Chapter Text
The horde is bigger than he expected, filled with monsters Wild has never seen before: stals more durable than his own and lizard-like beings adorned in armour that looks nothing like his own lizals. Another arrow is nocked and let loose, shattering a stal’s skull but the body keeps walking. He doesn’t stop providing cover for the rest of the heroes, though. He lets arrow after arrow fly, doing his best to thin the relentless enemies, but it never seems like enough.
Movement catches his eye. In the distance, a figure races towards them. Dark scales glint in the evening sunlight as the Shadow skitters through the horde, trailing black blood from its tail. Wolfie charges after it, his teeth bared and fur bristling. In one powerful leap, he slams into the Shadow’s side and digs his teeth into its neck, knocking it to the ground.
As cheers echo out, Wild grins. Twilight taking off on Epona after the Shadow had been anxiety-inducing, but all those fears fall to the wayside now that he’s back in the fray.
But something’s wrong. The Shadow rolls out from Wolfie’s bulk up onto its knees, fangs twisted into a furious snarl. Wolfie loops around for another charge as malice spills from its glowing eyes. Confident in Wolfie’s strength, the other heroes have turned back to the horde, leaving Wild the only one to see a strange ripple across the Shadow’s scales.
Wild’s body moves before his mind has the chance to catch up. Drawing his bow, he leaps off the wall and pulls on the flow of time, slowing it to a crawl. His aim is true and arrows sprout from the Shadow’s neck and shoulders but, when he hits the ground in a roll gasping for air, it hasn’t slowed down. Its arm twists, body changing and growing bigger and bigger.
Wolfie won’t have the chance to get out of the way. He can’t do anything because he isn’t fast enough. Wild, however, is.
All it takes is a sword flashing in his periphery. He dodges, throwing himself to the side, and his magic does the rest. The flow of time stalls again and Wild runs. He pushes his trembling body, his aching lungs, and his depleted stamina to the absolute limit, and sprints across the field, leaping over enemies and ducking under weapons. Magic already strained, the flurry rush frays and snaps out of his hands, but it’s done its job.
In a whirl of movement, the Shadow heaves out a huge axe right as Wild shoves Wolfie to the side and raises his own blade. Metal clashes against metal and the impact resonates up Wild’s arm. The strength of the blow catches him off guard, nearly knocking him straight to the ground, but he grits his teeth and refuses to buckle. All he needs to do is buy Twilight a few seconds and one single opening to take the Shadow down!
Fate has different plans. As he tries to twist his sword to deflect the blow, the force of the Shadow’s strike proves to be too strong and his blade shatters.
Shock makes him stumble. His eyes go wide but there isn’t any time to recover or even reach for a shield. Behind its strange new helmet, the Shadow’s eyes gleam. Its axe swings back down and slices deep into Wild’s flesh.
At first, he doesn’t register the pain.
There’s a crunch of bone and a spray of blood as the sharp edge carves through his chest. All the air is ripped from his lungs. He stares down at his torn tunic and the spreading red stains, more confused than anything else. The world starts to wobble around him as his knees buckle and he crumples into the grass, still gasping for breath and trying to work out what just happened.
Somewhere beyond the wool stuffing his ears, he can hear panicked shouts calling his name. A pained howl rips through the air as Wolfie skids to a stop at his side. Squares of magic consume the wolf turning fur to skin, and then Twilight leans over him, face ashen and eyes wide.
“Fuck, Wild!” He gasps—an odd reaction to Wild’s baffled mind. Why’s he so scared? He’s safe now.
Of course, that’s when Twilight presses both hands to the gaping wound in Wild’s stomach and reality crashes back into him. Agony surges through his body like a forest fire. A strangled, breathless scream rips from his throat as his back arches up. Instinct screams to shove Twilight away just so the pain can stop but when his shaking fingers latch onto Twilight’s wrists, he doesn’t even have the strength to scratch his skin.
“I know, I know!” Tears stain his cheeks as Twilight grimaces and puts what feels like all his weight onto Wild’s stomach.
