Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You are absolutely filthy, darling! Come along, let’s get you cleaned up!”

It’s with that declaration that Warriors was yanked away from his brothers, his hand held tightly in Cia’s own as her magic had swirled around them both.

He then had to blink a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness after the teleportation magic faded, before he was able to see as Cia declared, “here we are!”

From her earlier comment, Warriors knew he’d probably be taken to some type of bathing area... he just hadn’t expected to find such an ornate bathing area.

The floor was made of fine, earth-toned marble tiles which were pleasantly cool beneath his bare feet, with a path of lighter tiles leading to a large pool (large enough he and the others would’ve easily fit in all at once and still had room to spare).

The marble of the pool itself was a familiar green color and a number of stone benches had been cut into the sides, blending easily with the stairs that led into the tub.

A quick murmuring of what had to be a spell from Cia soon had steaming water filling the bath, Wars’ briefly closing his eyes and taking a fortifying breath as her hand came to rest on his shoulder.

It had been bad enough, standing before her in only his undertunic and drawers, after her monster servants had stripped him and the others of everything else… but that was nothing next to what he knew she was expecting from him now.

She just wants a doll…

There had been numerous rumors that had spread amidst the war, after it became known that one of the motives driving the Dark Sorceress was her wish to take possession of the Hero.

Half of them spun out a tragic love story, adaptations of which had found their ways into the theaters, using altered names but still clearly recognizable…

…while the other half had found their way into a number of trashy novels, or the mouths of various nobles and even a few of Warriors' fellow knights...many of them using this as a reason to proposition him for their own gain or amusement...when really…

She just wants a doll…

This is what Wars had concluded, from everything Lana, Cia’s other half, had explained… from her side of the story, her light purple eyes pleading, begging to be believed… as well as the few encounters he’d had with the woman himself.

“And we are all set!” the present Cia exclaimed happily as rose petals began floating down from above, settling gently into the water, Wars struggling to keep from gagging as their scent filled the room.

He hadn’t been able to tolerate roses after the war and his visits to the Temple of Souls… but, considering the rose garden had still been intact when he and the others had been escorted through it and he’d had the Triforce of Courage ripped from him… for the third time, in the Magic Circle it held… he supposed he shouldn’t be surprised to find the flowers in the bath as well.

“Come along now dear heart, you don’t want the water to get cold, do you?” Cia giggled, the Triforce of both Courage and Power shining from the back of her left hand.

Wars very much doubted that was even possible, not with her magic… but he also knew stalling wasn't going to help at all.

She just wants a doll, he repeated anew, using this mantra to force his hands to take hold of his undertunic and tug it over his head, his drawers quick to follow, all in two fluid motions.

He then quickly strode forward, eyes straight ahead as he descended into the bath, savoring the warm water wrapping around his aching muscles, despite everything…

…at least until such time Cia called out to him, the woman waving from where she’d moved to sit on one of the benches near the water, a pitcher set next to her.

“Come along dear, I’ll help with your hair and back,” she called, newly bared feet swinging playfully in Wars' direction.

He wanted to refuse, he desperately wanted to refuse… but refusal wasn’t something he was allowed anymore, so he headed over to position himself before Cia.

She just wants a doll, Warriors repeated again as he closed his eyes and tipped his head back, warm water trickling down seconds later.

He couldn’t stop from shivering as he felt her hands begin sifting through his natural waves, after another pitcherful of water, combing through the locks to aid the water in sinking down towards his roots.

“Like spun gold,” Cia murmured reverently as one last pitcher of water was poured over Wars' head, the crawling sensation on his scalp disappearing briefly before her fingers were back, rubbing in shampoo, also scented with roses.

He felt a brief pang of longing for his own bathing supplies at that moment and had to lightly scrape his teeth against his lips to keep from frowning.

He'd still had a bit of the jasmine shampoo and conditioner his girls had made for him the last time he’d been home, as well as the calendula soap, whose antibacterial and antifungal properties were always a goddessend when out on the road.

Of course, he was never going to mention any of that to Cia, since the sorceress would most certainly ruin those scents just as she’d ruined roses for him.

It really was a good thing he hadn’t eaten anything since before that initial portal, with the way his stomach was roiling from both the overwhelming scent of roses, as well as the continued feeling of Cia’s well-manicured nails on his scalp, as she massaged the shampoo in fully.

How ironic… Warriors and his brothers, even Wild, had been desperate for a proper bath, after such a long time on the road and more than one run-in with the more disgusting monsters like Gibdos, a few Chus, and some of Four’s Hinoxes who’d gotten it into their heads to throw… unmentionables…

Now, Wars would give anything to be coated in any number of monster guts, blood, musk and whatever mud was available if it would just get the scent of roses and the feel of Cia’s hands off his skin.

“You truly have no idea how happy I am to finally have you here, Link,” she sighed, as she tilted his head back to rinse out the shampoo, “I spent quite some time and magic to make this place worthy of the Hero, I do hope you appreciate it….”

“It’s amazing, Cia,” Warriors replied, slipping into the persona he used with the nobles with far more ease than he’d expected, the court smile stretching at the corners of his lips as he forced his eyes open and focused on the sorceress, “you’ve truly outdone yourself.”

“Oh, you,” she giggled as she reached for another bottle, “such a sweet talker. Just how many girls have you made swoon with words like that?”

Nails scrape against his scalp alongside the hair product this time, they and the darkened tone telling Warriors she didn’t really like the idea of him making other girls swoon.

… no, not Warriors, Link… he had to remember he was Link again now, wouldn’t be safe to forget that, if she called for him…

“Of course, there’s no one but you,” was Link’s careful reply to the previous question.

“Really?" Cia hummed, nails briefly digging in, as she continued rubbing the conditioner into Link’s scalp, “not a one during your travels with the other heroes? Not even Princess Zelda?”

“The princess is a comrade in arms and my… work associate,” Link once again replied carefully, “and anyone else is simply business… someone to get information from, whilst hunting the source of the black-blooded monsters, nothing more.”

Those crazed red violet eyes were narrowed as she regarded him, Link clenching his hands tightly underneath the water, desperately working to ignore his current state of undress…

And then Cia chuckled, the claws withdrawing as the strokes against his scalp gentled.

Link breathed a sigh of relief at that… and briefly wondered if he should risk asking the ‘Guardian’ of Time what she might know about the black-blooded monsters herself…

…before ultimately ruling against it, the possible risk of Cia taking it as a sign of him looking forward to getting away from her, and punishing Link or his brothers, too great a risk.

Best not to test the oath she made, unless absolutely necessary, Link resolved quietly, hoping against hope he’d truly gotten Cia to word the promise not to hurt his brothers in a way she couldn’t easily weasel out of.

Conversation, instead, focused entirely on the traveling he’d done, Link trying his best to imagine Wind, as both the audience and the storyteller, while he regaled Cia with a number of the fights he’d engaged in amidst this newest quest.

Only half of which he paid attention to, as most of his mind drifted towards his brothers, the seven who were probably locked up in some kind of dungeon at this point…

…and their poor ninth, Sky, who’d been left behind after a Talus had sent him flying and inadvertently protected the boy from being caught alongside everyone else by Cia’s goons.

Please Hylia, Golden Three, lead Sky safely to the nearest army base and bring aid to us soon…

Eventually, the time came that Link was finally deemed fully cleaned and free to leave the bath… and head into a new battle, waged inside his mind when it came time to dry off, as Cia insisted on helping him…

…and then again, when they moved to the adjoining bedroom and he saw his new outfit.

Made of what had to be some of the finest silk Link had ever seen was a lavishly embroidered tunic, unsurprisingly dyed in ‘Hero’s Green’... with no undertunic and apparently designed to leave his chest completely bare.

The pants, meanwhile, looked nearly identical to those he’d been wearing before… but when he actually put them on, he found them far more snug than his own had ever been.

At least the boots were still relatively normal, if a touch more expensive looking… and not at all broken in, nor suitable for either sprinting across battlefields or long hikes in unknown Hyrules.

It was a perverted version of Link’s usual attire, only missing a replacement for his royal blue scarf… the scarf whose absence was truly being felt at this point.

The scarf which identified him as the hero and had become a true comfort to Link himself, as well as his brothers… something to wrap themselves up in, both during the war and his latest quest, giving warmth and security.

It was probably either on its way to, or already in the hands of, Zelda, as part of the message Cia had mentioned sending to the queen (and threatened to use Wind’s corpse as the ‘gift’ as well), letting her know Link had been taken prisoner.

Purposely turning his attention back to his new outfit led to further discomfort, as there were also none of the usual hidden pockets within which Link had, of course, stored his hidden weapons.

These had become a necessity as the traitors had truly begun to appear and organize… a last line of defense, in the event of being taken off-guard, alongside the lockpicks to get Link out of various handcuffs or through locked doors.

And the last disappointment… there was no longer the buzz of protective magics, which Proxi and the other fairies he’d rescued had charmed into the fabrics of his clothes and his scarf.

They were nowhere near the level of Wild’s enchanted clothing as gifted by his Great Fairies, but it’d been enough to protect Link (and Wind, who still wore the charmed Lobster Shirt and matching pants, even today) from more than one fatal wound.

Instead, what magic there was to be found came from the crystal necklace and cuffs that Cia slipped over his head and onto his wrists, matching the earrings she’d replaced his usual blue hoops with, alongside the ‘accessories’ she’d ‘gifted’ to Link’s brothers.

Well, those of the heroes able to use magic, be it the Musou and Focus Spirit techniques Link had been taught… the spells given to Time by his own Great Fairies… or the magical skills that inherently lay within Legend and Roolie.

Cia hummed an unknown tune the whole time she dressed and adorned Link with these and even more pieces of jewelry, before moving on to makeup.

He hadn’t worn anything aside from moisturizers and sunscreen since the last time he’d been to court or that spa day at Legend’s, the latter of which being the more enjoyable and relaxing, of course.

Now, Link found himself fighting to stay still as, instead of his brothers or his girls buzzing and chattering excitedly around him... it was Cia taking hold of his chin, leaning in close and muttering to herself over what makeup to apply.

“So very many choices, you just look so good in everything, my hero! Perhaps a cat eye for tonight, definitely black eyeliner, but should it be a brown shadow or peach…?”

She didn’t ask for his input and Link didn’t offer, using the brief period of when she ordered his eyes closed to imagine he was at the Gerudo Spa Wild had mentioned once before.

To fool himself, if only briefly, that the hands touching him, maneuvering his face to apply the eye makeup, blush and lipstick, belonged to professionals instead of his stalker.

“There! What do you think, sweetheart?” Cia eventually declared, prompting Link to open his eyes and inspect her work in the mirror she held before him.

“It looks amazing, Cia,” he replied, because it did, a fact that was unsurprising, given the woman’s own makeup.

The fact that it made his chest ache as derisive voices, some hidden behind ‘polite’ veils, others blatant in their insults, whispered from his memory, was just another thing to shove into a box and deal with later.

“I’m so glad you like it, sweetheart!” Cia squealed before tugging at Link’s hands, “now come along! Dinner should be ready by now!”

Oh his roiling stomach loved hearing that…

Chapter Text

He supposed he really shouldn’t have been surprised to find the dinner Cia had mentioned consisted entirely of all his favorite foods.

Link has to actually count the seconds to breathe without hyperventilating, when he finds dishes he’d only recently discovered, thanks to Wild, a hero he hadn’t even met before Cia had died.

He also has to work to keep his gaze from drifting towards the paintings that decorate the room, just like all the other rooms within the temple…

Breathe in for one… two… three…

…pictures of him, so many pictures of him, from after the war. Standing beside a familiar figure in a red tunic, fighting alongside a slighter boy in green, a flash of gold, of fur, two shades of blue, a rainbow and brilliant white…

There are campfires and forests, fireplaces and beds, battles and peaceful scenes and how much has she seen, howlongwasshewatching—

Breathe out for one… two… three…

Link is expecting Cia to seat the two of them at the heads of the table, playing at being the host and hostess, or position him right next to her, so she can touch and feed him as much as she wants.

Small mercy, she chooses the former option, smiling at Link from across the table, that ‘flirtatious’ thing he saw so often during the war, as Poes act as their servers.

Link keeps his court smile securely in place, only faltering when he realizes he has proper cutlery, including a steak knife that is wickedly sharp.

He’s seen Wild take down almost an entire platoon of monsters with a spoon, surely he can—

“Going to try and fight me with just a little steak knife?” Cia giggles, magic visibly swirling around her as she smiles like a snake waiting to strike.

“...you’d be disappointed if I didn’t at least consider it, right?” Link replies after a moment of thought, uncertain of how to feel as Cia laughs heartily.

“You know me so well, my darling,” she coos, her newly poured glass of wine lifting and tipped towards him slightly, in a toast, “just as I know you. Be at ease, you will find no poison in either your food nor your drink here.”

“My thanks,” Link hums as he lifts his own glass in a reciprocating manner, even as his mind drifts towards possible love potions.

No help for it, though, so he drinks at the same time Cia does, mouth quickly filling with lavender, rose hip, strawberries, cherries and cloves.

She really isn’t sparing any expense, is she? Link notes dully, as he sets aside the ridiculously expensive and rare wine, which he only tasted at the castle once, to focus on his food instead, nerves jangling despite the previous assurances.

He knows he’ll have to engage her in conversation at some point, might even have to start one, and is racking his brain for something safe, before Cia’s next words have everything screeching to a stop.

“I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear your ‘brothers’ have settled comfortably into their new quarters.”

Link’s gaze immediately meets Cia’s own, slowly and gently lowering his cutlery onto his plate as he studies his ‘hostess’.

She’s still wearing that predatory smile, her gaze challenging while also dancing with amusement, as she waits for his response.

“...that is good to hear, yes,” he begins slowly, smile firmly in place and stretching uncomfortably as he fights to keep it in a grateful, if ‘apologetic’, tilt, “I do hope they didn’t give you any trouble?”

“The Hero of Legend really should learn to watch his mouth,” Cia purrs, disapproval dancing on the syllables, before her smile widens, “but informing him of the range of my abilities, as well as a quick little glimpse at how their loved ones were doing, had all of them quieting down…”

Link can’t stop his body from tensing as he reads the underlying threat, the reminder of what he hadn’t been able to sneak into their agreement, mind flashing through the friends and family his brothers had all introduced while in their eras, of his family and friends, and how Cia could harm them.

“Still though, his and the Hero of Wild’s behavior was quite atrocious,” Cia continues with a dramatic sigh and pout, “so much so, I’m rather tempted to send all of them to bed without supper tonight.”

Link stays silent, knowing a game has been started, something like what he deals with in court, dancing with and around nobles that he needs to convince to loosen their purse strings or support Zelda in passing some new law, in getting approval for a project…

“But perhaps I can be persuaded to show mercy,” Cia chuckles, an eyebrow raising imperiously, “and even allow visitation… you do want to see your ‘brothers’ don’t you, Link?”

He does; he desperately wants to see them, to confirm with his own eyes that they are all right, that they are safe, as much as they can be in the current situation...

But will she really allow it? Would she really be fine letting me see them, interact with them? What if she gets jealous?

Breathe in for one… two… three…

Neither he nor Cia break eye contact as Link slowly rises from his seat and begins making his way towards her, not until such time he comes to stand next to her seat.

His gaze then lowers, the rest of his body quick to follow suit as he kneels before her, taking her hand when it extends towards him and pressing his lips to the back of it.

There is a voice in his head that is screaming and crying as it happens, young and familiar, who sobs frantically as Cia emits a noncommittal hum.

Her head is tilted, smile now challenging, amusement dancing once more as Link can’t help but grit his teeth.

“You’re a man, aren’t you? What does a little kissing matter?”

Men didn’t care about things like first kisses or how they could be stolen, whilst reeling from the first time the Triforce of Courage had also been taken.

The loss of the Triforce and following distortion of time and space was far more important and the kiss hadn’t been anything special, just a quick press of her lips against his own and nothing more, so what was there to get upset over? This hadn’t stopped the tears from falling, washed away by the shower, amidst a brief stopover at the castle.

Kissing is nothing special, Link repeats over and over in his mind, shoving the crying voice back into the past where it belonged, as he slowly raises himself, careful of any signals Cia might give… before closing his eyes and pressing his lips against her own.

The pleased hum that follows, alongside the ‘soft’ hand coming to rest on his cheek, proves he made the right move, as does the satisfied smile on Cia’s face once the kiss ends.

“Go and finish your dinner, dear,” she then dismisses with a wave towards Link’s seat. “I’ll have the chefs whip up something for your brothers and you may deliver it later.”

Link murmurs his thanks then does as he’s told, choking down food that tastes like ash, his lips burning.

Surprisingly, Cia does not accompany him to deliver food to the other heroes, stating various tasks she needs to take care of before shooing Link away.

He’s not sure what tasks she could possibly have, but isn’t so foolish as to voice this doubt, instead directing a bow and more thanks her way before heading off after his Lizalfos guard.

Unsurprisingly, he then finds himself being led to a place that can be nothing else but a dungeon, the dark stone walls just barely illuminated by sconces of magical fire.

The knight in him approved of how well-maintained said dungeon was, as he passed by solid iron doors with no signs of rust or any other weaknesses in either the metal or the stone walls of the cells.

The rest of him felt any hopes of his inventive brothers and their numerous tales of traversing more mystical dungeons, where they’d prevailed over harrowing traps and intricate puzzles, finding a way to escape their current predicament, falling sharply as he caught sight of his fellow heroes.

Spread out on the stone floor, his brothers were still in nothing but their underclothes, which would be poor protection against the chill that was always present in underground areas.

All of them looked a little worse for wear, none moreso than Legend, Hyrule and Time, still adorned with the same crystal accessories that Link wore, his stomach twisting at how similar Hyrule’s collar looked to a dog’s, his own necklaces throbbing against his skin.

They had all been staring at a gilded mirror on a stand, which sat just outside their cell, casting an eerie glow over them all via whatever magic enchanted the thing, though their attention quickly shifted towards Link as he and his guard approached.

“Misssstresss sssayssss only ten minutessss,” the Lizalfos warned before finally opening the door of the cell, weapon leveled in a threatening manner towards Link, until he stepped fully inside and the door closed behind him.

“Warriors!” Wind cried, nearly launching himself at Link, before Four grabbed hold of his undertunic’s tail.

“Careful, unless you want that tray of food dumped all over you or him!” Four scolded, eyes flashing green, then red as he studied Link, “Wars, are you okay?”

“Looking awful fancy there, Pretty Boy,” Legend scoffed next, the air of indifference he was trying to puff up deflating instantly when Link wasn’t able to stop himself from flinching.

He knew, he knew Legend didn’t really mean anything by that nickname, that the younger boy was like Midna, the Twili turned imp Link had fought alongside in the war.

Both were prickly and sarcastic, using insults to try and distance themselves from others, desperate to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t be hurt anymore... but also fiercely protective of those who managed to make it past those prickly barbs.

Midna’s punishment for anyone other than her calling Link ‘Pretty Boy’ had been swift and brutal, her tongue dripping with the venom of the highest born nobles, the shadow wolf lurking behind her a silent reminder of the power that could back up any possible threats.

Link knew Legend was, and would do, the same… but standing there in those awful, pretty clothes and makeup, still feeling Cia’s touch, with everything that had happened during dinner and what was probably waiting for him later, being called Pretty Boy was just, just—

“Captain,” a deep voice rumbled, pulling Link away from the spiral that had started tugging him downward, Time carefully stepping towards him, hands up with palms facing forwards, Twilight hovering at the periphery.

“Can I take the tray?” his little/big brother asked gently, careful to avoid touching Link’s hands after he managed to nod his assent.

Inhale for one… two… three… Link reminded himself, as he fought to regain control of his emotions, to bring back his Court mask, because if he broke now he didn’t know what he would do.

“How is everyone holding up?” he asked, desperate to turn attention away from himself, grateful the food Time passes out is helping with that endeavor, “and… I’m guessing that’s not a normal mirror?”

“Cia didn’t conjure one up for ya to watch with her?” Twilight asked, the troubled expression on his face and the blatant way he was inspecting Link a clear sign the diversionary tactic hadn’t really worked, at least not for the protective wolf/sheepdog.

“Watch what?” Link asked, unable to stop himself from crossing his arms over his chest, in a futile attempt to cover himself, to ignore how exposed and vulnerable he was.

All of that is forgotten, however, when he catches sight of a familiar white cloth, the equally familiar figure in green drawing the Master Sword as cries of Keese fill the air before the cloud descends upon him.

“Is that Sky?!” Link cries, staring at the strange mirror in disbelief, “h-how- what is this?! No, better question, where is he? Is that blood?!”

“From what we can tell, Sky’s at least gotten a nasty cut on his shield arm,” Hyrule supplies, sad and worried gaze traveling from Link to the mirror and back again, “and… his supplies aren’t that great, apparently.”

“Are they enough to get him to the nearest army base?”

“He’s not heading for an army base,” Wild chimes in, curiosity mixing with his worry, “he’s somehow using the Master Sword, and someone called Fi, to… find us, I guess, kind of like how I use the slate’s Sheikah Sensor, looks like—”

“What?!” Link cried, “wait, how-, are you saying Fi can track people?!”

“Shouldn’t we be askin’ you that?” Twilight asks, albeit cautiously, gaze darting towards Time, then drifting between Link and Wind, “didn’t you guys say she fought ‘longside you in the war?”

“Well, yeah, but…” Wind started to answer, unable to keep his own gaze from locking onto Time who flinched, the bowl in his hands lowering alongside his gaze, guilt apparent on his face.

“There were quite a lot of warriors as well as ground to cover, amidst the war,” Link supplies, even as guilt gnaws at his own stomach, “and, well… for various reasons we… we didn’t interact with Fi much…”

“What, she wasn’t good enough to be in your clique?” Legend hisses, eyes narrowed and frown prominent.

“I asked that we not be paired with her,” Time suddenly admits, though he keeps his eyes glued to his bowl as he does, “I thought she was… everything about her was so foreign and strange to me, that I insisted on staying away from her and dragged Wars and Wind along with me.”

Legend, despite looking a bit like death warmed over, also looked ready to launch himself at Time, his pale face alarmingly murderous, before Four cuts in, mercifully with a question that slightly alters the direction of conversation.

“Don’t you think this entire mirror situation is strange?” he hums, eyes flashing violet before settling back into their usual color.

“How so?” Hyrule asks, speaking for the rest of the Chain, who all look to the mirror, then back to their shortest member.

“I mean, if Cia’s magic gives her the ability to show us Sky like this… then why hasn’t she caught Sky already? After all, the angle we can see everything from shows more of his surroundings than Sky himself, so…”

“She’s already sent out more than one squad of her goons, what’s there to wonder about?” Legend scoffed.

“Why she’s sending monsters and not just going to get Sky herself?” Four replied with a scoff of his own as his eyes seem to turn a lighter, more icy, shade of blue, his tone growing rougher.

“Going herself would be beneath her,” Link answers, squeezing his arms around himself more tightly, “and she… the two of us have been… busy…”

His brothers’ expressions all darken in response to those words, which Link was already regretting voicing aloud, not at all surprised when Four tugs Wind into a discussion while Time steps towards him.

“Wars,” his big/little brother begins, voice quiet while his eye… his eye is shimmering with blatant worry, with fear and sadness, “has she-”

“She just wants a doll,” Link states firmly, if tiredly.

“There are all kinds ‘a dolls, Cap,” Twilight murmurs softly as he comes to stand next to Time, “and all kinds ‘a ways t’ play with ‘em….”

Link’s teeth click together as he recalls what he had to do just to get down here, his lips still feeling like they’re burning, alongside his eyes, which he closes to hopefully keep the threatening moisture at bay.

Luckily, or unluckily, the sound of the cell door opening rings out right at that moment, the voice of Link’s guard calling out immediately after, “time’ssss up!”

Twilight growls and tries to position himself between Link and the Lizalfos before Link tugs sharply on his ear.

“This won’t help me, Twilight!” he snaps, pleading as sharp, midnight blue eyes meet his own cerulean blues, “please, Twi, you need to look after everyone here…”

Twilight whines, gaze uncertain and in full ‘sad puppy’ mode as his head swivels about the room, even after Time starts pulling him away, back towards Wild, who wears a near identical sad puppy expression.

Link, meanwhile, quickly gathers the empty plates and cutlery, using the task to take one last look at his brothers.

He can’t help but linger over Legend, Wind, Time and Wild, those of his brothers that didn’t handle the cold well, be it because of the more temperate or tropical nature of their Hyrules or the scars and arthritis they suffered from.

“I’ll see if I can at least get some blankets for you—”

“Don’t you dare make any more bargains!” Legend snaps, eyes bright with anger and worry, “don’t give that crazy witch any more leverage over you than she already has!”

The sound of a weapon clanging harshly against metal bars and the accompanying hiss gives Link an excuse not to respond to Legend’s outburst, even as his brother continues yelling after him as he heads for the door.

Link pauses one last time, to shoot a quick glance towards the enchanted mirror and catch one last look at Sky.

Night was just beginning to fall wherever the Chosen was and Link was relieved to see the boy looked to have reached a forest, which should provide a bit of cover and safety for him to rest in for the night.

Still, there was no telling what dangers might find Sky, either during the night or day if the boy persisted in trying to make it to the Temple of Souls, alone and without backup… backup that Link couldn’t provide.

There was absolutely nothing Link could do for Sky and barely anything he could do for the rest of his brothers… but if there was something, then he was going to do it… after all…

“Welcome back, dear,” Cia cooed, walking towards Link as he exited the dungeons, her eyes crinkling as she smiled ‘lovingly’, “how were our guests? Was there anything more they required during their stay here?”

“Perhaps some additional blankets?” Link suggested, matching his tone to Cia’s, “it was a bit chilly in their room….”

“I suppose that can be arranged,” she hummed, a snap of her fingers causing the tray of dirty dishes Link held to disappear, those same fingers taking hold of his chin immediately after, “if I am properly compensated….”

She just wants a doll…

“There’s all kinds ‘a dolls… all kinds ‘a way t’ 'play' with dolls…”

“Don’t give that crazy witch any more leverage over you than she already has!”

You know she already has all the leverage, silly, Link laughed silently, so it’s really just a matter of playing her games and hoping she’ll follow through with the reward.

“The garden is breathtaking at sunset,” Cia informs him, “you shall escort me.”

“Of course, my lady,” Link replies with a bow once she releases his chin, offering his arm once he rises from it, pushing the nausea and crawling sensation into the box in his head, as she wraps her arms around his and they stroll off.

Chapter Text

“Oh Link,” Cia sighed, squeezing Link’s arm tightly and laying her head on his shoulder, plump eyelashes fluttering flirtatiously at him, “I can’t tell you how happy I am to have you here.”

Link didn’t answer, just worked on keeping his smile in place and his emotions in check, on keeping his breathing steady, amidst the cloying scent of roses and the burning of his skin.

The garden of the Temple of Souls hadn't seemed to have changed from the last time he’d been here, red blooms and thorny branches surrounding him on all sides in the hedge maze the rose bushes had been shaped into.

Orbs of magical flame floated on the edges of the stone paths, illuminating the area, alongside the statues that still dwelt within the green enclosure.

His heart clenched when he caught sight of the stone effigy of what he now knew to be Sky, albeit when the boy was younger… but not by too many years.

How much do I even know about Sky? How long ago was his quest? How long did it last? Why is he having Fi lead him here, instead of going for help…?

He hadn’t even realized he’d come to a stop before the statue, nor that he’d been staring, until a hand was placed on his cheek, nails scraping lightly.

“An excellent likeness, wouldn’t you say?” Cia cooed, her breath caressing Link’s ear, causing him to shudder as his stomach clenched, “the Hero of Skies at his finest… can’t say the same for how he is now, though the poor thing is trying…”

Her usual smirk is tilted, taunting him as always, her eyes challenging, when Link meets her gaze.

He knows she’s hinting at the mirror she’d left with the rest of his brothers, maybe even referring to the injury Sky sustained, shown by that same mirror.

She’s daring him to ask for a mirror he can watch, probably with her… but Link also knows the danger that could pose, how it would draw his attention away from her and how angry that might make her, how it might increase the chances of her going after Sky herself….

“He’s certainly in quite the dashing pose,” is what Link says instead, “every inch the hero he’s always been…”

“Hm, I suppose,” Cia hummed doubtfully, before wrapping her arms around Link to pull him against her, “but he pales in comparison to you, my hero…”

Link didn’t respond to that statement, once again shoving the revulsion, the lump in his throat and the burning in his eyes into the box the war had helped him create… forcing himself to relax into the following kiss, then to breathe again when he realized he’d started holding his breath at some point.

The walk resumed, Cia chattering about improvements she’d made, Link nodding along and making all the right remarks, giving all the right praise at all the right times.

Eventually, Cia grew ‘tired’ and they returned to the temple, the sorceress leading Link back to the bedroom he’d gotten dressed in before, sitting him down at the vanity mirror to begin removing his makeup.

Once that’s done, she of course moves on to Link’s clothes again, this time draping him in sleepwear made of a soft, lightweight and clearly luxurious material (cashmere, he thinks?), necklaces swapped for a proper collar choker, small and smooth stud earrings, and cuffs bracelets all made from that cursed crystal.

She’s soon wearing a matching outfit (minus the magic sealing accessories, of course) that surprisingly covers more of her body than her usual attire does, which Link is honestly grateful for, as Cia pulls him down into the large, elaborate bed, a green canopy sealing them in.

The mattress underneath him seems to wrap around Link just as much as Cia does, ensnaring him, the woman humming happily as a blanket is draped over the two of them.

“Sweet dreams, my darling,” Cia murmurs into his ear, a kiss searing against his scalp seconds later.

Link doubts very much that he’ll actually be able to sleep, but closes his eyes anyway, squeezing them shut, digging his hands into the far too soft bedding while also trying to relax as much as he can.

The war taught him long ago that it was better to at least try to nap whenever you could, rather than staying awake all the time, to better keep your wits about you… and with this new war, Link knows he’ll need as many wits as he can get.

So he keeps his eyes closed and relaxes as much as he can with the itching bands of fire skittering across his skin, trying to call on memories of happier days…

…but mostly finding himself worrying and praying that Sky is safely tucked away for the night... that Zelda is already planning the best way to rescue everyone... and that the blankets Link had been promised they’d be given were protecting his brothers from the night time chill…

Legend had had no intention whatsoever of using the blood blankets that had been tossed into their cell five minutes after Warriors had left.

He’d told the idiot not to make any further bargains with that crazy witch, yet there was the proof that Wars had done just that and Legend was not going to reward the idiot by indulging in the ill-gotten gains…

…or at least, that had been the plan, as Legend had staked claim to a corner of the cell when ‘night’ rolled in… snapping at anyone who tried to curl up with him and doggedly ignoring every single ache that had been getting progressively worse ever since he’d been stripped of the rings that had helped stave off said aches...

...and the way the cold stone was making everything so much worse, alongside the awful nausea that had set in when the magic-suppressing jewelry had been forced on him…

…and then the next thing he knew, a familiar mop of light brown hair and determined navy blue eyes were looming over him, two thick blankets in each hand… which were then wrapped around both Legend himself and Hyrule in a tight cocoon before he could even blink, his successor smirking triumphantly before snuggling into his chest and promptly falling asleep.

How in the name of Farore did he do that?! Legend wondered, unable to tell if he was annoyed or impressed… while also doing his best to avoid any and all eye contact with any of the other heroes.

He was still able to hear the soft chuckling and cooing and was silently creating a list for revenge when they got out of this mess… when his wandering gaze caught on the cursed mirror.

His annoyance then quickly turned to concern… and more than a bit of confusion, as he saw Sky moving to confront a pack of Stahl creatures… instead of ducking into and bunkering down for the night, in the numerous hiding spots that Legend could spot instantly, a skill Fi had taught him during his own adventures.

She’d been insistent on finding and actually using said hiding spots, especially during Legend’s first quest, chiming and filling his head with endless statistics and admittedly alarming, even downright disgusting, details of how things could go horribly wrong if he didn’t stop and rest immediately.

Legend felt his frown deepen as he recalled that habit of hers and something began niggling at the back of his mind… but by this point, that same mind was swimming with nausea and fatigue that couldn’t be fought off anymore… not with the new warmth and softness provided by Roolie and the blanket cocoon Legend had been trapped in…

By the time he realized he’d fallen asleep, Legend was waking up to the sound of the cell door opening, a bleary and painfully bright blue, gold and white blob slowly entering the cell.

A few blinks had that blob soon transforming into Wars, dressed in a tunic and trousers of the same coloring, gold/crystal accessories adorning his wrists and neck, with a matching circlet nestled atop his shining, wavy hair.

All that glitter and shine didn’t hide the concealer under his eyes, eyes that had looked dull before catching sight of Legend.

The placid expression Warriors had been wearing immediately shifts into such blatant relief that any lingering anger Legend might have had for the whole blanket thing deflates entirely.

This is probably why the others finally help him out of his cocoon prison, his successor blinking awake as this happens, the two of them doing their best to keep steady as they rise into a sitting position.

They’re both still pale and reeling from the effects of the enchanted restraints, but also quickly come to a silent agreement to hide this from Wars as much as possible.

Worry is already dripping from their brother as his gaze travels from the creaking noises that come from the Old Man as he tries to stand, to the mirror, which shows Sky moving at a worryingly fast march as wheezing is faintly heard.

Yes, there’s plenty for all of them to worry about, so the least Legend and Hyrule can do is downplay their… discomforts, Legend playing into the light teasing over his cocoon incident and bantering with Wars as breakfast is passed around.

Chapter Text

It was honestly a huge relief when, upon arriving to deliver his brothers’ breakfast, Link had immediately spotted Legend wrapped in blankets alongside Roolie.

He’d worried the Vet would stubbornly refuse to use said blankets, after the younger boy had practically ordered Link not to barter with Cia to try and make things better for his brothers.

That relief was short lived, however, as a glance at the mirror showed Sky moving at a brisk walk instead of his usual pace, a wheezing sound faintly heard over the quiet murmurings of the others.

A soft call of his name had his attention shifting towards Time, who had arranged his own blanket so that he was now sitting on it, patting a spot next to him with a meaningful look in his eye.

Link knew he should huff and sigh, put on a nice little show before graciously submitting to his little brother’s request…

…but honestly, he was too tired from the rough night and morning with Cia, so he just sank onto the blanket, careful to arrange himself in a manner that wouldn’t lead to his clothes wrinkling… or him possibly touching anyone.

“When did Sky set out this morning?” Link asked before Time could say anything, not wanting to answer any questions of what he’d been up to since his last visit.

“...he didn’t stop for the night,” Time confessed, after a clear moment of hesitation, face twisted with apology and worry when his words had Link sharply turning his way, “he kept going the entire time… at pretty much the same pace he is now.”

Link stared, disbelief flooding his veins as he processed that statement, before it was replaced by outrage, Link struggling to keep from cursing as his gaze swept from the mirror, to Time, then back again.

“He- what?! Why wouldn’t- was there nowhere safe for him to bunker down for the night?!”

“There were plenty,” Legend cuts in, his expression brewing with that unique storm that said he was more confused and worried than actually annoyed or angry.

“There were multiple places he could’ve ducked into that would’ve been easy to conceal from the night monsters, he just,” Legend flapped his hands in obvious confusion, “I don’t know why Fi wouldn’t- she drilled and nagged me constantly, and even if she’s sleeping, like Sky said, if she can lead him to us…”

He trails off with a half grunt/half growl as a hand scrubs at his face, Hyrule leaning against him as this happens… before a troubled look crosses the younger boy’s face as he turns to address Link.

“...hey, you don’t think… remember when Twi had us chasing that… weird statue thing with Sky… when we sort of…”

Link felt his stomach drop as he recalled what Hyrule was likely hinting at… back during the time before they learned Twilight was Wolfie… when Legend had come into contact with the dark crystal Twilight used for his transformation…

In an effort to transform the Vet back without exposing either Twilight’s secret or the Vet’s other form (which Link would bet fifty rupees was a cat… or at least in the cat family), the rancher had sent Link, Hyrule and Sky on a snipe hunt.

The hope had been to separate Sky from Link and Hyrule, which had indeed happened… far too easily, which he and Hyrule had teased Sky for, when they’d returned to camp and found the Chosen seated at the fire there.

Looking back on it now, Link… was pretty sure Sky’s expression had fallen at his and Hyrule’s words… hurt, insecurity and maybe panic flitting across his face…

…but then attention had shifted towards Legend and how his hair had turned completely pink, then onto the monsters Link and Hyrule had encountered amidst searching for Twilight’s statue diversion… and Link forgot that brief shift in Sky’s attitude… but… but…!

That had been so dangerous and unacceptably irresponsible of Link, of a captain of the Hyrulean army… leaving a comrade behind, not even realizing they’d been left behind until finding them back at camp.

What if Sky had been the one to stumble upon the monsters he and Hyrule had found? Sky, who had such a hard time keeping up with everyone… as skilled as he was, if he was still trying to catch his breath, if he’d been wheezing, like he was now, if he’d gotten hurt or worse—

“Captain.”

Link jolted, blinking dumbly at Time, whose face was suddenly right in front of his own, expression twisted with worry.

His big/younger brother’s mouth opened but before he could get a word out, metal clashed against metal, the reptilian guard hissing that time was up again.

Link quickly gathered the dirty dishes, then ducked out of the cell, his eyes locking onto the mirror as he passed it, his neck craning to look over his shoulder until such time he exited the dungeons.

“Link! There you are sweetheart!” Cia called immediately after, her smile wide as she waved at Link, the tray and dirty dishes he’d been holding disappearing again as she strutted towards him.

“It’s good that you wrapped up your little errand so quickly,” she said as she took hold of Link’s hand and began tugging him along after her, “we need to start getting you ready!”

“Ready for what?” Link asked uneasily, that unease growing as Cia’s smile grew even larger.

“Why for the ball, silly!”

Balls had become a common thing, once Link had been revealed to be the Hero, his beautillion ball introducing him to the nobility held during the first lull between battles in the War of Ages.

He’d felt utterly ridiculous amidst that first ball, a boy who should’ve still been in training for knighthood, who might’ve been assigned to patrol the grounds to learn the ropes of castle security, instead trying not to embarrass himself in a room full of glitter and gold.

But balls were excellent tools in acquiring money for food, new equipment, and whatever else the army needed… and, eventually, Link had found himself coming to enjoy the dancing and food, especially once Zelda returned and he’d been joined by comrades in arms like Midna, Ruto, Tune and Tetra (Darunia and Mask had attended one and only one ball... one ball had been more than enough).

Even the dressing up had become a rather pleasant event, once his girls had taken full control over his wardrobe.

There was nothing pleasant about Link’s current situation, however, as Cia circled around him, low and ‘sultry’ tones filling his ears instead of bell-like laughter, cold and clawed fingers brushing against his skin, instead of fluttering wings and warm fae magic as balls of white, blue, red, black and yellow applied makeup and helped him pick out his clothes and accessories.

He wondered, briefly, what his girls would think of his current attire, as he gazed upon the black dress coat and matching pants Cia had dressed him in, a dark crystal choker fastened around his neck, matched with cufflinks and earrings.

Meanwhile, Cia herself surprised him when, with a wave of her hand, her usual attire was replaced with an exquisite pink chiffon and charmeuse dress, lavishly embellished in marabou and covering far more of her body than it usually did, though it was rather form-fitting.

Accented with a beaded necklace and pink diamond earrings, alongside a matching cape and silk gloves, she almost looked soft and demure, a noble lady who would fit into any Hylian ball.

Even the massive wooden doors Link soon found himself standing before reminded him of what he encountered during those events in Hyrule Castle, the current doors slowly swinging open as Cia led him forwards.

“Announcing Lady Cia, the Guardian of Time,” some unseen voice began to pronounce as the two of them walked into a blinding light, “and the Hero of Hyrule, Hero of Warriors, Lord Link!”

Link kept his back straight and his gaze steadily locked on the path ahead… even as a new shiver creeped down his spine.

Before him stretched a grand ballroom that once again rivaled that of Hyrule Castle in what he was beginning to see as a pattern, the glint of gold sparkling from various points in the room, the exquisite wooden floor shining alongside.

Unlike Hyrule Castle, however, the large windows that circled the room were filled with the eerie purple light that was unique to the Temple of Souls, instead of the sun or moonlight, and the walls were interspersed with even more portraits of Link.

And then there were the… ‘guests’ who were milling about the ballroom… Link feeling a new chill make its way down his spine when he sees them.

With faces that seemed to be adorned with, or made out of, fine porcelain masks, the eyes were nothing but empty black holes, as if there was nothing but the mask itself, no face holding it in place.

