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Chapter Text

They would have completely missed the kid if not for one of Legend’s items.

It had been a bit more difficult fight than usual, and the Chain had used enough potions that they’d need to visit a town soon, but at the end of the fight, they were standing and the monsters were not.

Sensing a hint of magic from behind it, he’d called over to Twilight and Time for help shifting the boulder at the back of the largest cave in the series of roughly dug tunnels, since they’d already been collecting any useful items from the tunnels and the monsters. Faint and muffled by the stone separating it from the group, it felt almost fae in nature.

“They better not have been keeping fairies in there,” Legend grumbled, and Time hummed agreement, shifting the boulder the last few feet and revealing the small hole in the wall it had been covering.

For a second, nothing happened.

Then, as Four moved closer with a lantern, there was a small glimmer from inside.

Light glinting off of a set of brown-gold eyes, maybe a foot above the floor.

There was a moment when Legend expected to see some sort of animal emerge, but as Four swung the lantern closer, what the light revealed was nothing Legend could have ever guessed.

There was a child kneeling in the cramped, dusty space- splattered in mud, dust settled in their tangled hair and eyelashes as they closed their eyes, flinching back against the comparatively bright light of the lantern and raising their hands to cover their grimy face.

“Holy Ordona,” Twilight whispered. There was the low thud of the pry-bar he’d been using hitting the ground, and the kid flinched backwards with a stifled whimper. 

Legend knelt by the entrance to the- the fucking hole the monsters had been keeping this kid in, goddesses - and lifted a hand towards them, feeling a little uncomfortable about it, as he was practically beckoning them like an animal. “Hey, kid? We’re not gonna hurt you, do you want to come out of there?”

The kid shook their head almost violently, pulling their legs to their chest and bending their head to meet their knees, arms going up to cover their head and neck.

“That’s okay,” Legend soothed, looking upwards at Time with a distinct ‘ help me out here’ expression, “that’s okay.”

“Can I put the lantern in there with you?” Four asked quietly, also kneeling by the hole, staying on Legend’s side of it so as not to crowd the entrance.

The kid was silent and still for a long moment, but then their head shifted slightly, peeking out from between their arms and their knees to watch the group, eyes narrowed from the light. Eventually, they gave Four a small nod.

“I’m going to put it in there, okay?” Four said, shifting forwards and crouching under the entrance to the tiny space- Hylia, Four had to bend to get in there- to place the lantern in the center of the muddy floor.

Blinking for a minute to get adjusted to what must have been a sudden and startling brightness, the kid slowly uncurled, joints popping quietly as they stretched their neck, crawling towards the light and lifting an almost reverent hand towards it. They left a smear of mud on the handle, and their eyes widened, hurrying to try and wipe it away, but their muddy fingers only smeared it further. 

“It’s okay,” Time told them, having crouched down near the hole as well. Behind him, Legend could hear Warriors quietly organizing the rest of them, moving everyone else away so as to not crowd the kid. Goddesses, Legend still couldn’t get over the fact that the monsters had locked a kid in there.

The kid had almost abandoned the light, staring at Time with wide eyes. They lifted a hand towards him, then hesitated, pulling it back.

“The monsters are gone,” Four told them, “they’re not going to hurt you anymore.”

He only got a blink in response, the kid’s expression barely shifting. 

You’re safe, Legend wanted to say, but he knew better. He couldn’t promise that- none of them could. 

Legend lifted his hand again, and the kid flinched. He kept going, keeping his movements careful and slow, palm lifted and fingers open. An offer, a gesture of goodwill.

After a second, the kid audibly swallowed, shifting back to hands and knees so they could crawl closer without their head scraping the low ceiling of the hole. They sat back on their knees, eyes searching Legend’s face before blinking slowly and reaching out in turn.

Legend was honestly surprised by his luck- he hadn’t expected that to work - but the feeling was startled out of him by the sudden rush of overwhelming magic: t he taste of the wind as it brushed through the grass, the feeling of warm sunlight, the smell of fairy-fountain water. It was Legend’s turn to flinch backwards, barely scabbed wounds healing without a trace as the kid shrunk backwards, scooting away without taking his eyes off of them until he was pressed against the back wall of the hole again.

Oh, fuck. Had the kid thought he’d been asking them for healing?

…Or, even worse, ordering them to perform it?

He could hear Time’s faint sigh, Four’s startled inhale. The kid just blinked back at them from the hole, then carefully scooted closer. They pushed the lantern carefully with two fingers, keeping it as clean as possible, until it was within reach of the opening, extending their arm so that the heroes couldn’t easily reach them.

Goddesses. They expected to be locked back in.

Four didn’t cry often, as a general rule. The tears that seemed to have been startled to his eyes didn’t seem to care. 

Time just looked grim. “Legend,” he said quietly, “could you go get some water from Wild’s slate? I think our new friend might appreciate a drink.”

Legend stood slowly, hoping not to startle the kid, and headed off towards the rest of the group with one last look behind him.

One more small flare of light from the lantern. Eyes, illuminated in the dark, golden-brown and so achingly small.

Legend turned back around, and hurried.

Chapter Text

These people had good-water.

It could smell the water even from where it was crouched in its hole. The one with the shiny armor had told the one in red to go get water, and he’d come back holding a sack of good-water. 

It hadn’t had good-water in a very long time.

Monsters didn’t need it. Monsters could drink from any water and be fine, lake or river, mud or burning acid. They drank the bad-water, and so that was what they gave it. 

Monsters didn’t bother storing special good-water for a tool, even if the bad-water burned all the way down to its stomach and then sloshed around uncomfortably.

The person in red was kneeling down by the hole in the wall again. He’d helped the shiny-armor one roll the big stone away, and all three of them seemed very interested in the tool. It wasn’t sure why- didn’t they know what it was for? The red one had let the tool heal him until he was all good again, but the other two were staying back. 

The tool knew better than to leave the hole without anyone saying it could, though, so it just sat back and waited, keeping its weight over its good leg so the bad one wouldn’t hurt as much. It was a little nervous- the people were doing a lot of sitting around, and they kept looking at the tool like it was supposed to do something, without telling it what.

“Here,” the one in red said, holding the sack that smelled like water out to it, “do you want some?” 

The tool did . But they hadn’t told it that it could come into the cave yet, so it just stared back at the one in red, tilting its head slightly.

“Okay,” he muttered, “kid’s creepy as hell, we can work with that.”

