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Chapter Text

Once upon a time, Princess Zelda of Hyrule had two best friends: Link, her personal Knight, and Riju, the Chief of the Gerudo. Because of these two best friends, when her dear (but not best) friend Purah began to complain about monopolization of her research materials, Princess Zelda made the fateful decision to create her own research lab, cannibalizing the technology from a Great Plateau shrine and then using a different shrine in the Gerudo Desert as her headquarters so she would have a convenient excuse to visit Riju whenever she liked.

Link, needless to say, required no excuse to be visited, as he hardly ever left her side.

This decision by Princess Zelda was the reason she and her knightly best friend found themselves in their current situation: accidentally reduced to the age of six with a map frozen over the Gerudo Desert, stumbling in a daze around Tera’s fairy fountain beneath the Leviathan bones.

“Oh dear,” said Tera, scooping them up in her hand. “Oh my! You’re so… tiny!”

“Could you undo it?” Zelda asked.

“Oh dear, no. This isn’t magic, lovely. Even if it was, my power doesn’t lie in breaking spells.”

Link grumbled something deprecating against Sheikah science, and Zelda couldn’t even begrudge him for it.

“I suppose we’ll just have to return to Hateno and ask Purah, then,” she sighed.

Link said, “We should go back to Gerudo Town first. It might be safer to send a messenger than to go like this.” He turned to the great fairy. “But first… could you resize all of our clothes?”

Link wanted to ””briefly”” test his ability to fight at his new six-year-old height. Zelda stridently insisted that it was not necessary (and would in fact cause her tremendous stress). Link humbly agreed that she was correct, and off they went, dressed in miniaturized Gerudo vai clothing to combat the desert heat.

And yet, about thirty minutes later, Zelda somehow found herself sitting on Link’s shoulders, screaming and throwing bombs from the slate as a Molduga chased them and their sand seal across the dunes. She reflected on the situation as she threw another bomb and her best friend cackled beneath her: Link was remarkably winsome when he wanted to be.

“It’s catching up!” she told him, yelling over the wind. Her veil, like Link’s, had been stuffed into her belt for later.

”Hold on!” he told her in return. “When it falls, we hit it!”

“Link!”

The Molduga lunged out of the sand, snapping up the round bomb, and Zelda punched the button to detonate it midair. Stunned, the monster bellowed and slammed into the ground with jarring force. Link immediately swung the seal around, making Zelda yelp and curl over him, holding on for dear life as the centrifugal force of the turn threatened to send her flying.

“BOMBS AWAY!” he yelled gleefully, firing off six volleys of three from his Lynel bow. With her own (admittedly gleeful) yelling, she summoned up and lobbed a square bomb. The detonation was very satisfying.

Unbeknownst to anyone at the time, that was when eight future headaches arrived to witness them administering tremendous violence.

“YAAAAAH!” Link yelled, untying himself from the seal and charging across the sand toward the Molduga. Zelda helped him by swapping the bow for a sword, and gave herself one too. She might not have been the best with a blade, but it was hard to miss when the target was several hundred times her size and a hand’s breadth away. From her perch on Link’s shoulder, she stabbed with enthusiasm.

“It’s waking up!” Zelda warned Link as the Molduga stirred from its daze. They hadn’t quite been able to kill it in one go. Link broke off and sprinted away, tossing her his sword as he went. She put both away in the slate, hand ready over the bow icon for when they were being pulled behind the seal again.

From a fair distance behind them, they both heard someone yell “what the F⁠**K is that!”

Link had to be single-mindly focused on getting them out of range of the Molduga, but Zelda was able to crane her neck around to see a startlingly large crowd of men sprinting across the sand. The group’s attention was split between Link and Zelda and the Molduga. They also all looked suspiciously like her knight.

She bent down as Link hastily tied himself back to the sand seal. “Yiga!” she hissed into his ear.

His eloquent reply was a string of loud swears.

“We have to get out of here before they realize!” she said, ignoring the cussing.

“If we run now, they’ll know!”

“We were throwing explosives at a monster most people hope they’ll never even see, much less fight! How could they not know!”

“We’re not usually this small! Just hide the slate!”

By now they were speeding away and the Molduga had started to dive beneath the sand. Zelda opened her mouth to rebut him, then paused. “Fair point,” she admitted. “Perhaps we can deflect suspicion, then. Gerudo Town does seem the place for precocious warrior youths to be.”

They circled the Molduga, prepared to finish it off by bow, and were surprised to realize that the Yiga were already attempting—badly—to do the same. One of them narrowly dodged being swallowed whole, but the brief moment that the beast was above the sand was all the rest needed to start hitting it with their weapons.

“Huh,” said Link, “they aren’t usually this helpful unless they want something.”

“Information?” Zelda speculated. “Perhaps it’s a good thing we stayed to deflect suspicion.”

Link pulled his veil back on to distract from his scarring and circled the group until the Molduga was dead, which didn’t take long with eight grown men hitting it. The sand seal came to a stop a respectable distance away from the smallest of the Yiga, also ensuring that they were as far as possible from the most heavily-armored. Zelda was equally careful to ensure that the slate stayed hidden between her and Link, wrapped up in her own veil.

“Hey!” said the youngest, who had a lobster on his tunic—actually, who was wearing a tunic Zelda knew for a fact Link possessed, if in a slightly different cut. It was a tribute to one of the ancient heroes of legend both he and she had spent many hours studying. “Are you two okay?? Why were you fighting this… thing??”

Zelda glanced down. Link glanced up. “The Molduga?” Zelda said slowly, wondering why they would pretend not to know what it was. “We were sand-surfing when it attacked us. Thank you for the help.”

“Didn’t look like you needed much help,” one of them muttered, and Zelda felt Link’s neck muscles tense under her.

“Hey why are you out here?” Link asked loudly, unwilling to let them think about the implications for too long. “Are you looking for someone?”

Zelda kicked his side with her heel. He obediently shut up.

“As a matter of fact, we are,” said one. He looked at them intently, but not with full recognition. “We’re looking for the Hero.”

Link and Zelda kept their cool. “Really? All the way out here?” Zelda asked. “Well, we haven’t seen him. It is just me and my best friend who is definitely a girl out and about, uh, sand surfing. For fun. We love sand surfing. Or surfing of any kind really.”

“Yeah, we love surfing in sand, water… snow… Hey, try Hebra! The Hero’s probably in a mood for snow,” said Link. Zelda kicked him again.

“Right…” said the man slowly. He knelt, which was so unexpected that it was unnerving, and looked at Link even more closely. “Hey, is your name… Link?”

“No,” Link lied, indignant. “My name is Spicy! And I’m a girl! Link is a boy! And a hundred and seventeen! Do I look like a hundred-seventeen-year-old boy to you?!”

Zelda barely resisted the powerful urge to slap her hand over her eyes. She quickly poked his neck instead. Enough! Retreat! Too many terrible lies!

The Yiga blinked at his answer and made a strange face. “Uh. Listen, you’re not in trouble—“

“That’s right, we’re not, so good luck finding the Hero bye!” said Link forcefully, correctly interpreting her signals to him. He spurred the seal into motion. She held on tight as they lurched away.

“Hey! Wait!” the Yiga shouted after them. A few of them ran, but had no hope of catching up on foot.

“Only teleport if they start teleporting too!” Zelda hissed to Link. They remained tense as the distance between them and the Yiga grew, but somehow… no one used their clan arts to chase after them. As Gerudo Town’s walls grew closer and closer, they started to relax.

“Do you think they realized?” Link asked. “They didn’t try anything, and they always try something if they know it’s us.”

“It seems like they did not,” Zelda agreed uneasily. “Still. We should warn Riju.”

“Yeah…” Link scratched his jaw under the veil. “Speaking of which… how are we gonna get into the throne room?”

“What do you mean? We’re going to walk in, of course.” He didn’t look up at her, but she could feel his skeptical silence. She frowned. “Well, why wouldn’t we be able to walk in?”

“We’re two itty-bitty Hylian children, Zelda. The guards will stop us probably before we even enter the city.” Which would be soon, since they were rapidly approaching the gates. In fact, Link slowed the seal down near the shrine so they could talk longer.

She blinked rapidly. “Yes, but—oh. Drat.” She pondered their predicament for a moment. “You have a plan, then?”

He grinned. She knew just by feeling, though she couldn’t see it. “Yep!”

“Hey! Riju!”

Buliara startled badly at the voices that came from behind the throne, leveling her spear at them. Once she realized ‘they’ were two children, she hastily pulled her speartip up. “Who are you!” she barked. Riju herself was sitting straight up on her throne, twisted around to look at Link and Zelda as they scampered around to face her.

“Sorry,” Zelda said apologetically, trying to catch her breath. That had been a difficult climb, even with her Knight’s help! “There was… a mishap at the shrine.”

“It can’t be,” said Riju, eyes wide. She put a hand over her mouth. “Zelda? Link?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” said Zelda. “But setting aside our physical state for a moment, we have an urgent warning! We were, uh… sand surfing when a large group of Yiga accosted us. We don’t think they quite realized who we were, but they were not far from the town, and they were all disguised to look suspiciously akin to Link.”

Buliara scowled at Link, immediately seeing through Zelda’s awkward omission. “You were fighting a Molduga? In this state?”

“We were winning!” Link protested.

“You involved the Princess in fighting a Molduga in this state?!”

“What’s done is done,” Zelda interjected diplomatically. “We need to focus on the threat of the Yiga. There has already been a considerable delay between our encounter with them and our arrival here.”

Riju craned her neck around to look behind her throne. “Did you climb up here?”

“With great difficulty, yes. Please focus.”

Fortunately, they were interrupted by a guard from outside. “CHIEF!” she yelled, sprinting in. “CHEIF!” As soon as she was close enough, she slammed down into a bow on one knee. Link winced, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“What is it, Ploka?” asked Riju.

“There are eight voe at the town entrance looking for—!” She faltered as she caught sight of Link and Zelda. “Them! Two little Hylian vhevi!”

“Yiga,” Buliara growled, ramming the butt of her spear against the stone in anger.

“Yiga!” echoed Ploka with realization.

Link scowled. “They must have realized who we are after all.”

“No, don’t be hasty. They may only want information, like they did out there,” said Zelda. “Otherwise, wouldn’t they attack outright or infiltrate with female disguises?”

Buliara growled again. “We must drive them off now!”

“Wait,” said Riju. She paused, considering. “Attacking them immediately is a risk, especially if they don’t know for certain who they’re looking for.” She paused again. Then she looked up, and there was a wicked gleam in her eye. “I have a better idea.”

Despite her age and small stature, Riju struck an imposing figure as she walked to the gate to speak with the Yiga herself, flanked by Buliara and eight guards. They stopped in the shade of the gate. Link and Zelda peeked up over the wall, hidden just close enough to overhear without being easily seen.

“I am the Chief of the Gerudo,” said Riju. Shockingly, most of the Yiga bowed to her.

“They’re getting better at this!” Link whispered. He sounded delighted to have a greater challenge than usual.

“Shh!” Zelda hissed.

“What business does a group of voe have here? Only vai are allowed within the town.”

The one-eyed Yiga stepped forward. “We encountered two Hylian children battling a monster, dressed much like you and your guards.” He gestured back the way they’d come. “When we asked questions, they fled here. I’m sure you can understand why we’re worried about their safety.”

Riju hummed. “You think two unaccompanied Hylian vhevi came into Gerudo Town without my guards noticing? You surely must be addled by the desert heat, traveler. There are no Hylian vhevi here, much less without mothers.” Before he could respond, she turned to her guards. “Quickly! Give these voe water and escort them to the Bazaar at once!”

The Yiga with no pants exclaimed in annoyance. “What are you talking about? They’re right there! And one of them is a ‘voe!’” he said, pointing in the direction of Link and Zelda. They quickly ducked out of sight.

There was a pause. “Do you see anything, Buliara?” Riju asked.

“No, Chief,” said Buliara, echoed by the guards. “Unaccompanied vhevi would have been reported immediately. The voe is hallucinating from heat exhaustion.”

“Oh dear,” said Riju loudly, drowning out the Yiga’s cry of ‘No I’m not!’ “Quickly, then, drag them along if you must! The oasis waters will restore their minds!”

“Wait—“ said the leader, but it was too late. Riju turned and went back into the town, heels clicking smartly across the stone, while her guards advanced on the group. Some protested more than others until the noise abruptly stopped. Link and Zelda shuffled to a new spot, then slowly peeked back over the wall again to see the one-eyed Yiga giving his compatriots forbidding looks.

They ducked again when he glanced in their direction. After that, the group accepted the water and departed for the Bazaar without objection.

Link chuckled deviously once he was sure they wouldn’t be overheard. “That was hilarious. I can’t believe they thought they’d get one over on Riju.”

“It’s quite remarkable,” Zelda agreed with a grin of her own. “Still, this does complicate things somewhat. We should certainly call an escort here instead of attempting to leave on our own.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, eyes glinting. “And until Impa and Purah get here, we can have some fun with these guys and find out what they’re planning.”

Chapter Text

Riju had another suggestion when they caught up to her in the throne room not long after.

“Quickly now,” she said with a smirk, “you left your travel medallion at the Bazaar, didn’t you? Go there and allow them to catch a brief glimpse of you. We can keep them guessing for a very long time if we play our cards right.”

Link and Zelda both lit up with glee at the idea. “We’ll be right back!” said Zelda. She looped her arm through Link’s and brought the frozen map up on the slate, selecting the travel medallion they’d left at Kara Kara Bazaar. Together, they disappeared from the throne room and reappeared beside the oasis.

“Let’s get on top of the Inn before they arrive!” Link suggested, so they scampered across the busy settlement and climbed up to the roof of the Inn. Lying on their stomachs, they peeked out in the direction of Gerudo Town and used the slate’s zoomed-in camera to track the progress of the Yiga band.

“They’re being remarkably cooperative,” Zelda commented. “Maybe this is some kind of new deep cover scheme.”

“Mmm,” said Link.

A swift messenger arrived ahead of the group. After she spoke in hushed tones to a small group of guards, they broke off and began quickly speaking to the Bazaar residents. Clearly, Riju had thought of everything and ensured that a warning about the strangers would be passed around. Link and Zelda even saw another messenger go dashing off in the direction of the canyon stable.

By the time the Yiga group arrived, everyone at the Bazaar was ready with sharp and predatory smiles.

“Come, come rest in the shade and cool yourselves off with the oasis waters,” said one of the guards leading the Yiga. “The hallucinations will abate once the heatstroke has worn off.”