White stars greedily eat up Wild’s vision, turning the evening-lit forest into a swirling, nauseating mess. There is nothing but the pain. Ice floods his insides, so cold it’s burning his organs. When he gasps for air, his lungs refuse to work, leaving him dizzy. Copper sits on his tongue.
He thinks he moans, letting out a tiny keening whimper, but it’s too hard to tell. All he knows for sure is that screaming is far beyond him now.
The ground beneath him shakes. Amidst all the swirling, a dark shape looms over him and Twilight. Danger, Wild’s trembling nerves remind him, but he can barely lift his hand, let alone find a weapon. His limbs feel weighed down, like someone tied boulders to them to pin him in place.
He’s stuck here, unable to do anything but watch as the Shadow’s new form wavers into view. It hefts up its axe, one blade stained red with his blood, and sneers at them through the visor of its helmet. Twilight glares back, his fury practically a physical thing in the air, but Wild dreads what is about to come.
All that fear and desperation to save Twilight means nothing because now both he and Wild are going to die. Nothing he did even slowed the Shadow down.
A voice screams out their names as the Shadow’s axe swings down, but instead of accepting their fate, Twilight surges to his feet and catches the blow against his shield. The force of the blow rips through his body, nearly forcing him to his knees, but Twilight snarls and shoves back as hard as he can, knocking the Shadow off balance. For a single second, he hesitates to cast a look back at Wild, but then his face hardens into a look of pure rage.
“Get him out of here!” He orders to someone Wild can’t see before turning to stride towards the Shadow with his sword in hand.
Panic seizes Wild’s heart. No, he can’t lose Twilight! Damn whatever happens to him—the only thing that matters is keeping Twilight safe from that thing.
But the world around him doesn’t get the memo. As he tries to push himself to his feet to give chase, hands grab onto him and hoist him up so fast the world spins. Any attempts to fight for freedom is lost and he ends up slung over Time’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The sudden shift hurts, as does the pauldron digging into the wound on his stomach. He screams and writhes in Time’s hold, but Time only tightens his grip.
“Cover me!” He yells though who he’s talking to, Wild doesn’t know. It’s certainly not him, since he can’t remember where or even when he dropped his bow—not that it would matter since his tingling fingers wouldn’t be able to hold anything anyway. And his sword…
A pang of regret worms its way through all the pain. He will never be able to apologise enough for breaking the sword all of the heroes had worked so hard to make for him. They’re gonna be so upset that he broke it.
“Rancher!” Warriors roars, much closer than Wild expected.
Jolting out of his wandering thoughts, he tries to raise his head enough to see anything other than the blood-soaked grass and strands of his own hair. Everything swirls together into a mishmash of green and red before finally a shock of blue catches his attention.
Warriors cut down one of the not-lizals before whirling on his heel to face Time. Where Twilight had nothing but pure incandescent rage on his face, Warriors is all boiling fury like a volcano about to erupt. His wrathful eyes meet Wild’s own, and Wild can’t stop himself from cringing at the sheer frustration and judgement there. It isn’t hard to imagine what Warriors is thinking: Wild has done nothing but fail again.
Not like he needs the reminder, but it still hurts to see it so openly.
Despondent, he tears his gaze away to seek out Twilight again, right as Twilight dodges low to roll around behind the Shadow and launch himself up off the ground. His sword cleaves right through the Shadow’s sturdy armour, sending black blood splattering against the ground.
“Captain—!” Time snaps, voice curt, but Warriors talks over whatever he’s about to say.
“Just get him out of here, Time!” He snarls back. “This is a fucking nightmare!”
Time pauses, clearly wanting to say more, but then he turns and runs, Wild jostling on painfully on his shoulder with every step. No matter how badly Wild wants to protest or even beg Time to stop and turn around so they can keep Twilight safe, he can’t get the words out. Time’s pauldron shifts, metal grinding against his raw nerves, and lightning tears through him. Everything goes black.
His respite is brief. All too soon, the bliss of unconsciousness peels away and the pain returns. Arms work their way around his shoulders and neck as his body is lowered to the ground but, while whoever is holding him tries to make the process as painless as possible, agony flares as something inside him tears. Blood fills his throat and he splutters around a gasp for air.