The one in shiny armor said ”Legend,” in a tone that meant ‘listen, now.’   Legend was probably the red one’s name. The tool thought it was a good name- Legend , like from the stories.

The tool blinked over at shiny-armor. He felt… different. All three of the people crouching outside of the hole felt weird and magic, but this one felt almost like home. Like green leaves, and cold good-water, and being outside the cave all the time. Like a name it couldn’t quite remember.

“Would you like some water?” he asked, still smelling like safe and warm.  

It did like good-water, but it couldn’t just leave, so it gestured to the floor in front of the opening. It wasn’t sure if the new people wanted it to talk or not. 

“You can come out here, if you want,” the little one offered. He was taller than the tool was, but still pretty short, shorter than most of the monsters. 

The tool liked that idea, but it still didn’t know anything about these people. The monsters were safe, they were normal. It knew what they thought was good. It was harder to make people happy, and they talked a lot more, and they said words that secretly also meant other things. 

Most of the time, when a monster wanted you to not do something bad, it just hit or yelled. When a person wanted you to not do something bad, they might not even say anything until you’d already done it.

But the good-water smelling bag was right there.

It carefully crawled to the edge of the hole, looking back to the person in shiny armor to see if it was okay to keep going- he seemed like he was the leader, since he’d told Legend to stop before and Legend hadn’t fought him.

Sitting back on its good foot, leaning its hand against the ground so it wouldn’t tip over, the tool leaned forwards towards the water bag, reaching out a hand. How were you supposed to get water out of a bag? It was used to using a bowl or a big spoon thing.

“Careful,” the one called Legend said, “don’t drink too fast.” 

That meant it was still allowed to drink! The tool reached out for the bag, holding it as still as it could and leaning forward to put its mouth on the weird wooden hole attached to it. It waited for a second, then frowned when the water didn’t move. It couldn’t tip the bag with the person holding on to it…

Oh! It squeezed the bag a little, and when the bag got smaller the water moved up to the top. 

It was good-water, and the tool sighed happily as the drink soothed its sore throat, going back for one more sip before it told itself not too fast, and stopped. The tool reluctantly let go of the bag, wiggling back a little so it was under the overhang of its hole. Now were the other people ready to get healed?

“Time, now what?” the short one asked the armored one. The tool really wanted to know that too, so it made sure to listen carefully.

“We get them stable,” the armored one called Time told him. He sounded confident and serious, but not angry. Like he knew he was right, and was waiting for everyone else to do what he told them to. 

The tool wasn’t all the way sure what stable meant, but it was pretty sure Time was talking about it. How did it get stable? Wasn’t that a place monsters attacked sometimes? Were they moving it?

It hadn’t been moved in a long time. It had been kept in the hole long enough that it was a little hard to sit up straight without hitting the ceiling, instead of fitting in fine like it used to.

“They can’t stay in there,” Legend said, sounding like he was deciding and complaining at the same time. 

Time nodded. “I agree.” He bent down a little more to be able to look directly at the tool’s face. “Could you come out here again, please? We want to help you.”

Oh. 

Please was usually something the tool said to the monsters and people, not one that they said to it. Please meant that you wanted something really bad, and that you were being nice about it. The fact that these people were trying to be nice made it feel a little warm inside, but it knew better than to trust they’d stay nice.

But Time had told it to do something, so it did. 

It didn’t want to be helped- ‘helping’ usually meant it was time for icky potions and bad magic and experiments , which was really just a big word for hurting the tool until it did something new. 

It scooted back out, not fast enough to hurt but fast enough that the people would know it was listening and being good. Keeping its eyes lowered from their faces, the tool watched their hands and bodies. Legend had a lot of shiny rings that smelled like magic , and the shorter one had nice shiny stitches on his clothes, and Time had big red stones on his metal gloves. 

It kept its tail curled close by its back, under the big shirt the monsters had given it. Maybe if the new people didn’t know it was there yet, they wouldn’t grab it. Being yanked out of the hole by its tail was the worst. 

“Hylia’s fucking balls ,” Legend whispered, quiet and dangerous, staring at the tool’s bad leg. “Time, look.”

“I see it,” Time said, sounding like he wasn’t mad. Closer to bored, like he didn’t really care. The tool liked that tone.

The shorter one leaned to the side and gasped. 

Tucking its twisted leg further under it, even though that made it hurt , the tool looked away. It always felt weird when people looked at its bad leg- not that too many had, it mostly just saw monsters now. Its face felt tight and hot, and it had to try hard not to make fists with its hands, because the monsters didn’t like that. 

“It’s healed over,” the one with the shiny lines on his clothes whispered. “Hylia, it’s fully healed over. To fix it, we’d have to…”

“Can you walk?” Time asked it, speaking over the short one even though his words were quieter. He was definitely in charge. 

The item shook its head, looking back down at the dirt instead of peeking up at the people. Was that bad? The monsters had made it this way on purpose! 

The short one closed his eyes and made a little sighing noise that sounded like pain. The item frowned, letting out a tiny hum in response, and reaching towards him.

“No, don’t,” Legend said sharply, and the item flinched backward. He made his voice softer when he said, “shit, sorry, kid. I mean, you don’t have to heal us, okay?”

It blinked at him for a second. It didn’t need to say anything, because that wasn’t what it was supposed to do. It just needed to listen.

“Come with us, please,” Time said, a decision in his voice. “We have food, and we can keep you safe until we find you a more permanent shelter.”

“You could ask, you know,” Legend pointed out, voice upset in a quiet way.

“I am not leaving them here,” Time said with his decision voice again, and Legend nodded. 

Time slowly reached out his hands, and the tool stared at the shiny metal gloves on them, making little sparkles in the light of the lantern. “Can I pick you up?”

It didn’t really like being carried, but this sounded like a trip to the outside, and the tool really liked those, so it nodded and crawled over, lifting its arms and hoping that Time wouldn’t let is legs just dangle- that always meant its bad leg would hit the person’s body when they started walking, and that was probably bad for it.

When Time picked it up, he was gentle like good-water in the tool’s stomach, like sitting on grass and feeling the wind pull at its hair in a way that didn’t hurt at all. It relaxed into the hold, and Time had one arm under its knees and one under its shoulders and back, so its legs weren’t even dangling! 

The nice feeling was so strong next to Time’s chest that the tool went almost limp. Time’s glow felt like lying on a rock when the sun came out, and the tool was always cold.