Some of the Yiga looked annoyed, but the leader just sighed and said, “Thank you.” The whole group settled down where they’d been directed. Almost immediately, some of the bolder Bazaar residents ‘innocently’ came over to check on them and ask probing questions.

Zelda risked raising the slate for a quick picture of the group, then leaned over to whisper in Link’s ear. “How shall we let them catch a glimpse of us?”

Link considered for a moment. “…how close do you think we could sneak?”

“Hmm…” Zelda eyed the landscape. “As we are? I think we can reasonably reach Emri’s stall.”

“I’ll bet you an apple pie we can get past the voe merchant tent.”

“Deal,” she said immediately, and they shook on it before carefully getting up and creeping down from the Inn’s roof.

More than one of the regular Bazaar residents spotted them as they darted from hiding place to hiding place, but each quickly looked the other way with a sly smile or a straight face. Zelda found that the hardest part wasn’t making sure she was hidden or keeping up with Link, but rather restraining the impulse to giggle madly.

Being a six-year-old was much harder than she remembered. She didn’t know how Purah did it.

“Shhh,” said Link as they crouched behind the voe merchants’ tent. He was grinning and shaking a little from suppressed laughter too. “Carefully…”

They peeked out at the Yiga to gauge if they could dart over to the next point of cover. The one with the blue scarf glanced up at that precise moment and did a double-take. They quickly hid, but not before he cried “Hey!”

“Back, back, go!” Zelda hissed, slapping Link’s shoulder, and they turned tail to go back the way they’d come. This time, she couldn’t suppress her giggles.

“What’s wrong, traveler?” asked one of the guards sternly. And loudly. “You shouldn’t stand yet.”

“I saw—uh. Well…”

“Saw what?”

Link and Zelda quickly sprinted from the cover of the merchants’ tent. They caught a glimpse of the Yiga group, half of whom were on their feet and the rest of whom were getting up. Three were looking in the exact right direction to see them.

“There! It’s the kids!”

By this point Link was giggling too, and it only got harder to be quiet when another guard cried (with just a touch too much drama to be sincere) “By the goddesses, their condition is worse than we thought! Quickly, sisters, they need to be cooled off!”

Several startled yells and loud splashes ensued—eight of them, in fact. Link’s face was pink from laughing as they made the final sprint to the back of the Inn, where it would be impossible to see them teleport away. Zelda hit the icon to transport them back to Gerudo Town just as the first of the Yiga surfaced from the oasis, sputtering and voicing cries of outrage.

Both Link and Zelda immediately collapsed into helpless laughter as soon as they’d re-materialized at the shrine.

“Oh!” Zelda gasped, clutching her side. “Oh oh oh! I was not expecting them to push the Yiga into the water! Oh goodness! I cannot believe they didn’t break character.”

“Me neither. Come on,” said Link, rolling to his feet and offering her a hand up. His cheeks were pink from laughter. “We should go inside and tell Riju.”

They climbed the wall again, just in case, then ran along the water channels until they were able to hop back down closer to the throne room. Link went first, then caught Zelda when she followed. She rolled her eyes at him for the overprotectivness⁠—she could absolutely land from a jump like that without breaking anything!—but he just grinned at her and took her hand again.

The guards let them into the throne room without a problem, and Riju sat up from her regal slouch when she saw them coming. “There you are,” she said. “I take it you were successful?”

Link and Zelda exchanged a glance before bursting into giggles at the same time. “Very,” said Zelda. “And the guards pushed them into the water to cure them of their ‘hallucinations’ faster!”

Riju evidently hadn’t been expecting that any more than they had, for a loud and surprised laugh burst from her lips. She quickly put a hand over her mouth. Even Buliara looked like she was exerting all of her tremendous discipline to keep from smiling. “Oh dear,” said Riju after a moment, eyes glimmering. “And they didn’t break?”

“Nope,” said Link. “I’m impressed. They don’t usually last this long.”

“Yes, speaking of which,” said Zelda, “I have a theory about that.” Link and Riju both blinked at her, interested, but she turned to Link directly. “You and I both studied our predecessors at length, before the Calamity. Do you recall enough to notice what I did about their manner of dress?”

Link frowned and rubbed his chin. “Yeah… they all looked like me, of course, but… I guess they did look like they were trying to imitate some of the old Heroes.” He took the slate from her and opened the inventory, swiping through his historically-patterned armor sets. He then compared it to the picture she’d taken of the group earlier. “Some of them are pretty close too…”

“Precisely,” said Zelda. She pulled him along and gestured for him to show Riju and Buliara. “I think they are doing it on purpose. I am not exactly sure for what purpose⁠, but I am certain that they found a way to access the necessary information and create those disguises.”

“I suppose that does explain why they aren’t breaking character easily,” said Riju, frowning at the slate. “Shouldn’t most of this information have been protected in some way?”

“Oh yes,” said Zelda with a nod. “My predecessors tended to be fiercely protective of their Heroes. Unfortunately, the information necessary for this mimicry would have been exposed in the Castle during the past hundred years, or kept from the time before they split off from the Sheikah. It’s even possible they lost and subsequently re-discovered some of their own records.” 

“Troubling,” Buliara grumbled. “I will have word of this deception sent out. Not all who have met and been aided by Sir Link have realized exactly who he is.”

“He certainly doesn’t tend toward self-aggrandizing,” Zelda agreed, privately delighted when she realized the comment made his ears turn red.

Riju was smiling in a way that said she’d noticed too. “No, he certainly does not. We’ll be sure that none of those villains can take credit for a Hero’s deeds⁠— any Hero’s deeds.”

Word came to Riju⁠—and therefore Link and Zelda⁠—that the Yiga group had split in half, with four members venturing through the canyon pass into central Hyrule and four beginning some kind of campaign in the desert. What they were trying to accomplish was unclear, but they were behaving in a very… Link-like manner, and Link didn’t like it one bit. Not only were they hunting monsters and trying to help people (which surely could not have been genuine), but he wasn’t allowed to go out and do the same!

He was not “too small,” no matter what Buliara said. It wasn’t like he was that many years away from the age where he’d pulled the Master Sword from her pedestal.

“Oh, don’t look so dour,” Zelda chided as they geared up for a little spy mission on the following night. “Impa will surely be by to escort us to Purah and have this whole mistake reversed soon. Then you can hunt enormous monsters to your heart’s content again.”

“And Yiga,” he grumbled. “I’ll run this whole group to Master Khoga himself once I’m big again.”

“I’m sure,” said Zelda, straightening her mask. “Now, let me get a look at you.”

Since their mission was occurring at night and intended to be truly and completely stealthy, Link and Zelda had picked through his accumulated armor for the best options to keep any monsters⁠—and possibly Yiga⁠—at bay. Link had elected to wear a set supposedly modeled after an old foe of one of his predecessors. The monsters didn’t exactly avoid him when he wore it, but it made them a little wary. Zelda, on the other hand, had been given the only truly protective mask he had⁠—a garish thing with bulging yellow eyes and a malevolent aura⁠—and his darkest armor set. The enchantment on the cap turned her skin to deathly gray and her hair to eerie silver.

“Hold on,” she said, a little muffled behind the wooden mask, and straightened his cape. “There we are.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “Ugh. The eyes on that thing give me a chill, Link. I don’t know why you insist on keeping such a creepy mask. Your mouth looks like it's sewn shut.”

“It’s useful,” he insisted, taking a moment to fix a buckle on her vambrace. “Besides, the mask you’re wearing is way worse. I feel like some terrible fate is going to befall me every time I see its eyes.”

She took his hand and squeezed briefly. “Hmph. Well, I suppose we are using them. Onward, then. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can take them off.”

The Yiga who’d stayed in the desert had headed off toward the great cliffs earlier in the day and not returned. Link and Zelda intended to find and spy on them, so they teleported to the Dako Tah shrine together. Immediately the cold desert night tried to bite at what little skin they had exposed, but Riju had gifted them each a pair of ruby earrings to hold the chill at bay while they were disguised.

“Stay close to me,” Link said, and off they went, darting from shadow to shadow across the sand.

It wasn’t too hard to find the Yiga considering how much noise they were making. Link and Zelda carefully rounded a stone column to peek out at them. Three of the Yiga were… fighting monsters?

“Wow,” Link whispered, “they’re really committed!”

“And skilled,” Zelda whispered back. “This must be an important mission, if they sent such well-trained agents.”

“Mmm. Let’s get a little closer, see if we can eavesdrop.”

Slowly, they inched closer to the Yiga, making sure to stay behind cover and in the deep shadows of the stone pillars and arches. To their disappointment none of the men were saying much, only shouting warnings and directions at each other. Link noted that they were a remarkably cohesive team.

“I wonder where the fourth is?” Zelda whispered when the fight was winding down.

“Maybe a moblin ate him.”

Link felt Zelda roll her eyes and grinned behind his mask. He peeked back out at the Yiga just in time to make eye contact with their one-eyed leader.

His startled curse overlapped with the Yiga’s alarmed shout as he lurched back behind the rock, crowding Zelda along with him. “One-Eye saw us!” he hissed, turning and urging her into a run the same way they’d come. “Go!”

It sounded to Link’s sensitive ears like One-Eye had dropped everything to sprint across the sand toward their hiding place. The others weren’t quite so unoccupied, though they both shouted after their leader. Unfortunately for Link and Zelda, their legs were short and the Yiga’s were long⁠—the man was clearly gaining on them, and he would soon be at an angle to see them if they didn’t round the next cliff base.

“Show yourself!” the Yiga bellowed. He sounded angry.

“Get us out of here!”  Link hissed the very moment they turned and put the cliff between them and the Yiga. He didn’t even have time to look and see where the man was, or if he’d managed to run fast enough to watch them turn the corner. Hopefully not⁠—disappearing into thin air was something the Hero and Princess were very fond of doing, and the entire clan knew it.

But they had to get away regardless, so Zelda dexterously pulled out the slate from its hiding place and hit the first icon she saw: the Korsh O’hu shrine in the east Gerudo ruins. They safely spiraled away in ribbons of blue Sheikah light, reforming under the watchful eyes of the Seven Heroines.

Zelda collapsed against the shrine’s wall. Link followed. He felt rattled⁠—the armor he was wearing was powerfully enchanted for stealth, malevolent properties notwithstanding. He hadn’t expected the Yiga to spot him. Something else had to be going on besides the obvious deception he and Zelda were accustomed to.

He just hoped he figured it out fast enough to make sure she didn’t suffer for his mistakes again.

Bonus Dark Zelda doodle

Chapter Text

“Well,” Zelda commented once she was no longer panting for breath. “That didn’t go exactly as planned, did it?”

Link sighed. “I didn’t think they’d be able to spot us, but I still should have been paying closer attention. I’m sorry.”

“We both should have.” She stood up, dusting herself off. She dusted Link off too when he followed. “But they didn’t see us so I suppose there’s no harm done. I do wonder why they were fighting monsters if no one was watching, though.”

“Method acting?” Link suggested.

She snorted an undignified laugh. “Oh dear. So you do remember the Kingdom Theater Troupe incident.”

“Only enough to know that I don’t like method actors.”

“He did apologize. Even after you broke his glockenspiel.”

Link didn’t fully remember why that made him laugh, but he allowed it to happen anyway. It seemed to please Zelda. “Alright, let’s go back⁠—” Something flashed in the corner of his eye. He spun around, pulling his Gerudo scimitar from his back, and leveled it at… a wolf? A wolf with strange markings and alarmingly intelligent eyes, ears pinned back and upper lip curled in the very beginning of a snarl.

His own hackles immediately went up, instincts screaming that this was something dangerous he couldn’t leave to roam the desert. “It might be rabid. Stay behind me,” he told Zelda in a low, even voice. “I’ll take care of it.”

She grabbed his sleeve when he took a step forward. “Wait!”

“What?” He refused to take his eyes from the beast, though its wariness and hostility seemed to be… ebbing?

“Don’t hurt him! I think he just doesn’t like our disguises.”

Link blinked and thought oh. Because yes, of course it wouldn’t like the creepy malevolent armor they were wearing. No one did, not even monsters. “Oh,” he said aloud. “Right.”

“It’s not the poor wolf’s fault,” Zelda insisted. “Besides, they’re an important keystone species in the desert’s ecosystem!”

“I’m sure this one singular wolf is very important in keeping the local food chain balanced,” Link agreed dryly. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d gotten this lecture. “Fine, I won’t hurt it unless it tries to hurt you.”

The wolf whined, drawing his attention fully back to it. Its head was tilted and its posture had shifted into something much lower than before, almost like an inquisitive dog. It pawed at the sand, then slunk a few steps closer to them, only stopping when Link raised his scimitar defensively. Moonlight fell over the entirety of the wolf’s body now, illuminating its unique color and coat pattern. Link didn’t think he’d ever seen anything like it.

“Oh look at him, he’s so dashing with all those markings! We should put away the masks, at least,” said Zelda.

“We don’t know where the fourth Yiga is,” Link reminded her.

“Well clearly he’s not here,” she pointed out. “He would have seen us and attacked.”

“...true,” he admitted. “But it’s a wolf. Masks or not, I don’t think we can make friends with it.”

“He looks like he would be quite amiable without these dratted things scaring him!” She removed her mask and enchanted cap, putting them away in the slate. Link reached up and removed his own mask and handed it to her. Immediately, the low background hum of malevolence dissipated. He grimaced.

“Hello Sir Wolf,” Zelda cooed, hooking her chin over Link’s shoulder and leaning her weight into his back. “Look, we’re not scary monsters, I promise!”

The wolf whined again, this time in a vaguely solicitous tone, and inched closer. Link frowned at it. As if in response, it got even lower to the ground.

It… couldn’t possibly have been trying to seem unthreatening in response, could it? Because he was pretty sure wolves couldn’t read Hylian facial expressions.

“See? He wants to be friends!” said Zelda. “Oh my goodness, you’re so handsome, aren’t you? What a pretty coat!”

If a wolf was capable of being embarrassed, this one seemed to be. By then it was only a sword’s length from the two of them, massive head level with theirs only thanks to the added height of the shrine’s platform. Link noted again that its eyes seemed way too intelligent for a normal wolf. And… familiar?

“Hey, fella,” Link said softly, feeling a sense of something uncanny that he couldn’t quite pin down. It didn’t feel malicious, but he didn’t like the fact that he didn’t understand it. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m going to pet him,” Zelda suddenly declared.

Link stuck out his arm to block her, aghast. “What? No!”

“I can tell he’s friendly, it will be fine. And I’ve never felt a wolf’s fur before!”

“It’s not worth the risk. You know I would never let anything bite you and live.”

“You’ve bitten me!” she retorted.

