Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When they knelt at the goddess statue on the little island in the babbling brook that drifts through Kakariko they did not expect to hear anything anymore. They didn't even kneel there to pray, it was just that the sliver of divinity they could feel warmed them in a way that the sun did not. Link knew both they and Zelda did this, sit and commune with the goddess statues with no purpose in mind. The malice scars on both of the chosen's souls and bodies would ache less in the following days, goddess light lingering within. Sometimes it would serve as a journal, sometimes as a way to talk things over with themself.

Today was not what they had assumed, though. As they knelt down they could feel that prevalent light blooming through their being, but for the first time in a while there was a voice. There had been humming and gentle music occasionally, but they had not heard that gilded voice since the end of their quest. "Link," she echoed. "I hope you may find it in your being to forgive me, but your work is not done."

No.

No, no, no.

They were done, their quest was over, they saved Zelda, lived in a little house on a hill with Paya, and had set Fi to sleep in Korok Forest.

"I tried my hardest to avoid calling for you, Hero of the Wild. You have done too much already- it was all I could do to wait this long. They will not be able to succeed without your strength."

Curse Hylia as much or as little as they might, it would not change this. A sigh, quiet acceptance burning. "You still have some time, Link, prepare for your journey and allow your loved ones to send you off, little one."

Their forehead collided with one of the offerings at their knees, the sake bottle clinking against the cup left for the goddess. The sound jarred link from their stillness and they drew up in a languid stretch, savoring the ache in their left shoulder and the pull of muscles in their arm. The Sheikah steel of their prosthetic dug into the soft moss and clover of the island as they stood and turned away from the goddess statue, walking over the little bridge with silent steps. They had things to do and letters to send, it seemed.

Letters had been written, Impa had been told- she huffed and pulled Link down by their earlobe to ruffle their hair- and the Sheikah Slate had been organized. Their traditional Sheikah outfit had since been swapped out for something more travel ready- and less noticeable. The teal Champion's Tunic was of course bright, but the tan pants and navy hood dull the color to something less bright feeling. Their pair of leather gloves makes their hands identical and the cloth mask hides the scars reach up far past their neckline.

Prosthetic limbs charged and focus set on raiding their weapon stash, they almost startled when Paya sighed from behind them. "I suppose I won't see you for a while, Link?"

She drapes her form over their back, letting an arm trail down their chest. "You better come back alive, Link."

They sigh and knock their head against her chin. Paya pokes their sternum playfully, this is an interaction they've had many times before, though maybe not with these words. Letting the Great Flameblade rest back against the wall, Link turns into Paya's torso, burying their face in her neck. They've both always been quiet and now is not an exception. There's scarcely a word exchanged in the time they stand there, locked to the other's form. Something has to break the moment, however; and that something comes in the form of a great swirling rift, like space and time have failed locally. The edge of the wound bleeds purple fog that is sucked away and Link feels a pull in their gut- this is something that could not ever be ignored.

"Yeah Linky, love you too."

Another sigh as they pull themself away, then grab a sledgehammer as long as they're tall from next to the flameblade. "Just go already, Link. The pull can't be comfortable."

She's right, it's not. They wait a moment longer anyways, then sigh and bump shoulders with Paya so hard both of them stumble and grin. "Shoo, you idiot!" she laughs, twisting and shoving them towards the rift.

Red eyes meet eerie teal for one last moment before Link steps into unreality. They're smiling under their mask like a fool, and a lovesick one at that. The rift is a soul-deep gut punch that knocks the wind out of them, sending them stumbling for what feels like an eternity and less than a second at the same time. They barely catch themself from slipping down a stony staircase before whatever holds their soul in place snaps back into action.

As they regain their bearings they curiously look around, recognizing this place as a... a very new looking Hyrule Castle, actually. It's certainly not the Hyrule Castle of their time, or even that of a century ago. This is one is smaller, less grand. It also has guards at the top of the stairs gawking at Link, who realizes that they look incredibly suspicious, what with the hood and mask and nondescript clothing. "Hey!" calls the guard on the left, leveling their halberd at Link. "You're under arrest for trespassing in the castle!"

The guard on the right takes a moment to register his ally's action, but catches up soon enough. "Y-yeah! Drop the hammer!"

Link pauses, staring at them with a baffled expression. The gently set the sledgehammer on the tile, then awkwardly raise their hands.

"What's your name, mister 'i can trespass on castle grounds whenever I want'?"

They sigh, fingerspelling 'L-I-N-K.'

"Nice try kid, you're not Link. He's two heads taller than you, at least! Now, tell me your real name or you're getting thrown in the dungeons!"

"We were gonna do that anyways, man," mumbles the other guard, leveling his halberd as well.

Well, this is a situation. They repeat themself, signing 'My name is L-I-N-K,' again, but a little more pointed.

"Well, you've made your decision! Off to the dungeons for you, kid," grumbles the left guard, gesturing in a way that is probably supposed to be threatening with his polearm.

Well, Link thinks as they're led through a corridor and down a staircase. That could have gone better.

As the guards are locking Link into their new cell, an eclectic group of Hylians start their walk from Castle Town to Hyrule Castle. A handful wear plate and mail, but most wear sturdy tunics over their armor if they have any. Most wear some shade of green, though shades of red and blue are also worn- one of them even wears a patchwork tunic in red, green, blue and purple!

They're chattering among themselves as the two guards return to their post, though one of them sets the huge hammer against one of the nearby pillars. "Sir Link!" greets the guard on the left. "Here to talk with the queen, I assume? And what a traveling party you have as well!"

