’t harmful. I’m positive. The most sure of anything I’ve ever been in my life.”

Both of Wind’s eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. “That is a bold fuckin’ statement to make.”

“But it’s true, though,” Hyrule insisted. “Whatever this is, it’s a good thing.” He knew it deep in his bones, all the way into the gossamer wings he kept tucked away.

“His soul being wavey is a good thing?”

A very fair point.

“Well- I mean, I don’t know! That could be unrelated to what I’m feeling, I’m not a soul expert. Like I’ve said, Legend knows magic, I just do it.” 

“Well neither am I!”

“You’re the one who can see ghosts,” Hyrule retorted. “ Actually, since when? Have you always been able to do that?”

“It was after my second adventure,” Wind confessed. “I thought the seeing dead people thing would go away after the ghost ship thing, but it didn’t. Makes some eras… interesting.”

Hyrule’s heart dropped in one fell swoop. “Can you not turn it off?” He dreaded the answer, thinking to The Calamity that happened in the very era they stood in only a 100 years ago. If anything were to cause ghosts, it would be the mass destruction of Hyrule.

“Don’t know how,” Wind kicked at the snow, looking away. It was as hilariously ineffective as it was sad. But…

“Maybe I could try teaching you?” Hyrule offered. He had plenty of practice trying to reign in his senses, after all—with so much of himself already hidden, he couldn’t use any of the coping mechanisms that came naturally. He’d needed to learn how to reign himself in for just a moment when things got… overwhelming. 

Wind lit up.

“Seriously?!” he cried. His eyes were big and round, reminding Hyrule how young the Sailor actually was. For all Wind’s competence and prowess, it was easy to forget.

“It might not work,” Hyrule warned, before Wind could get his hopes too high. “Legend is the one who actually knows magic, I’m just really good at it. For all I know it could be impossible. But I’m more than willing to try.”

Before Wind could try and reply, they were interrupted by a voice calling after them.

“Hyrule! Wind!” Warriors voice called “Brunch is ready! Take your time, though!”

Both of their stomachs growled. 

“Later,” Wind insisted. Hyrule nodded, feeling a little excited despite himself.

As they trudged back to the stable, the incident that morning was gone from Hyrule’s mind—replaced by racing thoughts on how to best help his brother hone his abilities.

Wild didn’t care what Twilight and Hyrule said, Time was definitely sick. 

He trusted Wolfie’s nose and Hyrule’s magical sense, but it had been a week and Time was still waking up nauseous. 

He didn’t vomit every time, but it was a near thing, and it made the man reluctant to try and eat. It ebbed and flowed—a few of the days, it had seemed like it had faded away entirely, but just yesterday Time had outright refused to even try to partake in mealtime. It had taken nearly five minutes of cajoling for him to concede on snacking on some rations at various points throughout the day, but he’d eaten worryingly little. That morning, he'd thrown it all right back up. At the very least, he had managed a small bowl of soup that was mostly broth for a breakfast, but that still wasn't enough.

It was driving everyone up the wall with concern, and even though they tried to hide it, they weren’t very good. Twilight had been hovering more than thought possible, always a step behind Time (if he wasn’t busy herding everyone back to the group). Hyrule and Wind had mostly been off in their own world, but they kept throwing soul-searching stares in Time's way the second he wasn’t looking. Four had been quiet about it all, but he was watching everyone sharply. Warriors and Legend were bickering more than usual, with Warriors worriedly fretting over all of them as he wordlessly took charge. Curiously, Sky had become insistent on helping set up the majority of camp, no matter how tired he seemed. And Wild?

He was cooking. 

When they were still in his Hyrule, he’d gone out on a massive shopping trip. Part of it was to catch up with old friends, and admittedly they had been running low on some things, but mostly he’d been preparing for his inevitable stress cooking. Like a storm on the horizon, he had known day one that it would arrive.

Not that his cooking was without merit—Wild was determined to find something that was easy enough for Time’s stomach. There wasn’t much he could do to help otherwise, anyways. Not with how Time kept insisting he didn’t think he had an illness.

“Not sick my ass,” Legend muttered. He had joined Wild by the cooking pot as he prepared dinner, gaze fixed on Time.

Wild hummed noncommittally. He'd decided on chicken noodle soup, for that night—something that he could easily add helping herbs to Time's portion of when it was ready.

“Twi says he doesn’t smell sick,” Wild said.

“And you believe that?”

“No,” Wild smiled a little at Legend’s affronted expression. “But I trust his nose as much as my eyes, and it's strange he doesn't smell like he should. Something weird is going on, I think.”

Legend arched a brow. “It’s called being sick, Champ. He's been irritable all week.”

“To be fair, I’d be annoyed too with all the hovering,” Wild said lightly. With a spare spoon, he took a sip of the broth. Hmmm…. needs more salt.

“That’s not quite it,” Legend frowned. The light of the fire sent shadows dancing across his face. “I mean, he’s probably getting kind of sick of it, but just- look at him.” 

Wild looked, to where Time was leaning into Warriors’ side: eyes closed and breaths soft. Twilight, in the form of Wolfie, was curled up in Time’s lap, head on his paws and ears perked up as he watched the camp with burningly blue eyes.

“He’s letting them,” Legend murmured, leaning in close so they weren’t overheard. “You know how he gets when he’s injured out on the road. He only puts up with this much ‘hovering’ if he’s actually feeling unwell. Why would he do that if he wasn’t sick? Nausea doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

“You have a point,” Wild agreed, because he wasn't actually denying that Time was some sort of sick, but he wanted to stress, “but I really do trust Twilight when he says Time doesn't smell sick. Something weird is going on. Do you think it's magical?”

“Hyrule would’ve sensed it,” Legend shook his head. “Or I would’ve. This has to be physical. It just… must be something the rancher isn’t used to.”

“Well… what are we supposed to do? Take him to a healer?”

It was something both Four and Warriors had suggested days ago, but they’d been in Hyrule’s… well, Hyrule, and there wasn’t much in the way of healers there.

“You’re gonna go talk to him,” Legend said.

“…Me?” Wild asked. He pointed to himself in disbelief. 

“Yes, you.”

“Why,” Wild asked.

“He’s most likely to listen to you,” Legend said, like that was obvious. Which. What. 

“Twilight’s too busy worrying to be of much use, and you basically stand in as a second Twilight. It works out,” Legend shrugged.

Wild squinted at him for a long, long moment. A second Twilight. Wild disagreed with that statement heavily—Twilight and Time had a very unique dynamic that Wild absolutely could not stand in for. What Legend was suggesting was simply not possible. 

“What exactly would I be talking about?” Wild asked slowly.

“His symptoms, so we can make an educated guess at what’s wrong.”

Wild squinted harder at him.

Legend stared back, unflinching.

“You stir the pot,” Wild told him, shoving the ladle into his hands. If Legend had a protest to that, Wild did not stick around to hear it.

It was easy enough for Wild to slink his way through the sprawling forms of the Chain, but as he approached, Twilight snapped his head around to curl his lips in a warning rumble that sent Wild stumbling to a stop.

The instant their eyes met, Twilight relaxed, ears swiveling back in guilt as he whined apologetically.

“Did Wolfie just growl at you?” Wind asked over the hush that had fallen the camp. He sounded both shocked and delighted.

“I probably startled him,” Wild said, which was enough to make everyone else shrug and move on. Warriors, who had been with Twilight the entire time, didn’t seem convinced. 

“Thanks,” Wild snarked to Twilight. Twilight had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

“Wild,” Warriors greeted with an upturned nod. Wild gave him a little wave, crouching down to peer at Time’s face.

“How you holdin’ up?” Wild asked him.

Time’s eye slowly peeled up. His face was smushed into Warriors’ collarbone, so Wild had to tilt his head to the side so their gazes met. 

“Ill,” Time said, closing his eye. 

How useful, Wild thought and just barely did not say. 

“Same old same old?” Wild said again. He reached a hand out to check Time’s temperature, but was interrupted again by the curl of Twilight’s lips.

Warriors exchanged a befuddled look with Wild, free hand pressing in Twilight’s snout in a silent reprimand. Twilight huffed out his nose, but stayed put, looking appropriately guilty.

Upon inspection, Wild didn’t find any fever. Time shifted under his hand, eye opening again to give Wild a blank expression. 

“No fever,” Wild said, more to himself than anything. “How about a headache?”

“Mm,” Time hummed descriptively. 

“Is that yes or no?”

“Just nausea,” Time grumbled, shifting again to hide his face into Warriors’ scarf. “I’ll be fine for dinner.”

“Good,” Wild breathed a sigh of relief. “Is there anything else I can—”

“I told you Wild, I’m fine,” Time snapped. The raw irritation in his voice was profound. “Leave it.”

Under Warriors hand, Twilight growled another soft warning. 

“Ohhh-kay,” Wild replied, lost for words. Time didn’t get so swiftly irritated ever. Maybe he was more annoyed by the hovering than they all thought…?

Warriors’ mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times. He looked properly astonished now.

Time sighed heavily. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped,” he apologized. “I’m just… not feeling the best.”

Wild nodded rapidly in understanding, shuffling back as he did so. Mission failed. Mission so failed.

“Well?” Legend asked when Wild sat down. 

“No dice,” Wild shook his head. He leaned in closer to whisper, “And Twilight growled at me.”

“Rancher?” Legend’s brows furrowed. “That’s odd.”

“You’re telling me. He’s probably just picking up on Time’s emotions, but still…” Wild frowned.

“Well that bodes well,” Legend snorted. 

“I hope he eats,” Wild whispered, stirring the noodles sadly. “He’s barely had anything the last two days…” 

Legend scowled, eyes dark. “If he doesn’t, I’m shoving it down his throat whether he likes it or not. I’m just glad we haven’t fought anything yet.”

“Oh, absolutely. Me too.”

They got attacked the next morning.

Because of course they did. They were Links. Who else would this happen to? 

Hylia has such a sense of humor, Wild thought as he fired an arrow. Literally the day after we spoke it aloud! The next day!

All things considered, the fight was going well. Twilight, in the form of Wolfie, was mauling the enemies with a newfound viciousness—following the heels of Sky, who was snarling in anger more than actual literal wolf (for some reason?). 

Or, well. It had been going well right up until Wild’s attention was grabbed for just a second too long. In his defense, Warriors’ had just done a sick flip, fancy scarf swishing and armor glinting in the sun, and Wild had chronic “oooh shiny thing that demands all of my attention this instant ” disease. 

Just a moment was all it took for a bokoblin club to smack him in the side of the head and send him careening to the ground. 

Wild must’ve passed out for a moment, because he woke up with spotty vision and the last of the monsters getting speared by Legend’s Tempered Blade. 

“Ow,” Wild mumbled to the grass. Ouch, ow, owie. The morning light was piercing in his eyes, aggravating the pound of his skull. At least he had experience with head injuries…

“Wild,” someone gasped, and then there were feet thundering towards him and a pair of arms gently scooping up. 

Wild groaned in response, turning his head away from the sun. When a shadow fell over his face, he looked half lidded upward to where Time’s concerned face swam above him.

“Champion,” Time said, breathless and worried. “Are you alright?”

“Ugh,” Wild replied. He gave an experimental wiggle of his fingers and toes, finding them responsive. “…Ow.”

Time’s hand carefully carded through Wild’s hair, searching for injury. Wild couldn’t help but squirm away as his fingers brushed against the spot where the club had connected.

“”M’okay,” Wild slurred, reaching up to weakly pat Time’s arm. “How’s e’ryone else?”

Time’s hold around him tightened, expression crumpling. “You need to be more careful,” he scolded, but it lacked the usual heat his words would have.

“Jus’ a small bonk,” Wild informed him. “’ve gotten waaay worse shield surfin’.”

That did not seem to assure Time at all. In fact, it seemed to make it worse, and Wild must have been more concussed than he thought because it almost looked like the man was about to start crying. 

“Don’t we know it, cub,” said Twilight, swimming into Wild’s vision. His face was absolutely drenched in monster blood. “Here, I got a potion.”

“Yay,” Wild croaked, reaching up blindly for it. The glass was cool in his hands, and the red potion went down bitter as always.

Wild smacked his lips a few times, pulling a face at the taste. At once, his headache receded, vision sharpening once more until all traces of head injury were gone. With his newfound clarity, he got a front seat view to the glassy shine of tears threatening to spill out of Time’s eyes. 

“Time?!” Wild asked in concern, pushing himself up by his palms. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Time choked out, before promptly sobbing.

“Old man?” Legend’s alarmed voice came from behind Wild.

Time clenched his jaw tightly, hand angrily swiping the tears away from where they spilt onto his cheeks. “Sorry,” he apologized, before sobbing again.

Wild reached out a little desperately, hands grabbing at Time’s upper arms to steady him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Time said miserably. “I- you went down and didn’t get up and I- I really don’t get why I’m—”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Twilight interrupted gently. He placed a hand onto Time’s shoulder, rubbing a gentle circle. “You ain’t feelin’ well, ‘course you’re gonna be a lil’ all over the place.” 

Twilight’s voice was low and soothing, and Wild relaxed at the sound of it. Time, meanwhile, seemed to get even more upset, hand clamping over his mouth and eyes squeezed as he bowed over in shame. His shoulders trembled.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to pretend you’re okay,” Legend remarked, kneeling onto the grass next to them. His words were sarcastic, but his eyes were worried. “Talk about hypocrisy.”

The words earned a choked sob from Time.

“Sorry,” Time said again, watery and upset. “I really don’t know why I- I’m so upset, I knew you were fine.” 

“You know as well as I that emotions don’t always follow logic, Sprite,” Warriors said, appearing behind the group to settle a comforting hand on Time’s back. 

Time made a noise that was a mix between an annoyed groan and another sob.

“This is so sick of him,” Legend whispered harshly into Wild’s ear.

Watching Time give in easily to the group hug Twilight and Warriors tugged him into, Wild was incredibly inclined to agree.

Sky was losing his absolute mind.

That was peculiar for him. Sky had learned to temper his anger and emotions, and he was known as one of the calmer, well rounded of the Links. It was strange for him to be at his wit’s end, and yet there he stood. Losing it.

Backtracking a little bit: at the end of his adventure, both Sky and Sun had left the whole thing… changed. Not even just because of the obvious reasons, like the trauma of it all, but because of the divinity of it all. And not for those obvious reasons either.

It was the wings.

For Sun, it made sense. Expanses of pure white feathers extending out her back, the picture perfect iteration of Hylia’s. They were absolutely gorgeous. When she flew, it was a magnificent sight: her feathers almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, wind rustling her hair, smile wide and dreamy. It was the most beautiful thing Sky had ever seen. With her wings at her back, Sky believed. In himself, and the Surface settlement, and the country he knew they would be founding.

Sun’s wings had been expected, almost. Of course Hylia reborn would have wings. Of course.

The chosen hero was… not expected.

The running theory was that it had something to do with defeating Demise—some leftover scars of divine power, or something to that effect. Nevertheless, the results were clear: Sky had wings. But of course, with his luck, that wasn’t the end of it.

Sun’s wings were pure and radiant of origin. Sky’s, on the other hand, well…

They came with them… other things. Instincts and urges that hadn’t been there before. Feathers that like to grow in his hair and on the crown of his head, soft down scattered with his body hair. It was all distinctly bird.

Neither Sky nor Sun had noticed this until Sky had spent all day having a prolonged breakdown over the bed they’d been sharing not being good enough. He’d run all around Skyloft looking for the most perfect blankets and pillows, and he’d re-arranged it dozens of times, but nothing had fixed the itch in his brain that it wasn’t good enough. He’d tried moving its physical position in the room, and flipping the mattress around, and changing the sheets, but nothing had made it right.

Sky had wound up bawling on the floor, hands ripping out patches of feathers as he warbled in distress. 

That was how Sun had found him. Incredibly embarrassing, he knew. He hadn’t been able to stop crying, stuttering his way through an explanation on what was wrong, and Sun had laughed at him.

Oh, silly, she’d smiled, all her concerns melting away. Isn’t it obvious?

Sky hadn’t been able to speak through his distress, so he’d shaken his head no.

Even despite her amusement, Sun had been so gentle when she reached out to pull his shaking hands away from his wings and cradle them in her own. I think, she had said softly, that you might be a lot more birdbrained now than you used to be.

And she had been right.

Where Sun’s wings were pure magic, Sky’s were pure bird.

If Sky and Sun had lived anywhere but Skyloft, that would’ve been an incredibly different adjustment. As it were, everyone was used to coexisting with giant birds, and so they accommodated Sky’s new eccentricities with a grace and ease that made it much easier to settle into his new, forever way of living.

However, Sky had yet to tell his fellow heroes about his wings.

Sun, the amazing, wonderful girlfriend that she was, had helped him learn how to hide his feathery traits. That eliminated practically all of the questioning—everything else could be explained by spending time with his Loftwing. 

But. But.

It had been several weeks—over a month!—since the whole situation with Time had begun, and it had not gotten any better.

Time was still fighting a vague nausea day to day. His mood was much more unstable—he got irritated easier, laughed easier (and louder, and longer, which was honestly a good thing), and cried easier. That one was freaky—Time had cemented himself as a more stoic, closed off type, and all of that had been washed away like dirt in the rain. 

Everyone was handling it… interestingly. Twilight had been spending a disproportionate amount of time as Wolfie. Beyond that, he had grown increasingly protective of Time: snapping at anyone who moved too close too quickly and throwing himself in front of hits with a newfound reckless abandon. That only served to make Time cry, which caused a whole chain (hah) reaction of distress from everyone. Hyrule spent half his days fluttering around Time aimlessly, followed close by Wind. Wild had dedicated himself entirely to adhering to Time’s increasingly odd food cravings. 

Warriors, Four, and Legend were the only ones being normal about their worry. And yes, that meant Sky wasn’t being normal either.

He couldn’t help it, was the problem. While Twilight could shake off the vast majority of his instincts when he wasn’t being Wolfie (even though he seemed determined to keep being Wolfie, lately), Sky was stuck with his.

Enter: the nesting and preening.

Nesting had been easy enough to manage in the beginning. With everyone frazzled, Sky had simply taken over setting up camp, and they had let him. After they adjusted, however, they took that opportunity away from him, insisting that he didn’t need to overwork himself so much.

That was fine! Sky had just… spent a long time fussing with his own bedroll and trying to ignore the itch in his brain that he was being a terrible flock member by letting the Chain sleep the way they were. 

The preening, on the other hand… well.

Wind was always happy to indulge a hair ruffle or two, but that was a temporary solution. Same with petting Wolfie. Sometimes, when it would seem the least out of place to offer, Sky would get to braid Wild’s hair, and that would be enough to settle his nerves for the day.

The longer the situation stretched on, though, the more frayed Sky’s nerves became. He tried to settle himself with woodcarving, but as the days went by his go-to response to nerves became tugging at his hair and dragging his nails over the back of his wrist.

Both of those were hard to hide and increasingly harder to ignore. 

Sky wasn’t a stranger to the compulsion of stress-plucking. It was a concern with every bird, and Skyloft was full of those. Being the one to stress-pluck, however, was a… new one. He’d known it was, well, a compulsive behavior, but Sky didn’t really have those, and it made it very hard to fight.

Helpless to fix whatever was wrong with Time, everyone had pounced on Sky’s growing self-destructive tendencies the instant they became aware of it. When he wasn’t tailing Time, Twilight—in the form of Wolfie—shoved his way into Sky’s lap and demanded pets. Hyrule and Wind both made it their mission to hold his hand when they walked next to him. Legend spent his time keeping pace next to him and chatting during their journey. Warriors challenged him to spars. Four sat next to him, either book in hand or question about Sky’s woodcarving on his tongue. And Time just… stared at him, wide and sad when he caught sight of Sky trying to soothe the restless itch in his skin.

Sky loved them all for it. Really, he did—seeing them care so blatantly helped heal a wound in him he hadn’t quite realized he had. Simultaneously, though, it sort of made things worse, because it meant they were right there but he couldn’t reach out to fuss with their hair and bedding because that was weird. 

All of his instincts, however, were honed in on the member of the Chain Sky had the least chance of quelling his urges for: Time.

Sky ached, deeply and intensely, to make sure Time’s bedroll was absolutely perfect, his hair without a tangle, his plate more than full with all the food he could need. Sky wanted to mother-cucco him so badly in such a literal way it was causing him actual, physical pain, but there was no way he could indulge in it. Even before the entire situation had begun, the two of them had never been particularly close. They trusted each other, but sometimes Sky worried that Time secretly hated him because of the whole Master Sword and Goddesses thing. Even still, Sky worried, and it was driving him insane not to express it.

It wasn’t even to do with whatever was going on with Time. There was just something in his brain that knew something he didn’t, and was insistent that he needed to take care of and protect Time. Sky just didn’t know what it was.  

He’d had to keep a wide physical distance between them at all times (hah) so he didn’t literally jump the man. Everyone in the Chain knew Sky worried, and that he fussed, but not to the degree he was actually capable of, and not to the degree the unfamiliar, primal part of his brain wanted him to.

The only way to fix it would be if he told them the truth of what was wrong, and Sky was not going to do that.

As it turned out, Sky was going to do that.

Not on purpose, of course!  But they’d settled down in a wonderful inn in Legend’s Hyrule, and that had unintentionally been the end of things.

They’d split up three to a room. Time, Twilight and Warriors in the first room. Hyrule, Wind, and Wild in the second room. And Legend, Four, and Sky in the third.

It had been wonderful right up until the point where they’d actually needed to go to bed and Sky could. Not. Settle. 

Sky tried. Extensively. But he kept tossing and turning, flipping his pillow over and over and readjusting his blankets and telling himself it was fine and he didn’t need to make a nest because he was a Hylian, not a bird, and he was normal. After several hours elapsed, and Legend, notorious insomniac, was asleep before him, Sky had given up on sleeping and instead perched himself on the floor, back to the wall so he didn’t get any funny ideas like letting his wings out so he could pull out his feathers.

