Chapter Text
They walk for an hour, maybe. Sky can’t really tell. His feet drag across tall grass and brambles, heavy as boulders. Now that the adrenaline of the past two days has worn off, each step is an effort. He walks in pace between Warriors and Time almost mindlessly, simply following. His eyes lazily roam the forested backroad. Alert, despite how much he wants to lie down and nap. Just for a bit.
But no, it is never that easy.
Beside him, yet out of arms reach, Twilight’s steps stutter. His head lifts from its sullen slouch, nose pointed somewhere ahead of them.
Wild perks up, already halfway to drawing his bow from the slate again. “What is it?”
“Portal.” Twilight answers simply. At Time’s worried glance, he reaffirms. “Just a portal, no’ing else.”
There is a collective sigh of relief. Although Sky can still feel the tension in them all. Like usual, he understands too well what is bothering them. The hero’s spirit doesn’t like being idle, especially not with an enemy that got away. Sky used to like aimless idling, but now it pains him, and his spirit shares that.
The walk continues. Oh, how Sky did not miss all this walking.
Eventually, the portal comes into view around the next turn. It stands tall and pitch black, purple patterns framing it like a grand mirror. It sits right in their path.
Time sighs. “It’s for the best.”
“There are no black-blooded monsters left. We took care of them already, remember.” Legend comments. “So no need to stick around this goddess-awful town.”
That’s right, they handled the monsters days ago. Sky’s forehead creases, pinching as he tries to remember how long ago the battle was. Hylia, he is so tired.
In pairs and trios, they walk through. When Time sets a steadying hand on Sky’s shoulder, he allows it. Despite the flames of anxiety and anger over Ghirahim’s appearance, Sky is oddly settled. Whatever Ghirahim wants, he can’t get it with all nine of them here. Whatever he may have been- he is lesser, now. Years ago, the demon would’ve razed the town without a care. This time, this time, Ghirahim planned, and hid, like a rat stealing grain.
Despite his disgust at the situation, it makes something ugly and mean inside Sky smile, to see his and Sun’s enemy reduced to that.
Sky lets out a breath, blinking away sunspots as a whole new era forms around him. He adjusts his stance, taking in the shifting sand beneath his boots and the bright sun overhead.
“Does anybody recognize this era?” Warriors calls out. Silence is his answer. The captain sighs, picking up a groaning Four and gently hoisting him under his arm like the purse dogs of the captain’s era. Sky doesn’t think that’s how you hold someone who is sick, but his own options include holding the smithy like a grain sack or a remlit, which aren't any more comfortable.
Of all of them, Twilight is the only one with experience holding tiny bodies, and it shows. The rancher cringes at Four’s unsupported head and flopping limbs. “Maybe I shoul’ hold em, Captain.”
“That’s okay.” Warriors replies, a false smile tightening his face. “The smithy is fine where he is.”
Twilight seems to droop, ears lowering slightly. “Oh, alrighty then.”
Sky can’t help but notice how wrong the whole thing was. Twilight was almost as much a pack-bird as Epona was, and had carried all of them at least once. Warriors, physically strong as he was, never seemed up for flaunting it.
“Well,” Time says loudly, grabbing attention in a second. “If the Shadow was here, it is long gone by now. Are we all in favor of making camp?”
A chorus of cheers rings out. Nobody wants to hike the desert. Somehow, Sky’s had the misfortune of figuring out that every desert after his era is worse than Lanayru Desert. Even as he stands here doing nothing, the hot air fills his lungs and makes him feel like he’s getting less air than he knows he is. The too-warm water balloon feeling in his lungs has him breathing a little deeper, a little slower.
“I see a big enough outcropping of rocks a mile that way.” Wild announces from where he’s climbed a rock, squinting in the dawning sun.
“Your kinda mile or my kinda mile.” Wind asks, squinting suspiciously.
“Time’s kind of mile.” Wild said helpfully. It meant nothing unless you knew Time’s era had the shortest sense of a mile, the complete opposite of Wild’s era, which Sky theorized measured their miles with the feet of dragons.
“Onwards then, men.” Warriors announced cheerfully, backed up by Time’s nod of approval and Four’s pitiful “hip hip hooray…”
And so, onwards Sky walked. As he did, he considered his situation. The rocky outcrop was fast approaching, and with it, camp, and with camp, questions. It all races through his mind like wildfire; Wild telling them about the yiga, Warriors explaining how some of his citizens had violent grudges against him. Even Legend, telling a quiet story about a framed little boy and the guards still looking for him years later.