Link’s cheeks immediately burned hot and he sputtered, “I⁠—that was on accident! You were trying to steal my crepes!”

“Exactly. And if he bit me now, it would also be my fault. Besides⁠—” Her eyes glittered as she gave him a sly look that she’d definitely learned from Riju. “I know you want to pet him too.”

Link folded like a cheap tent. “...fine. But then we really should go back to Riju. She’ll think we went molduga hunting and send Buliara after us if we stay out too long.”

“Agreed!” Zelda zipped around him and held out her hand for the wolf to smell, like it was a regular herding dog at a stable. “See, Sir Wolf? We’re friendly! Oh please let me pet you! It’s for scientific inquiry!”

Link rolled his eyes fondly.

The wolf chuffed, sniffing her hand before gently butting against it in an unmistakable request to be patted. Zelda made a delighted noise and obliged, running her tiny six-year-old hands over its facial markings. “Oh, he’s so soft!”

Link’s curiosity finally won out over his sense of unease at something not being quite right about the wolf. He cautiously offered his own empty hand, letting the one holding his scimitar rest at his side. The wolf looked at him directly⁠ before sniffing his wrist and bumping against his forearm.

“Huh,” said Link, stripping off a glove to pet him. The fur really was very soft. “Maybe he’s not wild after all. Maybe someone tamed him. I bet his name is…” He scrutinized the beast. “Mister Fluffbutt.”

The wolf chuffed again, and Link swore he saw him roll his eyes.

And that, really, was just a step too far. Link grabbed Zelda’s belt and gently pulled her behind him, away from where she’d had her arms buried up to the elbow in the wolf’s thick ruff. “Okay, that’s enough,” he said. “Thanks for not biting us. Let’s go, Zelda.”

“But Link⁠—”

The wolf jolted in an unmistakably person-like way as soon as he heard the first name . Link immediately backed Zelda all the way into the shelter of the shrine entrance and held the scimitar up threateningly. He reached back to grip her arm and make sure they wouldn’t be separated. “Go!”

Zelda heard the alarm and urgency in his tone and  immediately pulled the map up. She hit the icon for the shine at Gerudo Town, and the last thing he saw was the wolf’s wide, startled eyes as he took his first step up onto the shrine platform to follow them.

Link didn’t waste a second when their feet touched down on the stone platform, seizing Zelda’s hand and running for the town gate. “Inside, now,” he said tensely. His best friend offered no protest except to pull his hand to stop him and silently point out that they needed to be dressed in their Gerudo vai clothing.

Properly disguised, they ran until they were safely within the walls of Gerudo Town. The guards didn’t stop them.

“I know that wolf wasn’t exactly… normal,” Zelda whispered. “But what’s setting you so on edge?”

Link hesitated. “Do you think the Yiga can disguise themselves as animals?”

Zelda blinked at him. “As animals? Well… perhaps. But if the wolf was a Yiga footsoldier, surely he would have attacked us. He saw us teleport in, he saw the slate, and he saw our faces.”

Link felt his shoulders relax a little. “Mm. Yeah. Well…” His new suspicion was almost worse. “Do you think maybe a really intelligent wolf could be a servant of the Goddess? One who would maybe be looking for other servants of the Goddess? Who maybe are supposed to look older than six? Which would maybe be a surprising thing for a servant of Hylia to realize?”

Now her eyes went wide. She said nothing for a very long moment. “I… think we should avoid wolves from now on. Or for just a few weeks… or months... Right? It would be wise since we have only had a few weeks of rest…”

“Very wise,” Link agreed, nodding vigorously. “Let’s go to sleep. We can come up with more plans to bother the Yiga with Riju tomorrow.”

“Agreed,” said Zelda with visible relief.

Surely the Goddess could wait a little while if she needed their help again. After all, a wolf didn’t really seem like the most urgent of messengers.

Right?

Link and Zelda became somewhat more cautious of venturing out after that—but not so cautious that they didn’t. They told Riju everything, of course, but they made sure to mention their suspicions about the wolf only where Buliara couldn’t overhear. She would probably give them a look that said you need to be responsible, and that was just about the last thing they wanted.

For about three days after their close encounter with the Wolf of Indeterminate Significance, Zelda and Link focused on observing and confusing the Yiga. They appeared at the Bazaar several times (even managing to startle the missing fourth Yiga so badly he fell into the oasis again⁠—that was hilarious) and managed to accidentally find two of the Yiga out in the middle of the northern ruins when they’d only meant to look for safflina flowers.

(“HEY!” said the Yiga impersonating one of Link’s favorite seafaring predecessors, the Hero of Winds when they spotted each other through the rows of broken columns, freezing like two sets of startled cats. “WAIT! DON’T BE SCARED!”

They did not wait. Fortunately, Link knew of an underground hidey-hole nearby, and Zelda teleported the two of them away as soon as they slid into it.

“That was unsubtle, as far as manipulation goes,” Zelda commented once they materialized at the shrine.

Link nodded in agreement. “Not much effort.”)

They decided to take a little break after that incident, especially since Riju had some extra free time to spend with them and pointed out that the Yiga not seeing their ‘hallucinations’ for a day or two would probably put them on edge. Zelda had grinned quite meanly at that.

All of that was why Link and Zelda were meandering around the market district in the morning two days later, idly discussing what they should have for dinner that night, when they rounded a corner by the jeweler’s shop and came face-to-face with one of the Yiga dressed up as a vai. Zelda froze, startled, and Link immediately took a defensive position in front of her. The fake Hero of Winds quickly held up his hands.

“Wait!” he whisper-yelled, veil fluttering. Zelda was astonished to realize he’d even gone to the effort of (badly) dying his hair into a strange pinkish-orange color. “Just listen for a second! Look, my name is Link too⁠—we’re all named Link actually⁠—and Twi said you think we’re going to hurt you but I promise we’re not. We’re just looking for this era’s Hero because⁠—”

Zelda wasted no time in seizing Link’s hand and sprinting in the opposite direction. “AHH!” she wailed. “A SCARY VOE!”

Link contributed a remarkably high-pitched scream of his own to complete the effect. The guards came running, and the badly-disguised Yiga was tossed out of the city before Link and Zelda even reached the end of the market. He protested his good intentions the entire time, but the guards were not persuaded.

“I cannot believe they think Link is so egotistical!” Zelda fumed a little later, pacing around Riju’s rooms. Link had insisted on a sweep of the town himself to ensure that none of the others were there in disguise, and neither Riju nor Zelda could dissuade him from it.

“How so?” Riju asked, sipping her tea. It had been “suggested” that she should stay there with Zelda until Buliara had also done a thorough sweep of the town. Zelda was pretty sure Buliara would have done more than suggest if she’d had the authority to. She tended to fuss when Riju’s safety was in question.

“He said his name was Link too!” she growled, tossing up her hands angrily. “Of all the⁠—as if Link would believe that so many of his predecessors shared his name! It’s a statistical impossibility! Only an arrogant and egotistical fool would believe such a thing!” She fumed some more. “But they clearly believe Link would. Link! Of all people! That man has too little ego if you ask me! You practically have to strong-arm him into taking credit for anything! It’s like they don’t understand him at all!”

Riju laughed. “Well⁠—they don’t!” she said. “They’re Yiga.”

Zelda huffed. “Yes, yes, I know, but it’s still so galling! If you’re going to hate someone, you should at least hate them based on who they actually are, not some version you made up in your head!” She deliberately ignored the fact that her criticism applied to her own younger self.

“Who could hate Link after understanding what’s under that quiet, insane exterior?” said Riju with amusement. “If the Yiga actually understood him, there’d be no Yiga left.”

“True,” Zelda agreed, mollified, and blinked curiously at Riju when she laughed even harder than before. Riju did not explain, and Zelda shrugged it off.

If both of her best friends wanted to be a little weird, that was fine with her.

“Okay,” said Link. He and Zelda were lying on their stomachs and making good use of the slate’s zoom function to observe the Yiga as they fought a molduga some distance away. The group had recently swapped members, with two of the ones who’d gone through the canyon earlier returning and trading places. One-Eye and Headband were gone, replaced by Banana Man (named thus for his superhuman ability to resist the banana trap Link had set for him at the Bazaar) and Blue Scarf. “I say we wait until it’s almost dead and then fly past on some sand seals. There’s no way they could chase us down without breaking character, but it would be hilarious to see them try.”

Zelda giggled. “We can throw down bananas behind us.”

Link grinned. “It’ll work on everyone but⁠—” He stopped talking abruptly, because… Banana Man has just pulled out a replica of the Master Sword. A very convincing replica. His jaw dropped in outrage. “They didn’t.”

“What?” asked Zelda, then gasped. “Oh! That’s⁠—that’s too far!”

Link fumed, agitatedly tapping his fingers against the sand. “After everything, they have the audacity to make a cheap imitation of the Master Sword? I wish I could go to the Korok Forest for just a second,” he muttered. “I’d get the real sword and show them what it can do!”

“They certainly don’t deserve even a replica of her,” Zelda agreed with distaste.

An idea suddenly formed in Link’s head. “No, they don’t.” His anger cooled a little bit. He smiled again. “Hey. Change of plan.” Zelda offered him a curious look, and his smile widened. “How do you feel about a little heist?”

Chapter Text

The heist was carefully planned with Riju’s help. They pored over every single armor set in the slate, carefully selecting each article. Zelda would be equipped for stealth, wearing the miniaturized Sheikah armor with a special historical cowl. She would keep the slate the entire time. After much debate it was decided that Link would wear his Fierce Deity armor, since the Yiga had never seen it in person but undoubtedly had a record of it. Link would cause the distraction; Zelda would steal the sword using the magnesis rune. Then they would hightail it out of there to the Kihiro Moh shrine and proceed to chuck the fake down the very same bottomless pit Master Khoga had knocked himself into.

It was going to be extremely satisfying.

The Yiga had been continually returning to the Bazaar, considering it was one of the only viable places to get water and supplies in the desert. Link and Zelda kept an eye out for the perfect moment to ambush them⁠—a moment where they were exhausted and their guard was lowered. When that moment finally came, they struck.

The Yiga were sitting around a modest fire, near enough to the oasis for protection and easy access to supplies, but far enough to have some illusion of privacy. Three were awake and speaking to each other in low voices. One, the youngest who’d tried to ambush them in Gerudo Town, was asleep. Their target was fortuitously sitting with his back to the oasis, fake Master Sword wrapped up in his cloak near his side.

Link’s approach began well outside of the Bazaar, from the direction of the canyon pass. Zelda used every ounce of stealth she’d ever learned and the powerful enchantments of the Sheikah gear to slowly creep around the edge of the oasis. She lied on her stomach in the sand and waited patiently with the slate in hand, watching as Link got himself into position as well. He didn’t give any signal, instead trusting that she would be ready by the time he was there.

It didn’t take long for the Yiga to notice Link once he’d finished sneaking and begun walking toward them directly. One abruptly fell silent and elbowed the other, who followed his gaze. He drew in a sharp breath and gestured sharply for the third to look as well.

“What is…?” whispered the Yiga imitating the Hero of the Skies.

“He looks like⁠—” said the fake Hero of Twilight, though he cut himself off before finishing his words.

“It can’t be,” said the false Hero of Wars. His acting was remarkably good, to Zelda’s ears. He sounded genuinely stricken.

Link looked truly eerie as he walked toward them at a measured pace, neither fast nor slow, like the ghost of a god. His white hair fluttered in the desert wind, catching the light of his phosphorescent eyes. Zelda ducked when the fake Hero of the Skies looked back, checking the Bazaar residents for any reaction. There were none, and he looked away. When Link finally stopped a few lengths from their camp and stared at them impassively, even Zelda’s hair stood on end.

“That’s the Fierce Deity,” said the false Hero of Wars. “But⁠—he can’t be little.”

That was when Link grinned at them, and Zelda knew it was the perfect moment to strike. She activated magnesis and took careful hold of the fake Master Sword. Link raised one hand and slowly gestured for them to approach as she floated the sword toward her, bit by careful bit. The Yiga were so completely focused that none of them noticed.

The fake Hero of Twilight stood. “Pup,” he said with convincing unsteadiness, though the nickname seemed an odd choice, “what have you done?”

“Maybe we can undo this,” said the false Hero of Wars as he also stood. “Did you come to us for help? Can you take the mask off?”

Zelda’s hand finally closed around the body of the fake sword. The cloak had come with it, of course, and the Yiga would just have to stand the loss. Triumphant, she stood to her feet and made eye contact with Link. His grin widened. He gestured for the Yiga to approach again.

“Can you talk?” The Yiga obediently got closer. “Do you know who we are now?”

“I always knew who you were, Hero of Twilight,” Link whispered creepily. The Yiga flinched hard, and that was exactly the opening Link needed. He flipped from moving with eerie slowness to moving at an elixir-enhanced speed, flying between the Yiga and over their camp. They reacted with shock, too slow on the uptake to realize what was happening until he was already crashing into Zelda by the oasis waters.

“WAIT!” shouted the fake Hero of the Skies as Zelda punched the correct shrine icon. The whole heist was absolutely going to blow their cover, of course, but it was also absolutely worth it. She blew an entirely childish raspberry at them as she and Link dissolved into ribbons of blue light and vanished.

Link started giggling the moment they landed on the shrine platform. “You should have seen their faces!” he laughed. “They were so freaked out!”

Zelda giggled too. “I could hear it! Now…“ She started unwrapping the fake sword from the cloak. “Let us throw this cheap imitation—“ Her hand touched the bare hilt of the sword, and she heard a chime. In her head, a voice spoke.

“H—“

Zelda shrieked and flung the sword as far from her as she could. It landed with an unimpressive thud.

Link’s eyes had gone wide. With the armor still on, it was a strange sight. “Zelda?”

“It. Talked,” she whispered, hands over her mouth. Her heart pounded in her ears from the unexpected scare. “It talked to me.”

“What?”

“It talked to me like the spirit in the Master Sword did.” She waved a shaky hand. “It sounded nothing like her, of course, but…”

Link glanced at the sword. “I heard the chime too. What did the voice sound like?”

“…crisp. Strong. The real Master Sword’s spirit was… so very quiet and gentle, like a breath of air.”

Neither of them said anything for a moment. “Well,” Link finally started, “so… we both remember the story of the Master Sword’s forging, right?”

“Yes…?”

“And we both remember the other sword. So… maybe the Yiga did too? And found⁠—or made⁠—another?”

Zelda gasped softly. “Demon sword.”

They stared at it some more.

“What do we do with it?” Zelda asked. “We can’t just toss it down the chasm anymore. Many of the details of the Hero of the Skies’ story were lost. For all we know, it might hit Khoga’s corpse and possess it or something.”

