Archive of Our Own ^beta

Maybe it’s a situation of his own making.

Nearly every member of the Chain lives up to their nickname in some way, shape or form, and Wild knows he’s no exception. He’s chaotic in combat, scattered in conversation; not quite all there in the perceptions of society. It had taken a long time to get used to this, to work out how much of himself had changed since the Shrine and his amnesia and how much was still Link.

That percentage of himself that is Link, unchanged despite the century that had passed him by, is a lot larger than most people seem to realise. Even without his memories, his body is still the same. His muscles still remembered how to swing a sword, how to nock an arrow. His unconscious mind could still narrow in on a singular second to allow his body to slip through a monster’s guard at that perfect moment. He still knew how tame a panicked horse, how to descale and fillet a fish or pluck a bird to be cooked to perfection.

He could still carry the world on his shoulders. In fact, he had picked the weight up willingly. Freeing the other Champions from the Divine Beasts and facing the Calamity with their souls resting against his hadn’t been difficult.  The difficulty had not been in living up to the ghost of who he had once been a century ago, no. The difficulty had been adjusting to how his injuries had changed parts of him.

Wild is still Link, that Link, after all. He just… look, it’s hard to be Link.

There are expectations he has to fulfil, things he has to do and all of that requires a lot of focus. And the ability to focus, to pay attention, is a resource Wild doesn’t have a lot of anymore. It’s gone from something he had in spades to this precious thing he hoards close to his chest, only using when the world crawls honey-slow around him as he raises his bow or backflips over a blade. But fully concentrating outside of those few drawn-out seconds, well…

Wild can concentrate but he needs a damn good reason to do so. Every resource has a cost.

Unfortunately for everyone involved, he’s standing at the cusp of a good reason.

Sky leans heavily between Wild and Twilight, his hair matted with blood and his normally sharp eyes hazy and unfocused. The Master Sword glows faintly in her sheath, somehow managing to hover fretfully in presence alone.

Twilight’s not doing much better than Sky; his right arm is dislocated and hangs awkwardly, and he’s moving at an odd shuffling pace, hampered by the tourniquet and bandages wrapped heavily around his leg. He’s upright, but only through sheer force of will.

Wild himself is better off than both of them, but only because Warriors and Time had kept him at range, needing his aim to keep them all from being overwhelmed when they were ambushed three hours prior. He’d gone through like three bows and had received a good crack to the ribs from one of Sky’s lizalfos whacking him with its armoured tail, but that’s pretty much it. He hadn’t even broken anything this time.

The Chain had gone through almost a week of portal to monster attack to portal again, and everyone had been exhausted. Then, of course, the latest portal had separated them all as it spat them out in Wild’s Hyrule – which, great. Thanks, Hylia. Now Wild’s gotta spend like three days warping around the continent asking everyone he knows if they’ve seen the Chain.

He’s done it once before and is not looking forward to a repeat of the experience.

But, more importantly – and see, this is what he means, because there is important stuff happening and he’s gone off track again – the Breach of Demise looms ahead of the three heroes, absolutely filled with monsters. If it had been filled with the normal bokoblins, maybe Wild wouldn’t be complaining, because they’re annoying but manageable.

But no. The black-blooded infection has clearly sunk its claws into the monsters of his Hyrule, because Wild can see three silver Lynels milling about the gorge, as well as a wall of lizalfos, most of which are carrying wicked-looking spears. The bokoblins, sitting prettily on a precariously-built ledge and armed with a lot of arrows, leer at the three heroes standing on Carok Bridge. Their expressions are surprisingly smug.

One of the Lynels paces just in front of the archers, its eyes fixated on the hylians. It hasn’t moved towards them yet, but it knows they’re there.

Normally, this would be where even Wild would go ‘hey guys, let’s not die today, let’s go back towards the castle’ except he can’t say that because there’s a massive thunderhead looming behind them which is spitting out lightning at an alarming rate.

Bonus, for those wondering, there must’ve been a Blood Moon at some point while Wild was away because, while the Calamity’s malice has greatly diminished in the few months since Zelda sealed it away, the ground around the castle was soaked in the magic. That means that sometimes there’s the odd Blood Moon and sometimes a few (or a lot of – depends on the month) Guardians get resurrected around the castle.

Which they very much have this time, since Wild can see the odd glow of blue and pink darting around the sky and ground, even through the sheets of torrential rain. So going back is out of the question. Lightning plus Guardians plus very injured brothers is not a recipe Wild wants to experiment with.

But on the other hand, three Lynels.

Well, okay it’s not really the three Lynels Wild’s worried about. He fights Lynels for fun, no matter how much it seems to give the Chain a heart attack.

What he’s worried about is the potential that they’re infected Lynels, which would suck and is also extremely likely given the looks the monsters have been sending them, but either way. The Breach of Demise is not looking like a fantastic option, even if it’s the only one they have.

Twilight, who’s gone an interesting shade of pale though Wild isn’t sure if it’s from the blood loss from his leg or the sight of three Lynels, is not fighting his way through the horde of monsters ahead of them. Sky, differently-sized pupils reflecting the lightning behind them, is definitely not getting through there under his own steam and on his own two feet.

So what’s the plan, you may ask? Because Twilight certainly does, eyeing up the gorge with no small amount of trepidation and saying, “Please tell me there’s a better way.”

There isn’t. Wild knows this. Wild also knows that Twilight also knows this, since the two of them had cleared the Breach of Demise out every month after a Blood Moon for like a year and a half before the Calamity was sealed and the portals started. But Wild still has to consider alternative routes, because Twilight will definitely not like his first plan unless it’s literally the only option.

Even though it most definitely is.

And they both know it.

“We’re not going back.” Wild says definitively. He’s not budging on that.