The monsters that had it were dead on the floor of the caves and tunnels, but that wasn’t really weird, it happened sometimes. Time and his people had won, so they were in charge of it now. 

The item hadn’t even made them mad yet, so it cautiously let itself hope for a good few days. Maybe even more good days than that- maybe all of its fingers worth of good days.

Time was warm like sunlight, and he smelled like safety and good-water rain and the inside of potion bottles. The tool couldn’t fall asleep, but it curled a little closer to the shiny armor, even though it was hard and a little spiky. 

This felt like the start of a good day.

Chapter Text

“We have to head for a town,” Four said. He seemed shaken by the condition they found the child in, which was reasonable, but not quite expected.

“We don’t have the time for detours,” Warriors said, still pacing at the edge of the cave. 

Legend frowned, crossing his arms. “We do need more potions. We’d have to go to a town for that anyway.”

“Not that we know where one is,” Wild pointed out. Where he might usually have been energized after a battle, he seemed skittish, repeatedly looking over at Time and the child in his arms and then glancing away again.

Time shifted slightly to the side again. Where he usually might have kept still, he was leaning back and forth slightly, slowly and carefully so as to not spook the child. He hoped it was relaxing and grounding, reminding them that they were being held instead of trapped. “Regardless, we need to keep moving. I don’t think staying here is our best option, especially if we want to keep our new friend comfortable.”

“Fuck yes on that one,” Legend agreed. He seemed about ready to join Warriors in his circuits of the entrance, cracking his knuckles nervously and fiddling with his rings.

Picking up a slight motion from the child he was holding, Time looked downwards. They had relaxed a bit when he first picked them up, but he could feel a slight projection of worry from them.

Their fae ancestry was clear, not just from their golden eyes and the fluffy ears just barely peeking out of their tangle of hair and the tail Time could feel through their bloodstained shirt, but from the way they’d clumsily sent out tendrils of energy in his direction, searching for magic as if through touch alone. Especially held this close, their emotions leaked through Time’s barriers like fresh rain into soil, permeating slowly without changing what they touched. 

Time sent back a pulse of calm, and hoped it was satisfactory for the moment. It seemed to be, when they curled closer after a second of hesitation.

“-And who’s going to carry them?” Warriors asked, as Time returned his attention to the conversation. 

“That sounds awfully close to a ‘we should leave the kid behind,’ captain,” Legend hissed.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Warriors refocused his attention on Time with a clear back me up here expression.

“I can carry them for now,” Time said, doing his best to project the calm decisiveness that they all expected from him. If this child had chosen him as their respite from whatever horrible things they had suffered at the hands of those monsters, Time was going to do all he could to help them. 

“There could be more monsters about,” Sky said, slightly nervously, “maybe we should leave now, and figure out exactly where we’re heading later?” 

The child in Time’s arms let out a tiny noise of discontent, shifting a little and suppressing a miniscule wince. Time caught it anyway- it was likely their injured leg was bothering them, but the shift itself could have been due to the conversation. He still wasn’t sure how much of the conversation the child understood.

“Let’s head for the river,” Four said, “if we go downstream long enough, there’ll likely be some sort of settlement.”

“Or the sea!” Wind put in, grinning at the idea.

Warriors sighed again. “With our limited information, that seems reasonable. The river it is.”

Wind jumped excitedly, pulling on the edge of Wild’s cloak and whispering something to him. Meanwhile, Sky was approaching.

“Chosen,” Time greeted, staying neutral until he knew the specific bent of the conversation. 

“Time,” Sky acknowledged as well, still smiling nervously. He looked down at the child Time was holding. “If you need help, uh, just let me know.”

Time fought back a bristling feeling of protectiveness, and gave him a serious nod, pulling the child slightly closer to his chest. “I will.” 

There was absolutely no way that Time was going to hand the child off to anyone until the child showed interest in being let down, or in meeting someone new. They had chosen him, likely for reasons of magical affinity, and if this was helping the child feel safe, Time would not allow it to be taken away from them. 

The child made a soft noise, blinking up at Time with a little wonder in their mostly-blank expression. 

Ah. Time realized that he might have been projecting a little. 

He would have to rework his mental barriers, or at least start focusing on keeping them up the polite amount. They were always strong enough to protect him from most low-grade psychic attacks, but not to prevent other fae adjacent beings from sensing some of his most prevalent emotions.

We aren’t going to hurt you, Time wanted to tell them, you’re safe with us. But he knew better, and was reasonably sure that lying to the slightly fae child should be avoided unless necessary.

“Would you like some more water?” he asked instead, and the child nodded slowly. 

Warriors, who had been passing close by on one last check of the cave, glanced over. “We need to figure out how many words they can understand, for safety reasons.”

“Can’t that wait?” Sky asked, “I’m sure they’re pretty stressed right now.”

“It really shouldn’t,” Warriors grumbled, moving over to Time and leaning over slightly so he could be on eye-level with the child.

“Hey, kid,” he said, calm and steady, in a voice Time was familiar with from the War of Eras, “can you understand me?” 

They blinked back, but didn’t respond. 

“Do you know yes and no?” Warriors tried again, after a second.

The child nodded, biting their lip nervously. Time had to stifle the urge to gently but firmly remove Warriors from their presence. This was important information, and the captain was being perfectly polite and reasonable.

“Do you know stay and hide?” 

Another nod. 

Satisfied for the moment, Warriors straightened up again, glancing down at the child and clearly registering their injured leg for the first time. “...Can you walk?”

Worrying their lip between their teeth, the child shook their head, shrinking a bit further into Time’s arms.

“Okay. Thank you for telling me,” Warriors said to them, and gave Time a serious nod before heading off to break up whatever argument had Wild and Wind raising their voices just outside the cave. 

Time hoped that Warriors wasn’t feeling too hurt about earlier- he’d obviously expected Time to back him up a little more on his position, but something oddly protective was lurking in Time’s gut, and he did not want to put the child down, much less leave them anywhere. 

Despite being mildly concerned- such an attachment would only lead to pain on both sides when the group inevitably parted ways with the child- it seemed better to continue giving comfort, at least until the child calmed down. Removing their sense of stability or security (especially so early on) could be a dangerous mistake.

So Time held the child carefully in his arms as they started to walk, and allowed himself a small smile when they finally fell asleep, snoring quietly against his chest.

