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Intertwinement

Summary:

A collection of probably unrelated ficlets cross-posted from tumblr.

Notes:

I'm posting these here as a reward to myself for finishing the first two assignments of my master's bc the last few weeks have just kinda sucked (for reasons unrelated to studying lmao).

Any necessary content/trigger warnings will be at the start of each chapter. I'll update this whenever a new ficlet pops into being, which is wholly reliant on obtaining custody of the writing brain cell from my friend group.

(See the end of the work for other works inspired by this one.)

Chapter 1: Phoning a Friend (Warriors, Wild & Time)

Summary:

Warriors watches two versions of the Champion play Stop Hitting Yourself.

Notes:

Alt title: Wild uses his patented Time Summoning Method

Minor content warning for blood but nothing serious.

(Song rec if anyone wants it: Bite Marks by League of Legends/TEYA).

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Warriors watches the two Champions blearily, forcing his eyes to stay focused on them. He knows one is the Shadow but he can’t let himself entertain the possibilities of who the other one is. For now, he has to think of it nothing more than another potential enemy.

The one with the odd spear that gleams gold, its green gem ornaments clinking softly against the shaft as he twirls it, keeps himself between Warriors and the twisted Champion. The golden spear spins and spins, batting away a sickening dark blade every time the bloodstained, withered Champion tries to break through his guard.

Watching the spinning spear is actually making Warriors feel nauseous. Well, he mentally amends that to ‘more nauseous’, glancing down at the blood spreading across his tunic.

And this weird noise, whatever it is, isn’t helping! There’s something heavy weighing the clearing down, pressing into Warriors’ skin.

All he can hear is this pulsing loud tick tick tick in his ears, accompanied by an odd warping sensation in his limbs.

It’s magic, he knows that much, but he’s never felt it before and has no idea which Champion it may be coming from, if it even is either of them casting the spell.

He turns his head to spit out a mouthful of blood and it feels like the movement takes an eternity to complete.

So either his blood loss is more severe than he thought, or there’s something else going on.

The spear-wielding Champion darts backwards, his grip along the spear finally shifting into a proper stance, grinning wildly.

Ha, Warriors is hilarious.

A large shining gem sitting at the dip of the first Champion's throat lights his face up from below, all deep shadows and softened edges. He’s breathing heavily, a slight tremble visible in his fingers as he readjusts his grip.

The other Champion across from them makes a sweeping gesture with its withered arm and something red and alive spurs into life, lunging forward. The shape twists, absorbing what remains of the rotted flesh, and large, monstrous fingers stretch into existence. They reach through the darkness for the first Champion, wicked under the moonlight.

The first Champion raises the spear slightly in response, his grin vanishing as it's smothered under a blank, smooth expression that Warriors refuses to recognise. The fingers, the vile magic, get closer to his face, closing the distance rapidly—

And Time shoots out of the bushes, the Biggoron sword catching the moonlight as it arcs through the air and severs the arm from withered Champion's body. The arm hits the ground and melts into a writhing pool of furious magic, thrashing around that Champion’s feet.

The ticking in Warriors’ ears stops so abruptly he's thrown off-kilter, reeling at the sudden silence left in its wake.

Time glances at him, a quick look filled with concern and worry, then shifts his gaze to the spear-wielding Champion — Wild, Warriors lets himself finally acknowledge.

Dozens of micro-expressions fly rapidly across Time's face before he finally decides on grim determination.

“That,” he says in an almost wobbly tone of voice, taking up stance next to Wild, “is loud.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told. Sorry about that.” Wild agrees, still focused on the withered copy of himself standing in front of them. He shoots Time a small grin, barely there but blindingly obvious if you know what to look for. “Worked though.”

Time lets out a quiet huff of laughter, his own small smile twitching across his face. He shifts, sword held tightly in both hands. "You're definitely not wrong about that, Wild. When we get back to camp, you'll have to tell me how you managed to make your magic even louder than it already was."

Notes:

Wild *post-totk, going through a portal and finding Warriors half dead*: lmao don't worry I got this
Wild: *floods the entire forest with his secret-stone amplified magic*
Time *instantly from like 1km away*: HELP IS ON THE WAY
--
Welcome to my silly headcanon of post-totk Wild sharing the Sage of Time title with Flora while having absolutely no control over his newly amplified magic.
Who or what is he slowing time down on? No one knows, least of all Wild.