Sky was normal. Cool. Collected. The level-headed of the Chain. The one everyone counted on to be easy-going. He was a patient man, and that was something he’d fought long and hard for. He was so so normal.

His eyes welled with tears. 

Oh, who was he kidding. Sky wasn’t normal. He was the opposite of normal. If there was a least normal guy award, he would be winning it. 

Sky buried his face into his hands and did his absolute best not to sob, even as his throat burned with the urge. He couldn’t wake either of his roommates up, not when Four had gone to bed with a portal-induced migraine and Legend struggled with sleep enough already.

The thought of Legend’s sleeping habits only made it worse. Because what if he could fix it? Legend had slept soundly the night they had huddled for warmth in the cave. Maybe the solution was letting Sky fuss- no, he couldn’t think like that. He…

Sky’s eyes slowly shifted over to Legend’s prone form. Then Four's. And the urge just got worse. His hands slid under his sleeves to scratch, but the second his nails touched his skin Legend awoke with a twitch of an ear.

Sky went very still. He didn’t dare breathe. 

Legend shifted on the bed. Paused for a moment, and then quietly pushed himself up. His eyes scanned the room, darting around for a few moments before they finally landed on—

“Sky?” Legend rasped. His face was red and crumpled from sleep.

Sky burst into tears. 

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Legend asked, barely whispering as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. That was enough to wake up Four, who jolted upward in a panic. 

Sky just shook his head, hands pressing over his mouth in an attempt to block his sobs from escaping. Legend stumbled a little on his approach, but soon enough he was sitting on the floor in front of Sky, eyes wide with concern. Sky had to rip his eyes away, entire body trembling as he tried to contain himself.

“Is everything okay?” Four asked.

“Clearly not,” Legend snarked back, but he only had eyes for Sky. After a moment's hesitation, Legend placed a careful hand onto Sky’s shoulder. The contact burned. 

“Oh,” Four said. He stared for a moment before kicking his sheets to the side and sliding to the floor to sit next to Legend. 

They were both looking at him. They both could see the utter mess that he was. Sky made a noise that he knew wasn’t Hylian, curling his knees to his chest and curling over like he could possibly hide from them.

“Hey,” Legend said softly. “Talk to us. What’s going on?”

He sounded so earnest. And Sky broke.

“I—” Sky had to stop and sob, the heels of his hands uselessly brushing away tears that wouldn’t stop coming. “I’m- I’m not Hylian.” The confession was sour and heavy in his mouth. “Not fully. And it’s- this whole situation with Time is making it hard to- to—”

A sob interrupted his words. And then another, and another, and it seemed he wouldn’t stop at all.

“Is that what all the repetitive self harming behaviors are about?” Four asked plainly. His tone gave away nothing.

“Four,” Legend hissed.

“What? It’s a valid question—”

“You didn’t have to ask it like that,” Legend said harshly. “I know I’m an asshole most of the time but I have tact.”

“No, he- he’s right,” Sky sniffed. Both of them snapped their eyes back to him. “I don’t- I didn’t know how to bring it up after it’s been so long, and then, it never mattered that much before—” a lie, that was, Sky had slowly been reaching his wit’s end for months, “—but now that- that, y’know, I mean, no one is taking it well, and it’s been driving me up the wall that I have to keep pretending and restrain myself so much and I’m still not used to- to—”

“Not used to?” Legend latched onto, because of course he did. “Were you… fully Hylian before?”

Sky nodded. “My- my quest,” he whispered. “After I finished it, I- I woke up one morning and—”

“Oh my Gods,” Four gasped suddenly. His eyes were bright violet in the moonbeam drifting through the window. “Birdbrain.”

“…Huh?” Legend said.

“That’s what it is,” Four said, somehow excited despite the way Sky was still shaking and crying. “When you first got called that nickname, you seemed peculiarly nervous—and you’ve been overly fussy with the camp lately, and offering to do Wild’s hair far more than ever before and doing quite intricate styles while doing so, and when avians are stressed quite commonly their stress response is compulsive feather plucking, which would align with your sudden onset of self-destructive behaviors, all of which indicate that you are some mix of Hylian and avian yourself and coping poorly with your worry about Time.”

Four punctuated his speech by taking in a massive, gasping breath.

“Wow,” Legend said appropriately. “I didn’t know you had that much air in your lungs. Also, what the fuck?”

“Y- you’re—” Sky couldn’t get the words out. He managed the tiniest of nods. Both Legend and Four’s eyes softened.

“If it helps,” Four said, serious and gentle, eyes shifting to an amber red as he gathered Sky’s hands into his own much like Sun had not so long ago, “I am four people in a trench-coat. I won’t judge you for whoever or whatever you are.”

“Pardon?”

“…You’re sure?” Sky asked, pitiful to his own ears (he was electing to ignore whatever the hell that meant).

Four smiled at him, warm and bright. “As sure as I’ve ever been. We wanna help you, Sky. You just have to let us.”

“That part,” Legend said. He gave Four a baffled look before continuing. “If we can… I dunno, help your birdbrain settle somehow, of course we will. You just have to ask.”

The words landed a bit awkwardly, but it was clear that they were genuine and true. He meant them.

“Okay,” Sky sniffled. He pulled his hands away from Four’s to scrub at his face, desperately trying to will his breakdown far, far away. “Then- I don’t wanna be alone. To sleep. I, uh… oh, this is embarrassing.”

“Nonsense,” Four insisted.

“It’s,  um…” Despite the reassurance, Sky’s face burned. “I know I’m a physically affectionate guy, but when I get like this it’s… a lot more, uh. Intense?”

“We could push the beds together,” Legend suggested immediately.

“No need,” Four said, grinning. “I’m little. We’ll fit.” His face then immediately fell into something blank. When he twitched back from wherever he’d zoned out to, his eyes were purple again. “Are you wanting to nest? Is that why you wanted to take charge of camp building?”

Sky nodded, shoulders slumping in relief that he didn’t have to say it. “Yeah. It’s… soothing. My brain gets all itchy and convinced I’ve failed you guys somehow and, well,” Sky reached up to mime tugging at his hair.

Legend’s lips pressed into a firm line. “And the hair thing is preening related, I presume?”

“Yes, allopreening. Obviously,” Four scoffed. His limbs jerked oddly, left eye twitching violently. “Sorry, the other three people in the trench-coat aren’t very pleased we told you that. Myself included. I mean—”

Four’s face went through several expressions, eyes swirling until they landed on green—not quite the hazel they normally were, but close enough.

“Um,” Four said. 

“You know what? I literally don’t even care,” Legend laughed a little. “Why the fuck not. I’m so tired. Can we please go back to bed?”

“Yes,” Sky said. The thought of it was enough to almost send him over the edge of tears again. “Bed. I haven’t slept properly in a week. Let me- I need to—”

He gave up explaining himself, awkwardly stumbling to his feet and pushing past them to fuss with the bed. And fuss he did: ripping the blankets and pillows from the other two beds and arranging them until the itch in the back of his brain was satisfied. Legend and Four watched him—Legend with half-lidded eyes and Four’s expression still at war with itself.

Sky gave his work an appraising once over. He nodded once, and then collapsed face first into it. Four was quick to follow, worming in against his back and curling up with his face tucked into Sky’s shoulder blades. Legend was slower, clambering in on the other side close enough for Sky to reach out and tug him into optimal preening distance. Legend, true to his word, didn’t protest as Sky sunk his hands into his hair. And oh, there went his nerves and anxieties and negative emotions.

The air of the room was silent and still for a few minutes, all of their breaths slowing and bodies relaxing. At last, Sky felt calm. Maybe he could actually fall asleep now.

“This feels nice,” Legend commented quietly. Four hummed an inquisitive note, and Legend elaborated, “The preening thing. ‘S’basically jus’ hair brushing, but… more.”

“Ohh,” Four realized softly. 

“Mhm,” Legend said. He shifted in place, pressing himself a little closer.

“Tomorrow,” Sky mumbled, barely awake enough to think, “You might need to actually hold me back from Time now that I’ve done this.”

“Hm? Why?” Legend asked. Sky hummed, not responding right away as he busied himself with the pink strand of Legend’s hair. 

“Something about him is making my instincts go haywire,” Sky confessed at last. “I haven’t been… birdbrained, as you put it, for very long, so I don’t know what it is, but it’s impossible to ignore. There’s… my brain is yelling at me to fuss over him, and I have no idea why.”

Even in the dark, there was no mistaking Legend’s classic suspicious squint. “Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s… interesting. Is it because he’s been sick?”

“I don’t think so,” Sky said. His hands mindlessly braided and un-braided a section of Legend’s hair as he thought. “I mean, I don’t think that’s helping, but… there’s something about him that’s setting me off. My hind-brain knows it, but not me.”

Legend squinted harder. “You wouldn’t be the first person to say that,” he said, which. Whatever that meant.

“Very,” Four’s voice cracked with a yawn, “Fascinating… uh… can we…?”

“Bed,” Legend suggested sagely.

“Bed,” Four agreed.

And bed they went.

It wasn’t unusual for Four’s brain to be loud sometimes, but there had been a real racket going on up there lately.

It had been a week since Sky had finally confessed what was bothering him. That, Four was immensely grateful for. Sky hadn’t seemed to quite realize how much he was stressing everyone out with his abnormal behavior—conversely, though, none of them had quite been paying attention to him in a way that mattered either. Ergo: mental breakdown on the floor.

It was almost laughably easy to settle Sky once they knew what he needed. Four and Legend weren’t the most physically affectionate of the Chain, but the other option was… not something either of them would ever actually consider. So when Sky got twitchy, one of them would plonk themselves nearby and let him fuss.

And because monkey see, monkey do, once the others began to notice, it caused a chain (hah) reaction throughout them: Wild eagerly let Sky do his hair without the skyloftian needing to ask, Wind lurked nearby for a hair ruffle, and Wolfie demanded twice as many pets (once, Twilight had bowed his head for a scratch, and it said a lot about how overwhelmed with instincts they both were that literally neither of them had seemed to notice anything unusual about that interaction). Even Warriors, notoriously picky about his appearance, had graced Sky with the chance to help neatly tuck unruly strands into place. 

None of them had any reason to know why it was so soothing to Sky, but they did it anyways. It was incredibly obvious, after all, how helpful it was.

Despite the circumstances, it was nice. Sky’s fingers were careful as they ran through his hair, making loose braids over and over and scratching gently at his scalp. It helped to quiet Four’s brain—something sorely needed. 

Four had… mixed emotions about confessing his biggest secret just like that. Four (the number) very mixed emotions.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t been able to split in ages. His brain felt like it was actively ripping itself apart and melting into a soup most days, as his four colors each fought for control of their collective braincell. 

This is ridiculous, he thought. Why did I tell them? But it’s just Legend and Sky, and neither of them would tell anyone. Unless they did, in which case all of their his secrecy and immense effort to keep everything under wraps would go to waste. Legend literally said that he ‘literally didn’t care.’ He was half asleep though, his opinion could have changed. But—

Four groaned miserably. While being so unstable he was little more than four (the number) people stuck in one body was a horrible, horrible feeling, there was something uniquely awful about the in-between state of not-quite harmony and not-quite chaos. At least everyone’s thoughts were separate enough to be decipherable instead of crowding Four’s brain and turning it into a jumbled mess of overwhelm.

“You alright?” Sky asked softly. The pads of his fingers pressed a little more forcefully as he began to massage Four’s head.

Obviously not, we’ve been worse, it’s just a headache, why won’t everyone just shut up, he needed to calm down, he was so fucking calm, Guys we need to work together—

"Trench coat problems,” Four said simply. 

Sky’s hands stilled. “Oh. Can… I help with that?”

Why did you say that I said it because he cares—

Four felt his face spasm violently. Anger, anxiety, and fondness went to war in his heart, hands twitching as if to curl into fists but also clutch at his chest. I’m fine no we aren’t we’ve handled ourselves This is complexly illogical what needing help obviously that’s not what he meant everyone shut up—

“Yes,” Four (?) said, spine straightening. It was getting so much worse and his skin crawled. I have to step in because of you dummies oh fuck off we’re only here because you won’t shut up oh we all are worried let’s not fight guys please. “We need privacy. Swiftly.”

“Of course,” Sky said easily, because of course he would do that, that's what I thought. “Hey, Wars? Four and I are going on a walk.”

Warriors didn’t look up from polishing his sword. “Very well. Watch yourselves and call if we need help.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Sky mock saluted.

“Aye aye!” Wind immediately cheered with a loud laugh, smacking Warriors on the shoulder with a loud thump. Far too loud and Four had never been more tempted to stab his companions before that very moment. He settled for clamping his hands over his ears and biting back a scream. 

“Army Captain,” Warriors sighed. “Not a pirate.”

“Let’s leave before they get at it,” Sky murmured. His hands landed warmly on Four’s shoulders, and Four became acutely aware of how hard he was trembling. Four nodded his assent, standing up on unsteady feet. Sky was gentle as he guided them through camp, careful and steady.

“Everythin’ okay?” Twilight checked in, eyes landing heavy and worried on Four.

Four couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Not when he knew his own were probably swirling with different colors. Not when he was about to go absolutely feral. 

“Just a walk,” Sky replied lightly. His tone left no room for questions.

After a moment, Twilight nodded. “Shout if you need anything.” 

Four kept his eyes down as they made their way through the camp and into the woods around them. Sky was blissfully silent as they walked, but kept throwing concerned glances. That was fair, considering Four currently wanted to crack his skull into a rock to quiet the buzzing in his head. 

“This is far enough,” Four announced, once they’d reached a suitable enough clearing for him to lose it in.

“Okay,” Sky agreed. “What’s going on?”

“I need to—” Four cut himself off. He didn’t have time to explain properly and his head was so loud—

Fuck this.

Four’s hand reached up and grazed the pommel of the Four Sword. And, with a flash of light, he was Four no more.

The force of the split sent all of them stumbling and flying about the clearing. 

Four—or, Red, as he now was—went flying directly into Sky with an oof.

Sky’s arms circled around him automatically, warm and steady. Red couldn’t stop himself from grabbing back, gripping onto the back of Sky’s sailcloth and burying his face into his tunic. The migraine they’d been nursing had split between them, but Red had taken the brunt of it.

“Woah!” Sky grunted. “Are you o— ohh… there’s four of you. Wow.”

“Why did you do that?” Green shouted.

“Someone wouldn’t shut up!” shouted back Blue, sharp and accusing. 

“I’m sorry for thinking,” Vio said sarcastically. “It isn’t like that is my whole purpose or anything.”

Red twisted in Sky’s arms to glare at Vio. “No that isn’t, you know that! You’re allowed to have feelings!”

Vio folded his arms and looked away. “Tell that to Blue.”

“That was not what I was saying,” Blue snarled. “Don’t twist my words like that!” 

“Guys, don’t fight like this,” Green tried to mediate. “You both know you’re wrong.”

“How am I wrong?” Blue exploded, gesturing wildly. Red flinched back at the sound, hiding himself against Sky’s steady hold. “Half the reason we’re like this is because he just kept theorizing, do you realize how stupid a reason that is for our secret to get out?”

“It wasn’t stupid to be honest,” Red protested hotly, even as tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He blames me. He’s mad at me. “It was killing us!”

“We would’ve been fine!” Blue shouted. “We made it this far!”

“Statistically, most people have a lot of vitriol for what they think is odd or don’t understand,” Vio added quietly.

Blue whirled on him. “Oh, so now you’re on my side—?!”

“Hey,” Sky interrupted , and all of them went very still. “How about we all calm down for a moment instead of yelling at each other?”

“Thank you,” Green said at length. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Blue tried to retort, but his face betrayed his nerves.

“I’m not trying to be,” Sky replied smoothly. “But you’re all probably scared, and I just want you to know you don’t have to be.” The words were soothing and assured, and Red felt all of his anxieties melt away. It didn’t matter if Blue was mad at him, because Sky was there.

(They all should cuddle with Sky more often, as Four and otherwise—he really was a great hugger.)

Red nodded into Sky’s tunic in agreement. “I told you,” he grumbled. “He doesn’t care.”

Sky’s hand handed in Red’s hair, ruffling it gently. “What are you theorizing about, exactly, uh…?”

“Vio,” Vio introduced curtly. “Well, I’d be happy to indulge, but I’m afraid—”

“Do not,” Blue hissed. “Not when I can finally walk away from you.”

“I’ll go with him,” Green offered immediately. “To keep him safe.”

“You just don’t want to hear my theories,” Vio accused. 

“No, not at all!” Green denied. “You know how Blue gets.”

“Wh- hey!” 

“Just don’t go too far,” Sky cautioned.

Blue scoffed. “Of course not.”

And then they were off.

“So,” Vio began, turning to his captive audience, “My theories. About, of course, what is going on with Time. Now, naturally, some strain of flu is the first thing that comes to mind, but I have several additional avenues to explore that I think are just as optimal. The first, of course, being the affliction of a strange curse…”

Red loved his brother, but he hoped Sky felt very afraid.

All of the questions Legend had about the bullshit going on with the Chain were all answered in one measly afternoon.

It had been maybe 14 weeks since that first morning where Time had thrown up, and Legend was at his actual wit’s end.

He got it. He was concerned for their pseudo-leader as much as the rest of them, especially since normal sickness didn’t act anything like this nor last anywhere near as long as this. But at least he was being normal about it.

And look. Normal was subjective. Legend had seen a lot of weird shit in his time. He was weird. But the Chain was being exceptionally abnormal.  

Legend tried to not give them grief about it (shocker, he knew—he actually cared!), but they were making it hard. He didn’t even get it. Sure, he understood that they all liked to worry and fuss, but they had all been acting so out of character that Legend had half a mind to be concerned that there was some sort of spreading plague-like curse infecting them all and making it so they would act weird.

The only normal one was Warriors. Fucking Warriors.

They’d formed a camaraderie over it, despite themselves—casting each other baffled glances whenever one of the others did something especially odd, and leaning in to whisper and confirm they weren’t seeing things. 

Hyrule had kept up with his magic detection thing, allegedly finding “nothing” and yet skipping away with a bright grin like he’d just been told a wonderful secret. Wind seemed to do the same, which was odd because last Legend checked Wind couldn’t do that. Wild was another mostly normal one, but he’d been utterly stuck in adhering to Time’s cravings and helping soothe whatever the fresh fuck was wrong with Twilight. At the very least, he seemed happy about it.

Legend wished he could say that Four and Sky were being normal. And yet, there they were. Four just… watched everyone. Incredibly intently. Legend was not afraid of the smithy, but there was something unsettling about his constant staring and he wasn’t sure he was a fan of it—not to mention the four people in a trench coat thing. Sky was just… clingy, and fussy, and hovering, and inserting himself into every helping position he possibly could. 

At least Legend knew why. Sky’d had his entire existence altered and literal brain rewired. Legend could give him grace for that, and it was better than the down-spiral he’d been in, but it was still weird.

Legend had tried researching, to see if there was something even remotely similar to what was going on in any of the Castle libraries, but he hadn’t found anything. Wild had been right: something weird was going on.

Actually, a lot of different members of the Chain had said something similar about Time.

Twilight had said he smelt interesting. Hyrule, upon being pressed, had mentioned that there was something up with Time’s magic. Wind, after a thorough interrogation, had admitted to something similar because of powers he refused to elaborate on. Sky’s compulsive urge to mother-cucco Time because of an ambiguous something about him. Four (who Legend still had questions for, but whatever) had agreed that there was something strange and unusual going on.

It painted an… interesting picture. Legend had no clue what, but it was pissing him off.

Even still, their quest persisted.

They’d landed back in Wild’s Hyrule, and had made a swift trek to the closest town—Hateno—to stock up on supplies and rest in an actual bed for the first time in weeks. Everyone there had greeted Wild, and them, with cheerful smiles and happy waves all around. Wild, of course, insisted on talking to half the people they’d stop to chat to, and because the Chain was being weird, none of them dispersed like they normally did to speed things up.

“It’s so nice to see you’ve made so many wonderful friends, Link,” the women they’d been talking to—Zamanda—told Wild earnestly.

Wild grinned bashfully, rubbing at the back of his head in embarrassment. Even still, he was grinning as he replied, “Yeah, it’s been really nice. But hey, how have you been!”

“Oh, just wonderful! Business has been booming, and the warmth of spring has been more than welcome. And I— oh my—!”

Whatever she had been about to say was interrupted by Wolfie nudging into her space to give her a thorough sniff. Which was so out of character for Twilight that Legend opened his mouth to call him out on it before remembering the townsfolk weren’t supposed to know the Rancher and the wolf were one and the same.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Wild rushed to say before she could freak out. “I know he looks scary, but he’s a big softie.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Time added, eye twinkling in amusement as he stepped in to place a hand on Wolfie’s back.

Legend couldn’t help a dubious raise of an eyebrow, because he’d seen Twilight slaughter monsters twice his size without hesitation. 

“Oh, no worries,” Zamanda said. “He isn’t bothering me at all. He’s just like all the other animals in the village, all up in my business.”

“Really? In what way?” Time asked politely. 

The woman laughed warmly, reaching up to scratch Wolfie's ears. “Well, dogs used to be wolves, didn't they? He can probably smell that I'm pregnant like all the other dogs here can!”

“Congratulations!” Wild gasped, grinning ear to ear. And the others—

Wolfie reared back from the women with a violent sneeze. Hyrule tripped over thin air. Wind’s eyes went comically wide. Sky made a weird squawking noise. Four’s mouth dropped in silent horror.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Warriors said, serenely oblivious to the chaos happening around him. And Legend?

Legend was going to kill everyone in the Chain and then himself. Because are you fucking serious. 

Literally fucking of course. It was obvious now and Legend wanted to strangle himself for not noticing sooner because it was literally textbook pregnancy symptoms. And no wonder everyone had been so fucking weird about Time lately! No fucking wonder!

Wolfie slowly turned to make desperate eye contact with him. How a wolf conveyed such a deep, visceral despair so clearly, Legend didn’t know.

“Oh, bless you, baby,” Zamanda said to Wolfie, in regards to the sneezing fit he was having.