Chapter Text

Warriors had dealt with an odd, partially feral fae child before.

That didn’t, of course, make this any easier, but it was reassuring to remember. At least he was vaguely familiar with patterns the kid might fall into, and things he should avoid.

Speaking of which: Mealtime. 

Warriors had been expecting the kid’s first meal with them to be a struggle- they were clearly underfed, probably denied food in a semi-traumatic way, and on top of all that, definitely fae in nature. This was going to be quite the struggle.

Or maybe not, he thought to himself as Wild handed him a bowl of stew. Maybe this would be fine, and he was worrying for nothing. Just because it was highly unlikely didn’t mean it was impossible.

He should have known: the life of a Link is never that easy.

Wild had been near-fuming that he couldn’t immediately give the kid his best or tastiest food, but he understood the importance of working yourself up to rich food when you’d been malnourished, and anger would only affect the kid negatively, so he’d kept his mouth shut and made some plain broth with small, soft bread rolls to go with it. Hopefully that would be neutral enough on the kid’s stomach.

The kid was still pressed against Time, sitting next to him with their knees pulled up to their chest and watching the group warily. They pulled away when Wild offered them a bowl, so Wild shifted to hand it to Time instead.

Time set the bowl down next to the kid, and they looked wide-eyed at it, then back up at Time, who was being given his own bowl.

“That bowl is for you,” Time told them quietly, “it’s your food, no strings attached.” 

The kid still looked nervous, like they were unsure if this was a test or not. They didn’t reach out for the bowl, instead shifting onto their knees and half-crawling into Time’s lap, curling up again facing away from the food.

Time, who had lifted his bowl out of the way when the child started climbing him, sighed gently. Warriors could see the stress in his posture, though: Time wasn’t big on physical contact even in calm situations, and this was not a safe or normal occurrence, especially for the kid. 

“Please eat,” Wind said, words almost bursting out of him, and the kid flinched, hiding their face in their knees, long tangle of hair falling over them to obscure their expression even further. Their ears were pulled back, twitching slightly. 

“Wind,” Sky chided gently, “they’ll eat when they’re ready.”

“Here,” Warriors said, “how about this? I’m pretty full already, would you help me finish this roll? I don’t want it to go to waste."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the kid’s ear perk up, and they uncurled slightly. Warriors kept his posture nonchalant and relaxed, glancing back with a casual smile like this was perfectly normal. He held out the roll, making sure to telegraph his motions, and the kid stared at it for a second before reaching out in turn.

Hesitant fingers brushed his palm as the kid gently took the food, glancing back up at Warriors, probably making sure it was okay. Warriors kept his smile up, and the kid snatched their hand away, the half of a roll slightly squished, but safely hidden in their closed fist.

Warriors sighed in content, maybe a little for their benefit, and rubbed his stomach. The meal hadn’t been excellent, not by Wild’s standards, but the broth was well made and the rolls perfectly baked, despite the overall lack of seasoning. “That was great, Wild, thank you.”

The kid, still curled into Time’s chest, was watching Warriors intently. Warriors got up to put his bowl into the dishes pile, and on his way back to his spot he caught a glimpse of the kid pinching off a small, fluffy piece of bread and carefully putting it in their mouth.

Casual acceptance, that was the key. Nonchalance, like how the kid ate was perfectly normal, and an assurance it wasn’t a trick, that the food wasn’t poisoned.

Warriors ignored the uncomfortable feeling in his chest that whispered how close this was to how Mask and Tune had treated him, during the worst of his food struggles during the war, when assassination attempts meant his food was poisoned more often than not.

He’d learned this helping Mask, and he was glad to use it again. There wasn’t anything else to it.

“I’m going to turn in,” Warriors said, “unless anyone needs me for something? I’ll take another watch tomorrow, and I went last night.”

“You’re fine, captain,” Time told him, still keeping his voice low. The kid seemed to almost lean into him, probably feeling the deep reverberations of Time’s words through his chest.

Mask used to do something similar, when Warriors had been injured.

Warriors set out his bedroll feeling oddly uneasy. He tried to ignore it- he was fine, everything was fine. They were helping a hurt kid, and it was sad what had happened to them, but he wasn’t overly affected.

He didn’t think about how different the rough walls of a hole were to the smooth sides of a glass bottle, or about how similar the cramped space must have been.

Time had the kid, and nothing would be able to hurt them in the middle of a group of heroes. The chain could figure out what to do with them tomorrow, there was nothing else to do tonight.

Warriors could rest. Uneasily, as it turned out, but he was a soldier; he’d slept under worse circumstances. He dropped into sleep after a few minutes, trying not to feel the phantom movement of the food in his stomach, trying to trust Wild had done his job, hadn’t betrayed him, hadn’t betrayed them all.

The kid was making him paranoid. This was ridiculous. He trusted Wild, and it made sense that the kid didn’t, but Warriors knew better. He trusted Wild.

He turned over, shoving the thoughts away, and sank into an uneasy rest.

Chapter Text

The tool really didn’t want to let go of Time.

His armor was hard and pokey, but his hands were really gentle, and that was what mattered. He’d let the tool climb all over him and snuggle into his side, and hadn’t even said anything or stopped it!

Time had started to feel safe , safe like the hole when the rock was pushed over the entrance and it was all alone in the dark and could curl up.

It really didn’t want to make Time angry, too. The tool didn’t know if it could handle seeing Time’s face scrunch up when he got mad, and it flinched a little just imagining Time’s hands coming down in hard fists, instead of careful supporting holds. 

His metal gloves would probably hurt real bad.

“Are you alright?” Time asked, quiet so the others didn’t hear from where they were sitting around the fire. “Are you cold?”

It shook its head. It wasn’t cold- its brain was just making up bad things, which happened sometimes. The item was pretty sure that its brain did that to try and keep it safe, so it wouldn’t do anything risky, but it was still bad to feel.

“The others will be getting ready to sleep soon,” Time told it, “would you like to rest as well?”

So many questions! The tool wasn’t sure if it felt scared or happy- the monsters didn’t want it to make noise, so it hadn’t talked in a while. 

It nodded to Time, looking around for where they’d put it.

…There weren’t any holes or boxes. That made sense, the people didn’t live here, they were just visiting. But where were they going to keep the tool?

It glanced back at Time, hoping its eyes looked like questions.