Chapter 2: Inherited Handwriting (Time, Twilight & Wild)

Summary:

Time contemplates the physical manifestations of his future and ends up thinking about the past.

Notes:

Minor content warning for background themes around adoption's psychological effects and loss of/implied non-forceful removal from family.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He’s got Wild tucked into one side and Twilight against the other. They’re both asleep, breathing even and deep, faces softly lit by the pale moonlight above.

Time watches them both, neck craned awkwardly in order to do so.

It’s strange sometimes, knowing these two are his descendants, that they are his future. He can’t really think of them as his sons, per se. There’s barely a decade between himself and Wild, if one considers their physical ages, and about half that time between him and Twilight.

But still it’s quietly baffling to think that his legacy has not only one but two tangible forms.

Wild doesn’t really resemble either Time or Twilight.

Eons have stretched out between Time's inevitable death and Wild's birth, their bloodline naturally changing as the centuries tick past. The only physical appearance that has survived that passage of time seems to be the colour of his eyes; that same sharp, bright blue as Time's own.

But there are other things that have made themselves known; small tics and habits that Time had once dismissed as irrelevant and miniscule in himself finding their way into another person who exists a millennia later.

Perhaps the worst and most recognisable trait of all is the way Wild carries his guilt close to his chest, cloaked by his cheerful demeanour to keep it away from prying eyes.

It certainly is painfully familiar. Twilight does the same thing, but hides his behind a wall of bone-deep protective instincts and care.

And Time has always hid his guilt beneath a mask of festering anger.

He isn’t sure if he can truly call it a family trait; the entire Chain has things they don’t want to talk about and things they continue to hide even now, after all.

However there are occasions where this behaviour certainly feels like something Twilight and Wild, who will be born centuries and millennia after Time's own life will come to an end, are destined to inherit from him.

But in a way, Time is grateful that Wild only shares habits and behaviours. It's much harder in Twilight's case because Twilight actually looks like Time.

Time can see himself in the shape of their faces, the line of their noses. Twilight's chin and physical build are all from Malon, and even the texture of his hair is closer to Malon's than to Time's.

In the back of Time's mind, he's quietly thankful for those few differences because he knows the very striking and blatant similarities had thrown Twilight off too for the first few weeks of this quest.

Much like Time, Twilight has never known his parents; he has no memories of them at all. Apparently all he'd had when Uli found him in the Ordon Spring was a small blanket with his name embroidered on one corner.

Twilight had grown up never knowing his blood, had never had anyone who looked like him at all through his childhood.

And Time knows exactly what that does to a person.

In a strange way, the Kokiri had softened the blow for him, because Time had been nine years old before he first heard statements like ‘you have your mother’s eyes’ being directed towards another person.

It was aged nine when he had been able to see how Malon looks like her father, and how Lullaby has an almost uncanny resemblance to her own ancestors, their faces well-preserved in portraits that decorate the walls of Hyrule Castle.

There is no need for biological resemblance among the Kokiri, so it had been an almost mystifying concept for his young mind to grasp. He hadn’t truly understood back then, too young at first, and then too busy and angry to truly pay attention, but eventually time will march on and with each step comes awareness.

So eventually Time too had found himself wondering just who he looked like? Who he got this trait or that habit from?

The Great Deku Tree had told him his mother fled a war, entrusting him to the Kokiri before she passed. Does Time have her eyes, like Twilight does Malon's? Does he have her nose, like Twilight has his?

The questions, even to this day, are endless and almost insanity-inducing, and he has tried his best to ignore them, to push them away for his own mental health.

It isn’t fair to say it as bluntly as he does, but seeing Twilight had brought all those questions Time had locked away back to the forefront of his mind. They’re not questions Time expects to ever get an answer to.

But somehow the knowledge that Twilight gets to know who he looks like, that he gets to know who he got his eyes and his nose and his face from is relieving and comforting and…

... And bittersweet.

