Please Handle Your Sheikah Slate With Care - janazza (2024)

Chapter 1: History and an Encounter

Chapter Text

A pretty voice called . . . something. He thought it was . . . maybe a name. It didn’t stop.

“Open your eyes,” it said, and stubbornly repeated until lashes fluttered and he saw blue. It shimmered like . . . It was slow going, but like water, something in him supplied. It glowed like lights and he had water draining from his ears and a chill raking across a body. His body.

Pudgy fingers that could bend gripped the side of the . . . basin? Coffin? Box? Storage unit? He didn’t know what some of those words meant at first, but he pulled himself up with skin tingling as feeling rushed to the bone. Blues and browns and dark and lights. This was annoying. He was cold, and his skin itched. The voice kept talking even as he wriggled his tiny toes and pulled himself to the edge of the basin. He plopped to the floor and nearly lost his balance. It was further than he expected and he stood, unsure, cold and shivering.

But the lady (?) pointed out the stone in the corner of the room with the funny looking eye on its back, and it seemed to be its own light source but different from . . . actually, he had nothing to compare it to.

Sheikah slate. Important.

The Lady said it would help him, and he didn’t understand why. But there were clothes in a chest too big for his frame and shoes that rubbed his heels, and there ahead was light not blue but pale and warm, not like the cold room and the basin.

Then he was free, with miles and miles of greens and cloudless skies, and his mind slowly supplemented names to things the more he concentrated. He did not look back to the room with the basin.

The Old Man pointed to the slate and it’s many screens, or something. Files and entries like a diary, but they existed only in the little rectangular space of the stone box. But he could do magic. Apples dissipated into sparkles just to reappear at the touch of a button. Metals moved at his will, and time could even stop on an object, like it existed on a plane incomprehensible to laws.

The Old Man held his hand, so large compared to his own, and told him he was sorry for what he’d done though Link didn't understand. He told him to find a village in the mountains and Lady Impa would guide him. Maybe she was the voice in his head.

She wasn’t, but she was very nice. Considering the guards outside tried to send him off to play with the other children until spotting the slate at his hip, he started to like her the most and the plate of honey buns between them that were quickly devoured. Of course, at the sight of him, she refused to guide him anywhere and pushed him right back out the door and into the hands of one of the guards.

Dorian was his name, and he had two daughters just a little younger than him he wanted Link to meet once he finished his business with Miss Impa, and he marched Link to the inn’s bathhouse with a calming hand on his back. It reminded him of the basin, and he stood with unyielding feet in front of the tub, unsure what he did wrong to be put back in one. Dorian knelt beside him with fingers soothing shapes into his back, careful and knowing, and all too knowing because he was an adult. That’s what Brigo said. Adults knew everything.

They switched to a steaming bucket and cloth, with little glass bottles of colored liquids poured over hair that Hestu said was just like a bird’s nest. Dorian only paused when he first removed the ratty shirt, and the pinkish skin winding down his torso stood out starkly from his pale skin. The wound from a monster’s arrow he couldn’t outrun looked gross and needed to be cleaned. Twigs and knots did not come out easy, but Dorian was a patient man that spoke of his daughters playing in the forest in their search for fairies. It almost put him to sleep if not for his grumbling stomach.

By nightfall, with the grime removed from between his toes and and the cotton bed clothes Dorian offered soft against skin flushed with warmth, and something sweet clinging to his long, untangled hair, he sat in front of the old woman with the eye matching the Sheikah slate on her forehead with a blanket over his lap. He ate everything she put in front of him. The stablehand that took pity on him was no chef, and these cheese and jams were divine. He licked his fingers clean, savoring the butter from the breads stuck to them. In the afterglow, sleep felt so near. It was the first time since getting out of the basin that he didn’t worry of monsters finding him unaware. Waking up once about to be put over a fire was one too many.

That was, until she told a story of fates and history and futures so far out of reach of his arm span, beyond the magic of the Sheikah slate but all revolving around him and a hundred years.

“Link,” she’d said, using the name the voice and the Old Man used. “You were too young for the task given to you, and much is still the case. I’m sorry.”

He was supposed to beat a monster, something that burned down his home, his kingdom, and stole his life once. How could doing the same thing over again yield different results? Impa told him he hadn’t even finished a year of knight training when he fell.

She searched his face. “But I have an idea. It is not a kind one, but I hope you will come to understand.” She sat straight despite her age, and her smile was pained. “My dear sister has been hoping to meet you. I think you’d like her, but she was afraid she would not last long enough to get to see you and dabbled in technology beyond our comprehension. . . I believe her research is the key to defeating Calamity Ganon. When you are ready,” she said, setting forth a simple bundle of twine tethered clothes, “this is for you.”

He did not go alone even though he wanted to. Instead, Dorian kissed his daughters' foreheads in goodbye and waved for Link to follow close, and the two made their journey to Hateno. Link was curious and liked to ask questions, and the man was patient and answered only if he could teach Link to cook. Shame that he nearly gave the man a heart attack at every turn, disappearing or jumping straight into monster camps because he’d never seen a new spear and Miss Fairy Lady said she needed Moblin teeth to strengthen his new boots.

Hateno was large yet peaceful, and Purah was nothing like the soft bustling of the town. For one, she was shorter than even Link and energy barely contained in the lab’s walls. It was contagious. And the solution meant to give him the edge he never had before was a rune loaded onto his slate.

The first time he tested it, while Purah and her assistant held ink and paper at the ready, a flash of pale blue overtook him for only a moment and he nearly brought back up the breakfast Dorian made. His head spun like it sometimes did when he teleported when dimensions were strange and his hands felts like fragments of a dream. Then he noticed how far his eyes were from the ground, how his limbs stretched, the clothes unable to expand with him and taut against his skin— and just how short Purah was. He was almost Dorian’s height.

Dorian stared back. “The best your technology can do is, what, age eighteen?”

“Hey, you try calibrating time without tearing a hole in the timeline!”

“Timeline—?”

“Purah.”

He didn’t recognize his own voice. It was deeper but still scratched where the scars ran down his throat.

“This is awesome!”

He may not know everything, but he had a body that could swing a claymore, pull back the Rito’s finest bows, and the coordination to dodge a guardian’s light.

Except, however, the following day when in the middle of meeting a red Zora prince and his kingly father, the slate beeped annoyingly until light overtook his vision, and the Zora that already stood taller than him suddenly towered.

The incantation had a time limit.

And it turned out Mipha used to babysit him and Sidon.

Being older had its perks. People took him seriously when he set his rupees on the table, and there was no “baby voice” coating their spouts of caution that a wild child somehow climbed the Hebra Mountains by himself (because, yes, he did. Now please let him try this snowling game).

But sometimes being a kid had its own bonuses because most vendors gave him discounts and maybe candy to snack on later. Sometimes he got a nice meal out of it.

But really, it was just sad none of those men could cook.

One was blonde with an odd strip of pink in his hair kept grumbling in a dramatic whisper. He dressed weird, too. “You serious? Kid would be better off starving to death than eating this!”

“Look at him,” whispered one dressed even weirder, and are those tattoos on his face? “He’s been here half the day and not a parent in sight.”

“Twi, I swear to Hylia.” This one wore armor but a scarf over it. Did he know every monster in a mile proximity would think him easy game? “If he throws up, I don’t know you.”

Then another joined in, and their mock whispers grew in volume as more joined the fray. Link sat under a tree far away from whatever they were concocting in the stable's pot dabbling with the slate to check his stock. Zelda asked if he could bring her scrolls from Robbie, and he would once he checked out a few things.

Though it was over, and things had quieted down, not all was well. Zelda, a young woman older than him by a few years, had a kingdom that had a hundred years to not be a kingdom,. A monarch that failed their parents and grandparents suddenly popping up wasn’t a pretty picture, especially when many still blamed the late king. Throw some political jargon in the mix, and Link tuned out pretty early. But the people were frustrated, for it seemed destroying a roaring beast the size of the castle wasn’t enough. Monsters grew more daring by the day, the Blood Moons mostly regular, and a Gerudo guard swore that a monster bled black—

“Hey.”

Link looked up from his slate to fluffy brown hair and a bright red apple under his nose.

“You hungry?”

He sat with his legs crossed right in front of him, and Link hadn’t even noticed. His tunic was a forest green, that’s why, he told himself. Nonetheless, the young man still held the apple, and his smile turned sheepish.

“Ah, sorry. I just saw you were by yourself, and thought maybe you didn’t have any money.” His eyes drifted to the left side of his—

Oh, he probably noticed the scars under his hood by then. He took the apple. “Thanks.”

He expected the guy to leave. His words brought a smile to the brunette’s face back in full force. “I’m Hyrule, by the way.”

Link quirked an eyebrow. “Your parents named you after the kingdom?”

Then came that sheepish look again, this time with an awkward scratch to his neck. “Actually, it’s a nickname. You can call me ‘Rulie if it helps. . . Is there anyone here with you?”

“Nah,” he answered before taking a bite from the offered apple. He wasn’t going to point out the twenty-eight other apples in his inventory. “Just waiting for any news to come in.”

“I see. What’s your name?”

“Link.”

Ah, he should really be more careful who he gave his name out to, because ‘Rulie’s mouth opened like a guppy and brows furrowing as if he just witnessed Link grow hooves and a mane. Usually, if friendly Hylians knew that name, they had a story to tell, like how a mature Link saved them from monsters or climbed the divine beast, or maybe how teen Link road a rock like a mythical loftwing through the air just so he could be first in line to buy arrows off of Fyson. There were only a handful who knew both forms to be him outside of the Sheikah, and most of those were people who knew him a hundred years ago. Others were accidents, like Beedle and mentioning something that young Link requested while standing in front of him with the rune’s magic in place. He took it pretty well, though, and didn’t scold him for trying to use his younger form to haggle for better prices.

“Oh, okay, cool. It’s a—uh, nice name.”

No, those who were silent or waved it off like that were dangerous.

The apple wasn’t bitter, and the guy obviously didn’t know it was him until he said his name. It was safe. But since when were Yiga so bold to travel into stables, especially with those numbers?

Eight. Eight Yiga would be staying under the stable’s roof.

What’s the worst that could happen?

Time had his head down kneading his temples for the oncoming headache when someone obnoxiously tapped at his shoulder too insistent after such a long day. This was the first settlement they’d seen after a full day and half of travel, and honestly? The luxury bed was starting to sound very appealing.

“Time, Time, I think we have a problem.”

“Not now.”

“No, Time.” Hyrule leaned in close. “I think we just found another Link.”

The others, deafened by their own arguing, didn’t see the older man lift his head and follow Hyrule’s finger to the lone figure beneath a tree. He waited, expecting someone to come forward from the path or out of the forest, only to see the small figure wrapped in a cloak more fitting to be a blanket stand up.

“He called himself Link.”

That can’t be . . . “The child?”

“He looks like he’s maybe ten? But there’s . . . ” Hyrule trailed off. “He’s seen battle.”

Those were dark words even among them and he looked out towards the edge of the stable. The kid was just a small bundle of limbs from a distance, not a soldier like Warrior or smothered in gold rings like Legend. It was. . . it was a shock to the system. This was the kid the rest were fighting over whether to feed something likely poisoned or leave them be. Speaking of, he thought as he boxed those thoughts away for now, “All of you, listen up. Change of plans.”

The fight dwindled and all eyes turned to him.

“Seems we found . . . another one.” He nodded his head in the boy’s direction, except—

“He’s gone!” Shouted Hyrule.

“Who’s gone?” asked Wind, twisting in his seat at the fire. “Hey, the kid’s gone!”

“That was Link!”

“What do you— Oh, sh*t. No way. He’s tiny!”

Four had already pulled his sword back over his shoulder. “Height doesn’t make you a hero! Hurry up!” He was probably remembering how they lost Legend almost instantly after explaining their quest, the young man claiming he swore off adventures until next year at least. While it was funny in the moment, the implications hurt, especially considering how the next hero happened to be Wind and far too young. And now . . .

Yah, they were definitely Yiga. Sitting up in his tree just out of sight, voices bumbled below him.

“Where’d he go?”

“Why is a little kid wandering around in the forest alone anyway?”

“Do we split up?”

Interesting, interesting. At least this meant they wouldn’t be attacking the stable tonight. He scrolled through the slate lazily debating between swords when the oldest sounded off. Groups of two. Easy pickings. The tall ones probably had wind cleavers, so he would go for the smaller first.

Before climbing down, he let the rune take over him, shifting himself years older and able to execute his little plan, and he switched to something quieter. The Sheikah were masters in stealth and their seamstress experts in their craft. He dropped silently from the tree.

The one called ‘Rulie went off with the patchwork square wearing Yiga, the shortest, and the former cupped his hands around his mouth to shout, “Link!”

He counted impatiently for a full two minutes before stalking after, creeping silently around fallen leaves and knotted tree roots. For assassins, they were loud, but that could all be a part of the act. Nonetheless, they were easy pickings.

“Link! Come on back, Link!”

Climbing over a fallen log, Four felt that they were going about this too slow. He hoped Twi would just shift and track the kid’s scent so they could get awkward introductions over with. He remembered his own vividly and the peculiar stares that a seemingly young teen had his own smithing business. He didn’t think any of them believed his age anyway. “You think this Link is just short?” he voiced.

Hyrule uncupped his mouth, waiting for a response that never came. “No. That was baby fat and . . . “ Trailing off, he turned to say something else only to suddenly go bug eye and launch straight into Four. “Duck!”

At impact, he gasped as the air was knocked from him right as the shadow of the fallen log they’d just left behind passed over them. It bounced against the forest floor while Hyrule drew his sword.

“Show yourself!” What kind of monster could just chuck a giant log like that?

Barely catching the glint of metal in the day’s dying light, Hyrule caught the metal boomerang on his sword, and it clattered against the grass. Yet it was thanks to Four’s shield that the arrow didn’t imbed into his thigh, except for the fact it was electric. The shield flung from his spasming hands just as a dark figure raced forward.

And in the soundless forest, its birds long since taking flight and critters burrowing, swords grazed. Hyrule could barely brace the monster’s momentum and the thing knew it because while he rooted his feet to keep balance, it used it’s force to spin to bring the blade once more and this time aiming lower.

Yet Hyrule wasn’t foreign to surprise attacks and the words of the incantation slipped from his tongue with ease. The magic seeped from him, concentrating in his sword in only milliseconds before the sword was swallowed in flames. The monster had to abandon his attack to avoid the choking heat.

It was then he got a good look at their monster that wasn’t such a monster. Blonde hair held in a bun, body wrapped in shadow silks, only his eyes were visible, and they demanded blood. What kind of magic did they have to launch a log at them? Was it just strength? They had yet to see Hylians infected by the black blood, but . . .

“Who are you?” demanded Four.

The being only stared back with his weapon at the ready before rushing forward. Swords clashed, the attacker fierce in their heavy swings that glanced off of Four’s shield nearly knocking the smith over each time. He fought in a style Hyrule had never faced, a mix of something he’d seen from Warrior but bits that reminded him of himself and something else. It was dirty. So dirty that when a strike should have nicked his sword arm, the blade bounced off a golden barrier.

It dissipated just as the being swung down at the recovering Hyrule only for a small body to barrel into their side.

Four may be small, but he fought viciously, yet the size difference was too much. They rolled until Four was flush with the ground, a blade at this throat and the being barely panting.

Shouldn’t the Yiga have revealed themselves by now? Before him sat a young man, maybe boy too young indoctrinated into their cult, with eyes wide yet teeth gritted in defiance.

The next reaction was instinct, like the hairs rising on the back of his neck and a sense of dread that told him to move, and Link jumped back before the beast’s teeth could sink into skin. Link kept crouched, listened to how the latest obstacle growled with lips drawn back to show what could have ripped his arm off: A wolf, dark and larger than any he’d seen in the wild. Since when did the Yiga tame beasts?

It must be tainted like the black blooded moblins.

It growled and Link raised his sword.

As he adjusted for the latest to enter the small clearing, the soldier with the blue scarf too joined from the side. “Enough of this, stand down.” Link stepped back as he approached.

More joined, and Wild backed up until a blade appeared just before his shoulder, heavy and perfect for beheading. It was the leader’s. “Enough,” said the sword holder.

Awesome, yah, okay. His palm had already been over the slate, and with practiced fingers his world turned to nothing only to reform to more wild forest and song birds.

Rubbing his throat, he jumped off the shrine's pedestal then ran quickly as night drew near and only slowed to peer over a cliff side. Just through the trees he spotted them, still in the clearing and surveying their surroundings for him with swords still drawn. This time they didn’t separate.

He had to give them credit: they were strong and quick. He failed to lay a single injury on them. Was that why they didn’t reveal themselves as Yiga? Something was wrong. With the black blooded moblins and rumors about, Link feared what was to come.

. . . He would keep an eye on them. For now, he would watch, let the adrenaline develop into shaking limbs and carefully soothing the throat still intact. We would let the rune recharge until they showed themselves to be a threat. It was going to be a long night.

So apparently this land gets their news from word of mouth between travelers and Traysi’s Rumor Mill. Small poster boards rested inside stables with warnings and letters needing to be carried to other stables and towns with no official crest or postmen in sight. To be frank, Twilight was starting to believe these towns don’t exist.

Rumor Mill claimed something was wrong with the woods in the area. Beasts screamed in the night like howling wolves and squealing pigs. It was like they were gathering, swarming and festering. Travel with caution until the hero clears them out, it said. It’s why they headed in this direction anyway before they ran into that young Link.

The stablehand was a matured man that leaned against his counter almost bored. “Indeed, there’s been growing numbers. You can hear them through the night trashing up the forest. It’s annoying.” His face said it all. The stable itself still seemed to bustle like the other one the heroes had stayed in nights before. The only difference was the growing presence of weapons on travelers’ backs and hips. Twilight figured they were maybe gearing up to start an assault. A few looked like the mercenary type. “I sent word across the stables to send Link my way to handle it. He should be here any day to deal with it.”

The boys were silent, their curiosity bitten. Twilight looked to his mentor to see they shared the same stony glare. But where Twilight was heated and sickened, Time was cool. Time hardly showed anger, hardly reacted to much, if he was honest and laughed off things that should hurt. But now, Time’s smile did not reach his eyes. “That won’t be necessary.” It was monotone but a promise, and the stablehand quirked an eyebrow. “We don’t mind completing coward’s errands. Come along.” A hand gripped the youngests’ shoulders to twirl them around and directly into the forest with the rest of them, the others eyeing each other with a mix of shock and anger before following

Only Sky held his gaze with the stablehand. The words were slow but harsh. “You should be ashamed of yourself.” Twilight couldn’t agree more, but now wasn’t the time. They had an appointment with whatever hid in that forest. Their divine mission was these beasts, and this was for the better. Let a boy left hungry under a tree have someone else handle it for a change. The stablehand only watched bewildered as eight (mostly) young men took these monsters on their own. The stablehand hadn't even lifted his head, still casually bored and perhaps thinking they'd already been defeated.

Link was never the type to leave a stone unturned. So while the Yiga seemed to be chatting up the travelers at the stable (they hadn't attacked the previous stable, so they must be working towards something else), Link figured he could check out the forest the other traveler’s he’d spoken to had mentioned.

The Faron woods were quiet these days up until now. Link figured that with the spring of courage so close that the monsters were repelled by it, perhaps, yet rumors said otherwise.

Just inside the path of winding Zonai ruins were dozing bokoblins on watch and arrows found their marks easily. Silence in a forest was never welcome. It meant the wildlife knew something you didn’t, and Link had learnt that the hard way many times. He kept the bow he nicked off a Yiga at the ready as he crept silently in the Sheikah armor just in case. Monsters were not unknown to ambush, and what is there to ambush when they didn’t know you were there? Another arrow to a scout.

The ground was slick from rainfall, but it’s to be expected from the tropical forest. Trees hung like canopies and the air remained thick with perspiration. He should think of charming his regular boots with silencing gems and fibers to avoid any slips. The Sheikah armor at least kept him from overheating.

He took refuge up high to overlook the first camp and counted.

. . . There were more than he thought there’d be. It’s a swarm. Fire barrels stood at the edges maneuvered by blins directed by the largest. Never had he seen them so organized, and he figured they must be planning something. After all, to be at this number just a mile out from the spring of courage. . .

The woods were slightly valleyed with some clearings but tended to be like bowls dipping low. Link had ideas. This many and with the recent rainfall would be difficult but at the same time become an environmental advantage. He counted his electric arrows just as a party of eight entered the woods.

Wind would have slipped flat on his back if not for Warrior’s steadying hand. Beneath his breath, Warrior swore he said, “And they wanted to throw a kid out here.”

The captain smiled, though it came out more like a grimace. “You’re not much an adult yourself.”

“Yah, but I can at least hold my sword.” He shrugged off the hand and walked ahead next to Time. It seemed none of them were taking the day’s information well. First they learn Link was probably just a small child based off Hyrule’s interaction, then it turned out this era’s Hylians didn’t mind sitting back and having a little kid deal with hoards by themselves. It was a little too close to home for Warrior, but at least he had fellow soldiers to fall back on, and he didn’t see war until he turned sixteen. The youngest in his regime were fourteen and picked out of desperation.

Were these people that desperate? Maybe. But he could smell the baking pies just inside that stable.

The entourage paused at Time’s raised fist, a sign of halt. Wind looked back and mouthed the word “camp.”

Creeping forward, he saw it. Really, he should have heard it before now. Dragging hooves and stomping feet, the monsters were familiar and not. Wind pointed out bokoblins and their size and color. “They don’t grow to that big right?”

If they did, then this land’s moblins outweigh all of theirs, but they were likely infected. Warrior turned to Time. “We need a plan or we’ll be overrun.”

The older man nodded, surveying the monsters crowding around fires with meat roasting. They were relaxed, unsuspecting, but there were many, many monsters, and he didn’t think they stopped in this one valleyed clearing. “First we—”

Not one, but two explosions cut off Time’s next words, and the cries of monsters stopped him from trying to continue.

Another went off just to the left of their position, and the heroes turned away from the heat. Monsters started to take notice of the eight figures at the trail’s edge by then and gave out war cries. Swords drawn, Legend sighed deeply. “Since when do plans ever go our way, anyway?”

They bolted forward.

Though the bokoblins growled and swung spiked clubs and sharp lances, their dark blood still spilled. Warrior countered attack after attack, pivoting just right to avoid lances through the abdomen and clubs to his scalp.

Then the hairs on his head felt weightless for just a moment, something in the air catching his attention before Hyrule and Legend screamed out for them to move. The latter shoved into Warrior’s back, nearly knocking them to the ground when the clearing flashed with light followed by a thunderous clap. The lightning left the smell of ozone and cooked meat.

Eyes turned to the dropping blins until only a single being stood at the center of the lightning’s radius.

And Warrior recognized him instantly. Really, this assassin had no care for his allies?

Link cursed beneath the Sheikah mask.

It seemed the Yiga and monsters were working together, as the eight Hylians stood before him once more. He couldn’t take them on, but he had a mission: he needed to know what they were planning.

So despite how the blue scarfed one held his sword to him in taunt, Link’s fingers easily danced over the slate still hooked at his waist until a blue glowing sphere appeared in his palm. Most beings knew to get out of its way, but the eight seemed unperturbed. Fine. Follow him if they liked. He dropped it at his feet and booked it deeper into the woods.

“Stop!”

He didn’t look back when he detonated the bomb and sighed in relief at their shouts. That should slow them down. Monsters were closing in, he realized. They were everywhere, and his bow found their place swiftly, but his efficiency at the ground floor didn't compare to if he'd still been up above. Puddles of muddy water took up most of the path nearly tripped him at every turn. Arrows of both ice and fire barely missed his feet, but he couldn’t stop.

He turned another corner when—

That wasn’t supposed to be there.

A lizalfos kicked the Hinox’s side, and the giant’s one eye opened instantly. Dammit, Hylia.

There were so many, but he could do this. Just pick off the little guys first before the Hinox, if you could call the overgrown Moblin tiny. He jumped back from the Lizalfo’s pounce and weaved between bokoblins, his strikes with his sword precise, but nonstop movement was making him breathe heavily. He pulled up a wooden shield just before an arrow could imbed in his shoulder, but at the fire arrow, he had to let go when flames engulfed it. Daruk’s shield took the brunt of a Lizalfo’s swing just as a bokoblin jabbed it with a spear. Link tried to figure who to attack first when the shield shattered beneath the Moblin’s club.

Thus there was nothing stopping the electric arrow that pierced his leg or the shocks that wracked his body, the sword flinging from his hands. It also meant he could not dodge the Moblin’s swipe. Instead he went rolling, falling straight into the muddied puddle. Senses blurred until coming in sickenly crisp. As a shadow encompassed him, he barrel rolled, barely dodging the Hinox’s stomp, and he scrambled to his feet and away from its grasping fingers.

Link just had to get some distance between them. It was fine. There was still another few hours left on the aging rune, and this body knew how to get the upperhand. Or he could try to run forward to find whoever had planned this, but if he didn’t handle it now, the stable—

His thoughts and feet suddenly no longer understood themselves, and he went tumbling.

He looked up, realizing instantly that he was lower to the ground than he should be, that his arms and legs didn’t reach through the entire Sheikah uniform, and he patted at his hip frantically to realize the slate no longer sat hooked to his waist. Did he drop it?

Link jumped to his feet only to be tripped by his own clothes while the stomping Hinox was getting closer. He wriggled like a feral animal trapped beneath a sheet until he was just in the spandex underpants, leaving the soiled clothes to be trampled by the Red Hinox’s feet and be lost to the mud. He ran with legs too short. Where’s the slate?

He tried to circle around, but without a weapon, the bokoblins and lizalfos realized the easy pickings before them. sh*t, sh*t, sh*t. He pivoted and booked it for the trees, tripping on winding roots and slippery grass. He was still barefoot and an arrow’s wound at his right calf. He wouldn’t make it.

He glanced every which way, looking for any escape only to see a fallen hollowed log. He slid into it, crouching and breathing heavily. Please, come on, just pass him already!

Link’s heart raced a mile a minute as thundering steps drew closer, monsters of all sizes searching for his scent, and he could only hope the mud would mask their senses. He just needed them to pass, and he could make a run towards the muddied puddles he fell in to search for the slate. He could still win. He just needed the slate.

But since when did he ever have lady luck on his side? A pudgy clawed hand grasped wildly in front of him, and he crawled back away from it’s sharp talons only for something to clasp his ankle.

Link cried out as he was pulled from the log, his world whirling and upside down as the beasts cheered at their catch. He could feel the monster’s hot ugly breath as it sniffed him, and Link smacked the snout as soon as it was in reach. It did little to deter it. Breathing heavily at the weight of the situation, Link’s mind ran scenario after scenario.

Not here, not now. Not after everything. He aimed again for the moblin’s stupid face only to receive a heaping laugh. His arms couldn’t reach, his injured leg couldn’t kick. Hair kept getting in his eyes that were starting to blur. Link wasn’t one to cry, but it was hard in this form to control it. He swung his arms madly and shouted, “Put me down!”

Then it did, and Link feared from such a drop at this size and angle the pain that would surly leave him seeing stars.

But it never came, instead arms gripped him, and an ominous thud sounded the moblin’s death.

He wriggled in their grasp, shouting to be let go, the adrenaline painful for his chest and the air he couldn’t catch. Link didn’t see how more monsters fell to arrows and swords until he realized the source of his captor.

“It’s okay,” they kept saying.

‘Rulie. Hyrule.

He still held Link to their chest with his chin against muddy hair. It was only when he saw the pink haired one’s arrow sink into the Hinox’s eye that he stopped fighting him. The one with the face tattoos was fast, coming in to strike the soft flesh of its legs and jump away before it could catch him. The soldier with the scarf simply smited its hand like a bored god with the fire rod he held, the giant beast flinching back and waving its hand from the pain just as an arrow found its throat, then another.

The Hinox fell forward from the pain, on its knees, and it’s fat stomach the perfect height for the leader and their claymore.

Link looked away, pressing into the chest that continued to recite reassurances. It grew quiet except for heavy breaths and his sniffling. It was over. The worst possible scenario was over— ha! — not that it could get worse. He actually laughed at himself because what could be worse? In his underwear covered in mud consoled by the same young man he thought was planning to kill him. That he almost killed with the bomb.

When a new hand rested on his shoulder, he flinched.

It lifted quickly, and the voice was younger than he expected. “Hey, you okay?”

Link turned his head to see the one in the blue tunic, spotting the bandages around the young boy’s head. Those weren’t there earlier.

Tears welled up again. He was so stupid.

The hand returned to his shoulder as he wiped his runny nose. What would Zelda have thought if he never returned? The men were starting to gather around him when he finally could breathe normally. Each were so strong, it was incredible. They all held their own with ease, much like his older self, but even he couldn’t beat them before. Around him were saddened faces. One with a red sash around his stomach weakly smiled, guiding his sword to its sheath—

No, no, no.

Hyrule, not expecting it, failed to stop him from pushing away from his chest and jumping to his feet even with the injured leg, because before Link held in the strangers hands was none other than the sword that should be stored away in the slate.

“Where is it!?”

“Whoa, kid, you shouldn’t be walking-”

“Did he hit his head?”

“No, I caught him—”

“Where’s my slate!? Give me back my sword!”

Something seemed to dawn on their faces then, the leader and the Master Sword stealer sharing a look. The leader said, “We have much to explain, little one.”

“Where’s my slate?” he demanded.

“What’s he talking about?” the short one asked, which was a stupid question.

Hyrule must have gotten up. “Do you— is the slate that stone thing you had the other day?”

“Duh! Where is it?” He backed up when Hyrule tried to approached. Unarmed and young, Link was nothing more than a hissing cat.

The young man grimaced. “Okay. Umm, I saw it, but it’s not pretty. . . I’m sorry.”

“Where?”

“It was in the mud, but — hey! You shouldn’t run with your leg like that!”

He didn’t care. They had the sword. They had the sword, and they were being weird. This wasn’t safe, and he needed to get big again so he can hand their asses to them. The barbarian armor would be enough, and though they knew about his bombs, they were in for a surprise when he used his other runes—

He stopped.

The Sheikah slate came in sight, and the ill feeling in his stomach grew in weight. Link hobbled forward to the muddy ground where he fell earlier and picked up the remains of the slate.

It’s screen flickered but nothing showed except the webbing cracks. Not just anything could break it. More than once it’d taken a blade to its screen and remained intact. The hinox . . .

He hated tiny form sometimes, because he felt strongly and too much when it wasn’t the right time, when his almost killers and maybe captors were looking at him but the one thing that’s been with him since Link woke up sat heavy in his hands cracked and unresponsive and —

He hiccupped. Damnit. He was crying again.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, kid.” It was Hyrule that said that but the one with tattoos kneeled beside him to rub his upper back like Dorian. When did he get so close? He tried to turn away to hide how puffy his eyes were getting. The survivalist in him said to pull away before those soothing touches turned to claws or blades, but what was the point?

It wasn’t . . .

He wasn't . . .

“We’ll—” one said, looking around him at the other men. “We’ll fix it.”

He paused. Why? Weren’t they going to kidnap him? Take him to their real leader? If they weren’t Yiga, who were they? Link was starting to think there was a lot he was missing. The red sash wearer still held the Master Sword.

A thwack to the back of the speaker’s head seemed to say otherwise. A whisper warned, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

But he was right . . . Maybe Purah and Robbie could. Funny how on instinct Link meant to open the map, except the screen was dark and cracked. Miss Purah was on the other side of Hyrule . . . But what other choice did he have?

Fine. He nodded to himself with his mind made up, bringing the slate to his chest.

Then he glared at them. “Give me back the Master Sword.”

Apparently it wasn’t very threatening because the one with the pink stripe poorly hid his laugh in a cough.

“It’s not yours.”

“About that, Link,” said the sword stealer, kneeling down to his height, “there is much you don’t know. Will you listen to a story?”

“Should we make camp?” asked the blue tunic one.

The leader shook his head. “Too many monsters. We’ll bandage and return to the stable. That includes you, little one."

No, no they wouldn’t. But they weren’t trying to kill him or tie his hands back. He didn’t trust them. Few learned to raise a blade at their skill level, and to never have heard of them was daunting, an omen. However, they currently weren’t going to kill him, so he would take his wins where he could.

He sighed too deeply for his real age. “Fine.” Hands guided him away from the mudpit that he smacked away, the slate gripped against his chest, and soon he was settled on a large rock while Hyrule took a look at his leg, a water skin at his side to wash away the blood and mud.

“Do you have any clothes?”

“Ya—” he started only to cut off. The slate was brittle in his uncoordinated hands. “Not anymore.” He grit his teeth, and pressed his chin against his chest to avoid their gazes. Not only was he stranded, the map inaccessible, he couldn’t even clothe himself. What kind of hero—?

The one with tattoos was very close, leaning down to catch his eyes. “Here,” he said, offering a simple white tunic. Behind him, Link noticed the one with the colorful tunic resetting his belt and his arms bare. This is . . . strange. He took the undertunic warily as Hyrule held out a red vial.

“Drink this. It’ll help with the pain.”

Hmm, no that looked like poison. “I’m good.”

Apparently ‘Rulie didn’t expect that and startled slightly. “I mean, I know they don’t taste great, but you need something for your leg.”

Link only stared back.

Slight panic crept to his face until he looked over to the tattooed man to take over. “You’re hurt.”

Link grit his teeth, waiting for them to try to pry his mouth open. If he had access to the slate, he could fix himself up no problem, but that wasn’t an option, and these men . . . They might not be Yiga, but they weren’t trustworthy, yet. A sleeping potion could make him easy cargo, not that he wasn't already being a child.

The man sighed. The cork had already been pulled for him and the man brought it to his own lips and sipped, swallowing a quarter of it. Then they waited, watching each other and for side effects. There were none, and the man held out the vial once more. Link took it and sipped slowly. Gross, but not bitter.

Once he pulled the white tunic over his head — it reached past his knees and his feet's only cover was someone's unwashed socks — the one with the red sash smiled at him. “We should walk and talk. These woods don’t seem too safe right now. I’m Sky, by the way.”

“We could use a cleaning, too,” agreed the blue scarfed one. It was now he noticed the mud that coated the remains of it, about a foot a two missing from the length he remembered. Seemed like a monster took advantage like Link figured, not that he looked any better. His hair clumped from the mud and dirtied the white tunic.

“It’s a long way back to the stable.”

No, no. Link needed to get to Purah. She could fix this. Looking at the group of men, he worked his jaw before deciding to test them. He was on his feet, though shaky, in seconds.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

“Go away.”

“Wait, Link! We can’t just leave you to wander all by yourself.”

An interesting defense. They weren’t forcing him still or tying him up, but they would obviously follow and that would keep the Master Sword close by. “I’ve done it before. I don’t need your help!”

“With no protection?”

“I have—” he started only to freeze. He couldn’t reach the weapons menu. He already knew this, but the action was so engrained it hurt.

He turned back to the group and the man that held a sword to his throat only the day before. They might not be Yiga, but they were weird, weirder than Robbie. Okay. “Fine, I know a shortcut.” In other words, he knew which way was east, the very wrong way to the highland stable. “Trade a story for a shortcut?”

Oh, that may have been too much. The pink striped one looked at him oddly, but Link’s attention was on the leader, the biggest danger to his plan and physical well-being. He wasn’t dumb, this man, but Link didn’t need them to be. He just needed someone to humor him long enough until he could at least find a sword.

Like you could do anything to them anyway.

“This is a long story,” said the old man with a small smile. Was that supposed to be a joke? “Lead the way.”

Chapter 2: Child of Faron

Chapter Text

Black ichor combined with the morning’s rain, and as soon as Time turned to tell this hero, this little boy, that he would not have to fight anymore, Link pulled himself from Hyrule’s grasp and had that same look he himself had for anyone that wasn’t Navi.

The monsters were downed too quickly, not for the way that Link cried in Hyrule’s arms, the older boy— just a boy— pulling a mere child against his chest like he would fall apart at the seams. Memories and reality shifted too close to home for Twilight. He saw how that moblin raised its club, the feral child just a spitting cat in its grasp, and if not for Legend’s arrow, they may have been too late.

They were lucky, so lucky, that the Sheikah donning assassin hadn’t found this little kid first. Even after the Hinox fell and blins bled, none felt secure. Time kept his biggoron sword rooted, hands around its hilt as it stood vertical like a knight on guard. They knew firsthand what not having your guard up meant, and an example had bandages around his head trying to get this newest Link to stop crying.

Even with his sword put away, Twilight's fists tightened. Too close. Wind was too close. This Link was too close.

And after all of it, Link stared at them like they were the monsters that nearly trampled him.

What did he see in the eyes of these Links? What did he experience for it to take Twilight testing the potion for him to trust it? He thought of Colin picking up a sword telling him that he would never be weak again.

Why— dear Hylia, why— was one of her chosen alone without a weapon or even a shirt? It could be funny in some context, a prank, but no one laughed at how the moblin raised its club.

And yet gripping Hyrule’s tunic in terror of what could have been, he still looked at them with untrusting eyes yet offered a shortcut. Twilight wasn’t stupid. He’d seen how Legend shared a look with Time, but the older man had only given a minuscule shake of his head before Link’s eyes fell to him, slightly crouched as if ready to bolt in just a too long tunic and Wind's dirty socks.

But Time only smiled. “Lead the way.”

Twilight had never been one to question Time, but he did in that very moment, because it was obvious Link was headed east deeper into the jungle like forest and dipping south still sent them down a linear path no closer to the stable. Not that Link would listen to them anyway.

Which was how as Sky spoke, Link avoided the offered hand every time he nearly slipped. These lands weren’t kind to socked feet and all offers to carry him were instantly shut down. He walked even with the bandages on his leg peeking out from the oversized tunic.

Sky continued with a story he knew well, having been one of the first to join in this bizarre adventure. “Time after time, again— err, not Time, but like flow of time— a hero has stepped in. Your history must have spoken of—” Sky continued only to reach out a hand to grip the barely balanced Link before he could faceplant.

And said Link ripped away from him a second later to put several feat between them. “I don’t need your help.”

Twilight didn’t get why he wouldn’t even accept a hand after almost getting cleaved in half. It it were Beth, she would be still holding onto anyone's tunic for comfort. No, what they had was a very confused, vulnerable kid that wouldn’t believe a single word they said and smacked caring hands away. It reminded him of Talo in a fit. He wondered if he was even listening to Sky.

Behind him, Legend conversed with Time, just far enough to be out of Link’s earshot. Without looking back, he knew that annoyed frown that painted Legend’s face. “You got a reason why we’re listening to a brat?”

Time had been mostly quiet, surveying the forest in search of hungry eyes that would think them easy targets. None of them had really let their guard down, but the smile to his voice was a surprise. “Surely you remember being so young and hating how adults talked like you couldn’t know anything. He isn’t dumb.”

Twilightwould say otherwise. After all, they found him in just his shorts dangling from a moblin’s hand.

“Treat him with respect and he might just respect you.” Oh, Twilight remembered those words from just a month before about their now second shortest, and Twilight cringed. Though Four had incredible patience, one too many times bending over to talk to him like he was some infant brought a well placed kick to exposed shins. Warrior avoided him for a week straight. By the time they picked up Wind, they knew better than to baby their teammates, not that it stopped Twilight’s careful watching.

Still, this Link wasn’t secretly sixteen. He is very much seven years old, the most twelve. He could still be losing baby teeth, and such a thought pained him. Seeing Wind sidle up beside the little Link was a reminder of just how easy it is to slip up. The bandages pulled his hair oddly but it was fortunate he could walk straight with no signs of concussion.

“And now we’re here by fate. Hylia has called for us together for one more adventure, it seems, and you are the latest we have met. It’s an honor to meet such a brave hero as yourself,” Sky complimented though voice strained. Maybe he was thinking the same mantra of “damn, Hylia,” as he himself picked up in the middle of his quest.

Link didn’t seem to react to it, focus seemingly on the treeline and the river they followed.

"Well, any questions?"

Link looked over, studying Sky top to bottom with a soured expression. "Nope."

“Let’s stop here.”

Link turned like he’d been caught red handed, but Time only pulled off his pack, winding his shoulders back. Serves the kid right. It was obvious to Legend this kid wasn’t taking them back to the stables, and a small bit of satisfaction bloomed seeing him panic. Really, Legend just wanted to kick his feet up and enjoy a hot meal, preferably not tasting like Ganon’s backside.

“Finally!” Wind dropped down right where he stood. “My feet are killing me!”

“Seconded,” agreed Sky as he unbuckled his sail cloth to inspect it. Like many of them, his clothes were not safe from the mud puddles and blood from their fight. A glance at Warrior reminded him of the scarf’s new shortened length. “Could use a clean up while we’re at it and some lunch.”

Legend noticed the minor wince from their youngest then scolded himself for not getting Twilight to feed him anything earlier. Who knew how long Link had been out there or without supplies. Actually, did this kid even have a guardian? Judging by his looks, hair too long and manners ugly, still smothered in mud, probably not.

They’d stopped at a small open space with a shallow bank to the river, Legend settling against a large rock beside Link who fiddled with his hands as the rest bustled about or flopped down to rest. He dug through his bag for the likely bruised apples to hand out.

Hyrule sighed, pulling his overtunic over his shoulders. The thing was filthy. “C’mon, Link.” Already, he went to sit before the river waters, letting the current pull blood and mud from the tunic where he had held Link, possibly snot at the shoulder, too. Gross.

Then it came to the kid, the one still smothered in mud that barely sat still for Hyrule to treat his wound and put on Four’s tunic without thought to wipe himself off first. Typical of kids, Legend knew, but he didn’t miss Four’s annoyed look. Indeed the socks were worse, if not for the stains then the holes that were certainly going to open up soon would get them quickly thrown out.

Except the kid didn’t move. In fact he hadn’t moved from his spot near Legend since they began to settle.

When Twilight took notice, he beckoned the kid over. “Link, let’s go.”

Legend groaned— at this close, he swore he could smell weeks of wandering in the woods, worse than even the traveler— and gave his back a shove. Should’ve known he would be a brat. “Hurry up.”

Maybe Legend should have noticed how rigid he’d stood, because he stumbled forward just to whirl around with widened eyes. “Don’t touch me!” Loud, aggressive and shrieked. The boy backed up with that slate held in a knuckle white grip while Legend raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t touch me.”

And maybe it took him longer to realize it wasn’t defiance.

“Okay, okay, — it’s okay.” Hyrule back at it again with Wind half dressed at his side, then Twilight thinking he would have to break something up. The traveler went to steer the boy away at his shoulder.

It took him longer than it should have to see that his gritted teeth didn’t match the terror in his eyes, how he swatted at Hyrule’s hand and backed up far too fast for someone just annoyed for being told to take a quick dip in the river.

“Everyone, back up.” Time. Always Time. The man didn't even need to raise his voice for everyone to look to him. “Hey, Link, I need you to calm down for me,” he said as those that had circled to watch moved back. Legend stood up to do the same after catching the older man’s eye. “You think you can do that?” Time kneeled close, not touching but in his line of sight even as the kid breathed loudly. “Focus on me.”

Time took exaggerate breaths, steady and slow, audible to Legend though he went to join Warrior at the river bank where he sat with his abandoned book on his lap. “Nice going.”

“Shut it." He plopped down beside the captain, setting his bag aside. "Kids are so needy.”

“You don’t really think that,” commented Warrior, leaning against his palms to look back where Time spoke in a hushed tone. “He’s just like the rest of us.”

How so, he could ask though he knew the answer. Nightmares plagued at least one of them most nights. “I’m starting to think this place is just the Traveler's but green.”

“That’s one way to put it. Time was telling me he thinks Link is taking us to Hyrule Castle secretly.”

Legend hummed in thought. “To throw us in jail? Execution?”

“I mean, he probably still thinks we took the Master Sword. . . Heads up.” Warrior nodded past Legend’s shoulder to the approaching duo, Time taking casual slow steps carrying a towel and soaps with Link hesitantly by his side. The redness of his cheeks stood out.

“Should we move?”

Warrior picked up his book again and turned the page. “Nah, just don’t draw attention.”

Fine, he could do that. He still had a bruised apple he meant to give out. Everyone by now would be digging through their own stashes. He munched rather boredly, listening to the bustling birds and spotting the occasional critter across the river bank.

He spared a glance over and noticed the kid had finally dressed down to his shorts and filthy but hadn’t even dipped his toes into the river. If it was Legend he would have pushed him in by then . . . But Time instead sat crouched at the water's edge on the opposite side where Link had set down the broken box thing. The old man held soaps and a sponge just to hand them to Link. Again he didn’t move forward, instead taking the sponge across his arm to begin wiping off the excess muck. Then the kid tapped Time’s shoulder to douse the sponge once more.

Huh.

The kid still seemed on edge, glancing behind him as if suspecting one of them to come up behind, and it was starting to make a little too much sense.

Looking away, he stared at the passing current taking fallen leaves with it.

It was — it was behavior that reminded Legend of himself after leaving her, when the ocean seemed to threaten to take a man into dream after dream until reality was nothing more than the lightning strike painting blistering feathers to skin. It took much coaxing and mocking of his own cowardice to push his boat back in the water months later and even longer to not dream nightly of capsizing and waking to islands that were never there.

He really was like the rest of them.

Legend meant to get up and let Hyrule know not take any of it personally just to be drawn back to this damn kid again. He didn’t mean to stare, but how couldn’t he?

One evening in a topic of scars, Warrior pulled off his glove and exposed the warped burns that took up his left hand. For being such a pretty boy skirt chasing when they scored a night in town, it was a permanent mark and hard to look at. The fever days after nearly took his life, he told them. Legend didn’t want to think how lucky a boy that barely reached his chest had to be to still be able to stand.

Scraping away mud and grime from his torso revealed that same shade of warped skin on his cheek Legend had hoped was just a birthmark. He looked away, but the image of burns twisted across a bony arm and chest, licking through muscle and tendon with malicious history imprinted in his mind. Warrior had looked up by then and shared the same dawning horror.

Something was very wrong with this Hyrule.

Wind was homesick. He’d been missing Aryll and Grandma terribly even before they ran into Link, and his presence only tenfold the feeling.

He seemed nice! Quiet, kind of like Hyrule when they first met and a little cagey with the broken Sheikah box in hand. After washing up, he put back on the dirty tunic but someone else’s donated socks. At least his hair wasn’t clumped together anymore.

It was while Link tried to finger comb the knots out that Wind approached with a peace offering in hand.

“Hey, you hungry?”

His fingers stopped, eyes glimpsing at him and studying the jerky held out to him.

“It’s boar. I promise it’s edible.”

Unlike with the potion, Link slowly took the piece, studying it before nibbling at its edges. Taking his wins where he could, Wind settled down beside him, just under a large tree and its winding roots.

“No one here is much of a cook, but they can at least cure meat right . . . most of the time.” He laughed to himself until noticing Link didn’t join in. He coughed. “So, Link, why are you out here by yourself?”

The boy paused mid bite, eyes watching or buying time, before he spoke. “Monsters. They don’t usually gather here.”

“By yourself?”

“I was fine.”

“Hmm, yes,” Wind agreed dryly, rubbing his chin in thought. “A good definition of fine.”

“I was! Until you all showed up! I had it handled, but then you—” he bit back with eyes a little too wide, looking around as if waiting for something.

“Well, we’re happy we could help you. It can be scary on your own.”

“Sure.”

Okay, that didn’t go as planned. Wind bit into his own strip and chewed methodically, hoping Link would break the ice like kids normally did. Aryll always had a dozen questions at the ready. He didn’t. So Wind asked, “How old are you anyway?”

Apparently this was easier to verbally answer. Link shrugged. “Dunno.”

Oh, okay. Wind would guess him to be eight or nine like his sister. Link was just short of a growth spurt and still losing baby fat. Maybe. It was hard to tell with the scars, his focus often shifting without thinking. His Grandma would definitely pinch his cheeks and tell him how impolite he was acting.

But also— “Won’t your family get worried you’re out here? I know Grandma always worries, and my sister says she’ll just fall over from boredom if I’m gone too long.”

“Nope.”

“They don’t care?”

“Don’t have family.”

Oh. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. . . Y’know,” Link started, “if you miss your grandma so much, why don’t you go home?”

Wind blinked away his surprise. At least Link was talking in more than three words. “I mean, I have a duty, just like everyone else here to fight for the greater good—for a future, y’know? You heard Sky’s story, and ours. I couldn’t just sit back and watch the waves.”

Link huffed, sounding annoyed. This wasn’t how he planned for this to go. He thought this Link was pretty cool, being so young like him, and he wanted to ask about his story so bad, but Time already said it was better not to ask. He wished there was at least someone to give him an idea of what this era had gone through or some common ground.

“Uh, so is there a kingdom here? I mean, there isn’t one in mine, but Zelda— she goes by Tetra by the way— is like a remnant of the royal family. You know any princesses?”

“I’m gonna go pee.” Link stood up abruptly before Wind could respond, that slate in hand as always to the edge of the small clearing. Sky glanced over yet Wind could only shrug. Maybe he pushed too hard. Link didn’t seem to be upset, at least not on questions that had hard answers. He couldn’t imagine not having his grandma and sister around. However, if Wind and learnt anything, it was that there was always a Link and Zelda.

. . . But where is his Zelda?

Link didn’t get it. They put up with him and gave him clothes. Mr. Time didn’t think it was stupid he wouldn’t go in the river, and though they were no chefs and hoarding rations, Wind gave him a piece of his jerky. For a moment, he wondered if they were fattening him up for dinner. It was the best explanation, right? They suck at cooking because Link’s the main course. Mr. Robbie would probably give him that look like he said something weird.

But really . . .

. . . They’re mocking him, weren’t they?

He wasn’t stupid because the story they were trying to sell him smelled of bullsh*t (Robbie would cuff him for saying that). It didn’t share the tone of Impa’s story with foreboding familiarity. This was like the nighttime stories Mr. Dorian tried to read to him, and he thought them stupid.

And they all thought him stupid.

Who goes by the number four or warrior? Mr. Time probably pulled the name right out of Koko’s fairytale books. Did they sick Wind on him because they thought he would open up to him? That he’d spill all his secrets and give them Zelda’s location? Wind was so indoctrinated into whatever this is, he didn’t even realize.

Zelda liked to remind him that he was very smart for his age even though he didn’t believe her. Not a scholar, but maybe he liked to think he could smell out liars, and they all reeked of it. So maybe Link didn’t think anything of it, his broken slate in hand and a small coin purse, when he walked away with a measly excuse and kept going.

Liars don’t just give you clothes and follow you wherever you go, but neither do travelers unless you're Traysi looking for a story. Always a little something in return. They knew, they had to know Link was taking them somewhere else by then, and the other shoe could be a dainty flat or metal-toed boot.

He wouldn’t stick around to find out.

Maybe they were newly deserted Sheikah. He hadn’t seen Impa in some time, but they should have all recognized each other. It didn’t make sense that they all just showed up out of nowhere.

Whatever, he would ask Purah and Zelda. They would know what to do and can fix the slate so he can take them on again if need be. He wouldn’t need to hope they give him clothes and food because he could go back to handling himself.

And he’d say he was doing pretty fine anyway. He knew the stablemaster had a son just a few years older, and a quick story and rupee meant he finally possessed shoes and a small pack. He tucked away the slate with the bananas he picked on his way in plus a canteen. A Gerudo took pity and sold him a scimitar for half of what she herself had paid for. He’d dealt with worse, but even then he had the slate with all its technology. Now, it sat in his bag as deadweight. It felt strange to not have it in his line of sight, a familiar weight at his hip when he walked now gone. The eye on the back flickered faintly but the screen remained dull.

Unfortunately, wallowing in self pity wouldn’t get him anywhere. He thanked the Lakeside stablehand because there was nothing else he could do. This man would never let him take out any of his horses because of his age (he tried). Even if one of his horses were housed here, it would be under his adult form. While he loved the density of greenery and humid air, so different to the rolling fields and mountain passes, he learnt long ago to never sit still. He would head east across Floria Bridge and stop at Lurelin for supplies.

The bridge stretched across the entire span of the lake and half a mile up, where the tree’s stretching limbs knotted together to make up a natural walkway further secured from Hylian placed boards. It would be a quick cross, a small valley and downhill to Lurelin. If he was lucky, he could make it by midnight.

He sighed. His feet were killing him yet his grip tightened on the pack’s shoulder straps.

It was just like old times, he thought. He wasn’t useless. He wouldn’t be useless.

He’d just left the edge perimeter of the stable when alarm bells rang in his head. He may be a child but Link long learnt attentiveness kept you alive. Listen for birds, smell for something foreign, check the treeline.

And all three came into place. The birds in this area had long since grown accustomed to travelers and the stable horses. Sometimes when he carried oats and seeds, he’d sit just at the cliff’s edge and wait for them, letting them settle beside him before offering the treat. None chirped or sung. Scent was a Hylian's most keen sense. Zelda said Hylians’ sense of smell is the most powerful memory inducer (which led to plenty of “research” with him as the subject). He knew the smell of tropical rainforest like a taste ozone before a storm clashed through. But he’d smelled rich earth and obsidian where it shouldn’t be. When he turned in search of the disturbance, the stark shadow stood out between the underbrush, eyes unblinking, watching, eyes he’d seen before just over a long muzzle of teeth.

They sent the demon wolf to finish the job.

The average adult could never outrun a hungry wolf, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t try. He was already too far out from the stable around the corner. No one was on the path but him. He ran.

He heard it bark more guttural than the stable’s dog, and he pumped his legs with whatever little strength he had. His pack bustled loudly just like the beast’ pounding paws, only barely hesitating as he reached the cliff edge where the dirt road turned to makeshift aligned planks and the canopy of trees opened to vast waterfalls and a hundred foot drop. In other circ*mstances, the scene would be breathtaking, yet the wolf followed. He nearly tripped as the beast dashed just past him, pivoting to stop directly in the center of the great bridge and barked. What was he compared to a giant demon wolf? He knew the answer, yet his feet did not pause as he slipped the scimitar from its sheath only for the wolf to dash to the side.

Keep going, keep going— just finish crossing the bridge. He aimed to do just that with his weapon at the ready. When he heard it come up behind him again, Link twisted, slashing the sword across only to touch air, the wolf clever and growling now. It jumped away from his sword in half little hops with Link forcing it to back up. He was lucky, the monster kept looking around itself to ensure it wouldn’t fall, nervousness just behind vicious snarls keeping it from fighting brash.

The beast growled bitterly before howling out, likely calling for its pack or owners, and Link wouldn’t survive either. Link once hid in a cave when his age rune gave out hoping to finish his quest once it charged, unrealizing how the Faron Grasslands were scarce of prey with predators desperate enough to get over their fear of Hylians. If not for his teleportation, he wouldn’t have got out with just a scraped knee. How often was his survival reliant on just teleportation? Getting out just to stock up and try again later?

There weren’t any second chances here. Link turned around holding tightly to his pack’s straps. Halfway. He was halfway and just a little bit further. But what would come next? All that was beyond this bridge was barren fields in the way to Lurelin. It was no better a predicament—

His body yanked to a halt, the straps of his pack digging into his shoulders, and at the back of his neck puffed warm air from a humid snout. That could have been his neck. That could have been his neck—

It tugged him back again just as Link slipped his arms from the pack’s straps booking it forward once more. Please, not here. Lurelin village would protect him, then it would be just a small mountain side to climb to Hateno—

No, no, no.

He stopped. Very aware of the traveler before him that hadn’t been there moments ago, couldn’t have been this far onto the bridge if they couldn’t teleport. They looked average because they always do and thought they were smart, just like ‘Rulie and Sky. Speaking of, their voices echoed with the surrounding waterfalls, the group of liars casting glances at the great cliffs and natural bridge on their way to block his chance of any escape. Was this all a set up?

