Archive of Our Own

Before the shell cracked open, there was a dream.

A dream of endless plains of clouds, of the sun beaming down from an azure sky. The air was neither hot nor cold, perfectly crisp with a slight breeze cupping its wings and buoying it up. And in this dream, it was complete. There was someone. Someone it loved with its whole soul, because it was part of that soul. Together, they sailed through the eternal clouds and danced on beams of sunlight. This was what awaited, beyond the shell. This was the dream of living.

The shell broke, and the nightmare began.

—

“Oh, look at that!” The voice was soft and kind and full of love. “Do you like your little gull, Link?” 

The thing in his tiny arms was soft and stitched with care, fabric beak and painted feathers. He could not speak. He hadn’t learned how yet. This thing was not quite right. It was not what his hands truly sought for.

But the voice was soft and kind and full of love, and he didn’t remember the dream anymore. He burbled and drooled and clutched the toy with a toothless smile.

An ocean away, chirps of distress went unanswered.

—

Link’s head hurt from the moment he woke up. He blamed the fact he had fallen asleep in the watchtower. The old boards swayed in the wind, but he’d always liked high places. He stretched and yawned, all while Aryll laughed at him for forgetting his own birthday. The dull pulse of pain didn’t go away, but he ignored it as he went about his day. The new outfit, uncomfortably warm. Aryll’s gift of her telescope, just a loan. Link watched the postman deliver letters and the headache worsened. He’d always envied the Rito and their ability to fly. Maybe this was the year he would grow out of that childish desire to touch the sky.

The headache sharpened into something nauseating in time with Aryll’s scream.

—

Freedom. For a few glorious, terrifying seconds, he was aloft. A part of his soul that had always curled raggedly inward furled out, his scream of fear amused with a whoop of delight. Then the barrel hit the side of the Fortress and shattered, sending his sword spiraling away and his body plummeting back down.

He didn’t wonder at the headache that throbbed between his ears. The memory of flight, even for just a moment, was almost enough to make up for it.

—

Sometimes he had dreams, of golden plains of clouds, sunbeams dancing through his hair. He was flying home. Sometimes in the dream Aryll was with him. Other times it was Tetra. In all of them, he was so happy, laughing into the wind. But someone else was always there. The moment he looked down, he would see the Helmaroc King, and then he would be falling, falling, falling—

When he woke, Link wondered why the Helmaroc King, who had stolen Tetra to take to the shadow atop the Forsaken Fortress, had been flying towards Outset to begin with. It was the opposite direction from where it should have been going. But sleep would close back in, and the thoughts would drift away like eiderdown. 

He would never understand that stupid bird. And he didn’t want to.

—

Link could feel the headache again, as he climbed the Fortress a second time, Master Sword strapped to his back. It pulsed behind his eyeballs, flashes of heat and hunger and above all, rage. Some distant part of him, the part that sounded like his grandma’s worried voice, chided him for not eating before he charged in. But he was so close, he could finally save his sister. He was so close, he could finally face the phantom atop the building.

He was so close, and then the bird was there.

And he can only feel hatred.

—

“It won’t bite, I promise Sailor!” Sky smiled dreamily, scratching the giant red bird’s neck. Wind, savior of the Great Sea and the Realm of the Ocean King, didn’t move an inch.

“I don’t… I don’t really like big birds.” Wind pulled a face. “Bad experiences on my quest.”

“Yet you let those feathered rats snatch food right off your head.” Legend rolled his eyes. Wind wasn’t fooled. He had seen Legend trying to entice the gulls to play with him too. Legend was right about one thing though, Wind made a practice of feeding gulls any time he could, hyoi pears so he could feel a moment of freedom, of wind under borrowed wings. 

The others made fun of the faces he made when he was sharing a gull’s mind, but Sky had told them off. “Everyone deserves to fly.” He had smiled and told them of his Loftwing, of their bond, of how he could feel the bird’s joy and completeness when they flew together. 

The Loftwing had been a lot cooler when it wasn’t staring him down with its monstrous golden eyes. Wind kept his distance. The bird made little clicking noises of confusion as it watched him, possibly plotting how to eat him. 

Sky was letting the others take turns flying with him, clinging to his waist as they soared over the clouds. Wind positively burned with desire, a craving itching under his skin to taste the azure sunlight. But he couldn’t bring himself to get near the bird. He found himself wishing for his own wings, wings he could use to fly any time, without a bird in the way. Wings would complete him, wings would…

The bird shuffled, and Wind decided he needed to be elsewhere. He excused himself to the woods, where he definitely went on patrol and definitely didn’t cry. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t a scared kid. He didn’t need to fly, he didn’t—

—

The ashes swirled as the breeze gathered them into a pile, twisting and spiraling in on itself to be sure not a speck was left behind. The wind was not a living thing. It did not understand good, or evil. It blew on the just and the unjust. It destroyed the innocent and it spared the guilty, or sometimes the opposite, without thinking about the consequences. There were no consequences for the wind.

The wind did not care about the world. But the wind did like some people. And so when someone it liked cried out for something, it didn’t care much about the consequences. It was going to give it to him.

It finished gathering the ashes as the power of darkness, leaking through a portal to a distant time, filled the sky with scarlet light. The citizens of the Great Sea quailed as a bleeding moon rose overhead, but the wind barely noticed. It was going to get what its Favored called for, even if it needed dark magic to do so. Even if such a being was a monster that its Favored had once killed. Even if the Favored didn’t know he was calling for it.

The ashes reformed into a being of bone and feathers and overwhelmingly, of hatred.

The wind only danced around the monster, beckoning, teasing the bird into the lingering portal. Find him. Find the Favored. He’s calling you. The monster swooped into another time, and the wind moved on. It had accomplished its purpose. What happened next didn’t concern it.

—

Wind returned to the camp, face washed in a stream and nose no longer red. The others had largely moved on from the bird, going about their usual business. Legend was organizing things, Four was reading, Wild was cooking, Sky was chatting with some people… and the giant red bird was right behind him, leaning its head on his shoulder. A few of the other villagers had arrived and were speaking to Sky and Warriors, a loose flock of birds lingering at the far edge of camp. Wind swallowed, hard, and went to join Hyrule as he shook out the bedrolls.

“Uh… why…”

“They landed not long after you, uh, went on patrol.” Hyrule smiled awkwardly. “The blonde lady is the Chosen’s girlfriend.”

“He’s a lot less sappy about it than I expected.”

“His bird is being so clingy he can’t even get close.” Hyrule snorted. “They say it’s normal. The birds are like…” He made a few experimental gestures before shrugging. “They’re like, the same person? So when they’re separated and reunited the bird will want to stick as close to their Hylian as possible.”

Wind could see Sky looking longingly at the blonde lady, but his bird refused to let him step away. From what Wind could see, Sky’s girlfriend was watching this and not so subtly laughing at him. Wind took a little comfort in this. Surely Sky’s girlfriend, who was the smartest, prettiest, nicest, whateverest person to ever live (according to Sky), would be concerned if Sky was actually in danger from the giant bird. The girl saw Wind and her eyes brightened.

“Link! There’s another one?”

Sky looked at Wind, smiling blearily. “Oh, he’s with us. That’s the sailor, the Hero of Winds.”

Wind could hear Orca’s admonition about politeness in the back of his head and gave a little bow. The girl giggled, bowing back. “Ah, you’re the one with the talking boat!” Wind’s surprise must have shown. “Link writes me about you all. He says you told the best stories about your adventure.” She offered her hand. “I’m Zelda. Though I’m told you all know a Zelda.”

“Uh. Mine goes by Tetra.” He looked at her hand, then caught on and shook it. “I’m Link. But you know one of those too.”

Zelda snorted a laugh, then tilted her head, looking at their joined hands. “You… you’re different than the others, somehow.” Her expression went distant for a moment. “Part of you is… is far away. Your heart was left in the sky—“ She blinked, seeming to realize she was still holding his hand and flinched. “Sorry! Sorry, I don’t know what—I didn’t mean to imply—“

Wind tried smile, heart thudding. “Uh. No… no problem?”

She put her hands on her face. Sky managed to get free of his Loftwing to move close enough to hold her while she flushed. “No, no, it’s… I get little flashes of things, probably a consequence of everything that happened on my adventure. I didn’t mean you were lesser, I just meant that… it felt like… like a piece of you was missing? A piece that has left a huge gaping hole where it should be. Except. Well.” Her eyes darted over him. “You have all your pieces. No gaping holes. Maybe it’s a glitch, hah…” She deflated. “Sorry. I know this is weird.”

Wind felt himself relax a little. “Lady, we’re all weird here.”

The chain packed up, deciding to move closer to the village to help deal with any monsters. Zelda also had a giant terror bird, Wind noted, which kept trying to herd her into Sky’s space in spite of his own Loftwing more or less enveloping the man in its wings. If it had been any other animal, Wind would have found the whole thing comical. As it was…

One of the villagers flew overhead on their bird, and his stomach lurched. Fear, but also envy. Envy that they could touch the clouds, that they were so high up without concern. The throbbing desire to fly started again, and Wind squashed it down. Maybe there were gulls close by he could borrow from—but no. He had to stop caving to the craving for flight, it was ridiculous! He was supposed to be over this!