Link adjusted his vambraces. “I’ll fight it,” he decided, squaring his shoulders and taking an aggressive step forward.

She caught his arm. “Do not fight it. You are currently six. Molduga are one thing, but I officially forbid you from fighting a demon sword when you’re half your usual height!”

He pouted at her. She ignored it, too busy tapping her fingers on her arm and thinking.

“Alright… we can’t get rid of it and we can’t leave it here. Holding it is also a questionable idea. So… can we put it in the slate?”

“It does seem to contain other malevolent items without a problem,” Link acknowledged. “Give me the slate, I’ll do it. The Master Sword has never spoken to me. Maybe a Yiga demon sword won’t either.”

Zelda’s mouth flattened in displeasure at his subtle self-deprecation, but she couldn’t argue against it either. Not right now, at least. “It’s dangerous to assume it won’t, but I suppose you’re correct that the risk is less.” She handed over the slate. “Please, be careful.”

He cautiously approached the sword, inventory slot ready to receive it the very moment he grabbed the hilt. He hesitated for a moment, then snapped his hand out.

The demon sword chimed again. Link gasped and let go, recoiling so sharply he lost his balance and fell on his rear.

Zelda rushed to his side. “What? Did it say something?”

“Yeah,” he said, and for once in his life he sounded truly shaken. “It said ‘W⁠uh.‘“

“Wuh?”

“I let go so fast it couldn’t finish.”

They stared at the sword again. It glimmered innocently in the moonlight.

“Well… this isn’t like the old story where the Demon Lord actually had a physical body to fight the Hero,” said Link. “If it could, don’t you think it would have by now?”

Zelda eyed him suspiciously. “I suppose. What about it?”

“I want to talk to it.”

“Link!”

“Just for a minute or two! It might know more about the Yiga’s plans.”

“Or, it might deceive you! Or possess you!” She flailed her arms to emphasize the point.

“If it could have possessed me that fast, why wait?”

She hated when Link was reasonable about things she didn’t want to do. “Well, if you insist on talking to it, then we should both participate!”

Link considered her proposal with a gravity he reserved entirely for matters pertaining to her safety and never his own. “Okay,” he finally agreed. “Together.”

They laced their fingers together and then, a little nervously, grasped the hilt with their free hands. The sword chimed for a third time, and a voice filled their heads.

“Factually speaking, I am the direct opposite of the Demon Lord Ghirahim.”

They blinked at each other, then the sword. “Huh?” said Link.

“You are operating under a reasonable misapprehension, little Master and Princess. I am not any form of Demon; I am the spirit of the Master Sword as you seem to know her, though I am far younger. Those you have mistaken for ‘Yiga’ walked through many eras to arrive here and find you.”

“Are—are you saying,” Zelda stuttered, “that you are a time-traveling version of the Master Sword?”

“That is correct. And though I am greatly pleased to be able to spend time with you, little Master and Princess, you should return to the other Heroes. The Hero of the Skies, my first Master, is no doubt greatly distressed by your… choice to abscond with me.”

Link squinted. “Wait. You’re saying we stole the actual Master Sword from the actual, historical, real-life Hero of the Skies? The same Chosen Hero I spent hours studying and trying to honor and live up to?”

“That is correct,” said the being who they no longer doubted was Fi. She sounded amused.

“…oh,” Link said faintly.

And then he burst into tears.

An hour later found Link utterly mortified, Zelda similarly embarrassed after following him into a distressed breakdown, and Fi patiently waiting for them to wrestle their emotions back under control using underdeveloped six-year-old strength.

“Sorry,” Link managed eventually, wiping snot onto his upper sleeve. “That, um… hit a lot of old stuff. About failing and… well, you know.”

Zelda laughed, though it was wobbly. “I understand. If it had been my ancestors we just robbed, I don’t think even you would have been able to console me.” She visibly teared up thinking about it. He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed.

“They‘ll forgive you,” he said staunchly. “You’re Princess Zelda. They might kick my butt, though.”

“They will not ‘kick your butt,’ little Master,” Fi refuted patiently.

“Well. I would kick my butt.” He meant it as a joke, but it just came out miserable. His chest hurt. He could feel another panicked crying jag threatening to burst out of his tenuous control.

“Once things have been explained, they will not hold it against you,” Fi insisted. “I predict most will laugh shortly after learning the truth, and all will laugh eventually.”

That was the thing, though: Link didn’t think there was anything he would rather not have done more than he would really rather not explain to his predecessors why he’d been tormenting them for weeks. Or why he was currently six. Or why he was actually a hundred and seventeen years old. Or why Zelda was six-slash-a-hundred-and-seventeen.

His eyes burned threateningly at the mere thought, and he realized with no little horror that if he tried, he was definitely going to burst into tears in front of several Heroes of legend.

“Hey, um,” he said in a voice that was a lot higher pitched than he intended. “How about we just drop the Master Sword off when they’re sleeping? And then run and not come back to civilization for at least ten years?”

“Agreed,” said Zelda a little too quickly.

“There is no need to be afraid,” said Fi. “They may be legends to you, but they are also ordinary young men who understand much of what you have endured. You will not find the condemnation you are afraid of.”

Link exchanged a glance with Zelda. He wasn’t entirely convinced that was true—or that he wouldn’t deserve it. “Maybe they’re asleep by now. Or not there. Then we can just… drop her off at their camp and leave?”

“That sounds reasonable to me,” Zelda agreed.

“Little Master, please.”

“Let’s go before I lose my nerve,” said Zelda, standing.

They joined hands again, and Link held the young Master Sword while Zelda held the slate. It was near to midnight when they returned to the Bazaar, reconstituting atop the travel medallion beside the oasis. The Heroes’ camp was empty and the fire had been banked.

“It would be best if you spoke to them, little Master,” Fi said mildly as they broke into a run, eager to get this over with before anyone returned. Link did not share her opinion and got the impression that she was doing something akin to sighing as his stubbornness. They ran on in silence.

“Almost there,” Zelda whispered breathlessly.

And that was the exact moment that the Hero of the Skies popped up in front of them, eyes wide and hands up. “Wait!” he cried.

Link felt his eyes immediately begin to burn with the threat of tears, proceeded to panic, and made the stellar decision to throw the Master Sword with all his strength. It struck the Hero in the center of his chest with a heavy thud. Zelda followed up by chucking his cloak over his head.

“Oof!” wheezed the famous Hero.

“SORRY!” blurted out Link, though it emerged as a questionably comprehensible panicked squeak. He scrambled around to sprint in the opposite direction, dragging Zelda along with him.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he vaguely hoped that Zelda would already be in the process of teleporting them to a shrine⁠— any shrine⁠—but sadly, that was not to be. As they turned they found out where the other Heroes had gone by way of promptly running face-first into them.

“Wait, wait, please just wait,” said the Hero of Twilight as he wrapped his hands around Link’s upper arms and lifted his feet from the sand. “We’re not going to hurt you!”

Link lost his grip on Zelda’s hand as the Hero of Wars grabbed her (and despite his fraught emotional state, Link still instantly demoted the man to ‘Blue-Scarf’ in his head). She gasped in surprise, but Blue-Scarf didn’t lift her from the sand, instead keeping her in place by kneeling down and holding onto her arms.

“Just calm down,” he said. “Everything’s alright, kids.”

“Yeah!” said the Hero of Winds, standing off to the side like he was ready to jump in the moment he was needed. “You said you knew who Twilight was, so why are you so scared anyway?”

Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy, thought Link just before it all became too much to contain and he burst into overwhelmed tears.

At least it made his role models panic too.

Chapter Text

Zelda wasn’t afraid of these legendary Heroes. They were, after all, some form of her dearest friend, and would never hurt her. However, she was distressed for herself, for Link, and for how the situation might quickly deteriorate when she wasn’t capable of calming things down.

Like right now, as Link’s panicked yelling and sobbing brought the Bazaar guards running.

“Unhand them, Yiga scum!” thundered Ripp at the head of the group.

“Wait!” Zelda shouted, though the unexpected stress of the situation was quickly reducing her to humiliating tears as well. “They’re not Yiga, it’s okay!”

The Hero of the Skies was by then standing close, holding the Master Sword as she chimed and undoubtedly apprised him of the situation. He looked bewildered and concerned. “Yiga? What are Yiga?”

Ripp and the other guards didn’t look convinced, though they did slow to a stop a few lengths away rather than attacking. “Are you sure, Lady Flora?”

“Y-yes,” said Zelda, trying to hold it together long enough to diffuse the situation. “We’re… sure.” Then she was crying too hard to see straight.

“Hey, don’t cry, you’re not in trouble,” said the Hero of Winds. He reached out to pat her back with an experienced hand, like he was used to comforting distressed children. “It’s okay.”

And honestly, that only served to make her cry harder. “It’s really not!”

The Hero of Twilight was trying⁠—and failing⁠—to calm Link down. “Can you tell me what Yiga are?” he asked. “And how you knew who we were?”

Thankfully, Link’s desperation to clear up that misunderstanding was enough to override his crying. “Wuh⁠—we didn’t know you were the real Heroes!” he said frantically. “We thuh-thought you were all Yiga dressed up as them to kill us!”

“WHAT?” said all four Heroes in horrified unison.

Ripp interjected. “Are you sure you wish to give them such compromising information?” she asked Link and Zelda, emphasizing the importance of protecting their identities. It was too late for that, though.

“They ah-already know who we uh-are,” Zelda managed. “You can eh-explain about the Yiga.”

“Hmph.” Ripp leaned the butt of her spear into the sand, disapproving but willing to do as told. “The vile Yiga clan is dedicated to seeing all of Hyrule plunged into darkness under the Calamity, including by assassinating Princess Zelda, the Hero Link, and our own Chief. The Calamity has been sealed, so they want revenge upon their Highnesses and Sir Link now more than ever.”

“You thought we were assassins?” the Hero of the Sky asked with even deeper horror. “But⁠—why wouldn’t you attack us?”

“They’re not usually this competent!” Link wailed. “We wanted to make you break character! We’re so sorry!”

The Hero of Twilight finally seemed to reach his breaking point on getting answers from sobbing children. “Okay,” he said, and simply picked Link up and started rubbing his back. “Well… it’s okay. Just focus on calming down and we can talk more later.”

“I will send a message to Lady Riju,” said Ripp, and departed⁠—but not before she gestured for two of the other guards to stay close to the Heroes and keep an eye on the situation.

“We are very sorry,” Zelda said, seconding Link. She was getting herself under control a little bit until she imagined how the situation would have gone if it had been a group of legendary Princesses rather than Heroes. Her tears unfortunately picked up again. “So sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said the Hero of the Skies. His shock seemed to be ebbing, especially when Fi chimed again. “If anything, I’m surprised you were so restrained. I would have been a lot meaner to anyone I thought was trying to assassinate my Zelda.”

The other Heroes murmured in agreement.

“Yeah!” said the Hero of Winds, and suddenly burst into laughter. “So that was why they pushed us into the water! And why you kept taunting us! And why you⁠—actually wait, why did you steal the Master Sword?”

“The Yiga don’t deserve a fake Master Sword!” Link said indignantly, muffled into the Hero of Twilight’s fur mantle. Then he seemed to remember that it wasn’t Yiga he’d stolen the sword from and resumed his mortified mental breakdown.

The Hero of the Skies cooed. “Oh, that’s very sweet.”

“Of course you would say that,” sighed the Hero of Wars.

“Enough, no more questions,” said the Hero of Twilight. He sounded somewhere between exhausted and exasperated as he tried to calm Link down. “We’re all going to sit down and wait for the kids to stop crying.”

The other three Heroes agreed readily enough and returned to their camp, settling down around the campfire. The Hero of Twilight kept ahold of Link while the Hero of the Skies gently directed Zelda to sit against his side. He laid the Master Sword across both their laps, and she found solace in keeping her hand on the scabbard and feeling Fi’s calm presence. The Hero of Wars used the banked coals to quickly build a new fire, chasing off the chill of the night air.

Link calmed down not too long after, though Zelda could tell he was exhausted. He seemed content enough to stay in the Hero of Twilight’s grip, blinking heavily in the warm light of the fire.

“So,” said the Hero of the Skies, who had also started to blink heavily. He shook himself a little bit as he spoke. “How about we all introduce ourselves properly?”

“We already know who you are, Hero of the Skies,” said Zelda, feeling uncommonly shy as she glanced at the great Hero and quickly looked away. His Princess⁠—the first Zelda⁠—had been flawless. Peerless. Zelda could only imagine what such a woman would think of her. “And you guessed who we were right away.”

The man blinked in surprise, then smiled at her. “Oh, there’s no need to be so formal with us. You can call me Sky. So, we were right that you’re Princess Zelda and he’s Link?”

“Sir Link, Champion of Hyrule,” she corrected automatically, then paused as something occurred to her. “How did you know his name was Link?”

The four Heroes stared at her. “Huh? We’re all named Link,” said the Hero of Winds, scratching the side of his head in confusion.

Her jaw dropped. “You are?”

“You knew our titles but not our names?” asked the Hero of Wars.

“Well⁠—” She felt her cheeks heat up a little. “My ancestors kept only formalized records to protect you. And they’re all quite old. I just… it seemed like a statistical impossibility that any one of you would also be named Link!”

There was a beat of silence. Then, her Link burst out laughing. “And you were complaining to Riju about it!” he said, laughing more. “Well, we finally solved the mystery of what the Hero ten thousand years ago was named!”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she muttered, taking out the slate to make a note of it. After so long speculating and looking for clues, it seemed oddly anticlimactic. 

“How boring,” said Link teased, correctly anticipating her thoughts. “Practically pedestrian.”

“You hush. I would never think of one of your predecessors in such terms. I’m merely…”

“Sad you got the answer without digging through an archeological site for three months?”

“Link.”

He laughed again, and she was glad that her mild embarrassment could lighten his mood for even a moment.

All four of the Heroes were smiling at them. “I see you two are quite close,” said Warriors, and she blushed.

“Yes.”

Twilight cleared his throat. “Are you… ready to answer questions now?”

Zelda took a bracing breath. She saw Link do the same. “Yes,” she said in a voice that wasn’t as steady as she wanted.

“You’re not in trouble,” Warriors assured her.

“That is… not quite our concern.”

Sky frowned. “Then what is?”

“Well, we…” We’re not really little children, which makes our actions even more inexcusable. We both feel like we failed, though we disagree about who truly did. Hyrule was destroyed a hundred years ago. We studied our predecessors and looked up to them and tried desperately to emulate them. We tried so hard that it broke us. We failed anyway. And now here you are, in the flesh, and we’ve spent weeks tormenting you. If we tell you the whole story, you’ll realize how little we live up to our titles.

