Chapter Text
If anything, Twilight’s head hurts more as he shakes off the horror of the night. He groans a bit as he crushes his forehead into his bedroll, letting the pressure of it diminish the same pressure that’s pulsing behind his eyes. The only time he’s had a migraine this bad was from a hangover vicious enough that he’d laid in his basement for about twenty-four hours— before Ilia had found him and practically threw him to the rams.
“If you’s wanna drink yerself inta a right sorry-ass state, a’least en’ertain the sheep while yer attit.” she’d hollered, and slammed the gate behind her. Needless to say, Twilight never had a drink around her again.
Time shifts next to him, having watched the sun creep into the sky at Twilight’s side. His hips pop, but Twilight is feeling pathetic enough not to make fun of him for it.
The camp is subdued as they begin to pack up their things, besides Warriors yawning dramatically every now and then when he prods Legend into getting up.
“I’m glad you finally decided to sleep, but you’re being slower than Sky,” he complains, followed by a hum of acknowledgement from the Skyloftian still wrapped up in his sailcloth.
Come the next boot-prodding, Legend, of course, grabs the backs of Warriors’ heels, shoves his feet into Warriors’ hips, and knocks him flat on his back. He uses the momentum of Warriors’ fall to roll onto his own feet, glaring down at the soldier.
“Up,” he grouses, turning away. Warriors doesn’t even attempt to get up, throwing his arms out to the side and sighing at the sky.
Twilight mirrors his sigh, shuffling over and offering the captain a hand up. Warriors blinks an eye open at him, carefully lazy as his gaze sweeps over Twilight.
“You look like shit,” he says kindly.
Twilight retracts his hand. “I think I’m takin’ a likin’ to coffee this mornin’.”
Warriors groans. Normally, Twilight gives Warriors his share of their coffee stores since Twilight couldn’t loathe the bitter drink more. Normally, though, Twilight doesn’t have to reconcile with memories of dreams of him trying to kill Legend and vice versa.
“You look like the best shit I’ve seen today, and I had to wake up Legend.” Warriors amends.
Twilight glances over his shoulder in fake contemplation, and ends up catching Wind in the act of looking hurriedly away— in Legend’s direction, continuing his stare at the vet like he had a math equation Wind was trying to catch fire to on his back.
In the hell that was last night, Wind’s face stands stark in Twilight's memory. It was probably the worst expression he’d ever seen on the sailor’s face, stricken and horrified and confused all in one. He hadn’t seen when Wind had wiped it off his features, but he must have, because when Twilight had glanced over after Legend had grabbed his arm the look was gone.
Except now, Wind is clearly still on edge for a reason entirely unknown to Twilight.
Warriors kicks at Twilight’s leg gently, bringing Twilight’s attention back. He pretends not to see the soft concern flit over the captain’s face before he sticks out a hand and says, “So… coffee?”
Twilight huffs out a weak laugh and hauls him to his feet.
They set into the forest a half hour later. Twilight trips over about four tree roots in the first ten minutes, each rough jolt sending flares of pain through his head. Hyrule glances back and giggles softly at him every time, though, so that might make it worth it.
Legend still won’t look at him, but honestly, Twilight’s not sure he’s able to get the vet’s attention anyway. He's not sure he wants to face him holding that dagger above Legend's chest, dream or no. It'd felt real. It'd felt so, so real.
But there was no telling Legend had had even similar nightmares last night. Twilight doesn't know what had sent him into that panic attack; it could be entirely unrelated to that goddess-forsaken field. What would he even say? “So I had this really weird dream last night where we were stuck in this endless field and you died and then came back and tried to kill me, does that ring a bell?”
Twilight cringes at the thought alone. Yeah, and then Legend would look at him like he’s crazy and proceed to tell Twilight just how crazy he is until Sky drags one of them off the other. The whole thing would just end up pissing him off in the end, and he can tell that the others are walking on eggshells around them, watching to make sure he and Legend don't try and murder each other after the high emotion of last night. Time keeps glancing back at them like between one moment and the next they'll have each other on the ground.
Doubtful, really, as Legend's avoiding him like the plague.
