Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The doors are locked, windows shut tight against the wind storm raging outside. Malon suspected it would rain earlier, but it would seem that the bad weather is stalling. The sound drives her mad, taunting her anxiety. What if the barns aren’t shut properly or there’s an animal loose?

Malon sighs, yet again wishing she could roll onto her stomach and scream into the pillow. She can’t with her belly in the way. Of course, she’s happily in awe that she’s finally expecting a child, but the baby bump has proven to be mildly inconvenient the more it grows. 

Malon wonders what she’d do if she birthed twins. Not that she’d ever complain about raising twins, but the birthing part…the only hospital is far away, further than she wants, and with their current finances, the birth would need to be a miracle not to cost them dearly. 

Having a difficult childbirth is already one of her current fears, but the doctors tell her that she has at least a couple months before her due date. Besides, Link finally returned home after his latest journey. She won’t be alone, at last. 

Malon has believed every story her husband ever told her, from the wildest tales of faraway kingdoms to living 7 years in a coma, waking up to a corrupted world where a man named Ganondorf took over. Malon will always believe him. But she’s never been a part of time travel like this!

Link had gone by Time, whisked away with 8 other incarnations (versions?) of himself, traveling to defeat Dark Link. Time travel works uniquely. While the adventure lasted 6 months for Malon, it had been almost a year for Link. And ever since he got back home last week….

He’s….he’s been acting so strange.

“I need to go,” Link said earlier, a wild glint in his eyes that Malon hadn’t seen in decades. He lunged for his adventuring bag, still packed with magical items. His entire body trembled. “There’s something I have to do.”

“So why are you taking the ocarina?” Malon asked. She’s not dumb. She’s heard of its powers.  

Link didn’t look her in the eyes when he replied, “I—I’m going to need it. Today is April 29th, 1207. I refuse to di—-I must fix this. I can fix this, it won’t happen if I—”

“ Link, love,” Malon coaxed, doing her best to soothe him. His eyes darted around, seeking an enemy that wasn’t there. Maybe another nightmare? He’s been getting those pretty frequently…

“Malon, no, I—” Link swallowed, trying to slow his breathing. It didn’t work. “This is when it happens. Tonight. Please, Malon, you have to let me go.”

Malon crossed her arms. Link sighed. “I need to. Malon, if not…I have to prevent something. Twilight…Twilight knew my fate, and I…I can’t let that happen. Not when there’s so much I still have left to do.”

“Fate?” Malon questioned.

Link nodded. “He…he knew me, in his era. A version of me that’s...It doesn’t matter how he first met me. I found my….In Twilight’s era, tonight’s the night that I’m going to fix all of…this…before it happens.”

Maybe she was getting old, maybe it was the dull ache in her lower back, or maybe she truly was just a silly, stupid farm girl at heart. She didn’t understand. What was he talking about?

He noticed the confusion on her face and sighed. The marks on his forehead stood out against the white pallor of his skin. He leaned forwards, pecking her on the cheek with a loving kiss.

 “I’ll be back, Malon,” Link murmured. “I…I’m almost done. This will be my last adventure, I swear.”

“Just make it home,” Malon said, pressing her body into his. “I need you.” His hands wrapped around her hips, and she murmured into his shoulder, “ we need you.”

“I’ll be right back,” Link reassured her. “Promise.”

And Malon is the stupid fool who let him out the door. 

He took the ocarina. 

The worry makes her throat tighten. Normally, she didn’t bother whether her husband brought magical items with him, but…he’d been so frantic. She could only imagine how panic could fuel a person to make stupid decisions, especially with too much power in their hands…

Malon shifts to her other side, craving the warmth of her long-gone husband. 

He’s recovering from his adventure. That’s all. He’s only been back for a week. He needs time and space, surely.

The excuse sounds extra pathetic in her mind. 

Malon bites the inside of her cheek. Link hasn’t communicated so vaguely in…years, really, and he’s never behaved so distantly. The second he got home, he’s been…avoiding the house, the ranch—especially her. And his words from earlier….

It hurts, to be honest. Malon knows that trauma and grief comes in waves, but she selfishly despises how Link reacts to it. He isolates and replays memories over and over again. They haven’t even talked about how his linked adventure went, for crying out loud! 

What ‘fate’ is Link talking about? What is he trying to prevent?

And what is he doing with that damn ocarina?

Malon huffs, knowing she won’t sleep while being so fueled by anger. She pulls her night-robe tighter around her shoulders and slips into her house shoes.

Link just lost 8 companions. He just misses them, surely. 

I bet he went into the woods, practicing that song again. He always plays that song when he’s sad. 

I should go look for hi—

There’s a knock at the door. 

Oh, if only Malon could time travel. If only Link left the ocarina at home, so she could warn her past self. Don’t open the door, she’d beg.

But Malon doesn’t have the ocarina. She doesn’t because her husband took it, and he had been trying to undo a fate that he walked right into. 

The Lost Woods aren’t made for mankind. Armor means nothing to the spirits of the forest.  

She stumbles downstairs, floorboards creaking in tune to the rain pounding on the roof tops.

“Malon,” A voice calls, and Malon picks up her pace. She vaguely recognizes the speaker. Perhaps one of Link’s friends’? Oh, what’s her name…?

Malon notices blindingly white hair from the peephole. It stands out amongst the gloomy gray clouds. The rest happens in a blur.

The door opens. Cold rain pours in but Malon can’t feel it. 

Impa is standing. She’s colder than the rain. 

“I regret to inform you—”

No, you don’t, Malon wants to scream. You don’t. Leave. This isn’t happening. You don’t—

“---that your husband was found dead—”

No. No, no no nonononono—-

“Zelda had a sudden vision and sent me to investigate,” Impa informed her. “Link was summoning a time portal in the Lost Woods.”

She relays information without emotion, for better or for worse. “For what reason, I’m not sure. But it was a time portal powerful enough to create another dimension. You can imagine that kind of power attracts…unwanted forces. Link was brutally attacked and fatally injured.”

Why, Link, why?

“He was alone.”

Link, how could you do this to me?

“He was found with this in his hands,” Impa said, handing the farmer a small object wrapped in a stained cloth. She frowned. “It’s all I managed to collect of his before his body was consumed by the Lost Woods. He’s gone.”

He’s gone. 

The moment Malon takes the item from the Sheikah’s hands, she knows what it is. She knows, and it’s all she has left. 

Why did she let him leave? Why did he have to go now? Her stomach hurts from the pain burning in her chest as she collapses to the ground, crying and sobbing and screaming. She screams so loud that the thunder flees in terror.

She can’t hear the rain anymore. 

Impa’s eyes are cloudier than the midnight storm as she crouches down, sighing as she places her bloody hand in Malon’s. “I’m sorry.”

Chapter Text

“You alright, sailor?”

“Need a break, sailor?”

“Why the long face, sailor?”