“How many weeks, do you know?” Time asked her, smiling genuinely because he was the type of chatty old person to actually be interested in that type of thing.

She smiled, sliding her hands to cradle her stomach through her dress. “We think around 30.”

“Do you have names?” Wild asked, hands curled up by the side of his face as he leaned in eagerly. 

“Yes! We were thinking Floss if it’s a boy, and Lentil if it's a girl,” Zamanda said, smiling wistfully down at her belly.

Damn, those are some shit names, Legend thought instantly, before remembering he needed to do damage control.

“Hey,” Legend interjected before anyone said anything stupid, pushing his way past Sky’s frozen figure to grab Warriors by the elbow. “Why don’t the rest of us go settle in while the four of you chat?”

Warriors nodded, looking at Legend briefly to smile. “Of course, yes, go ahead.”

“Come on, gang,” Legend told everyone. He clapped a hand onto Four’s shoulder, and the smithy jolted into motion with a start. “House time. You too, Wolfie.”

Wolfie did not need to be told twice to book it from the conversation, paws stumbling as he circled as far away from Time as he could possibly get.

Legend had to pull Hyrule up from where he'd planted face-first into the floor and shove Sky forward to get him moving, but eventually they all began walking away from the conversation.

“That cannot be true,” Wind declared the second they were out of probable earshot. “We're all thinking the same thing, right? But that's not possible because—”

Legend smacked Wind's arm with the back of his hand before the twerp could get any louder in his shrill distress.

“Haven't you ever heard of trans people?” Legend glared.

“Of course,” Wind said back frantically, far too close to a shout, “But I didn't think Time was—”

Legend yanked Wind into a headlock, hand clamping over the Sailor’s mouth. “Not so loud,” he hissed into Wind's ear. “Wait ‘til we get back to Wild’s house before you freak out.”

“I'm freaking out,” Four said blandly. His eyes were a muddied color, like mixed paint water.

“Quietly, at least,” Legend pointed out.

“…I feel so stupid,”  Hyrule said.

“Save that for later.”

“I think ‘m gonna pass out,” was Sky’s helpful addition to the conversation. 

Legend sighed heavily. He was on his wit's fucking end. “Please don't actually– oh my Gods Sky—”

(Sky passed out.)

“So,” Legend said, after he was certain the door was closed.

They’d gotten some odd looks, what with Wolfie’s quiet whimpering, Sky’s unconscious body, and everyone else's dazed looks, but the people were clearly used to Wild because by the time they reached the house no one seemed to care what they were doing.

“Please don’t pass out again,” Four quietly told a still-pale Sky.

“Not planning on it,” Sky replied faintly. 

“How is he pregnant?!” Wind shouted, arms gesturing wildly. Which, well. Question of the hour, that was. 

“That makes the most sense out of everything going on here, actually,” Legend said. “We’re starting with you, rancher, why are you whining?”

An explosion of shadow, and there Twilight sat, curled up and crying. Aggressively.

“Oh no,” Sky cooed (like, literally—had he always done that or had Legend just never noticed?), flinging himself off the bed to place a comforting hand on Twilight’s back.

“He’s pregnant,” Twilight sobbed, which was true but did not explain anything. 

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re happy or sad about this information,” Legend told him. Seeing the rancher cry so hard he was shaking, Legend would admit freely, tugged at his heartstrings. He seemed genuinely devastated, like someone had killed a kitten in front of him. But—

“He’s pregnant,” Twilight whispered, not elaborating at all. “He’s- he’s gonna give birth and—” he cut himself off with a loud, agonized sob.

Okay then.

Legend sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Okay, great. I’m glad you… know what’s happening, at least? I guess. Whatever. Sky—”

“Yeah,” Sky said, before Legend could finish. “I get it now. I’m—” Sky paused, nervous, before his face hardened with determination as he turned back to consoling Twilight. “Twilight, it’s okay. I’m… I’m not fully Hylian, and I’ve been having weird instincts too, because my subconscious noticed before I did. You didn’t mean to snap at any of us.”

Twilight just kept crying.

“I had theories,” Four said slowly. For the first time in forever, his eyes were back to their normal hazel. “Some more outlandish than the last. But I never… I didn’t think this was an option,” Four shook his head in disbelief.

“We could be wrong,” Legend pointed out, even though it made complete sense. There was hardly anything else it could be. “It would be smart to—”

“No,” Twilight interrupted, the word shouted and followed by a sob. “I- I’m certain, I knew the smell was familiar but I didn’t know why or where to place it but ‘s so obvious now that I know what to look for, ‘nd I know, I know my nose, I promise ya that’s what this is,” Twilight wailed. He then hid his face into his hands, nearly doubling over under the weight of his distress.

Legend had no idea what to make of that. 

Sky cooed again, pulling Twilight into a tight hug and murmuring soothing words as he sunk a hand into Twilight’s thick hair. Legend was incredibly glad Sky was there—if he’d had to deal with Twilight’s emotions all on his own, he had zero fucking clue what he’d do. 

“So he… is this why you—?” Wind glanced into Hyrule’s direction before guiltily pulling his eyes away.

Legend sighed again, slow and measured. He turned his gaze towards Hyrule.

“The thing you were sensing,” Legend prodded flatly. “That related to this, by any chance?”

Hyrule stiffened, weight shifting back and forth as he picked at one of the bracers on his arms. “Um.” 

“Hyrule,” Legend said. “I am at the end of my Goddesses-damned rope. You lot,” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “have been acting so insanely weird that I’ve been forced to bond with Warriors to get away from it because no one would say what was wrong. Please fucking explain.”

“His soul is wave-y!” Wind, who was not Hyrule, exclaimed.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Legend asked desperately. He reached up to tug his ears down in distress.

“I can sense people’s souls, kind of, and Time’s has been weird! But if he is pregnant, then that would make sense, because his soul would be like, preparing for…” Wind trailed off and went bright red.

Legend blinked slowly. 

“You can sense souls?” Four questioned appropriately. 

“Not important right now!”

“Okay,” Legend said. He stared down at the floorboards and wished so deeply to crawl into them and never leave. “Sure. Literally why the fuck not at this point. Anyone else have a lore drop they wanna give right now in this moment, since we’re doing a fucking share circle now?”

And it was a joke. A funny, haha silly. And yet. And yet. And yet.

“I’m half fairy!” Hyrule announced to the room.

Everyone went quiet.

Twilight sobbed.

“…Excuse me?” Legend asked at last.

“I’m half fairy,” Hyrule repeated, determined. “And I’ve been- I didn’t know what it was, but there’s been something magical going on with Time that I didn’t understand but knew in my deepest of hearts was a good thing, and now it all makes sense! He’s preparing his own excess magic to pass it along to his kids! Which is why it felt so special to see every time I did, because it meant he trusted me and—”

“How are you half fairy?” Wind interrupted. “How does that—”

“Don’t ask,” Hyrule cut him off viciously. He shuddered. “Seriously. I literally don’t know.”

“Pause,” Four interrupted. “Did you say kids just now? As in, plural?”

Hyrule blinked. “…Did I?”

“Wait,” Legend realized. Horror struck his chest ice cold. “Guys,” he said shakily.

“What?” Four asked frantically.

“He.. Time’s been just as confused about what’s going as the rest of us. Which means he doesn’t know. So…. how are we gonna tell him?”

The house went quiet for another beat. And then all hell broke loose.

Warriors was getting the distinct feeling he was missing something.

It had started a few days ago, when they’d landed in Wild’s Hyrule. Warriors had thought it was going wonderfully! The townsfolk were more than pleasant, restocking their supplies had been a breeze, and resting in a proper bed was a dream come true. Everyone had been a little quiet that first night, but that hadn’t been particularly odd by their standards

The next morning, however…

A few helpful townsfolk had pointed them in the direction of unusual, likely black-blooded monsters, and so off they had gone. The fight was difficult, of course, but hardly the worst any of them had faced.

However, Warriors had never once seen his brothers so Goddesses damned distracted.

It was like the beginning of their quest, when no one but Warriors and kind of Four knew how to fight in a group without stepping on each other's toes and nearly slicing each other’s limbs off. Everyone except Wild seemed to have developed a sudden, acute anxiety in regards to Time’s safety and wellbeing, which led to an unfathomable amount of friendly fire and very little in the way of actual fighting.

Most, if not all of their injuries were from stupid stumbles like it was everyone’s first time holding a sword. Warriors had never been more flabbergasted in his life. 

“This is ridiculous,” Time snarled. He’d been scolding them for the past three minutes, growing increasingly more upset as he tore into them. “What has gotten into all of you? I am genuinely asking.”

It was a little hilarious, honestly—all of them lined up like school children who’d broken the rules. Legend was scowling, arms crossed as he looked away. Hyrule was staring at the floor, hands wrung together. Wind was pouting. Four looked appropriately apologetic. Sky had a thousand yard stare. Poor Twilight looked utterly devastated to be on the receiving end of Time’s ire.

“Do you truly think I’m that incompetent?” Time demanded.

Tellingly, no one replied.

“Seriously? None of you can cough up an explanation for why you’re suddenly acting like this?” Time looked moments from stomping forward strangling them with his bare hands. Warriors had never seen the man so genuinely angry—the last time (hah) he’d been anywhere close, he’d literally been twelve years old.

“Now you know how I feel,” Wind muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Not quiet enough—Time’s sharp gaze snapping over to the Sailor like a predator.

Warriors winced in sympathy. He knew that look. Time had gotten it from him, after all.

“What was that, Sailor?” Time asked, deadly calm. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Nothing,” Wind fired back. Warriors had to hand it to him, at least he had the courage to look Time in the eyes unlike everyone else.

“Really? Because I could have sworn I heard you try and claim what you all were doing just now was remotely similar to us looking out for you.”

Despite Time’s blazing stare, not a single Link appeared to have any explanation for him. After several long seconds, Time sighed, sharp and angry, and pushed past them to stalk off back to the village. From the sidelines, Wild threw them a wide eyed look, before hesitantly following after Time. 

A few yards away, Time paused abruptly.

“Don't be mistaken,” Time said icily over his shoulder, “Not only am I disappointed in you all, I am angry.”

Four threw his hands up in disbelief, and then Time was off, Wild scampering after him.

“That’s hilarious,” Legend whispered inexplicably, grinning like he’d told a joke. Next to him, Hyrule clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sudden laugh. Sky buried his head into his hands with a drawn out groan. 

“I mean, seriously,” Legend continued, “that is the quintessential dad line.”

Twilight burst into tears

That had been a few days ago, and Time still seemed rightly pissed off about it. Frankly, Warriors was too—how incredibly irresponsible for them to play around in combat like schoolchildren and then not even be able to provide a reason. 

Even still, his companions were now being even weirder than Warriors thought possible. Twilight didn’t seem to know whether he wanted to be as far away from Time as possible or glued to the man's side. Four had kept his nose shoved into a book he refused to let anyone read the title of, with Sky at his back obsessively doing his hair over and over again. Hyrule and Wind kept whispering intensely at each other and staring in Time’s direction. And Legend—

Legend was trying to talk to him, apparently. Warriors blinked at his approach, warily eying the tense set to his shoulders. While the sharp edges to their interactions had long dulled, and their fights reshaped into well-meaning banter, it wasn’t often the two of them seeked the other out.

“I need to talk to you,” Legend said curtly. “Alone.”

Warriors slid his whetstone over his sword one last time, feeling utterly baffled. For what? “Of course,” he acquiesced. “One moment.”

Legend crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently as Warriors set aside his things. The second he stood, Legend latched onto his arm and began dragging him away from camp with an urgency that was, frankly, alarming.

“Walk,” Legend announced to the camp at large. No one protested.

“Is everything alright?” Warriors couldn't help but ask. “If I were to make a list of people you'd go to for something, I dare say I'd be at the bottom of it—”

“This is something only you can help with,” Legend cut him off dryly. “Trust me.”

“…Alright then,” Warriors replied. If it was something emotions related, Legend was doing a remarkable job of seeming nonchalant. Perhaps it had something to do with the group’s… ongoing weirdness?

When they were suitably far from camp, Legend stopped abruptly, wheeling around to look Warriors dead in the eyes.

“What’s going on, Legend?” Warriors asked, beginning to feel more than a little concerned. Surely, this was more than a social call, or a simple confession. There was an urgency in this. It had to be something serious.

“Is Time transgender?” Legend asked bluntly. 

Warriors nearly choked on his spit. What kind of question—

“Pardon?” Warriors managed at last. A protective fire burned to life as he looked at Legend in a new light. He'd never even considered that anyone in the Chain could be transphobic before, but the sudden line of questioning was making him do so. Because while the answer, indeed, was yes, Time was trans, there was no way he was going to out him willy nilly. “What makes you think I know the answer to that?”

Legend’s gaze was sharp and gave away nothing. “You knew him when he was younger, yeah? During the war? If anyone would know it would be you.”

“I don't see how this is relevant,” Warriors said hotly. He tried to keep himself calm, but he couldn’t stop his glare. Part of it was anger on Time’s behalf, but another part of it was for his own. Sure, it was true that Warriors had known Time before any of them, but it didn’t escape his thoughts that Warriors himself was trans, and perhaps Legend had noticed that. If that was the case, then the implications were… “Let alone why you might be asking me instead of him directly, especially about such a personal question—”

“He might be pregnant.”

All of Warriors’ thoughts abruptly halted.

“What.”

“He might be pregnant,” Legend repeated. It made no more sense than the first time he'd said it.

“How‐ why- what—”

Legend needed no more prompting to explain himself.

“You remember the woman in Wild’s era, a few days ago? The pregnant one? Who said that Wolfie probably could smell that she was pregnant? Turns out,” Legend laughed a little hysterically, hands flying as he began to pace and talk. “It’s the same smell that Twilight’s been picking up on Time for weeks. And on top of that, literally everyone has been noticing unexplainable things happening with his magic or getting filled with weird instincts that make zero sense. So the only logical conclusion is that he is, indeed, pregnant, but there’s a slight possibility we're wrong, and the only person who could determine that is you. So again: is Time trans?”

It was absolutely absurd. By far the strangest and stupidest claim anyone in the Chain had made about anything ever before. But. It wasn’t impossible. 

So, despite himself, Warriors searched through his memory, for both Time's behavior and what he knew of the typical early pregnancy symptoms to compare them. Persistent on and off nausea, headaches, mood swings and intensified emotions, odd food cravings and aversions, increased fatigue, missing his cycle….

It was textbook. 

“Goddesses above,” Warriors breathed in horror  “He's pregnant.”

Legend’s jaw dropped. He stammered for a moment. “You're serious?”

“How did I miss this?” Warriors asked himself frantically, turning his eyes skyward like the stars twinkling to life in the evening sky held the answers to his hysteria. “I literally knew this was possible. I– I spent three whole days thinking about this exact situation when Time first told me Twilight was his blood descendant. I– oh, Din's tits Time is pregnant and he doesn't even know it.”

“That's what I said!” Legend exploded, gripping desperately onto Warriors arms. “Please tell me you know how the fuck we're supposed to tell him.”

“Wh– why would I? Just because I've known him longer– we don't talk about these kinds of things, it's- it’s not exactly an everyday sort of conversation. Time, how's the weather, oh by the way, you're pregnant. What the fuck. He's– okay. Wow. Wow! This is fine. Wonderful, even.”

“How,” Legend said.

“The beauty of children,” Warriors replied. He felt dazed, like he'd decided to go shield surfing and then crashed and rolled all the way down the hill.

Legend shook him a little. His eyes were desperate. “Wars. I don’t think you're getting it. Time is pregnant.”

“Trust me, I am getting it,” Warriors replied through gritted teeth. He then had a realization. “Is that why you all were so weird during the fight? Because you– oh Goddesses.” Horror ran through him. “I get it. He's– he's pregnant. He's actually– sweet fucking Farore. I get it.”

Legend shook him again. “Wars. What the fuck do we do.”

Right. Warriors took in a deep, steadying breath. He needed to be level headed, since everyone in the group was clearly demonstrating that they weren’t very capable of that anymore.

Warriors placed his hands on Legend’s shoulders, grim and determined. “We have to tell him. And Malon.”

Legend went pale. “Oh my Gods, his wife.”

“Wait,” Warriors realized, in the middle of trying to figure out how to break the news to his big-little-brother. “Does Wild know?”

Legend paused. “…No, actually. He doesn’t. Fuck, how do we tell him?”

“Time is WHAT!?”

Lon Lon Ranch had been a much needed balm to Time’s fraying nerves, right up until Twilight had nervously pulled him aside and said that he needed to talk to him and Malon that night about something “important.”

Time didn’t have the faintest clue what he wanted to talk about—especially since it apparently required Warriors, Hyrule, and Legend to be there for emotional support.

Stripped of their usual armor and gear, they all looked smaller. Softer. In the gentle candlelight, sitting around the table in Time’s home, they looked all the part of a typical family. It struck him in his chest, right over his heart like a bruise. It was almost enough to make him tear up—and he couldn’t help but curse himself for how emotional he’d been lately. 

“What’s wrong?” Malon asked them. Her weight was a steady comfort in Time’s side, hand tracing up and down his forearm. It soothed the anxious part of him that he could never quite quell when on the road. He always felt braver when she was around.

Warriors leaned forward on his elbows, hands folding and pressing against his mouth. Hyrule stared intently at the table. Legend crossed his arms. The silence stretched on, until finally Twilight spoke up.

“I, uh… we um…” Twilight looked incredibly nervous, ears pinned back and hands wringing together. It panged Time’s heart to see, even if he was still pissed about that disastrous fight.

“What is it, pup?” Time asked him gently.

“There’s something you should know,” Twilight said in a rush. “We- you, uh…”

Taking mercy on him, Warriors took the reins of the conversation. “I’m sure you’re more than aware of how… weird everyone has been lately.”

Time’s eye twitched in irritation at the mention. Were they finally going to talk about it? “I am, yes.”

“There is a reason for that,” Twilight jumped back in. He couldn’t seem to meet Time’s eyes.  “We just didn’t know how to tell you. Because, it’s, ah, uh…”

“So now you’re willing to talk?” Time couldn’t stop himself from saying. Immediately after, regret filled him as Twilight flinched back.

“Link,” Malon scolded him.

“No, that’s fair,” Twilight said, smile strained. “We’re- I’m really sorry for that, Time.”

“I’m sorry too,” Hyrule blurted, shoulders hiking to his ears.

“…Me too,” Legend offered eventually. 

Time regarded them for a moment. An apology too late, but an apology nonetheless.

“Thank you, boys. If you can explain your reason, I’ll accept your apology,” Time said. It wasn’t a placation—the most upsetting part of that fight hadn’t been the stupid blunders and unnecessary coddling, but the lack of a reason. That was why Wind’s little comment had set him off: they were protective of him because he was young. There was no reason to be protective of Time so suddenly. 

Twilight wilted further at the reminder of explaining. 

“Right,” Warriors sighed forcefully. The look on his face was a throwback, and in the worst way: it was the grave face he made when he had to deliver news. Usually the loss of a life to a distressed family. Time did not like having it directed at him. “We…”

“Captain?” Time asked, now alarmed. “What’s going on?”

“Um,” Hyrule said, which did not contribute to the conversation but made Time’s heart begin to beat faster.

“We… well, you… ah… um…”

“Just spit it out already,” Time snapped. He pulled Malon closer to himself in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He always felt more relaxed at Lon Lon, but he’d been stressed the past few weeks and the dancing around the topic was making him—

“You’re pregnant,” Legend said.

Absolute silence. 

“Oh,” Malon gasped. Her hold on Time’s arm tightened.

Time felt like the floor had been ripped right out from under him.

“…What?” he croaked. 

“You’re having a baby,” Legend unhelpfully elaborated. “Congratulations. Eugh, that sounded really sarcastic, sorry, I do actually mean that. Unless you aren’t happy about this, then, uh, my condolences?”

“How… why do…” Time couldn’t even form words.

“Your smell!” Twilight exploded, turning bright red as he hurriedly explained, “You- you’ve had a weird smell on you, and I didn’t know what it was, and I just- it made me so protective and worried and I didn’t get it but it’s because you- you smell—”

“Remember when we first landed in Hateno?” Warriors smoothly took over once more. “The woman we spoke to with Wild?”

“Y’all smelled the same,” Twilight cut back in. “And- and I dunno how that could be possible if you weren’t if—”

“Also your magic,” Hyrule rushed to add, “You- um- you’re like, gathering it up like- like to prepare to pass it down, like- kind of how faeries do but also not really, and it—”

“Additionally,” Warriors continued forcefully, “comparing your behaviors and the typical early signs of pregnancy all point to, well…” He made a face.

 “Okay. How long have y’all been suspecting this?” Malon asked. Steady and calm.

“Only a few days,” Warriors replied, smiling wryly. “We knew it wouldn’t be right to withhold the information, but were… unsure how to proceed for a while, especially considering Time, ah… didn’t seem to know.”

At that, Malon turned to throw him a flabbergasted look. “Link,” she said simply—somewhere between exasperated and fond as she bit back a grin.

“I forgot,” Time said, like an idiot. He felt dazed. “That I could do that.”

“What, get pregnant?”

“Yes!”

“Y’know, that’s fair,” Hyrule said.

“Wh- no, literally- the rancher is your descendant by blood, did you really not consider the implications of that?” Legend demanded. 

Twilight sniffed loudly at his name. Silent tears were streaming down his face.

“No,” Time answered, feeling a little hysterical. “I didn’t. Not really. I- I’m—?”

Time stared down at his hands. His body felt brand new to him, like he’d woken up in one aged and wrong once more. He was actually…?

“Thank you for telling us, boys,” Malon told them sincerely. “That was very kind of you. Now, how abouts y’all give us some space to talk about this?”

“Oh, certainly,” Warriors said, sitting up smoothly. “I’m ready to retire for the night anyways. Let’s go, men.”

Hyrule gave Warriors a sharp salute.