Link could count the number of people that knew his child form on one hand, and he liked to consider the Yiga to just be one big giant nuisance. Of course, stories of a stupid child hero falling to their King meant that Kohga recognized him instantly. The anonymity he thought he had quickly fell away. In a single encounter, the age rune dropping while sneaking in their hideout and its many corridors, Link lost the greatest piece of protection between him and the Yiga Clan. The Yiga that knew him as the teen in the blue champion tunic suddenly knew him also as a small brat wandering in the woods. It was why Link hardly traveled without the rune in place, just in case of an ambush.

And now he stood with a beast behind him still holding his bag in its maw, his only salvation broken at the bottom of it while he himself stood in the middle of Bridge Floria wondering if the jump and current had a higher survival rate. What would Zelda do? She was better at planning stuff, yet the Yiga was coming closer just as the Fake Links did much the same.

Then the Yiga stopped while the others didn’t.

“Link! Link, what were you thinking running off on your own?” Sky.

Link was so stupid. “Cut it out!” Among all of them, it was Time to surge forward with narrowed eyes and clenched jaw causing Link to unconsciously step away. It was so obvious now, because why else had Link never heard of them? Bandits— bandits or mercenaries with no morals in search of a quick rupee, and what better catch than the Yiga’s number one enemy? They humored him when it was obvious Link was leading them West, sending them right into Yiga monitored territory. Impa always figured there must be a second base or informants hiding in the Zonai ruins.

Fate was coming towards him in glimmering armor and a scowl, and he drew back, not towards the Yiga (cornered prey— fly in a web) but towards the bridge's edge, and the older man halted instantly. Link thought the roaring waterfalls were the reason Time’s voice sounded softer than he expected. “Link, you’re okay.”

No, no he wasn’t. The bandits were selling him out, why haven’t they pushed him off this bridge themselves? He had no paraglider now.

But Time was kneeling then, eye level with Link and not approaching, and it was all to reminiscent of earlier that day when the river threatened to swallow him whole. He didn’t want to do this. “We’re not angry with you. We were scared.” He said that all the while the demon wolf dropped his pack and his once perfect escape route.

Link still took a step back. If he didn’t think about it, of the square miles of Lake and depths unknown, of how its waters would pull him down back to sleep— stop it. He could do this. He could survive this because he didn't have options, and being afraid of a quick swim was stupid. Sidon did it all the time. He stared defiantly at Time as his voice wavered. “Scared to lose your catch?”

The man frowned. “What do you—”

“Link, it is you, right, deary?”

Pretending to be an older man with greying hair and glasses gave the Yiga a soft look, but Link could see the signs that others could not, signs that sent his blood whirring with adrenaline.

“Oh, you know Link?” Hyrule.

Wait a minute.

“Indeed! Link, you’ve given me a fright! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

They didn’t know. They didn’t know.

“You his grandpa or something?” asked Legend, arms folded and guard down, the disguised Yiga inching closer. Why didn’t he just drop the disguise—?

The Yiga smiled at Link, Legend still frowning — Oh, no, he had it all wrong.

“No, it’s a trap!” He shouted even as the greyed man surged forward with youthful speed, the glimpse of a dagger at his waist, knowing Link couldn’t escape.

Except it was Time’s blade that met the weapon and a long swipe that forced the Yiga to teleport back in a puff of magic miasma.

“Who are you!?” Sky shouted.

In another puff of smoke, Link recognized the mask and maroon suit. They held a sickle in one hand with the other slipping beneath the mask to let out a shrill whistle.

Link could only warn, “Look out!” before blademasters and footsoldiers took up both ends of the bridge, the nine Link’s at the center and no escape. This felt too planned, but none of that mattered, because someone was dragging him by the arm behind them. Warrior, he thought, with his scarf actually tucked in as he raised a shield before the demon carver could cut him in half.

“Death to the hero!”

Hell broke loose with bows and swords meeting shields.

“Duck!” shouted Legend as a wave of heat passed just inches from his face.

“Are you trying to burn down the bridge!?”

But Link saw the blademaster winding up his shot. “Move out of the way!”

Four had looked up, but his shield could not stop the gust of wind from knocking him back, his feet sliding until he teetered just at the edge. “Four!”

The boy yelped just as Hyrule slid forward, catching Four’s hand only just in time. Warrior jumped forward before a Yiga archer could find home in the traveler’s back. Which meant Link could only lunge out of the way of a carver’s swipe. He’d only gotten to his feet when someone backed up into him, tripping over his small body as they cried out. Link was just stupidly standing in the eye of a hurricane, unable to help, a hazard for others. The slate. Why did he have to break the slate?

When he got up again, Sky beside him, he locked eyes with that demon wolf who growled before leaping forward. Squinting, Link waited for those teeth to sink into his throat only for it to have swept over him. Link turned just as it jaw’s found home around the footsoldier’s shoulder. It was chaos, with everyone moving every which way. Arrows flew randomly and he thought Wind had called out his name in fear. Not that it would save him from the wave of wind by the windcleaver, the gust low and strong against his however many pounds that the floorboards were like marble. He slipped, pushed away from Time’s reaching hand and tumbling through the the open air, twisting and lost and heart leaping in his throat for the inevitable splash.

Until a red sash caught his attention, hands quickly pulling his around Sky’s neck, then they lurched and steadied like he would with his paraglider. Link looked up at Sky’s determined face and the white cape above keeping them afloat. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine, Link.”

“The others—”

Sky tried to hush him. “All good, Link, just don’t let g—” he assured only to be interrupted by the whistle and sinking of an arrow, the two suddenly falling once more in a tangle of limbs.

He had no time to scream or pray to Hylia to not put him back to sleep.

Time had taken this little boy's hands in his after he wiped away snot on his sleeve. He knelt in front of him just close enough for privacy but not enough to crowd him.

"I don't know what happened to you, but I promise you you're not alone." He lightly squeezed those tiny calloused hands, his stomach lurching that they were obviously from wielding a sword rather than playing rough or farm work. "I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. We all will."

Link couldn’t remember the last time he entered a pool of water without the Zora armor. Mipha had made it for him so he could keep up with Sidon, she had told him. The divine beast pacified meant small precious minutes with the one he once in another lifetime called big sis. These days, it kept him from sinking back into that basin in that cold, damp shrine, repelling water from all but his face. That he could handle. What he couldn’t handle was the cold rushing straight through cloth, seeping into bone, the current slipping over skin— twisting and whirling around him until up was down and darkness beckoned him. It wanted him to go back to sleep, and he fought not to scream, searching for the lip of the basin that wasn’t there. Let him out, get him out— Not again, please, no— He found hands that grabbed him, the monks demanding their champion be stronger next time, try again. Try, try again. No escape— can’t escape. An arm wrapped around his torso even as he wildly kicked, while he prayed for Zelda to hear him — Urbosa, please — someone!

He screamed uselessly from tiny lungs, his throat filling with the shrine’s lake water (?) as his stupid limbs numbed and couldn’t keep up with his frantic mind. Weak weak weak—

Until he broke the surface still choking.

His senses were crisp yet blinding, like a kaleidoscope of dazzling light and images more puzzle than clear. Green. Not blue. Green filled his vision in lush flora. A rushing waterfall drowned out his racing heartbeat. Cold— he was cold but an arm around his torso pulled him not under but through the current, keeping his head above water, his back against a scaled chest. A Zora in the basin—Floria Lake?

Lake, lake, this was a lake and not the shrine and basin, and he wasn’t alone.

At his peripheral was a green sleeve and trailing white sailcloth. Sky. Sky caught him, tried to save him. It wasn’t Sky’s arm around him, and it wasn’t a Zora. The second the being reached the shoreline, Link felt boneless, all the fight gone and an aching exhaustion from bone deep chill. He curled into himself, a palm against gravel and sediment lightly coated in soaked moss. Zelda always told him to think about the physical things around him when his head went back to the shrine and basin. He wasn’t the only one breathing heavily, coughing and heaving.

But then those arms were pulling him up again into a sitting position, a hand at his back maybe checking his breathing.

“Link?” A beat at his back, strong yet careful as he coughed. “Let it out.”

Sky groaned at his side, and Link spotted the arrow poked out just below his shoulder blade, and the scaled figure went to kneel beside him. It took him longer than it should have to recognize the markings across their forehead, their hair sopping wet and plastered to the sides of their face.

“When did you get here?” Link asked.

“Just in time to see you fall,” Twilight responded. “Good thing Legend was carrying my bag. By the way, he noticed his missing rupees.” The young man was smiling before turning back to Sky. “Anything punctured?”

Said man responded through gritted teeth. “Doesn’t feel like it.” To Link, it didn’t look deep. It probably startled him more than anything. . . Though Link didn't get it. Why would he jump from the bridge to grab him? Why did Twilight? After running away, stealing from them, being weak over and over in need of saving?

“Hyrule can heal this right up. . . When we get back up there.”

Link followed his line of sight to the bridge. Purah said the trees' roots webbed themselves in the lakebed to avoid the current, and its branches rose and twisted, blooming into a natural bridge further guided by Hylian intervention so its limbs grew at the right angle. It was beautiful. Link loved this area that felt almost symbiotic. Was that the word Zelda used?

While Twilight tended to Sky, Link laid out the white sailcloth to let it dry, noting the time of day. “Are the others okay?”

“They will be.” There wasn’t any hesitance as Twilight helped the other sit up. “Those guys were already starting to run off when you fell.”

He figured. So the others weren’t targets but neither were they working together. That was— what a relief. His mouth still tasted of pond water and he held a fistful of gravel and mud in each hand, but he was safe. They were safe.

Looking back to Twilight, he studied the blue makeshift armor. “I’ve never seen Zora armor like that.”

“Is it common around here?” the man asked curiously.

“Not really. They’re for marriages, though. Are you married?”

Oh, he didn’t think a red face complimented blue armor really well. Twilight coughed into his hand while Sky seemed to shake slightly with his head between his legs. “Uh, no. No, it doesn’t mean that where I’m from. It just lets me breath underwater.”

“Wait really!?” Suddenly he bounced on the balls of his feet in front of Twilight, poking at the scales and threads. “How? Are they enchanted? Did a fairy bless it?”

“Uhh— I uh-” Twilight looked around his shoulder, staring up at the bridge again. Then Link heard it, the faint whistle echoing over the waterfalls. Twilight brought his hands up and called out a bird call Link didn’t recognize.

“What does that mean?”

“That we’re safe.” Smart. He should do that with Zelda when her research gets her lost without him. “Now we just have to find a way back up.”

“Well,” Link started, studying the sky and position of the quickly lowering sun. “Any minute now, we can get a lift.”

Sky and Twilight shared a look. “What does that mean?”

Huh. He thought if they were like him they could feel the energy in the air, the crisp taste of ozone at the tips of their tongues. Instead, he pointed up to the great waterfalls where the energy swarmed like keese. Certainly they felt it too?

Link always thought it incredible how its golden horn emerged first, a gleaming threat that scared off the monsters as the water carried an electric current coursing from its scales. Impa once suggested it was Farosh that advanced Sheikah technology more than Naydra’s wisdom. It rose, great and magnificent, its spine lined with lightning rods and gliding like the tail of a kite until dipping down towards the Lake.

“Uh, Link, is that thing friendly?”

Link suddenly realized that there were still six very dangerous and armed heroes up above. “Tell them not to shoot him!”

Twilight did just that, making that same call of safe twice over as the dragon ran perpendicular with the lake’s surface, its talons just barely dipping into its waters. Sky had stood up by then. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Link smiled. “Farosh protects this region, but they’re usually napping in Lake Hylia west from here.”

The two heroes shared a look that he didn’t pay mind to, instead checking the semi-dried sailcloth. It would have to do. “Sky, you think you can hold onto him?”

“I mean, I’m not too injured. Probably for a minute if needed. . .”

“Good. Get ready.”

“Link, what are you doing?”

He rolled his eyes. “We’re going to catch the updraft dummy.” They seemed to finally notice how the wind had picked up. Dorian would call it dragon magic while Zelda explained the mass in a domed area would displace the air, something, something, something— “C’mon, were gonna miss it.” tossing the sailcloth to Twilight, Link guided Sky forward to Twi’s back. “Trial one.”

Sky gave the other hero a regretful smile. “Uh, so, awkward piggy back, I guess? But I don’t think there’s enough wind to kick off the ground, Link.”

“Let me worry about that.” It was the least he could do, plus he wanted to sleep in a real bed tonight. Farosh was just above them now, the draft the strongest and as Sky said, not enough to carry the three of them. Twi held the sailcloth, Sky with his arms around the young man’s back and legs crossed. Link would hold him from the front. “There’s not a weight limit for this thing, right?”

“Can’t say I’ve tested its limits, but it has carried me and a friend a head taller than me.”

Perfect. Linked closed his eyes and called out. Revali. The response came instantly, the sudden wind swirling at their feet until it jetted up like a geyser, Twilight’s grip almost shaky from the sudden force and the weight of a grown man and child, yet he held on to the sturdy sailcloth. Soon it wasn’t the champion’s gale, but Farosh’s that pulled them up and up, and the cliffs were nothing compared to a Rito’s and dragon’s winds.

Those that had turned their attention away from the rising dragon headed towards them, seemingly okay except for a cut on Time’s cheek.

And Time — the second they settled back on top of the cliff side, Time knelt before him without touching, reading his face, looking for winces and blood that wasn’t there. He was fine. He was okay — he would be okay. This wasn’t the basin or Yiga. He would be okay. He saw his bag in Hyrule’s hands.

They were okay.

Kid Wild

Chapter 3: Lurelin

Chapter Text

Link woke with a start to too much silence and soft fabric at his fingertips. It should have been beside a campfire on his way to Lurelin for supplies, but instead he sat up warily recognizing the stable’s furniture and the forever smell of storm in its wood. Someone removed his boots. Beside him, a chair creaked as a hand floated over his vision, the one with the ugly blue gloves, and pressed a warm palm to his forehead.

Link looked at him, the one that called himself Warrior. The man leaned away then just out of Link’s swatting. “Look at you already up. How are you feeling?”

Oh, he must have crashed before they got back to the lakeside stables. He yawned. “Just tired. What time is it?”

“Hitting about nine. You slept through the night. If you’re up for it, everyone’s out having breakfast.”

Link considered the rations in his pack: bananas and honey combs. Those were probably safer than anything these guys made. And yet—

“They ordered pie, too.” Warrior laughed at Link’s traitorous stomach rumbling like the guttural snore of a hinox. “Let’s go kid,” he said as he stood and stretched from his seat. The younger followed suit, only slipping on the boots that sat at the end of the bed before meeting Warrior at the door of their room. Bedrolls were shoved to the side or rolled up in the corners next to packs. Did they all stay in here sleeping on the floor?

Before he could ponder further, Warrior guided them to the main hub of the stable, which was nothing more than a large room with tables and chairs for traveler’s to unwind. He could smell it from the hallway, but Link sent out a silent thank you to Hylia for the crepes and eggs being served at the two tables the company of supposed Links took over. He wouldn’t tell Wind that the salted beef tasted like the inside of his pockets, but he didn’t think he’d accept more if he’d offered.

Wind was quick to wave them over to a seat next to him and the already full plate set there. Across from him sat Legend and Sky.

But he looked right over the bacon and scrambled eggs for the real prize of this stable still sat in the middle of the table untouched. He had to sit on his knees to reach for it, reminded once more of his height but not letting it ruin the beautiful dish waiting for him.

Cima made the best apple pie to the point her literal recipe hung on the wall opposite of him for anyone to use. He didn’t think twice to shove the bacon aside and plop a sliver of pie on his overflowing plate.

Man, he would cherish every bite! He picked up his fork and plunged straight into the sweet, gooey cinnamon apple filling and flaky crust, mouth already watering.

“Hey, no dessert until you eat something good for you.”

He’d never whipped his head around so fast in his life. “Excuse me?” he asked Sky’s soft concern. He shoved the piece into his mouth.

“C’mon, kid. That stuff’s gonna rot your teeth. Eat some of your bacon first.”

Funny. They’re all funny. He already started to cut up his next piece before swallowing. “You’re all missing out.”

Sky looked over his head at Wind, which annoyed him. The latter shrugged before leaning into his space. “We can take a slice for the road.”

“Or I can eat this now and save the rest for later.”

“And how are you going to do that? Shove your plate in your pack?”

“I’ll—” Oh, oh yah. He swallowed and lowered his fork. It was strange how much his slate was a part of his daily routine. It was an autonomic response to reach for it, but all that sat at his hip was the white cloth of the tunic. Such thoughts dulled the pie’s flavor. He set down his fork and went for the too salty bacon.

Sky coughed. “So, Link, We’ve been meaning to ask you, but we were wondering when we would see the castle.”

Link paused mid bite. Why would — he thought until remembering the story. Different kingdoms in history. His castle sat in ruins, the malice like toxins having eaten away much of what hadn’t been destroyed before. Though it had cleared out after Ganon’s fall, it lay as ruins with everything of any sort of grandeur with it. “You want to go to the castle?”

“Indeed. It’s been customary to meet the monarch and gather intel on the monster’s whereabouts.”

“Except mine,” commented Wind. “I mean, there isn’t a castle or anything, and Tetra is more of a pirate than a princess.”

Though he bit his lip, Link couldn’t hold back a short laugh. It became more obvious every passing minute they were nothing like him. . . What kind of fantasy did they live to have full kingdoms and towns and no Yiga factions? “Your best bet is rumors around the stables for the monsters, not the castle.”

Sky still smiled on, undeterred. “Even so, it would be an honor to meet your young princess.”

Oh, they thought she was the same age as him. “She’s not at the castle,” he said, watching them for their reaction. This was a risk. Over and over again they’d helped him when they didn’t have to or should care to, but . . . This was Zelda who had shoes too big to fill and subjects that didn’t care for a new ruler. They’d lived long enough without one and established their own trade routes and village protectors, after all. They survived. Her presence was an unwelcome change with no promise of a better tomorrow.

But it wasn’t that. It was because she was one of the pieces from his past, someone who knew truths he ignored and blocked out. Impa once said it was maybe a blessing he did not remember a majority of his old life. What he did remember made his left side feel warm and tingly, itchy to the point of rubbing burn scars raw like they were fresh and spend nights avoiding dreams. Zelda knew him as the champion that couldn’t fill his boots, wield his sword, or aspire hope to a crippling kingdom, one that paid that price . . .

But he had an idea. “I can take you to her once I fix my slate. That’s where I was heading to.”

Legend, who had been quietly enjoying his eggs, snorted loudly. “Good to know we were just your bodyguards.” He didn’t look up as he said it.

Link could think of more fitting words: babysitters, kidnappers, captors, idiots considering how Wind told him about Hyrule’s “octorok soup.” Whatever you say, he thought to himself. “First to Lurelin for supplies then we head north. It’ll probably take two days if we’re quick.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” asked Wind. “Let’s fix your box!”

“It’s not a—” he bit down his words. What they thought didn’t matter, but their insistence to follow made things easier. Breakfast ended quicker than expected, with dishes cleared and leftovers tucked away. Sky helped him wrap a piece of the apple pie in a small lidded tin held together with twine to keep close.

Legend mentioned an ice rod in his pack would keep it from spoiling.. “How can you fit so much in it?” Link asked.

The man in question only smiled, eyes downcast. “Magic.”

So Sheikah storage techniques, condensing particles into data until further use, Link concluded, just like his slate. He wondered if the material of the bag itself was Sheikah tech, something similar to his runes, but shook away the thought before he could ask something stupid. It was Robbie territory anyway.

Alright, time to head out. The plan had filtered across the tables at breakfast and rolling up bedrolls. Link checked his pack and studied the treeline the moment they stepped out. “Where’s the demon wolf?”

The others followed close behind, the shortest beside himself coming up with his own pack across his shoulders. “You mean Wolfie?”

“I meant what I said.”

Something about that got a laugh out of Four. “He kinda comes and goes. Seems to follow us but is super friendly and smart. He would never hurt you.”

The small punctures in his pack would say otherwise. Oh no, a wolf greater than his height with teeth the length of his hand was nothing to worry about. Whatever, Twilight already stood at the edge of the cliffside before the bridge started. Once more, they would cross Lake Floria and hopefully without incident. Despite his annoyance, he tolerated Mr. Time at his side. His hand didn’t hover like Twi’s did next to Wind, but Link still thought of swatting him away. He survived without even a scratch . . . no thanks to himself, but Link wouldn’t show weakness again. It would be a matter of time before the tables would turn. They not have killed him or handed him over to the Yiga, but they took the Master Sword, and time travel was ludicrous.

Four looked back across the bridge the second they reached its end. At some point Time had slipped to the back and Four taking his place beside Link. “Say, Link, this is the second stable with the masked horse sculpture on it.”

Wind overheard and turned around to ask, “It’s just a horse, right? Because stables, duh.”

“Sure, but they’re wearing something on their faces, right? Does it symbolize something?”

Huh, he didn’t think any of them noticed. Link certainly didn’t until several visits. “It’s Malanya. Horse god that protects both travelers and their companions. They’re scary.” He shivered at his own warning.

Four looked back for a moment. “Malanya, huh? Sounds familiar. You think we can pick up any horses in this Lurelin? Something to speed up our journey?”

Link wished. Once the tropical trees dwindled into a barren path, the valley dipped lower the further they walked yet not steep enough to slide down on a shield. If only. He hardly came through here without a horse or teleporting and a part of him forgot just how boring the initial trek had been.

“Couldn’t we have rented some from the stables?” asked ‘Rulie.

Rolling his eyes, Link turned to walk backwards to say, “You register horses with them to take care of them, not rent. And there aren’t any wild horses in this area to catch anyway.”

“You seem to know a lot about the land.”

“Have to.” Ignoring the shared looks between the others, he sighed, turning back ahead and spotting the perfect thorn in his side. “Put your guard up.”

“What do you mean?” Hyrule followed their youngest’s line of sight to the lone traveler just off the path. “Is that a royal helmet? A guard?” Maybe they were on the right way to the castle.

“We don’t have guards. It’s a disguise anyways.”

Hyrule squinted confused at the lone figure until Twilight moved to block Link from the figure’s sight. “You mean, it’s like the assassin’s from yesterday?”

It was like a silent order, the group quickly situating themselves around Link with Hyrule and Twilight at his side and the others creating a makeshift circle. Warrior took front with Time at the rear of the group, the two having the strongest reach and overall prowess while their most skilled swordsman remained at Link’s side. Hyrule as team healer put him at Link’s other side. And yet despite the battle readiness of the group, he glanced over just for Link to roll his eyes. “Relax. Don’t give them the time of day and they realize you’re not gullible.”

“Why don’t we send them back to their mama?” asked Warrior from his place at the front.

“Great Din, put your sword away— ‘Cause more will show up and I prefer not falling off a bridge or getting smashed by a boulder over a petty fight.”

Over Link’s head, Hyrule spotted the darkening expression on Twilight’s face. “You think fighting for your life is petty?”

“That’s not— shut it — I mean it doesn’t solve anything. They’ll just keep coming back and they don’t usually mess with travelers except to indoctrinate the morons who buy their bananas.”

“That’s a big word for you,” Legend commented.

Link glared around Hyrule, not that the veteran was looking. “I’m not stupid. Just leave ‘em be.”

Silence fell over them as they marched, eyes forward except to glance and study the lone traveler stretching off to the side. They called out at some point, Hyrule reaching for his sword much like Twilight until tiny hands gripped the edge of their tunics. Link glared up at him and didn’t let go even when they abandoned their actions. The rest did much the same, seemingly reading the room.

No incident.

They walked past completely ignoring the fake bananas they were “selling.”

Hyrule’s fingers itched to draw his blade, feeling the eyes on the back of his head. The fake merchant called out once more about a deal even as they walked further down the path. Then no more, just the songbirds overhead and boots against gravel.

With a huff, Four shook his head. “Honestly, they need to work on their sale’s pitch.”

Hyrule sputtered just as Wind belched a full belly laugh. “Bananas? Really?”

Even Link smiled. “You’d think they’re trying to resurrect the banana king.”

Another dollop of laughter waved around them at the odd joke, but at least Link was talking. Twilight went off about something called a monkey that Legend agreed were annoying, and Hyrule looked back to see if their weird banana salesman was still watching them.

Only instead he turned to see Time far too distant from their group sheathing his sword and the disguised salesman nowhere in sight.

Previously

In minutes of careful checking over Sky and Link, Time found himself kneeling in front of their youngest pulling off his water filled boots. The kid shivered likely from both the cold and loss of adrenaline from what had become a very long stressful day. What a day indeed, finding a child that suddenly became their first priority, skipping over the stable they should be asking monsters about to chase him across the bridge.

Time may exude calm, like a cool compress against others’ blisters of frustration, soothing worries and fears among a group of young men and children meant to play goddess’ chess pieces. He hoped Link did not hear how he screamed his name, how the blind panic left him vulnerable to a windcleaver’s gust knocking him against the bridge and only fortunately in the path of the single archer aiming towards Sky. The only reasons he didn’t jump after them as they fell was the assassin’s sudden retreat, War’s hand, and Twilight slipping on the Zora armor at unexpected speed.

Seeing him clinging to Twilight, not a scratch on him, breathing, smiling weakly even as he shivered— Time exhaled deeply releasing the tension in his shoulders along with thoughts of what could have been. A stroke of incredible luck kept all of their bags with them and not somewhere in the watery depths below.

“Let’s get you changed, kid,” he said, looking across the different heroes.

Wind sighed but began to dig through his bag. “I got it. Here.” Tossing a shirt to them, Time was thankful it was clean as he turned to face the others for mock privacy. Legend locked eyes for only a moment, spotting Link behind him before turning as well even though he now faced against the rest of the group. Time didn’t blame him. The scars were expansive and a reminder that life had not been kind to their youngest.

Sky rested easily on a fallen log with the arrowhead already removed and a small healing salve carefully closing the wound beneath bandages. That was close— too close. Twilight seemed fine, shrugging out of the Zora armor unscathed and boots traded for the casual sandals that hardly saw the light of day.

Time only turned at the soft grip on the sleeve of his tunic, a head pressing gently against the metal plating of the armor. Over his shoulder, the sight brought him to a smile: Link’s hair no longer stuck strictly to his head but lightly curled as it dried, knees drawn up and eyes closed. In this state he was small, and once more Time wondered if he had ever wielded the Master Sword or much like Four had been provided a different blessed blade on his quest.

Twilight leaned over with his own soft smile and whispered words. “Here, I’ll carry him once we head back.”

The kid groaned but didn’t let go of Time’s tunic. “I’m fine.”

“You really planning to walk back to the stable?” There was no response as there shouldn’t be. It’d been a long day for all of them and certainly much more for someone his age. “It’s getting late.”

“Right.” Time looked out to the surrounding heroes, bags packed and ready and exhaustion evident. “Let’s head back.”

“. . . Gotta get to Lurelin,” Link mumbled.

“Tomorrow, kid.”

It’s several careful seconds to poke Link awake enough to climb onto Twilight’s back, the young man refusing to move until Link’s hands gripped around his neck to pass back over Lake Floria once more.

The young man walked at the dead center of the bridge with Wind at his right and Time on the other. He knew both Legend and Warrior hovered close to Wind and Four just in case their enemies return. It’s intense but quiet until Twilight asked. “What’d I miss?”

Wind at his right huffed annoyingly. “They just ran off— left in a puff of smoke as soon as you jumped off after Link and Sky. Bunch of weirdos.”

Against Twi’s back Link mumbled, “. . . They are annoying.”

Time leaned over, careful in search of a frown or annoyance, but Link only laid still. A single eye peeked open.

Warrior surveyed the land but made his presence known in a loud huff. “Y'know, kid, I can’t tell if you’re just a trouble magnet…. have you met those guys before?”

“Yiga.” In his exhaustion, Link twisted his face into the fabric of Twi’s tunic. Link’s hair was everywhere and covering his face. Time leaned over, careful to extract the wet strands and brush them back and card his fingers gently through. He knew when Malon would do this after a long day of work it would put him right to sleep. “Bunch of assassin dudes. Trying to kill me. . . like it’ll bring back their lord, or something.”

The hand paused in Link’s hair— not that the boy would notice. Already his eyes settled shut. Perhaps he didn’t notice how Twilight halted in his steps or the seethe between teeth from Hyrule behind them.

Twilight worried his lip, a pinched look Time knew meant he would need someone to pull him back out. He placed a hand on the back of the younger man’s shoulders just beside Link’s face and didn’t mind the miniscule flinch in Twi's shoulders. He'd ease and Link would sleep on. At this angle, the scars were on full display, eating through the hairline and across his ear. Times own heart raged, his stomach twisting from keeping his emotion back only for it to sprout into a thrumming headache at his temples. Anger would do nothing now that Link slept safely around them, the bridge almost crossed. Farosh, Link had called the dragon, had long since flown off west beyond the tree line.

Twilight did not stop but his eyes were far away. Link was no longer with them in hopefully a peaceful sleep. “There’s assassins after him.” He spoke softly so as to not wake their charge. “That night, when we went to look for him calling out his name — do you think that Yiga was looking for Link?”

It all became a little too clear. The eye across that Yiga’s chest was just a mimic of the Sheikah. Those that attacked today wore that same eye on masks but upside down in rebellion. Were there any devoted Sheikah left?

Then the rest of them were eight bumbling travelers calling out the name of their target. If that assassin hadn’t run into them first in those woods, hadn’t run off at the sight of them just before reaching Link when the Moblin had a hold of him, Time wondered if the assassin would have succeeded.

Something was very wrong with this Hyrule. Settlements were far and ruins between. Whatever happened, the people were still recovering. Where was the Hyrulean army? The marketplaces and houses across the countryside? It was obvious many of its civilians were experienced with weapons. Nearly all those they crossed carried at least a knife at their hip. But beyond them, there was tall grass with floral weeds only disturbed by the fauna. It was untamed. Beautiful, but undomesticated. Few paths were worn from travel, and why, dear Hylia why, was this Link no more than a little boy? Was one not enough? A dozen? Just how many broken timelines of just boys were forced to be men? To be martyrs? Tools?

They crossed the bridge silently and sheathed their blades. The Yiga did not return yet the tension ate him, Time’s single eye studying the faces of the few traveler’s resting across the stable grounds. Just who could this Link trust?

They were quick to get a room, taking the last one with only a single large bed for Sky and Link to recover, the others unrolling mats and seeking out blankets.

But after settling in their youngest, Time did not sleep. He stared and watched the door from his place leaning against the wall, a blade across his lap and questions rolling over in disgusting waves.

Was this his fault?

Four had seen plenty of incredible views and villages, but there was something tranquil about this land’s Lurelin. Grass and gravel fell away to packed sand then open sea. They’d stopped at its edge in awe.

“It looks like—"

“It feels like my island!”

Four had never seen a village like it, Though small, it held more than Wind’s small island with varying locals and tourists alike. Link hadn’t even stopped, trudging forward through the sand towards a small shop to speak to an obvious merchant. In his hands was a small purple-

“Oi! That aint yours!”

Huh, Four hadn’t seen Legend move that fast outside of combat. Not even the loose sand slowed him down until plucking the coin purse from the kid’s hands. Link frowned and put his hands on his hips. “Then stop being annoying.” As the elder sputtered looking away and the others held back laughs and grins, Link reached out for the small cinched bag once more.

But Legend knew what to expect now, lifting it far above the younger’s head. “Nice try, pipsqueak.”

Only when Link pulled his foot back to swing did Time step forward. “Alright, alright. Let’s see what we need and stock up. Hyrule’s on medical supplies, but Warrior, you’ve kept a decent record so far. If anyone has any requests, write them down as usual.”

Unlike the rest, Four already had his list written, but it took one look around the place to notice they wouldn’t have what he needed. No forge or metalworking. A man walked with a harpoon hooked over his shoulder, another retrieving fish hooks from a tackle box. Their gear was for their lifestyle, and that did not include half the things in his shop back at home.

Sky checked for his own sack of rupees and sighed in relief (not that Four blamed him). “The rest of us can look into travel food and lunch. Link, I think they have things handled here, so do you want to go with me?”

Wind’s interest piqued along with Link’s. Four too joined them further into the village, passing small vendors and lounging tourists. “Seems like a popular place.” Couples sat across the beach, others gathering near the docks where small fishing boats seemed to sell straight off of it.

“Roads are a lot safer now,” commented Link.

Sky pressed hopefully. “What changed, then?”

Yet it brought an expected silence. So far their youngest had been cagey on the subject if the conversation with Wind just the day before was anything to go by. Time had asked them not to press too hard, but it was important to understand this Link’s role and capability. They’d yet to see him even with a sword.

Despite the lull, Link followed after to the pier, standing beside Four at the assortment of fish and wares. Sky looked perplexed. “Can’t say I’ve really had much fish? I don’t know what I’m looking for.”

“Hey, Link, what kinds are these?” asked Wind holding up a plump red-striped fish to them.

“Porgy. Might porgy. Pretty filling and easy to cook with.”

“Oh, maybe we could have these for lunch, then!” While Wind and Sky spoke to the merchant, discussing preparation and suggestions that are really falling on deaf ears, Four poked at the purple spiky sacs in another vendor’s wares.

“Octorok balloons.”

Four looked over Link with a raised eyebrow. “Do you cook them?”

“Or prank people.”

“Perfect.” Four pulled out his own wallet. “It’s a good thing that currency doesn’t seem to change across time.”

“. . . You serious you’re from . . .the past?”

That wasn’t exactly an easy question. Few outside of themselves believed their tale of dimensional and time hopping. Sometimes, Four wondered if this was all just a strange dream or memories from the Four sword. How many can say they’ve met the hero that forged the Master Sword, a blade that in his time was just a fairy tale? “Yah. I know we don’t look like much— just a bunch of dummies running around, but we’ve seen a lot of the world— worlds, I guess.” His attention focused on something just past Link’s ear and dangling from the strands in play. Four had first noticed the Minish just that morning and wondered if it always hung around him. He could ask at another time. The one that likes to hide in Wind’s pockets was quite a chatterbox. “It’s strange really to see the passage of time. Some things change and others all the same.”

Link seemed to ponder this, which was more than he could ask for really. It wasn’t like he accepted this grandeur tale of destiny so easily, either. It didn’t help that they didn’t have any additional hands to convince him either. His own Zelda did much of the coaxing, same with Warrior, apparently. But if they could find an ally here in this Hyrule, it could finally speed things along.

“So where do I fit in your history?”

“Our history— but I don’t know. Maybe there’s something in your kingdom’s library that can place you, like what heroes have come before.” A princess and a library could solve a lot of questions, hopefully a king too to ask some of the more hard hitting questions they avoided with Link due to his age.

Rather than respond, Link looked to their companions’ bagged catch then where Time and the others were relaxing at the edge of the water speaking with a fishermen or another. “We should get going.”

“Go?” Wind looked up from the few electric arrows the merchant also sold. “We just got here!”

“And we can reach halfway to Hateno by nightfall. You guys all have sleeping mats and bedrolls anyway.”

“Link, you can’t sleep outside. You’ll freeze!”

Already the boy bounded back towards Time and the others, walking straight pass and back up the path they’d arrived from only an hour ago. “Hurry up!” He turned to look back then promptly looked forward again. “We don’t have time to wait around!”

“Link, come on!” Four ran forward to catch up.

“Link.” The old man’s voice worked like a command and the boy paused. Four did too. “At least allow time to eat before hitting the road. We don’t know what dangers lie in the woods. Those monsters are still out there and growing, just as you saw.”

Link looked back biting his cheek and staring at Sky. The young man had moved to stand next to Time. Though Sky smiled back hopefully, Link did not. Nonetheless, the kid sighed and crossed his arms. “Fine. Fine, lunch then we go— but that’s it!”

Though their laugh only seemed to miff the kid more, he at least joined them at the edge of the village to a preexisting plot of ash and darkened wood. Seemed campfires weren’t uncommon across its shore. Legend already planned for a fire and had already gathered wood, pulling a firerod from his bag nonchalantly to light it.

“Wait, seriously?”

Sky looked up from where he had pierced the fish’ flesh like a skewer. “What?”

“Not going to add anything?”

“Oh,” exclaimed Wind. “I have some rock salt somewhere— aha!” No one else added anything after as the two sprinkled salt across the porgy. They were already cleaned and ready, at least.

But that wasn’t to satisfactory because when Sky tried to put it back over the fire again he breathed deeply. “You deserve this,” he mumbled before getting up and running back towards the village.

“Link!”

Beside Four, Time grinned. “Let it be. I think I know what’s going on.”

“So uh, do I not cook this?” Sky held out the pierced porgy.

Apparently they didn’t have to wait long because in due time their youngest stumbled forward with his hands full and dumping most of it in Sky’s lap before also tossing the small purple wallet at Legend.

“Thief!”

“Food saver!” Link retorted. “Saffron. Garlic, olive oil, peppers, truffle shavings — do these not exist for you guys?”

“Wait, wait,” Hyrule said with his hands pressed together in mock prayer held close to his mouth in thought. “You’re telling me even a kid knows more about cooking than me?”

“I’m not a kid!”

“We’re saved!” Warrior declared. “What do you need, little guy? Call me sous chef.”

“War rations guy plus tiny brat? What could possibly go wrong?” Legend joked.

At that, Link pointed at him. “You just lost seasoning rights.” Four noted that the saffron and chives and whatever else did not smother the skin of one of the porgy fish already pushed onto a skewer and plunged into the sand to lay just over the fire. Link poked at Warrior’s ungloved hands. “You have a funny tan line.”

“You want help, right kid?”

Link looked around at the other companions while holding a bell pepper. “I need a knife.”

“Here, give it to me,” offered Wars.

“I can do it myself.”

“And you need to divvy up the seasoning,” Warriors argued, taking the bell peppers from Link’s hands to quickly slice with the small knife attached to his belt. They weren’t stupid. While Link likely was used to holding a blade, the others were trying to let this image of innocence last while it could. The scars were hard enough, sometimes.

The two worked efficiently, Link giving out orders and War more or less just copying. Meanwhile the others sat back to watch or made small talk. Twi wandered off to see if one of their orders had finished just as Wind and Hyrule started a rock skipping competition at the water’s edge. However, it was only minutes for the aroma to draw them back in. Four was not salivating. Absolutely not.

Such a scent brought Hyrule’s face just inches from the roasted porgy staring cross-eyed at its crisp skin. “Is it ready yet?”

“Duh.” Link pulled one back from their forward pitch over the fire and poked at its skin. “Pick one you want— not you, Legend.”

“You serious?!”

Link specifically handed Legend his skewer of two porgy and veggies that notably lacked the same coating of seasoning as the rest, and Four hid his grin behind his palm. When he could muster a calm demeanor again, he took his own divinely smelling skewer. He picked at the porgy’s skin, tearing it to place on his tongue.

Sky was the loudest. “Wow. I wasn’t expecting this.”

“. . . But is it better than Grandma’s?”

“I don’t think your grandma knows spice like this, Wind.”

“This is really good!”

“Why does this taste gourmet?”

“Whoa.” Four couldn’t agree more. “What’s the secret?”

Link leaned forward, looking around him then whispering in that way all children do, “Goron spice. Just a sprinkle goes a long way.” He held the tiny vial out for only Four’s view before hiding it once more. Four would buy as many bottles needed if he could eat like this for the rest of his life.

The others joined in idle chat with Link sat between him and Time chewing methodically on his own skewer with a bouncing leg. It seemed the kid still wanted to head out as soon as possible. A warm meal could only coax a kid still for so long.

Especially when furry friends show up out of the blue.

Link spotted it first, eyes narrowing then widening, the skewer dropping to the sand as he scrambled to his feet just as Time waved at the newcomer: Wolfie.

Not again, not again—

Link scrambled back at the sight of the dark beast prancing over without a worry. It knew itself to be the top predator. It had no fear of the Hylians it approached.

Time held out his arm like a barrier between boy and beast. Except his voice did not come out as snarling warnings towards the lurking demon wolf but cooing towards Link. “Hey, hey, he’s not going to bite, I promise. Look, he’s just curious what’s for lunch.”

Link wanted to respond “yah, me” considering the beast’s twitching nose yet it followed the meat skewers still angled towards the fire. Legend still munched on his bland skewer but scooted over for the approaching wolf. It really was obedient to them. That did not mean Link was among them.

“Here.” Time twisted around to his pack and unhooking the shield from its side to set with the concave side up. He plucked one of the skewers up, pulling the fish from it and setting the makeshift plate before the wolf. It sniffed, curious until gripping a fish in its mouth.

At the wolf’s content, Mr. Time leaned back. “See? Just a big, old harmless grouch if anything.”

A growl rumbled from its throat as if it could hear the insult before going back to its fish.

Four leaned over, a knowing smile on his face. “One time,” he whispered, “he gave me a piggyback ride. Give him a good scratch behind the ears and he’s the biggest softy you’ll meet.”

At that, the beast whined, and it was pathetic. “Err, nice Wolfie," Link tried.

It huffed, going back to its treat. While he couldn’t say he believed the harmless part, Link didn’t plan on running away again to make just yesterday’s terrifying incident a repeat. No one else was reacting and the wolf wasn’t even staring anymore. . . He’d let it slide for now. From its place beside Legend, he could see the width of its paws, hear the subtle snaps of the fish’s flesh giving to canines. Legend could lean against it, and his head would be lost in dark fur. It’s a color he hadn’t seen before, with tones of grey taking up the belly and neck and a dark top coat. The patterns around its face were strange too. How distant must this animal be from his time for it to evolve so differently to the wolves that wander Hyrule’s plains avoiding guardians and monsters alike?

He wondered if the beast grew feral during the blood moons. He hoped he would be in Hateno by then with the slate fixed just in case. Not having the slate to keep track of time was annoying, but if he remembered correctly it could be by tomorrow night. Looking to Time and the others, each lost in jokes and tales of stories he had no context to, he considered if they had ever seen a blood moon. Doubtful.

Therefore, Link didn’t feel bad to stand up once more brushing away sand. “We should head out, now. You’re full right? We need to pass over the mountain by tonight.”

“Why the rush?”

Link stared at the semi ate porgy on Legend’s skewer. “It’s like you don’t want to eat.”

Though the group laughed, Link wasn’t stupid. They knew something was up and it was a matter of time before they decided to turn around and try to find the castle themselves. Spotting Sky and the blade beside him . . . No.

They’d proven to him over and over they weren’t against him. Their angle made so little sense to him but it was the one they stuck with. And if they could get him to Purah who could also contact Robbie and Impa about strange encounters and portals— they could back their story or maybe send them back home. They always had answers to these kinds of things that made so little sense to a mind still playing catchup.

Legend threatened to eat his pie slice, but Link already kicked his feet in the sand to smother the fire.

Wind cupped his hands over his eyes and looked back towards the village. “You know, wasn’t Twilight checking our order?”

As if it could understand, the wolf shot up and trotted towards the village. Did really no one care that a giant wolf demon could chew someone’s leg off? Nope, apparently not. “C’mon,” called someone. Too many travelers, and he still didn’t believe they were all really named Link.

They found Twilight alone at the edge of the village in mid conversation with—

The merchant saw him and grinned ear to ear, waving manically. “Hey, stalker!”

Beedle! Link meant to run forward until the armored arm intercepted him. “Friend or disguise?” Time asked. Already the others tensed.

Stupid. All it takes is one little incident and now they thought everyone was out to get him. He shoved the arm to the side and waved. “Hi, Beedle!”

He would swear he heard Wind say, “Wait, Beedle?”

Calling his name only spurred the merchant to wave wider, nearly teetering with the giant pack shaped like a beetle toppling him. Link had to admit, such a name and eye catching bag certainly helped with his noteworthiness among the stables.

“Oh, is Mr. Twilight a friend of yours? Hmm,” Beedle said tapping at his chin. The others approached at a slower pace now that crisis had been averted. “Then in that case, you get a discount.”

Link sputtered. “Wha- hey! How come they get a deal, and I don’t?” How many times had Beedle denied him even the tiniest discount even when he said it was for the greater good?

“Don’t you know not to make deals with tricksters?” Beedle joked. If it was anyone else, Link would panic, but Beedle had been nothing but good with his word to keep his older form a secret. “But I heard you make a mean hearty radish soup. Share the recipe and we’ll call it even.”

“Meanie,” he whined but nonetheless held out his hand for paper and pencil.

While Link wrote out the recipe, Beedle turned to the other companions, plopping his pack down with a loud thump to set up shop. “So, what’s Little Link got you roped up into?”

“Don’t call me that!”

“So?”

Someone hesitantly answered that they were traveling brothers but started escorting him for his safety. It wasn’t a terrible excuse. In fact he wouldn’t deny a family resemblance through all of them. Beedle had shared a quick glance towards him that Link rolled his eyes at. “They’re not actually Yiga this time.”

“This time?” Warrior asked.

“Oh, good!” The young man held out his hand to shake those that offered and prepared their wares: bundles of arrows, some rations, and glass bottles with nothing inside them. What were they even planning to use them for? Whatever.

“Are you guys heading for Lakeside Stable next?”

“We actually just came from there,” explained Warrior. “We’ll be heading north, according to Link, here.”

The merchant’s demeanor suddenly shifted. “Oh, uh, that’s probably not a good idea? Namura who makes those really good fish lures? He said to camp out here for the evening because he saw monsters gathering up on the hillsides. I’m hunkering down here ‘til morning, too! We can share more recipes!”

The others looked about themselves while Link panicked. “Can’t. Gotta get to Hateno.”

Time turned to the merchant. “You’re saying the migrant pattern is unusual?”

“At those levels, yah,” Beedle confirmed. “But what’s so important in Hateno, Link?”

“. . . The slate.”

“Wait, you left it there?”

“It’s broken.”

“Oh,” the merchant said, then his eyes widened. “ Oh. ”

“Yah. Which is why I want to get there as soon as I can. Oh, and they want to meet the princess.”

“The princ— okay. Yah, okay. Fine. You get the discount as a one time only, you hear?”

Link smiled. “Pleasure as always, Beedle!”

“Wait, you’re kidding,” groaned Legend. “That’s it? No ‘It’s too dangerous to go alone’ spiel?”

“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” Beedle asked dryly. “Here, you can have my, uh — I have that boomerang you gave me!”

“No thanks, dude. You need it more than I do.”

“But you—” Beedle looked over at the other travelers. “Okay. If you’re sure. Be safe, little guy,” he said before ruffling the kid’s hair.

“Not little!”

“Isn’t he the cutest? Take care of ‘em, alright? And good luck, travelers!”

Link didn’t pause to wave, pulling at Time’ tunic until the man turned towards the road then walked on forward ahead. He only paused to ensure they followed, checking that Sky was among them and the sword. They were. He slowed to let Wind pace with him.

“So,” he started, “got a plan?”

Link smiled. “Something like that. The question is if I can convince everyone else to join in.” He had maybe two hours and an incredible whiny voice. It worked on Robbie, after all.

“No.”

“Puh-lease!”

“You have no self-preservation.”

“C’mon! I promise I know what I’m doing.”

“Wind agrees!”

“Wind, stop encouraging him.”

“Time?”

“Don’t give me those eyes.”

“Time?~”

“I never wanted kids.”

“Good, because I ain’t your kid.”

“If I agree to help you will you stop stealing my wallet?”

“For now.”

“. . . Deal.”

Nightly, Time wondered what became of the worlds he abandoned.

He wondered if they fared better than the ones before him, where their age and eyes matched unlike his own.

Somewhere within a two hour hike, a plan formed, one that sounded very stupid but one Link promised he did all the time. This fact did not ease their concern.

Atop a cliff side stood a tall blin made structure, a scaffolding with layered tiers that Link knocked down only months before. He should really increase the frequency that he checks around Lurelin. Blins of varying colors and shapes took up both ground and its tiers, with camps of beast he’d never seen before.

“They’re my blins,” Twilight said. Gross. These had hair like a Hylian.

“What the hell is that thing in the robe?” Someone asked.

“Wizzrobes.”

“Why is it smiling?”

“Probably just had lunch.”

“Link, you’re not funny.”

The one thing he was thankful for was their stupidity. At one point Link had thought they simply spoke a different dialect, but overtime the mosnter’s intelligence came into question.

The only indicator that the monsters were never working with the Yiga, he realized, is that monsters like to sleep next to barrels of exploding powder. Twice had he ever seen them use the barrels in a clever fashion: one for the Moblin to chuck at him and two when they managed to tear a hole in the side of Gerudo Town, not that they survived long. There’d been small efforts across Hyrule that all fell short of successful, like destroying the bridge up to Rito Village seemingly forgetting that it’s inhabitants had wings.

“What are they doing?”

Link noticed too. The ground group piled barrels further up the cliff side. To reach this area from Lurelin is essentially a winding climb around the mountain overlooking the village.

The blins that wandered the ground carried barrels on their shoulders, piping them at the edge of the the cliff that would overlook Lurelin.

“Plan B, no explosions.”

“What? You spent the last hour talking about bombs and fires, kids,” said Warrior.

“I think— see where they’re piling the barrels? Below that is Lurelin.”

Hyrule was first to speak the detrimental truth. “It’ll send a landslide through the village.”

Sky looked down the trail they’d come from. “They won’t know what’s happening until they’re buried.”

“So what now?”

Link bit his lip, looking across the tier scaffolding and barrels piling up. How long until the monsters will light them themselves? “I . . . I don’t know.” He spent fights creating as much havoc as possible, not the other way around. Stasis could pause time maybe long enough to stop them from lighting it on accident or purposefully. Magnesis to steal weapons. He could use a great ice blade or electric rod— those were in his slate now and very inaccessible. Were they still stored or gone forever? The Master Sword should have been among them, yet Sky carried it on his back.

Legend searched through his bag with a complicated look. “I think I have an idea.”

If he had been smarter, wiser, cautious rather than so trusting that everything would work out alright, that Hylia for once was working in their favor, he wouldn’t be holding Link to his chest, blood seeping down his armor as the boy took his last breath.

Chapter 4: Grace to Hateno

Chapter Text

They had to backtrack to reach the unmarked bend in the road Link claimed led over the hills towards Hateno. It was infested, Sky recognizing beasts from across their travels. The winding slope led up to a plateau of monsters using a tiered scaffolding using a tree’s natural branching as a base, it seemed, but it was what laid further up the cliffside that was concerning. If what Link said was true, then this would be meticulous.

The beauty of having eight heroes across time as his allies was that their skill and resources were above your average mercenary. Sure, they couldn’t carry everything with them, but Legend’s bag came in handy more often than not. Sky still wasn’t sure how he managed to keep it organized.

Twilight placed the hawkeye mask over his face, a bow in hand. “Seem to be organized into camps . . . Is exploding powder common in your Hyrule, Link?”

“Robbie says . . . I mean, people say it’s not hard to make, because it’s red chu chu jelly and some other stuff to keep it from blowing up yet. But pressure and heat will to set it off.”

“Gotcha. Don’t toss ‘em around or else it all goes boom.”

“Right,” said Warriors, checking off that everyone was ready until his eyes landed on Link just to make that same suggestion he’d asked over and over for the past twenty minutes. “Link, why don’t you backtrack to Lurelin once your part is done, just in case?”

“Nope. We’re wasting time.”

“Actually, Time’s right here, but we don’t need kids on the field. Besides, they need to know things are happening around here in case more monsters show up again.”

Link sighed. “They won’t listen to me.”

“You are their hero, are you not?”

“I’m not— they won’t listen to me.”

Sky bit the inside of his cheek. Now wasn’t the time to question him and it wasn’t like Link was really going to sit on the sideline anyway. No Link was, it seemed. “You can watch Twilight’s back. In case anyone tries to sneak up on him.”

The kid paused, an obvious remark on his tongue he had to bite down. “Fine.”

Good. Now to get into position. War sounded off, people getting into their groups. At the moment, they sat at the disadvantaged low ground, the monsters taking up the cliffside and the tiered tree.

Sky was quick to offer up Link’s power as a solution. “I mean, it’d be multiple trips, but it’s possible.”

Hyrule had stared bewilderedly. “You can do magic?”

“Sky! . . No, I can’t.”

“Kid,” Twilight said, “It wasn’t just that dragon that lifted us out of there.”

“Farosh, and it’s not my magic. It’s like a blessing. I can’t do magic.”

Stranger and stranger. Link indeed was an enigma and he hoped one day he would be willing to speak more on himself when it wasn’t little snippets just solving whatever problem they currently faced. Yiga, magical blessings— another time. Sky checked the Master Sword and adjusted his sailcloth as everyone prepared.

Meanwhile, Twilight knelt down beside Link to set a small blade in his hands. “You won’t have to use it. You’re to tell me the second a monster spots us and heads our way, but I feel better knowing you have something.”

Link nodded. Though the leather was well worn at the hilt, its blade was still sharp. “Okay.”

Time to get to work.

Monsters should know by now that peace and quiet was never a good sign. Whoever was forcing them to jump across timelines should know better.

At the base of the hill, Warrior swung the fire rod lazily. “Good thing Legend has extras, huh?”

Four smiled beside him, the only two coming up on the tiered tree from the bottom of the hill. He bounced a bomb in his hand, its tail already set alight. “Good thing we’re the only ones allowed to use real firepower.” He then threw it straight up, a good toss too, before it’s explosion echoed over the mountain terrain. “Heads up!”

Eyes turned, monsters’ ears perking up. Distraction was underway with blins and other beasts raising their weapons in a cry for war. Archers upon the tiered tree took aimed as the two heroes began their assault, unaware of Twilight on the adjacent isolated cliff’s edge. Flames erupted from the fire rod with Warrior taking sweeping strikes to inch forward. “Aim left, kid.”

Lighting another bomb, Four chucked it at the closing in Moblin and grinned as it took air. He looked further on. “Watch it!” he shouted just as an arrow whizzed past his ear.

“Someone’s not doing their job!”

Said bokoblin fell before it could notch its next arrow.

It was atop the cliff where the others lied, leaving Twilight as sharpshooter with Link at his side somewhere in the middle. His only cover was the winding trees and measly bushes, but a canopy of leaves hid him well.

He breathed, drew back the bow’s string, waiting for Link’s word.

The said boy eyed Four, watched as he tossed another bomb for a monster Link had never seen before. “Now.”

Releasing the arrow, Twilight breathed out just as both arrow met its mark and the resounding explosion of the bomb covered it.

They were making good progress. From their position, the young man could see out over the winding hills. More monsters were noticing the commotion and the challenge below, their orders forgotten as they set their carried barrels down to find their weapons and join the fray. Not all, but many. Perfect. Bringing his fingers to his lips, his bird call echoed. He repeated before returning to his bow and brought down an archer with peculiar electric arrows. “How are the others?”

Link looked further out where the monsters at the top of the cliff had been stacking barrels, all leaving their positions to check on the fray further down just as from the bushes the gleam of armor gave Time away. The flamed wizzrobe, floating above the blins and other strange monsters, spotted him just as the rest of the heroes sprang out with swords at the ready. Wind burst forward, his boomerang swooping over and curling until crashing upside the monster’s head almost knocking it to the ground.

Link smiled to himself. If there was one thing he’d learned after all this time it was that monsters were easily distracted and even easier to move right where you want them, including away from the very explosive barrels so a couple of armed Hylians could surround them. From this distance it was difficult to see, but blins fell into satisfying dark mist. It was difficult to tell if the blood itself was black or it was the dark malicious magic he associated with Ganon. “Seems to be going well.” Surrounded at both sides, while the battlefield large, and Twilight at his perch, they could do this. A flash of light caught his eye, Hyrule surging down the hill with Legend at his back. Soon that damn tree would be coming down and Link will never have to worry about monsters using it as a base again. This was too good to be true.