Twilight doesn’t even argue, only glances over his shoulder and makes a face at the flickering lights of a patrolling Skywatcher. He looks furious at the situation but, unable to change it, waves his hand in a little continue motion in Wild’s direction.

“That storm will catch up to us in maybe…” Wild pauses, carefully adjusting his grip on Sky’s waist so he too can turn to look at the storm to gauge how much time they have. “Uh, maybe thirty minutes? If that. Probably less. Definitely less, actually. And the Breach’s walls are wet, and even if they weren’t, neither you nor Sky can free-climb right now.”

“That mountain?” Twilight asks, voice treading the thin line between desperate and oh goddess I need a miracle right now. He nods his head to the south, towards Mount Gustaf. “I know there’s another way across the river.”

“Yeah, that bridge also has a monster camp on it. Might have less enemies, might have more. That camp also has a lot of defensive spikes.” Wild shakes his head, then has to spit a strand of wet hair out of his mouth. Eww. He needs a bath now, thanks. He’s still got monster blood everywhere.

Wait, focus. “Besides, again, the thunderstorm. And, even if we went that way, there’s a Guardian on one side and a Hinox in the forest that will wake up from the storm, if it’s not awake already. I do not want to deal with a Hinox in the rain, Twi. They throw trees and it will attract more lightning.”

Twilight’s thinking over-time, running over what he recalls of the geography. He’s already reached the same point as Wild has – that the only way to get to safety is through the aptly named death trap ahead of them – and clearly does not like it.

Which, while understandable, is a little annoying since they’re now actively wasting what precious time they do have.

“Twilight.” Wild says, keeping his tone even.

“Wild.” Twilight says right back, in the no-nonsense way he stole from Warriors and Four. “No.”

Wild doesn’t back down. He gestures at Sky, who doesn’t even seem to notice – a red flag in itself – and then around them. “Do you see literally any other option? Anything that won’t get us killed? Because I don’t.”

Twilight presses his lips into a firm line, his gaze flicking between Sky, the Breach and Wild. Resignation is etched into every feature on his face, along with a healthy painting of dread. Sky manages to tip his head back, hissing as the movement agitates what must be a migraine by now, and meets Twilight’s gaze in confusion.

“Twi,” Wild says, softer now. “We don’t have any other choices. I can do this.”

“I know you can.” Twilight says, somehow sounding more belligerent in response to Wild’s tone which is rude. “But Wild, I don’t…” he trails off and huffs out a breath, looking exhausted. “Wild, I won’t be able to carry you both to the stable.”

“I can walk to the stable afterwards!” Wild protests despite knowing full well there’s a fifty percent chance that he’ll still be mobile in five minutes and not unconscious. Twilight’s concern is a valid one, but that doesn’t mean he has to admit it.

Twilight doesn’t even dignify his words with a response; instead shifting Sky into his side. He’s still got that assessing look on his face. Sky frowns, eyes clearing ever so slightly, but his chin dips as though his head is too heavy for his neck. “’S goin’ on?”

The slur of his words is totally a great sign and doesn’t at all make Wild’s stomach clench itself into tight knots of worry at the unknown severity of Sky’s head injury. It does, however, thankfully seem to let something settle in Twilight’s mind and Wild watches as his mentor takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders, fixing Wild with a sharp, demanding look.

There’s a lot Twilight can say - and has said when this kind of thing has happened before - but all that he allows himself to put into words this time is, “Be careful.”

Wild nods, slipping Sky’s arm over his shoulders. He waits just long enough to make sure that Twilight isn’t going to go down as he takes Sky’s full weight, and then walks across the bridge and into the gorge.

The patrolling Lynel turns to face him fully as he steps off the bridge and roars loudly, far louder than the bokoblin horns. It reaches back for its bow – having clearly decided on a death sentence now that Wild has acknowledged it and stepped into its territory – and practically gallops for him.

This very sight had given him more than a few nightmares the first couple of times he’d encountered it. Wolfie had not been impressed at the (repeated) near-death experiences. Wolfie’s disapproval had been noted but had not stopped Wild from throwing himself at every Lynel he’d come across because how else was he supposed to learn how to kill these things, Twilight?

Wild breathes in through his nose, out through his mouth, and raises his own bow, letting loose five ancient arrows.

The Sheikah technology tears straight through the Lynel, eviscerating it in the blink of an eye with a single arrow, and the other four plunge into the line of lizalfos. None of the ones that get hit have the time to squawk before they’re gone, all but erased from existence.

The bokoblin horns ring louder, answered by the two Lynels further into the gorge, and the remaining lizalfos charge forward. Wild stows his bow into the Slate and hefts his sword and shield up.

He breathes in and out again, letting his mind fall blank. Everything inside him snaps to attention and his world narrows down until it consists of the Breach of Demise, approximately twenty monsters, and Wild standing as the last line of defence for his injured brothers. He’s done this before. It’s familiar and he welcomes the mindset openly. They’re not getting past him. He will die first before that happens.

The first lizalfos reaches him, lunging forward with its spear, and Wild moves.

He leaps to the side, the world creeping to a halt as he slips passed the spear’s edge, and flicks his gaze around the Breach, allowing himself to properly take stock of what he’s facing. The bokoblins have their bows raised, the arrows glowing a mix of yellow and blue. There aren’t many, maybe ten or twelve at most, and the perch they’re stationed on is haphazard and unstable, balanced between the two skull-shaped monster dens.

The lizalfos are staggered into two waves, all carrying spears or tri-forked boomerangs, and there are less of them than the bokoblins, but only just. And there, charging towards him down the Breach of Demise, are the remaining Lynels, armed with their bows, a lance and a sword.

Okay then. A plan stitches itself together in his mind.

