Chapter Text
Packing up camp after clearing an area was always a nightmare, but the operation required that they press on in a timely fashion to prevent needlessly burning through resources. It was understandably hectic, getting everything in order while still nursing the wounds of battle; Link should've been prepared for challenges like this. And he was, but it didn't help that he'd been saddled with additional responsibilities on top of his already brutal schedule.
He would never say as much aloud, but Mask had a knack for getting on people's nerves. And he wouldn't speak poorly about whoever raised such a child, but the little fiend was very good at putting himself in other people's business and reaching for things that did not belong to him.
Link was irritable, he knew it: he'd not slept in his own bed for nearly a week, his shoulder still ached from the injury several days prior, and keeping an eye on Mask throughout it all was a headache in itself. If the little hero knew that the Captain had been promoted to a glorified babysitter thanks to him, he'd have strong words to say. Mask did not like being watched and fretted over. But he feared that if he turned a blind eye, that the nosy child would land himself in trouble.
Already, he'd had a few disgruntled soldiers bring Mask back to him with complaints that he'd been rooting through their supply storage and opening up chests.
“It won't happen again,” Link emptily promised to his men with an easily faked smile, leading Mask away by the shoulder. This was the third time already. It would surely happen again.
The moment the soldiers were out of earshot, Link swiveled on his heels and crouched next to Mask, staring into his keaton mask. “Come on, I need you to level with me. Take off the mask and tell me why you keep going through things that don't belong to you.”
The small hero moved his mask to the side, but only so that he could glare daggers at him. “You don't hafta crouch down to talk to me, you know. Just talk to me like you would anyone else.”
Link stood back to his full height, towering over the boy with his arms crossed. “How am I supposed to do that when you're all the way down there?”
Before the captain could blink, a sharp kick connected with his shin. Link bit back a curse as he was bent double, hobbling back a step to favor his leg.
When he looked back up, he was met with those same judgmental blue eyes from before.
“C'mon, soldier, don't you have a leg to stand on?”
Link let slip an annoyed scowl before taking a deep breath and regaining his composure. It would do him no good to let the little hero get under his skin… though with how quick he was to resort to kicking, Link wouldn't be surprised if he found himself being held at sword tip one of these days.
He settled his weight to one side and adjusted the scarf around his neck, maintaining a look of regal dignity that would not be felled by a meager kick. “Are you mad because you were caught? You don't seem the least bit guilty… about anything, for that matter.” His voice hardened at the end; try as he might to conceal the edge concealed like a knife in its sheath, he'd always been quick to draw.
Mask balled his fists at his sides and tilted his chin up defiantly. “I asked you where the supplies were, and you didn't answer me. And then I told you that I needed them, and you still wouldn't tell me. So I'm getting what I need myself. Is that so wrong?”
Link resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The child didn't understand these things, and that was fine. He'd just have to learn, like everyone else in service to the Hyrulean army. “It is when you're traveling with a large group of people, alright? Because we have finite resources and we need to keep tabs on everything that passes through our ranks.” For a moment, his balance began to wane, and he sat down heavily on a wooden crate stacked outside of the small tent where their conversation was being held. “You have a sword and you have a shield. Presumably, you can use them well enough, and you're never going to wind up on the frontlines. You get two square meals and a canteen of water each day just like everyone else. So just tell me, what do you want? Because rupees, empty bottles, and shields that are too big for you can't be it.”
Mask's face crinkled with distress, and he quickly turned his body to the side so that the captain wouldn't see it. Too late already, but the little hero could keep up his own walls as much as he damn well pleased. That seemed to be what his titular mask was there for, anyway.
“I… spent a long time honing my skills with items that I couldn't bring back. I spent an even longer time trying to get back the things that felt like they were taken from me. Those are gone now, too.” The admittance felt too heavy coming from someone half his size. “It's not enough for me to have my kokiri sword and deku shield. If I don't have the tools needed for whatever happens next, then how am I expected to get through it?”