“Come on, rancher,” Warriors murmured, hands landing on Twilight’s shoulder. Twilight nodded, scrubbing at his face and stumbling his way back towards the guest rooms. Soon enough, it was just Time and Malon.

“Oh, honey,” Malon said. “You really didn’t know?”

“You can laugh,” Time said. And Malon immediately proceeded to do just that: laughing, loud and delighted into his face. 

“How?” Malon asked. Her hand covered her mouth like it could hide her smile.

Time just shook his head, despaired. “I don’t know,” he said miserably. “I was so distracted with managing all of them and our quest that I didn’t think…”

The worst part was that it made complete sense. Now that he thought about it, it lined up exactly with his strange symptoms he’d been experiencing. Especially since the last time they’d been at Lon Lon, he and Malon had… uh…

“Well, they’re givin’ you plenty of practice for fatherhood, huh?” Malon grinned. 

Goddesses. They were, weren’t they? They even called him old man. What did people commonly use to describe their fathers? My old man. Time was going to have a heart attack.

When Time didn’t reply right away, Malon grew serious—taking his hand gently into her own. “How’re you feelin’ about all this?”

“Overwhelmed,” Time confessed immediately. It was easy to be honest with Malon. “Terrified. But…” Time thought, not for the first time, but in a new light: a little kid, with Malon’s eyes and her fiery red hair. Thought of the two of them raising a kid together. He couldn’t help but grin, even as his eyes grew wet. “Happy. Excited…. Mostly terrified, though.”

Malon laughed a little, reaching up to cup his face. “Oh, Link, I am so excited. I just…” Her expression darkened. “I wish you weren’t on this quest for this.”

A sobering thought.

Their multi-era quest was dangerous enough as it was, even with nine accomplished swordsmen. Time was already risking a lot by going on the quest in the first place—their family and future. Time knew the risks of meddling with time—the rest of the Chain’s existence was proof enough. Adding in the health and safety of his child into the mix?

“I won’t be very helpful to them at a certain point,” was what left Time’s mouth, instead of any of those worries.

Malon smacked him.

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about, Fairy Boy,” she grumped, but she was visibly fighting a grin.

“We do so much walking,” Time continued, smiling despite himself. “And I won’t be able to wear my armor. Oh, Mal, they’ve been insufferable lately, and that was before they even knew why. Last time we fought something, it was like the first time we’d ever fought anything. They were tripping over themselves to guard me. I just know they’re only going to get worse.”

“That does sound like your boys,” Malon laughed. Unsteady as he was, the moniker struck a deep chord. His boys. Would he truly have one of his own, one day? “I know you’re in good hands. I just… worry. Gee, I was already sick with it, and now this?”

“I know,” Time murmured, leaning down to press their foreheads together with a shuddering sigh. He didn’t like it as much as she did. While his heart ached for the Chain, he wanted to stay with his wife for this. Wanted to be home. “Trust me, if I could stay, I would. But you know how the portals are. We hardly have a choice. I hardly have a choice.”

He couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice. How cruel the hand of fate was.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky,” Malon suggested. Even as she said it, Time knew she wasn’t serious. “You got sent here just in time for them to tell us. Maybe you’ll be back in time for…”

“I hope so,” Time said. “As much as I love those boys, I don’t trust any of them to know how to midwife.”

Malon chortled loudly. “Just thinkin’ about it is ridiculous. Could ya imagine Twilight’s face? Goodness gracious, what about Wind?”

Time laughed back, and soon enough they were giggling together like the weight on their shoulders was hardly there.

It helped that they’d spoken at length about the idea of children, years before Time’s current quest had begun. It had been something both of them wanted, but hadn’t ever thought they’d get—Malon especially. It had been pure luck that both of them had transitioned, and purer luck that Malon had wanted him in the first place.

Malon’s hand, careful and gentle, pressed into Time’s stomach. On instinct, Time reached his own up to cover it.

“A baby,” Malon whispered into the night. “A little kid of our own.”

“Let’s hope they don’t get my nose,” Time said.

Malon laughed brightly and kissed him.

The Chain, as predicted, became insufferable. But not just because they were protective (though they still were, and it was as infuriating as the first time). No, no, because there was something that Time hadn’t even considered they would do:

Name suggestions. 

“Consider,” Hyrule said over dinner, a few weeks after the revelation, pointing his spoon at Time. “Bins.”

“What?” Legend, who was sitting next to Hyrule, asked.

“For the baby,” Hyrule explained, with a sweet little smile. The perfect picture of innocence.

“Absolutely not,” Time shut down. It was far too close to ‘blins, which some of them used to refer to bokoblins. And besides, even if it wasn’t, just… why.

“What!” Hyrule exclaimed, throwing his arms up in outrage. “Why! Bins!”

“Oh, are we doing name suggestions?” Wild piped up gleefully.

“No, we aren’t. It’s really not necessary,” Time said. Were he surrounded by anyone other than a group of Links, perhaps that would have been the end of it. Any normal, sane group of individuals would have respected his wishes and dropped it. And yet there Time sat. Trapped in on all sides by Links.

“How about Brianna,” Wild said, “But Bins for short.”

“Binana,” Hyrule fired back immediately.

Wild’s nose wrinkled. “No. Too close to banana.”

“Time said no suggestions,” Twilight interrupted them sternly. “Eat yer dinner before you start harassin’ people.” 

The pair pouted, but listened.

The peace lasted until the next morning.

Sky, of all Links, caught Time’s eye and, unprompted, suggested, “Hector?”

At least it was a normal name.

“Maybe,” Time answered vaguely, hoping that was enough to satisfy him.

Sky beamed at him and moved on.

“Okay, but are you gonna name them something like your name or Malon’s?” Wind asked. He’d drifted over during their afternoon trek and attached himself to Time’s side. It was an honest question, so Time felt no apprehension in answering.

“We’re not sure,” Time told Wind truthfully. “If we were, though, it would be after Malon.”

Wind nodded seriously. “Okay, because if you were gonna do your name, I have some suggestions: Twink and Blink.”

Time almost tripped over nothing in his shock.

“What?” Warriors appropriately shrieked. 

Legend howled with laughter. “Twink?!”

“Blink?” Time repeated in disbelief.

Four was in a similar state to Legend, both hands clamped over his mouth as his whole body trembled with silent laughs. 

“What!” Wind asked defensively. “They were serious suggestions!”

“I like Twink,” Wild chortled. “It’s- it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah! What’s wrong with Twink?” Wind defended. 

“Wind,” Sky began, barely controlling his own amusement. “I, uh… don’t think you know what that means.” 

Legend reached out to grab onto Twilight for support with another howl of laughter. He was literally crying.

“What, names?”

“No,” Warriors managed. His voice was incredibly strained. “Twink.”

That set Legend off again. “I’m gonna piss myself,” he barely managed to choke out between peals of laughter, fist slamming into Twilight’s arm in glee. 

Wind squinted at them, shoulders hunching. “What’s so funny?”

“…I don’t get it either,” Twilight confessed. That was enough for Legend’s legs to completely give out as he collapsed hands and knees to the floor, dying of laughter.

“What’s a twink?” Wind asked, irritated.

A sharp bark of hysterical laughter escaped Warriors before he could clamp his hand over his mouth. He didn’t seem capable of responding.

Four’s eyes were delighted and full of evil as he opened his grinning mouth to explain. “A twink is a—”

“No,” Time finally recovered enough to command. “Absolutely not. We are not doing this.”

“No, tell me!”

“A twink,” Four barreled on, ignoring Time, “is a word used to refer to a thin, hairless gay men—”

(Legend, indeed, ended up pissing himself with how hard he was laughing. They stopped for an early lunch so he could change.

Time stared numbly into the trees and regretted his life choices.)

“New ideas,” Wind said that evening. “Clock and Watch.”

Time leveled him with an exhausted stare.

“Like, for Time, y’know?” Wind explained.

“No, I understand,” Time said slowly. “I’m just surprised you actually said that.”

“Hey!” Wind squawked. “Fuck you! My suggestions are amazing!”

Legend immediately started snickering into his fist.

“How about Adette?” Warriors suggested.

It actually wasn’t terrible. In fact, Time sort of liked it. Of course, out of all of them, Warriors would be one of the only to be normal about it.

“That is nice,” Time told him. Warriors smiled.

“What’s wrong with Clock or Watch?!” 

“You know exactly what’s wrong, Sailor,” Legend sighed.

“Bean,” Hyrule said suddenly.

“Hm?” Time said.

“Name suggestion.”

“Ah… noted.”

“Sacabambaspis.”

“Wind, what the fuck?”

“It’s a type of sea beast!”

“The Old Man is not naming his kid after a sea beast.”

“You don’t know that! Hey, Old Man! Would you name your kid after a sea beast?”

Time walked faster to get away from them.

Wild snapped his finger suddenly like he’d solved all the mysteries in the world. Sky, who had been braiding his hair, flinched. “Majorie,” Wild announced. “Or Michelle.”

“Oh, are we doing names again?” Hyrule perked up.

“I like Jasper,” Four reasonably said.

“Let’s not,” Time weakly protested.

Hyrule gasped. “How about Grass?”

“Grass?” Warriors questioned incredulously. 

“I knew a guy named Error! It isn’t that weird!” Hyrule defended. “You all call me Hyrule. Time can name his kid Grass!”

“Sometimes, Traveler, the question isn’t if you can do somethin’, but if ya should,” Twilight said wisely.

“Well, what about you, Rancher?” Legend, professional instigator, asked. “Any names from you?”

Twilight stiffened, turning red as he stammered for a moment. “I, ah, um… Beauregard?”

Wind blew a raspberry. “Too normal. This is a hero’s kid, not just any kid. They need an extra special name.”

“Well- hey, what’s wrong with Beauregard?”

Time sighed, long and suffering. Warriors just laughed and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

“Micheal,” Sky said. In the middle of combat. “A nice, regular name.”

“Thank you,” Time managed.

“Juncle?” Wind suggested brightly.

Time cringed. “Maybe for a cat.”

“Consider this,” Hyrule began. Naively, Time expected it to be related to the fairy wings he was currently inspecting for injuries with careful fingers because Hyrule had gotten himself stuck in a bottle and gone missing for four days. “Sprig. Or, perhaps, Twig.”

Time paused his hands. “Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of time to think in that bottle,” Hyrule defended.

I should have left you there, was Time’s immediate, vicious thought. It was only through decades of self restraint that he did not say it anyways.

“Spord,” Legend declared, looking Time dead in the eye. “Lord Spord.”

“I will fix your chronic pain by removing all of your bones one by one if you keep this up,” Time threatened.

Legend just laughed and scampered away to bother Warriors.

“Flemming?”

“No.”

“Gertrude.”

Time pressed his face into his hands in despair.

“What, that was a normal name!”

“Marlowe?” Twilight suggested earnestly, head tipped to the side like a dog.

“…I’ll write it down.”

Twilight’s grin was bright enough it could’ve burned the shadow they were chasing in the first place.

“Joseph,” Warriors said. “Pierre. Francois.”

“Warriors,” Time said tiredly. “We’re on lookout duty. We need to be quiet. You know this.”

“Orthanc. Vandernere. Durin”

“I’m going to throw myself off this cliff.”

Warriors lips twitched. “Bolg.”

“You’re going off first,” Time said, before lunging at his brother, stealth mission be damned.

“Billard,” Hyrule suggested.

“That sounds like a type of duck,” Legend pointed out.

“Like, mallard?”

“That’s a good point,” Hyrule nodded. “Mallard. All you need in a name!”

Time hated that it wasn’t even that bad of a suggestion.

“Pimperdinkle.”

“Sometimes, Hyrule, you make it abundantly clear you grew up in a cave.”

“Hey!”

“Okay, wait, here’s more: Plond and Plend, for siblings.”

“Which one is first?”

“Plond, obviously.”

“Not an actual name suggestion,” Twilight prefaced, because he was Time’s favorite. “But if you do end up having two little ones, you could, ah, call ‘em Little Bug and Big Rug. ‘Cause they’d be snug as a bug in a rug.”

It was a sweet suggestion. Time considered it, wholly and deeply, and found he quite liked the idea. He’d only considered the one kid, since he didn’t have much a choice in the matter, but two…

“Actual name suggestion,” Wild ruined the moment. “Bert. Or Ernie. Or… Circle.”

“Circle?” Legend repeated. “Are we just doing fucking shapes now?”

“Trap and Zoid,” Wind said. “But like, seriously. Trap and Zoid”

“No,” Time sighed.

 “I like Zoid,” Wind protested. “Please consider Zoid. With an open heart.”

“My heart has never been more closed, Sailor.”

“Thneedle?”

“No.”

“If you want a more colloquially-feminine sounding name,” Four finally joined in on the chaos, “Arceus and Anemone are on the table.”

“…Thank you, Four,” Time replied.

“Also, Tungsten,” Four tacked on, vanquishing any respect Time had for any of his suggestions going forward.

“Hey, how about Valence?” Wild asked. “This one’s serious.”

At least he was clarifying. 

“McElroy,” Legend grinned, rather wolfishly for someone so rabbit-hearted.

“Paddy and Pimblet,” Hyrule said with a nod.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Time said weakly.

“McLink and McZelda,” Wind said.

“No.”

“Clink and Blink,” Wind corrected himself, like that was any better.

Hyrule held up a hand. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Partial to Blink.”

Hyrule’s hand gently gripped Time’s own. On instinct, Time squeezed it, and a small pulse of healing magic followed—soothing his aching feet and the headache he’d been nursing.

When Time turned to him, Hyrule’s face was suspiciously pleading.

“Billow and Millow?”

“This one’s serious,” Wild said, which meant absolutely nothing coming from him. “Mud.”

“Mud.”

“Yes! Like, imagine you’re introducing yourself, and you’re like, hey, what’s up, I’m Mud?”

“I’m so glad you transitioned before you died,” Warriors muttered to himself.

Wild grinned. “It’s never too late to be your truest self!”

“Who would willingly name themselves Link?” Wind asked.

“Literally over a third of us,” Sky told him.

“Okay, what about Trout if it’s a boy, and Brook if it’s a girl,” Wild continued, either oblivious to or ignoring the conversation happening around him. “I know a guy named Sturgeon, so it isn’t that weird.”

Twilight raised his hand. “How about Margret?”

“Boo,” Wind booed. “Too normal. How about Worm?”

“Big fan of Worm,” Wild nodded.

“Flarka,” Warriors said. “Or perhaps Reginald.”

“Reginald?” Legend repeated with a laugh.

“Are you judging me? Why don’t you make a suggestion then, Vet?”

Legend, not one to be beat, raised his chin haughtily. “Evelyn.”

“Ooh, fair play. Peter?”

“Somehow worse than Reginald.”

“Pitri?”

“I knew a rat named Pitri,” Hyrule gasped. “I hope he’s doing okay…”

“You know,” Time said, utterly exhausted. “This experience is making me sincerely hope none of you ever have children.”

“Thank the fucking Goddesses,” Legend said immediately. 

“Well, Sky has to, but otherwise I agree,” Warriors snorted.

“I do?” Sky yelped.

“How else is the royal line of Hyrule getting founded?”

“Sky’s pregnant too?!”

Time dropped his face into his hands and prayed.

Time (the concept) passed, and the name suggestions continued. Each felt more ridiculous than the last, as if they were actively competing to come up with the worst name possible. Knowing them, they probably were. It was infuriating. It was endearing. And entirely useless.

Malon had laughed her ass off when Time presented her with the growing list he'd been keeping, a mere two weeks after the news had been dropped. Which was an honest and fair reaction—they were all absolutely insane. The normal ones felt more like a way to lure him into a false sense of security than for the merit of an actual suggestion.

Despite their shenanigans, though, it was clear that they all cared, and that was just an unconventional way of showing it. They fussed, and worried, and were incredibly protective, but it was admittedly nice. It helped that none of them seemed immune to being told off sternly, despite all they had faced.

It was good practice for his future, Time supposed. What a thought. 

At the very least, Malon had been right in some regards: they were lucky. While the portals often had no rhyme or reason to them, the amount of days they spent at Lon Lon Ranch increased anyways. Were Time a pious man, perhaps he would’ve thanked the Goddesses. As it were, he simply was just grateful.

Sitting on his porch with his wife, watching them all chase each other around and get up to their regular nonsense brought out an overwhelming fondness in his chest. When he was younger, and more bitter, Time had never imagined he would have anything remotely like this in his future. He had expected to be on the road forever, slaying monsters and aimlessly wandering. To have nothing that lasted, and a trail of goodbyes left in his wake. Malon had changed that. Seeing his boys get chased by cuccos and roll around in the grass was changing it more. Giving him a hope for his future beyond this quest, beyond just hanging up his sword. He just had to get there. 

“We’re really gonna make it, huh?” Malon asked quietly. It seemed that she was thinking of the same thing. “Look at ‘em out there. Proof that our family will live on.”

She was clearly talking about Twilight—who, sure enough, was grinning widely as he picked Wind up by the ankle and swung him around like he weighed nothing. Wild was lunging at his dangling form with a determined look on his face. Evidently, they were playing some strange game of a keep away—Wind flailing violently and shrieking out threats of imminent violence between loud laughs.

Time slid his arm around Malon’s shoulders, pulling her closer with a proud smile. “It will. Not too long from now, it'll be more true than ever.”

“All thanks to you, Fairy Boy,” Malon leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Time’s smile grew to a grin as he moved his head to kiss her on the lips.

“Time! Wind kicked Twilight in the face and now he’s bleeding!” came a sudden shout from the grass, ruining the mood immediately. Time’s head snapped up at the panicked sound, hand twitching for blade on instinct.

Sure enough, Twilight had an impressive amount of blood streaming from his nose. The hand he had pinching it didn’t seem to be helping matters very much. Twilight appeared to be trying to wave them off, but Wild was frantically grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him close to prod at his face while Wind waved his arms around frantically—the Sailor somewhere between panic and amusement at the situation.

The porch was quiet for a moment.

“Practice, right?” Malon smirked.

Time sighed heavily. Could he not have one moment of peace? “They’re gonna kill me before I even get there- hold on- Wind that is not how you administer first aid—!”

Malon just laughed at him, all the way down to the grass.

Chapter Text

As holders of the Hero's Spirit, they had faced many challenges. Countless hardships, countless struggles, constant effort—traumas and things far beyond the comprehension of many. And yet, despite all of their experience, there was one battle none of them were familiar with:

Childbirth.

They had known it was coming—deeply and truly, for the whole nine or so months leading up to it (minus the few they’d spent unaware). It was a little hard not to be, considering, well… There was only so long you could go while pregnant before it became a little… obvious.

Even still, though they knew the implications of everything, and all that it would entail, and did all they could to ensure they were prepared in the event the timing was less than ideal, it still managed to catch them by surprise.

It happened one late at night at Lon Lon Ranch. The group of them had stayed up far later than they should, sprawled together in a pile of limbs and blankets, whispering to each other with sleepy giggles about utter nonsense. Wind, Hyrule, and Wild had been throwing out horrific name suggestions. Of course, Legend had gotten sick of them and promptly instigated a pillow fight. That had been hilarious, considering they were still trying to keep quiet and let Time and Malon sleep. When they tired of their game, the four of them had collapsed, each half on top of the other.

Somehow, they hadn’t woken Sky from his slumber with their racket—though he’d roused enough to roll over and grab hold of Four with tight arms and large, feathered wings. Four, who had been woken up, was not amused by it, but no amount of half-hearted kicking and whispered curses would set him free.

The night had still been young, depending on who you asked. Everything had been completely, utterly normal—right up until the door had gone flying open and slammed into the wall.

Wind shrieked and rolled into the wall with a thunk. Sky shot up and raised his wings protectively while he made a weird hissing-squawking noise that was guttural and terrifying. Still cocooned in Sky’s arms, Four’s eyes were wide and red with panic. Hyrule jolted up with a yell and set his hand on fire. Wild awoke with a battle cry, arms flailing. Legend grabbed onto Hyrule like he was going to use the Traveler as a weapon. Twilight, in the form of Wolfie, awoke with a snarl and promptly tripped over his own paws. Somehow, Warriors was both the only one to reach for his sword, and the first to realize they weren’t in danger.

Well. Physical danger, at least. 

Malon, dressed in a silk nightgown that bared her legs, hair rumpled and flying every-which way, stood in the doorway with her hands death-gripping the frame.

“It’s happening,” Malon announced ominously. 

Hyrule politely extinguished his hand before raising it to ask, “Um, what?”

“He’s in labor,” Malon explained. And oh. Oh no. Suddenly, Warriors felt very afraid. He’d spent most of his life surrounded by army men and knights, most of whom had wives, and many of whom had children. He was far from unfamiliar with the perils of childbirth—alcohol loosened many a man’s lips—but never before had it happening been so… personal.

“Right now?!” Wind yelped, hands still cradling his head. “Like, baby time right now?”

(Hah. Baby time.)

“No, dumbass,” Legend grouched—clearly still disgruntled from being woken up. “Not immediately, that’s not how birth works.”

“Well I dunno! There aren’t a lot of births where I’m from!” Wind defended. 

“Is he having contractions?” Sky, the most educated of them all (low bar), asked. His wings were slowly drooping downward with every second that passed.

Malon’s expression was grave. “His water broke, so I really need a few of you boys to go fetch the midwife from town.”

“What’s that mean?” Wind asked. No one answered, all too busy scrambling to get themselves ready.

“I can do it,” Warriors volunteered. Even with the anxious beat to his heart, the same steely calm he wielded in battle kept him centered. “I’m proficient on horseback.”

“So’s the rancher,” Legend quirked a brow. Both of them then turned in unison to where Wolfie had flattened himself to the floor, ears pinned back as he whined softly. “But, ah…  yeah, nevermind.”

Wild’s hand shot into the air. “I’ll go with, ma’am! My slate can carry almost anything!”

“That would be wonderful,” Malon’s smile was relieved, but her shoulders were rigid with tension. “Could the rest of y’all help with some stuff too? I know it’s late, but—”

“Are you kidding me?” Legend looked pissed at even the thought. “Of course we’ll help. Duh.”