The lump that formed in her throat was too thick to speak around. She blinked rapidly against fresh tears, tired of looking childish but uncertain if even her adult self would have been calm in this situation. She couldn’t answer.

Surprisingly, Link did.

“Everyone always said,” he murmured, eyes cast down toward the sand, “that we had to be like you, or Hyrule would fall. We had to be strong, and wise, and courageous. There was no other choice. We studied your stories and worked to be like you for hours and hours and hours. We tried so hard.”

And then we failed. And Hyrule fell.

We weren’t like you at all.

“You’re afraid we’ll be disappointed in you?” Sky asked with surprise.

“Zelda shouldn’t be afraid. She didn’t do anything wrong. But I did.”

While Zelda was sure Link hadn’t said it because he knew it would knock the lump right out of her throat, that was still the result. She huffed at him, tears forgotten for the moment. “That is not true. He went above and beyond, even when I made it difficult on purpose. It was⁠—I am the one who failed.”

Link opened his mouth to argue hotly, but Warriors interrupted. “Slow down. I don’t think either of you did anything wrong, but… what exactly do you think that you failed at?”

She felt her shoulders tense up and exchanged a borderline-panicked glance with Link. This was the part she was afraid of explaining, and she knew Link was too. It was one thing to confront her failure when everyone around her already knew the story. It was quite another to lay out the situation in excruciating detail to nigh-mythic figures.

Plus, well. It was going to be extremely embarrassing to explain why they were currently six-year-olds.

“Well… you see…” She choked again, completely incapable of even finding where to start, much less being courageous enough to try. 

“I died,” Link blurted out.

The silence that fell on the group was deafening. Every eye was fixed on Link, wide with shock⁠—including Zelda’s, considering she hadn’t expected him to jump straight to admitting that.

Thankfully, she found her voice again before anyone else could comment. “It wasn’t his fault! He had to protect me against impossible odds because I couldn’t awaken my powers!”

“It was my job to protect you and help you awaken your powers, it absolutely was my fault,” Link insisted.

“Uh,” said Wind, “wait. Back up, forget who failed who, did she just say you died?”

Zelda saw the question land like a physical blow on her best friend. He looked back down, and there was a subtle tremble in his hands. “...yes,” he said in a quiet voice that cracked from shame and impending tears. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing for dying?” asked Sky with nearly as much distress as Link and Zelda.

“Yes.”

Fi chimed. Zelda couldn’t hear what she said, as she wasn’t touching the sword directly anymore. Sky put a hand over his eyes and took a shaky breath.

“But if you died then how⁠—” Warriors started to ask, but Twilight interrupted him.

“I think this might be a conversation we let the Old Man lead,” he said.

“Sounds good to me,” Wind agreed quickly.

Fortunately for all of them, they didn’t have to wait for a distraction from the extremely uncomfortable conversation, because one was hurrying down the path toward them. Link spotted them first as he searched for any possible reason to escape. “Hey, look, is that⁠—?”

Zelda gasped and shot to her feet. “IMPA!”

When Zelda took off running, Link quickly squirmed out of Twilight’s grip and followed her. He was glad for the excuse to leave the conversation about how he’d utterly failed to live up to his predecessors’ example. Unfortunately, he was also sprinting straight toward the other four Heroes, who seemed to be accompanying Impa and Dorian.

…and of course, the four they’d been talking to also got up to follow. So really, they wouldn’t be escaping much unless Impa really helped them out.

“Sweet Goddess,” said Impa as she caught sight of them, voice carrying faintly over the desert wind.

“IMPA!” Zelda repeated at the top of her lungs. As soon as she got close enough, she crashed into her friend. Link merely slowed to a stop, eyeing One-Eye⁠—the Hero of Time, that was⁠—as he stared at the two of them white-faced shock.

“I see Lady Riju’s letter was not exaggerating,” Impa observed. She looked Zelda over thoroughly, then gestured Link closer to do the same and took hold of his jaw with her weathered hands. “Oh my. Have you been crying?”

The Heroes’ disapproval was one thing. Impa’s was a different beast⁠—especially when it was deserved. Link and Zelda exchanged a panicked and unprepared glance.

“WE STOLE THE MASTER SWORD!” they confessed in unison, and burst into tears again.

“You what?” said Dorian, though he sounded more confused than wrathful.

Impa clicked her tongue and shook her head, making the ornaments on her hat clatter. “They’re overwhelmed. I think now is not the time for questions. Dorian, if you would…?”

“Of course. Pardon me, Princess, Master Link,” he said, and picked them up just as he was accustomed to picking up Coco and Cottla. Link startled at being picked up for the second time that day, but Zelda seemed grateful.

“We have… eh-erred… quite badly,” Zelda managed between shuddering breaths.

“Zelda, my dear, I believe this conversation may be better suited to after you and Link have slept and eaten breakfast. This early hour is taxing to even the most disciplined of souls, and I imagine you haven’t rested since yesterday.”

“But⁠—”

“After.”

Zelda nodded in reluctant agreement and focused on reining in her tears. Link, however, had a different question as the group resumed walking. “Why ah-are you travelling i-in the middle of the nuh-night?” he hiccuped, scrubbing at his face.

“We were not,” said Dorian, “until a messenger arrived from the Bazaar not long ago. We were resting at the canyon stable.”

“Oh. Suh-sorry.”

“Let us save any apologies for tomorrow,” Impa said sternly. “Explanations and apologies are more meaningful from clear minds.”

Zelda sniffled and put her head down against Dorian’s shoulder. Link hesitated longer, quickly assessing the Heroes around them despite the way his vision kept blurring in and out. Nothing seemed too amiss. He met the Hero of Time’s eye last, and the man’s utterly haunted and unnerved expression made him flinch back and quickly put his head down the way Zelda had. He didn’t want to see how much one of his role models disliked him.

“Impa,” said the Hero in a strained voice. “Why are⁠—do they usually… ah…”

“Spit it out, young man,” Impa harrumphed, unimpressed.

“Why is the little Princess dressed as Sheik? And why is Link… where did he get that mask?”

“I wouldn’t know, seeing as I have arrived at the same time as you,” said Impa, and Link felt a little bit better to know the old Sheikah was on his side. “But I do know that Link collects armor, and many sets in his collection are either very old or are recreations of legendary pieces. You may ask him yourself tomorrow.”

“...as you say,” the legendary Hero of Time agreed weakly.

Chapter Text

When Link woke up, he was warm and comfortable in a Bazaar inn bed with Zelda curled up safely next to him. He had absolutely no clue how or when he’d gotten there, though he could guess. When he turned his head, some of Impa and Dorian’s personal effects were on the beds nearby. He yawned and sat up, rubbing gingerly at his sore eyes.

There were a few people talking nearby, including Riju and some of his predecessors. He got out of bed without disturbing Zelda, pulled on his boots, and stealthily crept toward the door that led from the sleeping area.

“—is true, I apologize for your treatment over the past few weeks,” Riju said regally to three of Link’s predecessors. Only the faintest hint of a blush dusted her cheeks, and her chin was high. “You may have seen more of my dear friends than myself, but know that I was heavily involved in planning.”

“It’s alright, Lady Riju,” said Time. “We understand.” He caught sight of Link out of the corner of his eye and immediately snapped his head around like he’d seen a ghost. Link flinched at the violence of the reaction and ducked back behind the door frame.

“Link?” Riju called. Her heels clicked against the sandstone floor as she came closer. “Are you awake?”

“Yeah.” He peeked out again, telling himself it was ridiculous to be afraid of the Hero of Time, even if the man didn’t like him. This was hardly the first time people hadn’t liked him for being a subpar Hero. “Sav’otta?”

“Sav’otta,” Riju echoed. She smiled, chagrined. “I was just apologizing to your… predecessors.”

Link stepped fully from the room, looked anywhere but at the Hero of Time, and bowed. “We’re also very sorry for the misunderstanding.”

“It’s alright,” Time said again, voice notably more strained. “Link, can you come talk to me for a moment?”

“...yes,” said Link ducking his chin and biting back the strange urge to tack on a sir. It was the plate armor, he thought. He hadn’t seen a full, polished set since before the Calamity, and it was making his head feel strange.

The Hero led him a short distance outside of the inn, then turned and… knelt down? That didn’t seem right. “Where did you get that mask?” he asked.

“I… found it?” Link said, puzzled by the question. He glanced up briefly. The Hero’s expression was intensely worried, which only puzzled him more.

Time took a breath. “And can you⁠—can you take it off?”

“...yes?”

“Show me. Please.”

Absolutely baffled, Link reached up and removed the mask. His hair reverted to its usual dark blond color and fell around his face. He blew a strand out of his eye and removed the cap too. When the Hero held out a hand, he gingerly deposited the mask into it and hoped it wasn’t about to be confiscated. The Fierce Deity set was one of his favorites.

“Do you ever have any trouble taking it off?” Time asked, examining the mask closely and frowning.

“...no?” Link wanted to ask some questions of his own, but lingering uneasiness held him back. The last thing he wanted was to make this Hero like him even less. “I can go put it away.”

“That would be best.” He handed the mask back with palpable reluctance. Then he reached out, maybe to clasp Link’s shoulder, but stopped when Link instinctively backed up a step. “That kind of power is dangerous, young one. It seems that it hasn’t done you any harm yet, but you should be wary of it. You never know when the mask might begin to wear you.”

“O… kay?” Link agreed, feeling no less bewildered now than he was before. It was just a mask⁠—a very good mask, of course, but it wasn’t even malicious. The worst it had ever done was make him feel a little power-drunk after clotheslining a Lynel.

Still, he took the admonition as an opening to leave immediately, turning on his heel to run, but Time caught his arm. “Wait,” said the older Hero, quickly letting go when Link tensed up. “I have another question. Were you and the Princess wearing… disguises at night a few weeks ago? Out in the desert?” He gestured toward the cliffs.

“Yes,” Link admitted quietly.

“Do you still have them?”

“...yes.”

“Can you show me?”

Link bit the inside of his lip. “Yes, sir,” he said. “I’ll go get them.” He turned on his heel again and jogged straight back to Zelda. She was awake by then but still groggy, and Riju was helping her re-do the braided crown she habitually wore to keep her bangs out of her eyes.

“Is everything alright?” Riju asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, briskly rubbing his arms to try and get rid of the nameless discomfort he was feeling. It didn’t work. “The Hero of Time really doesn’t like my armor, I guess, and I think he wants to confirm we were the ones spying on them out in the desert that one time.”

“Oh,” said Zelda with a worried tilt to her lips. “Will you be needing the slate, then?”

“Yeah.” He spared a moment to change his own clothing, choosing the desert voe armor. The late morning heat became a little less oppressive thanks to the gems and enchantments in the garments. “I’ll be right back.”

He jogged back to Time, reluctant to disappoint him more by making him wait. The older Hero was kneeling still and rubbing the space between his eyes tiredly. He looked up when Link approached, and Link hastily looked down.

“Um.” He angled the slate so Time could see his inventory display. “It was this set and this set, plus the mask. Sorry for spying on you.”

“I’m not angry about spying,” said the Hero, but his voice was once again strained. “Can you… bring out both masks, please?”

Wordless, Link nodded and pulled out the Phantom Ganon mask and Majora’s mask. Just like with the Fierce Deity mask, Time took each and examined them closely. It seemed, to Link, like he was much more reluctant to touch Majora’s mask than either of the others. That made sense⁠—even monsters stayed away from that one.

“Which one were you wearing?” Time asked eventually, still strained.

Link silently pointed to the Phantom Ganon mask.

“The Princess was wearing this?” Time held up Majora’s mask. Link nodded. “Alright.” The older Hero took another deep breath, like he was bracing himself. “And you just found these too?”

Link nodded a third time.

“You’ve never had any trouble taking them off? Never heard them whisper or make you feel something strange?”

Link shook his head. They felt vaguely unpleasant, but he didn’t count that as ‘strange.’

Time exhaled slowly. Then, even more slowly, he handed back the masks. “Put them away,” he said. His voice became sterner. “And… don’t use them. Not unless you must. They aren’t toys, Link. They’re dangerous, even if they’re not as dangerous as they were in the past.”

“Yessir. Understood.” He returned the masks to his inventory. “Am I dismissed, sir?”

“Dismissed? I⁠—”

“Thank you, sir.” Link nodded sharply and turned, and took one perfect marching step, and then broke into a sprint. He didn’t stop sprinting until he was back with Zelda and Riju, to whom he handed the slate.

“Link?” Riju asked, gently squeezing his shoulder. He realized he had a hand pressed over his chest.

“I’m glad I don’t remember everything about being a knight,” he blurted out. “I must have gotten in trouble a lot.”  

“Are you alright?” Zelda asked.

“Yeah. I just feel like⁠—like I disappointed my dad.” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do you think it’s too late to abandon civilization?”

Riju laughed at the sudden turn and Zelda smiled faintly as well. “Alas,” she sighed playfully, “Impa is here, so yes.”

“I’m glad to hear your spirits restored, my little friends,” said the old Sheikah herself, startling them as she entered. She fixed an amused but gimlet eye on Link. “Really, Link. For someone so quiet, your penchant for drama is remarkable.”

Link smiled sheepishly.

“Now, breakfast,” she said, gesturing Dorian in as well. He was carrying a laden tray. “And afterward you need to have a lengthy conversation with the Heroes of old.”

Zelda grimaced. “Can we perhaps… avoid that and pass our apologies through you?”

Impa shook her head. “There is more to this conversation than apologies, Zelda. Yes, you must.”

Link, Zelda, and Riju exchanged puzzled glances, but Impa did not explain any further, so they uneasily shrugged it off and focused on sharing breakfast. When they were done, Riju firmly insisted on staying despite their assurances that she didn’t need to endure any more discomfort.

“I could hardly abandon you now,” she said.

After Zelda had changed into her fanciest set of Gerudo vai clothing (a gift fit for a Princess, courtesy of Riju), they went out into the Bazaar. A gathering of their size was a bit too large for the inn, so Impa and Buliara had ordered an open tent to be erected a short distance from the oasis, providing them a shady place to sit. Gerudo guards stood watch around the perimeter, far enough away not to overhear but close enough to keep any curious outsiders from intruding. Dorian and Buliara kept much closer watch from inside the tent.

When everyone was seated on cushions (except Link, who chose to stand at attention behind Zelda and could not be dissuaded), Zelda cleared her throat. “Once again,” she said, “Link and I deeply apologize. We initially thought you were part of the Yiga clan and wished to use us to find information about… well, us, for the purposes of assassination. Since the Yiga clan in its current state is generally more of an annoyance to us than an immediate threat, we wished to, er… have some fun at their expense.” She pressed her hands together and avoided eye contact. “I am terribly sorry.”