Wild streaks forward, sliding easily through the honey-slow crawl of time, and swings his sword out in a wide arc. It slashes through the torsos of three lizalfos, black blood bubbling to the surface. Time starts to move around him, precious moments lost in the enemy headcount, and Wild lets himself get one more wide swing in, angling higher this time, before the world starts back up at its normal pace.

The three lizalfos, baring deep slashes through the chest and neck, crumple into purple smoke that’s quickly washed away by the rain. They’re replaced instantly, the rest of the lizalfos closing the distance. A spear is thrust towards his ribs, while two lizalfos crowd in on either side, blocking off his ability to dodge.

Wild doesn’t hesitate to let the blade slam into his shield and he shoves his arm out, sending the lizalfos stumbling back. His momentum moves him forward, missing the two spears that intended to impale him where he had been standing only seconds before, and he pulls at time again.

The moment he gets is always shorter when he parries, but Wild doesn’t need more than a second to kill one of the lizalfos. As its corpse starts to fall, descent slow and lazy, Wild flicks his gaze up to the bokoblins, noting their straining arms and the arrows ready to fly, and then to the Lynels. The one with the sword has pulled back, bow in its giant hand, while the other is metres away, lance raised up over its shoulder, ready to swing.

Time starts again.

Wild throws himself sideways, slipping around the startled lizalfos that have started to crowd him as the bokoblins let their arrows fly. By the time the salvo of electric and ice arrows hit their target, he’s far enough away that they completely miss him.

The arrows, however, don’t miss the lizalfos, and the gorge lights up with arcs of electricity and gleams of ice. It’s not enough to finish off the lizalfos – bokoblin weapons aren’t strong enough to do that – but the Lynel that canters through the monsters certainly is.

The beast swings its lance out, uncaring as its weapon carves straight through electrified and frozen allies alike. Its gaze is focused solely on Wild, and he meets it head on, unwavering even as the wicked edge nears him.

At the last moment, he flips backwards, letting the sharp edge of the lance glide underneath him, missing his tunic by mere inches. Time crawls to a halt around him. Normally, he’d run forward into a flurry rush but this time he scrambles for his bow and fires a round of arrows straight into the Lynel’s face.

It doesn’t appreciate the attack, staggering back with a garbled bellow of incandescent rage, and falls forward to take a knee. Now Wild does sprint for the monster, grabbing a fistful of its mane and swinging himself around it onto its back.

A round of electric arrows slam into the ground where he just was – shit, that third Lynel – and Wild’s mind records the threat even as he finds purchase to stand on the lancer Lynel’s back.

The third Lynel needs to go as soon as possible, but first he has to take this opportunity to thin the horde.

Wild pushes off the Lynel’s back, leaping into the air, and takes aim at the bokoblins, now perfectly situated in his sights with nowhere to run on their wooden platform.

There’s a split second where he sees the lead archer catch onto what’s just happened, its eyes widening, and Wild draws his own Lynel bow back. The bokoblins fall quickly under the salvo; all twelve of them are turned to wisps of purple smoke in an instant.

His pull on time frays before he can fire off an ancient arrow in the direction of the third Lynel – shit – and Wild lands in a roll. He has enough time to deflect one of the remaining three lizalfos’ as it stabs at him with a boomerang before the Lynel he stunned is back up again. It doesn’t look happy.

The lizalfos block him from dealing with the Lynels, which is really annoying because seriously you want to do this now, and he has to shove away the annoyance bubbling up inside him. Right now, emotions are a distraction. He needs to focus. He strains his ears, listening out for the twang of a bow.

He needs to be ready for it.

The lizalfos dart in and out of the range of his sword, taunting him, and Wild has to pull his body into an awkward side-twist to not dodge a boomerang right into the Lynel’s lance. He misses the blade by mere inches, but there’s not enough time for a flurry rush, the moment flickering and gone before his feet can hit the ground.

The Lynel swings its lance up and around as it canters in a wide circle, and Wild has to stop tracking it so he can slip through one of the lizalfos’ guard. His sword shatters, the blade snapping as he buries it into the monster’s throat, but he snatches up its falling boomerang without a pause, slicing up the second last lizalfos’ arm as it reaches for him.

Where is it? Where is it?

The Lynel’s lance swings by again but its aim is awkward, thrown off by the narrow space in the gorge, and, instead of hitting Wild, it impales a lizalfos. There’s an enraged shriek from the last lizal, and Wild moves forward to bring the sharp tips of the boomerang down when—

Barely audible above the roars and shrieks of the monsters around him, there’s a twang. Instinct takes over. Wild practically throws himself out of the way, hitting the ground in a roll, as the latest volley of electric arrows tear straight through the last lizalfos. It shrieks again, a death keel bubbling in its throat, and crumples. The Lynels both snarl, furious, and Wild gets to his feet as quickly as he can.

The Lynels turn their attention to him in some kind of terrifying hive-mind movement. The archer at the back then moves its gaze past him towards the bridge, already nocking more arrows and yeah, that is not happening. The lancer is cantering around for another swing, the third Lynel raising its bow to take careful aim towards Twilight and Sky, and Wild—

Wild breathes; in through his nose, out through his mouth. He throws himself to the side as the Lynel’s lance carves through the air where he stood, and comes up on one knee. The arrows in his hands burn blue, light casting odd shadows across the pockmark-esque gorge walls. He lets one, two arrows fly and the Lynels are there and gone.

The Breach of Demise falls silent.

Wild doesn’t rise immediately. His last ancient arrow sits nocked against his bow and he strains his ears for any sounds of monsters hiding in the rain. There’s no chatter bouncing around the rock walls, no more signs of life.

The gorge is clear.

Wild twists around, squinting through the rain. It takes a moment but he manages to see the shapes of Twilight and Sky by the bridge – oh hey, that’s definitely Time and Hyrule and Warriors with them.

