Chapter Text
He’d won, but at what cost? A large blade torn through his abdomen, soaking his already dark tunic a deep crimson. His chainmail shattered with bits of metal dug into his skin. Pain erupted through him, his breathing wet with gurgles of blood.
Link swallowed down the lump in his throat, wiping the back of his glove across his face. He was drenched in sweat and his skin was getting hotter and sticker. Each rise of his chest burned sharply. Quite gasps of pain filled the air.
It was a fatal wound, Link knew. He couldn't deny it. He was dying.
There were no potions or fairies that could heal the burn of black blood seeping across his torso.
He licked his bloody, chapped lips, his brows scrunched with deep pain and unforeseen guilt.
Quietly, he could hear his name being shouted. Frantic footsteps, one after the other, searching. They wouldn’t find him before.. Link closed his eyes, willing away that daunting knowledge. He opened his eyes again, feeling the fight behind his body as he forced them open.
The fight had been long and strenuous. The shadow had been relentless in its attacks, and Link returned each sharp cut and swinging blade with his own. No matter how long the fight would last, it was an uncomfortable realization there was only one way to end the back and forth of a never ending fight.
He’d taken the blow unintentionally, but saw to the end with his fist, holding the form of his likeness down till it no longer looked like a perfect mirror.
The shadow was nothing but a puddle opposite to him. Its dark tainted sword on the ground, Link’s blood still covered its black glistening metal. The poison seeped into his blood and burned him alive in agony. But Link did not cry no matter how his body seized in that pain.
He held his chin higher than himself, eyes drained of will, but stubborn with pride. He would fall but he would not fall disgracefully, he decided.
Taking care of the shadow would be his last act as a hero. Protecting his home and those in it. Past, present, and their future.
His hand grasped empty air where his sword should’ve been. He remembered the soft song she hummed that felt like holding home in his palms. The familiarity of knowing at the same time, forgetting who he once was and those adventures before. He regretted never taking the time to listen to those songs closer. Revering them with careful diligence they were owed.
It was for naught now, as he lay on his backside, drenched in his own blood.
Dying, simply put.
If he could, Link would’ve told them all his secrets. Every last one. A selfish desire to not be forgotten to time like his predecessor before him. From the darkness that wormed its way in his heart, to the love that hollowed out a cavity in his chest and made it painful to breathe.
Link had always wanted someone to know him, despite his already standoffish nature and cowardice to hide those darker parts of him. He had gotten close on just one occasion. To breaking down that wall of fears and letting his tainted image bask in the pride of a man who was all but in their knowledge, a father to him.
What would he have thought?
His singular fear was voiced in a sea of many. None as heavy as what that man’s words would be in realization of Link’s flaws. Surely no man was perfect, but how could he possibly stand on the same pedestal as that man?
Head held high and sword raised for battle. Age and experience in his face even from such a young age.
Link felt his skin grow cold when he imagined such a young boy, holding a sword not much shorter than he was tall. Chubby cheeks and roughed up knees.
Far too young to even be away from his maw. Link didn’t want to imagine that little boy. Biting hard on his lip he pressed the thought away.
Link could never live up to the image that man demanded of him. Link was weak and flawed, and everything he couldn’t be. The dark black blood on his hands felt sickening.
Maybe it was better that his cowardice took hold. He would hate to burden the man with any knowledge of his future. Link just couldn’t do that, even if it meant shouldering that knowledge alone.
He breathed a ragged sigh, unsure if he had the strength to hold any longer than a few more breaths, or if he was taking his last.
He didn’t want to die, not this way. Not the way he imagined in his dreams, either. There was still much to prove, much to live for and experience, but that was now cut short by his own darkness striking him down.
They would weep, his brothers, bearing guilt for his death. His family.. they most likely would never know, but maybe that was better if they didn’t. An inkling of hope the village's oldest son would return just as he had left.
It was kinder than knowing the things he’d done to keep them safe. How lost to his own darkness he had become to be struck down so easily.
It was selfish, wishing for just a few more moments. But Link was forever a selfish man, even younger, and he would have been older. It was an unchanging fact as he coveted this death on his own without the others.
His hand curled into a fist, pulling at the blades of bloody grass beneath him.
It still felt too soon.
There were things he was putting off because he believed there was more time. Guilt did not eat him, but he regretted smaller things than his future. He knew that would be safe with the others.