“It’s alright, Princess,” said Time, and it was then that Link noticed how most of the Heroes were staring at him instead of Zelda. Specifically, a lot of their attention seemed to be fixed on his bare torso. He glanced down surreptitiously, but nothing seemed amiss. He shifted uncomfortably.

Twilight spoke. “We are… a little more concerned about what you told us than about a little bit of mischief.”

“O-oh,” said Zelda nervously. “Well, I wouldn’t say there’s much to be concerned about, really. It’s all handled, but thank you for your concern.”

“Yeah, nice deflection, Princess,” said the Hero of Legend brusquely, “but your Hero said he died and we can all see the scars. That doesn’t sound very handled.”

Link’s eyes widened. He glanced down again and realized oh, that’s what they were looking at. Then he cursed himself for not picking the Royal Guard uniform instead. “Well I’m not dead anymore, am I!” he said, indignant on Zelda’s behalf.

“Link, please,” said Zelda. She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Alright, yes, at one point it was very far from handled, but it is now. The Calamity has been sealed.”

“We think we may have an idea of what happened,” said Sky gently. “How old are the two of you, really?”

Zelda and Link blanched together and exchanged a shocked glance. How in the name of Hylia had they guessed? Impa certainly wouldn’t have told them. She was very fond of making people figure things out for themselves, and Dorian always followed her lead.

“You’re not the first to tamper with yourselves, or be tampered with, this way,” said Time when they hesitated. “No one is going to be disappointed in you.”

And again, Link wondered how did he know that?  

Zelda cleared her throat uncomfortably. “We are… well, we are a hundred and seventeen, technically,” she admitted. “But we were both… we were not exactly walking around and aging for the vast majority of that time. It’s only been a few weeks since I woke up, and not much longer for Link.”

“We know how dangerous it is to be like this,” Link added. “As soon as we can get to Hateno, we’re sure Purah can get us to adult size in a few weeks.”

Time looked pained. Actually, several of the Heroes looked pained. “Ah,” said Time, “as little as I like the thought, getting you to ‘adult size’ would be safest. However… I’m not sure we have weeks to wait.”

“We’ve all been gathered by the Goddess for a mission,” Sky said, soft like he was trying to gentle a blow. “And it’s very likely you’ve been called to join us… Hero of the Wild.”

It was that goddess-forsaken wolf, part of Link thought. The rest of him was reeling. A mission? So soon? And… him? Sure, he’d succeeded in the end, but he didn’t measure up to the Heroes already gathered. Not by a very, very long shot.

Zelda shot to her feet, startling him from his racing thoughts. Her hands were clenched tightly at her side. “What, precisely” she asked, enunciating each syllable like it was a weapon, “do you mean by that?”

“Each of us were chosen by the Goddess in the same way, Princess,” said Sky. “We left our own eras behind for an important task. The threat is⁠—”

“Absolutely not!”

Sky blinked in surprise. “I⁠—”

Link was shocked to realize that Zelda was starting to breathe hard with a fury he didn’t think he’d ever seen in her. “You can tell my esteemed ancestors that they should despair for the royal line of Hyrule!” she snarled. “For I say the Goddess can take her selection and shove⁠—”

“Zelda!” Impa interrupted, just as shocked as Link.

“NO!” And here Zelda actually stomped her foot, like a real six-year-old. “He has given enough! I have given enough! It has not even been three months and if you think I am going to stand by and let him be taken away, you have another thing coming! He’s my Knight and you can’t have him!”

This was not just the result of what the Heroes had said. Link was certain it had been brewing for much longer than the few weeks they’d been here⁠, perhaps even exacerbated by their sighting of the Goddess-messenger wolf. He reached for her shoulders to try and calm her down. “Zelda⁠—”

She rounded on him, making him freeze. “I said no! And don’t you dare say something stupidly heroic and self-sacrificial! I waited there in the darkness, all alone for a hundred years, never knowing for sure if you were alive or dead! And now she wants me to be alone again, in the silence, waiting to see if you will even come back alive? I say no! No!”

She’d started crying well before the end of her tirade, and once she was done shouting she dropped like her legs had been cut out from under her and wailed at the top of her lungs. Link dropped too, sparing no thoughts for the others in the tent, and gathered her up in his arms.

“Zelda, Zelda,” he said as she grabbed him and clung with all her might. The force of her sobs shook him too. “I won’t leave you. You won’t be alone ever again. It’s over. No more darkness.”

“No… more… darkness,” she echoed, barely intelligible between cries. She pressed her forehead into his upper chest. “Please.”

Only then did he glance around at the others. Riju had moved close enough to touch, hand over her mouth and a hint of sympathetic tears in her eyes. Impa and Dorian both looked completely taken aback. Buliara had directed her attention away respectfully. His predecessors each looked affected in one way or another: shock, discomfort, sorrow, regret.

Link could tell just by looking that they weren’t about to back down. If he did nothing, he would be separated from Zelda and dragged away on another mission. And, really, when it came down to loyalty to his Heroes and mantle or his loyalty to Zelda, he knew exactly which one he would always choose.

He didn’t even bother to apologize before he tucked his chin over the top of Zelda’s head, blindly swiped through the menu on the slate still attached to her hip, and selected the very first icon his finger touched. They disappeared in a flurry of blue light and paid no mind to the alarmed shouting that chased after.

Chapter Text

Don’t take him from me. Please don’t take him from me, not when I just got him back. Not when we just started to understand each other. Not when I just started to feel a little bit of hope.

Zelda knew she was going to regret not being dignified and controlled later. She knew she was going to regret crying and screaming at the Heroes of old. It was even possible she would regret speaking so rashly against Hylia and her royal line.

Somehow, though, when the Heroes were spelling out their threat (even if they didn’t mean it as a threat) to drag Link away and force him to abandon her, knowing didn’t matter. They simply couldn’t have Link, and she didn’t care what she had to do to make sure they didn’t take him. Period. And when Link held her as she sobbed, too angry and afraid to think straight, he sided with her.

They disappeared and reappeared, though she didn’t know where. She pressed her forehead into Link’s chest, trying to convey her gratitude without words. Already she could feel herself calming down as the threat became more distant.

“Zelda, honey,” said a voice that was not Link.

“Riju!” Link exclaimed as Zelda hastily straightened up. “I didn’t mean to drag you along with us.”

“You didn’t,” said Riju, who was sitting on her knees beside them. She moved her hand from where it had been resting on Zelda’s shoulder to her back, rubbing a calming circle. “I saw what you meant to do and invited myself along. Oh, Zelda, I’m sure it will be alright. I certainly won’t stand by and let Link be taken somewhere against his will.”

The assurance made Zelda cry harder. “Thank… you,” she managed, pressing her hands over her eyes. Link and Riju sandwiched her into a hug, and after a few more minutes she got herself fully under control. She sniffled and cleared her throat. “I’m so sorry. That was…”

“Building up for a long time?” Riju asked pointedly.

“Completely understandable?” Link added.

“Undignified,” Zelda said, both embarrassed by their understanding and a little amused. She wiped her face dry with her sleeves. “I could have handled that with dignity. Perhaps by grabbing Link and stealing him away rather than the opposite.”

Link chuckled. “I would have let you.”

“And I certainly would not have helped them find you,” said Riju.

“Good. Thank you,” said Zelda. Then she buried her face in her hands. “…what are we going to do? I—that was so impulsive. I know what I said, but we can’t possibly defy the Goddess.”

“Well…” said Link, drawing the word out until she looked up. “Is it really defying if we don’t know for sure?”

Zelda frowned at him. “You… don’t believe them?”

He shrugged. “If Hylia wanted me to do something new, why didn’t she tell me the last time I prayed? It wasn’t that long ago. Maybe my predecessors are mistaken.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “I suppose so,” she said, warming to the idea of plausible deniability. “There are eight of them already. Surely a ninth, no matter how capable, cannot make a difference.”

“But what if you do receive word directly?” Riju pointed out.

Zelda considered the question, but it didn’t take long at all for her to know the answer. If Link truly did have to go and leave his era behind, as the others had, “Then I’m going with him,” she said resolutely.

Immediately, Link frowned at her. “Zelda⁠—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s too dangerous,” she interrupted. “I don’t care. I would rather risk death than be separated from you again. And I would certainly rather risk death than wait to see if you return alive.”

They stared each other down for a long moment. Link buckled first, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “...I would rather have you with me,” he admitted, “even though I’ll always worry about you getting hurt.”

“Between the Sheikah slate and your skills as a bodyguard,” said Riju, “I think you won’t need to worry overmuch.” She was smiling at them. “Ah, I wish I could aid you as well. I will have to settle for plotting how to keep your ancient counterparts from dragging you away.”

Link and Zelda both sighed. “They are quite… dogged,” said Zelda. “I suppose we could run away, but for how long?”

“Exactly,” said Riju. “It would be better to end things decisively, don’t you think?”

Zelda gave her Gerudo best friend a curious look. “You have an idea?”

“Yes. An unkind idea, but the most effective one possible. Tell me, what kind of Hero cannot be taken on a quest?”

“An incapable one?” Link guessed.

“Well, yes. But what is the highest form of incapability?”

Zelda was stumped. Link was too. Then suddenly, it dawned on her; she gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “You don’t mean by killing⁠—?”

“I do.” Riju gave her a look that was somehow both solemn and mischievous. “The only Hero that can’t be taken on a quest is a dead one. And if we plan this very carefully, I think we can pull it off.”

The Yiga really wanted them dead.

They’d already known that, of course, but as soon as word had gotten around that the Hero and Princess were in a highly vulnerable state (with Riju unguarded beside them to boot), the clan had pulled all the stops. It hadn’t taken long at all before their position at the Dako Tah shrine was being utterly swarmed.

But of course, none of that meant that the three best friends weren’t having an enjoyable time. Or at least, two of them were.

“This is fun!” Riju shouted, gleaming with sweat as she fended off a blademaster using two Gerudo scimitars borrowed from Link’s extensive sword collection.

“You see!” Link shouted back. “This is why I love hunting them!”

“You are both so stressful!” Zelda howled, detonating a bomb and sending three footsoldiers flying.

Link had enough time to pat her shoulder once before the next blademaster required a good thrashing. “Sorry, Zel,” he said, and was only half lying.

“Look!” said Riju, using a lull to gesture with one of her scimitars. “Here they come!”

From the direction of Kara Kara Bazaar, a group of riders behind sand seals was approaching. Link was impressed they’d managed to find so many on such short notice. “Ready?” he shouted to Riju and Zelda, thumbing the edge of his stolen eightfold blade and making sure his Vah Naboris helm was secured to his head.

“Ready!” said Riju, engaging the next pair of footsoldiers with enthusiasm.

“If we must be!” Zelda ground out, frantically beating extra momentum into a stasis’d metal box while Link covered her. When she released it from stasis, it flew off with a sharp whistle and took no less than six Yiga with it. The sound of their screams growing distant was extraordinarily satisfying.

The timing had to be precise. Two Heroes arrived first, carried by what Link assumed were enchanted boots, and leaped into the fray. The rest arrived not long after, abandoning their sand seals to join in as well. Link, Zelda, and Riju shifted into position.

“You all stay away from us!” Zelda shouted furiously at them when there was a slight lull. “We have the situation handled!”

“Princess, this isn’t handled!” the Hero of Twilight shouted back, audibly desperate to gain her cooperation. Link almost felt bad for him. “Your life is in danger!”

“We have handled the Yiga clan before and we will handle it now! GO AWAY!”

She seemed so angry that she wasn’t fully paying attention to her surroundings. Riju was a fair distance away. So was Link, and certainly so were all the ancient Heroes.

The blademaster behind her, however, was not.

Link’s stomach dropped to see it. “Zelda!” he shouted, defeating the footsoldier in front of him with a burst of raw strength. His sand boots let him practically fly over the terrain. Would it be fast enough? Zelda turned, eyes widening as she saw what was behind her. The Blademaster thrust his windcleaver toward her vulnerable torso.

Link skidded to a stop between them, pushing her hard enough that she tumbled backward and slid across the sand. His sword fell to the sand, and it felt like the whole world went quiet. He looked down. A long, bloodied blade protruded from the center of his old shirt.

“LINK!”

Normally something like this would have hurt intensely, but it was for Zelda so it barely hurt at all. He partly let himself and was partly forced to fall forward, removing the intrusion from his chest with the help of gravity. It did more damage on the way out. He saw through dimming vision that the Heroes facing him were utterly horrified. More importantly, Riju was sprinting toward him. That was good⁠⁠—his eyes were starting to feel heavy and the world was rapidly going dark. He barely had the strength to snap his fingers.

“NO!”

Lightning struck, blinding everyone in the melee. Riju got to him despite that, kicking the electrocuted Yiga away. Link exhaled and didn’t inhale again. Outside, where he couldn’t see anymore, blue flames exploded around his body. Inside, however, he caught a brief glimpse of Mipha. She looked exasperated.

“It was my pleasure. And don’t do it again!”

Safe behind his Vah Naboris helm, his eyes fluttered back open. The urge to cough was overwhelming, but he fought it and kept his breathing as shallow as possible. Unlike every other battle he’d ever had with the Yiga, this time he didn’t get up.

“The accursed Hero is dead!” one Yiga shouted, though he sounded vaguely confused. Link imagined they hadn’t actually expected to succeed. “Master Khoga is avenged!”

“Link!” Zelda screamed with genuine agonized grief as she dropped to her knees and gathered him up. He allowed his head to loll over her arm. “No, no, please no!”

At the same time, multiple enraged yells came from the Heroes. The remaining Yiga quickly retreated, obviously taking their unexpected ‘victory’ and running rather than attempting to do in Riju and Zelda as well.

“I’m sorry,” Zelda sobbed over him. “Link I’m so sorry, come back. Please come back!”

“Oh, Link,” Riju said, gentle and devastated… but loud enough to overhear. “Can we… can we put him in the shrine again?”

“The shrine of resurrection was deactivated!” Zelda practically screamed. “We cannot—there is nothing! There is nothing!” She curled around him, wailing. It took a tremendous amount of self control to stay limp and not comfort her. Even if her anguish was being redirected for a purpose, he knew it was still very real unexpressed grief over the many deaths at the Calamity and the threat of losing him now.

Link couldn’t turn his head to see, but he heard at least three people approach at a run. “Princess⁠—”

“YOU STAY AWAY!”  