He spent most of the evening unsuccessfully avoiding the Loftwings’ nesting grounds. Every time he tried to explore the new village or the surrounding woods, his feet kept dragging him back. The Loftwings didn’t pursue, only gave him occasional looks of curiosity when he wandered close again. Wind wondered if they were thinking of how to eat him.

He dreamt all night of endless plains of clouds. They were stormy, instead of sunbeams there were flashes of lightning. The wind was harsh, but it pushed him forward. It had to find him. It had to keep flying. The freedom of the open sky was marred by the knowledge of a quest, a craving to find someone. It didn’t know who.

A portal opened above the clouds. The wind shifted, and he followed it into the blackness. Every portal brought it closer. Maybe this would be the final one.

They set off after breakfast, heading for where some monsters had taken over an old ruin. Sky was at the head of the group, his Loftwing having shifted to circling overhead instead of demanding his constant contact. Wind was still anxious, but he swallowed it. The bird probably wasn’t interested in eating him. And if it swooped to grab prey, he could draw his sword fast.

The monsters were tough, many infected. Wind ended up fighting alongside Legend, the two spinning back and forth as they traded defense and offense. Wind’s boomerang would stun a monster about to try to stab Legend, Legend’s cane would throw an invisible wall in the way of an arrow aimed at Wind. Legend would even help launch Wind up to slash down Keese as they tried to swarm. Wind tried not to take giddy pleasure in those moments of being in the air. It wasn’t high enough. He was supposed to be over this. The tide of enemies lessened, leaving only a few big worms that bounced around the battlefield in uncoordinated destruction. Legend hissed through his teeth in annoyance, ducking away from Wind to help drive the moldrom back. Wind, rubbing at his sore temples, took up a position between Sky and Four, preventing the worms from bouncing away towards the village. Time finished one off, but the second rebounded away from Twilight at the last second, careening towards the line of defenders. Wind raised his shield, headache intensifying…

A heavy claw rammed into the wooden surface, knocking him flat on his back as something tried to crush him. Wind’s sword was knocked out of his hand in the crash, and for a moment he was back in the Forsaken Fortress the first time, weaponless and dazed and staring up into the golden eyes of a monster—

The monster screamed, pecking down in a swift motion. Wind barely saw the moldrom, writhing in a beak, before it was swallowed whole. His whole body burned, sympathetic vibrations traveling down his own neck, before they realized what was holding him in place.

Wind tried to scream. Fury welled up in him; protectiveness, bordering on possessiveness, as the bird swept an eye over his brothers. He struggled to wriggle out from under the bird, his shield keeping the claws out of his torso even as it pinned his body to the ground. That thing wouldn’t touch his brothers! It wouldn’t touch his family ever again!

The Helmaroc King fixed him with a single baleful eye, filled with mutual disgust. He had killed it! He had killed it, and now it was back. He had killed it, and it remembered. Wind could feel a sharp edge of fear under his rage, and the claws started to close, trying to crush him. They squeezed…

Then released, the bird blinking and warbling in frustration. Wind looked around. The others had swords drawn, rods pointed, arrows ready to fly. The Helmaroc King made a noise nearly like a growl, flattening itself so it blocked his view with a face-full of feathers. They wouldn’t take this kill from him. This was his. His! The claws tried again to tighten, but released within seconds. Wind’s head felt like it might split open.

The King battered away a sword strike from Warriors like it was nothing and hopped, ground shaking. It reared its neck back, then brought the beak plummeting down at Wind’s face… then stopped, inches away. The bird squalled, turning again to blast back Hyrule with a gust from its wings. Wind shakily regained his footing, looking for his sword. He had to kill this thing! It wasn’t wearing its helmet, but it could still cause plenty of pain if not stopped. He caught sight of the hilt, sticking out of a bush, and rushed to pull the Phantom Sword free. Spinning on his heel, he swung the sword in an arc, aiming for the King’s talons. Had to taunt it to peck, then dodge, then go for the ey—

The blade came within a few inches of his target, then the headache sharpened into debilitating white-hot agony. Wind screamed, dropping the sword as if burned and falling, clutching his head. He heard a yell of shock, and someone scooped him up, clearly intent on carrying him away from the battlefield. No! This was his fight! He had to reach the King—

A caw broke through the pain, a blurry red shape diving into the battle. For a second, Wind felt something almost like relief. Sky’s stupid giant bird was fighting the Helmaroc King—bird versus bird felt so much more fair. But the rage and mine and stop thief and—his thoughts grew more frantic, disjointed. Images flashed behind his eyelids, blurs of red and small shapes on the ground with sharp sticks, the object of its quest being stolen away by a man with a flapping piece of fabric—a blade cut into his leg, and he screamed in agony, trying to clutch it. A second blow hit his head, making him jerk.

“Wh… Sheathe your swords! Don’t hurt it!” A voice shouted. Wind’s head was spinning. How had they accidentally hit him?! “It’s passing its pain to the sailor! We can’t kill it like this!”

The fury grew and Wind thrashed, an elbow knocking into his would-be rescuer. They stumbled, Wind starting to slide from their grasp. Strong gusts ripped through the wind in the forest—Wind didn’t have to open his eyes to know the King was attempting to fly. His head throbbed, and he shoved an elbow into his brother’s sternum. At very least he wouldn’t let them both be captured. He didn’t even hit the forest floor before a talon snatched him up, holding him close to a mammoth and sizzlingly-hot body. He wondered if Aryll felt like this, helpless as a monster carried her from her family. 

For a moment, they were going up, and a treasonous, childish part of his mind felt excited.

A second burst of pain, through his arm. The bird wobbled and fell, hitting the trees awkwardly. Wind was not dropped, the King holding onto him as tightly as it could. There was mine screaming and mine lecturing as the shooter mine mine mine was chastised for mine mine mine mine get away!!!

The claws tightened. Wind opened his eyes, only mildly surprised to see that in spite of the pain, there was no arrow jutting from his arm. The King had landed awkwardly—one leg was holding him and the other was bleeding, its damaged wings splayed as it tried to stay upright. The fletching of one of Wild’s arrows jutted from a wing. Every feather seemed to be standing on end as it glared at something close by. Wind blinked a few times, turning to see…

Sky’s bird was on the ground, watching them both with sharp, knowing eyes. It wasn’t attacking, just making a soft clucking noise with its head slightly dipped. It lifted a foot to move closer, and the King snarled and tried to move back, sending pain radiating up Wind’s leg. The Loftwing hopped back, resuming its chirping. It almost seemed like it was… trying to soothe the bigger bird? Wind felt dizzily grateful. He didn’t trust the Loftwing, but between Sky’s clingy skydog and the bird that had definitely tried to kill him, he would take the skydog.

The King clearly wasn’t in the mood to share. It settled forward, covering Wind with its body again and shrieking weak defiance. It didn’t crush him, Wind noted woozily. Odd. It was only feeling mine hide question question mine—how did he… how did he know that?

“There, there… it’s ok… I just want to take a look at your wing. I’m not gonna touch him, I promise.” Sky’s voice was so inappropriately calm. Wind felt the King tense, wanting to fly away, but the pain in its wings prevented it. It couldn’t fly. This should have been a good thing. Not flying meant it would be harder for the King to steal him. But Wind felt a sudden swell of pity, his own childish craving for the sky being denied to someone who should have been able to reach it. The hate crashed back in moments later. This bird had kidnapped his sister! This bird had tried to kill him several times! This bird had served Ganondorf—

The mere thought of the name made the bird scream, a tremble going through its body. Even more disturbing flashes filled Wind’s head. Lightning strikes, forced to fly in storms, feathers pulled, red-hot iron welded to its head, beak carved into a more pleasing shape, starvation—crying in the night, chirping for someone, someone who never came.

A dream. A dream of honey-colored clouds and the gentle weight of someone on its back that belonged. A dream of tasting the wind in its fullest, freest form. A childish longing for the open skies, denied over and over and over and over until the dream faded, then became a nightmare, then ceased altogether. 

Finally being allowed to leave, only to be forced to stay low, to serve a monster.

Wind was crying. He hated this bird. He hated it. It hated him. But he was crying.

“There, that’s a good boy.” Sky was still speaking slowly and soothingly, his Loftwing right behind him, clucking. “Can I see your boy? I won’t take him, I just want to be sure he’s not hurt.”

“I’m not its boy.” Wind croaked. “This thing… it was the monster that stole my sister… it’s… it’s…”

Sky finally lifted the last few feathers, the sun framing him from behind as he looked at Wind. “It’s a Loftwing, sailor. And I think it’s yours.”

Wind felt every word hit him like a cannonball. The last one finally shoved him over the edge, and into oblivion.