Link had not thought everything would die with him. His blood, and that man’s secrets. There was nothing to share now, no legacy to remain after him. Everything, their stories and their histories, would be forgotten lost to time.
Perhaps if he’d settled quicker, forgotten the sting of heartbreak, Link could’ve left something behind. No, that would’ve been worse. He’d feel guilty leaving behind anything. At least now, nothing was as important as the possibility of longing to love someone or someones..
The voice calling his name grew louder. Behind the thickness in his ears, Link nearly didn’t hear it. But his head tilted back, staring into the trees knowing they were closer now. Still searching.
If he could just— “H—ere,” he gasped, coughing hard.
Everything seemed to freeze, his vision blacking dangerously dark and spotty. His body grew numb in response to the dullness he was feeling around him.
It was.. too dark. He’d thought his eyes had closed. The realization of death so close made him panic. His chest surged with new found energy, scared, at the idea.
He had become too accepting, he realized. Not even attempting to fight to live, but accepting and lamenting and grieving before he’d even drawn his last breath. Fear coursed through him, sparking a need for more than being content, but to live.
He couldn’t die— he wouldn’t.
What would that man think seeing him strewn across the ground accepting a death when there was so much to regret never doing? He would never be able to face them knowing he gave up so willingly when they fought so long to share their own knowledge and experience with him.
He was making a mockery of the man who wore his tunic before him.
It hurt, flipping himself into his side then his belly. Without feeling so numb, he never would’ve been able to brace against the pain to pull himself to his knees, pushing off the ground with gritted teeth. The taste of metal filled his mouth; the scent filled his nostrils.
He hated it. The smell and taste of death that soaked in him.
Link hated death. He was reminded of the older man who’d regretted so much. He knew death intimately, tasting it in the air and in his memories. He bared his bloody teeth at the idea of dying, hating it worse than anything.
He couldn’t let himself die. Not because he was scared to die— his hands still trembled— but because he hated it.
Moving was almost impossible, yet Link found a way through sheer stubbornness. Dragging himself forward, digging his fingers into the dirt to pull himself away from the blood soaked patch of grass.
The rustling leaves and heavy boots through the underbrush grew louder. Nothing was louder than the roaring blood in his ears and the screaming voice in his head. Demanding he quit making a fool of himself and his mentor and stand already!
His head swayed forward and back. His eyes unfocused and refocused in vain attempts.
They were close now. Closer than Link ever thought they would get.
He stopped, his stomach rolling in gagging attempts to choke up his own blood that suffocated and dripped into his lungs. It wasn’t the pain that prevented him from moving, just another reason.
No, Link saw it as a man that prevented him from continuing.
A stern man with sharp but warm eyes. Armor and hair that reflected a brilliant golden image. They shone so bright, their figure shining through the dark trees that reeked of death.
Shade, Link’s lips mouthed.
Behind them, the forest dipped and blurred till it was only the man Link could focus on.
Shade’s mouth moved. His expression pulled into something he’d never seen expressed in his skeletal features, but Link couldn’t hear, and he couldn’t understand that look.
His hands trembled, his shoulders squared and his eyes dilated as he realized why he couldn’t move.
They took a step forward. Link took a shaky crawl backwards. His eyelids fluttered; head shook in uncertainty.
“T—!”
“No.” Was ripped from his pained throat.
Shade was quiet. Stunned or reserved or just plain watching in disappointment, Link couldn’t tell as he moved further back, away from such a godly portrayal of that man. The sword on his back caught the light and Link’s breath hitched painfully between his ribs.
His head spun. Memories of dreams plagued his already troubled mind, filling him with terror.
Link pushed himself upwards, wobbly on his knees. Bracing a hand over his side in some vain attempt to hide the injury from the man. It was far too late for that miracle.
His other hand, shakily reached up to his neck, cupping his exposed skin his high collar could not hide. His swallow was uneasy, watching the man uncertain what method his mentor would strike.
The neck had always been the most preferred in his dreams. Inciting a painful urge to protect the area.
They moved closer.
“I won’t—” — ‘die’, he was terrified to utter that word. Scared to breathe any more of his nightmares into reality.
He snarled, glaring at the man.
He expected a word of wisdom. Something akin to disappointment and clarity, but their words were muddled with their intent, taking another surer step forward, hands placated up and out.