Notes:

I really gotta stop bullying Time.
This is something I've been trying to write about Twi for like... over 8 months with no success. Turns out it's just so much easier to stack trauma on Time.
Sorry, buddy.

There's this debate about whether handwriting is genetic or not. It's interesting to think about how many generations forward something as small as handwriting might go.

Chapter 3: Twin Stranger (Champion & Wild)

Summary:

TFW when you get a time-travelling mentor but he's your alternate timeline self.
And he also may or may not be haunted by the ghosts of your friends.

Notes:

Back at it again with the canon-typical violence tag <3

This is set in a random situation where Wild, mid-LU, gets to experience Age of Calamity and ends up as a bit of a mentor for Champion.
It's also longer than I'd usually allow a ficlet to be, but I heard one (1) League of Legends cinematic song and immediately had to write a fight scene to it (this happens every time LOL release a cinematic lmao)

Content warning: temporary character death (I don't think it's explicit or severe enough to warrant an actual tag tho? let me know if it is)

(Song rec: Here, Tomorrow by League of Legends, Lilas & Kevin Penkin.)

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Champion!”

Link twists as much as he can, cursing softly under his breath as his arms wobble violently and the piece of rubble presses down harder onto his ribs. Wild drops into a crouch beside him, one hand squeezing Link’s shoulder. Link can't shy away from the touch like he usually does, but thankfully Wild doesn't let his hand linger.

“Are you hurt badly?” He asks.

Link shakes his head, gritting his teeth. The question, the implication of incompetence, stings. “Get it off.”

“Already on it.”

Wild reaches for the Sheikah Slate at his side but pauses, ears twitching. He twists on his heel, a shield quickly stitching itself into being from ribbons of Sheikah blue. A Guardian beam slams into the metal not even a second after Wild raises the shield, and the force of the blast makes his heels dig into the dirt.

Link strains his neck the best he can to look and kind of wishes he hadn’t. Several Guardian Stalkers – infected with malice, great – are scuttling across the grassy field towards them. The toxic magic drips off their legs and leaves burning pools in their wake.

Wild curses, hunkering closer to the ground so the shield can cover Link better. His eyes dart between the Guardians.

Link tries very hard not to look at the burns that cover his alternate self’s face. Everyone has been reticent to talk about just what, exactly, had happened to Wild, but the scars on his face and body say more than enough.

He’s been wondering if he and Wild – and every other version of them that may exist – are always doomed to fall to the Guardians. It’s something that’s been in the back of his mind over the last three days, ever since the stranger with his face arrived and helped free Mipha and Vah Ruta.

He doesn’t know if he’s ready to learn the answer to that question, to learn what fate has in store for him.

Wild breathes out hard through his nose and squares his shoulders. “Ah, fuck it.”

A Guardian beam slams into the shield, causing him to snarl. The metal begins to buckle and strain from the force. Link can feel the heat of the blast ripple through his hair.

Another Guardian starts to line up its shot; Link can hear it beeping rapidly.

Wild jams his eyes closed.

“I know you guys are there, and I know you can hear me.” He says softly, speaking to someone Link can’t see. “I need your help. Please.”

The air around them thickens. An unseen presence brushes kindly against Link’s forehead, and moves on to settle onto Wild’s shoulders.

When he opens his eyes, they glow slightly, illuminated by something inside him that hadn’t been there before. He grins at Link. “It’s gonna be okay, Champion.”

The beeping of the Guardian reaches a fever-pitch. Link knows Wild’s shield will not hold this time. He takes a breath, wanting his last one to be peaceful, and whispers an apology to Princess Zelda and to his family. He thinks of his little sister, remembering her bright, toothy smile.

The Guardian lets its beam loose.

Someone very familiar yells.

Fire erupts around them as the world turns teal and orange.

Link stares as Daruk appears out of the teal fire, his Protection closing around them. The Guardian beam ricochets off the barrier and sets the meadow to their right ablaze. Smoke and burned blades of grass eddy into the air.

Daruk looks down at Link, eyes solemn and sad, and vanishes.

Wild, on the other hand, lets his shield fall to the ground with a dull thud, and takes off in a full sprint, pulling the Master Sword from his Slate as he goes. The blade chimes loudly, glowing a bright, divine light.