Wind scowled as he hastily unlaced his boot, trying not to try at the pain shot through his legs. It wouldn’t be much longer before someone got suspicious. He hadn’t really needed to do his business, and surely Warriors was getting skeptical of his constant disappearances. 

But his feet just hurt so much . And if he asked for a real break….he’d go back to being treated like dumb little kid. 

“I’m not a child. I stabbed Ganon in the head!”

And yet no one gave him looks of acknowledgement. All the Links gave him pitiful glances that made a fiery, bitter pain pool in Wind’s chest. Time’s stoic stare softened into sadness, though out of everyone, he was the most understanding. Kinda.

Wind wrestled with his shoe, pushing and pulling it off of his heel. When it finally came off, he couldn’t hide his sigh of relief as the cool air splashed at his blisters. 

Even his socks, after further examination, were wearing thin. Tiny holes were forming. Wind swore that these boots fit perfectly fine a month ago. 

For the eighty-millionth time that day, Wind wished he was on Outset Island, relishing in the cold, salty waves and letting the sand squish between his toes…

“Wind! Hey, hurry up, we’re headin’ out.”

Wind practically flew back into his shoes, frantically tying up his laces as one of his companions stomped through the bushes. 

“Coming!” Wind yelled back. 

Legend appeared behind a tree, looking slightly less pissed than usual. It didn’t really matter, because once he noticed Wind standing around dumbly, he crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Gods, what took you so long? Hyrule’s already trying to climb another mountain.”

Wind shrugged, stepping besides the veteran and pretending that his feet weren’t burning holes through the leather. “What, did you want details? First, I pulled down my pants, and—”

Legend shoved him. “You know damn well I wasn’t talkin’ about that. Sweet Nayru.”

Wind rolled his eyes. “You asked.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You did.”

“Did not!”

The sailor just laughed, enjoying seeing the veteran’s face go pink. And as Wind followed Legend back to their companions, he noticed something…different.

Have I always been as tall as Legend? 

___ ___ ___

Four was short. Everyone knew it, Four wasn’t afraid to acknowledge it. But sometimes, it was scary how strong he was for such a small guy. He normally remained calm and collected, reserved to others, but his confidence wasn’t without reason! Wind had a feeling that if Four ever screamed at a tower, the tower would crumble in sheer terror.

(Also, you didn’t hear it from Wind, but Four had the gnarliest cuss-word combinations, sometimes beating out Warriors. Which was gold-medal worthy —because although Warriors tried not to cuss around the younger ones, he was still a soldier with a wide vocabulary.)

Wind thought that helping Twilight at the barns was impressive, and then he looked through the open doors to see—

Twilight just laughed, easily heaving two giant feed bags onto his shoulders. “Don’t ya dare underestimate ‘im. Didn’t believe he rarely used th’ power bracelets till I collected firewood with ‘im.”

Four was skipping towards Time’s house, carrying what looked to be two fully-grown trees tied by… is that twine???

“I…don’t know how to feel,” Wind said numbly. “Is he wearing power bracelets?”

“Prob’ly not,” Twilight huffed. “Guy’s tough as nails. Been smithin’ since he was a little kid. Got the biceps for days.”

Wind rolled his eyes. If Four had biceps for days, Twilight was set for a lifetime.

“You beat him in an arm-wrestling contest without breaking a sweat,” Wind muttered, and Twilight cackled at that.

“I’ve been managing th’ animals and throwing goats three times my size since I was a child,” Twilight explained. “Wrestlin’ is practically in my blood.”

Anyone with eyes could believe that about Twilight. Wind genuinely wondered how Twilight even fit in his clothes. 

Twilight regularly took off his shirt whenever it got too hot. A couple other members of the chain did too. It was a habit. Traveling nonstop with 8 other guys didn’t really leave room for privacy. Nobody batted an eye when Twilight ripped off his green tunic, and Wind barely noticed whenever another companion discarded layers when doing busywork. 

But suddenly, he did. Twilight’s toned chest and back muscles and bulging veins trailing his forearms—

Wind glared at his own pathetic twigs for arms. And his calloused, crooked fingers. And the tiny white marks lining his unimpressive abdomen—-

“Ey, you goin’ help me with this?”

“Uh–yup! Sorry. I’m on it!”

Wind couldn’t lift half of what Twilight could. Honestly, Wind was probably slowing him down. He eventually pulled his tunic back on, mumbling about the colder wind after the sun faded below the horizon.

___ __ ___ ___

Wind was suddenly hyper-aware of how his body fit in his clothes. 

He couldn’t believe he didn’t notice earlier. The seams along his arm sleeve. His pants, once all the way to his boots, now barely made it to his calf. His favorite lobster tunic—which was silly to wear. He wasn’t a baby. Sky didn’t even know what lobsters were! 

And his boots were still too damn tight.

Tetra would probably call him a wimp. Or maybe just push him into the lake. But Wind found himself unable to take another step towards the pond, much less change out of his clothes. 

Everyone else merrily splashed in the lake, enjoying the refreshingly cool water on a hot summer’s day. Wind admired from a distance, hands hovering on the ends of his tunic as he debated whether or not to join them.

It’s not a big deal. It’s not—

Wild approached him, completely naked other than a small pair of navy boxers. “Wind! There you are, I was looking for you! I need a partner for chicken fighting. Twilight picked f0r, and I really want to beat him!”

Wild had more scar tissue than skin, it seemed, and he clearly didn’t care who saw his body. In fact, he often made jokes about his scars (“So sorry, I didn't hear you say no, Time! I lost an ear when I died 100 years ago, you know.”)  

Wind gulped. He didn’t have a reason to feel embarrassed. And yet, he instinctively hunched over, pressing his tunic over his chest to hide.

“I’ll be right there,” Wind told him, still unable to maintain eye contact. His gaze inspected Wild’s physique instead.

Wild was taller than him, though…not by much. He didn’t have as big arms as Twilight did, but the sailor was pretty sure Wild had a six-pack of steel and could outrun a deer sprinting. 

The champion hesitated, but eventually dropped the subject. “If you say so. Just hurry up—I can’t lose to Twilight again! I’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Got it!”

The moment Wild disappeared out of sight, skittering down the rocky trail to the lake, Wind let out a breath of relief, sinking to the ground with a heavy sigh. His cheeks burned with sheepishness and hugged his body with arms that were too thin and too long.

___ ___ ___

Four happily ate every meal he was offered. Time never ate breakfast. Warriors preferred eating small snacks throughout the day rather than three large meals. Twilight couldn’t pass up a bowl of soup, no matter how many servings.  

Sky often skipped food in order to get a few more minutes of rest in the morning. Wild ate enough food to feed a village. Hyrule and Legend were hesitant about new foods, but they were both getting better at eating everything on their plate. 

Wind bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at his plate of fried rice. He hated how he knew all those facts, and he really disliked how much those facts mattered to him.

He didn’t really think of it before, but Wind wasn’t sure how much he should be eating. His granny always encouraged him to eat and stop when he was full, but adventuring couldn’t guarantee a next meal. He learned that very quickly. Living on the seas with nothing but a tiny boat and a goal to save his sister…

Wind had gotten so used to stuffing himself at any chance he got for food that it took a while for him not to immediately ask for seconds at every meal.