—

They couldn’t get the bird to move.

Violence was out—Sky had explained that if he was right, anything they did to the bird would affect Wind as well. Legend tried his tornado rod and Four tried his gust jar, but the bird only hunkered down, refusing to leave. Wind was still under it.

“It’s typical Loftwing behavior.” In spite of objections, Zelda had come out to join them. “When separated from their rider for periods of time, they physically won’t leave their side.”

“But if his stories are true, this bird tried to kill him.” Time glared at the bird, hand half-rested on his megaton hammer. “It looks nothing like your Loftwings.”

“They may have evolved over time.” Zelda sighed. “But I can sense dark magic was used, a lot, on this one. Maybe from the moment it hatched. It was forced to stay apart from the sailor. It may also be why it looks different, and so much bigger.”

“Dark magic can change shapes…” Twilight huffed. “And it seems like it’s not tryin’ to kill him at this exact moment.”

“Whatever was binding it probably snapped when it died. If we could talk to it—“

Twilight perked up. “Wait! Wolfie!”

Zelda tittered anxiously. “What’s a Wolfie?”

“It’s, uh.” Twilight smiled sheepishly. “It’s me. I can turn into a wolf with some dark magic—b-but it’s fine, it’s safe!—and I can understand animals when I do.” He looked up at the bird. “Maybe I can convince it to let us treat the sailor?”

Sky shrugged. “It’s unlikely. It sees us as threats at best. We did attack it, and we keep trying to take away its person… I guess we can try? But we need to be very very careful.”

Zelda nodded. “I wouldn’t, uh, change right in front of it. Dark magic may stir unpleasant memories for this poor thing.”

“This ‘poor thing’ attacked us during the war. Kept kidnapping people.” Warriors was still pacing, clearly ill at ease around a giant monster.

Twilight had already slipped off into the woods. Four seemed to share Warriors’ distrust, keeping his hand concerningly close to his bomb bag. The others backed up as Wolfie emerged, posture carefully non-aggressive as it approached the King.

Hi there? Wolfie gave a little bow. Can you understand me?

The bird’s eyes focused on him. Are you a large rat? Why do you speak to me?

Wolfie flopped down disarmingly, giving his best impression of a rug. A friend, a friend! A friend to the Hylian you have there.

The bird hissed. He tried to kill me. His friend is my enemy.

Twilight could feel the conversation already unraveling. No. No, I am friend to all. I just… want to understand. Why do you not attack him if he tried to kill you?

Can’t. The word sunk under the weight of tired disappointment. Can’t. He is… special.

But didn’t you fight him, once? Twilight gave a little whine. The Helmaroc King gave him a sharp look. He talk. I listen. I listen to you too.

Mask. The bird resumed hissing. Old master made me fight. Made me fly low. Made me snatch up Hylian chicks. Mask is gone, master is gone. Only the special one is left. And I hate him. It made a miserable little noise. Wind blew me here. Had to find special one. Hate him. Want to kill him. Can’t. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Twilight looked back at Sky and Zelda, giving a little nod of his head. Then he rolled to his feet. What binds you here? Your old master is gone. You have found the special one, and he’s not dead, even though you wish he was. He doesn’t want you here any more than you want to be here. Why can’t you go? You could be free. 

Free. The King sighed. Don’t know how.  

Wolfie’s ears picked up movement, and the bird wailed. Twilight backed out of range just as a hand emerged from under the bird’s bulk, dragging Wind free. The Helmaroc King tried to move to recapture him, but Wind rolled to the side. He scrambled on his hands and knees, grabbing on to Wolfie for protection. Twilight tried to not growl as his ear was yanked in Wind’s haste to regain footing.

“Where’s my sword?!” Wind’s legs were shaking. Twilight could smell the fear on him. Worse, he could tell by his gaze that not even fear would stop him from trying to fight. That was, unfortunately, the definition of courage. But right now, it was going to make things worse. The bird said it couldn’t kill Wind, but if he rearmed himself who knew how long that would last.

Sky seemed to reach the same conclusion. He had Wind’s sword behind his back in seconds. Zelda took a step forward.

“Stay calm. There’s no need to fight—“

“No!” Wind’s voice seemed to gust with its own gale. “It tried to kill me! It’s a monster!” The bird tried grabbing him again, making Wind reel away from Twilight’s side. “It needs to be stopped! Just get back, and I— I—“ He shuddered, scrambling in his bag and pulling out his boomerang. Twilight tried to lunge and grab the weapon—he understood Wind’s fear, but he worried that if Wind hit the bird it would hurt Wind too. He didn’t get a chance. The boomerang tumbled from Wind’s hands and he fell to his knees, holding his head as he screamed.

Twilight, eyes darting to the bird over and over in case it viewed him as a threat and attacked, slunk closer to Wind, gently wiggling his head under his elbow. The boy threw his arms around the comforting presence, his scream breaking apart into hiccuping sobs. His fingers curled into fur, shaking. “I hate it! I hate it so much. Why does… why can’t I…?”

“You can no more hurt it than hurt yourself.” Zelda’s voice was quiet, yet it cut across the meadow with authority. “Only the mad and the broken seek their own destruction. You are not mad, and you are not so broken as to hate yourself and wish your own end. But if you cannot learn to release this hate for your own soul, it will lead you down that path.” She seemed to startle back into awareness, the blankness in her face fading. Her ears flushed, but she put one hand on her hip, pointing at the Helmaroc King as if trying to cover her lapse with humor. “Now, are you going to behave, or will you have to sleep out here in the woods?”

—

It could not stop itself. The group of Hylians had set off, and the One had gone with them. It had to follow. They barely went ten feet before the One had almost collapsed again in pain, the King’s injuries streaming blood. It could not fly, nor awkwardly walk. A brief conference was held among the Hylians, including the One, before a Hylian male was singled out to approach. He wasn’t left defenseless—the King could sense bows being readied, see a hammer taken from a bag. The One hung back, glaring at the King. He had been given back his sword, which he kept close at hand. The King returned the glare. 

The approaching Hylian bled anxious caution, moving slowly. Did he believe the King would not see him if he moved slowly?! It almost pecked at him out of spite. But the boy had his hand tentatively raised, magic gathering around him like storm clouds. The King knew this part. It considered trying to escape, to fight, but the One was here. It could not leave, no matter how much it wanted to. If it attacked, they would shoot. 

It laid its head down, a rumble of discontent going through it, and squeezed its eyes shut. Better to get the pain over with. There would be plenty more, if they were like its last master. The One didn’t say anything, but the boy was clearly his servant, perhaps a Wizzrobe missing its mask. Would it be another mask? A brand? A collar? The King lay still, anger and fear still simmering in the air between it and the One.

The boy’s hand came down, and the pain… began to recede.

The King made a noise of surprise. It was higher pitched than intended, a soft cluck of surprise that it hadn’t made since it was a very very small chick, one that still had yolk matted in its down. The boy’s touch was not harsh, the magic not commanding and binding. Fingers skimmed over feathers, the pain flowing out in their wake. The sheer relief made the King sag even further, bringing its injured wing down to where it could be reached. When it became clear it wasn’t about to attack the boy gave a nervous little laugh, bringing his second hand up to stroke across the King’s neck. The King felt the One stiffen at this, a confused twist of concern and jealous trembling through him. The King did not care. Bond or no bond, this was…

The hands withdrew, and the magic stopped. The haze cleared almost immediately, the King scrambling back. How had they gotten it to drop its guard? The magic had clearly been made to suppress its might, all magic was made to cage and subdue after all. Perhaps it was meant to lull it into obedience. A tiny part of it thought that this was not the worst. If it had to serve, it could serve in those rosy-clouds of bliss. 

But no. It was a warrior, not a pet! It snapped its beak in warning at the boy. The lad looked mildly upset, but dutifully returned to the group. The One was still staring, rejection filling the bond. Go, the look seemed to say. I don’t want you here. You are not bound, so leave. If I can’t kill you, go where you’ll never bother anyone again.

The group began to move again, and the King kept following.

The Hylian nest was made of small structures of wood on a small hill. A flock of Loftwings had settled at the highest edge of the village, easily in reach of their Ones. They took one look at the King and began shuffling their nests out of its way. Eggs were quickly stowed out of sight. Mates bunched together. A few of the younger Loftwings even fled into the village to their Ones, either seeking to protect them or seeking comfort. The King didn’t care. It didn’t need these other birds. 

It saw its One watching, a curiously complicated expression on his face. The bond thrummed with serves him right and rejection and a very tiny grain of pity. The last one made the King’s hackles raise. It stomped past the birds and threw itself on top of his One. They wanted to be in the Hylian nest? Fine. They were there. Now it got its One back. The boy struggled to try to get out, but the King refused. Its thin bony chest and long wings caged him in. The bond shook with annoyance, but it didn’t care. It had to be close and it was doing that on its terms.

The red bird from earlier landed beside it, giving a tiny bird chuckle. Your One will need to eat eventually.