As all things are.

Experience with Revali’s gale was strange. He paid attention to wind currents and updrafts, noticed when a sudden shift in direction meant a storm was coming.

The gentle tug at his clothes was too innocent for its origin. He whipped around, dagger in hand, but it was nothing compared to the swirling dark vortex, a deep void between an arch. “Twilight!” he shouted just as he spotted something in its depths: clawed fingers and scales, taller than the lizalfos and snout too long, head too sleek. Surrounding it were the familiar and foreign monsters that the others fought below.

But it was its eyes that caught Link off guard, blood red and all seeing.

Link held his dagger, a stupid little dagger that wouldn’t pierce armor but maybe cut a tendon if he could get close, yet it was obvious the thing was lithe and used to a good fight. “Twilight!!”

The monster growled before rushing forward, just as an arm grabbed Link around his middle and lifted him off his feet. A clang a metal resounded ear piercing. Twilight didn’t wait for a second strike, dragging them forward until Link shoved off so they could run full speed. “What is that thing!?”

Twilight still gripped his arm to drag him through his tripping feet. “That’s what we’ve been chasing. It controls those portals.”

Portals. That’s a portal. He was running for his life with the epiphany that these guys weren’t insane after all. Portals and strange monsters, sciences only Purah and Robbie dabbled over in the middle of dinner in Tarrey Town. This was real.

“Keep running!” shouted Twilight, dragging them forward where the cliff would lower into an easy hill to reach where Time and the others had initially hid. “We have to warn the others.”

As trees gave away and the battlefield came back into view, Link realized it was already too late. The area was already infested with monsters. Now it was piling up as the dark arches closed their portals behind the reinforcements — weapons drawn and hungry grins.

With his back turned, Twilight couldn’t see the bokoblin rushing forward, and the dagger in his hand felt hot. Link surged forward just to slide across the grass and let the blade meet the monster’s vulnerable legs.

It howled, but Link wasn’t done, because he was quick to jump back to his feet, the monster thinking it could bash him away with its brittle wooden shield, and aimed for the heart.

The bokoblin fell away leaving its weapons behind. He picked up the club when one of his bokoblins, silver, pushed Twilight back. If he used stasis, he could— kneecaps, aim for the kneecaps. He didn’t have the power of his older form, but any bare kneecap would shatter at the impact.

It was Twilight who made the final blow and the monster fell away for another to take its place. Not good.

“Wind!”

Link turned in search of Four and Wind, somewhere further down the cliffside, and between the bobbing heads of monsters and sweeping feet, just flickers of the blue tunic was visible crumpled to the floor and Four over him. “Twilight! Wind’s down!”

The man cursed, blocking a monster's attack just to block another at his left, and Link realized he wouldn’t make it, not even if he tried to run to them.

But the wooden shield still laid in the grass.

Link didn’t think twice about picking it up. The slope of the hill would be just enough, the dagger and club barely held in the same hand. And jumping just out of reach of a strange monster’s clawed hands, he leaped onto the shield. He nearly pitched forward, but crouching low kept him secure, slipping between the legs of a moblin and curving out of the way of a wildly thrown spear, until he barreled into the blin closing in on Four and letting his speed push the dagger into its shoulder. It cried out just as the boy spun around with his knife at the ready, except it was Four from behind the monster’s back that jammed his blade straight into its back—

Wait, what?

Link blinked.

There was a Four standing over Wind’s body as guard, and another over the crumbling monster, the only key difference being their colored tunics.

Okay, yah, okay. He was gonna grill him on this later, because right now there was a white moblin bigger than any moblin he remembered seeing. Their arms don’t get that size, its back hunched strangely.

Four, the one with the green tunic stepped between them with his sword raised. “Link, you need to run.” Already the one with the red tunic was dragging the unconscious Wind from the fray. An explosion went off to his right. Is there another Four still throwing bombs to draw attention away?

But Four was just a few inches taller than him and that wasn’t anything impressive, not when the moblin towered, tongue licking its chaps as if coming across a bite-size snack. He couldn’t look away when both Four and the monster rushed forward in the utter chaos.

And chaos described it perfectly, especially when a spear whizzed past his shoulder. A bokoblin more humanoid than not — Twilight’s — raised a second spear with a battle cry. Royal bow with electric arrow, then a sword to its— but Link could handle at least this. When it charged, he swung the club directly into the charging spear and watched it sink into the wood. He could work with that. The Bokoblin grinned with too many teeth until Link yanked to the side, the bokoblin falling with the connected club and spear, and it was quick work to finish it.

He looked back just as Four’s body was flung. There was no scream of pain, just a child falling several meters, rolling from the force. The white moblin chortled deep in its throat, too deep and scratchy from anything Link recognized, and when it stepped forward to finish the job, —bomb at its feet— Link did the only thing he could think of.

“Hey! Snot-nose! Over here!” It’s eyes caught his, and Link’s lungs seized. It reached to the closest bokoblin and without remorse church it straight for Link, forcing him to roll out of its way, then charging. Okay, good. He had its attention. Link spotted the discarded shield and dove straight into it, letting the momentum take him further down the hill with the Moblin right on his tail. Ahead was a rusty sword stuck in the ground that he leaned over and caught as he passed, pulling it and redirecting himself to the next flat ground, that being just under the tiered tree that Hyrule was working on.

“Link, what are you doing here!? It’s about to come down!”

That was Legend fighting off his own plethora of monsters. At the base of the tree stood ‘Rulie panting with his magic sword in hand and a good chunk of the trunk cut into. It was almost time. Link called out to Legend, “Help me get this guy in position!” he jerked a thumb back to the trailing Moblin coming up on them, just one of many in the area that encased them, surrounding and vicious for blood.

Downing the small fry that’d been on Legend, the man nodded. “Leave it to me, let Hyrule know.” With that, he shouted, “This way pig head! Eyes on me!”

Link ran, taking out the leg of a bokoblin that tried to intercept him. The brittle sword may be dulled, but it did its work and he wasn’t completely useless. Habits and techniques adapted to his size kept him running, dodging and slipping between legs and over swiping swords until finally reaching ‘Rulie, the young man’s hands glowing red and warm.

“Link! What are you—”

“No time! Bring it down, bring it down!” This close he could feel the heat of Hyrule’s magic on his face, the young man placing his hands to the tree's bark and surging energy through it, until flames bled out. Looking up, he watched how it began to climb, swallowing the tiered landings with incredible speed. Hyrule had hacked its trunk with powerful strikes, and if this worked right, this would deal with the majority of the monsters. This was why Four and Warrior were meant to urge the monsters back this way. Legend looked up only for a second before running, the white moblin he’d been fighting wiping at its eyes from whatever attack the man had used.

“Now!”

Hyrule raised the blade once more, the blade itself encased in ethereal warmth, the bracelet on his wrist too glowing, and Link took a step back as the man wound up his arm and swung with incredible strength.

There was a second of nothing.

Then came the crack of wood and Hyrule was suddenly picking him up and running before the scaffolding could fall on them.

“Timber!”

Link watched over ‘Rulie’s shoulder as the moblin only looked up, its hungry grin wiped away to horror as the inflamed tree came down. Then it was out of sight, the thud of the tree falling like a Lynels roar ricocheting from the intensity, and the wide breadth of the tiered landings collapsing like a bird with its wings splayed across the field.

Flames engulfed, and what a remarkable sight. That was maybe a third of the encroaching monsters crushed in a single act. It wasn’t over, but the odds just tipped back into their favor. Hyrule set him down to lock blades with a blin’s claymore. He was really getting sick of people carrying him, not that it mattered because there was a blin of his own charging forward. Link pulled the shield over his head, holding it by its edge to be vertical in the air, and threw forward and smiled as the blin’s head jutted back from the impact.

He spotted Warrior’s scarf at one point, the man holding his own with a mix of sword and fire rod to keep from being overwhelmed. He quickly surveyed what was left of the monsters and standing companions. Did Wind and Four make it out? He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Has anyone seen Wind!?”

Those in proximity shouted back no’s and monsters' war cries. Four would have taken him hopefully out of sight, and Link found himself working back up the hill. He could see Sky way up ahead pushing back a wizzrobe with Time against something akin to a bokoblin if their stomachs were tripled in size. If he was honest with himself, Link could feel fatigue kicking in and it burned at his legs. He hated being young.

They must be around the bend, he’d thought to himself, dodging a monster’s splintered club and dropping it quickly. He’d just reached where he’d last seen them when red caught his eye. Unlike the blins, it was scaled and quiet, didn’t snort and chortle at the thought of easy prey. No, the leader that came from that portal was silent, towering, and waiting. Link paused, the thing’s eyes locked onto him, realizing that it wanted him to find the others, to lead it to them.

Link stood, glaring right back in a tunic too large and shoes pinching awkwardly and grinning with satisfaction that it wouldn’t get what it wanted out of him. Perhaps it noticed, because its pupiless eyes narrowed and grip tightened. Its sword dark like obsidian absorbed the light that should have reflected off its surface.

“Well?" Link offered, "I’m right here!”

It did not need further taunts, launching forward with the speed of a lizalfos and forcing Link —stasis— to dodge to the side. It followed, and Link dared not try to collide blades. His strength would never hold, and it was a dance of dodging and rolling. An opening. He needed an opening — electric rod, ancient spear, magnesis, age and strength and agility and— and he had none of those things.

He ducked just to have to roll before the sword would split him in half. The Sheikah taught him well, but he was winded. Before he could even get to his feet, it fainted left, Link dashing to the side, just for it to swipe across for his head— and Link jumped, the action practiced so many times it was like those habits from a life he couldn’t remember or escape. And the momentum would send him back onto his feet, his enemy not realizing his own natural speed or how he could surge forward with his own power to its exposed torso in a flurry rush.

Only Link didn’t realize this monster’s cleverness, how it forced him to move how it wanted, that when Link’s feet touched the ground, it was to an unsteady hill he could never keep his balance on. Link fell back, tumbling down the slope until the world spun. When his body stopped and eyes didn’t, he blindly grabbed for his blade, only to spot the dark clawed foot of the monster, and every fiber of his being screamed out. He looked up just as the beasts jutted his blade forward—

Yet he felt the encasing warmth of lava rock and bolstering laughter meant for brothers and boisterous parties.

Orange filmed his vision along with the echoing ricochet of the monster’s strike. Daruk’s protection encased him in honey and promises that a shield brother would go down with him if he had to.

Another ricochet, like a drum, pounding, pulverising— over the crystal shell that protected him. The beast did not cry out or growl, only kept its strikes powerful and precise, hitting the same place on the dome over and over.

The shell was cracking, branching with every hit, the sound deafening to a mind with no plan. Think, think, think! No slate. Revali’s gale used up. His sword was on the other side of this monster. The others are too close to rely on Urbosa, what if he hit them? What if they saw and thought him—

You're going to die if you do nothing .

He screamed when the next strike sliced off the top of the shield and Daruk’s protection fell away, the monster raising its blade to strike.

Link raised his hand and snapped.

Thunder roared over him, his ears popping as every muscle in the creature tensed, a startled cry coming from its maw. But it didn’t collapse.

It merely turned its gaze back to him with intense rigor that froze him on the spot.

And for a moment it wasn’t that thing standing over him or grass tickling his palms, but malice eating up his sides, encroaching, aching— eyes too knowing yet faithless, giving up humanity to consume and take and take and take —

And nothing stopped the white hot pain striking at his stomach.

At least he saw Sky raise Link’s swo— no, his sword — the master sword to strike at its back—

His vision blurred and fingers went numb. He’d help finish it off in just . . . a minute . . .

He brought the ocarina to his lips

Zelda told a story of a boy named Link one evening inside Kakariko Village. His father, a respected knight, had little time to grieve the loss of his wife and brought his son along with him out of their small Hateno home and to Castle Town where Link’s aunt could raise him. But children hardly sat still, begging to follow his father, meeting knights and cadets inside the peaceful castle and the Zora of the Domain. It took a single encounter to befriend the little Zora prince. Children had little to worry about other than bedtimes and playdates.

But childhood is never as long as it should be, and playing close to the Lost Woods, chasing a pesky lizard always just outside of his grasp, found him coming across his fate in the shape of a sword too large to sheath on his back. Zelda had looked at him then, her smile pained and sorrowful, voice wet as she spoke. “No one deserves such weight.”

She spoke of memories he didn’t have. She said his father was a kind man, and told him how Link had been his whole world. Even after he pulled the sword he never looked at him differently. Link wouldn't have known what she meant if not for meeting the Zora.

Muzu was blunt.

But Link agreed.

Rumor had it that a hero arose, one capable of pushing back ash and waste from Calamity once and for all, someone better than the brat a hundred years before.

Perhaps Muzu meant to compliment the young man before him compared to the failure of a hundred years ago. “A stupid kid that all of Hyrule was supposed to put their faith in! He’d barely escaped his babysitters before that king called him their prophet just to take our princess down with him!” Muzu did not recognize the young adult before him, did not consider the line of scars or tense frown.

Link didn’t know his real age. Impa said he was young, too young, and Link never asked for clarification.

And it didn’t matter because he hurt so many people. He ripped Sidon’s family apart. His failure forced Zelda to pick up his slack and leave an entire kingdom to a monster’s mercy.

What was he besides a stupid brat way in over his head? He’d wiped his nose before approaching that lynel above the Zora Domain, realizing that now was his time to fix this, to fix everything. Because this time he could be the hero, finally having the reach with his blade. Purah would be his final mercy, a final chance to become something worthy of his title.

Yet he still wasn’t good enough, huh? How many times had he thanked Mipha for her grace? She’d told him once on top of Vah Ruta when Zelda’s beckoning would lead him to storm the castle once and for all that they were children playing war. He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand much of anything.

Even now, when his eyes refocused and feelings became images and the warmth of blood cooled compared to his breath, he did not understand why someone was crying. People don’t cry for failures, only for what they lost. King Dorephan choked up when speaking of his late daughter just as Zelda did for Urbosa. Parent and child separated by death never got easier, she’d told him, and the guilt he felt didn’t either.

So why, after Mipha placed a gentle kiss on his temple, did he feel the sharp edges of armor pressing against him, to braced arms enveloping him and a wet cheek against his head? Waking up was always strange, like his fingers weren’t his and lights too bright. Seconds like hours took for him to place slick palms against the breastplate and push.

Why when he pushed away from Time did he look at Link like that?

Suddenly gloved hands held each side of his face, a thumb brushing his cheek too heavy to be normal, shaking. Blood coated his ears and hair from the hands but so did it soak up his tunic at his abdomen. Before him, Mr. Time’s eyes, both of them, stared wide and rimmed red. The left one, he noticed, lacked a pupil or iris— was it from an accident?

Link pushed again. “Your armor pinches.”

Like touching an electric wire, Time flinched away and Link finally got to sit up straight and see the aftermath of their stunt. He could hear Warrior and Legend counting off the remaining enemies. It was almost over then. Sky stood just a short distance away, eyes wide and master sword in hand coated in black blood. Did he kill it?

A startled gasp reminded him of the rest of the entourage with Hyrule suddenly jumping to his side. “Let me fix this, lay down Link— you’re going to be okay—“

“I’m fine.”

“You will be, I just need you to—“

“I’m healed okay!?”

He lifted his tunic— more red and mud than white with a puncture he would have to apologize for— to a smothered stomach but not cut. He wiped his hand across it to show the unmarred skin under muck and blood, ignoring the scars but at least no open wounds before tugging it back down.

It was like it fell on deaf ears or vengeful ones because once more he was pressed into the breastplate. Link tapped at it, trying to get Time’s attention again, but the man held him tight, voice shaky when he requested, “Give me a moment.”

Link sighed. He felt sticky and could hear the last of the monsters be slain, the squeals obnoxious to his exhausted mind. “The leader— did you get it? Did you find Wind?”

Time’s fingers tensed, but he answered softly, “He’s okay. Twilight hid him.” He did not answer his first question. But Link didn’t try to push away again, instead fully leaning his head against the breastplate and breathed. The area where the sword had pierced ached oddly but just ghost pain. Mipha ensured it wouldn’t scar which he was grateful for.

“Everyone’s okay,” he asked.

“Yah, you’re all okay.”

It took minutes for the others to join them and more to soothe. He was okay, so was Wind and Four who suspiciously stood as just one person. If Four hadn’t fidgeted so much, he would have asked right then what kind of rune he used, but maybe he would save it for a quiet moment.

Hyrule looked as worn as he felt having used so much magic and it’s agreed they should finish and move on. The smell of burning flesh still lingered but the barrels had to be moved, those injured unstacking them carefully away to be blown up individually. “We’re out of arrows,” Twilight noted once they’d finished, and by then it was getting close to evening. Wild was back in Four’s undertunic instead of Wind’s shirt with most of the blood dried. They at least let him walk. Considering his knowledge of the terrain and monsters, it was still quick, but the weight of battle exhausted several of them. Wind seemed to be doing okay, just a “lucky hit,” he called it. With how shaken Time had seemed, Link wasn’t surprised when the man walked beside him at the front of the group with a constant hand on the hilt of his sword.

“I’m okay, Time.”

He didn’t think the man believed him.

When the boots had rubbed painfully into his heels, they reached the planned halfway point. He didn’t think this place had a name, not one in the records or of Zelda’s recollection, but the old foundation of a house still stood alone in the forest.

“What’s with the flag?”

It wasn’t much of a flag, more of a strip of red fabric tied to a few pieces of wood. “Marker,” he answered, though by their looks they hadn’t expected him to know. “There’s not a lot of foot traffic in here, but it means this area is relatively safe to rest.” Not far from it, after all, was a setup cooking pot.

They entered between the broken foundations, climbing over rubble and the flora that learnt to climb it in twisting vines and leaves. Weeds dotted the edges like they would on cobblestone paths, flourishing with how few caravans or travelers disturbed them.

Grumbling led to someone gathering wood, another lighting a fire and the rest huddling closely. The somber tone was not lost on Link, but maybe they hadn’t had a fight like that in a while. He too had much to think about, several revelations clicking into place from the story he thought to be something they pulled from a fairytale.

“So, you’re not crazy,” he deadpanned.

Now that led to shifting eyes and something other than glume on their faces. ‘Rulie was the one to respond. “Pardon?”

“The portals. You’re seriously from another time. You’re not a bunch of loons or mercs pulling my leg, or some cultists wanting me to join your Link fanclub . . .” He turned to Sky, spotting the familiar purple hilt. “You seriously forged the sword?”

Warrior pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hold up, you didn’t believe us yet let us accompany you?”

“You’re weird, sure, but you didn’t kill me or sell me out to the Yiga. That was kinda the turning point, you guys protecting me.” They had every chance to finish him off. They could have left him to that moblin that first day, given him up to the Yiga, run away even— but over and over they protected him.

“He called us loony cultists.”

“Not now,” someone whispered.

Sky smiled. “I did forge it. I knew the spirit, though according to the others, she’s been asleep for a long time. Have you met her: Fi?”

This was the first he’d ever heard of anything like this. Records revealed several names: Evil’s Bane and Sword that Seals the Darkness, sometimes just magic sword, but Fi was not among them. When he held it, it was just a dull blade until it decided it had enough energy. It simply sat in his inventory unused until . . . hmm, he wondered. “Can I see the sword?”

“Sure.” Sky pulled it easily from its sheath, laying it across his palms to present to him. Initially, he believed Sky to have taken it out of the slate, but with the knowledge of the portals and varying eras they came from, what if it’s just a copy carried across time?

In Sky's grasp, he studied it. The hilt's paint was fresh, a vibrant purple and leather wrappings new. The blade itself . . . He remembered in those moments in the inner sanctum when blood dripped from his brow how the sword's light flickered to an indescribable hue, a shimmering kaleidoscope of unworldliness that when it was over returned to the dullest grey.

That wasn’t the case. What was in Sky’s hands wasn’t blinding, but it wasn’t dull either. It was ethereal, gleaming strangely with the last of the day's rays and firelight, but it was beautiful. Fi was a nice name.

“You can hold it, if you want.”

Link looked up to Sky, curious. He reached out. To get to hold the sword unflawed, not worn from time and countless battles his ancestors fought, to feel its raw power—

It was like a switch.

Just as quickly as its gossamer details came into view, intricacies that had faded from wear, it was the broken dull thing he found in the Lost Woods. Robbie told him malice had eaten its edges like a disease, and the sunkenness was familiar and made his stomach flip at the same time.

The soft gasp to his left was nothing compared to the words ringing in his head.

Sky gently pulled the sword back, and once more life returned to it. The panicked look on his face relaxed but still pensive. “She’s— it’s never done that before.” Even now, he kept his grip featherlight like he would be the one to shatter it after it seemingly . . . rejuvenated.

It was Four who leaned forward curiously ignoring the deathly silence around them. Whatever joke Hyrule had been telling Warrior never reached the punchline, and the dried beef in Legend’s hands sat forgotten. “Do you know why it did that?” Four asked.

Link swallowed, studying it and what it could mean. “It. It looked like how mine does.”

“You mean for you era,” said Twilight. “It looked sick.”

That’s a word for it. Seeing it in its former glory, when it radiated warmth and peace— a horrible question crossed his mind he dare not want the answer to.

His throat ached.

And maybe they were catching on that something wasn’t right. Surveying around himself, Legend focused on destroyed foundations with a dark look in his eye. “There’s so many ruins it seems.”

But telling them the origins would be an answer to that question he didn’t want answered. “Most you saw were Zonai.”

“Zonai?”

“In the Faron woods. . . Ten thousand year old race gone extinct. They built the divine beasts.”

Twilight perked up curiously, leaning forward when Wind asked, “Like a monster?”

“More like,” Link started, looking into the distance just to huff in annoyance. “They’re not in view here, but they’re big mechanical machines.”

“. . . Your era is so strange,” commented Wind.

He spotted Twilight deflating, resting his elbows on his knees for reasons Link didn’t know. Yet he considered Wind’s words. “Hmm, you have horses, that’s more than Wind’s era. You have bokoblins too and a form of wizzrobes.”

“Do you have octorocks?” Hyrule asked.

“Yep. There’s a species that can even clean up your swords.” Not that it helped the master sword.

“Lynels?”

“Yah, I’ve fought them before. They’re hooves are good for reinforcing boots.”

Warrior was the one to pat him on the head. “You don’t have to lie. It’s okay if you haven’t fought one— we won’t judge.”

He swatted at the hand. “But I—“ right. He hadn’t told them about the slate and what it could do, not that he thought he did terribly today. He was weak, slow, and maybe stupid in his choices. Grown so used to quick adaption, sudden shifts and instant weapon changes, it was weird to be so limited, but he knew how to bring a dumb bokoblin down. Nonetheless, what they said gave him some interesting insights. Not knowing about the divine beasts meant they weren’t directly after the Zonai’s fall (though Twilight’s reaction was confusing). There would have at least been some records, stories past down to be lost somewhere in the later centuries. If Sky is the first to wield the master sword, just how far in the past were they from him truly?

That same question from before popped in his head.

Time stood from his place against the ruins. “We should get going.”

Link looked around the others, each all doing the same, but it was Hyrule who spoke up. “It’s almost nightfall. We already planned to stay here.”

“Link, when do you think we’d arrive?”

Link ignored that this was the first thing the man had said since reaching the rest spot. “If we left right now, maybe by midnight.”

“I’d feel better if we were in a town. You said Hateno is safe, right? And everyone’s well rested from a night sleep at the stable. We can rest during the day while Link runs his errands. Plus,” he added. “We didn’t pick up a bedroll for you. You’ll freeze.”

Twilight sighed. “Time. . .” The younger man looked up at him, and whatever he saw forced out a sigh. “You’re right. Wars, any juice left in your fire rod?”

“My fire rod, ” commented Legend.

“Yep.” Said man patted at his belt where it hung, glowing against the evening light. It would work as a lantern, Link realized.

Twilight sat beside Link, leaning forward with his back to him. “Alright, get on kid.”

“I can walk.”

“It’s dark and going to get cold.”

He paused. “I still don’t think you’re all named Link.”

A snort came from Legend, the man not looking him in the eye. That was also getting annoying. It was like he couldn’t stand looking at him. “You know anyone else who can hold the sword?”

“Zelda.”

“But Zelda’s are a part of the timeline — we’ve all got a Zelda variant, too.”

“Whatever,” Link said, giving in and holding tight when Twilight stood up. This was fine. It was better than walking on blisters and Four was telling him how he’d never seen the master sword before all this. Time still walked close, Warrior guiding with the fire rod and Legend with one electric. Someone set a blanket around him, maybe the sailcloth — no, that was covered in blood — or Warrior’s scarf? The pelt on Twilight’s back was soft and nice to snuggle into.

It was easy to doze, and doze he did.

A question still rung in his mind:

Was it my fault?

Time. Time time time time— Time who never had enough time. A Link who’d faced gods and nightmares, wielding strengths of deities never having enough time and trying again and again and again and again to be the hero they needed— again and again to chase things others forget— to leave a legacy of boys raised to be tools all because he ran out of time.

He knew that lightning attack, had waited for the moment their foe would return trying to take the little hero down with it. It was like a clock chiming directly in his head demanding he hurry, run, stop them, save Link—

Nothing existed around him, not the monsters he struck down that stood in his path or those thinking them clever to come up behind him. The spear that nicked his elbow did not matter or the shooting pain in his ankle.

He weaved between foes, uncaring of their confusion or the shout of Legend when he passed, because the smell of ozone and burnt flesh still lingered, and he would never let this monster reach one of his own.

But time had never been on his side.

Seconds moved too slow, his feet too slow and his mind unready to comprehend what laid before him — oh so slow. Sky kneeled in front of him, not the assassin but someone who should have been out of reach, safe and away from danger that seemed to lurk in every corner of this world. The Master Sword laid at the man’s side still coated in black ichor and nothing like the red painting the grass and soil, soaking into the sailcloth bundled and pushed at Link’s stomach.

He caught just the wisp of the portal closing and the one thing Time wanted to hurt the most.

Because when he fell to his knees, bringing a hand to Link’s neck, there was nothing there but cooling skin, no thrum of blood and life, and no stupid eyerolls and swatting hands to tell him to give him space. Sky stopped pressing down on the wound. He knew. He leaned back when Time pulled the boy into his arms, more bone than fat, too pale with stark blood on his cheek. Link was gone, the one he meant to do the most right by and his chance gone.

And Time shakily sighed, realizing what he must do. Under his breath, he whispered his apologies, and hoped he’d only have to do this once.

It was never far away, much like all the other things he promised he would never use again, and the cord strapping it in place broke away easily to his shaking grip. Oh how it radiated such visceral blue like untouched seas and endless possibilities, yet it weighed like the sky and stung of a hot iron on bare skin.

No one may remember, but he would never forget how he failed.

He brought the ocarina to his lips—

Link looked up at him.

Time woke with his heart in his throat and lungs too large for his ribcage. He sat up, pressing his trembling hands to his face trying to calm himself from his memories before he could wake the others. Morning’s light had only just seeped through the house’s windows, one he didn’t get a good look at considering their late arrival. Yet he paid little attention to the decorum or his dozing companions across the living room floor, climbing the stairs two at time until reaching the loft and its lone bed. A single candle lit the bedside table and occupants. At its feet laid Hyrule, ever so concerned and unwilling to miss a chance to dabble over the injured far after they’d healed, not that he blamed him. Time stepped over him carefully.

Wind laid with arms sprawled out and mouth grossly wide, and beside him, taking the edge of the bed and curled around his pillow laid Link.

He placed a hand over the boy’s nose, silent, holding his breath to listen, and held back a relieved sigh when he felt the hot breath against his palm and heard the soft snores. Alive — they were all alive and well and yesterday’s events were over.

There were too many things to count on hand that were wrong with this era. Time had much to say about the goddess’ meddling in just his own life let alone the seven heroes that were picked up on the way. Then this latest land spoke of things he didn't want to think about, things he didn’t like to remember with strange magic that denied death. . .

Time didn’t like to think of his own adventure. They were memories fitting to nightmares, compartmentalized for years until Malon forced him to address them, and even then those moments were spare, kept to sleepless nights and pillow talks. He saw things he shouldn’t, especially for his age.

Then this land spoke of devastation. Ruins littered more than settlements and its people just as scarce among the wilds. It was untamed much like Sky’s surface but spoke of battle like Warrior’s. Something was very wrong yet the traveler’s they passed were seemingly unaware. The first they ever spoke to only stared at them oddly for knowing nothing and asked if they liked bananas.

Then came the knowledge that the hero of the devastated land was a little boy that booked it the second Hyrule looked away. A sort of Sheikah assassin thought these heroes to be easy pickings and resulted in losing the little Link’s trail, the same assassin likely looking for Link.

His heart clenched and memories flashed at that stable hand’s nonchalant manner that the little boy he’d only seen at a glance would somehow take on the growing hordes in the forest. They’d seen it, all of them, the dozens upon dozens of beasts taking up the tropical terrain. How was anyone supposed to handle such numbers on their own?

The Sheikah assassin returned but they must not be their intended prey or perhaps it was a game. If only he’d grabbed Wind’s arm to stop the damage from the bomb’s explosion. He should have been faster, realized that Link wasn’t safe yesterday, should have known no hero no matter their age knew how to stay out of trouble just as much as trouble found them. If he’d just been there—

Yet Time opened the cottage’s front door to crisp mind-clearing air, the day’s first rays painting the sky in pinks. There should be a food vendor in a town this size, and they all deserved a hot meal. Pushing away memories and dreams, he crossed the creak's bridge.

By the time Link woke, the loft was empty, and he stretched in the comfort of his own bed still shorter than he wished but at least surrounded by something familiar. Safe. It was the growl of his stomach that forced him up, and the cool floors creaked pleasantly. Such sound in the forest was like an alarm, but in the comfort of Hateno it was just another feature, a useless tidbit unneeding of him to watch his back.

And thank goodness for the stop.

In the drawers by his bed he found something that wasn’t a tunic like blanket but something that would actually fit him in a nice forest green. And pants! Wow did he miss pants! They were tan and durable so no more scraped knees.

Socks made from the town’s farmer’s sheep were soft and actually in tack. No more blisters and breaks needed (he noted the gently wrapped bandages someone must have treated him with). His own shoes! He dashed down the stairs at lightning speeds, taking two steps at a time and nearly knocking over Warrior’s in his gust to reach the storage beneath the stairs. Finally!

Oh, and a real belt to hook the slate to once Purah finished her work. He stood up suddenly, feeling whole and sound with himself with the promise of food just settled on the dining table. It wasn’t perfect, a gaping hole of foreignness took up the place where the Sheikah slate should be, but it was the closest thing he'd felt to content in a long time.

Twilight spotted him first, a soft smile on his features as he nursed his porcelain cup. Guess they’d made themselves at home, empty plates stacked on the kitchen counter and much of their troupe missing. He spotted eggs and biscuits, and could smell the bacon since he woke up.

But Time, dressed down to just his undertunic, looked at him with a perplexed look, something uncomfortable and unseeing. He stood still having stopped mid-step at the sight of him. Twilight’s gaze followed but did not stop Time from excusing himself to step out the front door.

It was too early for this. “What’s wrong?”

Twilight looked on where his leader stepped away. “I think you remind him of someone.”

Pacing around the edges of his home, Warrior eyed the blades and shield like an appraiser. “Nice stash you got here, kid.”

If that wasn’t a subject change, he didn’t know what was. “Thanks. Found most of my weapons.”

“May I,” he asked before a royal guard sword. Link always thought it interesting that the blade was so dark with the familiar wing guards pointed opposite to the Master Sword.

“Sure.”

He unhooked the sword from where it hung, taking advantage of the open space to test swings. Bedrolls had been pushed to the edges of the room before he came downstairs. “And you’ve wielded this?”

There’s a small surge of pride. His collection took up half the room these days with a great flameblade and fire rods on his ceiling to act as additional lighting. Everything in that room was earned from long nights of travel and cruel trials. “Yah?”

“And the rock one too?” He gestured to Daruk’s sword.

“It’s called Boulder Breaker.”

“You did?”

“I can?”

“How?”

“By—” oh no, “I mean. Yah, yah it’s heavy . . .” Link bit his lip. He could only hide it for so long but he’d prefer to have a working slate in hand when they did figure it out, and hopefully with a way to get them back home. “I’ll explain later. Gotta get this to Purah,” he said, pointing at his discarded pack by the front door that still held the Sheikah slate. The quicker he got it to her, the faster he could access the rune and the better he can handle all of this.

Outside sat the rest of the heroes lounging around his front lawn like a bunch of lazy partygoers. It was warm and Hyrule rested under the tree's shade, Legend and Four following the creek down.

This would be quick. He waved at Hyrule as he went off towards the bridge. “Be back!”

“And where are you going?”

“Across town. Go shopping or something while I’m gone.”

Link didn’t wait for a response, quickly passing the cubed housing, the dye shop, waving at the sweet granny near the inn. Of all the places across the land, Hateno was his favorite. There was something about its tranquility, with rolling hills and windmills atop, and stretching field for farm animals uncaring of the dangers past the treeline, that made his heart settle. It was untouched by Calamity unlike so many other places with all its citizens armed. Where Lurelin felt like an out of touch vacation spot, Hateno was a home. There were few places he felt safe enough to be in this younger form, and Hateno’s citizens knew him more as Link, the little boy that liked a home cooked meal, more than Link, the bane of the Calamity. His trek up its hills was slow and peaceful so unlike his life the past forty-eight hours. He had a lot to think about, with eight strangers calling him their own and a story so strange yet the sword that seals the darkness in hand. The more he witnessed them, the more true it became yet still incredible. Hateno was supposed to have the answers in the shape of textual and scientific confirmations, and as he stood in front of the observatory’s doors, he took a breath.

He knocked before entering only to smile at the sight.

Purah, in all her three and half feat of glory seated on top of the grand table, snapped her book shut. “Nope, this isn’t it either.” She tossed it onto the growing stack beside her, the one of many towering stacks of books taller than herself at all sides.

It was her assistant who spotted him first, a new pile of books in his hands pulled straight from the shelf. “Oh, master Link!”

“Wait, Link— Link!” Purah looked up and beamed at the sight of him. “You were needed here yesterday, where have you been?”

He prepared to speak, then paused. He didn’t think about how he would actually tell her. “That’s kinda why I’m here.” The bag around his shoulders grew heavy. “There was an accident.”

“Accident,” she repeated, looking him over for injuries. When she found none, she asked, “What kind are we talking about?”

“The kind only you can fix?” He pulled the pack from around his shoulders to hold, stepping over loose notes and scattered books.

“Uh, oh,” commented Symin. “You’ve seen the portals too, then.”

Link stared back.

“Travelers spoke of anomalies across Hyrule Field, monsters they’ve never seen before coming from dark portals.” This further confirmed Sky’s story, and it meant their scope was much larger than just Lurelin.

“Has there been Hylians coming through them?”

Symin co*cked his head. “Not that I know of?”

Okay he’d get to that after. “So maybe not as big as that, but I may have had a run in with a hinox? I was checking on some monsters gathering up in Faron Woods the locals were talking ‘bout. Said they bled black blood.” Did he even check? Everything happened so fast, and suddenly he’d been the one running for cover. He reached into his pack, his fingers brushing the cracked screen. “And the slate unhooked from my belt and . . .” He presented the cracked slate to her like a child shamed of breaking their favorite toy.

It was more than that. The slate was so much more than that, and that proved true in Purah’s horrified gasp. She swiped it out of his hands in a flash, turning it over and spotting the dull eye of the Sheikah symbol. She eyed him, face pinched and with an authority that reflected her real age she said, “tell me everything.”

Time and Wild (without blood)

Chapter 5: Calm Before the . . .

Chapter Text

With not much to do but wander the small town, Four found himself peeking through the dye shop. The colors of his tunic were beginning to fade to dull dirty renditions of their monikers and a fresh dye would be pleasant. Plus something to get out the last copper tone of his undertunic would be nice.

The salesman himself looked at him with a pensive look. “Can’t just dump and run with this one. I’ll have to dye by hand.”

Four had no idea what this meant and he would not ask.

So it was while dressed in only the white undertunic studying the different bottles of dye and their components that a small body barreled into his back nearly bringing down the entire vial rack.

“What kind of rune did you use?” asked a very familiar voice, and Four almost elbowed the kid in the face trying to cover Link’s mouth.

“Wha-Shhhh!!! Not here!”

But Four couldn’t help but screech when the damn kid licked his hand. He wiped the stupid saliva on his pants while Link continued to question, “So what is it? Duplication? What’s the recharge?”

“Shut it! Elsewhere, Link! Elsewhere!” Four eyed the shop owner who hadn’t even looked up from his work and pushed the kid around the edge of the dye shop. Several people wandered the main road but not close enough to notice the two slip around the corner.

Link swatted away his hands and feigned annoyance by crossing his arms. The glee in his eyes betrayed him. “So spill it.”

Yah, there was no hiding it or blaming it on a knock to the head like he did to Wind. Looking around once more, he took a deep breath and recited the speech he had saved in his head the first time Twilight found out. “It’s magic,” he admitted, “but the only ones who know are you and Twilight, and I’d like to keep it that way. . . It’s a long story and I’m not ready to talk about it.”

Link stared at him oddly and Four crossed his arms in wait of the entourage of questions as children often do.

But instead Link asked a different question. “You guys are allowed to keep secrets from each other?”

And as young as Link may look, Four knew too well how a quest forced you to grow up too fast. The independency with a weapon, preparing meals, somehow managing to nick a pair of boots whether through barter or stealing— he knew how to keep himself alive, and that does not come without trial and error. Four was lucky for Ezlo and his grandfather, and Link at least had a real house unlike his earlier fears. But it meant that if given the option to isolate? He will. There was no one close to him to coax him out, so Four chose his words carefully. “I mean, sure, you should tell us anything that might be helpful to the group, or avoid harm. But we don’t need to know everything about each other's lives or else Warrior would never shut up. And hey,” he said, setting a comforting hand on the kid’s shoulder and silently thanking the Three when Link didn't shrug him off. “It’s nice to open up to people. Maybe it's daunting, but I think you'll find most of us are pretty good listeners.”

Link stared at him suspiciously before something clearing. Four smiled genuinely. He would not pry. The kid constantly gave him near heart attacks but Link seemed to thrive on surprises. Maybe one day he would give them something that didn’t come as a surprise in the midst of battle.

“Thought I heard you!”

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Four turned to the approaching figure of Wind, the kid waving cheerfully.

“My, My,” said Wind, spotting Link. “Looking good in green. Did you wear yours on your adventure, too?”

“Huh?” asked Link eloquently.

“Hero’s tunic? Color of the chosen? That’s a thing around here, right, ‘cause even Twilight has it. Also what are you doing back here like a bunch of thieves? Get out here.” Wind didn’t wait before turning back to the front of the dye shop and Four could only shrug at Link’s quizzical look. Whatever, he should check to see if his tunic was coming along alright. Four spotted the man still leaning over several small barrels of supposedly dye.

Behind him, he heard Link ask, “What were you saying about my tunic?”

“Oh, I think everyone has other traditions, but around my islands,” Wind explained, “when you’re of age, you get to wear a green tunic like the hero of Time.” Wind laughed to himself. “It’s actually the day my adventure started.”

“I don’t— we don’t have anything like that here.”

“Yah. I guess it’s just a weird coming of age thing.”

“How old?”

“Twelve,” Wind said just to scold Link’s odd look. “Hey, twelve is a perfectly good age to go adventuring. I defeated Ganon in like three months!”

But Link sounded appalled, making a choking sound that Four spun around to check the damages. He was pale.

“Oh please, stop gawking. You were young too, weren’t ya? Kids doing the adult’s jobs around here gotta stick together.” Wind shot a cheeky grin towards Four that the teen didn’t reciprocate.

Not making eye contact, Link asked. “ . . . How old was Time?”

Wind waved his hand in dismissal. “Who knows, probably a cranky teenager like Legend.”

But Four looked at him, the same gears spinning in his head at the same saddening thought. Four was young, too, but at least at 14 he knew how to swing a sword with precision. How old were the rest of them when their stories started?

How old was Link again?

At first glance, his eyes often caught the raw skin patch on his cheek. The boy had scars running down half his body, eating up his ear and hairline, with a stare that knew to look for dangers— waist, back, sleeve, boot in search of a blade. He studied the landscape with Legend’s precision and vetted trust like Hyrule.

“. . . You know, Link, I still have those octoballoons.”

“You have what?” Wind leaned between them, eyes darting back and forth.

Four had noticed that Link wasn’t exactly ignoring him, but certainly wasn’t engaging in conversation if Wind didn’t lead. This would be good for them. Four quirked an eyebrow awaiting Link's approval.

And for a moment, with the smile reaching his eyes with a cheeky playfulness he hadn’t seen before, his youth shined through.

Link’s attention drew to the hillside, looking up the single building at its tops. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Twi rubbed his eyes from the midday sun with too many thoughts and a dreaded conversation ahead of him. Sky just finished telling him what he saw yesterday. . . Truthfully, when they had finished battle and saw Link, blood soaked and drifting against Time’s armor, his heart seized. He was supposed to be watching Link; the kid should never have anyway near even a rock to trip over. But Sky had shook his head with eyes still haunted by whatever had happened and none of the others commented how Time grew silent. Warrior and Twilight had looked at each other, then. Each knew that if it should happen, the two of them would step up as leaders, and it was they who looked over their teammates to ensure them safe for travel up to Hateno.

And it was Twilight who pulled Sky aside, still failing to catch Time’s mile distant stare, to hear what happened.

In the quiet away from the house rinsing dishes in the small passing creak, Sky’s hands paused over his plate and sponge. “He wasn’t breathing.”

Even then as Twilight had spotted the kid heading out past a house, the nightmare of burying one of their own so young clouded Hateno’s natural peace. How strange they must all be, to be so heavily armed in a town where the only seemingly guard was a farmer and his pitchfork. He called out, “Hey, kid. How’s your errand going?”

The boy slowed to let him catch up. “It’s — it’s going.”

“And the princess?”

“She isn’t here. She went to study the portals.”

Twilight furrowed his brow. “By herself?”

The kid snorted. “Just wait ‘til you meet her.”

“I see. Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“What are we doing now?”

“Walk with me.”

“Actually, Mr. Ludwig asked me to call back his herd for tonight. Follow me.” Before Twilight could protest, the boy headed past the gathered houses passing a field of trellised plants. The young man followed silently, eyeing smiling neighbors huddling to gossip. Link didn’t seem worried, so much like Lurelin there likely weren’t Yiga in the area to worry about.

Twi did however eye the strange blue glowing fire in curiousity. “What’s that?”

“A furnace.”

“It’s blue?”

“Sheikah invention or something. Purah says it feeds into the planet’s energy. Best battery source.”

“What’s a batter— you know what? Nevermind.” He was learning some things were best left unanswered and to push elsewhere anyway. The said sheep were easy to spot, a flaw of white across a green field huddled together at the edge of the pond.

They’d barely walked halfway when Link waved his hands about in a manner that would scare them off. “C’mon ladies!”

Except— Twilight stepped forward when the sheep ran over a little too quickly— they called out happy bleats trotting up to him. Twilight had to step back to avoid their bumbling bodies trying to get close enough and sniff Link’s hair and clothes but none were kicking.

“Easy, easy. Let’s get movin’.” Careful to extract himself from the circle, Link walked off headed back from where they came, following the easy sloping hill, and Twi, unsure of what to do, followed right after them.

“They seem to like you.”

“You give ‘em a treat one time and suddenly they’re making you their leader.”

Twilight could vouch for that. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d filled his village’s goat’s troughs just to end up with one of the old timer’s wanting scratched behind the ear until half the day was over. The thought pained him, to be so far from home. Rusl would love this Link.

Up close with dusty white coats full and ready to be sheared any day, the sheep bumbled along like trailing ducklings until reaching a pen. “Can you get the gate?”

Twilight obliged, his sudden movements startling to the sheep, but Link kept their attention well as they followed behind. He shut the gate just as Link hopped up on the fence to sway his feet. A lamb pounced around him and Twi settled next to Link, leaning forward over the fence to splay his hand for it to smell.

“Her name’s Momo.”

“Hello, Momo.” It didn’t react to the name and soon lost interest in the stranger to find its mother. Twilight looked on, noticing the icy mountains and the distant pond, to the tilled fields and the echoed clangs of metal work in the village behind them. Four probably already found their blacksmith and was watching with keen interest.

How strange that an evening walk later and it was like they found a place untouched by ruins. All that laid were farmed fields and homes ranging from stone to peculiar painted block wood. If he didn’t think about it then yesterday never happened and Link hadn’t left his sight. To run up to them, Wind and Four in tow, and see the deep red paint his tunic like some sort of canvas had been a whiplash of so many nightmares after his own adventure. In that moment he saw not Link, but Colin and blood mixed with bulbin’s laughs at his weakness— too late.

Hateno reminded him so much of Ordon it hurt.

But Link merely kicked his feet from his perch on the fence annoyed with the fact he couldn’t touch the passing sheep to pat with his foot.

He took a moment to breathe. Children preferred bluntness but at the same time weren’t great at giving helpful answers. “Sky told me what happened— why you were covered in blood.”

His feet continued to kick.

“Are you doing okay?”

“Fine. Little scratch isn’t gonna knock me down.”

Twi grimaced. He asked Sky one question before leaving the man to daymares and silence. “Did you see an aura?” The wind magic— when they were lifted out of Lake Floria, they had felt the same presence, like an eagle’s feathers brushing at the edge of his vision just always out of reach. The answer. . .

“You act like it’s normal.”

“It is my normal.”

Twilight paused. “Does it hurt?”

His heart pounded like a clock. One, two, three, fourteen— fifteen achingly long beats for Link to confirm what he’d already surmised. “Yah….”

“Is this another one of those blessings?” It was what he called his wind magic.

“Yah, . .” He snapped his fingers to catch the attention of a bulky sheep that trotted up to the boy with little bleats. “My sister gave it to me.”

A sister? She must have been very powerful, especially for her spell to seemingly last, even after—. . . He remembered asking Wind if Link had opened up to him.

“He doesn’t have any family. He’s all alone.”

— even after death.

The longer he stayed in this era the greater his stomach knotted.

Link patted the sheep’s head, digging his fingers into its wool. “I have a question.”

Twi boxed away those thoughts for later. “Ask away.”

“You had a Ganon, right? How long did it take you to defeat it?”

It? Twilight looked to him and his swinging feet, careful to not kick the sheep laying its head against his lap. “Maybe a few months. They were long. I almost didn’t think I would make it, but . . . My friend got me through it. And for you, Link?”

Kicking feet like a metronome, soothing and trance-like. Link voiced his answer between the creaking fence and trotting hooves, just over the bustling of the main street behind them in a mumble even he couldn’t catch.

Twi leaned further against the fence. “How old are you, Link?”

The boy shrugged.

“Link, there’s no shame in age or time. You said things are getting better back in Lurelin, and that’s all that matters.”

“I don’t belong with you guys.”

The growing speech in his head stuttered to a stop, mind blanking. “What? What makes you think that?” When he didn’t respond, he said, “Link, don’t shut me out.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“I know you can cook. I know you snore. I know you don’t like dried beef— actually that might just be that you don’t like Wind’s curing.” Link’s fingers paused in his petting, and Twilight continued. “I know you don’t trust easily and you had to learn the hard way to stay alive. But Link?

“I’ve thought of you as one of us since the moment we found you. When Hyrule told us who you were, I already called you one of my brothers." Twi leaned even further to catch the boy’s eyes. “And I hope one day you’ll think of us the same.”

The moment would have been sweet if that sheep didn’t think his hair to be an offering of hay. Twilight nudged it away just as the softest sound escaped that kid’s mouth. He giggled. He actually giggled like being let in on an inside joke. Twilight smiled though Link’s own didn’t exactly reach his eyes. He could read the skepticism clear as day, and that was okay. They had time. Legend's jokes used to be as potent as a viper’s bite, and Hyrule once slipped out in the middle of the night with a bag packed until coming to learn they weren’t alone in this. If Link hadn’t been reliant on them to make it to Hateno safely, they would have been chasing his footsteps trying to explain themselves. Perhaps this was the best scenario they could have asked for.

“Purah wants to meet you guys for lunch. I haven’t told everyone yet.”

Accepting the olive branch, Twi nodded. “Okay, let’s go get them.”

“Actually, I’ll meet you there. Gotta finish a few things before tonight, so just head up to the top of the hill to the observatory.”

Knowing it was more likely he wanted a moment alone, Twilight accepted, heading back to the cottage.

Time could only think the peace was a lie.

Hateno laid nooked between easy slopes, trees lining its perimeter and a cliff’s edge a local said hid plenty of gems.

“My daughter once found bits and bolts just sitting there! Though my husband thinks it’s from the witch on the hill.”

The words from the farmer’s wife brought a sour taste to his mouth, sickly sweet much like the town itself. And yet Link had dealings with this witch? Purah? The same woman he was supposedly with now to fix the cracked slate?

When his nerves calmed and that shade of green left his vision, he returned to the cottage just to be pulled back out and past the shops and windmills up the sloping hill to the witch’s house.

They spotted Link speaking to a woman at one of the mills, the boy carrying a crate to the building’s side to be stacked along with a dozen of its copies. He waved as they approached. “Took you long enough. Wind and Four are already there prepping.”

“Alone with the witch?” asked Wars. “Sounds like she ain’t too popular around town.”

He rolled his eyes and turned to Time. “Never even talk to her and they give her a nickname. You’ll like her,” he said, matching the man's pace. “She thinks she’s my mother or something. You’ll get along.”

Such a thought snuck a fond smile over Time’s lips. It was nice knowing Link had an adult around to keep a wild kid like him in check. Four wasn’t shy to talk about Link shield surfing straight into an enemy. While the word witch still left him cynical, the annoyance on Link’s face was of a child told off out of love rather than spite.

He also couldn’t ignore how his clothes sent him down long memories he preferred to bury. They were both much too young for their fates.

Wind spotted them first, resting on a corner of a large picnic blanket with an assortment of dishes. At another corner, Four sat alone. Were they fighting? There were two more occupants with white hair, one being a matured man and a small girl, maybe seven and shorter than Link, with similar attire to the man. Were they relatives of the witch?

But Link stopped between them, speaking with the young child. “Purah, Symin, meet the portal jumpers.”

The little girl perked up, pushing red rimmed glasses against her nose and smiling with glee.

. . . Oh.

Time gave back a pained smile. “A pleasure to meet you. We’re glad to meet any friend of Link’s.”

Time looked to Link and the girl that stood smaller than him. He was . . . sensing a trend.

Purah waved excitedly. “Come, come sit! There’s plenty to eat.”

Legend looked around curiously as he took his place on the blanket. “Is Zelda coming?”

“Ah, Zelda will not be joining us,” explained Symin. The man sat relaxed but with a notebook and charcoal in hand. “The princess is studying the portals just outside the castle, which segways perfectly into our topic.”

“Not gonna let them eat first?” joked Link. “Or introduce yourself?”

Purah scoffed. “Excuse me, how many times am I going to meet time travelers? Grab snacks, chop, chop! I’m too old for this! I’m Purah, a researcher and Sheikah. Symin’s my assistant. Respect your seniors, blah blah blah— let me hear from you.”

Weird. Weirder and weirder this land showed itself to be when the town’s witch Link said nagged him like a mother was just . . . a child herself. It didn’t take anymore prompting for Hyrule to settle in front of a plate of baked goods, Legend seated beside him to make a plate of cut veggies and meats. Time eyed the purple cakes but went for the cut apple slices. Less chance of it to be charmed. He took a seat at the edge of the blanket until Link nudged him forward, the boy choosing a seat at an unoccupied corner.

The witch— Purah rubbed her hands together greedily. “So, time travel. Reports of sightings only date as far as four days ago, that being just outside of Tarrey Town— Robbie was the one to send me the details. Considering the Rito and Gerudo’s distance and lack of sheikah tech, I haven’t gotten word of anything from them yet. You’re all— if this is the truth,” she added, sharing a look with Link, “— heroes of old?”

Despite how Time may be leader, this was a casual discussion and one that the others could carry easily. Warriors was the one to push back his bangs and say, “Something like that.”

“All soldiers?” she asked.

Legend shook his head. “No, far from. Pretty boy here and Sky were.”

“Sorry, Sky’s me,” the man said with a wave. “That’s Legend. The captain here is known as Warrior.” The rest of their names were quickly offered to avoid confusion.

Purah nodded. “Because you share a name, correct? Fascinating. The odds of each of you coincidentally sharing the same name, each becoming heroes of your land and through the same portal. Perhaps the goddess isn’t as hands off as I thought. Wind, dear, pass me one of those scones, won’t you?”

A hand off goddess. Time wondered what he would be like if that were the case. Happier, maybe. Sleep easier. Much the same could be said about the others. Though youthful, experience weighed heavy in their gait, shown in joint pains and scars.

He did not look at Link.

"Hmm," Purah hummed, tapping at her chin. "Maybe it's blood relation, too. Any of you know your family trees?"

Four, who had been mostly silent at his edge of the blanket, spoke up. The boy sat back lazily, picking at the skin of a fruit Time didn’t recognize. “Purah was telling me she has some info on the portals.”

“Oh right, right. There've been a few portals popping up closer to here Symin and I were able to study. It’s incredible, it gives off the same wavelengths as malice.”

Malice?

Hyrule worried his brow. “Like dark magic?” They’d shared many stories between each other, others left for only themselves to know. But one thing they found to be a similarity among several of them is the presence of a dark magic not meant to be there. Sometimes it took a physical form. “Like a dark Link?”

Symin suddenly began to write just as the young girl asked, “You mean like a counterpart? An opposite or malevolent energy to the Sheikah’s power sources?”

“Uhm.”

Legend took over. “More like a shadow that’s been a thorn in our sides. Just a puppet of someone else’s work manifesting where it shouldn’t.”

“Interesting. Perhaps, maybe malice is an evolved form of your dark magic. My colleague will tell you all day magic doesn’t exist, but not everything can be explained with machines. The blights—” she paused, sharing a look with Link and biting her cheek. She cleared her throat. “. . . I’m unsure where this land fits in your timeline — it’s difficult to know with so much of our history ruined — but we could be talking about something that comes directly from Calamity Ganon.”

What did she mean by that? Did she mean the Zonai history? Time considered Link’s words just the other night, a careful dodge about the ruins they’d past with only their foundations as proof of their existence. He said they’d mostly been Zonai in the Faron woods, but what else?

What had been lost to defeat their enemy?

Legend scoffed around his sandwich square. “From Ganon the pig head?”

Beside him, Twilight sat tense, unfocused.

Here, Time interjected. “We’ve seen variants of Ganon across our own adventures, from king of the Gerudo to moblin. Alhough much of his power was from the artifacts he stole, that being cursed paraphernalia mixed with his own talents.” He looked at the young girl and her note taker. “I didn’t think such power would be possible without a goddess’ intervention or the triforce.”

Symin wrote faster.

“King of the Gerudo? Trifor—” she cut herself off once more. If judging her pensive look, she had dozens upon dozens of questions to ask like a child with the craft of a researcher. Yet her eyes flicked to Link once more and Time followed her glance.

Link sat with gritted teeth but not in anger. Was that worry?

Purah cleared her throat. “It appears we hold some differences. Nonetheless, I’m afraid at this moment I’m unsure if the portals can be controlled but we believe can be predicted. Right now Zelda is following traces in Hyrule Field.”

“By herself?” Sky asked.

“She can handle herself,” Link cut in. “What was that thing that attacked me yesterday?”

Warrior took to the reigns for this, noting how their leader worked his jaw and the purposeful change of subject. “It’s a monster of a species none of us has seen before, and it uses odd magic. It can seemingly open portals at will, and we’ve been essentially tasked with chasing it.”