This 'Sir Link' just nods with a smile, ushering the group of eight through the grand doors of the sanctum. The queen sits on her throne, looking regally bored as ever, if thankful for her friend's interruption of the monotony. They have a quick verbal battle, dotted with inside jokes and longstanding friendship. Eventually, though, she invites them to her office so that they might talk more. Specifically, she invites them in with this sentence- "Now, I think all you Links and I should talk more in my study, I can certainly give you all more information with the resources I have there."

"Wait, Links?" murmurs one of the guards, having moved to the inside of the door to keep an eye on the newcomers talking to the queen. "That guy said 'ey were named Link, right?"

"Yeah, actually," replies the other, a bit louder than he needed to.

That, of course, sets every eye in the traveling party on the guards, as well as the queen's. "Is there something either of you would like to say, men?" asks Queen Zelda.

Both guards flush red, the second one elbowing the first nervously. "Well, uh, your majesty, this guy-"

"Real suspicious lookin!"

"Yeah, this real suspicious guy showed up in the entry hall with a giant hammer-"

"Tall as 'e was, I swear!"

"Yeah, and 'e said his name was Link!"

"'s fine though, we put'im in the dungeon," finishes the second guard, looking proud at first but quickly wilting the the combined weight of nine stares.

"Would you two gentlemen," starts the queen, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Care to bring this Link up to my study?"

"Yes, your majesty!" they chorus, standing at attention.

"Now."

"A-ah, of course!" squeaks the first one, pulling the second out of the doors after him.

Link sits up from where they were leaning against the stone wall as they hear footsteps coming down the stairwell. Thump, thump, thump, thump. Soon enough that same pair of guards arrive at their cell, grumbling to each other. One makes eye contact with Link and startles, "Hylia's tits- 'is fucking eyes!"

They grin, not that the guards could see it through their mask. Even Paya gets startled by their glowing teal irises and these guards have only just met them. "Shut up," grumbles the one carrying the torch. "You're coming with us, the queen wants you in her study."

Link stands, stretches, and exits their cell- but not before getting manhandled into a pair of iron manacles. "All right, follow him, I'll be behind you- so no funny business, gotcha?"

With a sigh they acquiesce and are lead along with a chain. Up the stairs from the dungeons to the main floor, through a series of halls and up another stairway- guarded- and to a large door. The three wait there for a moment, then the one in front opens the door and steps aside so they might shove and jostle Link into the study. A few moments later the guards have managed to wrangle Link into kneeling on the carpet, hands bound and dungeon dirt caked on their clothes. The hood's still up but the latter guard pulls it back roughly. The blonde woman who can only be Queen Zelda sits at her large desk, golden hair and blue eyes shining. Across the desk from her are eight Hylians who are clearly adventurers, all of whom are heavily armed and similarly staring at Link. They miss their hammer.

The fact that they can summon other weapons to their hand in an instant is irrelevant, they still miss the hammer.

She turns her gaze to the guards incredulously and they take it as a signal to be more rude to Link, one of them kicking their good leg and grumbling "Go on, bow."

"Gentlemen," she speaks, quietly and firmly. "Show yourselves out, kindly."

The two guards leave quietly and close the door behind them. Their mind flits between every detail in the room- expectant stares, long silence, heavy iron on their wrists. The room is silent for a moment, then the shifting of chains speaks for Link as they bow as best they can, given they're kneeling on the floor. At least three of the adventurers take a sharp breath at their action and the queen herself starts. "Oh, no, please don't bow. I dare say you've been treated horribly by my knights and they will be punished as such."

They try to find it in themself to relax but don't quite manage it. Tension winds in their chest, murky memories of castle life swirling and threatening to pull them below. Nonetheless, they straighten their back even though they remain kneeling. "I'm guessing that your name is Link, correct?" murmurs the queen.

They nod. They haven't blinked since they entered this room. "And I assume you have done your part in saving your kingdom or another, correct?"

Another nod. Zelda has been telling them that they had saved Hyrule, no matter what their own thoughts say- and besides, it was a vague enough question that they don't feel that gnawing in their chest. The adventurers off to Link's side share a quiet glance, murmuring things like 'but it's been so long since someone new joined us!' and 'what an introduction to this mess...'

Eventually, the silence is broken by the youngest of the adventurers, a teen with sun-bleached blonde hair and an oddly familiar blue lobster tunic. "Wow, another Hero!"

Link waves quietly at the kid and tilts their head. 'Your name?' they sign, chains shifting with the movement.

The teen's accent is more noticeable this time, his words spilling like one of the sailors that occasionally drift by Lurelin. "Aye well, we're all named Link so we jus' use nicknames! I'm Wind!"

Link blinks and shakes their head, staring at the eight heroes before them. The eight heroes who aren't walking monuments to a past failure, the eight heroes who still have all their limbs. The eight heroes who did their job right the first time. They speak for the first time today as they turn to the group, incidentally showing off their missing ear. "What," murmurs Link, voice quiet and rough.

The hero in plate armor and a fanciful blue scarf sighs quietly to himself- though Link still hears it- "Okay, look" he begins. "We are all Links from different eras, brought together by who knows what on a quest that we have no details about. We've been traveling between eras for a couple months to kill off black-blooded monsters."

"Before your... sudden arrival, the hero of Legend-" he jabs his thumb back at a disgruntled looking blonde in a red tunic and a teal hat- "was the latest to join us... and that was two months ago."