That means they’re safe. The Breach of Demise is clear and his brothers are safe.

Exhaustion slams into Wild like a rampaging Talus.

His focus shatters, shoulders dropping as the tension from the fight drains out of him in one singular motion. He stows his bow away, tucking his last ancient arrow into the Slate with a mental reminder to get more before they leave; a reminder that he knows one hundred percent will not stay in his mind longer than thirty seconds.

Ugh, the consequences of his actions. He’ll have to tell Twilight to remind him.

A hand grabs his arm and pulls him to his feet, nearly startling him right out of his skin, and Wild’s head snaps up. Standing in front of him is Twilight, looking a lot less pale than he had been three minutes ago, and Time, only a step behind.

There’s an odd look on their unofficial leader’s face. Assessing maybe, Wild thinks, but he can’t muster up the energy to identify it. Everything in his mind feels loose, like he’s jumping all over the place as the connection between things is established and it’s really annoying–

Twilight snaps his fingers in front of Wild’s face and Wild blinks at him, furrowing his eyebrows. “Wha–?”

“Are you hurt?” Twilight asks in his I’ve already asked you thrice and I mean that literally tone of voice. Wild’s intimately familiar with that tone; he hears it a lot. Twilight’s grip on his arm tightens slightly and oh right, he was asked something.

Wow this is hitting him hard today. This is going to be fun to deal with.

“Wild.” It’s Time who speaks now, concern heavy on every syllable, but Wild shakes his head, forcing his mind to process Twilight’s question.

“No, no, I’m okay. I didn’t get hit.” He rubs the heel of his palm against his eyes as though the lethargy that’s heavy on his shoulders can just be pushed aside. “I just…”

Twilight lets out a hum of acknowledgement, face lighting up with understanding. “Everything’s scattered?”

“Cobwebs.” Wild says in agreement. “Feels like my head’s full of them.”

“Ah, what?” Four says from Twilight’s other side, forehead creased in a mix of confusion and concern, and hi, Four, when did you get here?

Hyrule manifests out of nowhere, scanning Wild with quick head movements and sharp eyes. “You’re not hurt? He’s not hurt?” His fingers twitch, sending little sparks of magic flitting about the air. They flicker weakly amongst the rain, like little embers of a fire dancing amid the smoke.

“He doesn’t seem hurt.” Wind pipes up from the general area of Time’s hip.

“Not hurt. Just… tired.” Wild says helpfully. He pauses, and then blurts out, “Wait, how’s Sky? He’s hurt.”

“Sky is fine,” Sky says and only slurs his words slightly. He’s mobile at least, leaning heavily on Warriors and Legend, and his brow is still pinched, pain lining his face. Clearly his headache hasn’t completely gone away, even if his head wound has been healed. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Wild blinks again. “Yeah?” Why is everyone asking him that – is he bleeding? Had he been hit and not even noticed? Wouldn’t be the first time. He takes stock, peering down at his tunic. He can’t see any blood and nothing hurts.

“He’s fine.” Twilight says. “He’s just exhausted. It’s normal. We should get to the stable before that storm reaches us.”

There’s more chatter at Twilight’s words, but Wild honestly can’t follow any of it. Fatigue settles across his shoulders like heavy armour, creeping into his limbs. He’s going to crash hard.

He doesn’t really remember the walk to New Serenne Stable, only realising the time lost when the stable glows in front of them, warm and inviting despite the storm around it.

“Thank the Three.” Wind groans out, practically dragging himself across the threshold. Even he can’t muster up his usual amounts of energy. They’re all tired and wet and sore after a week of monster fighting and portal hopping, and it shows.

The stable’s unusually empty, void of the usual travellers that come and go. Then again, if that many monsters had managed to settle in the Breach of Demise, it’s more than likely that they’ve set up along the other routes. That’s something Wild decides he’s going to worry about when he wakes up, to be frank.

Sprinn, bless him, doesn’t even bat an eye at the group of bedraggled heroes that tumble inside, soaked to the bone and covered in mud and monster blood. Wild has stopped at every stable looking like the living dead more than enough times since he woke up and the stable-masters have just seemingly gotten used to it now. Small mercies.

“Welcome to New Serenne Stable,” he says, then, as Wild staggers up to the counter, adds in a warm tone; “Always good to see you, Link. Unfortunately, you missed Beedle by about a day. He’s headed to Snowfield Stable, if you want to try catching up. No one’s travelling to the south much at the moment.”

“Thanks, Sprinn,” Wild says, “but if the next thing you’re going to say is that there’s a group of monsters in the Breach of Demise and can we please get rid of them to clear up the roads, I just did.”

Sprinn flicks his eyes up and down the Chain, seemingly fully appreciating their general existence of dirt-and-blood-stained-tired, and huffs a small laugh. “Thanks, Link. From what I heard, it was quite the den. I’m surprised you’re all still standing.”

“Not for much longer if we can avoid it,” Twilight interrupts cheerfully. He plucks Wild’s Slate from his hands and counts out a bunch of red rupees. “Soft beds, please.”

“And access to the bathing facilities.” Warriors pipes up.

Now that they’re out of the storm and surrounded by light, Wild can see that, much like Sky, the side of Warriors’ hair is matted and stained red. He’s also got a rather impressive black eye. Wild aside, Legend seems to be the next least injured, sporting a rain-soaked bandage around his upper left arm, while Time seems to have literal sticks and leaves in between his plate armour. Wind and Four look a lot more soaked than the rest of them, and their tunics are torn in places, like they’d fallen face-first into a bramble.

Wild allows himself a brief moment to wonder what they’d run into before finding Twilight and Sky at Carok Bridge. Then, in a moment of rare clarity given his current state, his tired mind remembers the Giant’s Forest Hinox. Yeah, that would do it. One less thing to have to kill this month, at least. He allows himself a moment of sympathy. He hates Hinoxes.