“Tasked by Hylia herself?” Purah questioned.

“Not sure how to explain all of us being able to meet if not.”

Purah pursed her lips. “Would you say it had traces of malice, Link?”

“Nope.”

“A dead end, then, but a creature unlike any of you had seen? Perhaps one merely from a different era?”

“That’s— that’s an interesting take,” Warrior credited. “Something none of us had faced because it’s also out of it’s time.”

“It’s not much for a hypothesis, but questions can be saved for later. We need samples, data— see if it shares the same traces of malice or these infected monsters. Which reminds me, I do need samples of this black blood. What a traveler brought to me spoiled before getting here.”

Was she really suggesting they purposefully approach it for a science experiment? Did Link run these kinds of errands for her?

Twilight’s hand found his arm. He breathed deeply. This was the supposed girl that Link relied on, that he needed to fix that magic slate, and it would be over soon.

Speaking of: “How’s the slate going?” Time asked.

Purah turned to him with peaked interest. “Decent. I’m running diagnostics inside, but I should have an idea of the full damage and timespan by tomorrow. Some parts are already replaced, but in the end it’s nothing I can’t fix with enough time.”

Hyrule, while having mostly stuck to snacking on berry muffins, pondered curiously, “Y’know I’ve been wondering what a machine like that does. You were using it when I first met you.”

Though Link’s focus followed Time, Purah answered. “It’s a storage unit with some extra quirks. Incredible technology founded in the time of the Zonai ten thousand years ago. The extent of its capabilities are still being explored, but it was a significant tool for Link’s adventure.”

“How so,” asked Warrior.

“Bombs for one, able to both produce and act as detonator. The technology is incredible. So much of it had been buried and only rediscovered a hundred years ago.”

“Link mentioned the Zonai before and divine beast?” reminded Twilight.

“Oh! You can see Vah Naboris from here!” Link stood up pointing out west. “Just, it’s uhh— right there! See, between the mountains.”

Time followed his finger, shading his face with the hand and leaning around Sky. Far out, nothing more than the size of an oak’s leaf, stood a four legged statue.

“A statue?” Wind voiced from his corner of the blanket.

A smile crept into Purahs voice. “Far from. It walks, even runs if it's sturdy enough ground, with an energy output so high our instruments still can’t measure it.”

Time stared dumbfounded. From that distance to be visible, it must be towering. He didn’t understand what she meant by energy output or how it could ever walk if it's the same stone as the slate Link carried, and he wondered if this land must be deep into the future.

“Chief Riju of the Gerudo pilots it,” commented Link with a smile to his voice.

“A Gerudo?” asked Time before plopping another apple slice in his mouth. He remembered the great thieves of the desert. To have survived to control such power, possibly in good relations with the crown—

As the others stared awed and babbled among each other, conversations switching to questions of Sheikah tech and the Zonai and what’s a Naboris, Twilight leaned close, their shoulders touching as the young man spoke hushly. “It. When I was talking with Link earlier, he called Ganon an It.”

He stopped chewing, the apple’s sweetness growing stale.

He turned to Twilight, the man’s face kept neutral.

What did he mean by that?

Purah suddenly stood to brush off her shirt from any crumbs. “Well, you’ve all been lovely, and I know a few someone’s have been waiting to do this since you got here.” She stepped off the blanket. “Have fun!”

“What does she—”

It didn’t matter who asked it or the fact Time wasn’t in his right mind because they should have known. Four and Wind had been oddly distant from each other. When Time had meant to sit off to the side of the blanket to keep his distance, Link had nudged him forward and taken another corner. Symin too had placed his journal and charcoal aside at his corner of the large picnic blanket. The others all sat in the middle of their trap. And really, how did he not notice that the blanket’s corners were modified with rope knotted around them, that the potent smell of fish didn’t belong to any of their foods but the octorok parts Time would later learn Four bought in Lurelin. It was the perfect mousetrap.

So when the octorok balloons suddenly swelled enormously and the edge of the blanket lifted, Time couldn’t stop his momentum much like the others, earning a knee to his gut and an elbow at his face, his own foot jamming into someone — was that Sky cursing? He shouldn’t have been surprised when they suddenly lifted, six men piled onto each other like fish caught in a net.

“Are you kidding me!?”

“Stop moving!”

“Shorty, you bastard!”

From outside— below — Wind called out, “And yet you wonder why you’re up there!”

Laughter sang out as the men groaned and barked at each other.

“I swear to Hylia — whose ever armpit this is, get it out of my face!”

Usually, Time would panic in these types of situations. They were atop some hill, the supposed town witch with their youngest members, his sword switched out for a simple dagger for discrepancy.

But as the high pitch laughs of the young bellowed under them, the green tunic and scars imprinted on his mind, questions from Twilight’s words swirling like a typhoon and only himself being a speck in the vastness that is Hylia’s reach, a pit of dread festered like an infected wound.

Dark magic. Malice. Blight. Divine beast. Calamity Ganon. It. A vacant goddess replaced with technology and children bearing the weight.

He was going to be sick.

They— their enemy carried a physical form, something a sword could slice through, not the bubbling miasma of malice and ghostly beast that haunted the castle and possessed machines, that took out champions and a stupid kid in a single swoop. They had things he’d never heard of, never seen. When was the last time a male Gerudo had been born? What’s a triforce? Is this a power that could have turned the tides or something worse than malice?

Did they all win the first time?

They were questions he wanted answered so much, but acknowledging his ignorance, for the others to know his lacks and differences that had nothing to do with circ*mstances but because he wasn’t good enou—

Stop.

How do you tell someone that it’s your fault that they passed more ruins than homesteads? That you’re the reason your Master Sword, the blade meant to seal the darkness, was sick from malice eating it away because you couldn’t be strong enough? Fast enough? Good enough? Telling everything was good now because he had the Sheikah slate and strength a hundred years later was only an admittance of his own shortcomings that he knew all too well and didn't need exposed. Because in the end who would accept a tool that couldn't do its job?

Hyrule’s asking you a question. He shook himself from his thoughts because thinking on it only made his heart race and stomach churn. “Sorry, what was that?”

“I was asking if the streets usually empty this early? Is there a curfew?”

Their walk back from their lunch had been mostly quiet. Once Legend remembered the knife in his boot and some haggling, six men fell away from their trap, landing in a heap that brought those in on the plan into another fit, especially when Legend realized his hat was given special treatment . Wind had nabbed it in their moments of confusion, giving it its own rope and octo balloon with no one currently carrying a bow or boomerang to get it either.

It’d been a delight to see the group’s usual antagoniser hopping like a child reaching for the sun, but that didn’t wade off what day it was. Purah didn’t keep them much longer, asking a few questions about monster blood and mutations, a little bit about their adventures they were willing to share (Sky could only smile sheepishly when she asked the physics to an entire floating city), but still she too knew they needed to be getting back.

“Blood moon’s tonight," Link curtly offered.

“Oh, is this a tradition?”

Link bit his tongue. They would learn sooner or later, whether through him or seeing it themselves. He’d been preparing for it half the day anyway, getting farmer’s livestock back towards the village and moving any possible food indoors. “No, a blood moon rises tonight.”

“What’s that?”

“All monsters slain are returned.”

A pause and quick confused glances shared between swordsmen was all the answer Link needed. They didn’t have an existing variant and his steps quickened in pace.

“So,” started Sky hesitantly, “the cycle doesn’t stop for you?” His words were strained.

Link already expected something like this and kept his words clipped. “Basically. Keeps you busy. Main roads have to be cleared out again. We’re safe in town— they don’t come this far, but it’s a precaution.”

“So, our battle on the cliffside, all our resources and effort — it’s all for naught?”

“Maybe, maybe not. You said black blood was unique for your current enemies, right? I don’t know if they resurrect, too.”

Link noticed Sky had moved closer to him, and the strain in his jaw was obvious. “That’s not what I meant.”

Link shrugged and thought of the words he’d told Twilight earlier that day. “It’s all I’ve known.” How many things that were his norm were completely unnatural? “They can wander too close and I handle them.”

Of all the people to speak up, he hadn’t expected it to be the one person who hadn’t said a word to him all day. “Not tonight,” Time told him.

Warrior nodded. “Right, we’ll take watch and deal with anything that gets close.”

“Seriously?” Link sighed. The slate was maybe hours away from being back in his hands if Purah was right, then he could go back to handling things himself.

“We’re heroes. We’re not just gonna sit back and do nothing. We’ll set up a basic patrol to check the perimeter.”

“And what about sleep?”

“It’s something we would normally do on the road anyway. We’ll take shifts.”

This was his job . . . This was supposed to be his job, his responsibility, the thing he could do right. They were powerful, and it was so obvious, and he could be too with the slate—

“With the portals opening, we don’t know if this . . . blood moon will be normal. Consider it an extra precaution.” Warrior spoke simply and logically, which only confirmed his feeling of uselessness. “You’re tired, aren’t ya? You’ve been running errands all day.”

He wasn’t.

“Yah,” agreed Link. “Yah, whatever. Just don’t be stupid, and try to be quiet. Town’s still trying to sleep despite it, y’know?”

“Great. So how do these blood moons work?”

………………………………………………..

He didn’t sleep. He never slept on nights of the blood moon, his nerves like electric wire buzzing with energy, waiting. It wasn’t uncommon for him to patrol just in case. Though few monsters kept to this area, some could wander close, lured by lights and smells, interested in the concept of breaking things just because they could.

Time, Warrior, and Legend patrolled. The rest sat around the cottage, Wind commenting on his lack of furniture before deciding to rest.

At some point Twilight nudged him away from the loft’s window and back into the kitchen. “They’re fine, kid. Worrying won’t change anything.”

He was right, which was why he accepted the mug of tea Sky offered him. The man had removed his sailcloth and chainmail some time ago with the Master Sword lent against the kitchen table. Even after everything Link told them, how could be so relaxed?

Because they’re capable, he thought to himself. They don't rely on a machine to best their enemies. The tea tasted like nothing.

Then came a clatter. The knife in his boot suddenly in hand, Link spun armed and ready to Four and the fallen trident. “What are you doing?”

“Sorry! I was just curious! I didn’t mean to—”

He tucked away the knife. “Put it back.”

“Sorry, I really am.” The trident’s charms clinked as he tried to set it back into the display. “I haven’t seen that kind of craftsmanship on a mid-range weapon.”

“It’s Zora.”

Twilight perked up at that. “You have Zora? Friendly?”

“Yah. The Domain is north from here. . .” A small part of him wanted to get across the significance, tell Twilight how that was his sister’s, that the bow adjacent was from the Rito that didn’t hold anything back in spitting truth in his face every chance he got, that these were artifacts of the people he failed—

But instead he only stepped forward to help set it back into its pedestal. He didn’t want their pity or their judgement, couldn’t handle it anyway.

Eyes turned to him curiously. “I don’t think I’ve met a Zora that didn’t try to gut me,” joked Hyrule. He sat on the stairs away from the others, flipping through one of Link’s books he’d never read.

“Same,” said Four. Though I can’t say mine were intelligent enough to make weapons, especially like . . .”

That’s— that’s interesting. He couldn’t imagine a life without the Zora or becoming friends and brothers with Sidon, Kind Dorephan like an uncle with so many stories he forgot what he came to the Domain for. He eyed the great eagle bow. “What about the Rito?”

All stared blankly at him. Sky scratched at his chin. “I think Wind mentioned them once, but no. Do they know speech?”

Of all the people, it was the one asleep in the loft. “Of course.” This was bizarre. “Wait, can your Zora speak Hylian common?” he asked, because none of this made sense to him.

And it was in their distraction that it happened, that Link missed the potent scent of magic like the threat of a storm on the horizon, and a vortex of fluctuating energy that would set off Purah’s sensors. He should have known as he always should, and that did not stop the rampant fear when Hyrule noticed a strange noise from his seat on the staircase he decided to investigate. He opened the door only to scream and the trident clattered to the floor once more, all eyes turning, Sky jumping from his seat at the table, Twilight surging forward to stand between them and the silver moblin. Link only saw the aftermath of the shoulder shattering hit from its boned club as Hyrule was smacked to the side like he weighed nothing, back connecting with the kitchen’s drawers.

Twilight had speed on his side, but this was an enclosed space with too many allies, Sky brandishing the Master Sword trying to flank the monster but the gap too narrow. More times than he would like to admit he’d felt the breathtaking kick of a moblin’s foot to his gut, and Sky suddenly shared the same experience as he was pushed back, leaving an opening just long enough for Twilight’s sword to sink into its shoulder, Four’s sword into its thigh, and, for good measure, a trident through its belly.

It’s body fought for only a second more before falling away to ash and waste.

Something was wrong.

While Four and Twilight went to check on those still trying to get up, Link could only look out the open door and what laid of Hateno. The moon’s cinnabar light paved the town in peculiar vermilion and shadows so reminiscent of the castle it made him sick. But never could it hide the eyes lurking within it, chasing the perimeter with unquenchable thirst. And it soon became too obvious that their numbers were unnatural and too close, that the growls rumbled so loud he swore the earth shook. The clang of metal could be heard among it all of a fight of matched enemies. The hate was so potent he tasted it, a layer of ozone, like after a strike of lightning leaving his nose burning.

Something was very wrong.

Rushing past him, Twilight called out. “Hyrule’s injured. Wind, Link, stay here with him.” He didn’t stop, heading for a scaled monster similar to a lizalfos. Across the bridge. Sky stepped around him, too nudging Link back towards the house.

“Stay here! We can handle this!”

Four past him without a second thought, not even looking back.

This wasn’t good.

The miasma was thick enough that he coughed. The sky was painted maroon, town shaded red from moonlight. The ricochet of weapons sounded among snarls and cries, but just ahead, across the bridge, he recognized the dark vortex instantly.

He ran back in to find Hyrule sat against the counter just as Wind came down the stairs. “What’s happening?”

“Attack.” Link leaned over Hyrule, the young man's eyes squinted shut and gripping the wrist of his injured arm. “Stay with him.”

“Wait, not without—”

“Don’t let anything get in.”

Quickly, he turned back to the display of weapons. So many and so few he could actually use at this size— but he had a Yiga’s sickle in storage. He dashed under the stairs as Wind continued to protest. He just needed to get the slate. He needed the slate. This was his job anyway, his mess to cleanup, and a chance to prove—

Wind leaned over him and the box of short weapons. “Don’t go around treating me like I’m useless!” His anger faded with the outburst, his look turning to one of defeat. “We gotta stick together, y’know. So don’t treat me like I can’t handle myself.” He stood defiantly, weapon already on his back, boots on even though he just woke up.

And he saw a reflection of himself. And maybe Link realized he’d been seeing a boy and not the hero that took a bomb to the face and called it a scratch.

“I know you can. You’re not useless. I just need you to trust me, alright?”

Because I can’t be useless.

Wind clenched his fist, looking over to Hyrule who was seething from the pain and back to Link. “Be safe this time, alright?”

“I will.” They shared a look, an understanding that Link would unpack later. Right then he ran forth, passing over the bridge as he saw the form of Four heading towards the entrance of the town, Link himself sprinting with his weapon in hand slipping through the streets.

They sounded everywhere, their growls a cacophony between buildings and he ran past just in time to see another portal open. But he couldn’t stop, not until he had it in his hands.

Record time, he climbed the hill and slammed open the doors to the observatory.

At the pedestal in the corner sat his Sheikah slate, Purah just before it raising her goggles at his entrance. “Link, thank Hylia you’re here, something’s wrong.”

“Yah, I can see that. I need the slate.”

“No, I mean fluctuations. They're everywhere. Zelda’s instruments are going crazy in Hyrule Field.”

Zelda.

He could teleport. “I’ll go to her.”

“Not with the slate you will— teleportation is completely disabled.”

No no no— “We have a problem here too. Everyone’s fighting and I need the slate.”

“But it’s not ready, Link. I’m not that fast!”

“Purah! I need the slate now!”

“Link! You can’t— it’s not ready. I haven’t even— just.” She stepped between him and the pedestal. “Link I’m doing everything I can but it’s not ready.”

Heart beating his throat, a chill crawling down his spine at what it could mean, he asked, “How bad?”

“Just let me talk, okay?” She spoke quick and precise, a report being given with urgency. “I managed to save the storage unit. Everything in there is fine and seems to appear and compartmentalize correctly with no hiccups. Like you said, the Sword that Seals the Darkness isn’t in there, so it’s not a copy that your friend has but the real one.”

That’s good. Good news. Okay. It wasn’t even a bother because he never used the sword anyway. “What else?”

“When I was running diagnostics on the runes, I found a flaw across them.”

His head shot up. “What kind of flaw are we talking about?” He couldn’t go back out there still a small child. Not again, not after everything.

“Maybe it’s because of the battery itself, but the energy output isn’t the same to the point that the runes’ power is much shorter than it should be. I haven’t tested them but I’m sure the recharge is longer too. Maybe not enough energy to use them at all.”

His hands shook. “And the age rune? How does it work now? Does it work?” Because that was the key to everything.

“Everything I’m reading says it works normally but just energy is the issue. Before how you could go a whole day without turning back will not be possible. Maybe, I don’t know, hours at the most? I need a field test to actually know.”

He looked to the slate: the cracked screen had been replaced and the eye hummed with blue swirling power. It looked fine, should be fine, and its shape felt perfect in his hands.

“Guess it’s time for a field test.”

“Link, stop.”

He pulled it from the pedestal and didn’t look back, its weight grounding like no other and his actions familiar as he flipped through glowing screens. This was right. Clothes switched to something barbaric and strong, best for mobility and strength, and without any issue either— his heart soared, control finally back in hands. He flipped to his runes and didn’t think twice before pressing the age rune.

And he found the milliseconds of weightlessness as soft as a mother’s embrace, knuckles popping and feet finally filling his shoes right, the speed he ran to the hill’s side quick and the easy tap at the slate just to hop onto the appeared shield as natural as walking. Twilight told him he belonged with them, and he did— in this form, where his knees didn’t buckle at the impact, where he could see overhead the mounds of monsters suddenly realizing his approach too late, when the vicious sickle in his hands was as precise as any sword.

When he was a hero.

…………….

Warrior’s held his ground well. While he may have been stuck out furthest from the village, it left him plenty of room to work, where his strikes were raw and powerfully yet coated in discipline. How strange that what had been only a few monsters rising like time flowed backwards to sudden portals and beast trespassing in the wrong era.

He thought he saw Time at one point, maybe Twilight fighting with ferocity. The crimson light made everything strange with stark shadows and a layer of something that shouldn’t be there as heavy to breathe as smoke.

At some point Legend must have joined the fray, a strange weapon in hand striking down the enemy from a distance. His pegasus boots must have made it easy to get out this far and Warrior’s would appreciate the help. The monsters were relentless and he spun only to spin again, ducking away from keese then blocking clubs and rusty swords as thunderous footsteps approached.

He recognized the hinox from the Faron Woods. Oh how strange to be so large and dangerous yet only wear shin guards when its soft belly was the perfect target. Such things were why he finished his bokoblins before even turning around, taking in its one humongous eye and worn teeth.

However, he didn’t expect the whistle, the monster curiously turning to Legend as he waved his arms about.

“Over here!”

And that wasn’t Legend’s voice with monsters still fighting him as he lured the hinox his way. Were they crazy? Oh, Hylia. It was probably a rancher trying to get them off their land to try to save it. Cutting down the pestering keese, he followed, just before recognizing a suddenly appearing blue glowing box in the figure’s hands — his heart lurched. This was—?

The bomb exploded and the blins were pushed away. The shape was off, their head too large for the Yiga they’d met in the forest. He couldn’t tell from this distance, not with a stalfos suddenly catching his attention and more meddling keese overhead. Yet he pushed forward, chasing the hinox when the figure suddenly drew back a box and a red tipped arrow, one that set alight in orange flame straight for the monster’s single eye.

It’s backside falling straight for where he’d been standing and if not for his reflexes, Warrior would be squashed.

“Watch it!”

The being eyed him between striking at a lizalfos and its raised shield, metal on metal striking sparks. He watched from the corner of his eye how the weapon suddenly switched to something glowing blue much like those bombs but rather the blade sharing the familiar glow from the dull hammer— a strange shaped sword that ate through the metal of the lizalfos’ shield before it squealed.

But their back was to the towering monster that had recovered from the shot to its eye, the organ a luminesce yellowed webbed in irritated red. Though panting, Warrior ran just as the hinox raised its hand as if to smash an annoying insect.

“Hey, look out!”

He barreled into him, knocking the two to the side, and Warrior took note too late the animal furs and headdress unlike anything Legend owned or the citizens of Hateno. Red hair invaded his vision, a color none of them held, and one that often— He jumped back looking into feral eyes.

The skull helmet curled around their face, hiding much in stark shadows, but it didn’t matter. He knew the significance of the color red— it haunted all of them.

This was an enemy.

So Warrior raised his sword before the being could stand, clashing down on disturbed grass as the being rolled, pouncing to their feet with a club similar to the one the moblin he took out earlier used.

He would have rushed them, but the Hinox was far from happy to be ignored, for the sudden tree thrown between would have easily snapped bone.

The two looked at each other, Warrior with disdain and certainly the same beneath the helmet and tusk, before the former directed his attention to the towering monster. They obviously weren’t in league with the monsters, so they could call this even for the moment.

A flurry of movement, both moved with agility as their strong suit and mere yapping dogs around the Hinox’s feet. It kicked out to open air, clumsily turning to follow them. Opportunity came in the figure sweeping his weapon against the bare tendon at the back of its ankle, cutting through the flesh and muscle as the monster howled in pain and anger. Its hands reached for Warrior only to gain a puncture straight through its palm and sent it wild and its revelation for how close it was coming to death. It couldn’t stomp, but it had fist and nails that pummeled at the ground in an attempt to crush the two beings. Warrior rolled out of the way of its swatting hands, a move he expected the other to easily maneuver.

Except, a flash of light caught his eye from the being before the monster’s palm swatted them like a fly.

Their body flew just as Warrior landed the fatal strike, the exposed flesh of the hinox’s belly like butter to his sword.

And in time it would crash into a heap of ash and waste while Warrior realized his assailant was nowhere to be seen.

Link breathed heavily, chest aching, a potion at his lips even as he cried.

Fifty minutes?

All this effort to reach Hateno in record time on foot, losing all access to food and weapons, thinking he’d become a hostage to bandits or Yiga, almost drowning then starting to think that maybe— if he could just be something worth it with the slate at his side— he could match Time’s prowess and Warrior’s discipline, or Legend’s range and Four’s state as the wildcard—

And Warrior had attacked him.

He got it. The last time they’d seen him at that age, he’d been the first to engage in a fight and run away before they could figure out who he was. It suddenly made sense that they didn’t know it was him much like the majority of the people of his era— and yet—

A sickening gut lurching feeling left him sick and curling into himself.

Did he want them to ever know? Would it really make a difference?

Because this was supposed to be his moment when he proved to all of them just how capable he was, that he was a hero who could throw his weight around like the rest of them and could be strong, fast, an indispensable tool to their group that could belong and be a shield brother and —

His fist connected with the fence post he leaned against. Monsters’ snarls and howls of pain still echoed just out of sight.

He hated crying because it proved exactly what he was.

So he went back to watching the recharge meter on the slate, the ancient short sword at his side all the while sipping away at a potion as the others gave it their all. Fifty minutes was nothing to a whole night of endless monsters through spawning portals. Neither was his footwork or snapping weapons orhow closely he almost got Warrior killed —

The slate's screen and slowly recharging bar was merely a reminder of how Link weighed next to heroes of old.

This fairytale could only last so much longer.

“I’ve thought of you as one of us since the moment we found you.”

Such words left a sour taste in his mouth.

When Warrior realized that monsters were no longer getting up or leaving from portals, the sun gleaming at dawn from the east, he breathed deeply trying to calm himself and the shiver of exhaustion that rippled through his arms.

They were gone, along with the red maned Hylian. Instead across the hills laid heaps of ichor from those slain and their weapons.

Except in the grass something didn’t fall into ash piles but instead gleamed on its own. He picked up its two pieces, the sickle unusual but the red tassel familiar.

Yiga.

Red mane.

“Time!”

“We’re leaving to Zelda in two hours. Is that enough to work on the battery?”

“You and I both know I’m no wizard . . . but I’ll try.”

“Do we tell him?”

Time looked to the boy speaking frantically with Purah.

Since the day Twilight showed up on his doorstep, he vowed to protect every single one of them. The Yiga were close, that assassin maybe not with the monsters but looking for Link, a second assassin no less. Why else would they have followed them to Hateno? “No.”

The quaint nature of the village was gone with wreckage in its wake. Twilight and Time went off to help the dye shop owner clean the scattered glass vials of ingredients, Four taking a hammer and nail to the fences that could be fixed, and Legend picking up the farmer’s fallen trellises to be rehammered and hopefully save what crops they could. The farmer was old, old enough that he merely held the post in place while Legend took a mallet to it but had the energy to chat away.

“It certainly gave my wife a fright to hear them scratching away at the door, though I think she’s more upset over her begonias.”

“How unfortunate,” he replied with the energy of a someone who hadn’t slept since the night before. And if overheard correctly from Link and Purah, he wouldn’t be getting sleep anytime soon. Zelda was in danger, he said, much like all Zelda’s are, and the pattern was getting old.

“It’s strange that the hero hadn’t shown up. He usually stands guard on the blood moons.”

Perhaps without the exhaustion, he would have kept his mouth shut, but he just saw a blood moon and a hoard that had all of them scrambling to keep the monsters from breaking down doors and windows, Hyrule still nursing his shoulder, and plenty of cuts and bruises and— oh yah, exhaustion. Legend glared at the farmer. “Link shouldn’t be out fighting monsters to begin with.”

“Hah?”

He dropped the mallet at his feet. “You heard me. You cowards sending a kid to do your dirty work— you should feel ashamed.” Because Link had more scars than the rest of them to the point Legend couldn’t look at him, and he was probably half his age. And yet all the people see him as the mallet in their hands to do the actual work they couldn’t with no care of wear, that a tool breaks just like everyone else.

Yet the farmer gave him the look of a man unsure of the joke. “Wait, you talkin’ bout Link, the one that’s this high,” he asked, gesturing to the height of his waist, “chased my sheep this morning?”

“Who else?”

The farmer burst into a joyful laugh. “Son, that’s not the hero! That’s just a little boy who lives in the village, travels with the Sheikah from time to time— maybe he’s a relative of the witch on the hill? He walked up to me and just handed me a frog once. Cute as a button.” He smiled uncomfortably at Legend’s flabbergasted state, moving to the next fallen trellis with its plant mostly in tack. “I can’t tell if you're messing with me.”

It felt as if his heart stopped. Legend, a thousand questions caught on his tongue, chose to say, “Yah, yah— really pulled your leg there, didn’t I?” What in Hylia’s name?

“Who knows, maybe he’ll become a great hero one day.” The man waved him off, carefully lifting the wood and waiting for Legend to catch up, but it was his mind that was far from their task.

There were two Links.

A chill ate up his spine.

And this boy wasn’t the hero.

Wild and Twilight

Blood Moon

Chapter 6: Fort Hateno

Chapter Text

When the dust had settled and the sun chased away the last of the red moon’s light, among the heroes escaped echoes of relief quickly encumbered by resetting fence posts and market stands that fell under swords and fire. It was imperfect in the quiet town as civilians came out of their homes to destruction and black ichor dusting the front of their homes. Keeping them out of Hateno was a downhill battle, but Twilight and Four held up their front well.

Link himself had stayed close to Hateno and away from the eyes of the heroes fighting the few that managed to scurry past and didn’t fight on the main road against Twilight.

Hyrule himself felt honestly awful and not because of his injured arm. A potion and some rest dealt with most to it, dwindling the shattered bone to just a small ache. No, instead he sat on the sidelines as the others handled it, which was why as soon as Wind stopped babying him, he stepped out in shame of the wreckage. Link had seen that look and recognized it instantly, and the guilt already pooled in his stomach drowned him further.

But isn’t that why he was still arguing with Purah?

“All of her equipment is still reading major activity even after the moon went down.” Poking at a small tablet with several gages upon it, she turned to Time then, and maybe that hurt more than an outright dismissal. “Your mission is in Hyrule Field then. That must be the source.”

“Can your equipment tell us if the princess is safe?”

She shook her head. “Doesn’t work like that. Just shows readings from malice concentrations around the equipment Zelda’s carrying, but she’s capable,” Purah assured before fixing a stern look to Link. “You’re not teleporting.”

Fervently, he said, “I can get to her in seconds if I did.”

“Link, one all-nighter isn’t enough to fix it and you know that. What do you want me to do when half of you shows up in Kakariko and the other half in Gerudo Desert? Besides, what are you going to do about the rest of the group when you teleport ahead? You’re going to need all the help you can get—”

“I know that!” What did she take him for? He already screwed up last night nearly getting Warrior killed, and his weapon—

He spotted the biggoron sword easily across Time’s back. How many weapons had the man gone through compared to himself? Who just breaks their swords and bows, even the master sword? He spotted Sky picking up glass shards at the dye shop and he wondered what the man would say to him. The sword itself had decayed in his hands just at his touch— what would Sky think knowing his hand could only bring—

Time nodded with Purah. “You’re not putting your life at risk.”

Sighing with relief, Purah unclenched her grip around the gage reader. “You’re just going to have to do this the old fashion way. She’s clever and tough because you trained her, right Link? Zelda can handle herself if she’s in a pinch, but it’s best you reach her sooner than later.” Purah looked down at the gages all at their max. “Knowing her, she won’t leave until she finds what she’s looking for anyway.”

Time seemed ready to comment but Link beat him to it. “Then what are we still doing here?”

“Helping, Link,” she said looking out over the town from the little hill Link’s house sat on and he followed suit with anger ebbing.

His home missed most of the monster’s wake, but Hyrule hammered at the inn’s roof where fire arrows burned through. He thought he spotted someone chatting with the younger kids of the village and Wind chasing an escaped sheep from the same fence Twilight was putting back up. Wind told him earlier not to worry too much, that they would head out as soon as they were done.

And here Link was throwing a fit like a baby.

And here he was wasting Time’s time when they could be finishing cleaning up.

Yet he looked up when a hand rested on his shoulder. Time smiled back solemnly. “I understand. You’re worried and you have the right to be, but based on the coordinated attack last night, this is the work of the enemy we’ve been chasing. We’re safer in numbers.” Link quickly read between the lines: You’re not enough. “We’ll leave soon . . Do you wish to finish any packing or business?”

No. No, everything he needed was in the slate. He shook his head.

“Okay. Can you let the others know to take a break before we head out? I’ll join you in a minute.”

“Wind’s already doing that.” Helping them finish their work so they get back quicker. Even as the lump swelled at the base of his throat, he looked to Impa and her sincere frown. What an oxymoron. Yah, he got it— he was over emotional again and being dumb and without the slate—

He could laugh at himself. The slate was at his hip and while working still wasn’t enough to help anyone.

You’re being stupid again.

He knew that. Gods, did he know that.

The scent of ozone warned him of the incoming storm even if there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Collecting the heroes was short work and even shorter to stand at the ready in front of Hateno’s entrance. Link grit his teeth standing ahead with the slate in his hands with the slate open to the map, fingers brushing over the shrines around Hyrule Field.

Wind at some point nudged him to pay attention as the group turned to say their goodbyes to Purah. “Please be safe. And keep that one out of trouble,” she said pointing at Link. I’m not going to be the one to tell Zelda you’re being reckless again.”

Link nodded numbly.

If everything went well and quick, they could circle back and finish the slate in no time. Or maybe head up and around to Robbie and maybe Cherry had something to fix the battery issue. Something was making it drain oddly, or maybe not recharge correctly and result in shorter performance time to compensate. His knowledge compared to Purah or even Zelda was short, only doing basic maintenance here and there and in the safety of a village or stable. The soft buzz of its inner workers were familiar and right, no sign of damage. How strange it could look perfect yet fall short.

Just like it’s hero.

When it was all fixed, everything would be normal again. He wasn’t weak because he took on lynels and hinoxes without fear. He beat Calamity Ganon. He won, and he would win again with the slate at his side.

“Link should stay behind.”

He froze. It was like when he encountered his first lynel, his skin crawling as its roar echoed and axe barely missing, yet Legend’s offer was nothing but calm and collected. There was a whisper under Four’s breath, a shake of Twilight’s head. Hyrule stared confusedly. “Wait, why?”

But the veteran ignored him. “Time, you know what almost happened. It’s not safe for him and we obviously can’t protect him.”

Gritting his teeth, Link stood glared up, ignoring his raising eyebrow. He didn’t drag through the Faron region for nothing. “But I have the Sheikah slate now.” It wasn’t perfect, he got that, but at least he could — “I can—”

Legend’s glare pinned him down. “Does it really make a difference?” And Link’s blood chilled. From the moment they met the man was prickly and suspicious of him. If not for Time amusing Link, Legend would have put his foot down then and there before they ever reached Lake Floria. And even then the man had struggled with eye contact after that, providing side glances and jokes told to the wind rather than him. Link thought it was because of the scars, and now?

A small voice sounding much like Zelda’s warned him: He knows.

Did Purah tell him? A villager? Everyone knows about the Calamity and the hero that failed failed failed , but— his skin crawled, scars itching—

No. He had the Sheikah slate this time, and Purah fixed most of it. She even said she added on to the time limit for the runes. He’ll show him. He failed Wars. If not for the man’s quick thinking and fighting prowess, he would have been crushed from Link’s own faults. Trying to be the big hero, and there he was just making a bigger mess only to have to run away all over again, just like he ran away on Lake Floria, like he did in the Faron Woods, like he did over and over from lynels and blins and his very own destiny. He failed them last night during the blood moon, he knew this. Now he held a slate that would actually last a fight. He could and would prove himself. He. . .

If he stayed, maybe Purah would finish it and he could teleport to them, but she already said it would take several days to work out all the kinks. They would have to come back for him.

Why would they do that?

“We’re not leaving anyone behind,” argued Twilight. “This is as much his fight as ours. If he thinks he can do it, then we’re going to be there with him.”

Brother, Twilight had called him.

Legend’s face soured, casting glances at both of them before stepping back.

. . . Did he really know? Link grit his teeth. It didn’t matter in the end, not when their trail would take them directly into memories he wished he could forget again.

Legend lagged at the back when they said their goodbyes. Purah stood among the other villagers that shared their thanks.

Look at what everyone else did while you were throwing a fit.

He bit into his cheek and tasted copper before heading down the hill to lead the group. They passed through the same forest as two evenings ago though this time taking a much more worn path and not for long either. After only minutes, the harty snorts and wheezes of monsters had Twilight at his side. “That’s pretty close to Hateno,” he said.

“Right. They need to be cleared out.” On instinct, Wild went to the rune page only to stop with a choked back whine. Purah told him maybe two hours now. It wasn’t perfect, not at all, and if they were going to reach Hyrule Fields by evening, he needed to save every minute. . .

He chose a lizalfos’ boomerang when a hand caught his shoulder. Sky smiled at him strainedly. “Don’t worry, we can handle this.” Before he could get a word out, the man dashed forward with the master sword in hand, the others passing him and only Wind glancing back. He watched as a moblin took it’s full height, silver bokoblins wielding rusted spears. Their little camp was nothing compared to the heroes and would fall in mere minutes.

Doesn’t trust you after literally dying in front of him.

And he just watched, realizing his boomerang was useless compared to the length of their swords and instead buried his nose in the slate to hide his heated cheeks. Warrior directed Four, Twilight complimenting Wind’s form, and Link could only grimace as he continued to walk as if this wasn’t proving Legend right.

They would return without a scratch, won’t they?

How many elixirs would you have gone through?

He walked on ahead up the hill following the Fir River while pretending to check his slate. He knew this route by heart even if he never used it.

“Hey, hold up!”

He tilted his head back at Wind’s call, the boy waving as he jogged to walk beside him. His sword already rested back in its sheath. Link didn’t pause in his steps, but he did slow. The others would trail behind them soon, surely judging by Wind’s smug smile.

“Piece of cake.”

Link hummed, going back to the map on the slate.

“I can’t wait to see that thing in action. If Purah was right, that thing does some cool tricks, right? I don’t have anything like that, just the windwaker, which is pretty cool on it’s own. It changes the direction of the wind, kind of like your gale blessing but bigger.”

Magic? Magic was peculiar among them. Robbie often said magic wasn’t real, just science they couldn’t explain just yet. The slate could produce blocks of ice because it forced away heat particles or something, and magnesis is just opposite forces and other jumbo he couldn’t keep up with, just like how Mipha’s healing is forcing cells to rapidly reproduce to regenerate and Daruk’s shield a barrier or air matter condensed at his will.

Revali was a master flyer like his ancestors. There were technicalities and something else they just hadn’t fully understood that gave him flight advantages, even vertical lift offs without any build up.

“How does it work,” Link asked.

“Easy,” Wind chirped, hobbling on one foot to reach his boot and pulling a thin white rod from it. How long had that been there? “This conducts the wind, hence my nickname.” With a flamboyant wave, a gust of air snagged at their clothes tussling their hair. Clouds shifted above them in the overcast sky. Maybe they would avoid the day’s rain. “Really helped getting around the place.”

Honestly, Link was expecting a giant leaf . . . “Must come in handy. Would’ve helped me instead of waiting for rain to pass before scaling a cliff.”

“You just climb cliffs for fun?”

Link sighed, a dull silence growing between them as they walked. A part of him felt bad considering last night, but not all things needed a reply.

“So, we’re heading out to find your Zelda, huh? What’s she like? Your era is so cool, I bet she’s really pretty.”

He didn’t know how the two coincided, but it was a question he hadn’t considered before. What were their Zelda’s like? Likely regal, noble, dressed fitting for a grand castle and its multitude of servants, all things Zelda talked about from before the Calamity. Though hadn’t Wind called his akin to a pirate once?

“She’s. . . She’s great.” In many ways Zelda felt like a sister. He didn’t remember much from before the Calamity, but that didn’t stop her now from doting and checking that he was eating enough. From the little he collected in memory, he thought she didn’t feel much of anything towards him, both too focused on their tasks. She spent hours upon hours in prayer while he took to the training fields, only really interacting to escort her to the springs. Never alone, though. All knew him to be too young and short for the magical sword he wielded. “Really smart. If her nose isn’t in a book, she’s out looking for something to study.” Short and simple unlike her. Zelda was strong yet gentle with an affinity to sciences all the while taking up the sword with ease when she asked him to train her. How strange it was: to be her hero, her knight, yet she didn’t need him anymore. . . “And, err, yours?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh yah, Tetra’s pretty rad. When I first met her, the first thing out of her mouth was how she didn’t like my clothes.” That made him chuckle. “Then we took her pirate ship around—”

“Wait, you weren’t kidding?”

“Dude, I told ya my world’s flooded.”

He tripped. Link actually tripped on nothing and almost beefed it. Flooded sounded like an understatement. “When?!”

Wind just laughed at his flabbergasted look. “Doesn’t matter. I grew up on an island, sailed around when my sister was taken, found out Tetra was actually royalty. Meeting her was the reason why my sister was kidnapped, actually.”

The joking mood suddenly became sober. “Kidnapped?”

“Yup,” he answered, his tone only barely softening from the upbeat innocence from before. “Big bird brain was taking any girls that might be Zelda, but I don’t blame her for it. It’s why I went on my adventure in the first place, actually— not to fight Ganon or restore balance or something. I wanted my sister back by any means necessary.”

“And you fought Ganon?”

Wind shared a sly grin. “Got ‘em right between the eyes.”

Between the eyes? Little pipsqueak— no. Wind managed to fight that monster. It took the divine beast, the champion's blessings, the master sword, then the bow of light to take Calamity Ganon down. . . Link peaked a glance at the sword on Wind’s back. “Really?” he asked incredulously.

“He wasn’t too hard on me, but I heard Hyrule say his Ganon was more pig than Gerudo.”

. . . Gerudo?

“Ganon can take on the form of man?”

It was time for Wind to look at him bewildered. “Huh?”

“A Gerudo.”

“Yeah, was yours a giant pig, too? Sounds annoying, honestly. But hey, you’re standing here today, so that means he ain’t a match for ya.”

No. No, Calamity Ganon was the most fierce opponent he ever faced with skin tainted in sickness and eyes that bore straight through him. There was nothing “pig” or easy about him. A revelation stood at the tip of his tongue. Different. Not so different. They were different as heroes, but so were their enemies.

“No, it—” he started. “It was a . . . “ — nightmare, monster, devil — every dark thought condensed into an oozing body held back for a century by Zelda’s hand alone while he slept away— “wrong. Sick.” A being of evil.

Beside him Wind was quiet, perhaps taking in the scenery or pondering his words. “And you survived.”

By the skin of my teeth.

“You did that on your own and no one can take that away from you.” He slowed in his steps, catching sight of the top of the cement bricked wall ahead of them. “I know it’s easy to forget, but, we’re all here because Hylia thought us capable, right? It sucks getting babied by the others.” He kicked at a pinecone as they passed. “People keep underestimating us and forgetting that we won our own battles.”

Like the fight just earlier and the blood moon, protecting Lurelin. “You’re so open about your adventure.”

“Hmm, not much to hide. It was tough and scary, but I’d rather tell a good story around the campfire than brood like everyone else does.” He looked back to the trailing heroes. None were in earshot. “I mean, I get it. Some of us didn’t come back the same, but who would understand more than everyone here?”

Link followed his gaze to not Legend who was glaring a hole into the ground, but Hyrule beside him gazing at the scenery with interest and to Four nibbling on what must be a pastry from helping the locals. He spotted Twilight gripping Time’s shoulder to speak hushly. They were people who . . . They’re not like him, not really, but maybe not as different as he thought. If he was honest, he was happy Wind didn’t face his kind of Ganon not because he was weak, but not wishing such terror on anyone.

He saw Wind in a new light.

The boy he thought to be a young Yiga recruit, to brainwashed child bandit, to still brainwashed hero, was now someone who despite every wall Link pulled up saw right through. An equal. He regretted ignoring Wind the other night then, though considering the candid speech and joking manner, perhaps such things can be put to rest. What Link thought to be naivety was coping, and what he thought weakness was anything but.

And how dizzying considering the fort wall they were slowly approaching. Though damaged, supports held up the last of the Fort Hateno wall with cracks and rubble coated in climbing weeds, the crest of Hyrule embellished yet cracked. Wind and him had slowed down for the others to catch up at the mouth of the gate.

How strange to return to his graveyard.

A cooking pot sat off to the side but none stopped to rest there, instead those curious like Hyrule and Wind peaking through to what lay beyond.

“What are those?”

Link didn’t have to look to know what Hyrule was asking even as he stood at the gate with his feet glued, the idea of stepping forward as haunting as the day he entered that throne room to face Ganon once and for all. There was no hiding how it affected him.

The others caught on to the solemn shift of mood, understanding without knowing. Maybe it permeated in the air of ghosts and mistakes. Even so, he brushed his knuckles against the gritty brick of the gate’s sides to ground him. He wasn’t there. It was over.

Without a word, Time stood beside him and the others going on ahead. He said nothing but his presence was enough to keep him together more out of shame than encouragement. After all, what stood before them in rubble and abandoned rusted swords was his greatest failure. And so he stepped forward on unsteady feet, the Sheikah slate securely at his hip and thrumming with life and promises of protection and power. He wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t weak anymore. Still dumb, but not naive.

You almost got Warrior killed.

He bit the inside of his cheek until it bled. He wasn’t there. There was no blood moon. He wasn’t alone. Time stood at his side and they were supposed to head for the Dueling Peaks to the stable then to Hyrule Field by evening. Get over it.

And so Link looked out to the landscape before him and returned to the place he promised to never enter again. His first and final time stepping foot in here was when memories flooded his very system like an exposed wire, where everything in him seemed to reset with visions too intense, too real, to maintain the ignorant persona he tried to hold on to for so long. Had it been a full year since then? Millenia?

Yet he walked on, the patches of sun like a spotlight on him and the lost. There were no trees on this side of the wall as if to preserve the moment in time. Four paused before a spear protruding from the ground, Hylian in make. Link knew between the patches of grass would be bone and chipped armor. The path forward held small pools of muddy water, and the metals legs at the edges of his vision left him uneasy. Zelda’s soothing instructions still played on his ear but there was nothing in this place to ground him, all of it too raw— walking into the middle of a memory.

Warrior spoke hushly. “There was a battle here. . .”

“Who won?” Hyrule.

Ahead just off the edge of path, Legend dug his fingers just enough into the growing grass, releasing a rusted shield. The crest of Hyrule was covered in moss.

Then Time spoke. “Link, is it safe here?”

“They’re all decommissioned. Yes.”

“You mean,” said Sky, “the beamos?”

Despite promising himself to not look, Link followed Sky’s eyes unsurprised to where they led, and he stuttered to a stop. The guardian sat dully, silent, just a hunk of rock if not for the mechanical leg protruding.

Dead. “They stopped working after I defeated Ganon.” That didn’t ease the tension. It hung thickly, solemnly. Without explaining himself, they understood the significance of this place.

I’ve thought of you as one of us since the moment we found you , Twilight had told him.

Four’s own words hung at the back of his mind and without thinking his feet moved off he path, passing Legend to stand before the half buried guardian. Even then, Link still had to look up at it.

He set his palm against the rusted surface. Moss flourished in its grooves, coating its plates and disguising the threat they once stood between him and Zelda. Only a year back he thought them to be more terrifying than lynels, but now they laid as rust buckets overtaken by fauna. Perhaps one day they would be buried once more just for another poor soul to rediscover them and the cycle continues.

“Link, what is this place?”

His heart lurched, phantom pain creeping up his side and memories threatening his mouth shut.

Four told him secrets were fine but to trust them. Twilight didn’t expect anything from him yet called him brother. Time held him even though Link was the one to stupidly freeze in the midst of battle and get hurt. Wind opened up to him even after Link underestimated him over and over.

Would they hate him knowing how he failed? How he fell to not even Ganon’s hand but a soulless hunk of metal?

Though his thoughts went back to that day running into all of them in the Faron woods. Hyrule had held him to his chest when he cried and cried at his own weakness the first time they really met, and that was after they knew his name, knew he was supposed to be a hero, right?

Idiot.

An idiot, but they didn’t take advantage of him, and they forgave him when he did.

His tongue felt dry and the words were hoarse. “A hundred years ago, an excavation team found the guardians buried in the earth, contraptions that the Sheikah's records said to have helped seal away Calamity Ganon.”

The memories were raw like a fresh wound, tasting metal and a subtle ringing still noticeable in the leftover damage the shrine couldn’t fix.

Brother.

“And I hope one day you’ll think of us the same.”

Secrets allowed but nice to have someone to lean on, Four told him.

He opened his mouth to speak just as he felt the subtle vibration against his palm, a soft whir of an internal engine warming and single eye calibrating just as his lungs seized. Eyes widening, Link recognized pinkish glow escaping between the grown moss as he took his hand away, and like a fawn caught in the headlights, he stared up just as the guardian trained itself directly at his chest where his heart screamed like a bird caught in its cage, yet the cage itself wouldn’t move— couldn’t move, not when fear raked his skin like Hebra’s rivers and his vision going red as malice grew so thick it painted everything in pinkish hues in the daylight as the princess ran beside him tripping in her stained dressed with the clack of metal legs much longer than a Hylian’s, than a little boy with a sword just larger than him— when he turned to block its beam only for the shield to shatter and white hot pain encompassing his left side, his stomach, his ribs, his arm to match the one that had taken his ear earlier—

“MOVE!”

There was no burn but a plunged breath when someone knocked him to muddied ground and fell on top of him. The sound of the beam rang in his ears, skin phantomly warm even as it missed, and Link had no time to register when Legend screamed in his ear dragging him to his feet by the collar of his tunic.

Legend was shouting orders at him, yet nothing computed. His mind was short circuiting, focusing on the crystal clear gleam of light against the wet grass, against the guardian’s body, the pinkish glow encompassing. His vision tunneled on it.

His scars itched like they were fresh.

Though the first drops of rain pattered gently in the clearing, he would swear the sky was red.

Legend felt impatient all day. And really it’d been a long night and stretching day considering he had yet to get any sleep just to get more sh*t thrown on his plate. A part of him denied what the farmer said so casually, and at the same time it made sense. It was logical, considering the boy’s stature. While Four admitted never carrying the master sword and the thing too big for him anyway, the thought of someone even shorter and lankier, younger than even Wind, made little sense.

And so he said what he said. Link shouldn’t come whether or not he was the hero. Plus, he couldn’t imagine Time willingly leaving Link behind in the era unless it was in Hateno. At least there he had his own house and strange friends too smart for their age. While he may have lost in the silent vote, that didn’t stop his wandering mind running through all the facts.

The boy’s name was Link and won’t tell anyone his real age but based on height, the fat in his cheeks, and the pitch of his voice, younger than Wind. Didn’t like talking about himself or the ruins or the master sword. Stuck to Time, it seemed or maybe the other way around. Said he won against a lynel. . .

Is that even possible? He wouldn’t deny the prowess of the others, but even that sounded farfetch . . .

Walking in the woods, staring at everyone’s backs and the small form that made up Link, it really did sound like a lie to try to belong among them, a tall tale to save face.

He told them once that Zelda wasn’t his age either, older and capable. Considering the age gap between him and fable (only a year), how Sun was older than Sky by only a month and rubbed it in his face when he would start coddling like a mother cucco, the divergence was unnatural. Time didn’t speak of his own, but surely between all of them the age gap wasn’t as wide as this Link’s.

Then he sat out from helping with the monsters and Legend may have been a bit more harsh in his strikes than needed. It wasn’t that Link couldn’t fight. He held his own just above Lurelin pretty well from what he saw, and everything seemed to be banking on fixing that slate of his just for him to run off ahead.

And did Link ever show his face during the blood moon when everyone else took the streets? Wind may have stayed back to protect Hyrule, but this was Link’s home. His house was broken into, his village under attack. Wind said he had left to do something, yet Legend never saw him, not until spotting him in a heated conversation with Purah.

Ah, Purah was the confusing lynch pin. But did he remember her ever calling Link the hero? No. In fact, the more he thought, Purah was extremely cagey, cutting herself off on topics. Or rather—

He looked at Link’s back once more.

She kept falling short and almost looked to him for permission, or maybe, for the sake of his feelings.

The web was unwinding, loose ends tied up and the picture forming into a mold unfitting to be the hero of Hyrule. The question was what to do with any of this. Talk to Time? Demand a spar and prove to everyone this kid wouldn’t survive among them? Tie him to a tree until he talked?

Then they reached the wall, and Legend witnessed the spindly legs of the giant beamos Link called guardians. And more importantly? He saw how Link shut down, silent as the others past. Legend won’t deny his own traumas kept him up at night, made raging rivers and ocean waves put him on edge.

Despite how much fingers pointed to this Link just being a normal kid, he couldn’t forget the ugly scars marring half his face.

A name came up: “Calamity Ganon.”

The man had turned swiftly at the name and the seriousness in such a small child’s tone. The rusted shield he found still barely adorned the Hyrule crest in chipped paint beneath his fingers. The title was strange and unlike any he’d overheard from the other’s adventures. But looking at the wreckage and imagining the ghost that must wander here, perhaps it was fitting. He itched to ask. The boy was vulnerable, giving slips of information, and maybe here where he couldn’t run and the past all around them would be enough to get the answers he wanted.

He turned to the kid.

And gods, was that fear real, and such was the same for himself when he barreled into the kid before the beam would burn a hole straight through the kid’s chest. Swords unsheathed around him, Legend’s grip on the boy’s tunic white knuckled to get out of the way of that one reaching clawed foot. “Move it, move it!”

Like deadweight, the boy’s feat hardly kept him up on legs like a newborn calf, just as the sound of the laser’s charge signaled again.

“Get to cover!”

People were shouting and shuffling, shields being drawn as if it could stop what had made an incredible indent in the earth leaving the back of Legend’s neck still hot even though it missed. It had them scattering like co*ckroaches.

The two wedged themselves behind a bulk of rubble, maybe a part of the old wall, with Legend releasing Link’s tunic from his grasp at Hyrule’s startled shout. From his peripheral he caught the pinkish glow and whir of machinery off to his right, then peering over to his left and spotting two clinking legs barely missing from stomping on four, the machine trying to drag itself forward. Two. three.

When a tiny hand clasped his leg with a death grip, he followed Link’s eyes to the guardian just a dozen meters away from them. And unlike the others, it had four very working legs as it tore itself from the earth that tried to reclaim it. Four.

It was then that Legend realized they stood in the middle of minefield. A graveyard. Five. Six. Empty husk glowed with life and the rest of them were going to be very dead very soon if they kept acting like sitting ducks. Nine. Ten.

Time’s voice came over barking orders to push forward. Get to the otherside. Cross the minefield of guardians like it was a piece of cake.

“Link, run.”

The boy didn’t budge.

“Link, get your ass moving, now!” Gripping the cuff of the boy’s sleeve, Legend pulled them away from the red target focusing on their being only to shove Link to the ground as another flew overhead.

Time’s call startled him. “Twilight, wait!”

Said man sprinted forward just as the long legs of the walking guardian surged it’s bulbous body forward at incredible speed. When close, one of it’s claws aiming for his head, Twilight slid kicking up mud passing beneath it and taking his sword against its legs.

The clang of metal rang, but there was no show for his efforts. But at least it changed its sights from the duo scrambling back to their feet in the direction of the Dueling Peaks then and taking refuge when that red pointer found them once more.

Dragging Link into the mud, Legend noted the drizzling rain. Off to the side, Legend spotted Sky hiding behind a decommissioned guardian, its belly of nuts and bolts exposed, as three distinct beams of red light trained on it, waiting for the man to expose himself.

Minutes passed, arguments flying over from those hiding together. The team was pinned. At this rate, they’d grow exhausted before escape. With frustration, he turned to the kid still holding onto his tunic like a lifeline. “How do we beat them, Link? Kid, you gotta talk to me.”

“They shouldn’t be awake. They’re all gone. Ganon’s gone.”

“Get it together. How did you beat them before.”

“Master sword. . . Or sending the laser back at them.”

That— that he could work with. Sounded like these things really were just oversized beamos. He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Get them to shoot themselves!” Hopefully that would be enough because a red tracer concentrated on his chest just as he pulled the mirror shield from his back. It was balanced on three legs making slow progress towards them.

The machine hummed, it’s beeps rising in pitch. He waited.

“Legend, don’t!”

Until a final ring higher than the rest, the light at its eye blaring white with hot energy and the laser—

He met it head on, shoving back just as the beam of light connected, but that didn’t stop the horrible ricochet buzzing straight to the bone like hitting a gong. He swore the bones in his arm rattled.

And the laser overshot soaring above the guardian’s head.

“Hyrule!” someone shouted.

The boy screamed back somewhere behind him. “I got it!” Legend turned just as a laser blasted directly at the boy’s chest. But Hyrule had been ready with no shield but his arm pulled back, his lips mouthing silent magic before acting in a parry.

The blue beam bounced off the reflect spell and directly back at the single eye.

One down.

Not that Legend had time to think about it as he reached for Link’s arm.

An arm that wasn’t there.

“Kid, kid, where’d you go?!” Legend spun, searching for the leaf green tunic and dodging another laser all the while only to spot him beside Twilight who had switched out his sword for a metallic sledgehammer.

Heavy and blunt, Twilight took off to the guardian hobbling on three legs after Wind. Why was such a weapon in his slate? He reached Link just as the satisfying give a metal took away one of the guardian’s legs.