“You can choose where you want to sleep,” Time told it, standing slowly and then bending to pick the tool up and hold it against his chest again. “My bedroll has room for both of us, if you’re comfortable with that, or I can give you some blankets and you can sleep separately.”

Bedroll? Hm. Comfortable sounded familiar, but it didn’t remember what the word actually meant. It tried to figure out the sentence as Time walked over to the side of the open area, where there started to be trees again, and where Warriors was lying down in his blankets.

Time set the tool down on some sort of blanket pouch, and knelt next to it. “Do you need more time to think about it?”

The item shook its head. It didn’t know what Time was saying all the way, but more time wouldn’t help it know more. 

“What would you like, then?”

Oh. Maybe it could show him? It scooted off of the blanket pouch and lay down, easing its bad leg into a position that hurt less, then looked up at Time.

“You’re going to use a blanket,” Time told it, “that is non-negotiable. As a sign of hospitality, not a favor.”

That was a lot of big words. But Time had told it to use a blanket, so it had to. 

This wasn’t a bad had-to, which was really nice. The tool liked blankets. The shirt it was wearing used to be its blanket, but then a monster had scratched right through its old shirt and ruined it, so the tool had to switch. The monster had taken the broken shirt away, so it didn’t have a blanket anymore. The item had been really sad about that, so it decided to think about something else before it got pulled back into the bad moment.

“Here,” Time said, pulling at the blanket pouch until one of the blankets came off and putting it on the ground. “For you to use, as long as you want it.”

The tool couldn’t stop its mouth from making a little smile. It pulled the blanket over its head and body and carefully curled in on itself, making sure not to bump its bad leg on anything.

There was a little quiet pause, and then Time put a hand on its shoulder through the blanket. It jumped a little, hitting its bad leg on the ground, but didn’t make any noise. 

“I can show you how to fold the blanket so it can be underneath you as well,” Time said from outside the blanket, “It’ll keep you from touching the cold ground as much.”

After thinking for a second, the item pulled the blanket off from over its head and sat up, looking at Time with question-eyes again. 

“May I?”

It didn’t quite know what that question meant, but it nodded. Time took the blanket away gently, and it tried hard not to frown.

Time laid the blanket down on the ground next to his blanket-pouch, then moved back to the tool and opened his arms. The item wiggled into his hold, and he stood, then set it down on one side of the blanket, and folded the other side up over it so it was covered under and over and all around.

“If you get cold on your own, I’m right here,” Time said, voice soft and smooth like the blanket, “just let me know. I don’t mind holding you through the night. There would be no debt.”

Holding it? 

Time didn’t grab or pinch tight, he just held the tool like he was carrying wood, or a sword. More like a sword, actually, because even monsters were more careful with swords than with piles of wood. Time’s hands were gentle, and it liked curling up next to him.

Time was- 

He was taking off his armor.

Monsters didn’t normally do that, but maybe people were different?

Under the big metal plates, he had a clinky shiny shirt, and then just fabric clothes. They looked soft.

It wanted to be hugged by Time when he wasn’t wearing armor. It wanted to be pulled in against his chest when it was breathing and warm, instead of when it was covered with cold metal.

The item scooted closer slightly.

“Are you cold?” Time asked, moving an eyebrow.

It nodded, holding on tight to its smile inside so it wouldn’t escape onto its face.

“Do you want to sleep on my bedroll with me?”

Nodding again, faster this time, the tool let its smile free. 

Time nodded back, and he was smiling a little too!

This was so much better than being in a hole.

The tool still felt a little weird and shaky inside about trying to sleep with people there, about trying to sleep under the sky outside instead of under the dirt behind a rock. But it couldn’t get back to the cave, not on its bad leg, and if these people were in charge of it now, and Time said it could sleep on the thing he called a bedroll, then it could.

…Were they ever going back to the hole? Was the item never going to curl up in the softer corner again, the one it had picked all the rocks out of?

That was scary.

It didn’t need to feel all fluttery and bad about it. These people were in charge, and they’d make sure it was okay enough to heal.

Just thinking about that didn’t really help, but curling in small against Time’s chest and feeling his breathing push his stomach in and out made something in the tool relax, like there was a little dirt hole inside of its heart with another tool in it, and that tool had just gone to sleep happy.

It closed its eyes, and followed the heart-tool’s example.

Chapter Text

Time woke to the child shifting in his arms.

Not for the first time, either: the child had been restless during the night, likely unused to the noise of the forest. Even if this era was eerily quiet to the heroes, the child had been sleeping underground for an unknown length of time.

This was certainly a difficult time for them. So many changes at once would be hard for any child, especially one still seemingly on the younger side of ten, and being ripped from what was familiar, even if the familiarity was traumatic, was never easy. 

Time shook off the memories, and shifted gently to signal he was awake.

“Good morning,” he said quietly, “would you like breakfast?”

The child in his arms did not move, but their visible ear flicked slightly- the left one with the jagged edge, which ended abruptly at half the length of their other ear. 

Time breathed, and didn’t think about it. He stayed steady and resolved, a rock in the rough tides, and hopefully one the child would be able to cling to for stability. That was the goal- the child clearly needed support, in fact, they were obviously desperate for it.

“Are you hungry?” he asked, and this time the child turned to face him, rolling over with a nearly hidden wince- probably their leg- and staring cautiously at him.

So careful. It was likely what had kept them alive.

Time understood both the impulse, and the necessity of such an approach.

They had been surprisingly comfortable curled against him, despite the nightmares and sudden starting awake. Time was hesitant to admit that the weight of a child in his arms, a small warmth pressed into his side, had been comforting and grounding in a way he had not expected. 

The child nodded slowly, and Time couldn’t suppress his smile. So cautious, coming from such a dangerous and unstable situation, but still willing to reach out. To begin to trust again, and begin to trust him.  

Time could feel the light brush of their emotions against his walls, their hesitant anticipation slowly creeping towards genuine- although quiet- excitement.

Sitting up slowly, the child shifted out from under the blankets onto the bare ground, turning to cautiously rest the blanket’s edges back against Time’s side, glancing up at him to confirm the touch was allowed. 

The child, despite who knows how many months (or years, Time tried not to consider,) almost completely isolated from hylian contact and trapped in a hole, was tucking him in.

Pushing down the rush of affection and protectiveness, Time gave them a soft smile and sat up, twisting to his knees and then his feet and offering the child a hand up. “I’ll be going with you- I happen to be hungry as well.”