And suddenly, he didn’t know if he was full or hungry. He’d barely taken a single bite of the rice before his stomach groaned in misery. Wind wanted to eat, but…

“Wind? Is your food alright?”

Wild was asking him. Of course, the chef would be concerned about the only person not devouring his delicious dinner. 

“No, it’s great!” Wind lied, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth. It tasted sour and the texture clung to the sailor’s mouth like slime. “Thanks.”

Wild nodded, stepping back towards his spot besides the veteran. Legend and the champion were practically the same height, but were built completely different. Legend’s shoulders were broader, hips thinner and angular. His legs were a lot longer than the champion, who was basically even split between his upper and lower body. 

The sailor didn’t finish his dinner. 

____ ____ ____

Wind became obsessed with it.

How much he ate, what he did eat, what the others did and didn’t eat, how his clothes fit his body and how he stood next to his companions. 

Every spare chance he got, he measured himself. Compared how well he fit in his clothes  to the day earlier, or how big his arms were to Twilight. And Warriors. And Four. And Legend. And basically everyone at any given time.

He desperately wanted to gain muscle mass and weight, but no matter how much food he consumed, Wind felt disgusted in his skin and nothing ever physically changed. His arms (he could link his pointer finger and thumb around his wrist. Was that normal for a hero?) were pathetically thin. He wasn’t as strong as Time and Twilight. He wasn’t fast like Wild and Legend. He wasn’t graceful and cunning like Sky or Warriors.

He started preferring to bathe only when someone else wasn’t in the water. Which, was nearly impossible while traveling endlessly on the road. Wind made up excuses and waited until the last minute, hastily dipping in and out and refusing to look at his own reflection. He hated it, suddenly. Why did he have so many pimples on his forehead? He constantly felt sweaty and gross, his clothes sticking to his skin. And his body ached more and more, mostly in his legs and chest. 

And his shoes were still too damn small. 

One night, it became too much. Wind’s bones burned under an unknown force, muscles aching even though he hadn’t done anything strenuous in days. His stomach clenched and his too small, too tight clothes itched against his too thin, too long limbs and he couldn’t deal with it anymore. 

Wind hadn’t eaten breakfast (Time didn’t eat breakfast, and he was the tallest in the group! Clearly Wind didn’t need the extra meal) and “accidentally” missed lunch (he hadn’t wanted to eat. Sky napped instead of eating, so Wind would be okay for skipping out on some food…) and by the time dinner rolled around—

He pressed his forehead to his knees, hugging his arms (too long, too thin) around his legs. Wind’s stomach growled frustratedly, but the sailor ignored it, squeezing tighter. 

Between gasping breaths and half-choked sobs, Wind unlaced his shoes, slowly peeling the leather off of his poor feet. He winced at the fiery blisters scraping his skin raw. It was okay, though. Wild had twice as many scars and he was clearly fine—

“...Wind?”

The sailor jumped at the sound of Hyrule’s calm voice. He pawed at his face furiously, praying that the tears would slow.

They didn’t. Hyrule noticed instantly. “W–oh, hey, buddy, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Wind sniffed, turning away from the traveler’s wide hazel eyes. Out of everybody, Hyrule probably had the most similar body shape to the sailor. He was on the thinner side and pretty scraggly, with long arms and legs. 

But Hyrule looked….like Hyrule. The traveler never seemed bothered by how he walked and sat and how his body moved and functioned like Wind was. He was crafty, resourceful, confident—-nothing at all how Wind felt.

“Ouch, that looks pretty painful,” Hyrule grimaced as he inspected Wind’s foot. “Here. Need a red potion to heal it?”

Wind shrugged. It might help with some of the pain. He didn’t feel comfortable asking for medicine to soothe his muscles, so any relief at this point would be nice. 

Hyrule noticed Wind’s discarded boots, and realization lit up his features. “Did your shoes cause these?”

Wind nodded, not trusting his voice.

Hyrule clicked his tongue in disappointment, digging into his pocket as he popped open the cork to a tiny vital of cherry-red liquid. “I bet you’ve outgrown them. We’re around the same height, right? Try on one of my boots and see if they fit—If they do, I’ve got an extra pair in my bag.”

Wind obediently attempted to try on Hyrule’s shoe. Key word: Attempted.

“Oh,” Hyrule blinked. His boot fit even worse than Wind’s old ones. “Wow. You have pretty big feet.” 

Wind scowled. Great. Add that to the list.

“I’m sure Warriors has the next biggest size,” Hyrule told him. 

Something about wearing the same shoe size as Warriors rubbed Wind the wrong way. He wasn’t anywhere near Warrior’s height. Just how big were his feet, exactly? Should he be concerned about that?

Wind curled up again. What else can possibly be wrong about my body?

“Wind?” Hyrule said quietly, tilting his head a bit.

Wind’s lower lip trembled profusely, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. He scrubbed at his face—harder and harder, wishing he could claw off the endless pimples and baby fat in his cheeks.

“...Buddy?”

Hyrule tried. He really did. But Wind couldn’t take it anymore. He cried with all the energy he had left in him. Hyrule dragged him to the chain, practically limp and useless. Nobody’s words could soothe him. They uttered meaningless words into his ears, hushing him gently and easing him into his bedroll.

Like a little kid. 

Wind clung his blanket and refused to let go, water pouring down his face as he sobbed himself to sleep.

Chapter Text

I hate this.

Blue! You don’t always need to use such strong words!

We’re trapped in a pitch-black dungeon and I swear to Hylia, if another spider falls in my hair I’m going to start swinging.

None of Four’s other colors could quite disagree with Blue’s frustration. Dungeon crawling was work. Add 8 other people with very different qualifications and lower the light levels to zero, and any person would be at their wit’s end. 

Including Four.

I’m just sayin’, if Wild tries to give directions one more time, I’m going to shove the Sheikah Slate down his—

“Another dead end?” Wind wailed. 

Warrior’s tired discovery was met with several other groans. The captain sighed. Hyrule’s lantern highlighting the ash and grime painted across Warrior’s face, and the clear lack of rest. 

“Legend, let me see the map,” Warriors ordered, and the rest obeyed, albeit dragging their feet. Four was certain that everyone else was skeptical. Warriors and Time were their “leaders”. They naturally took charge in more high-stake situations. But Warriors’s lack of dungeon experience made others…question him.

“What if there’s a hidden wall again?” Four piped up. “Like the dungeon earlier?”

Warriors contemplated Four’s suggestion. “Mhm. Maybe.”

And then Legend stole his attention, yapping about how similar this dungeon was to one in his era. Four rolled his eyes as the chain relaxed, double checking their materials and scanned their surroundings for danger. 

This is so boring.

No one wants to compete!