For a moment, just like it’s done every time Wild has held it, Link hears a soft whisper of “Master,” on the wind.

It’s hard to watch from this angle, but Wild streaks across the meadow, cleaving straight through one of the Guardian’s legs. As it topples, unbalanced by the sudden loss, he leaps up and buries the Master Sword to the hilt in its eye.

As the Guardian begins to flash and shudder, Wild drops into a crouch. Five targeting lasers lock on and spirit flame dances around him once again.

This time it’s Revali who appears and launches him skyward with barely a second to spare. As the five Guardian lasers destroy the ground where Wild had just been, he plucks a bow from the Slate and pulls the drawstring back.

The world slows to a crawl, the sudden deprivation of sound making Link’s ears ring. He watches as Wild lets ancient arrow after ancient arrow fly all while Revali’s ghostly form swoops around him, using his Gale to slow Wild’s descent.

Each arrow finds its mark, striking the Guardians’ blue-fire eyes. Revali turns his head, barely slowed by the Champion ability Link and Wild share, and meets Link’s gaze head-on. Just like Daruk, Revali looks solemn, but he still throws a mock-salute Link’s way.

Wild lands in a roll as time snaps back to normal. The Guardians around him explode, purple smoke twisting up towards the blue sky. As he gets to his feet, another Guardian laser flies towards him and slams into Daruk’s Protection a second before it would've hit Wild. He still staggers from the surprise of the hit, and the three remaining Guardians close the distance rapidly.

Daruk doesn’t vanish this time. He murmurs something, inaudible over the clanging of the Guardians’ legs and the distance, but Wild nods. The Master Sword chimes again, the sound almost vicious, and Wild raises his free hand quickly, snapping his fingers.

Daruk’s figure is replaced by Urbosa, who tosses her hair and bares her teeth as lightning strikes all around them. As the Guardians freeze, circuits shorting out, she turns to seek Link out, and her proud expression softens into one of sympathy.

She snaps her fingers again, raining more lightning down onto the Guardians. Wild darts around her, a blur of blonde hair and divine light carving through the Guardians’ legs and chassis with ease.

The Guardians crumble beneath the Master Sword’s blade, malice wisping up into the sky above as they explode, and Urbosa’s form gently fades away.

All that’s left behind is Wild standing amidst the destroyed husks. He begins picking his way towards Link, carefully stepping around the puddles of malice strewn across the grass. Link watches him, a million different emotions swirling around inside him, with frustration and bitterness chief among them.

It’s not the first time Wild’s saved him, but he still doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about it. He's not given the chance to decide though, because two things happen in quick succession.

The first is the Master Sword, sheathed on Wild’s back, lets out a furious chime so loudly it echoes in Link’s ears. The second is one last Guardian comes charging over the crest of the hill.

Its targeting sight finds Link’s pinned body, blue energy already gathering around its eye as it beeps rapidly.

He sees Wild whirl around to face it, mouth open as he yells. Instinctively, both he and Link pull on their Champion ability in a vain attempt to stretch the seconds out, but the world only stutters, time tripping for a moment before carrying forward undaunted.

The laser flies true. Link thinks he manages to scream before everything goes black.

He floats within oblivion, surrounded by nothingness until someone's hands reach out to cup his face. Teal light dances behind his eyelids.

"LINK!"

He chokes on a cough, wheezing, and feels hands push him onto his side.

"Hey, hey, you're okay, just breathe." A high, panicked voice chatters above him, holding him steady.

Someone else is talking too, someone Link recognises. He struggles against the hands holding him and manages to end up on his back again. Wild cradles his head carefully, letting Link come to rest in his lap. His face is bloodless and pale.

Mipha sits beside him, shimmering with teal flames. She smiles when his gaze lands on her and reaches a hand out to rest against his cheek. The touch is so cold it burns against his skin, and Link barely suppresses his flinch.

Mipha's eyes are so, so sad.

"Rest, Link." She tells him, voice distant as she begins to fade away. "You're safe now. You're going to be okay."

Link stares at her disappearing form, swallowing back another wave of bitterness that clogs his throat. He doesn’t look at Wild.

Mipha’s grief-stricken eyes are the last thing he sees before fatigue pulls him under.