The worst part about all this, is that Sky knows how this is supposed to go. He brushes his fingers over his arm, remembering the demon’s frigid hand upon it. Sky would like nothing more than to tell his brothers how Ghirahim lost, again and again. How his plan failed so badly that he had to jump to a backup.
But there is a much worse name lingering in his mind, and it keeps him on guard. He hasn’t told the others much about his adventure.
There’s a reason for that.
Soon enough, they reach the rocks. It’s really more of a half-buried cave, but the rocky overhang shields them from blistering sun all the same.
The heroes tend to their packs and bedrolls, stretch out sore muscles and jostle each other. Wild holds up logs from his slate like grand prizes, quietly setting up benches and a firepit. Before long, everyone is gathered in a half-circle, with no backs to the entrance. Sky settles next to Four. The smithy has always been one of the quieter of their bunch, and Sky doesn’t exactly want any of the others close enough to see any lies in his eyes. The smithy, at least, knows how to keep something to himself.
Before long, Wild is at the cooking pot while everyone goes about their business. It’s all very mundane for them by now. Legend is showing Hyrule how to better repair tunics again, Wind and Warriors are shoving each other like two sluggish remlits roughhousing. Sky himself stares into the fire, and for once feels wide awake. All his heaviness turns to dread.
Abruptly, Time claps his hands. All eyes turn to their leader. “Now that we are in a camp eras away from the threat, will someone explain what just happened?”
It’s not actually a question. Time’s eye racks over them all, daring someone to lie or change the subject. If there is one thing Time puts his foot down about, it's the threat of death. Sky shoves down the warmth surging at Time’s actions. No one had advocated for him so fiercely since he left Sun for this quest.
“After you lost consciousness for the first time.” Warriors begins, a soldier’s solidity taking over him. “We realized that nobody had stocked up on healing supplies since our last big battle. That was my mistake, I forgot to account for it at the last village.”
Time hums, but saves his reassurances for later. Sky fists his sailcloth and does the same. Reassurance is the last thing Warriors wants during a sitrep.
Warriors continues, voice clear and neutral. “Hyrule was too magic-drained to heal anyone. However, Four recognized the era as his own, and led us to a small town. Four didn’t know much about the town, but we still found an inn.”
It’s then that Warriors’ face slips, mouth downturned at the corners. “We needed somewhere for the injured to rest while everyone else found supplies. So, the Ranchor and I stayed at the Inn to acquire a room and look after you. Everyone else left to gather supplies.”
“I didn’t notice,” His voice wavers. “but our knight of Skyloft arrived late, only when we were finalizing details with the innkeeper. I’m uncertain what tipped him off, but suddenly Sky tried to warn, us, that the inn was not safe.”
Sky takes notice of that slip. Us, not Twilight. It’s a rare edit of what actually happened in one of Warriors’ reports.
The fire crackles, orange and red dancing merrily as heroes shift uneasily. Twilight stares into it like the flame can swallow him whole.
“And then?” Time prompts, face unreadable.
“There was a minor altercation between Sky and the Ranchor.” Warriors’ jaw tightens, something like shame blinks across his eyes. “Sky’s concerns were dismissed. The Ranchor and I went to the room and watched over you until supplies arrived the next day.”
“And then I woke up.” Time fills in evenly. “And we all realized something was wrong.”
“Yes.” Warriors clears his throat. “You were there for the rest.”
For a moment, all is silent. Most of the chain didn’t know this side of the story. Sky looks around to see the implications of the dry report are hitting them. Wild is trying to catch Twilight’s eyes, and failing because the rancher is so deeply slumped, curling into himself like a wounded animal. From across the fire, Legend is squinting at Twilight like he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
Hyrule simply looks at his hands and allows Wind to hug an arm around him. Sky isn’t sure if the sailor is comforting the traveler or himself, but it works. Sky feels a tug on his sailcloth and looks down at the smithy, worried red eyes scrutinizing Sky like he’ll find a wound. Sky shakes his head, smile small and soft. Four settles again, mollified. It is so easy to be soft for his brothers. The dread inside Sky lightens a bit at the reminder. He is so soft to them, and if he explains things right, they’ll never have to know how much he can really hurt to touch.
Sky straightens, sighing softly. “Now, it’s my turn.”
Murmers quiet. Hot desert wind blows into their camp. Sky breathes the heat in, remembers the heat of divine lightning and his courage against it. Do not falter, He reminds himself.