Can’t even wander off alone without someone on our tail…

Four huffed, watching Hyrule patiently hold his beloved lantern for the captain. Of all people, he expected Hyrule to be the most resistant to Warriors leading. Hyrule practically revoked any kind of direction.

The smithy sighed, leaning against the back wall at a healthy distance. His feet hurt. The stuffy air was causing a headache, and his patience was getting especially low after so much misdirection. Four had completed dungeons with only ¼ of his soul. Why was this taking so long?

He wished he could split. They needed to cover as much ground as they could, and diving themselves into smaller groups would be way more fun. And a way to be competitive. 

I’ve still found more chests than all of you.

No, you haven’t.  

Not true!

You cheat.

…What's the point of playing a game if you don’t cheat?

Instead of delving into that subject, Four resorted to stretching, rolling his shoulders back and pulling his hands to the wall. It felt good, until—

CLICK!

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

…Um

Crap!

“Four!” Wind called, the closest to him, but it was too late. 

His hand pressed against a button and he jolted backwards as a giant wall emerged from above, the old stone crashing into the ground. It barely brushed past Four’s nose as the smithy pressed his entire body flat against the surface behind him, praying that he wouldn’t be squashed.

The falling wall didn’t squish him. Four risked opening an eye, only to find complete darkness. His breath puffed back in his face, and his only mobility was sideways—which was limited with how little space he had to move his feet. The trap would’ve crushed a larger man without question. The smithy was lucky he was alive. 

“Four?” came a muffled shout. “Four!”

“I’m here!” Four screamed, trying to adjust his shoulders and wincing at how tight the space was. His sword jutted into his back and he decided that moving was no longer an option. He couldn’t even take a step. “I’m okay.”

There was a moment of relieved silence. 

Then Warrior’s voice. “How much room do you have?”

Four didn’t think he was claustrophobic, but his heart was picking up speed a little too quickly as the smithy analyzed his current situation. Four’s stomach pressed against the wall, knees trapped and feet tilted uncomfortably. He couldn’t walk. Couldn’t sit. Forced to stand with his face against the cold, rotten stone. 

“Uh,” Four blurted. “None?”

“We’re going to have to break in,” Time explained. His loud, booming voice was reduced to a faint whisper. “We can’t use bombs—-the ceiling is too fragile, and if you can’t move…”

Four grimaced at the thought. “Yeah. I’m—I’m really stuck. I can’t….I can’t move.”

“Okay. Just stay calm. We’ll get you out.”

“Okay.”

Realistically, Four knew that the chain wasn’t that far away. There could only be a few layers of stone separating them.

But Four’s breath was warm against his own skin, hot and sticky. He was desperate for a deep breath. His headache throbbed in tune to his frantic heartbeat. 

Thump thump thump—

“Remember to take deep breaths,” Warriors called out, impeccable timing. “It…might take a little longer than we thought, but we’re going to get you out—”

“Why longer?” Four yelled. “Now is good. Now is great time, actually.”

“Smithy, we’re worried about the ceiling. The wall-contraption is connected—like a ramp sliding in through a hole. If we break the bottom, the top will come crashing down.”

Four didn’t need an elaboration of what that meant.

“Just…please hurry—”

SHHHHHK!

All of a sudden, the ceiling started…coming closer. 

“Guys?” Four shrieked. “The ceiling—-it’s falling.”

Warriors’ curse was snuffed out by Four’s rapidly growing panic. “The—the ceiling is coming down. I—I can’t move, please—

Like a well-oiled machine, the ceiling slowly trickled towards Four’s head. Four could hear the creaking stones moving closer, closer—

I can’t see it, I can’t see it, how much longer?

Four crouched as best he could, trying to wiggle towards the side, maybe to find some sort of hole, escape, maybe even a button to reverse the trap. But the walls—-

“ I’m gonna get squashed! ” Four screamed. He attempted to crouch but without any room to do so, his legs and especially his knees cried out in pain. 

“Four—hold on!” Wild ordered. 

Suddenly, the stones pressed against his cranium, a constant force shoving him to the floor. He tried to resist until his ankle popped under the force of the walls coming together. Four whimpered. 

He shut his eyes, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference either way. He couldn’t—-he couldn’t—- 

Please, I can’t—-not like this, please—-

“Wild, no—”

“He’s going to die! We need to do it!”

Four crumbled on his shins, legs twisted unnaturally as his back arched. He leaned upwards, begging for a final breath before—-

BOOM!

Bright, blindly blue light shot through Four’s eyelids. A pair of hands tugged and pulled and dragged him until the pressure disappeared and Four greedily gasped for the stupid dungeon air. Oh, sweet goddesses, he’d never complain about the grimey air again! 

Four was yanked out through a collapsing hole in the wall. A falling stone crushed his already bruising ankle and he yelped, practically throwing his weight as his savior to pull him through the rapidly collapsing ceiling. 

The two heroes thudded onto the floor, endless clouds of dust swarming them as Four hacked, unable to roll over and get the dirt out of his lungs.

Someone helped him, gently rubbing his back as he finished his horribly wet-sounding coughing fit. “There you go. Easy does it.”

Four kept his eyes shut, trembling as he mentally checked his body for any injuries.“Can’t, can’t feel—-” 

“Get a fairy,” Warriors instructed. Four latched onto the person rubbing his back. It turned out to be Sky.

“We used it earlier!”

“Hyrule–”

“His magic is already low enough by using the lamp for hours. You wanna be in pitch-black darkness with an injured teammate and no map to guide us? Yeah, didn’t think so!”

“Legend, we might not have a choice….”

“Hey, now’s not the time for bickerin’. Lemme carry ‘im.”

Sky’s scarred yet gentle hands transferred the smithy to Twilight. The sudden movement of Four getting dropped onto Twilight’s back made him scream, pain shooting through his neck and spine like fire.

“I know, smithy. Just hold on—”

The fire didn’t stop burning. The sudden movement combined with his nervous shaking made the pain triple in strength, drawing his energy to a complete stop as he suddenly was overtaken by a gray state of emptiness.

Chapter Text

After only being alive for a couple months, death was probably the worst thing that happened to him. 

Shadow expected it to be easier. Hylians talked about it often enough that you’d think they’d have a simpler way to die. Evolution or some shit. 

Nope. Dying was definitely the most painful thing ever. No battle, no achy shadow teleportation could ever compare to physically breaking the mirror, his own life source. Destroying Vaati was necessary—he would’ve died either way, in the end.

Perhaps that’s why he’s still haunted by it. 

Ha. A ghost being haunted. How ironic. 

Shattering that damn mirror had been like tearing apart his soul (or, whatever he had) bit by bit. Piece by piece. Until his body was gone. 

But somehow, he was conscious. Maybe? Shadow wanted to believe that he was “alive” by pure spite, but…

I’m not really alive, am I?

He was trapped again. Without sight, without hearing. No touch or taste or smell.

Yet he knew . Instinct, perhaps. A gut sensation.

I’m Link’s shadow again. 