Notes:

I can't believe I've been writing for this fandom for almost a year and this is the first time I've posted a fic where Wild uses the Champion abilities in combat wtf I'm a fraud

Do you ever think about how only three Links have heard Fi's voice (Sky, Wars and Wild)? And Wild's the first one since Sky to wield her in an awakened sense thanks to the Trial of the Sword? I think about it a lot tbh.
It would make his relationship with AOC Link very interesting imo. Wild is often considered to be the version of them who failed, yet he wields a stronger Master Sword and can hear her voice.
(A personal headcanon, but I also believe Wild would be a better fighter than Champion, bc he's a little bit older, has more experience and has been travelling with the Chain.)
Anyway, how do you even start to process all of that?

Chapter 4: you're taller. how fucking dare you. (Time & Warriors & Wind)

Summary:

Wind sees some familiar faces. He's Very Unimpressed.

Notes:

I haven't played Wind Waker unfortunately nor do I have time rn to watch a playthrough of it.

This spawned literally out of a shipost I sent a friend last year. I was gonna clean it up or something but it's capable of making me laugh in its current state so that's good enough for me rn.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Tune!” Link hears someone yell and, even though it’s been almost two years since he’s heard that name said by that voice, he still recognises it on the spot.

He turns, peering around the armful of supplies he’s holding. There’s a young man in green with a familiar blue scarf approaching them at high speed, just barely below a sprint.

“Din’s tits.” Tetra says from beside Link, baffled.

“You’re seeing this too?” Link asks, and sees her nod out of the corner of his eye.

The Captain skids to a stop in front of them, out of breath, and grins as bright as the sun. “Ha! We found you!”

“How in Cyclos’ damned name are you here?” Link replies, awed, all but dropping the equipment in his arms. The closed crates clatter to the ground, missing the toes of his boots by inches.

“L-long story.” The Captain pants. “Holy shit, you both got taller.”

“That is how the passage of time works.” Tetra immediately counters, a smirk on her face.

The Captain snorts, loud and undignified, and shakes his head, studying them both “How long has it been for both of you?”

“About two years.” Link answers, looking him over as well.

It’s hard to tell but he thinks the Captain looks a bit older. Not by much but just enough to suggest that time had passed. And, way more importantly, Link definitely got taller over the past two years! He comes up to the Captain’s shoulders now.

Ha, that’s a clear sign that Link absolutely will outgrow him. That’s what the Captain gets for spending the entire war teasing him and Mask with stupid shit like ‘What’s the weather down there like?’

Well, his fun and games are all over now because Link is definitely going to have the last laugh! 

“The sword is new.” The Captain eyes the Phantom Sword on Link’s back, a displeased frown tugging at the side of his mouth. “Second quest?”

“Second quest.” Tetra agrees with a dismissive wave of her hand. She squints back at him and teasingly points out, “You don’t look that old yet.”

“Thanks.” The Captain rolls his eyes. “Your concern for my life is very touching.”

“Well, you’re not dead at least.” Link offers, already ducking under the Captain’s retaliating swat that's aimed for the back of his head.

Despite his reaction, the Captain still looks fond. Link needs to tease him about that too: Captain Link, tactician and war hero extraordinaire, has gone soft.

“I do need to speak with you for a second, Tune, before he gets here.” There’s an almost tense edge to his voice, which doesn’t exactly bode well given Link’s past experiences with that tone.

Link frowns. “Who are you—”

“Warriors!” A new voice calls. They both turn to see a man striding towards them. He’s older than the Captain with shiny plate armour and interesting tattoos on one side of his face that Link can't quite make out from a distance.

Link squints at him. There’s… something about him, something that pings in the back of Link’s mind.

“Oh boy.” The Captain – Warriors, Link guesses, though that’s a pretty shit name if it’s really what he’s going by – mumbles under his breath, then waves at the man. “Over here, Time! I found him!”

Time’s face brightens – who’s picking these names they’re horrible – as he smiles, stopping beside them. He looks at Link and his smile turns smug. “Tune! I told you I was going to be taller than you.”

What? Link’s nose scrunches up. What the fuck is that supposed to mean?