“Legend,” Warriors warned. Not that he didn’t agree, but that was no way you spoke to your senior, let alone your friend’s wife. There wasn’t a polite bone in that kid’s body, he swore.

“What are we waiting for?” Wild interrupted before either of them could get into it. His eyes were wide with worry. “We gotta go! Right?”

It was true—the sooner they had everything they needed, the better equipped they would be for any complications that arose. They didn’t have time (hah) to dilly-dally. 

“Right,” Warriors nodded sharply, turning to gather his things. As he did so, Wild—who hadn’t undressed before retiring to bed—launched himself across the room with a tuck and roll and went sprinting off outside.

Malon gave a flabbergasted look to the rest of them as a draft rustled her hair.

“Hah. He forgot his shoes,” Legend snorted.

With that, the tension broke: Malon following after Wild with a sigh that was weary and amused, and everyone scattering as much as the modest guest room allowed to get ready. Used to the urgency of war, it took no time at all for Warriors to dress himself and shrug on his gear. The rest of the Chain were slower—still trying to wake themselves up. That was, baring Sky, who’d darted off the second he’d rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Is anyone else freaking out right now?” Four asked conversationally.

“The opposite, actually!” Hyrule grinned dreamily. His wings were fluttering nonstop behind him, flashing soft colors and chiming ever so slightly. 

“No,” Twilight said. The words were choked and quiet. His eyes were very, very far away. Warriors was genuinely concerned for him.

“I’m always freaking out,” Legend laughed. “That’s my trade secret. Nothing can make you freak out if you’re already freaked out.”

“You know,” Warriors began slowly, “The fact that you said that in the first place makes me inclined to think you are freaking out, Legend.”

Legend laughed again, a touch hysterical, but said no more. Concerning.

“A little bit of anxiety is probably fair, but if we freak out too much, we’re gonna stress Time out, and that’s the last thing we want,” Wind said wisely. Leave it to the thirteen year-old to be the most reasonable of them. 

“Yes,” Twilight agreed stiffly. He took a deep breath. It didn’t seem to calm him much at all. “We need to be strong for Time and Malon.” After he spoke, his face scrunched up real tight like he was trying not to cry. Also concerning.

Warriors finally finished pinning his scarf (it was an important part of his outfit!) and moved to the front of the room, pausing to turn back and face the group at large.

“Yes, we need to be strong. You lot do that, and do it well,” Warriors gave them all a sharp look. He would trust them with his life in a heartbeat, a thousand times over, but, well… other than Sky (a trained knight), the rest of his company’s reaction to stress involved a lot of panicked flailing and running (or rolling) around. “Wild and I will be back as soon as we are able. I’m trusting you all to hold down the fort until then.”

“Hold down the fort,” Legend repeated immediately. “Hah.”

Warriors narrowed his eyes at him.

“Yes sir!” Hyrule saluted sharply. Like always, he wilted in embarrassment after, wings drooping sadly. Why he kept saluting when he’d grown up in a cave and spent zero time around guards, Warriors wasn’t sure he’d ever get the answer to.

Perhaps it was a way of showing respect to his rank? A prank, maybe? Regardless, it never failed to make a great fondness unfurl in his chest.

“Your form is getting better,” Warriors praised him with a little laugh. It was even true! He then spun on his heel before he could become entrenched in any more shenanigans. 

When Warriors stepped outside, the night air was crisp and cool. A soft breeze nipped at his face, and his ears twitched in displeasure. Down by the now opened gate, Epona (Twilight’s) and Epona (Time’s) were already saddled and ready. The haste on that boy, Warriors thought fondly, stepping down to cross the field. Malon, wrapped in what must have been one of Time’s coats, was giving Wild directions as Warriors approached.  

“…and we went over y’all’s appearances ‘bout a hundred times, so no one should try attacking ya as long as ya knock politely,” Malon was saying.

Wild nodded vigorously. His face was deadly serious, eyes sharp and concentrated as he gave Malon his entire attention. It was honestly a little funny—Wild reserved that expression solely for combat or when a member of the Chain wouldn’t let him cook for them. At the very least Warriors could be confident that Wild was focused on what they were supposed to be doing.

“I’m assuming she’s well enough for the ride?” Warriors tilted his head towards Epona Sr.

Malon chuckled, placing a hand onto Epona Sr.’s neck. “Oh, certainly. She’s a good gal, but she’s past her adventuring days. She can take a quick trip to town no problem, though.”

Warriors smiled back. “I’ll believe it.” A thought occurred to him. “Say, did you see where Sky went?”

Malon laughed a little more heartily at that. “To bother my husband,” she grinned.

“Should we have stopped him?” Warriors couldn’t help but ask. While he liked to think he knew a great deal about Time, he still knew his place—no one would ever know the man’s soul quite like his wife. Not with that he’d been through.

“Nah,” Malon shook her head. “Well, he might get irritated with the fussin’, but it’s better than bein’ alone. Sky’s a pretty sweet kid, so I trust he’ll handle himself.”

“We should go,” Wild interrupted. His foot was tapping impatiently, hands on his hips. Warriors couldn’t help a little smile—the motion was so clearly borrowed from Legend, it was laughable and heartwarming in one. 

“Alright, alright, you boys take care now,” Malon sighed. She then pulled Wild into a swift but tight farewell hug, before turning to Warriors and doing the same. He barely had the wit’s about him to hug back before she pulled away. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Of- of course,” Warriors replied. He placed a hand to his chest, flustered from the sudden affection. Wild didn’t seem much better, face and ears bright red. “We’re, ah, heroes, after all.”

Malon straight up laughed at them. “Goodness gracious, did you boys’ moms never hug you goodbye when you left home?”

“I don’t remember my mom,” Wild squeaked out. “Goodbye.” Wild then jumped up onto Epona Jr. and sped off down the road.

“It’s been a while,” Warriors confessed, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation as he moved to Epona Sr. “Take care yourself, ma’am. I hope the others don’t give you too much trouble.”

“I don’t think I’ll need to worry about that,” Malon snorted, turning back to the ranch. “One glare from my husband is enough to shut y’all up on a good day.”

Epona Sr. nickered softly when he settled in the saddle. As they trotted out, Malon shut the gate behind him—and indeed, this Epona’s experience in Link related shenanigans was proved as she needed little prompting to speed up enough to catch up to where Wild had fled in his embarrassment. 

“Do you have a favorite sweet treat, Captain?” Wild asked abruptly the moment they were parallel to each other. He had no interest in acknowledging what happened, clearly. 

“Sweat treat, huh?” Warriors hummed thoughtfully. Everyone in the Chain had such interesting ways of saying things. “Not much in the way of what I’d call a ‘sweet treat’ in the army,” Warriors chuckled. “Why do you ask?”

Wild finally turned to look at him. His eyes were, well. Wild. In the dark of the night, they had an almost unnatural glow to them.

“I am going to stress bake enough to feed a small army. And I refuse to not make everyone at least one thing they enjoy. So I am asking again,” and wow, a survey about dessert preferences had never felt so threatening before, “what is your favorite sweet treat, Captain?” 

Wild’s smile was strained and feral. Warriors felt oddly like he was being stared down by a predator. 

“Um,” Warriors replied eloquently. “Ah, I find apples to be quite sweet, so—”

Wild gasped in betrayal like Warriors had just stabbed him. “Captain,” he said in distress, “Apples? Tell me you've had real sweets before.”

Warriors answer of apple pie died on his tongue. With that reaction, he had a feeling it might not count as a “sweet treat”—whatever that classification was anyways.

Despite the accusations of being a city-boy, Warriors hadn't been raised in a particularly well off family—that was half the reason he'd left to enlist in the army (the other half wasn’t worth the mention). And as he’d said, once he’d gotten there, he hardly had the time to indulge. He knew of sweets and candies, but he'd never found it in him to try.

His hesitance to reply appeared to be answer enough for Wild.

“Warriors,” Wild said mournfully. He seemed genuinely devastated. “Have you never had cake before? At all? Ever?” 

Warriors shifted in the saddle. “...No?”

“What about your birthday?!” Wild practically exploded. His eyes were wide with shock. 

“I'm not actually one for big celebrations, believe it or not,” Warriors aimed for a tone of levity—even including a little chuckle!—to hopefully bring the conversation to something more casual. 

“I'm making you a cake,” Wild declared. “The second I'm able to. What– oh, Hylia, I can't even ask you your favorite flavor because you don't even know them. Oh, Warriors. I'm so sorry. I've failed you.” Wild sniffed loudly. Was- was he crying?

“What?” Warriors asked. “No, not all– why would you have—?”

“I've never made a sweet treat for you guys!” Wild wailed. Both Epona’s made noises of surprise at the sudden pitch. “I'll make up to you, I promise , I really will!”

“Oh- oh, don't cry,” Warriors soothed. His heart was torn between concern, despair, and amusement. Because truly, what in the world?

Wild sniffled again, reaching up to scrub at his eyes. His face was set in a newfound determination. “We need to hurry up. And then I’ll get home and I’ll make a cake. I’ll make so many cakes. Just you wait, Captain, I’ll do it.”

Warriors may not have been as close with Wild as he was with some of the others, but he still had a feeling this was not normal behavior for him. Nayru help them all, Warriors comrades were all losing their absolute minds. 

He hoped everyone back at the Ranch was being a little more normal about it all…

“Sky,” Time said through gritted teeth, next exhale sharp through his nose, “I love you, and I appreciate that you care, but I am fine.”

In any other scenario, the blatant admission of affection from Time of all Links would have floored him. As it were, the bird part of Sky’s brain was working overdrive to make sure he really won the least-normal-guy award.

A discontented warble was all the reply he could give Time, hands restlessly fluttering through the air as he tried to control himself. He'd already tucked Time in neatly four (hah) times (hah) and fluffed his pillows no less than fifteen. That was good. He'd made him comfortable. That could be enough. Should be enough.

…Maybe just one more pillow fluff. For good measure! You could never be too picky about the nest, especially in such a vulnerable time (hah) when comfort was such a priority. It was important. Maybe… Sky fluffed a different pillow, and then circled around the bed to make the fluffing even. But then… Sky clucked in irritation, wings rustling as he backed up to inspect his work. What he wanted was to take the entire bed apart and fix every part of it until it was perfect, but he couldn’t do that because Time was still laying on it. But what he was doing wasn't good enough. Not for this.

“Sky,” Time said. “This isn't necessary. You did good.”

“...It's not good enough,” Sky replied sullenly. The words came out far more pathetic than he wished they had.

“Yes it is.”

“No,” Sky scowled, squinting deeply at the bed like it would magically offer up what was wrong with it. 

“What—?” Time cut himself off with a long groan, head thunking back into the headboard. He sounded exhausted. “It is good enough. This is for me, right? If I say it's good doesn't that count?”

Sky wished it did. He wished so badly. He also wished he was normal. Unbound by the magic he used to hide them, his wings curled around his torso protectively—close enough to rake his hands through the soft feathers as he tried to convince himself everything was fine.

Unfortunately—or fortunately, rather—despite being down an eye and literally in labor, Time’s attention still zeroed in on the motion. 

“Hey,” Time said sharply, sitting up with a wince and a glare. “None of that.”

Sky jolted his hands away, shoving them into his armpits and squeezing himself together so they didn't wander against his will.

“Sorry, I know,” Sky apologized, wings wilting until they hit the floor. “You're right, I'm being irrational, I know. I just– I can stop bothering you if I'm being annoying.”

Time sighed, long and heavy. He squeezed his eye shut for a long moment. When he opened it again, he looked tired. “You don't need to leave.”

“I'm being stupid,” Sky said. It was both a protest to the words and a criticism just for himself. He was being stupid. Just because his head had been scrambled like a pan of eggs—which, okay, maybe not the best idiom given the context—didn't mean he had the right to act up like this. He shouldn’t have made it about himself when Time was about to give birth.

“Brush my hair for me?” Time asked suddenly. 

“What?”

“My hair is tangled,” Time explained, “And greasy. I would feel better if it was brushed.”

It was such an underhanded tactic, and Sky recognized it immediately because he used it all the time (hah). When Twilight, or Warriors, or Legend (or any of them, really)—chronic helpers and worry-ers—got restless and overly anxious, there was one tried and true way to get them to calm down: delegate them to a task that was real, but not urgent, that they could complete in order to feel helpful. Having his own tactics used against him…

Sky could not help the way his wings raised and fluttered in delight at the prospect of preening, even as his cheeks burned in embarrassment. Time was so evil. The concept and the person. But especially the person.

“Please?” Time asked, and oh, “There’s a brush already on the nightstand.”

Sky was moving before Time could finish. Sure enough, a rather ornate boar bristle brush (he only knew what that was because of Warriors) was sitting there just waiting to be used. Overwhelmed as he already was, he forgot to be self-conscious as he invaded Time’s personal space, reaching up to run his fingers through Time’s hair in search of problem areas.

Time’s next sigh was content, head tipping into Sky’s hands. Once he was satisfied he’d found the problems, Sky began to carefully attack Time’s hair with the brush. He couldn’t help but softly sing as he worked—in little chirps and trills he normally tried to keep under lock and key.

They continued on like that for a while. Every once in a while, Time’s face would twist, or his breath would catch, and Sky would coo softly and scratch at his scalp until his breathing relaxed. It seemed like forever passed otherwise undisturbed until the door creaked open.

“My husband isn’t giving you too much trouble, is he?” Malon’s joking voice floated in.

Hyper-focused on his task and lost in instincts as he was, Sky entirely forgot to even try to reply. He was going to make Time comfortable, damn it.

“Malon,” Time grouched.

“Hi, honey,” Malon greeted—voice going softer. “How you feeling?”

“Bad,” was Time’s succinct reply. “Displeased with my life choices.”

Malon chuckled a little, the bed dipping as she sat by Time’s side. She took his hand into her own, bringing it up and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Warriors and Wild took Epona to town to get the midwife.” She lowered Time’s hand enough to run the back of her fingers over the inside of his forearm.

Time grunted, eye twitching as he shifted around in discomfort. “Which one?”

“Both.” 

“Who took my girl?” Time asked a little more irritably. 

Malon’s smile was incredibly loving despite that. “Warriors.”

Time’s face twisted up. He was quiet for a few moments. “That’s good,” he said eventually, a little breathless. “He’s… was always good with horses.”

“Do you wanna take a walk, maybe? It could help with things,” Malon suggested. Time groaned at even the thought, long and displeased.

“Yes,” he still agreed. “If Sky lets me, anyways.”

At his name, Sky snapped back into his body, hands pulling back like he’d been burned. “Sorry,” he blurted, hurrying to scoot back and off the bed. Talk about not being normal. He had a strong urge to launch himself out the window.

Malon’s laugh was kind. “Oh, don’t you get embarrassed, Link’s just being grouchy.”

“I think I’m allowed to be a little grouchy, given the circumstances,” Time grumbled. “Goddess. Sky?”

“Yes?” Sky snapped to attention, spine going straight like he was back in the Knight Academy. 

“Thank you. That was nice,” Time told him, and truly did seem like he meant it—expression open and words genuine. “It helped. And it would help more if you went back downstairs and made sure the boys aren’t giving Twilight too much trouble so I don’t have to worry about it.”

Most of his nerves soothed, Sky got to be floored at the blatant affection and trust. It always felt like a rare thing from the man, what with their somewhat awkward relationship. For him to, in essence, pass along leadership, meant he trusted Sky and believed that he could keep everyone calm. 

Sky pressed his palm to his chest, fingers splaying over his heart. Settled at last, Sky gave Time a confident smile. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’ll make sure they don’t get up to too much trouble.”

Time’s smile, small as it was, was relieved.

They were in so much fucking trouble.

In his defense: at least Legend had put out the fire instead of starting the fire. See, he could be safe and responsible, Warriors!  

Something wooden in the (now frozen solid) barn above them gave an ominous creak.

“Uh oh,” Wind gulped. And, well. Yeah. Uh oh indeed.

“Oops,” Hyrule whispered. He was staring wide-eyed at the charred support beam that was missing its bottom half and held up with nothing more than thoughts and prayers. And a very pissed looking Twilight.

“I left y’all alone,” Twilight began, seething in a barely contained fury, “for five Ordona damned minutes. And y’all do this.”

Anxiety prickled the back of his neck. He’d never seen Twilight so pissed before, let alone at any of them. And trust him, Legend had seen Twilight pissed off a lot. 

“It was Four’s fault!” Hyrule blurted suddenly, pointing an accusing finger and everything. Which, way to throw his partner-in-crime under the wagon, the fuck? “He wanted to use the forge!”

“He’s not the one who started casting fire spells,” Legend jumped to defend, grip on his ice rod tightening. 

“He said it would be helpful!” Hyrule defended himself—arms flying outward in dismay and wings fluttering in indignation. 

“I said maybe,” Four clarified, voice wobbly with tears. His tiny frame was shaking something fierce, soot-stained face red and blotchy as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “I didn’t- I- we didn’t—”

Four doubled over himself with a heart-wrenching sob as realization pierced Legend’s thoughts. The Colors must be freaking the fuck out right now.

It had taken a portal separating the two (or five) of them and a fight they were outnumbered in for Four to let Legend know about the splitting. It had explained… a lot, honestly (and shed a horrifying light on the Palace of the Four Sword, which was a thought spiral he was going to be repressing for the rest of forever, thank you).

“Four,” Twilight said sadly, distracted from his anger in the face of his companion so sad. “You—”

Something creaked ominously again, much louder than before. Something else made a terrifying snapping sound.

Everything was still for a moment.

“GET OUT!” Twilight roared, right before the entire barn began to collapse.

The next few moments passed in a panic. With a kick of his Pegasus Boots, Legend went flying to the exit, Hyrule fluttering on his heels. In hot pursuit came Wind, who launched himself forward and rolled away in a series of impressive somersaults. Several paces out, Legend tripped over something in the grass and landed flat on his face. Hyrule went up and away in a diagonal to the sky.

Legend tried to stand, but his ankle screamed and he collapsed back down with a choked yell. He pushed himself up with his hands, throwing a look over his shoulder to find Twilight skidding to a stop in front of the barn, and Four, stood paralyzed in the middle of it all, eyes wide and swirling. Another crack filled the air, a wooden beam falling from the ceiling dangerously close to Four, and Twilight spun around on the slick mud of the ground and went sprinting back.

The moment he was in reach, Twilight swung Four over his shoulder like a sack of flour and raced to leave, but everything was already crumbling. They weren’t going to make it time, and Legend was helpless to watch it.

Twilight’s eyes met Legend’s, full of panic—and yet, his face was determined as he pulled Four from his shoulders and threw him as far as he could, right as the whole building came down over his head. 

Dust and debris flew outward with a mighty crash as a flash of bright light filled the night. Legend covered his eyes with his forearm, turning away both in part to protect his face and in part to muffle the sob choking him. Goosebumps littered every inch of skin as he lay shivering in the grass, heart rabbit-quick. Twilight was- he’d been—

“Four fucking exploded!” Hyrule shrieked from above.

What. 

With a sniffle, Legend sat up and turned to see where, sure enough, what once had been the cohesive being of Four was now, well, four (hah) identical boys dressed in colorful tunics, sprawled across the ground just outside the blast radius of the debris in various states of awareness. 

“What the fuck,” Wind said appropriately. He seemed too shocked to give any other reaction.

One of the Four’s—Red—shot up with a choked gasp. “Twilight!” he wailed, moving to stand and rush over and succeeding in a lot of flailing around and falling over again.

Spurred on by the cry, a blur of light turned into Hyrule landing in front of the pile of debris. 

“Oh shit,” Wind swore, rolling forward into a sprint to join Hyrule.

“Twlight?” Hyrule called out desperately, wings drooped and dimmed. “Twilight, are you okay?”

Everything was quiet aside from Red and Legend’s soft sniffs.

“…Ow,” the pile of wooden planks said at last. Legend’s relieved sigh was closer to a sob. 

“You’re okay!” Red cried in relief, finally standing and hopping over on one foot to lean on Wind for support. Wind startled, giving Red an extraordinarily baffled side-eye, but said nothing.

“Of course he’s okay, he’s Twilight,” Vio said stiffly, arms crossing in feigned nonchalance. His eyes were misty.

“Would it kill you to admit you were worried too?” Green sighed tiredly. His hands were clutching at a spot on his forehead, and he looked a little queasy. 

“A little help?” Twilight asked, out of breath and desperate. 

“I’m not strong enough for that, Twilight!” Hyrule exclaimed. His hands hovered uselessly over the wood. “I could cast another spell—?”

“No,” Legend gasped out. “No more spells. Please.”

Wind brightened. “Oh, I’m strong enough! I have power bracelets! Here,” he then turned to search through his Spoils Bag.

In the air behind them, a steady, powerful thump filled the air. It reminded Legend, distantly, of the Loftwings of Skyloft. What interesting creatures they were…

“What the fuck?!” came the horrified shout of Sky. A few more beats of air, and then he touched down on the grass, wings flung out behind him like a built in sailcloth. Almost like that’s how birds and winged animals worked, dipshit. Great going, Legend, you’ve reinvented the wheel.

He felt sick to his stomach. He didn’t know if it was fear or a head wound. Or both. Knowing his luck, it was probably both. 

“There was an accident,” Vio explained to Sky, straight to the chase. If Sky was surprised to see him, he didn’t show it. “No one is dead yet and presumably no one is dying, but Twilight is currently trapped under an unknown amount of debris.”

Sky did not look like he knew whether he was furious or having a panic attack about the situation, eyes scanning the wreckage. 

“Hylia above,” Sky cursed loudly as he moved closer. “Time just told me to keep track of you so you didn’t give the Rancher trouble and by the time I get downstairs you’ve already collapsed a building on him?!”

With a grunt, Wind—power bracelets now adorning his wrists—heaved away a patch of wood to reveal the neck up form of a very dusty and bedraggled Twilight.