Link wasn't good at providing comfort, let alone promises. The likes of don't worry so much and everything will be alright felt like pointless diatribe. Mask was too smart – and too suspicious – to ever believe such things. “Alright. Alright. I'll see what I can do. But you can't just steal things from other people. Even if it doesn't have their name on it, if you grab something from the storages without permission, that's considered thievery. So inform me of what you need , and I'll tell you upfront if I can get it for you.”
Mask sat down on the ground, back pressed to Link's crate seat, and stared out into the distance. “I need potions.”
“You're not injured,” Link politely informed him. “If something happens, you can always seek medical aid. In an encampment this large, we don't hoard potions to ourselves.”
Mask curled in tighter on himself. “Then why are you still injured, if it's true that you have people who are supposed to look out for you?”
Link grimaced, his hand reaching instinctively to his shoulder. “It's just a tad sore – not worth wasting anymore red potion on, when plenty of others were hurt worse than me.”
“And that's exactly why I want my own,” Mask gritted out. “Because I don't wanna end up stuck in a bad situation if nobody's around to help me the way that they help you.”
“Medical supplies are always in high demand,” Link reaffirmed, his tone stern. “If you want them for yourself, you'll have to buy them yourself in the next town.”
Mask settled his chin on his bare knees. “...I don't have any rupees.”
“I wouldn't expect you too,” Link sighed.
“I used to have plenty, it was never an issue. ”
“Mm-hm.” Link planted his chin in his hand, mulling over his options. “You'll have to earn your rupees. Try helping out the people around you to earn your keep, if you care so much about your wallet.” He watched the way Mask's ear twitched in irritation and moved on from the subject of monetary compensation. It wasn't as if he'd be getting a soldier's salary anytime soon – more like an allowance. Hero though he might be, children weren't meant to fight the wars of adults. “What else are you trying to find? Surely there's more.”
“...Milk. And fruit would be nice, too.”
“We don't have very much of that,” Link glumly confessed. “Those are important rations, and we're nearing the bottom of our stock. The cows we keep with us aren't producing as much milk as before with less grain to feed them, and we have very few apples left.”
Mask scowled into his arms, folded as they were upon his knees, and let out a groan. There were too many things that he either couldn't have or hadn't earned, and he was growing frustrated because of it. Starting over from scratch was the hardest part of starting any new adventure. Mask just hadn't expected he'd have to do it all over again so soon.
“Anything else?” Link asked, growing weary with the nowhere direction they were heading in. “Give me something I can level with.”
Mask sighed. “I miss my bow.”
That caught Link's attention. He arched a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a grin. “Fancy yourself an archer, do you?”
Mask whirled around, sitting up on his knees and peering over the edge of the crate. Link startled, his immediate thought being if he'd upset the young hero yet again. Instead, he found that there was an earnest gleam in Mask's eyes that hadn't been there before.
“You wouldn't believe what I could do with a bow!” he wholeheartedly insisted, gripping the crate so hard it began to splinter. “I had perfect records in all the shooting galleries. I got the highest score possible at the gerudo archery range. I could shoot a poe from halfway across Hyrule Field! So yes I consider myself a good archer.”
Link hadn't seen him express such open enthusiasm for… anything since getting here. He'd lit up the first few times Proxi had gone near him, before getting used to her. And he'd been clearly relieved when his little chestnut mare had been brought into the stables. Other than that, though, he could more often than not be found in a dour or downcast state of being.
“In that case, let's find you a bow,” Link suggested. “There should be a few not in use.”
“Really? You're not lying?”
Self-proclaimed adult though he might’ve been, watching Mask perk up and hop to his feet with an eager grin was downright adorable. If Link ever said as much, that fleeting happiness would be just as swiftly robbed, and he didn't want that.
Link stood from the crate, testing his weight on one leg to make sure it wouldn't wobble beneath him before proceeding forward. “It's not a guarantee, but let's see what we can do.”