Time was at their side suddenly, picking up Link carrying him over the shoulder just as the familiar blare and ear ringing shriek of energy whizzed too close past his ear. Only able to follow, Legend grit his teeth taking off after them, slipping behind another pile of rubble waiting for Warrior to draw away their glowing eyes before repeating. They were reaching the end of the field, he noticed, at least away from where the bulk of guardians woke slowly.

But at this angle, there were so many trained on them, and the veteran recognized their odds. The red dots trained on Time’s back blinked rapidly. “Time!”

The man turned with his shield in hand as the laser banked off its face, the angle taking his balance and his grip on the kid. They tumbled just long enough for Legend to catch up and face the next blinking dot, the pounding feet of a four legged guardian nearing—

He meant to parry and send the stupid guardian straight to hell. But when white pain laced his wrist, shot down his arm and screamed through his shoulder and the metal face of the shield splitting, his aim was anywhere but its eye. If he didn’t know what a shattered bone felt like, he would say this was it, gripping it to his chest and the pain taking his legs from under him. Even so, the machine’s clacked stomps still beat like a drum drawing closer. Time was still getting up, Legend too far ahead of him to reach the veteran on time.

And even as he wanted to writhe on the ground, he stood to his feet and letting the the stupid single eye train on him, it’s body blocking the aim of the other guardians. If he was lucky they would shoot and take it out from its back, but luck had never been on his side. The red trailing light pointed at his chest as it came closer. Hopefully him burning alive would give Time a few more precious seconds to get him and Link out of there.

He tensed at the feel of tiny arms encasing his stomach— Link!!—

“Run!”

The ringing laser charged straight for them until his vision sprung orange, a filter muffling sound and the ricochet of the beam sending floral cracks through it. A shield of orange encompassing him and Link— he would swear he heard the grind of gritted granite and promises of safety even as the orange shield fell away in dissipating shimmers. Forced against his good arm, Link pushed a golden shield into his hands — where did he get that?

The guardian was still coming.

But the shield’s straps fit perfectly on his left and for a strange second he thanked Hylia that the kid was right handed as he pushed Link behind him. Last chance. Too close. It would be on top of them if he missed this shot.

He braced. Time was ready with his own shield behind him— not that it was necessary, because this time he knew the firepower, was ready for the heat and pressure, legs rooted, focus tense.

He’d call the single hit like striking a gong: dead center and straight on, but he was unyielding in his parry, and he never thought it could be so satisfying to watch it’s head spin, for its legs to give and body plummet, for dirt muddied from rain kick up as it slid to a stop just inches from his face. Legend adjusted his grip on the gold laced shield. “Not bad.”

“You guys okay!?”

Wind peered around the thing’s rotund body with a bow in hand. Further back was a guardian and an arrow protruding from its glass eye as Twilight climbed it side just to slam the head of the hammer until it smoked.

Warrior leaning on Hyrule came up beside him then Four and Sky with the master sword giving off a valiant glow. It knew its enemy.

And Legend realized they stood at the edge of the minefield, where they dipped too low to be in the line of sight of the stationary guardians. Behind him stood the rubble of old buildings, the towering twin peak mountains, then the familiar stable with its horse sculpture design off in the distance. They made it.

But it wasn’t over.

All the facts were connecting. It was like the fog one the mirror being wiped away and the mirage fading, the image— the persona— cracking.

Any doubt was gone as he drew the end of his tunic in his fist, the shield still on his arm far too heavy for a little boy to ever use in combat, nor the sledgehammer in Twilight’s grip. Link’s fear was palpable, of a child out of his element, a child that was going to get himself killed because he wasn’t this era’s hero in the first place.

Even as Hyrule surged forward to check Legend’s shaking frame, adrenaline ebbing and pain setting, he looked behind him to the boy gripping their leader’s pant leg, his sight still not present and flickering for perceived danger.

What would Time think?

He bit his lip.

They couldn’t take this kid through the portals. They needed to find the real hero of this land, get to the princess, then hop into the next portal taking them who knows where on this so call divine quest. Then he could go back home to force Ravio to pay his rent and forget any of this happened, forget that he became such a sap seeing a kid with scars. Not all kids could swim, and yet he looked at Link like looking in a mirror. He felt stupid, gullible, for wasting his time . . .

And yet when he looked past the spewed about parts and burned grass, he watched Time kneel in front of the kid checking the boy’s wrist for a sprain.

It’s gonna break the old man’s heart.

And so he shut his mouth, waiting for his moment to get Link alone.

Refusing to make eye contact, Link listened to Legend his between his teeth.

“Nothing broken. Just take it easy.” Hyrule. Hyrule was here and Legend was okay with all his limbs and safe.

His shield shattered. Just like—

And instinct had taken over, a golden Hyrulean shield shoved into the veteran’s arms even as Link could barely breathe, could barely think beyond hide, burning — find Zelda. His grip in Time’s chainmail was white knuckled even as he guided them in the direction of the stable. A reassuring hand pressed on his back that he had to remind himself weren’t metallic talons. Ground himself. Focus on the rain dribbling down the sides of his head slowly soaking his hair.

Dealing with the monsters around Hateno had put them back slightly, and having to take cover in the Fort’s field didn’t help either. The group trudged slowly with bated breaths and those uninjured with weapons at the ready, mud dirtying much of everyone’s lower halves in their attempts to slide and jump from cover to cover to avoid the guardian’s laser.

And that was the next wrench in what Link that he knew to be true. The guardians were supposed to be all deactivated having no malice to power them up. Robbie once proposed waking a few to use for defense, but Zelda quickly shot him down, not with monsters still amuck and the people of Hyrule so weary and afraid. She would win no favor of the Hylians or neighboring territories, and neither would her knight stand by her side.

Was he even her knight anymore? He was useless freezing up in the middle of a war from jaw-locking memories leaving everyone else to haul him around as dead weight. A child— he was a child freezing up like collateral. Whispers curled around him, a heated argument somewhere to his right he didn’t bother to tune in for. He already knew their anger, could taste it in the air.

He couldn’t even take out the guardians right. A part of him laughed wondering if he even won against Ganon or if that was another hopeful illusion he fell for. Would Zelda be angry at the next sight of him?

“Will more of those things follow us?”

Link’s grip in Time’s chainmail loosened. Words were difficult and slow to return, his heart still thrumming to a hummingbird’s beat. “No . . . They patrol.” That’s what they were like, but they shouldn’t be awake anyway. Though even as his feeling came back to the tips of his fingers, he remembered Purah saying these portals give off the same energy as malice. Was it remnants of his Ganon? . .

That’s another thing to consider. Wind’s enemy may have shared the name, yet he described a Gerudo. Could a Gerudo control malice? Be of malice? There was little he knew and understood in the world, his truths becoming half-baked and differences piling. None of them had heard of guardians, so none were of ten thousand years ago, so where were they from? Before? After him?

He’d worried the inside of his cheek until tasting copper.

It stopped raining by the time they reached the stable with everyone soaked to the bone. At the sight of them the stable master Tasseren waved them down before they could step a foot inside. He was a kind man stuck with a no-funny-business face, Link knew how he doted on his brother’s kids. “Aye, no tracking mud inside, lads! Come on, shoes off or clean up before you step inside.How many beds?”

Time circled around to the stablemaster’s as the others sought out a bucket and water to wipe down their shoes. “Any chance you have eight beds available?”

Link whipped around. “Wait, we’re not staying. We’re supposed to be in Hyrule Field before nightfall!”

“Warrior is barely standing as is. We’ll wait it out here so everyone can rest.”

“I— I have a horse here.” Epona, he thought. It was one of his sturdiest horses but strong footed for the stretch of fields. He liked to ride her to Kakariko Village because Koko and Cottla spoiled her rotten. She would carry Warrior’s weight easily then they would get to Zelda. “We’ll put him on her and anyone’s packs. Or— or Kakariko is just north and they have healers. He can take her then we can—”

Hyrule set a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Link, everyone’s exhausted. We’ll be useless by the time we reach Zelda and put everyone in danger.”

Useless.

“He’s right,” agreed Sky. “No one’s slept since before the blood moon. We’ll be more of a liability than heroes. Trust me, Link.”

He stood by while everyone else did all the work.

“Purah said your Zelda is tough. I’m sorry, but we’ll get to her when we’re all rested and not a minute later.”

But they should be there now. He spun on his dirty shoes, feet stalking away with hands fisted, passing Four carrying a pail of water and Wind with a scrub brush, but Link ignored them. Zelda was incredible and amazing no matter what anyone said about her, but she was the princess and Link a knight sworn to protect her.

The slate was in his hands opened to the map and focused on Hyrule Field’s multitude of shrines to teleport to. They glowed like beacons past his markers and notes of harvest and hunting areas. Still stamped across the field were skulls, a little icon he used to remind him of the guardians’ patrol routes.

And all the fight left him, his left arm tingling and face hot with shame.

He froze today, went utterly stone-silent and mind short-circuiting at the sight of the glowing eye, his bones reverberating with the humm of cogs spinning and energy coursing through it’s pistons and pumps. He would be dead, should be dead. If not for Legend dragging his dead weight he would be gone and this time for good. Mipha may heal him, but her grace has its limits with Link nothing more than a sitting duck in the middle of a pond unaware of the malice creeping beneath the waters surface and the eyes watching him from the bank.

Staring at the screen and the multitude of guardians now awake across the fields reminded him of his own exhaustion having not slept either the night before. His shoulder ached from Legend yanking him along, but the persistent reminder of a body not fully healed in twinging shoulders and sore joints meant when he simply put the slate back on his belt he felt relieved. And wasn’t that cruel? To feel relief at leaving his princess out there on her own for another night?

Stop pouting and be a man.

He tried doing just that, turning back towards the stable and peering inside. It was busier than usual with bustling and chattering travelers taking up not just table seats but dawdling about. He spotted Warrior seated in front of a game of poker and Legend taking a place by the fireplace. Wind found himself at home telling a story to who Link recognized as the stablemaster’s nephews. Hyrule leaned against a far wall nibbling on probably (hopefully) something cured, and it was then Link realized none of them had stopped to eat that day. Shame bubbled in his stomach sounding much like hunger pains.

He sighed, indoors being too crowded for him to want to join. He turned to the front of the building and waved to Tasseran. “Hey, mister. Seems pretty full tonight.”

The man leaned over his desk smiling. He was always kind to the youngest of travelers. “Indeed. What with the blood moon passing, everyone’s sleeping indoors. Can’t be too careful, especially with the guardians stirring again in the West just yesterday. It’s like nothing’s changed.”

He ignored the pang in his chest. “Did Zelda pass through here?” asked Link.

“The princess? Maybe a few days ago. . . You like banana bread kid?”

Honestly, yes, but— “I’m not Yiga.”

“Sure sure, you’re a lol’ young anyway. You need anything? Extra blankets or pillows? Some of you have to sleep on the floor tonight but your father said he had bedrolls.”

. . . Link also ignored that. “Nope, but can I use your cooking pot? And some plates and spoons later?”

“Ah, if your company still needs to eat, I can whip something up.”

“Not necessary, but I’ll make sure the adults clean up!”

The stable master smirked. “Fine— no raging fires. I can see you from here.”

“Got it, thanks!” His smile was empty but did the job.

Of all the things he’s done wrong, cooking was the one thing Link felt confident in. It was tough in the beginning when dishes were more likely to make him sick for the day than be nutritious, but at least the people who came across a small hungry child had sympathy. He didn’t know where he would be without them.

With access to the slate again, meal prep was easy and expansive, however there were nine very tired overworked mouths to feed. With the rice soaking, veggies were sliced and meat cut peacefully, the actions familiar and rhythmic. It reminded him of watching Four clean his shield and fix the buckle to Hyrule’s belt or before bed when Sky would chip away at a square of wood. Once the rice cooked, he stored it inside the slate fully aware it would maintain its warmth when needed, taking his time to cook down the veggies before adding the meat. Dorian always told him the safest meats were beef (this was so much easier to make in an actual kitchen), and hopefully everyone liked strips of steak in their curry. It smelt divine before he could even add the cream and goron spice.

“What smells so good?” Twilight leaned over the pot taking in the aroma, choosing to focus on it and not the puffiness of Link’s eyes. “I swear, I could smell it from our room.”

“Curry. Hope no one’s allergic.”

“Even if they are, that’s not going to stop them. Anything I can help with?”

“Finding plates. The kitchen should lend you some.” Tasseren neverminded anything as long as room fees were paid. Behind Twilight, he spotted Four stepping out of the stable tent with Legend in tow and more following behind. His time to pout was over as the others trickled around the pot of simmering curry. There were smiles and excitement, some chirps and boney elbows in people’s sides, and Link let it wash over him as Twilight returned with plates to portion the curry.

He was still looking through his inventory when Warrior, hunched and exhausted, his leg kept outstretched in its splint, sniffed his bowl and sighed. “This would go perfectly with some rice.”

“Easy.” The cooking pot had been scraped almost clean and with a tap of the slate filled with fluffy rice.

“Wait, what?”

“How did you—”

“Guys, he did it for his weapons earlier—”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s your Sheikah technology, right?” asked Hyrule who scooped rice for him and Wars.

Link was coming to realize Sheikah technology really was a thing of only his era. He nodded.

“Looks like we can stop using Legend as a pack mule,” joked Wind, smacking a hand against his arm.

He didn’t react, remaining leaned over his bowl.

Keeping the conversation rolling, Hyrule picked up asking a question about storage max and Four curious about Purah mentioning bombs. Sky admired Purah's intelligence reminding him of his Impa. Funny how there was another similarity between them, telling him how Kakariko Village was just north of them and Impa the head of the Sheikah. But conversation was slow and petering off. They were tired. Honestly, so was Link, but he still needed to get Epona out and he would rather do it now than in the morning when Time was such an early riser. He wasn’t surprised that Warrior was pushed off to bed first, same with Sky and Four. Time offered to clean their plates and utensils as Legend sat stoking at the fire.

Hyrule stood up and rubbed his thigh where a bruise was likely blooming from the day’s events. “Legend, shouldn’t you get some sleep?”

“I’ll be there soon. Just wanna stretch for a while.” For emphasis, he shook his arms Link knew were still bruised. He only drank half of a healing elixir claiming they should conserve supplies.

“Link?”

“I’m gonna check on my horse soon.” Rather, he needed to sneak off and come back considering Link registered Epona in his adult form. He would just have to wait out Legend or go for a walk, maybe just go around the back of the stables and use his rune behind the woodpile. Definitely not suspicious.

Time only hesitated for a moment hearing that, sharing a look with Legend akin to keep him safe. Even in the stables, they didn’t trust him. Why should they anyway? Considering what they’d seen of him, what he didn’t do— they accumulate to the image of someone not as smart as Warrior with his battle planning or tactile as Twilight or adaptive as Four. He ran from them, ran from the Yiga unable to fight, would have drowned if not for Twilight.

Even with the slate at his hip thrumming with life, he wondered how long he could hold onto this false normalcy. Nothing about this was normal.

He wondered with the slate back in somewhat working order if he could just sleep in a neighboring shrine instead of sharing a bed surrounded by peaceful snores and camaraderie that made him feel like a sheep among wolves. Legend still stoked the fire languidly. It wasn’t like he liked Link anyway, probably wouldn’t bat an eye—

He’s the reason you're alive.

Because he’s a hero, he reminded himself. Legend did everything right and got hurt for it while Link froze. And now they slept unafraid of tomorrow, so sure of themselves and their situation while Link still held a thumb over the slate’s screen wondering if teleportation would kill him.

Like you could do anything. The markers on his map still splayed out—

“So kid, how long were you going to hold up the charade?”

Link’s heart dropped to his stomach as he turned.

Legend had stopped pretending to be busy with the fire with his full attention in watching Link’s reaction, lips pulled into a minor frown but nonetheless cool, indifferent. The tension between them smelt of ozone, like a storm just beyond the ridge.

He knows.

The tremble in his hands reminded him of just how small he is. “How much do you know?”

“I know you’re not a hero.”

His eyes widened.

He knows he knows he — his heart thumped wildly from the single sentence.

From his side of the fire, Legend watched him with eyes stern. Angry? Frustrated? He leaned forward ignoring how Link flinched. “I know. I know it’s hard, but you need to face the facts and stop playing pretend. Who is the real hero?”

He—

“Link.”

He knows he doesn’t measure— not compared to them, not even to Wind because Wind wasn’t stupid and reckless and weak and he didn’t mean it—

He didn’t mean it. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to lie to you.” He didn’t mean to deceive them, to act like something he wasn’t because he got it. He f*cked up. He f*cked up so bad that no place was left untouched from Ganon’s plague— not even Hateno whose farmers guarded the perimeter and Lurelin’s monsters at sea. If not for these men— no thanks to himself— Lurelin would be buried under a landslide. And he thought them stupid Yiga. Hell, he couldn’t even handle them if they were Yiga because without the slate, without his weapons and armor and the power to be more than he was, he didn’t have a chance.

And Legend saw right through it all from the very beginning, didn’t he? He didn’t trust Link the second they met.

“Ah geez, kid,” Legend grimaced. “Don’t cry. Just tell me where we can find the real hero.”

His face was hot and vision blurry no matter how he wiped his sleeve across his cheeks. Hiccups escaped between breaths he couldn’t quite catch. “There isn’t one,” he admitted.

“Bullsh*t. We wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t. Who is it?”

You’re ten thousand years too late.

“Okay. . . Okay, fine. Link, listen to me. In the morning, you and I are gonna head towards this Kakariko so you’re safe and out of trouble. The rest are going to save the princess, understand? You’re no help here, and you need to get that instead of lying to us anymore.”

But— “I didn’t mean to—”

“I don’t really get what you're trying to gain from this: a free ride? Some bodyguards? Status? It’s not working, kid.” Legend was getting up and the electric charge between them was palpable now, a cavern between impossible to reach the man. Nothing he said would matter. Nothing he said ever mattered. Because from the very beginning he f*cked up, didn’t he? Not just with them but with Zelda and the champions and every Hyrulean that put their faith in him.

His mind was instinct with no roots, a patchwork blanket trampled by a lynel yet still promised to keep him warm and alive even as he slept dreadfully waking with no recollection of his dreams. Legend was still speaking with an honesty as sickly sweet as a viper’s venom, eating him to the very core of his being. The charade he’d held up for so long crumbled just like Fort Hateno, just like Hyrule Castle, just as he did that day leaving Zelda alone.

“—Hey, wait!”

Instinct kept him alive just as much as it made him a coward, made him freeze and run and cry, and he did all those things that night as Legend called out to him. He kept running, shoes clumped with drying mud and vision blurry, he only knew where he was going from the comforting familiar shine of teal blue of the shrine. The cold of the pond didn’t reach him, his legs and arms already numb from the adrenaline as he slapped the slate against the shrine’s pedestal. He didn’t think twice. Thinking twice in the wild got you killed, and the last he saw of Legend wasn’t regret, but understanding on his face.

Brother, Twilight called him.

You were never one of them.

Hiding for hours was easy, so was tapping familiar screens to change his clothes and click for the age rune. It was even easier to wipe his eyes, return to the surface, and ask for his horse, something about acceptance that this was always how it was going to end. They had a good run, but all lies end in parted woods. He’d smiled to Tasseran that same plastic smile from before.

And under the beat of Epona’s galloping hooves, he sobbed into her neck.

Fort Hateno

“You’re not the hero”

Chapter 7: It Takes a Village

Chapter Text

He woke to shouting. Grumbling, Sky drew himself up from his bedroll to find the room empty— even Warrior who should have still been resting. Packs still strewn across the floor meant they weren’t leaving just yet, which he was thankful for considering not even the first rays of the day’s light shown through their room window. A part of him wanted to flop back over and catch the last minutes of sleep he could, but he thought he heard Twilight raising his voice, not just Legend and Warrior— maybe Wind, too.

So he stood and stretched his back, shoving his feet into his shoes before entering the main lobby of the stable where he found the team crowding around a seated Legend. Sky did a head count as he went to join them, craning his neck to spot Hyrule covering his eyes with his hands and Twilight heading for the door.

Sky recounted.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Legend then leaned forward almost headbutting Time. “He’s fine! Weren’t you the one’s saying he’s capable?”

“Weren’t you saying he wasn’t?” accused Wind while Sky found himself lost and also missing someone.

“He’s safer away from us anyway—“ Time would settle this, so Sky went to follow Twilight out to the cooking pot they’d gathered around last night. There were other travelers resting around it chatting even as Twi leaned down to study the clumps of dirt — searching for tracks, he realized. Sky looked around the place, spotting the sheep pens behind the stable and that blue shrine thing in the center of the shallow pond. There was one he saw next to Link’s house he never got to ask about. They were beautiful, overhearing someone calling them shrines though Sky never notice prayer candles or an object of focus. Perhaps they were merely spaces to take refuge from the rain under the protection of the Sheikah’s eye.

Approaching Twilight, he asked, “hey, what are you looking for? Blins? Thieves?” Nothing was large enough to be the guardians, but Sky couldn’t say he was good at identifying bokoblins from human tracks. “Yiga?”

He didn’t expect Twilight to ignore him, trekking towards the small pond, and neither when he followed behind did he think the man would tredge straight into the water, uncaring for how it almost reached past his high boots to step onto the Shrine’s platform. Is that sacrilegious? “Hey, come on, what’s going on?” Sky tried again.

He looked out again at the surrounding scenery trying to spot their last member, but it was becoming too obvious that something very wrong has happened

He jerked when Twilight banged a fist against the Shrine floor. “Link? It’s me.”

“Wait, Link’s in the shrine?” Sky didn’t even know it ran underground.

Twi’s fingers tried to pry at the edges of the circular plated floor. “Legend did something.” He called out again. “Come on, kid, work with me here.”

That explained why everyone else was grilling the veteran. “I’m surprised Time’s not out here,” commented Sky.

Pausing, Twilight rested on his knees. “Thought I’d be better off coaxing him out. Plus, he's our acting leader.” Sky interpreted that as meaning Time would deal with getting a full debrief and delivering possible discipline. Whatever he said was enough to make Link hide, and now that Sky thought about it, Legend had some purpling bruises under his eyes likely from lack of sleep. Did Legend or Link ever go to bed?

“And why is he hiding?”

“Legend won’t say. But it’s better than him running off.” Twilight returned once more to pounding its surface.

“Are you sure he isn’t foraging, or—” Sky cut himself short when a thought occurred to him.

He recalled when Link wanted to keep going to Hyrule Field there was a village thrown as an option to heal Warrior. “Hang on.” He must look strange, feet soaked dashing toward the stable just to ring the little bell on the office counter.

“I’m comin’, I’m comin’! Hold your horse.” The stablemaster peered in the small window unamused, but Sky’s lungs were squeezing uncomfortably to not care.

“Is Link’s horse still here?”

The stable master eyed him. “You know the hero? Left this morning. . . Seemed kinda stressed.”

And phantomly he felt the slick of blood on his fingers and the threatening bile when he had tried compressions on a body too small, a body so small that’s clothes were soaked red and chest squelched, the wound to big, blue eyes bleak, grass dripping, snorts and squeals of delight around them even as the enemy retreated. And in the moment he felt just as much of a failure as did when he let that little boy die in front of him. He wasn’t here. He let him out of sight, again.

“Which way?”

“Dunno. It was still early morning,” he added wearily, eyeing him. Of course, Link had a target on his back from the Yiga.

“He’s a friend,” he pleaded. “We just want to know if he’s safe.” His hands were clammy and felt dirty.

“Safe? That boy can handle himself, worry not.”

“He’s just a kid!”

“What would you call yourself then? By the way, you like banana bread? Got a few fresh loaves made just this morning.”

How disturbing that bananas were an indicator of one’s traitorous intent. “I’m not Yiga. I just want to know if he’s safe.”

Sighing, the stablemaster leaned forward, shifting from irritation to something softer. “I see. I will not say, but I promise if he went where I think he went, then he is in good hands. Let it rest.”

Dear Hylia — Sky sped back inside the stable’s lobby, spotting only Legend and Time seated across each other and Warrior standing at their leader’s side, noticing Sky. He tried to stand between Time and the approaching Sky, saying something about packing and waiting for Link.

But then Sky’s few words were like a pin drop. “He’s gone.”

Whatever their leader had been saying cut off and the man swiveled in his seat. “What do you mean gone? Legend says he’s in the shrine.”

“The stablemaster said he left with his horse earlier. Won’t say where.”

Of all people to speak, it was Legend. “Wolfie could track him.”

Then it was Warrior who crossed his arms with a spiteful look in the veteran’s direction. “But has anyone seen him lately?”

A look shared between the seated men was tense but a truce, each standing. Their conversation wasn’t over, but Time was already rising from his chair. “I’m sure he’s around here somewhere,” said Time, rushing towards the lobby’s doors. “Go pack, boys.” A dismissal.

Legend went to follow but stopped from Warrior’s grip on his shoulder. “Let’s pack. You too, Sky.”

The Skyloftian looked back once more before joining the others back in their shared lodging to be greeted to the sight of rampant packing. Four, though stuffing his pack to brim, handed back belts and newly fletched arrows. He must have done some repairs for the others while Sky still slept. At their joining, Four nodded in greeting as Hyrule adjusted his fixed sheath to his back. “Has he come out yet,” asked Hyrule.

Sky shook his head, noting how Wind and Four waited for the answer, slowing in their packing. At Wind’s side, he noticed the old man’s and Twilight’s packs already shut and ready to go. Should he really be the one to break the news to him?

Though it seemed Warrior lacked such hesitation. “He left early in the morning, but—” he said quickly before Wind could interject”—we have a plan.” Sky would not call it a plan. “I’m going to see if any of the stablehands know anything,but we’ll split up and find him. He’s on horseback, but that means he’ll stick to the main trails.”

“I saw a map pinned in the lobby,” noted Four. “This feels a bit like de ja vu.”

It was true, wasn’t it? Only days ago they were looking for the hero, the team splitting up in the forest after he disappeared with Hyrule’s apple. Only luck brought them to Link and in time, too. A fierce protectiveness coated their actions from then on, especially when the Yiga showed themselves then Lurelin (a shiver crept through his chest taking his breath), but this time— this time Wolfie knew the kid’s scent, and they had just trails to choose from. Plus, this was a group of the fiercely loyal. Plans were already being drawn out by Warrior while Sky offered to fetch the map, entering the lobby and finding it pinned near the entrance.

Thus motion caught his eye from the open door far out but contrasting. A group came past the cliff of Dueling Peaks, a caravan at the back pulled by a speckled horse. If Link went that way. . .

Four called out, “Hey, Sky, you got the map? Wai- Hey wait!” But Sky couldn’t, dropping the map to the table to jog back out of the lobby despite the questioning shouts. Four’s pattering feet followed soundly but the hope in heart for a lead drowned him out. Yet it was Time who beat him to the caravan.

And not just that. The closer he came the more details stood out, like the fact the canvas of the caravan had been charred, it’s driver wearing a splint on their leg and a passenger a sling for their arm. Those that walked beside were disheveled with more than just a crew of traveling merchants. There were children among them.

A young man wiped his brow speaking to Time. “— out of nowhere. We thought we were safe. The stable was so far south of where the monsters were showing up, we didn’t think they’d bother us. But then the guardians . . . We barely got out of there with our lives.”

His leader nodded, glancing back at Sky’s and Four’s arrival but setting a gentle hand on the survivor’s shoulder. “I am sorry for your loss. But your family is here with you; take care of each other.”

“Just to be uprooted again over and over? I thought the champion was supposed to end all this, not make it worse.”

“Champion?”

“The hero! Running all over the place doing this and that and the Sheikah saying not to worry anymore. But all he did was stall the guardians. He couldn’t even end the blood moons.” He looked back at the torn caravan and the child and mother meeting with the stablemaster. Sky noticed the driver with the splinted leg wore the same head garb as the stablemaster. “And here I thought I’d start up a farm right in the middle of guardian territory.”

Here Sky met with the two, Four standing back wearily. “Perhaps relying on just a child is the issue.”

The old man only looked him over before nodding. “You got me there. People need to stop praising a wash out and get an actual guard system up and running— a guild or something.”

At the comment Sky opened his mouth only to stop from Time’s grip on his shoulder. Let it go. “I admit,” said Time, “I had a reason for coming to you. My son ran off with our horse. He’s young, but did you happen to pass him?” It did not pass the Skyloftian that he chose to call him son and not the hero.

“No. We haven’t seen any other travelers, and the roads are infested with monsters. . . Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

Each said their goodbyes, watching the man return to his wife and child before Sky turned to him. Before he could speak, a hand gripped his arm, the Skyloftian looking down to meet their seafarer’s. “Did you find Wolfie?” asked Wind. Behind him followed the others, including Warrior who looked rather miffed. Seemed the stablemaster didn’t break.

Time nodded for the joining group. “Yes. Twilight’s with him— he thinks Link headed north.”

Four crossed his arms. “Is north safer than . . .” He stared beyond the cliffs where the caravan had come from.

Hyrule followed their gaze, having past them to join Time and Sky. “Those people— that’s the way we’re headed right? Link could be hurt.”

Though the concern was palpable among them, the veteran stood alone with arms crossed indifferently. “Probably not.”

“You don’t get a say in this,” warned Warrior.

“He’s probably fine because I was trying to convince him to go to Kakariko Village.”

Blood. His hands felt clammy from blood that wasn’t his.

“You what?” Shouted the captain.

“. . . He’s too young for this,” he said, sneering when eyes turned to him, “and don’t act like he isn’t. He might be able to hold a dagger, but that doesn’t make it right to put a kid on the battlefield or drag him away from his home. That’s how this ends, right? We fight the big bad, then we take him away from everything he knows for how many more months this portal hopping adventure lasts.”

Wind turned to him. “You made him run.”

“I made him think.”

Raising a hand, Hyrule tried to get between them. “This isn’t getting us anywhere—“

“Stop fighting—“ someone added.

Legend stepped back from the finger tapping against his chest, Wind seething. “You made him feel stupid so he ran away!”

“Wind!”

“No, all of you,” he said turning to them, “— all you do is coddle him and tell him not to do this or that, and he’s sick of it! He didn’t fight Ganon for nothing, but then you go around and make him feel useless. Why wouldn’t he run?!”

The boy’s eyes shined through his anger, unshed dribbles of tears held back only by his refusal to blink, even though the wind shifted to something like a warning, a storm on the horizon. And horrible that if only more scarred and hair longer, Sky could see Link in him when distrust was thicker than honey between them.

So alike that Sky should have caught on a lot earlier just who Wind was really talking about.

And Legend always had a way with picking up patterns quicker than the rest of them. “And maybe neither of you should be on this quest—“

The veteran nearly fell back from the shove low and hard on his gut, Wind nearly losing his own balance in the action just as Warrior shouted “hey!” and Hyrule finally got between them. Those tears finally spilled over onto heated cheeks to be wiped away just as fast. A hand swatted away Hyrule’s grip on his tunic.

“You don’t have the right. You don’t have the right to talk like that,” Wind told him.

Head high, Legend looked bored. “You’re just a kid,” he stated.

“That’s why I have to be here! I’m all my people have! I’m all that is left of old Hyrule for my people to depend on and so is Link.” He turned then staring east where the sun rose along with yesterday’s fight. “Something happened here and no one’s talking about it. Why do you think we haven’t seen a single royal guard or official crest outside of the ruins?

“Something happened here, and everyone thinks it’s better to hide and run to save themselves before having hope, and that’s why we’re here, right? Link gives them hope, just like I did and you did when everyone else in your land already gave up! Don’t act like you know what’s best for me: I’m not doing this for myself, and you shouldn’t be either.”

A finality struck, Wind stepping back with the same fiery expression and a burden no one knew he had so obvious on his shoulders.

Sky reached out. “Wind—“

“Don’t talk to me.” He turned quickly, dodging his hand and jogged away from them and to the unloading caravan. Even at this distance, Sky noted the woman's distraught expression, but she thanked him as he took the crates from her hands to put inside the stable.

Sky sighed, realizing what road they were heading down. “This is serious; we can’t afford to separate. If monsters and guardians are driving people out, then we have a storm coming.”

Though Warrior glared at Legend, Time stood hesitantly. “We can't, can we? . . . All the more reason for Wolfie and Twilight to find Link.”

“Doesn’t he get a say?” asked Warrior.

“If you believe a brother would choose to come with us, then you don’t know Twilight at all. We’ll leave a note for when he returns,” he said, staring out to the edge of the clearing and stable. Sky followed his eyes to the seated wolf between the brush. As if as intelligent as a loftwing, Sky would swear the wolf nodded. “He and Wolfie will find him. I have faith. In the meantime, we’ll hold our promise to Link. . . He may have gone that way anyway.”

A foreboding thought, considering the caravan’s damage and the people lost on the way. But Time was right, recalling how adamant their youngest was to get to Zelda swiftly. This was a race against the clock and fingers crossed. Each of the heroes looked to each other with solemn determination, gathering packs, leaving notes, praying for the health and safety of their separated comrades. Hyrule coaxed Wind to join them, and without any sort of announcement, they started west.

Time led with a linen map, a downgrade from the small glimpses he got of the Sheikah slate’s backlit gradient. If there exist any lasting pains in the captain’s leg, he didn’t let it show much like how Hyrule counted his colorful potions, the scent of something sickly sweet of magic and cane sugar reeking from his persona. Wind led beside Time never looking back and none tried to speak to him. Sky tried to be considerate, for he knew his own coddling— but how could he when he, a knight, trained to take on the worst let a boy who should be seeking sea shells with his sister had to take up the sword to save her? When they were still dealing with growth spurts and voice changes all the while balancing sleepless nights and long days of travel? Maybe that was a reflection of his strength. Sky didn’t think he would have handled his journey to save his Zelda so well if not for his training.

In his mullings he realized someone started to keep pace with him. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

He glanced at Legend then back to the front. “I don’t know, I’m still miffed with you.”

“The right thing never makes you popular.”

The taste of ash was back.

He stopped. Being at the back of the group meant no one realized when he glared at Legend with a tight fist. “If you want to get socked for whatever punishment or pity play you have going on, ask Warrior.”

“Just answer my question.”

Link was alone and probably terrified, could be bleeding out as they spoke and they were sitting here again and letting it happen.

“What do you want?”

“When Link held the sword, did she speak to him or you?”

Sky froze.

Without saying her name, he knew Legend spoke of Fi. Where was this coming from? To be honest, after witnessing her decay right before him, he’d been careful with her, cleaning her daily, checking for chinks. “No. To be honest, Fi’s been fairly quiet since stepping through the portal,” he confessed. It had been surprising for Link not to mention her words if she spoke. For the others, even though they said no such spirit ever made itself present, acted as if she were in their head, Time gripping the master sword’s hilt smarting the leather and Hyrule close to dropping it. He wouldn’t say she was active, but Fi’s presence caressed like a blanket, a promise of motherly protection and whispered advice. But in this era, it was little more than a fog, a solemn snore or fading day. He never brought it up to the others. After all, her light still shone brightly for him as she gave her all to every fight, but in Link’s hands— when her heart was no more than a flickering candle compared to her bonfire and metal chipped and ached in decay— he feared what curses befell this land and whether it would finally take her away from him.

“I see. Thank you.” The veteran did not wait for him as he began trailing the group once more and only surging forward when they encountered monsters (uninfected) on the road.

The master sword glowed brilliantly in their fight.

Why did Legend care about any of that?

Zelda tapped away at her slate finishing her description entries. While it wasn’t anything as complex as the slate Link carried on his journeys, it did its job in a minor storage unit, photo menu, and pages upon pages of data entry. Her radar blinked rapidly in the corner of the screen, declaring the traces of malice around her, though she’d been aware of it for days now— having been sitting in the center of it.

It was only after she finished her entry that she spotted them beyond her hidden nook. Fools, though even from the distance she spotted their pieces of armor and shields. Armed but fools nonetheless, which was why she stood quickly and waved her arm out.

Cupping her mouth, she shouted, “Hey, this way! What are you doing out in the open?!” Certainly they recognized the fresh tracks of lively guardians surrounding them?

One of the smallest pointed at her speaking to the others, the said others looking about themselves and the rolling fields and patches of woods that had yet to be cut down by the monsters. Perhaps they finally noticed the new camp’s bordering walls in the distance. Their forts sprawled across the Hyrule field and only spread further in the blood moon, sending inspiring farmers and travelers running for their lives.

Some weren’t lucky.

Upon getting closer, she halted any warning at the sight of literal children armed among them. Did they truly intend to bring them into the fight?

One with a white cape waved. “You’re Zelda, aren’t you?”

She nodded with a hand on her belt just inches from her ancient sword if needed. It wasn’t that she hid her identity, but wearing nothing relating to the crown meant often she blended as just another traveler. “That’s me. I’m assuming you are from one of the neighboring settlements?”

“No, no— Purah sent us. We’re friends of Link’s.”

“My knight?”

The oldest shared a look with the cape wearer before nodding. “Indeed. Purah’s measurements said malice was gathering here. Portals, I’m assuming?”

Zelda stepped back. “That’s a jump in assumption,” she noted. They weren’t wrong, but what a conclusion. From the glimpses her slate’s camera zoom gave her, the portals stood dark and tall— maybe the height of a hinox— that the monsters built their forts around. She could taste the miasma in the air even from half a mile away.

The scarf wearer commented on that. She noticed the pauldron but did not recognize its decal for any family. “Not when the same portals brought Dinraal’s wrath on Hateno.”

“It was attacked?”

“The town is safe. We took care of it. Which is why we’re here, actually.” The oldest waved a hand to the others and his facial marks caught oddly in the day's rays, like every ounce of light absorbed and nothing to reflect despite how his skin sweat. “We’ve been tracking these monsters for some time.”

Zelda looked between the boys and men. “I am surprised to see you intend to bring children into a fight. This won’t be easy.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Furrowing her brow, she turned to the shortest of them in the colourful tunic, a patchwork of dyed fabrics and decals symbolic of something she didn’t recognize.

He had crossed his arms. “Pretty sure we’re all older than ‘your knight.’”

And Zelda startled. Link introduced himself in his younger form? Never had she heard of him doing so, not while revealing his connection to her (Beedle was an accident), yet they recognized her dressed like nothing more than a traveler.

The one with the pink strip in his hair shook his head. Before he’d kept his distance, but now he moved to stand beside her. “Guys, it’s not what you think. She doesn’t know the kid.”

One said. His dress was humble, and freckles splashed his cheeks. “What are you talking about?”

“That wasn’t the hero.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” asked one of the kids in a lobster dyed tunic.

“I couldn’t tell you then— you wouldn’t believe me, but that Link isn’t the hero Link . Didn’t you think it was weird he kept all those weapons in the tablet but couldn’t even wield them?”

Eyes quickly glanced at one another as Zelda stood lost. So he kept it a secret, but this one figured it out? Or did Link tell him? Information was not being fully given.

The young blue tunic wearing child furrowed his brow. “That’s stupid. Why would he tell us all that stuff, huh? He could fight! He’s a hero!”

His youthful form, the Sheikah slate, and told them he was the hero?

“Look around, this place is just Hyrule’s era with greenery.”

What does Hyrule’s era exactly mean?

“Stop fighting. The princess is right here,” said one with armor fit for a knight with the scarf— a knight of what she didn’t know. She heard nothing of any old families stepping forward to join in reasserting the monarchy. And they called her princess. How foreign to hear it come from non-Sheikah mouths.

The pink haired one slightly bowed to her. “Princess Zelda, I’m sorry, we’re still looking for your real knight.”

“No, no,” Zelda said, looking at each of the boys around her. Their expressions ranged from anger and worry to utter confusion. “I believe some clarity is in order. You say a little boy came to you calling himself the champion?”

“Err, the hero, yes.”

“And you are?”

“Oh, oh yah,” the knight said while rubbing the back of his neck. “That probably would have helped.”

“Idiot,” scoffed someone in the back.

“Shut up.” The knight stepped forward with an open hand. “My name is Link, though I tend to go by my hero title, hero of Warriors.”

“I’m Wind! But my real name is Link.”

Another called himself Legend and Four and Hyrule itself, and she avoided taking Warrior’s hand to shake.

“I assume you see a pattern,” said the oldest. The markings on his face seemed familiar, maybe something from Robbie’s books. “Call me Time.”

Hero of Time. She knew that title.

. . . Yiga, maybe? She didn’t voice the thought. Truly, this would be the strangest of plots the malice worshippers have come up with, using the hero’s name and title nicknames and certainly not trying to take advantage of the fact she was alone— not that she couldn’t handle herself. “And you say Purah sent you? She’s not much of the social type.”

“Kind of a chatterbox, actually,” said Four. Link actually took them to her. . .

“But,” started Time— he must be the leader— “Our story is not simple. We’re not mercenaries and we are not Yiga. How familiar are you with your people’s history?”

“What kind of question is that?” she asked. It felt like a slight on her and the ruined royal library just beyond the rolling fields in the destroyed castle, yet his face didn’t reflect it.

“I mean no rudeness. I ask only to know if any of the hero titles were familiar.”

“No. . . What are you implying?”

“The impossible yet very real.”

She looked to the people before here, all well armed and fit for travel. Their gloves were worn but cared for as swords rested in decorative sheaths. Then she spotted it resting on Sky’s back. Her hand clasped the hilt of her blade with a step behind her, grounding her just enough if need be. “Did my knight give that to you?”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Sky ensured. He gripped the sheath’s clasp until it released, bringing the sword and sheath into his hands to present to her. Even in its sheath, which was a dyed royal blue encompassed in gold swirling metals, its light shown where it met at an unchipped hilt. Zelda hadn’t seen it since the day Link and her suppressed the calamity once and for all, but never had it been so vibrant in color. “This sword has saved my life countless times. Same goes for everyone here.” He chuckled to himself, adding, “except maybe Four.”

“You’re saying—” Zelda began only to hesitate. Link, adult and young form, the slate, the master sword, hero titles (magic reeked from their clothes)— Link isn’t here. Sky carried the master sword here. “The hero of Time and hero of the Sky?”

“Chosen hero is my given title, but being called ‘Chosen’ didn’t really stick. However, I am the original holder of the master sword before Hyrule was colonized.”

“Time travel,” she gasped. That's why the sword was so clean as tens of thousands of battles had never been brought against it's blade. And Link trusted them. . . or maybe— she looked to Legend who stood with arms crossed yet watching her. “Where’s Link?”

“Your Link?” Legend gave a shrug. “We don’t know. We’ve never met him.”

But Wind snapped, “Yes we did! Link is a hero, and don’t go running his name in the mud.”

“That wasn’t the hero. It’s just some kid claiming to be. That’s what the Hateno villagers said.” He turned to Sky pointing a finger. "Fi didn't talk to him, right? The sword almostfell apart in his hands. He doesn't have a hero title because he's not the hero. It's so obvious but you're living in rose tinted glasses—"

“What are you even talking about—”

“Please,” Zelda demanded. “Why don’t I explain, and perhaps not while we stand so close to the monsters and guardians to be spotted.” Surely the trees still standing will be cut down for building or fires by the next wave of wandering monsters.

The others sobered at this, eyeing the line of enforced wall north of them. In the rolling hills were wandering guardians, she knew, which was why she took refuge between a large enough form of rock. Her horse was there too including the scouts she caught by surprise for her research.

Quickly she went to retrieve her arrows from the malice-sick moblin’s skull.

“You. You killed that on your own?”

She first looked at the malice-sick moblin with a quirked eyebrow then remembered the guardian beyond her hiding place where the group’s eyes followed. Her arrows still embedded in it’s eye which took out it’s targeting systems. How fortunate that Robbie had no issue sharing his notes studying the ancient technology. “Yes.”

“By yourself.”

“Yes?”

They men looked between each other. “We thought only it’s own ray could kill it,” said Warrior.

“Using any of their tech will help.” At the mention, she pulled her sword from where it hooked to her belt, looking innocent until a click brought out the ancient sword’s glowing blade. Her ancient spear was still hooked to her horse’s saddle along with her quiver of varying arrows. “Any of their technology can pierce the eye. From there, it’s easy pickings. A blind guardian might as well be a downed guardian. Hello, Maple,” she said to her horse. The horse sputtered delightfully and remained steady as she hopped into its saddle. “Now, the explanation.”

Some of them were giving her odd looks but nonetheless followed when she pressed Maple forward leaving the small cover the rock formation gave.

“This little boy you speak of— he told you he was the hero?”

Time and Legend kept pace with her horse walking on either side as the others followed close to hear but on guard. Time spoke up. “That’s right. He ran from us at first, but we found him dangling from a moblin in Faron Woods. The Sheikah slate had been trampled by a Hinox.”

Her heart stuttered. “Was he hurt?”

“We got to him in time. He thought we were Yiga, maybe mercenaries or bandits at some point, but it’s not unusual for a Link to not believe what’s said to him.”

“Took us a solid week to track down the veteran grouch,” commented Hyrule. She assumed the grouch to be Legend considering he made a rude gesture then apologized when he noticed her watching.

“And why is it you want to find Link? You’re gathering, that much is obvious. . . but why?”

“So he is Link the hero?” asked Wind.

“Yes.”

Legend nearly tripped. “But— the people of Hateno said the hero was an adult. This Link was just a boy who lived in town and interacted with the Sheikah.”

“I will explain, but I need to know why you’re here.” Maple bopped his head forward sensing her irritation. She yipped Maple forward then spun to eye the group. “What do you want with Link?”

“For the same reason you’re here, I believe,” said Sky. “You saw how mutated that moblin you killed was.”

“The malice-sick?” It had stood taller than should be possible, it’s skin almost sharp to the touch and tusk so long they curled back. It was not the strangest she’d seen. Many of the creatures gathering were monsters she’d never seen before— maybe new species of blin but others completely foreign. Stored in the slate were samples of its blood to take to Purah for testing, but— “You know where they came from?”

“That and perhaps why the guardians have returned,” agreed Time. “The enemy travels across time, thus Hylia gathered us to track it. Along its way, monsters rise in numbers and power. Purah mentioned the monsters— and perhaps the portals they come through— are of the malice you speak of.”

“Dark magic,” noted Hyrule.

“Those dark portals have shown up in our eras, too.” said Four. “They attacked my home.”

“And my farm,” joined Time. “We all have the same goal— let that be enough to settle your worry. We’ll protect you and Link as long as we’re here, and we’ll keep protecting him when we leave.”

Though there was no wind, a chill creeped through her being at the hidden threat. She spoke coolly. “Link is the strongest person I know. Do not doubt him.”

“That’s exactly why we need him on the team,” said Wind. “With all those weapons and stuff, we’ll be unstoppable!” His glee was contagious as Hyrule smiled at his antics.

So Zelda kept her words simple. “He’s not going with you.”

She imagined if not for the soft coos of passing crows and wind shaking ashened grass, one could hear a pin drop. Maple tapped her foot impatiently.

Realizing the tension, Sky tried to say, “I understand your concern, princess but—”

“I’m no princess.”

Sky gripped the leather strap of the master sword uncomfortably. “I don’t think I understand.”

She looked at the men before, some only boys but nonetheless dressed for their travels. She saw armors unrusted and polished swords in clean sheaths. She remembered the quality of boots made before the calamity took away Hyrule’s best shoemakers and artisans, when seconds for desserts made politicians fat and giddy for nothing was impossible. They’ve never missed a meal, the boys before her, even if they were more muscle than fat. But she knew this: the kingdoms they came from thrived while hers laid in rubble and scattered hylians like roaches.

“I don’t know what kind of adventures you’ve been on or what grand beast you defeated, but for us? It took a hundred years before I could bury my father properly.”

At that, their leader sucked in a breath and her anger softened.

“He will never tell you this but you need to understand. Because while you may aid in removing the portals and monsters, you will not make him go with you. He’s not yours to take.” A warning pushed between damned fingers threaded in Hylia’s light. Maybe they felt it, how her power demanded attention where she gripped Maple’s reigns.

“He's a hero. That’s what heroes do,” Wind added hesitantly. No, hesitant was the wrong word. His determination was shown in a blanket of irritation.

“Link is not your hero. He is one— he’s a hero, but he is not your hero.”

“A hundred years ago, Link and I were chosen to seal away Calamity Ganon, a beast that had long since given up his natural form for power.”

Time sighed as if hit in the chest, breathy and worn, but a confirmation to what he already assumed it seemed so obvious in the way he grit his teeth. The others seemed to catch on to her words. Perhaps a hero of time was all too familiar with the woes of living beyond their normal clock.

“Neither of us were ready for our task. The sealing power in the royal bloodline never showed in me, and Link was so young. He wasn’t even old enough to be drafted. The master sword was taller than him, yet his training started all the same. Even so, we thought we had time. At least, we thought the divine beast would give us a chance.”

“The mechanical beast,” noted Four.

“They were made ten thousand years ago and had been a part of sealing the Calamity away then.”

“. . . The malice?” asked Hyrule.

She paused to consider, watching Maple’s ears in case she picked up something she missed while distracted. “Our books called him Din’s champion, sometimes Ganondorf with hair a shade of the Gerudo’s.” She looked back to watch them. “Perhaps somewhere down the line he gave up his body entirely for power. Ganon was more shadow than man, and like a sickness that swept over the entire land, it reaped, awakening dormant technology and resurrecting monsters long slain. He was nothing yet everything, an abstract that even if we made it to the castle, there would be no body to strike.”

Of all of them, it was the youngest who’s terror showed strongest.

“That’s what the divine beast were for— to level the playing field and my power to seal it once it could be forced to take form. But before it’s pilots, the champions, could reach the controls, they were killed.” Oh, how Link held back his fear when Mipha promised they would be fine, his big sister leaving this world too young and her brothers not knowing what happened to each other until a century later. “Realizing how hopeless the matter had become, we ran, trying to get behind Fort Hateno. . . You must have seen the ruins. Link died at the guardian’s hands while protecting me.”

She paused to recenter herself before her emotions could overwhelm her. At her side, Sky asked, “Then he used his magic, right? The resurrection spell?”

“No.” He spoke of Mipha’s grace. “He received the blessing not too long ago. That day his heart stopped in my arms.” The smell of burnt flesh still gave her terrible dreams and days where she couldn't eat. “And in his last moments, what would have been our last moments, my power awoke, and a voice called out to me.” She looked at Sky then. “The spirit of the sword told me a place that could save him.”

He sucked in a breath. “Fi.”

She smiled. “That’s her name? She saved his life. . . I went on to hold back the Calamity, forcing it back to just the castle while he slept in the Shrine of Resurrection. He slept on, reforming muscle and skin as I held back a monster as slippery as smoke. A hundred years he rested, and he woke not even knowing his name— didn’t know me or his Zora sister or that apple pie was his favorite. If not for a reminder, perhaps you would never have found the Link you were looking for.” The light joke did not catch. The faces around her were fresh and appalled, a fantasy shattered. And this was, wasn’t it? Coming to find out the sweet little boy that stood fiercely loyal, would bite if he had to, with mind too sharp for his age, was someone who knew yet didn’t know loss at the magnitude of an entire country? A hundred years of history not lived and the before terribly lost to death and fallen villages, burned libraries and destroyed records? “The Era of Burning Fields took many. Towns lost, bloodlines ended. The castle still lies in shambles. I’m a princess only in title.” They certainly saw. It stood tall just north of Hyrule fields past the gathered beast and wandering guardians in broken spires.

“I’m telling you this so you will understand. Link may be our champion, but he’s done more than enough.” They crest the final hill, returning to the barely standing stable she used to hide herself. She didn’t see it get attacked, having been out studying the after effects of the blood moon, but once the guardians and lingering lizalfos were downed, what remained of the lobby worked well to hide her. “If he ran from you, if he denied you, then I will not be the one coaxing him back or turning a blind eye when you carry him kicking and screaming. He’s seen so much, heard too much, trusted to bring a century of ruin to a golden age with nothing more than his person.

“The slate— when he stumbled in one day and was told his destiny despite knowing no more than his name, he learned he wouldn’t be enough. How could he be, he’d ask himself. Too small, too naive and weak.” She knew— she knew because in her moments of lucidity holding back calamity and malice, she was watching over him, and her heart broke at every denouncing word he told himself. “But Purah had an idea and while it worked, . . . I think it only made him feel smaller.” Zelda looked up, finding they had arrived.

“And how could it not?” she asked, dropping from her horse once at the stable’s caved-in entrance. She made her own at the back of the building. “Link the adult hero was the true champion, vanquishing lynels before breakfast and telling people that everything was going to be okay, to trust him and love the idea of him as this single pedestal holding up the world. He conquered the divine beast, brought peace to the domains and villages, kept the roads clear so trade could prosper. His work gave people hope. . . .” She turned to them, wanting them to see the genuinity of her eyes as she spoke. “Link is my knight, but he is also Link who never got a chance to be a child. The slate only provides him a mask. . . I hadn’t seen that sword since we defeated Ganon, and neither did he show himself in his true form even when it was just us. So please,” she begged, hoping to hide the quiver in her voice. Before her stood people who won, who didn’t fail. “Don’t take him from everything he knows. I will help you— I promise that— and give you whatever supplies you need to help you on your future voyage, but let him stay where he belongs.”

Zelda kept her hands fisted to hide their shake. It was Time who collected himself as the others shared somber looks. She was right: Link didn’t tell them anything. Legend too stood distantly yet eyes downcast. Wind (If she turned her head too quickly, she’d swear she was looking at a memory a hundred years and some buried when his hair was cut short for a knight and sword too heavy for his grasp) matched her with hands fisted and teeth gritted terribly, with eyes so blue like her Link’s she had to look away.

When a hand rested lightly on her shoulder, she looked up to Time’s one watching eye. “Everyone of us chose to be here. Your Link will be offered the same.”

“And if he thinks he has to to appease you?”

His cool expression hinted shock.

“You’re heroes and his seniors. How exactly is his decision going to be his?”

He let go and stepped back to give her space. “I agree. But despite how you may feel, I promise you we all care for Link and want the best for him. Something we talked about earlier today was if it was safe for him to fight with us. And perhaps that wasn’t wrong. He’s young. He’s strong, but he’s young and doesn’t deserve to grow up on the road. After all, he may not forgive us after today.”

“Considering he ran away?” she asked. Multiple eyes glanced Legend's way in mild concern or unfiltered frustration.

“Yes. I’m sorry for that. One of ours is tracking him to make sure he’s safe. But I promise you that if it was up to me, we would have never needed to meet.”

Those were strong words. “Thank you. I will hold you to it— what you said.”

The man nodded. Legend refused to make eye contact. For now, there stood a truce that would have to be enough considering the enemy only miles from them still gathering.

“Well,” she started, “time for the grand tour. Despite the caved in parts, it’s liveable.” Having moved to the back of the building, she pulled back a canvas sheet to reveal the fat bokoblin sized hole and stepped through.

Zelda went to light the candles atop the lobby table where she left her journal and physical map. A bedroll laid in a corner since all the rooms were either destroyed or exposed to the elements. At least its kitchen and pantries went untouched along with the lobby’s fireplace. The night could get cold. “I was staying here before it was attacked then had to clear out the monsters. I’m not sure what happened to its people.”

“Most made it out,” offered Sky. “We met them at the other stable.”

A wash of relief spread through her. “I’m glad to hear it.” Lives were lost and she wished that she returned instead of weaving Maple between awakening guardians for what felt like the longest night of her life as nightmares returned full front, but the guilt she felt dimmed to a simmer. “I’ve been mapping out the basics, but they’ve grown further out.” The line she drew for the fort border wall was imperfect but so was its design from what she saw. Truly, it was multiple walled forts that slowly combined as they spread to accommodate, as if they knew an attack was imminent from an outside force. With the presence of the Links, it was likely they knew what enemy they faced as they amassed in Hyrule Field surrounding the Sacred Grounds and prairie fields. Red squares made up multiple guard towers. “As long as there’s archers in these spots,” she said, pointing to how they lined the wall she drew, “you’ll be dealing with raining enemy fire.”