The scarf-flaunting hero continues to talk, something about having to adjust to teamwork and the like but it is all Link can do to not get dragged into a memory. Their sense of touch flutters in an unreachable place, somewhere between memories of harsh drill sergeants and the King's cold arrogance. "Warriors," murmurs the other hero clad in plate armor and mail, though his is much more ornate. One eye is shut and careful lines of red and blue mark his face like a festival mask. "Calm down."

Link shifts in their spot on the floor absently as people talk, cataloging the weapons and magic in the room to try and keep their focus off how trappedtrappedtrappedstuckchaineddown they feel. Queen Zelda has her golden light, of course, but holds herself like a Sheikah- Link would know, they do the same. They've just begun to pick out all the places she has hidden blades when Warriors snaps his fingers to grab their attention. Their one ear flicks in his direction, then they slowly make eye contact. "Come on, pay attention."

They have to strangle a growl and the urge to bare their teeth, it's best not to be antagonistic. The adventurers have the numbers advantage, after all. "There aren't any reports of black-bloods in the area, so we're going to Time's ranch. His wife runs a farm."

Warriors waits for a moment, then another. Link belatedly realizes he wants conformation of understanding and Link nods once, smoothly. "Good," grunts Warriors.

The scarf-wearing knight stands and begins to make for the door, but gets stopped by one-eye's hand on his shoulder. One-eye speaks, voice steady and firm. "Before we get moving, were you given a title? As in 'hero of so-and-so.' We've been basing nicknames on those."

Link nods and raises their heavy hands, signing 'light-goddess named me as hero of-'

Their movements are cut short, literally, as the links of the manacles pull tight with Link's motion. Link had forgotten about their chains, almost. They attempt the sign again, but the chains pull tight again. "Oh goodness, I can't believe I forgot you had those manacles on-" starts the queen, her ears flushing a little pink in embarrassment.

She darts around the desk, swiping a pair of pins from her desk as she goes, and kneels gingerly next to Link to begin picking the cuffs. They find their voice eventually, rasping "Wild," as the first cuff pops free.

"Sorry?" ask both one-eye and Wind.

Link manages "Hero of the Wild" before their voice leaves them again, getting a nod from one-eye and a grin from wind.

"Nice tah' meet'ya, Wild!" cheers Wind as the second manacle pops off.

On the walk out of the castle Link- or Wild, they suppose- manages to pick their hammer back up, slinging it over their back with a braided rope. They get a handful of one-off odd looks for it, fair enough, they suppose; everyone else has a sword. They do as well, of course, but still. Hanging towards the back of the party, Wind chatters constantly. Some things are about the rest of the group, but they don't know the names. Other things are things from the little sailor's past adventure, did this Tetra actually shoot the little blonde from a canon? Other things still are of no particular consequence. All of it is a bit soothing, like listening to waves break on a beach.

There's a brunette- one of the only in the group- off to the side a little ahead, who feels similar enough to them. Anxious and quiet, soaked with magic; however different they both are. Their sword is enchanted silver, rubies adorning the guard. Magic drips off of it like it does the brunette, simmering and ethereal. Wild- still weird, ugh- can taste the air around a fairy fountain if they focus close enough, eyes drifting closed and "Oh, that's Hyrule!"

Wind grins up at them, undeterred by their inattention. They still feel kinda guilty, though. "They're really nice and have really powerful magic!" continues Wind, breezing past any sort of mistake they might've made.

The newly named Hyrule slows their rhythm and drops back in the group, walking opposite to Wind. They wave shyly at Wild, smiling softly with their whole face. "It's nice to meet you."

Their voice is a little higher than Link- er, Wild- expected, and it rings gently in the air. "Sorry for not really speaking out on your behalf earlier. I was... drifting, I guess."

They did look a little unfocused. 'Nice to meet you too,' they sign, smiling with their eyes.

The hood is down, mostly for comfort. Nobody really likes having their ears pinned to the side of their head. Though, when the group steps through an arching passageway into what Wild realizes is castle town- a whole and unbroken, cheering and alive castle town that hits them like a stone talus- they flip their hood up. It's loud, merchants hawking goods and children playing with dogs. A couple twirl around each other by the central fountain, paying nothing but one another any mind. Someone, or maybe a couple people, are playing a twangy, cheery tune. One-eye bobs his head to the music as he leads the group.

Link stumbles as a memory crashes over them, though it's nothing big. Just the barest imprint of their own version of this. The town is too different to stir anything more that was locked away by their failure. It still hurts, though. They can taste the fresh baked bread with too-salty butter that they used to burn their tongue on with the first bite during knighthood. Why couldn't they have been better, been stronger, saved those thousands of lost lives. Why, why, why couldn't they do anything right WHY- "Hey, Wild," murmurs Hyrule, tugging them from their mind with a pull on their sleeve. "I know it's a lot, I don't have anything like this either. You get used to it quickly enough though, I think."

Shaky breath in, shaky breath out. Absently, they're grateful that their cloth mask is soaking up the trails of tears running down their face. They wish memories didn't do that, it just makes it hurt more. Wind is still at their side and bumps his hip against... well, against their thigh. They're short but not That Short. Tapping their chin and bringing the hand down and out, palm up, they sign 'thank you.'

"Course," is the quiet response, but the nature-sweet-fairy-blood-life magic swirling around Wild feels like a hug nonetheless.

Wild bumps their good shoulder into Hyrule's, letting a bit of their own, ah, spirited magic swirl at the brunette. They smile wider and Wild can see curiosity sparkle in their hazel eyes. They follow the rest of the group for a while longer, eventually walking out into the wide open stretches of Hyrule Field. Purely on instinct they knock their hood back down, scanning for any dangers nearby.