Twilight jumps as Wind appears at his side, curling his fingers into Twilight’s sleeve and pressing his shoulder against Twilight’s arm. He looks just as tired as the rest of them, and Twilight feels a pang of guilt at the sight of Wind’s dark under-eyes.
But, Ordona, he won’t stop staring.
“Wind—“ he starts.
“Legend’s weird today,” Wind says at the same time, his words more careful than they ever are. He turns his head, latching those dark eyes on Twilight’s, and Twilight knows he’s not looking for confirmation. “You are, too.”
For a second, Twilight could swear the hero in front of him is not fourteen years old; instead something ancient twisted into gangly limbs and wild hair. Wind’s fingers are tight in Twilight’s sleeve but not shaking, steady as waves upon a beach as they press against his pulse. He looks like he’s seen worlds apart from his own. He looks like he knows.
Twilight swallows, throat suddenly dry in the face of this teenage hero. “Gonna hafta be more specific than that, sailor.”
Wind gives him a very unimpressed look. It doesn’t fit the solemn air. “You both look like you‘ve been flirting with Death herself and she fell for it. So ‘fess the fuck up.”
Twilight frowns, glancing over to where the vet walks on the edge of the group with Hyrule. Legend doesn’t look particularly like he’d tempted death— exhausted, yes, shoulders slumped and the slight limp that sometimes shows itself on his bad days making his boot scuff a bit more. But his cap is firmly in place and there’s no blood, no knife in his hand and no arrow through his throat.
(look, look, you’re missing something LOOK)
Twilight snaps his thoughts back fast enough his head spins lightly. “Looks fine t’me.”
“Don’t act like you didn’t do anything,” Wind scoffs. The shadows of the trees alongside them elongate his face strangely, eyes big and unblinking as he looks up at Twilight. “You were going to kill him, weren’t you? I’ve never liked him anyway. He always yells at me like he’s just so much better than me— but we’re all in the same fucking boat, just because of the stupid fairy boy, aren’t we?”
The wind picks up behind Twilight, scattering dried leaves around his feet. It sounds altogether too much like the scraping of bone.
“Excuse me?” Twilight breathes.
The corners of his vision fuzz out, the world rattling for a millisecond before Wind looks at him like Twilight insulted his grandmother. “I said, what the hell did you and Legend even do, and on a scale of one to a wet cucco how angry is Time gonna be?”
Twilight stares at him. His ears ring faintly. Vertigo sweeps through him and he almost stumbles, pebbles launching themselves into the underbrush from his boots. Okay , he thinks like a rational fucking person. That was weird.
Twilight heard Wind so clearly. He can play back the words in his head right now. But Wind’s looking up at him with clear eyes, worry-furrowed eyebrows and a handful of his sleeve, and in the end it’s all Twilight can do to shove it down along with the strange fever-blanked haze of the voices that had whispered to him last night.
“Didn’ do nothin’,” Twilight says, forcing his feet to fall back into a proper stride. “Jus’ had a weird dream, ‘s all. What’sa fairy boy?”
Wind sticks a finger at him. “Don’t go off topic, rancher, I’m serious. Also: a huh?”
The hairs on the back of Twilight’s neck stand up, goosebumps racing along his arms underneath his tunic.
“A fairy boy,” he repeats, slower, trying to erase his accent despite the chill on his skin.
Wind’s scowl could send the forest around them aflame. “I can understand you, dumbass, I’m saying I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Okay,” Twilight says, because he has no idea what the hell is going on and his head is a right mess and there’s nothing else to say, really. “Now what were you talkin’ ‘bout?”
Wind rolls his eyes, the action slathered in thrown-on annoyance. He’s looking at Legend again, then back at Twilight, and there’s something terrible in the way he keeps silent for a minute too long.
Then he’s reaching across Twilight for his other hand, nearly causing him to trip over the smaller sailor. Wind’s grip gravitates to the handprint like the mark has its own vacuum, even covered as it is by Twilight’s sleeve.
“This,” Wind says quietly, and sticks his fingers through Twilight’s wrist.
Oh. Huh. Well, Twilight can’t say he knows all that much about human anatomy and biology, but he’s fairly— ninety percent at least— sure that people’s fingers are not supposed to go through someone’s arm like it’s not even there.