He held back a wince at Zelda’ volume. She curled up even tighter around him, and Riju left his line of sight. “Keep your distance,” their friend said, voice stern despite the faint waiver of grief.

“We can help if⁠—”

“YOU’VE DONE ENOUGH!”

“Please⁠—” the Hero of Hyrule begged, only to be cut off by Riju.

“You cannot help anymore,” she said, regretful. “No one can help him now. He has gone to stand in a place of honor with his ancestors.”

Zelda howled wordlessly, and even Link felt his eyes burn a little bit. Ah, he thought, suddenly able to picture his parents and sister in his mind. Maybe I have some grief left too. He absolutely could not cry, though. Zelda’s trembling was supposed to cover the slight movement of his shallow breaths, but it wouldn’t cover a sob.

The Hero of Hyrule wasn’t so easy to dissuade, though. “Please, just let me make sure there’s nothing we can do,” he begged again, and Link could hear him inching closer. “Please, Princess.”

“You stay away from him,” Zelda snapped with very real fury. He tears dripped onto Link’s helm as she raised both her head and the slate. “Or I swear on all I have left that I will make you regret it!”

The Hero of Time wasn’t easy to dissuade either and was also slowly getting closer. “Your Highness, it can’t hurt⁠—”

Link was starting to get a little nervous, especially considering there was nothing he could do to help except play dead. Thankfully, even in the throes of grief Zelda was still incredibly quick on her feet. “I told you to stay away!” she spat while also subtly signaling for Riju to back up toward her.

“I know you’re angry but⁠—”

“NO!” As soon as Riju was close enough, Zelda hooked an arm around her leg and awkwardly managed to jab at the slate while also juggling Link’s limp head.

This time the Heroes knew exactly what was about to happen. “Wait!” shouted several, and those closest lunged forward. The Hero of Legend nearly managed to snag Zelda’s sleeve and only missed by a hair’s breadth. Link’s stomach dropped nervously when the last thing he saw before they all vanished was the man’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Someone, at least, hadn’t been fully convinced by their act.

Regardless, they rematerialized on the far side of the desert by Tera’s fairy fountain, at the very same shrine where the whole mess had begun. Link spared a moment to triple check that the coast was clear before he abruptly rolled over, tore his helm off, and coughed up the blood that had pooled in his lungs.

“Easy,” said Zelda, sniffling even as she held his hair back and patted firmly between his shoulder blades. 

“Ugh.” He sat back eventually and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, leaving a dark red stain on the aged fabric. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I’m just glad you’re alive.” Then she reared back and punched him in the arm. “And don’t you ever make me do that again!” she commanded, a few fresh tears sliding down her cheeks.

He tried to wince dramatically, but it just turned into a laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Really. But I think it was worth it.”

“That was quite gruesome,” Riju said. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yep.” He patted the tear in his bloody shirt. “Mipha sealed it right up.”

Zelda pulled a mighty elixir from the slate and pressed it into his hand. “Drink this anyway,” she said. He didn’t need it, but drank to make her feel better.

“I know this was both necessary and my own idea,” said Riju when he was done, “but I will admit to feeling bad for your predecessors. They seemed… devastated.”

They all went quiet for a long moment. “I could hear it,” Link admitted. “I guess I would be too if I watched one of them die.”

“There was no other way,” Zelda said unhappily. “They chased him for weeks. I doubt any argument could have swayed them.”

“I hope the Goddess agrees,” said Riju solemnly.

Link jolted suddenly as something seemed to pull at his insides and yank. It felt like a more violent and focused version of what he felt when he prayed at the Goddess statues, and when he looked around for a source he saw it.

“What the—“

Zelda and Riju followed his gaze and gasped sharply. “What is that?” Riju asked, appalled.

“I-I don’t know,” Zelda stuttered. She glanced at Link and abruptly froze. “…Link?”

He knew what it was. Actually, no, he didn’t—he only knew what he had to do about it. “We got our answer,” he said, shoulders slumping under the weight of it. “Sorry, Zelda, Riju. It looks like I can’t get out of this after all.”

Riju gave him a bewildered look. “What?”

“I think… that thing is how my predecessors got here.” He put a hand over his chest. “And I can feel that I have to go too.”

Their confusion turned to stunned realization, then, slowly, to resignation. Zelda took his hand. “We go together, then,” she said.

“Zelda—“

“You can’t talk me out of it, and faking your death won’t work on me, so don’t even try.”

Despite himself, he smiled faintly. “Are you sure? We’re both still… tiny. And we ran away before we even heard what Hylia actually wanted us to do.”

“When you put it like that, I’m even more determined.”

Link squeezed her hand. They both looked at Riju. “If only I could come as well,” she said. “But my people have an immediate need of me. Beyond that, someone must tell Lady Impa, don’t you think?”

“We should transport you back to Gerudo Town, then,” Zelda said softly.

Riju waved a hand. “Oh no, don’t worry about me. I wanted to talk to the Great Fairy anyway. I’ve never had an opportunity to venture out this far. When I’m done, I have more than enough experience to catch a wild sand seal and ride back on my own.”

“If you’re sure,” said Link, handing over his last Gerudo shield for her ride back. He glanced at the… whatever it was. “Something tells me we’re on a time limit here anyway.”

They exchanged tight hugs (after Link and Zelda changed their bloody shirts) and Riju kissed each of their brows. Securely outfitted and with weapons prepared, Link and Zelda twined fingers and cautiously approached the… thing.

“Ready?” Link murmured.

“Ready to stay with you and face whatever challenges the Goddess has together?” She squeezed his hand. “Yes. I’ve always been ready for that.”

They took a deep breath. Then, together, they stepped through and disappeared.

Chapter Text

Watching a child die was never easy. It was never going to be easy. Watching a child Hero die in front of them was even worse, especially with the little Princess Zelda screaming and refusing to let them close enough to even try and help. When she’d fled (again), taking the little Hero’s body and her Gerudo friend, they’d been left with only a wet, dark red patch of sand and the lost bloodied blade that had done the deed. To have their time in that era ended immediately after served only as salt in the wound.

Every single one of them was affected. More than a few were in tears or on the verge of it, especially those who had directly spent time with the little Hero of the Wild. The only meager comfort they had was that they’d landed in Time’s era, not all that far from Lon Lon Ranch. He didn’t give them (or himself) time to wallow, instead ushering them into motion. If they stayed still for too long right now, too much time would be spent agonizing over the ways they might have been able to keep the kid from dying.

There was really only one problem.

Legend wasn’t convinced that the kid was actually dead.

He kept his thoughts to himself, though, instead focusing on keeping a sharp eye out for trouble while the rest were distracted. Four was the first to notice that something was off, about halfway to their destination. He fell back until they were walking in step. “What is it?” he asked quietly.

“Nothing,” said Legend.

“We just watched a baby Hero die. Is now really the time to pretend?”

Legend held back a sharp and frustrated sigh; it would only draw attention. “Look,” he said in a low voice, slowing his pace until there was more distance between them and the rest of the group. “I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Or start a fight.”

Four gave him an inquisitive look. “What? Is it something about the kid?”

“...I’m not convinced he actually died.”

His friend’s eyebrows shot straight up, and his voice became even more hushed. “You’re what?”

“It’s suspicious, isn’t it?” he pointed out. “His face was covered. The Princess wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings, which doesn’t seem right for someone who was outwitting you for this long. More importantly, he obviously loved her to bits and already died for her once, but he let that assassin get so close? Then we all get conveniently blinded the moment he dies, and neither the Princess or her little friend let anyone get close enough to even check for a pulse. You’d think she would have been begging for any help she could get, especially from us.”

“She hated us,” Four said.

“No, she hated the threat to her Link. She liked us just fine until we broke the news.”

Now Four was starting to look thoughtful instead of morose. “Sure,” he agreed, glancing at the rest of the group. “Okay. But we all saw him get… it looked to me like it went right through his heart. Even with magic that’s hard to come back from, and we have no idea what might have been forged into that sword, or coated on it.”

Legend shrugged. “I’ve seen crazier magic tricks in my life. I’m just saying I’m not convinced. Nothing is really adding up, and they had every reason to fake the kid’s death. No one got the chance to explain that we weren’t the ones who were going to force him along.”

They walked in silence for a bit.

“They did seem desperate enough to try something like that,” Four finally admitted. “The first few days in the desert after you left… well, those kids were resourceful. And smart.” He grimaced. “But if we’re right, then…”

“Yeah.” Legend glanced behind them. Nothing looked or sounded amiss. “Then the tiny insane Hero of the Wild is probably running around on his own somewhere nearby right now. And I don’t think even Hylia knows what he might do.”

Four’s grimace deepened. Neither of them said anything else for the rest of the walk.

Malon was sympathetic even without knowing the details, though she gave Four and Legend a curious look, apparently realizing they weren’t on quite the same page as everyone else. Even Time had been too distracted to notice… yet. He might later, though, and Legend hadn’t been lying: he really didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up.

It couldn’t have been that long after, maybe three or four hours, before he caught color and movement out of the window nearest to him. Curious, he got up and looked out. Two children in brightly-colored clothing with cloaks on and hoods up were briskly approaching the front door. They were holding hands. Legend’s eyes narrowed when he realized that both had on actual pint-sized armor. Nonchalantly, he repositioned himself so he’d be able to see perfectly when Malon or Time answered the door.

Sure enough, there was a brisk knock. “Now who could that be?” Malon wondered, dusting her hands off on her apron. Time followed her to the door, standing just behind her shoulder. Legend shifted slightly.

“Excuse me,” said a familiar, refined little girl’s voice when the door swung open. “Do youuuuaAAAAAAAA!!!”

Immediately Legend leaped forward, shoving past both a confused Malon and a stunned Time. Two equally shocked faces looked up at him from under their hoods. One was the little Princess they’d just left behind. The other was unmistakably the little Hero of the Wild, complete with the exact same burn scars visible on the edge of his face.

“I KNEW IT!” Legend said with vicious satisfaction, pointing. His suspicion and vague sense of hope turned to sheer vindication. “YOU LITTLE BRAT!”

“Legend!” Malon gasped.

The two children immediately turned tail and ran, and though everyone else was a bit too shocked by the unexpected turn of events to follow at once, Legend wasn't . He took off after them, determined to make sure they didn’t have a repeat of the past few weeks. “GET BACK HERE!”

And this time there would be no godsbedamned teleporting away!

Chapter Text

“I wonder where we are,” said Zelda, peering around at their new surroundings. They’d stepped from the desert into a lovely wooded glade, which gave them no clues about where and/or when they were.

“Dunno,” said Link. He glanced at their clothes. They’d each chosen their Hylian set, given its versatility. “But it’s not hot anymore. I’m going to put my sapphire earrings away. We should probably put our hoods up too.”

“Agreed,” said Zelda. They joined hands when they were done and set out, eager to explore.

The forest soon thinned out, and they emerged into the beginnings of a field. The terrain looked strange, of course, but beautiful. They paused to admire the vista. “Hyrule Field, perhaps?” Zelda speculated. She shaded her eyes with her hand.

“Looks like it,” said Link. “And there’s a road.”

They exchanged a glance. “What are the odds of the people of this era stopping two unaccompanied six-year-olds on the road?”

Link grinned. “We could break out the Master Cycle. I’d like to see anyone stop us then.”

Zelda rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. “That would attract too much attention. Though, if we see a way to procure a horse that would be an excellent alternative.”

“A horse it is, Your Highness.”

She smacked his shoulder. “You stop that! We’re not even in my Kingdom anymore!”

They set forth again, keeping a sharp eye out for travelers or soldiers along the road who might stop them. They didn’t encounter many, and when they did spy one or two they retreated into the nearest area of cover, or even laid down in the tall grasses.

“Look,” said Link as the sun was beginning to set, pointing. “Horses!”

They weren’t wild, and Zelda made a delighted noise. “A ranch!” she said. “Oh, there used to be one that looked just like that on the edge of Mabe Village with the prettiest racing horses. Do you remember?”

He scrunched his nose a little. “Did they… have cows?”

“Yes! So you do remember.”

“A bit. I haven’t seen any wild horses here so far. Do you think you have to buy them in this era?”

“Most likely. There certainly wasn’t the same abundance of wild horses in our era until after… well, you know. It’s difficult to tame a wild horse, so most people purchased them when there were many ranches and farms around to offer. Your skill at taming and befriending wild horses is unique.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed the back of his head through the hood. “How much do you think a horse costs?”

Zelda patted his shoulder. “Link. Believe me when I say you will have more than enough money no matter the era. Your accumulated rupees alone would make you one of the richest men in any Kingdom, nevermind all those gems you like to hoard.” She started walking in the direction of the ranch, pulling him along too. “Come, let’s go inquire about their horses. We shall say we’re asking for my father.”

The walk was quite pleasant, and the sun sank even lower as they neared their destination. They stopped briefly only to debate whether or not Link should put away his weapons and quiver. Zelda won that argument on the grounds that it would likely draw questions they wouldn’t want to answer, though she compromised by handing him the slate. No one was visible working anywhere on the ranch grounds, so they approached the house.

“I miss Roam,” Link sighed as Zelda reached up to knock, then stepped back.

“We will get back to your King of Horses, but for now you’ll simply have to slum it,” she teased. When the door opened, revealing a beautiful young woman who gave them a curious look, Zelda cleared her throat and said “Excuse me, do you—“

Then the door finished swinging open, also revealing the Hero of Time standing just behind the woman’s shoulder and regarding them with stunned disbelief. Her words turned into a startled scream. 

“—uuuuaAAAAAA!”

Both One-Eye and the woman were rudely shoved aside as the Hero of Legend burst past them through the doorframe. “I KNEW IT!” he shouted with triumph, pointing an accusing finger at Link. “YOU LITTLE BRAT!”

The woman gasped. Link immediately turned and flung himself back the way he’d come, dragging Zelda along with him. “Nope nope nope nope nope,” he chanted under his breath, mind blank with the unexpected shock. Really, what were the odds of his predecessors being at exactly this ranch?

“GET BACK HERE!” Pink-Hair howled wrathfully, chasing after them. Link mentally demoted him to ‘Pinky.’

It wasn’t like there were shrines to teleport to here, and they had the stride lengths of six-year-olds, so… well, they didn’t get far before Pinky snagged their cloaks and yanked them to a stop. “I cannot believe—“ He reached for Zelda like he intended to pick her up. Link turned on a dime and used the only nonlethal weapon he had on hand: his teeth.

“DID YOU JUST BITE ME?!?”