Nothing, not a bokoblin or a chuchu. No telltale marks of a guardian's patrol, gouged into the ground. It's distinctly eerie, oddly enough. As the group treks along the winding path towards what Link can only assume is the previously mentioned farm, they can't help but notice the lack of trees. Their Hyrule Field has similar stretches of meadow, but is, as a whole, more consistently a savannah. Or so Zelda tells them, at least.

Maybe an hour's walk and some quiet conversation later, Wild has been introduced to Legend properly. The veteran, as Wind called him, is a gruff, witty, bastard and Link- not again- and Wild is fond of him instantly. Both Hyrule and Wind have teased him about his hoarding tendencies and the countless (usually) magic items he keeps on hand for any situation- a kindred spirit! Maybe fifteen minutes ago Wind had started flagging behind, so he now pesters Legend and talks at the two other hylians from atop Wild's shoulders. Peering around the rest of the group ahead of them, Legend grins. "Nearly there, it'll be-"

Of course, the little pirate takes the opportunity to cheer "Ranch ho!"

He even has a spyglass held up to his face and all. Wild nods sagely as Legend sighs and rolls his eyes, making aggrieved eye contact with Hyrule for a moment. The brunette shrugs as they wander past a lone tree and around a bend and...

...

Oh. The ranch ruins.

Wild's thoughts twist around their throat, images of the ruined ranch of their time stark in their mind. Their feet are frozen to the ground, memories of the guardian stalker patrolling the fenced in area where horses now roam. They can so easily imagine the farm being overtaken the same way their castle town was, civilians screaming and running, roofs collapsing and guardian stalkers crawling over rubble and townhouses alike, hunting, hunting, hunting huntinghuntinghuntfirepain-

Wind misses the horror-pain-fear blooming on Wild's face, but Hyrule and Legend don't. "Hey," murmurs Hyrule while Legend squeezes their (prosthetic) arm. (The gesture is appreciated, but still does nothing.)

When Wild stays frozen Wind notices, looking down at an awkward angle to see stricken eyes and a pale face. His heels thump against Wild's ribcage, the left and then the right, and the teen murmurs their new nickname. They are still lost in their head regardless, that horrible klaxon screaming out. Legend punches their shoulder and only manages to make his knuckles a little sore as the veteran murmurs "Hey, Wild. You, uh, there?"

The rest of the heroes move on ahead, either not noticing or assuming that they want to hang back for a moment. Wild cannot move, stuck in a waking dream of the siren wailing, a stalker's eye focusing endlessly on the blonde, charging a laser beam that would surely kill them again. A choked whine escapes their throat, distress building until Hyrule snaps their magic like a whip. That actually gets a response from them, a gasp as the hell in their mind flickers for a moment.

While Wind lacks enough magic to truly help, Legend does not- "On three," he says, voice firm.

"One," counts Hyrule, twisting his green and brown and blue magic like a spring.

"Two," counts Legend, doing the same with his pink and orange and purple magic.

"Three," finishes Wind, legs tight around their neck and hands in their soft hair.

There's no audible sound as the two magical signatures snap Wild out of their mind, but the surprised squeak Wind makes and the simultaneous noises of pain that escape Hyrule and Legend as Wild's right foot and left arm kick and punch the brunette and the vet respectively; the magical shock disrupted Wild's prosthetics, after all. All four end up on the shaded grass just off the path, Legend catching his breath and Hyrule massaging their knee. Wild is breathing heavy and Wind is... completely fine, actually. "Ow," mumbles the brunette, pushing up into a sitting position.

The most colorful of the four wheezes, grumbling "What the hell are you made out of, steel?"

Wild snorts at Legend, chokes on nothing for a moment, then groans from where they're splayed out in the grass. "Sorry."

Wind doesn't say anything for a while, but eventually extracts himself from Wild's hair and head. "Come on, I bet Miss Malon's food will make yeh feel better quick, Wild!"

Hyrule huffs at the teen, smiling softly. Legend waves him off, asking the sailor to go on ahead. "That happen often, Wild?"

Threading their good arm under their head, they make a middling noise and wobble their hand band and forth. 'So-so.'

There's a long pause and a breeze rolls over them like a sigh. "Anything either of us can do to help?"

A shrug, then they raise their hands to sign for a moment, then decide not. "Usually jus' wait."

"Then I guess we'll wait with you," assures Hyrule.

It's quiet for a while longer, then Legend get up, groaning theatrically. "Well, if we don't move on soon they're gonna eat all of Malon's cooking."

"Can't have that," says the brunette, taking the offered hand and then extending one to Wild. "Want a hand?"

They snort quietly, reaching out to accept the gesture. Upon being pulled up to their feet they bump shoulders with Hyrule and then Legend, eyes crinkling with humor as they rasp "Most Days."

Chapter Text

The group has been hanging around Lon Lon Ranch for a few days now; apparently because it's 'the chain's' best rest stop. Wild can understand why, just farm chores to be done, comfortable beds or couches or floors, good company in the form of Time's wife Malon...

Their own lingering anxieties hadn't really left at all, such a large group of unknowns would stress any hero out. Malon was certainly nice enough- she would just smile at them when they snuck off to eat alone or waved at her before slinking into the woods for a little. Wind as somehow more excitable than Koko on a good day, but still has that adventurer grit about him- though the salt on his skin and sun-bleached hair make it feel... different. Wild's fond of the little kid, no matter how much he complains when the others call him that. The untamed breeze that tousles the young pirate's hair and clothes reminds them of the desert winds and the beaches of Lurelin. Wild can almost feel the sand in their hair.