A hand cradles his cheek, turning his head to the side, and he spits out the mouthful of blood and searing bile, then moans pathetically when his heaving only makes the pain worse. Weight presses down on his stomach but even though it hurts, he can’t manage anything more than a feeble whimper.
Somewhere above him, he can hear Time murmuring and Warriors’ sharper voice snapping back, but the words they’re actually saying refuse to make sense in Wild’s bleary mind. He just lays there, eyes open but seeing nothing, limbs trembling and breathing shallow.
“Cub?”
Calloused palms cup his cheeks. He blinks once, twice, and finally Twilight’s face comes into view, smeared with stains of black blood. Relief nearly sends Wild back into unconsciousness. Twilight’s here, oh thank Hylia! Whoever dragged him away from the Shadow can cash in the debt Wild owes them for keeping his brother safe any day.
If he had the strength, he would grab onto Twilight’s wrist to bask that Twilight is still here, but his heavy arms refuse to cooperate and flop weakly against the grass. No matter. Wild lets out a faint hum and manages to twitch his lips up into a smile.
Strangely, Twilight does not return the smile. He doesn’t even return the relief. Instead his jaw sets—teeth clenched so tight he’ll probably get a headache in the future—and tears gather on his eyelashes. “Hey,” he whispers, thumb stroking Wild’s cheekbone, “think you can drink a potion for me?”
The question slips out of Wild’s mind before he can even consider it, but his answer isn’t necessary anyway. Between one blink and the next, Time is next to him with a potion bottle already resting on his lips. With the two of them working together, Wild’s head is lifted up and his mouth opened, and Time tips the potion into his mouth. The only thing Wild needs to do is swallow, and he does… but only once.
As his throat bobs, blood fills his mouth. As it spills over his lips, he chokes on a cough, splattering his chin and tunic with a mixture of reds. Twilight flies into motion, rolling him to the side and patting his back as he coughs blood into the grass.
“—not working!” Warriors’ frustrated voice breaks through the fog and more weight leans down onto Wild’s stomach.
“Time, you have a fairy, do you not?” Sky joins in—which, when the hell did Sky get here?!
“Step back, Wars.” Twilight orders, hooking an arm around Wild’s shoulders and pulling him close to his chest. It hurts, just like everything else does, but the weight bearing down on his stomach has at least vanished.
When Wild manages to peel his fluttering eyelids open, he catches a glimpse of Twilight’s grim face above him. Sky kneels beside them both, gnawing on his lip in worry but when he catches Wild’s gaze, he at least tries a smile. Warriors, on the other hand, stands at Time’s shoulder as tense as a bowstring with his blood-soaked fists clenched at his sides. His eyes are so dark and filled with rage that Wild can’t bear to look at him.
But it’s Time’s expression that condemns him the most. The stern line of his mouth and steely bite to his gaze speaks volumes about the disappointment he’s keeping at bay. Out of everyone here, Time’s disapproval hurts the most. Sure, Warriors probably thinks he had thrown himself in front of an axe for a wolf but Time knows Twilight is Wolfie.
“I do.” Time sits back on his heels and swaps one bottle for another, yanking the cork out with one swift move.
A glowing fairy tumbles out and shoots right over to Wild, spinning in circles so dizzying he has to close his eyes just so he doesn’t throw up again. His stomach will never forgive him. The whole clearing seems to hold its breath as the fairy dances back and forth, but dread starts to seep into Wild’s gut like a stone.
He doesn’t have a lot of experience with fairy healing in general and absolutely none for wounds this severe. The few times he had been hurt badly enough to justify a fairy’s blessing, Mipha had been there for him instead, so this is all new.
But even he knows a fairy’s blessing shouldn’t leave him feeling like this. The pain isn’t going away. Why… why isn’t the pain going away?
The fairy must agree because she pauses her dance and flutters so close he can see her glow against the back of his eyelids. Her confused chime rings in his ears, then she darts away, jingling frantically like a bell in a cyclone.