Yet, these masks possessed bodies of their own, adorned in fine clothing and accessories, though none so fine as he and Cia wore.

They had to be dolls, some kind of mannequins, puppeteered by magic to act as stand-ins for ball attendees, who all bowed in reverence as Link and Cia made their way to the center of the room.

Music started immediately after, prompting Link to bow as Cia curtseyed gracefully, pink dress fluttering delicately as they stepped into a waltz.

And, at least for that first dance, Link was able to lose himself in the music, desperately latching onto old dance lessons and counting the steps, keeping him preoccupied…

…but it didn’t last long, as his treacherous, treasonous mind began to fall into unpleasant memories, dredging up old whispers, from the balls, from time in court, and even amongst his fellow soldiers.

“He’s the hero? That scrawny little brat?”

“Such a pretty thing, is he really a knight?”

“Not that pretty, rather disappointing for a hero, certainly not worth starting a war over…”

“...nothing but a child, what does he know about leading troops?”

What did he know about leading troops?

He thought he’d gotten really good at reading people, he’d needed to get good at reading people, because then he’d be able to spot traitors among their ranks, stop them from hurting him or those who were still his allies, his friends, his brothers.

Why did we, why did I, tease Sky about his stamina? Why didn’t I ever consider it might be an actual medical problem?

I should’ve at least factored in the whole ‘he’s spent most of his life on small islands, traveling on birdback’, like Wind and his boats. Of course things like traveling by foot, or running for long distances, would be a struggle, why didn’t I account for that—

“Your mind has wandered, dear heart,” Cia called, a warning in her tone as nails briefly dug into Link’s hand and shoulder.

Her plump pink lips droop into an exaggerated pout as she whines, “this is supposed to be a fun time for us. Don’t tell me you don’t want to dance with me?”

“It’s not that,” Link quickly reassures… perhaps a bit too quickly, given the way Cia’s eyes narrow.

But then red-violets drift to examine the room before, surprisingly, filling with sympathy and a matching smile quickly following suit.

“Oh honey,” she sighs ‘sadly’, “don’t tell me you’re thinking about what those nasty Hylian nobles and foolish knights have whispered about you? That certain current events have you second guessing yourself? Your worth and right to the title of Hero?”

Link can’t stop himself from flinching, from stumbling over the next steps in the dance.

Cia easily sets him right, showing the strength she possessed as the Guardian of Time and holder of two pieces of the Triforce, perhaps using a bit of magic to keep Link in the proper position, in the proper movements of the waltz.

It was like he was no different than the eerie puppets that were still dancing all around them, a doll of a ‘hero’ that she was eager to play with, as evidenced by her next words.

“Well, why don’t we help remind you of the true hero you are?” she hums, madness gleaming in her eyes alongside excitement, “yes… I do believe that will be a marvelous thing to do tomorrow, don’t you darling?”

Link, uncertain how to respond, simply nodded as the current song ended and a new one began, shifting into the next dance as seamlessly as the other dolls, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.

Chapter Text

As was expected, the ball lasted until well into the night, leaving Link exhausted both physically and mentally, with only the barest amount of energy needed to worry over whether the others had been given any food while he’d been… preoccupied.

Cia, on the other hand, had still been bubbling with excitement and energy as she’d ‘helped’ Link out of his party clothes, then washed off his makeup before changing him into his sleepwear.

She’d then surprised, and worried him… when instead of joining him, she’d merely tucked Link into bed and given him a ‘good night’ kiss before suddenly turning and sashaying away.

“I’ll be back after I’ve set up your surprise, darling!” was the only explanation she’d given before she’d walked out the door, which locked behind her, leaving Link alone in the massive room and bed.

That had been more than a little worrying, meaning Link hadn’t been able to sleep, even without her arms wrapped around him, trapping him against her, despite how tired he was.

Instead, it only left him free to toss and turn, thoughts spinning almost as much as he had been during the dance, twirling from worries about Sky and wondering if the kid had finally let himself rest, even if only to gather berries or water…

…to the remainder of his brothers, once again wondering if they’d been given any food or water, or whether he’d be able to see them before dealing with Cia’s ‘surprise’...

…to the ‘surprise’ itself, Cia’s words repeating over and over in his mind… which was then joined by older whispers… those Cia had mentioned and others… the ones that, at his lowest point, just before finding and claiming the Master Sword… had led to distrust buzzing under his skin, fueled by the traitors, whose numbers had just kept growing…

“Well, why don’t we help remind you of the true hero you are?”

It’s to those ominous words that Link greets the morning, feeling groggy and with a pounding headache.

Finding the blurry figure of one of Cia’s dolls standing next to the bed only helps one of those, grogginess switching directly to alarm as he launches himself out of the bed, before realizing the figure’s true form.

Said figure only stands silently throughout the whole ordeal, the clothes in its hands a good indication of what its purpose is… though it’s strange that Cia would miss out on dressing Link up.

The strangeness only grows as Link gets a good look at the clothes, which consist of a simple, albeit well-made and of high quality material, tunic and trousers, all in that familiar ‘Hero’s Green’.

There is no new jewelry to adorn him, nor does the doll move to help him apply any makeup… which almost tempts him to forego the activity altogether, if not for the dark circles under his eyes, leading to at least an application of concealer, as well as a balm for his lips… just in case Cia returns.

When it is instead his usual Lizalfos guard who opens the door later (he’s not sure how long, there are no clocks in his room, no sun to track as it travels across the sky), the tray of food for his brothers shoved into Link’s hands before an annoyed hiss has him setting off for the dungeon.

The unease that had begun forming in his stomach, due to Cia’s continued absence, is then swiftly replaced with worry for his brothers when he arrives at their cell, not least of which because of how gray Legend’s skin has become, nor the bruise-dark circles under his eyes (not even Link’s bags have gotten that bad yet).

No, it’s because nearly all of them have crowded around, and have their eyes glued to the mirror, from which Link can faintly hear the sounds of battle, the distinct shriek of Moblins just barely heard over the screech of the cell door opening.

It’s only once he’s in the cell itself that Link finally gets a look at what’s being shown by the mirror and he immediately understands why the others had only spared him and the opening door the briefest glance before turning their attention back to the fight on the screen.

A fight that consisted of three types of Moblins, one of which was the one Link was most familiar with, the fat pink ones which Sky had also confirmed fighting against, amidst his era, one of Wild’s long-snouted varieties, mercifully bearing the weakest red coloring…

…and the one that was currently giving Sky the most trouble, the dog-faced creatures with disturbingly muscular and humanlike bodies from Time’s era, the large spear it wielded making it difficult for their Chosen to land any attacks against the creature.

The spear that was suddenly being leveled at the Chosen, its wielder rushing towards the boy with a bellow, while gasps and cries of dismay rang out in the cell.

Link isn’t even sure how he manages to position himself between Wind and the mirror when their youngest tries to see what’s happening, which means Link himself misses half of what happens next, only turning back in time to see Sky suddenly jumping into the air and sailing over the Moblin.

A clumsy strike to the head was delivered, leading to further imbalance for the creature, giving Sky time to finish the Moblin with a strike to the back, despite the boy stumbling when he’d landed.

Link hadn’t seen the move often, really only once or twice, something that Time and Twilight would use in similar situations, the two heroes in question sporting gaping expressions of recognition and shock, alongside the awe and respect that could be seen on the rest of their group who’d been watching the fight.

“I showed him once,” Twilight breathed, after Time had shot their rancher a questioning glance, “I dunno how to teach, not like— n-not like you and Wars. But—”

Whatever else the Rancher was going to say is cut off, this time with a cry of alarm instead of a surreptitious glance towards Time (and a distant look in his eyes that War's would bet a hundred rupees was due to time travel… it was always time travel), bringing everyone’s attention back to the mirror again.

To the mirror, which now showed Sky, fallen to his knees, breath once again wheezing horrifically, his hair hiding everything but his mouth as it desperately gasped for air… before twisting into a snarl.

“That was slow and sloppy,” Sky hissed, Link unable to stop himself from flinching at the cold sharpness, so completely different from their sleepyhead’s usual gentle tones, “no wonder he never offered to teach you.”

A sharp gasp, as small as it is, brings Link’s attention towards Time, his expression reminding him so sharply of those days with Mask, usually whenever the youngster had realized a prank he’d pulled… had led to unintended repercussions… especially when those repercussions hadn’t been directed towards himself.

The following, acerbic critique that began spilling from the mirror had Time’s, and everyone else’s, ears drooping, more of Link’s little brother appearing as the man before him curled into himself.

Link, meanwhile, quickly had to tune out the critique, as memories began growing claws and a familiar voice began whispering similar reprimands within his own mind.

Drawing everyone’s attention fully onto the food that he’d brought, as well as passing it out, helped keep the whispers away, though they were quickly replaced by new worries, as Legend’s pale, worryingly grayish, skin took on a more greenish tint when Link tried to pass him a bowl.

“Try to eat a little?” he requested as he offered the bowl again, directing his next words to Hyrule as well, “and it might get easier once the food’s cooled. Not eating at all will only make it worse—”

“Quit talking to the both of us like we’re a patient and caretaker,” Legend growled, shooting a sulking glare towards both Link and Hyrule as he practically snatches the bowl out of Link’s hands.

It’s so much like a grouchy cat, the teasing words are on the tip of Link’s tongue, amusement warming his chest…

…but that whispering is louder, choking the amusement and silencing any good-natured ribbing he might’ve tried to engage their surly Vet in.

He should still try, try to lift everyone’s spirits up, like he usually does but he just… can’t do it.

“Wars?” Hyrule calls, his expression shifting into one Link’s seen on his girls' faces thousands of times, fairy protectiveness shining in navy blue, even without the usual magic.

“Bad night,” Link murmurs, trying to convince himself as much as his brother, “I’ll try and take a nap later.”

He then quickly moves on to continue passing out the remaining bowls of food, doing his best to deflect any further worries for him as best as he can…

…until he finally finds himself back beside Time, who’s parked himself directly before the mirror, still curled in on himself, knees drawn in towards his chest and arms wrapped around them.

It’s not a position that’s good for his back, though at least he’s sat himself atop a blanket again, another draped over his shoulders, probably via a worried Twilight, who sits just a slight distance away.

Seeing that his little brother has also ensured that he’s positioned in a way that there’s a spot open for ‘someone’ to sit beside him on the blanket, Link carefully lowers himself down, still mindful of his clothes, even if they are ‘simple’ and ‘comfortable’ things.

He then can’t help but return his attention to the mirror, where poor Sky is stumbling along on horribly shaky legs.

“He hasn’t even sat down for a short rest, has he?” Link asks, not surprised when Time’s reply is a sad shake of his head but still feeling his heart ache at the confirmation.

Link feels his own frown deepen as he notices that more bloodstains coat Sky’s clothing than when he’d last caught sight of their brother, alongside how the boy’s fingers would often brush against his chest.

“Did Sky get hit in the chest, earlier?” Link can’t stop himself from asking, especially since, again, he’s pretty sure he knows the answer.

That doesn’t stop his brother from studying him, most likely debating whether he should lie to Link and say things aren’t as bad as they probably are, before wisely remembering that not telling Link the truth would only lead to him theorizing, with the theories quickly spiraling into horrific possibilities that just made it that much harder to sleep.

“...he needed a fairy,” Time reports, face absolutely wracked with sadness and worry, “and even then, she apparently wasn’t able to heal everything, before she was pulled back to the nearest fairy spring…”

It was very, very hard to keep himself from cursing at that information, Link falling back on internally counting as he breathed in, then out, “and does he have any other fairies? Or potions?”

“No other fairies… two health potions… and he started with two days of travel supplies… which he’s barely touched, mostly consuming tiny pieces of that Stamina fruit of his and Wild’s.”

Inhale for one… two… three…

Your hands are shaking because it’s cold, should get off the blanket and wrap it around Sprite or see if Twilight will take it back—

“I didn’t mean to exclude him,” Time murmurs, voice small and sad, so like when he was Mask, that it immediately pulls Link back into the present, where his brother is gazing at him with pleading eyes, “Sky’s our best swordsman, far better than me… and I thought…

“…he never seemed to need help in that area and… and went to an actual school for stuff like that, like you did a-and I, I haven’t even really,” Time’s hands released his legs to flap at the air helplessly, his expression pained, “sure, I’ve been coaching the younger boys on some things, but I haven’t even really perfected those skills myself, yet!”

“...doesn’t mean we wouldn’t be interested in learning, too, Sprite,” Link admitted softly.

He hated that it made his boy’s face crumple with even further sorrow, but lying wouldn’t help anything, either… and it would be a lie to say he hadn’t been interested in the techniques Time and Twilight displayed every once and a while.

Time’s mouth opened again, but the sound of something falling to the ground, accompanied by a familiar yelp of pain, had attention snapping back towards the mirror, which showed poor Sky on his hands and knees, the poor boy the obvious source of the previous noises.

“Yes, I am that weak,” he chokes between heaving breaths, Link pretty certain he hears a sniffle, can hear choked back tears in the younger boy’s voice. “You were right. The Goddess’s Chosen Hero was a mistake.”

Link nearly choked himself when he heard those words and the vitriol with which they were spoken, unable to keep from hugging himself, as those voices began hissing again.

And suddenly, he’s not in that dungeon anymore... but at those balls... in the command tent, in his own tent with a lump in his throat choking off any attempt to scream for help as a man he’d thought was his friend stood over his cot with a knife in hand.

“This war wouldn’t be happening if you’d never been born.”

“They wouldn’t have died if you had been better.”

“They might have given us more if you were prettier.”

“You need to be better! Better than anyone, otherwise what’s the point?! What will happen if they find out you’re nothing but a mistake, a fraud?!”

“I can’t… I’m sorry….”

Chapter Text

Four wasn’t sure which was worse, feeling like his head was cracking open or that it was stuffed full of cotton.

This always happened when he was away from the Four Sword for too long, a problem that had surfaced soon after his last adventure had ended and persisted to this day.

It’s why Zelda had eventually insisted on drawing the sword again, even with the danger of releasing Ganon… a danger that had thankfully been negated, thanks to the aid of Zelda and the maidens, alongside Four’s fellow knights of Hyrule and even his Minish friends, like Ezlo.

This had left him free to split into his colors when necessary, when the headaches or the cotton couldn’t be fought off anymore… but there had still been the worry of the seal and Ganon’s continued imprisonment.

After all, the Four Sword had only been meant to defeat and seal away Vaati, not Ganon… and while Four couldn’t see any physical signs of possible weakening, in either the blade itself or feel any when he was fighting… he also couldn’t help but fear the sword and its seal just… wouldn’t last.

Hearing Warriors’ story, of how his war had started because Ganon was using Cia to gather the pieces of his soul, which had been split into four pieces, had only furthered his worries… had left him wondering if everything their captain had gone through was his fault…

Stop that, we don’t need any more of things like that, Four quickly scolded himself, flashes of Green and Violet dancing briefly behind his eyelids as he rubbed the back of his hand against them.

He then felt his mouth drag downwards into a worried frown when, upon opening his eyes again… he was immediately met with the sight of Time’s slumped form, still stationed before the mirror.

A quick inventory of the room then found Legend and Hyrule, still curled together, the Vet slowly picking at his food, while on the other side, Wind, Wild and Twilight were sitting together doing… something.

There was no sign of Warriors, Four’s sluggish brain needing an extra two minutes to remember that he’d been pulled away from their group some time ago by the Lizalfos (or had it been a Dinolfos?) guard… almost immediately after basically confirming that Time had been excluding the elder heroes from… from something to do with swords….

C’mon, Link! Keep it together! You can’t fall apart now! Our leader’s already spiraling with these new revelations, Legend’s got his hands full wrangling his stomach and Twi’s focus is too split between everybody, so you gotta step up!

But I really don’t want to! Four whined internally as he rubbed his temples, then eyes, hands dragging down his face as he sighed as quietly as he could.

Because he couldn’t just ignore the group’s Old Man, not when Wars and the other ‘older’ boys were clearly unavailable, in one way or another.

You can’t hide behind your short stature and youthful face forever, Four intoned, channeling his Green side as much as he could as he slowly made his way onto his feet, you’re technically the second eldest Link in the group and now’s the time to… at least try to act like it, for a bit…

So he carefully made his way over towards Time, almost managing to avoid collapsing next to the older man, whose gaze was finally pulled away from the mirror, worried expression now fixed on Four.

“Smithy? You alright?” Time murmured, lone blue eye filling with fear and desperation as it scanned Four (which felt unwarranted, he hadn’t actually fallen just… sat down a tad hard).

“Just a little… off-kilter,” Four hummed, a hand rubbing his head again, gathering his hair between his fingers as he pushed it away from his face before leveling his gaze on Time again, “how about you?”

“I’m fi—”

“You’re not, I heard what you and Wars were saying before he had to leave again and you’ve been sitting like a giant ball of misery ever since,” Four cut in, feeling Blue begin sizzling while he desperately groped for Red.

Time, meanwhile, flinched violently in response to his words, a myriad of expressions crossing his face before it collapsed into misery.

For a moment, Four worried he’d pushed too hard too quickly and cursed himself for even attempting this, in his current condition, especially as Time dropped his head onto his knees, seemingly trying to bury his face in them as he sighed deeply.

When a few seconds passed and no other noise or movement came from the elder man, Four dared to glance at the mirror, wanting and yet not wanting to see how Sky was doing, at the moment.

He was honestly surprised to see the kid, not collapsed out in the open, but now apparently curled up in a cave, only just barely visible thanks to the dull glow of the Master Sword, still clutched in Sky’s hand.

“When’d he find a cave?” Four asked with a pointed poke at Time’s ear, followed by a couple more until the elder man directed an annoyed glare at him.

Four met it with a pointed glare of his own as he softly repeated his question, which led to the older man’s posture loosening a little as sadness draped over him again, alongside guilt.

“A few minutes ago… the second Sky regained consciousness, the sword started chiming incessantly, maybe even tugging him a little, to the cave entrance, only stopping once he was fully inside, where he then collapsed again and seems to have properly passed out this time.”

“You make it sound like the sword did all this intentionally?” Four half remarked, half questioned, Violet swirling through cotton while Red poked at his memory, for some reason.

“...probably more the spirit that dwells within that sword,” Time mumbled, guilt growing even thicker around the man.

Red poked again, tugging at some past conversation their group had taken up one night, but Four waved it away, since it really didn’t seem to have anything to do with the current situation or his goal.

“...are we really just gonna ignore the fact you’ve been a giant ball of misery for the last… couple hours or so?”

“It’s only been two.”

“Whatever, look,” Four tried again, waving at the Blue sparkles as they tried to ignite his temper, “you’re obviously upset about what Sky and Wars said earlier and… and probably feeling guilty which is stu- no, foolish—”

“I shouldn’t feel guilty for overlooking and excluding members of our group from lessons that might help them against unknown opponents?” Time chuckled lowly and without an ounce of humor, “that one of our own seems to think it natural for me to exclude him? Or that he’s obligated to run himself into the ground, so that he can make it to- to wherever, even at the cost to his health?! Even when he’s hurt?!”

That last part is equal parts hiss and growl and it’s not even the end, the man practically spitting, “I shouldn’t feel bad for not realizing an ally from the War of Ages was Sky’s companion? That it took me this long to realize that she’s, apparently, inside Sky’s sword, sleeping but still there, but also apparently not there, meaning she’s a friend Sky lost but he’s apparently convinced himself his loss is less than mine, than any of the others?! Gods and that’s not even counting the fact that I insulted her and the sword…”

Red thrashes against the fog in Four’s head, that and Time’s words finally bringing forth the memory that’s been nagging at him… the memory of the time when they’d been talking about swords… when Roolie had taken a few experimental swings with the Master Sword and Four…

…Four had immediately rejected the offer to try wielding the Master Sword after Hyrule, flat out refused to even touch the sword and…

…and, just like Hyrule and Warriors, when they’d mentioned teasing Sky, after the three of them had been separated… how their expressions had shifted and how quiet Hyrule had gotten, as he’d watched Sky marching at such a punishing pace within the mirror… Four can’t help but think…

“Aw, crud, I insulted his Ezlo,” Four groaned as his throbbing head dropped into his hands, “and all the work he put into forging the Master Sword, instead of asking for details, which I’m actually kind of curious about, now that I’m thinking of it…”

He cuts off that wandering thought, emitting another groan instead whilst vigorously scrubbing at his face.

“Four? Are you alright?” Time calls gently, so obviously cautious with its gentleness, that Four’s not at all surprised by the new worry shining in the other man’s eye when he finally lifts his head again.

Which of course just leads to Four sighing heavily as he drags his hands through his hair again before directing a tired look towards his slightly elder brother, “this pep talk is not going how I wanted it.”

This at least brings a smile and the barest huff of a laugh from Time, “in your defense, it’s quite hard to find inspiration for a pep talk in our current environment and the situation at hand… not to mention, you don’t seem to be feeling well.”

His expression then becomes troubled again, as he leans closer and lowers his voice even further, “is it because you’ve been separated from the Four Sword? How long can you be away from it?”

Four grimaces and briefly ponders lying but quickly gives it up as Time gives him the Look, then does his best to scrounge up an answer, “...yeah… and not sure, but I guess now will be the time we find out.”

The Look shifts into a mildly irritated, but mostly worried, frown, Four quickly barreling on while also channeling Red as he flops against the bigger man, “it’s only some mild brain fog and headaches right now which a nap should help with, a bit. Mind being my pillow?”

“Do I have a choice?” Time chuckles as a big hand settles atop Four’s head, fingers carding gently through his hair and scratching lightly at his scalp.

“I mean, if you wanna be mean,” Four jokes sleepily, feeling a small sense of accomplishment when the Old Man chuckles again, “and you’re still getting that pep talk later, don’t let me forget that…”

Time’s answer is a noncommittal hum, which then takes on a steady rhythm, some kind of lullaby, and it’s not long after that sleep fully embraces Four.

Chapter Text

By the time he’d made it halfway back to his usual room, Link was more than ready to drop into that nap he’d promised Hyrule he’d take.

Thankfully, there was still no sign of Cia and the creepy mannequin doll thing disappeared soon after taking the tray of dirty dishes from Link.

So he washed his face then kicked off his boots before removing the topmost blanket and one of the pillows from the far too soft and big mattress to instead curl up on the floor, back instinctively pressed against the wall as he wraps the blanket around himself, pillow stuffed under his head.

With this, Link can almost pretend he’s in the wilds again, camping out under the stars with his brothers sleeping around him... to allow the illusion to tug him into a deeper level of unconsciousness than he’d managed to achieve the nights prior.

Which is probably why he doesn’t notice the presence coming towards him until Cia called out to him, tone both curious and disapproving.

“Link, dear, what in the world are you doing sleeping on the floor?”

His body is moving before Link’s groggy mind can process anything fully, his hand fumbling briefly when it can’t find his usual hidden dagger before throwing the pillow at the same time he rolls out of his blanket and onto his feet, braced for an attack.

He’s not sure how to feel when, upon his eyes and mind clearing, Link finds Cia, pillow in hand and looking at him with, not annoyance or outrage… but pride and rapture.

“As dangerous as ever, my hero,” Cia purrs at the same time she easily tosses the pillow back onto the bed before slinking towards Link, head and voice tilting towards ‘playfulness’ as she hums, “but that still doesn’t explain why you were sleeping on the floor instead of the bed…?”

“...was too big,” is how Link chooses to reply, a half truth and the correct choice, as it were, since it transforms the dangerous tilt in Cia’s smirk into something much happier, a girlish giggle escaping the woman as she wraps Link up in a crushing hug.

“Oh, I’m sorry I was gone for so long, Dearest,” she coos before beginning to tug Link towards the bathroom, “it took a bit longer to finish your surprise than I expected, but it’s done now! And we’ll go see it right after we’ve gotten you cleaned up and properly dressed!”

And with that ominous declaration they enter the bathroom, where Link is stripped down to his undergarments, outer layers disappearing with a snap of deceptively delicate fingers and new clothes appearing in Cia’s hands.

His clothes, more specifically… or, at least, they look like the clothes Link had been wearing, before Cia had captured him and the others.

Not the perverted replica she’d dressed Link in before, nor the simple outfit he’d just been wearing… it’s the sturdy green tunic, white undertunic, white pants, chainmail and his durable brown boots.

The differences start with the scarf that Cia wraps around his neck, not made of the vibrant blue, red and yellow colors of Hyrule... but bearing colors that match the palette of the sorceress: black, purple and white, the mark of the Triforce encircled by Cia’s own symbol.

And then there’s the magic that he can feel buzzing from the clothes once they’ve been donned… for its no longer the warmth of fairy magic that he’s missed so dearly, but instead more of Cia’s magical signature, humming in tune with the restrictive magics in the new studs she places in his ears and even the leather gauntlets she ‘helps’ Link don.

Despite that, there’s no question that he’s been dressed for battle and Link can feel his nerves heightening by the second as Cia presents his sword and even his charmed pouch, which still holds his bombs, boomerang, bow and arrows, hookshot and hammer.

When his eyes dart back to Cia he finds a smile of challenge directed at him, two golden triangles pulsing as she raises her hand before shadows rise up and darkness swallows Link’s surroundings.

It’s only for an instant, however, and then he has to shield his eyes with his hand as the darkness is ripped away, replaced by the blue/violet light that always hung over the Temple of Souls, his ears ringing as the voices of a raucous crowd assaults his ears.

When his eyes finally cleared, Link found himself standing in some kind of arena, surrounded by high walls of stone, atop which were countless seats, every single one of them filled with the same mannequins that had attended the ball.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Cia’s voice suddenly cried, easily heard over the roaring ‘crowd’, Link unable to keep himself from turning towards the sound.

He found her, not standing beside him as Link expected, but situated atop a raised podium, standing before a grand throne made of gold, precious jewels studding the frame, the seat itself bearing a rich purple velvet covering.

The sorceress had her staff in hand, her magic swirling around it as she pointed at Link, manic grin in place as she continued speaking.

“Today, we shall bear witness to Link, Hero of Warriors, the strongest of all the heroes, past, present and future, as he displays his true strength and abilities!”

The crowd roars at the same time doors can be heard slamming open, setting Link’s nerves on edge, the rest of Cia’s grand speech becoming muffled as his instincts come alive, in response to the cries of monsters adding to the din around him.

He soon finds himself faced with a number of Darknuts and Stalmasters, an Icy Big Poe flying in behind them and cackling with wicked glee as they all move to surround Link.

“Fighters, ready?” Cia’s voice calls out as Link draws his sword and shield, already dropping into a defensive stance as he hears the sorceress cry, “begin!”

With that, the Darknuts and Stalmasters rush forwards, causing Link to dive and roll to the side as their swords swipe towards him.

Coming out of the roll, Link tries to swipe at the closest Darknut with his sword, only to be blocked by one of the Stalmasters, who he quickly disengages from as the second prepares to deliver an attack from his other side.

He hops backwards, tracking the movements of the monsters with his eyes and, when he notices a familiar stance one of them takes, quickly replaces his sword with his boomerang, throwing the weapon in just the right way to trip up the offending monster and send it’s attack towards its allies instead of Link himself.

When he then tries to move in and cut the dazed Stahlmaster down with his sword, Link catches sight of the Poe, preparing an attack of its own.

He’s not worried, though, because an arrow will easily disrupt the attack, and Wild will surely—

Link remembers too late that Wild isn’t there, nor is Time or any of the other boys, or even any of his fellow soldiers.

Link is alone, which means no one is there to distract the Poe or disable its attack with a well placed arrow, therefore there’s nothing to stop the attack from slamming into Link, who cries out in pain as dark fire washes over him.

He quickly drops into a roll to put out the flames, then has to scramble to avoid a new attack from one of the Darknuts, just barely raising his shield in time to block the second Darknut’s sword.

When another shield suddenly rushes towards him, it’s more instinct (and perhaps a mixture of memory and maybe even a little competitiveness) that has Link thrusting his own shield forwards, crashing into the other one.

He doesn’t know how he remembers the first part of a technique he’s only seen in passing, on very rare occasions, but he’d just seen the next part and works to duplicate it now, jumping as high as he can and rolling once airborne.

Link slams his sword into the head of the Darknut halfway through that midair roll, which turns into a spin on his toes when he lands to deliver another attack to his opponent’s back.

This sends the Darknut flying, but its twin steps in before Link can finish it off, forcing Link to block, then roll again when the Stalmasters try to box him in.

And he keeps rolling as he hears the Poe cackle, then feels the dark fire crackling above him, until such time he finds himself against a wall, halting his forward momentum.

Link jumps back onto his feet and whips out his boomerang again, wishing he had access to the magic needed to transform it into its more powerful form as he throws it, but still thankful to see the monsters become stunned as the weapon slams into them all before returning to his hand.

As this happens, the roar of a crowd can be distantly heard, not the cries of his fellow soldiers or his brothers, but that of masses looking to be entertained by his fight.

It makes Link feel sick to his stomach, regardless of the fact the audience is made of nothing but dolls, there’s still at least one real 'person' watching all of this, watching him struggle in this so-called ‘game’ she’s thrown him into.

When a Spin Attack leaves him some breathing room and his gaze happens to fall upon Cia, who sits on her throne, with posture completely relaxed… Link almost feels like giving up.

If I just let these monsters kill me, will that be enough? Will she stop all of this, end her obsession and let the others go home?

Even as the questions form in his mind, he already knows the answers, and the look Cia shoots his way gives Link the strong impression she knows what he’s thinking and is confirming the truth.

If he gives up and dies here, she’ll simply move on, picking a new favorite from the other heroes she still holds captive and forcing them into her sick games instead.

And Link can’t let her do that, won’t let her do that to any of his brothers, which means he has to survive and win.

But that’s easier said than done, as the latest slice of his blade, directed at the Poe when it wanders too close, leaves familiar black blood on the metal, making his own blood run cold.

She expects me to fight black blooded monsters?! Alone?!

It’s complete insanity, one infected monster usually took three heroes to take down, and while one of the Darknuts seemed to be gone, that still left the second, alongside the Poe and two Stalmasters.

Link falters, can feel panic setting in despite his best efforts, sorely missing the Triforce of Courage and its enhancements now.

He manages to rally himself, however, rationalizing that not all of his opponents might be black blooded.

His hopes for this rise when he succeeds in taking down one of the Stalmasters , his boomerang slicing through the air and hitting the creature in just the right spot to send its attack flying into its allies again, as well as leaving Link an opportunity to slice through its spine, no black blood in sight.

Link then moves on to circling his opponents, shield up and body tensed to dive out of the way of an incoming attack, beginning to feel hopeful that, maybe, the only black blooded monster is the Poe and he might actually have a chance, as long as he’s careful.

But careful, of course, is boring, as evidenced by the booing that steadily fills the air, not that Link cares one bit about what the strange dolls want.

It’s Cia, of course, who is the problem, and it seems that her patience has begun to run thin, as her voice calls out to Link directly this time.

“Stop holding back, Link!” the sorceress cries, her magic sparking through the air, halting the monsters in their tracks.

Her expression is stormy when Link dares to look towards her, her voice ringing as clearly as when she first announced the beginning of this sordid affair, “stop pretending to be something you are not! You are the Hero of Warriors, the greatest of all the Heroes!

“You who have faced down hordes of enemies, even those who betrayed you! You who have conquered beings the other heroes struggled mightily against… King Dodongo, Manhandla, Gohma, Argorok, Dark Beast Ganon, Phantom Ganon… not even Ganondorf himself could stand against you! Even his predecessor falls before you!”

The next thing Link knows, the ground beneath him begins to shake, his alarmed gaze falling upon an eerily familiar looking pillar that suddenly materializes in the center of the arena.

His breath catches in his throat as darkness begins pooling around the pillar, then billowing upwards, nearly blotting out the light entirely.

Link didn’t realize he’d been backing away from the forming dark mass in front of him until such time his back hit the wall, thereby halting his movement and leaving him with nothing more to do than watch as a massive black scaled creature burst upwards from the ground, giant fangs glinting even as they rose higher and higher.

The roar of the Imprisoned nearly drowns out the roar of the crowd as well as the wild pounding of Link’s heart as he stares at the creature in complete disbelief.

She’s insane, Cia is completely insane!

He can’t fight the Imprisoned by himself!

It took he and his fellow soldiers, including Fi, everything they’d had to take down the creature when Ghirahim had summoned it during the war! Not to mention they’d had trebuchets to help distract and trip up the beast!

I can’t do this!

“Stand tall, Link!” Cia’s voice commands, still managing to be heard, even as the booming steps of the Imprisoned and the crackling of demonic energy join the din of the crowd’s roar, “as powerful as this being is, it stands no chance against you!

“You may think you will not succeed without the likes of the Hyrulean Army or the other heroes to aid you, but you are wrong! You’ve fooled yourself into thinking they make you stronger, but the truth is they’ve only ever held you back! Made you weak!

“You are the Hero of Warriors! You are the strongest incarnation of the hero, he whose spirit shines brightest of all! Cast off the shackles those lesser have cast upon you and unleash your true strength!”

Says the woman who’s cut him off from his magic and is expecting him to fight this giant monster.

He’s going to die, he’s barely managing to stay on his feet, flinching from the Imprisoned’s magic that crackles painfully against his skin, watching as the thing lumbers towards him, alongside the remaining Stalmaster and Darknut, that cursed Poe bouncing around in the air.

Link is going to die because this crazy sorceress thinks he’s fully capable of defeating all of these enemies by himself, even though one of them is definitely black blooded and the other is some kind of apocalyptic monster that not even Hylia Herself had been able to kill.

But Sky did.

That’s right, this thing had been from Sky’s era, meaning Sky himself had probably faced it, him and Fi…

Sky’s the best swordsman we have, I can’t even beat him, and I have to beat these guys as well as the Imprisoned?! I need help!

He was going to die…

He’s gonna die…

I don’t want to die…

A ringing noise has started, Link doesn’t know when, nor when the panic and dread he’d felt building in his chest seemed to disappear, when the world around him seems to become distorted…

The next thing he knows, a scream fills the air, emitted from the giant black mass that he’s somehow kneeling on top of, sword buried next to the familiar stone pillar.

It’s the only thing that keeps him steady as the form beneath him bucks and writhes in obvious agony before suddenly disappearing, Link just barely managing to maneuver himself into a proper landing position and avoiding injury.

He briefly catches sight of broken and mangled bodies of a Darknut, Stalmaster and Poe, before Cia’s laughter rings out, the sorceress herself appearing a few steps in front of him seconds later.

“Yes!” she crows as she strolls towards Link, triumph rolling off of her, “finally the true Hero of Warriors appears and displays the full strength he possesses!”

Link just stares, at Cia, at the arena around him, at the places where the monster corpses, or at least the remains they always leave behind after disintegrating, should be.

But there’s nothing, there’s not even any blood on his clothes, on the sword that’s still clutched in his numb hands, that can barely even feel when Cia’s own hand rests atop them, or the other that comes to lie on Link’s cheek.

It’s almost like he’s in a dream, a nightmare, there’s a haze draped over his entire body, his senses, one that he can’t shake off and isn’t even sure he wants to shake off as Cia keeps talking and touching him.

“...don’t know, don’t appreciate you the way I do, don’t love you as I do. You are so much better off without those so-called brothers of yours, can only reach your full potential if you cast them off entirely…”

A shudder manages to make its way through Link’s numb body, his sluggish mind managing to realize the sorceress is trying to turn him against the other heroes, to convince him to abandon them…

…to reawaken the whispers that had haunted him constantly after the traitors had surfaced, that had him cataloging every single weakness of those around him, even amongst his current travel companions, the paranoia that always left him so tired, he was so tired, maybe it would be better to just give in…

But then… something inside him seems to ignite, tugging at memories of his brothers, pushing them to the forefront of his mind, which breathes new life into his resolve, his nerves.

It aids in further dispelling the numbness and the disconnecting haze, though not entirely, their siren song still whispering in his ears, as Link meets Cia’s gaze and assumes his sweetest courtly tones and smile.

“My lady, as I have bested this contest you set upon me, may I ask for a favor?”

Cia’s eyes widen in surprise for a moment, but that surprise is quickly replaced with an excited eagerness as she replies, “of course, my hero! What is it that you desire?”

“Might I request that the chefs prepare food that’s easy on the stomach? The Hero of Legend is feeling under the weather and such a meal would surely be beneficial for him.”

It’s actually quite fun to see Cia’s eagerness drop into a scowl, even if the fog hisses warnings that punishment may be her response instead of the reward he’d requested.

But her usual smirk returns just as quickly, an unconcerned shrug following alongside a ‘long-suffering’ sigh, “very well, if that is what you wish, pet.”

Link can’t help the flinch that follows that word, his regret and dismay from the loss of his weapon, which disappears with a flick of Cia’s wrist, stronger than ever.

Still, he manages to keep his court smile as he bows and, with no further direction from Cia, turns towards the door that appears.

“You can’t hide forever, Link,” Cia says before he can take more than three steps, “I will set you free from the prison those other ‘heroes’, and the undeserving masses, have forced you into. Rest assured… your true self will return soon enough.”

“...alone already! I’m not your stupid Cub, I don’t need to be babied! I’m fine!”

It’s this annoyed shout that brings Link back from… from wherever his mind had been wandering, setting his nerves alight and bringing his steps to a halt.

He blinks, then blinks again as he registers familiar stone walls as well as the weight of the tray he holds in his hands.

The fact that he doesn’t quite remember acquiring the tray, nor making his way to the dungeon, is mildly worrying… though he doesn’t have long to fret over it as a warning hiss is delivered by his guard.

So Link resumes walking to that familiar cell, from which Legend had just been shouting, just in time to see Twilight slinking from one corner of the cell to the other, looking very much like a kicked puppy.

A kicked puppy, who then starts rubbing at his wrist, then chest where his cursed crystal usually sat, his expression quickly becoming distressed.

That distress only eases minutely when Link is let into the cell, but only because it allows Twilight to shift that nervous energy towards him instead.

Link expects the hands that flutter over him to burn, like they always do, ever since he’d first encountered Cia… but, instead, he can barely even register their touch.

A tiny voice in the back of his head says that’s probably not a good thing, but trying to figure out why it’s not a good thing is like trying to catch hold of smoke.

He then startles when Time suddenly appears and the tray in his hands disappears, Link blinking rather dumbly at his empty hands as he and Twilight are pulled to a corner of the room.

Twilight is muttering something about captivity, bad memories, how worried he’s been about Link, about everyone, and insisting that he just wants to help.

Link catches sight of Legend, a grumpy but also nauseous expression on his face from where he sits on the other side of the room, wrapped in a blanket, as Time settles their little threesome on the ground.

Guess Twi tried to Papa Wolf/Sheepdog our dear Vet… would’ve thought he’d realize Leg is the kind of cat you need to let come to you for attention and the like, given all the cats that roam around in his era...

“Warriors? Link?”

The soft call of both of his names brings Link's attention back towards Time and Twilight, the latter of which grabs hold of his sleeve with a soft whine, clearly worried.

“S-sorry, I- it- it’s been a… a long day,” Link tries to explain, but this only serves to deepen both Twilight’s and Time’s worried expressions, as well as tighten Twilight’s grip on his sleeve.

Time, in turn, lifts his arm, then hesitates, an uncertain gaze leveled at Link, arm still hovering in the air.

Realizing Time’s intent, Link considers the options his Sprite is giving him, remembers doing the same with the skittish Mask, before… before certain events during the war and Cia…

“I will set you free from the prison those other ‘heroes’, and the undeserving masses, have forced you into. Rest assured… your true self will return, soon enough…”

The memory of her words sends a shiver down Link’s spine, which in turn drives him to press himself into Twilight’s side, surrendering completely to the arms that instinctively wrap around him, Time’s own arm and warmth encircling the two of them a few seconds later.

A small part of Link wants to squirm and immediately break free of the double embrace, but a far bigger part of him has Link burrowing deeper into Twilight and Time.

The part of him that can still hear Cia’s words and is already theorizing how she might make them a reality… that worries over what ‘true self’ she might be talking about and how she might go about drawing it out… that desperately shies away from memories of blood and bodies laying at his feet…

Careful fingers brush against Link’s hair as Time begins to hum a vaguely familiar tune… some kind of Goron lullaby he'd learned during his second adventure, if Link’s remembering right.

At the same time, Link feels Twilight’s nose pressing against his neck as the younger man curls even more tightly around him, almost like he’s Wolfie again, trying to keep the cold away… or the dangers that have surrounded them.

And while Link knows it’s a fruitless endeavor… that he’s going to have to pull away from the protective embrace of his brothers sooner rather than later… he still wants to soak in their warmth for as long as he can… before Cia possibly rips it away from him forever….