Someone pokes him and Wild blinks up at Sky, who stares back with an amused expression. “You’re really out of it, aren’t you?”

“Tired.” Wild reiterates for the hundredth time. Sky understands that, right? Sky loves sleep. “Are the beds free?”

Sky shakes his head. “Bath first. We’re all disgusting.”

He takes Wild’s arm, tugging him towards the small bathhouse. Well, bathhouse is a kind word for what’s essentially a tiny tented annexe with a small water pump and tub, but it’s the only word they’ve really got.

Wild fills the tub quickly. The water isn’t exactly warm, but it’s not freezing, so he’s not complaining. He’s had to bathe in much colder before. He turns to face Sky, who’s holding up his sailcloth and looking mournfully at the stain of blood that mars where it sat around his neck.

“Aww, that’s going to be hard to get clean.” The sky knight says with a sigh, and folds it into a small, neat square, setting it to one side.

“Get Wars to look at it.” Wild yawns into his hand, feeling his ears pop with the motion. He strips quickly as well, practically having to peel his sodden, mud-flecked trousers off. Much like Sky, his own cloak is covered in blood and dirt too – they’re all going to have to do laundry, and soon. No one likes mud-caked pants or wet socks.

Laundry’s always a fun pass-time with the Chain. Watching Twilight do his best to clean his pelt after he’d been dragged across a wet field by his ankle had been the height of dinner entertainment. Wind’s always got some kind of hole in his clothes and has apparently decided the solution to this is patching his tunic with the gaudiest pieces of fabric he can find, just to make Warriors twitch.

Good times.

Sky just hums, casting one last sad look at the sailcloth, before he grabs a few cloths. “You go first. I have a lot of blood to wash out.”

In any other situation, Wild would protest. Sky is the one who’s still injured, after all, and all Wild has to show for the past twenty four hours’ shenanigans is a rather impressive bruise on his chest the size of a bokoblin's fist. But Sky has a look in his eyes that means he’s not changing his mind and, well if Wild’s being honest, he’s too tired to put up much of a true argument.

He bathes quickly, rinsing the soap from his hair twice before Sky confirms it’s clean, and dresses in warm, dry clothes, and then Sky’s shoving him back into the stable itself. Warriors is herded passed him into the bathhouse by the odd duo of Wind and Legend and their accompanying worried jabs and comments, much to the captain’s general displeasure.

Time’s shucked most of his plate by now, and he and Four have accumulated what seems to be a whole tree’s worth of sticks and leaves into a pile. They’re still bent over the armour, picking out the stubborn twigs and tracing over dents with nimble fingers. Hyrule sits beside them, looking just as tired as Wild feels, and finishes tying a fresh bandage around Twilight’s leg.

“–in the morning.” Twilight is saying, pressing a rice ball from Wild’s Slate into Hyrule’s hands. It’s an obvious ploy to get the traveller to stop draining himself of magic and the amusingly indignant look on Hyrule’s face says that he’s aware of the tactic, but he bites into the rice ball all the same.

Twilight takes the escape route, crossing the stable in a few quick steps to grab Wild’s elbow before squinting at him. “Hmm okay. You? Bed, now.”

“Yes, Dad.” Wild says, putting as much sass into the words as he can – which is not much considering he’s been seriously contemplating falling asleep wherever he stands for the last half an hour.

Surprising exactly no one, Twilight completely ignores him and drags him to one of the beds, all but pushing Wild under the covers. Wild goes without any more complaints and sighs into the cool pillow. Maybe it’s because he’s exhausted, but he feels his throat tighten, just a bit. He didn’t even do that much and here he is, falling face-first into oblivion because he had to pay attention for at most five minutes.

“I hate this.” He says, pressing his cheek into the soft fabric.

“I know.” Twilight says, trying and failing to pretend that he’s not fussing with the blankets, tucking them tighter around Wild’s form.

“Didn’t even do that much. Lynel did most of the work. Can’t believe my mind still wants to knock me out after that.” Wild huffs, letting the little bubble of frustration that’s roiling around inside him rise up and pop once it’s been spoken aloud. The annoyance drains away, gone as quickly as it had arrived, and he nestles himself into the sheets.

Twilight steps into his line of sight and gives him that patented look, the one he’d perfected as a wolf nearly two years ago and which had only gotten more intimidating once he’d been able to turn back into a hylian. It’s his I know you’re thinking something stupid look, as Zelda so kindly dubbed it. She thinks of it fondly because she’s never been on the receiving end and has greatly enjoyed watching Twilight work himself up into a lecture.

This is not because Zelda isn’t a little shit-stirrer, no. It’s solely because Zelda is very good at getting away with things, and Wild doesn’t mind taking the fall when the consequences are, for lack of a better word, inconsequential. Like when it’s just Twilight’s glare for seeing how many ladles it takes to kill a Talus – it was for science, okay?! The answer, by the way, is a lot of ladles and one very, very upset wolf.

Besides, Twilight’s glare isn’t even that effective now. Wild’s had more than enough exposure to it for it to lose the edge it once held. That doesn’t stop him from bristling, feeling the need to defend himself in the wake of its appearance.

“I’m going to sleep!” he protests, because he knows exactly what Twilight’s about to say.

Twilight makes an uh huh noise, as though they’re both not aware that Wild’s brain can and will knock him into sleep’s sweet embrace at any second regardless of whether Wild is ready for it or not. He has passed out mid-word before and Twilight couldn’t even gloat about it to anyone because he was a wolf at the time, but Wild knows he remembers and will bring it up if need be.

Wild stubbornly glares right back at Twilight. He needs the sleep, he knows it, but Twilight doesn’t need to be so smug about it.