Warrior twisted to look at the map from her angle. “You marked all the gates, too, I see. That’s a lot of ways to get in or a lot of ways for them to overwhelm us before we get inside.”

“Is the goal to find your grand enemy?”

“Right. It controls the portals and . . . and maybe more.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Link said the guardians had been decommissioned until now. And the blood moon just happened, too. So what if the enemy we chased just got a power boost?”

“That’s. . . That’s not good. Like it managed to harness malice?”

“Maybe. The monster’s magic is strange but familiar to most of us, so dark it’s like it sucks the life around it. So what if it just absorbed malice? It was so thick during the blood moon, we were coughing on it.”

She didn’t want to think what could have happened if this enemy had been around during Calamity’s reign. “So your goal is to reach it and kill it?”

“If the option arises. It’s likely. . . it’s likely it just gave its triforce piece a power boost, so we have that to worry about.”

“I’m unsure if we have such a counterpart.”

Warrior squinted at her then stared appalled. “The triforce. The three pieces of wisdom, power, and courage?”

“Ah,” she looked at Time, recalling her mother’s night time readings. “The relics you fought for.”

The leader worked his jaw worryingly. “I take it they do not exist in this era.” When Zelda shook her head, he continued. “They’re said to be directly designed from the golden goddesses. Together they offer incredible ability, even wish making.”

A wish , she thought. How the tides would have turned if the goddesses granted her a wish.

“We can’t know what piece it has, but our enemy, especially when they open their next portals, holds a dark piece.”

“At least we have the master sword on our side,” noted Four. “it’s magic is just as potent.”

Two incredible powers, Zelda wondered just how the triforce fell from history. “A clash, then.”

“All the more reason for us to finish this quickly before its armies overwhelm us and your people.” Warrior stared down at the map. “Considering the fort exits, we need to manage their numbers, make a funneling system.”

She leaned back as Warrior spoke. Battle plans were not a part of her studies beyond basic definitions. Plus, her experience was no more than an army of two whereas Sky pointed to another part of the map and Four refuted. They’d been working together for some time at least and knew each other’s skills for where to put them. She counted the heads in the small space, spotting Hyrule counting colored elixirs and labelled pouches.

One was missing.

As Time joined to offer Zelda’s horse as an asset, she slipped out of the building’s back entrance, glancing at the ashen scenery. Fires may not have reached there, but the smog and ash caught in the wind left a blanket of grey like when Death Mountain erupts.

She found him rested past the stable’s broken fencing. Sat at the riverbank, Legend leaned forward but hands and feet never touched where the stream lapped. Ensuring her steps were heard, she waited for the tilt of head before taking a seat beside him. “The others call you veteran, don’t they? I’m sure your input would be vital for us.”

“I doubt they’d like to hear anything from me.” He probably wasn’t wrong, considering how Wind had glared at him.

“So you’re the one who realized there are two Links.”

“But they’re one in the same.”

“Not exactly. Link preferred keeping the two identities separate. It’s easier,” she said, looking at the river and the sediment floating on its surface in dark patches- ashes, mostly likely from their fires and scorching malice that itched the nose like chili peppers. It was almost midday but a light haze blanketed the rolling fields. “That slate has a time limit and recharge. But it’s better that everyone thinks you’re invulnerable, don’t you think?”

Legend didn’t comment, just watched how the ripples took ash downriver.

“Why did he run from you?”

“Why didn’t he just tell us?” he asked. “I confronted him. I asked him where this other Link was and he just ran. Why not just tell the truth the second it was fixed? . . .” Legend scratched his neck and refused to make eye contact. “He could have helped during the blood moon and told us then. It’s not like his big secret is turning into a house cat or something.”

The oddity made her laugh, but Legend didn’t. “Is that what’s eating you?” When he didn’t respond, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “Children are self-centered.” She said it with a knowing smirk.

The man scoffed, though it was light. “You can say that again.”

“That’s not what I meant— children are self-oriented,” said Zelda. “They are the center of their worlds with little chance to imagine other people’s perspectives— what other people think. And if they are the center, then they feel responsible for every little thing that happens around them. You’re only thinking of pride, but I’m saying for every argument between their parents to a volcanic eruption destroying their home, they feel like it’s their fault, even when it contradicts.” She remembered vividly her father’s long looks and heavy sighs, the demands to pray to a goddess that never heard her. She blamed herself before ever thinking to blame deaf gods and an evil no one person could defeat alone. She’d blamed herself that a boy could wield the sword and she almost 18 had no fruits for her hymns, just as she blamed herself for being too late to help Link or save the other champions— that is, until coming to understand that she was only a single child that was better playing in the dirt and taking notes than sitting in endless meetings and destinies. “To him, all of this is his fault even if there's a contradiction,” she said, casting a hand around them. “He blames himself for the end of the world even when my sealing power didn’t show until the last second. He blames himself for people loving him enough to sacrifice their lives.” Mipha was a kind sister, something she wished she had growing up. “And losing them would only make him think that maybe he never deserved their love in the first place.”

Legend hissed behind gritted teeth, something pained. His voice was hoarse yet low. “What did I do?”

“You didn’t know.” It hurt to say. Link was her brother in all but blood even if he didn’t believe her. To realize something happened to him, that something made him run from this man sent shocks of disgust like lightning feathers across her skin. But if he went where she thought he went, then Link was in good hands. The tides would settle and this time-traveling enemy would be gone taking these heroes with it, then Zelda would have the end of her days reminding Link he was worth more than any failures he thought he caused. Whatever Legend had done would heal. Perhaps it wouldn’t be the same though it was the Gerudo who reminded her that scars can be beautiful.

She stared at the man beside her, maybe just her age and all too small for how grand the world weighed and thought perhaps Links weren’t all so different from each other. She lightly swatted his shoulder before getting up. “C’mon, we have a hoard to take down.”

Epona chose a steady trot sometime after he ran out of energy, and not of the slate. No, he turned off the rune once clearing the monsters from the main trail. Still, he leaned against her neck heavily, his body unused to the strain in this form from days of little rest. It was like he only blinked just for sea green forest to replace with a concerned face too close and a wrinkled finger poking at his nose.

“Link, dear, that’s you isn’t it? You haven’t visited for some time.”

He recognized her garb instantly, and sat up at the sight of the village.

Kakariko village had always been quaint. In the early morning, fog laid low as the first dew started to evaporate. Lanterns had been blown out by the morning guards and of those guarding the silent daunting elder’s hut stood a familiar face.

He apologized to the elder before bringing his horse before the guards, dropping down as one came forward, the one that met him on his first day in the village. Dorian, a father of two and gently patient, smiled with a wave.

“Is that you, Link? It’s been some time,” he said. “You look exhausted.”

Yet he ignored the man’s open arms, skin crawling and throat burning against the idea of taking something he didn’t deserve. “I’m here to see Lady Impa.”

The old man almost flinched, and it hurt to see the sorrowful concern. “Link what’s wrong?”

Yet Link stood rigid. “I need to do something.”

“The monsters at the castle grounds?” he asked. “I can’t say Lady Impa knows much of anything. Nothing has really come through here, information-wise.”

He shook his head. “I need to talk to her.”

“Wait, Link—” the boy ducked away from his hands and climbed the steps two at a time. “Talk to me, kid!”

Opening the doors, light bled in to where she sat, a scroll set on the floor in front of her. Eyes pinching in confusion, she looked to him as he shut the doors. “Link, child. What brings you to me today?”

He did not take a seat or offer to pour tea. Instead a poke at the slate brought a pair of clothing tied together by twine in a familiar shade of blue. He had not worn it since he told the princess he didn’t like it, that it felt too big no matter what size he stood in, just as the master sword never left from its slot until . . . until its rightful owner came here.Like a glacier in summer, his voice creaked and quivered, barely held together for the single sentence: “I’m relinquishing my title as champion once and for all.”

Between them rested a tension sharp like the edge of a blade. Her eyes did not change, but her hands on her knees gripped the pant fabric in spidery fingers.

“Link.”

“I’m sorry. I was never what you wanted, I get that.” He really did. What kind of sick joke was it for Hylia to keep the kid alive and call him the last champion? “The title doesn’t belong to me.”

“Link, that’s not true at all.”

“Don’t lie to me!” He screamed only to shift to horror at his outburst.

Someone pounded on the door and entered with heavy steps, a looming shadow over him from the day’s entering rays encompassing Link and the man like a halo.

“What’s going on here?”

Impa sat tense watching him, a calculative look more fitting for her sister donning her features that made him feel less human by the second, stupider, weaker, pathetic that his face was hot and cheeks wet because of his disrespect and status he always knew. “I’m not your hero. Stop pretending I am.”

She opened her mouth to speak and he expected poison of a viper and snarls fit for the disgrace he was— yet she spoke collectively, evenly. “What brought you to feel this way, Link?”

Ancestors, heroes of old— “Hylia sent heroes— real heroes — to defeat an enemy collecting in Hyrule Field. I’m not enough. . . I was never enough—”

“Link.”

This time it was Dorian who called his name, his shadow over him just behind his person. A warning. Maybe he got it better than Impa, as a hand gripped his shoulder. He tensed. Link waited for the shove, the hit— just to be turned gently towards the doors and a kneeling Dorian. “What’s going on, kid?”

No, why wasn’t he getting it?

Dorian was there from the very beginning, the first to see this rat of a child with the doomed hero’s name. He was more scum than Hylian, more twig and baby fat than a leader. It’s why Purah fixed him, isn’t it? Why Impa sent him to Hateno with Dorian as his escort so they could make him worth something? His heroism came from a tablet and even then Purah had to make him one more crutch.

“Link, come with me.” When Link stared back he realized he knew that look, one sorrowful and knowing. He knew. Dorian always knew he would never amount to the title, didn’t he? It’s pained yet stiff, like a father unsure how to discipline.

It reminded him of Time.

Pulling from Dorian’s grip, Link did what he always did: bounding, nearly tripping, down the old rickety steps before feet landed heavily on damp grass. The other guard shouted for him, and the further he ran the more he hated his name. He ran not realizing the commotion already happening at the front entrance or recognizing the familiar face before they’d already called out to him.

“Link, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

While he should have known, should have expected— considering how they tracked him to Lake Floria— Link’s heart seized painfully at the sight of Twilight's. Two guards barred him from coming closer even as he offered a smile.

He gave a kind wave, noting the weapons the guards still brandished. “I’m so happy to see you safe. Everyone’s been worried for you.”

Staring, Link watched how relief eased his expression to something so kind like the way Cottla looks at Koko. “Why did you follow me?”

“We weren’t just going to let you run off on your own.”

"You're no help here."

Link's lips felt numb. “Because what if I got hurt, right?”

The sharpness of his tone caught Twilight off guard. Suspicion grew.

"You need to get that instead of lying to us."

“Because I'm not strong like you. I’m just a liability.”

Yet the man shook his head. The guards around them stood unsure what to do. “What are you— no, no. You’re not a liability.”

“All of you stop lying!”

“I’m not! Do you think Wind is weak? Did you both not save—”

“He didn’t need to change his entire being to be good enough! He wasn’t told he wasn’t good enough the second he showed up! I- I’m not even good enough for a tree!” He was angry, so angry and hurt that it wasn’t as obvious for Twilight as it was for him. “You didn’t wake up one day and be told you’re not enough, that you have to change everything about you—“ The slate was in his hand, yet he didn’t remember unhooking it.

“Link you’re good enough—“

“You wouldn’t have had to save me if I was,” he stated. “Or Sky or Hyrule, but I couldn’t even stay out of the way right.” Memories had taken him, made the plunge of that monster’s sword to the chest sickenly easy and then froze in front of the guardians leaving Legend to drag his dead weight. “So stupid I let the Sheikah slate get crushed. Do you know what this is?” He held it up by it’s handle.

Dorian was at his side now having caught up.

"So kid, how long were you going to hold up the charade?"

“It’s the hero. It’s the Hylia-forsaken hero you were looking for, not me. I’m not big enough or strong enough and everyone knew it too and made me something worth a damn with this thing.” He wrenched his arm away from Dorian’s comforting hands. “But they’re wrong. It doesn’t matter if it’s me because anyone who holds this can be a champion of men. I’m done lying to myself.”

“Link—”

“Stop calling me that!”

He threw it. He threw the one thing that made him anything to his people, to Zelda, to the champions he couldn’t save and a family he didn’t remember.

“I shouldn’t have woken up. Hylia should have just left me in there to rot—”

The hand that grabbed him this time did not relent when he tried to shove them off, and neither did they let go when he pushed and yelled, when his heart felt too big for his ribcage and hands numb with face too hot. Twilight yelled for him yet faded as Dorian pulled him back into the village. Dorian didn’t try to speak even as he tried to get away from him. Link didn’t even try to wipe his eyes even when Dorian finally stopped.

He couldn’t hear over his own hiccups and choked sobs. His throat hurt. Dorian knelt in front of him with a hand on each arm to keep him steady as if the boy in front of him couldn't even do that right, searching for something in his expression. Whatever he found broke the collective hold he had, frowning, jaw clenching— anger?— just for Dorian to pull him forward and wrap his arms around him, encompassing him, suffocating only for the fact Link couldn’t calm down.

And even then, he pressed his face into Dorian’s shirt, gripping the garb like a lifeline as he cried, shoulders shaking, eyes burning. He felt as vulnerable as the first time he stepped into the damn village, standing in front of a bath unsure why Dorian was putting him back to sleep.

And just like that day, Dorian soothed him until he could breathe again, pulling away so he could walk Link through grounding him. He didn’t realize he was seated until brushing his palms through grass and gravel. Across was a field and pumpkin patch almost ready for harvest. Dorian counted. The longer he sat, the colder he became, realizing how he sat just under a shady tree next to a familiar home. How many times had Koko and Cottla sat beneath this tree to hear their father’s stories? Link often sat with them, flicking through his slate to feign disinterest. Sometimes the girls turned to him with wide smiles and shining eyes asking to know about his adventures peering over his shoulder to scroll through his pages of photos.

When his voice came back to him, throat still sore and voice croaked, he asked, “Where are the girls?”

“With their aunt. Koko’s been trying to remake your fish fillet.” Ah, the one with honey. “They miss you.”

Picking at a loose thread of the tunic, Link avoided his eyes “Why?”

And Dorian leaned forward to be in his periphery “You think they wouldn’t miss their big brother?” When Link didn’t respond, Dorian leaned back just to hold a canteen under the boy’s nose. “Here, drink some water.”

Eyeing it, the boy sighed and took it. It was shockingly cold and pleasant on his sore throat. Wiping his mouth, he went to hand it back just to pause at the sight of the slinking figure at the edge of the village. Link couldn’t forget, not when it scared the daylights out of him only days before. “Wolfie?”

Dorian followed his line of sight then reached for his weapon. “A friend?”

“Stalker.” He held out his hand to the wolf to leave the bushes and join them. “So that’s how Twi found me, huh?”

The wolf whined with sorrowful eyes like a kicked puppy, pressing its head under his head to be patted, which Link gave in, not pushing the beast away when it decided to lay its head on his lap. “And I used to be scared of you.”

Dorian watched them with a soft smile. “Seems like he likes you. I’m guessing you’ve been traveling with some people?”

Still petting the wolf, he nodded hesitantly.

“Are they nice?”

“I’m not a kid, yknow.”

“I do know. That’s why I’m asking.”

“. . . Yah.”

“Ok.” Dorian surely heard most if not everything that was said. “You’re imploding.”

Link would call it accepting. “I wasn’t wrong for what I said.”

“You don’t think you’re Hyrule’s hero,” he stated.

Despite it being the truth, his eyes stung again.

“Do you really wish you never woke up?”

Now that breath came easier, though lungs still aching, it was easier to think. And all the words he said reeled back. He dug his hands into Wolfie’s fur and shook his head.

The man sighed. “Link, do you remember the night you found me in the woods? When I spoke to the Yiga?”

Furrowing his brow, Linked stared at him, but Dorian only leaned back and focused somewhere far. “I knew they stole that old heirloom the moment it went missing. Maybe you already suspected me, so you followed me and heard that I betrayed the Sheikah.”

How could he forget the day the man who fed him and gave him a place to sleep revealed his origins as the very people that were trying to kill him? And yet. . .

“Even when you learned I used to be a Yiga, you stood between me and their troop, protecting me; someone who’s wife is no longer with us because of my foolish actions.” He paused, a grimace of pain masked with love. Her memory lived on in their daughters, he once told him. Koko had her eyes and Cottla her spirit. “I thought I was a dead man either to the Yiga or to you, that my daughters would grow up orphaned, never knowing what happened to me. And maybe it was a spat of karma that a man who may as well as sealed his wife's fate would have his own sealed by someone I considered a son. . ." Dorian's voice was wet but steady. "But you saved me. Link, you gave me a second chance that nothing I could ever do will pay it back.”

Link shook his head. What a horrible day that was, when he found solace among the Sheikah, the only village that knew his truth, and a father of two (three) patting his head offering encouraging smiles for Link to speak his mind. . . Few asked for his opinion. Few knew a boy who spoke in more than one word answers. Betrayal dug its talons through his ribs, his lungs, his heart, and though he saved Dorian, it took some time before he could speak to him without a subtle flinch. “I only did what was right.” Because in the end, he still loved him.

Then Dorian continued as if he never spoke. “And when Koko nearly burned through another cooking pot, you showed her the ropes. And the girls told me you promised to protect them during the blood moons, that you kept monsters away from the village so they could sleep— their big brother." Ah, that was when they started calling him big brother, wasn't it? He'd been travelling for some time when the first blood moon struck, and the efforts he made suddenly ceased to resurrecting monsters and in his wake. Months of work suddenly gone, he ran and hid, feeling sick and tired from running when he didn't time the age rune for the long red night. The pitiful look the villagers gave him, Impa, Dorian— but the girls were just as sleepless. And they looked to him with fearful eyes and Link said what they needed to hear: he would protect them. It wasn't a lie.

"And y’know, all these stories started coming in when trade started up after you cleared the roads. You helped some people looking for flowers who got caught up with some monsters, and won a few races. That Beedle fellow is an interesting one.”

And here he leaned forward, making sure he had Link’s attention. “And then I hear you went and built an entire town and wouldn’t let me gloat about you to Cado.”

“You’re embarrassing,” he remarked, but the thought of Dorian trying to one up the literal cuckoo farmer as if their children compared snuck quirking smile to his lips.

He paused at the thought. Father.

“It’s because of you I get to go home to the girls each morning. You don’t think you're a hero to Hyrule, but you're a hero to me and the girls. You’re a hero to this village and your friend Beedle and that man you built Tarry Town with, and every single traveler you pass.” A knowing smile crept on his features, eyes soft and he wondered if his own father once looked at him like that, like a promise between parent and child. “Isn’t that enough?”

Wolfie huffed.

Link looked on.

The fresh scent of morning dew wafted from a pleasant breeze, just as birds sang overhead and squirrels continued their forage. Safe. And maybe Link had come to realize he was always safe. Maybe that was the wrong word, but in all corners there were people looking after him, rooting for him, grateful when he dove headfirst meddling into other’s problems.

Maybe a puzzle piece lost on the floor finally found itself back on the table though water damaged and crooked. It wasn't perfect, but what stood before him was the whole picture, and one day maybe he would make out it's image.

As much as he was a child of Hyrule, he was one of Kakariko, of Tarrey Town and Hateno, and honorary daughter of the Gerudo as much as son in the eyes of King Dorephan.

He drank from their waters and labored for them just as much as they labored for him, providing food and shelter as he took out their monsters from the last blood moon. They traded stories around the fire and taught him psalms while he took a reed between his thumbs to teach the children how to whistle.

He was a child himself.

But he was not alone.

Maybe his face broke like daybreak, lightening and relishing in revelation, because Dorian leaned to hug him once more and Link just as quickly reciprocated not in the desperation of a scared child, but that of one coming home to father he hadn’t seen in a long time.

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need. You’re my son no matter what.”

His grip tightened, only letting go when a cold wet nose brushed his cheek. Wolf sniffed at his hair which tickled, enticing a laugh until shoving the beast back. “I want. . . “ Link sat up. “If Wolfie’s here, then that means the others went on to Hyrule Field.”

“Where the monsters are gathering," commented Dorian. "Our scouts have seen their hoards.”

“Zelda should be—Zelda!!” He jumped onto his feet looking around frantically. “She’s still out there— I have to get to her before she’s— where’s the slate?”

“Easy, kid.” Dorian steadied him. “Impa should have it. We’ll make sure you’re ready.” He waved a hand at a guard in sight, and by the nod of the other guard, Link realized Dorian was already several steps ahead of him.

He gently pushed the wolf back when it nuzzled his side for his attention. “C’mon, Wolfie.” It yipped but followed as they came across the familiar figure.

Impa was old, but she stood at the foot of the stairs of the great house with a bundle of champion blue clothing wrapped in twine in her hands. Atop sat the Sheikah slate. She smiled knowingly, even if she asked, “Have you found your peace?”

Impa. The first to tell him he could be more with the slate, but that was wrong. It wasn’t what she meant, and he gave her a sincere smile.

In small steps, she stopped just in front of him. Even in his younger form, he was taller than her. Time may have leathered her skin, but her eyes shone childishly. “When I was just a girl, my mother told me stories of heroes weaved in forest green, these old promise keepers of courage that time and time again followed fate’s footsteps. When Zelda made the champion clothes, she wanted nothing to do with destiny. She said, ‘Let them choose their own fate’ and bestowed these only to those who asked.” She held the uniform out to him. “So, Link, do you want it?”

Wasn’t it obvious? He took the bundle from her, thumbs brushing fabric aged yet well loved through the years.

A guard nodded at Impa’s side. “I’ll fetch your horse.”

Turning on his heel, Link looked around him in search of a tattooed face. “Has anyone seen Twilight? The-err— the guy that was at the entrance? Hey, Wolfie! Track Twi for me.”

The dog huffed then led the way for him only to stop and bark.

“What?”

It started walking again, heading for a set of bushes, and when Link went to follow it spun around again to whine.

“What? Is he hiding? Or is. . . “ Link took a moment to take in the Wolf’s appearance. And he meant really look this time, how the patterns of fur upon its head were disturbingly familiar.

The wolf co*cked it’s head.

“Is that you, Tw—”

It barked loudly over the name.

“Wow. And I thought you were going to eat me.” If a wolf could look sheepish, this was it. Link sighed. “ Fine, go find Twilight, or whatever. We’ll talk later.”

Dorian watched the wolf leave. “I feel that I’m missing something.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He tapped at the slate, inserting the clothes into the slate to make shifting quicker. At a press and flash of light, they switched from the green tunic to the oversized champion uniform. Perfect. He was lucky this worked. He just pulled up the rune page when Twilight returned with guard escorts. “Long time no see,” he joked.

“Yah, yah, you can chew me out later.” He sighed but with a wry grin. “I think we have some place to be.”

“Right.” Thumb over the age rune, Link tapped it once and watched as Twilight’s features shifted from something giddy to something dumbfounded. He still stood shorter

“You’re.” He squinted. “You’re. . .” Then his eyes widened. “Oh, Hylia.”

Hunching his shoulders slightly, Link waited for the backlash. “I know, it’s not perfect, . . .”

“We literally thought you were an assassin after Link.”

And he couldn’t help it. He chuckled. “But I’m Link.”

“Yah, yah you are. This is gonna be a fun conversation later.”

“Well,” Link said, seeing how a guard brought Epona to his side. “Shall we go?”

But Twilight had already approached the horse with glee. “Old girl. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Epona?”

“Even the same name. Seems Links all think alike.”

While Dorian scratched his head rather confused, Link smiled so wide he felt the scars on his cheek stretch, and his throat not locked up from frustration and tears but something he couldn’t quite name just yet.

“We should be there before nightfall, I imagine,” said Twi just as the Sheikah brought his ancient saddle and reigns. Despite how he quirked an eyebrow, Link could only grin.

“How do you feel about teleportation?”

He paused in his little praises to Epona to stare at him. “I thought Purah said it’s not working.”

“And we have a fight to catch.”

“Link!”

“If this thing has enough juice to transform me for hours, it should have enough to teleport. It just might mean a shorter transformation span, but with all of us. . . It’s going to be a piece of cake.” He would believe that soon.

Maybe Twilight just had a revelation, for he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “You’re just like the others, aren’t you?”

Link took that as a compliment.

Chapter 8: Hyrule Field

Chapter Text

Legend was not foreign to peculiarity. His whole life was one. And it was because of this that very little went under his radar. Solving puzzles and riddles with underwhelming rewards, he felt that he’d seen it all, that the riddle in front of him was a case closed situation.

And yet.

Link is like them somehow despite the lack of muscle or height like a child pluck straight from his crib. Zelda said the stone slate gave him the aid he needed to defeat their form of Ganon (something of a nightmare, a miasma of sickness that touched every corner of Hyrule in a form unlike any he’d seen or heard. The hero before Legend fell, but that was to something tangible, not a storm), but it didn’t explain the useless inventory of weapons he couldn’t hold. The kid’s never worn a power bracelet or shown impossible strength. Purah never said his slate thing could give him strength. It just had some quirks to it like bomb-making, and he’d learned the hard way that explosive powder wouldn’t solve everything.

Yet he supposedly did it. He defeated a great evil young—very young—with scars to prove the effort it took.

He felt like a fool, because on the first day recruiting him, hadn’t he found himself unable to look at Link, who stared at the river like it would swallow him just as Legend glared at the sea? Did he not spot the scars across his torso and curse Hylia for her wicked fates? When suddenly it seemed like reality had been turned upside down, Legend had been hurt. Betrayed. Because in the last few days, he saw Link as one of theirs, as someone just like them who, though young, knew how it felt to have the weight of the world on shoulders meant for farmwork and blacksmithing and rest on under an apple tree for hot summer days, not swinging a sword weighed by thousands of years of repeating history.

But this kid would never understand and wouldn’t have to if Legend could just be pointed in the right direction for the real hero. Of course, things never go as planned, as the kid hid in the stone shrine and ran off when no one was looking. Suddenly it became obvious that Legend had nothing to show for. Dirty work is often not rewarded—

But he was wrong. Zelda said so. Even now as she let Warrior brush down her horse to ready for their role, Zelda seemed more like one of them than Link ever did— strong-willed and courageous. She made her morals clear and none of them missed the underlying threat from earlier. Loyal. Skilled. She brought down a guardian on her own while they had all scrambled including her supposed knight.

And what does that say?

Legend rummaged through his bag for rations where he leaned against the stable wall. Down by the river, Hyrule and Four quietly made their plan while Wind took out his pent-up energy on a thin tree in sloppy swings of his sword.

“Fix your feet,” Legend called out, still rummaging. He spotted an apple just to push past it. Fruit was too sweet right now.

Wind ignored him to keep hacking at the tree which was fine with him. Wind thought with his emotions and only saw what was in front of him. Anger was to be expected. Legend had taken all the knowledge he had on hand and made a logical decision best for everyone. Wrong, maybe. But maybe it was better this way.

Then a shadow cast over him. Legend glared back at Time as the man spoke sternly. “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” The veteran went back to rummaging through his pack for food. “I was wrong, boohoo.”

“You and I both know there’s more to it than that.”

And Legend realized how quiet the boundary of the stable became as Warrior led Maple and Zelda down a path. Those once seated at the riverside pulled Wind by the arms further away.

Fine. So that’s how it’s going to be.

“I’ve turned a blind eye too many times. I assumed it to be a trust thing, but I’m not sure anymore.”

Legend ignored him.

“If that was Wind that ran off, would you have followed?”

He ignored him as he looked for more food in his pack.

“Would you have cornered him, jabbed at him, told half-truths to convict him?”

And he turned onto Time. “If that gives me answers, then sure, why not?”

“He’s just a kid!”

“And you want him to play hero! Don’t pretend this is anything more! You can’t call him a kid and then you ask him to be here!” he shouted, waving his hand before going back to digging into his pack. “Hypocrite.”

Time tried to breathe deeply. “I’m doing what I can with the resources I have.”

“Yah, yah— it’s what they all say. Y’know I was really enjoying retirement: dealing with a squatter, thinking about apprenticing again.”

“This isn’t easy for anyone,” he said sternly.

“So stop pretending it is and let some people go.”

At that, he gave the vet a weird look. “Legend, we don’t have a choice. Hylia pulled us all together, just as she has for every quest.”

Finding their leader’s naivety annoying, Legend sighed. “Wrong.”

“Knock it off.”

“Wow, you really buy into the goddess’ sh*t?” Ah, he finally clasped something that wasn’t the ice rod or box of rings but a simple tin tied with twine. He pulled it from the bag until hands grabbed his shoulder— every instinct screamed to reach for his sword, his necklace, and brace his knuckles.

Heated, disgusted, angry, Time shouted, “Just talk to me! No one wants to be here and it can end all the sooner if you’re just honest! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

It would hurt you. “Because you don’t need to bury a kid!” I did it for you. Frustration boiled over. “Look around you. We’re not supposed to be here and things are only gonna get worse from here. We’re liabilities as much as he is to us. What are you going to do when we get split up in a fight? Assume he can handle himself? Leave your back open trying to get to him? If he‘s not one of us, he doesn’t have to be our problem! Get that through your head already!”

Time stepped back shocked and eyes searching and Legend tensed waiting for him to strike. The man’s hands were fisted and Legend’s own dorn rings of stamina and power should there be a brawl. And why wouldn’t there be? He pushed Link away, held information from the others, and did what no one else would be willing to do. They needed to know who the hero was. They needed answers, and the happy facade of waiting until someone was ready would get them nowhere if Link always changed the subject when they got close to a truth. The snippets the others shared among each other painted strange pictures that collided in a spiraling mess. Meaning to straighten it out, Legend did the dirty work and he would do it again. A hero with half a dozen victories under his belt doesn’t make it this far without pushing.

But Time looked at him like that of a stranger.

He rubbed his eyes.

And then he laughed.

“Look at us tearing each other apart for having the same morals. I get it now.”

Doubting they had much of anything in common, he scoffed, “Get what, old man?”

He rubbed his palm against his face vigorously. Legend could swear he spotted a smirk. “You’re an asshole, but you’re not heartless.”

Time went to stand beside him with the lax of a waiting dodongo, stiff and ready to pounce. Whatever coolness he maintained in his expression didn’t match his body language, and Legend was not one to ignore that. They weren’t out of the woods no matter whatever revelation Time just had. Legend did not ignore the very obvious distance between them.

“According to you,” he started, “Link is no hero. What brought that up?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Legend responded, “Have you seen him? He’s shorter than the Master Sword and he’s supposed to be the guy that’s handling all this?” he waved a hand around them.

“The portals are all of our problems.”

“That’s not what I mean. The ruins. Hinoxes and hoards. Blood moons. And he holds a magic box filled with weapons too big for him to even use. I still don’t know how that’s supposed to work.”

“And in Hateno,” Time asked, which granted a sigh from the veteran.

“One of the villagers let slip that the Link is just some kid affiliated with the Sheikah, not the guy who clears the roads after the blood moons or the land’s hero.” Legend was understanding now that Link tended to hide himself among the crowd.

Time was not one to beat around the bush and said, “So you cornered him.” A repeated question but this time without any heat.

“I wanted the truth, and you all coddle him— Wind wasn’t wrong about that.” That wasn't the real reason. He’d looked at Time at the edge of the guardian-infested field and realized how much Time had taken this Link under his wing—how he feared for the kid’s life above Lurelin and couldn’t sleep that same night. It was obvious he loved him as much as he loved all the other men gathered on this forsaken quest. It would break his heart to know Link was just a boy scarred not from destiny, but just from sh*tty luck and with no one to take care of him but a little Sheikah in her laboratory— if that was even true.

Though none of it was true, he was starting to realize.

Perhaps Time can read between the lines.

“He ran,” noted Time.

“He did,” Legend agreed.

“Do you regret it?”

He took his time to answer, studying the landscape and forgetting the tin in his hands holding his lunch. Far beyond he spotted the spires of the castle that upon a closer look were falling apart from neglect. He was coming to accept that his conclusion was wrong. Despite Fi’s silence and an inventory more like a collector’s dream than someone actually prepared to fight, Zelda confirmed the Link they found in the Faron Woods defenseless was the very same Link that saved this era from a monster indescribable. Still, his answer seemed obvious to him: “No.”

Sucking in a breath, Time did not crowd him but leaned heavily against the stable wall. “Explain.”

Senile old men seem to love long talks. “Whether he’s the hero or not, whether he won at the flick of his wrist or how Zelda described—” his words were vague, for who wanted to be reminded of a child’s death on the battlefield? “— he’s probably not even Wind’s age when he first started. ” He hesitated here, unsure if his vulnerability would be taken at face value. “If I can stop another kid from playing war, then I will.” When he thought Link wasn’t one of them, every fiber in him told him to not look away, to not let him out of his sight. Coming to learn once more that he was a Link didn’t dissipate the feeling. Despite it all and the frustration that was this quest, he’d prefer Link never join them again.

“You were young,” the old man stated. It had a finality to it like he was a bug under a microscope. A veteran too young, an orphan before he knew the word.

And so he bit. “If he were your son, you’d say the same.”

“When I was a boy, the goddess said I wasn’t ready.” Time said it with a grimace.

That called Legend to bite back a remark. The old man never spoke about himself, always speaking in riddles or half-truths. Vulnerability was none of their strong suits, so such honesty without prompting was strange, especially coming from him of all people.

The anger from earlier eased to something mellowed but exhausted. “I didn’t know what a windmill was or cities, or that there were other people who looked like me with long ears who owned shops. I was out of my element. And I wonder what would have come of the world if I never touched that sword.” The Master Sword, Legend knew. “And yet I don’t regret it. Wind doesn’t either, and same with Sky and Warrior and the others. They’ve told me in their actions and loyalty. They chose this not because of destiny, but because it was the right thing to do.” He looked at him then. “Now why are you here?”

Are you forgetting I ran from you? He did. He ran from them for a week just for them to catch up and Hyrule not letting go of his waist until he finished explaining, and Legend had looked at those gathered unimpressed. They’d be helpless without him, he had thought. When the portal opened the next hour, he went with them willingly, didn’t he? Miffed, sure, but no one dragged him by the arm even if he was tired and wanted to go home and sleep the day away.

He was here to get this over with so he can see Ravio again. He was here so the sailor would stop jumping straight into the fray without a plan and drop Warrior’s ego down a peg before he did something stupid, too. He was here to . . . scold Hyrule’s footwork and make sure Sky stayed awake during watch.

To be the shield between Link and a guardian.

He gripped the tin in his hands.

“To protect everyone.”

Perhaps that was his fatal flaw.

Time nodded. “What Wind said wasn’t wrong, even if it pains me to say. We weren’t aware of the full circ*mstances, but there’s always a pattern between all of us, isn’t there? When it comes down to it, I pray Link decides to stay here. But I will not. . . As much as I want this quest to be over, I won’t decide for him. None of us will. He’s a hero no matter how young he may be, but we will help guide him nonetheless. Besides, I think you both have issues with authority, wouldn’t you say?”

Legend scoffed with the moment ruined.

But the old man was right. Legend may have been thirteen when his uncle left in the middle of the night, but that didn’t stop him from saying yes to every quest after. Even when it left him unable to sleep, he still said yes. Even with scars nicked across his skin, Legend didn’t back down.

And Link, a canvas of scars, who didn’t trust them yet took up a sword the moment he could above Lurelin ready to defend the town even when it killed—. . . Killed him. . . he wasn’t so different, was he?

“I still expect a full apology from you to Link.”

“Yah, yah, I know. Later.” After the feeling of being small and studied eased. When everyone was safe.

“Later.”

He put the tin and Link’s pie slice back in his bag.

Hearing Maple snort and tap her hooves, Warrior gave her a reassuring pat. “It’s okay, girl. Zelda’s fine.” He sat in her saddle armed and ready, waiting for the signal. Before him laid eight-foot walls of wooden forts. None of its archers had spotted him yet waiting at the crest of a hill. While he wouldn’t say he was as good at fighting on a horse as Time or Twilight, the old man had his own part and the latter had yet to join them. He hoped they were safe, Twilight and Link. A part of him hoped they would stay away until this was all over, maybe even after Hylia’s divine portal would shut leaving them safe in this era. . .

Growing up in the army was rough. No one doubted that while many took him under their wings and his skill gave him lavishments that kept him safe and close to the royal crown, there’s a disconnect that took Warrior years to notice. It started with comparing himself to civilians, then it became all the clearer being with these heroes. At one time Warrior would lay down his life at the drop of a hat. It was for the crown and let it reign forevermore, for what is a knight without a kingdom? His skill and risky plans brought hope to his people that nothing can’t be overcome. Initially he thought of this journey as just another war. And then came Twilight and his overbearing tendencies like a brother who had his nose in a book rather than one that fought, and Legend making snide remarks on the openings Warrior left. Meeting heroes that didn’t live under a knight’s creed was peculiar. At first he thought them untrained civilians and even after the situation explained still needed a knight’s guidance.

It must have been when they picked up Four that it started to make sense. The bugger kicked hard, but all of a sudden the words everyone said to him were what he threw at Four: coddling and overbearing for sure. At least Wind tolerated it, or so he thought. Maybe if he’d been better at taking care of his men, his team, and knowing their woes and not just their sword skill, Twilight and Link would be with them and Legend wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact with everyone (another issue to deal with. As tempting as it was to lay into him (Time’s careful eye ensured such would not be possible without reprimand), they had other things to worry about, like the fact Four gave the signal).

He didn’t know how he and Hyrule were able to get so close to the fort wall without being spotted. Honestly, he didn’t notice them until they stood just beneath with hookshots at the ready and a bird call for him. Sky was not among them but would be once a path was made.

Well, that was his cue. Atop of Maple, he urged her forward.

Twilight would be such a better fit for this. Having Wolfie too would be nice.

The first part of his job was easy. Already he saw the line of the hook shot catch the top of the wall, without the suspicion of a bokoblin atop a makeshift watchtower, just as Warrior drew the fire rod against the grass field. He had no idea where Legend got it from, but the damn thing sure came in handy. In his wake alit a path, a trail of flames snapping and crackling as it bloomed. He could only hope the fire line wouldn’t spread into a full-on forest fire, but Zelda and he had already worked out the mechanics. After all, she stood at Time’s side now some yards back, waiting as monsters started to take notice of the flames beyond the wall. The bokoblin that would have spotted the end of the hookshot instead had its back to it as it spotted Warrior.

A horn called out, then multiple. Battle cries— the monsters were readying and beginning to flood out of the multitude of camps’ doors, but Warrior was quicker and so were the others. Hyrule would drop the guard tower bokoblins easily and the wall of flames made by Warrior kept them from charging directly at him and Maple. Instead, they followed the growing fireline, clanging their clubs against shields. It was the keese he had to dodge and thrown spears by lizalfos.

But speed gave him the upper hand. Flames followed him and so did the monsters unintelligibly, only lifting the rod for a moment. Or so just to bring it back down again, only veering enough to avoid an arrow to the arm.

A whistle sounded not so far off. Warrior pulled back the fire rod and snapped the reins. “Let’s go, girl!”

Monsters trailed after him, unrealizing the border he’d made around them, as he headed towards the whistle.

Crossing the hill stood Time with the biggoron sword already drawn and Wind at his side. He urged Maple to them, and maybe it was now that the monsters realized the peculiarity of their set up. Flame walls stood at either side as they ran after Warrior, which created a funnel and, if Time and he did their math right, would keep them from being surrounded. An arrow whizzed past his ear, but by then he passed Time, and in Legend and Zelda’s hands were the former’s bombs. They’d be okay. Warrior rounded in time to see the first racing moblin drop from Time’s sword and another by Wind’s arrow. With Time as their heavy and the other’s all diverse in their own skills (Zelda seemed like someone not to be messed with. After all, this was her era and many her monsters, even if they were mutated), they had a team meant to handle the bulk of enemies.

Maple’s pounding feet drowned out the fighting behind as he continued to sweep the fireline further through the fields to ensure none could sneak around. With the funnel effect, the only place the four fighters could direct their attention to was in front of them and anything that could fly. There wasn’t much they could do about them except leave arrows and boomerangs to knock them down—

Oh Zelda really can wield magic, considering the beam of light that eviscerated an aeralfos. They were in good hands.

Then the first one appeared.

Its trilling beep should have been obvious of their arrival, but it was only after one of its blasts passed his head that he spotted the guardian. Now started his real task: distract. The fireline would hold, giving everyone else the funneling effect they needed to change the game and avoid being surrounded. Now it was time to play cat and mouse with a mechanical nightmare.

He urged Maple to bank sharply and take advantage of the little bunches of trees still standing. As the guardian followed after, easily avoiding debris with its taloned legs much like a spider, its energy beam charged.

In gusto it burst just inches from his head only saved by Maple’s steady speed.

The second it passed him, he let go of Maple’s reins trusting her to keep them going and pulled from his back Zelda’s offered bow. From his quiver, he quickly found the special ones Zelda told him to use, with a mechanical arrow head she said came from the same technology as the guardian. He aimed, barely steady on the back of Maple, and released. In milliseconds he knew it was off mark and would only kiss its head, however, that didn’t prepare him for the flash of light.

Like a bomb arrow, it imploded but in blue energy with an intensity to rock the guardian to the side It dented its head yet it was not enough to stop its pursuit. Damn it.

He turned back to the front only to veer, a second guardian’s talons barely missing his horse. A laser crossed their path, a third stationary and half overgrown. At least he was far from the others as those with working legs trailed after him. The distraction was going a little too well as a laser sounded just past his head.

And suddenly that chase was upped to an unspeakable level. Ahead where the laser missed bloomed fire, forcing Warrior to bank around it, but that only made him a target for the awaiting mechanical beast over the crest of the hill. He swore if his scarf had not been fully tucked around him, it would have snagged him off the horse by his neck. He drew the bow only to quickly grab the reins and jerk them right. They would be incinerated if hit. The shield on his back would take a hit, but Warrior hadn’t forgotten the force of their attacks from the little time they spent passing that crumbled fort.

Then he had to force Maple to pivot to avoid a patch of flames, the guardian’s lasers catching the grass alight. And maybe having only done it minutes ago, Warrior should have realized much sooner the similarities.

Lasers caught the dry grass aflame, and Warrior found himself weaving between and ducking all the same. Having several after him meant they circled him like wolves, waiting to strike with lasers gearing up and forcing sudden shifts he feared would send Maple tumbling. The smoke wasn’t helping as fires built, and the guardians merely walked through the line of flame it had made itself. It’s a good thing he drew them away from the others.

Smoke blurred his vision, sending him coughing into his scarf. Maple panted heavily from the continuous sprint. Unseeing, he failed to realize how the fires and guardians entrapped him.

And through the smoke, he spotted the glowing eye of a charging guardian, and to his right and left were building flames Maple could pass through, then the clicking of talons echoed behind. A cornered mouse.

Maple was heading straight for it, but there was nowhere to turn and not enough time to turn around and sprint back around chasing guardians. They’d been funneled, and in his last moments, Warrior wondered if the others would be able to go home unlike him.

Then something blue, bright, and hot, met the side of the guardian’s head like a bomb, imploding on impact and tetering it sideways. Maple dashed past the guardian and out of the funnel.

His eye followed where the blast of blue had come from, spotting a horse and riders, one all familiar and expression fierce: Twilight. He snapped the horse's reins—

And behind him with his longbow held taught and an arrow like the ones Zelda gave him was a man of hair swept back by their speed, dressed in blue similar to Wind and a familiarity that sent off alarm bells in the captain. And Warrior had a moment to consider as the man released another ancient arrow that struck the guardian’s eye, shattering its mechanics, that the intense gritted teeth and narrowed eyes weren’t so different to the assassin of the blood moon, whose eyes bore through him but never once took a swing at the captain. Then he saw their face, the left side to be exact as he galloped past, and the scars licked like flames through his cheek in a pattern all too familiar, he would have tripped if on his own feet.

Link’s eyes followed him, hair whipping like a trailing scarf for how ridiculously long it was.

As quickly as they past was how sudden Link’s entire bow disappeared, Twilight heading straight for the guardian whose head spun blindly. And perhaps it would be bizarre to see a man leap from a horse, the bow traded for a sword twice his size and perhaps half his weight, the momentum carrying him into a heavy swing colliding perfectly between the spinning head and body, ripping through delicate circuitry that sent the guardian whirring desperately, lights flickering. Link stepped off its bulbous body as something gave way inside, it’s taloned feet tripping, and softly imploded just as Warrior came upon a man who only the day before had stood frozen in fear at the sight of such a machine.

Maple came to a stop beside him in recognition of its friend while Warrior gawked. “Link, is that really you?”

And Link, hefting that greatsword until it dissipated into blue dust, not unlike the energy of the guardian, gave him a shaky thumbs up. A shy smile, quivering in nerves. “In the flesh.”

“How— how are you—?”

“Long story.” he looked off in the distance where Twilight guided another guardian away from them, swiftly dodging its taloned legs and laser beam with the ease of a man one with his animal. Twilight always was their best rider. “Where’s everyone else?”

He pointed back towards the raised fires surrounding the monster camps. “Holding the line. Sky’s searching for the leader.”

“Care to give me a ride?”

“Link, you were just—”

“I’m not sitting out again.” He gave Maple a soft scratch then held out his hand to Warrior. “I’m seeing this to the end. I have to.”

A man stood before him, but he saw the child underneath with hands trembling from the confrontation and scars as a reminder of what could have repeated. But Time would be a better protector than himself, and keep him away from the guardians that had made him freeze in those fort ruins. Even as a child, Link handled himself well on Lurelin before it all went to sh*t. He took Link’s hand and hauled him onto the back of Maple’s saddle. “You need a hair tie,” he chided.

“Later.”

Though young, maybe naive, Wind wasn’t a liability. He refused to be as he spun with the momentum of his sword and gutted his enemies. The monsters there were sick with black blood and it showed in their size alone. But that just made aiming for their unprotected legs all the easier, bringing moblins down in haste.

Though there was no end to it.

Not far off Time held his ground and Legend distant. The ricochet of bombs kept him moving even if the veteran never threw them his way. Good. He could keep his distance.

A part of him hated him. Since first joining, Legend had been nothing but sour with a tongue sharper. He thought he knew everything and bossed others around and made them feel horrible about themselves. Swinging in just at the right second to make the rest look dumb, a snarky smile like he knew something the others didn’t when he never spoke about his own adventures, annoyed and not answering questions— How many times had he insulted Wind’s footwork? Or Sky’s lack of knowledge of surface things and Hyrule’s shyness? As if he knew how everyone ticked and could do everything better.

Wind brought up his shield and parried the oncoming jab from a spear, unbalancing the monster and striking across its chest.

And maybe he could. Legend is undeniably smart and solves all the dungeon puzzles faster than the rest of them, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t handle themselves. Wind didn’t track down all the triforce pieces by the snap of his fingers.

Rolling out of a wizzrobe’s ice spell, Wind clasped his boomerang and sent it in a wide arc, passing the wizzrobe that giggled and spit at him for missing only to jerk forward when the weapon knocked into the back of its head. Falling into reach, Wind didn’t give it a chance to recover.

Legend didn’t wonder if he would find his sister alive.

Enemies snarled and sputtered.

He was never so small compared to his foes that sometimes he wished he could be that kid who crawled back in bed away from the monsters lurking under it.

Wind grew up. Wind grew up because no one else would— could. Holding the Master Sword, a relic, facing a man that knew all about him— only he could do what had to be done. Fighting among the others only solidified that he had to be the one, that they shared a spirit of kindred that solidified them as the last stand between peace and something reaching evil. Ganondorf was a single Gerudo but had a small following for his era. A pain in the ass, but still small— and for the others?

Hacking the flying keese down, beyond he glanced at the crumbled castle where towers should stand, where ash and barricades took up between them instead of a town with glorious gates. If his land hadn’t flooded but still fell, perhaps Wind’s Hyrule would look much the same: abandoned. Succumbed. And maybe the princess was more like Tetra than at first glance. Not far from him, she ducked from a blin’s swipe and didn’t shy away to bring it down with a plunge. Magic touched like Hyrule, she cast a light spell of sorts that blinded like a spotlight on her foes, making them easy targets. She reminded him of Tetra.

Tetra who knew so much more about the world than he. Did Link ever feel out of his element around her?

Twisting his sword, he disarmed a lizalfos with ease and aimed for the kill only for it to swiftly shift to the side, it’s tongue only missing due to his speed. Then it pounced.

He blocked with the blunt of his sword, but the monster's force shoved him and took his breath when his back met the earth.

Its weight pinned him as it snarled, trying to nip at his face with sharp incisors, and Wind could only bear its weight against his sword. Removing one of his hands to grab a bomb or arrowhead would bring the monster’s weight down on him, but already his arms shook from the stress.

“Time!” He shouted.

Goddammit, “Zelda! Legend!!”

The blin was finally getting smarter and pressing all its weight on the bearer of the phantom sword. It growled deep in its throat, and other monsters were beginning to notice the easy prey. A lizalfos striding forward and dodongo snarling as it scrambled forward, it’s short body making Wind perfect to finish if. He needed to do something. He could do this. He always had to and—

An arrow found the dodongo’s skull then the lizalfos’ unprotected knee. The blin above him paused mid growl in a guttural breath as a sword pierced its esophagus. Black blood spewed, but his saviors were quick to shove it to the side to reveal a face new and familiar.

And he knew that face, knew the resemblance between him and all the other men dragged along on this journey. Link.

Link held out a hand. “Need a hand?”

Overhead, Zelda rushed into the small cleared spot with tinted cheeks. Would she have gotten to Wind in time?

She twisted and, clashing with a moblin, Zelda still managed to wave as Link hoisted Wind to his feet. “Charming to see you, Link!”

“Likewise!” There’s a joke in there considering the mirth in their words. Link only gave him a second glance before raising a shield to block a daira’s axe.

Somewhere in the fray Wind had not raised his sword. “How— how are you—”

“Worry about it later,” assured Link as he struck down the monster with ease, having the height to reach its neck and agility to dodge when a dodongo snapped at his feet. “Where is everyone?”

Swinging in just at the right second, a snarky smile like he knew something the others didn’t, annoyed and not answering questions—

Oh, it was all a lie, wasn’t it?

Link was always a hero, wasn’t he? A knight, Zelda called him. Respected. And Wind was feeling very dumb.

Link wiped his brow before pressing a rune on his slate to procure a vibrant glowing bomb. He chucked at the crowding mob and found satisfaction when the monsters flew. Seeing their comrades get air, blinds and lizards snarled and stepped back, giving Wind and himself breathing room. So close to the other meant his style had to be short and concise, choosing a shortsword that Wind eyed strangely.

“I got your back.”

The kid scoffed. “I’m fine, worry about everyone else,” he ordered. Link turned to try to read his expression, but already Wind jumped into the fray, not that Wild could follow either, as he raised his sword to meet a lizalfos’ weapon, and stepping back from a creature he’d never seen before’s axe. They must be from someone else’s era. They quickly swarmed again, monsters realizing how Wind branched off on his own and thinking Link’s open. Somewhere in the whisper of wind, Urbosa surely laughed, and the energy already made his fingers twitch.

Pivoting around the lunging lizalfos, he raised his hand, asking for the Gerudo’s fury, and at the snap of his fingers echoed thunder. The scent of ozone burned his nose and black blood with ash took the place where monsters once crowded. He had to admit the late chief of the Gerudo was one he dared not cross.

Scavenging quickly before their numbers would grow again, he took a bokoblin club, with branching teeth at its end, perfect for hard hits for the moment.

Then he heard the clank of armor all too familiar, turning with a sigh and another “ask questions later” on his lips only to raise the bokoblin’s club and catch the sword in its wood, the club nearly splitting and knees buckling from the force. It’s edge held only inches from his face, kept back only by his grip on the club, and beyond it, beyond the biggoron sword, Time growled.

“T- Time!” he sputtered out. “Time, it’s me! It’s me Link!” His arms pressed back pathetically, but it was only after shock replaced his clouded anger and flinching back, that Link could push the sword away. He dropped the nearly severed club, and inhaled shakily. He looked up at the older man who took a step back.

A thousand words needed said compacted into an expression that on the surface looked like only relief. But Link knew how the man trembled when he thought Link died only days before, how he stood unsure at Link’s side, unsure of the world’s just.

And yet Link tried to smile. “Hey, old man.”

“It’s you. I thought— . . . The lightning—“

“Sorry.”

“Link. . .” Suddenly clarity only furthered his shock as he eyed Link’s new form— still shorter than the man but too big to ride on his shoulders. Link couldn’t help but think of that day when Time’s sword had almost grazed his throat when he thought these men to be Yiga. “You’re the assassin?”

“Assassin,” he repeated quizzically. Oh. Oh no. “I didn’t mean to lie to you. I just— everything was so weird and I didn’t know what to do—.” He was starting to realize just how everything looked from the other’s perspective.

“Okay. . . Okay.” Teeth gritted, Time exhaled between, and the relief from before painted something disturbed. Disgust? Concern? “Not now. After.”

What was he to do but nod his head and reach for the slate to find something to keep his hands busy? “Always the voice of reason.” There was no mirth.

“Almost done. Sky’s going after the leader as we speak— we’re just the distraction.” Raising the biggoron sword, he did not point it at Link this time but to the enemies finally drawing closer.

Catching a glimpse of the veteran, Link quickly looked away. Words bubbled to the surface of his mind unneeded for the stakes at hand as a moblin thought him distracted. Link was quick to dodge and quicker to dash forward, the monster’s exposed legs easy for the windcleaver.

There were many, but Link was back in his element. In the height he usually fought in with muscle mass familiar, the arcs for his blade held familiarity to the point of instinct. Those who drew close found themselves struck down quickly, and those not were struck down at Time’s blade, the man close to not let him out of his sight. And in his swings Link noted the pained expression yet no sign of injury.

“Their numbers are dwindling! We can do this!” That was Zelda calling over the battle. She had moved on further trusting Time and Link in the middle of the inflamed funnel.

Sky was certainly busy, and once the monsters entering the funnel fell to them, they could push forward and settle this once and for all. Beyond, crossing the sky was a laser from a guardian— an obvious miss. He trusted Twi and Warrior to handle them whether that be by their own hands or distract until whatever powered them back up was defeated.

“We’re winning!”

“Push forward!”

To his left Wind surged towards the enemies, and to keep them from his back, Link raised his bow and released arrows into the awaiting monsters. With an ice rod, Legend shot keese and other flying beasts out of the sky.

Before them lay only a small platoon, then they would reach the swarm that the others held at bay as Sky would be trying to finish the leader.

Link shot down a moblin and behind it to reveal the true target: the scaled overgrown dark lizalfos yet more alligator based on its maw and bumpy skin. It wore spiked armor and held a sword of stygian. A hundred yards stood between them, but from here he could see the Master Sword's brilliant shine in Sky’s hands as the two locked in battle.

If he was faster, he could have taken the shot. A hundred yards, maybe, but the Rito made their bows for range with fine control.

Perhaps he should have.

The leader fell out of sight and Link turned his focus back on protecting everyone’s back.

They were inside the funnel and pushing through their numbers, the conclusion nearing, and Link wondered if he was really ready for the discussion ahead, for the acceptance of some and rejection of others. Dorian’s words kept his arms steady for whatever happened, he had a family to go home to, such a thought reminding him exactly why he was here: not for the crippling castle and its legacy nor destiny, but because he had people who loved him that he would protect with his life.

“Guys, you better see this.” That was Legend and he had half a mind to not shout duh as he turned to the veteran, realizing then what could ever make the man sound spooked.

Then he felt it in the shift of the wind, the changed direction whipping the champion tunic and his loose hair. It pulled at his clothes, not the wind pushing, and he turned to find something towering.