Twilight’s arms tighten even further in response to Link’s involuntary shiver, Time’s humming halting to murmur reassurances and promises they both know he can’t keep, his calloused fingers still running gently through Link’s hair, as he muffles the frightened sob he couldn’t hold back any longer against Twilight’s shoulder.

It’s followed by a possibly hysterical giggle, as the scent of wet dog somehow fills Link’s nose, alongside the scent of horses and pumpkins that still manages to cling to their rancher.

This and the renewed humming of the lullaby eventually lull Link into the arms of a dreamless sleep… even if only for a short time…

Chapter Text

Wild hadn’t liked the way Warriors had looked when he’d come to visit them to deliver the day’s supper.

Granted, Wild had only been able to spare a small part of his attention to focus on Warriors, as he’d been battling against memories trying to surface alongside a sudden flaring of the trained instinct instilled into him during his time as a knight.

Said instinct and memories, initially set off by Legend, had then started trying to tug at something from his fractured mind, regarding the way Wars was behaving… but nothing was coming to him, other than the beginnings of a headache as Wild had tried to grab hold of the potential memory.

Emitting a small huff, small enough not to disturb Twilight, who he, Time and Wind had somehow managed to keep asleep when it had been time for Wars to go, Wild instead shifted to focus his attention onto the mirror that showed them Sky.

This only served to deepen his frown as well as darken his mood further, since the Chosen had resumed that punishing march of his mere seconds after he’d woken up.

Worse, Sky was still barely eating anything.

The most Wild ever saw their Cloud Boy consuming lately, whenever he had a spot by the mirror, were those small pieces of Stamina Fruit.

And that was a whole other level of concern, because as far as he’d learned from Sky and Warriors, the fruits weren’t that different from the Stamella Shrooms in his era.

And Stamella Shrooms, as he’d learned the hard way, were not meant to be your one and only source of food, even if you were hoping their energy boosts would help you achieve your goals faster.

The result of Wild trying just that had not only led to him collapsing in the middle of the Zoran version of his namesake, soon after reclaiming Vah Ruta, but also Flora and Mipha’s voices screaming in his head to warp back to Zora’s Domain immediately, as a Moblin had charged at him, while he’d trembled spastically on the ground.

The panic in their voices, alongside the tears and Sidon’s blatant relief when he’d woken up in the Zora infirmary later, had done more to convince Wild to slow down and take better care of himself than the doctor’s long and rather descriptive lecture on Stamella Shroom poisoning.

And now here Wild was, sitting as helplessly as Flora and Mipha must have, not even able to scream at Sky as his brother popped another small piece of bright green fruit into his mouth, not even glancing at the perfectly good bush of berries he was passing right by.

I swear, if you end up with the same kind of poisoning I did, I am going to channel Twi and give you the- the lecturiest lecture that ever lectured! Wild swore silently, grinding his teeth as the faint sound of a stomach growling plaintively came from the mirror.

He was also, once they got out of this mess, going to head straight for the nearest kitchen, cook up every single one of Sky’s favorite dishes, and stuff the boy until he was as fat as a Goron!

If you get out of this mess, a treasonous voice suddenly whispered, can you really be sure that this isn’t the end of the line for you? That this isn’t your last screw up, dooming the other heroes to an eternity of captivity, and Sky dying, just as the Champions died on your watch?

Wild couldn’t stop the flinch and shudder that followed those words, quickly wrapping his blanket around himself to disguise it as being due to the cold, while also viciously hissing at the voice to shut up.

But it was too late, familiar negative thoughts were beginning to bubble up and crowd around in his mind, Sky’s renewed negative barrage towards himself not at all helping matters as Wild curls up even tighter under his blanket.

We’re all quite the mess, aren’t we? Wild laughed silently, head falling to rest on his drawn up knees, watching miserably as Sky trudged down the unknown path before him.

Chapter Text

Time (the concept, not the person who’d be cracking a bad pun right about now) seemed to blur at some point for Link… actually, everything seems to blur around him… to become shrouded in fog, or… or separated from Link by a pane of glass or…

…he doesn’t know, but… but feels like he should.

There’s more fighting, Link led back into the arena, except it’s also… not the arena? It… it seems to change, is it changing?

The things he fights against change… one day it’s ReDead Knights and shadow versions of those he and Cia knew… of little Agitha and Midna…

…of Volga with ReDead Knights…

…of Shield Moblins and Dinolfos who try to wear Link down, so the dark Ruto and Lana might defeat him more easily alongside a Fiery Aeralfos.

The next day(?), there’s more dancing, Cia draping herself over Link, her voice barely discernible over the music or the cotton that seems to have found its way into his ears, muffling everything.

More fighting, usually by himself, against wave after wave of enemies.

ReDead Knights, Shield Moblins, Dinolfos, Aeralfos, Fiery Aeralfos, Darknuts…

…Dark Sheik and Dark Ruto (he doesn’t know how Cia managed to create these dark copies of the others, hated having to fight them, hated even more that he already knew the weaknesses to look for)…

…and the Imprisoned, paired with mini-Imprisoneds… followed by the Imprisoned… and the Imprisoned… and mini-Imprisoneds, why were there so many of that Imprisoned monstrosity?!

Sprinkled in with these solo fights would be ‘special events’ where Cia would join him, fight alongside him, as familiar forts appeared around them… coming to Link’s rescue as the 'knights' he was fighting with suddenly turned against him, though mostly ‘letting’ Link deal the ‘killing blow’...

…not that it… not that it was actually killing someone, not a real Hylian knight, a human… since there was never any blood.

Not when he’s fighting alongside Cia, nor when Link’s alone… the whole thing has to be some elaborate illusion… since wounds he was sure he sustained were nowhere to be found once the ‘mission’ (when had she started calling them missions? Or… was he the one…?) came to an end.

And… and even though Link would swear he’d seen blood spurting from a monster’s wound, splashing onto his clothes and skin… he doesn’t feel it... or find any trace of it, once the latest ‘mission’ is over.

He can’t even tell if he’s happy or scared or… or what he’s feeling is he feeling anything? when he steps out of the arena (or whatever it is) and finds not even a speck of dust on himself.

Not that this kept Cia from pulling him into the bath each time… the hands in his hair and on his skin, the hands that had burned so much… barely detectable now.

Even when he’s with his brothers, Link… Link finds himself feeling… detached and separated from them... barely able to hold onto conversations since his mind is so foggy.

It feels like the time with them is only a dream, a falsity… as the next thing Link knows, he’s sinking his sword into Dark Volga’s chest, rolling away from the vanished corpse to dodge a fireball sent from a King Dodongo.

There’s another dance... a fight against four Big Poes and Wizzro and, randomly, one Bokoblin (he can’t remember which era it's from, but the thing’s screeching is harsh, even with the cotton still in Link’s ears)... and more visits, or dreams, with his brothers.

Link usually finds himself wrapped up in one of the other Link’s arms during those visits/dreams… arms that should burn and yet, honestly don’t even feel like they’re actually touching him.

Not even the voices of these dream brothers can break through the cotton in his ears, except for the time one of them Wild, began yelling and swearing at some random at the mirror, the mirror that showed some kid Sky…

Sky who was looking so worryingly haggard, clothes covered in holes and bloodstains (the like of which Link never saw outside of the mirror these days) and whose head was currently tipped back as he took a swig of some vibrant green liquid.

“...-on’t mix the things!!! Even I’ve never mixed things like that! Why do you even have that, when did I give you that?! Why did I give you th-, oh Hylia, is that the normal Stamina Elixir or the enhanced?! Sky you’re gonna give yourself a heart attack or something!!!!”

Link can’t help but flinch as these words suddenly assault his ears, causing the arms around him to tighten, worried midnight blues peering down at him alongside a single denim blue.

“Wars? Are you okay?”

Link’s brow furrowed as he tried to pinpoint who had spoken, to find an answer…

…but then the worried blues were gone, replaced by a blade swinging towards him, and Link was back to fighting again for… he’s honestly not sure how long.

At some point, tea parties are added into the mix of dancing and fighting, hosted in either the dining room or the rose garden.

The guests are the dolls from the dances and make up the audience in the arena, who chatter around Cia and Link, his place at the table near constantly shifting from the opposite head or right next to the sorceress so she can feed him little bites of food herself.

Not a single word of whatever conversation (if they are conversations) that is being held makes it through the persistent cotton in Link’s ears, not unless Cia demands his attention or answer.

But more often than not, Link just sits at that grand table, a delicate cup of the finest china, embellished with exquisite designs, in his hands, from which Link sips ‘elegantly’... while also feeling like he’s floating either above or beside himself, sometimes.

He’s not sure what tea he’s drinking... can’t really taste it or the petite and pretty little cakes or sandwiches that accompany the drink, though he murmurs compliments and gratitude to Cia for them nonetheless, same as all the other dolls, when prompted.

It’s eerily peaceful and becomes quite routine …at least until such time a Poe suddenly rushes in one day(?), its unexpected appearance and erratic behavior pushing away much of the fog in Link’s head, as the curiosity he shares with all the other Links stirs.

Curiosity that quickly shifts towards alarm as, after the Poe spends some time hovering beside Cia and chittering into the woman’s ear… the sorceress suddenly flies into a rage.

The next thing Link knows, Cia has her scepter in hand, which she slams into the Poe, sending it flying as she screams in fury.

“CURSE YOU, LANA!!!!” Cia roared, dark energy crackling about the room, growing more and more powerful by the second, alongside Cia’s anger, “YOU AND THAT WRETCHED SHEIKAN DOG!!!!”

The scepter swings and a number of the dolls go flying, more Poes appearing and flying away as the bodies fall in broken heaps onto the ground.

“I WAS SO CLOSE!!! SO CLOSE TO GETTING MY HANDS ON THE HERO OF SKIES AND COMPLETING THE SET!!!! WHY MUST YOU ALWAYS GET IN MY WAY?! WHY MUST THEY ALWAYS GET IN MY WAY?! I HATE THEM, HATE THEM, HATETHEMHATETHEMHATETHEM, I HATE THEM ALL!!!”

Scepter and magic were still swinging wildly as the sorceress raged, eventually slamming into the table, sending food and vicious shards of porcelain and wood flying.

Some of which head directly towards Link, who just barely manages to shield his eyes with his hands, though he still feels something razor sharp slicing into his hands and dangerously close to his left eye.

Even more shocking… Link can then feel warmth begin to slide down his cheek… down his hands from pinpricks of pain… his mind actually feels like it stutters when he opens his eyes and finds thin trails of red beginning to dot his skin.

But it barely lasts longer than the next blink of his eyes, because then Cia lets loose a horrified gasp, red violet eyes filled with matching horror and apologies soon spilling from her lips as her hands cup Link’s face, careful of the cut he can still feel weeping warmth down his cheek.

In the next instant, a bottle is shoved against his lips, teeth aching from clattering against the glass.

He wants to resist the command to drink, wants to feel the warm stickiness on his skin a little longer, even if it is his because it's real, it has to be…

But the hardening of Cia’s voice, the warning lilt in her call of Link, has him dutifully tipping his head back and swallowing, the sickly sweet taste of red potion sliding down his throat and halting the flow of warmth.

A blink of the eyes later and he’s in the bath, that stickiness disappearing like it was never there, roses replacing that familiar scent of iron and nearly causing the fog to drag Link back into its grasp.

But he fights it off, has to fight it off… because Cia had mentioned Sky in her fit of rage.

Sky and Lana and Impa.

Does that mean they found him? Link dares to hope, as he’s dressed in a blue tunic with silver decorations sewn into the whole thing and in a long stripe down the front's center, the long blue violet sleeves nearly concealing the usual crystal cuffs on his wrists, silvery grey pants and matching boots finishing the latest ensemble.

If Impa and Lana really did find Sky… that would mean he’d finally get some proper medical attention and food… and Impa will make sure he doesn’t run off on his own again, or push himself as hard as he’s been doing… oh Golden Three, please, let this be true…

It takes everything Link has to keep from running to the cell that holds the rest of the Chain, he’s that eager to see them, for his brothers to confirm the validity of Cia’s earlier outburst.

His emotions, which he’s been trying so hard to keep under tight lock and key from the very instant the mad sorceress had reappeared in his life, are on the verge of running rampant, nearly choking him with the lump that forms in his throat…

…the lump which grows spikes at the sight of his brothers, looking dismayed and somber, instead of relieved or cheerful or any of the other emotions Link would expect of Sky being rescued.

Panic only flares briefly before the fog returns, the fog he reaches for desperately, which lets Link enter the cell calmly as well as assess his brothers.

Physically, they looked no worse than when last he’d seen them, though the varying expressions of dismay, frustration and pain had Link tugging the fog a little closer and feeling a sliver of that floaty feeling slide in as well.

“I… heard Sky encountered General Impa and Lana?” Link manages to ask, once he’s passed out the food and Time’s pulled him down to sit again… even though he’s no longer certain he wants to hear the answer.

“...yes, he did,” Time finally answers, though it comes slowly, “they… the general and Lana encountered Sky, after… after he’d finally succumbed to exhaustion and... and had transported him to their base camp.

“Once there, he remained… remained asleep for at least a few hours, until… I think he had a nightmare… which woke him up. Impa was there when this occurred and Sky gave her a brief summary of all that had occurred…”

“So why don’t any of you look happy?” Link asks, even though it’s a question he’s pretty sure he knows the answer to, despite not having a good look at the mirror.

Because he’s foolishly trying to keep the fog from overtaking him completely, to stay grounded and present enough to have this conversation, which means he’s also aware enough to know Time’s been deliberately trying to keep Link from looking at the mirror.

“...Sky didn’t stay with Impa and the others… did he?” Link finally asks, not at all surprised when Time’s expression drops fully into worry.

Worry that Link knows extends towards himself, because he can see his hands shaking from where they’re clasped in his lap, even if he can't truly feel them.

He’s also, vaguely, aware of his breathing growing heavy, unsteady, because… because…

Why? …why?

Why couldn’t Sky have just stayed with Impa? Why was he still so set on following after them alone and to the point of running himself ragged and into the ground? What had Link missed?!

…-iors you need…

And what would happen if Sky actually managed to make it to the Temple of Souls? As skilled as the kid was, he’d still have to face Cia’s monstrous guards, followed by Cia herself, if he actually made it through to her…

…Captain, please, slow your brea-...

…or… or what if Cia managed to lure Sky into the arena she’d been pushing Link into… what if she summoned his shadowy counterparts, or the shadow counterparts of their other party members, either those from the war or, somehow, their fellow heroes, and forced Sky to fight them, too…

…need to stay calm for Wars, or you’ll make it wor-...

Oh gods, what if… what if she makes Link himself fight Sky? What if… what if that was how she would ‘set him free’ and reveal the ‘true self’ she was looking for?

There’s a ringing in his ears, a clanging noise as the fog closes in on Link… and the next thing he knows, he’s wrapped up in Cia’s arms, laying in their bed, the woman emitting a happy giggle as she nuzzles against Link.

She’s saying something, but he can’t hear what it is, not with the cotton that’s returned to his ears.

He simply closes his eyes as something brushes against his cheek and keeps them closed as darkness descends and the fog takes him once more.

Chapter Text

The first sign of approaching danger came from Queen Zelda’s prophetic dreams and an increasing feeling of unease that swept through the Fairy Corps.

They warned of encroaching darkness and a strange shifting of the natural magics in the world… coupled with concerns regarding Link and the heroes he traveled with, who had also appeared within Zelda’s dreams… albeit in splotches of color and shadow, given she only had written descriptions of the unknown six (well, technically seven), from Link’s letters sent via the Postman.

Impa, of course, had quickly taken measures to prepare the troops for a possible confrontation, while the queen had sent a letter of warning to Link himself, once the strange Postman had appeared with the latest of their hero’s own letters, alongside missives to Lana, requesting her own aid in possibly communicating with their traveling hero.

From there, the only thing they could do was wait ...something that chafed at all involved and worsened as time continued to pass without any sign of the warned danger.

Until, one day, a near panicked Proxi, alongside the slightly more composed (but also clearly enraged) co-captain of the Fairy Corps, Loyla, entered the throne room to inform Zelda and Impa of the sudden destruction of the protective charms the Fae had placed upon Link, Mask, and Tune (rather, Time and Wind, as they were apparently called now).

And in what was far too perfect timing, mere seconds after this news was relayed... an all too familiar laugh suddenly rang out, bouncing around the stone walls of the throne room at the same time malevolent magic filled the air.

A laugh that had Impa’s blood running cold and worries for her brother-in-arms increasing… as purple/black flames had burst into life in the middle of the room.

Impa and the other guards stationed in the area had immediately moved into defensive positions before the queen, who’d already summoned her rapier, Loyla and Proxi’s magics wrapping protectively around them all as the familiar form of the Dark Sorceress, Cia, appeared before them.

Well… an image of Cia, at least... a magical construct whose form wavered and flickered as she ‘strolled’ towards them, still wearing that ridiculously revealing outfit, including the hat but missing the bird-like mask, meaning the crazed light in her red violet eyes had been on full display.

The crazed light which only grew brighter as she greeted them all, delivering a mocking curtsy to the queen as she did.

Taunts and insults had followed as the witch delayed providing explanations of how she’d been revived or why she was there, until finally the melodramatic woman had revealed the Triforces of Power and Courage, shining brightly from the back of her left hand.

This, added to the fairies earlier news... alongside the appearance of Link’s unmistakable blue scarf fluttering down from above, after the sorceress had exited in much the same way she’d appeared, to land within Zelda’s instinctively outstretched hands… had been more than enough to prove her claims of capturing Link and the other heroes truthful, even before Lana had finally returned to the castle.

The light half of the Guardian of Time had been shaken, not just by the reappearance of her dark half… but also due to the battle she’d recently undergone against Cia herself, from which Lana had barely escaped, the Triforce of Power she’d held unfortunately lost amidst the struggle.

That had not stopped Lana from insisting on accompanying Impa on the necessary scouting mission that needed to be performed, in order to secure and reactivate the Owl Statues residing within the territory of the Temple of Souls, which would allow the main force of their army to be teleported instantly to the area.

The queen had also wished to accompany them, but Impa had managed to persuade Zelda to stay behind, specifically to oversee the main force of the army and ensure all would be ready to deploy as quickly as possible, once the time came.

The Fairy Corps had been much harder to persuade, the shimmer near swarming with their anger and worry for Link and the other boys, who'd they been so looking forward to seeing again, as well as those they'd yet to meet.

It was precisely because of that anger and worry that Impa had insisted they stay behind, for fear they'd compromise the scouting mission, which would need the utmost speed and stealth.

Thankfully, the presence of Link’s scarf and its need for repairs, both physical and magical... as well as the very possible need to prepare and preserve their magic for the offensive, defensive, and medical supports they usually provided in battle... proved to be enough to persuade the Fae to stay behind at the castle.

Thus it was that Impa, Lana and the other members of a small scouting party that first set off, traveling as fast as they could down the path that would lead them to the Temple of Souls, their goal to, if possible, secure the newly deactivated Owl Statues that were to be found along the way and if not, report on what monsters were to be found.

They had been making eerily good progress, with very little interference from monsters, the Owl Statues deactivated, but only protected by a spell Lana was easily able to break, instead of the monstrous guards they’d been expecting.

It wasn’t until they’d covered nearly three fourths of the journey that monsters finally appeared, after Impa and Lana had moved ahead of the others to ensure the base they were setting up around the latest statue was indeed secure.

The Sheikah General immediately recognized the variety of Bokoblins that belonged to the era of Skies, such as had been encountered in the war... alongside those Tune had described which dwelt within his own era... and even some which looked like the ones described in Link’s letters, hailing from the era of the Hero of Wild.

Above them hovered what looked to be another of the Hero of Wild’s monsters, a Wizzrobe Impa believed... except it wasn’t any of the colors Link had included in his report.

This nearly gave the general pause in confronting the monstrous group, her years of experience cautioning that it may be better to observe the unknown creatures from the safety of the shadows and hopefully glean some first hand information.

But then, pure white caught her attention, as sudden shifting in what was clearly a skirmish the monsters were engaged with occurred... at the center of which she was now realizing was a young man, the following flash of a familiar green causing Impa to spring into action.

“Lana! Take care of the Wizzrobe, if you can!” Impa ordered at the same time she grabbed hold of the hilt of her blade, grasping it tightly as she channeled magic into her legs, strengthening them, allowing her to burst forwards, straight into the fray.

She then slammed the pommel of her sword into the nearest Bokoblin, giving her the leverage she needed to unsheathe the blade, moving immediately into a sweeping circle that sent more than a few of the monsters flying.

Lana, in the meantime, had summoned a number of her book- shaped magical barriers she often deployed, quickly climbing up one to give her the height needed to throw a ball of electrical energy into the Wizzrobe, causing it to scream and fall.

The White Sorceress then quickly summoned three additional barriers, positioning them alongside the first in just the right way to cage in both the fallen Wizzrobe as well as the Bokoblins Impa had sent her way, before detonating the barriers themselves, the monsters perishing along with them.

As this occurred, Impa had stationed herself over the clearly unconscious figure that lay upon the ground, Lana quick to take up position at her back, where the two remained until the final monster breathed its last.

Impa’s own breath then caught in her throat, as when she moved to inspect the body that lay at her feet, her eyes were instantly caught by a familiar winged crest which decorated the pure white cape draped around what she now realized was a young man.

A young man that looked eerily similar to their own missing hero, though his hair was a far darker shade of blonde, nearly brown, and his height a head or two shorter than Link’s own.

Worryingly, the boy was also far thinner than Link, not to mention near completely covered in wounds and blood, old and new and not all of it originating from monsters previously fought.

The paleness of the boy’s skin, alongside the bruise dark circles under his eyes gave the distinct impression the boy had not likely had a good night’s sleep for quite some time, alongside no proper meals… all of which was incredibly alarming, given the boy’s likely identity.

“Is he one of the new heroes from another era?” Lana inquired eagerly from where she crouched next to Impa, as the older woman carefully rearranged the boy in order to check his pulse.

It’s a ridiculous question to be heard from the Guardian of Time, the one who’d filled in the blanks when Impa and Zelda had been puzzling over the identities of Link’s traveling companions, matching the names the Master Sword had evidently bestowed upon them all, as stated in Link’s letters.

“Yes,” Impa replies now, knowing there’s a touch of wryness in her tone, while she checks the boy for possible head trauma, frowning at the erratic pulse she finds when she presses her fingers to his wrist... while also pointedly stating “and if I am recalling Link’s letters correctly… this looks to be the Hero of Skies… as in the Father of the Royal Family, alongside the reborn Hylia.”

The visible disappointment and obvious deflation that sweeps over her colleague causes a small burst of sympathy to form within Impa’s chest, but the older woman does not regret giving the other the reminder.

She’d seen the hopeful look that entered Lana’s eyes, both when they’d first received news of Link’s meeting the other incarnations of his soul and with every new arrival of his letters detailing how the quest was proceeding...and knew the sorceress was hoping to win the heart of at least one of these new heroes.

But the first and founding king of Hyrule was, naturally, completely off-limits… and friend or no, Impa would never allow the sorceress to endanger her own princess' safety, her very existence alongside that of the kingdom itself, with attempts to lead the future king astray.

Speaking of which… just how was it that the young king was here, alone in this hostile territory, instead of with the other heroes, like Cia had implied?

Was it possible the boy had managed to escape and been trying to find help in the unknown era? Or could it be Cia had only captured Link, leaving the other heroes scattered and lost?

The only one who could answer those questions was the boy himself, thus he needed to be taken to safety and receive medical attention as soon as possible.

“Lana,” Impa called out firmly as she carefully gathered the unconscious boy into her arms, mindful of the Master Sword, more pristine and beautiful than even when Link had wielded it, which was still stubbornly in hand, “go on ahead back to base and inform everyone of what has occurred.

“Following that, open the communication channels so that we may inform Her Majesty of what has occurred, as well as send for a medic… and set up a place for this young man to rest. Hopefully, when he wakes, he will be able to provide more information as to what has happened to Link.”

For a brief moment, Impa regretted the decision to leave the Fairy Corps behind, as they would’ve been able to relay any messages between them and their allies with ease, as well as provided immediate medical aid.

But, what was done was done, and at least this diverted Lana’s attention away from her possible love life, or lack thereof, as the sorceress jerked to attention and cried, “oh! R-right! I’m on my way!”

True to her words, Lana immediately took off, practically flying back in the direction of camp, Impa following along far more slowly, the young king safely tucked into her arms.

Thankfully, the trip back is quick and uneventful and, upon Impa’s arrival to camp, she found all of her orders to Lana fulfilled, aside from the opening of the communication channel.

It was underway, however, so Impa busied herself with transporting the unconscious hero in her arms to the tent that had been prepared for their use.

Carefully lowering the boy down onto the cot that had been set up inside, she then equally carefully reached for the Master Sword, still clasped within the boy’s hand, which she’d lain to rest upon his stomach as she’d carried him.

At her approach, the holy light of the blade flared in obvious warning, bringing Impa's movements to a halt, the Sheikah taking a deep, calming breath before daring to call out.

“Easy, Fi,” she murmured, memories tugging at her once more, this time of the sword spirit, as she had been when she inhabited the Goddess Sword, as well as what Fi herself had shared regarding her future self.

“I… do not know if you recall… or if, possibly, you haven’t even undergone the events of the War of Ages… but it is I, General Impa, your ally…

"I mean no harm to your master... and assure you that the both of you are now in a safe place… thus I ask that you allow me to return you to your sheathe, so that I may begin tending to the Hero of Skies wounds….”

The holy light grows even brighter and a series of familiar chimes is heard, before they both slowly begin to fade, until only the faintest glow surrounds the blade.

Impa takes this as a sign that she is now allowed to touch the holy sword, though she is still careful and as respectful as she can be as she works the fingers gripped tightly around the hilt free, resting the hand gently onto the bed once she finally manages to separate boy and sword.

She then quickly sheathes and sets the Master Sword in a safe place nearby, a grand Hylian Shield soon to join it.

Despite the war having long been finished, the removal of armor and items from an unconscious ally still comes naturally to Impa, alongside the basic first aid skills that at least ensured that same ally remained stable until such time the proper medics could see to them.

And it was more than obvious this boy was in desperate need of a healer, not least of which because of the numerous lacerations that littered the boy’s body, an alarming number of them showing signs of infection, though not surprising, given how poorly the few bandages she’d found had been wrapped around the wounds.

Said infection was also likely one of the prime culprits behind the heat radiating off the boy, even accounting for the naturally warm-blooded people of those who’d lived on Skyloft, such as the Skyloftian knights that had joined their cause when Cia and Ghirahim had pulled them into the war.

Those knights had also been considerably lighter in weight than the rest of their ranks, as was necessary for those who rode atop massive birds… however… the boy she’d held in her arms had felt far too light, even with the Skyloftian standards… and the ease with which Impa then found in counting the boy’s ribs, while also ensuring none had been broken, was… incredibly alarming.

It reminded Impa a little too much of Link… back when she’d been too preoccupied with her worries over the missing Zelda to realize how badly the trainee-turned-hero was coping with the abrupt shift in his life… of how difficult he was finding it to deal with the nobles and the rumors that began spreading, with him at their center… and especially after the time when traitors in their midst had started going after his food….

The Sheikah closed her eyes and gave her head a firm shake, banishing the troublesome memories and steeling her emotions in order to focus on the task at hand.

Once she’d done everything she could for the boy's wounds, Impa headed straight for the communications tent, aiding Lana in completing the spells needed to both stabilize the connection to Hyrule Castle, as well as ensure the line stayed secure, safe from prying eyes or ears.

“So, my ancestor is the only one you’ve found so far?” Zelda asked, once Impa and Lana had relayed all of the current events.

“That is correct, Your Majesty,” Impa replied regretfully, seeing right past the carefully neutral expression and tone of Zelda’s voice.

She knew how painfully worried her Queen was, and had been, ever since her prophetic dreams had increased in number and unpleasantness, both before and after Cia's confirmed resurrection.

Worse, she could still remember the devastation that had briefly overtaken Zelda’s face when Link’s scarf had drifted down into her hands… followed immediately by a fury which may very well rival that of her godly ancestor.

Had it not been for the bond and affection between the two of them... alongside Impa’s own relationship with Link, who had become like a beloved younger brother to her long ago… the Sheikah knew nothing would’ve stopped her queen from rushing to the Valley of Seers, determined to save the boy who had captured her heart.

Still, their bond could only go so far, as proven by Zelda’s next words, “with this latest development, I feel it would be best for me to use the Owl Statues to travel to your current location, alongside the Medical and Fairy Corps—”

“Your Majesty, with all due respect,” Impa dared to interject, keeping her face and tone as carefully neutral as Zelda’s own, “with the boy currently unconscious there is really no information for us to glean at this time.

“Additionally, his current physical condition is such that his body is unlikely to be able to tolerate anything but the smallest application of fairy magic, in which case a proper medic’s aid would be more than sufficient.

“Given these facts, alongside the continued need to supervise the main force of the army… unless proven otherwise, it would be best for you to yet remain at the castle at this time….”

Zelda’s mouth thins and her brow furrows the slightest bit, anger burning in winter blue eyes, nearly bursting through her court trained persona.

…but, while the courtly mask does, indeed, crumble… it is not due to anger but something far worse… sadness, the emotion twisting the queen’s features and leaving Zelda's voice raw when she speaks again.

“Impa, please… I cannot just sit back and do nothing anymore while the heroes and… when Link is–!”

Impa felt her resolve weakening under the display, knowing her queen’s distress is likely due to the prophetic dreams that had first warned them of this crisis, the double-edged things probably having persisted and worsened as time went on.

She nearly asked what Zelda had seen within these dreams but managed to stop herself, while also voicing a possible compromise.

“When the boy awakens we will immediately send word to you. This way, he can relay whatever information he can give us and you can aid in formulating our next course of action, via the same communications we are using now.”

Teary winter blue meet faithfully steady Sheikan red, which thankfully leads to a smile appearing, albeit an unsteady one.

“Very well then,” Zelda murmurs quietly, adding, “I will summon a physician immediately… and leave the rest in your capable hands, Impa.”

With that, the connection is ended and Impa departs, heading back towards the tent within the boy king still slept.

…or, at least, where he had been sleeping, a panicked cry prompting Impa into a sprint to cover the last foot she’d needed to reach the tent in question, one hand resting on her sword as she enters.

But instead of a possible assailant, all she finds is the young Hero of Skies, in the process of tumbling out of the bed, Impa quickly darting forwards to prevent this and any possibility of further injury.

“Easy, boy,” she cautions, even as years of Sheikan training battles against more current ‘training’ from Zelda, the latter of which is aided by the expression that currently adorns the child king’s face, so very similar to Zelda’s own.

“You’ve been down a few hours,” she goes on to explain, while also aiding the boy back onto the bed, “and are clearly injured, as well as feverish, thus you shouldn’t be moving. A doctor—”

“There are monsters from across time,” the boy suddenly cuts in, his tone urgent, “using dark portals and have been empowered by some force taking the form of a black Lizalfos or an- an armored brute.”

Yes, Impa had read about that creature in Link’s letters, and she was just about to inform this current Link of that fact, but wasn’t given the opportunity as the boy continued speaking.

“These dark doorways are like a less controlled Gate of Time. I have been hunting their source along with eight others who hold the Spirit of the Hero.”

Gate of Time? Link hadn’t mentioned something like that, instead he’d compared the doorways to the Gate of Souls they’d travelled through during the war.

It was possible this hero was either referring to something similar to the Gate of Souls, or simply using a different term that originated from his own era… but… the tone of his voice, as well as the expression on his face, gave the impression he expected her to know what this Gate of Time was…

Studying the boy’s eyes, Impa was concerned to see they were unfocused and shining with a feverish light, leading her to question if the boy was possibly hallucinating, mistaking her for someone else… an Impa from his era? Like the one described by Mask and others mentioned as a peculiar aside within Link’s letters.

“These other heroes were overtaken and captured by monsters we encountered whilst journeying in this current era, a few days ago.”

“And how is it you were not among them?” Impa asked, curious and with increasing concern as she studied the boy again.

But she’d evidently spoken too harshly… or perhaps she’d accidentally slid into RVF, because the boy flinched violently.

That didn’t explain the clear shame that overcame his face immediately after, however, as he stammered, “I–... I’m going after them…”

Going after them? Alone, in unfamiliar territory?

“You were unconscious amidst several enemies,” she informs this current Link, memories of her own Link drifting up from the depths of her mind, while her gaze drifted over the numerous wounds that still needed proper treatment.

She hadn’t meant for these words to be an admonishment, but the boy obviously interprets it that way, as he flinches again, then curls inwards.

“I know,” is how he replies, his voice small, shame still prevalent in his tone, though bitterness also creeps in as he adds, “you don’t need to remind me.”

Impa cannot help but frown at that, as she feels there’s something more behind these words… something that had occurred between this boy and the Impa who possibly resided in his era(?)… while also truly beginning to suspect the boy wasn’t entirely lucid at this point… and might not have been from the very moment he woke up.

“Your job is, as always, Zelda,” he continues, while also trying to move towards the edge of the bed. “Return to her, she’ll be overjoyed to see you again. I have my brothers to find.”

“You should rest,” Impa tried to argue while also moving to stop his attempt to climb to his feet, but this only resulted in the boy jerking away from her and growing even more upset than he already was.

“I will rest when my brothers are found!” he cried, his voice cracking and fever-glazed eyes widening with clear desperation. “I’m already–! I need to–!”

His face then crumpled with shame and regret, his voice cracking as he half-pleaded, “I won’t be late again…”

There were so many things Impa wanted to say in response to… well, to everything this boy had just said, as well as more than a few of his actions and responses to… well, to everything about Impa herself, it seemed.

But now was not the time, not when the boy so very clearly needed a doctor and Zelda in need of an update, small as it may be.

“Stay here,” she ordered, lightly pushing the boy back into the bed again, before turning and heading towards the tent opening. “There are things to discuss about this situation. I will bring those who need to know, so that we need only do this telling once.”

Honestly, Impa was only saying this in the hopes it would keep the young hero in one place as she checked on the status of the teleportation magic and the medic that was meant to be on their way.

Thankfully, the magic in question was just activating and the medic stepping through, with Lana standing alongside.

Impa hadn’t felt like she’d taken too much time in explaining the situation to the others before heading back towards the tent… but that had been her second mistake.

Her first, of course, was not taking into account that the boy was a Link… and Link, as demonstrated by Mask, Tune, and her own brother-in-arms, time and time again… was a courageous, but foolhardy and self-sacrificing idiot… who, if left unsupervised for even a single moment, would run off without a second thought, intent on saving the day.

Not just run off, but disappear entirely as it would turn out, somehow by-passing every single guard they’d stationed around the perimeters of the camp with ease.

“What do we do, Impa?” Lana asked worriedly, her gaze darting from the Sheikah, to the nearest path that led to the Temple of Souls, “sh-should we go after him?”

“Not all of us,” Impa replied grimly, as she turned on her heel and began walking, “just as we have been, we’ll split into two groups, one to ensure the safety of the current Owl Statue while the second goes on ahead… as exhausted and injured as the Hero of Skies is, it shouldn’t take us too long to catch up to him.”

“Um… you don’t sound too certain of that last part,” Lana pointed out, to which Impa gave her a pointed look.

“He is a Link.”

And hopefully, that will keep him alive…

Chapter Text

It was official, Hyrule was going completely and utterly insane at this point, his Fae-nature the driving force behind his descent into madness.

He’d always hated seeing others suffering, especially those he’d come to consider friends, family; it was a trait that had nearly driven him as mad as he currently felt now, back when the Plague had ripped through the village he’d originally lived in, killing everyone but himself.

It wouldn’t be until Hyrule’s second adventure that he’d learn the reason for, not only his initial survival against a sickness that had taken so many… but also his strange need to heal and protect everyone he could… as well as his equally strange and… admittedly scary… possessive tendencies towards those who’d become dear to him.

Turned out, he was Half-Fae, as revealed by the fellow Half-Fae he’d met whilst working to awaken Aurora on his second quest, who’d also helped teach him how to use his innate magic… and at least gave him an idea of why he possessed certain… ‘quirks’.

It hadn’t been until he’d met the other heroes, however… most notably Legend, Time and Warriors… that Hyrule had finally been able to start properly naming and understanding said ‘quirks.’

The most important being the protective/possessive tendencies, which had started rearing their ugly heads the more Hyrule had begun to trust and care for those in their growing Chain… and had led to more than one… ‘incident’....

It had been Time that had shed the most light on what this protective/possessive madness was, thanks to his experience with the Kokiri fairies of his childhood, alongside tales of the Fairy Corps from Wars’ era.

Half of that light had come from his words, the other half flaring and dancing as Time had mentioned names, causing the magics wrapped around the man himself, alongside Warriors and Wind, to hum a song only Hyrule could hear.

A song that had his own magic throbbing, caught between wanting to draw away and bow his head in apology… while also wanting to draw closer as feelings of homesickness and longing set the madness inside him into a near frenzy.

Needless to say, Hyrule had been incredibly eager to meet the Fairy Corps after that discussion, his Fae side practically bouncing with excitement when the protective song around his brothers had grown louder and stronger upon exiting the latest portal.

But then everything had gone horribly wrong as monsters had attacked, Hyrule’s inability to protect what was his his brothers, chafing the madness that always buzzed inside his chest... which only grew stronger as his magic had been sealed away.

As if the initial disorientation and following cold and numbness that swept over him, once the magic suppressing items had been clamped around his wrists and neck weren't bad enough… the sudden dimming and eventual loss of the song from the unknown, but clearly and longingly friendly, Fae... would’ve had Hyrule bouncing around the cell he and the other seven of his brothers had been shoved into, trying to figure out how to restore or replace them.

This, coupled with the horrid replacement that slowly wraps itself around Wars, so clearly reeking of the Sorceress who put them all in this situation, really would’ve been bad enough.

But of course, none of their group is ever so fortunate... as the physical and mental health of those around him begin to steadily decline.

The most concerning of which being, at least of those Hyrule has access to, is of course his predecessor... who he’s currently struggling to help get at least a few bites of food eaten.

“C’mon Ledge, just a little more.”

“Dun wanna,” Legend slurs as he slumps against Hyrule, blue violets so worryingly glassy and his cheeks flushed, “feel lik’ ‘m g’nna throw up…”

“Please, Link,” Hyrule coaxes, not even trying to keep the worry out of his voice, as a check of their Veteran’s pulse finds it as irregular as his breathing.

If he had the ability, Hyrule would add a bit of the Charm speak he’d also inherited from the Fae blood, regardless of Time’s usual disapproval... the seriousness of their current predicament certainly had to have reached the edges of the promise the two had made regarding said ability, long ago....

But, despite the fact that, today, his magic feels on the brink of breaking through the restricting adornments, buzzing near painfully under Hyrule’s skin... he still can’t call up even the smallest of Fae abilities.

A small whine pulls Hyrule’s attention away from the cuffs he’d been glaring at, drawing his gaze over to where Twilight sits with a dozing Wild, the older boy's gaze darting from Hyrule to Legend with a worried glint.

Said worried gaze is then caught by Four who suddenly comes tottering towards him, their Smithy collapsing easily into Twilight’s lap once he draws close enough for the eternal big brother to snag him.

The sight of his fussing over the smaller hero, whose bouts of clarity and proper consciousness were growing rarer with each passing day, at least provided a little relief for Hyrule’s own need to comfort.

Concern flares again almost immediately after, however, when he spots Wind still keeping watch in front of the cursed mirror, prompting Hyrule to carefully maneuver Legend over to the pile growing around Twilight.

The additional, inherited job of coaxing food into Legend eases a bit more of the tension that hums through the wolf about as strongly as Hyrule’s own, which had reached an all time high amidst Warrior’s last few visits.

It had been bad enough, watching their most sociable member of the group, aside from Wind, slowly deteriorating, growing ever quieter and his gaze more distant and hazy… but to then see the man fall into what had clearly been a panic attack…

Hyrule gave his head a slight shake, putting all the mental strength he currently held into pulling his thoughts away from that topic, in order to focus back on Wind, who he was already walking towards.

His heart then throbbed in time with his fairy instincts, as he caught sight of the tears that were trickling down the younger boy’s cheeks, alongside the clear expression of anger and frustration that also twisted his normally cheerful face.

“Wind? You good, bud?” Hyrule calls, despite already knowing the answer, though it at least pulls his brother’s attention away from the mirror, the clear cause of the distress, Hyrule’s own buzzing as he picks up certain words from the one displayed on its surface.

“It’s… nothing you can do, ‘Rule,” Wind sighed, voice rough with emotion, as he scrubbed at his eyes and cheeks while shaking his head.

“...I know,” Hyrule sighed sadly, after a quick study of the youngster’s face, before reaching out to pat Wind’s shoulder, then ruffle his hair. “Thanks for keeping watch. I’m gonna switch you out for a while.”