He led the way through the bustling camp with Mask hot on his heels. The captain easily greeted his fellow men in passing, observing their progress as they made their way to the armory. A bow and quiver, he rationed, would be good for the little hero. He wasn't quite ready to believe the bold claims regarding his archery prowess that were being thrown around, but Mask seemed eager enough for the challenge.
Link himself was formally trained in archery, but it wasn't generally his weapon of choice, considering he was normally put on the frontlines. If Mask truly wanted to fight in these battles, then a ranged weapon – besides his little slingshot – would certainly be best.
They entered the weapons tent, and Link gravitated to the back where older, unclaimed weapons awaiting maintenance were being held. He began sorting through a crate of unstrung bows. Most were straight or recurve longbows, and even at a glance he could tell that these would be far too big for someone of Mask's size. His arms weren't nearly long enough for the sort of draw required from bows like these.
And yet Mask looked through them as if each one were viable options. “Yes, something like this!” he decided, pulling out a wooden recurve longbow with a blue riser. Without the string, it was nearly as tall as he was.
“Mask… that's not going to work.”
His ears drooped, crestfallen and he looked up to the captain with a face of abject betrayal. “But you said you'd find me a bow, and this one is so much like what I had before!”
“Before you lost a few inches?”
Mask glowered at him, clenching the bow tightly in his small, calloused hands. If he didn't know any better, it looked like he was about to get smacked. It was by the graces of the Goddesses that Mask managed to restrain himself this time.
“Back when I was an adult,” he stressed, pacing the ground with a foul expression. “I learned on the fairy bow, and everything was fine for a while. A-and then the hero's bow… it was different, but it still felt right in my hands. Why couldn't I just keep it? Why don't I ever get to hold onto anything?!”
Link only watched as Mask's frustrations continued to build, and his tongue felt slow to respond. What was there to say, anyway, to someone who already looked and acted so defeated despite the youth they carried on their cheeks?
It was Proxi that slipped out from under his cap and rushed to Mask's side, fluttering around his head. “Hey, don't worry so much! There should be some shortbows around here – I'm sure they'd be a much better fit for you, don't you think?”
Mask calmed down quickly. He dropped the bow on the ground with a clatter and nodded silently, his face devoid of expression, and followed Proxi as she began to flit about the room. Link picked up the forgotten longbow, his nerves prickling from the interaction. He didn't know how to deal with people younger – Older? More experienced? Emotionally immature? – than him when they got like that. Mask in particular left a lasting impression that spoke volumes about deeply rooted anger and grief. And Link was not ready to try unwrapping all that. He was busy enough as it was.
“Oh! Here's something!” Proxi announced, alighting on a bow of dark-stained wood. Mask carefully pulled it out of the barrel it was being stored in. This one was still strung, and Link grimaced when he saw that there were a few blood splatters still on it from its last holder.
Proxi hesitated, noticing the signs of battle a bit late, as Mask eagerly appraised the mid-range weapon. “It's perfect!” he said, testing the draw on its string and holding it with practiced ease. Even at a glance, it was evident that he had done this before.
“Care to test it out?” Link asked, reaching for a spare quiver and tossing it over.
Mask caught it without issue, a wide grin stretched across his face. “Of course!”
At least he wasn't too difficult to please, now that Link was beginning to learn what to look out for. And if anything else, Proxi would always know what to say or do. He responded best to the little fairy anyway, rather than any sort of authority.
Link guided him out the tent, thanking the guard stationed there on the way out, and followed a short path to a small target range. The targets situated a ways out seemed a bit far, and Link debated bringing them closer in. Instead, he turned to questioning Mask, who was already nocking an arrow.
“So you've done all this before?” he asked, encouraging a conversation.
Mask grunted out a noncommittal answer and fired his arrow. It landed on the target, just shy of the center ring, and he clicked his tongue in dissatisfaction.
“Hey, that was a good shot!” the captain commended, quick to praise one of his peers.
“No, my aim was off,” Mask huffed, waving a dismissive hand at the offending target. “I can do better, just give me a few moments to practice.”