Warriors smacks a hand to his forehead with a near-silent groan, but says nothing. Link peers up at Time’s face. Shit those tattoos are very vivid. And familiar. Why… does he recognise them?

Wait.

Wait.

He’s seen that pattern before. He knows that pattern, WHAT?!

Link splutters and points an accusing finger at Time, furious. “Mask!? When did you get old?! WHEN DID YOU GET TALL?!”

Mask—Time—whatever-his-name-is throws his head back and laughs, somehow managing to retain that smug grin all the while.

“How do you think I feel?” Warriors grumbles in quiet commiseration, his hand still pressed against his forehead.

“I DON’T CARE ABOUT YOU!” Link yells, waving his hands madly. “HE’S TALLER THAN ME!”

Damn every goddess Link can think of. And he’d just celebrated that he was pretty sure he would be taller than the Captain too WHAT THE FUCK?!

“I’m taller than both of you.” Time agrees cheerfully, still looking way too smug.

Link literally has to glare up at him – fuck, he hates that there’s this much of a height difference, Mask is such a DICK – and crosses his arms. “I hate you. How old are you? You look ancient.”

“Older than you.” Time replies instantly, meeting Link’s gaze head-on and completely ignoring his insult.

Rude. Rude.

Link studies him again, this time from a tactical angle rather than a general glance. He thinks, pondering the scheme forming in his mind over for a moment.

… You know what, yeah. He’s pretty confident that he can easily go for Mask’s knees, just like he used to. Mask looks old enough to have forgotten about that trick.

There will be absolutely no consequences for doing this. Link’s got this in the bag; Mask is gonna feel his wrath.

Notes:

(Time did, in fact, remember that trick and they all got kicked out of the port)

Chapter 5: We've Been Trying to Reach You About Your Magic Sheikah Weapon's Extended Warranty (Four & Wild + the Chain)

Summary:

Four hates the shit that exists in Wild's era sometimes.

Chapter Text

Things had been looking bad right up until Wild – looking as though he’s on the literal brink of death – bursts into the room and smacks the monster with a strange, glowing pronged weapon. It crumples under the hit, exploding into purple smoke.

“What.” Wind says flatly.

Wild wobbles violently to one side but manages to catch himself against a wall, breathing heavily. Twilight squints at him through the bars of his cell, then squints harder – this time at the weapon. “Wait, is that—”

“Yep!” Wild answers with entirely too much cheer for someone who looks inches away from dropping dead. He pushes himself upright and staggers towards them, pulling a ring of keys from the Sheikah Slate.

“How the fuck did you convince him to give you that?!” The emotion in Twilight’s voice might be described as ‘awed’, if awed could be served with a liberal dose of bone-deep exasperation.

“Turns out Maz Koshia’s still around, for some Hylia-damned reason.” Wild explains brightly. He fumbles with the lock three times before Four snatches the keys from his hands. “Thanks, I cannot see straight right now, like at all.”

He seems oddly baffled by the round of concerned noises that echo across the dungeon, but shrugs it all off and continues describing his latest bad decision without any remorse. “Anyway, yeah, he’s still around and apparently ‘an evil being resurrecting and strengthening monsters beyond what is normal’ is a decent reason to loan it out to kill said evil. Conditionally, of course.”

Time, heaving a sigh, looks reluctant to ask yet can’t stop himself from doing so. “Conditions such as?”

“I don’t die, naturally, and also beat him in another fight later.” Wild nearly pitches face-first into the ground, utterly ruining the triumphant tone in his voice, but instead collapses onto Sky, who looks world-weary in a way he rarely is. He slings one of Wild’s arms around his shoulders, practically holding the Champion upright.

Four, hucking the keys to Warriors, almost vibrates as he eyes up the weird mutant-trident looking weapon Wild’s still somehow holding onto. It glows faintly and thrums loudly with energy. “What is that?!”

“This,” Wild flips the weapon with a grin – and really, given how horrible he looks, Four is actually mad at how easily he pulls that action off – “is the One-Hit Obliterator. No, I have no idea why the Sheikah monks made it, don’t ask. But! This thing is stupidly powerful, hence why I had to make a deal to use it.”

“One-Hit Obliterator?” Four stares at it and mentally screams.

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