They've gotten a little closer with Legend and Hyrule as well, apparently those two are from the same timeline. Legend came first and Hyrule came much later, growing up on stories of the pink-streaked veteran. Veteran... veteran is a bit of an understatement, as Wild learned last night. Legend bears the connections, experience, magic items, and scars of a full six full fledged adventures. It's comforting, they suppose, to know that another member of the party has this much experience behind them; this many adventures and they're not broken. It hurts a little as well, a given, what with the little voice in their head that tells Wild they're not good enough and the ache in their endless or phantom pains in their missing limbs that won't let them forget they failed. Legend hasn't talked much about their adventures- just that they happened- but he stands firm by Wild's side when they do chores together.

Hyrule is... much nicer than Legend, for one. The traveler is soft and bright in a way that reminds Wild of Cotera and the other great fairies, which is echoed in their magic. Hyrule's magic is powerful and their forte is healing. Wild can't help but think of Mipha; strong and kind and soft and cut too short by Link's damn failure... they don't want that to happen to the traveler too. Hyrule doesn't have a single visible scar and Wild would bet their remaining ear that they don't have a single scar anywhere on their body- and that there's a story there, as well. Whatever the case, Hyrule is good and kind and feels like the Fairy Fountain by their home. They love nature just like Wild does and they can't help but plan about how to slip the two of them away for a day when they get to Wild's Hyrule.

As they drift out of their thoughts Wild looks over one of the spare rooms of the ranchhouse, the handful of heroes slowly waking up around them. Hyrule has decided to forgo leaving their blanket and has cloaked themself within as they wander to the door. Legend is taking a moment to himself, reading some past letters, written in a deep green ink. Wild shakes the aimless thoughts from their head, adding another line of text to the journal entry they've been writing on the Sheikah Slate. Teal glows on navy as they detail yesterday's events, fighting against the urge to take their leather glove off. It would surely spark questions as to why they've been wearing the gloves so much and, well, it's not that annoying.

...

Okay, it's annoying enough for them to stop writing this journal entry. Nothing really happened yesterday anyways. The only notable thing is that they're becoming more comfortable around the rest of the chain. It's not much, compared to all the anxieties Wild has swirling like malice in their gut, but all of these heroes have certainly been kind enough. (Though the Heroes of Warriors and Time's general attitude tends to bring back too many bad, half-remembered, thoughts to let Wild be comfortable around them.)

Maybe they'll talk with Legend or Hyrule about their scarring soon, just to make sure the others wouldn't react badly. At least then they could eat in the same room. It's not that they were particularly self conscious about their scarring, the Gerudo and- Sheikah, to a much lesser extent- had beaten it out of them thourghly enough. But, well, Wild's Hyrule was so mind-bogglingly different from their hundred year old memories; the culture had changed drastically in many respects, especially regarding the opinion of scars. In their era scars were a ubiquitous experience. everyone would have at least one, if not from a monster or a yiga attack then a fumbled knife or a slipped finger. Nobody would judge another for having one, even across races! Hylians and even gerudo scar the same, while gorons cracks and faults might be reinforced in one way or another. The zora and rito scar similarly enough as well, what with scales and feathers being distorted or lost.

How would the peoples of different eras- past eras see Wild's, ah, tapestry. Would they see a grand story of loss and survival like the gerudo do? A reminder to do better in the future but that they still didn't lose everything, like the hylians of their era? Or would they just see the ugly burns and slashes with disgust and call them a failure like so many others would have a century ago...

Their stomach growls impatiently, poking at them to go find some food- or at least pull something from the slate to snack on. Thinking over the array of readily made meals in their slate, Wild wanders out of the room. Their house sandals- a habit from Kakariko- made soft noises against the wood floors. Their knee-length socks hide the false foot, of course, but, well, they would wear them anyways. Soft and warm.

Absently waving hello to a bleary Wind and a haggard Warriors, Wild curls up on one of the couches around the fireplace. Hyrule happens to be sitting on the other end of it and Wild lets themself become lost in the quiet crackling and popping of burning wood. Eventually, their eyes slide half-closed as the world moves on around them. Snuggling into the quilt that they pulled off the back of the couch, Wild barely registers Malon's bright orange head of hair bounce through the room to start cooking.

Time passes like Kakariko weather; slow and meandering as life goes on regardless. Eventually, there are more sounds of anticipation and clinking plates than sizzling batter and popping oil.

They open their eyes as a warm plate is gently nudged atop their knees, whomever is passing it to them waiting for Wild to get a hold on it. The scents of butter and cooked batter and sweetness roll over them, accented with sweet fruit and seared meat. Giving the blob a soft, slow, blink that crinkles their eyes kindly, Wild gently picks the fork off the plate and busies themself with cutting a chunk off the stack of griddle-cakes. Vaguely, they register that they pulled down their mask, but it doesn't really matter when there are griddle-cakes to be eaten. Soft, pillowy, nutty, sweet. Moist from the butter and syrup, the cakes melt in their mouth.

Their fork clinks against the plate as they slowly pull together another bite and their ear twitches at the sound.

...

It's too quiet, they realize.

They focus their eyes and look away from the plate of breakfast goodness, half a tiny sausage link speared on their fork.