It hasn’t been that long, only a few hours. It glared at the red Loftwing, which didn’t even flinch. 

They don’t eat like a bird! Hylians have to eat all the time. Especially when they are growing. It chirped. You need to eat too. I will hunt and bring something back.

Before the King could protest the Loftwing was off again. The red bird’s One was approaching, a bowl of something in his hands and a conciliatory smile on his face.

“Hey? I wanted to give your boy some dinner. To eat, you know? We’re working on getting you a meal too—well, Crimson is. Everyone else is still pretty shaky on the concept of hunting for food.”

The King tilted its head. It didn’t fully understand the Hylian’s words, but it had spent enough time taking orders to understand “hunting”. The red Loftwing had just said all of this to it, and now the Hylian was repeating it. The red Loftwing had earlier explained, or tried to explain over the King’s warnings to get away, about the bond it shared with its One, how that meant they shared feelings and pain and sometimes even thoughts. How that bond seemed to exist between the King and the Hylian it hated but couldn’t seem to kill.

Seeing the red Loftwing and his One so in sync made the King angry. The bond between it and its One wriggled in their mutual annoyance.

The red Loftwing’s One didn’t seem intimidated by its posturing, and moved closer with a laugh. “Sailor! Will you be taking your dinner sub-bird tonight?”

The One was shoving his way out again. He was surprisingly strong, the King noted. With a grunt he pulled himself free again. “I would like to eat as far from this bird as possible.”

The Loftwing’s Hylian looked up at the King, who was scooting to press into its One’s back. “I think you are currently as far as you’re going to get.”

The One accepted the bowl, keeping an eye on the King as if he expected it to try to snatch it. The King hadn’t eaten since it woke up, but it barely mattered. The last master had kept it hungry. Hunger kept you sharp. Hunger kept you angry. Anger made you strong.

The red Loftwing returned, looking incredibly proud, and dropped a deer in front of the King. It gave an approving look to the One scarfing down the contents of the bowl before turning to the King. Eat.

The King turned up its beak. If it lowered its head to eat, it would be putting its neck at the height of a Hylian sword. Its vision would be limited and the carcass would take up much of it, and the smell of blood might mask the scent of something coming up. If it ate this whole deer, it would be so full it would likely be sick and even if it wasn’t ill it would be sluggish and sleepy. It would just stay hungry. It would—

“Hey, you overgrown gull! Don’t be a snob. Eat what the Chosen’s nice bird got you!” Its One gave it a little kick—not enough to cause harm, but it made the King hop and hiss in alarm. The One scowled, pointing at the dead deer as if the King had somehow missed it. “I can feel your bones under your feathers when you sit on me. You’re lean even for a bird. Now don’t let it go to waste.”

It was strange. The King didn’t truly speak Hylian, but it could understand exactly what the One meant. The One still felt contempt, but someone somewhere had taught him manners meant you ate what was offered and you fed people who were hungry. A bizarre notion. 

The King finally leaned down, tearing into the deer. It was… it was much better than the half-rotten fish it had been fed before. It could feel the One’s disgust as it ate, but he had been the one who wanted this. The Loftwing cooed encouragingly, earning a grumble of protest. The King hadn’t eaten in… well, it didn’t know how long it had been dead. But it had been some time. 

As its stomach filled, its eyes quickly began to droop. The King was irritated that it had been correct about the effect of food. It should fight to stay awake—this was dangerous territory. It was surrounded by enemies. It was bonded to an enemy. It had to… to… all around the other Loftwings were settling. The red Loftwing had taken charge the rest of the deer, dragging it to the others to eat as well. The sun was low, shadows long and light crimson. It could smell cooking fires and see young Hylians scuttling fearlessly to their homes for dinner, laughing and shouting. The lack of visible threats and its full gullet was making the exhaustion overwhelming. The King had flown for… for a long time, to get here, through so many portals. Surely it would hear if someone tried to get close. It heard a yawn—the One was clearly drowsing as well. Instincts that ran deeper than rational thought or earned rage lifted a wing and tucked it over him, pulling him against the King’s side and out of sight of anything that might pass too close. The last thing the King noticed as it dropped off was the Loftwing and his Hylian, watching them both with twin expressions it couldn’t quite read.

—

The dream.

Endless golden clouds, endless sky overhead. Wind spread his arms out, taking a huge breath of air that should have been freezing cold, but was instead as balmy as a spring day. The shame faded here. It wasn’t childish to want to fly. He was doing it, and he had never felt more complete.

Why, then, did his body feel shame at those dreams?

It hadn’t been his parents. No, he’d been almost too young to speak of the clouds when they died. All his memories of them were nearly lost, tender recollections of soft and kind and full of love. It wasn’t his grandmother either. She had always said their family had a yen for the horizon, a gift with… with… 

Birds.

The golden clouds turned ugly and dark, flashing white amid bruised black. The sky turned red, the sun seeming to bleed as it died in the west. The bird was there. The bird was under him, he sat on its back as it flew. Its wings were level, even amid the massing storm. As Wind watched, the feathers began to yank themselves out of the Helmaroc King’s wings, each plucked feather leaving a tear of blood in its wake. They needed those, didn’t they?! They would both crash with wings!

“Why are you losing feathers?!”

The bird looked up at him, the helmet fixed back on its head. Its golden eye locked on him, bloody tears leaking out. Have to go lower. The master does not like me to fly high.

“What? No, go up! Higher! We can get away!”

They were now down in the clouds, losing altitude. 

If I fly too high, there is only pain. Cannot be here. Cannot dream of the sky. There will only be pain.

Wind crawled forward, along the King’s neck. “No! Don't listen! Fly up!” He tried to grab the helmet and pull it off, but it didn’t budge. The King screamed. 

It hurts it hurts it hurts it hurts!

Wind let go, slipping off the neck. He fell, fell, fell, fell—

He woke up surrounded by feathers. 

For a moment the situation was so out-of-the-ordinary that his brain couldn’t process it. The feathers were warm, if not very soft. It was dark and still. 

Then he remembered the Helmaroc King, the whole afternoon crashing back down on him like a blunt guillotine. Wind almost screamed again, but his throat felt sore nad it would only get him manhandled more. He swallowed the noise, not wanting to wake the King. He would fight tomorrow. Insist the bird be caged. If he couldn’t kill it, then it should at least feel a fraction of what if put Aryll through—

If you cannot learn to release this hate for your own soul…

Wind almost scoffed. They didn’t get it. Birds were their friends, or something. They’d never dealt with something that had terrorized them.

He slipped carefully out, the breeze immediately finding him and tousling his hair. Wind sighed in relief at the cool air. On instinct he raised his hands, beating out the melody for the Wind’s Requiem. The wind dutifully shifted—he barely needed to hold the Wind Waker nowadays; as long as it was on or near his person it still worked. He moved away from the Loftwing nest, not wanting the other birds to feel the change in the air and wake up or alert the King.

The wind followed, tugging at his tunic and rustling the tree leaves. Wind kept one hand tapping the time, spreading his arms to get as close to flying as he could. The thought twinged against something, some memory, then he sternly reminded himself he didn’t need to fly. For the millionth time. He must just miss the ocean, the freedom of sailing.

Subconsciously his song changed, beating faster time, swirling motions that made the wind curl and twist. The first time he had used the Ballad of Gales, sending him and the King of Red Lions careening across the sea in a tornado, he had screamed with laughter the whole time. It had been so close, so close to—the breezes sang under his hands, a dust devil swirling around him. His tunic snapped and puffed in the wind. He closed his eyes, trying to will his feet to leave the—

There was a squeak of terror, and Wind’s hands dropped guiltily. He wasn’t sure what Sky’s friends would say about a boy who wanted to fly, but old and confused shame made him spin around, looking for the interloper.

Zelda, wearing a dressing gown and clinging to a tree for dear life, stared at him. After a moment she turned red and let go of the trunk, fiddling with her hair. Wind cleared his throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” 

Zelda blinked. The moonlight made her hair seem like liquid gold. “Oh! Oh, no, I was just going for a walk. Bad dreams.” She took a shaking breath. “Was… was that a tornado?”

Now it was Wind’s turn to blush. “Sorry. Something I picked up on my adventure. I used to use tornadoes to, uh, move long distances fast.”

“Oh.” There was a world of emotion in that ‘oh.’ “I, um. Link didn’t mention that part of your story. I didn’t realize. Sorry.”

They both looked at each other. 

Zelda broke first. She slumped against the tree. “I spoke with Link, about the details of your quest. I didn’t realize before, uh, how hard this must be.” She looked at her hands. “It’s a miracle you didn’t die, killing it. Whatever the evil wizard did must have interrupted the bond so you wouldn’t recognize each other, so that it had to fight you. Maybe that was his goal. But to use it to steal children…” She shivered. 

Wind coughed. “It was. It was bad, yeah. My sister and two of the others were lucky. I don’t even know how many he…”

“He… the wizard I mean, he was looking for someone?”