They bit their lip slightly and nodded, taking Time’s hand after a second’s hesitation and pulling themself into a wobbly standing position.

Time decided to leave the folding of his bedroll for later. “Would you like to be carried? It’s no trouble.”

After a moment of consideration, the child shook their head, looking up at him and using their free hand to rub at their eyes, likely still tired due to their restless sleep.

It was an awkward little journey to the logs by the campfire, with the child steadfastly going between hopping and limping despite the pain they were clearly trying to hide. They sank down onto the rough bark with a barely audible sigh, clearly worn out from even that small amount of exertion.

They wouldn’t take their own bowl, but remembering Warriors’ success the previous night, Time offered them half of his own porridge, which they ate happily despite their initial hesitancy in receiving the food. 

The child didn’t ask for more. Time offered, and they declined, curling into his lap again and watching the slowly waking heroes with wide, cautious eyes. 

Nobody made particularly sudden movements during their morning routines, and there was an unusual lack of teasing banter, and no aggressive waking techniques, as Legend liked to call them. 

“Hey,” Wind said to Time’s small passenger after he’d finished both his own portion and a half-bowl of seconds, along with an amount of honey that Wild would usually protest over, “your shirt’s… well, it can’t be keeping you very warm, can it?”

It took the child a second to realize Wind was addressing them, but they gave him a cautious shake of their head.

“I have something better,” Wind told them, “if you want it. The sleeves are shorter, but- well, it’s not ripped to hell, and it’s good quality fabric. My grandma made it, so it’s way better than most of their-” he gestured to the other heroes- “clothes.”

The child tilted their head to the side for a second, grabbing onto a handful of their matted hair and fiddling with it as they considered. 

“It’s a free offer,” Time added quietly, “and there will be no debt for it.” He tried to continue projecting a steady calm, despite his lack of recent practice.

It seemed to be effective though, because the child relaxed slightly and nodded. 

“Great!” Wind exclaimed, a touch too loudly. The child’s aborted startling motion garnered the sailor several sharp looks, and he quieted significantly. “Sorry. I’m gonna grab my bag, one second-”

It did make sense for the sailor to offer, Time mused. He was one of the closest in size to their new addition, and he did tend to hoard anything he considered potentially useful- although his idea of useful was luckily much less all-encompassing than the veteran’s. 

“Here,” Wind said as he hurried over with a bundle in his arms. He adjusted it for a second before pulling the tunic out by the shoulders, proudly displaying it in one motion.

Time’s next breath didn’t emerge as a hiss, but it was a near thing. He closed his eye momentarily, just a moment to collect himself, but he couldn’t escape the image in his mind.

Kokiri green. A sturdy brown belt and a strap for a weapon, collar turned up against the harsh wind. The wind had been so much sharper, once he’d left the shelter of the trees. 

Time still remembered those days. He remembered being a child forced to grow up much too quickly, almost as closely as he kept a hold of his own names, cradled to his chest and defended as fiercely as his heart.

He could only take a second, and when he opened his eye, he did his best to focus on the differences. On the slightly thinner width of the belt, on the round shiny buckle. The tunic, green as it was, didn’t have the folded collar that Time could almost feel ghosting against his neck. The sleeves were shorter, and Wind held no second strap for weapons.

A child forced to grow too quickly, a child with a destiny heavy as the earth itself rested on their shoulders. Pulled from their home into a world they didn’t understand, a world that didn’t care to understand them.  

Given a task much too large for such small hands.

He’d made peace with that era of his life, Time reminded himself firmly. He’d held the child that still stormed inside of his ribcage close to his heart, had soothed him and listened to him rail until his anger finally rolled back to reveal the pain and guilt underneath.

You can’t save everyone.

It had been unfair to ask that of him, he reminded himself firmly. It had been unfair, and this child would not suffer such a fate. Not anymore.

Time would not ask that of them. Would not send or take them on a dangerous journey they couldn’t possibly comprehend the damaging effects of.

The child had a place somewhere, or would build one for themself. That place was not on an adventure with heroes of ages past and future.

Time was startled back to full awareness by the shield shifting on his lap. He concealed the automatic flinch with long-practiced ease, and reached out for the tunic and belt Wind was still holding. “Thank you, sailor.” 

More holes had been poked in the belt, Time realized, letting it be fastened smaller than originally intended. Slightly off-center, not quite even, and likely poked through by hand with a borrowed awl from Four. 

That was good. The belt had been prepared for a child older than their new charge, and far healthier. Time’s mind gave him an abrupt flash of Wind, even younger than he was now- Wind with a twisted leg and fear overwhelming his eyes, Wind with matted hair and scarred, hesitant fingers, their little sailor even smaller and more vulnerable than Time had ever imagined him before.

Time refocused on the situation at hand. It was his job to stay reliable, not only as the leader, but as the one this child had chosen for support. The one they’d offered their trust to, despite their unknown history, their abused past.

That trust would not be betrayed. He would stay strong and steady, for them and the boys he’d taken leadership of.

Wind retreated slightly at the tilt of Time’s head, his indication to give the child more space.

The child slid slowly off of Time’s lap and took the green tunic from his fingers, seeming to note the slight tremor in his hands. The others averted their eyes, busying themselves with their breakfasts, gear, and bedrolls, but Time watched the child in case of any falls, holding an arm out for them to grasp for balance.

He bore witness to the way their skin was tightly stretched over their ribs, to the scars on their arms and torso, to the tail they kept cautiously curled up their thin back and over their shoulder. He looked unflinchingly at their scars, the tangled knot of hair that fell across their face as they looked down, and the way the tunic- sized for a child, unlike the bloodstained shirt the group had found them in- still hung off of their bony shoulders. 

The child’s fingers were small and cold against his arm, and Time refused to flinch away.

Chapter Text

“Hey,” Wind said, clearly talking to the kid they’d found despite not making eye contact, “what should we call you?”

Four looked over. The kid just kept poking at the dry grass. They were slumped over against Time, head on his lap and body pressed to his side.

Wind sighed. “Kid. Over here. Asking a question.”

“We clearly can’t keep calling them kid,” Legend grumbled, pushing Wind’s hair into his eyes as he walked past with a waterskin in his other hand. Wind squawked and shoved his hair back into place again, glaring at the veteran (who was ignoring him.)

Time put a gentle hand on the kid’s shoulder, and this time they looked up.