It was a tad more of an order than a request, as a bit more of Hyrule's inner fairy snuck up on him, reacting to Wind’s youth.

But, thankfully, their youngest brother agreed instead of growing defensive, though that only heightened Hyrule’s worries further as Wind trudged over to where Time sat, flopping down beside the eldest Link, who was stationed near the cell door, gaze fixed on the hallway Wars and his guard usually appeared from, shifting to Wind upon the younger’s landing.

With that settled, Hyrule thus turned his attention fully onto the mirror, his heart now breaking as he took in Sky’s appearance.

Their poor missing brother looked so horribly ill, his face far, far too pale, even with the flush of fever coloring his cheeks and the dark circles that hung under his eyes.

The sight of bloodstains set that magical part of him buzzing again, Hyrule's fingers tingling with the phantom hum of his Life spell.

It hurts to see Sky like this, it’s infuriating to not only see one of his so badly injured, but to also hear the whispers that had so upset Wind, those that tear into Sky himself without mercy.

“It’s like the rumors all over again!” Hyrule hears Wind himself whine some time later, drawing half of his attention away from Sky’s stumbling form to listen.

“It’s just like the awful things people used to say about the Captain!”

People used to say bad things about their Captain? His Warriors?

“Sky talks about himself like that! And,” Wind continues, oblivious to the reignited fury that just continues to grow within Hyrule with each additional word spoken both in their prison and from within the mirror, “Silent Gods, it’s awful. If I ever find the Bilge Rats that told Sky he’s ‘worthless’, or a ‘mistake’, I’m gonna need someone to stop me from putting a sword in them…”

They won’t need to, because I would’ve incinerated the Bilge Rats before you could, Hyrule’s inner Fae hisses violently, his magic writhing even more vigorously as his anger boils…

…until, suddenly, there’s a small tink! heard, drawing Hyrule’s attention downwards… where he finds an equally small crack in the bracelet on his left wrist.

The sight causes him to inhale sharply, his right hand instinctively moving to cover the damage as his eyes dart about the area.

When he finds no eyes upon him, Hyrule dares to lift his hand, inspecting the crack with his eyes first… before daring to try and call upon his magic.

To his delight, he can feel his magic move, just the slightest bit, before the dizzy and faint sensations from when the collar had been put on his neck, rear their ugly heads.

Fortunately, he doesn’t fall over or lose consciousness this time, though he does end up drawing his knees to his chest and resting his head against them to wait for the sensations to fade.

This also means he can hide the vicious smile he can’t keep his lips from curling into, as hope begins building in his chest… and plans of vengeance form within his mind...

Chapter Text

Once again, Link is standing in the center of the arena.

Something made of dark shadows lays before him, its form disintegrating quickly… though he can’t quite recall what form the shadowy foe had taken before he’d defeated it… nor is Link certain he wants to.

“...you think, dear heart? As good as the real thing?” Cia’s voice filters in, breaking through the cotton in Link’s ears, her chin coming to rest on his left shoulder, her cheek pressing against his own at the same time her arms wrap around his waist from behind and squeeze lightly.

“It was, yes,” Link lies, keeping his charming, ‘loving’ smile in place as Cia giggles happily.

He doesn’t really know why he’s lying… can’t… can’t even remember just what he’s lying about, that… that information seems to… to have been… been lost in the fog…

That doesn’t stop him from pulling that same fog closer as lips trail up the side of his neck, then across his cheek, his eyes sliding shut as a hand grips his chin and turns his head so those lips can press against his own.

He’s already floating when this occurs, watching the kiss from above, watching the two bodies standing so very close to each other, until such time She ends the interaction.

And Link keeps floating, up in the air where it's nice and quiet, only vaguely aware of what his body is up to down below.

At least until an agonized scream rips through the air, through the cotton over his ears, and setting his nerves alight as he crashes back down into his body.

Said body stumbles to a halt as Link returns, his thoughts sluggishly trying to process what’s happening, to remember how everything works...

There’s a tray in his hands, the scent of the food that sits on it drifting softly into his nose.

The film over his eyes (that he put over his eyes) still clings to him and takes a few extra blinks to dismiss… but once it’s gone Link finds stone and steel all around him, the curious hiss of the usual Lizalfos guard just barely heard over the clearly worried cries that sound from the direction of the cell that holds Link’s brothers.

Coupled with the scream from earlier, Link almost breaks into a run as panic sets his heart aflutter, alongside adrenaline flowing through his veins.

But one more hiss from the guard and the clinking of the plates and cups that lay on the tray, that hold the food his brothers need, aids Link’s training in taking control and keeping his steps slow and careful as he moves forwards again.

Finding everyone gathered in front of the mirror, a scan of the cell revealing no signs of an injury that would account for the scream from earlier (though Link was pretty sure he spotted some red on Wild’s fingertips, the hand they belonged to gripped tightly in Hyrule’s own), quickly led Link to the conclusion that Sky must’ve been the one who had cried out.

His eyes thus instantly locked onto the mirror as well, once he was inside the cell… and his stomach dropped straight to his feet as he took in the scene.

Poor Sky was sprawled on the ground, his breath a worryingly thin wheeze and his eyes closed, a good indication the boy was unconscious.

Link’s gaze then traveled further along the scene, taking in the pile of half decaying, fallen logs, rocks and other forest debris piled around one of Sky’s legs… the appearance of the limb, even from the odd angle, causing Link’s stomach to writhe from where it still lay around his feet as suspicions began forming.

“Wars!” a voice called, pulling Link’s attention towards Twilight as the Rancher climbed to his feet and headed towards him, worried gaze darting from Link to the mirror and back again, even as he grabbed the tray of food, easily balancing it in one arm while the other looped around Link himself.

“What happened?!” Link asked as he was (a tad forcefully) pushed to sit with the others, smack dab in the middle of the circle that had been set up in front of the mirror, “how did Sky’s leg end up like that?!”

“Bird brain decided to take a shortcut by riding one of Twi’s… what’d you call it? Kargaroks?” Legend began to reply, looking and apparently feeling better, given the renewed clarity in his gaze and the strength in his voice (even if it was shaking with emotion).

He was still worryingly pale, however, and apparently still suffering from nausea, given the expression that crossed his face as Twilight tried to pass him a bowl of food.

“Yeah, was definitely a Kargarok,” Twilight sighed, his whole body drooping with sadness and worry, which only eased a little as Hyrule scooched himself and Wild next to the Vet and took charge of the food for all three of them.

“Honestly, Sky was doin’ real good with th’ ornery vulture,” the Rancher continued, handing a bowl over to Wind and an also moderately better looking Four, “got himself into the Bulblin saddle, then got the bird up in the air, though it was fightin’ the whole way… but then—”

“But then the stupid bird decided to fly itself right into the line of fire of the other flying monsters that, of course, had to show up!” Legend cuts in with a snarl, anger and worry clear in the boy’s voice and expression as a hand waves towards the mirror, “and of course it got its stupid wing crushed as a result and sent the both of them plummeting to the ground!”

“Why didn’t Sky jump free?!”

“He’d tied himself to the saddle to help keep from getting bucked off,” Time informs Link glumly, “and his arms were too tangled in the reins to grab his sword and try to cut himself free in order to use the Sailcloth. Worse…”

Time’s voice trailed off as his face paled, expression pained, leaving Twilight to pick the story up again as he plopped down next to Link, the Rancher’s arm looping around and pulling Link into his side, for whose comfort or support Link wasn’t sure.

“Worse, the darned thing fell right on top a’ Sky’s leg… and kept clingin’ onto life ‘til Chosen managed to finish it off. Leg was, a’ course, broken in an awful way… so he tried settin’ th’ thing which… which I’m guessing ya heard th’ tail end of—”

“HE TRIED TO SET IT?!” Link cried, dismayed that his suspicion had been correct, hands rising, flailing, his fingers flexing as the emotions he… he’d been working so hard to keep under control… under tight lock and key… suddenly burst out of their cage in a confusing mass, causing Link to splutter, “WHY?! Y-you don’t- you don’t set the bone while you’re in some- some gods forsaken woods, with no help in sight!”

“Well–”

“Don’t, don’t either of you say it Rule or Wild!” Link begged, flailing hands now tugging on his hair as he tried and utterly failed at deploying his calming techniques, to get his emotions back under control why weren’t they working?!

“Do not tell me you’ve done something like this! You do not set a broken bone yourself! Especially not in the wild! You need to make a splint! Son of a- why didn’t I check if any of you knew–?!”

Link’s cries are cut short as a pained groan sounds, drawing everyone’s attention back towards the mirror, where Sky was just beginning to stir.

It’s as Sky starts shifting around that Link finally begins to notice the other details… the absolute wreck that his brother’s clothing had become, his tunic in particular just a mass of rags barely holding together at this point… and his chainmail not much better.

Link’s honestly not sure how the Sailcloth is still relatively spotless, given that blood, old and new, has dyed everything else with its crimson shades… so much so that Link is worried Sky may become anemic soon, if he hadn’t already.

And of course, studying Sky’s injuries also means that Link has no choice but to see how much weight his brother has lost, skin stretching tight around cheekbones and ribs peeking out from the tears in tunic and chainmail.

His skin is a mixture of gray, green, fever red and the whitish-yellow of malnutrition and sickness, with smatterings of bruise purple found here and there… the most prominent of which lie on Sky’s face, a large bruise on his cheek, which highlighted its sunken appearance, and two under his eyes.

This, and the whine of pain that escaped the boy as he rose into a sitting position had Link’s heart writhing, the action only growing worse as Sky’s shifting allowed him a proper look at his brother’s injured leg at last.

“It’s still not aligned correctly,” Link stated grimly, “he needs to splint it, there are perfectly good branches and… and his tunic might work for padding the area or at least securing the splint—”

His words die in his throat as Sky, who’d grabbed hold of and begun rummaging around in his bag, pulled out a bottle which held a familiar scarlet liquid, disbelief causing Link’s mind to blank and words to fail… before fear and dread flood through his body, words spilling out in the ensuing deluge.

“No nononono do not– you just need a splint!!! Did they– does Skyloft seriously not teach this?! No, they have those flying Octoroks, they have to teach their knights how to make and use splints of some kind, so why– don’tdon’tdon’t do not drink that Sky, not with your leg like that!!!!”

Link’s cries, his pleas, of course go unanswered as Sky raises the potion bottle to his lips and takes a swig, a choked off scream eking out of Link’s lips at the same time a pained, choking noise is emitted by the boy in the mirror, followed by gagging as the potion’s magic goes to work.

Gagging that is then replaced by a ringing noise, which muffles the voices of those that are still around Link, even that of the one whose arm is still looped around him… even as that arm tries to tug at him, to turn his attention away from the mirror.

Link’s chest feels tight, it's hard to breathe, he can’t tear his eyes away from Sky’s leg, can’t tear his thoughts away from all the worst scenarios and implications of what the younger boy had just done, of just how badly Sky might’ve messed up his leg, how Link might’ve just watched their sleepyhead cripple himself.

It doesn’t matter that Sky can still, kind of, walk with that leg, Link can’t stop envisioning all the horrible things that can go wrong, that can make things worse and- and- and-

And he can’t let this go on any further.

“Wars!” someone calls, calls from the opposite side of a cave, at the same time there’s the sound of screeching metal and familiar hissing, prompting Link to move, “Wars, don’t do anything stupid!”

He doesn’t reply, he can’t reply, he’s not the one being stupid, Sky is!

Sky is being completely, utterly, stupidly reckless and far, far too harsh on himself, he- he is going to kill himself, trying to rescue Link and the others and Link cannot, will not let him do that!

“Oh, Link!” calls the voice Link was actually hoping to hear, now, his steps quickening even further as he heads towards Cia, whose smile turns curious, head tilting, as she asks, “is something wrong dear heart—?”

“Use me as bait,” Link cuts in, causing a perfectly sculpted white brow to rise, which he pays little mind to as he plows forward, “for the Hero of Skies. Use me as bait t-to capture him—”

“You would betray your ‘brother’?” Cia cuts in this time, the words slicing into Link like a knife to his stomach, causing his shaking body (oh, he’s shaking) to quiver even harder, almost badly enough to make him fall to the ground.

He’s not sure how he manages to stay on his feet, to steady his voice and keep the tears trying to claw out of his eyes at bay, but he does because he has to, he has to do this!

“The Hero of Skies, the Chosen Hero, is severely injured, sick, and clearly of… of unsound mind. I-... I would rather he-... that he hate me, never trust me again, rather than getting himself killed, alone in the wilderness,” is how Link replies, even as the words, the idea of what he's proposing, feels as if he’s drinking acidic poison.

“Use me as bait and I will deliver the Hero of Skies to you.”

“Why should I?”

Link startles… stares… questioning whether he’d heard right, searching Cia’s face, the sorceress regarding him with a confusing mixture of amusement… but also boredom.

“W-what?” Link finally manages to stutter, which earns him a condescending smile from Cia this time.

“Why should I do that, when he’s already coming to deliver himself to me?” Cia asks and Link’s blood runs cold at the callousness of her voice, at the dismissive way she waves her hand, “I’ve already lost more than enough pawns to the brat, why should I waste anymore when I can just have them ‘greet’ the wayward hero once he reaches my temple all on his own?”

“Y-you wouldn’t need to, I–”

“Oh, what? You honestly think I’d believe you would actually turn against one of your own?” Cia coos, then laughs, “that even with the rest of the heroes still safely tucked away in their cell, as insurance, you wouldn’t be swayed into joining the Hero of Skies in storming the temple instead?

“And even if you were able to resist that temptation, to stay true to the plan of capturing the boy… what’s in it for me?” Cia questions, left hand cupping Link’s chin, holding it firmly as red violet bores into sapphire blue, gaze challenging as well as questioning.

“What do I have to gain for granting your request? What are you willing to give in exchange for this favor?”

Link shudders, is forced to lock his knees to keep from collapsing now… his emotions are an utter mess and entirely uncooperative as he tries, once again, to shove them back into the box, even trying to grab for the fog that had been ensnaring him so often these days.

“Anything,” he eventually manages to choke out, the words burning, his body burning as he forces himself to lean into Cia, into the hand that still holds his chin, sapphire locked onto red violet, “I-I’ll… give anything you want… do anything you want….”

“Anything?” Cia repeats with a predatory smile, taking an unnecessary step forward, looming over Link, who swallows thickly as he nods against the hand still holding his chin.

“Anything… anything at all, just– just, please…”

His pleading, his begging, is brought to a stop as Cia’s lips press against his own, a new shiver coursing through Link’s body as he forces himself to remain pliant when Cia sucks on his bottom lip, then deepens the kiss.

Link does his best not to drift away, to participate in the kiss as well… even though he honestly has no idea of what he’s doing, as another first is being stolen from him, one he’d only heard whispers about, before…

He’s dimly aware of a hand brushing through his hair, then down his cheek, grateful the whimper that escapes him only seems to amuse Cia further as she chuckles.

The trembling in Link’s legs is growing worse as he finds it hard to breathe, can’t seem to figure out when to breathe as Cia prolongs the kiss, further and further.

The removal of the scarf that had been around his neck doesn’t really help, the growing feeling that he’s going to lose consciousness soon… so he’s not really surprised when, next thing Link knows, he’s falling, consciousness wavering as his lungs scream for air.

It’s when his back makes contact with something soft that Link realizes he actually did end up falling… no, he was pushed over… and, apparently, teleported, that last fact only realized as the lips devouring his own disappear, finally allowing him to breathe and clear the fuzziness and blackness that had been creeping at the edges.

He’s only just registering familiar decorations when he feels his tunic collar coming undone and lips on the side of his neck, traveling downwards, until there’s a sucking sensation alongside sharp pain blooming, causing him to cry out.

This brings out a laugh from Cia who… who’s on top of him, Link only now fully realizing he’s laying on the bed they’ve been sharing since this nightmare began.

He’s laying on the bed and Cia’s on top of him, her weight pressing him down onto the far too soft mattress, Link’s blood running cold and his shaking growing even worse as her half-lidded eyes gaze down upon him.

You have to do this, Link reminds himself as Cia captures his lips again, don’t fight, don’t cry you have to do this…

Her hands are in his hair, on his face, his neck, fingers pressing against the mark on his neck which makes Link whimper against her lips, another sounding as her hands slide further and further down, down, down and he needs to stay still, stay compliant, accepting…

Accept it, accept it, accept it so you can go get Sky—!

Suddenly, the lips and hands disappear, Link’s eyes snapping open (when had he closed them?) as confusion descends upon him, which then turns to alarm as he spots Cia heading towards the door.

“C-Cia?! W-wait, a-aren’t we–?”

“Oh, Link,” Cia sighs, voice and gaze filled with disappointment, with disapproval, when she turns back towards Link, “I told you, warned you before… that those ‘brothers’ of yours were holding you back, weakening you… and I truly thought we’d been making some progress these last few days…”

Link finds himself shaking his head as he struggles to rise, either in confusion or denial he’s not sure, “C-Cia, p-please, just—”

“Yet despite that, you still retain this foolish weakness, this imperfection,” the sorceress continues, face twisting with annoyance now as she emits yet another sigh, “and while this has been enjoyable, I just cannot reward you for this continued lapse. No, you will remain here and the Hero of Skies will either join us via his own accord… or perish in the lands between.”

“N-no,” Link rasps, mind desperately trying to come up with a strategy, with anything to stop the maddening woman from turning and moving away from him, “p-please, y-you can’t, Cia! Cia, please—!”

But it's too late, Cia is already stepping through the door, which closes and locks behind her, leaving Link alone with nothing but his ragged breathing and screeching thoughts.

Stupid, stupid, STUPID! Why didn’t you find a way to make her promise like before?! Why did I just let her walk away?!

What did I do wrong?! Why did she stop?! Why did she even offer– why start s-something like that if it wasn’t even what she wanted?! Why did I have to—?!

Link knows, he vaguely recalls, that his breathing is coming too fast, that he needs to slow it down, needs to calm down, he’s starting to get dizzy he– he should… should probably try putting his head down, b-between his knees, that should, should help, right?

What do I do? What can I do?! I-I have to try again, I have to do something, I can’t just leave Sky be, h-he’s– he’s so sick a-and his leg, his poor leg…

Link’s hands have found their way into his hair, pulling at it, hard, too hard, it hurts and- and he might rip it out, Cia won’t like that, he can’t make Cia angrier, she won’t listen to him, but- but she wasn’t listening anyway and- and-

Need to do something!

Can’t do anything!

Must be something!

But if she won’t listen—!

Can’t breathe, can’t breathe, he needs to breathe, he can’t breathe! He can’t do this anymore!

I can’t– I can’t do this anymore! I don’t want to do this anymore!

I don’t want to see anymore! I don’t want to hear! I DON’T WANT TO FEEL!!!

Everything… all of it…

Make it disappear!!!

…

…

…

“Oh thank the Sages! Wars are you okay?”

The sudden voice startles him; causes him to flinch, his gaze traveling over the men and boys that stand in front of him, all gathered together in a room made of stone and steel.

...what…?  Where… where am I?

And… who are these people?

Chapter Text

From the moment the Hero of Twilight had met the other heroes, he’d instantly recognized three certain individuals.

The first, and most obvious, had of course been his ancestor and teacher of skills that had been crucial in defeating the enemies he’d faced while working to save his Hyrule… the man who would become the Hero’s Shade, the Hero of Time, who’d even been wearing the same armor as Shade.

The second and third… had been the heroes of Warriors and the Wilds… the wolf inside of him springing to attention and howling with glee in instant and firm recognition of pups, his pups!

Of course, the fact that the Hero of Warriors was older than him made things more than a bit awkward… the human part of him quickly developing a great deal of respect for how composed and experienced the man was, a knight who proved his, Ashei’s and Rusl’s efforts to whip the Knights of Hyrule back into shape would be… mostly successful… while at the same time his wolf wanted nothing more than to cuddle and wrestle with one who was most certainly his pup!

Thankfully his youngest, the troublesome wolf cub who took to the name Wild like a horse to running, was more than capable of diverting the wolf’s puppy needs without even trying, breaking even Talo’s record for unbelievable situations the Cub continuously ‘stumbled’ into.

Still, that hadn’t stopped Twilight from stepping into his Big Brother persona for his first pup, too, when his wolf instincts had howled it was needed… like when the hidden scars from the war had his eldest slipping away from the pack, hunkering down in the woods as his breathing had grown ragged and his body shook, the words muttered as ‘Wolfie’ curled around him leaving Twilight wishing he could sink his fangs into certain individuals.

The fact that one of those individuals had now risen from the dead, captured all but one of their pack and was clearly tormenting his first pup, while Twilight was stuck only able to watch as his boy emotionally deteriorated at the same rate as Sky (a pup he’d apparently failed horribly) did physically… was definitely one of the leading factors of Twilight’s descent into madness.

It was only moderately better than the time when his heroic namesake had hung over his Hyrule, trapping Twilight in his wolf form, separated from the children of Ordon after they’d been spirited away from their home to eventually end up in Kakariko Village but still in danger, thanks to the Shadow Beasts that had been lurking outside the sanctuary Renado had been sheltering them in.

At least in this situation, Twilight has been able to hold his first pup in his arms… to ensure there truly wasn’t any physical wounds and, hopefully, provide even a little comfort to his kid… even as the distant, hazy look in Warriors eyes had grown progressively worse and lingered ever longer with each passing day.

Now… now past and present were mixing in the worst way, hitting Twilight like a Goron punch to the gut as the look on Wars’ face… in his eyes… overlaps with Ilia’s when Twilight had finally found her at Telma’s bar, after she’d been taken by King Bulblin… when she hadn’t recognized him… hadn’t remembered him…

Not my first pup, too…

The other heroes hadn’t realized yet… too focused on the disheveled state of their captain’s clothes when he’d arrived with their food this time and the mark on Wars’ neck, in full view without that horrible scarf Cia had forced on their brother wrapped around his neck.

…well… almost all of the other heroes… as Wild grabbed hold of Twilight’s arm, the expression on his face revealing he’d realized the same thing Twilight had but was begging the older boy to assure him he was wrong.

And Twilight, of course, can’t do that… turning away from the grief that begins overtaking his youngest’s face as he begins making his way over to his eldest.

By now, the others are beginning to realize that something is wrong, the voices that had been calling out questions growing louder with strengthened concern, which only causes their captain to start shrinking into himself as well as retreating towards the bars of the cell.

“Everybody back up!” the wolf snapped, Twilight immediately regretting the action as it spooked Warriors further, his pup flinching hard enough he actually bangs against the metal bars behind him.

It’s heart wrenching, this reaction, but it also helps Twilight to take the reins back from the wolf, still so mysteriously and annoyingly present, despite his separation from the Twili crystal that allows his transformation into the animal.

To push back the hunter and bring forth the rancher, the Big Brother, hands held up in the same placating manner as when he’s dealing with a spooked goat… trying to keep his voice gentle, but not managing to keep the grief at bay.

“Ya don’t know who any of us are… do ya?”

Numerous, sharp gasps sound behind Twilight, though his eyes stayed glued on Warriors, who curled even further into himself, expression wary and scared… the latter only growing worse as pandemonium truly breaks out around them this time.

“Th-that’s not— that’s not funny Twilight!”

“He’s wrong, tell him he’s wrong! Warriors?!”

“What did she do?! What in all the hells did that witch do to you?!”

“Wars, please, surely you remember—!”

“...when I get my hands on the…!”

“Let me try—!”

The cries of their brothers only come to a halt as metal clashes against metal, the Lizalfos guard hissing angrily, “ssssiiillenccceee!”

The sound of the door opening follows soon after, the overgrown lizard leveling its weapon at the heroes as it then hisses, “timessss up!”

“Over our dead bodies!” Legend snarls, teeth bared and fists clenched as he positions himself between the Lizalfos and Wars, Wind and Time quick to flank him, while Twilight pulls Warriors into his chest.

His poor first pup makes a strangled noise as he does, cerulean blues darting all about the place as shaking hands try to push Twilight away, before his eldest freezes solid as the Lizalfos emits an angry roar.

A roar that is cut short as a snap is heard and lightning crashes, followed by something shattering.

Wild then darts forwards, a sharp piece of whatever he’d broken in his hand, which he stabs repeatedly into the eye of the Lizalfos, the beast paralyzed by the electricity coursing through it, faster than any Hylian eye can track, snatching the monster’s weapon as it reels back from the pain, finishing the Lizalfos with a slice to its throat, the body dissolving as it falls to the ground.

“Well… guess that cat’s out of the bag,” Hyrule remarked in a tone that, while light, had the wolf inside Twilight bristling, his arms reflexively tightening around Warriors even as he reminded himself that Roolie wasn’t a threat.

“Did you really expect me not to use Urbosa’s Fury to get us out now?” Wild snapped as blue light danced over his bloodied hand, Mipha’s Grace erasing the weeping wounds as Wild stepped fully out of the cell and scanned the hallway, pilfered sword at the ready.

“He’s got a point, hell, we should’ve let him use it sooner,” Legend grouses as he steps out beside Wild, a large and jagged piece of the plate the Cub had broken held more carefully in his own hand.

Blue violet darts towards the alarmingly still bundle in Twilight’s arms, mouth briefly twisting into a worried frown, before setting into a determined line as a steeliness enters his gaze, “at any rate, we need to get outta here. I don’t suppose anyone has a clue of where our weapons and items might’ve been taken…?”

The leading question manages to draw Time and Wind away from where they’d been hovering over Twilight, futilely trying to catch Warrior’s gaze, which has taken on the hazy and unfocused look from before, body limp in Twilight’s arms.

“No… no, we never ran into anything that… that looked like an armory or treasury during the War,” Time replies as he reluctantly climbs to his feet, eyes dancing with grief before sharpening, drifting through their ranks as it so often does when their leader is thinking up a strategy on the fly.

It’s the same with Twilight’s First Pup, Warriors likely the one who Time picked up the habit and skill from (which is still such an odd thing, even with Twilight’s own experience of time travel), the two of them usually bouncing ideas off each other.

Obviously, that can’t happen now, but Time seems to come to a decision regardless and relatively quickly, as he turns to address everyone.

“We’ll forgo looking for our weapons and focus on getting out and away from the temple. Legend, you… you seem to be more knowledgeable in– about how… Fi’s… abilities work. How likely is it the sw- she will be able to detect that we’ve left Cia’s domain and headed elsewhere?”

“Upper ninety percentage,” Legend replies immediately and with complete faith, his eyes locking on the mirror, which showed Sky leaving the forested area he’d been travelling through and entering into a rocky wasteland, frowning at the Chosen’s pronounced limp, “which should hold steady, as long as they or we don’t get surrounded by monsters…”

“We’ll split into two groups, then,” Time declares with a resolute expression and nod. “Once we’re out of the temple itself, we’ll head directly for the nearest Owl statue, which we’ll then use to send Wars, Hyurle, Four, Legend and Wind to Hyrule Castle.”

“Shouldn’t you go to the castle with Wars and the others?” Wind interjects, voice slightly strained as he hefts the near comatose Four onto his back, an eyebrow raised towards Time with an unimpressed expression, “you’re the one stuck with the magic suppressant jewelry.”

“I actually don’t need to go at all, since I’ve pretty much broken through mine,” Hyrule comments nonchalantly, waving his hands in a way that shows off the cracks that suddenly appear in the cuffs on his wrists.

“And I definitely need to stay, since the other half of our group will be heading to a safe area in order to lead Sky to that same area, right? Which means I’ll be able to start working on those wounds of his once he finds us…”

Hyrule’s tone had lilted suggestively as he’d stated this, as well as purposefully, his expression brooking no arguments, to which Wind responds with a nod of acknowledgement, before both sea and navy blue bore into Time, drifting from his face to his smoky crystal ‘adornments’, brows of sun bleached and dirty blonde rising in a mimicry of The Look.

Time himself doesn’t seem the least bit impressed by this and responds with his own Look, Twilight’s and all the other conscious Links continuously shifting their attention from one side of the conflicting forces to the other, rather unwilling to intervene.

Hyrule is the first to grow flustered and look away, though he scowls powerfully… but Wind, surprisingly, stands his ground, the concern that flows into his Look eventually weakening Time’s counter, to everyone’s surprise, especially Twilight.

This doesn’t mean their youngest brother has won, however, as Time then switches tactics… the Look melting into something that’s sad and… almost childlike as he gazes imploringly at Wind.

“...please, Tune,” Time murmured quietly, even his voice sounding younger now, his expression rivalling those Twilight has encountered more times than he can count from the kids at Ordon, “I need to go after Sky, I… I need to start making things right….”

Wind’s mouth thins and his eyes narrow… then drift closed, head dropping as he sighs, loudly, before bobbing into a nod, “okay… fine. I’ll get Wars and everyone to the castle, tell Artemis what all’s going on…”

Time directs a grateful smile towards Wind, before turning to address Twilight and the others as he says, “as for the rest of us… we’ll be heading for the Fairy Fountain that lies not too far from here.

“Hopefully, we’ll be able to make contact with the Great Fairy… who should be willing to provide shelter until Sky finds us… or maybe even help us find him… at which point, we’ll also make our way to the Owl Statue and the castle.”

With no objections sounding against this plan, Time delivers a short nod… before his gaze shifts to Wars, then on to Twilight, his expression becoming pained and questioning, to which Twilight can really only give a rueful smile.

“Sorry, Old Man… not gonna be able t’ hand our Cap over, not even t’ you,” Twilight chuckled, tone teasing but deadly serious as he fought to keep the growling wolf in his head only, while also carefully climbing to his feet, Wars cradled in his arms.

Time actually pouts in response to his words, the expression and the way the man’s entire body droops bringing forth the image of the Golden Wolf, with its ears and tail drooping, a sad whine probably building in his chest.

But Twilight’s own wolf is unphased, prompting him to hug his First Pup even more tightly against his chest, at which point Time finally gives in (though not without a deep sigh), the image of their leader reappearing as he scans the area around them, before calling out to Wild.

“Champion, you’ll take point with that sword of yours, but we’ll need your help in getting a few of these torches off the wall, as well as a crash course on how best to use them as weapons.

“Let’s get moving, boys!”

They move as quickly, yet quietly, as they can, Twilight and Wars at the center of the group alongside Legend, who now holds Four instead of Wind.

This switch was made when the Vet had begun wheezing in an eerily similar fashion to Sky, worries for his health pushing him into the more guarded center of the formation they’d fallen into on instinct, the sting to their Vet’s pride lessening minutely upon ‘relieving’ Wind of Four’s weight, trading their smallest brother for Legend's torch.

Hyrule had taken the position of rear guard, his own torch equipped as a precautionary measure, while Wild took the lead, ears swivelling back and forth from Time and Wind’s calls of directional advice to whatever may lay ahead in the shadows, pilfered sword held at the ready.

At the sudden raising of his free hand in the military signal Wars taught them meant ‘wait’ everyone came to a halt, makeshift weapons rising and Twilight’s arms tightening around Warriors… as the familiar cackling of Poes is heard seconds before the monsters themselves appeared and a familiar voice called out.

“I don’t recall giving you permission for a field trip, dear heroes,” Cia hums, her tone calm but holding a threatening edge, heels clicking ominously as she comes towards the group of heroes with even more Poes flanking her.

“Well, luckily we’re not on a field trip,” Time calls in a conversational tone, even as he and the other Links close ranks around their vulnerable center, makeshift weapons at the ready.

“It’s been grand seeing you again Cia and our time at your temple is one we won’t ever forget… but I think we’ve long overstayed our welcome by now… so we’ll be taking our leave.”

“Oh my, you seem to have misunderstood a few things,” Cia cooed, eyes flashing at the same time a dark aura began emanating from her body, “allow me to clarify for you… none of you are leaving this temple, especially not my hero.”

“Try and stop us, you pathetic stalker!” Wind yells defiantly, his torch now gripped tightly in both hands and body tensed for battle.

“Hmph, still no manners from you heathens,” the sorceress sniffed disdainfully, dark aura growing even stronger as she lifted and pointed her scepter towards their group. “I think it’s well past time for you lot to have a proper lesson on etiquette!”

With that declaration, Cia sent a large ball of dark energy hurtling towards the heroes, Twilight immediately ducking down to cover as much of Warriors body with his own as he could in order to shield him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Twilight saw the others moving to do the same, closing even tighter around himself and Legend, who was curled around Four, Wild still at the forefront of their group, readying himself to call upon Daruk’s protection.

Until Roolie darted forwards, pulling on Wild’s arm and diverting his attention, Twilight almost crying out at the action and his alarm building as Cia’s attack barreled towards them…

…before suddenly exploding into much smaller orbs of dark light, which halted a hair’s breadth away from Hyrule and Wild, pulsing gently… until a different light filled them, one that reminded Twilight of Midna, which flared mightily before every single one of the orbs hurtled back towards Cia, who screamed in shock and pain as they slammed into her and her forces.

“Wh-what the heck just happened?!” Wind cried, bewildered.

“The oath,” Legend murmured quietly, before beginning to laugh in malicious glee, “the oath Wars’ got that hag to make, back at the beginning! She promised not to harm us as long as he behaved, so now her magic can’t touch us!”

Having apparently already realized this fact, or perhaps just taking advantage of the opening created by the magical backlash from earlier, Wild and Hyrule sprang forth, laying into the enemy forces with sword and torch, the latter of which spits balls of fire that most likely stem from Rule’s Fire spell.

“Legend, Twilight and Wind!” Time’s voice suddenly calls as a snap is heard, followed by a renewed shriek from Cia as lightning crashes through the air. “All of you head for the Owl Statue! We’ll help Hyrule and Wild keep Cia and her forces busy!”

Part of Twilight wants to argue against that order, not at all happy with the idea of running away and leaving his ancestor, youngest pup and the rest of his brothers to face off against these enemies, a glance towards the other boys named giving good indication they’re also displeased with the idea.

But, the weight in Twilight’s arms helps push that part of him aside, Wind apparently managing to do the same, since he grabs hold of Legend’s tunic and pulls, Twilight right beside them as they make a break for a nearby hallway.

They don’t get very far, however, before a wave of dark magic pulses through the air and Cia shrieks, “grab the little one!!!”

“Wind!” Twilight calls, his steps faltering as a dark shadow suddenly slides under and in front of their group, bringing their forward momentum to a halt as the shadow then rises, taking on a familiar form.

“Of course she brings the creepy dark clones of Cap in!” Wind growled before darting forwards, ignoring Twilight and Legend’s cries of alarm.

Alarm that was unwarranted, as Wind rolled underneath the attack launched at him by Warrior’s dark double, spinning upwards as he came out of the dodge roll, his torch held securely in both hands as he used it to attack the Dark Warriors.

This sent the copy stumbling backwards two steps, but didn’t seem to inflict too much damage, bringing out a tsking sound from Wind before he tightened the grip of his torch and green light suddenly surrounded his body.

That same light then flows into his torch, extending outwards from the tip into a crackling blade of magical energy, which grows more than a foot in length as Wind launches himself into the air, flipping around to gain momentum and power as he slammed the magical blade downwards and into the dark double, the floor cracking underneath the force of the attack.

“HA!” Wind then crowed as the Dark Warriors fizzled and disappeared, the youngest Link turning towards his brothers with a triumphant and vicious smile, “grab the little one my a- LEDGE LOOK OUT!!!”

The warning comes too late for either Legend himself or Twilight to react as another Dark Warriors pounced on the Veteran, who cried out as he was thrown to the ground, Four falling out of his arms as a result.

The next thing anyone knows, another Dark Warriors has grabbed Four, dark sword at the semi-conscious Smithy’s throat, Cia’s voice ringing out soon after.

“Cease this foolish rebellion or the Hero of the Four Sword loses his head!”

Twilight curses, trying to think up a strategy that will get Four out of the Dark’s clutches and the five of them heading towards the Owl Statue again… but ultimately comes up short, only able to squeeze Warriors in a tight hug as he and the others are marched back towards Cia.

The sorceress is covered in burns and the twining ferns of lightning can just barely be seen coating her skin.

Her red violet eyes are brimming with anger, which also twists her face in a heavy scowl as Twilight’s little group is shepherded back towards the others, Four still held in the Dark’s clutches.

“Return my hero to me or watch your smallest ‘brother’ bleed out here and now,” Cia hisses, the Dark’s sword rising meaningfully as she does, “I may not be able to punish you with my magic… but my pets are an entirely different story… so do not test me…”

Twilight was unable to stop himself from growling in response to Cia’s words, his arms once again tightening around Warriors as he desperately tried to think up a way to get out of this horrific mess.

Said thinking is quickly brought to halt and growling choked off when the Dark presses his blade against Four’s neck, drawing blood, a whine hissing through Twilight’s teeth as he is thus forced to lower Warriors to the ground, a pair of Dinolfos stepping forwards and yanking Twilight backwards for good measure immediately after.

This leaves Warriors standing alone, his head hung low as Cia stalks towards him… right up until the woman suddenly and viciously backhanded their captain, throwing him to the ground.

Twilight is lunging forwards before he even realizes, howling with anger as he writhes under the grip of the Dinolfos, the enraged voices of the others following suit.

But howling and yelling is all they can do as Cia truly begins her assault upon poor Wars, the head of her staff separating from the main body, revealing the weapon’s flail-like abilities, the sharp crystalline edges leaving bleeding cuts as well as bruises as it hits him again and again.

“How dare you try to run away!” Cia cries as this abuse occurs, “what possible reason do you have to run when I have given you so much?!

“I have given you everything you could possibly desire, even allowed you to keep and visit these parasites as you wished, yet even that wasn’t enough to satisfy you?!

“All the painstaking work, the great lengths I’ve gone to, all to awaken your true self, to release you from the shackles of the undeserving and aid you in becoming the hero you were meant to be, you would just throw it all away like it was nothing?!”

Twilight is most assuredly losing his mind now, as his eldest pup’s pained cries join those of the other heroes, he’s almost yanking his arms out of their sockets as he tries to throw himself forwards but the Dinolfos continue holding him back.

"IT WAS MY FAULT, PUNISH ME, NOT WARRIORS!!" Wild screams in desperation as Warriors sobs.

“YOU’RE GONNA KILL HIM!!!” Twilight howls after Wars falls quiet and alarming still, a pool of blood forming underneath him. “STOP, YOU NEED TO STOP, HE DOESN’T REMEMBER, HE CAN’T REMEMBER ANYTHING, STOP ALREADY, YOU’RE GONNA KILL HIM!!!!”

He has no idea if it’s his warning itself or the puddle of crimson that finally drew the sorceress out of her fit of violence.

Her anger turns on a green rupee to shock, then dismay, a wail sounding as she drops down beside Warriors still form, hands fluttering over him with clear uncertainty.

“L-Link, dearest?! N-no, no, I-I didn’t mean, no!” she cries, daring to gather Wars into her arms, cradling against her as tears begin dripping down her cheeks. “D-don’t worry my sweet, I-I’ll make you all better, I-I have potions—”

“Let me heal him!” Hyrule cries desperately, tugging against his own captors until one of them levels a blade at him, “he can’t drink while unconscious, let me heal him!”

Red violet eyes shoot towards the Traveler, burning with desperation but also distrust as she regards him, “and how do I know you will not take advantage of the situation and try to take my hero away from me again?”

“I swear!” Roolie almost sobs, eyes locked on the still form of their captain, who’s growing worryingly pale as the crimson puddle continues to expand, “I swear on my true name, I will not try to escape or spirit W- the Hero of Warriors away if you just let me heal him!”

Cia’s mouth twists as her eyes dart between Warriors and Hyrule before she finally addresses her monstrous minions, “release the Hero of Hyrule so that he may heal my hero! But make certain none of the other heroes move even an inch while he is free and one of you bring new restraints for when the healing is done!”

The instant he’s released from the hold of the monsters and what remains of his magical restraints are removed, Roolie throws himself down next to Warriors, hands aglow with his healing magic, which washes over their unconscious brother.

The sight of wounds slowly closing and bruises healing has Twilight releasing a sigh of relief, though he then has to quickly bite his tongue to halt the following growl when Cia shoves Hyrule away once the last of the wounds she’d inflicted disappears.

The witch’s eyes are for Warriors only as she gathers him into her arms, in a mockery of how Twilight had held him just moments before, soft coos heard as she turns and begins walking away.

A gagging sound turns Twilight’s attention back towards Hyrule, whose arms are held and stretched tightly outwards, the new crystal cuffs secured onto his wrists and another collar snapping shut around his neck.

Seconds later, Twilight and the others were being thrown back into their cell, the door clanging shut behind them.

From there… well, there’s really nothing for any of them to do, aside from helping Roolie into a few of the blankets and cleaning up the mess that remained of their last meal from the floor.