Irony burned just as bad as death. Shadow knew he shouldn’t be able to feel. He knew that he shouldn’t be aware of his form. Afterall, he was scientifically gone. No body, no brain. Nothing could bring him back. Dark magic can’t create life from nothing, and Shadow’s life was completely gone.

But he’d been alive before. He knew too much now. He got to see and breathe and hear and taste and smell so many things, so many senses that made up just a few parts of life. Emotions and heartbreak and change—

Link doesn’t know I’m his shadow. He doesn’t know I’m right here.

Link was never very smart (don’t believe a word he says!). He was too cocky, in the beginning, though his accomplishments as his age probably got to his head. Shadow didn’t realize how easy it truly was. To let others’ words fuel you, consume you. Their praises got into your mind and rotted. 

“Maybe you are a hero after all.”

And Shadow died so confidently by those words…

A hero. If Shadow could scoff, he would’ve. Some hero. Currently cursed to a pathetic form, bound by someone else. 

Even if he were alive, Shadow wondered if he’d always be a shadow to someone else’s success. Dark Link. Vaati. Vio…

Vio…

For all his annoying courage and self-righteous crap, Link was a good guy. He changed, got humbled a couple times (four times, to be exact) and then came back even stronger. He probably became one person again—which, good. Hylian were barely able to comprehend a dragon, much less witness a soul split into four connected yet individual bodies. Hylians are so stupid. 

But Vio….

Vio played him. Shadow knew after the first week that it wasn’t real friendship. That was his enemy. Vio was technically the “smart” version of Link. The brains, so to speak. After only being alive for half a month, Shadow had a feeling (a real feeling!) that Vio was lying. He most likely couldn’t betray himself, when it came down to it. He was always meant to be Link, the real hero.

And yet…Shadow let Vio keep up his act. Toasted his name in praise, let him fake-duel Green and…

Movement. Shadow shouldn’t have been able to feel it. He was dead, he was long gone. Link couldn’t bring him back—hell, Dark Link couldn’t summon him from here. His form had truly disappeared. 

I’m dead. I’m dead and I’m gone and—

Did I really die as a hero?

It’s a question that Shadow was terrified to wonder. I’m dead. It doesn’t matter how I did at “life”, I’m never going back to it. I’m stuck like this until Link’s gone, or….I don’t know.

Did Hylian’s rank how each other did in life? Shadow came across a gravestone while he was alive. He wasn’t very good at reading, but he did manage to make out a few words on different markings, knight, son, beloved, rejoiced—-

What would my gravestone have said? I didn’t get any of those titles. Did I fail?

It didn’t matter. He played the villain, he did bad things and then got his ass kicked by this stupid punk in a weird-ass outfit and changed. God, that short little kid’s courage rubbed off of him and he killed Vaati, that annoying brat, and died as a hero. As a brother, maybe.

It didn’t matter. Really. Shadow won’t ever see again. He’d never hear, never breathe at all. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t—-

Did I die a hero?

He wanted to ask Vio. He hated how his last memory was their cries, their mourning. 

All of them leaned over his struggling form. Shadow recognized vague outlines of colors, but between the pain and vertigo, he barely saw them. He heard them, though. Their voices. Their reassuring promises. 

Shadow didn’t know what they were expecting. He chose his fate. Nobody could alter the outcome, not without severe costs. His death was the safest route. 

But by the gods, it hurt..

Somewhere in the middle of dying, Green gave him that….that look. Of understanding. And—

Here he was. Trapped. 

Shadow really hoped Link didn’t get him a gravestone. That would be stupid. Land cost money, and honestly, even Vio didn’t know him that well. Shadow let Vio play his little betrayal act and then he rode a dragon (which was absolutely spectacular, 10/10) and then….he died. That was it. The end.

Did I die a hero?

Shadow’s question was answered by no one.

Chapter Text

Ha. Look. It’s Red!

The punssss don’t get any better with age, Green.

So? It’s rrrrrred. Red. Red like…Red!

Yeah!

My head…hurts…

We share the same head, you dumb-dumb.

Nrgh…Our head hurts. 

Four agreed. Maybe. Kind of. 

He really wondered why grass wasn’t softer. The way it was described in books made it seem like a perfect pillow. 

Red grass…strange. It was actually gross and sticky and wet. Not comfy at all. But Four was too tired to move, for some reason. He forgot why…. Oh well. Maybe the grass was wet and gross, but at least it was a nice color. He always liked the color red—especially this kind. A deep, crimson staining his clothes and pouring from his chest….

…Should we be concerned?

About what? It’sssss….Red!

I like Red. I am Red! 

Everything…hurts….

A cold wash of gray threatened to over take him, but Four didn’t mind. Vio was right—his head and body did hurt. A faint buzzing echoed in his mind. Sleep would definitely help with the pain…

He shifted onto his side, cheek smushing against the wet grass as he sighed, faintly coughing. A few more minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt…

Chapter Text

“Take care of yourself, Hyrule. I love you.”

“Aw, vet. So tender and sweet.”

“...I’m going to eat your scarf.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I’ll miss you so, so, so much, Rulie!”

“I’m going to miss ya too, ‘Rule. Have fun out there, ya hear?”

“It’s been an honor traveling besides you. I wish you the best.”

“I second…third that? Either way, Hyrule, remember our plan. Collect a shitload of treasure and eat as many wild berries as you can find.”

“Wild!”

“Sorry, sorry…”

“I’ll…truly miss you all.”

“Aww, we finally got Time to cry! I thought it was scientifically impossible.”

“I’m not crying. It’s…springtime. Pollen. Allergies.”

“Uh-huh. Y’know, yer still not goin’ to escape th’ group hug.”

“Did someone say group-hug?!”

“Wait, Sky, NO—!”

That was Hyrule’s last group hug. His first was with the same people he ended that journey with, and he couldn’t be more happy with that. How amazed he felt to spend every waking day with his ancestor, the literal Hero of Legend, as an equal peer... 

But the following days stretched on for so long without any other voices to talk to…

Hyrule travelled. He kept his word. But there’s only so much treasure a man can find before desperation outshines it all. 

He misses them. A lot. Too much.

Wild had his Slate. Wind took as many pictures as his janky old device could carry. Legend and Warriors took notes, Time drew pictures, Sky wrote songs and Twilight painted. Four did all of the above.

And Hyrule had nothing. He didn't think it would last as long as it did, and he was silently hoping it wouldn’t end. That he would always journey with the chain, as Hyrule, as one of them. 

But it ended. Hyrule knew he should be thankful. Time needed Malon as Sky needed Sun, Wild needed his newly forming kingdom, Wind, Twilight, Four, Sky, and Warriors had family to return to.

And Hyrule had no one. 

Except Legend’s grave.

Hyrule wanted Legend back. He didn’t want Legend’s grave. Hyrule wanted him . 

Desperation can make a man go insane.

Time was too far gone to contact. Twilight and Wind didn’t even exist in this timeline. Wild and Warriors were…somewhere. The traveller couldn’t reach them no matter how hard he tried. 