“What would you like to be called?” he asked quietly, “if you’d be willing to tell us. We can also make suggestions, if that’s easier.”

“Anything but Link,” Warriors added. He was leaning against the trunk of a nearby tree, ostensibly whittling. It really looked more like he was just cutting pieces off of twigs until they were too small to hold and he had to get new ones. 

The kid visibly startled, staring at Warriors and almost leaning forwards, like they wanted him to elaborate. 

“No,” Four groaned, rubbing his eyes with his palms until he was seeing odd points of light instead of the surprise and almost hopefulness on the kid’s face, ”Absolutely not.”

“Our luck cannot be that bad,” Sky added faintly, the ground beside Four rustling slightly as the knight sat next to him.

“Why not?” Legend said, his cutting tone controlled a bit (probably due to the kid, who was still staring at Warriors.) “Link luck has always been shit. That’s nothing new.”

The kid’s head turned towards Legend, ripped ear twitching a few times. 

Okay, that seemed like more than a coincidence. 

“Link,” Four said, testing the metaphorical waters.

Golden-brown eyes met his, some odd sort of yearning trapped inside the kid’s gaze. 

“Ah,” Time breathed. “I believe this complicates things significantly.”

The kid looked back up at Time, then winced, shrinking into his side again. He absentmindedly lowered a hand, resting it gently over the kid’s grubby fingers in reassurance. 

“So, what, he’s just gonna get portalled with us? Everywhere?” Legend snapped, crossing his arms, ears pulling back as he started to pace again. 

“Hopefully not,” Time said, something almost lost in his eyes as he looked down at the kid, who had cautiously started poking at the dead grass again. 

“He- I’m assuming he, based on the Link stuff- doesn’t seem to have been on an adventure yet,” Four said, avoiding looking at the damning green tunic the kid was wearing.

”Great first choice, huh Hylia?” Legend groused at the dark, clouded sky above them, “welcome to the world of heroing, here, travel through time itself to fight an enemy more powerful than any of us have seen before! Fucking fantastic.”

“Legend,” Warriors warned. When Legend spun towards him, Warriors gestured meaningfully at the kid with the remains of his aggressively-whittled stick. “Calm down.”

Four could almost hear the veteran growling, but he backed off, turning away and walking off towards the other end of camp.

“We couldn’t call him Link anyway,” Four pointed out, trying to stay calm despite the near-dizzying spin of colorful thoughts in his head, “we’d need a nickname.”

“What’s your name?” Wild asked more directly.

The kid just blinked back.

“Fuck,” Wind sighed. “Okay. Who are you, then? What did the monsters call you?”

Pursing his lips slightly, the kid offered his first word to the group in a cracked whisper: “Tool.”

Everyone froze. There was a loud curse from across camp, and the sound of Legend kicking a tree, plus the customary muffled swears from the aftermath of kicking a tree.

The kid flinched at the noise, eyes darting around the rough circle the group (minus Legend) had shifted into out of habit. He pulled himself upright, dragging his bad leg up with his hand until it supported his weight enough for him to scoot his other one into Time’s lap, then pulling himself up with his little fingers gripping Time’s arm. 

It was a slow and clearly painful process. Four tried not to wince. 

He also tried not to think about monsters calling this kid a tool for long enough that it was his first idea for a name.

“Uh,” Wind said, voice sounding oddly strained, “I get it! You mean Rule, right? ‘Cause… you rule? Y’know?”

Curled into a ball in Time’s lap, the kid pulled his tangled hair in front of his face- an oddly effective curtain from how the others were watching him.

“That could be a new name, a better name,” Wind stumbled onwards, caught between bravery and stupidity, “nicer, anyways. Y’know, I’d see you and say ‘oh, hi, Rule!’”

Sky groaned. “We are not going to say Hy-rule every time we want to talk to him. That’s ridiculous.”

“You literally came up with it!” Wind protested, raising his hands in exasperation, “you named the country! ”

“It was that or Grooseland,” Sky said defensively, “and I chose right.” 

“Not Hyrule,” Time said firmly, “understood.” The others quieted, some of them muttering muffled apologies for getting off track.

“You are not a tool, you are a person,” he added, tone significantly softened, lifting a careful hand to stroke calming lines down the kid’s back. “I’m sorry, we cannot call you that. Do you have any other ideas?”

The kid shook his head, and Four could just barely pick up a little whine from his direction. 

“That’s alright,” Time soothed, continuing to rub the kid’s back in a smooth, even pattern, “we’re asking a lot of you. It’s alright not to know yet.”

“...We have to call him something,” Legend muttered. He’d sat down on Four’s other side somewhere in the mild commotion, and was violently and repeatedly jabbing a stick into the dirt in front of him. “It’s- it’s possible Link isn’t his name either. Maybe he just knew someone named Link. It’s possible.”

He sounded defensive, like he was trying to prove it to himself as much as to any of the others. Four signed internally. 

“Could we come up with something to call you?” Time asked in the same smooth, low tones he’d been using when the kid got spooked. “We can suggest ideas, and you could nod if you hear one you like?”

The kid looked up at him, head tilted slightly, and nodded. 

“Mole,” Wind said immediately. Everyone glared at him, and he spluttered out an explanation. “Because we found him in a hole! That’s where moles live!”

“So you want to name him after something that chooses to live in a place he was forced into traumatically for an unknown period of time?” Legend hissed back, “yeah, great fucking idea, sailor!”  

“Oh? What are your ideas, then?” Wind challenged. 

Legend opened his mouth, then closed it. “...Ralph,” he said sullenly, then made a face like he’d bitten into something he didn’t like. 

Four looked over. The kid remained still.

“Okay, not Ralph,” Four decided. “How about…” He trailed off, suddenly realizing he also had no ideas. They didn’t even know what this kid was like, how were they supposed to name him? “...Leaf?”

“Ooh, great,” Legend grumbled sarcastically, “is that ‘cause it doesn’t live in a hole? Revolutionary.”

”Vet,” Twilight said, quiet but warning, and Legend shot him a look, but stopped talking.

“Mouse?” Wind suggested, and Legend clearly barely restrained himself from making a snippy comment about things that lived in holes. “They’re small and fluffy, kind of like him?”

The kid visibly stiffened. 

Twilight sighed. “Not mouse, then.”

“...Beetle?” Sky offered softly, then bit his lip, watching the kid with worried anticipation. 

Silence.