And towering indeed, as the scene of flame and Hyrule Field fell to shadows far and sickly in nature shifting and swirling. And somewhere they took form in an isosceles shape, sprouting, cascading. Colors swirled a vortex of darks and magentas— too familiarly making his stomach drop.

Wind shouted behind him. “These aren’t normal portals.”

Portal? Portals? He’d never seen anything like it, and turning to follow Wind’s eye found another one, inflamed malice forming an arch bordering the vortex.

“We’re surrounded,” gasped Zelda.

In front of them in the funnel where the monster camps had been built, behind their walls were more.

Six. He counted six portals.

Surrounded. Flames on either side from the funnel and monsters blocking them in at both sides. Legend was by his side with an ice rod in hand. “Everyone follow me!” He shot at the base of the flame, and Link released arrows on the monsters that neared them. He blinked away from Zelda’s blinding magic, light burning through monsters, but it wasn’t enough to make much more than a dent in their hoard as she and Wind turned to join Legend and the hole he made in the fireline.

“Time! Come on!”

The older man slayed a strange looking moblin before tailing it through the fireline with monsters on their heels, but they at least had a second to think.

Seconds.

Because from those tall arching portals, Link recognized its beast and their heights suddenly made sense.

Hinoxes and taluses stepped through the malice while at their feet more monsters poured through. Lynels’ roars echoed across the field.

Zelda stood with her spear ready for the approaching monsters. “This is going to get real bad real quick.” Already some were going around the fireline where the funnel ends, and others passing through the escape Legend had made.

Time gave the order, “Teams of two. Zelda, Legend, here. Link, Wind and I will push them back into the funnel.”

Quickly, Link followed, and it was not so different from when he first joined their fight, except the gaping portal in front of them. It must be thirty feet at least, a Talus of ice stomping and swinging blindly at the monsters around it in irritation.

“So how exactly do we stop this thing?” asked Wind.

Link flicked through his slate searching for the right weapon. “Aim for the back. The ore deposit sticking out— it holds the thing together.”

“Got it.” Grabbing his boomerang, he sent it flying behind the stone monster just as he raised his sword to take on the approaching dodongo. Link sighed, knowing that when it struck the ore deposit, it would only graze the stone. He put his bow away after taking out a moblin’s eye.

“Link, wait!” Time shouted, but Link was in his element, running straight for the monster of stone and grinning as it seemed to rumble, planning to smash its body into him only for Link to slide between its feet. He had second to turn to get on its back, almost losing his balance as it wobbled getting to its feet. Ice talus were always difficult having such slick surfaces. A spin attack may send him off its back if he wasn’t careful. Pressing over his slate, the greatsword procured should do the trick as he wound his arms back as he whacked into the ore. Then again. He thought he heard it chip though the talus unaware. Again. Again.

And perhaps he should realize how he was a sitting duck.

Then when he heard its giggles, he tried to jump off the Talus quick enough, the wizzrobe that had snuck up on him thinking the game too easy. Not fast enough. Before he even reached the ground, his right hand felt numb where its magic hit directly, and as he fell he realized the ice encasing the arm and weapon.

The added weight wasn’t helping as he stumbled to his feet with the ice block attached. Beneath the ice was no room for his fingers to move let alone wriggle from its encasing. Dammit.

The wizzrobe giggled child-like as if mid prank, and it was then that over the battle around them that Link took note of the pounding steps, heavy and rhythmic. It drew closer, and Link gazed up at the rocky body of a talus, its foot lifted, and for a moment he was back in the Faron woods rolling out of the way of a Hinoxes foot so similar.

He fumbled for the Shiekah slate with his left hand, trying to get the rune, flicking his wrist just as it’s shadow encompassed him, and the stasis rune coated its body.

He found the damn drillshaft, long like a spear but meant for mining ore deposits, taking it against the ice at the angle and with his non-dominant hand was awkward, but he needed to be fast. Striking down against it, it chipped, ice giving, and the Sheikah slate too rang as the end of its timer neared quicker than it should. It’s energy must be low with the age rune and the transportation.

It broke apart and barely finding his feet quick enough, he moved before its foot thundered behind him.

He raised his drill shaft ready to climb back on the talus only to hear the familiar impact of exploding powder meet stone, watching as the Talus crumbled to its knees as the stone gave out. It’s body fell in a heap, revealing the gems that made up its heart.

“Y’know, the age-shifting makes a lot of sense!”

Link turned to glare at the veteran still holding an unlit bomb in his hand. Words unspoken echoed sharply against his temple.

How long are you going to hold up the charade?

He squashed them down to focus on dodging the wizzrobe’s spell.

Stop playing pretend.

Zelda. “Go back and protect Zelda!”

“You’re welcome!” The veteran already began chucking more bombs in the proximity of Zelda but distant enough to not harm her, the princess herself managing to perform a Hylia blessed spell in the hole of of the fireline. Where was Legend’s firerod?

Stupid.

You’re no help here.

Warrior had it on Maple.

And he felt stupider that Zelda likely gave all her arrows to Warrior to deal with the guardians. And so he dodged a lizalfos and used the downed crumbling body of the talus as cover as he drew back a fire hour and aimed for the gap in the fireline. Zelda just cleared it, stepping back to handle the moblin barrelling towards her, but he trusted her prowess as his arrow hit dead on, melting the ice and engulfing the grass just beyond the pooling water to block the gap.

He smiled, looking at Zelda and the eliminated threat only to see malice.

Another portal. Between him and Zelda.

“There’s no end to this!”

sh*t.

“There’s so many— we’ll be swarmed at this rate.”

They were running out of time.

From this portal brought a red hinox, it’s one eye curiously watching him, and Link didn’t hesitate to take his shot. While it may have fallen back and Time quick to reached its neck, how many more would come from the portals of miasma and shadow? How much longer would they fight before one of them slipped up? When Wind couldn’t keep up or Legend failed to block an attack? A bomb arrow at the ice wizzrobe finished it quickly, but when would the next one join them?

As long as the portals stood, being what must have sent Purah’s sensors off the charts in the first place as they were laced in malice, they had no chance. They could only kill so quickly, and the portals had no defining structures to destroy, as his sword cut through their arches like the wind. His home and the people he loved would be annihilated all because of this stupid red-eyed monster—

Link knew what to do. “Take out the source, and this’ll be over.”

Time, sword slick with black blood, battled a Lynel. “Sky’s working on it.”

“I’m gonna help him,” he said as he struck a bomb arrow right into the Lynels' roaring mouth.

It gave him the chance to draw and close and aim for its neck. Time called out, “Link, no— we stick together!”

“It’ll take too long to get through the border. I could jump the fireline and give the others a hand.” He looked around, finding all the trees in this area downed. “Look, if we take out the source, we can— it will maybe close the portals.”

Several logs were downed here just not yet been dragged over to the fort. Perfect. He quickly drew his bow and shot an electric arrow at a Moblin that on impact dropped its club. Another arrow found its throat and it turned to ash before ever hitting the ground. Picking up the club, he readied his Slate when—

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Link ignored Time to prepare. “Getting to them faster. I’ll hop over the fireline instead of fighting my way through.”

“This is dangerous. We’ll go together.”

“And if we’re too late? If their numbers never shrink? You’ll only have to hold them off for a little longer.”

A gloved hand gripped his shoulder. Time stared sternly. “You might be old now, but you’re still a kid.”

Around them, bombs and spells were thrown at the enemy, Wind shouting to guide Zelda to shoot for weak spots. They were coordinated, but it would only be a matter of a time when Time would take a swing from a club to his chest or an arrow through his leg. And in that moment Link realized the infallible mask of the Links was only that. “I know. And so were you when the sword chose you, right? But this isn’t fate or me thinking I have to do it— this is doing the right thing. This is my home and I’m going to protect it. Trust me.”

They had only moments to decide as monsters poured from the malice laced portals.

“Trust me on this.”

And Time sighed, squeezing his shoulder tightly but letting go to step back. “I trust you. End this quickly.” He raised his biggoron sword once more at the approaching lizalfos.

He’d done this a hundred times, winding up a stasis object with enough force to send it flying the second the tune released, but it hadn’t hurt so much to turn his back on a comrade, not that he really had comrades fighting with him before. Still, he didn’t look back when it finally launched, only held back a smile at Zelda’s cheer beneath him as he passed far beyond the wall of flames, the speed white knuckling even with his pumping adrenaline.

Hyrule felt like he was having deja vu. Because for the second time in only days, a fallen log flew over his head barely missing him and Four. The bonus, though? It went straight for the gut of the Hinox Hyrule was distracting followed by an arrow to its surprised eye. It squealed, flinching back until it fell on its back, but Hyrule couldn’t go for the kill, with the new yet familiar enemy. He should have known the assassin would come.

The traveler spun on his hunches with a vengeance, the attack still raw in his memory and ready for round two. Flames flicked at his wrist, set to burst forth at the approaching assassin who dropped heavily to the ashen ground with bow still in hand and face mask gone, revealing a waif of burns and hair reaching his waist—

Oh Hylia.

How did he not see it before?

He lowered his sword in awe and confusion, because he knew that face, though with more baby fat and eyes untrusting. Before him was a man just taller than himself but the eyes of the same person Hyrule feared would kill Link in a heartbeat. . . except . . . They were Link’s eyes.

Monsters raged around him. The Hinox would get up in a second and Four held the line further ahead but needing backup as tektites swarmed— and yet all he could do was gawk at the sight, as the assassin/Link raising his bow at him and shooting an arrow at the lizalfos that snuck up behind the traveler. Hyrule gasped.

“Link?”

“Yes, that’s me, ask questions later.” Already setting the bow at his back, he unsheathed an electric glowing sword and locked weapons with a pale white lizalfos, its own metal sword sending a current through its body until it involuntarily flung its weapon. Okay, sure. This was his new reality and Zelda was apparently not good at explaining full stories. The same child he gave an apple to because he thought he was hungry was now taller than him and unaware of the approaching lynel roiling heat in its maw. Despite the shock, Hyruke burst forward to protect Link’s back with a reflect spell, the flames from the lynel bouncing back to sear its own mane.

“Glad to have you,” Hyrule decided as the lynel charged and Link finished off the Hinox. It swung deeply, but the traveler quickly moved back. It spun to try to follow Hyrule, skidding just at the hinox’s down body, and Hyrule would not forget the next moments.

“Link, what are you doing?!”

All logic must have left his head, because from atop the hinox’s belly, Link hopped onto the roaring lynel’s back. It bucked like a wild horse, hiking onto its back legs just to kick out, twisting and with its hands trying to grab at Link as the boy now man plunged his sword down.

It cried out, but Hyrule had to look away to dodge the tektites launching themselves at him. They weren’t difficult on their own, but their numbers from the portals weren’t helping.

“Back up!”

Hyrule did and without missing a beat a blue glowing orb he recognized instantly exploded where he’d been standing, taking out many of the monsters in the proximity. It was the same bomb that had injured Wind all those days ago. There really was a lot of explaining needed done.

“Where’s Sky?!”

“Just ahead. We’re holding off where we can— wait!”

The slate chimed at him as a warning and for a moment he panicked, thinking it would change him then and there. Only a quick look showed him the little time had left.

Link needed to hurry.

He looked around quickly, spotting Four and realizing once more that there were more than one of him. Link wondered if not for the dire circ*mstances if he would have used such an ability, as Link remembered the secrecy Four swore him to. Trusting Hyrule to hold the line, Link sprinted forward, rolling under swords and hacking those down that he could just to plunge his sword into the moblin the green tunic Four had been dealing with. At the sight of Link, he grinned.

“I knew it! I knew there was more to you. Glad to have you!”

That was— that was a better reaction than the others. He smiled back. “Good to be here—”

The crack of thunder had him on his feet and searching, the green Four wincing. “Sky’s working on it.” He pointed off behind the dark towering portal and with another crack of thunder, light flashed around it.

“I’ll help. We’ll end this soon.”

“Sounds good. Make that happen, kid.”

“Not a kid.”

“Bye!”

He sighed, downing an approaching lizalfos with ease and turning the corner of the twisting portal, the man in question finally in view and the—

Link noted the red tinted light emanating. And when the monster that killed him once came into view—

At a distance, size didn’t compare. Even older and taller, the dark lizard with the red eyes still towered, still saw all, still knew how to haunt him.

Locked in battle, swords dangerously close to throats and snarling teeth, the monster growled in Sky’s face. If it leaned between their swords, its teeth could reach the man’s throat, the only threat being the brilliant glow of the Master Sword between.

But Link froze at the sight of the bright light in its hand.

Alarm bells rang, the sight triggering instinct.

Balanced over its claws, its light blinding and a miasma burning his nose, the dark lizalfos held a red triangular piece. An artifact? A piece of malice? It looked hot to the touch, pained, as if it would corrode all it touched.

But familiar. It was so ridiculously familiar that he thought of Zelda, dress painted in scum but skin luminated like a goddess, Ganon’s form barely clinging to life, hardly corporeal, and a power passed through the bloodline that reminded him of all the good she was compared to him emitting from her. It was raw energy shaped by its beholder.

But this was nothing like that. While Zelda was pure and her power graceful, what laid before him was sick , Calamity’s influence tinging it like rivers of malice, its heat fire that would take and take and take burning fields to crisp, singing in the hearts of guardians as the chased unrelentlessly until Link’s blood ran dry —

That was it.

In the midst of his horror, Link knew this was the reason the guardians had been restored and why the portal gates of malice had surrounded them. How, he wasn’t sure, yet his eyes could not look away as Sky was forced to jump back from the lizard’s force.

Link swallowed down his terror, those moments back in Lurelin sharp against his temple yet squashed down to deal with the fire wizzrobe thinking it could take out a Link with their back turned.

His arrow flew true, but the monster knew and vanished. Its giggles echoed with the clash of swords, yet he couldn’t look at the other fight, rushing forward with fingers over the slate. It wound it’s fire rod back, conjuring flames and only milliseconds brought up a shield quick enough to take it. A spear made by the Gerudo had a reach the wizzrobe hadn’t expected, and its end pierced through its clothes before it could think to vanish. It fell, and Link did not hesitate to finish it as he looked back to the fight before him.

Link could smell the scent of ozone before it ever reached Sky, and he turned to witness the spark cascading down through the sword like obeying its master, and how it lit the man’s entire being. His redirection was as swift and controlled as the late Urbosa: a calculated and beautiful display of power. It was obvious that despite his calm and collected nature, Sky was as fierce as Time and trained as Warrior. If not for his gentle nature out of combat, Link would have feared him for the hatred in his eyes.

It hit dead on with a flash of light making him see dark spots. When his vision recovered, the lizard stood untouched, the triangular artifact merely held out, and Link realized how it have made a barrier.

Annoyed, the leader growled and raised the red piece up as it glowed brightly, blinding, and it was after blocking its heated gleam did he notice the dark portal opening behind Sky. He raised his bow and shouted, “Look out!”

Sky twisted, sword raised, but the lynel galloped far faster, and for Link, time slowed. His bow taut for only a second to aim before releasing his arrow, and in the milliseconds he had, he saw how the lynel raised its sword, how Sky’s swing would hit but wouldn’t save himself, and it was only Link’s accuracy that his arrow would pierce the beast’s hide. It’s sword never came down, yet Sky still cried out when it reared, knocking him down, and when it’s hooves came down on his chest.

He hadn’t realized he’d started running until he was at Sky’s side, the lynel bucking and twisting around close by trying to get the arrow out, and Sky laid back arched and the muscles in his neck tight.

Yet the man wheezed out. “I— I’m fine! It’s fine!” Sky spoke between shuttering gasps, yet Link knew very well how a trampling hurt, whether it be lynel or horse.

He started scrolling through his slate. “It’s going to be okay, I have elixirs and fairies—” He paused at the snarls closing in, and Link could only beg for Daruk’s protection as the lynel pounded forward. A honeycomb dome surrounded them and echoed horribly at the lynel’s strike, but it held. He found the fairy just as Sky gripped his arm.

“Where’s Fi?”

Link looked around their small circle to find only them and the bottled fairy that he hurriedly released.

“Is it still in the— in that monster?”

No. Link would have seen it. Even now the lynel circled speedily, but between the shards of shield he saw where it bled from the front. It must have managed to dislodge it and fling it out somewhere. Beyond, he saw the bright lighted artifact and dark lizalfos nearing. They were sitting ducks.

But he had an idea.

He tapped away at the slate only pausing to read the timer. Minutes. He had maybe minutes if it was ticking down correctly. They would have to get this right the first time. “I’m leaving this with you,” he said as a sword materialized. “I’ll find her.”

Already, the fairy’s magic made his breathing better, and Sky nodded though still painfully, his hand gripping the hilt of the offered sword. “Link, was it?”

“Ah— yah, I’ll explain when we’re not surrounded.”

He nodded, starting to sit up. “Do what you gotta do.”

This would require some coordination. Bow in hand, he chose his more dangerous arrows, curious if it would have an effect on the dark lizard as he pulled two ancient arrows. Sky held his breath. He must recognize them and Zelda’s warnings. Setting them back in their quiver and hooking his bow on his belt for quick access, he stayed crouched, watching the pacing form of the lynel and the nearing leader before asking for the winds. Revali was untamed just like the wind’s gusts, but he felt the flutter of wings close by. Ready, it seemed to say. “I’m going to drop the shield and ride the wind. Can you hold your sailcloth?”

He rolled his shoulder and cringed, yet Sky nodded. “I think so.”

“Get ready.”

A second.

Another. He pulled the paraglider from the slate just as the air picked up.

“Now!”

The shield dropped just as Revali’s gale caught his awaiting paraglider, carrying up and up with Sky just behind. Already the lynel drew its bow just as Link brought up his own, letting go of the paraglider, arrows notched, it’s energy bright. The leader raised the artifact, but Link would not let it finish its attack. It was only seconds to aim and less to release the drawstring and only a few more for them to hit their marks.

Link remembered the first time he used the ancient arrows and the fear that filled him to see their utter impact, obliterating nearly anything in its path. The lynel had no chance, but the other— when the arrow struck and imploded, he thought it would maybe at least knock the being back.

When the smoke cleared, the enemy stood, steam rolling off the shield it produced, with that dark artifact still held up. It snickered between rows of teeth though breathing heavily as Link pulled out his paraglider to ease his fall.

“Enough of this!”

Link turned to Sky holding both the traveler’s sword and the sword that seals the darkness heading for their enemy.

The dark lizard growled before raising the red artifact once more, and Link ready for the opening portal’s enemies. He saw how this would be: try to distract him and Sky until it or other monsters got a lucky hit. As long as it could keep opening more portals, fatigue would be their downfall.

Lizalfos and Bokoblins of all colors snorted angrily as Link launched himself in the center of them. The fight was rhythmic, a familiar pattern of steps avoiding being bashed by their shields and dodging to the sides from their spears only to rush them before they could turn. But they were swarming. He saw Sky turn his back on the leader to deal with a bokoblin just to pivot to block the dark lizard’s stygian sword. Link had his own to deal with, cutting down enemy after enemy, and he wondered how long he could really last— not from fatigue, per se, but until the slate gave out on him.

He heard it tick.

He was running out of time.

If he could just get closer to Sky, they could do this together. Link was a hero through and through, and he would be here until the very end no matter the slate. He started to run, his sword meeting spears and shields, cutting through knees and hearts to dwindle their everflowing numbers from the portals.

The slate ticked but the leader was right there and stalking Sky.

It ticked on, yet Link was committed, rushing in, the enemy’s back wide open—

Time was up.

A final ring and he was tripping on his feet. His shoes were too big and clothes baggy, sending him against unforgiving ashened ground and almost smashing his nose painfully. He got up quickly, monsters surrounding him, and between their legs, he spotted it: how surrounded Sky was, how quickly he moved, how relentless these enemies were and how merciless monsters that know nothing beyond their bloodthirst.

A moblin surged forward with incredible momentum, and Sky, despite the sword and his discipline, was only a man, and Link witnessed the sword run straight through the man’s shoulder and hear the beast's grotesque chortle over Sky’s cry. Another blocked Link's view.

Link tried to get up—

Arms dragged him away before a rusted sword could do him in. At first he kicked, aware how small he was and how much like prey he’d just become only to realize how small those hands were.

“Relax, it’s us!”

“We’re here to help!”

He looked above him to identical faces. Four. Two of them with blue and violet tunics.

The violet one let go. “I got Sky,” he said before taking off, slashing a bokoblin as he went.

The blue one turned to him. “You okay, Link?”

“The slate.” Link pulled it from its hook and read the rune recharge. No chance. That meant almost all of his weapons were worthless again being too big, too heavy, too clunky in his hands. This wasn’t good. “We need to end this quickly,” he told the blue Four.

“What do you think we’ve doing? Get up if you’re not injured; we have a fight to win,” he said as he chucked a small bomb at the approaching lizalfos.

He chose a three pronged lizalfos boomerang and threw it, watching as the arc gave it the chance to slice bare skin of passing bokoblins and bring others down before he caught it on its way back. This blue Four was fierce and launched into battle unceremoniously unlike the Four Link knew, but he would think about it more later as he used the sharp edges of the boomerang to tear through tendons. He dodged awkwardly, the change in body height and agility throwing him off. It was the frustrating part of his two sides, that the adaption took time, required different instincts.

He had to get to Sky.

The monsters were relentless.

Then he saw him. Sky struggled to stand, the violet Four dancing left in right to dodge and block, to try to guide monsters away from their fallen comrade.

He spotted the leader standing back to watch its underlings, saw how malice lit up its eyes and the artifact pulsing threateningly. As long as the portals were open, there would be no end.

Then it started its way towards Sky.

No, no no— Link ducked around a polearm and took a knick from a rusted sword, dodging to the side from a club. He wouldn’t let it end with him alone again. His friends weren’t going to leave him again. He wouldn’t go back to sleep again to wake up not knowing who he was or the cherished memories he’d lost because he couldn't handle it a second time. Not again. Sky had so much more life to live and Four had to tell him how his magic duplication worked and why Twilight hid his wolf form. Would Time forgive him? Would Legend?

Sky held the traveler sword, the Master Sword stuck perpendicular in the ground, but his shoulder was so bloody and hand not moving to grab it, his back to the leader.

He tapped the slate and swung the circular bomb forward.

The dark lizard paused to raise the red artifact to shield from it but Link did not detonate it. It merely bounced off the shield and gave Link the time he needed.

Sprinting, he scooped up the sword as he passed.

Link gripped the sword tightly and ignored how its blade brittled and handle worned. From a touch sprung memory he once wished he never regained, when malice burned through them both. Now wasn’t the time, but memories have never been kind to him— not when the monster before him, sick in malicious fire flared back.

In his hold it was like an extension of his being as in-sync as his heart and mind, and how terrifying that day was against Ganon that it felt like electricity across weathered skin and heat bubbling blood as it shown a brilliant light in a promise older than himself.

From his periphery, the highlight against bodies and reflection back on metals they passed, she shined just as bright, an encompassing light that demanded attention of monsters too awed to realize their fate was sealed in single strikes. Blins dropped like moths to open flame.

He and her moved as one.

Them. Her. Together. And he realized the presence like a dove’s wings fluttering beyond any mortal vision for she was a part of him for only these moments, a smile on blue lips and lithium veins. Fi is what Sky called her, and her gentleness tasted of metals worked to the bone in forges run by the greatest craftsman yet flourished in forest groves and earth.

“It is good to see you again, Hero of the Wild.”

Soft. Knowing. Apologetic. Loving. A mother who watched each of her children take on fate again and again and would for future millennia but cherished every being that has ever wielded her.

He gripped the Master Sword tightly, aware of what he must do.

Sky, the first hero and trained to defeat the being that started this cycle of needing heroes, was not enough. The sword that seals the darkness would not be enough. Already, Link had learned that the hard way when Ganon’s chasmic power killed him the first time. It took blessing from the champions, ancient technology, and a power Zelda had to harness after losing everything.

Being the child soldier wielding the darkness’ bane did not give him his win.

Though the age rune was depleted and charging, he had other means that all contributed to defeating Calamity Ganon and they would be the key once more.

Seconds. It all happened in seconds, but he would do this for Sky and everyone else. The lizard still held its shield up and Link twirled the sword that seals the darkness in his hands. “Come on,” he taunted. “Let’s get this over with!”

It stepped back from the undetonated bomb, then launched itself at him, but Link was ready. The thing had height and weight against him, but Link was used to playing a strange game of dance. Speed and tact would give him his edge. He jumped back from its swipe and struck back, tried again and again as it did much the same. Careful.

Then he didn’t guard.

It struck down at him.

He prayed for laughter and camaraderie and thanked Daruk for the shield. And the beauty of Daruk was that despite being stone, he had his own bite. Counter. When the blade struck, the shield fought back, a full countering pulse that sent the monster flying.

He pulled that boomerang out of slate and threw it. The leader was quick to skid to a halt, but not fast enough to block as the sharpened boomerang sliced through the surface of its arm just below the pauldron, the monster teetering to the side. It snarled at him, snapping its jaw.

Urbosa, can you help?

He felt the crackle of energy on his skin as a response.

Monsters growled around him and he had to hope Sky and the colored Fours would keep them back.

He ran, circling, and the leader’s eye followed him and Link hoped it was close enough for the radius as he suddenly charged. It began to raise it’s sword at him just as Link’s finger pressed the slate’s screen.

The familiar ring of the bomb echoed, it’s blue light shining at the enemy’s back as the force knocked it forward and Link snapped his fingers.

Thunder roared as shocking light struck true.

Seconds.

Link rushed forward using his moment to spin, meaning to slice straight through their enemy, to end it all here and now so he could see Zelda again and tell Time how strong he was—

The Master Sword bounced off the artifact’s barrier like a solid wall.

Dammit, not stunned long enough.

The dark being launched forward just as Link dodge rolled, panting but not out of the game yet. The champions wouldn’t be able to harness their energy again in time. Okay. He ducked from its stygian sword, slid to the side, trying to remain ahead, backing up, but it was working with a new speed. Link went on full defense, their swords only glancing each other before he backed up again. It snarled with sharpened teeth in irritation until sweeping out.

Link jumped back quickly only realizing where it led him. He tried to pivot but a lizalfos’ spear still nicked him in the shoulder. He turned to deal with it, for such a sword had no trouble against such little monsters.

But his back was open.

Hand over the slate, he turned and pressed its screen as time paused on the dark lizard and the sword meant for his throat. This was it. With the stasis rune holding it, he swung—

Just as heated energy encased the monster—

Like a pulse, a force pushed him back, knocking him on his back as the leader broke from stasis. The slate gave a warning beep. It was like all the extra work Purah put into it was for nothing as its screen flickered pathetically.

Revali?

No answer.

He tried to procure a bomb. The slate only angrily beeped.

No champions. No slate runes. He scrambled to his feet as the dark being approached. Backing up quickly he let go of Fi for only a moment to pull a bow and release arrow after arrow. Fire, electric, ice, bomb, ancient. It only slowed it down, the red gleamed shield projected from the artifact protecting the monster.

Nothing was working. Not as long as it could produce a shield of magic so familiar and tainted, so ill but on a level Link would never reach. . .

His legs felt weak knowing what he would have to do. In that moment, his heart lurched and fingers numbed. He hated how its eyes reminded him of malice melting his skin exposing muscle and tendons, how the hazy overcast sky from smoke lined its silhouette.

His chest already hurt, his heart beating in rapid fire not wanting to do this, not liking how it felt to have life taken, and yet it was the only way.

It approached, and Link gripped his sword painfully but did not raise it, no matter how fear struck through him. You’ll be okay, he reminded himself. You always are.

Link did not block it’s swipe across his chest, and he stumbled from the gash slicing through the tunic and flesh. He fell, backing up on his hands and feet, but this monster was unworried. In this form he looked small, delicate, a child drenched in terrible fate.

So when one of it’s clawed feet stepped on his leg to pin him, he did not struggle for there was no chance of getting away. He did not let go of Fi. It raised its stygian sword, eyes hot as fire and a grin over a scaled mouth.

He braced, yet it did nothing for the ultimate gasp as metal slid through his chest like butter, how despite knowing his own plan he gripped the blade plunged in him like he could somehow ease the pain, his other hand knuckle white on the Master Sword. In his glimmer of sanity, he tried not to get blood on his fingers as black spots edged his vision, arms feeling heavy, blood soaking his back.

Perhaps he heard shouting, but already the world was fading and he’d long since let go of the stygian sword to lay flatly, his last wheezed breaths shallow, heart heavy, until it all stopped.

Stopped for only seconds, maybe minutes. Mipha had looked at him scared, he thought, as she hovered over him on the plane of spirits not moved on. He wished he could hear her voice, but it was only an echo like the crashing waterfall against cliff walls. You have only one chance.

He sucked in a breath and saw the hazed overcast sky and no Mipha. His limbs were heavy but in a twiddling of fingers, he realized he still held her, the sword that seals the darkness. Sound came back in a roar of cheering and snorts from monsters, of Four crying out— or was it one of the colored tunic Fours?

He sighed deeply then braced, waiting one more second then another. He barely tilted his head to spot the scaled feet of the leader, its back turned to him, the opportunity there.

One chance.

It still held the red artifact in its hand, its arms held out wide for how monsters not fighting cheered as others cornered Sky and the two Fours.

Link quickly crouched, readying for the needed moment, and Fi glowed brilliantly in the same moment he pounced. Milliseconds, he thought, as the world seemed to slow, as that arm was held out in victory.

A flaw on its part. Link did not need wings to fly as he jumped.

He struck down with every ounce of strength and watched as Fi split muscle and bone like it was nothing as she severed it’s arm.

It screamed, from the touch of such a holy blade and what was lost, but Link had no time for that as the red artifact still sang with malice, still emitted sickening heat when it fell with that clawed hand to the ground. He raised the sword once more and plunged.

The blade collided with the artifact, and all his senses screamed. Light too bright and magmatic malice singed his skin. His ears popped, mouth tasting of copper where his gums burned, yet he held Fi firm, she herself must be feeling how sickening fire tried to consume them.

“Steady, Link,” she reminded. He gripped the hilt tightly.

And maybe for a moment or two he wondered if he was real, if everything had been real; from waking up in the shrine to his slate shattering and all these people similar but not all calling him one of them .

Then the shell cracked . Gold light pierced through.

The artifact of power collapsed, and Link could barely see, his sight spotty, how the sword’s blade sliced through as if it had been a mirage. The Master Sword’s glow faded like a candle blown out and it’s imperfections painted its blade.

Link fell forward and crumbled to the ashened ground, mind and body disconnected, his fingers still gripping the hilt.

And in the haze of awareness, the red from the artifact warmed to something familiar. It reminded him of Zelda but not. It had no brush of influence, laying as a tool untainted by a user. It was unnatural still and the leader cried in pain. Link could only watch as it scrambled to pick it up with its remaining hand and pull it to its chest, it’s glow dissipating. What sort of being was this monster? The brightness of its eyes faded, yet the scarlet remained. Still wrong, but not touched with malice.

What was left behind was a dark artifact, familiar and old. Familiar. Ridiculously familiar— it was a memory buzzing at the back of his mind beyond more than just childhood or training or the last night before he forgot it all.

The back of his hand itched.

The leader was just a single being now, panting and standing wobbly with a bloody stump where an arm should be before raising the artifact once more.

For a moment, he thought it would start all over again as a swirl of mist conjured, his heart racing as a single dark portal appeared but without the touch of malice or its height. It had barely reached the lizard’s head, and Link realized it was the only one, the extent of its range, this being so weak having lost.

It lost.

Growling, it ran without a second glance through the portal which instantly closed behind it.

Link could barely get to his feet, his muscles feeling raw. In front of him laid the severed arm melting in black blood and ash.

It was over.

Monsters fell quickly without malice’s influence, not that he joined in having every strand of muscle feeling like fried wires.

Sky swung the traveler sword in his left hand with a gash in his sword arm still seeping, but his cheeks still pink and full of life. When they downed the last pathetic red bokoblin, he kneeled just before Link.

Further away, Four was still separated, the blue one leaning on violet and the green one smiling at the clearing skies. Red helped Hyrule to his shaky feet.

Despite how his vision was still blurry, Link saw the far fires being put out now with all the portals closed.

It was over.

Sky held out a hand to get him to his feet.

They won.

Link did not let go of Fi.

Chapter 9: Please Handle Link With Care

Chapter Text

It was like all knew it was over at the same time, like a tug at a knot in their stomachs. The red Four and him had looked at each other just as all the portals suddenly vanished, the remaining monsters crying out as if pained though they still fought. It was easy. While they themselves were exhausted, something had changed in their enemies— the face of malice that had tainted their blood was gone from their eyes. They bled black though they lacked the bite.

Fires were put out, people gathered, injuries counted. No casualties but a close call from Twilight playing chicken with the guardians that the man said deactivated at the same time the portals closed. Links had thick skulls and thicker skin, he supposed.

Smoke still curled in the field, but above peaked blue sky and promising sunlight. It was over. Ash and blood like ichor still coated the grass but much like the land he’d seen so far, it would reclaim what it was owed.

And Link was here alive and breathing and offering potions just to take none for himself. Hyrule had to coax him to let him heal the splitting muscles and mild burns to his person. None of them knew what the effect would be in trying to attack a piece of the triforce. Link was very lucky, considering how Hyrule’s magic revealed damage beneath the surface of the skin. In patterned patches that would only leave the kid very, very sore.

The obvious tears in the stomach of the tunic made Hyrule’s own roil. A child covered in his own blood—

Very lucky .

Even after healing where he could, Hyrule saw how the kid leaned heavily against the green Four. He was young again with hair tangled, yet thankfully his eyes drooped not from blood loss but general exhaustion.

Hyrule sighed, walking beside the red Four.

“Just call me Red, alright?”

“Okay,” he relented as the others took the lead to reach where they spotted Time and the horses. It was still in the middle of the disaster, but surely no one was ready to start heading back to the ruined stable anyway. “I'm still not sure if I'm just dizzy and seeing quadruple.”

“You turn into a literal fairy but splitting into four people is too much?”

“It’s not bad, just unexpected. The shrinking magic is simpler than duplication.” That was another revelation given to him months ago, not that Four reacted poorly to his fairy magic today.

Red hesitated a bit letting Link and the others get a head start back to where the others were gathered. In truth, Hyrule was surprised they hadn’t returned to being just the one Four considering he never told any of them of such an ability. “Not duplication. I might be Four, but I’m also Red. I think we should tell you everything together— when we’re ready. . . But I’m a part of Four yet also my own being. I got my own experiences fighting together with you or the time I burned my mouth on my tea. And I like loud music while Vio prefers something softer. It’s just when we come together we agree to be, y’know, Four.”

“You’re speaking of separate consciences.”

Red nodded. “It’s when we’re out of sync that we have a problem. It’s hard sometimes to be one person when you’re used to being something else.” His attention turned to the group gathering and Hyrule took note of Link’s pausing steps. “Can’t say Four was thinking Link had some sort of aging spell, but we always knew there was a bit more to him.”

Eyes had turned to the joining party and Link had not moved any closer. When they reached him, Hyrule set a hand against the kid’s shoulder. Hyrule smiled at his nervousness. “They won’t judge you,” he assured.

He didn’t know what happened on the field up to Link running into him, but he was sure a number of them owe apologies or need to clear the air. Meeting Link’s supposed assassin only to find out he is the Yiga assassin was . . . really confusing.

Link didn’t have to step any further, for Time moved quickly before kneeling before him. “Are you hurt?” He gently held Link’s shoulders, looking him over and the wash of blood across his being.

“I’m okay,” he offered quietly.

“You sure? That’s a lot of blood. Wind still has a few potions—”

Hyrule stepped back when the kid shoved forward into Time’s chest, nearly knocking the man over, before wrapping his arms around Time’s neck and burying his face in the crook he made. "Sorry."

Time sat stunned for only a moment, looking at Hyrule before hugging back.“You’re safe. It’s over.”

The two of them should be fine. Hyrule moved on to give them mock of privacy and offering a wave to the others. Twilight smiled at his approach but his arm was held close wrapped in his pelt. “Glad I could join,” Twi joked while his pale complexion revealed the pain he tried to hide. “Thought I saw a few more of us than there should be.”

Ignoring the deflect, Hyrule held out his palm. “Let me look.”

“Uh, it’s fine really.” He wasn’t fooling anyone.

He gave the other a stern look, and like a dog with his tail between his legs, Twi gave in sheepishly. Under the pelt was a limb mangled by what Twilight explained as being thrown off his horse and into the tripping guardian when it deactivated. He healed him slowly, fixing cracks in the bone and the bruises daring to bloom. Warrior was quick to offer the graze on his own cheek and the mild burn to his hand. He said something about needing to keep up his looks as the traveler already moved on to check on Wind. Whatever happened on the field had him stern and glaring. Hyrule would let him simmer for now, considering many were still trying to remind themselves that the fight had ended. Hyrule himself had to remember to not defend from every movement on the edge of his vision. The fight may be over, but it would rear its angry head in a sleepless night for many of them in adrenaline spiked minds. Instead he took another look at Sky’s shoulder.

Crossing his arms and striding up to the colored Fours, Warrior asked, “But seriously, since when were there four of you?”

Legend, his face rested in his hands, groaned. “Oh, Hylia, this is why you go by Four , isn’t it?”

The quadruplets had gathered together and shared glances, having a silent conversation. It was the Violet dressed one that spoke. “Long story. Don’t really want to get into it now, but I’m Vio. That’s Blue, Red and Green.”

“And you hid this because?” questioned Warrior.

“Like Vio said,” replied Green, “it’s a long story.”

There was certainly more to that, but Hyrule wouldn’t be the one to pry. He hadn’t shared his fairy form to anyone but Four and only because he caught a tiny comrade sneaking out one evening from Lon Lon Ranch. They shared a strange commonality. A few questions rolled over the group like telepathy and shared memories that Hyrule ignored to finish checking on everyone.

Zelda smiled when he approached. “I’m okay, thank you. But I can assist you with the others if you wish.” She stood back from the rest of them to watch silently with a glowing palm over her other wrist. Though hair roughed up, she looked fine, and the magic flowing from her hand sang sweetly.

Zelda was nothing like his own— rougher looking like Tetra but a hint of regalness left over he saw so heavily in Dusk with the promise of fighting prowess of Artemis. Dusk was scary though, and this Zelda was more like a Sky’s loftwing. She was wary but knew her strength and smiled between the other’s groans of aches that they still didn’t want Hyrule to fix because they’re stubborn. Before he even looked away, she’d removed her hand and the wrist was left unflawed, as if ever untouched. Hyrule’s own magic felt much more surface level and the healing process often required a mild potion or rest of the injured area. Twilight may have calcified bone, but it was all still sensitive and prone to break again if not given the time to heal. None of that showed for herself as she wriggled her wrist.

“Are you self taught?” He asked and felt stupid because of course a princess had teachers.

“I am," she said much to his surprise. "Magic is uncommon especially in Hylians. But I only learned of this power and how to use it very recently.”

“It’s very strong,” he said. Her magic was so incredibly nose-burning potent at this distance, it would not surprise him if she was a triforce piece herself. Honing her skill would make her an incredible mage. “I can see about leaving one of my spell books with you, if you would like— not that you can’t handle yourself, but sometimes it can be nice to reference?” He ended awkwardly and unsure of her reaction.

She herself paused confusedly for a moment. “That would be wonderful.”

A cough caught his attention bringing him back to the gathered group. Time had let go of Link and the boy stood on slightly shaking legs. He wanted to tell him to sit but Link looked determined.

Though wiped dry, Link’s eyes were rimmed with red and Time’s own slightly puffed. Still, the man showed a cool composure, Link next to him and in arm’s reach.

To have a child covered in blood standing before them sent a chill down his spine. Link was okay, he reminded himself, as Link shuffled hesitantly. It seemed it was time to air out the laundry. “Everyone kind of knows at this point, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

Hyrule noticed everyone was looking at the kid, even Legend leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“When we first met, I didn’t believe you. And even when I started to, I didn’t trust you yet. And then. . .” He stopped to look at everyone. “I was ashamed.”

Ashamed of what, Hyrule wanted to ask though the answer on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m Link, but most people think of Link as—” he started as he tapped at the slate. It beeped loudly until a blue light encased him. Replaced was someone who actually fit in his torn tunic and shoes, but those eyes were the same, the scars still prominent. “—this guy.” His voice was deeper and smoother. Yet beside Time, he still looked small and his downcast gaze didn’t help. “I didn’t mean to lie. Barely anyone knows the two identities are the same and it’s easier this way to get around like this and . . . It’s better that everyone thinks I’m strong. Infallible.”

He looked at Zelda. In his periphery, Hyrule saw her nod as something beeped warningly.

“I’m the hero when I look like this,” he continued until hearing another beep. It was quicker like ticking until Link lifted the slate. “But it has a limit.” Without touching its screen, it gave a final shrill before light overtook him once more, bringing back the small child they met all those days before. “Worse than it used to be, but it’s what gave me the edge to protect my people. . . I wasn’t strong enough on my own. And today I wasn’t strong enough either. Your enemy escaped. I’m sorry.”

Sky stepped forward to ruffle his hair. “Don’t sell yourself short, kid. You were the reason we won. I mean, you took its arm!”

Legend blinked. “You did what?”

“I um, needed to get it away from that triangular artifact.”

“The triforce piece it carries?”

Link nodded hesitantly. “It was sick with malice.”

“Where is it now?”

“It still has it,” Blue explained. “None of us were exactly available to chase after it. But Link purified the malice out of it.”

“That’s when all the portals started to close,” Vio added. “Seemed our theory was right: the blood moon gave our enemy a power boost.”

Link avoided their gazes and said, “Sorry.”

A pause held on longer than it should. Twilight, tapping his leg impatiently, spoke up. “Kid, if you think you’re the first one to not tell the whole truth, you have a lot of surprises ahead of you.” He smiled cheekily like it was a joke between them. Hyrule looked back at the four Fours and considered his own fairy form. Just how many other secrets had the others not shared? "And I think everyone gets it. We're not exactly the easiest people to approach."

Warrior raised a hand. “Which one is the real you?”

Sputtering, Link coughed out, “I— both?”

“And your real age?”

He looked at Zelda and shrugged. “A hundred and something.”

The captain groaned realizing what he’d just started. “You’re worse than the old man!”

Laughter sputtered out and conversation eased. Time stepped away as Sky asked about the slate. This was good. It wasn’t perfect because Hyrule wanted to know if the transformations were painful and how injuries transferred. Did it take energy beyond the slate’s power source?

Where do they go from here?

Time stood back beside Zelda as he unhooked his armor to remove it. He feels safe, Hyrule thought, and that alone was a blessing. Still the man worked mechanically. Hyrule was about to offer to heal him when he said, “I realize some call this era’s hero the champion.”

While her focus seemed to be on her knight and friend, she tilted her head towards the older man. “Are your heroes not recognized by the crown?”

“I don’t think to the degree you speak of.” Hyrule agreed, though being from Calatia he lacked much of the kingdom’s cultural knowledge.

“I see.” She paused and Hyrule shifted closer to listen. “It may have been my fault for romanticizing the title in the end, but our history was aware a great evil would return. It did ten thousand years ago just as it did for you. And every generation sought to find a hero among men, a champion. Nothing too grand— just boys interested in being something more by festival competitions sometimes. I’m sure if anyone knew where the sword was resting, they would have all been trying to pull it.” She smiled at the memory. “But then came this little boy, a son of a knight who got lost in the woods, showing up holding the sword that seals the darkness. It— It’s a lot of pressure. I had my whole life to learn how to handle the world looking at me, but Link was just a kid who would put rocks in his mouth if you told him it tasted good.” Perhaps if the circ*mstances were different, she would laugh. Instead she looked on solemnly. “He was too young. I wish he had more time.”

Unsure of what to say, the traveler stood by watching as Link turned fully to Wind. He only caught the last half of it, but Wind’s glare eased. Good. Wind was a good kid and so was Link. It may be too soft to say, but— “I think, maybe despite everything, it’s never too late to heal.”

Zelda turned her attention to him, perhaps having forgotten how close he’d been or that someone of no rank speaking with their leader and a lost queen as if equal then. And yet, he didn’t think that. She was much kinder than that.

She sighed deeply. “You’ll take care of him, right? I can trust him in your care?” She said this without looking at either of them. She had all reason to worry. From what Zelda had told them, Link lived a harsh life he was still putting the pieces back together for.

Time stood up with his armor removed and turned his full attention to her. “I would lay down my life for every one of them.”

She waited for Hyrule’s own look of determination before nodding. “Then you have my blessing, if he so desires.”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. He wondered if she would feel lonely in this land.

“I’ll talk to him.” Time moved on, waving at the group and catching the youngest’ attention. Anxiety flickered over the kid’s scarred face, but nonetheless when Time reached out, he took the other’s hand to get to his feet. If he had spoken to his own Zeldas, would they have let Hyrule go through the portal? Perhaps, for they were not as close.

But when he looked at Zelda, he saw both child and mother and queen. She would be alone to pick up the mess she didn't start.

When she caught him staring, she asked, “Is everything alright, Hyrule?”

“I— I just wanted to say it gets better.” He bit his tongue.

She studied him, and maybe she noticed how despite the tunic being new, a gift from Legend, and fresh boots, they were too large for his frame and more fabric than he was used to. Politicians and merchants always had an eye for rats hiding among sheep, and he never knew what to do with his hands or how to fix his hair like Warrior. He looked away, face getting hot. “Sorry, forget I said anything. I just—”

“Thank you, Hyrule.” A glazed smile crossed her features still wary from battle and something deeper he knew all too well. “I misjudged you.” She looked back at the gathered group, saw Legend’s stare as Link and Time stepped away. “Keep an eye on him, will you? Link likes to run off and forget not all of us have fancy teleportation.”

Hyrule had to bite his tongue because now teleportation was on the table. “I will,” he decided instead. “I’m gonna, uh, check on Legend now.” He backed up abashedly and Zelda still smiled warmly.

Legend was no longer among the others and neither were Time or Link.

Everyone was taking it . . . well so far. He didn’t think it would be honestly fully bad. Despite their win today, he knew it was by the scrape of their teeth.

And yet everyone was alive and safe and they would stay safe. Everyone was moving on from his admittance to talk about their fights and some asked questions about the slate. Time— Time had looked at him like how Dorian would look at him after being gone for so long: worried, doting, fatherly.

The waning of fear of death left him with a different fear, however.

Dorian's words reminded him that he could be stone in this moment. He could let their words roll over him like rainwater and forget this ever happened because he had people to go back to. But that would be denying the knowing looks they all gave him. It was camaraderie. The guilt he felt was one they all knew, and maybe he was not the only one he felt like they were never enough for their divine tasks.

Time shared hellos with Zelda and Warrior asked further about the slate. “When did you get the gadget anyway?”

“After waking up. Uh, after the Calamity, it was stored in the room with me. The age rune came later thanks to Purah.” Ultimately, it became his saving grace.

“So you got a boost,” Wind challenged. He sat leaned back but shoulders tight. “You get a magic box while the rest of us had to bite and learn how to chew.”

“Wind?” Twi asked confused.

“Wind, not now,” scolded Warrior. Based on the not so subtle shift of Sky and Legend sharing a look coupled with Twi being obviously out of the loop, he concurred pretty easily that something happened while they were gone.

Link glanced at the slate still charging at his hip. “. . . You’re right. A lot of the good I’ve done was only possible because I had help, and I mean a lot of it. ” He’d admitted it every step of the way. While he may have had some courage and wits, he would have never gotten this far on his own. “It’s a part of why I never said anything because, really, how much of anything I did was it actually. . . me?”

Wind’s glare still held strong for reasons Link couldn’t exactly decipher.

So he chose to be honest. “And I had looked at you and thought— I mean, I think it says something. I wasn’t . . . good enough by myself. Not for what Hylia needed.” Link took a shaky breath. “But you were. You didn’t have to change to be good enough, and I think you should be proud of that.” Link was never jealous, but he was ashamed of his own shortcomings, and maybe that translated in horrible ways in the eyes of the others.

The glare on Wind’s face eased to something tired. It wasn’t perfect, but Link could see himself reflected back with that look.

“You shouldn’t put yourself down like that,” said Twilight.

“It’s not wrong. . .” He turned to eye the purple hilt resting on Sky’s back again. “Even today, the Sword that Seals the Darkness wasn’t enough.” It surely clicked for all of them how history repeated by the blood on his tunic. Twi shared a look with Sky that hurt to see. Would he call it disappointment or just sadness?

Despite his honesty, a voice called out, “Link, I want to talk to you.”

He paused at Time’s expression. It was almost cold and he couldn’t tell if he’d been the cause for it. . . Although, he should have realized this situation didn’t bear good news. Learning an era’s hero had a time limit made him a liability no matter the prowess he had as the clock ticked. Being accepted by the others did not change this issue.

He did not shuffle his feet. He walked steadily beside Time as he guided them away from the group who did not stop him. Though monsters turned to blood and ash, weapons and their small forts still stood. He noticed the crumbled body of the talus where Time suggested they sit after so many yards away from the others' boisterous comments on their own fights and injuries amidst the battle. In the middle of the carnage, Link struggled to remember all the enemies in the area were downed and he was safe.

He leaned against the rubble as he wiped a hand over his mouth. “Thank you for being honest,” he stated, though it fell flat. Outside of his armor with his back bowed, Time looked much older than the gentle wrinkles around his eyes. “Did you have to use it again? The blessing?”

“It was the only way.”

He pushed his palms against his eyes and just breathed. When Link opened his mouth to explain, the old man talked over. “I get it. I just wish you didn’t have to do any of that.”

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” he tried to reassure.

“All of it, Link. All of it. How old were you really when the sword chose you? When the Calamity won?”

He didn’t have the energy to correct him. While Link had lost, Zelda held it back for a hundred years and he would not renounce her effort. Still, “I don’t know how much Zelda told you but I don’t really know. I don’t remember much from back then. Call it a side effect of the shrine.”

“. . . She spoke of it briefly.”

Oh. The memory thing was a touchy subject and one not easy to talk about. He wished he remembered Mipha nagging him and Sidon for being reckless or if his father gave warm hugs. He couldn't even think what the man's hair color was or if he truly existed outside of Zelda's few stories. “When I woke up, I didn’t know my name or Zelda’s— couldn’t even remember her face. I had to relearn a lot.” He stopped with that because that wasn’t the original question. “I don’t know how old I was but I was young when I found the sword,” he stated, looking down at his palms. “And despite the training and the champions at my side, . . it wasn’t enough to save everyone.” He had to admit that, no matter what anyone said. Dorian may have enlightened him, but this was a truth he would not deny. “So when I woke up a hundred years later and naive, Purah found a way to make me strong enough.”

The old man almost wheezed less like a laugh and more like lungs freezing. “Our stories are beginning to parallel too much.” Sometimes he wished he had a rune that could read minds. People were complicated and didn’t say what they meant, and adults held secrets like bargains. Honesty often left him confused. And yet, “Can you bear an old man with his tale?” Time asked.

And Link was indeed naive. Zelda told many stories of people long forgotten just as Dorian read short novels to his daughters when he had the time. They told stories of knights and champions of great power that knew how to live their best lives with communities that adored them. It made him wonder why none of the characters were ever like him.

And in his dirtied tunic with his sweaty bangs pulled back from combing his hand through the strands, Time told him a story. “I wasn’t enough, either.”

Link furrowed his brow, the words not computing. Beside him sat the leader among Links, the one the others deemed the most wise and strong. He always seemed to know what Link needed at any time and handled this situation so well. Not being enough never crossed his mind.

“I was twelve and ignorant of the world. I thought nothing existed beyond my little forest just to learn how very small I truly was. And Hylia knew that too— maybe Fi as well. The Master Sword, the first time I touched its hilt, forced me into a deep sleep. Seven years gone.” He smiled to himself, though it was painful. “I know it's not a hundred, but— I get it. People grew up and moved on without me. And I woke up in a body with too long of legs and shoes that didn’t fit. And in my sleep, Ganondorf had taken over with only a few defying his reign.” He swallowed, gritting his teeth before sliding a hand over his face as if to pull him from the memories.

Link appreciated it because the shrine hurt to think about. Never would he forget how much he feared Dorian when he thought the man would force him to go back to sleep, and between were many long nights wondering if the world would change once more before he woke up. What was his land like after seven years? Did the Era of Burning Fields end by then? Had Castle Town crumbled? Would it have hurt more to wake up where all those that survived would recognize his youthful face? Discovering the Zora had hurt, but they were easy to avoid outside of the Domain.

But Time grew up to a body that wasn’t his.

Link was seeing something he’d never noticed before: vulnerability.

Time stared at him dejected. “I wanted to share this with you to say I get it. Not all of it— I can’t imagine how you felt to learn what you’ve lost, but you’re not alone in this. Tragedy follows many of us, and sometimes we question ourselves and break under pressure— of the world and our own standards. And I want you to know that no matter what happened, no matter how you feel it was your fault, let someone who knows what it's like to sleep as the world falls apart tell you it’s not. ”

Time had looked at him with something too knowing, like a man repeating his mistakes, and maybe he looked at Link and thought he wronged Link as if anyone had control of the wills of gods. His own experience didn’t even include a god but technology unparalleled and unstudied. And Link had many years of life to come. Time missed out on growth spurts and all that went into learning how to be an adult. An infallible man was only an idea in story books.

“Thank you,” he said, though it felt too simple when the man he looked up admitted something he wasn’t sure even the others knew. Secrets seemed to run rampant among the Links if Twilight and Four were anything to go by. But Time sat beside him as a sign of what Link would be. He would grow old. He would learn to live with himself. That was . . . more than he could have asked for.

“This wasn’t the only reason I wanted to speak to you,” Time continued. As if the conversation could become any more serious, the old man turned to him fully and did not look away. “I think you’ve realized by now what it is we’re doing with this quest we’re on.”

“Time traveling,” Link responded.

“Together. First Sky dropped in my era, then a portal opened taking us to Twilight’s. Then came another portal and another until we found ourselves at eight and in front of you. And each time, we fought every black blooded monster we crossed until another portal took us to another time. By now, we realized this is something bigger than just one person can handle, otherwise only one of us would be chasing this monster. Today, it took all of us, and I fear what the future may hold.”

He held up a hand to stop Link from commenting, continuing. “Let me rephrase. I don't mean we need every hand we can get. . . I mean that I don’t think all of us are going to make it out of here in one piece. I will do everything in my ability to get everyone home, but I know I have no control. Hylia’s portal will open any hour of any day now like it has in all the other eras.

“So far, every person named Link I’ve run into has joined us, and I’m starting to wonder if I should have declined. Wind left his grandmother and sister. Four has a booming business and Sky’s Zelda spoke of laying down the basis of Hyrule together.” Link mentally noted to ask about that later. “I miss my wife dearly, but I wouldn’t leave this quest to children.” He looked at Link. “And I will not ask you to join us.”

“Time,” he huffed. “You’re not going to tell me what I can and can’t do.” He meant it.

“I know.” The old man meant it as well. “I won’t expect you to decide now and I don’t want you to. I want you to think hard about this and of what today means. I want you to consider all the time you’ve lost. Don’t think about gods or destinies because this is your life and I hope you’ll fight tooth and nail to ensure it’s yours. You have friends here that would miss you. You are more than just a hero or what Hylia says you should be, so please don’t make your decision because you think it’s what I want or a god.”

“And if I already know?”

“Your heart may feel like it’s in the right place, but think. ”

He settled on “Okay.” He scratched the back of his hand and remembered how sticky he was. “I think I’m gonna change real quick.”