A sniffle eventually draws Twilight’s attention towards Wild, his cub’s ears drooping and tears pooling in his eyes as he gazes out the cell doors with a distant gaze.

“I-I just w-wanted to get us out, get Wars out,” the cub hiccups once Twilight made it to his side, watery Sheikan blue swiveling from the empty hallway, to the mirror that showed Sky still trekking through stone covered ground, before locking onto Twilight as the tears began to fall. “I wanted to get us out a-and ge-get Sky b-but I made it worse…”

And Twilight… all Twilight can do at this point is to pull his youngest pup into his arms and hug him tight, letting the tears soak his undertunic as his own fall into Wild’s thick hair.

Chapter Text

His name is Link.

That is what the woman tells him, when he wakes up, her face the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, a… relatively pretty face (he supposes) that fills with relief and has tears dripping down perfectly rosy cheeks as she wraps her arms around him.

His name is Link and he is The Hero.

Her name is Cia and she is The Guardian of Time as well as his soulmate and eternal love.

…the first part sounds right, the part where his name is Link, though he feels uncertain about the whole ‘hero’ thing.

He feels even less certain of the soulmate and eternal love part, a small voice whispering not to trust these words or this woman who gazes at him in a way that makes him want to squirm, to hide.

A far louder voice insists he not question her, that he do as this Cia says and wants, so that he doesn’t get hurt.

So that’s what he does, putting on a smile, because that seems to make her happy, and letting her lead him into an extravagant bathroom, keeping himself compliant and ‘relaxed’ even as she undresses and bathes him.

He smiles and nods as she tells him stories, about his heroic deeds, about their relationship, both of which Cia apparently has an endless supply.

He ignores how unpleasant her touch feels against his skin, swallowing the panic that flares unexpectedly when she declares his hair needs a trim and a wickedly sharp pair of scissors appears in her hands.

He smiles and he sits as still as he can, stays soft and still, his breathing soft and steady, even as those sharp, sharp scissors snip, snip so close to his neck.

At some point a fog seems to invade his mind, a fog that… that feels good, feels oddly familiar and safe.

It’s a fog that he pulls tightly around himself, like how he wishes he could pull the towel around his body as Cia continues snip, snipping, until she finally decides he’s presentable and it’s time to pick out his outfit.

And she continues to talk, as she pulls out clothes and drapes them over him, talks about how lovely they will look on him, how everything looks so good on him that it’s such a challenge to choose.

Not once does she ask Link what his opinion is, nor does he dare even form one in his mind.

It’s like he’s nothing more than a doll Cia owns, who she eventually dresses in an outfit that’s ‘white as the purest snow, as pure as your perfect soul’, before moving on to feed him at an extravagant dining table, surrounded by pictures of him (there’s so many pictures of him, but he can’t be uncomfortable with that), the stories of which she was, once again, happy to share.

And like a doll, like that voice from before insists, Link continues to smile, speak, and move just as she wishes, eating when she feeds him, dancing, fighting like the him she continued to describe in her stories, against the opponents she chooses for Link for he doesn’t know how long, before falling asleep in her arms once she declares it is time.

At least, until a certain ‘day’ arrives (something he truly cannot keep track of, via the strange light that filters, unchanging, from the windows).

It’s a day that Cia has apparently been waiting for, and which has her rather excited as she dresses Link in an incredibly formal outfit, dyed the purest royal blue with extravagant gold embroidery, paired with equally extravagant crystal jewelry, the fog dulling the mysterious nausea that always roils through his body as the crystal comes to rest on his skin.

“...last of our guests will finally be arriving,” Cia was saying as she sat Link down at the bedroom vanity and began applying his makeup, “honestly, it would’ve been so much simpler if he would’ve just let my minions fetch him but the brat’s a stubborn one…”

Link directs a sympathetic look towards Cia right on cue, keeping it in place until she tells him to let it drop so she can finish getting him ready to receive this… ‘guest’.

Once his appearance is finally to her satisfaction, Cia pulls him to his feet and wraps an arm around Link, pulling him flush against her at the same time her magic begins swirling around them.

When it clears, they’re standing in an opulent room, decorated with scarlet red and gold tones from the rich velvet curtains to the glass-polished floor.

At the far end of the room sat a throne of equal extravagance, its frame made of pure gold and studded with jewels, the seat made from scarlet velvet fabric that seems even finer than the curtains.

It’s to this throne Cia leads Link, sitting him down and arranging both his clothes and posture until everything is to her satisfaction.

“Stay just like that, my darling,” she coos with one final touch up of his hair and a kiss pressing against his lips, fogging up his sluggish thoughts even further, “the show will begin soon!”

He has no idea what she’s talking about, but that’s not something dolls like him need to know anyway.

So he merely does as he is told, staying as she wishes for him to be displayed, even when the boy appears… even as the quieter voice begins to whisper frantically, until Cia’s own silences it again.

“Ah, Chosen Hero!” she calls as she steps out from behind the throne and struts forwards until she’s level with it to then lower herself so she can perch upon the arm.

“You’ve finally arrived,” Cia remarks with a pleased laugh as she leans into Link, her arm draping over his shoulders, “the last holder of the Hero’s Spirit, delivering himself right to me—”

“I will be taking my fellow heroes and leaving,” the boy, the Chosen Hero, interrupts as he levels his blade at Cia.

…something… something about this boy, and even his sword, seems… familiar…

Cia’s giggling scatters Link’s thoughts again before he can follow that particular one, that feeling, fog consuming all as her hand trails from his shoulder up into his hair.

“You… Oh that is quite amusing,” Cia laughs, her hand stroking against Link’s head, the slightest tug instructing him to lean into her more, as she continues her ministrations.

The boy’s face, which is gaunt and sickly pale, with cuts and bruises that make him look dangerously close to death (and causes something in Link’s chest to throb strangely) twists with anger as this occurs, alongside worry, which… Link doesn’t understand…

“Oh, you are in earnest,” Cia notes, then laughs incredulously, as she studies the Chosen Hero. “You really think I will just let you all go?”

Her fingers run through Link’s hair again absentmindedly, which is apparently the final straw for the boy, as he raises his sword and shield and starts towards them.

This, of course, causes Cia’s face to twist with displeasure… as well as her free hand rising, magic swirling in response.

A strange stirring forms in Link’s chest as this occurs, growing stronger as shadows begin to drop from a few of the paintings that lined the room, seeping down the walls, then across the room until they were between the Chosen Hero and Link and Cia.

“Enjoy, darling, as your hard work bears fruit,” Cia whispers into Link’s ear, as the shadows rise and take on Hylian forms, one a giant of a man in armor, another a child of all things… and the third, a dark copy of himself.

Link, of course, has no idea what Cia’s talking about and is rather feeling like the three shadow warriors are overkill against one clearly malnourished, possibly sleep-deprived and definitely sick and injured kid, even if his dark double stands back while the other two rush the boy.

…well, the child rushes, bouncing all around like a cyclone, obviously trying to flank the Chosen Hero, while the armored one lumbered towards him, seeming to stumble over its own size, swinging its sword in clumsy arcs.

For some reason, Link feels like something is… off… about the way both of the shadows are moving... but once again, the thought is scattered as Cia snuggles against him, her lips ghosting against his neck.

At least, until something crashes to the ground, bringing both Link and Cia’s attention back towards the fighters.

One of the curtains has been pulled off the wall alongside its rod, the fabric wrapped around the armored shadow in a way the shade clearly couldn’t free itself from easily, as if it were a net.

With that adversary now neutralized, even if only for a short time, the Chosen Hero was free to focus entirely upon the child, since Link’s own shade still seemed perfectly content to continue watching from the sidelines.

The sight of the child shadow seemed to pain the elder boy, of which Link found he couldn’t blame him, an uncomfortable ache forming in his chest now, as he caught sight of the child shade’s hateful expression wrong, wrong, that’s wrong he shouldn’t look like that! though it didn’t stop the Chosen Hero from engaging with the shade either.

Link actually found himself rather intrigued at the skill the Chosen Hero truly began to display now, which he used to quickly begin gaining ground over the child shade, eventually forcing it to jump backwards in order to avoid what would have been a finishing blow.

At that point, the child shade sheathed his sword and pulled out something small and thin… a stick? No, maybe a wand?

The latter seemed more likely as, with a flick of a dark wrist, powerful winds began to blow, Link’s eyes instinctively snapping shut against the biting force that also seemed intent on flattening him against the throne before suddenly ceasing.

“Cursed little idiot!” Cia hissed, her hand glowing the same color as the smoky purple barrier that now surrounded them, a comb appearing an instant later as she turned to Link, “look at what he’s done to your hair!”

Link’s not certain how, or even if he should, reply to that, so instead he just moves as Cia directs, which takes his attention and gaze away from the ongoing fight and causes a fluttering sensation to build in his chest.

Until a strange thrum filled the air, somehow heard over the howling winds, followed by a chime and then a crashing noise, an inhuman and deep voice briefly shrieking in pain before it and the winds were cut off.

This caused Cia to straighten and turn back towards the scene unfolding outside of the barrier, a curse leaving her lips as Link registered the absence of the child shadow, the Chosen Hero doubled over as he gasped and coughed.

“Useless! I knew that brat would be of no help!” Cia snapped, growling with clear irritation, a nail briefly tapping against the throne, before coming to a jarring halt, her mood shifting in the same manner as a cruel smile replaced her angry scowl, “well, at least this one should bring some entertainment…”

The curious statement draws Link’s gaze back towards the outside, where the larger shadow had just freed itself from the curtain that had ensnared it.

It immediately leaps towards the Chosen Hero, forcing the boy to jump to the side in order to dodge the giant sword it wielded, the weapon becoming lodged in the floor thanks to the force behind the attack.

A few sharp tugs are needed to remove the blade, with which the shade needs both hands in order to wield… which, again, causes something to niggle at the back of Link’s mind, because it seems wrong…

But once again, Link finds himself distracted by the shade’s face… by the near matching look of hatred as that which had adorned the child, again causing Link’s chest to ache mysteriously.

An ache that then turns to buzzing, in both chest and mind... as Link next catches sight of the Chosen Hero who, instead of wearing an expression of sorrow, like when he’d seen the child, before visibly bracing himself… the boy, instead, flinches and seems to curl into himself, taking a small step back as the shade glowered at him.

The pain that appears in his eyes this time is also different, resigned Link wants to say, like… like the boy was used to facing that expression from this shade… no, maybe… maybe from someone else? Someone the shade resembles?

He doesn’t know, nor why seeing that resignation and the fear that had briefly danced alongside it, has something incredibly unpleasant squirming in his chest… and nearly drives him to request Cia dismiss the dark warrior, to spare the boy.

But one glance from her, one brush of her fingers against his cheek, extinguishes the thought like the flame of a candle.

Instead, Link sits and watches, the perfect doll, as the Chosen Hero dodges another attack from the giant black sword, though he’s unable to avoid what the shade throws at him next.

Nor does he need to, evidently, as the boy makes no reaction whatsoever to the purple/black wave of fire that hurtles towards him, a flash of red shining from the loops that hang from his ears before he jumps out of the way of the next swing of the black sword.

At this point, Link’s shadow double joins the battle at last, the two trying to box the Chosen Hero in as well as take advantage of the leg the boy is clearly favoring.

But the Chosen Hero manages to keep those attempts at bay, ‘dancing’ between the two shades in a manner that has the fog that ensnares Link’s mind to quiver, until such time the bigger shadow slams its sword into the ground again, where it sticks.

Something cold then enters the Chosen Hero’s face as he pounces upon the shade which struggles to free its sword again, his own sword flashing as it comes down on the shadow’s neck, severing it without a second of hesitation or mercy.

Still, the boy’s face twists as the large shade melted away, though that may have been due to the wheezing Link can faintly hear, to the way the boy’s chest heaves in clearly labored breathing.

Unfortunately, no rest is to be had for the Chosen Hero, as Link’s shadow then raises his dark sword into the air and splits into three, the copies immediately moving in close to the boy.

For some reason, Link feels this is a mistake... even if the way his copies move reminds him of fire dancing, doing its best to consume, while the Chosen Hero moves like the wind, which should only cause the flames to grow stronger and thus, overpower him.

But that is not what happens… instead, the wind proves even stronger than the cyclone summoned by the child shade earlier, dancing between the flames until such time it is able to smother and extinguish one.

Surprise is momentarily shown on the Chosen Hero’s face when the first of Link’s shades dissolves but it does little to slow the wind as the remaining flames renew their assault.

A growl of angered frustration, alongside talons sinking into his scalp, pulls Link’s attention away from the fight and over towards Cia, the woman glaring hatefully at the boy who continues to dance like the wind itself.

“I suppose I must admit it… the boy has some skill,” she huffs, eyes narrowed with displeasure before shining with cruelty as the hand not tightly gripping Link’s hair raises her staff, “so I’d best give our little pets a bit of help.”

Violet light flares as she says this, which results in four dark pits appearing on the ground, one of which the Chosen Hero just barely manages to dodge, the boy yelping at the explosion that detonates dangerously close to him.

He’s not so lucky with the next pit, though this is more due to the fact he, for reasons Link cannot understand, tries to stick his sword into the circle, instead of rolling out of it.

Link’s dark copies try to take advantage of this by throwing beams of dark energy from their swords, but this turns out to be a mistake, as the Chosen Hero manages to bring his sword up to block them.

The beams are then absorbed by the sword, causing the blade to shine brilliantly before the Chosen Hero sweeps the weapon towards the shades, one of whom fails to dodge the far stronger beam of energy that flies towards them, and dissipates in a puff of smoke.

“Accursed brat!!” Cia snapped, heels clicking loudly as she rose from where she’d still been sitting on the arm of the throne and stomped out of the protection of the barrier.

This is evidently done so that she can summon large, purple colored orbs from the tip of her scepter, which she shoots towards the dueling figures, apparently uncaring if she hits Link’s shadowy double.

The orb sends the Chosen Hero stumbling backwards when, upon catching sight of the incoming attack, he raised his shield to protect himself.

His response to the second orb, however, was to deploy his sword, surprising Cia as this results in the orb bouncing back towards her.

Cia manages to knock the orb back herself, but this only results in the thing being bounced between the two and even Link’s dark copy, who also manages to deflect the orb with its own blade.

This continues for a few moments, the ball of dark energy bouncing between the three fighters, until such time the dark shade mistimes its strike and is swallowed by the orb, a shriek similar to the child shade’s sounding before it all slams into the opposite wall, the shade disappearing under the cloud of smoke and debris.

With that, the Chosen Hero stands alone, even bloodier than he’d been before and body tilted due to heavily favoring the injured leg, breath heaving and crackling… but still standing tall and imposing with the light of divinity radiating from the sword in his hands reflected in determined sky blue eyes.

“I will be taking my fellow heroes and leaving,” the Chosen Hero states again, something that sounds far more certain now, as the sword blazing with divine light is levelled at Cia once more.

Chapter Text

Silence, aside from the hum that seemed to emanate from the Chosen Hero’s sword, descended upon the room, until Cia let out a hearty and condescending laugh.

“Oh dear Skychild,” she purred, the boy baring his teeth as a result, most likely at the emphasized ‘skychild’, “do you realize who you are fighting?

“I am a Guardian of the Triforce,” Cia continued, standing to her full height from her place next to the barrier that still covered Link and the throne he sat on, voice dripping with a haughty and mocking tone, “and have been granted power over time itself. You are one boy with a sword.

“Your ‘brother’ has made a bargain with me,” Link’s gaze instinctively meets Cia’s and his lips twist into a ‘loving’ smile when she turns and directs a sultry smirk at him. “He stays with me and I do not harm any of his companions or friends.”

Link’s stomach is churning now, almost causing his smile to drop, but obviously he can’t let that happen, even as Cia turns away from him and waves dismissively towards the teen who glares at her murderously.

“So, why don’t you put the shiny toothpick away and not fight your betters? That way you can be spared tremendous pain and I won’t be forced to break my word.”

Sometime while Cia was talking, a sharp, clean and slightly sweet smell had begun filling the room, at the same time the light dimmed.

Link could feel his hair beginning to stand on end and a tingling sensation drifting across his skin, one not connected to Cia, the woman herself not seeming to realize something was happening until little sparks began dancing through the air.

The next thing Link knows, the Chosen Hero is raising his sword skyward, a whip-crack sounding as jagged lightning suddenly begins crackling around the boy before pooling into the sword.

The boy then swings his sword at Cia, sending that crackling energy at her, the sorceress screaming as it easily breaks through the shield she tried to raise and sends her flying backwards.

“It is you who does not know who you are fighting, Witch,” the Chosen Hero’s voice hisses, lightning still sparking around his body.

“I am the first mortal to wield the unbroken Triforce,” he states as another bolt hurtles towards Cia, slamming her out of Link’s line of sight, though he could hear the sound of what had to be her body hitting stone and the pained shriek she emitted.

“I aM HyLiA’s ChOsEn.”

A shiver traveled down Link’s spine as the boy’s voice began to change… to grow deeper, ever less human, even more… more wrong, his head moving to track the boy, despite Cia’s original order for him to stay still.

There’s a crackling in Link’s head, different from that which fills the air and radiates from the boy, this one breaking up the earlier fog enough for a voice to cry that something is wrong, that feeling growing stronger as he catches sight of eyes that are half sky blue, half ominous orange.

“I am the Godslayer!” that warped, wrong, so very wrong, voice bellows, drawing Link to his feet seconds before the brightest flash of lightning blots out the room and Cia shrieks in agony.

When Link is finally able to see again, he finds the barrier that had surrounded him is gone, the memory of blue/orange eyes prompting him to begin moving away from the throne even before Cia’s voice calls out.

“Pl-please... show mercy!” Cia’s voice coughs, words straining, because she’s being held against the wall, the boy’s hand gripping her throat.

The other holds his sword aloft, the lightning crackling from his body still swirling around the blade, the sight and weak chime, a chime that also sounds familiar (sounds scared), already sending Link towards the duo even before the warped voice of the Chosen booms in those wrong tones once more.

“The last time I showed mercy, it cursed the Hero’s Spirit,” the boy said as the muscles in his arm tensed, electricity growing in intensity alongside. “I will not make that mistake aga–”

The next thing Link knows, he’s grabbed hold of the boy’s sword arm, both of his own hugging the limb even as darkening lightning crackles painfully against him.

“What are you– Let go!” the Chosen Hero cried, angry orange flickering, briefly giving way to confused, hazy blue, until Cia called out.

“Th-that’s right Link, save me! Save me, my hero–!”

“He is not your hero! Not your anything!!!” the boy screams now, Cia joining in with a pained cry as lightning flares, then flows into her, the woman choking and jerking spastically as a result.

…yet… that’s not what concerns Link… no, his focus is on the Chosen Hero, not the woman he’s supposed to love, been destined to love since the day he was born, or so she’d said.

No, instead, all Link finds himself caring about is this boy, who is encased in strange, painful lightning, his face twisted with an anger and hatred, that is wrong!

He doesn’t know how or why, but it's wrong! This boy is not supposed to be wearing such expressions upon his face, is not meant to be wielding power such as this, not like this, but, but Link has no idea what he should do to stop all this!

How can Link do that, when he’s just barely keeping hold of the kid’s arm, and can’t even get himself to say something, any and all words seeming to catch in his throat?!

The answer to that comes as a different voice calls out, drawing attention towards a tall and rather imposing woman with pure white hair and intense red eyes, who halts her advance, alongside that of the soldiers following behind her, at... a moderately safe distance from  the lightning (if there is such a thing).

“Hold, Hero of Skies! You must not kill the sorceress just yet, not when she still holds the Triforces of Courage and Power!”

“She hurt them!” the boy cried, orange eyes blazing as lightning crashed down dangerously close... before filling with sadness and confused blue once more, as he turned to Link, “she hurt you… hurt our brothers…”

“And she shall be punished for it… but not like this,” the woman murmurs, hands held up and palms facing towards the Chosen Hero and Link himself, as she alone slowly inches forwards, even as dark lightning continued flying through the air.

She only came to a stop when the boy, eyes blazing with an intense orange, snapped a one word question towards her, lightning exploding above their heads as his voice booms like thunder.

“How?”

In answer, the woman slowly pulls out a set of manacles that look to be made of the same material as the jewelry Link wears, ensuring the Chosen Hero had noticed them before beginning to explain.

“Lana, the other half of Cia’s soul, enchanted these restraints. They shall suppress her magic until such time it can be properly sealed away by Zelda.

“Please, Hylia’s Chosen Hero," the woman entreats, as the lightning storm above remains unceasing, the boy unmoving.  "...you have achieved your goal… you have done enough… allow us to take things from here.”

Still, the boy hesitates, orange and blue fighting for dominance and lightning continued to scream and rage, growing ever more violent, unpredictable, slamming into the ground erratically.

The Chosen Hero's eyes dart between this new woman, to Cia who still quivers underneath his blade, then to Link.

The anger, the uncertainty, the weariness that shines in those eyes… has something deep inside Link pulsing… and prompts him to shift closer to the boy, despite the painful sparks that still nip at his flesh.

One arm releases its hold on the boy’s sword arm, looping around to rest on the back of his head, Link gently resting his forehead against the boy’s once he’s turned towards him again.

“Not like this,” Link finds himself murmuring now, searching for gentle sky blue as he gazes into the kid’s eyes, “come back to us…”

He has absolutely no clue why he says or does any of this… but something about it worked, as the unsettling orange quickly begins to fade alongside the sparks and dark lightning that had been steadily filling the room.

The boy blinks, then blinks again, tears welling up and beginning to fall down his cheeks as the sword lowers at last.

“W-Wars?” the kid stammers for some reason, repeating the word with a gasp as he suddenly surges into Link, free hand fluttering and eyes darting over him in a frenzy.

With the kid’s attention thus diverted, the unknown woman immediately stepped in to secure the restraints around Cia’s wrists, just as she’d said she would... at which point Cia seemed to snap out of the electricity-induced daze she’d fallen into, red violet eyes growing crazed as they take in what’s happening.

“N-no! Link! Darling, don’t let them do this, save me!”

Link can’t stop himself from flinching at her call, though he does manage to stop himself from looking towards her, focused instead on intercepting the kid when he tried to lunge towards the departing women, face twisting with renewed fury and sword once again gripped tightly in hand.

“No, hey, forget her,” Link is amazed to hear himself saying, even as his body begins shaking from the very thought, from fear of retaliation for daring to suggest such a thing, “look at me, hey? S-stay with me, o-okay?”

The boy stills, body tensed as he continues gazing in the direction Cia was taken, her cries growing progressively quieter… before finally, the last dredges of that otherworldly power faded away completely, the final sparks drifting from Chosen’s hair as his sword falls to his side again and he leans heavily into Link.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” the Chosen… Chosen, cries, eyes welling with fresh tears as his fingers brush carefully over the burns on Link’s skin, left by the lightning from earlier.

The kid had only let himself be wrapped in Link’s arms for about three seconds before erupting into a flurry of panicked action, checking Link for injuries and quickly growing upset as he found them.

“It’s okay, I’m okay, a bit of potion and they’ll heal right up,” Link murmurs, surprised at how sure he is of that statement.

Alongside is a surety that Chosen is far worse off than Link had originally thought, as shown by the haggardness that overtakes the boy, when the last of the otherworldly fury drains away.

The utter exhaustion that clearly lines his gaunt face, at odds with the glint of frenzied energy that dances in his eyes.

This, plus the flush of fever that colors his cheeks, so much more pronounced with how pale the kid is and clashing so horribly with the dark bruises under his eyes, left Link wondering just how cognizant Chosen was at this point.

And then there was the leg, which Chosen was clearly, unconsciously, favoring now, leaving his stance lopsided.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I should’ve been here sooner…”

“It’s okay, we’re okay,” Link continued to soothe as Chosen continued apologizing, gently pulling the kid in close again, trying to gauge his weight (gods this kid looked so malnourished, when was the last time he’d had a proper meal?) and whether it would be best to try and carry him back towards the throne, so Chosen could sit down.

More and more men, wearing the same outfit as those who had been with the woman from earlier, the one who’d taken Cia away, had been filing into the room while Link had been working to calm Chosen.

Quite a few of them had been shooting Link and Chosen looks that Link couldn’t decipher thanks to the helmets they wore, though none of them had tried drawing close.

Not until a new voice called out, one that had Chosen startling and Link’s guard rising, especially once the person the voice belonged to came into view.

It was a man who, except for missing the suit of armor… was an exact twin for the large shadow Cia had summoned earlier, the markings on his face and the hard expression it was twisted into prompting Link to push Chosen behind him, taking a defensive stance as the man headed towards them.

“W-Wars? Wh-what’s wrong?” Chosen asked, voice confused and clearly nervous, as the man drew ever closer.

“Just stay behind me and pass me your sword,” Link quickly but quietly instructed, while also silently cursing the soldiers who were just milling about and letting an enemy walk straight past them.

Or maybe he wasn’t an enemy to them? Maybe they were working together- but, no, that didn’t make sense, because Cia had been the one to summon that dark double and- and they’d taken Cia away…

Maybe you shouldn’t have let them take Cia away, maybe she really was someone you could trust, someone you loved—

“I-I don’t, I don’t understand, why do you need Fi?” Chosen asked, the wavering voice and shaking hand tugging on the back of his tunic pulling Link away from that treacherous line of thought, “i-it’s, it’s just Time—”

“He’s the twin of one of the dark shadows that- that Cia attacked you with!” Link hisses, a buzzing starting up in his head and the fog from earlier beginning to drift back into his mind as the distance between the two of them and the man continued to shrink. “Not only that, it was the one you were clearly scared of!”

Chosen flinches, eyes blown wide with shock, then a confusing mixture of guilt and fear as they dart from Link’s face to the man, who at this point has come to a stop at a distance that would be just out of reach of Chosen’s sword, if Link really did need to use it to defend himself and Chosen.

Not that the distance would actually help, Link already has plenty of ideas on how to take the man down, many of them even without the sword, and he’s perfectly willing to deploy them… even if the fact the man really wasn't wearing any armor, or holding any visible weapons, has Link feeling a bit confused himself.

It could be a ploy, trying to get us to lower our guard…

“Wars? Link?” Chosen’s voice calls softly, an equally soft tug on his arm pulling half of Link’s attention back towards the boy, where worry and mounting horror seem to have gained full control over his facial features, “L-Link do you- do you not… do you not recognize Time?”

“Should I?” Link murmured back, eyes darting from Chosen back to this ‘Time’ individual. “Have we fought him before? Is that why—”

“F-fought?! No, h-he’s y-our brother!”

“Then why are you scared of him?! Why did you act like you weren’t surprised when the dark copy of him was attacking you?”

“H-he just,” Chosen stammered, eyes now shining with hurt and sadness, “h-he doesn’t like me, b-but he, he loves you and the others…”

Link can’t really help but stare at Chosen after that last, incredibly nonsensical and worrying comment, the ‘Time’ individual using this brief pause to chime in.

“I’ve… been told the medics have set up a base directly outside of the temple,” the man calls out, voice far more gentle than Link had been expecting.

He still wears a cold expression, his mouth pressed in a flat line as he regards Link and Chosen, an unreadable light dancing in his lone denim blue eye, though his hands are held up in a manner that clearly shows they are empty.

“What about the others?” Chosen calls out, catching hold of Link’s own hand and squeezing gently, “are they out there already? They’re safe?”

“Yes,” ‘Time’ replies with a firm nod, eye drifting from Chosen to Link, gaze focusing entirely upon Link as he adds, “it is safe… for them, and for you and Sky. No one is going to hurt either of you… so will you let me lead you out of here?”

Link hesitates, his nerves screaming at him not to trust any of this, the buzzing from before starting up again, until there’s another squeeze of his hand, bringing his attention back to gentle and pleading sky blue.

“Please,” Chosen murmured as he leaned into Link, “can- let’s just- let’s just go, please? I-I don’t- I wanna go, I don’t wanna- want to be here anymore.”

“You shouldn’t be walking on that leg,” Link argues immediately, gazing down at the leg in question, “you shouldn’t even be standing on that leg right now…”

Chosen frowns, mouth opening, but closing before any words come out, his face shifting through quite a few emotions before his head drops as he sighs deeply and leans even more heavily into Link, thankfully shifting off the leg in question.

“...carry me, then?” Chosen eventually requests, eyes shifting back up to meet Link’s own, his face clearly lined with fatigue and pain, now.

This gave Link the distinct impression that Chosen was trying to manipulate him in some way… but the kid really did need to avoid using that leg and to receive proper medical care.

So Link carefully gathered the boy into his arms, positioning him in a way that both catered to the injured leg, as well as left the sword within easy reach, if necessary.

With that settled, Link signalled for the Time individual to lead the way, arms tightening around Chosen, his body tensed and ready to defend as they left the throne room at last.

It felt like both an eternity and a mere instant before Link found himself stepping out of the Temple, after following a path of destruction that had been carved into the place he’d been told was his home.

The fact that he’d barely been phased by the sight of that destruction and was more concerned with keeping up his vigil against the unknown soldiers that drifted through the halls and the man who was acting as Link’s guide, as well as keeping track of the wellbeing of the boy he still held in his arms… was, probably, further proof that this place… hadn’t truly been his home.

Still, that didn’t stop him from hesitating when they finally reached the door that led outside, from leaving the building he’d lived in since first awakening with no memory to his name, and moving towards ever increasing numbers of people Link didn’t recognize.

It’s the soft whimper of pain emitted by Chosen, who’d tried to muffle the sound in the fabric of Link’s tunic, that gets him past the threshold, following after ‘Time’ again, until they reach the very edge of the courtyard.

There his gaze immediately locks onto a group of boys, all bearing varying shades of blonde hair and blue eyes, as well as dressed in only undertunics and drawers, same as ‘Time’.

Next to them were two women, the first of which also followed the golden haired and blue eyed color scheme, though she wore proper clothes and armor, both of which Link could instantly tell were made of the finest material.

…something about the woman… also seemed mildly… familiar, to Link, especially when she turned to face him fully, winter blue eyes widening and a myriad of emotions dancing within them at the same time delicate pink lips parted.

But the sight of the other woman quickly stole Link’s attention… as well as his breath, panic flooding through his body as that face, the face of the woman who was supposed to be in chains, who was supposed to be his love but also made him feel sick with fear, gazed back at him.

Link’s grip on Chosen instinctively tightened as he took a step back, away from her, they had to get away, he didn’t want to go back… before the panic stilled, as a bell-like voice called out his name.

Next thing Link knew, a ball of white light was zooming towards him, followed closely by numerous orbs of sunshine yellow, blue, red, and lightning yellow, all of them swirling around Link and Chosen, the ringing of bells surrounding them as voices called out.

“Link, thank goodness, are you alright?!” the white orb cried, a fairy, Link realized, as he was just barely able to make out the shape of a small girl, hair the same color as the light that shone around her, her periwinkle colored eyes brimming with worry.

“We’ve been so worried!” added one of the sunny yellow fairies, pink wings and hair fluttering as pale green eyes darted over Link’s form.

“What Tuney said isn’t true, is it?!” cried a blue fairy, her hair nearly the same color as the last fairy’s eyes, while her own eye color was wisteria purple, her darker toned skin flushed with emotion as she added, “you remember us, don’t you?!”

“I ought to turn that awful witch into charcoal!” a red fairy cries, her tanned skin bronzed under the red of her eyes and short, spiky hair, which blazes like the fire she’d need to deliver on that threat.

“Yeah, let’s fry her!” cries one of the lightning yellow fairies next, her long hair done up in flowing pigtails and eyes flashing fiercely, the fairy next to her, who could be her twin aside from her hair being black instead of blonde, nodding along emphatically.

“Oh no, you’re both hurt!” cried another sunny yellow fairy, her sapphire blue eyes filled with worry and long black hair rustling as she flew around Link and Chosen.

“Dang, kid, you look like you got run over a bunch of times by a squad of Moblins,” another of the lightning yellow fairies states bluntly, the lightning bolt shaped lock of blue black hair that lay between her yellow eyes bouncing as she bends at the waist, peering at Chosen.

Everything else is lost in excited chattering as the fairies continue swirling around Link and Chosen, until such time a more regal bell rings out.

“Girls, settle down,” scolds the newest fairy, her tone stern but gentle, as she and even more Fae fly in.

This last group glows with a magic that is like, yet unlike, Cia’s own… the light that shines from their bodies a deeper, softer, dark violet than that which Cia had produced, their aura a calming presence like hers had never been, especially the fairy that flies at their head.

Everything about her reminds Link of the moon, from her pale blonde, nearly white hair, to her blue moon eyes, her delicate brow furrowed and purple butterfly wings fluttering with disapproval as she continues her admonishment.

“You know better than to crowd injured like that,” she states pointedly, her gaze sweeping over the first group of fairies, who all droop, the light around their bodies dimming as they bow their heads in apology.

They then back away from Link and Chosen, Link finding himself unsure of how he feels about the new space this creates, until such time the new fairy calls out to him, a soft, yet strangely sad, smile directed his way.

“I apologize for the fuss,” she murmurs at the same time she bows her head, “my sisters meant no harm, we are… merely concerned by you and your companion’s current state.

“May I be so bold as to ask permission to look the two of you over?” the dark fairy continues, gesturing first towards Link and Chosen, then the unknown Hylians, many of whom are now standing and staring at them, “I apologize for the lack of a proper medical tent, but with the rate at which events have been unfolding, I am afraid this space is all we can offer at the moment.”

Link hesitates, gaze drifting from ‘Time’, who still stands at his back, expression unreadable, to the group of unknown individuals, lingering warily on the girl who bears such an eerie resemblance to Cia, before falling to Chosen.

The boy seems to have become enraptured by the fairies that still flit around them… or perhaps it is simply that his grip on reality is slipping and the fever is beginning to take him.

Either way, no input is given by him, by anyone, leaving Link floundering, until such time the dark fairy calls for his attention again, her eyes shining with the ethereal light of the moon and her voice chiming with the loveliest, sweetest bells he’d ever heard.

“Link… come and sit down with the others now,” the fairy urged, those beautiful bells reverberating pleasantly in Link’s ears.

The next thing he knows, he’s entering the circle of boys that he’d noticed earlier, the boys themselves watching with expressions of relief but also sadness.

That seems odd, but Link can’t really find it in himself to care too much, not with the nice bells playing a pretty and soothing song, his body slowly beginning to relax as the music seems to wrap around him.

At least until Chosen is suddenly shifting away from him, Link lurching forwards before he even realizes and hand scrambling for a weapon.

“No no, hey, I’m sorry, it’s okay,” Chosen murmurs soothingly as his warmth presses firmly into Link’s side, “it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere, we’re okay.”

“Let’s calm down, Link,” the pretty bells urge, velvety soft wings brushing against his skin and moonlight blue, glowing gently, catching his eye again, “everything is alright, no one is going to hurt you or the Hero of Skies, again…”

Part of him doesn’t believe that, the fog and buzzing from earlier trying to drown out the bells… before eventually receding, as something soft and nice smelling is suddenly draped over him and even more pretty bells begin to ring.

He can vaguely hear voices talking, as his head comes to rest on Chosen’s shoulder, but can’t find it in himself to care about what’s being said, preferring to sink further into the music created by the bells.

Not until the music dims at the same time the soft fabric shifts, sky blue eyes shining with apology once they catch his own.

“Hey, we’re getting ready to move, get to a proper hospital,” Chosen murmured softly, “you think you can stand?”

That was an incredibly silly question, coming from the person with the broken leg, who Link immediately scooped back up into his arms before setting off again.

He and the other men and boys, following along after the two women and the fairies, were then led to what appeared to be an owl statue, the eyes of which began to glow once they were standing before it.

The blond woman then pulled out what looked to be an ocarina, with which she played a short tune.

This caused the owl’s eyes to flash, the area around the statue shimmering briefly, before a powerful wind began to blow, quickly wrapping around Link and the others and carrying them off, not even allowing him one final look at the Temple of Souls.

Chapter Text

Upon the whirlwind’s dispersal, Link and the others were immediately ushered into the castle hospital, the fairies following along, their numbers increasing upon entrance to the facility.

These new Fae were, apparently, part of the personnel, they and their Hylian counterparts having apparently been alerted to what was going on, as they all quickly descended upon Link and the other males.

The Proxi fairy had, at that point, settled atop Link’s head, which Link was surprised to find he actually felt quite comfortable with, happy even, as everyone was led to another room, Link quickly placing Chosen in the nearest chair, doing his best to ensure the bad leg wasn’t jostled.

He could hear the gentle chiming of the other fairies, alongside murmurings of the Hylian medical personnel, though his attention was quickly drawn away from them, as someone moved towards Chosen and himself.

“Um, hi,” said the light twin of the boy shadow Cia had summoned to fight against Chosen, alongside the ‘Time’ individual’s copy.

This version, however, doesn’t bear a single trace of the anger or hatred that had been plastered on the dark version’s face… though he does seem a bit timid and… sad, really, those emotions lingering even as a small smile tentatively touches his lips while sea blue eyes drift from Link to Chosen.

“Wind, hey,” Chosen calls, a tired but relieved and inviting smile curling his own lips as he reaches for the boy, sending a reassuring look Link’s way as he does, “you doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” the kid huffs softly, while also allowing Chosen to grab hold of his arm and pull him in, carefully maneuvering around Chosen’s bad leg, continuing to be mindful of the appendage as he’s wrapped in the older boy’s arms.

Sea blue eyes then meet Link’s again, a small hand rising and waving in Link’s direction, “hi there… I’m Wind, and no, that’s not my real name, it’s a nickname, though Proxi there and the other fairies call me Tune.”

“Or Tuney!” Proxi chimes in, fluttering down from Link’s head, “we’re all friends, family even, including you!”

“Oh… really?” Link murmured uncertainly, gaze drifting from the fairy, to the boy, then back again, studying their features while groping at his memories.

But, there was nothing… nothing that seemed familiar, nothing that called forth any kind of memory… just like Cia’s stories hadn’t sparked anything.

“Looks like nothing has changed then, hm?” Her voice murmurs, then chuckles, Link shivering as her arms wrap around him, enveloping him in cold, “trapped with people you don’t know, who insist that they are important to you, are loved by you. But unlike me, you don’t really know what these people want, that they won’t hurt you—”

“Link, come back now.”

Link flinches, then finds himself shivering again, worse than before, everything reeling as he tries to focus on the soft bells and glow of the blue moon, but it’s so cold, why is it so cold…?

“...didn’t mean to…!”

“...know, but we need to…”

“...my Sailcloth…?”

“S’cuse me a second,” a deep voice rumbles, seconds before something warm presses against Link, an arm wrapping around him and pulling him more firmly against the warm thing.

He flinches again as a screeching noise sounds, then startles as the warm thing pulls him down, causing him to sit atop it, the warmth then properly wrapping around him.

“...probably not the best…”

“Sorry, but I couldn’t take it no more,” the warm thing says, the rumbling now vibrating against Link’s ear, from where he’s pressed against… someone’s rather muscular chest, apparently.

There’s a sigh, then more talking, more rumbling, Link not really able to decipher what it is, as he’s distracted by the warmth that begins to sink into his skin… but also the whispering cold that tries to push the warmth away.

Eventually, a new, yet familiar, warmth presses into his side, and then soothing bells begin to chime, which finally, properly, pushes away the cold and whispers.

Link finds himself breathing a sigh of relief when this happens, lets himself sink into the warmth and chimes, finding his head resting on a shoulder again, the fingers that begin gently combing through his hair and spreading the warmth against his scalp relaxing him even further.

“...think it is?”

“...will need more extensive…”

“...that witch… Triforce…?”

“...need to examine… get the restraints off…”

He apparently dozes off at some point, because the next thing Link knows, he’s being gently shaken, his eyes blinking open, to find equally gentle midnight blue gazing down at him.

“Hey, doc needs ta take a look at ya,” the warm man murmured, a conflicted smile directed at Link as a calloused finger lightly tapped his cheek, then shoulder, “think ya can sit up fer a minute?”

Link is already moving as directed before the man finishes speaking, positioning himself the way Cia usually had him sitting without conscious thought.

For some reason, this causes a murmur to travel around the room, though Link doesn’t focus on that, his attention instead on the woman who comes to stand before him.

Despite the fact that she looks nothing like Cia, Link still finds himself stiffening as she bends down, peers at and inspects him.

He smiles and states that he is fine when she asks how he is feeling, dutifully following every instruction she gives him, even when a syringe appears in her hand, which she uses to draw blood.

He takes care to keep himself soft and compliant, as always, especially when the woman’s smile drops and she moves back to murmur to both the Hylians that wear the same attire as her and the fairies.

Link is very nearly floating alongside those fairies by the time the woman moves away from him, the warmth he’d felt before now barely detectable.