He doesn’t even feel it, either. One second, Wind’s hand was where it was supposed to be, which is not inside Twilight’s wrist, and then the next second it was. If Twilight hadn’t been looking, he wouldn’t have been able to tell at all that Wind’s fingers had metaphorically but also literally stabbed him— just without the pain and blood part.
“Hm,” Twilight says. Wind looks at him like it’s not a sane response except Twilight knows it’s not a sane response, but what does Wind want him to do, exactly? Magically make his wrist stained with weird dream-blood more solid than it apparently isn’t?
“Your arm is turning into a fucking ghost,” Wind tells him.
“That's a new one,” Twilight replies, and it occurs to him that maybe he shouldn’t be speaking while it feels like the ground is farther away than it should be, but he does anyway. “Last time they jus’ done cut it off.”
“What,” Wind says, then shakes his head, pale curls bouncing. “Never mind. Legend’s hands are, like, blotchy-fading too, and you threw up when you got up this morning and Legend had a panic attack, and you won't even look in each other’s direction— don’t think I haven’t noticed that— and you guys are both ghost-ifying like some poe went and stole pieces out of you!” Wind takes a furious breath. “So don’t fucking lie to me, rancher, I’m not a child.”
Twilight pulls his hand out of Wind’s grip, exhaustion scrabbling under his skin. “There ain’t no shame in bein’ a child, Wind.”
Wind glares at him, and Twilight masterfully avoids the ankle Wind tries to trip him with. “I am going to murder you and then we’ll see who’s the child— but stop trying to distract me, you motherfu—”
One of Warriors’ famous earsplitting whistles pierces the air, stopping all conversation as the group halts. Twilight thinks he might see the trees keep moving anyway, but there’s nothing amiss when he glances into the dark maze of trunks.
Wind groans, sending Twilight a threatening look. Twilight doesn’t deign a response with a look of his own, instead watching Legend as he leans back against a tree. With a flash of violet, Legend catches him in the act of staring, a scowl on his face. It falters, however, when he meets Twilight’s gaze fully. His hand twitches at his side, the hilt of a dagger in his belt gleaming. Twilight’s shoulder aches distantly.
Twilight raises an innocuous eyebrow at him, pretending Wind’s gaze isn’t burning a hole in the back of his head. Legend, predictably, flips him the bird and turns away.
“Unfortunately,” Time says when everyone’s in hearing range. “I believe we’re going in circles.”
Everyone groans. Twilight huffs a sigh; Wind mutters something under his breath about a ‘bitchass forest’ next to him. They wouldn’t be true Links if they didn’t get lost at least once during a switch.
“It’s most likely intentional,” Time adds with a frown. “Hyrule pointed out to me that there’s more to this forest’s magic than just the natural kind, which I myself should’ve noticed sooner. Whether it’s a specific enchantment or just the forest’s own magic, I can’t say.”
“So the magical forest is trapping us,” Legend deadpans, bonking his head back against the trunk of the tree he’s leaning on. He’s clearly undisturbed by the fact that said trees were just revealed as magical. “Lovely. Should’ve expected that one, honestly.”
Something deep in the woods beyond clatters hollowly, faint even to Twilight’s ears. Click. Clatter. Clack. Wood on wood on wood.
In the corner of his eye, Legend flinches.
“Oh, my toys,” someone says in a whisper, right next to Twilight’s head, hot breath on his ear. He whirls only to find Sky, smiling pleasantly. “They’re coming!”
Twilight’s ears ring, ring, ring. Wind’s grip on his wrist droops like his fingers forgot to listen to his brain, going slack.
Sky’s brow furrows a second later, shaking himself like he’s warding off an impending doze. Something about Twilight’s face must be wrong— it feels wrong— because Sky’s eyes widen a bit. Wind’s hand fixes itself.
“Twi?” Sky asks, carefully concerned. The silence drags on like nails on skin, and the only thing Twilight is sure of is that Legend is completely, utterly still behind him.
Fool me once, Twilight thinks.
“There’s something in the woods.”
It’s not his voice who says it. When he glances over his shoulder, Legend has one ring-laden hand braced on the tree as he peers past the trunk. His knuckles are white against the bark.
Something flies out of the underbrush.