Time nodded, recognizing the dismissal. “I’ll see about prepping something to eat. You all earned it. And Link,” he added as he got to his feet. “You did good.” Not waiting for a response, Time left him to breathe deeply and wonder how such an array of butterfly effects resulted in such a situation.

There was a lot to think about even if he’d already made up his mind. Nonetheless, he tapped at the slate until finding something clean and actually his size. He was lucky to have access once more to his inventory as he pulled a simple canteen and cloth to wipe away most of the blood. Would this be the new normal? Short and small and handling fight after fight? Time said the portal could arrive anytime, so going back to Purah wouldn’t be an option. He didn’t think the slate could even teleport him there for some hours. The recharge was terrible, but there was no fixing it in the little time he may have. So instead he boxed away those thoughts with a tight little bow as he found something to wear, deciding on comfier the better.

Then he had to think again because how was he supposed to explain himself to Zelda? He loved her. She was the sister he didn’t remember and was everything he wasn’t. She was smart and would bring back Hyrule to if not its former glory then something better.

He pulled off his gloves and arm wrappings, wiping at the mud on the back of his left hand that—

That didn't come off.

And he looked again and wondered why the area itched like a bug bite but the dark lines clean. That hadn't been there before and dear Hylia was it familiar. On his hand inked into his skin was a drawn triangle with lines detailing more in the large one looking very similar to the one on a Hylian shield, the one guards would carry right above the royal crest.

“Link.”

He recognized the voice instantly and almost whined as he finished changing and put another thing to worry about in a mental box to be stored away. He was done with crying today because it took too much energy, thank you very much. And Link’s heart may be set on going, but if there was anyone, anything, that could make every cell in his body recoil, it would be being told he wasn’t enough. He knew he wasn’t enough on his own. It’s why he had every tool in his arsenal because he alone wasn’t enough. And it saved Dorian from the Yiga and Beedle from thieves. It gave him the edge he needed to clear the roads of monsters to reconnect trade between stables and towns after every blood moon.

So Legend was right. He wasn’t a hero, but he would be a shield any day.

This was a conversation he’d been avoiding and one where he should just speak first. “You were right.”

“Kid—” Legend started to say, pushing in his steps.

Playing pretend, he’d told Link, and maybe he had been, but it kept people alive.

“You were right to not believe or think much of anything of me. I wouldn’t have either.”

The man groaned, annoyed. “That’s not what I was going to say.” He didn’t take a seat like Time but paused in front of him with his arms crossed after dropping his bag by Link’s seat.

“Then what? That I’m dumb for not saying anything, or— or that I should have stayed home? Or told you Hylia chose wrong?”

“Kid, let me just apologize already.”

Link short circuited. “What?”

“Listen, I don’t know you. This whole thing is weird as hell, but you’re a Link. And, Hylia, does that suck—” He started to pace slowly. “I know what it’s like to have the world not think you’re good. I’m not much of anyone’s fan in my era, so whatever. I wish I had your brain and kept up a separate identity. Good thinking, even if it backfired.”

Should . . . was that a compliment or not? Link wasn’t sure where he stood at the moment.

“And I screwed up because no one clued me in on the big secret which by the way, I would really like to know how that works. But this is Time’s and your fault more than anything: not explaining yourself and Time being how he is.”

“So . . .” where to even start? “So you were, what, doing damage control?”

He paused in his steps. “That’s a word for it." Shrugging, he crossed his arms and sighed. "I saw how Time looked at you like you were a damn foal because, by the three, I don’t think he’s ever having kids— I don’t want to even think about it— but when it comes to horses and fairies, you might as well be family— a weird lynel foal but—”

Link cut in, “You really suck at apologizing.”

And sighing once more, Legend pinched the bridge of his nose. “Don’t I know it.”

Despite it all, Link couldn’t help but smirk. It was funny to see Legend out of his element and more humanizing than he thought it would be. Link lacked animosity, but he felt less like . . . less like his entire being was too wrong to be a hero to anyone. Even so, Dorian’s words echoed softly in the back of his mind. Even if he wasn’t enough for Hylia, he was enough for him and the Sheikah, and Beedle, too. And he was enough today for everyone to make it out alive.

His style made it difficult to know if it was sincere, but Link had enough of his own half-baked planned conversations where he fumbled like a sand seal in the middle of the market to know not everything translates perfectly.

“So you’re here to say. . ?” Link started, waiting for the man to finish the sentence.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Link only continued to smile as the man sighed. “To say I misjudged you.”

Link leaned down to grab Legend’s bag.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He began rummaging through, pulling out a box of rings, then an ice rod, a random sock. “You better not have eaten my pie.”

Staring bewilderedly at him, Legend repeated the words then breaking out in a pained laugh. “We almost died, and you want to eat?”

Yah. Yah, he wasn’t wrong because Link’s hands still shook with waning adrenaline. A part of him had an ear out for danger. But he was still going to eat his pie slice, and he was going to like it.

“Want a bite?” he asked.

“Nope.”

“Good, where are your forks?”

He was starting to get really tired. When Legend and him returned, his stomach growled at the first smell of the stew Zelda slowly stirred with Wind at her side. A single slice of sugary apple filling would give him a stomach ache soon if he didn’t eat something more balanced and Zelda was always good about dealing with a kid that sucked at taking care of himself.

Plus, he really missed her.

She held out an arm for him, and Link was quick to sit beside her and let her pull him against her side. She was better at this emotion thing than him. Being young again was like squashing all his feelings into a body half the size he’d grown used to. He cried with Time and had kept himself together around Legend because he hardly gave the kid a chance to get emotional, but while she would never think him weak for it, Link didn’t have the energy for it anyway.

She squeezed his shoulder, pulling him tightly into the side hug. “Good to see you.”

An apology was on his lips he couldn’t voice. Even before the portals were first sighted, he’d been distant from her and kept his trips in towns short. When was the last time she’d seen him, and furthermore, in this form?

Wind might be sitting close, but he seemed preoccupied with sending glances at Legend until finally standing up to go to him. He hoped it was just to talk and not something that Link had missed. Zelda still stirred the cookpot.

“Sorry,” Link said with it just being the two of them. “For avoiding you.”

“I understand. Sometimes, you have to find yourself on your own.” Normally she would go on and bring up past anecdotes that Link half remembered if at all. She didn’t, and he appreciated it. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

He looked at where Legend had guided Wind away then to Twilight and Four, having recombined to one being, talking softly. Four was smiling and Link wondered why someone like him would feel like he had to hide his duplication rune— or magic. He hadn’t exactly asked him yet.

And Link wondered why he hid.

Sitting so close, the soup smelled divine, and he wrapped his arms over his stomach. He settled on a response. “I think so.”

Quietly, they relaxed. She stopped stirring to let it thicken but didn’t let go of Link. “You already made up your mind, didn’t you?”

At first, he thought to ask how she knew, but Link hadn’t been around when they first ran into her and she was always quicker to spot patterns than him. Surely they explained themselves to be all named Link when they met and she realized this era would not be their last stop, especially when the leader escaped.

When he didn’t reply, she said, “You know, once upon a time I envied you.”

That startled him and he pulled away just enough to look at her and her bittersweet smile.

“It’s true. I won’t deny I felt horrible for you, too. I know you don’t want pity, but it was hard to see someone so young look at you without a childish spark in their eye. But I envied you because despite it all, the day I met you, you had your mind set. I know the past is a touchy subject, but even after, when I watched you between dozing and restraining Ganon— you were just this whirlwind of energy and strong will. I watched you wake up knowing nothing and come up with a plan. I watched you take on a lynel with just a rusty sword. I remember you protecting the stables when Yiga and monsters drew too close and the first time Sidon realized your true identity. It’s fuzzy, but you were . . . you were always kind.

“So I envied you,” she admitted. “I envied that no matter what happened around you, you just accepted it and you came out still you.”

She had that same smile as the day they met the second time, something all knowing like all adults, wiser in their experiences that couldn’t be taught in a book. She’d always been so smart and elegant where he walked clumsily and stuttered on political jargon when he still tried to speak— that was the difference between them, wasn’t it? That in the face of ridicule one went mute and another took charge. How long did it take her to judge the others’ character and motives when he ran from them?

How could she ever say any of that? His heart warmed, the tension in his lungs easing.

He was wrong about himself, he realized. Because he didn’t sit still. He didn’t go silently, otherwise he’d be back in that shrine. He felt very changed, but maybe that was because he saw himself under a magnifying glass and not the big picture.

She still held him, the real him that was young and scared for how small he was compared to fates. She held as tightly as the day he died covered in blood and ruining her dress, just as the day she stood before him in Hyrule Field with that knowing smile and called him little brother.

“You better come back, dummy. Koko and Cotla are going to miss you.”

He smiled knowing just what she meant. “I’ll miss you, too.”

“Promise me you won’t let this change you.”

“I promise.”

“Saw you had a growth spurt,” joked Four. “Lucky.”

Link laughed into his soup.

It came in the midst of laughter from gallant tales told around the circle as each of them finished their seconds and wanted thirds. Zelda had gotten better at cooking. Wind’s mood improved significantly. He was smiling and he mentioned a kraken as Time joked about seeing faces on the moon’s surface. Exhaustion still lingered, but Link would say this was the most relaxed he’d seen all of them. Warrior laughed at Sky’s first flying lessons because it turned out he had a pet bird he actually put a saddle on and though Twilight didn’t bring up his other form, Four spoke of a prank played on the castle guards and how a number of them went on sick leave for seeing doubles.

It was in the midst of feeling like he belonged that the wind changed direction. It set him on edge, and the others too as they reached for weapons only to spot a portal unlike the others he’d seen.

It sat in the middle of the carnage familiarly, but rather than being deep purple hues and malicious, it shone brightly, like light bending to splay a mirage. It did not threaten to drag him in and neither did monsters spring from it. It waited patiently, it’s form steady.

“Already?” asked Warrior.

The others looked between each other as Link shared a glance with Zelda. This was it.

Time caught his eye beside Zelda. “Everyone, finish eating and gather your things.” He meant it to all but Link and Zelda as he waited for Link’s answer.

“You already know,” the boy replied to that look.

“I do, but are you sure about this?”

“I won’t lie, I’m going to miss home. It’s going to take some getting used to, but I’ve never been one to sit still.”

Zelda smiled between them as she took Link’s hand and squeezed. “Take pictures for me, won’t you?” Her lip did not quiver, but her voice shook. He’d miss her dearly.

To the side, Hyrule approached with a book in hands that he offered to Zelda. She thanked him, and Warrior asked if he got queasy easily. None of them had seen him and Twilight teleport and what a bummer that they wouldn’t at this point. He had nothing to pack though Zelda offered her own rations and miscellaneous items he often decided not to store. He did not miss her transferring an encyclopedia for him to compare the flora and fauna on his journey. No one could knock the scholar out of her.

And maybe in their goodbye hug he held longer than he normally would, but he didn’t regret letting go.

Once squashing down the emotions that tried to bubble over, he asked, “Where is it taking us?”

Warrior shrugged his shoulders. “Dunno. A few times we’ve circled back to familiar places. We got to have a beach day in Wind’s era just to find Four on the next time travel.”

Warrior and Sky offered to go first, and Link watched them disappear into the pale mist, their presences missing from the clearing.

They started pairing up and filing through with Link waiting with Twilight and Time at the back. They all acted like it was nothing as Wind asked if the colored Fours had favorite foods and Legend bantered with Hyrule. When did traveling through time become so normal to lose its spark?

“By the way, Link, they don’t know about the wolf,” said Twi when the others passed through.

“I’m deeply surprised the others haven’t caught on,” stated Time. “Go on, pup. See you on the other side.”

Link stared at the portal, wondering what promises laid beyond its vortex that already claimed several Links. Had any of them defied their fate? Would anyone say no to going through the portal or want to be anything but a hero?

Link nudged the man’s side. “By the way, I think my name is Wild.”

“Wild, huh?” Was that a smirk? “Suits you.”

Glancing at the rubble of an almost disaster, where forts still stood half built and fields black, he wondered what would sprout in its wake. How long would it take this time for the earth to reclaim its own? Among it all stood a silent princess turned traveler and perhaps one day queen waving him goodbye with a smile that already knew how this narrative would end.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Chapter 10: Bonus: Gallery

Chapter Text

For this final chapter I included all the art that was made for this fic, including fanart (with permission. If the artist did not grant permission for it to be directly shown on Ao3, I will still provide a link of where to find it as a thank you for making the art. Any art made after the fic has been finished can still be added (please let me know if I’m missing any fanart!)). Everything I made for each chapter as well as pieces that didn’t make the cut are in here too.

First: Fanartist!!

Please let me know if I am missing any! Please check out their social media and drop a like if you can! They’re all very lovely people <3

DreamoftheWild (Tumblr post here)

Someone please put this kid on a leash and give him a shower. You can use the garden hose if you have to. AND HIS MISSING TOOTH!!! :D

Thank you!!!

Chrispy-Chimkin (Instagram post here)

Rendered in the game style and I’M -- his scars!! His hands are tiny!! Tiny boi!! thank you thank you!!!

Lidoshka (Tumblr post here)

Wild is so small, and what a big adventure awaits him! His shirt! I just love how big it is that he had to tie it back! (I see a trend of leaves in his hair omg)

Thank you!!

Once more, thank you for taking the time to draw art!! I'm still giddy when I see these!

Second: My own art .

Included are pieces from chapters as well as those that didn’t make the cut or were inspired by the AU. You’ll see Wild’s hair length continuously changed lol. I can’t say I have an artstyle, but hey— there’s variety I guess XD

First: Stuff that was never posted.

Originally, in Chapter 8 Wild would show up using the Yiga sickle to fight, cluing everyone in that this was the “assassin” they originally met.

Dorian and Wild plus sketch of Maple

Wild and Wind walking together

Wild and Twi

Twilight trying to get Wild out of the Shrine (If only he was actually there)

Zelda/Flora then someone made a joke about Wild being dragged around by Wolfy by his backpack

one day I'll learn how to draw wolves

Despite the final fight chapter being 14,000 words, it was going to be even longer. Wind and Time

Not all is well in waffle town.

Messing around with idea that the Chain was looking for Wild.

Second: All art from the chapters

Chapter 1

the drawing that started it all.

Chapter 4 - I never wanted the drawings to be graphic but this is where Link just had to use mipha's grace.

Chapter 5 - not very proud of this one honestly. I want to redraw it one day and not have Twi look like a bobble head and Wild not be as rounded haha

chapter 5 - above Hateno with the blood moon going full force

Chapter 6 - I wanna go back and redraw the guardian but this ain't the day lol. Wild seeing an awake guardian for the first time since defeating Ganon

Chapter 6 - Legend calls him "not a hero". I love when characters, because of their experiences, interpret the same words very differently.

Chapter 8 - Warrior vs Guardian. It was stuck as just a sketch for so long because I really didn't want to draw it lol. Hence this new. . . art style

Wild/Link vs Dark Link/the leader. I just couldn't get the effect on the tri-force piece how I liked it.... so. At least it's presentable even if it isn't consistent.

Chapter 11: Bonus Chapter: Post-fic Snippets

Chapter Text

The first time they camped out, everyone fell into routine. They checked their rations having no time between the end of the battle and the portal arriving to stock up and found it rather lacking.

“I’ll go hunt,” offered Twilight. Though the era wasn’t his, it being Sky’s and the man truthfully unfamiliar with the surface, Twi would have a better time tracking than the others considering his other form.

“I have enough of you want? I mean, since everyone’s so tired, might as well use my stock.”

The others eyed him peculiarly.

“That thing can store food?”

“Yes?”

“Does it rot?”

“Uh, no actually. It condenses into a particle state and held in place by the same energy that controls the stasis rune.”

“Stasis rune— what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Technology.” Tapping away at the screen, a bundle of bananas materialized.

With it came a flurry of reactions.

“Whoa!”

“No way, you’ve been holding out on us!”

“That explains why you were running around without even a bag.”

“Dude, Zelda did this earlier with her slate. Doesn’t anyone remember the soup?”

“Can you carry my stuff? It’s heavy.”

“I thought bananas were code word for Yiga.”

“Hang on,” Hyrule said louder than the rest. “I gave you my last apple for no reason?”

Wild held up the slate’s screen to his face where it read twenty seven apples among his sixty durians, eighty-four rock salts, and a plethora of other ingredients that would keep all nine of them fed for weeks.

Hyrule gripped his chest in mock hurt. “We could have been eating like royals.”

Warrior patted his head in sympathy. Just how much pocket jerky did they have to suffer through? Wild shook his head. “Hey, keep in mind I had to collect it all in the first place. You ever tried picking mushrooms while holding onto a cliff? Didn’t think so.”

Ignoring how Time kneaded his temples, Wild couldn’t wait to finally put something really good together. If they were going to praise some seasoned fish, then half his recipes would knock their socks off.

He smiled, considering his ingredients as Hyrule went to get firewood and Legend stubbornly searched through his own unorganized bag for something to use as a cutting board (“you have all that food but no way to prep it?” he’d asked just for Wild to reply, “When it’s just you, cutting only one vegetable isn’t a big deal”). Warrior sat stubbornly upset that his fire rod (“My fire rod,” Legend reminded) was finally out of juice while Four suggested meal options.

Let it be said, they went to bed very full and very happy.

Ravio whistled to himself in his empty shop as he tidied up here and there checking his inventory. He never knew when Mr. Hero would come back and reclaim his house, which when he did everything Ravio had on display would fall into disarray. Something about using his kitchen cabinets for bomb storage really pissed off Link as if he actually lit them.

But business was going good! He found it funny how so many walked in to shout about the prices and relinquish their coin purses if not that day then the next when they realized he was the only vendor with such a variety in all of Hyrule! Ravio was very proud of his booming business, thank you very much. Those that used to egg the hero’s house were now his customers and is exactly why Ravio will explain to Link that he doesn’t need to pay rent.

And just like every other day, the bell above the door rang and Ravio greeted them with his charming smile that never broke no matter how grueling some of the customers may be. Those were some gnarly scars on the dude’s face.

But that was a cool thingamabob hanging on his belt with a crafted eye maybe made of some sort of gem? He definitely had some rupees. “Welcome in, sir! Anything in particular you’re looking for today?”

He wandered to admire a display of short daggers but moved on to eye the upper shelves.

“How much for the boomerang?” he asked.

“Ah, this one was said to be made in the depths of Lorule. You know the tales? Past down through the generations. This fine piece stands at one thousand rupees to buy.”

He grimaced terribly as they all do, looking around the rest of the shop to eye the rows of bombs. “And the bombs?”

“Two hundred each.”

“What are with these prices?”

Ravio smiled and backed off just like the little script in his head required him to. “Hey, I know it may seem steep, but these things are hard to come by so far from the city. Even then, they don’t run cheap.” He would explain that they only run for fifty in the city having access to Mr. Hero’s stock meant it would be months before he would have to seek out more wares.

The scarred man huffed, his agitation plain as day as they always show thinking he’d haggle with them. When Ravio offered to take off only ten rupees, he shook his head. “This is ridiculous.”

“I assure you, this is all I can do to stay in business!” Though his voice was pleasant, the man left for the door he came through, slamming it as he went. Ravio betted it would take until the end of the day for him to come back. It was always like this, but people who needed things certainly lacked the time to run to a larger town and thus would return to his shop. So he continued dusting and checking that his wares were straight. He should also work on a letter to Ms. Zelda since Link never told her where he went. While nothing may be happening right now with Hyrule rather peaceful, it’d be better she be aware then expect Mr. Hero. Plus, he could talk about his shop to her and see if she would sponsor him! Regular deliveries would be amazing!

He went to the back to find ink when the door’s bell rang for a customer.

They always came crawling back.

He spun on his heels and called, “Welcome in!”

Except it wasn’t the guy again. They were short, probably a kid, with a cloak hiding their face, but their blonde hair stuck out and was rather long. They were barely the height of the dining table Ravio used for transactions and their voice was higher pitched than he expected. “Do you have any bombs?”

“Oh,” he said, leaning on the counter to look over. “And what would a kid like you need a bomb for?”

“Dad says it's . . . faster than digging up tree trunks.”

Huh, he didn’t think of that. He shrugged. How they used the bombs once they were out of his sight wasn’t his business anyway. Still, Ravio couldn’t ignore the coincidence that a previous customer of the same blonde hair had stormed out over the bomb prices. Must be his son. Two can play at this game. “How many are you thinking?”

“Umm, four?”

“You sure, kid? Each one cost three hundred rupees—”

“You asshole!”

Ravio started, backing away from the window where someone stood. Was this a robbery!?

Oh wait— he squinted at the familiar blonde hair and headband. What was his name? “Five?”

The front door’s bell chimed as the door itself flung open from the captain’s swift kick. Oh, the captain! “Seriously? Raising the price on a child?”

Oh sh*t. Now he really backed off with his hands up in surrender as Mr. Hero and his companions entered. “You’re back,” he tried to say.

“Honestly,” Link started, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “I’m not sure if I’m pissed off or proud of you.”

Warrior cuffed the back of his head. “Legend!”

“You’re worse than Beedle,” sighed the kid as he dropped his hood to reveal familiar scars. Ah— Ravio knew what was going on here.

“Shrinking magic?” He asked, interested.

“None of your business,” the kid said as he tapped at the familiar thingamabob and the boy became the man from before though his clothes were too small. Maybe he could sell him those stretchy pants.

“Say, how much for the eye stone?”

The man held the thingamabob close to his chest and hissed.

At first it wasn’t obvious.

Preferring ritual walks to campfire talks, Hyrule often wandered in the excuse to find firewood and berries. It was nice, for who knew nine would be a crowd and himself feel very in the way sometimes. Time never told him no, so he got to escape for an hour or two and come back refreshed.

But Hyrule knew what it was like to be followed and was careful to cover his tracks all the while moving quickly. Even if he had an inkling on who it was that tracked him, this felt a little bit like karma.

…………………….

Wild followed after Hyrule at a snail's pace curious of where he went, and Hyrule was a patient man. Catching a glimpse of blonde hair, he held still between the branches, waiting as Wild followed his tracks to the trunk of the tree—

And Hyrule wouldn’t forget the ridiculous squeak that came from the kid’s mouth when he jumped down, Wild scrambling like he’d seen a ghost. He had to grab his stomach for how he wheezed. “Not so fun when it’s the other way around, is it?” He smirked.

Wild brushed his tunic down and huffed. “Not funny!”

That didn’t stop Hyrule from needing to wipe a tear from his eye. That was enough retribution for the day. Hands on his hips, he asked dryly, “Any reason I got a mini-stalker?”

“Rude.” It was just them and he found that Wild was most honest when it was one-on-one as opposed to everyone together. “It’s just loud back there. Everyone is. They’re just obnoxious and slow.” There was more to it.

“Not your pace?” Hyrule asked to be given a heavy sigh.

He could understand. When he first started this strange adventure, it unnerved him how casually they trekked with the stealth of stomping lynels and at a drawl as if they owned the forest, meaning their first embark in his era was an utter disaster. Not every encounter with monsters ended well, and that was a sobering moment.

But that just meant that they stomped like foals instead. So sometimes, Hyrule needed an escape. They were so unlike him and exploratory walks always left him a little calmer, like a potted plant returning to the yard branching roots comfortably.

And maybe Wild was like him in that matter, just another free spirit that found peace in the forest without societal norms commanding them to fit inside their pot.

“Hey, I get it. You can help me find the pond Legend said was around here.”

Wild nodded and followed along like a duckling as Hyrule tried to reassure him. “They can be a bit much, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get away for a while.

“Were you alone on your adventure?” Wild asked.

“I was. My land wasn’t the kindest. It still isn’t, but to be honest, I like the quiet.” How strange to miss solitude when so much good came out of this adventure. He hadn’t realized until entering the first portal how thick like smoke his air was or that polluted rivers weren’t normal. His clothes were bought new and didn’t have any tears, and Warrior saw soldiers not as all-seeing hawks waiting for him to slip up but comrades and friends. Aches were something only in his era, and he hoped none of them would ever have to deal with enemies that disguised their intentions as poor travelers. Oh how naive he was.

And yet despite the good brought into his life, it could still be too much.

So he poked the bear. “What’s really bothering you?”

For a second, Wild seemed like he prepped to lie just to huff and cross his arms. “People are annoying. They never stop talking and wanting things.”

“Twi does start to nag after a while,” he agreed.

“And Wind’s told the same story three times now.”

“Yep.”

“And did you see how Warrior blocked that tektite thing? I had it handled! And then he goes on and on about battle tactics and training and asking why I don't got the basics, and he doesn’t stop ‘til you kick him!”

“They care. They all just show it in annoying ways,” offered Hyrule. He didn’t ruffle the kid’s hair or nag back on the fact that only Wild thought barreling into his enemies by riding a shield like a sled was a good idea. If there was anyone who understood how much infantilizing someone in the midst of explaining a genuine frustration, it was him. After all, before Wild, naivety was his middle name. Being ignorant of much of developed society and education did that to you. Having someone else receive lectures of proper form and strategy was nice for a change.

“So yah,” Wild continued. “I wanted out.”

Humming, Hyrule took notice that the boy as always had his slate on him and wondered if he had fishing poles. “You like fishing?”

Wild did not, in fact, own fishing rods, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one of the funnest afternoons in his life using other means.

Let it be known the two returned with the slate freshly stocked on fish with Wild’s hair still wet and Hyrule in one of kid’s adult sized tunics. They were giddy the entire way back.

And to the surprise of the duo, they found the camp in battle position wondering if they knew the source of all those explosions.

Neither uttered a word.

While he deemed himself capable enough for a simple watch, Warrior suggested he be partnered with someone to show him the ropes as if checking the perimeter hourly and stoking the fire were difficult. In truth, long nights or waking at odd hours was not new to him. It reminded him of his early days when teleportation was wasteful for his progress considering the few shrines he’d connected to the strange web of energy and “waves,” Robbie called them, that made his slate provide him with a map. Outside of his era, the map stated there to be no signal and nothing more.

And Time figured kids liked to stay up anyway, huh? So the first watch was him and the other short blonde and blue tunic-wearing kid that had villagers assuming them to be brothers. Wind had coughed in his hand at an old granny’s dottled remarks while Warrior thought it funny to drag them around to show off his “little bros” until kneecaps were sacrificed. At least Wild got free candy out of it.

Even so, Wind and him hadn’t really talked, and maybe everyone else noticed that Wind preferred to be up front with Time and Wild trailing with Twilight making sure he didn’t get distracted and wander off to take pictures. Maybe they noticed they didn’t sit together around the campfire for meals and chose to put their bedrolls separately. He didn’t have a problem with him, but obviously a tension spanned between them. He figured it had to do with what Wind said to him after they met back up after defeating the dark lizard that escaped. He wondered if Wind blamed him for all the tools at his disposal he let that thing escape.

So as the others settled in for the night, the first hour was quiet as they waited for everyone to fall asleep. Wild took the time to check inventory now that there were more mouths to feed and his abundance of rations now taking serious dents. That, and Warrior was mocking his excuse for an arsenal. Just because he didn’t want to waste a great frostblade and chose something more rusty, didn’t mean it couldn’t do its job for the time being. It was some time in his reorganizing and lost in his work that Wind’s voice startled him.

“We’re good.”

Wild paused his work to look at his comrade seated on the same downed log but on the far side of it.

“I just want you to know we’re good.”

Could have fooled him, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. “Good. . . Did I do something?”

The kid waved his hands as if panicked at the assumption. “No, I mean, I just read the room wrong, but we’re good.”

Odd. “Good,” Wild decided on. “Sorry, umm, if I’m not great conversation.” He held up the slate to show his distraction.

“Right.”

Quietness took their clearing, the snap of the fire and soft snores just white noise at this point. He decided to test the waters with a questioning he’d been meaning to ask. “No one’s really saying, but I was wondering: what happened? When we were separated?”

“Oh, that was interesting,” he started just to pause and speak much lighter. “Legend wouldn’t talk much and you had Twilight knocking on that shrine waiting for you to come out of it just for you to be gone. Then we split and find ourselves on the battlefield with Zelda. We need to figure out a nickname for her, too, yknow.

“So is Legend the reason things wouldn’t be good between us?” he asked quizzically. The look Wind gave back was of stuttered surprise but not an answer. Obviously, Wild wasn’t believing this narrative. There was more for Wind to snap at him and for the strange air between them. Now was a matter of waiting for the next shoe to drop. “Wind, what’s going on?”

At least he looked cowed until he turned away, maybe trying to come up with something but deciding to slump in defeat. Caught. “Yah, I guess it has been a little odd around here. I got angry.”

At him, Wild wondered just for Wind to answer it.

“I got angry. Everyone made you feel like you didn’t belong— like you weren’t capable, and Legend pushed you over the edge having you hide in that shrine just to really run the second no one was looking. I snapped at him.”

He leaned forward to rest his head on his hands, he looked bored at the fire, poking it and refusing to make eye contact. “Then you came back and you looked like everyone else— acted like everyone else like you knew the right thing and didn’t need help but everyone needed your help. I thought you played me— just another adult who thought he was better than everyone else.”

Wind was just a year or two older than him, but Wild wasn’t blind to the way the others nagged about tidiness and piped jokes at the questions he asked. And the more he thought the more he wondered if he’d ever seen Wind go off on his own without supervision. No one questioned when Hyrule wanted to take a walk or when Twilight scouted ahead. But Wild knew he was only allowed to wander off because he was following Hyrule and Wind always collected wood with Sky. So that was it. Babied. Considered vulnerable. He wondered if his other form messed with everyone’s perspective of him, considering how as he aged his baby fat left him and his jaw squared.

But Wind didn’t have that. He had himself, the tools he carried and his own wits that sometimes made not just their enemies underestimate him.

Sighing, Wind dropped the rest of the smoldering stick. “I’m wrong; I can admit that. You’re actually pretty cool and self-aware. It just took a while for me to realize.” It was more honest than Wild expected. He pondered if he should apologize back for the trouble he caused when Wind cut in with his own question. “So did Twilight and Wolfie drag you back kicking and screaming?”

A safer avenue, he realized. Wild could take a hint. “Actually, no. I went to Kakariko Village to find Impa. Everyone there knows I can change my age. She’s actually the one who sent me to Purah to get the age rune in the first place, so I tried to give her everything back.”

“Warrior has a captain named that. Are Impas stubborn, too?” He realized Wind didn’t linger on the fact he tried to denounce his title. After all, he knew the outcome.

“Yep. Didn’t hear a thing I said and had some sense knocked into me.” He didn’t mention Dorian— not because of lack of importance, but because that moment was . . . intense. And Dorian was a father in all but blood. Wild had experienced an entire world shift, his perspective changed for the better. “Turns out I don’t gotta be Hylia’s hero— just to the people who matter to me.”

“Am I on the list?”

Wild gave him a dumb look. “Duh.” They softly huft, too tired to laugh. He liked this side of Wind that could set aside worries and focus on the now. “But, really, I’m done trying to be something I’m not. I think . . . I think I want to be me more—” He pointed to himself “—this me even after I get the slate fixed. I’m done pretending to be something I’m not.” He paused, hoping he could word this right. “Pretending to grow up just made me . . . Distant. Anxious. Not sure how to walk in my shoes.” Zelda was patient with him at least, but he knew it hurt her to watch him hide behind the facade every time he entered town. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to feel like that again.”

Not instantly replying, Wild feared his anger, but Wind only hummed. “I think I get it. Four gets like that sometimes. Did you know he’d never even heard of the master sword before? Had him wondering if he was the right person or if there’d been a mistake.” He looked out at the expanse of trees. “I guess we all have our doubts sometimes.” Wild took note of that.

Satisfied with his answer and getting antsy in his seat, he stood and smiled at Wind’s quizzical look. “Alright, tell me. You gave Legend a tongue-lashing right? What’d you say?”

He snorted. “Wasn’t that great of a speech.”

“I would have made fun of his scraped knees. You’d think by now he’d learn to wear some pants.”

“You don’t even know that half of it! One time he—. . . “ stories flitted from mild gossip to retelling of harrowing last second escapes from dungeon puzzles and ambushes. Then it was him and Wind walking the perimeter with one recalling a glimpse of Time undignifying picking his nose while on watch and Legend calling the wind waker a back scratcher that had Wild debating multi-tool use like the time he used the magnesis rune to scare a couple of traveler’s away from the “demon possessed” cooking pot so he could use it in peace. And by the end of their shift, they were barely containing their laughter, Time only sitting up after a particular comment on Warrior’s beauty routine sending Wild over the edge because who would think mashing nightshade into a paste to apply to your face was the best way to add color to your cheeks? And yah, he was still trying not to laugh as Wind moved his bed roll over to his and the late hour had him tiredly giggly.

He was out quickly, he remembered, and feeling much lighter, too.

Hyrule had him gasping between his laughs as they passed through the next portal to distract him. They made him nervous to pass through as if he’d walk into an abyss or lynel den, but so far the two switches he’d experienced had gone well.

They were the second pair to step through and Warrior cheered ahead. “Finally!”

He meant to ask if he recognized this place as his era just for Wind to shout, “finally, real beds, again!”

“And good food! Ah, not that your meals aren’t great, Wild.”

He’d have to test that. “Are we staying in the barracks?” He asked. The captain said he still technically served in the army even if he was on this adventure.

When everyone gave him a strange look and went to respond, they paused at Time’s short gasp behind Wild. The kid turned and the man was full on grinning and it bled into his voice. “It’s good to be back here. Come along, we shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“Who?” Wild was asking as Time took the lead of the group.

“It’s Time’s era,” explained Twilight. “We’re not far from his home.”

“So her is—” he started, remembering the tidbits of conversation over campfires and long treks “—oh, his wife!”

“Malon. I think she’s going to like you.”

“Is she anything like him?”

Twi mockingly pinched his fingers over his lips and across as if zipping them shut and didn’t break no matter how Wild huffed and pouted. It surprised him to hear Time was married, if he was being honest. Strangely, Wild saw everyone in a sort of snapshot or maybe a box, like what stood before him was the only truth. To learn Four had his own booming business and Sky had a Hyrule to build all the while Time had someone waiting for him to come home was jarring and image breaking. Suddenly they were more man than hero with normal lives to live and perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. They were living.

Once entering a clearing, Wind ran past the group, patting Time’s arm as he passed. “Race ya!” Ahead was a small house.

The others only had to share a glance before the old man and the others bolted, Hyrule laughing and Legend threatening to trip people that tried to pass him. Wild followed at a jog but their giddiness was contagious. He spotted a barn off to the side and fences stretching across the landscape. Two horses watched them as they passed.

Before they reached halfway to a small farmhouse, the front door opened, and Wild started to slow as a woman with fiery red hair bound down the steps to meet them. That must be Malon, and Time only slowed to lift her in a spin and hug her close.

She already moved on to side hugs and holding others’ hands in endearment, giggling lovingly when Warrior tried to kiss the back of her hand like some noble knight despite Time’s stern look. Her voice was melodic and not so different to the people of Hateno’s twang. “My, my, Wind, did you have a growth spurt? I swear you were just here last time I saw you.”

The kid perked up just as Legend leaned his arm on Wind’s head. “Look at him. He’ll catch up one day,” he said, going to pinch Wind’s cheek who slapped his wrist.

“And you are?” she asked a little softer than how she spoke with the others, and maybe that was because Wild realized he was partially hiding behind Sky. The man scooted to the side and Wild wasn’t sure if he should shake her hand or hug her, so he settled on a hesitant wave.

“Uh, hi.”

Warrior patted Wild on the back. “Little chef has been keeping us from starving in your stead.”

She leaned a little on her knees like how most grownups do with him. This would usually annoy him, but this was Time’s wife and she wasn’t using a baby voice at least. “That’s very kind of you! These poor things don’t know the difference between water and cooking oil.”

“My tunic was never the same,” sighed Twilight.

Warriors groaned. “For the last time, I didn't know it was oil!”

“It was in a bottle labeled oil!”

Wild looked at the two bickering and eyed Malon. She mumbled to him, “caught a spark on the end of his clothes. Whole thing went up in flames. Now come on, I’ll start some tea before sending you out.”

“Out?”

“You’re in time to bring the horses and goats back towards the house. Don’t dottle now!” She set a hand against Wild’s back to nudge him forward as her other hand clasped Time’s, the three walking in tandem. Compliments and miss-you’s were traded with soft jabs between, and the others followed suit excitedly talking about dinner. “I don’t think I heard your nickname yet, little one. What do you go by?”

“Wild. It’s Wild.”

“Happy to have you Wild!”

It’s a flurry of activity as they enter the home, some pushing past each other to drop their bags or hang scarves, Twilight taking the stairs to where Wild assumed would be bedrooms with Time’s bag in his hands. The older man quickly shed his armor, people scattering, and Wild stood unsure with his cloak still tied around his neck.

Malon tapped his shoulder. “Here, let’s put your things here.” She pointed to an empty coat hook, taking his cloak the moment he untied it. “Now, now, everyone, you must all be exhausted. Make yourself at home. Wild, the dining table is this way.” She didn’t nudge him this time but led him towards where Warrior and Hyrule already sat around a long dining table that could be seen from the kitchen. They almost lounged in their seats, and it was strange to see them without their swords nearby chatting with pastries in hand, a plate between them.

Time’s stern voice rang over him. “Did you even ask first?”

“Yep!” Malon chirped. Time frowned at her, questioning, and Wild nodded along even if it wasn’t true.

“Thin ice, boys. Thin ice.” When he turned, Malon offered a wink and the captain barely held back a laugh. Still trying to get a grasp at the fast pace, Wild looked up at Malon.

“Are they still free game?” he asked.

“Absolutely. Make yourself at home! Tea, everyone?” Malon already whisked away to the kitchen, leaving Wild to take a seat with ‘Rulie and select a pastry with some sort of jelly in the center.

Trying to settle in, he leaned back in his chair. Eyeing his fellow compatriots, he noted, “I thought you two had manners.”

“Malon doesn’t mind,” Warrior said, “She encourages it, actually, if it gets a rise out of Time.”

Hyrule smirked with his arm hooked behind the chair’s backrest. “She has a devilish streak to her.” It surprised him to see the traveler so at ease, being one of the more jumpy and nervous of all of them.

It's just so. . . domestic. Little nick nacks peppered the home, a fireplace lit that they had passed to the kitchen. It smelled with the hint of burned sugar, likely from the pastries. Simple. Like the only worry is if the cows were milked that morning or if they'd run out of soap. It's like this farm had a bubble around it, or maybe this whole era considering everyone’s relaxed state the moment they stepped into it. Did Time fix everything? Was there peace and no more wars or petty fights between the nations? Was there order and peace, and happy little towns unknowing of a history where once upon a time many people were hurt?

It drove the disconnect between him and the others harder than usual. Malon carried on with her day like monsters hadn't been an issue in years.

"Should we do a perimeter check?"

Shaking his head, Warrior spoke. "There's no monsters out here. The only time we've had to deal with any is when we go deep into the woods, and I mean deep. Like caverns, more than anything. We're safe here— don't worry about it."

Nothing to worry about. Untouched by pain. What would that be like to have lived?

He took his first bite and came to realize just why everyone got so excited to arrive in this era. Flakey and still moist, they must have been made this morning, and the jelly was flavorful.

Warrior smirked. “Oh, I know that look. If you ask nicely, she’ll give you the recipe.”

“Are Malon and Wild teaming up?” asked Twi followed by the others.

Giddy, Sky clapped his hands. “My mouth’s already watering.”

“Tea’s ready!” called Malon, entering once more with a tray and mugs filled to the brim. Time took the offered try to divvy up the teacups to grabby hands. “Now, what’s this about teaming up?”

“Two master chefs, what crimes will they commit,” joked Four.

Malon grinned. “I believe someone is on cucco duty.”

Eyes widening, Four raised his hands in surrender while Sky sighed disappointingly. “Sorry ma’am, won’t happen again, ma’am.”

Satisfied, she turned back to Wild. “I’ll tell you over making dinner. You’re a little chef, you said? You can help me prep dinner while the others put their back into some chores.”

Not one to miss an opportunity to not do boring work, he nodded. “Sure, tell me where you want me.”

He heard a grumble of “no fair” and “I’m too old for this” and more groans of displeasure as Malon waved her hand to shoo them off. Wild waved, watching as they set their cups of half-finished tea. Time gave his wife a farewell kiss the Wild shaded his eyes from, and Wind tried to guess what they were having for dinner.”

“Bye, boys! Supper’ll be just over an hour! Now,” she said with the house’s door finally shut and closing off the other’s annoyed grumbles, “I’m thinking of something with pasta with lots of vegetables and maybe chicken. I think everyone would like that.”

“Four’s allergic to nuts, by the way,” Wild added.

“I’m aware — did you have to learn the hard way too? Wash your hands, hun.”

That was an experience he never wanted to repeat. He nodded. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“He seems okay now, and that’s all that matters. I’ll have you start cutting the veggies after I wash them. Did I hear you wanted a recipe?”

“Your pastries. What’d you use for the jelly?”

“Mix of raspberries and strawberries. It’s all about getting it stirred as smoothly as possible. I have it written down somewhere, . . .” She spoke and he listened. She recommended trying peaches, and when he said he had none offered him a preserved jar then went on about how the boys can’t cure anything right, which Wild agreed. Their attempts at dried meat tasted awful.

It’s peaceful here. Through the window above the sink, he spotted Twilight and Warrior leading horses to a barn, the others certainly around the farm completing other even chores at a snail’s pace until dinner’s aroma catches their attention.

She was funny. She snorted in her laughter and said Time used to be so nervous around her like she would bite him. “I don’t blame him. I was a bit everywhere as a kid, but he loved me for me and I loved him. I’m lucky to have him. But what about you? How are things? Are you staying warm, because I think Link may have some of our old things put away in the attic. I noticed a hole in your cloak, but I can patch it tonight if that’s alright for you. I don’t know when you will all leave, so the quicker the better!”

He wondered, in a life long forgotten, if such a scene of a doting husband and a charming wife were something his parents were like. He wondered if they were ever this happy in a little cottage away from town with linens drying by the front porch and the scent of a meaty stew wafting through the house’s open windows. Did she hum as she cut the vegetables and laugh when his father snuck up behind her for a kiss coming home after finishing his chores?

Did he change that?

And maybe it was hard to look at her and how she smiled, like a bittersweet thought on the tip of his tongue or a pen inked and dripping onto the page with the first words fleeting. There should be something there but the memory laid just out of reach.

“My husband might as well torch the house before I leave him alone in the kitchen. He tries, but the last time he tried to cook, the pots were so burned— . . . Wild? Wild, sweety, why are you crying?”

Wild blinked, rubbing his cheeks with his sleeve that came back damp just as Malon knelt in front of him to gently hold his face. Her hands were caoulessed but careful when his breath hitched, shoulders flinching, throat sharp, and he didn’t know why he was crying or why Malon wasn’t annoyed, because they stood there in the kitchen with a meal only half-cooked soothing him like a doting—

—a doting mother whose face he couldn’t remember.

She embraced him, and he pressed his face into her shoulder not daring to move. “Sorry, I don’t know what got a hold of me.”

“Don’t be. It’s alright.”

Minutes passed.

Malon pulled back but kept her hands on his shoulders to study him. “You have the same look Link used to have. Come back to earth.”

He wiped his snotty nose, an apology on his lips she quickly hushed.

“It’s okay, sometimes it’s hard not to get lost in your head.” She looked so familiar and not, with freckles across her nose and eyes too honest. He was feeling really dumb. “I’m guessing you haven’t had this in a long time: . . . safety? Normalcy?”

Was that it? Nostalgia or realizing what he’d been missing? That there were kids with moms and dads who made your favorite meals and took you out on chores? He didn’t remember much of his father except the glint of his armor, the sound of his steps when he walked across the castle’s corridors — fleeting memories. And his mom? Blank. Did she have freckles?

“Honey, look at me.” Lost in thought again, he tried to focus on her and her words. “I think we all have our experiences, and many are good and bad, and they’re all important because at the end of the day, they are what make you you.” He didn’t even remember what those experiences were. “I won’t dare assume I know what you’ve been through, but let it be said that you’re surrounded by people who aren’t strangers to a god’s hand. You’re younger than he was, I can’t even imagine.”

How much had Time told her?

“I hope that you feel safe with them. I know every single one of them out there would do everything they could to get you home and make sure you can keep smiling. It’s not easy. There are going to be many, many bad days, and sometimes you’re going to feel like it’s too much. But I want you to know we’re all rooting for you, okay?”

Wild believed it was time to let some things go.

Dinner went off without a hitch, and Wild had wiped his eyes dry before anyone had come in. None acted wiser except Time’s odd looks to his wife, their hands held where they sat together, and she squeezed back every time he eyed her.

Wild was an enigma — and yes, Wild was his name and how fitting— because the kid was his own pandora’s box of wild cards.

Learning that Wild had essentially unlimited bombs (“Don’t forget the recharge!”) was a god send for roaming around dungeons (“You’re going to bring the ceiling down on us!”; “Details, details.”). Then there was that time he literally froze time on a boulder just to ride it over a cavern which was always funny and he knew Four had him scheming something with magnesis. Oh, his age made him great for reconnaissance. When the people of Saria town quickly went quiet at the sight of the nine of them, Wild easily pretended to be a drifter in his aged form, a second chance to get information.

But some things bothered him.

And he didn’t mean the fact Wild could pick out a thief or bandit from a crowd with just one look or that he took meticulous notes on the kinds of trees and frogs he spotted. Those were just perks. They had a minnie scholar on their hands on behalf of Zelda.

Most days it was just like looking at Hyrule, where it was easy to brush away a lack of knowledge as having little exposure because of living different lives outside of any villages or cities. Other times, it was hard to come up with excuses. He eyed passing travelers like they pissed in his breakfast.

He figured that like many of them, Wild didn’t have much of a childhood, but that didn’t explain the complete blank of discussion of anything before the calamity.

For a military brat, he stared oddly confused at those training in Warriors’ era. He asked how ranks worked and shrugged when asked about his own. “Just bearer of the sword or something.”

“What does that mean? Like you could do whatever you wanted?”

Another shrug. Legend picked up then. “Doesn’t matter rank— all soldiers are pushovers.”

Warriors scoffed. “Says the guy who lost our last spar.”

“You used Wind as a hostage.”

“All is fair in love and war.”

“Didn’t know you were a bard on the battlefield.” Wild listened on silently as the two bickered.

That was just one oddity.

When in Four’s era buying supplies of all sorts, Wild asked about its layout and accessibility to the castle itself.

“It might be an open market,” Four explained, “but guards are stationed to avoid any unwanted guests reaching the castle. Was yours like that?”

“Dunno. I know there used to be one, a Castle Town. I was just wondering.” As if it were gone before he was born? Was only the castle still standing when he pulled the sword? Legend didn’t know the answer as Wild continued. “It’s weird to imagine Zelda being on the throne, too, not that I remember the king.”

Wind wrapped an arm around the younger’s shoulers. “It’s okay, the king of Hyrule turned into a boat for me— don’t look at me like that, I’m serious!”

Other times, it was like he blanked— not in the sense when Legend looked at the sea in mild panic, but more like . . . maybe so lost in thought that nothing existed beyond whatever memory had its grasp on him.

The first time it happened, Wild stared up at the large statue of Hylia in Sky’s era, where her stone towered on Skyloft as the sun began to set. Sky tried to lead them away to a sleeping quarters.

Warrior had tried to catch his attention as the group headed down the steps. “C’mon, Wild, let’s go.”

And Four had paused, unsure. “Wild?”

The boy stared up at that statue despite demand for his attention. “Kid, come on,” Legend started, the rest of the group waiting at the bottom of the steps. “You can ogle at it later. Kid?”

Four waved a hand over the kid’s eyes as Legend and Warrior went to join. “He’s not responding. He’s not even reacting.”

Poking his shoulder, Legend found no reaction. Wild only looked on dully at the statue, unseeing— or maybe seeing something more.

“Everyone, you can go on ahead. I’ll sit with him.” That was Time returning to stand next to the catatonic kid.

“Is he okay,” asked Four.

“He will be. Go on. We’ll catch up.”

Crossing his arms, the veteran questioned, “And what exactly is this?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out. Go.” It wasn’t demanding nor a plea, just soft and mildly defeated. Perhaps even Time didn’t really know what to do. And so despite how Wild’s blank stare made his chest feel funny and thoughts wander to terrible reasons for such a blank state, Legend gave Four and Warrior a push towards the others. If anyone could coax him out of a bad spot, it would be Time.

And when they returned to the sleeping quarters, Wild remained quiet and Time tight-lipped.

“Just keep an eye on him if he does it again. Don’t leave him alone.” He’d said it in a whisper to the eldest of them while Four helped their subject of topic put away caught butterflies in his Sheikah slate.

More oddities.

Weary of who cooked meals when it was made out of sight by strangers. Cautious of all travelers on the road. Looked at bodies of water like a death trap. And yet, Legend knew his curiosity would bite him in the ass even if the rest of the team were as interested as him.

It was painting an unfriendly childhood, if he had one at all.

Maybe it was a lack of consideration on their part and topics that don’t have good stories for all of them, but they received their answers soon enough during a chat around the fire.

“My grandma is the sweetest! I don’t remember much of my parents, but grandma was always there for me and Aryll even when I almost fell off the cliffside. I’d never seen her move so fast.”

“I was raised by Russel and Tio. They were always good to me even if I was a brat in the beginning. They had to coax me out of a tree so often that they eventually put in the work to make it a real home for me.”

“It’s definitely my fault for grandpa’s bruised toes and some burns. I liked to play in the forge and tripped right where I shouldn’t or he tripped on me not seeing me until it was too late. Can’t say I ever got hurt from it.”

Wild sat silently to listen.

Legend considered when eyes turned to him and their topic of growing up before the sword. It seemed so long ago, really. “I had my uncle,” he admitted. “He was a good man.” Leaving it at that, the others offered nods in understanding.

“I’m actually not from Hyrule. I grew up in a neighboring kingdom called Calatia,” explained Hyrule. “I remember when I made enough in allowance, there was this old woman who lived in the middle of town who had this mean grin and little dog that would snap at your ankles when you walked past. I, uhm, a neighbor kid and I put a little bomb in the doghouse when we had it distracted.”

“Hyrule!” scolded Twi.

“It didn’t get hurt! And our ankles were saved!”

As the two squabbled, Legend decided now was the time to ask. “What about you kid? Were you always a little sh*t?”

Glaring, Wild scoffed. “Haha, very funny. Dunno.”

“Really?” Asked Warrior. “I was in the military young, too. There was this old captain that took me under his wing. He actually had this scarf made for me. Should’ve seen his face every time I came back with a tear in it. ”

“Anything like that?” Legend asked.

“Dad was a guard?”

“Anything else? Ever skip training?”

“. . . Don’t know.”

Twilight, seemingly happy with his scolding, returned to the conversation to say, “I highly doubt the kid that says lynel hunting is fun doesn’t have a story or two.”

“Well, Zelda and I would go to each of the ancient springs to see if it would waken her power. She tried to make me eat a frog.”

“Gross,” Wind commented so helpfully.

“But you already had the sword, right” Warrior questioned. “I’m talking pre-adventure, pre-sword— when we didn’t know anything.”

“Dunno,” Wild stated.

“You saying you once weren’t a snot-nosed brat,” Legend tried to joke, and a truth just out of reach. Legend was starting to wonder if the kingdom and its knights were as horrible as he was thinking. To make a kid that small join the royal guard— and instant growth like he had now with that slate. How many hours did they make him work with a sword before he could even hold it properly without exhaustion?

“Don’t remember,” Wild replied.

A push. Legend pushed because that’s how you get answers. “C’mon. What’s the real reason you don’t wanna tell us?”

Wild inhaled deeply. “Memory loss.”

A silence swept over them, any side conversation pausing. Oh. And some were connecting dots and reconsidering conversations or lack thereof. A blank. There existed a blank in many things about Wild they hadn’t realized considering how young he was, like never mentioning a family of any sorts beyond Zelda and the Sheikah scientist, or not knowing much about the military when he supposedly had been a part of it before it all fell. He should know more about Castletown and what the king was like. Answers that should have fell easily from his tongue were never there to begin with, or rather had been until his memory began to fail him.

Four’s breath hitched. “From your first battle?”

None dared to ask their own question, watching unsure of Wild's reaction, who only nodded with his fingers gripping the end of his tunic. “Yah. I guess the damage was pretty bad. . . I woke up not even knowing my name.” Hesitant, Wild didn’t make eye contact. “I, uh, it hasn’t been an issue, has it?”

Time spoke for the first time. “It’s not a problem, Wild. And you don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. It’s not as bad as it used to be, and I started remembering some things, too, like Zelda.” He shivered. “And the frogs.”

Like a spell lifted, Wind snorted. “Of all the things to remember,” he barked out, laughing, and when Wild joined, the others found mirth in the oddity of it all.

“Okay, but really, it’s fine, guys. It’s just been my normal, so. I know it’s weird.”

“Not weird,” Sky commented, “just different. Is that why you were distracted in my era? In front of Hylia?”

“Oh, yah. Sometimes—” He paused looking at Time, who nodded encouragingly. “I mean, since I’m still trying to remember things, something can trigger it. Sorry for freaking you out.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said with a smile, and Wild offered on back.

But that explained some things: missing information, some odd quirks or decisions. Legend grimaced, a question rolling in his head he had to ask. “Has it ever happened in battle?”

That had everyone hesitant once more.

Wild didn’t immediately answer, instead staring back, maybe testing his answer in his head. “Not like that. No.”

“You froze in front of that guardian.”

“Because they weren’t supposed to be moving anymore.” He spoke rushed, voice rising. “They were supposed to be all shut down. And I died in that clearing the first time.”

His heart lurched, a chill striking him and goosebumps raising on his skin. They walked through his grave. None of them had put the pieces together even out of what Zelda told them. They hadn’t considered it.

“Is that what you wanted to hear,” Wild challenged.

“No,” he said, and Legend meant it. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Though he didn’t respond, Wild deflated, his defense dropping.

Sometimes when Legend stared at the man who always had a plethora of insane battle strategies, it was easy to forget the boy he was. What he saw was someone very lonely and for a multitude of reasons.

It was then Twilight scooted closer to Wild and careful wrapped an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder. “Sorry,” he said simply.

Wild didn’t cry, but his voice cracked. “For what?”

“That you had to go through that. That you don’t remember other things. I wish I could help.”

Sitting quietly, Wild sighed, leaning into Twi. “I don’t like pity parties.”

“This isn’t pity, kid. And you’re allowed to be upset about it.”

“It’s just my normal though.”

“Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck,” Time stated. None commented on his word choice. “I wouldn’t wish for such a fate on anyone.”

Sighing again, a little more broken, Wild didn’t move from his place against Time, and the others in some minutes returned to quieter discussions, many ready to turn in for the night. Legend’s own mind replayed all the little interactions in their journey so far with Wild, even back to the day they met him, and really, Legend wondered how much of Wild’s experience, or lack thereof, warped his perception.

It seemed every day a new layer was peeled back, a story unfolding, much longer than he ever realized.

Like genuinely scrapped. There was gonna be a long segment about how Wild switching back and forth on his ages has some temporary effects, maybe a bit of a mood swing considering going going through different stages of brain development

“It’s hard to explain. Like Purah says your brain doesn’t stop developing until you're twenty-five, right? And I’m going back and forth between developed states, I guess, and the time in the shrine. . . so sometimes I’m just. . . I’m different? I know I’m smarter when I’m older, and it’s hard to turn back, like everything is too much until I readjust, sometimes.” He shrugged. “Something like that.

But that explained some things. Sometimes Wild’s emotions didn’t match, just like how Wind missed home and Hyrule needed a break from socializing. It was a quirk that a little patience and understanding couldn’t handle.