Twilight lifted his head up to give Sky a thousand yard stare. “Sky,” he asked, “why the fuck did we let Wars leave?”

His piece said, Twilight’s head thunked back onto the ground.

“How in Nayru’s name are we getting him out of here?” Wind asked. He put his hands on his hips as he leaned down to inspect the pile—remarkably blasé about the whole situation.

“Carefully,” Vio stressed. “One wrong move and the whole thing could collapse more, not the mention the worry of spinal injuries—”

Twilight’s head lifted up again. He squinted, long and heavy. Eventually, he asked, “Why… are there four Fours?”

“He exploded,” Hyrule sniffed. “After he hit the ground.”

“This is normal,” Vio added helpfully. 

“What?”

“Twilight,” Sky asked, steady and calm as he stepped forward. “Where are you pinned?”

Twilight shifted a little, wincing. “Mostly my legs. Nothin’ feels broke, though, ‘s’jus’…. Lots’a pressure. A bit stabbed too.” His next inhale was sharp through his gritted teeth. “Okay, maybe a lotta bit stabbed.”

“I could heal you?” Hyrule offered, hands already starting to glow as he raised them towards Twilight.

“No!” Sky commanded sharply. Everyone present flinched at the steely tone. Sky was normally so well mannered and peaceable, but Legend could see his knight training shining through now more than ever. “If he’s been punctured the last thing we want is to heal him around the injury. It would cause unnecessary physical trauma and pain later on when we have to remove it. We need to get him out or uncovered first, and then heal him.”

“Oh,” Hyrule said. He lowered his hands. “That makes sense, yeah.” 

“Legend?” Sky called out, turning towards him. “You have a Power Bracelet, right?”

Legend startled, not expecting to be addressed. “Uh,” he ducked his head, swiping at his face with his sleeve in a desperate attempt to look a little less like he was crying. “Yeah, I- I do.”

Sky’s searching eyes bore into him, wings raising in muted alarm. “Are you hurt?”

Legend shook his head. He used both hands to scrub at his face. It didn’t do much to quell his tears.

“He might be in shock,” Vio offered.

“I’m fine,” Legend managed, swiping his hands against his tabard. When he stood on shaky legs, blood rushed to his head, vision swimming and ears ringing. Green gave him a concerned look, and Vio a dubious one, but he ignored both of them as he marched forward determinedly.

“I can help,” Legend declared. He balled his hands into fists as if he could squeeze his anxiety out through the meat of his palms.

Sky looked at him for a long moment, gaze hard, before he nodded once and moved on.

“We need to lift both sides at once, so we don’t jostle him,” Sky directed. “If one or two of you could get to the other side, that would be great.”

“I can do it,” Blue volunteered. 

“Really?” Vio raised a doubtful eyebrow.

Blue bristled. “Yes, really! I’m small, so I’ll fit, and I’m strong.”

“I can do it too,” Wind said quickly. “If, um,” he glanced down to where Red had latched back onto his arm.

“Sorry!” Red squeaked, hurriedly letting him go. He moved to step away and instead started falling to the floor with a yelp—which he most certainly would’ve hit if not for Sky catching him just in time.

“Woah!” Wind cried.

“Are you okay?” Sky asked frantically. Red shook his head with a sniff, trembling a little.

“My leg might be broken,” Red confessed tearfully. 

“Goddesses sake,” Legend sighed, snatching Red from under his armpits and carrying him over to where Green and Vio were huddled. If Red had a protest to being manhandled like a misbehaving kitten, he didn’t show it. “Wind, Blue, go get ready.”

That was all the two needed to spring into action. It took some effort to carefully pick their way through the debris, but soon enough they were in position to start moving debris. When he returned, Legend felt overwhelmingly unsteady standing next to Sky’s solid form, but he pushed the feeling and the nausea churning in his gut firmly to the side.

“On three,” Sky said. “One, two, three—”

With some grunts of effort, and after a few rounds of moving and shuffling like the world's most stressful game of Jenga, they finally managed to extract Twilight from the remnants of what had once been a beautiful forge.

“Healing now?” Hyrule asked, a little impatient. 

“Yes,” Sky agreed.

As it turned out, Twilight was mostly okay, but the back of his legs were bloodied and, indeed, an impressive chunk of wood was sticking out from thigh. Otherwise, besides from scrapes and bruises and a bumped head, he was fine enough for the short walk back to the house.

Red was held tight in Sky’s grasp, arms hooked over Sky’s neck and face hidden into his shoulder. Hyrule fluttered (literally) in worry at Twilight’s side, giving little bursts of magic when Twilight wasn’t looking. To Twilight’s credit, despite his pained expression and slow pace, he didn’t seem to be struggling too much.

As for the other Colors, Vio had twisted his ankle, and only after much cajoling had consented to a piggy-back ride via one smug-to-be-useful Wind. Green had a hand fisted into Sky’s tunic, but could still walk, and Blue had escaped the whole debacle with little more than some bumps and bruises. 

Legend was still shaking. From the chill of the night, adrenaline crash, or anxiety, he didn’t know—but walking to the house felt oddly like walking to his own execution. They had been in trouble before the entire thing had collapsed. Collapsing with Twilight still inside? 

“Oh, you’re all alright, thank goodness,” Malon breathed in relief from the porch. Her entire body sagged as the tension bled out—until her eyes then landed on the four Four’s and went very wide. “Oh. What- you know what, let’s get y’all inside.”

Going inside was a bad idea in the don’t get in trouble department. 

Time was genuinely in hysterics when they entered. It was horrifying. 

Injuries forgotten, Twilight rushed forward shush him with a, “Hey, hey, s’okay, everythin’s handled.” The words didn’t seem to help. Time just desperately grabbed at Twilight’s face, fingers tracing under the scratches and scrapes littering it. 

“What happened?” Time practically wailed. Both eyes were wide with anxiety as they flickered to scan over them all—one blue and the other a solid, glowing white. It was disconcerting beyond belief. “Are you all- are you hurt? Are—?” Time’s cries paused for a moment. His breaths were gasping and shuddering as he blinked a few times (hah) in confusion. “Why is there more than one Four?”

“Um,” Sky explained eloquently. 

“Easy, Honey,” Malon soothed, circling around Twilight to comfortingly rub at Time’s shoulders. “Your boys are okay. No more banged up than the usual.”

“The Ranch is supposed to be safe,” Time cried, voice wobbling, and oh. Yeah, that’ll do it. “What is wrong with you people?” Time demanded between sobs. “Don’t you know you’re supposed to not stress out pregnant people, let alone people actively in labor? What the fuck happened?”

“It was an accident,” Red sniffled from Sky’s arms, unable to meet Time’s eyes. “We didn’t mean to!”

“We wouldn’t have done it at all if someone had just calmed down,” Blue snapped. 

“That’s rich from you, Blue!” Red shouted suddenly—vicious and upset as he twisted in Sky’s hold with a glare. “You’re the one who wanted to hit something in the first place!” 

“I wanted to be productive!” Blue roared, arms flinging as he stomped the ground. “So we would calm down and be useful! And that would’ve been great if someone hadn’t let everyone tag along!”

“They still helped!” Red shouted back. Even with tears in his eyes, his expression was snarling. “We were laughing! We felt better!”

“Laughter is proven to lower stress levels,” Vio quietly added. Blue whirled on him. 

“Don’t you start, you knew it was a bad idea and you didn’t say anything! You wanted to be alone too!”

“Because I thought it might help after all, which it did,” Vio replied hotly. 

“Guys, we all messed up,” Green sighed, “we shouldn’t play the blame game—”

“Really? I don’t know if you were paying attention Green but Twilight almost died because we were being stupid!” Blue’s voice pitched into a yell, wavering as tears sprung into his eyes. His breathing was harsh and labored. And oh. 

Legend felt a strong kinship towards Blue—because yeah, they had almost killed Twilight because they were being stupid. 

“Four- er, Blue,” Twilight said. He moved like he was going to get closer, but Time’s death grip held him still. “I’m okay. No harm done. Well, mostly no harm done, but this is nothing compared to what we get out on the road.”

“You don’t get hurt on the road because of us,” Blue countered quietly, out of steam. He curled his arms around himself and sniffed softly. 

No one said anything for a few beats.

“What happened?” Time asked once more. Throughout the argument between the Colors, he had mostly calmed down, but there were still tears spilling down his cheeks and a hitch to his breath. 

“It was my fault, Time,” Wind said, stepping forward bravely even as he wrung his hands together in anxiety. “Four wanted to go tinker in the forge to keep his mind off things, and even though he clearly wanted to be alone, I pushed to make him let us come with when that wasn’t what he needed, so he never calmed down by the time everything happened—and when we there, I encouraged everyone to be stupid, so it’s my fault Twilight got hurt, because he wouldn’t have needed to go back if Four had gotten his alone time, and if he’d gotten his alone time this wouldn’t have happened at all.”

It was a shockingly mature apology. 

“Okay,” Time said slowly. “What happened, though.”

“The barn the forge was in collapsed,” Legend supplied, since no one else seemed to be answering.

“What,” Time hissed.

“On top of Twilight,” Legend continued. Time’s eyes snapped back to Twilight’s face. “We might’ve set it on fire too. Twilight’s fine, though.”

“How—” all of Time’s earlier distress was replaced by a baffled anger as he looked back. “Why did you set it on fire, exactly?”

“It was my fault,” Wind reiterated.

“The fire was mostly my fault,” Hyrule mumbled with a sad frown. “But like… it was fun before everything caught on fire…. And maybe a little bit after that anyways?”

“I didn’t take you for an arsonist,” Twilight commented in mild disbelief. 

“What happened,” Sky started—not quite forcefully, but in a way that commanded attention nonetheless, “was an accident, and playing the blame game isn’t going to help us. What matters is that everyone is okay, and we should focus our energy on keeping it that way. No one was hurt badly, and the forge can be rebuilt.”

“Yes, I absolutely agree, and I think we should start that by having Time lay down or something, plus some medical attention for my brothers and I as well, and possibly Legend due to the fact that he appears quite pale,” Vio rattled off in quick, anxious succession.

“No I’m not,” Legend replied automatically, like he could actually control how pale his face was or was not. It was the principle of the thing, okay?

“Right, yes—here,” and then Sky was gently depositing Red onto one of the dining chairs in the kitchen area.

“Why are there four of you,” Time asked. His face was oddly blank. Legend was concerned they’d finally broken him. 

“He exploded,” Hyrule answered, deadly serious.

Legend pinched the bridge of his nose with a tired, despaired sigh. “’Rulie, please stop saying it like that.”

Hyrule fluttered his wings and chimed in offense. “That’s what happened, though! I was up above, I saw it happen. Twilight threw Four—really nice throw, by the way—”

“Thanks?”

“—and then the Smithy exploded into the- well,” Hyrule’s face scrunched. “The Smithies. They went flying and everything.” Hyrule mimed an explosion with his hands, making a little sound effect to boot. “Exploded.”  

All the Colors exchanged glances with each other, all making various expressions before Green finally spoke up. “We didn’t- hah, we didn’t explode. We—this is a result of our adventure.”

“Link drew the Four Sword,” Vio took over explaining, “and split into us. When we fused back together… it wasn’t the same. We were still there. Adjusting was a nightmare.”

“We all are Four,” Red said. “When we fuse, we become one, unless we’re… unstable, like we were.” Red curled in on himself, clearly guilty. “Then it’s hard to keep it together. Usually we can control it, but… today has been a lot.”

“It’s been fun!” Hyrule chirped. “A little near death experience never hurt anyone.”

“That is categorically untrue,” Legend said, at the same as Twilight protested, “Except for me!” 

“It has not been fun,” Malon scolded, voice whip sharp. “I love you boys, but y’all’re stressin’ my husband somethin’ fierce and that’s the last thing he needs right now.” 

Hyrule pouted. Legend could see from a mile away that he was about to say something stupid, and took it upon himself to nip that in the bud before he royally pissed Malon off.

“Ma’am, I feel like I should clarify it is not us thinking this is fun, but in fact, just Hyrule being a little weirdo,” Legend explained—rather correctly, might he say.

“Hey!” Hyrule protested.

“Don’t you even start, you know you’re being weird,” Legend put his hands on his hips with a scowl. “You've been off since we got here, ‘Rulie. You're like, fairy drunk or something.”

Nonsensical as they were, the words seem to make Malon realize something. “Oh, of course,” she sighed. “I forget you’re part fairy sometimes. Fairies love when kids get born, so he probably is—oh, how'd ya put it? Fairy drunk?” 

“He is standing right here,” Hyrule pouted.

“Why don’t you help me with the last of everyone's injuries?” Sky suggested diplomatically. “And why doesn't everyone go sit down somewhere?”

“You people are going to be the death of me,” Time muttered as Malon began to guide him away. The man sighed heavily, face scrunching shut, and when he opened his eyes again only the one slid open—which, thank the Goddesses, there were no words to describe the horrifying wrongness and off-putting vibes a two-eyed Time was.

“Rancher,” Legend called, as Sky and Hyrule fluttered around the Colors to tend to their injuries. He pointed towards the couch. “Sit.”

Twilight obliged, albeit with a grumbled, “‘M not a dog.”

Legend sat next to him, placing a throw pillow on his knee before reaching down to pull Twilight’s ankle up to rest on the pillow. The instant he recognized what was going on, Twilight frowned and tried to move his leg away.

“I can—”

Legend gripped his ankle tighter. “Shut up.”

Thankfully, Twilight didn’t try again, and the air between them was silent as Legend carefully worked off Twilight’s boot—pausing whenever he winced—and set it on the floor next to them. He moved the freed leg further into his lap and motioned for Twilight to give him his other leg.

It took a few moments of pointed staring, but Twilight eventually acquiesced with a rather Wolfie-like rumble of displeasure. 

“You’re stupid,” Legend said at last. “You probably could’ve made the jump. Or turned into a wolf and then jumped.”

Twilight shook his head. “If Four was on my back, maybe. I would’ve dropped ‘em if I’d transformed like that. And, I’m flattered you think I can jump so far, but I really can’t. I knew I could throw, though.” Twilight gave a stupid little shrug, like it was as simple as that. Like it was just that easy to throw himself into harm's way just to save someone because he had a dumb bleeding heart.

“Still stupid,” Legend grumbled, instead of the confession his rabbit-quick heart and traitorous emotions wanted him to say. It was easier to be insulting than it was to be honest.

Because he was also a bastard on top of all the other stuff, Twilight jabbed Legend in the stomach with a socked foot. 

“Hey!” Legend swatted at the offending appendage and earned a laugh in response.

“It worked out, didn’t it?” Twilight’s grin was a little crooked. “No need ‘ta lock the stable when the horse’s already bolted.”

“You scared me,” Legend admitted, tears springing to his eyes because apparently he   was going to be saying what he wanted to anyways, thank you his self control, “Don’t do that shit again.”

Twilight’s smile fell. “Legend…”

“Don’t,” Legend warned. He didn’t even know what he was speaking out against. “Just- stop getting into situations.”

Ah, yes, situations. What an incredibly descriptive word. Good going, him. He was on a roll with these observations today.

It was clear Twilight wanted to press, in the way he worried his bottom lip and gave Legend sad little eyes with his brows drawn, but after a while, he simply replied, “I’ll try.”

The part of him that was still eleven years old and scared wanted to make Twilight promise. The majority of him knew that was unreasonable. As much as his companions (friends, brothers—) being reckless terrified him, he had the courage to admit to himself that he was just the same. No matter how heavy his adventures weighed on him, he’d never be able to stop helping. Hero’s Spirit. Ugh.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Legend said instead. He could admit that much.

“Me too.” Twilight paused, then tipped his head back with a groan. “Sweet Ordona, this is such a mess.”

Legend couldn’t help a sharp laugh. “Tell me about it.”

Hyrule wasn’t doing a very good job of being overwhelmingly self aware of his actions and the effects they had on everyone around him and also constantly second-guessing the actions of other people and what their true, secret intentions were.

In his defense: he was excited! 

Sure, he may not have been raised as a fairy, but he still was one. Protecting, nurturing, and allowing life to flourish was practically their whole thing! Healing magic was his forte not just because he’d been forced to adapt on his own adventures and this one, but because it was in his blood. Creating life was an incredible step above saving life. Time’s magic sang with it, and the magic in the land was responding in kind.

Sky had ended up sending Hyrule outside to, “wait for Warriors and Wild to get back,” which in a sense he was technically doing, but Hyrule was rather distracted with how much Lon Lon Ranch was alive, and how it adored Time. Child of the forest, the wind whispered from the trees beyond. The grass underneath his hands was wet with happy tears. The air was cool, crisp, and sweet in his lungs, like the bite of a fresh apple. The soil, deep in the earth, was almost glowing, seeds sprouting long before they should and roots expanding and intertwining in a mutual celebration of life-bringing.

Maybe he’d committed a bit of arson, but it wouldn’t have gone to fruition. The Ranch was seeped in magic—Time had been right when he’d said that it was supposed to be safe; it was safe. Fairies floated on the edges of the Ranch like the fireflies in Wild’s era, just in reach in case of any ill happenings. The cliffs surrounding the Ranch weren’t just natural barriers—there was something powerful soaked into the land, a subtle ward of protection from an unknown source of great magic. Most of the times (hah) they’d been at the Ranch, the strange magic had mostly been dormant, but now, everything was gathering together in anticipation, drawn in by the fierce love filling the air. 

The thought of Time both made the happy buzzing in his whole body get louder and the guilt in his heart grow stronger. He hadn’t meant to make their leader so distressed, he’d just wanted to have a little bit of fun! He was excited, and the taste of the magic in the air made him want nothing more than to chime happily and flutter around and do cartwheels in the air from the joy of it all. The short walk to the forge alone had made him want to bounce off the walls, so when he’d casted his fire spell… well, he’d gone a little overboard with the intensity. 

For the time (hah) being, Hyrule was content to lay sprawled on the ground, grass tickling his fingers and breeze kissing his face. He felt dazed and delighted all in one. Everything was so good. 

After a while, the wind (hah) shifted to rustle his hair like a passing hand, and he perked up with a grin to see that, indeed, Warriors and Wild had returned from town, midwife in tow on a horse of her own. It was a pretty one—stocky and sturdy to carry the bags it was hoisting.

Hyrule didn't even entertain the idea of walking, instead flitting over to unlock the gate with a happy chorus of greeting bells and twinkles from his wings. In his chest, a warm glow of happyfriendshello formed in a little ball.

“Welcome back!” he called, cheerfully waving as he stepped to the side to let the gates swing open.

“Someone’s in good spirits,” Warriors laughed a little. 

When the three horses plodded in, Hyrule got a good look at the woman they’d brought back with them. Dark curly hair was almost fully streaked with gray. Her face appeared older and wrinkled, cheekbones high and prominent and skin the color of tree bark. A dark shawl protected her from the cold, but her eyes were golden and kind as they peered out. Not a woman at, then, it would seem—at least, not in the conventional, Hylian sense of the word.

(Hyrule may not have been raised fae, but was still a part of the forest as much as every other thing.)

“Hello, ma’am,” Hyrule greeted, his usual shyness nowhere to be seen. He blinked a few times (hah), a little in awe of the age of her magic—old like the trees of the Lost Woods. Befitting, of her true nature and form.

“Hello to you too,” she replied, lips twitching into a secretive smirk like she knew what he was sensing. “You’re… Hyrule, yes?”

Hyrule nodded earnestly. “Mhm! Nice to meet you!” 

“We can stable your horse, if that’s no bother to you, miss,” Warriors offered her politely. All the courtesy of a proper knight. Suck up.

“That would be appreciated, dear, yes,” she smiled with a little laugh. “Goodness knows the stories the Princess has told me of these two, I shouldn’t keep them waiting.”

 A connection to the Princess? How intriguing.

“Oh, definitely not,” Warriors chuckled. He slid himself off Epona Sr., moving to offer her a hand down.

“My, you all are so polite,” she smiled, taking the hand. She took a moment to take some bags from the saddle, and then started to make her way to the house—giving one last little wink over her shoulder to Hyrule as she left.

“Apparently she was the midwife when Lullaby was born,” Wild whispered to him, hopping to the ground himself. Ah, that explains it. Even more curious, then. “The Princess insisted that she’d be there, apparently.” 

“How have things been while we’ve been gone?” Warriors inquired as he began to lead the midwife's horse to the stable. Both Eponas, amazing as he'd grown to know them as, followed on their own.

Hyrule hummed, thinking deeply. “Well, we collapsed the forge barn on top of Twilight!” he said cheerfully.

“What?!” Warriors yelped, spinning around with wide eyes.

“Oh, and Four exploded! Did you know he can turn into four people?” Hyrule asked.

Wild blinked at him a few times (hah) before saying, “Yes, actually.”

“Pause,” Warriors held up both hands, “can we circle back to the collapsing the forge on top of Twilight thing?”

“Well, we were goofing off, and some fire might’ve gotten involved,” he left out the part where it had been his fault, “and then Legend froze it so it’d stop being on fire, which I think made it worse because then it all sort of fell down after that.”

“Is he okay?” Wild asked, brows drawn in concern.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, Twilight’s fine,” Hyrule dismissed with a wave of his hand. 

“Did- why did you—” Warriors couldn’t even finish his sentence. 

“Wind said it was his fault, so blame him.”

“We weren’t even gone that long,” Wild said, mystified. “I know I’m usually up front and center causing chaos, but now of all times? Seriously?”

“Actually, Sky said it was an accident and that pointing blame was useless,” Hyrule corrected with a nod. 

“Are the rest of you alright?” Warriors demanded.

“The Smithies got slightly banged up, but otherwise yeah.”

“The—” Warriors took a deep breath. “The Smithies?”

“Well, yeah, ‘cause he exploded. And now there’s four of him. I thought I already mentioned that?” 

“Din save me,” Warriors breathed, pressing his face into his hands in despair. “We were only gone for a few hours. A few hours!”

“Hey, Hyrule?” Wild spoke up.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a favorite sweet treat?”