But he found Legend’s grave and his skull, rotten and decayed. And that was all he needed to target his desperation into something worth pursuing. Hyrule had a purpose, again. Other than exploring and being an overall nobody, disliked by every town and cave he came across.

He picked up a book in the ancient hallways of the castle library. The pages were littered with dust and insects crawling through the spines, but the words remained intact. That was all Hyrule needed. 

Hyrule obeyed every instruction, double and triple checking the steps to make sure he got this right. If not, he’d try again. 

Desperation can make a man go insane.

His blood soaked into the dirt in a swirling pattern. Hyrule could smell the evil forces already drawing nearer at the smell of his cursed blood, but he ignored it. If this spell was executed correctly, the blood would transform into—

Legend rose from the grave. His spine cracked like a glass and his neck twisted, skin and his muscles weaving through the sickly, weak bones. Most importantly, Hyrule’s blood poured upwards into the gaping holes in the veteran’s body, pulling and stretching his legs together and forcing a “heart” to pump and “lungs” to wheeze. 

Legend’s brain was visible in the gaps of his skull. Blood leaked from the holes, but trailed down his bones to create flesh, white and untouched by sunlight for a millenia. That was okay. Hyrule and Legend could adventure forever, now. Legend would get plenty of sunlight with him!

Just like before.

The veteran’s body stood crookedly, like a door off of its hinge—but he was still standing! His eyes sagged in their sockets, his teeth permanently exposed without part of his lips to protect them. But corpses didn’t really need to eat—right? He’d be fine!

Legend made a sound that rumbled in his hollow chest. 

Hyrule grinned, snapping the summoning book closed with a prideful thud!

“Welcome home, Legend!”

Chapter Text

Some days just suck. Today was one of those days.

Right off the bat, Legend woke up from a dizzying flashback of a red-haired angel and a god disguised as a whale. How perfect. 

He rubbed his eyes a little longer than he should’ve, making sure there weren't any tears staining his face and preventing any more tears from coming. He didn’t (couldn't…) really have dreams anymore. At best, Legend’s memories flooded his brain when he was particularly relaxed. Which of course, made his mood plummet. Immediately. Part of him hated that his mind still tried to dream. He wished that part of him died, like when he killed that damn island and everyone on it—

“Legend.”

“Mm?” Legend mumbled, pulling his knees to his chest and blinking slowly. He recognized Hyrule’s voice, but he was too tired to process his tone. “What’s up?”

“Oh. Um. I was making sure you were awake,” Hyrule replied. He seemed sheepish. “You, uh, were saying stuff. In your sleep.”

Great. “Hopefully I didn’t say anything stupid?”

Hyrule shrugged. He offered a hand to the veteran, the morning sun forming a halo around his warm, caramel-colored hair. “Nothing much. You rambled about a whale for a little bit. And something about a mare? Marin, maybe?”

It took everything in his body not to lash out at Hyrule for speaking her name. Legend knew it didn't matter—Hyrule didn’t know her. But Legend couldn’t make himself acknowledge her existence (?), and hearing someone else say it so casually….it hurt. And he hated it. 

He hated a lot of things. Mornings included. Especially this morning. God, he hated how annoyed he was at everything. Marin would hate him for it—

“Legend?” Hyrule prompted as Legend remained in stiff-cold silence. “Uh. Are you feeling…okay?”

“Fine,” Legend spat. He hated his tone. He hated how Hyrule flinched. He hated how his dry tunic itched the scars lining his body and hated the ringing in his ears. 

He hated that Marin and all of Koholint was gone. It was his fault, and he hated himself for it—

“Well,” Hyrule cleared his throat. A humble hero, given so little but blessed with so much. Maybe having less people to lose hurt less, in the end. Legend didn’t know.

 “I’ll let you…wake up first. I bet Warriors is making coffee—want me to bring you some?”

“No, that’s alright,” Legend told him, doing his best not to seem harsh. The words barely came out in a neutral reply. “Yell at me when breakfast is ready.”

Hyrule nodded. “‘Kay.”

And Legend was left alone. 

___ ____ ___

Legend hated a lot of things, but he could give credit when it was due. Warriors was incredibly perceptive, almost to a fault. He read emotions and tone like it was his first language, which was great for social situations. Sure, the captain had his quirks (he was totally a pyromaniac. He thought he was keeping it undercover, but he definitely wasn’t) but overall, Legend trusted Warriors could take an insult without harm. 

The captain hadn’t uttered a word to the veteran since that morning, when Legend shut down a playful jab. It wasn’t even a big deal. Legend always looked like the walking dead. He knew that! He hadn’t slept a full night since…since…

….it didn’t matter. Legend had lived through more bad days than good, and today was a sucky day. So when Warriors joked that Legend should try on concealer to help his eyebags, he snapped. Angry and bitter like the same man to let an entire island die... 

Everyone kinda avoided him after that. Legend didn’t blame them. He knew how he came across most days. His usual sarcasm was incredibly harsh at best, and he could already feel wrinkles forming beneath his frown. 

So unlike the guy she fell in love with…

It was alright. Marin would never know.

Hyrule walked with him, side by side, patiently waiting for Legend to get out of his funk and join in a…very interesting conversation with Wild. The champion was a social butterfly but lacked any sort of filter, which was either hilarious or painfully confusing. Usually both.  

Wild was currently rambling on about statues (“And then, he ate my soul! Or at least my stamina soul. Some kids in Hateno were trading their souls, so I figured it couldn’t end too badly!”) when—

CRRRRR-ACK!

Like lightning, a portal cut into the ground under Legend’s feet. It grew by the millisecond, swallowing the veteran’s cries as he fell into the void.

He didn’t have time to process falling. Hell, he barely had time to process that a fucking portal appeared under his boots when he thudded onto strikingly bright grass like a pathetic ragdoll. 

His screams cut off mid-breath as he rolled to a stop, tensing in anticipation. Rarely portals came without some sort of goal. And if Legend had been separated on purpose…

Legend kept his breathing even, trying to maintain a calm exterior. He cracked open an eye to observe the area around him. No sounds of monsters or animals alerted him of danger. No smoke—no clear signs of battle either. Nothing stood out as dangerous, but Legend was too experienced to believe in the childish safety of “looks friendly”.

That tree looks familiar…

A giant oak tree shaded him from the midday sun. It looked like a face. The veteran could’ve sworn it looked just like the tree next to the hill leading into his home…

Whatever. Weird coincidence.

He had his weapons, so he wasn’t terribly concerned. As Legend tried to jump back to his feet, his legs protested loudly and he barely caught himself before faceplanting. 

“Nrg,” Legend groaned. Stupid hips. Stupid bones. Why did people even have bones? Everyone should just remove all their bones. That would surely cause less problems—

“Hey, Mr. Hero! Where did you come from?”

Legend whipped around at the familiar voice coming from down the road. Just as he imagined, a blob of purple was rushing towards him, floppy rabbit ears trailing behind. 