There’s a slight pressure around his body, something wrapping around him, another something taking hold of his left hand, the squeeze applied to it no more noticeable than the other.

Something begins rumbling, vibrating against him, but Link can’t make out what is being said, can’t even really find a reason to figure that out, preferring to continue floating, because it’s nice.

At least, not until he’s being moved, pulled away from whatever holds his hand, the abrupt blooming of confusion and panic resulting in a strange noise leaving his mouth and his body trying to move back towards it.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, we’s just goin’ ta get Cia’s junk offa ya…”

“It is all right, Link. The Hero of Skies is receiving medical attention, just as you wished. The two of you will be reunited once your magical restraints have been dealt with, there is no need to worry…”

The bells sing and wrap around him even more enticingly than before, calming his nerves once more, urging him to burrow back into the one who emits that equally soothing heat.

“...comin’, Old Man?”

“I’d… really rather stay here…”

“Mask…”

“Loyla… please…”

There is a loud and clearly disapproving sigh, which is the last thing Link hears before he finds himself on the verge of dozing off again.

He only comes back to some amount of awareness as he’s set down on a chair, midnight blue eyes, alongside the strange markings on his face, crinkling as the warm man from before smiles reassuringly.

Link automatically smiles back, even as he feels confusion building, as he’s hit with the strong smell of sage, his gaze drifting towards the people in both medical garb and flowing robes that move about the room, then the fairies flitting through the air.

Many of those fairies drift down towards him, their gazes filled with concern and sadness, before moving on to inspect a boy with strawberry blond hair, who sits to Link’s right.

Well, slumps in his chair, really, his skin alarmingly grayish and blue violet eyes glassy and unfocused, continuously drifting away from both the fairies and the medical garbed people that are gathered around him, one of whom holds his wrist while another tinkers with some kind of puffy cuff on the boy’s upper arm, the end of a stethoscope pressed underneath it.

Across from both Link and the pink haired youth sits yet another boy, this one with dirty blond hair and navy blue eyes that shine with concern as they drift from the near comatose boy to Link, then his own set of medical staff, before focusing on the fairies that hover over him.

His skin is alarmingly pale, though it’s the collar around his neck that has Link shivering and his attention drifting again.

It’s the robed figures that catch Link’s eye next, as well as the pattern they seem to be drawing upon the floor.

Already a circle has been formed, within which Link and the other boys sit, with outward pointing arrows and symbols that he thinks are broken chains soon etched into the enclosure.

Any further study of this on Link’s part comes to an end as the fairies return, a number of medical personnel following alongside them, Link’s discomfort swallowed by the fog as they inspect him and, evidently more importantly, the jewelry he wears.

“...they be alright?” rumbles the voice of the warm man from behind Link, as calloused fingers begin running through his hair again.

“...stay vigilant… restraints off… organ failure…”

There’s a sharp inhale, the hand in Link’s hair stilling for a brief moment, before resuming it’s ministrations, the deep voice murmuring as all but two of the medical personnel move away.

Link can’t quite make out the words at this point, is starting to drift away… until such time the air seems to shift, the deep and soothing voice replaced with others, chanting words he can’t understand.

The newly intricate circle beneath his feet soon begins to glow, then pulse, at which point the jewelry begins to warm against Link’s skin, then steadily grows hot.

Alongside that is a sudden, sharp ache, something that feels like it bites Link down to the very bone, instantly stealing his breath away, leaving him wheezing desperately, as the pain just seems to increase and spread through his entire body by the second.

He feels dizzy, nausea building alongside the pain, his body growing cold, so cold, except for his earlobes, his neck and his wrists, which burn.

It burns, it hurts! It hurts so much and I can’t breathe, please make it stop!

Please, please, I’m sorry, I’m SORRY, Cia, please stop, make it stop, it HURTS!

He’s lightheaded, can feel his heart racing and he still can’t breathe, he’s freezing and burning at the same time and desperately begs for all of it to stop!

And then, suddenly… it does, as a sharp tinkling sound fills the air… air that Link can suddenly breathe in with a desperate gasp, the pain that had consumed him disappearing as quickly as it appeared.

He coughs, then sniffles, blinking in confusion at the wetness he can now feel all over his face.

There are blobs hovering all around him and a ringing in his ears, Link shrinking into himself as something clamps onto his upper arm, while something else tightly grips his wrist.

He doesn’t understand what’s going on, tries to brace himself for further pain, further punishment, because surely that’s what this had been, a punishment, even if he can’t understand what he did wrong…

Instead, what follows is something soft brushing against his face, rubbing away the tears and the sticky makeup Link could feel on his skin… at least, he thinks it’s the makeup that left the sticky feeling.

He doesn’t recall Cia putting anything red on, though, like what he sees on the cloth as it’s pulled away from his face... but doesn’t dwell on that much, as the face of the warm man reappears, orbs of light hovering alongside him.

“Hey, bud,” the man calls, his voice strangely distorted through the ringing that still persists in Link’s ears, but his warmth as soothing as ever when his calloused hand rubs against Link’s cheek.

The orbs of light are just as warm and even more soothing than the man, the searing pain from Link’s wrists, neck and ears dissipating instantly as they brush against his skin.

The more deep seated pain lingers, however, and though it’s not as bad as earlier, it and the fatigue that slams into Link has him near collapsing into the man.

His consciousness wavers as warmth spreads over his icy body, though Link retains enough awareness to take in the sight of the other boys as he spots them over the warm man’s shoulder.

The dirty blonde boy has managed to climb to his feet, which seems to have displeased the medical workers and even the fairies around him, though he seems completely unconcerned about that, or the way he sways and stumbles.

Instead, he seems completely focused on the other boy, which Link supposes is relatively fair... given that boy now lies on the ground, trails of blood seeping from his eyes, nose and mouth, while his own medical attendants kneel next to him, their hands moving as quickly as the fairies that swirl around them all.

That doesn’t seem good, a sentiment the warm man seems to share with Link, as his rumbling voice takes on more distressed tones as he converses with someone out of Link’s line of sight.

But the fatigue is proving too strong for Link to resist any longer, which the warm man seems to realize quickly, as Link feels that warmth wrap more securely around him and his body rising, the man’s deep voice and steady rocking as he walks eventually lulling Link properly into the realm of slumber.

Chapter Text

“...a coma?” Time repeated, desperately hoping he’d misheard and feeling as if his heart were being stabbed as the doctor, who’d introduced herself as Anaroa, nodded.

“We’re not entirely sure as to how this occurred, exactly… though given the information you gave us, concerning the amount of energy boosting potions and fruits the Hero of Skies consumed, there is a good chance they played a significant role,” she stated, voice clear and concise, though not without sympathy.

“Do you know when he’ll wake up?” was Time’s next question, gaze shifting from the doctor, to Loyla who hovered between the two Hylians.

“Unfortunately not,” Loyla sighed, “and given his current state, we’re hesitant in applying any further magic, healing or otherwise, since it may end up doing more harm than good.”

“And on that note,” Dr. Anaroa added, her gray eyes serious as she gazed at Time, “we need to talk about next steps…”

“Next steps?” Time repeated, his voice sounding as small as he felt right then, his gaze once again shifting from Hylian to fairy, “what next steps?”

“As you already know, young Sky is severely malnourished as well as dehydrated,” Dr. Anaroa began to explain, “we’ve already administered intravenous fluids to mitigate that.”

“O-... okay?” Time replied slowly, now feeling a bit like when he’d been standing in front of the Great Deku Tree, just before his father had revealed that he had been cursed. “So… y-you have something similar for- t-to deal with- to get him food… right?”

“We do… but I am afraid it is far more invasive than the intravenous drips used for fluids. To put it bluntly… it would be best to introduce a feeding tube.”

“F-feeding… tube?” Time repeated.

This led to the doctor and fairy giving him an in-depth explanation of just what this feeding tube thing was and how it worked, of which Time only heard the first few sentences before the panicked buzzing in his ears drowned their voices out.

Once again, he feels like he’s reverted to that boy from the forest… that kid in the war that stood on the sidelines with Tuney, as Captain was wheeled off somewhere, hearing another doctor talking to Artemis and General Impa but not at all understanding what was being said.

Back then, he didn’t make the decisions… decisions about what was best for those around him, because of course he didn’t, he was the youngest.

But now, he’s the eldest, the leader, charged with looking after the other heroes, these boys, their safety and their health…

And he was failing miserably.

“...as it is impossible to ask Mr. Sky himself, and since you and the other heroes appear to be the closest thing to next of kin, we really do need you to make a decision now,” Dr. Anaroa’s voice suddenly filtered back in, she and Loyla directing expectant looks in Time’s direction.

Time, of course, could only stare back at them, as panic continued swirling through him… and he was dangerously close to just turning tail and running right out of that awful place… when a new voice suddenly chimed in.

“Please do whatever is needed,” Twilight stated firmly and confidently as he came to stand beside Time, “whatever it takes to ensure Sky’s survival and comfort, if at all possible. You have our full consent to do so.”

The doctor’s eyes widened with surprise at this apparent and sudden shifting of authority, though she recovered quickly, directing a short nod in Twilight’s direction, before gesturing behind her, “we’ll need you to fill out some paperwork first, so please follow me. If you have any questions, I will do my best to answer…”

Twilight was nodding along, Time unable to stop himself from staring at the young man, his Pup, who was so very calm, even though sadness and weariness gleamed in those midnight blue eyes.

He didn’t dare ask any questions though, simply trailed along, just as he’d done when he was Mask and following after the Captain, watching as papers were signed, listening but barely understanding as words were exchanged.

It isn’t until doctor and fairy have disappeared, leaving the two heroes alone in the waiting room (a place Mask had quickly grown to despise), that Time dared call out to his descendant, who stands stiffly beside him.

“Twilight are… are you alright?”

The younger man startles, slightly, the distant look that had come over him shifting to surprise, before a sad and tired smile overtakes his face, his body visibly working to relax.

“As alright as any of us can be, I think,” Twilight sighed, “sorry ‘bout stepping in there…”

“No, it’s fine,” Time said with a shake of his head, “honestly I… I didn’t have a clue what- what I was supposed to do there so… thank you Twilight, really….”

“Weren’t a problem,” Twilight replied, voice quiet and tired, the Ordonian accent thickening and his gaze drifting towards the past again, as he added, “I done it before, back durin’ my quest… had t' stand in fer their parents when the kids were in Kakariko, makin’ th’ decisions fer their health an' all, like when Colin got hurt, an' when Ilia’s memory was…”

His expression crumbles, misery overtaking his face, Time’s own chest throbbing, having already heard about that part of his Pup’s quest and how it almost perfectly matched their current situation, with Warriors.

The situation that Time had honestly been trying his best not to think about… and especially not about the incident that had occurred earlier in the day, as a result.

That incident being when Time, after finally managing to claw his way out of the bed he’d collapsed into, once his own magic restraints had been removed the other day… had gone to try to check on Sky… only to find his path blocked by Warriors.

His big brother, on his feet but still looking incredibly ill… glaring at him with an expression Time had only ever seen in silhouette from behind, or in profile as he'd been held at the captain’s side... as the older boy had stood between Mask and Tune and those who might hurt them.

But now… now, it seemed that Time was truly on the opposite end of this familiar scene… now, instead of someone the Captain would lay down his very life to protect… Time was the threat against which Warriors stood.

“If you really are an ally, a ‘brother’, like you say, then why is Sky scared of you?!”

That was what the captain had demanded to know, the reason he’d so vehemently denied Time access when he’d tried to visit Sky’s room.

And Time… Time had had no answer to that question, not when confronted with the confirmation of what he’d seen, when Sky had been fighting against his shadow copy… that he hadn’t misheard Sky’s own words.

“He’s y-our brother!"

“H-he just… h-he doesn’t like me, b-but he, he loves you and the others…”

“Time?” Twilight’s voice called, pulling Time out of his thoughts, though the look his pup currently regards him with… really only helps in making Time feel worse.

And this, as it turned out, was the final straw... that urge to run, to get as far away from this place, from this entire situation, flooding through his body.

He can’t even manage to spit out some kind of explanation or excuse for Twilight before he’s turning tail and fleeing, though he does manage to keep his pace at a brisk walk instead of a panicked sprint.

He knows full well that he can’t run away from this, not forever... but for right now it’s too much, far too much, and he has to get away, away from his brother’s accusing and untrusting gaze, absent of even the tiniest shred of recognition.

Away from Sky’s pain ridden voice, from the words that rake across Time’s heart, and the fear-filled gaze that confirmed just how badly he’d screwed up, how badly he’d failed… as a hero… as a leader…

…as a brother and most certainly, as a father….

Chapter Text

“…Dissociation is an alteration or split in one’s consciousness, perceptions, or sense of identity that leaves the person feeling disconnected from what is actually happening or has happened…”

“...More extreme dissociation is a common response to trauma, and dissociative disorders are diagnosed when the dissociation doesn’t resolve after the traumatic event has passed…”

“...Dissociative Amnesia…”

“...someone with dissociative amnesia can’t remember important information about himself or his experience, usually because something traumatic happened and he can’t bear to remember. If the amnesia is due to a physical injury or a substance, dissociative amnesia is not diagnosed.”

“Does magic count as a substance?” Twilight murmured softly, frowning with renewed concern as he skimmed through the rest of the page in the book he was reading.

He’d grabbed it, and a few others from the castle library, after leaving the hospital… once Sky and Warriors had been seen to and he’d received the newest information from their doctors… including the one who specialized in the medicine of the mind… ‘psychology’, they’d called it.

Psychology… an entire field of science and medicine… which, apparently, had been what had become of the gift Dusk had given him, in thanks for his efforts amidst the Twilight Invasion.

Twilight hadn’t really expected a gift at all, given the way he’d gotten involved in the conflict… had even tried to refuse anything of the sort, at first, since he hadn’t felt like he’d truly earned it, nor had any interest in money or fancy titles and whatnot…

…until such time he and his princess had come to the idea and agreement upon the founding of a school of medicine that would focus on ailments of the mind like… like what Ilia had suffered from…

“Not in this case, so far as we’ve determined,” replied the fairy sitting on his shoulder, pulling Twilight back to the present.

Her light purple hair, gathered into a flower braid, the bloom sitting on the left side of her head and ‘vines’ twirling over her shoulder, flutters as she leans forwards to gaze at the book in Twilight’s hands, the easiest of the group he’d collected, after hearing Wars’ diagnosis from the psychologist person, before her sharp gaze shifts towards Twilight himself.

One would almost think she were angry, with the way her darker purple eyes bored, intensely, into his own, their slant accentuated, even exaggerated, by the shadow of her bangs, the thin line of her mouth at an equally intense angle.

But her voice is soft, with clear hints of worry in her tone as well as sadness, her deep purple wings flittering, causing their silvery patterns to shine gently under the sun.

Those same patterns had shone far brighter earlier, when she and the other Dark Fae had been using their magic to locate, identify and neutralize what they could of whatever lingering traces of Cia’s magic had still been clinging onto Warriors.

Alongside that, they’d also used an ability of theirs, called ‘Dream Sphere’, in tandem with a magical tool supplied by the Hylian doctors, psychological and general, to ensure Warriors’ amnesia truly wasn’t due to a physical injury.

Twilight had to pause, take a moment to close his eyes and breathe, when his mind began to drift again… back to dredging up memories of Ilia, what he’d seen and heard of her experiences… before traitorously trying to add thoughts of Wild and what he’d been through, was still going through…

The soft yet familiar sound of sniffing, followed by the sensation of distinctly scented air blowing against his face, is what actually pushes those melancholic thoughts away this time, as well as startles a chuckle out of Twilight as he opens his eyes.

He’s immediately met by the sight of a familiar muzzle, the smile that had crept onto his face growing even bigger as Twilight’s gaze rises to take in the splash of white, higher up than he’s used to as well as shaped differently, that adorns the angular head of the horse that stands before him.

Warriors’ Epona is a beautiful girl, just like her (however many greats) grand dam, her chestnut coat still shining from the brushing Twilight had given her a few minutes prior, the braids Twilight’s new fairy friend had touched up in her mane swaying as she bobs her head and nickers.

“Checking in on me?” Twilight chuckled as he carefully raised his right hand, making sure she saw what he was doing before he began softly stroking the horse’s muzzle.

That earns him a snort, but he’s still allowed to rub his hand along the bridge of her nose, but not for very long before she turns and walks away.

The noise and look his own Epona, who’s already moving to take her descendant’s place standing beside Twilight, wears then has him emitting another small chuckle.

“Cut her some slack, ya know ya’d be actin’ much th’ same way in her shoes,” he murmured as he rose to his feet, stretching and shaking out the kinks from his time sitting, before giving his girl a good scratch behind her ears.

It had truly been a relief to find her in the castle stables, which Twilight had, of course, made a beeline for after… everything that had happened, both in the Temple of Souls and the hospital this morning.

He’d stashed his book collection in a safe/clean space, then dove headfirst into whatever work he could get, for as long as he could do it, in order to lose himself in the comfortingly familiar work of caring for horses.

During their time in Cia’s clutches, the witch had apparently cast some kind of spell to keep them all moderately fit (and, strangely, disturbingly clean, despite never being allowed to bathe), though Twilight had still detected just the slightest bit of decline in his stamina and strength, especially when he’d been carrying Wars around.

What this meant for the present was that he hadn’t been able to work as long as he was used to, or wanted, in the stables… but he’d still pushed as long as he could, right to the point his new fairy companion, who’d been the one to show him to the stables in the first place, insisted he take a break.

Then next thing he knew, Twilight had found himself in the paddock with both Eponas, his books, and a fairy pointedly ‘glaring’ at him in a way that reminded him of Midna, daring him to try and do anything more strenuous than brushing the two horses or finally getting down to the research he’d wanted to conduct… once he’d calmed down…

“Why are you staring at me?” that fairy asked now, a new ‘glare’ directed his way, “do you have something you wish to say?”

“Just wanted t’ thank ya again,” Twilight replied, trying to keep the fond laughter out of his voice, “and t’ say ya look mighty nice today.”

And she did, as far as Twilight was concerned, with the simple top that bore a mighty similar look to what Time’s wife, Malon, wore, alongside a skirt that, while shorter than what Twilight usually saw at either Ordon or Lon Lon Ranch, was made of blue material that looked good and sturdy, as did the gray boots that came up to about mid calf, with just the tiniest bit of heel.

Twilight had to bite his tongue to keep from cooing as pale cheeks flushed a deep pink and purple eyes shyly shifted away, before the little fairy was launching herself into the air, flustered thanks mixing with a stern reminder for Twilight not to push himself again.

And though the statement had a pang throbbing in Twilight’s chest, it also had another huff of fond laughter bubbling against the lump that had tried to form, as memories of a fanged mouth and narrowed red/gold eye bounced alongside those of the younger brother currently… ‘sleeping’, in the hospital.

“Yes, ma’am”, he murmured softly, his Epona nudging him as the fairy flew to War’s Epona.

Hylian and horse then do a lap around the paddock, Twilight speaking little nothings to Epona as they do, even though he knows she can’t understand him as well as when he’s in his wolf form.

Not that she needs to, of course... not like when Twilight was telling her and her descendant everything they’d needed and wanted to know about what had happened in the Temple of Souls, after getting the chance to slip into his lupine form earlier (thanks to the fairy, once again).

It had been something he’d felt he needed to do, something War’s Epona, especially, deserved… and, if it also relieved the certain itch he’d felt burning under his skin, thrumming in time with the crystal that once again rested under his tunic, on his chest… well, two birds and one stone, as the saying went.

Thankfully, War’s Epona had taken both Twilight’s transformation and his explanation in stride, her personality and way of speaking, as well as her pointed questioning, reminding Twilight strongly of his eldest pup and how Wars would react in much the same way, in similar situations.

Also like his eldest pup, his Epona does her best to remain calm, stoic even… but Twilight could immediately tell she was just as upset as the rest of them were with this whole situation… and probably feeling just as helpless, just as sad…

“Ya jus’ wanna take all the hurt they’re feelin’ away, even if it means yer hurtin’ twice as much,” Twilight murmured glumly, as he watched War’s Epona trotting around on the other side of the enclosure, the slightest trace of tension in her muscles and the way her tail swishes betraying her lingering distress.

His own Epona emitted a sigh, followed by a quiet nicker, her head bumping gently against Twilight, to which he responded with an affectionate pat, trailing his hand down her neck as they continued walking along the fence line.

Once they’d returned to the pile of books, Twilight plopped back down in his spot and made his next selection, flipping through the pages as Epona ambled off again.

“...The main symptom of dissociative amnesia is memory loss that’s more severe than usual forgetfulness. The memory loss can’t be explained by a medical condition. You can’t recall information about yourself or events and people in your life, especially from a time you felt shock, distress or pain. A bout of dissociative amnesia usually occurs suddenly. It may last minutes, hours, or rarely, months or years.

“Dissociative amnesia can be specific to events in a certain time, such as intense combat. More rarely, it can involve complete loss of memory about yourself. It sometimes may involve travel or confused wandering away from your life. This confused wandering is called dissociative fugue…”

“That’s gonna be bad, if it happens while we’re traveling,” Twilight murmured, skimming through the rest of the book, then reaching for the next. “Wild and I can probably track him, and maybe Roolie… and Sky, maybe Legend if his Master Sword can do… whatever Sky used to find us… but if Wars is with the others and he wanders away…”

“...there aren’t any medications that can specifically treat dissociative amnesia. But many medications can treat associated conditions, like anxiety or depression. Treatment can help if, and when, memories do resurface. For many, the memories they regain are upsetting or overwhelming. Mental health therapy can help you cope with those feelings and manage them in a healthy way.

“The treatments that can help you may vary. Talk to your healthcare provider…”

“Right, right, the head an other docs,” Twilight said, once again flipping through the pages, frowning as the book listed other possible mental health conditions, especially at the mention of ‘anxiety, depression, eating disorders, and self-harm and suicidal behaviors’, “but is there anything we non-docs can do?”

His search through the rest of the books is then interrupted by a loud and clearly happy whinny, Twilight instinctively raising his head at the sound just in time to see War’s Epona begin trotting towards the paddock gate.

“E-pony!”

“Hi, E-pony!”

“Look who we brought to visit, Epona!”

The sounds of tiny and excited fairy voices, alongside the flash of golden blonde hair, have Twilight struggling not to scramble onto his feet, his own Epona returning and helping to keep his steps slow and steady as the two of them move to join the other horse and her companions.

“So is her name Epona or E-pony?” Warriors asks, with a soft laugh that has Twilight’s chest aching.

It and his pup’s face are filled with a fond curiosity, the matching gaze briefly shifting towards the fairies that fly around him, before focusing on the horse who is nickering and snorting, dancing with nerves and excitement as she intently inspects her boy.

Least she seems to be givin’ him a good first impression, Twilight notes, feeling a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as Wars rubs the horse’s nose, then scratches between her ears, seemingly without a thought, his boy’s own smile growing bigger as his Epona nuzzles against him.

Until he spots Twilight, that is, at which point War’s expression grows uncertain and guarded… which, though not nearly as intense as when he’d first reunited with everyone and definitely not as bad as during the… ‘interaction’ with Time in the hospital earlier… still stings quite a bit.

“Hey there,” Twilight calls as he and his own Epona draw alongside, doing his best to keep his body relaxed (non-threatening) as he adds, “it’s, uh… ’s a nice day out, don’t ya think?”

“...yes, it is,” is War’s careful response to Twilight’s incredibly lame way of trying to start a conversation.

“We’re giving Link a tour!” Proxi exclaimed as she alighted atop War’s head, “and of course we had to come visit the stables and everyone here!”

“And I’m assuming you received approval from Loyla and the others before you led Link away from the hospital, correct?” a cold voice, rumbling with thunder, asked as Twilight’s fairy companion rose from where she’d been sitting atop War’s Epona’s head, her gaze fixed pointedly upon the fairies that hovered before her.

War’s eyes widened and he took a small step back as uneasiness briefly overtook his face… before one of the light fairies (Neris, Twilight thinks her name was) suddenly emitted a loud and overly dramatic sigh, her tone matching the sentiment as she spoke.

“Yes, we got permission! Loyla and the other medics even said it’d be good for him to get some fresh air! You’re always such a worrywart, Twy!” she huffed, before turning to Wars, “don’t mind her. Twy can look a bit… intense, but she’s a total sweetie, alongside being a worrywart!”

Twy, in the meantime, was blushing quite strongly now, her hands coming to rest on her flaming cheeks and her gaze focusing on Warriors before dropping as she asked, “oh, was I looking particularly villainous there? I’m sorry…”

“H-huh?! O-oh, no, you, uh, I-I was just… just a bit startled,” Warriors began to stammer, a guilty expression beginning to overtake his own face.

It was at this point that his Epona apparently decided to take hold of the conversation, as she chose that moment to direct a light puff of air in Twy’s direction, just soft enough to send the fairy an inch higher into the air, followed by an equally soft nicker.

Then, after that clear display of horsie fondness, she pushed her nose into Warrior’s chest, sniffing loudly, almost pointedly, a new laugh slipping from Wars as a result.

“How’d you know I had a treat for you?” he chuckled as he withdrew a shiny red apple from the left pocket of his pants, gaze shifting towards Twilight as the horse began happily munching on the offered treat, “looks like your girl’s pretty smart… um…”

“Twilight,” Twilight supplies, now working to keep any sadness or pain out of his voice, and finding it a tad easier to achieve when he looks towards the fairy that comes to hover next to him as she pushes her disheveled hair out of her face, “or Twi, that’s one ‘a mah names too. I’m Twi wit’ an i, she’s Twy wit’ a y, th’ shady buddies!”

“Was that supposed to be a joke?” Twy with a y asked with a newly ‘darkened’ expression.

“Why, yes, did’ya not think it was funny?” Twilight asked, channeling the Warriors of his memories (who’d probably had a much better joke waiting for when the Chain finally landed near enough to his Hyrule Castle, given the way he’d reacted sometimes to Twi’s nickname) as well all the Ordon fathers, their humor, and the full ‘dumb hick’ energy as much as he possibly could.

Thankfully, this brings about the response he’d been hoping for as present day Warriors emitted a small snort, a hand coming up to cover his mouth in a useless attempt to stop or smother the laughter that started spilling out.

“Anyway, yer right ‘bout this girlie bein’ smart,” Twilight said, once both Warriors and the fairies that had joined him in laughter, had calmed down, allowing Twilight to bring the conversation back to the original topic, who he gestured towards with a nod of his head, “but she ain’t mine…”

Twilight then hesitated, remembering how Ilia had reacted when he or the kids from Ordon had tried to jog her memory before she was ready, by sharing too much information too soon…

But the way his boy stands, leaning towards his Epona, hands already, subconsciously returned to stroking her nose and the easy smile Wars wears… the sheer amount of love and adoration that pours off of the horse alongside worry, sadness, and aching desire…

“...she’s yours, actually,” Twilight finally reveals, praying fervently to Ordona and the other Light Spirits, “from what y-... what I’ve heard, ye two’ve been thick as thieves since ye were kids…”

Wars Epona throws her head back with what Twilight would bet money on was an affirming whinny, the fairies quick to add their own confirmations.

Warriors himself looks surprised… then uncertain, Twilight’s heart sinking alongside his hopes as his eldest gazes at the horse with a lost expression.

At least until Twilight’s own Epona nudges him, once, then twice, her expression and the huff she throws at Twilight when he doesn’t respond the way she apparently wants letting him know he’s being a particularly dumb human at the moment.

“S’not like I can transform wit’ Wars as he is now,” he grumbles as he paws at the area Epona was nudging himself, about ready to ask for another hint, or the fairies if they can translate what his girl was trying to convey…

…when his hands brush against the Horse Call that Ilia had made for him, Twilight finally getting an idea of what his girl was thinking… as War’s expression shifts the second Twilight holds the item up where everyone can see.

“That… what is that?” Warriors asks, wonderingly, eyes locked completely on the Horse Call.

His expression and voice are so achingly like Ilia’s, when Twilight had shown the instrument to her once he’d retrieved it from Impaz… and Twilight is praying even more fervently than before that, if not his entire memory, his pup is able to recall something, as Twilight explains the purpose and origins behind the item.

And… it seems as if his prayers are finally answered… for, when he passes the Horse Call over to Wars, his pup instantly brings the mouthpiece to his lips and a perfect rendition of Epona’s Song rings through the air.

Both horses neigh happily when the song is done, War’s own Epona nuzzling against him before resting her head fully on his shoulder, producing a new laugh from their boy.

“Ya never git tired of that song, eh Epona? Ye’d even go so far as t’ pick th’ Horseshoe Grass yerself so’s Ma or me would play it for ya…”

Everything seems to freeze solid at those words, or at least that’s how it feels to Twilight as he stares at Wars, whose own attention is still fixed on his horse.

Twilight then has to press his face against his Epona’s neck, to keep himself from bursting into tears or letting out a noise he knows would startle their descendants and ruin this precious moment, as the impact of Wars regaining a memory, fully hits him.

It’s not hopeless… just like Ilia, it’s not impossible for Wars to regain his memories, Twilight silently celebrated as hope truly began to bloom.

The gentle tug on his hair, alongside the careful grooming that follows, is his Epona’s way of saying much the same thing, something Twilight can realize even without his wolf senses, as he spots a certain twinkle in his girl’s eyes.

This produces another, fond chuckle from Twilight, who blows his thanks against her nose, before the two of them move closer to their descendants and the fairies who dance around them, that special song that provided the first step in regaining what was lost ringing out once more.

Chapter Text

Yet again, Wild had to marvel at the grandeur of Warriors’ Hyrule, as he gazed at the opulent kitchen before him, dazzled by the large, brightly lit space filled with a mixture of fine tiles, rich woods and gleaming metals of appliances the likes of which he wasn’t even sure he could name.

Bustling about amidst these appliances like bees in a hive, were numerous Hylians wearing distinct white outfits with aprons and hats, who would call out to each other as pans sizzled, fires blazed, and various utensils pounded out steady rhythms.

Briefly, Wild wondered if the kitchens of his own Hyrule Castle had looked anything like what he was standing in now, but the thought was soon cut off, as his fairy guides called out to a certain individual.

“Hey! Granny!” one of said guides, a fire fairy named Wick, whose spiky red hair and eyes that blazed with her emotions perfectly mirrored her magical element of fire, called with both an exuberant tone and wave of her hand, “we brought the cook from Link’s traveling party!”

“Did’ya now?” a feminine voice, strong enough to be easily heard over the kitchen’s din and bearing an equally strong accent, similar to a few Hylian travelers Wild had met whilst wandering through his own Hyrule, called back.

The owner of that voice was a woman who’d been carving up a large slab of meat, who then handed the cleaver she’d been using to another white clad individual before making her way towards Wild and his entourage.

She was on the older side, as shown by the strands of silver Wild could see in the hair peeking out from beneath the woman’s hat, alongside the beginnings of wrinkled skin, and was just a foot or two taller than Wild once she came to stand before him, her sharp, pale green eyes and the way she held herself, exuding a powerful confidence.

“So ye be the one charged wit’ helpin’ Link feed wee Tune an’ Mask, an’ the rest o’ the heroes we’ve been hearin’ about?”

“Me help him?” Wild wasn’t able to stop himself from exclaiming with a spluttering laugh, recalling the bland ‘meal’ Warriors had made that first night Wild had spent with the Chain (and the last of which he’d allowed Warriors to take the lead in the cooking department).

Wild then immediately clapped his hands over his mouth, fearful he’d just forfeited his chance to even try cooking in this wondrous kitchen as the woman’s eyes narrowed, the severe expression she’d been wearing deepening…

…before she threw her head back and began to laugh, Wild’s fairy guides giggling right alongside her.

“Aye, the lad manages t’ wring out the flavor of every meal he makes, he does,” the woman sighed once the laughing spell had subsided, a hand coming up to rest on her temple as she shook her head with a despairing expression on her face.

“I doona know how he does it, even though I be th’ one who taught him how to cook, so I was…”

“You taught him?” Wild repeated, interest thoroughly piqued now, said interest only growing as one of the lightning fairies, a girl with long blonde hair tied up in pigtails and near matching yellow eyes dancing with excitement, chimed in.

“Granny’s known Link since he was a kid!” the fairy, Shell, that was her name, cheerfully announced, “and don’t let Link’s cooking fool you, Granny’s one of the best cooks, ever!”

“That be Chef Granny, little one,” the woman scolded lightly with a fond smile, which took on a more challenging tilt as she turned back to Wild, “and if you be wantin’ stories from me an’ Link’s past, you’ll be needin’ to work fer it, so you will. And I’ll admit, I been wantin’ to test yer skills since these wee lasses began relayin’ Link an’ the other boys' stories about ye…”

“And to make sure I could really be trusted not to poison Wa- Link or the others?” Wild asked wryly, having already been warned by Wind of this possibility, before he’d headed off to the kitchens.

In fact, it was precisely because of Wind, who’d asked for a snack, that Wild was in said kitchens in the first place… instead of staying in Sky’s room with the Sailor and Wars… or following after Twilight, to maybe help with researching the amnesia Wars was experiencing… which was, apparently, different from Wild’s own, though maybe the pictures he’d taken with the Sheikah Slate during this current quest could still help—

“If’n ye’ve heard th’ tales from either Tune or Mask, then ye cannot blame one who holds any form of fondness fer young Link their caution,” the woman, Chef Granny(?), said with a complicated smile.

That complicated smile didn’t last long, however, before the challenging tilt returned, “but enough o’ that sordid business, now. Will ye be needin’ an apron or have ye got one of yer own, so ye do?”

Soon enough, Wild found himself in a corner of the kitchen, first starting out cutting up ingredients that were handed to him, but working his way up to different tasks relatively quickly.

With each new task obtained also came growing respect and, he hoped, budding friendships with the cooks around him, including Chef Granny, who Wild quickly learned was, in fact, the Head Chef of the castle kitchens.

And true to her word, the older woman began sharing little tidbits of Warriors’ past… part of which, Wild was surprised to learn, occurred within this very kitchen.

“Link, he came to us as a wee lad, after tragedy befell his village,” Chef Granny revealed, as she and Wild rolled out and kneaded dough. “Attacked by monsters, they were, a pack th’ likes of which wouldn’t be seen ‘til the war started up, his poor parents lost in the ensuing violence...

“Shock o’ the whole thing had robbed him of his voice, so it did… yet he was still determined t’ be helpin’ his village rebuild, in whatever way he could. Came lookin’ fer jobs t’ do, so he could send money back t' his old home fer repairs, even though the only job he should have been focusin’ on was his schoolin’ and bein’ a kid…”

“That sounds like Wars,” Wild chuckled fondly, even as his heart throbbed, “well, except for the ‘robbed of his voice’ part, at le-... at least, before…”

Wild’s own voice trailed off… as his mind found itself being dragged back to the time in Cia’s clutches, his working of the dough growing rougher as the memories began to properly sink their claws into him, refusing to be pushed away.

“Aye, that sorceress, we’d heard she’d returned, so we had,” Wild heard distantly, faintly, as suddenly the dough in his hands was replaced with a slab of meat, which he eagerly begins pounding away at with the hammer that also appears. “You lads must’ve had quite a time with her…”

“Ha! That’s an understatement!” Wild scoffs, pounding the meat even harder, as the memories truly begin to overtake him… and, though he tries to funnel the growing frustration and various other emotions into the act of tenderizing… Wild still finds himself spilling the beans on all that had occurred.

Not just the event that had led to him and the others being caught and finding themselves imprisoned, separated from both Sky and Warriors… but also of how they’d watched, helplessly, as the two steadily deteriorated…

…of Four and Legend’s own deterioration, and how even Twilight, strong and reliable Twilight, had begun feeling the strain of their captivity…

…of the fury and sadness that had flooded through Wild when he’d realized Warriors had lost his memory… how badly those emotions, alongside guilt, had pressed down on him during those awful, awful days after their failed escape attempt, after seeing Warrior's broken body laying in a growing pool of his own blood… watching Sky dragging his just as battered body along on a badly repaired leg…

…how guarded, scared, and lost Wars had looked when Wild and the others finally got to see him again… how haggard and tired Sky had been, yet still so desperate to see them all taken care of before himself…

…how Sky had then looked so horrifyingly small and pale when Wild had made it back into his room the next day, his body more exposed than the Skyloftian had ever allowed before.

Even when they’d bathed in rivers or soaked in hot springs, Sky had usually kept most of himself covered by his Sailcloth, especially his sword arm… the arm which Wild had been unable to keep his eyes from locking onto, both captivated and horrified by the deeply etched lightning feathers that adorned the limb, the worst of the older scars that decorated his brother’s body.

Add to that the more complete, full picture of how abysmally thin Sky was, how pronounced the bags under his eyes, the wounds that the Fae had to wait to heal for fear of their magic overwhelming Sky’s malnourished body and… and those terrifying machines the doctors had hooked him up to…

It scared Wild, the fact that those machines were needed, to help Sky, to… to keep him from- from getting worse from- from dying because… because Sky hadn’t woken up when he was supposed to, so… so it was up to the machines to finally get Sky properly eating and drinking again, sort of, instead of Wild’s food and… and…

…and what if… what if those machines weren’t enough? What if… what if Sky ended up needing something more like… like the Shrine of Resurrection, like Wild had?

What if Sky, too, had to sleep for a hundred years and ended up forgetting everything, like Wild had, like Warriors had… and Wild and the others wouldn’t even be there for him, would be long dead from old age or something or- or unable to reach Sky’s new era, because the portals wouldn’t take them there…

What if we never get to talk to Sky again? Never get to apologize, to tell him how amazing and wonderful and kind he is… that the only failure, only mistake, has ever been me, the idiot who let Ganon win the first time round and broke and keeps breaking the Master Sword, Sky’s sword… especially after I failed to get us away from Cia and- and got Wars punished when I tried…

And what if Wars never remembers us or anything else, either? What if none of his memories ever come back- wh- why didn’t I think to take precautions, make sure to record pictures and notes for everyone in the Sheikah Slate, in case something like this happened—?!

“Tears dinna make for good seasoning, lad,” Chef Granny’s voice gently cuts in, finally pulling Wild away from his downward spiral, as well as alerting him to the fact that, apparently, he’d started crying at some point.

He’d also, apparently, gotten into whipping something in a bowl, which Chef Granny deftly switches out for a handkerchief, Wild dutifully using it to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks.

“I apologize fer upsettin’ ye, dear,” Chef Granny murmured as he did, while she finished whipping… whatever had been in that bowl, before setting it aside and directing a guilty expression towards Wild, “this old woman can be quite nosy at times—”

“N-no! You didn’t do anything wrong!” Wild immediately protests, “I- I’m so sorry, I-I shouldn’t have- have just blurted all that out, o-or, or ruined the f-food and m-making trouble for you and everyone—!”

“Ye’ve done nothin’ of th’ sort, lad!”

But Wild only shakes his head at the kind old woman’s rebuttal, feeling even more pathetic as fresh tears fall, alongside even more words from his lips in a frustrating and mortifying reversal of the silence his past self had taken up prior to the Calamity, that feeling of mortification growing as his frustrations with his uselessness spill out next.

“Why? Every- every time my friends, my family, need me most, why can I never do anything for them?! Why-… why is it that all I can ever do is- is just watch as they suffer and…!”

Two solid, strong, warm hands clap down onto his shoulders, startling Wild and bringing his gaze up to meet pale green eyes which… which are filled with such pained understanding, before softening as a small smile is directed towards Wild.

“Ah, but yer wrong, there, my boy, for ye see… you are a cook,” Chef Granny declares with conviction, “and for a cook, even if it feels like yer helpless and there isn’t a t’ing ye can do… truth is, there is never, truly a situation where we can only watch an’ do nothing… not as long as we have a fire, ingredients, good tools an’ a will.

“It be food that will get that young friend o' yours on th' mend right quick, so it will, once our dependable doctors and Fae get him to the point he can eat properly,” she continued with full confidence, “and even fer young Link himself, it may be food that can be helping him reclaim a memory or two, so it might…”

“How?” Wild asks with a sniffle.

“Did ye be forgettin’ what I told ye already, now?” Chef Granny teased at the same time she tapped her head with a finger, “there still be plenty o’ memories o’ Link in this here head o’ mine… and that be includin’ certain recipes we can be trying… but first…

“Why don’t ye help us free up a space or two from under the… banquet of food ye whipped up?” Chef Granny replied, her smile and tone now taking on a teasing and… mysterious tilt, as she jabbed her thumb towards the counters that sat nearby.

…counters that alongside pretty much every other flat surface, Wild now saw… were completely covered with plates and dishes, many of which were Wars and Sky’s favorites, as he’d recorded from their time on the road together, ranging from full meals, to snacks and even desserts.