Link watched as several more arrows were fired in quick succession, each one closer to the center than the last, until two arrows were planted squarely on the bullseye.
Link whistled in appreciation. “You could take a bokoblin's head off with a hit like that.”
He didn't miss the way Mask's mouth twitched into a satisfied smile, and the small archer reached for another arrow. “Thanks. But I can do more than that.”
“More than a bullseye?”
A strange aura enveloped the bow, and Link watched with widened eyes as the arrowhead became engulfed in flame. Mask released the arrow, and it struck the target with searing precision that quickly enveloped it in licks of fire.
His mouth fell open. Magic. This child was using magic.
“Mask…?”
“But wait, that isn't all.” Before Link could question his abilities further, he drew another arrow. This time, it was pulsing with a frigid ice magic. Mask felt the way it tingled on his fingertips and sapped at his magical reserves. He'd gotten so used to using these in combat, especially during times where it felt as if his magic might last forever. It was a raw sensation that fueled his strength, and he truly felt that he was back in his element.
The ice arrow left his bow, smothering the flames that'd been eating away at the target, and he felt a prickle of pride to see that it'd still found its way into the smoldering remains of the bullseye.
The captain called out to him again, vying for his attention when he was just getting warmed up. He was tired of the bossy hero not believing in him and deciding what was best. He knew, of course, that he'd have to work with this man if he was going to get anywhere, but he wouldn't allow his abilities to be trivialized after everything he'd done to attain them twice over.
“Hey, Mask, were you ever going to tell me that you had…?”
“I'm not done yet!” Mask snapped, once more pulling from his magical reserves. The light of day dimmed around them as it was transferred to his bow at his bidding. A searing, divine light erupted to life on his arrowhead. The bow creaked under the weight of his draw, and the magic condensed on the arrow flickered like a stuttering torch.
Mask concentrated, sweat gathering on his brow as he struggled to pull the light forward the way he always had before. For whatever reason, this use of magic was proving more difficult to maintain than the fire and ice that'd come before it.
But he fired it off anyway, a searing projectile of divinity that obliterated the remainder of the target.
Mask gasped, staggering away, as his vision turned fuzzy and his limbs suddenly felt leaden. His steps were clumsy, and he sat down heavily on the dry grass beneath him as a pounding headache overcame him.
“Mask!”
The captain crouched at his side, checking his forehead and reaching for his wrist. Mask pulled away with a groan, opting to hold his head in his hands rather than be doted on.
“Was that a Hylia-blessed light arrow? How is that even possible with a normal bow! U-unless you're a sorcerer or tied to the royal family or…!”
Mask groaned louder, aided with readily available annoyance. “You talk too loud!” he complained, clamping his hands over his ears instead to block out the offensive noises. “Why does it hurt so much? It was never like this before!”
Link sat down next to him, lowering his voice to a gentle whisper while Mask rided out the sensations plaguing him. “Hey, hey, it's alright. I've seen this before, you just have a bit of magic exhaustion is all. Stay put for a moment, focus on breathing, and then I'll go find you a green potion, alright?”
Mask's eyes stung, and he tasted bitterness in the back of his throat. “But that doesn't make any sense. I should be able to pull off more than three lousy elemental arrows!” He sank his nails into his scalp in a vain attempt to relieve the pressure building there.
What's wrong with me this time?!
There was an odd sensation at war with the magic in his chest, sapping his strength like a fever, and he silently begged to be rid of it. His fingers were numb from where the radiant light of his magic had grazed them, and he could hear his own heart beating loudly in his chest like the ticking of a clock.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
All the while, Link rubbed soothing circles into his back. “Light magic has historically been a very… difficult magic to handle. Why don't we step back from it for a while? It's still a very impressive feat, possessing magic that's not tied to a weapon or item but rather comes from the inside. You don't have to prove yourself.”
Mask listened to the easy words as best he could, but he still couldn't shake the feeling of a black cloud hanging over him, smothering the brightness of day. There was a darkness present where it hadn't been before, sitting at the bottom of his bag, and it did not like the light.