“Because they’re little, and smart,” Sky added, “they know how to get through the darkness and tunnels, and they go everywhere they want outside too.”

The kid raised his head, ear pressing awkwardly against the side of Time’s jaw. Slowly, he gave Sky a small nod, looking almost hopeful instead of blank.

“Beetle,” Time said, both confirmation and decision.

Nodding to himself one more time, Beetle reached out and pointed at Sky.

“Oh! I’m Sky,” he said. The others hurried to introduce themselves as well, with Legend grumbling something like give the kid space.  

“It’s alright if you forget, too,” Wild added. “We can just remind you.”

The kid- Beetle- had uncurled slightly, more kneeling than curled into a ball. He looked more genuinely curious than Four had seen him yet.

As Beetle looked from one hero to another, cautiously following the conversation, Four could just barely see the glint of Linkish curiosity in his eyes, a stark contrast to the careful blankness he’d been showing so far.

It was almost like seeing someone wake up. 

Chapter Text

Legend wasn’t sure how sensitive the kid’s ears were, especially since he was probably fae-kin, and living in semi-isolation sometimes sharpened people’s hearing. So he shushed Wind before the boy could start talking, holding up a finger and waiting for another twenty seconds after the sounds of Sky and Time walking (with the newly-dubbed Beetle in Time’s arms,) faded completely.

In answer to Wind’s glare, Legend shrugged (with a little glare of his own, of course.) “Wanted to make sure we weren’t overheard. That’s the whole point of this maneuver, right?”

“I mean, a bath would be good for him anyway,” Four pointed out, idly fiddling with one of his tools, “but you’re not wrong.”

“Exactly,” Legend said, satisfied. “So. What the hell are we gonna do about the kid?”

“Beetle,” Twilight added.

Legend rolled his eyes. “Beetle, then. What are we going to do with him?”

Wild tilted his head slightly. “Shouldn’t he get a say in that?” Twilight nodded from where he was sitting behind Wild as well.

“To an extent,” Warriors said, clearly already in his annoying leader mode. We wouldn’t want to leave him somewhere the monsters could find and repossess him from.”

“Kidnap,” Legend said through gritted teeth. “Not repossess. He’s not a fucking item, Warriors.”

“I am fully aware of that, thank you Legend.”

“Hey,” Four cut in, a little uncomfortably, “Legend’s got a point. He did call himself a tool, it’s best if we don’t feed into that.”

Warriors sighed in clear frustration. “What I am trying to say is that we should find him a town or settlement as soon as possible. We cannot risk having him in the group for any longer than is absolutely necessary.”

“‘Cause he’s too young?” Wind asked, sounding more resigned than usual about the commonly brought up argument against him. 

“Among other reasons.” Warriors nodded, looking pointedly at Legend. “He cannot fight, and he cannot run. He is, by definition, a liability.”

Legend opened his mouth to argue, but Warriors cut him off. “I am not saying he does not deserve time and care. I am saying we cannot provide him safety. The longer he is with us, the more likely it is that he’ll be put into a dangerous situation that we might not be able to get him out of.”

With a low grumble, Legend shifted his weight on the ground, propping himself up with his arm for more stability, and avoided Warriors’ eyes. 

The captain wasn’t wrong. That was the worst part.

“There’s no guarantee that whatever town we find next will be a good place for him, though,” Twilight pointed out. “This era’s already low on living things, an extra child might be more than most families can handle.”

Warriors shook his head. “I hate to say it, but that doesn’t really matter.”

“Like hell it-”

“Twilight,” Warriors said, “Please.” He almost sounded like he cared, but Legend was becoming more and more skeptical about that. “A town without the perfect parental figures is much safer for him than even a week on the road with us. You know how bad some of our fights get.”

Clearly stressed and unsure despite the captain’s words, Twilight was fiddling with the edge of his pelt. 

“It’s not going to be possible for us to properly defend him for long,” Warriors continued more softly, “no matter what we try.”

“Well then, I guess we’re pretty shit heroes,” Legend grumbled. Warriors shot him a pointed look.

“Okay,” Wind said, scooting a little closer and obviously doing his best to break some of the tension, “So, it’s dangerous for him. We get it. Now can we focus on how to fix that?”

Four nodded. “Or at least mitigate the situation.”

“Yeah,” Wind nodded, “or that.”

Legend decided it wasn’t worth it to explain what mitigate meant to Wind, not when he could see the anxiety peering through cracks in Warriors’ facade. That was always dangerous- If his mask was slipping already, the captain was likely dangerously unbalanced. Not good, especially during an important conversation that he was trying to lead.  

Even if Legend’s ‘issues’ made him absolutely hate when Warriors played at being an authority figure, he could acknowledge that forcing himself into the role hurt Warriors too. 

He had decided to despise it for both reasons. If there was one thing Legend could do, it was multitask.

“He knows how to hide,” Warriors said flatly. “That’s just about the only thing he could do in a battle. Assuming we can get him hidden in time, of course, and that nothing finds him.”

“Time could-” Wild tried, but Warriors cut him off.

“Time’s already got plate armor and a two-handed sword, he can’t carry a child around on his back during battle, even assuming the kid could hold on that long, and ignoring the possibility of him getting hit by monsters aiming for Time. It’d be too dangerous for both of them.”

“What happened to your strategic mind, Captain?” Legend almost taunted, “foiled so soon? Or are you just giving up?”

That got him a fierce glare. “I am trying to account for all possibilities.”

Legend was about to shoot a sharp comment back, but Twilight clapped his hands loudly. “Knock it off, you two. This ain’t helping either.”

“I know we all want to see him somewhere safe,” Four added, giving Warriors a pointed look, “but Warriors isn’t wrong. Saf er might be what we have to settle for.”

“Doesn’t matter until we find a town,” Wind said, poking at the dirt with one finger. “Can we figure out if it’s safe once we find it, instead of sitting here arguing?”

Unfortunately, Wind had a point. Legend wasn’t going to tell him that, though. 

“Far be it for me to want to be prepared,” Warriors said with a long sigh. “I guess our plan is to avoid monsters and look for a town, then. Great.”

“There’s always good old ‘run like hell,’ ” Legend added with a grin. 

Warriors rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight him on it. 

Good. Warriors could stand to relax, at least a little bit. Not too much, in a hostile world near black-blooded monsters, but enough that he’d stop obsessing over worst-case solutions in an endless loop.