“At least I got Wind’s snack made,” Wild mumbled numbly, as he caught sight of the Seafood Rice Balls the younger boy had requested.

“Aye, and snacks enough fer at least the entire Hyrulean Army, too,” Granny Chef hums with an odd inflection joining the amusement in her tone, “number of which ye made whilst moving faster than the rest of us could even see at some points…”

I was using the Flurry Rush outside of battle???

“...ingredients fer which ye started pullin’ from that little, glowing stone slab on yer hip about a fourth o’ th’ way through. Do ye even have anythin’ left in there? And how much o’ this food will ye be putting back in that slab o’ yours?”

“U-uh, I…” Wild stammered as he fumbled for the Sheikah Slate, gaze continuously shifting from the screen, to the piles of food, and Granny Chef’s face as he did, “it’s able to hold… a-about sixty meals…”

The older woman’s expression, alongside those of the other white-clad kitchen employees, which are half awed and half dazed as they gaze at the food all around them… tells Wild that his answer is abysmally inadequate, even before the fairies and a group of younger Hylians in kitchen attire… both of whom are looking incredibly exhausted… fly and step through a doorway he hadn’t noticed before.

“We finally managed to find some room for those last– WHAT THE HECK, WHY IS THERE EVEN MORE?!”

“...oops?”

“Snack time!!!” a tinkling voice cries excitedly, the sound immediately bringing a smile to Wild’s face, which only grows as, when he turns towards the voice, he finds Warriors and Twilight walking into the kitchen alongside a number of fairies.

“Pardon the intrusion,” Twilight calls, bowing his head toward a number of the kitchen staff before he finally spots Wild.

Warriors, in the meantime, looked to be trying to make himself as small as possible, gaze and step far more uncertain and only moving forward when the fairies tug on his clothes, Twilight’s steady hand on his back aiding them in the endeavor.

Cerulean and midnight blues then widen with surprise when they spot the pile of dishes that still took up at least one counter, midnight soon traveling back towards Wild with a knowing gleam.

Chef Granny calls out before Twilight can say anything, however, her tone warm and inviting and her smile fond as she addresses the fairies and Wild’s brothers.

“Perfect timing! We were just putting the finishin’ touches on the dish we were makin’ for all of ye!”

The fairies, including the girls that had accompanied Wild, all cheer at that, most of them beginning to tug at Twilight and Warriors, leading them towards a table that sits in one of the corners of the room.

This table, too, holds a number of Wild’s creations, though there are still two free spots open, which Twilight and Wars are directed to sit at.

“D-do you always have so much food set up like this?” Warriors asks, his voice quieter and more uncertain than Wild has ever heard it before, causing his chest to throb painfully.

Embarrassment is quick to chase that sensation away, however, as Granny Chef replies with a bit too much cheerfulness, “no, not really. A chef jus’ got a little carried away wit’ a bit o’ stress baking, is all…”

All eyes turn to Wild, who feels like his face is burning hotter than Death Mountain, until a hand begins to gently pat him on the head, Granny Chef directing an equally gentle smile at him as she continues talking.

“T’is a mood we all fall into sum time, ain’t no shame in it… even if th’ amount’s th’ likes of which none have achieved before. But th’ soldiers are always willin’ and able t’ help us sort out th’ results and I’m certain these strappin’ young men will be willin’ t’ pitch in as well?”

“Don’t gotta strong arm me!” Twilight replies cheerfully, a hand rubbing his stomach as he does, “workin’ in the stables always leaves me mighty famished!”

War's answer is that cursed polite smile, which has Wild biting his cheek to keep from growling, before the white fairy that had been sitting on Warriors head speaks up.

“Oh, oh! Chef Granny!” the fairy, Proxi, Wild remembers, calls out as she hops off of War’s head to instead flutter around it while bobbing excitedly, “is there any chance you made that?”

“As a matter o’ fact, young Wild was just helpin’ me wit’ th’ finishing touches on that,” Chef Granny chuckled, before turning to Wild himself, “come on, then. Help me bring it over, will ye?”

Wild quickly did just that, heart in his throat as they set the dishes down before Twilight and Wars, the former letting out a low whistle once he got a proper look at them.

“Those are mighty fine lookin’ cakes ya got there, ma’am, Wild,” the rancher hummed, leaning in closer to inspect the pastries, “and that shape ya made it in… is it some kind of flower?”

“A lotus flower, t’ be exact,” Chef Granny replied, her gaze flitting towards Twilight, before shifting back to Warriors, whose own gaze was fixated upon the cake before him, “th’ flower that symbolizes rebirth, resilience and strength.”

“It’s… a pound cake… right?” Warriors murmurs, voice so faint Wild could barely hear it, though the question has his hopes rising and heart racing all the same.

“Right ye are,” Chef Granny hums, quietly pleased herself, Wild can tell… and, apparently, feeling a bit mischievous, as she says, “my newest apprentice be tellin’ ye 'bout what all went into makin’ it, won’t ye now?”

“Huh?! Me?!” Wild yelped, surprised and confused as Chef Granny pushed him closer to the table, cerulean blues jabbing into him suspiciously and causing his chest to ache again.

But midnight is quick to catch his attention, the confidence and fondness Wild finds in those eyes easing much of his nerves, allowing him to meet cerulean again as he picks up describing the dish.

“Um, yeah, so… l-like gr- Chef said it’s… this is a lemon-thyme pound cake with an elderflower creme chantilly a-and, um…”

“And there’s strawberry water!” Wick cried as she came to hover over Wild’s shoulder, before moving over to the mini pitcher thing (Wild was going to have to ask for its name again), “the stuff in here! You pour it around the cake, to make the water for the lotus!”

“Yeah,” Wild chuckles, before pointing to the tiny squeeze bottle that sat next to the strawberry water, “and then if you add a few drops of the basil from in there, it’ll add a little bit more flavor and color.”

Twilight was already pouring the bright red water around his cake and making little noises of excitement as he squeezed on some of the basil mixture.

The noise of pleasure he emitted after his first bite was gratifying… but still Wild, and really everyone in the kitchen, especially the fairies and Chef Granny… all their focus (which they were also desperately trying to hide) was on Warriors, who was slower in his movements.

Wild’s breath caught as his older brother finally lifted a piece of the cake to his mouth, barely even aware of his hand finding its way to the elder woman’s as she moved to stand closer beside him, squeezing as Wars began to chew.

He watches as Warriors eyes widen… then slowly close, a smile forming as a quieter noise of happiness is emitted.

When Warriors eyes open again, they immediately find Chef Granny… which results in his smile growing even bigger.

“This… this is my cake… the one you made for me, granny, a few days after I came to live in this castle…”

“That be Chef Granny while in this kitchen, young man,” the older woman laughs wetly, tears dotting her eyes as she slowly moves to stand next to Warriors chair, a hand running through his hair as she gazes at him with clear fondness.

“Right… my apologies,” Warriors laughs in turn as he leans into the touch.

Everything about the scene has Wild on the verge of tears himself again... even if the recovered memory seems to be entirely focused on Chef Granny and nothing else.

But still, he’s happy for the older woman, a warmth spreading in his chest as more of the duo’s memories are discussed… that happiness then turning to surprise as suddenly… the image of Warriors and Chef Granny disappears, overlapped by a new image.

Instead, Wild finds himself… well, looking at himself, minus his scars, sitting next to a woman even older than Chef Granny, as evidenced by her silver hair, which was gathered into a ponytail, and the deep laugh lines that surrounded her sparkling brown eyes.

Cook, the memory whispers fondly before it cuts off, Wild’s eyes fluttering as tears finally begin to fall down his cheeks.

Unsurprisingly, this leads to Twilight appearing beside him as if the other had teleported, midnight blues now filled with worry, to which Wild quickly shakes his head as he smiles.

“Still happy tears,” he murmured while swiping at the tracks said tears were leaving on his cheeks, “Chef Granny was right… food can help with memories…”

“You’re only realizing that now?” Twilight laughed softly, holding his hands up in a placating manner as Wild directed a withering glare his way.

His stomach then has the audacity to grumble, thereby giving Twilight an easy way to change the subject as he asked, “ya gotta anything a bit more fillin’? Cakes are good an’ all, but they just can’t take the edge off after a good session in the stables…”

“Not to mention all the extra calories you burned, trying to wrap your country boy brain around whatever was in the psychology books you found, if you were actually reading them?”

“Hey!” Twilight whined with a dramatic pout as Wild laughed, though he perked up again as Wild tugged him back towards the table, grabbing a bowl while also popping the lid off one of the pots that sat there.

“Pumpkin soup?” Twilight guessed with a new shine in his eye as Wild ladled him a serving, the boy nodding as the thick, orange soup in question was passed over to the Rancher.

“Not the one I normally make, it’s modelled after the recipe Chef got from the Skyloftian knights while they were here, so I’m hoping it’ll be more like what Sky’s used to. I’ve already added the recipe to my journal, so you can go ahead and try this batch, see what you think…”

Twilight, of course, didn’t need to be told twice and was already dipping a spoon into the orangey concoction, chewing deliberately slowly once the soup entered his mouth.

“Not bad,” the rancher remarked once he swallowed, though his face was contemplative as he stirred the contents in his bowl, “tastes a lot like Yeto’s soup, honestly, although… it could maybe use a bit more cheese…”

“...cheese…?” Wild repeated, confused.

“Yeah, weird, I know,” Twilight replied with a laugh, “I wasn’t sure about it, either, Uli certainly never put any cheese into her soup, but it’s actually pretty good!”

“Okay… but… what exactly is cheese?”

Honest to Goddess, the entire kitchen fell silent after Wild asked that question, quiet enough that the sound of Twilight’s spoon sploshing into his soup bowl was clearly audible.

Everyone was now, clearly, gawking at Wild even Warriors, at least for a moment, before the man had the good sense to turn back to his cake as the room erupted with noise.

“YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT CHEESE IS?!” Twilight effectively howled, shock, horror and disbelief clear in his voice and on his face. “HOW DO YOU NOT KNOW WHAT CHEESE IS?!”

“W-well, I didn’t find anything with that name while traveling through my Hyrule—”

“ORDONA’S HOOVES WILD, ARE YOU TELLING ME YOUR ENTIRE ERA FORGOT WHAT CHEESE IS?!”

“SOMEBODY GET ME ALL THE CHEESE WE HAVE IN STOCK!!!” Chef Granny roared next, one of the younger kitchen staff scrambling to do just that, “NO PROPER CHEF SHOULD BE MISSING SUCH A LARGE PORTION OF CULINARY KNOWLEDGE!!!”

I… have made a terrible blunder indeed, Wild silently concluded, as Twilight roared for Ordon goat cheese, while Warriors calmly sipped a cup of tea from his safe spot in the corner.

Chapter Text

He doesn’t remember why or when he ended up sitting in a pew of the temple, a place he never would’ve even considered visiting during the brief time he’d spent at Wars’ Hyrule Castle as Mask… yet here Time was, staring blankly up at the sculpture of the Golden Three, their stone effigies surrounding the familiar form of the Triforce.

Time blinks, breathes in, breathes out… before his gaze drifts down to his hand, where the faint mark of the Triforce of Courage sits… blinks, breathes in, breathes out… then finds his gaze drifting through the room, inevitably landing on another, newer statue that sits to the lower left of the first.

Said statue is another ‘woman’, smaller and made of stone, bearing far more detail than he’s seen in any other statues of said ‘woman’… starting from the softly smiling face, each eyelash of her closed eyes carefully carved, alongside every individual feather in her wings, the fine robes that adorn her and the hands with palms turned outwards.

The Goddess Hylia, introduced to this era by the Skyloftian knights who’d joined in the fight against Cia… a goddess Time himself had scoffed at when he’d first learned of her and cursed alongside the Golden Three, in his youth right up until the present day.

…well, until now, at least… no, right now, there wasn’t a single trace of the bitterness or anger he usually felt, no indignation or sense of… of betrayal, resentment, or… or…

…or anything, really, not now… not until Her face was suddenly replaced with Sky’s, still smiling gently (politely? Tentatively? Putting on a mask to, what? Protect himself? From what? Who? Had Time really fallen that far…?!) ...before becoming pale and drawn with pain, with sickness and exhaustion, tears streaming down his cheeks… then so worryingly still in unconsciousness, obscured by a strange machine, with no sign of waking up—

“All the countless rooms in this annoyingly large castle of Warriors’ and I find you in the temple of all places?” an unexpected voice calls out, drawing Time’s attention away from the sculptures and unpleasant thoughts, to instead focus on a familiar figure standing next to the pew Time sits in, clad in his usual red tunic, though his blue hat is absent.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Time instinctively asked, eye roving over the younger man, particularly the rings that adorned his fingers once more… while the rest of the elder hero slid further into the pew, in response to Legend’s (still worryingly weak) pushing and shoving.

“Getting my exercise,” Legend replies snippily, doing his best to appear like he’s flopping into the seat dramatically instead of due to the clear fatigue he was experiencing, as shown by the strain on his face and the flash of relief when he settled.

But then the Vet’s usual sour look returned, which he leveled at Time as he said, “and you still haven’t answered my question. What are you, of all people, doing in a temple?"

Time didn’t answer right away, mostly because he… really didn’t have an answer… before finally settling on, “I was looking for some place to give myself ten minutes to have a temper tantrum so I can be the adult I should be and not the poorly socialized… ten to thirteen-or-so year old this era remembers me for…”

“What, the thrashing you gave the knights the day before last or so didn’t count?”

“...oh… yeah… I did do that, didn’t I?” Time murmured, gaze drifting upwards as that memory came back to him.

He honestly hadn’t meant to give anyone any sort of thrashing… had really only wanted to get some exercise, after so long in Cia’s prison, as well as work off the anxious energy he’d felt building in response to… everything that had been happening, especially with Sky and Warriors.

Really, the only thing that should’ve received a thrashing was the castle’s training dummies but, well… the live dummies had decided to be just a bit too loud and… well… dumb.

The speed and intensity of the anger that had filled and driven his actions then were the likes of which Time hadn’t felt very often after the war and especially after beginning his courting of Malon… an anger that had been preceded by a sense of numbness, then followed by sadness so intense he’d broken down in tears, both when Loyla and the other members of the Fairy Corps had tried to talk to him and when he’d tried to write a letter to Malon…

…before he’d gone back to feeling numb again, prompting Time to wander aimlessly… until a new feeling had mixed weirdly with that numbness, once he’d realized his wanderings had led him to his current location.

“...perhaps… I was hoping to receive some guidance, or… or to, somehow, take… at least Sky’s place,” Time found himself mumbling, his eye back on the statue of Hylia, “offer to do anything and everything, just so long as he woke up, or… or Wars…”

“...She wouldn’t be the one to ask, then,” Legend snarked… though Time was beginning to detect something else hovering on the edge of their Vet’s tone… which grew in strength when he announced, “because Hylia’s dead.”

“...excuse me?” is the only way Time can reply to that… incredibly nonsensical and blasphemous statement, part of him (despite all his years of cursing the gods, and this goddess in particular) actually bracing for some divine punishment to blast down from above any second now.

Legend, on the other hand… Legend suddenly looked even more tired than before, younger and smaller, as he shifted in the pew, Time only now noticing the boy was holding his sword, arms wrapped around it as if it were a stuffed animal that gave him comfort.

Time immediately squashed the old irritation and resentment the sight tried to stir up, the words from earlier making the action relatively easy, even keeping those feelings out of his voice as Time asked, “did th-... did Fi tell you that?”

“Not in those exact words, no,” Legend sighed, a thumb rubbing against the burnished gold decorations of the sword’s sheathe, “but given everything she has told me… it’s really the only logical conclusion.”

Silence fell after that, Time’s mind filling to the brim with questions but none of them managing to push ahead of the others, leaving him tongue tied.

Said mind stuffing and tongue tying only growing worse as Legend continued speaking, tone biting and gruff, as he said, “and another thing I finally got Fi to tell me… was why she stayed silent when Sky was practically killing himself, but has never stopped nagging me to take care of myself…”

“Because of this incident?” Time foolishly hoped, said hope fading quickly as Legend’s jaw flexed, mouth opening and closing but no words coming out.

The Vet’s head then dropped as a noise of frustration sounded, followed by a lapse of silence… before his gaze suddenly snapped towards Time, the intensity of blue violet causing the elder to freeze and his heart to sink, even before Legend found the words he’d been seeking.

“You don’t have two successors, you have three… and I’m your first,” the boy announced… not grandly, not with a single trace of the usual dramatic flair he’d display at seemingly random, but actually carefully planned, intervals.

No… no, his tone is matter of fact, with anger and sadness crackling at the edges… alongside the barest trace of sympathy.

And that… that is definitive proof that… that Legend isn’t kidding, isn’t joking… even if everything inside of Time is screaming, begging for him to be joking…

“I… I thought you said there was no hero before you?” Time managed to wheeze out, his chest beginning to feel tight, like something was squeezing his lungs, “that when Ganon appeared, he and his group of bandits stumbled upon the Sacred Realm by accident… and that the king of that time ordered their seven sages to seal the entrance to the Sacred Realm, while the knights fought off the demonic forces…?”

“The oral tradition is one of the least reliable methods of information retention and transmission,” Legend drawled, the slightest hint of a fond smile briefly lifting the corners of his mouth, for reasons Time can’t understand. “That same legend claimed those sages forged the Master Sword and Sky’s already proved that completely wrong…

“...so it isn’t too much of a stretch to believe that they were wrong about there being no hero before I came along, too” Legend continued, the fondness and humor of seconds prior draining away to something far more tired and sad, “especially if that hero… was a kid who was shorter than the Master Sword, even smaller than Four.”

“I wasn’t that small,” Time can’t help but argue, which earns him a withering and incredibly unamused, judgemental glare from Legend, prompting him to switch tactics, “p-plus it wasn’t like I was helpless! I’d already fought and defeated plenty of giant monsters—!”

“Yeah, monsters,” Legend snaps, “giant, brainless beasts, with a sword and other tools that were appropriate for your height and weight!”

“I tried to fight Ganondorf with the Kokiri Sword but it- it couldn’t even scratch him!”

“And you really thought a sword taller than you was the solution?!  When you were a child?!”

“It was a magic sword!”

“And he was a sorcerer, and a highly trained swordsman!”

“It’s not like you and Wind were that much older than I was then, when you were fighting against your own Ganondorfs, during your own adventures—!”

“We at least had some training and experience fighting with adult Hylians! We weren’t some dumb little kid flailing a sword, who was barely even able to understand, let alone follow, Fi’s advice and instruction, and got himself SLAUGHTERED!!!!”

Both heroes are on their feet and yelling at this point, Time’s next words shriveling up at that last statement, the older man feeling like the kid Legend had just described, fear bubbling in his gut as the Vet’s mouth opens again.

Anything Legend might’ve said next, however, is interrupted by a loud chime, one that freezes Legend solid as his ears twitch and flick.

His eyes drop to the sword, currently clenched in his hands, though his grip begins to ease, the fury they had showcased draining away… until there’s nothing left but a tired sadness again.

“...you died Time… you were the second wielder of the Master Sword, the second of Fi’s masters… plus or minus Wars and the time travel mess of his whole… thing… and you died when she did as you wanted by letting you draw her from the pedestal, before she learned she could, and should, have said no, so…”

The boy is basically hugging his sword at this point, his expression a complicated mess as he struggles to find his words again.

He inevitably gives up on this, as evidenced by Legend spinning back towards the temple entrance, half-turning back and slapping away Time’s attempt to steady the boy when he sways worryingly, before flapping his hand at Time as he spits out, “just… go see one of Wars’ head doctors, you– you stupid old man!”

And with that, Legend stormed off, Time watching him go until the boy disappeared through the temple’s door, which the Vet surprisingly doesn’t slam shut behind him… before sinking back down into the pew, releasing a heavy sigh as his face drops into his hands… only lifting his head again when a certain voice calls out to him a minute and thirty seconds later.

Legend’s fairy minders ambush him the second he leaves the temple and immediately begin to scold him for wandering so far away from the hospital, when he was still recovering from the magical mess created by Cia’s stupid ‘jewelry’, without having someone accompany him.

He almost snaps at them, because he did have someone with him… except that very same someone quietly reminds Legend that she would be of very little aid to him should he collapse.

A possibility that has an annoyingly high probability of occurring, given how tired Legend is feeling, his head both aching and feeling light, nowhere near as bad when in Cia’s prison… but still pretty bad.

The previous shouting match with Time, and the mess of emotions the whole experience of first hearing about their predecessor/successor connection from Fi, once he’d been able and allowed to retrieve her from where some idiot had carelessly shoved her in his bag, and confronting Time with that information, had left him feeling drained and… and…

Alright, he’ll admit it, he’s feeling sad… sad, and unfairly jealous and a touch resentful… given the implications that it was his original wish to the Triforce, after getting it back from Ganon Pig for the first time, which had brought Time back from his original fate, his death, and giving him a second chance at life… instead of Legend’s uncle or Fable’s father or so many other victims of Ganon’s little plaything, Aghanim…

…and thinking about his uncle was a horrible mistake, because it only created the lump in Legend’s throat that he’d been trying to avoid, because… because he wanted his uncle... he wanted Fable, he wanted Ravio…

…he wanted Sky… he wanted Sky, Sky awake and ready and willing to give Legend a hug, especially when he knew Legend actually wanted a hug, even though his mouth was saying he didn’t… a habit of Chosen’s that Legend still didn’t know happened because the Fis continually ratted Legend out or if Birdbrain had a sixth sense for things like… that…

Aaaand now Legend’s standing in front of Sky’s hospital room, his traitorous feet having apparently taken him straight to it, the equally traitorous fairies that were still hovering around him electing to open the door when Legend manages to stop himself from doing just that, instead of taking him back to his own room.

What Legend then finds inside the room really only makes the lump in his throat grow even larger, even though it’s what he’d been expecting: Sky still unconscious in his bed, that creepy machine that’s feeding, or whatever, him covering most of his face…

…and Warriors, who’s slowly relaxing from the defensive posture he’d been in, Legend forced to resort to biting his lip to keep it from trembling or, worse, letting a sob loose, in response to there being only the barest flicker of recognition in War's eyes.

Even the worry that takes over the older man’s face is just that of someone seeing a stranger on the verge of tears, which only makes Legend feel worse, and has him silently cursing his own stupidity, because he definitely shouldn’t have come here, a fact that becomes even more apparent as Legend notices Wind laying on Warriors lap, fast asleep.

But, before he can stumble back out and try to either make a break for his own hospital room, or just curl up in the hallway and cry out there, Warriors calls out something surprising.

“Want a slice of apple cheesecake?”

“...apple what now?” Legend croaks out, bewildered, unconsciously wiping away the tears from his eyes so he can actually see the plate of food Warriors was holding out towards him.

“Apple cheesecake,” Warriors repeated, using his free hand to gesture at the plate he still holds, then the platter that lays on a nearby table… which indeed holds what looks to be one of those cheesecake things Wild’s become obsessed with making lately, alongside all other kinds of cheese dishes, “was the latest prize Wi-nd and I were playing for, before he succumbed to his latest food coma…”

Legend sniffles, lip wobbling traitorously, because he hadn’t missed that hesitation in Warriors voice when he’d said Wind’s name.

Fairly desperate to distract himself from that fact (while also silently cursing his emotions for not getting their act together already), Legend found himself asking, “but why the apple cheesecake specifically? ‘S not like it’s the only food in the room…”

Nope, thanks to Wild, there were numerous food baskets to be found within the room, most of which the Links, who of course made up the majority of the visitors to said room, had been working on eating their way through.

Legend didn’t remember there being an apple cheesecake here the last time he’d visited, though… not that he’d had a lot of opportunities to do so, thanks to his body still needing to sort itself out after Cia had not only sealed away his magic, but also taken all his items that helped keep his… small number of health problems in check…

“I… don’t know, actually,” Warriors said, drawing Legend back out of his thoughts, the man himself looking just as puzzled as that statement would suggest, “I just… it just felt like a slice of that apple cheesecake or… or some other apple thing would make you feel better…”

“What makes you think I need to feel better?” Legend finds himself snarling, gesturing to the mess his face probably is before Warriors can as he added, “this could just be a result of allergies!”

The look Warriors gives him in response to that absolutely stupid comeback has that equally stupid lump lodging itself back into Legend’s throat, because it’s so completely Warriors, as is the way the man then ‘casually’ shrugs and supposedly turns his attention back towards the cards that lay on the small table before him, the remains of his and Wind’s last game.

“Okay, sure, it’s just a very bad case of allergies,” the amnesiac hummed, still in that unfairly achingly familiar way, as he gathered and began shuffling the cards, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards alongside one golden brow, a challenging glint in cerulean blues as he adds, “but, hopefully those allergies aren’t so bad that you can’t play a game with me?”

“Why would I want to play a game with you?”

“So you can have a slice of apple cheesecake.”

“You just offered that for free a few seconds ago!”

“I never said it was free, I only asked if you would like a slice, due to the strange impression I got that you would like an apple cheesecake. Meaning that you would be willing to take part in the competition for it."

“Weren’t you playing that with Wind?”

“Wind’s asleep.”

“I know Wind’s asleep, completely zonked out in Food Coma Land, but that doesn’t mean he won’t complain about being replaced or cheated out of the apple cheesecake, or something—!”

“It’s not like Wild or someone else from the kitchens wouldn’t make another if we asked politely.”

“I don’t even know what the heck you’re playing!”

“We can start a different game.  Or are you that scared you’ll lose either way?”

“Oh you are asking for it Pr- P-, j-just deal the cards already!”

This entire argument is made in hushed tones, in a manner the two of them had perfected over the time spent during night watch or after nightmares chased them out of sleep.

In that same manner, Legend’s face is eventually cleaned of most traces of his earlier crying before he even realizes it.

And, eventually, Legend will find himself with a plate of the apple cheesecake, taking bites out of it as the next round of the card game is played.

Eventually, fatigue will set in completely, of course aided by the many slices of apple cheesecake he’d eaten at that point, Legend then blearily blinking open eyes he doesn't remember closing, to find Roolie smiling down at him, from where he’d been propped on Warriors shoulder, the younger boy then helping Legend back to their own room, where he unconsciously melts and snuggles into the arms that wrap around him once he’s laid on something soft.

Later, he’ll join Twilight in scouring the castle library and devouring everything they can find on the subject of dissociative amnesia and, even if it quickly becomes apparent Legend won’t be able to do much to help with it, ways the head doctors believed helped those with crappy self-esteem, like Sky.

But for this moment, Legend fixes his attention upon the cards in his hands, stealing surreptitious glances around the room from time to time, to ensure that his brothers are all still there, where he can see them, and just focuses on winning as many rounds of cards and slices of cake as he can.

Chapter Text

Four really hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, he’d just been wandering around the castle, half for exercise... and half trying to find a good spot to accomplish the other, mini-goal he’d set for himself.

Then, next thing he knew, he heard Time and Legend yelling, though the exact words were muffled by the sturdy wooden door their voices were emanating from.

Red concern and Violet curiosity had then led Four in carefully making his way into the room, which was apparently a small temple for this Hyrule Castle, where he quickly hid himself in one of the pews.

The words that were exchanged in that span of time then had one of his hands flying to his mouth to muffle an involuntary gasp of horror, the Colors in his head swirling sporadically (near nauseously, until they managed to calm) while his ears twitched and strained to catch what was said next.

It wasn’t until Four had ensured the temple door had properly closed behind Legend, whose upset could be clearly heard in his stomping gait, that Four had eased himself out of his hiding place and carefully made his way forward, keeping his own footsteps at just the right level of soft, but loud enough he wouldn’t spook Time when he came to stand beside the pew the older man was sitting in.

…well… was slumped in, really, his head held in his hands, face hidden, until Four called out to him, Red buzzing and bouncing in worry.

“You alright, Time?”

Blue snarls and snaps at the question, Red flinching and wilting in response to this and the flat look the eldest Link gives them when he raises his head.

The expression softens when he meets Four’s gaze, however, his singular eye studying Four’s own two before he emits another sigh, not as heavy as what had been heard earlier, but still clearly weary… sad…

“I’ve… been better,” Time murmured as he scrubbed at his face with one hand, “what about you? Everything get sorted out with the Colors alright, now that you've got the Four Sword back?”

“We’re… still a bit wobbly,” Four admits, Green and Violet dipping forwards now, “haven’t quite… ‘set up shop again’, might be a good way of putting it… or ‘completely restored communications’ between each other… still need to do a bit of …‘cleaning and sorting’... but nothing’s bleeding together anymore…

“...and we did get to split for a while, even if it was just to all lay around, thanks to Wild and the fairies making sure no one got into the room… before he ran off to go on that cheese… ‘expedition’ of his, or whatever…”

“Good, that’s good,” Time murmured again, though his voice was clearly distracted, his hands now running through his hair and his gaze wandering… before dropping to the floor, his voice growing even quieter as he asked, “...how much did you hear?"

Red throbs and Four had to clear his throat before daring to speak, “...you died.”

“...I died,” Time acknowledged, voice becoming rough with unshed tears, “I failed... so much so that Legend’s furious at the very idea that he’s another successor of mine—”

“No, that’s not true,” Four cuts in, probably a little too quickly and harshly since Blue is flaring strongly, Four snapping his mouth shut when he spots Time’s startled expression.

Channel Father, channel Father, channel Father, Four intoned while gently tapping his fist against his forehead, taking a deep breath in and then out…

…while also cursing himself for falling into his loner habits again, instead of continuing to work on his… well, teamwork… in the space between taking a break from his and his father's knight company to help his grandfather when he’d fallen ill, before getting pulled into this current quest.

At least I haven’t been charging into things all by myself like I did when I was younger… well not if I can help it… usually…

Four’s pulled out of his inner musings as Time seems to finally notice a certain something strapped to Four’s back alongside the Four Sword, his surprise and confusion clear in his voice as he asks, “Four… what are you doing with the Master Sword?”

The naming of the mystical sword instantly draws Four’s gaze to the item in question, the winged hilt sitting high above his head, opposite from where the hilt of the Four Sword sits.

Both swords are safely strapped to Four’s back, though he has to be extremely mindful of his every movement and the added weight he’s carrying, especially as he moves to sit on the pew beside Time.

The last action means he has to actively take hold of the sword in question… something he still hesitated on actually doing for a second, the old fears and worries whipping the Colors into a frenzy as his hand hovered over the green and purple hilt…

But, just as when he’d first taken possession of the sword earlier, alongside all the other times he’d faced something that… well, that pretty much terrified him, in one way or another… Four pushed past the apprehension and fear to take hold of both swords, to then arrange them into a more comfortable position as he sat down.

And just as before… absolutely nothing happens while the Master Sword is in his grip, aside from a slight buzzing sensation felt against his skin.

Still, Four can’t stop the sigh of relief he emits… nor the following chuckle, as his gaze returns to Time and he takes in the man’s expression… before softening, a bit of sadness creeping in, as Four stated, “you asked me what I’m doing with the Master Sword? Well… I’d think it would be obvious, since I’m the only, fully trained blacksmith in our group. I’m planning on doing a bit of maintenance—”

“But it’s the Master Sword, it- she…? It doesn’t need maintenance…!”

“Just because it’s a magical sword doesn’t mean it doesn’t need looking over and care every once in a while. I do it with the Four Sword, Roolie does it with his literally named Magic Sword, as does Legend with the Tempered Sword… and, of course, Sky does the same with this old girl as well… even if he was mostly neglecting it during the whole…”

Four trailed off as Red throbbed anew, in response to the silent reminder of what their brother had gone through, Time drooping again alongside, as silence filled the temple. “...I don’t have all the answers,” is how Four slowly breaks that silence a few moments later, “and as pep talks go, since I still owe you one of those… this is still probably going to be at the mediocre and horrible levels…”

This actually gets a snort of laughter out of Time, so at least there was one achievement gained from said, probably still going to be mediocre to horrible, pep talk…

“...but one thing I think we can agree on is that… we shouldn’t be blaming ourselves for things we… we’d have no control over whatsoever… be it an alternate timeline self, a child, being killed… and I would bet you twenty rupees Legend was far more upset about the ‘you were a child’ when this happened, which just makes Ganondorf that much worse…”

Blue is beginning to flare and crackle at this point, Four working to take in a calming breath and pull at Green and especially Violet before he speaks again.

"…and, another thing that… probably all of us in this band of heroes can agree on, given what this whole… thing, I guess, revealed… is that the way we were doing things… it wasn’t working, at least not as well as we thought, especially not for Sky,” Four continued, “yeah, we should still respect each other's privacy and views but…

“But, maybe… maybe we need to make it a little more clear that we… we would be willing to listen… that, maybe, we should be… maybe we should be a little less vocal on some topics or… or a little less closed off on… on trying some things….”

“Like holding the Master Sword?” Time asked, his eye now back on the sword in question, “and what happens if your original view was correct?”

“Then we handle it,” Four replied, tightening his grip on both of the swords as his hands began to shake slightly, “we talk about it, hopefully between ourselves and without breaking into a fight or going into extended periods of silence… and, if we can’t do it between ourselves… then, we bring in Wars’, and I guess Twilight’s, head doctors and see if they can help us.”

“You’d actually be willing to talk to the head doctors?” Time asked, annoyingly and obviously a mixture of astonishment and disbelief, “even with your Colors?”

“Technically, I’ve already talked to one,” Four hummed (perhaps a tad smugly as Blue pushes forward again), “or, well… one who’s in training, anyway… which was quite the novel experience since she was one of the fairies that was looking after us earlier…”

“Null found the experience quite novel herself,” Loyla’s voice suddenly chimed in, the fairy coming to hover between the two Hylians soon after, gaze sweeping from Time to Four, “even with all that was experienced amidst the War, an individual splitting into four, as well as retaining the four entities in one mind, without going mad, is quite fascinating.”

“Well, not fully mad, anyway,” Four joked, raising his hands in surrender when his audience neglected to laugh along with him, before rising to his feet, the swords coming to rest on his back again, “anyway, I’ve said my piece, much as it was… so I think I’ll head back to looking for a good place to do some sword maintenance.”

“There is an actual space for that…”

“Yeah, don’t doubt that, but was hoping for something a bit more open and with a better view,” Four hummed with a ‘nonchalant’ shrug of his shoulders, followed by a wave as he exited the temple.

Silence reigned for a moment after Four left, Time intentionally keeping his gaze fixed on the door, instead of his big sister... until Loyla spoke up.

“Do you remember when the traitors started going after Link’s food?”

The unusual question has Time turning to the fairy at last, his brow wrinkling with his confusion as he replied, “yes, of course… that’s not something I could ever forget, no matter how many years have passed… not the fear I felt when it first happened… when it kept happening…

“...nor the relief, once you and the other fairies managed to develop the magical skill to detect if there was poison in the food” Time said, directing a fond smile Loyla’s way, “thank you again, for that.”

“Thank Fi,” Loyla replied, a complicated smile appearing in response to the expression that then overtakes her little brother’s face, “she already possessed an ability that was highly similar to the one we needed… and thus, aided us in learning and manipulating the magics needed to create the poison detection skill.

“...she cared, Mask,” Loyla continued gently, “even when she didn’t think herself capable of doing so… even when faced with your discomfort and preference to not engage with her, as well as pull Link and Tune away…

“...and, I’m sure, even when she could be nothing but a sword to be wielded by the Hero… in her own way, she has cared… has done her best to help, as best she can… both for you Heroes and our other allies, our friends…”

“...she sealed me away,” Time murmured, feeling tears pool in his good eye, “she sealed me away… and when I woke up everything was so… and it’s still so… I don’t know…”

“Which is why you should talk to someone,” Loyla gently cut in, her small hand coming to rest on Time’s cheek, smile now gentle and fond, once his gaze lifted to hers.

“I talk to Malon.”

“And from what I’ve heard and seen, she has done wonders,” Loyla agreed, before gently adding, “still, though… it couldn’t hurt to see if someone else can add on to what she’s started?”

Time inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly… before giving a small nod, a bit of humor returning as he added, “and I’ll try not to break all the crayons this time…”

At some point, after leaving Time and the temple, Four found himself standing in quite a nice courtyard.

Everything was in perfect symmetry, from the plants (which, while consisting of flowers, held not one single rose) to the paths and the benches, all centered around a nice looking fountain that sat in the center.

The fairies that had ‘found’ and accompanied Four near immediately after his departure from the temple, soon drifted away to inspect the greenery around them… though not so far away that they couldn’t immediately dart back to his side, if he showed any signs of discomfort or ill health, of course.

Four didn’t mind this too much, though, even if part of him wished there were also some Minish minders as well.

Especially as he removed the Master Sword from his back again, holding it in both hands and studying the sheathe… while also bracing himself.

The Colors buzzed and shook as he did, Green, Blue and Violet emitting great displeasure and unease and uncertainty...

But Red… Red blazed, standing firm, unyielding and resolute, certain in what needed to be done, unwilling to bend to the three other Colors this time.

Four inhales, and then exhales, deeply… once, twice, thrice and then a fourth time… before surrendering completely to Red who pulls the Master Sword free of its sheathe in one quick movement.

He braces, Blue and Green and Violet all bouncing around in agitation, while Red continues to stand still at the front… even as a new presence is felt at the corner of their mind.

The three other Colors freeze at this intrusion… then hiss when Red reaches out to it, brace for the worst…

…but… nothing happens… nothing except for that new, other presence just… ‘looking’ at each of them, or at least that’s how it felt… shifting from one Color to the next… before fading away, the only thing left of the presence the buzzing sensation in Four’s hands… and a small chime that sounds.

Four remained unmoving for a few more moments, as the Colors worked to calm themselves down, something made harder by Blue growing frigid as Red preens…

But, eventually, they do indeed calm, returning to the state they’d been in since losing then regaining the Four Sword… leaving Four himself free to pull out his supplies and perform the maintenance he’d promised himself he’d give the Master Sword… hoping it would bring a smile to Sky’s face, once he finally woke up.

Chapter Text

Uh, okay, so I kind of disappeared on y'all for... a bit there...

Let me be clear, I AM NOT discontinuing or abandoning this story, I am just stuck/drowning in design madness, as I try to 'see' Warriors and the Fairy Corps. wing or suite (I'm not sure/haven't decided which) in Hyrule Castle, gifted to them upon/after said castle was reclaimed and repaired after the final battle against Ganon, which Roolie will be visiting for the first time in the next chapter, both for magic recharging, fairy bonding/learning, and murder plotting, as was mentioned in last chapter's end notes/Running Ragged's bonus chapter.

So far, I've been picturing a mix of "Fairy Garden meets Hylian boy/man's living quarters", taking a bit of inspiration from Agitha's Castle in TP, as well as diving into Fairycore themes once I found out about them, while also checking out various gardening books, especially Fairy Garden books I managed to find via my local library (the books are "Fairy Gardening 101" by Fiona McDonald and "Fairy Garden Handbook" by Liza Gardner Walsh, plus the random find "Miniature Garden Grower" by Holly Farrell, and the addition of "Moon Garden: A Guide to Creating an Evening Oasis" by Jarema Osofsky, for Loyla and the other Dark Fae, in case anyone wants to check them out... assuming your own libraries and the like have them... and to be clear, I'm not saying you have to check them out, this is just what I'm looking at in book form.)

This designing adventure then, eventually, led to faulty memory managing to conjure the image of a bed that looked like it grew right out of the ground/floor, which maybe looks like a forest floor (whether this was achieved by a carpet, possibly via using actual/magical moss, or maybe clover, is still up for debate), said bed (which, of course, would be part of a bedroom, probably for Wars... which in turn might not be a place either Roolie or Loyla and the HW fairies would actually feel comfortable with Roolie getting anything more than a peek into... unless he was helping them clean or something, but I had to start somewhere in actually shaping the Hylian living part of the suite/wing) then leading me to making a model of this dang wing/suite in The Sims 3 computer game I have, mostly leaning into the packs of Supernatural, since it actually had the bed I'd been remembering, via the Twigs and Sticks collection (in fact I've used a lot of pieces from this collection in my Sims model), alongside quite a bit of stuff from the Dragon Valley pack, and some stuff from World Adventures... and at least a bit from Island Paradise...

With the fairies in mind/pretty well taking control as Warriors watched from a safe distance while I/the Hylian designers delved/was dragged into how said fairies wanted to design this Sims replica/their and Warriors' living spaces (which had to be done VERY slowly, since I have neither the means nor knowledge of how to do the infinite funds trick that apparently exists in Sims computer games) which also meant I was plunging deeper into Fairycore Aesthetic internet searching, and even consulting the new Google A.I thingie (well, new for me) for help in trying to create this dang setup/background for this dang chapter that's been haunting me so (A.I has been both helpful and not helpful, via giving me too many options, though said options have sounded fun/pretty/etc.), which eventually, inevitably, also led me to Sims designing videos on YouTube.