A new weight drops onto the bed behind Wild and his delayed reaction – of barely a second longer than normal, mind you – gets him a stink eye from Hyrule, who’s still watching everyone like a hawk, eager to catch anyone hiding an injury.

“Just me.” Sky says to Wild’s back, and there’s a gust of cold air along Wild’s spine as Sky tugs at the blankets and slides in.

Wild gives Twilight a knowing look. “I see you. You’re not slick.”

“Go to sleep, Wild.” Twilight says smugly, because he’s an ass. Sky, one arm tossed across Wild’s waist, makes an agreeable noise. Wild, a literal captive to Sky and figurative captive to his own tired mind, maturely pokes his tongue out at his mentor and presses his head into the pillow.

Sleep, for once, is almost instantaneous and entirely dreamless.

They’re sitting around the cooking pot fire when Wild finally staggers out of the stable, all rumpled and sleep-mussed. Twilight has the perfect vantage point to see him catch sight of the setting sun and do a double-take, brows drawing together in confusion.

Even from a distance, Twilight knows he's counting the potential hours he’s slept through, trying to guess what time has been lost to unconsciousness. The instinctive response from the Shrine is never fully going to leave him.

“He lives!” Wind crows. “Who won the bet?”

“Sprinn, surprisingly.” Time says, projecting his voice and tipping his head to the stable-master, who doesn’t even hide his smile when Wild shoots him a betrayed look.

“You all suck.” Wild declares, dropping down next to Twilight and scrubbing his eyes with his hands. His next words are mostly said around the tail-end of a yawn. “How long was I out for?”

“’bout fourteen hours.” Legend says. “Trying to beat Sky at sleeping now, are you?”

“Hey!” Sky protests, more because he’s expected to than because he’s actually insulted in any way.

Wild makes a noise, mouthing ‘fourteen hours’ to himself with some kind of insulted-yet-amused air. He yawns and stretches, twisting his torso right and left until something very quietly pops.

“Longer than I expected, since I didn’t actually do anything –” his voice is pointed and sharp but aimed internally, not that the rest of the Chain pick up on that, “–but at least it wasn’t anywhere near the record.”

“Record?” Four asks in a sly voice, leaning his chin on his hands.

Twilight muffles a snort. Aaaaaaand here’s the main event.

After the basic explanation of no Wild’s not dead or in a coma he’s literally just sleeping and he’ll be up and his usual annoying ass-self soon yes he’s literally fine no I will not tell you any more, Wind, wait to annoy him about it when he gets up had been acknowledged and promptly ignored, the question had eventually been brought up among them.

If Twilight wasn’t worried at the eight hour mark, given that Wild never slept longer than the rare maximum of six, then how long had Wild actually slept before?

Naturally, the one hundred year nap does not count in this situation, even though Twilight knows Wild is going to claim it.

“So fourteen hours isn’t that long, huh?” Hyrule asks, a matching sly glint to Four’s tone twinkling in his eyes, though he quickly smothers it.

Innocently, because only the traveller can really pull it off without looking like he was immediately up to something, Hyrule tips his head, letting his fluffy, misleading flop of hair make his big doe eyes look even larger. “How long is too long, Wild? Just in case this happens again, so we know when to be worried.”

No one moves as Hyrule dials his beseeching gaze up to about a thirty on a scale of one to ten. Twilight keeps his face as straight as possible. He’s not allowed to join in on these shenanigans because his prior experience had been declared very promptly by Warriors as a ‘conflict of interest’ and he’d been booted out of the conversation.

Despite being awake in the sense that his eyes are open and he’s consciously moving and had been doing so for an amazing grand total of seven minutes, Wild catches onto Hyrule’s scheme very quickly.

He stares at them all, gaze flat. “How much have you guys got riding on winning this?”

“Legend put down ninety rupees on thirty hours.” Sky says brightly, in the pettiest, stupidest, most trivial form of revenge.

Predictably, it devolves from there. Which, in hindsight, is probably why Sky said it. He likes to pretend he’s all soft and demure, but they all know Sky’s a little shit at heart like the rest of them. Besides, while they all share the Hero’s Spirit, camaraderie is for chumps when rupees are on the line.

Legend’s bet isn’t even the longest amount of time, but not by much. Time, citing only that he had experience with long naps and then immediately refusing to expand – as he always does -, had said two and a half days. Sky, surprisingly, had bet the least amount of time at one day. There’s not quite a thousand rupees at stake and they’re all stupidly competitive.

Wild just rolls his eyes once everything’s laid out in front of him, expression heartbreakingly fond.

It’s his thanks for treating this as normal look, the same one he wears after every memory makes itself known, or he talks about an experience that is a hundred percent unique to his Hyrule.

Twilight knows Wild’s not under any illusions that he’s getting away with not having to explain how he fought off three silver Lynels and a pack of monsters without even a scratch to speak of, but the appreciation for the stupid bet is still there, felt genuinely and treasured all the same.

“You kept them in suspense for over half a day?” Wild directs his question to Twilight, now amused at the whole thing.

“Conflict of interest.” Warriors repeats his declaration from earlier, as Twilight raises his hands in a keep me out of this gesture. “It’s a serious question, so we can’t have any cheating.”

“Also,” Wind adds, voice blunt in the way those aged fourteen and only fourteen get to master, “we thought you would’ve been up like… at least five hours ago. If I’d known you were going to be lazy, I definitely would’ve been okay with Twi just telling us.”

Wild laughs. “Yeah, sorry for being so tired I literally passed out on you. I’ll keep that in mind next time. None of you were close by the way.”

Time, already seeing where this is going, immediately butts in to burst Wild’s bubble. “One hundred years does not count, Wild.”

He’s got that paternal voice on, the one they all know is half instinctual and half a mimic of the way Malon tells off the misbehaving cows and horses on the ranch back in his era.