The entire party of adventurers gathered around the room are staring at them. Sympathy and shock are written across some faces, while others are dyed with curiosity and horror.

"Oh," murmurs Miss Malon. "Wild, honey, your mask is down."

They are... suddenly less hungry, what with the iron weight plummeting into their gut. Wild can feel the blood drain away from their face and they scramble off the couch, barely managing to not upend the fantastic breakfast that they just ruined with their stupid scars. They barely register the explosion of noise behind them as the shock wears off, focusing on just getting out out out. Out from this house they feel so trapped. Walls closing in and shouted noise dancing around their ears like mockery.

The floorboards turn to worn dirt pathways under their feet, then to dewy grass as they run, run, run. At some point they had stored away the food, likely from sheer force of habit.

They're in the woods now, how far did they run?

Morning fog gently lists along the fallen leaves and through small plants, why did they run?

The air is cold and wet, the smells of fall rolling over them like a blanket. It smells like the outskirts of Kakariko, where the fruit trees aren't planted. It smells like Akkala, with all its sunset bright trees. It smells like the edge of the Korok Forest, new growth and petrichor and slowly decomposing matter. It smells like the wild and it smells like home, so they clamber up a large tree and make themself home in the crook of the branch. Blankets are pulled from the slate; one to make a nest and one to cloak themself in.

It feels good to not wear the cloth mask, the chill morning air on their scarred nose and lips.

They summon the plate of breakfast from the slate, a bit guiltily. Wild can't help but feel awful, Miss Malon went to such an effort to make food for them all... and they ran. They ran like a coward who couldn't stand showing the scars that paint their face and neck, despite the wisdom all of their family in Gerudo Town beat into their head.

...

Shit, they lost the fork. Damnit.

A wet little sigh wobbles from their lungs, oh, they're crying now. Shakily, they pull a pair of chopsticks from the slate and a throwing knife- a gift from Paya- from their sleeve and slowly get back to eating. Or, well, slowly sobbing into a (very slowly disappearing) pile of pancakes.

Sky had barely been half awake when Malon had started ferrying plates of fluffy cakey things- Wars murmured something about pancakes, so Sky supposes he'll call them that- and some fried meat and sausages to each of the heroes, along with some cut fruit. He hadn't even been the first to notice Wild's... well, that they hadn't left to eat alone. Once he did, though... well, Sky can understand whatever issues they had going on up there. The scar tissue on Wild's face is more dense than anything Sky could claim to have, though it's similarly eye-catching to the branching and twisting figures that live on his arm.

Malon's words had spurred Wild into motion, panic flooding their usually hidden face. In another circumstance, thinks Sky, it would have been funny- what with Wild's scramble off the couch only losing the fork.

The dew-damp grass of the surface brushes against Sky's calves as he wanders across the expansive Hyrule Field, Fi hanging comfortably in the frog at his side. "Could've stood to prepare a little more, I guess," he mumbles, wandering towards where the blessed sword had pointed him. "'S wet down here."

And shit, man, thinks Sky. They sure can run. Sky had expected to just have to make a circle around the ranch, not venture out farther. Oh well, he can't say it matters much. As long as he can find the longest haired of the chain, and maybe have a conversation, it'll be okay. They all have scars, no matter how young or old. Nobody would judge Wild for it- and if they do, Sky is pretty sure Legend or Hyrule might strangle that potential foolish hero in their sleep.

He takes a moment to unsheathe Fi, settling gently into the drowsing position that got him chosen for this. Mmhm, still that direction and probably not moving... but how far? Sky walks a handful of steps to his right, then resumes dowsing- wow, in the forest? Not crazy far in, but it certainly looks plenty impassible from here. Sheathing Fi (and giving her a little thank-you pat, of course,) the chosen starts towards the forest again, settling into a slow jog that he's decently sure won't leave him breathless in the chill morning air.

Slowly, as he tries his best to not slip down the slight decline, Sky's thoughts return to the series of events that scared off Wild. Everyone could have reacted better, He thinks. It was surely a shock for them all; what with the slashes that Sky- and surely the others as well- had just assumed to be from a wolfos or some-such similar creature becoming wider and more jagged than what the mask had let them believe. What were likely shrapnel scars littered Wild's jaw and throat, one even cutting across their lip. Sky braces his legs, hopping off a little ledge that he had nearly just walked directly off.

Little spots had dotted Wild's cheeks, nose, and jaw- Sky was pretty sure they were burn scars, but he couldn't be sure with the brief glimpse. More burns- which Sky is pretty sure looked different from the previously mentioned ones- raced up their neck, particularly from their left side, which also held more likely shrapnel scars. Just what happened to this hero to leave them like this- and how could they have survived? Well, muses Sky as he steps into the woods, now would be a good time to let Fi lead the way.

Unsheathing his partnered weapon, Sky settles into the quiet calm of drowsing and lets Fi point him as he walks. Soon enough she starts angling herself upwards, pulling him off the trodden path into the woods and instead through a dense forest. Fog dances around his feet, the overcast sun's light barely breeching the trees around him. It's a little ominous but, well, has that ever stopped him? Something falls from the canopy to Sky's side and he totally, absolutely, does NOT jump or ANYTHING, it was probably just a nut or a branch falling! Onwards!

After a few more moments of walking around bramble bushes Fi is very nearly forming a triangle with a large tree and the ground so Sky takes his chances. Sheathing Fi and thanking her quietly, he calls out gently. "Wild? You, uh, up there?"

...

It took a moment, but Wild responds!

"Mmhm."