Twilight’s moving before he even registers what he’s doing, lunging toward Legend and yanking him out of the way hard enough that they both stumble. Twilight’s heart is in his throat as he watches the stick— the stick?— thwack into Time’s shin and scatter dirt when it falls.
Twilight’s lungs feel frozen. There’s a roaring in his head that seems to go from quiet to loud to quiet again as their group realises what just happened.
Wind bursts into high-pitched laughter, the giggles seeming to echo discordantly in their space. Legend scowls at Twilight, forcibly removing Twilight’s iron grip from his arm. “Thank you for saving my life,” he drawls.
Twilight stares at the stick, peeling on one end and bark hanging off it in places. He doesn’t think he was imagining that flash of fear in Legend’s eyes when he saw the object, all too reminiscent of the fear in his eyes when he had died last night in Twilight’s dream. Twilight did never find out what the vet was trying to say as he bled out.
A hand claps him on the shoulder; Twilight forces down a flinch. “Aw, we all had that instinct,” Warriors says good-naturedly, amusement in his tone. “A stick can be deadly, you know, especially against noble cactuses. You’re lucky rancher here has good reflexes!”
Legend squints at him, apparently more confused than annoyed. “Did you just call me a cactus?” He considers, conjuring up the proper indignance. “Also, you’re just as much of a ‘city-slicker’ as me, dumbass.” he imitates Twilight’s accent on ‘city-slicker’, pulling out the vowels dramatically.
Twilight raises his eyebrows. He sees Time suppressing a smile behind Warriors, and turns the look on his mentor. Time begins trying harder, and Twilight rolls his eyes at him.
“Wars’ll show his true colours ‘ventually,” Twilight muses. Warriors sends him an alarmed look. “I think Time’s got some thoughts on this here matter, don’tcha, Time?”
“I have not one singular thought, no,” Time says with a perfectly straight face.
“Bullshit,” Legend scoffs, though he looks genuinely like he’s trying not to laugh. It’s a good expression on him, Twilight thinks with a small pang. It makes him look more his age. “I know Warriors’ accent is a front. You can stop faking it, we all know you’re shit at it.”
Twilight coughs into his hand, smothering a chuckle. Warriors sends him a slitted-eyed look. “Is this insanity your doing, farm boy?”
Twilight raises his hands in defence. “I ain’t said nothin’.”
Then, with a jolt that races ice up his spine, Twilight remembers he had.
In the dream. On his first loop– the very first. He’d almost forgotten bickering teasingly with Legend that first time. It feels foggy, the stitches of it all uneven, but it was there. Legend had said, “You’re helping me expose him.” And then Legend had tried to get under his skin. And then they realised they were trapped. And then Twilight woke up again at the beginning and everything got worse and worse from there.
Legend is looking at him. There’s realisation in his eyes, dread in the furrow of his brow. He’s wondering.
Nausea roils in Twilight’s gut. He thinks he might already know the answer.
“All I said,” he continues, trying to keep up his jovial tone while he tries to remember what he told Legend in that fabrication of reality, “‘s that when ya get someone madder th’n a wet hen things become clear as day, ‘s all.”
Awkward silence fills the air between their group as Legend doesn’t pick up on the banter. He stares at Twilight, something like mounting horror on his face. Twilight stares back, waiting. Challenging. Real or not real?
“I spy with my little eye something blue,” Legend says.
Twilight feels like his hands should be shaking, but he can’t tell if they really are or not. Maybe it’s just him, maybe it’s just his insides, maybe it's the whole world.
“The sky,” he says.
Legend stares at him. He brings a hand to his face for a second, then his bangs, tugging harshly. His mouth opens, then closes, then opens and closes again, digging his fingernails into his scalp.
Twilight himself just kind of wants to sit down and cry. He wonders if he will break under the weight of this intangible, all too real thing. He’s exhausted already.
It hadn’t been just a nightmare. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’d known that all along.
“Well,” Legend says. “Fuck.”
Click. Clatter. Clack.
Wood on wood on wood. Hollow and sliding, like wind through old branches. The smell of rotting trees slips into the air, of leaves decomposing, of something born of decay.
(“There’s something in the woods.”)
Twilight knows that sound.