“You guys are no fun.” Wild shakes his head. “Fine. I slept for like… a week after the Calamity. I think.”

“It was four days.” Twilight clarifies dryly, because Wild definitely doesn’t remember most of it, before or after finally waking up, because he was injured, and Flora, who had been getting used to actually corporeally existing again, had not been a good judge of the passage of time and guessed when Wild had asked her. “And besides you woke up about halfway.”

There’s a general uproar of noise around them as the winner of the bet is revealed – Time looking smug in a way he rarely allows himself to be – but Wild just tilts his head at Twilight in confusion. “I did? I don’t remember that.”

“You were awake for about three minutes. Enough time for Dorian to tell you that you were an idiot and get some broth into you so you didn’t starve.”

On rote, Twilight passes over the pouch of rupees into Time’s waiting hand, idly noting that he’s definitely going to find some way to non-verbally brag about the win for the next week.

“Oh. I honestly thought that was a dream.”

Warriors interrupts, frowning just a little bit. “Hold up. You slept for four days?”

“I was tired!” Wild defends, but the general humour has dissipated. He sighs, raking a hand through his hair, and looks at the ground for a long moment. “When I was put in the Shrine of Resurrection, my body was pretty beaten up.”

“Biggest understatement there.” Wind coughs, which at least makes Wild smile a bit.

“Zelda’s the one who really figured this out, because she’d had an interest in how the body heals trauma before everything, which meant that she practically inhaled every medical book she could get her hands on.” Wild laughs a bit, eyes fond. “Turns out your brain can heal itself in really stupid ways. And I’m not talking about the amnesia, before anyone says it. I kinda lost my ability to concentrate.”

He frowns, rethinking the words. “Wait, maybe ‘lost’ isn’t the best way to describe it. It’s kind of an all or nothing deal now. I can concentrate and focus but it’s… it can be really tiring. Small things, they’re fine. Like hunting or waiting to hit a target; that doesn’t affect me much. But in a fight, there’s a lot to keep track of, so if I make myself pay attention to everything, this happens.”

“You sleep for fourteen hours?” Hyrule’s leaning forward, arms tucked close to his chest as his gaze flits between Wild’s eyes and the scars marring his cheek. “Staying focused is that tiring?”

“The back-to-back portals didn’t help.” Twilight adds, because none of them should forget they’ve been fighting for a whole week with very little time to breathe.

Legend makes a pssh noise and waves a hand. “That’s fine and all; actually explains a lot, now that I think about it, but I want to know how you fought three Lynels without getting hurt.”

And that’s the crux of the Chain’s unspoken confusion. Wild is one of the more reckless members of their group and, while he’s not always the most injury-prone, he’s definitely one of the top competitors for the title. And yet, the Wild they’d glimpsed last night had been a very different person to the one they were used to.

There had been no missteps, no lost time. Wild had been fast, focused and terrifyingly efficient in the face of insurmountable odds. Twilight’s seen that level of control, knew what the outcome – both for the monsters and for Wild – would be, but to the other seven Links, it hadn’t looked like the Wild they knew.

“I keep telling you,” Wild says in that shit-eating tone of voice of his, “Lynels aren’t that hard to fight, Ledge. There’s a rhythm to it!”

“His point is a good one.” Sky says, neatly nipping the brewing argument in the bud before it can get going.

Warriors nods, looking faintly assessing as he eyes Wild up and down. “Sky and Legend are right – don’t make me say it again, Legend, I will throw you into the next river we find. Wild, I’ve never seen you fight like that. Was it muscle memory?”

Wild stares at them blankly for a long moment, and then he gets the distinct look of someone who can’t decide if they want to laugh or become one with the earth. In a very controlled tone, he says, “Guys, what do you think ‘champion’ actually means?”

Twilight elbows him hard just below the ribs, because now is not the time to be an ass, and Wild, one hand shoving against Twilight’s shoulder – and achieving absolutely nothing in doing so – hurries on.

“To seal the Calamity, the Kingdom of Hyrule needed two things: a princess with goddess-blood who could wield the divine power required to lock it away, and a hero to wield the Sword That Seals the Darkness to weaken the Calamity enough for said princess’ power to be effective.”

There’s no light of comprehension in the Chain’s eyes, so Wild continues; “I’ve been training with a sword since I was a toddler. I’m still not as good as Sky, though I don’t think anyone is, but I’m the Champion of Hyrule for a reason, you know.”

He looks away, somewhat resigned. “It’s just… fighting like that is hard now. I can do it, but… well, I usually end up exhausted. I worked out that I can fight without, you know, following everything, even if it’s a bit more dangerous; so it was just preferable than having to sleep for like eight hours every time I had to clear an enemy camp.”

It’s Sky who seems to understand the best. Sky, whose stamina is utterly appalling, who’s swordplay is all lightning speed and pinpoint precision, deadly because he can’t afford for it to be anything else. Sky, who knows exactly how long he can last in a fight if it’s dragged out past his limits and has honed his entire body to take down whatever’s in front of him in thirty seconds or less because he can’t risk anything else.

Sky, who tips his head and asks, “How long can you go before it’s too much?”

Twilight, for anyone who’s interested, loves Sky.

Wild thinks about the question for a moment, clearly weighing past experiences up against the outlier that is the thirty-minute-long battle against the Calamity on top of storming Hyrule Castle. “I dunno, maybe like ten minutes? Probably sleep for a day though.”

“Still better than the first time you did this.” Twilight says lightly. He leans back on his hands and grins at the rest of the Chain. “So picture this. You’re Wild, set loose on the Kingdom of Hyrule with a vague instruction of where to go but no map—”

“Farosh’s lightning, Twi, don’t you fucking dare!” Wild hisses, scrambling over to try and shut him up with absolutely no success.