Time makes a noise that Wild can’t identify—something between frustrated and shock. “What?! His wound isn’t healing.”
Huh, Wild thinks deliriously to himself, that’s not good.
He peels his eyes open right as Warriors kneels down beside him and presses both bloodstained hands down onto Wild’s stomach. The sudden pressure rips a choked gasp from Wild’s lungs. His muscles convulse, body trembling and legs bucking weakly, and the arms wrapped around him tighten as Twilight pins him to his chest. Warriors winces, ears twitching almost apologetically, but he doesn’t let up.
Wild’s grip on the world fractures. His eyes roll weakly in his skull, catching glimpses of Time’s face lit up by the fairy’s pink glow, Sky gesturing madly, Warriors’ lips pressed into a bloodless line. Vaguely, he thinks he hears Twilight’s voice demanding, “What does that mean?!” but if anyone answers, their words are lost to him just like everything else is.
He’s so cold. It is a little bit nonsensical to be this cold when Twilight puts out heat like a bonfire, but Wild might as well be laying in the snow of the Gerudo Highlands. Maybe the cold is why it’s getting so hard to breathe. His lungs are refusing to expand, so each inhale is nothing more than a shallow gasp.
Oh, now recognition sparks. This is an awfully familiar feeling. It isn’t the first time he’s been here before, ended up lying in a pool of his own blood with agony coursing through his veins and his lungs robbed of air.
He’s going to die.
No wonder Twilight is so upset. With no Mipha here as the world’s most terrifying safety net, this is the end. Wild’s heart aches at the knowledge—a pain strong enough to rival his open wound. Hylia, who’s going to tell Flora? Will she ever even know or will Wild have just vanished off into a swirling portal never to return, leaving her behind?
That thought would make him cry if he had the strength. He doesn’t want to die.
Trails of pink swirl past his face and he flinches, expecting malice’s bite on his skin, but instead warmth spreads through his stomach. Something inside him shifts in excruciating ways flesh absolutely should not be capable of. He gurgles out a breathless shriek but his body is too weak to do anything more than spasm limply against the hands holding him. A bone snaps back into place with an unnatural cracking-click, and then the warmth is gone.
A glow fills his vision, searing through his eyelids, and a tiny hand pats his cheek. With a moan, he peers up at the little fairy hovering above him so close he can see her worried expression. She chimes again before darting away. The apology needs no translation, but clearly she had said more before leaving.
“She has healed what she can,” Time rumbles, surprisingly close. When Wild manages to drag his gaze away from the fairy, he finds Time kneeling next to Twilight, passing rolls of bandages to Warriors. There is an intense look on his face, one Wild can’t name.
“He’s still bleeding badly.” Warriors growls and shoves a wad of bandages right into the open wound.
Wild almost chokes on his tongue.
Strong hands latch onto his ankles, pinning his bucking legs to the grass, while Twilight’s grip becomes an iron vice trapping Wild against his chest. Why they even think he’s capable of shoving them all away to make the pain stop, Wild doesn’t know. His wheezing, broken attempts at begging achieve nothing either, though that might be more because he can’t remember how to make his mouth form words anymore.
The agony spikes, now so unbearable he can barely even breathe, oh Hylia let him die already please, and—
A hand cradles his cheek, tapping a gentle rhythm against his jaw. The pain has died down the tiniest bit but Wild still has to claw his way out of the fog stuffing his head full. There’s a disorientating gap missing, a chunk of time ripped out of his memories, but he’s too tired to care.
He manages to pry his eyes open and stares up at Twilight’s pale, scared face. Sky, Time and Warriors are all standing above them, faces drawn and stern. For the first time, they actually look scared. Huh, bodes well.
Twilight is the one who tries to smile this time, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Hey, there you are.” He adjusts his grip, cradling Wild’s neck in the crook of his elbow. “I’m getting you outta here, cub, okay? But you gotta stay awake. No matter what, you gotta keep those eyes open. Can you do that for me?”
His voice is raw and terrified in a way that hurts so much more than the wound yawning open in Wild’s stomach, and Wild would give anything to never hear that tone come out of Twilight’s mouth ever again. He swallows nothing but air and parts his lips, but all that comes out in the end is a pathetic, “’ll be ‘kay. Pr’mise.”