“Rav?” Legend called out, keeping his sword drawn just in case. Ravio rarely put his hood down, especially in public. 

Speaking of which, is that my house?

“Sweet Nayru, this is so weird,” Legend blurted. That was his house in the distance, alright. But the roof was…green? “Ravio! Did you paint the walls again? I told you not to do that–!”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Within moments, Ravio’s cheery expression dimmed into sheer determination and anger. 

“Stand back!” Ravio squeaked, drawing the—- is that the Master Sword???

“ Where did you get that? ” Legend gawked, staring at the glistening gold blade in the merchant’s hand. He aimed it with practice, glaring daggers at Legend’s face. Ravio didn’t step any closer, but he stared at the veteran as if trying to recognize a stranger. 

Okay, this day could not get any worse. “...Ravio?”

Ravio stiffened. “You’re not…Link? What…what are you wearing?”

Legend had been through a lot, but this was…confusing. 

Okay. He doesn't recognize me. Or maybe he does?

Time travel, maybe? Alternate reality? Did Ravio mess with my potions again? Amnesia?

“Why do you have my Master Sword?” Legend challenged, keeping his hands in clear view for the rabbit. Ravio didn’t seem like he wanted to attack. In fact, he looked more bewildered than Legend felt. 

“You gave it to me,” Ravio explained quietly. “When you retired two years ago.”

Alright, what the fuck?

“ Retired? ” Legend echoed. “I—what year is it?”

“612.”

Shit. Not time travel, then. “And you…know me?”

Ravio hesitated. “Yes…? We live together. I was just on my way to find your uncle and tell him the apples have been selling fantastically—”

“M-My uncle?” Legend spat. He never told Ravio about his uncle. “What—?”

“Did you…hit your head on something?” Ravio lowered his sword. “Oh, dear. I’m so sorry! Tsk, no wonder you seem so shaken!” 

Ravio dug through the small pouch at his hip, displaying a red potion. “Here, Link—and drink it fast. Lolia, I’m so stupid! Marin’s going to have my head–!”

Her name always made Legend’s heart skip a beat, but this time, not for a good reason.

“Who?” Legend demanded. 

Ravio shouldn’t know about her. He didn’t know about Legend’s uncle and he definitely didn’t give out potions for free. 

Retired? The Master Sword? What is going on??

“Your…girlfriend?” Ravio informed him. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t popped The Question yet. I’m sure she’d say yes! You two have been together ever since you saved Koholint! You even convinced Tarin to move into Kakariko!”

What. The. Fuck.

Ravio paused, noticing Legend’s lack of a response, and panicked. “Oh my goddess, did you not remember? Were you cursed? A concussion? Oh gods, Marin’s going to kill me—!”

“Ravio,” Legend ‘s hands latched onto the merchant’s shoulders, keeping Ravio in a vice-like grip. “Marin. Uncle. Where are they?”

“Um, at our house?” Ravio flinched, pointed to the hill next to the giant tree. “Uh. Why don’t you drink the red potion? Please?”

“I’m not hurt,” Legend replied. Sweet Faore, this day could not get any weirder. He glared at the swirling red liquid. “And you’re…not going to charge me for this?”

“Heavens, no!” Ravio exclaimed. “You’ve done so much for me, it’s the least I could do! Besides, you help me run my shop in your home. I will always do my best to repay you!”

“Repay” and “Ravio” did not belong in the same sentence. Legend wondered if maybe he did hit his head falling down from the portal. This felt like a fever dream. Ravio talking about Uncle, Marin, their home, retirement…

Legend immediately drank the potion, wishing it had the bitter aftertaste of alcohol. Instead, it sunk into his stomach and rotted in his nausea. 

That was his not-house. A not-Ravio was standing in front of him. That was his not-orchard. He maybe sort of lived there.

This is fake. This is not…real. I’m dreaming. 

“How are you feeling now?” Ravio asked gently, placing the back of his palm to Legend’s forehead. “You don’t feel feverish…Y’know, let’s go home. I’m sure we have some magic items that can cure you!” He frowned, processing his plan. “Well, we might have to sneak in, if you want to avoid—”

“Ravio! Link! What are you two doing out there?”

All at once, Legend regretted drinking that potion. It sloshed around, threatening to come back up. 

The road to his “home” was different. It didn’t curve like that normally, and it was a lot more run down. His real orchard was in far worse condition after years of neglect. Ravio’s marketing signs were posted all over his main house, not on a side compartment like this world’s. 

But her voice….

It should be a trick. Legend really prayed it was. For the first time in years, he begged the gods that he could wake up from this nightmare-reality once more.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look—

He found his eyes were lost by her beauty once more. 

Marin skipped towards them, her pale blue gown trailing behind her. She lacked a flower in her hair, but it seemed she embroidered several hibiscuses onto her dress in replace of a long red sash.

No.

“Link?” Marin asked. 

You’re gone. This isn’t real. I—

She frowned, placing her gentle hands on his cheek, inspecting his face. “Rav. What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know!” Ravio squealed. “I—I just found him lying on the side of the road! I think he hit his head. He’s been acting strange! I’m sorry!”

Marin made a small humming sound. Her beautiful hazel eyes poured into his, looking for something Legend couldn’t give anymore. “Link, love?”

Don’t do this to me. Please. Please—

“Son?” 

Goddesses, please. Not him. Please—

“Link!” His uncle—- that’s my uncle, he should be dead, he’s gone —”Oh, gods. You don’t look too well.”

His uncle, purple hair shining in the sunlight, dusted in dirt and painted in the sickly sweet stench of apples, stepped closer. Always so observant and caring. 

I let him die. He’s dead. He’s dead and I’m sorry—

Uncle frowned, slowly cradling Link—no, he’s Legend. Legend the veteran with 6 adventures under his belt and the guilt of every life he ruined—into his arms. “Ravio, get red potion—eh? Already had one? Hmp, well then. Hey kid, breathe in and out, yeah? You’re safe. Let’s go inside.”

Legend shook his head vehemently. He couldn’t. He needed to run. He needed to get away—

“He’s panicking again,” his uncle informed Marin. “Open the door for me, will ya?”

“No,” Legend wailed, but he was useless against Uncle’s soothing touch. How he was always able and willing to carry him, literally or figuratively, through any obstacle he came across. That was one of the many attributes he missed the most.

I’m sorry you died—

“It’s been so long since he’s had a flashback,” Marin ushered softly. The creak of the door echoed behind her voice. 

He was placed somewhere soft and familiar. His couch. Goddesses, there was even the same stain on the armrest where Legend spilled his tea one morning. 

Still not my couch. This isn’t my home. This isn’t real—

There was a knock. 

“Oh! Zelda!” Ravio’s voice piped up. “What are you d—?”

“A portal just appeared on the castle grounds. Deep, dark magic, and—” That…that was Zelda. Sweet Nayru, Legend couldn’t take this anymore. “L—What’s wrong with him?”

“Hush,” Uncle scolded. “Not the time.”