Wind stared at his boots. The wind swirled around him, reflecting his inner turmoil. He heard Zelda inhale sharply. 

“He was looking for a princess.” Wind’s voice was audible, even over the gales. “Tetra. She escaped. That’s when it took my sister instead.” The gusts made the branches shake. “Because some evil jerk wanted revenge for something that happened lifetimes ago.”

Zelda gave a little laugh that was equally a wail. Wind snapped out of his trance, wincing.

“No, no, I’m sorry, it’s just… that was what happened to me.” She wheezed. “Only it wasn’t a bird. It was a tornado. I was snatched away from home, from my father, from Link… I got lucky, someone helped me too. But every time the wind picks up I just feel… I feel my heart start to thud…”

“Er, ah. Sorry! It wasn’t… I didn’t…” He sagged. “It won’t hurt you. While I’m around. The wind I mean, it’s my, uh. Well it’s not friendly but it listens to me.” 

“I believe you, but I… sorry.” Zelda looked away. “I should go back to bed. I’m surprised your—the King let you go already. After so long I would have thought you’d be breathing feathers for a week at least.”

“It was tired, I just slipped out. Maybe it won’t–”

As if on cue, there was a shrill noise of alarm as the bird woke up. Wind flinched. Before Zelda could back away the gales picked up, swishing around him protectively. The Helmaroc King rose up, wings buoyed by the tempest, then caught sight of Wind. It screamed, diving down towards him.

Wind ducked, and the winds around him reacted accordingly, turning sharp as razors as they struck the plunging bird. The King veered, crashing into the trees a few yards away. Wind’s legs buckled as the bond vibrated with pain. 

He couldn’t focus on anything. He dimly saw Zelda trying to reach him, fear filling her eyes as the wind buffeted her hair. Then the King loomed up over him, blood streaking down its face. Its golden eyes locked on him, talons closing over his body. Gold. Hadn’t they been red, when he fought it? But now they were gold– Wind tried to squirm free, but the Helmaroc King was already lifting off. Zelda yelled, whistling sharply. 

The ground jumped away. Wind saw a flurry as the Loftwings woke up, a bright blue blur zipping across the ground towards Zelda in the moonlight. But they were already aloft and climbing. Wind was forced to cling to the King’s claws, gasping for air as his heart thudded over every other sound. They broke out above the trees, and the world spread out beneath them in a silver-lit panorama.

Wind stopped kicking, eyes huge and stinging as the air rushed into his face. There was a slight shift, and the wind redirected to keep the worst of the draft from hitting him. The King still labored, flapping its wings and sailing away from the village. Terror at his situation laced itself through with awe. It was… it was amazing! It was everything he had ever dreamt, it was—

The bird wobbled again, shedding a cloud of abused feathers, and they started to descend. 

The Helmaroc King dropped him on a ledge on a bluff overlooking the desert, landing next to him before he could make an escape attempt. Wind pressed himself back against the cliff face, watching the bird with suspicion. It only stared, eyes burning.

“What do you want?”

The bird didn’t reply.

“You dragged me all this way. You won’t leave me alone. I could be peacefully sleeping with my brothers and instead I’m here, on the edge of a cliff, with a murder bird.” He dragged a hand down his face. If you cannot learn to release this hate for your own soul… “Fine. Fine, let’s try something else.” He dug in his bag and removed a Hyoi pear. “I can handle statues and gulls, how different can a bird that once tried to skewer me be? I’m gonna try to get into your stupid pea-head so I can figure this out.”

The Helmaroc King watched with blank confusion as Wind propped the pear on his head. After a second Wind tapped the fruit with his finger. “This. Eat this.” The King did not move, tilting its head. “Ugh! Dumb bird!” He pulled the pear off his head and stomped closer to the King, brandishing the fruit. “I know you can eat, I saw you inhale that deer! Eat the stupid—“

The Helmaroc King leaned down and pecked the pear from Wind’s hand. The bond bloomed in seconds, going from a few confused feelings to something fully open. Wind was aware of every patchy feather, every aching scar on the Helmaroc King’s body, especially one in the middle of its forehead where its mask had been shattered off by a hammer. He could still feel his own body as well, making that stupid expression of concentration he always did when piloting another. 

But worse, he could feel the King. Unlike the distractable mind of a gull or the worried background fretting of a Sage, the King was not willing to step away from the control of his body, even for Wind Link his One. His consciousness, feral and tense, swept into Wind’s body in equal measure. They circled each other mentally, prodding and testing for weaknesses. Memories jumped in, jumbled and unbidden. Linebeck’s ship sinking under the waves. Ganondorf’s sword clashing against his. The pain as a cannonball struck its head. Holding Aryll, only an hour old. A lullaby from a face he couldn’t remember. A hand, pinning his squirming featherless wings down as the magic flared all around, the masked faces of Wizzrobes without expression. Crying and crying for someone who didn’t come, didn’t come—

The King stopped. The image of Aryll, as Wind had last seen her, proud and brash and learning far too much from Tetra about how to get what she wanted, filled the space between them.

This is the one you wanted to protect. This is the one you killed me for.

Wind tensed. “She’s my family. I love her.”

… I see.

“I won’t let you hurt her. I don’t care if it hurts me too, I will do anything to—“

I don’t want to hurt her. She’s done nothing to me.

“You stole her.” The words were a hiss, crawling up Wind’s spine to slither along the bond between them. This was the crux of his hate. He didn’t really care that the King had fought him. He might have even felt pity at the bird’s past. But he had to protect his sister. 

A new memory, of a cruel grimace on a hated face. “You either bring back the princess, or you don’t come back. You don’t land. You don’t rest.” The magic worming in its wings and squeezing through the mask made these demands into law. Even when lightning struck and its body seized and its mind frayed, it had to keep flying till it found a candidate. Even when it had been days and it hadn’t been able to drink water, to the point its feathers fell out, but it could not touch the ground until it fulfilled the request. Even when a cannonball had cracked across its skull, making the whole world a blurred and bleeding mess—

It didn’t know why the shadowy man wanted the girls. It wasn’t allowed to question. When it was allowed to rest, its cries were rewarded with kicks and scorn from the ‘blins. The closest it got to relief was when, in a starved haze, it had eaten a miniblin whole. They had avoided it for almost a day after that. But the prodding and jeers had returned, and it had to fly out again, and again…

It didn’t feel anything for the girls he captured. It just wanted to rest. It had long since stopped crying for the person who would surely have comforted him. Made sure it had enough to eat. Let it rest. Who would have known him. Who would have filled that hole in his chest that now was only full of sloshing weariness and hatred…

Wind didn’t reply. He still hated the bird. He still wanted it to stay far, far from Aryll. He hadn’t known, how could he have known there was someone who needed him? He had–

The memories of his life began to unspool, of when he had first met Aryll. His mother had died in childbirth, his father had been lost at sea not long before. Link had only been 4, but he had been told they were not coming back. He couldn’t grasp that. But he could hold his sister.

“She will look up to you, Link.” His grandma had meant so well. Her eyes were full of tears, trying to be strong enough for all of them. “You will have to look out for her, ok?”

And in his little mind, in a mind that had been calling and crying for something its whole life without knowing it, those words filled a hole. Those words meant Aryll was his One, and he would do anything to keep her safe.

He had helped her learn to talk. He had been at her side as she held his and Granny’s hands, toddling along on short legs to the market. Sometimes he had nightmares, and would be calmed down by seeing her snoring gently on her bed below his, safe and sound. He taught her how to play with the gulls. He told her about his dreams of flying. She hadn’t laughed at him.

The Helmaroc King grumbled, shifting its claws. Flying…

The sky had been so open, the first time. A bright and sunny day, gentle eddies of breeze sliding silkenly past its roost. It had been young then, timid and smaller than the Moblin guards. Without thinking it had leapt out, into the sky, wings beating a melody it didn’t fully know. At first it had fallen, but the wind caught hold and it rose, up, up, up, spiralling in the sunlight over the Fortress. He had given a shrill caw of delight, the aching loneliness fading slightly in the face of such freedom. Maybe it could fly out, seek the One it had been missing, he could–

The magic that caught its wing burned, the masked Wizzrobe standing atop the aerie watching it fall without pity. It landed in the water, the sea soaking its feathers and seeking to drag it down. It cried out for help, for rescue. Eventually a boat of Bokoblins dragged it in, sodden and weak. The master had scolded it for trying to escape, trying to fly out of reach. “You will fly when you are told and where you are told.” The voice was cold and hard as stone. “You will never fly so high again.” 

It tried anyway. It couldn’t help it. It kept trying to fly, to reach the clouds. To find its place.

Every time it was caught, every time shot down. The master grew angry. “Why must you persist in this childish rebellion?!” His heel was on the bird’s wet wing, not quite pressing against it. A threat. “If you are so eager to be out, then we will have to get you fitted sooner.”

They had put the mask on it the next week, searing as it was welded into place, pressing its thoughts into their proper order. It stopped dreaming of the skies at night. Such foolish thoughts of freedom were so…. Childish. 