“Oh Goddesses—”

They were handling things as well as they could, right up until dawn broke and the screaming started. 

After the, uh… forge incident, and the return of Wild and Warriors, they’d all battened down the hatches and settled in for a long hall. Wild had immediately commandeered the kitchen, starting on an absolute feast. Wind had only really just grown used to the sheer volume and variety that the Champion carried around in a little rectangle on his hip, and sometimes he'd make a big pot of one thing in a tavern, but never before had he presented such a variety. 

Wind guessed it was because he was worried. Cooking was Wild’s way of showing love and care, and it was the thing he insisted upon the most, always. If they could eat good food, then in Wild’s books, they could do anything—storm or shine, health or sickness, injury or luxury: if they could eat, they could thrive. So when they were in a situation where they needed a pick-me-up, Wild cooked, and boy did they need a pick-me-up.

They also had a lot more mouths to feed than usual, what with Four having—as Hyrule put it—exploded into four (hah) people.

Blue had sat brooding in the corner as everyone calmed down, and eventually fallen asleep with his arms crossed and head resting on his shoulder. Red had climbed back into the safe hiding place that was the space between Sky’s arms and under the Chosen's wings a few hours ago and been there napping since. That had trapped Sky onto the love-seat, but he hadn’t seemed to mind—filling the air with a quiet birdsong that reminded Wind of the gulls on Outset. Green had peacefully retired early on to the guest room to sleep off the headache he’d been left with post concussion-curing potion.

Vio had been the only Color not to immediately pass out—instead interrogating Wild on the inner workings of his slate. Wild, of course, had been happy to chat, even though he wasn't the most knowledgeable on how it functioned. When he'd tired of that, Vio had retrieved a book from Four’s bag and had been furiously reading since.

The rest of the Chain hadn't been much better. Legend had fallen asleep on the couch pretty quickly after every Link had been accounted for, followed swiftly by Twilight. Sky had arranged them into something more comfortable before he'd been Red-napped (like, kidnapped by Red, but also napped because Red was napping, he was a comedic genius)—guiding Legend’s limp form down to rest against Twilight’s chest. He’d even put a few pillows down to prop Twilight up, and then pulled off Legend’s boots and tucked them both in, and then he’d spent several minutes carefully combing their hair until not a speck of debris from earlier remained.

Wind hadn't bothered to resist when Sky had rounded on him with wide, owl-like pleading eyes to do the same. He’d be lying if he said that he understood entirely how Sky’s brain worked, but he knew he never wanted Sky to feel anywhere close to how he had months ago ever again, so it was easy to indulge. Besides, he didn’t need to understand, really—he had tangible proof that it helped, so none of that mattered.  

Warriors' first course of action had been to brew a pot of coffee. The first three cups he’d poured had been brought directly upstairs, the fourth and fifth had gone to Vio and Wild, and after some needling, the sixth had gone to Wind. When Warriors finally poured his own it had long since stopped steaming. He seemed incredibly disappointed by this, but drank it anyway, face grim.

Used to long nights sailing, Wind didn’t need much to keep himself awake. The only real issue was boredom, but that was easily solved by helping Wild in the kitchen.

The hours passed soon enough. And then, well. The screaming started.

The first had been more a shout than anything, but it had caught all of their attentions—every set of awake ears in the room lifting in alarm.

“Was that—?” Wind couldn’t finish the sentence. “Is he okay?”

Time got hurt often, sure, but he was more of a grunt and grit my teeth because I’m so cool and badass person, not a screaming and crying person. Hearing him vocalize any discomfort was weird.

“I forgot you don’t know how childbirth works,” Warriors sighed, head dropping into his hands in a clear sign of despair. It was like, the seventh time (hah) Wind had seen him do that. 

“Huh? What does—”

“It’s, um,” Warriors cheeks dusted red, “Childbirth is a rather painful process.”

“Why?” Wind asked. All he knew about having kids was that everyone called the birth of a child a miracle, but no one ever explained anything after that. He knew what periods were, and he knew how babies got made, but not how they entered the world. 

Everyone looked around at everything but him. No one answered. 

Wind scowled, taking a passive-aggressive bite of his chocolate filled croissant. “Fine then. Keep your secrets.”

“Ooh, does it taste okay?” Wild asked, bracing himself on Warriors wilted form as he leaned forward in anticipation. “I’m not super familiar with the process so I’m not sure how it turned out…”

“It’s fucking fantastic,” Wind grinned, taking another bite for good measure. 

Wild used Warriors as a springboard to jump up and do an excited clap. “Yes! That’s a relief, I really wasn’t sure…”

Vio finally swallowed the entire croissant he’d shoved into his mouth and demanded, “How did you make these so fast? I’ve been dying to ask you about this. You cook things that should normally take hours in what feels like an instant, and most of the things you make seem unnaturally adept at doing what you claim they should do—more than just by merely satiating us.”

Wild rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh, uh, I don’t know? I just sort of… cook? What do you mean by unnaturally adept?”

“Whenever we find ourselves somewhere cold, your meals appear to provide a true resistance. Not just in the warm meal sense—it’s the same effect as drinking a cold resistance potion. Are you using magic when you cook?” Vio asked.

An incredibly valid line of thinking. Wild’s cooking was extraordinarily weird—it helped them keep warm, or cool, or be energized for the day, or regain a weird amount of energy, and Wind swore it helped them heal faster than they normally would.

“Oh, definitely,” Wind chimed in, waving his croissant around as he talked. “He makes stew—which is supposed to, y’know, stew, in like, under an hour. Magic. Plus all the other stuff? Extra magic.”

“Well- no,” Wild shook his head, frowning slightly. “I don’t use any magic.” 

“How odd,” Vio hummed. He took a normal sized bite of another croissant, chewing thoughtfully for a moment. “Perhaps it has something to do with the shrine of resurrection? Some sort of bleed through or something?” 

And—

“Huh,” Wind thought aloud. “You might be right, actually.”

“Seriously?” Wild asked, leaning in closer again. 

Wind nodded, tapping his hand on the table and scrunching his face as he thought. “Yeah. You- no offense, but the cut of your jib is a bit off putting, which would make sense if—”

“The what of my what is what?”

“Your eyes are freaky deaky,” Wind sighed, annoyed at being interrupted. “They glow and shit when it gets dark. And your soul is really weird. You might be- if I pay attention when you cook whatever you have planned next I could probably—” 

“Pause,” Warriors said, finally lifting his head from his despaired bow. He looked no less despaired, but confusion was helping to conceal it slightly. “His soul is what?”

“I also would like to know what you mean by that?” Wild’s voice pitched up.

“Oh, yeah, you two weren’t there for that, were you?” Vio realized mildly. “It’s not very complicated, Wind can simply sense souls. Although—I never did ask how that worked.”

“Also ghosts,” Wind added,, since apparently he’d forgotten that part last time (hah) (also, oopsies?). “But that bit isn’t important right now. I—”

Whatever he’d been trying to say was cut off by a strangled scream from above.

Everyone jumped nearly a foot in the air—including Legend, who rolled off Twilight and thumped unceremoniously into the floor with a choked noise of pain. It became quickly clear that everyone in the room who’d been asleep was suddenly no longer that way. 

“Fucking shit,” Legend said from the floor, with great feeling.

“Oh,” Sky said, a little shaky. “It’s happening.”

“That was fast,” Warriors murmured.

With a wiggle, Red peered over the crest of Sky’s wings with wide, concerned eyes. “Is there anything we can do?”

“No,” Vio shook his head. “Not directly, at least.” 

A hard potion to swallow, considering they all preferred an all hands on deck approach to helping. 

“Breakfast,” Wild declared after a beat where everyone processed. “I am making breakfast. Properly, this time. Any requests?”

“More coffee,” Warriors replied instantly—slumping back down from where he’d shot up straight to drape himself across the table with a groan, face tucked into the crook of his arm. 

“Ugh,” Blue said, which was not a breakfast item.

“Omelettes?” Sky suggested with a little tilt to his head. “Should be easy enough to make, and since they’re made separately everyone can have whatever they like best!”

Wild snapped his finger and pointed at Sky. “Yes, good idea, I love you. Everyone figure out what you want, I’m making Malon’s first,” he announced, and then he was scurrying back to the kitchen. 

“I can go see what Hyrule wants?” Red offered.

“Do you really wanna talk to him?” Blue asked dryly. Or maybe he sounded like that because he’d just woken up—Wind couldn’t really tell.

Red glared at him. “Just because he’s being weird doesn’t mean he won’t want an omelette. Weird people can have omelettes! You’re weird and you want an omelette!”

“Wh- I am not weird—”

“Quiet in the kitchen,” Wild pointed a threatening egg at them.

“Your leg is still broken,” Vio pointed out wisely. Wind was starting to pick up that he was the smart part of Four. “I wouldn’t advise moving.”

Another scream from upstairs darkened the mood in an instant. 

“I will go ask,” Vio decided, dog-earing his book and stuffing another croissant into his mouth as he left. 

“Hey, um, are you alright, Legend?” Red switched the subject hesitantly, leaning over the arm of the chair to peer down at Legend’s still prone form.

Legend was quiet for a long moment. He shifted a little. “…My ankle might be broken.”

“What?!” Red exclaimed.

“Since when?” Sky asked.

“Yesterday,” Legend grunted. “I…kinda forgot?”

“That’s so stupid,” Wind told him. 

“Wow, tell me something I don’t know, Sailor.”

Warriors was on the scene the next moment, crouching down to help Legend sit up. “Only you, Vet,” he shook his head. “Which ankle?”

“Sweet Hylia, I took your boots off last night,” Sky swore, eyes wide. He quickly placed Red to his side and sat down to hover worriedly by Legend’s feet. “I didn’t know- oh, I probably made it worse.”

Legend pulled a face. “Hm, yeah, that would explain some things.”

“Which ankle?” Warriors repeated a little more forcefully while giving Legend a little shake.

“Left,” Legend hissed, giving an experimental shift of his foot. 

“Cut that out,” Warriors scolded, cuffing him in the ear. Legend threw him an appalled look. “Can someone go get a potion? Or Hyrule?” 

“Catch!” was the only warning given before Wild chucked a red potion across the room. Wind was sure it was only years of instinct that allowed Warriors to catch it before it nailed him directly in the face. 

The door creaked open. “Hyrule says he just wants it plain—why are we all on the floor?”

“Legend’s ankle is broken,” Warriors informed.

“What?!” Hyrule exclaimed, leaning in over-top Vio’s head with wide eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I forgot,” Legend scowled.

“Wha’s goin’ on out here?” came the groggy voice of Green.

Another yell sounded out from above and silenced any possible replies.

“I’m gonna go get some fresh air,” Twilight announced stiffly, not waiting for a response as he moved. In the chaos, Wind apparently hadn’t noticed him pulling his boots on.

“Legend,” Hyrule scolded, weaving his way through the house to stare down at the Veteran with his hands on his hips.

“I honestly didn’t mean to,” Legend defended—and, to give him credit, he did seem to actually mean it. “I was distracted with everything going on!”

“Your pain tolerance is truly impressive,” Vio remarked.

“Hey, guys?” Wind called out. Everyone turned to look at him. “Should we have let Twilight just leave? Isn’t he still injured?”

It was quiet for a moment. 

“It’s Twilight,” Warriors assured. “He won’t go far. I’ll check on him if he isn’t back soon.” 

Wind supposed that he’d just have to believe that. 

Twilight didn’t know what was better: to keep quiet until the words you never said choked you, or to speak up through the weight and have it change nothing.

It was a dilemma he’d been battling, ever since he’d met Time and the man had been adorned in familiar armor, clean and unbroken, and with a voice the same as the one that had been haunting his dreams for months. Perhaps, if their meeting had been once of a passing matter, it wouldn’t have stuck to his ribs like glue, but as time (hah) passed, and Twilight got to know the man who would become The Hero’s Shade better, the worse his guilt drowned him.

It was complicated enough befriending your own ancestor. It was even more complicated when you knew he would suffer when he died.

Before the… announcement, Twilight hadn’t ever found an answer for what would happen to Time. His biggest worry had been that the man would fall in battle, and be filled with regret that he could not continue to lead and pseudo-mentor their group. It was a likely option, given the strength of the monsters they were brought together to fight. That was what drove Twilight to be so protective of him, after all—though he knew it was pointless to try and meddle in a future that had already happened, his foolish, courageous heart could not help but hope. 

Afterward, though. Afterward, Twilight had been certain. 

He knew the dangers of childbirth. Had witnessed the effects of them firsthand when he was younger; women with their whole lives ahead of them lost during labor. Half of the children they died to have didn’t make it to their first birthday anyway.

Time died with regrets. Regrets that he was not remembered as a hero. Regrets that he could not pass on his knowledge.

Regret that he couldn’t be there for his child.

It was almost laughable how easy that conclusion was to come to. 

Twilight hadn’t handled it very well, in the beginning. On that first day, when they’d all finally realized what was going on, Twilight had been overwhelmed in his grief because he had known, there and then, collapsed on the floor of Wild’s house, what Time’s downfall would be. 

Twilight wasn’t unfamiliar with grief, as much as he tried to act to the contrary. It had been holding his hand for as long as he could remember: grief over parents who had abandoned him for unknown reasons, grief over being separated from Hylian culture, grief over being different, grief over knowing Rusl and Uli would never love him the way he loved them, grief over not just knowing but living how it felt for his loved ones to turn on him with intent to kill, grief over everything in his adventure, grief over Midna, grief over himself. For all the ways he loved so fiercely that his heart bled over his sleeves with the volume of it all, Twilight had been raised by melancholy. 

Even still, knowing how Time would die was a wound he was not familiar with—and even worse, it was not one he could crawl off to lick in silence. Twilight simply had to keep going, one foot in front of the other.

The rest of the Chain had been so excited about it, and that was what really killed him. They were happy to know that Time would be expanding his family, that he would have the simple life that they all knew they all wished they could have. Even when it was stressful, and scary, and inconvenient, they’d faced it together—bonding in a way they hadn’t before. Becoming a true family of their own making.

Twilight did his best to keep up with them. Even in his grief, he still cared—still loved, and so really, not much changed. He still protected them with undying loyalty, still worried and fretted, took care to keep them close when they strayed too far and brought them back when they got lost. He was not so selfish as to burden them all with the loss of the love and care he offered them just because he could not cope with his foreknowledge. 

Maybe it was more selfish to keep his knowledge tucked close to his chest. They were cut from the same cloth, after all—if they knew, they would work tirelessly to try and change fate, no matter how futile an effort. If they ever learned that Twilight had known, there would be no forgiveness. And yet, if did tell them, he knew none of them would forgive themselves for failing at playing a game that had already been lost.

It was a heavy weight to carry. One that only he could hold. And when the day that it would happen finally came, Twilight could not bear to look his friends in the eyes. 

Even with the building that been collapsed on him earlier (and wow, what a cluster-fuck that had been) hindering his movement, Twilight needed to go. Lying awake as they cheerfully bantered had been too much to handle—even with the steady weight of Legend on his chest, warm and breathing steady and alive, nothing could soothe the anticipatory grief creeping up his spine, and the minute he was able he’d left.

The dawn air was cool against him. When he stepped into the grass, morning dew soaked into his boots. With the cliffs around Lon Lon, the rising sun had not yet crested over the hilltops—and so though the sky was light, long shadows stretched across the pasture as he stumbled through. He didn’t have a destination in mind—he just knew that he needed to go somewhere he wouldn’t be disturbed, for just a little while, until he was ready to face the music.

The trees on the outskirts of Lon Lon ranch had an old feeling about them—bark worn and rough to the touch as he curled up in the mossy bed formed by two large, intertwined roots. His legs throbbed from the ill advised walk, from his ankle up to his hips like one giant bruise.

Laying in the shade, surrounded on all sides, Twilight finally allowed himself to cry.

It was a quiet thing, at first, when it was just a feeling: tears slipping down his cheeks, throat burning with repressed cries. Then little whimpers and whines had started, and then he’d begun to tremble—and finally, when he started to think about everything he was about to lose, Twilight sobbed.  

It felt childish—it was childish. How many times had he done this exact thing, when he was young and angry at the world and only knew how to cope with it by hiding away in the woods? To do it now, when he should be well past it, left him choking on shame.

This was not courage, it was cowardice. How could he call himself a hero if this was what he was doing? 

He lost track of time as he cried. The shade of the trees meant he didn’t notice the change to the sun or light to the sky. It could have easily been hours by the time he had finally cried himself out, left lying there wrung out and aching, from the depths of his soul to the bruises on his skin. He couldn’t even say that he felt better having done it. He just felt hollow.

“Twilight?”

Warriors.

He should have known better than to let himself wallow for so long—of course they’d sent someone to search for him. 

Leaves crunched underfoot, and then Warriors’ voice sounded again—closer, and much softer than before. “You missed breakfast.”

When Twilight finally dared to open his eyes, he found Warriors sitting legs crossed on the ground in front of him.

“…Not hungry.”

Warriors frowned. “Truly?” When he gave no reply, the Captain continued, softer still, “Twilight, is everything alright?”

No. It was not. But it wasn’t anything he could possibly tell. 

“I’m fine,” Twilight dared to claim—knowing full well he didn’t look the part. He pushed himself to sit up, knees curling to his chest in a desperate attempt to keep his grief to himself. 

Warriors frown deepened. He stared at Twilight for a long moment, eyes cobalt blue and calculating. Then he used his hands to scoot himself closer until his knee was pressing into Twilight’s shin. “I think you and I both know that’s not true.”

“You don’t know jack,” Twilight snapped, skin prickling as if to raise hackles, before he remembered himself and was filled with regret. “Sorry.”

“Talk to me, soldier,” Warriors prompted. “This is more than your usual worrying.”

Twilight licked his lips and considered. 

He knew without a doubt he couldn't tell anyone else in the Chain. Even the more pragmatic of them wouldn’t handle it well. But Warriors… Warriors was what a knight was supposed to be. Of all of them, when it came down to making the tough calls and approaching things logistically, Warriors was the best. More than that, though, Twilight had a feeling—no, he was certain that there were heavy truths Warriors was holding on to. Of everyone, Warriors was the only who might understand the source of Twilight’s pain.

And, of everyone, he was the most likely to, if it was even possible that it was true, tell Twilight that he was wrong. 

“You aren’t being fully honest with us about what you know, are you, Captain?” Twilight asked him after a while.

The concerned warmth in Warriors eyes died, something guarded taking its place. “What makes you say that?”

“You and—” he choked at even the thought of saying his name. Twilight paused, took a deep breath, tried to center himself. “You and Time. You’re awfully familiar with each other, an’ he’s said you have history, but he never… he’s never said much else. And the way you look at Wind sometimes….”

Warriors hesitated a heartbeat too long. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, Rancher.”

“You look like you’re seein’ a ghost in a boy that’s still living,” Twilight accused. His next inhale shook.

“That’s—” Warriors laugh was a forced, fake little thing, “That would be absurd—”

“You know something,” Twilight insisted, heart feeling like it was trying to beat out of his chest, “Something you shouldn’t. About- about his future. What is it?” 

“Twilight,” Warriors warned. His eyes were sharp, spine straightened. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. If Time felt no need to share our history to you, then it’s hardly my place to go behind his back and do so anyways—and in regards to Wind, there’s nothing. Now,” and Warriors shifted away, brushing himself off and moving to stand, “our company will be worried if I don’t bring you back soon—”

Desperation seized Twilight like a vice.

“Cap- Wars,” Twilight pleaded, reaching out to snatch hold of Warriors’ sleeve with shaking fingers, his earlier cries returned with a vengeance. “Don’t- tell me.” Twilight swallowed heavily, tears burning on their way out. “Please.” 

Warriors regarded him a moment, eyes wide and openly worried. He settled back down to the ground, gaze intense and searching.

Whatever he found in Twilight’s expression, it was enough to convince him to talk.

“In the War of Eras,” Warriors began carefully, voice low—as if they could be possibly overheard when there was nothing in the trees other than the two of them and Twilight’s grief, “there were multiple… mishaps with time. You all know this already, but… on top of this, something quite similar to what has brought us together here now happened. People and—” his lips twitched briefly, “warriors from another era appeared too. Time was one of them, from far before this adventure commenced. We called him Mask, then. He was younger— much younger. And…”

Twilight could already see where the story was heading. His vision blurred with tears fighting to fall.

Warriors sighed, slow and heavy. He squeezed his eyes shut for just a second. “Wind was there. An older Wind. Around Wild’s age, if I had to guess. We called him Tune, because of the wind waker. Why… Twilight. Why do you ask?”

He’d sworn to himself that he would never tell. But what was one more regret, really?

“When I first began my- my adventure,” Twilight started, voice trembling as much as he was, “I knew nothin’ of swordsmanship beyond the- the basics. It was- a sword was just like any other tool I used. So when everything started happenin’, I wasn’t- I didn’t know what I was doing, not enough to…”

“That’s changed, since,” Warriors noted. His ears were lifted high in attention, eyes sharp and assessing—but the pinch of his brow and tightness of his mouth betrayed his concern. It burned to see. 

“I had a mentor. One that- that hadn’t been able to move on after... passing. Because he died regretting that- that he’d never passed on his knowledge to his descendants. And- and that… he was never remembered as a hero. And—” Twilight wavered, on the precipice of shattering. His final words were whispered, tiny things. “He called me son.”

He knew Warriors understood what he was trying to say when the man straightened with a sharp inhale. Twilight clamped a head over his mouth, hiding his face into his knees because he could not possibly look Warriors in the eyes as he processed what he’d been told.

For months, Twilight had been holding on to this secret. Since the very day he’d met them all, and became a Link in the Chain. And now he'd finally said it. Said more than it—because for all they teased him about being Time’s descendant, the full truth was far more pathetic and far more one-sided. In any other scenario, perhaps meeting his own ancestor would have been a much less intense affair. Perhaps, were it anyone but Time. 

(“Go and do not falter, my child.”)

Warriors blew a shuddery breath. He was quiet for a while.