It's almost too quiet to hear, but the forest is hauntingly silent here. "Do you, uh, mind if I come up there or something?"

A longer pause, then another soft-spoken answer. "Go ahead."

They sound choked up, if Sky's being honest. He takes a moment to try and find a good angle to start climbing from- annoyingly, he left the whip with the rest of his weapons at the ranch. "Did you just, like, climb up like a remlit?"

They hiccup wetly and, well, that sounds like some sort of progress. He catches a flash of golden hair and quickly realizes something. "Hylia's- Wow, you're really up there, huh?"

They giggle this time, wetly, and Sky smiles to himself. "Please tell me I..." he starts, rooting through an enchanted pouch at his side. "Oh, good!"

Slipping one of the clawshots on, Sky takes a couple steps back and fires it to grab onto a branch. The pull on his shoulder is still jarring, but needs must- and Sky needs to get up this tree! The tnk-tnk-tnk-tnk-tnk vibrates up his arm as he slowly ascends, passing by a handful of branches before Wild comes into view- their mask is back on. "Hey," he says, sheepishly.

They wave and Sky can't help but notice how shaky they are, even bundled up in those blankets.

He starts shifting his body weight, swinging back and forth to jump to Wild's branch, and Wild stands. They had taken off the sandals that they've been wearing around Malon's house at some point, but the socks they're wearing surely provide enough grip on the rough, old, bark of the limb below them. Offering a hand to Sky- who takes it with his free hand- they brace themself and pull, bringing Sky closer and closer to the branch until his feet touch down. "Thanks," says Sky, packing the single clawshot away into his pouch.

Quietly, Wild wanders back to the sort of nest they have going, moving like they've spent their entire life in the canopy of great trees like this. They sit, stretching out their legs and patting the blanket pile to their right, a clear invitation.

Sky accepts, of course, and settles next to Wild. They sit like that for a while, doing nothing in particular and staring out though endless leaves. If he tilts his head back a little, Sky can catch sight of the clouds through the canopy. He's kinda bummed he didn't bring his harp, to be honest. Absently plucking away on that little thing all the way up here sounds lovely.

The silence prevails for a while longer still, occasionally broken by a falling nut or particularly strong breeze that makes Sky thankful for the blanket draped over them both- and his sailcloth, of course.

"Nobody's mad you hide your scars, by the way," murmurs Sky, letting his forearm rest against Wild's.

No response comes of it, so he slowly continues. "They were all just shocked, I think. Malon might still be scolding most of them for not making you feel welcome, honestly."

"mm," is the only verbal response, but Wild leans into Sky subtly.

Sky smiles softly and says nothing more as a yellowed leaf drifts down from above, settling in Wild's lap for a moment before fluttering away. They sit like that for a while longer still, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, backs to bark.

The tree creaks above them, not unkindly.

Time passes.

Eventually, Sky speaks again. "Mm, I'm sure it's not quite the same, but..."

"aa?"

He huffs, smiling. "Well, my arm got pretty scarred up in my adventure... I..."

A pause.

"I was messed up over it for a while; still am, to be honest. Some days are better than others, others are worse than most," he says, sliding up the sleeve of his right arm.

The scars from his fight with Demise are still there, countless dancing lines burned into his skin. He turns his hand over, hiding his Triforce scar and bearing the starting point of every one of the fractal scars- an imprint of Fi's hilt, seared into his palm and fingers. He sighs into the distance, then the rustle of leather sounds from his left. Slowly, a rough, scarred, hand, branded with the Triforce, thumbs Sky's scarred palm.

Wild's hand has a few of those small, dark, burns that Sky now realizes look like droplets of ink splattered on paper. There are other scars, of course- years-old cuts and the like, but only what one might expect from an adventure full of combat. There's a burn on the outside of their wrist, probably from a fire rod.

"a," they vocalize quietly for attention, then slowly roll their hand over into Sky's palm.

There, certainly not as bad of any of Sky's, sits a familiar scar. A branching line of scar tissue twists into Wild's sleeve and Sky laughs to himself, a little wetly. "What gave you that one?" he murmurs, letting the both of them take comfort in the other's presence.

"..."

"You don't have to ans-"

"Sh. G'me time."

"Mm," hums Sky, bumping shoulders with Wild quietly.

"'I'was, uh," their head bounces gently against the bark behind them. "Thunder Boss. 'One'a m' big four. You?"

Sky almost laughs when Wild asks them what caused those particular scars, if only because that fight is burned into their mind. "Fuckin', a, a uh," his throat is all tight and his eyes are wet, fuck. "I fought a god. He kept throwing these balls of lightning and... Well, I hit them back."

"Mm."

"He.. He could've just not, I kept knocking them back and hurting him, I..."

Sky sighs deeply, the air petering out of his lungs. "I think he just wanted to hear my pain."

"Aa."

Silence stretches long again, though some laughter gets startled out of the two when a rather chunky nut makes a dense 'thunk' as it bounces off the branch near them.

"Mm, Sky?" asks Wild, after a while.

"Yeah?"

"D'y'wanna see... m'face?" mumbles the golden blonde, scratching at the border between cloth and skin with their gloved hand.

"Wrong question, I think, Wild... You should be asking if you care about me seeing it; your face having scars isn't my choice to hide."

They hiccup wetly, driving an elbow into Sky's ribcage. "Fuck'off"

"It's true!" laughs Sky, squirming.

They laugh and badger each other for a moment but, as the laughter quiets, a smiling Sky pokes at Wild's cloth-covered cheek. "Well? Y'gonna take it off?"