Twilight pushes his protégé away easily, letting him bump into Four’s side where the smithy immediately starts wrestling to hold him back, and raises his voice. “So naturally you go wander around. You explore. And then you find a group of bokoblins riding horses and of course, you’re infuriated by this. Which is understandable, because Wild, your bokoblins should not be allowed to ride horses. Those poor things deserve better.”

“The audacity.” Time nods with what is mostly mock-solemnity, and doesn’t even pretend to notice at the icy glare Wild shoots him.

“You manage to snipe a few of the group, but there’s still at least six bokoblins, all on horseback, all with more arrows than any bokoblin ever needs to own, and they’re all shooting at you.”

Gamely, because they’re all assholes, Four, who’s roped Legend into holding Wild back from throwing himself at Twilight, asks, “So what did he do?”

“Wild, in his absolute brilliance and with only about a month of memories of what he should and should not be doing, sprints at one of the bokoblins, grabs the horse’s mane so he can direct it to canter around him, and then punches said bokoblin right in the throat.”

Twilight shakes his head, because looking back it’s hysterical but he had had no idea how to respond at the time. “He then, bearing in mind neither of us knew if he could even ride a horse, got onto the horse, pulled out the one good spear he had on him, and spent about six minutes rediscovering the joy of jousting. While still being shot at. Then, barely thirty seconds after finally killing all the bokoblins, Wild gets off the horse, walks over to a nearby tree and passes out on the spot.”

“I was fine!” Wild says, exasperated. “I didn’t even get hit!”

“I didn’t know that! Besides, you broke that soldier’s spear and all four of your shields!” Twilight shoots right back, and then Wild looks him dead in the eye.

“Twilight,” he says, voice flat, and whatever is about to come out of Wild’s mouth, Twilight just knows he is not going to like it.

Wild tilts his chin up, resolute in the dumb decision he’s about to share with the class. “Twilight, do you even know how many arrows I got those bokoblins to shoot at me? I collected like fifty arrows that day. I didn’t have to buy arrows for weeks after that.”

Four, one arm still hooked around Wild’s waist, freezes. “Are you telling me,” the smithy starts, utterly horrified, “that you let a bunch of bokoblins shoot arrows at you enough to break not one, not two, but four shields just to collect arrows?!”

On Wild’s other side, Legend makes a rapid retreat, proving once again that his ability to sense impending danger and to immediately get himself as far away as possible is arguably the best out of all of them.

“In my defence,” Wild hurriedly says right back, “they were boko shields, which is really just a strip of wood with some string!”

“Wild!”

“Don’t ‘Wild’ me, it works!”

“How many times have you done that?” Wind asks with wide, fake-innocent eyes, proving that his ability to seek out a chance to throw more chaos into the conversation and take it without a sliver of remorse is terrifyingly accurate.

Wild presses his lips together and the longer his silence drags on, the more frenzied Four gets.

Twilight just sighs because look, he couldn’t go everywhere with Wild back then. He didn’t know about that one. He is one hundred percent not claiming any responsibility for this and does not want to be in the general vicinity when Four finally decides to just murder Wild himself for crimes against weaponry, thousands of years of iron impurity between them aside.

It takes them a while to settle after that, the conversation winding down and people slowly breaking off into twos and threes. Twilight stays where he is, tipping his head back to watch the sunset, golden light spilling around the ruins of Hyrule Castle. Wild perches next to him, eyes soft and body loose as he looks out over the lands that had shaped him. Contentment settles in every muscle, draining the tension of the past week away.

“Thank you.” Wild says finally.

Twilight doesn’t have to ask what he’s being thanked for. They’ve been in this situation before, too many times to count in fact, but Wild still sees acceptance as something he has to fight and earn. Champion may be the epithet he wears with pride, but there are still days where it sits around his throat like a noose, pulled tight by the one way he’s not the same as he was a century ago.

It doesn’t matter how much he retrained himself, rediscovered all the ways he had been taught to be a living weapon; there is no way to regain what had been lost. Wild is still Link, even if he’s only able to really show that in short bursts.

There’s a lot of things Twilight could say in an attempt to wipe away that doubt that will never fully leave Wild’s mind, no matter how much he’s accepted the loss. But he knows that this is not something he can fix.

“Feel like I should be saying that to you.” Twilight says instead. “Thank you, for doing what you did, even if it still scares the absolute shit out of me. How many swords did you go through?”

“Just the one, surprisingly.” Wild snorts, flicking through the screens on his Slate. “I got the Lynels to do most of the work.”

“Work smarter, not harder,” Twilight chuckles. “Time agreed, before you ask, that we’ll head towards the castle tomorrow, if no portals have shown up. Apparently Four’s got a new idea to test against a Guardian Stalker and naturally Legend’s already bet that it won’t work and you’ll have to nail it with an ancient arrow.”

Instead of laughing, because Four and Legend are the absolute worst when it comes to bets – neither of them are willing to back down to prove the other wrong if they can help it – Wild freezes. His eyes stay focused on the Slate in his hands, eyebrows pulling together in a look of intense concentration.

“Oh, shit.” He announces after a long moment and Twilight blinks at him.

“What?”

“Uh, this was definitely unintentional but thanks for reminding me to get more ancient arrows.” Wild looks vaguely sheepish. “I’ve literally only got one left.”

Of course he does. Twilight just rolls his eyes. They’ll have to get up in a minute to go and tell Time Wild’s got to teleport to the other end of the continent to go hand off whatever ancient shafts are rattling around in his Slate, but for now, Twilight’s content enough to stay where he is, watching Wild try and remember if there is anything else he’s definitely going to need but had forgotten to write a reminder about.

Because it’s not like Purah hadn’t put in a journal function on the Slate for this exact reason, Wild.