It was supposed to be over those.

Wind jerked back, his body viscerally reacting to the words. Unfortunately there wasn’t space for the motion, and he nearly went over the edge of the cliff. The King reacted on instinct, grabbing his tunic with its beak and pulling back. Wind stumbled, falling against its face. He shuddered, for the first time not trying to pull away even as a raw part of his mind shrieked in terror. The smell of the bird’s dinner was overpowering, metallic and hot. Like the mask it had been forced into. For a minute they just stared at each other, both tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of longing. Tired of existing with a hole in their heart that they pretended to ignore. 

“Do you… do you want to go f–”

There was a screech, and they turned in unison. A bird had spotted them and was beating its wings, flying their way. Wind squinted, but he couldn’t see well enough in the dark to tell whose Loftwing it was. The King was less unsure. It grabbed his tunic again and pulled him back, warbling in warning. 

The bird circled overhead, an indistinct shape against the sky. Wind dimly recalled Sky saying that most birds didn’t fly at night–

The bird spat, forming a boulder that was far larger than its mouth, which came crashing down on the ledge where Wind had just been.

The King decided this was enough messing about, taking off in a flurry of wings and aiming for the attacking bird. Wind was thrown back against the cliff as the Helmaroc King’s feathers fell all around, shedding as it seized the surprised other bird in its claws and dragged it from the sky. They both plummeted past, missing the ledge and landing in the sands below. Wind scrambled to the edge, squinting into the horrible moonlit tableau of the Helmaroc King wrecking bloody vengeance on the monster. The other bird dissolved into dust, leaving something shiny in the stained sand. The Helmaroc King looked back up, eyes golden and wild. He was about to ask if it was hurt, old habits dying hard even in the face of an old enemy–when an arrow came whizzing from above and buried itself in the sand inches from the King’s taloned foot. Wind turned, reaching for his sword, but it wasn’t there. The face looking down wasn’t a monster, but Warriors. He had his bow at the ready, gaze locked on the King.

“Wait! Don’t shoot!”

The King launched itself, rocketing up to grab hold of Wind and make its escape. He saw Warriors hesitate at the sight of him, not wanting to hit him by mistake. The bond thrummed with the desire to protect, possess, mine, how dare they, protect—then they were in the sky again. He could see Warriors and the others on the top of the cliff, shouting and pointing. He supposed, from their point of view, he had suddenly been kidnapped by the very bird he had accused of kidnapping all afternoon.

Actually, that was how it looked from his point of view too.

The King circled, but it was hard to gain height at night when the thermals were weaker. Wind stared up into the pained face, and past it into the glowing moon, then sighed. He let himself relax as much as his body would allow and tried to open his mind up. Making it worse, pea-brain. Need to go back.

They will shoot. They will take! Not giving Hylians another chance to take. The King fluttered its wings, feathers breaking. You are heavy. But I can make it. I just fly low–

No. Wind gave the sky one last longing look. Go back. Rest. Recover. Then we can… then you can fly higher. Then you can reach the clouds.

The possess flared again. Not leaving.

I’ll be there too. Turn back before they think you’re an enemy.

… they will attack.

I’ll talk to them. Please.

The last word finally made the King’s wings slow. If they try to take, I will not let them.

Wind could see the group debating and nodded quickly. Whatever, I won’t leave! Just land before they shoot us.

The King circled back, wings still patchy. … after rest. Then I can fly as high as I want?

Yeah. Wind tried to hide his bitterness. All the way to the sky.

They finally landed, the chain racing towards them with expressions ranging from relief to protective anger. Four was holding a bomb, with Hyrule right behind him and trying hard to prevent him from lighting it. Sky was furiously holding Warriors’ arm, trying to wrestle the bow from his hands. Twilight reached them first, slowing and making sure he didn’t make any sudden movements. 

“Sailor? You ok?”

Wind considered how the King was balancing on one foot so as to keep hold of him with the other. His spine still prickled with uneasiness. “I’m not hurt.”

“Zelda told us the Helmaroc King went crazy and snatched you.” Four tried to pull his arm from Hyrule. “Can you get out of its claws?”

Wind deflated. “No. He’s not going to let me go, I don’t think.”

“What did it attack? We saw it fly up then swoop down.” Time’s expression was flat in the way it usually went when he was internally panicked. Wind wondered if the others noticed.

“A big bird—well, not as big as it, but it tried to drop a rock on me.”

Sky paused his attempts to put Warriors in a full-nelson to grimace. “Hrok. They’re native to the desert. Annoying things.”

“How did you all get here so fast anyway? We’re almost a league away from the village, and it’s woody.”

“We had help.” A few Loftwings emerged from behind the group, looking a bit harried. The villagers riding them were largely in nightshirts, keeping their distance from the chain and the King. Wind noticed the red Loftwing hop forward, clucking soothingly again. The King’s feathers were still ruffled, but the other bird’s presence seemed to calm it down. Twilight sidled towards them. “What happened? Why did it land?”

“It needs to recover. It’s lost way too many feathers as is, it can barely get up in the air.” Wind tapped on the King’s foot till it reluctantly set him down, though Wind wasn’t permitted to do more than sit on the ground while the bird loomed over him. “I told it that you wouldn’t shoot, Smithy. Just put down the bombs.”

“It’s not shooting if it’s bombs!”

Wind almost laughed as Hyrule bodily took Four down. Sky, having handed Warriors’ bow to Legend, ambled over as if nothing was amiss. “Getting along better?”

“No.” The King hissed in unison with Wind’s pout. “There’s still… a lot of stuff to work out. But we’re, uh… talking? Instead of trying to kill each other.”

Sky smiled. “That’s all you can do.”

—

It was not quick. 

Sometimes Wind would wake up, see the King, and scream or scramble for his sword. Other times the Helmaroc King would grow agitated and snatch Wind off the ground, damaging his feathers and trying to eat anyone who came too close. The portals eventually called the Links onward, and the King bundled after them on foot. The first time they fought a camp of monsters Wind couldn’t swing his sword without the King getting in his way. 

But progress crept upon them like the onset of spring. The King would let Wind eat with the others, then eventually let other Links close to it as well. Hyrule, Sky, and Twilight were the first permitted, Warriors and Four given dark looks if they even walked too close to Wind. One night after a particularly messy fight Wind flopped himself against the King’s side without thinking, and the bird instinctively leaned over and began to preen his hair. Wind would call him “the Helmaroc King” less often, usually insulting the giant bird with a variety of names that softened over time from aggrieved to almost fond. “Pea-brain” seemed to be the favorite. Sky groaned that at the rate they were going, Pea-brain would be the bird’s new name.

As they grew more accustomed to its presence, the stories started. Time told them about a giant owl who had aided him. Legend had befriended several birds, and his dark counterpart even had a bird who seemed connected to his emotions. Twilight had been able to direct hawks, Wild had a skill in the air that even many Rito couldn’t match. Even Four begrudgingly admitted there had been a bird, Zeffa, who had helped carry him from place to place. Clearly having a way with birds and flying was just… a hero thing. 

Wild would spent extra time hunting and fishing, making sure the King had fresh food every night. Every time the bird grew full he would become extra possessive, sitting on Wind and pecking at his hands when he tried to escape. But he grew fatter, wings gaining an almost rainbow sheen in the sunlight as they healed. Sky taught Wind how to check and clean the feathers for the King, making sure they were sleek and straight. The King would join them in fights, seamlessly darting around the heroes as he ferociously tore apart Bokoblins and even once smashing a Helmasaur by flying it up and dropping it on a rock.

The next portal opened onto gleaming blue water and the smell of salt. The Chain didn’t have to ask—the breeze was already dancing around them in reflection of Wind’s excitement. He took off without a backwards glance, racing across the beach towards a house on the far side of the island. 

“Grandmaaaa!!! Aryyyyyll!!!!” 

The door flew open, a girl running out to greet him. Aryll took four steps before skidding to a halt and screaming. Wind spun on instinct, sword already in hand… then saw the King, watching them both with a curious look. It clucked, an unsuccessful imitation of Sky’s Loftwing’s soothing noise.

Aryll had produced a knife from somewhere, hands shaking as she tried to charge the bird. Wind caught her before she could stab.

“Aryll, it’s ok! It’s not going to hurt you!” Wind shot the King an uneasy look. “Right?”

The King scooted back, though its eyes stayed fixed on Aryll. Special one. One’s favorite.

“Yes, she’s my favorite. She’s my sister, you’re a feathered menace.” Wind turned back to Aryll. “Look, Aryll, it’s really complicated, but the pea-brain won’t hurt you. I should have warned you better, but I haven’t had much chance to write since it showed up, and I was so excited to be home…”

Aryll stared at the bird, eyes teary. The rest of the Links had caught up by now, trying not to crowd. For a few seconds all was still, even the wind seeming to hold its breath… then out of nowhere, a gull decided to land on the King’s head. After a few seconds the King tried shaking it off, but the shameless creature only settled in and preened its wing. Aryll gave a tiny, wet laugh, clinging to Wind’s arm as terror and amusement collided.