What a paltry reassurance, but it’s all Wild has, all he can possibly think to say. There is no way to put just how much he trusts Twilight into words—he’s tried so many times and it never comes out sounding right or enough.
But strangely, Twilight’s expression shifts into one of fury, lip curling up and nostrils flaring.
“You don’t have Mipha, Wild!” He snarls.
It would’ve been kinder if he had just stabbed Wild honestly.
Wild’s lungs aren’t working enough for him to suck in a breath. Is that… does Twilight really think that? Really think he did what he did just to end up here on the ground in agony? In his bones, Wild has no doubt the answer is no because Twilight does know this was a mistake but… but the other heroes probably don’t.
Against his better judgement, his eyes flick upwards to land on the ring of stern faces above him. Warriors’ brows have drawn together, Time’s jaw is clenched and his shoulders are squared, and Sky is gripping the Master Sword tight, refusing to meet Wild’s gaze.
They don’t speak but they don’t have to. Those expressions say everything he needs to know: Twilight may not believe he was being impulsive but the other heroes certainly do.
Oh. Okay then.
Ever since he met the rest of the heroes, his journey had been a lot of sharp looks and annoyed, exasperated lectures about how he keeps missing orders that no one ever actually gives him. No matter how hard he tries to do what they say and adjusts how he behaves to fit into what they want, he always falls short. He is always found wanting.
Every single week, he has prayed that maybe Warriors and Time and all the other heroes will see past the reckless, impulsive person they all assume he is. Maybe they will even stop wanting the knight suffocating under the weight of a Kingdom placed on his shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, they will finally see him for him because hasn’t he done that enough? Has he not performed his duty and shut his mouth and carried the Sword just like the King wanted? How is he still not good enough for them?
Now, as he looks up at the disappointment and frustration on their faces, his wish to be seen as Link instead of the silent knight they clearly want him to be finally shatters into pieces. Whatever hope there had been that someone else other than just Twilight would realise this was an accident, a mistake, and that Wild didn’t want to be bleeding out any more than they want him to withers on the spot.
His heart sinks in resignation and finally heavy acceptance wraps itself around his throat like a noose. Tears prick his eyes.
“Cub, I…” Rage vanishing, Twilight grimaces but but Wild has already packed the hurt away into a little box, shoved it far down into his gut, and forced his face to smooth over. The silent knight he shall be, then. If that is what they want, he can do it again.
There’s a second where Twilight watches him, clearly weighing up whether to apologise now, but in the end he swallows those words back too, thank Naydra. He sucks in a sharp breath and then looks up at Time. “Okay, we’re ready.”
Most of what happens next blurs together, lost to yet more unrelenting agony. After Twilight swings into Epona’s saddle, Time and Warriors try to lift Wild up in front of him as carefully as possible but it still hurts, still makes him cry out. Twilight does his best to make him comfortable, tucking his head under his chin and securing an arm around his heavily bandaged waist, but he still has to apply pressure to the wound. They haven’t even started moving yet and already Wild wants to break his promise to Twilight.
Losing consciousness has never been so tempting, but he swore he wouldn’t.
Warriors pats his knee once, leaving a bloody handprint against his trousers, and looks at Twilight. “We’ll find you when we’ve finished.”
“Ride safe.” Sky adds in warning as he squeezes Wild’s limp hand.
Time gives no goodbye. His touch lingers on Wild’s arm and Twilight’s hip. “Go,” he orders and there’s something in his voice that feels almost warm. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Twilight nods once, a sharp jerk that drags his chin against Wild’s scalp, and then Epona takes off like an arrow, flying through the trees. It hurts. Keening, Wild grabs onto the arm Twilight has around his waist and feels Twilight tremble in response.
“I know, cub.” He murmurs against Wild’s brow. “Just stay with me, okay? That’s all you’ve gotta do, just stay with me.”
And for now, no matter how badly he wants to slip into blissful unconsciousness, Wild can do that. For Twilight, he can try.