The YouTuber I've been mostly following/listening to in the background as I scrolled through the Build and Buy sections, and from which I also took some inspiration, while designing my Sims mini-Hyrule Castle, HW version, is Syd Mac (even if she's Sims 4, not 3... and I realize I might've benefited from just using Sims 4, but I've been hesitant to try it out and already gotten a different game for my birthday in July)... including at least one video where she actually designed a Fairy Fountain room, inspired by the LoZ fairy fountains, thanks to a YouTube comment special she made (which actually made me hopeful and attempt to seek her assistance/advice, via the comments of that comments video, but no luck😭  Which is not really surprising, given how popular she is/her vids are, and the hundreds of comments she gets, honestly...)  Was there actual Sims builds of Hyrule Castle videos from other Youtubers?  Yes, but they all pretty much went for Wild's castle... Wild's damaged and Ganon-infested castle... rather unhelpful... still very cool, though.

(The main Syd Mac vids I've been going back to the most I'll leave links to in End Notes, because why not?  She's fun and her builds are SUPER pretty.)

ANYWAY, I've been plodding along with my own build, steadily shaping what might be good for this story, as I said, continuously flipping through my library books for picking out what plants were/would be in either build or story (creating a plant list that may be too long, honestly.  How many mini-fruit trees is too many to put into a study room for Wars?), but it felt like it was time to give you, my dear readers and comment buddies, both an update and maybe ask for your help in what this ding-dang suite/this ding dang wing might look like... as well as whether it should be either a castle wing, or set of rooms/suite, for Wars and the fairies... because I think if the fairies and I are left to our own devices for too much longer we'll be tweaking and changing everything until winter comes around...

Chapter Text

When it came to Warriors, his castle (er, the Hyrule Castle of his era), and what his living quarters might be like inside that castle, Hyrule would admit that he hadn’t spent much time thinking about it.

It wasn’t that he wouldn’t know what those living quarters, or anything about a castle itself, would look like… for despite what most of his brothers likely thought (and he hadn’t bothered to clarify or correct… yet. Why ruin the surprise?), Hyrule did spend time at his own castle (not a lot, but some) and even had his own, very nice and nicely furnished, room.

Sure, his castle was probably on the… ‘older’ side than most of the other Hyrule Castles he and his brothers had visited on their journey together… but given that most of the others had admitted the castles in their eras had undergone recent(ish) renovations and repairs, due to damages sustained during their earlier quests, Hyrule didn’t think it was fair to judge on that front…

Warriors’ castle was definitely on the bigger side, though, possibly big enough to fit… maybe three of Hyrule’s castle… maybe more, since Hyrule had only been able to see a small part of Warriors’ castle at this point… which of course wouldn’t make a good assessment of the castle’s proper size…

…that small part of this newest castle had still seemed big enough to make a tiny, familiar part of Hyrule bristle with a smidge of competitiveness though, huffing and readying itself to look for ways to defend his castle… while also taking mental notes of what might be good to take back to Dawn and Aurora, for ideas that just might make their castle just a smidge better, alongside their recovering land…

…which just made that other part of Hyrule, the one that itched to explore and find out exactly how big this castle was, that much more excited and curious…

But that itchy part was going to have to wait… at least until Hyrule could walk properly and not lurch to the side unexpectedly, as everything seemed to spin around him… apparently thanks to the imbalance of his magic as it still tried to right itself from whatever damage Cia and her magic blocking items had done to it.

Leading back to the original topic of Wars’ and his living quarters in the castle… which, evidently, Warriors shared with the Fairy Corps, who had invited Hyrule to visit exactly for the purposes of recentering and properly restoring his magic… once he’d woken up from the… twelve hour nap he’d fallen into after those cursed magic restraints had been removed…

And alright, fine… despite the circumstances, and his initial ‘not actually thinking about it’, Hyrule had to admit… he was feeling a tad excited once he was finally standing at the… surprisingly normal looking wooden door the fairies came to a stop before, the most obvious sign they’d reached their destination.

Even now Hyrule wasn’t sure, as the fairies moved to open said door, whether he would find a simple but ornate little room, like his own room, in his own castle… or some mixture of the guest rooms Hyrule and the other heroes had stayed in while visiting the other Hyrule Castles, with grand and expensive looking furniture and decorations…

…but he was pretty sure the last thing he would’ve expected… was to find himself in what seemed to be a forest… his gaze instantly catching on a massive tree that sat right in the center of the space, dark wood gleaming in the rays of the sunlight streaming in, vibrant green canopy thick and bushy with healthy leaves, which pretty well hid whatever lay above it.

And glittering in the topmost branches of this tree, seemingly swathed in a layer of dark gray clouds, were what appeared to be tiny houses… houses which looked as if they had grown right out of the tree itself! …well, aside from the jagged edged and wildly shaped roofs that seemed to be made of… some kind of crystal, Hyrule thinks.

Orbs of a similar substance as the roofs appeared to be floating about the structures, glowing with vibrant yellow, blue, purple and green lights which seem to crackle, spark, and dance within their round confines, the houses they float beside painted in similar colors.

There are pathways connecting these houses to each other, made of wood that varies in dark, light, and even burnt looking patches, with sweeping, rather chaotic looking curves etched into them.

One of the larger of these branch pathways then winds and leads Hyrule’s gaze away and downwards, alongside a string of lightning bolts that honestly looked like they’d struck, then become stuck to, the tree trunk, somehow, still glowing and crackling softly… before transitioning to something a tad more like… well, like drops of sunlight.

The coloring of the branch path, in the meantime, had slowly lightened and merged into a single, ever lightening brown, the chaotically curved grain patterns gradually straightening, the further down Hyrule’s gaze went… giving him the impression of a storm petering out and allowing the sun to take its place.

Further enhancing this image is the coloring of the latest bundle of houses, consisting of bright blues and sunny yellows now, cloudy whites nestled in trims and window shutters.

Crystals shimmer at the feet of these houses, shaped like tiny shrubs that gleam with soft yet bright pinks and purples, with more reflective decorations hanging from the eaves, glittering and sparkling happily, even letting out a few light chimes, highly similar to that of the Fae.

Many of the leaves of the tree, or maybe not of the tree, around this section, gleam with golden hues… possibly, probably, indicating they’re actually, yet more crystal adornments, or some other reflective material, possessing golden undertones, their numbers growing as Hyrule’s gaze continued its descent even further down the magical tree trunk.

At some point the gold transitions into amber colored ‘leaves’, the pathway shifting into more red, orange, and dark brown hues, both the leaves and branch of course leading Hyrule towards the next grouping of houses.

These houses, far more angular and defined in shape, like and unlike the first set of houses, are made from polished woods in colors of red, orange and even black, and also have orbs floating in their midst, dancing with the element this section obviously belongs to.

The house roofs resemble the area around Wild’s Death Mountain (or perhaps one of those Rock Roasts Hyrule and the others were horrified to watch Wild eat, one day, while visiting his Gorons) with ‘cracked’ dark stone seemingly held together by glowing red lava.

The flickering embers that surround this section, as well as replace the amber leaves that had still followed the dark, somewhat charred looking wood path to stroll through these houses, continued the journey ever downwards… until they eventually peter out into something far more like stars… leading to matching silvery leaves, which gather together to spiral and dangle over the houses of this next section.

Hyrule has to actually twist and bend a bit, in order to see beneath this leafy curtain, which obviously is meant to provide shelter, and perhaps enhanced privacy and quiet, for homes of rougher grained wood, painted in sunset pinks to deepening purples, before transitioning into beautiful midnight blues, the path between them that had led down from their fiery neighbors above now a striking road of polished, black colored wood.

Light dapples and shadows twirl around this section, even beneath the protective silver curtain, reminding Hyrule of the caves and basements he and many of the elderly (especially the half-fairies) in his Hyrule prefer to dwell, silvery vines twining away from the curtain to twirl and curve around the homes in beautiful, swirling patterns.

The crystalline lights that are stationed here of course glow like the moon, shining gently alongside mushrooms and even a few flowers sprouting from the dark colored wood path, the tree trunk, and the houses, especially around the windows… mushrooms and flowers which are both like and unlike those found in Wild’s era, matching the moss that sits at the foot of the tiny homes.

Some of that moss is Hyrule’s next ‘guide’ further down the trunk, before it ducked out of sight behind the last set of houses, the branch path that follows alongside lightening back into hues of brown and a bit of yellow, with a sheen that grows stronger with these lightening colors, a straight and fine grain slowly curling into wavelike patterns before also disappearing from Hyrule’s view.

This, of course, leaves him studying the last group of houses, which look to be made out of what appears to be some type of translucent stone and decorated with beautiful seashells, sitting upon the… ‘sandy’(?) banks of the pond, no, fountain, that surrounds the base of the tree.

Water lilies and lotuses, once again like and unlike those seen in Wild’s era and half of which glow with ethereal light, alongside non-glowing lily pads, bob in the gentle waves created by streams of water that, somehow, shoot upwards continuously from either side of both tree and pond, like continuous geysers, the burbling noise they make an incredibly soothing sound.

Stepping stones are interspersed around the watery area, offering far more stable features atop the water’s surface, big enough for a number of Fae to sit together, as well as close enough to each other to create a small pathway from one bank to the other, if one was inclined to use it.

The entire structure hums with fairy magic, including a soft undertone of a Great Fairy’s aura… perhaps in the form of a blessing?

Hyrule’s not entirely sure… and the usual mix of Hero and Fairy curiosity spurs him on to try and find out, to get a closer look at it all… this and the ache left from the magic suppressants, inevitably propelling him closer to the tree, the fountain, and the ambient magic that hums so strongly around them.

His fairy guides are right by his side and are soon joined by even more of their sisters, who emerge from the tree houses and begin circling around Hyrule, buzzing with their own curiosity and excitement.

That excitement, of course, further fuels Hyrule’s own, his unsteady magic singing in response to theirs and that ambient magic which is beginning to wrap itself around him now, reminding him of home… inevitably propelling him to shift into his own Fairy form once he’s a mere few inches away from the tree and fountain.

This, of course, proves to be a bad idea… because the world immediately lurches to the side… and, even though the floor directly beneath Hyrule, just before the stone border of the fountain, looks like a combination of comfy grass and a ‘dirt’ path, that felt far more cushy than any proper dirt path he’d walked on before... and definitely softer than the stone border of the fountain… he doesn’t think it’ll be at all comfy or cushy enough to give his tiny form a safe landing as he plummets towards it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t find out if it would be either a safe or cushy landing, as bright lights converge upon him alongside various hands and arms, grabbing and catching Hyrule as alarmed chimes and curses (ones Warriors would never approve of) fill the air.

Next thing he knows, Hyrule’s sitting, not splatting, on a nice, smooth stone, leaning heavily against a warm body that crackles with red magic on his right, a cooler body with bubbling blue magic on his left helping him to avoid completely collapsing onto the first, while a third that both swirls with magic and speaks in a tone that’s highly similar to Twilight’s, hovers before him, cool/warm hands cupping his cheeks.

Hyrule hasn’t the foggiest idea what anyone’s saying at this point, certainly not the one scolding him (because even in his most delirious state, Hyrule knows what scolding sounds like), which he feels a bit sorry for in more than one way… but he’s far too dizzy to even try to mount a proper apology.

Perhaps his scolder realizes this, because at some point the cool/warm hands leave Hyrule’s cheeks to instead thrust something into his face, which he unfortunately can’t identify due to the swirling blobs and shapes that fill his vision, as the world still rudely spins around him.

His unhelpfully lolling head is probably what eventually clues his minders in on why he doesn’t even try to grab the thing being offered to him… as well as likely prompts the new hands, bubbling with the light magic that is a part of so many of Hyrule’s brothers, that come up from behind him, to take firm hold of said lolling head, thus allowing the cool/warm hands to bring the blob they’re holding to his mouth.

At the feel of liquid against his lips, Hyrule works to get said lips open, triumph and relief filling him when he actually manages to accomplish this feat… followed by curiosity as something sweet, but not as sweet as he would’ve expected… nor for it to be fruity… coats his tongue.

His magic flares once he manages to swallow the first mouthful of the drink— still flickering oddly as it spreads throughout his body, seeking out what is wrong again— but seeming a tad more stable and successful in righting at least a few of the wrongs, from what Hyrule can feel, as he swallows a second time.

His vision clears and steadies with the third swallow, allowing Hyrule to make out Miss Loyla kneeling in front of him, a canteen in her hands, which is lifted to Hyrule’s lips again after he’s properly swallowed the last mouthful of the fruity juice it holds, which… is proving far more effective than Hyrule had expected.

“Better?” Miss Loyla asks after Hyrule’s taken two more drinks from the canteen and was able to finally sit up straight, blue moon eyes studying him with clear worry and once again reminding him of Twilight.

“Yeah, sorry,” Hyrule murmured, a hand managing to rise and begin clumsily rubbing the back of his head, “got too excited there…”

Worry shifts to exasperation from the Dark Fairy, but the opposite is true for the Light Fairy behind him and the Fire and Water Fairies at his sides, the supports that had been holding Hyrule upright this whole time, who break out into a fit of giggles.

“Well, hey, can’t blame ya!” the Fire Fairy, the one with the candle flame hair and wings like the Warm Darners from Wild’s era, chuckled, a tanned hand lightly slapping Hyrule’s shoulder before sweeping outwards to encompass the area around them, “this place is totally amazing!”

Hyrule can’t help but huff out a small laugh at the enthusiasm put into that statement… though it was certainly warranted, he already knew that from the tree alone.

Looking out at what he could see from his newest angle really only reinforced the sentiment, as Hyrule’s gaze immediately locked onto something extraordinary on his right, which also had the magic that connected to his Thunder spell tingling.

There, sitting on a small and elegant pedestal, was a tall, round glass container within which, somehow… rumbles a literal, miniature thunderstorm, teeny tiny bolts of lightning crackling and flashing at random intervals within swirling dark clouds, thunder rumbling gently as the contained storm paints a beautifully chaotic display.

Tearing his eyes away from said display takes some effort, but Hyrule manages, shifting his gaze further outwards to then catch sight of a grand fireplace on the farthest side of the room in this direction.

Made of roughly hewn, reddish brown stones that somehow appeared to be just as naturally molded as the tree, as well as tall as far as he can tell, it bore a wooden mantlepiece with markings Hyrule couldn’t make out in his current position, along with a… he’s pretty sure it’s copper… firescreen, found in its proper place at the mouth of the fireplace, adorned with twining tree branches and delicate leaves that Hyrule can just make out by squinting, matching fire tools sitting quietly alongside.

Flanking the fireplace at its right (and possibly left, too, Hyrule can’t tell from his current position), carved from the same rock and just as tall, was a bookcase.

Its shelves appeared to have been chiseled right out of the stony visage, in order to hold a great deal of books, alongside scrolls (or some other rolled up paper thing), many of which Hyrule assumed were maps, given how Wars was (it was because of him Hyrule was getting so good at creating maps himself… a skill he hoped to apply in creating a proper map of his Hyrule, someday, since such things had become pretty much nonexistent in his era).

One section of the bookcase (the one he can definitely see, anyway) actually seems to have… a smaller bookcase inside of it, but again, Hyrule’s not entirely sure from where he’s sitting, though he finds his interest and excitement growing again nonetheless, even as he shifts his attention to the furniture positioned before both the fireplace and bookshelf.

Sitting at a perpendicular angle, positioned so that whoever sat on it would have a view of both the fireplace and the rest of the room, was a low-slung sofa, which… honestly looked as if it had grown right out of the ground, like a tree itself.

The legs are similar to roots, while the back piece and armrests curved and curled like thick branches, plush green cushions spotted through the gaps between, with additional lumps that are… probably pillows, and seem to be shaped like flowers, from what Hyrule can see.

To the right of the sofa ‘grows’ a rocking chair, the wood of a lighter grain and cushiony seat and back a lighter green, than those of the sofa.

Said cushiony part, at least of the seat, is almost completely obscured by the blue throw that is folded neatly atop it, the shade the same color as the scarf Warriors’ has always worn, the sight of which is like a sharp needle jabbing right into Hyrule’s heart.

This prompts him to immediately turn his attention to the tall torches of gnarled wood, with twisted and encircling branches on the bottom and top, that sit at the outer sides of the sofa and rocking chair, right next to small tables, one of which sprouts between the sofa and chair as well, sitting in just the right spot for Hyrule to see it.

This table sports a flat top, polished, smooth, and just barely seen beneath a pile of books that sit precariously next to a lamp with a gracefully curving wooden base and a shade of subtle, iridescent material, while the base of the table is rougher, rounded and hollow.

Within that hollow, Hyrule would swear he can see miniature versions of both the sofa and the rocking chair, at least… and wonders if he’ll find the same in not just the other side tables, but also the longer table that sits before the other pieces of furniture, the surface of which is also covered in books, scrolls, and various other pieces of paper.

It’s something to check out later, alongside the contents of the bookshelf, big and possibly little… but first Hyrule swivels his head to check out what’s on the opposite side of the fireplace and tree… which immediately leads to him turning right into the blinding rays of the sun.

Once he’s blinked away the annoying spots that are produced by this unfortunate occurrence, Hyrule can feel his wings begin fluttering with renewed excitement once again… no, perhaps even greater excitement than before, even when he’d spotted the mini thunderstorm in the glass dome (well, okay, maybe it’s a tie)… as he realizes that he’s looking, not at giant windows… but what appears to be literal doors made of glass, of all things!

Well, not completely made of glass, the doors are still mostly made out of dark colored wood, alongside the frames, but there’s a giant oval made of glass, right in the center of the doors!

Or maybe it’s crystal instead of glass, since half of the diamond shapes in said glass/crystal oval are green, while the rest are clear, like the normal windows that aren’t part of doors.

Pulling his attention away from said glass doors is definitely a lot harder than anything else that had caught Hyrule’s attention before (he’s so very certain both Dawn and Aurora would love something like that), but again, he manages… to instead turn to what lies above it, which happens to be a rectangular rod, made of a mixture of wood and metal, with matching metallic rings hanging from it.

Those rings hold beige colored curtains in place, where they drape down over and around the glass filled doors, alongside a shorter curtain, this one made of twining vines that wind through the rings before sweeping downwards atop their cloth counterparts.

Their appearance prompted Hyrule to begin sweeping his gaze back around the room, this time to take in all the other plants that have been placed within and around it which he’d apparently missed during his first viewing.

Two plants were hanging to either side of the glass doors, leaves of a deeper green color than the curtain vines trailing down and completely obscuring whatever pots the plants were sprouting from… if there were pots…

Beneath the hanging vines are mini-trees that are definitely planted in pots, made of elegant stone (which look like they would be quite hard to break… not that Hyrule would break them), citrus and cherry fruits dangling from their branches.

Speaking of branches, Hyrule’s not quite sure how he missed the giant dewdrops hanging from the outer branches of the central tree… oh, wait, no, not dewdrops… apparently, they’re glass orbs (kind of like bottles, but not), hanging from various heights and locations from the tree, which shimmer and sparkle when the sunlight hits them.

He’s pretty darn sure there’s stuff inside the glass orbs, but his current position really just leaves them looking like starry decorations for the tree, and craning his neck upwards is both making it start to hurt, as well as agitate his dizziness again.

So, instead, Hyrule turns back to the fireplace and bookshelves where, with renewed squinting, he thinks he can at least spot brass and copper pots which hold appropriately, fiery colored flowers on one of the bookshelves.

For the hearth, Hyrule has to squint as well as lean forwards quite a ways, ignoring the mock squawk of indignation from the body still pressed against his own, in order to make out terracotta pots, like the ones Legend and Time (or more accurately, Miss Malon) use in their houses, sitting on the hearth of the fireplace.

Said terracotta pots have long green plants with silvery green leaves and delicate, lavender pink flowers in one and tiny dark green leaves with magenta flowers in the other… rosemary and thyme, if Hyrule’s remembering his plant lessons right.

He can just catch sight of more side tables, which again look like they grew right out of the floor, with matching wooden pots holding plants with circular silver and green leaves that look highly similar to Wild’s Hydromelons, before his newest examination is rudely interrupted.

“Crushing me!!!” Hyrule’s fire fairy cushion cries, seconds before she surges back into an upright position, though not so energetically that Hyrule isn’t able to catch and prevent himself from toppling over onto the water fairy that still sits on his other side.

Nope, he just flops back in a typical, dramatic fairy fashion, causing the giggling water fairy to laugh even harder as she’s pushed backwards underneath his momentum and body weight.

She manages to wiggle out from under Hyrule, however, though not without enough dramatic exclamations to give him plenty of warning and thus, avoid bonking his head against their rock seat, as well as flattening his wings to avoid injuring them, as laughter sounds all around him, joining his own soft chuckling.

“...yeah, you were right,” Hyrule murmured once all the giggling had abated, his gaze now fixed upwards again, towards the branches of the main tree, “this place is totally awesome… and I’m guessing this isn’t even half of it?”

“Your guess would be correct,” Miss Loyla answers this time, the fairy bending over Hyrule from where he lies on the rock, still wearing a Twilight expression as she adds, “but any further exploration will have to wait until after you’ve recovered more.”

Hyrule isn’t the only one that voices disappointment at this declaration, both his former sitting supports, as well as the crowd of fairies that had apparently settled themselves upon the lilypads and stones within the fountain next to the stone he’s still lying on, also vocalize their own unhappiness.

“No buts,” Miss Loyla states firmly, even before any actual buts are put forth, her hands planting themselves on her hips as she straightens and sweeps a Look that Hyrule has seen on Warriors’, Time’s and Twilight’s own faces, multiple times, over the crowd, which becomes fixed on Hyrule himself at the end.

It’s admittedly fearsome, but like with his brothers, it doesn’t stop Hyrule from pouting his continued disappointment, as well as scrambling for a compromise.

“Can I at least get a closer look at one of your tree houses?” he requests, working his face into his best pleading expression, the one that always gets Legend to cave and will sometimes work on Twilight and the other older Links.

For Miss Loyla, this leads to an eyebrow raising and an expression that tells Hyrule she knows exactly what he’s up to, but the renewed, excited cries of the other Fae, all clamoring to volunteer as ‘tour guides’ and ‘hostesses’, pretty well decide things for her.

“Alright, alright!” Loyla calls, clapping her hands for added emphasis and bringing the chatter of the other fairies to an end, before turning her attention back to Hyrule, “you may come and visit my own abode, so that I may keep my eye on you.”

The expected groans of renewed disappointment sound, which of course Miss Loyla pays no mind, as she helps Hyrule back onto his feet, then into the air, the Water and Fire Fairies, plus the pink haired Light Fairy from earlier, trailing alongside until Hyrule’s feet are planted solidly onto the branch of Dark Fairy homes.

The particular home he’s standing in front of is the same purple color as Miss Loyla’s wings, colored more darkly at the edges and lighter around the center, with twirling vines of trumpet-shaped white flowers framing the front door, at the top of which a small, crescent moon shaped pane of glass sits.

The window that sits beside the door is a full, circular moon, once again framed by twirling vines, which Hyrule resists the urge to try and peer through, focusing instead on not leaning his entire weight against Miss Loyla as she leads him through the front door, while the other fairies slowly disperse.

“Welcome to my humble abode,” Miss Loyla says as they both step inside, which turns out to be a ridiculous statement, for her abode is anything but humble.

Hyrule can tell, because light had bloomed mere seconds after they’d entered and she’d spoken, shining down from a new full moon that hovered above, illuminating the area around them, including walls colored with the deep blue of midnight at the top, which transitions down to differing shades of purple as it flows to the bottom.

A spiral staircase is found directly in front of the wall directly opposite and to the right of where Hyrule stands, with steps that look like the wooden path near the fiery level of the tree outside, except for the banister of twining vines, with pretty dots of shiny amethysts, gleaming in random spots, attached to the stairs.

“Those lead up to my bed and more personal rooms,” Miss Loyla informed Hyrule, who’d still been studying the stairs, a teasing lilt in her voice and gleam in her eye when he turns towards her, head tilting as she asked, “would you like for them to be a part of the ‘tour’, or are you content with the main floor?”

“Main floor is good!” Hyrule immediately squeaks, feeling his face heat up and a pout returning as Miss Loyla giggles in response, before a pale hand gracefully sweeps to the left, then the right.

“That leaves us with the kitchen and sitting room,” she informs Hyrule, before studying him with a critical eye, “would you rather start with one, take a moment to rest, then head for the other?”

“I’m perfectly capable of walking from one side of the room to the other!” Hyrule declares with just the bare minimum of huffiness, his patience and understanding of others' wariness and concern over his health far shorter in his current form.

Fairy pride then has him pulling away from Miss Loyla to stand, then begin walking on his own, following the purple wall to the right… for an exact three steps before he begins tilting to the right and has to catch himself on the wall, to keep from completely crashing to the ground.

“...uh, okay… maybe I’m only capable of… maybe making it to one side of the room,” Hyrule admits sheepishly, as he peeks back towards Miss Loyla from over his shoulder.

“Well, at least you chose the side that’s made to rest and relax in,” Miss Loyla sighed with both fond amusement and exasperation (and, perhaps, a tinge of sadness), shaking her head slightly as she moved to stand beside Hyrule again and return him to an upright position.

From there they move further right, following the purple wall, which then shifts into a purple topped/dark pink bottomed wall, followed by a pure pink wall, matching, jewel-toned lotus flowers, hanging from vines and stems of silver, then gold, growing along and lighting the area around them as they draw near.

It’s like the night is giving way to the morning, the latter of which has taken complete possession of the sitting room itself, as proven by the varying shades of pink/yellow, yellow, and light blue walls that encompass Hyrule as Miss Loyla directs him towards a cloud white sofa, upon which sit patterned pillows of alternating blue and yellow, the same colors as the lotus lamps that have been set up in this part of the room.

Two matching white, plush looking chairs flank the sofa Hyrule is sat upon, a yellow sun rug, which feels very nice and cushy under Hyrule’s feet, placed in the middle of them all, the topside of which can still be seen from beneath the round, glass coffee table that sits atop it.

Well, except for where the rug is obscured by the pretty, opalescent pot filled with dainty pinkish-white, cup-shaped flowers, that sits in the middle of the table, from which Hyrule can detect a sweet, spicy scent, which mixes well with the other flowery scents within the room.

To his right stands a white bookcase, which along with fairy-appropriate sized books, scrolls and a mixture of additional potted plants… is also filled with quite a few sparkly things that has a part of Hyrule itching again.

“You take a sparkly, you trade a sparkly,” Miss Loyla states suddenly, the playful gleam in her eye and smile she wears surprising Hyrule, even if it’s quickly replaced with a far more serious expression as she then asked, “but first, can you give me your hands, please?”

“So you can check my magic?” Hyrule guessed, even as he extended his hands as requested, Miss Loyla giving a nod of affirmation before gently taking hold of his hands and calling up her own magic.

Nostalgia is then quick to wash over Hyrule, as he’s reminded of the first time his magic had been studied, been properly awakened, in a similar manner… though that had produced more of a tingling sensation, while this felt more like… the only way he can think to describe it is like moonbeams were gently probing and tracing over his magic, the combination of cool/warm from before now soaking into the second skin that was his magic.

Despite that careful gentleness, Hyrule can’t help but jerk and hiss as the jagged edges of said magic second skin are touched upon, to grip the hands holding his just a bit tighter as the dizziness returns and his magic throbs in all the wrong ways.

An apology is murmured and then the moonbeams dissipate, the cool/warm hands slipping from his own, causing Hyrule’s eyes to flutter open (wait, when had he closed them?) to find Miss Loyla’s head tilted to the left, blue moon eyes studying him and the smallest, worried frown tugging her lips downwards while purple wings fluttered slightly and a finger lifted to tap lightly on her cheek… until she gave a short nod, then asked,“how about a cup of tea?”

“I… already had some juice earlier?” Hyrule questioned in turn, adding, “and why did you give me juice? Wouldn’t sugar water be more effective, both then and now?”

“Given the state of your magic, both then and now, there was honestly a very high risk of sugar water making things worse instead of better. Since it always gives such a sharp boosting effect to magic, no matter the ailment, it’s best to leave sugar water for only the most dire, draining situations, when it comes to healing or magical recovery,” Miss Loyla replied... worry really starting to take over her expression and voice now.

“This is something the Great Mothers teach when we Fae are no older than babes. Granted, I do not have personal experience with Half-Fae such as you, aside from a few old tales, but… was there really no one who told you of this, did Link not tell you of this?”

“Wars- I mean- Link only learned… had only learned about my fairy form… just a little while before… before everything all…” Hyrule begins to explain, though he has to stop as building tears and boiling frustration and anger clog his throat.

“...a lesson for another time, then,” Miss Loyla murmured softly, her own expression contorting before she closed her eyes, took a deep breath in and out, and an only slightly strained, small smile took its place, “and in any event, tea goes best with the snacks I have, and like with physical ailments, staying well fed and hydrated will help your magic recover much faster!”

“...then I would like some tea, thank you,” Hyrule replied with a small smile of his own, swiping at his eyes for any wetness, as subtly as he could, as he does.

Miss Loyla nodded in understanding, before turning and fluttering back in the direction they’d come from, traveling back through the night, then farther, into an area Hyrule’s learned from time spent at Legend’s house, is a pass-through kitchen, the walls and flower lamps there painted in the purples, pinks, and dark oranges of the sun setting in evening.

“Do you have any food allergies we should be mindful of?” Miss Loyla called as tinkling and clinking sounds were faintly heard.

“None that we’ve found so far,” Hyrule called back as he settled into the comfy cloud couch, his gaze wandering around the room again, “well, Wild said I have a ‘milk sensitivity’, alongside Wind and Sk—”

Hyrule stops short, a lump in his throat forming and tears pricking at the corners of his eyes again, as his thoughts are of course drawn towards Sky now, his body sinking a little further into the couch in response to his mood doing the same.

Despite his best efforts, memories begin bubbling up… of when he’d last seen his brother, of Sky lying limp in a pristine hospital bed, with strange wires and tubes stuck into and onto his body, connecting him to equally strange machines… all of which were apparently needed to help keep him alive, as the fairies had reached the limits of what Sky’s body could take…

He hated it, hated it, seeing Sky so weak and small and still so horribly injured… seeing Wars hovering at the edge, gaze untrusting, not recognizing Hyrule or any of the others and…and…

And why couldn’t Hyrule fix it, why had he reclaimed yet NOT reclaimed what was HIS? Why hadn’t he slaughtered that witch, ripped her to shreds with his magic and teeth and—

“Little sibling?”

“Anything is fine, Elder Sister,” Hyrule calls, instinctively slipping into the Fae tongue in response to Miss Loyla’s own use of the language, as well as the rank her and the other Fairy Corps. members’ magic had revealed her to possess.

He knows full well that she knows he’s using the previous question to avoid the unspoken one, and that she’s likely looking at him with a Twilight expression again.

But he doesn’t want to deal with that, not right now, so he fixes his gaze on the bookshelf instead, studying the yellow-edged, leafy plant that kind of looks like taller, thicker grass than the usual green stuff he’s traveled through and alongside in his adventures, which grows in a terracotta pot on one shelf, then the trumpet-shaped, multicolored flowers in a small, translucent vase on another.

He then finds himself staring at a variation of the miniature storm that had been contained in glass within the suite’s sitting room, though this one holds a rainbow that shines down upon tiny flowers and shimmering crystals… and he apparently loses track of time, trying to figure out if both the crystals and flowers had really grown out of the soil that sits at the bottom of the rounded container… which he only realizes when Miss Loyla suddenly calls out to him again.

“Tea’s ready,” she informs Hyrule, a tray in her hands when he turns towards her, which she sets carefully atop the coffee table.

She then reaches for a wide, shallow bowl of smoothed wood that sits on the tray, which she offers to Hyrule with the caution, “careful, it’s hot.”

Hyrule nods his understanding and murmurs his thanks… though probably without the proper level of sincerity, since he’s found himself distracted again.

He can probably be excused for that, however… for how can he not be distracted by the magic that hums from the bowl he’s holding, not to mention the clear, slightly golden, shimmering color of the liquid held inside it?

The scent wafting from it reminds Hyrule of fresh earth and a soft sweetness which, paired with the warmth the drink radiates, already has a wave of calm encompassing Hyrule before he’s even taken a sip.

He then can’t help but release a contented sigh once he does take that first sip… as a grounding, earthy flavor, mixed with varieties of sweetness, coats his tongue, the warmth of the drink spreading through his body.

And not just his body… it even seems to coat his magic, to take hold of it in a gentle embrace, softly stroking the frayed and cracked edges… at least, that’s the only way Hyrule can think to describe the sensation.

“What is this stuff?” Hyrule hums curiously, after he’s taken another sip of his drink, this time noticing a slight tingling sensation on his tongue as it’s coated with the liquid, which continues on its way down his throat.

“We’ve named it the “Fairy-Rest” tea,” Loyla replied from her spot where she’d come to sit beside Hyrule on the sofa, a tiny, fine china cup with matching saucer in hand, both painted in a blend of a dark blue and a violet the same color as Miss Loyla’s wings, decorated with glowing, golden flowers Hyrule’s pretty certain he’s never seen before.

“During the war, a number of us were captured by Cia’s forces, who siphoned off our magic in order to create elemental barriers to protect their keeps,” Miss Loyla continued, a hand gesturing towards Hyrule’s cup. “This tea was eventually created to help those rescued in their recovery, and I thought it may be helpful to you as well.”

Hyrule tilts his head, considering the tea, before closing his eyes and probing at his magic, bracing for the dizziness that had been assaulting him.

And it still does… but definitely not as strongly as it had just moments prior… a fact that excites Hyrule and might’ve propelled him onto his feet and attempting something that would probably be foolhardy and pushing the boundaries too far… if not for the tasty looking snacks that still sat on the tray before him.

“Did you make these, too, Miss Loyla?” he dared to ask as he reached for a tartlet, his mouth filling with a savory mixture of mushrooms and herbs as he took a bite.

“No, baking is not in my skill set I’m afraid,” Miss Loyla replied, using a tiny set of tongs to place a cracker dotted with seeds onto a pretty, light pink plate, which she then passed to Hyrule, “these were made by Wick, the Fire Fairy you nearly crushed before, under the tutelage of the castle’s head chef and with some experimentation of her own…”

Hyrule felt his face flushing a bit at the reminder of his behavior earlier, though it was quickly forgotten again as he took a bite of the cracker, emitting a happy moan as crunchy, fiery sweetness mixed with a cooling pulp coated his tongue this time.

“...and another thing, you do not have to call me ‘Miss’ Loyla,” the Dark Fairy continued, her gaze steady on Hyrule’s startled equivalent when he turned towards her again, “you are someone Link, Mask, and Tune call brother in the letters we’ve received from them and with your Claims—”

“I-I meant no disrespect!” Hyrule can’t help but cut in, panicking a little, “I- to be honest I didn’t even really know what I was doing, I just- the song I could hear around W- Link and the others was so pretty a-and I was curious a-and, and then Cia—”

“Breathe, little sibling,” Miss Loyla cuts in this time, far more gently than Hyrule had, “no disrespect was taken, nor harm done to the Claims and the protections they give… not from you, at least…”

“Claims?” Hyrule repeated, curiosity piquing at the term, at the familiar song that hums alongside it, “do you… do you mean the songs that are wrapped around Time and Wind and…”

He trails off before he reaches Warriors this time, suddenly recalling what had happened when they’d first arrived at the castle, and again when the magical restraints were being removed… the black roses and vines that had suddenly appeared on his brother’s skin, how their magical signature had reeked of the sorceress…

“Oh wee babe, so many things you have yet to learn,” Miss Loyla suddenly coos in the Fae tongue, continuing on before Hyrule can contest the ‘wee babe’ part.

“Claims can be a great many things… for we of the Fae, they are a means of protecting and connecting with others, especially those of differing species, such as Hylians, whom we have grown fond of. That was the song you could hear, likely due to your Fae half, since the music is meant to alert our fellow Fae to either call upon their aid… or to warn away the more… ‘unsavory’ things, from that which is ours.”

“And… those black roses that appeared on Link?” Hyrule asked tentatively, to which Miss Loyla’s expression darkened, her gaze dropping to her own teacup.

“...that, too, is a Claim, the roses the physical manifestation of the magic… marking Link as Cia’s—”

“So you’re saying she’s effectively branded him?!” Hyrule hissed, outraged, “but how, if you’d already Claimed him?!”

“Even without Ganondorf backing her, Cia has always been quite a powerful sorceress,” Miss Loyla sighed in clear frustration, her teacup producing an audible clink as she placed it atop its saucer, “and with her getting hold of two pieces of the Triforce again… even with all our power as a shimmer, after all our training with the army… standing against two thirds of the power of the gods, in the hands of a skilled magic practitioner, was clearly too much for us…”

Hyrule’s ears and wings twitch, his right hand subconsciously moving to cover his left, the back of which pulses briefly, his gaze managing to stay fixed on Miss Loyla’s own, even as a delicate brow lifted inquiringly.

“And when Cia is no longer in possession of the pieces she stole?” Hyrule asked next, “because she’s not keeping them, right? Which means Wars will get his Triforce of Courage back… would that mean w-you could… re-Claim Wars? Undo whatever she did, if the Triforce of Courage itself doesn’t?”

“That is the hope, yes,” Miss Loyla replied with a nod, “though of course, we must first wait for the Hylians to both prepare the magic needed to remove the Triforces from Cia… as well as for them to come to a decision as to what will actually be done with her, as well as the pieces of Power and Courage.”

Hyrule feels his body stiffen at that last part, doing his best to keep tight hold of the bubbling anger that had been ebbing and flowing within him… but still finding himself hissing even more viciously than before, as he asked, “what do you mean they’re deciding what to do with Courage? It’s going back to Warriors, what else could be done with it?”

“Some bothersome gnats have decided to make a fuss, claiming nonsense regarding Link’s abilities,” Miss Loyla sniffed as she swirled her teacup in small circles. “The queen is doing well in… ‘easing’ their concerns, for the moment, though…”

“...I’d heard there were… ‘Bilge Rats’ who were spreading… unpleasant rumors about Warriors’...” Hyrule cautiously probes, not ready to let this matter drop, a familiar lust for blood whispering through his veins as he recalls Wind’s outburst from their time in Cia’s prison.

For a brief moment, Hyrule would swear twin blue moons became darkened orbs of murky purple, before Miss Loyla’s eyes closed as she raised her teacup to her lips, blue shining serenely as they slowly opened again once the cup was lowered seconds later, though they stayed fixed on her drink.

“Hylians, as a species, can be so very flawed at times,” she hummed, as she gently swirled her cup again, “prone to the most foolish of actions, in the belief of the most absurd things.

“Sometimes… sometimes those beliefs must be… ‘guided’… and who better to do that, then those who cannot lie, hm?

“Still though, sometimes, there are those who decide to be… stubborn… at which point, we may need to be a tad more… strict.”

“Strict, how?” Hyrule dares to ask, even if it’s done in a faint voice, his breath bated.

“Oh, in quite a variety of ways,” Miss Loyla replied airily, “ways that also had to be rather subtle, given the continued need for able bodies and open purses…

“…and,” Miss Loyla continued, her smile suddenly as cold and sharp as a knife and eyes indeed, shifting to a murky, foreboding purple, within which angered shadows writhed, “should a certain sorceress get it into her head that she might make an attempt at regaining her freedom… as an example… ways of ensuring certain punishments last as long as need be, to pay back what is owed…

“In fact,” Miss Loyla hummed as her head tilted to the side, murky purple regarding Hyrule appraisingly, “you might just have an ability quite well suited for that, given what I detected within your magic earlier… one that, if you’re open to a bit of experimentation… could lead to an additional, new spell… which could be quite effective against the more human enemies you might face in the future…”

Hyrule’s eyes widen with surprise, both in response to the sudden shift within the gentle fairy leader... as well as the hidden meaning behind her words, the realization of which spell she’s likely talking about… before narrowing, gleaming with their own malicious excitement, his smile big enough to reveal the sharp fangs he usually kept hidden.

“I think I would like that very much… Elder Sister Loyla…”

Loyla’s own smile now looks like one Twilight often described as ‘the cat who caught the canary’, teeth just as sharp as Hyrule’s and deep purple eyes swirling with promising malice… before suddenly shifting back into gentle, yet firm blue moons, as she points at the cup and tray that sits before them, “but not before you’re fully recovered! So you’d best finish your tea and snacks, followed by a nap, understand?”

Hyrule’s response to this is a sulky pout with puffed up cheeks, but he does take another sip of his tea before reaching for another cracker and tartlet.