Wind’s grandmother had to be dissuaded from also attempting to stab the bird, as did four or five other village residents (including one lady who threatened to feed it to her pigs). Most accepted the story that Wind had somehow tamed the giant bird on account of him having “always had such a way with animals.” Aryll and his grandmother were given the whole story, which they listened to with somber suspicion. Aryll clearly didn’t want to be near the bird, which Wind understood. The King had settled on the porch, trying to assemble a nest from fallen palm fronds with assistance from Hyrule and interference from more than one curious gull.

Grandma looked out the window, brows creased. “Our family has always… been good with birds.” Only Time and Sky had been able to fit at the table with the family. “We were some of the first to befriend the Rito, when the seas were younger. Aryll and Link’s father could sing and the gulls would flock to hear. But to say Link is bonded to a… a giant bird. Why would it steal our Aryll away if it was a part of him?”

Wind was staring at the table. “He didn’t have a good life, Granny. A bad man made him do it, with magic.” 

Aryll straightened up slightly. “The shadow wizard?”

Wind nodded.

“I… I saw him. While I was captured.” Aryll whimpered. “He would come and look at us sometimes. Especially Mila—he would call her Princess, to see if she would react. When she didn’t he would get angry and…” She clenched her hands in her dress. “I could hear it sometimes, at night. The bird. It would cry and I could almost hear words in it.”

Sky nodded. “You’re the sa—you’re Link’s sister. Your souls are probably very close, so you could feel a part of his bond.”

“I still hate it.” Her voice was small and quiet. “I don’t want it here. But I do want Link here. I just… I just need time to…”

“Yeah…” Wind scratched at his head. “I didn’t think you’d be ok with it, I’m barely comfortable with it. But we will have to move out eventually, and the pea-brain will follow, so at least it won’t be here long.” He smiled uneasily. “I wish I could convince it to go for a while so we could spend time together, but I haven’t had a second of peace from it in weeks.”

Aryll looked at her grandma, then Link. “Th-then I want to talk to it.” Time looked about to protest, but Aryll shook her head. “I don’t get to see Link nearly enough. I don’t wanna waste his time here just because of a dumb bird being in the way.”

The King had made a shoddy pile of seaweed and had stolen a sheet from a nearby laundry line, and was currently trying to catch a small shiny beetle that was crawling across the porch without success. Aryll held Wind’s hand tightly as they stepped out. He could feel her shaking, but she pulled a pear out and carefully balanced it on her head. The trembling made it fall once or twice, but at last she got close enough to the King and squeezed her eyes shut.

The King tilted his head, eye flashing in the sun. What is she doing?

She’s trying to understand you, pea-brain. She can understand gulls like this, so she’s trying it on you.

Not a gull. The King sounded offended.

Well it worked when I did it. Wind nudged the King. She’s trying to not be scared of you. That’s a good thing.

The King huffed and leaned forward, delicately eating the pear off Aryll’s head. Wind could tell she wasn’t as aware of the bird’s whole being as he had been—he wondered if the missing bond to the King had been why he could command gulls in the first place. But she seemed to relax slightly, face screwed up in concentration. The King tensed, looking around sharply.

Calm down. She’s not going to hurt you.

In head. Not my One.

She’s my sister. She’s also ten. Couldn’t be less of a threat. Wind gently ran his hand down the bird’s wing. Just stay calm, ok? She’s being brave just being near you and—

Quiet, sister is talking.

Aryll had slowly lifted her hand, touching the bird’s beak. Wind could see she was shaking again, eyes tearing up. “Aryll, you don’t have to…”

She pulled back, sniffling. “He… he’s scared. He doesn’t want to be alone.” Aryll stared at Wind. “He sounds like you, in my head. I couldn’t see it all, but I could feel how much he got hurt, how the shadow wizard made him…” She shook her head, going back to her grandma. “I still am scared of him, but… but we were both sorta captured by that guy.”

Wind crumpled a little. “You’re… you’re braver than me, Aryll.”

She laughed. “Well I learned it from my big brother.” 

With the bird begrudgingly allowed to stay, the chain set about their usual tasks. They restocked, weapons were repaired and clothing washed. The islanders set out a modest feast for their visitors, Wild scrawling down recipes as he helped cook. Gossip was collected about monsters that might be infected. Stories of their adventures–carefully edited to not make Wind’s grandmother worry–were shared.

Wind stumbled back towards the house, head starting to ache. It had been a long day, but he was glad to be home for even a short while. The King had settled on its nest, looking out over the ocean longingly. He tapped the wood railing loudly so it knew he was coming, then joined it looking over the rail. 

“... you know, I used to look out at this view every day and wish I could fly away over that sea, just to see what was there.” The King didn’t reply. “Maybe tomorrow you and I can… try flying?”

The King finally tore its eyes from the horizon. 

“T-together, I mean. We have to look for the monsters anyway. Would be easier if we searched from the sky.” He tried to shrug. “If you wanted to, I mean.”

Yes. I want to fly.

Wind smiled. “First thing in the morning then.” He gave the King a pat and headed for the door.

One, something is–

“Hm?”

The bird stopped, shook its head, then looked away again. Wind waited a moment, but his headache was getting worse and he was ready to lie down. He went inside, leaving the King to watch the sea.

–

It had been good. He had met the One’s sister, the girl he had snatched a lifetime ago. He only dimly remembered her. Everything from that time of his life was blurry and hurt too much to consider. The girl had been afraid, but she had felt like his One in many ways. Brave, angry, but kind. She had cried when she saw the memories. Her cries reminded the King of when it was younger.

The One was asleep now, dreaming of a giant squid. The King could not sleep. Something was coming. Something was pulling at him–not a call, not a gentle request–this was like a gull yanking on his feathers. He didn’t like it. He considered making a ruckus to wake his One up, so they could be ready for this new threat, but he didn’t.

The sun finally rose, and the pull, the pain, only grew worse. 

His One came out eventually, at least two hours after what would be considered “first thing in the morning.” The King almost snapped at him, but remembered the promised flight and perked up considerably. This was it. They could fly, together. Not a captor and his prisoner, or a warrior and his target. This would be… this could be like the dream. 

The One didn’t dawdle, eating quickly and getting some final pointers from the red Loftwing’s Hylian. Then he climbed the cliff behind the village, accompanied by a few of his allies. The King took off, feathers barely whispering as they caught the air. He banked over the ocean, turning to circle the peak as close as he dared. After a few moments, his One leapt off the cliff, gliding with a leaf to get into position, and landed on the King’s back.

He scrambled a second, stowing the leaf and trying to get a grip with his legs, but the King could feel his grin, the joy splashing through them both. He beat his wings and found a thermal, letting it send them spiralling up, up, up… nothing, not even the headache, could spoil the moment as they finally reached the clouds. 

The wind was gentle, even here. The King was sure his One was behind that. It cupped the King’s wings, letting him settle into a glide. The cloud cover was not as dense as their dream, letting them see the islands below, little sprinkles of land in endless blue. Ships were nothing more than gnats, lacy wings of wakes trailing behind them. He could hear his One whoop and raise his arms, enjoying the freedom. They were doing it! They were flying! They didn’t have to–

The headache sharpened, and his wings faltered.

What’s wrong? The One leaned down, holding on again with his hands. 

Its eyes scanned the ocean below, focusing on a familiar ship with a full sail, moving towards the One’s island. It felt like something was clamped on its head, throbbing pain. Memories flashed behind its eyes, and a single command pushed every other thought away.

It dove.

The ship grew closer and closer, the crew yelling and trying to ready a weapon, but they weren’t fast enough. Its claws shot out, grabbing its target, and the Helmaroc King twisted, turning to fly away. The pain did not lessen. It couldn’t recall how it got here. Something was holding onto the feathers of its neck, someone was yelling. But the command was what mattered. The command that had always been there. Its master would not be pleased if it failed again.

Bring me the Hylian princess. The girl with the long ears.

He had tried. It had tried and tried, but every girl was wrong, every failure punished with pain and withheld food. It had grabbed this girl, and then something had knocked her away—and then it had—

It circled the ruins of its master’s hideout, looking for him in confusion. He should be here? The top of the fortress was blackened with old soot. The cage it had stored the other girls in was gone, wooden bars shattered. The King cried, hoping this would summon its master. It had to know if this was the right girl. It had to…

The girl stabbed it in a claw, making it screech. For a second it’s mind cleared—why was he here? He could hear his One yelling for him to stop, to put someone down. But the residual magic crept back in like fog. It looked at the ashes and saw a form waiting for it. The King landed, dropping the girl in front of the master.

—

The open bond was a raw nerve. Wind could feel the King’s mind clouding, turning on itself. He tried to snap him out of it, but the fog was impenetrable. He couldn’t close the bond, and had the horrible mental image of having to kill the King again, this time knowing. Hadn’t Zelda said that might kill him?