Wild doesn't respond for a moment, the reaches up and hooks their ungloved hand into the mask and slips it down. The smile on their scarred lips is infectious, not that Sky wasn't already grinning.

"Hey, look at you, not sending me screaming with your scarred visage!"

"Shut." glowers Wild, the glare that they send Sky ineffective with the way their lips are quirked.

Bickering back and forth about nothing in particular, the two share aimless stories and warmth on the chill fall morning. Sky waxes poetic about pumpkin soup- Wild is distinctly interested- and tells the golden blonde what a remlit is. Wild spins a tale about their family in Gerudo- and winks slyly when the Chosen asks them if the 'no men' rule he's heard about is still in affect in their era. Fi rests across their laps, humming quietly as Sky drums his fingers on her guard absently.

They quietly show off some of their magic to Sky, letting the yellow-green crackles of lightning snap between their fingers. Just so they don't catch him by surprise, they say. Sky's touched, but laments that he doesn't really have any sort of magic like that to share. He does mention Fi's dowsing abilities though- Wild makes an appreciative sound.

"Mm, Sky?"

He turns to face them, head tilted in question.

'Can I share something with you?' they sign, then cut off his response with another string. 'Just want to try sharing this. Keep it a secret.'

There's no please at the end of their sentence; this is something important. Sky murmurs his assent nonetheless, shifting slightly to face them more directly.

Wild takes a deep breath, then slips a hand up the loose sleeve of their yukata- their left sleeve. Sky makes a curious noise as the sleeve rides up past the cuff of their leather glove, revealing more skin-tight black fabric like what once covered their face.

Click, snap, the sound of metal sliding on metal. Sky takes a sharp breath as their shoulder moves in a way that shoulders can't without being broken.

"Ah-," they murmur, shaking their torso from side to side gently. "Oh, there."

They almost loose all composure at Sky's face when their prosthetic slips out of their shoulder, the chosen's face equal parts incredulous, shocked, and dismayed. Controlling the arm as they pull it out of their sleeve is a little tricky, but necessary enough to keep it from falling to the forest floor. It rests in their lap, glowing blue as they pull off the black cloth and the glove. Wild makes the fingers of their prosthetic drum against their knee like a stal's limb might, pulling a whole-body shudder from an utterly gobsmacked Sky.

"Wild," he murmurs quietly. "What the fuck."

They finally break, snorting loudly and doubling into gravely laughter.

"But- no, Wild, this is-"

Sky finally breaks when the prosthetic flips him off from their lap, snickering as he pulls his fellow hero into a much needed hug. "Fucked up arm twins?"

Wild barks a laugh into Sky's shoulder, grinning. (Not that Sky can see it.) "Yea', fucked up arm twins."

The sun glares through the canopy, no longer young in its ark through the sky.

"We should probably head back," murmurs Sky, solidly not moving from the blanket nest.

'Yes,' agrees Wild, distinctly not moving from where they're writing on the slate.

Their prosthetic has been reattached at some point, but the fabric covering and leather glove still lay where they were put on the branch.

'Tell me about the pumpkin soup again?'

"Sure," replies Sky, smiling as Wild gets ready to take notes this time.

Someone's talking at them from the forest floor.

"'ey, Wild, Sky."

Someone with a thick country accent is talking at them from the forest floor.

"'ah know y'two are up there, 'ah kin' see yer' hair, Wild. An' yer sailcloth too, Sky!"

Sky fake-snores rather pointedly.

"I will come up there an' push y'both off, do not test me!"

Wild rolls over onto their belly from where they're laying down, groaning theatrically as they look down at The Hero of Twilight.

"Oh, good, y'mask's down!" chirps Twilight, hands planted on his hips. "'Ah 'kin assume y'cleared up whatever had'y runnin' off earlier?"

He just laughs as they throw a balled up glove at him, stepping aside and letting it hit the leafy ground to his right.

"Naw, 'm sure it's a plenty fine tree for nappin, but Missus Malon needs help wit chores an' y'two ain't gon' escape it!"

"But don't you want to come and laze around up here with us?" asks Sky, his grin visible in his voice. "It's juuuuust sunny enough up here~..."

A pause.

A deku nut bounces off the bark to the side of Sky's head, sending the dirty-blonde ducking for cover. "Not t'day, sleepyhead!"

"Fine, fine!" surrenders Sky, a fat grin on his face.

He waits for Wild to slip their prosthetic covering back on, then the remaining leather glove, before taking a running leap off the branch- aiming for Twilight, of course. The knight of Skyloft plummets towards a suddenly scrambling away rancher, laughing like a maniac.

They never actually collide, of course- Twilight manages to create enough distance for Sky to give up, opening up his sailcloth instead and gently gliding the rest of the way. "You're crazy," grumbles Twilight, though it doesn't have any heat behind it.

"Aren't we all?" counters Sky, smiling with lightly windswept hair.

"D'pends," murmurs Wild, slowly drifting down on... a giant flower puff?

Their legs are wrapped around the stem of a giant, horribly fluffy, dandelion bloom, right arm keeping them upright. Twilight blinks twice, then rubs his eyes. "S'like, tha's magic, righ'?"

"'Course; Koroks," responds Wild, touching down with a graceful little spin and bow.

The oversized dandelion vanishes with the sound of children's laughter and tinkling bells. And some magic glitter.

"Whatever, 'cmon, y'two," huffs Twilight, mirth dancing in his voice. "If we take any longer Missus Malon's gon' hang you two by 'yer ears."