They never reached for a blade, but even weaponless was not a comfort. It was not something Link hadn’t considered.
“No— no m’not. I won’t!” He couldn’t die, not here, not now. Not when he still wanted to live.
They grabbed his shoulder. Link didn’t even realize how close they’d gotten, confused and betrayed as he attempted to fight the man off.
When his fists were useless, and the fight was slowly being lost as he was taken to the ground with the man’s weight pinning him with ease, Link begged—
“Please— please I can’t— I don’t wanna!”
He wanted to live, he wanted to experience. The man holding him held no remorse for Link’s pleas, holding him down with unyielding strength. No matter how he fought, he could not break his mentor’s hold.
Link seized with tears in his eyes. His dreams were taking form. His fabled death he dreamed of, delivered at the hands of the man Link loved the most. He could do nothing but cry, begging for his life with a voice that could no longer form words.
‘I’ll do better,’ he tried to cry.
Shade’s hand pressed into his cheek, pressing his face to the ground. The rest of his weight held his already heavy feeling limbs with ease.
His gibberish had no effect as darkness grew closer into his vision.
He was close now.
The last of his vision was slipping, terrifying him. He panicked more at the idea of dying under Shade’s hands.
Pressure pressed into his side. It was not the sort of pain he often compared to Shade’s sword. He did not feel the burn of light magic erupt under his skin banishing away the darkness within him.
Instead, the wound throbbed in a dull uncomfortable pain. The pressure never moved, even as the roaring in his ears grew quieter and a voice louder with sharp commands and comforting familiarity.
“Stay with me.” Link blinked behind his eyelids, barely conscious now and fading quicker. The pain was slowly receding. He was approaching death.
The fight in him was leaving quicker.
“Link!”
It felt more comfortable now. Oddly welcoming warm like Shade’s arms. He could not imagine the man’s skeleton being so warm.
“It’s alright. I’ve got you.”
His hair was smoothed back out of his face. The rough touch of leather slipped across his forehead, not the boniness of fingers scratching at his scalp.
Link found himself leaning further.
“Shush,” they breathed against his head, warm lips pressed against his temple and hair. “Sleep, I’ll watch you. You’re safe. Nothing’s gonna hurt you. I promise.” They repeated calmly, but their voice sounded strained.
“Shade..” his lips pursed together, calling the man familiarly.
He could see the weak acknowledgment. He saw the way Shade looked down at him with pursed lips.
Link managed a troubled breath through his drying sobs. His body fell nearly limp.
“Shush,” they said again. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” Warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. Link’s head was pressed against a firm, warm chest.
His words brought comfort compared to his dreams of the man. He clung to the hope of the man, feeling his golden warmth bleed into Link’s shadow.
“You’ll be okay. I’ve got you, Twilight.”
Twilight. Link blinked, confused and yet accepting at the same time of the moniker. He remembered a little now. That name, this man— Time. His eyes fluttered softly, seeing the Shade’s ghostly visage melt into the warmth of living skin and detail Shade’s skeleton could never possess.
Time. Time found him. Time healed him. A hand was still pressed into his side. The pain wasn’t a figment, but no longer felt so dire. No longer so fatal. He swallowed, tasting less blood than before. The stench of death was no longer at his heels.
He smiled, weakly grasping Time’s forearm and squeezing with the last of his strength.
“Time,” he whispered, finally recognizing the man.
The man’s eyes lightened in Twilight realization. The worry in his eyes softened and a breath he was holding exhaled in assurance.
Time seemed to breathe easier at that, holding Twilight closer as he patted his hair down. “Sleep, I’ve got you. You’re okay, pup.”
And Twilight did. Tiredly so, his eyes slipped closed. His body resting and protected by the elder’s side. His dreams were lighter. His regrets eased into simple needless worries.
He’d won, at almost great costs, he would be lectured later. He wouldn’t care, throwing himself into that fight was something he’d never regret, but not something he’d be so quick to repeat. The realization of his fears stirred something uncomfortable.
For now, he’d ignore that pressing uncertainty of his future, knowing, at least for today, he still had tomorrow to experience. He still had his brother to laugh with and his mentor to watch live, and his family back home awaiting another letter.
Tomorrow was still a day Twilight could look forward to seeing.
The darkness receded, a golden warm light wrapped him into a tight embrace. In its comfort, Twilight slept.