“What makes you certain he’ll die now?” Warriors finally asked, calm and measured. A grounding presence against the racing of his mind. Twilight could not help but sob, gripping his fistful of Warriors’ tunic tighter. 

“He- he—” Twilight couldn’t even articulate the certainty in his chest.

“There’s nothing that implies it’s now, is there? If not, then he could have more children, after this one, and after this quest,” Warriors continued.

“That’s not any better,” Twilight cried, sobs shaking his whole body.

Warriors gently uncurled Twilight’s death grip, taking Twilight’s hand into his own. His voice was gentle as he spoke. “I know. It’s- it isn’t. But it would mean it isn’t now. And if that’s the case, then—” Warriors cut himself with a huff of disbelieving laughter, “Well, I guess this isn’t particularly reassuring, but… it would place him in the same situation as all the rest of us, when this journey is over. When Wild goes back to his era, we all will have been long, ah, well, dead, so for Time… it would be premature in terms of what it could have been, perhaps, but not… in a timeline altering way. And it would mean, well.” Warriors smiled, a little crooked. “More time with Time, if you could believe it.”

Warriors softened again, earnest and full of confidence as his other hand landed on Twilight's shoulder. “Twilight. I- I’m not trying to say it isn’t valid to be worried, but I honestly do think everything will be okay. For all the possible complications dealt in childbirth, we have more than enough resources at our disposal—I mean, for Goddesses sake, we have the royal midwife on our side, and that’s not to mention the spells and potions we have available. I- I do understand your worry, but equally—or rather moreso, I should say, I’m certain it will be alright.”

A cold shock dumped over him.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Twilight breathed.

“What?”

Twilight slowly sat up, the tightness in his chest unwoven in an instant by mortification. He could barely glance in Warriors direction. “I—” he could barely speak past his own disbelief. “I forgot. About magic.”

Warriors clearly could not contain the bark of laughter that immediately escaped him. Even as he bit at his cheeks to try and stop his grin, Twilight could still the way the Captain’s lips violently twitched. “Rancher,” Warriors said, chastising, amused, and worried all in one. The bastard even sounded like he was holding in a laugh. “Why- how did you forget?” 

(Later, it would occur to Twilight how similar him forgetting magic healing and Time forgetting he could get pregnant were, and he would want to kick himself . Like father like son, Legend (nosy ass bastard) would tease, and it would only make the situation worse.)

“I don’t know!” Twilight wailed, earning a few poorly concealed snickers. “I just- I dunno, there’s not a lotta magic in Ordon, so I just—”

That seemed to sober Warriors. “Right, right, of course,” he nodded. “You.. Well, no wonder you were so worried….”

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Twilight sniffed, bringing his hand up to scrub at his eyes. 

“No, no, don’t say that,” Warriors crooned. He reached forward and pulled Twilight into a sturdy hug. “Goodness knows you can’t help the way you were raised.”

Twilight pressed his nose into the crook of Warriors neck, inhaling metal-sweat-worry-sage-the Chain-Warriors-pack, and exhaling all his worry in one big, billowing blow. Warriors squirmed away from him with a poorly stifled giggle.

“That tickles, you mutt,” Warriors grumbled. Tellingly, he did not pull away.

“I’m sorry,” Twilight muttered. 

Warriors sighed himself, tucking the side of his face into Twilight’s hair. “Don’t be,” he murmured.

Neither of them were talking about the blatant sniffing. 

(Twilight wasn’t sorry for that anyways.)

After a while of being held, Twilight finally managed to calm down just in time (hah) for his stomach to let out a particularly loud grumble.

“Oh, shit,” Warriors swore. “Breakfast.”

Without his say-so, Twilight was saying, “You said shit,” before he could even process what he’d heard.

It wasn’t that the Captain didn’t swear—he was an army man, for Spirit's sake—but his “knightly honor” and “caution towards sensitive ears” (Wind, the literal pirate and teenager, allegedly) (It was Sky. They all knew it was Sky) meant he tried to curb it back, both in himself and the others. That meant half the Chain delighted in poking fun at him whenever he did happen to swear.

“Oh- shut up,” Warriors groaned fondly. “I let my omelette get cold for you, I revoke your right to be annoying.” 

Twilight regretfully pulled out of the hug to stare into his eyes, because what. “You didn’t finish?”

Warriors gave him an odd look. “You were nowhere to be seen, of course not. Time would’ve had a conniption. And…” Warriors’ playful smile died. “I was worried. About you.”

“I’m fine,” Twilight replied automatically. At Warriors’ flat look, he cringed back and amended, “Well, now, anyways.”

“You’re still injured,” Warriors said, eyes narrow. “And, need I remind you, decided to go on a Nayru-damned hike.”

“Spirits forbid a man have hobbies,” Twilight grumbled. Warriors, at the very least, did laugh at that, but his next words were no less serious.

“You had a building dropped on you four hours ago,” Warriors emphasized. “That’s cause for worry. And you were missing breakfast.

Breakfast. The same breakfast that— “Oh, Wild’s gonna be so upset with me,” Twilight realized with a groan.

“You- stop deflecting because you don’t know how to let yourself be taken care of,” Warriors said sharply, and—

All the wind (hah) in Twilight’s sails deflated at the words. He wasn’t sure if he loved or hated that Warriors had noticed that particular thing about him.

“Wild will be upset,” Warriors started carefully, “because you didn’t eat at all, not that you didn’t eat his food. The difference matters.”

“…I’m sorry,” Twilight offered weakly. He wasn’t sure there was a way to respond to that that wouldn’t end in a lecture and Warriors tattling on him to the others.

Warriors sighed once more, giving Twilight’s shoulders a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. Let’s just- let’s go get some breakfast now, okay?”

“Okay,” Twilight agreed.

Warriors brushed himself off as he stood and offered Twilight a hand up. Grateful, Twilight took it—quickly finding that not only did he need the help more than he thought, but that standing was losing battle: shaking legs buckling under him the moment his weight was put on them.

Reflexes sharp, Warriors caught him with a grunt before he ate dirt, one hand searching anxiously as the other supported him.

“Did you reopen a wound?” Warriors asked.

“No,” Twilight managed through gritted teeth. “Just… hurts. ‘S'alright, Cap'n, jus’ gimmie a minute.

“I thought you were healed. Left bruised, at the most.”

“Did no one really explain? Well, I got a bit stabbed, so that's still there,” Twilight said. He grunted against, testing his weight on his foot and finding it ill advised.

“What? Okay, alright, that's enough,” and then Warriors was lifting Twilight off the ground like he weighed nothing. “Walking privileges revoked too.”

Despite his injuries, Twilight kicked his feet and flailed around in protest. “Hey! Put me down you- you freakishly strong asshole!” 

“My spirit is focused and my mind sharp so that I may wield my body like a blade,” was the cheeky bastard's reply. “It wouldn’t be befitting for a knight to leave behind a person in need.”

A beat. 

“Also, this will be faster.”

Twilight grumbled—in little half rumbles he usually made during play as Wolfie—and settled in. Without his chain-mail, Warriors’ hold was surprisingly comfortable: grip sturdy and pace even as he traversed the woods. It was irritating, being wrangled like one of the unruly others when he was usually doing the wrangling, but he wouldn't lie and say his lower half didn't ache something fierce. His stab wound throbbed in tune with his heart. Walking would have been slow, and unpleasant to boot.

That, and, well. Warriors was a Link as much as any of them else. If he really wanted to help, there was no reason to fight him on it.

(More embarrassingly, as much as he tried to beat the dog allegations, there was something to be said about the comfort of a familiar smell.)

Twilight was certain the only reason Wild didn’t literally jump him when they got back was the shield of Warriors’ arms and the sanctity of Time and Malon’s furniture. 

Even still, Wild was in fact quite upset Twilight had left before eating. He’d scolded him for five straight minutes, one hand on his hip and the other waving an egg around like it was a weapon—which, in Wild’s hands, it might as well have been.

Wild wasn’t the only one to voice his disapproval. The instant he’d been put back on the couch like a misbehaving toddler, Sky had materialized at his side to arrange the pillows so he was comfortable—including the one Legend had chucked at him with a sharp You bitch the instant he was in range. After Sky’d been satisfied, he’d taken to picking out the moss and debris Twilight had apparently collected in his hair during his breakdown. 

Green and Red had both given him an apology. Red’s had been a tear filled one that made his heart twang, but thankfully, a good hug was enough to soothe him. The rest of the Colors not so much: Blue had immediately questioned him on why he looked like he was crying, and though Vio had scolded him for his tact, he’d doubled down on the question. 

When everyone else began to press, Warriors, hero that he was, had told the room at large in no uncertain terms to leave it. Which, granted, did make it incredibly obvious that there was something that had happened, but Twilight was grateful anyways. He could handle a well meaning interrogation later. For all the majority of them were curious enough to break into people’s homes when they wanted to know what was inside (what moral heroes they were, truly), it took surprisingly little resistance sometimes to get them to back off. A good thing, considering Twilight was fully aware he was a terrible liar.

His omelette ended up being delicious and worth the trip back. Twilight dozed, for a while—exhausted from his little breakdown and content to let the Chain’s squabbling wash over him. 

When the… screaming became more frequent, Warriors herded them all out to go complete chores around the Ranch to put their anxious energy into something useful. Of course, Twilight (and Legend, and Red) were outright banned from physical labor, and were instead put in charge of making sure no one got up into any shenanigans.  

Given that it was far from the first time (hah) they’d been put to work on Lon Lon, despite being down several members, it didn’t take long for everyone to finish the tasks they’d grown familiar with and begin congregating around the sad pile of wood that had once held the forge.

“I could,” Hyrule held up a hand, “set it on fire again?”

“Literally why would we do that,” Blue asked flatly.

“It would get rid of the problem faster?”

“What? No no no,” Wild waved his hands around, making an X symbol with his arms. “There’s probably wood in there that we could reuse, and everything under the wood is hopefully undamaged. Just because it would be more efficient to blow it up doesn’t mean we should.”

“I’d be impressed if it wasn’t damaged in some way, honestly,” Green said, eying the destruction critically. 

“Wild is right—it would be a massive waste of resources to not at least try sorting through it all before we discard it, and even then it could still be used for something,” Sky said.

“It would also be a waste of our time,” Legend muttered through the corner of his mouth. 

“You aren’t even helping, Ledge,” Hyrule said. 

Blue’s brows burrowed as he crossed his arms. “Is wood really that important to save?” 

“Duh?” Wind said, like Blue was stupid. “Every resource is finite, and every piece of flotsam and jetsam counts when you get left high and dry or caught in dead water.”

“Exactly,” Sky agreed. “The only constant is the sun.”

It was a little funny how serious they both looked, but it was also just plain sad. 

“Y’all,” Twilight called out to grab their attention, before anyone else could. Oh, how did he put this kindly so they didn’t get embarrassed… “I don’t mean to- ah, well, I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but we’re kind of… surrounded by trees right now?”

Silence. 

“Oh,” Sky said faintly. 

“In their defense,” Wild jumped in, “Cutting down a tree and turning it into planks is really annoying even if you do have the resources spare.”

“Not to mention the amount of smoke we’d be making for no reason if we did set it on fire,” Vio said. 

“Well, what are we waiting for, men? This needs combing through, and daylight’s wasting,” Warriors directed with a little grin.

“It’s like, maybe noon,” Legend said.

“Daylight’s wasting!”

The rest of the day went by pretty much like that. To give everyone credit, they did spend a good chunk of time (hah) working on the forge before dispersing to do their own thing.

The Colors brought out every piece of equipment to the front lawn to do maintenance—something that Four probably would’ve done had he not been “exploded”—joined by Warriors, who wanted to keep his hands busy. Wild, much like Twilight expected, spent the entire day baking in the kitchen with Legend and Hyrule as his helpers and taste testers. Periodically, he’d bring out trays of assorted treats and snacks for them all to share.

Wind was the only one who kept at the forge for the longest. Maybe it was guilt, maybe it was something to do instead of sitting around—regardless of the reason, he worked for a long time (hah) before collapsing next to Warriors to doze off and watch him and the Colors work.

Sky had floated around for a while before eventually settling down to wood-carve next to where Twilight was dozing off on the porch chair. His thigh made for a good place to prop a pillow, the wing he draped over Twilight’s form was warm and grounding, and his soft bird-song helped distract his ears from catching every sound.

In any other scenario, Twilight probably would’ve worked the day away—but he’d been sleeping poorly the past month, too filled with worry to clear his head enough for slumber, and his injuries and crying session had done nothing but drain him more.

He tried his best to keep his anxiety at bay. Even with Warriors assurances on loop in his head, he worried. But there was nothing he could do at that point. 

Time (the concept) passed, the sun falling low as the afternoon slipped into dawn. Finished with their tasks, the Colors—settled at last—reformed into a very sheepish Four who almost immediately left to retire to an early sleep. Legend and Warriors settled on the steps of the porch, talking quietly about this and that—for all their bickering, they got along quite nicely when they were too tired to be defensive (Twilight feared the day they started to scheme together).

Wild finally paused in his baking to make dinner, and sent his helpers out to unwind. Wind was sitting on the porch nursing a glass of lemonade and Hyrule, upon being set free, immediately bolted to fling himself face first in the grass. He then proceeded to stay there, wings fluttering happily with no end in sight. It was a peaceful, domestic affair, all things considered.

Eventually, though, the door creaked open, and instead of Wild calling for dinner, Malon’s voice floated out.

“Twilight?” she called.

Twilight wasn’t sure he’d sat up faster in his life. “Y- yeah?”

“He’s askin’ for you,” Malon smiled. Her eyes were tired, but she looked so happy. 

Several people gasped in delight at that, every set of ears lifting and every mouth forming a smile. 

“What?” Twilight asked, eyes going wide in shock. He was- Time was still alive, for one, but beyond that was asking for him specifically? Of all of them? Not even Warriors, who had objectively known him longer? Time wanted to see Twilight? 

Freaking out was an understatement for the emotions he was feeling. 

“Everything went alright, I presume?” Warriors asked from the steps.

Malon giggled, covering a grin with her hand. “More peachy than a pineapple, Captain.”

“Who says that?” Legend asked no one.

The tension in Warriors shoulders bled out. “Oh, that’s a relief.”

“He’s- me?” Twilight finally managed to say. He was torn between bursting into tears and running around in circles (not the zoomies, he did not get zoomies because he was a civilized man and he was allowed to burn off excess energy however he wanted to, Wild). He settled for wide-eyed staring. 

“Mhm,” Malon nodded, grin broadening. Reflexively, Twilight grinned back at her, nerves and excitement making his heart flutter in his chest.

“O-okay!” Twilight said dumbly. His legs were still sore, but after a second round of healing from Hyrule he felt confident enough to stand and follow Malon into the house. 

“Aww,” he heard Sky say as the door shut behind them. 

Wild caught his eyes from the kitchen and smiled, big and wide as he gave a double thumbs up. 

“He might be a little grouchy,” Malon warned as they went up the steps, “It’s been a tiring day, as you could imagine.”

Twilight nodded a vigorous agreement. Every inch of his skin was buzzing in anticipation, the urge to run around growing stronger still. 

When he reached the door, Twilight froze in place. He felt like he was going to explode. 

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” Malon laughed at him, “He won’t bite.” And then she was moving forward, turning the doorknob and heading forward, leaving Twilight with no choice but to follow. 

He didn’t know what he was expecting to find. Some of it was a normal mess expected of a bedroom, with the addition of some equipment bags stored on a side table, and a birthing stool tucked in the corner. The midwife, packing something up, Malon murmuring something to her. Time, propped up in bed, was not an unfamiliar sight. What was unfamiliar, however, were the swaddled babies on his chest. Babies. As in, more than one. Plural baby.

Twilight’s heart felt like it was trying to beat out of his chest. Was he having a heart attack? It felt like a heart attack. It was real. Time had survived after all, and brought not one but two children in the world while he did it.

Time looked exhausted, but when he met Twilight’s eyes a slow smile spread across his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Twilight recovered, stepping into the room and reaching Time’s side in a few easy strides. “How are you feelin’?”

“I am so fucking tired, Twilight,” Time groaned, long and weary. 

“I’ll bet,” Twilight couldn’t help but laugh a little at the dramatics. He couldn’t move his eyes from the two bundled forms. “You…”

Time followed his gaze, smile widening. “Do you wanna hold one?”

“Yes,” Twilight blurted. Embarrassingly quickly. Luckily, no one paid mind to it—though as she slipped past him to help pass the kid along, Malon threw him an amused, fond look.

It was instinct, really—to place his arms in just the right way as he tucked the small form to his chest, ear right over his heart. Adoration pooled his ribs, his next exhale a wondrous sort of laugh as he looked down at what was his own kin by blood. 

“Her name is Avalon,” Time said. He looked utterly exhausted, but his grin was loving and proud as he looked on. “She was the one we were expecting.”

“Avalon,” Twilight repeated, barely above a whisper. In his arms, she shifted a little, eyes squinting up half lidded at him. Atop her head, her hair was as red as her mother’s. “That’s beautiful.” He sniffed a little, blinking back a wave of overwhelmed emotions.

“This little shit,” Time ran an adoring finger over the second kid’s head, “is Juniper. She was the surprise.”

“Hey now,” Malon scolded, sitting onto the bed to wrap an arm around Time’s shoulders. “Don’t call our daughter a little shit.”

“I just gave birth to this little shit,” Time retorted, voice dripping with affection. “I can call her whatever I want.” 

Malon laughed, loving and warm as she pressed a kiss to Time’s forehead. 

Twins. It wasn’t something that had ever crossed Twilight’s mind.

“You- can- can I get you anything?” Twilight asked. He still felt a little breathless from the weight of it all, a grin permanently stuck to his face.

“Whatever Wild’s cooking right now,” Time said. “I want that.”

“I did tell him to make your favorite,” Malon said.

“And I will love you forevermore for that.” Time paused, gaze landing back on where Twilight held Avalon in his arms.

“Proof of our happy family in the flesh, huh?” Malon murmured. Twilight felt his face burn at the reminder.

“Oh, ah, um—”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Time said. Normally so reserved on the road, seeing the unrestrained care and pride in his eyes shook Twilight to his core. “Though we’re likely centuries apart, you’re kin by blood as much as they are, pup. Why do you think I asked for you first?”

Twilight—

If he’d thought he felt like was exploding before, that was nothing compared to the wash of emotions that went through him. Sure, he’d known what he felt of Time, but he hadn’t- he’d been so certain that it had only been one sided, born out of his lack of real parents and the Hero’s Shade. Twilight had known Time had cared, but—

“Oh, look at that, you made him cry,” Malon tutted. “C’mere, honey.”

Twilight went. He pressed Avalon into her father’s waiting arm, tucking himself into the hug Malon had offered as he did his very best not to bawl at the open affection. 

He had a family in Ordon, but he hadn’t felt like he’d fit in since his quest. No one ever understood, not fully. But Time and Malon—

They’d been family to the entire Chain for a while. But now, Twilight knew with certainty that it was reciprocated. 

Maybe he never could prevent the Hero’s Shade—but he could love in the meantime. Perhaps that was what caused the Shade to form to begin with. Perhaps that was why the Shade had looked at him and said my son. 

Grief had always been holding Twilight’s hand. But there, he discovered that his other had been held by love. 

It was two generous, busy weeks they spent at Lon Lon Ranch afterward. 

Finally with somewhere to put their energy, everyone jumped at the chance to be useful, around the Ranch and otherwise. Wild prepared pre-cooked meals on top of his regular cooking, Twilight managed the animals, Legend tended to the garden, and everyone else floated around as was needed. Naturally, they all took turns babysitting and spending time (hah) with Time and Malon. Early parenthood was exhausting, but they worked as hard as they could to ease the burden. 

In a hilarious turn of events, they finally got to meet Malon’s father, Talon, after months of always just barely missing each other. Clearly, the man hadn’t quite believed what he’d been told, but within the day he was making easy conversation with everyone. It was brilliant and domestic and so, so nice.

Of course, no matter how much they wished it, the will of the Goddesses waited for no one. Black blooded monsters appeared, and their company—eight, instead of nine—left to take care of it. They’d brought all of their gear with them, and Time had insisted on saying goodbye like it was final.

There had been tears and hugs and insistences that it wasn’t the end, and that it was a routine fight like any other, but Time had been insistent himself. 

“I’m certain our paths will cross again regardless,” Time had shrugged, like it was that simple. “You boys are far too stubborn for that. I…. For what it’s worth, I’m so glad I got to know you all. It was an honor. Now… go forth, and do not falter.”

When they defeated the monsters, they didn’t have time to breathe before they were swallowed by another portal.

“You’re kidding me,” Warriors said flatly. 

“Wha- but we—” Wind’s eyes were wide in shock. 

“That bastard!” Legend yelled, slamming his foot into the ground as angry tears welled into his eyes. “He- he knew, that sonofa—”

“I thought they wouldn’t work if we weren’t all…” Wild trailed off, ears drooped so low they grazed his shoulders.

Sky and Hyrule were utterly speechless, silent tears streaming down both their faces. 

“They never have before… they… this….” Four had no answer. His small form trembled.

For once, amidst the chaos and desolation, Twilight felt fully assured.

“Guys,” he called out. Everyone snapped to attention, teary-eyed and distraught as they looked to him for answers. “Of course we’re going back.”

“How do you know that?” Legend demanded with a heart-wrenching sob.

Even in the face of it, Twilight couldn’t help but grin.

 “He still has my damn horse.” 

(And go back they did. And when they couldn’t visit, they found that the mysterious postman’s determination extended to their lost member.

Their visits to Lon Lon Ranch became more than just a respite from the road and a chance for Time to see his wife. They became a haven. And Lon Lon Ranch became more than just a familiar place to visit:

It became home.

And when the final battle against Dark Link came, Time joined them for one last battle. At the end of it all, when they said their final goodbyes, it was nine once more, just like it always had been.)

(Several years and one missing arm later, Wild would awake with a start, drenched in cold sweat, and realize he never did make Warriors a cake after all.)