“The man you saw with me was Ghiraham. A demon lord from my era.” Sky glances toward Warriors. “I heard some of you whisper his name on the way here, but I’ll explain anyways.”
Sky lets his face show his derision, just so it covers anything else. “Ghirahim and I fought many times during my adventure. His main goal was kidnapping Zelda.”
“He was just playing with me at first.” He chuckles. “Until I started kicking his butt.”
“At some point he just started running at the end of our battles, never allowing a true defeat. I wasn't sure if he’d survived the … last battle. But he’s always been a coward about actually losing.” Sky doesn’t soften the stories. It’s the truth, and Ghirahim deserves to be known for it.
Bits of laughter float through the group. He spies a couple of smirks and approving nods around.
Sky sobers, fingers tense against the log he sits on. “But he’s clever. And he doesn’t know moderation. Ghirahim could hurt someone for eternity before he got bored.”
‘No, I’ll just beat you within an inch of your life!’
“So when I saw him in the inn, as Warriors said.” Sky takes a breath. “I couldn’t just let him stick around. Time was down, Twilight and Warriors were busy, everyone was gone.”
He pauses, the words not leaving his bobbing throat. I was alone. I’m always alone with him.
“So I guarded the room.” Sky says.
“Why did you leave with him?” Time asks, fiercely worried eye bearing down on him. He feels a sudden sympathy for Twilight. He’s not even injured, so the rancher must have had it much worse after the Shadow struck him.
Sky shrugs sluggishly. Now that it’s all over he’s so, so tired. “I didn’t think anyone would come if I called, and I couldn’t risk getting you all kicked out if he made a scene in the inn.”
At those words, a general sense of outrage sweeps the room. Sky doesn’t realize it at first. He yawns, startling when Legend of all people leaps to his feet.
The veteran stands shakily, one hand supporting him on Hyrule’s shoulder. “I would have come.”
He speaks like it's been torn out of him, eyes wide and wild. His balance shifts from side to side, as if wanting to pace, run, move. Legend repeats the words, rougher and louder. “I would’ve come.”
Sky blinks, sleepiness lessening. “I- I know?”
The questioning tone only makes things worse. Protests and proclamations ring out. From indignant to sorrowful, his brothers vow it. They would’ve come.
Some more-awake part of Sky is realizing he could’ve screamed, and he realizes that he stopped doing that during his adventure.
You’re so quiet now. Sun had lamented. He didn’t understand what she meant, quiet kid he’s always been. But this, he realizes, is a different kind of quiet. A worse sort.
A cleared throat breaks the cacophony of voices. Time sits, a white-knuckled grip on either knee. He stands slowly, tall and carefully restrained. “I think our Skyloftian has had a tiring couple of days. It makes sense that he’d make mistakes.”
It’s an excuse, but it calms the chain. Some, like Legend and Wind, still look ready to ram something. But most settle, accepting that circumstances clouded Sky’s mind. However, even as tired as he is, Sky feels perfectly justified. They’ve left him behind to run off and face enemies or explore so many times, how could he know that they would come back for him? When Legend had his bunny accident so long ago, and Sky was separated from his group- they certainly didn’t come back then.
Don’t mistake him, he’s happy about their confidence in his skills, but sometimes it is a hollow sort of pride. He’s traded one reason for abandonment for another. Too weak to come back for, too strong to worry about. It’s only another reminder of why he can’t let them know what he’s done. What he can do. All his weaknesses and all his strengths, always too much of either.
“Sky.” Time looks at him, tense. “Get some rest.”
I was thinking clearly. Sky thinks, eyes narrowed.
Time grimaces. I know.
The logs are left behind as everyone goes to their bedrolls. Hyrule glances at him, eyes scanning for visible wounds that Sky doesn’t have. Like with Four, Sky just shakes his head gently. The healer gives a half-smile and heads to bed, dragging a grumbling Legend with him.
Sky catches Twilight’s eye just as Time calls for his pup. He watches those soulful blue eyes crumble, and turn to meet Time’s undoubtedly disappointed stare. Sky gets to his feet and turns his back on them, letting the two have their talk. Twilight is stressed enough without Sky’s imagined judgment.
He understands too well the one-mindedness of saving a loved one, Sky cannot blame his incarnation for a trait that is Sky’s own.
In moments, Sky is tucked into his bedroll. Finally, all of his people are safe and accounted for. Finally, he can sleep.