Tetra was taking her capture with all the grace and dignity of a cat being washed under a garden pump. Wind tried to shout down to her, but she didn’t seem to hear. He settled for redirecting the breeze to oppose the King, trying to blow them back to Outset. This failed as well. The wind seemed to vacillate between listening to Wind and the King, guiding them ever closer to the Forsaken Fortress. Wind dreaded to know what would happen when they arrived. The King didn’t seem to have any thought Wind could sense except to arrive. At length they reached the hated location, still blackened from Valoo’s wrath. The bird circled the fortress, then finally released Tetra in the ruined wreckage of the old boat that Ganondorf had lived in.

Wind peered over the King’s neck and gasped. There was… something there.

He jumped off the bird, sword already drawn, as he rushed at the hazy shape, slashing at it. The man dodged wordlessly, his feet not even seeming to move.

“Link, what are ya doin’? The bird’s over here!” Tetra was glaring at the King, who stood straight up, eyes distant and flickering between red and gold.

“He’s controlling him!” Wind pointed his sword at the shadow. “If we kill him, the King will snap out of it!”

Tetra hesitated, torn between not turning her back on her kidnapper and looking for the source of the problem. “I don’t—“

Wind saw Ganondorf try to move closer to her and charged, sword leveled. It hit nothing, the wizard moving away again. Was he teleporting? He was so fast! Wind swirled his free hand, summoning the gales to surround them and prevent escape. The wind didn’t hesitate, but began to spiral faster and faster as he grew agitated. Ganondorf barely seemed to notice, his eyes greedily on the King. “You gotta fight him, King! Don’t listen to him!” The bird didn’t move, only making a tiny sound that was barely audible over the tearing winds.

Tetra grabbed hold of his arm, her hair struggling to escape its bun in the storm. “You gotta calm down, Link. There’s no one here!”

“What are you talking about? He’s right over there!” Wind pointed at the wizard, slowly approaching. His robes didn’t even flap in the breeze. Wind yelped and pushed Tetra behind him, slashing again to ward the man off. “King, please! Wake up and get Tetra out of here!” 

“Why are you talking to the bird?!”

“He’s part of me, it’s a whole thing! But Ganondorf is controlling him again! Look out!” He jumped, trying to stab into the man’s head. Ganondorf smiled as he vanished and reappeared beside the King. Wind’s gales increased in agitation. “King… you pea-brain, you gotta fight back!” 

The King reacted to this, eyes going fully gold again. Ganondorf disappeared, leaving Wind to spin around looking for him. Where was he hiding? Was he going to jump out and grab for Tetra? 

“Link. Link, look at me. Put the sword down.” Tetra was in front of him, hands up to show they were empty. “Come on, Link. I need ya to calm down. Now!”

“Tetra, he’s here somewhere!” He turned, blade shaking. “He’s… he’s…” 

Tetra slapped him across the face, startling him back to his senses. The King hissed, eyes suddenly locking on Tetra’s hand. Wind could feel the protect protect protect building like a hurricane. “No, no, she’s fine. She’s fine!” The bird growled, feathers ruffling. Tetra had her knife back out now. Wind put himself between the two of them. “Stop! She didn’t hurt me!”

The King leapt forward, grabbing Wind’s tunic and pulling him in to where he could be stuffed protectively under a wing. Tetra lunged, knife out as she went for the bird’s face in a vain attempt to cut Link free. The blade hit something—Wind wasn’t sure if it was the King or him—and everything went blurred.

He could see flashes of the phantom, watching them both through a curtain of blood. He—they—backed away from the ghost, and the pirate trying to steal him. He should leave. He should fly—but not too high. No. No, he wanted to fly high! He was One, they couldn’t control him anymore. It had done what the master wanted. Leave the girl to her fate and fly. But that was his friend. He had to help her. It owed her nothing. He had to be brave. It just wanted to find its place. It just wanted its One. 

A bubble of memory popped into their minds: Aryll. Aryll trying hard to be brave, to understand. Aryll wasn’t the One. But she was still so important. She was his-it’s-their sister. 

Another burble. Tetra, bold and clever Tetra. Teasing him, helping him, giving him that sidelong look that said she had every idea of what he was planning but she was completely game. Lying together on the deck after dark, watching the stars together, her explaining how they were used to guide the ship, him explaining the stories he had been told about their legends. Standing together to finally kill the monster that had tormented them all.

His grandmother. Strong and unbroken, caring for him and Aryll. Teaching him to walk, to read, to fish, to play. Handing him the family shield, smiling even through tears of fear for Aryll, saying how mature he looked. Checking in on him as he fought, letters and gifts. A warm bowl of soup and a kind hand patting his back.

His brothers. Sassy and kind Hyrule, understanding his need for adventure. Sky, sweet but mischievous, always willing to tease but equally willing to help. Twilight, who understood his need to care for others and look out for their hearts as well as their selves. Four, Warriors, both trying to play the mature knight when they were both still in need of fun. Wild’s cooking. Legend’s smiles. Time’s assuring presence.

The torrent of people he cared about, who cared for him, frothed and burbled. There wasn’t a One. There were so many people who had filled his life. Never fully closing the metaphysical hole, but giving him a reason to live. Small chance meetings, or people who had saved his life. People gone. People he had left. People he kept running back to. People he loved.

The Helmaroc King hadn’t had that. It had been alone, forced to stay too low and still be too high above it all. All it had known was this man, if he could be called a man, and the imperative that had been sunk into its bones from the moment it was hatched. The person it should have known, should have grown alongside, hated it. The lingering spell, fingerprints of a dead man, was all it had left.

If it lost that, it would be alone.

“You idiot Pea-brain.” Wind thunked his head against the King’s side. “Is that what you really think? I told you, I won’t leave.” 

The King gave a tiny series of peeping cries, like a chick looking for its mother. Wind ran his hands down the feathers inside the wing, trying to assure it. The bird’s heart was still erratic, but the phantom was fading away. 

Wind wondered if Ganondorf had known about their connection when he ripped the King away. If he had been trying to take a tool from a potential Hero, or lure him in with the piece of his soul. Maybe he had just only cared about having a weapon suited for his own ends. The only one who could answer those questions was at the bottom of the sea, with a foot of sacred steel in his head. Fate had still found a way to bring the King back. Maybe the King had been trying to reach Wind subconsciously, that horrible day when he dropped Tetra on Wind’s island.

Speaking of— “Hey, Pea-brain, can you let me out before Tetra tries to pluck you?”

——

Explaining took a while, especially since every time the King shifted Tetra had to be stopped from attempting to knife it. Wind finally threw up his hands. “It’s… it’s like with you and the dress!”

Tetra froze, eyes wide. “What do you mean by that?”

“When the King of Red Lions gave you the whole Triforce of Wisdom or whatever, you got a dress out of nowhere, right? Your ancestor’s dress.” He paused, suddenly recalling something from the last time they’d been in Time’s home era. “I met her, actually. She’s pretty cool. But the point is, you got that dress and the little wings and crown.”

“But I didn’t get a giant bird.”

“Yeah, but like… the dress was part of the whole Zelda thing. Well apparently, birds are part of the whole Hero thing.” Wind frowned. “You don’t gotta like him. I get it. But he’s stuck to me, so if you kill him, they said it might kill me too.”

Tetra didn’t reply, glaring at the King. The King, a long cut over one eye, glared back.

“I can leave. Your crew should be here soon enough, I understand if you don’t wanna be around him—“

“You said he’s part of ya?”

Wind started at her abruptness, then nodded. Tetra’s back was straight, every bit the princess and the captain all in one, no flicker of fear showing. 

“So like, ya share thoughts?”

“Sort of? Depends on like, how hard we’re trying?”

Tetra looked at him sidelong, and for a moment Wind thought she might be angry… till he saw the grin barely hiding. “So do you want to snatch me up and take me away?”

Wind’s face went bright red. The King, traitor, actually gave a little bird-y laugh at that. “Wh— no! Don’t be stupid, Tetra!”

“Aw. Maybe I would have liked that.” She pouted comically. “A knight sweeping his princess off her feet.” She looked at the bird, who tucked its beak under a wing and chuffed. The wind danced around them, gleeful as it pushed Wind towards her.

“Oh really?”

Tetra snorted. “Yeah. Who wouldn’t think that’s romantic?” She clasped her hands in a mockery of a princess-y pose and made a face. “Why do I never get the romance?”

Wind grinned. “Well ok then—“

In retrospect, tackling Tetra over the edge of the Fortress so the King could swoop under and catch them was one of Wind’s stupider ideas. Tetra made sure to tell him that later, repeatedly and at length. Fortunately she dropped the knife on the way down. 

The whole way back to Outset though, as they flew high enough to almost touch the clouds, she was shouting for them to go higher. Wind got it. Flying was everything he had ever dreamed. The King gave a shrill noise of excitement, sweeping up above the clouds into the golden light of the setting sun.

Wind didn’t think he would ever get over it.