Legend pressed his face into the cushion, wishing he could stop shaking. He wished he could see something. But whenever he dared to steal a glance, the haunting red flames of Marin’s hair came into light and he squeezed his eyes tight.

“A portal?” Ravio was saying. “Dark magic? Odd. I’ll need to go to the castle and talk to Hilda. Lorule hasn’t had any problems ever since Hilda fixed the Triforce—-”

What kind of hell was he trapped in? What did he do to deserve a punishment like this?

“I need to tell Tarin that I’ll be staying the night,” Marin sighed. Her fingers washed through Legend’s hair like the ocean waves, and he wanted to cry. 

“Maple can run the message to Kakariko,” Zelda informed her. “Or I can.”

“We need to get to the castle,” Ravio corrected. “Let me close my shop for the night and I’ll head out with you—”

“---hate seeing him like this—”

“---it’ll be okay—”

“—imagine if this happened while—-”

“----he was never alone, Princess Zelda. Not my boy and not on my watch. Link’s always had us—”

“---we’re always going to be here to help him—!”

“---Oh….Love, why are you crying?”

He couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t take hearing their voices overlap in concern, knowing damn well half of them shouldn’t even be alive, much less know each other like friends—

“I’m sorry,” He sobbed, trying, fighting for words that wouldn’t come. “I—I’m sorry…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Marin reassured him with a smile that Legend spent days wishing he could see again. She pressed her lips to his forehead. “Tell us what you need. We’re here for you.”

“Where are you going, Link?”

“...”

“...You’re going to the mountain, aren’t you?”

“...”

“Well…I…I’ll be here for you, back in the village. I’ll…see you later, Link.”

And he hadn’t said goodbye.

Zelda and Link rarely talked. Ravio was only living in Hyrule with him because Lorule was so beyond corruption that it was safer to be a criminal than to live in a dying world brimming with dark magic. Uncle was dead. Marin was dead. 

I’m sorry I’m sorry I’msorryI’msorry—-

“Please,” Link asked. “Please stop.”

His house finally sounded like his own. Quiet. Empty.

“I’m not…” Legend was beyond saving his dignity, reduced to a snivelling mess of tears and snot as he forced himself into a sitting position, gripping his hair tight enough that it hurt. “This isn’t real.”

“Of course it’s real,” Marin immediately told him, wrapping her arms around his body. She drew constellation patterns along his back to soothe him. “We’re real, it’s safe, and we’re always here for you—”

“You’re dead.”

His voice rings out, bitter and hateful like the person he’s become. 

“You’re dead,” Legend repeated. “Koholint is gone. This isn’t real—”

“You came from the portal, didn’t you?”

Zelda’s dull tone that snaps Legend back into existence. It’s the only thing familiar about this situation.

Realization dawned on Ravio’s face. “Oh.” 

“The portal’s magic brought you here,” Zelda continued, expression uncannily blank and sorrowful.  “Didn’t it?”

Legend couldn’t make himself nod, but his silence spoke for him.

“You…you have the Triforce of Courage,” Marin cradled his hand in her palm, running over the faded yellow marking in his skin. “I don’t…that doesn’t make any sense—”

"Your Triforce of Courage doesn’t belong here,” Zelda spoke quietly. “I…I have a feeling that you can’t stay for very long.”

Legend nodded. 

“Well,” Zelda cleared his throat. “We…We need to get you back. The rift is still open for a reason, and we can’t have anything else wandering in—”

“Is she right?” Marin suddenly demanded, forcing Legend to return her bloodshot gaze. “You’re someone else? You’re not my Link?”

Gods, those words hurt like a blade piercing his body. He bit his tongue so hard that it bled. 

“No,” Legend agreed. “I’m not…this world’s Link. I’m sorry.”

“But you still…know us?”

How could I forget? Legend winced.

“How many adventures has your Link been on?” Legend wondered. 

“5.” Marin answered. “He saved Hyrule at 10 years old, then traveled to Holodrum, Labrynna, Koholint, Hyrule again and Lorule. My Link is 19, and a world-renowned hero and traveler.” She bit her lower lip. “You…you look exactly the same.”

Legend couldn’t help but realize that the only difference between this world and his own was that everyone he loved got to stay alive.

“Yeah,” Legend cleared his throat harshly. “I…I think it’s a mix of time travel and dimensional-trespassing crap. I shouldn’t be here. You two,” he pointed at Uncle and Marin “--are dead, you freeload in my basement, you hate me, and…”

“We need to get you back to your own home,” Zelda interrupted. “You don’t belong here. Link—our Link—should be here any minute. I’m sure he sensed the magic as well, and I prefer not to cause any interdimensional paradoxes of the same person meeting each other.”

“But…he’s already been talkin’ to us,” Uncle cut in. “He’s clearly not alright. Can’t he stay a bit longer?”

“I’m afraid not,” Zelda instructed. “I can’t guarantee the portal will remain open. We need to act before it’s too late. I’m assuming this happens to you often?”

Legend flinched. Curse princesses and their wisdom. “How did you—”

“Oh, you’re just the same,” Zelda scoffed. “You reek of magic. Powerful magic. Anyone who’s ever touched a firerod can sense it.”

“What do you mean, the same?” Legend demanded. “So there’s…really another me?”

It made sense. Everyone recognized him first. He was the bridge between every kingdom he ever saved. 

“Yes,” Zelda nodded. “You…you look alarmingly similar. If there hadn’t been a portal, I…I doubt I would’ve noticed.”

So there was an identical doppelganger hero happily running around and enjoying his life with a happy family and his beloved girlfriend. Legend wondered if his soul had been crushed enough, or if he was going to disintegrate on the spot. 

______

The walk was long and painstakingly silent to the castle grounds, but Legend memorized every second. Every breath he took besides Uncle and Ravio and Marin and Zelda burned his chest, and he stared at each ring detail he wished he could savor just a few seconds longer.

He didn’t care if this reality haunted his “dreams” for the rest of his life. If this was the only chance he got to stand besides everyone he let down, then so be it.

Legend wished he got to see how impactful he was on this world. He wanted to see Kakariko. He wanted to see the palace, the orchard——

Zelda suddenly gasped, and pointed ahead. Legend considered running away, but it was pointless. The portal thrummed with a horrifyingly strong energy, pulling and tugging Legend closer, closer—

“It’s for you, then,” Zelda concluded. Her face was ashen with emotions Legend didn’t know how to process. “I…”

He had so many questions. So many things he’d always wanted to know. About his family. About Uncle and Marin and the future they could’ve had together.

But it was never meant for him.

The portal loomed closer. Marin took a step back, and he yearned for the warmth again.

“Before you go,” Marin said slowly. “I just need to ask one question, Link.”

“...”

“I know that you’re not…our Link,” Marin explained. She twisted their fingers together. Legend frowned. He guessed that his hands would always be too calloused for hers. “A-and it might not be the same where you’re from, but…”

“Did you love us?” 

And the portal closed before Legend could say goodbye.