“Run, I’ll hold them off!” Link cried valiantly, squaring up with his bare fists. Unfortunately for him, before he could land his intended haymaker he was scooped up like an errant toddler by One-Eye as the man caught up. The young woman had also followed, and snagged Zelda before she could launch herself to Link’s defense.

Thus defeated, Zelda immediately sank in on herself, yanking the hood down over her face as far as it would go. Link discovered that no amount of squirming and attempting to bite was about to free him from One-Eye’s tyrannical (desperately tight) grip. He was thoroughly pinned in a matter of seconds.

“What exactly is going on here?” the woman asked.

“He⁠—” started Pinky, but One-Eye interrupted him.

“Not here. Inside. Now.”

“Hmm,” said the woman, and inside they all went. Link made an angry noise and tried to kick One-Eye. It did not work, and as soon as he heard the door close behind him, he also heard someone lock and bar it. The message was clear: there would be no easy escape this time.

“So,” said the woman again as One-Eye crouched and slowly set Link on his feet, “what’s going on?”

“That’s the Hero of the Wild, and he faked his death in front of us a few hours ago, which is why everyone was moping and arguing,” said Pinky.

One-Eye kept a firm hold of Link’s arms and seemed to be trying to make eye contact, which Link studiously avoided while also trying to pull himself free and maybe grab Zelda and dive through the nearest window.

“…but you didn’t buy it?”

“I had my suspicions.”

One-Eye changed his grip to hold both of Link’s wrists at once (rude) and pulled down his hood. “Look at me,” he commanded quietly. Link continued not looking at him and in fact nearly ended up falling over from the effort.

The conversation between the woman and Pinky continued. “I see,” she said. “And who is this little lady?”

“That’s his Princess Zelda. I assume he faked his death so they could stay in their era together.” He directed his next question to Link. “How did that work out for you, brat!”

“I’ve never met any of you in my whole life!” Link boldly declared. “This is kidnapping! Let go of us!”

“Stop,” One-Eye said in such a tone that it made Link’s spine go ramrod-straight immediately. Even Zelda’s shoulders pulled back instinctively. “Look. At. Me.”

Link looked, and he froze at the expression on the Hero’s face. For the second time since he’d woken up in the Shrine of Resurrection, he felt distinctly like he’d disappointed his dad. It made his stomach twist weirdly.

One-Eye, for his part, searched Link’s face like he wanted to be absolutely sure what he was seeing. He pressed his free hand to the center of Link’s chest and left it there for a moment, perhaps feeling his heart beat or the rise and fall that came with each breath. “Did you fake your death?” he finally asked, expression caught between profound relief, disapproval, and confusion.

“No,” Link said.

The disapproval deepened. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying! I really did die!” he blurted out, then averted his gaze. “I just… maybe didn’t stay dead. Or I’m a ghost, you never know!”

“Sweet Goddess,” Zelda muttered, muffled by her hood.

One-Eye sighed in a way that clearly conveyed his silent prayer for patience, and his grip slackened just enough for Link to yank himself free and run over to Zelda. She peeked down at him, face crimson from mortification at having been caught by the very people they’d just evaded (or maybe from his latest attempt at shameless lying). He tried to formulate a plan that would get both of them out of the situation.

Pretty much nothing came to him, despite his best efforts.

“Hello there,” the woman still holding Zelda said to him, brows arched in mild disapproval.

“…kid?” said a voice behind One-Eye. Link glanced back, cringing when he realized the rest of the Heroes were crowding around too and looking at him with uncomfortably intense emotions. He abandoned his pride and edged around to hide behind the woman’s skirts while he plotted.

“Wait a minute,” said Pinky. “You mean that whole thing wasn’t an illusion or something? You actually died?”

“Did—“ The Hero of the Sky tripped over his words. “Did you let yourself get impaled just to try and avoid us?”

Neither Link nor Zelda answered.

“Wild.” The Hero sounded utterly heartbroken.

“You know,” said the Hero of Winds with forced lightness, “I have to admire your commitment. Now don’t ever do that again, got it?”

Link mentally demoted him to ‘Shrimp.’

“Cub, I don’t—why would you do that? Why would you hurt yourself instead of just talking to us?” asked Wolf-Pelt. He sounded lost.

Link and Zelda continued to refuse to respond or make eye contact. The silence that fell was painfully awkward.

“Hmm,” said the still unnamed woman, breaking it. She put a hand on the back of Link’s head, startling him into looking up at her. Surprisingly, she smiled at him. “This conversation isn’t going much of anywhere, is it?”

He blinked at her. Zelda emerged from her hiding place slightly.

“From what I’ve heard, you haven’t spent much time with them, have you?” she asked, nodding toward the bulk of the Heroes, and for some unfathomable reason Link felt compelled to shake his head.

“They must be a little scary, then, especially right now, but you can talk to me. My name is Malon. And you two are Link and Zelda, aren’t you?”

“N—“ Link started, then glanced at Zelda. She quickly shook her head. “—nnnnyes.”

Malon’s lips pursed like she was holding back a laugh. “I thought so. What were you coming here for?”

Link scuffed his sole along the floorboards. “…we wanted to ask about the horses.”

Now she looked even more like she was trying not to laugh, and for some reason she glanced at One-Eye. “I should have guessed. Did you want to pet them?”

“We, ah,” said Zelda quietly, “we… wanted to ask if we could purchase one, actually.”

“Well,” said Malon with playful regret, “I’m sorry to say we don’t have any horses fit for you two to buy right now.”

Link despaired slightly. They’d gotten caught for nothing. And he still couldn't figure out how to escape without the use of teleportation or unreasonable violence.

“Oh, that is unfortunate,” said Zelda weakly. “Perhaps we should… be on our way… then?”

Malon gave her a look. “No, sweetie, that’s not how this works. How old are you two?”

“A hundred and seventeen,” Link said. “We’re not usually this small anyway, it was an accident.” He glanced at Zelda, who looked mortified again, and quickly added, “That we will not explain. Ever.”

Malon looked at One-Eye a second time, who shook his head. So did several other Heroes. “Well,” she said, “you’re small right now, so you can’t go off on your own.” She knelt, shifting Zelda to perch on one upturned leg. “Buuuut… we can go and see the horses if you tell me about all this ‘faking your death’ business.”

Link grimaced. Zelda grimaced. All escape routes were tragically still blocked by one or more of his ancient counterparts.

“I’m not sorry!” he finally blurted out when the expectant silence and the weight of her attention became too much. “And I would do it again if it had actually worked!”

“Alright,” Malon agreed easily. “But why?”

“Because… Zelda already spent a hundred years alone waiting for me to wake up after I failed. I’d do anything to make sure she doesn’t have to be alone again. So I’m not sorry.”

“Why didn’t you just talk to them?” she asked, nodding toward the Heroes again.

Link gave her a dubious look. “I don’t think that would have helped. They were pretty determined to catch us.”

“You said faking your death didn’t work,” she pointed out reasonably. “They could have explained why it wasn’t going to work before you tried, if you had let them.”

He opened his mouth. He shut his mouth. That was true, actually, and suddenly he felt like he’d disappointed his mom too. He wondered how often he’d gotten in trouble before the Calamity that he folded this quickly under Malon’s questioning.

Then again, he folded pretty easily under Impa’s too.

“Did you think about how much it would hurt them to watch you get hurt?” Malon prodded.

His six-year-old impulse was to squirm uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he admitted in a quiet voice. Zelda looked equally uncomfortable.

“Hm… if you’re not sorry that you tried so hard to stay with Zelda, you can still be sorry that you scared the boys and hurt yourself, can’t you?”

“...I guess.”

“Well, go on then.”

“...sorry,” he muttered, dragging his heel along the floor.

“And?”

“I… won’t do it again?”

Malon patted his head. “Good job. Can you promise me you two aren’t going to try and run off anymore? There’s a reason, but you’ll have to let them explain.”

Zelda sighed. “We… promise.”

A little rebellion bubbled up in Link’s gut. “Well I don’t promise,” he said under his breath. He glanced up, caught Malon’s expression, and immediately backpedaled. “I mean, I promise too.”

“There, now.” She set Zelda down next to Link and stood up, dusting off her skirts and straightening them, then offered each of them a hand. “We can go see the horses. And tomorrow, you can help with the chores after a nice long talk to clear everything up.”

Link and Zelda hesitated, exchanging a glance.

“Or you can talk now,” Malon said mildly.

They quickly took her hands. “No, we want to see the horses,” Zelda said.

“That’s what I thought.”

One-Eye unlocked and unbarred the door, and they went outside.

All of them. All of them went outside.

Link glanced back just long enough to confirm that the other Heroes were still looking at him and Zelda with expressions he didn’t want to think about before he snapped his head back around. “Um. Ma’am?” he said as they walked.

“You don’t have to call me ma’am, honey. Malon is fine.”

“Malon, do they uh… do they have to come too?”

“Well, honey, they thought you were dead and I don’t doubt a lot of them decided it was their fault. Yes, I think they have to come too.”

He sighed.

The horses were very pretty. Link and Zelda endured being stared at in various ways as they petted the horses’ velvety muzzles. Malon firmly refused to let them ride, even when Link told her all about his personal stable. Somehow that ended with him drawn into a detailed conversation with her, One-Eye, and Wolf-Pelt about all the merits of his various horses but especially the fastest and most temperamental, Roam Buckphoramus Neighrule (named for the former King, of course, because Roam was the King of Horses as far as Link was concerned).

Zelda rolled her eyes at his boasting and contented herself with briefly talking about Snowdrop, the royal white horse he’d caught and gifted to her after the Calamity’s defeat.

Link supposed that as far as being trapped went, this wasn’t so bad. The Heroes refrained from expressing any of their displeasure at his character and life choices, maybe because of Malon’s presence. And they were all extremely nice to Zelda, but he’d never doubted that would be the case. It was what she deserved, and his predecessors were duty-bound to realize that.

He wasn’t… entirely sure how any of this translated to him getting a piggy-back ride back to the house from Pinky of all people, but Zelda seemed happy to continue talking about history and technology with her own piggy-back steed (Sky, who had earned a mental promotion from his nickname of Banana Man because he was so sincerely nice to Zelda).

To be honest, Pinky seemed almost as baffled to be giving the piggy-back ride as Link was to receive it.

“Why’re you doing this?” Link wondered aloud, holding onto the Hero’s tunic with both hands. “You’re the one who hates me the most, I’m pretty sure.”

Pinky scoffed. “I don’t hate you, that takes way too much effort. I just have critiques about your technique. And you also bit me.”

Link blinked. “My technique,” he echoed, ignoring the biting thing. Pinky had deserved to get bit for trying to touch Zelda.

“If you’re going to fake your death to get out of a quest, don’t be sloppy about it. You did a bunch of stuff that went against what I already knew about you. If you want it to work, every last bit of the setup has to make complete sense.”

“Hmm… good point,” said Link, mentally promoting him to Legend. “It was kind of a rush job. If we’d’ve had more time, you would have fallen for it.”

Legend jostled him, but it didn’t seem mean-spirited. “Keep telling yourself that, tiny.”

“Stop giving him advice on how to fake his death better!” Hyrule yelled, and Link grinned.

Not so bad at all.

Chapter Text

In went the Yiga blademaster’s windcleaver. Out went the Yiga blademaster’s windcleaver. Link fell to the sand with just enough strength left to snap his fingers and summon Urbosa’s Fury, blinding everyone and electrocuting the Yiga nearby.

He saw Mipha briefly and had the distinct impression she wasn’t best pleased with his plan. Nevertheless, she brought him back from that razor edge of death he liked to dance along so often. He opened his eyes again and fought the urge to cough up the blood in his lungs.

His predecessors were a little closer than he would have liked. He hoped, as the Yiga roared their confused victory and Zelda screamed in anguish, that it wouldn’t complicate their plan.

Zelda and Riju had their pre-planned exchange while he played dead, planting the idea that he was completely beyond help, even with the Shrine of Resurrection. The ancient Heroes were sprinting toward them, which Link could just barely see from the corner of his eye as his head lolled over Zelda’s arm.

“YOU STAY AWAY!” Zelda howled at them, and Riju moved to intercept.

“Keep your distaAAHH!”

Link’s stomach dropped when Riju yelped in surprise and the Hero of Time hurriedly said “Forgive me, children.”

Uh oh, thought Link.

Zelda shrieked, this time with a distinct note of alarm. “DON’T TOUAHHH!”

Link had a completely clear view as Zelda was yanked up from the sand by the Hero of Time (which forced her to drop his ‘dead body’) and literally tossed into the waiting arms of the Hero of the Skies. Link instantly demoted both of them back down to One-Eye and Banana Man. The plan was definitely not going to work at this point, which meant they would have to pivot.

Hard.

“GET AWAY FROM HIM!” Zelda tried one more time, and Link could hear her fighting like a lioness to get free.

One-Eye’s hand found the center of where Link’s ‘fatal’ wound had once been; he pressed down hard while also reaching for something in his supplies. At nearly the same moment, the Hero of Hyrule dropped to his knees by Link’s head and scrabbled for the edge of his Vah Naboris helm.

Link spitefully decided he deserved the nickname Killjoy.

Then the sudden pressure on his chest forced his entire body into a sharp arch as the pooled blood in his lungs tried to escape. Motherfruitcake, he thought, fighting a reflexive spike of panic. The black cowl that covered his nose and mouth prevented most of the blood from actually escaping, and he might have genuinely asphyxiated if Killjoy hadn’t managed to yank the helm and mask off immediately after. As it was, he managed to gasp some of the blood back in, making the fit worse, and couldn’t really think straight for a few minutes.

When he could see clearly again, blinking away the reflexive tears that had formed as he choked and gasped raggedly for breath, One-Eye, Killjoy, Blue-Scarf, and Wolf-Pelt were all crowded close around him with wide eyes. Killjoy was closest, right above his head, since he was holding Link and helping him breathe. Link realized his shirt had been cut cleanly down the center and someone had poured water across his chest.

“What…?” said Killjoy, fingers pressed hard over Link’s heart. “Where⁠—where did it go? It’s⁠—” He poured more water from a canteen. There was no damage, of course, only a fresh, ugly pink line where the windcleaver had burst from his chest. “It’s just… a scar?”

Motherfruitcake, Link thought again. He raised a shaky hand to wipe the blood from his face and really only succeeded in smearing it around. “It’s a miracle!” he croaked. He tried to sit up on his own, since that was step one of beating a hasty retreat. Absolutely no one let him.

“I knew it was fake!” Pinky shouted from somewhere nearby. “You little brat!”

Zelda made a furious noise from Banana Man’s arms. “How dare you make light of⁠—”

“No,” said One-Eye, who had a substantial amount of red splattered on him. “The blood in his lungs wasn’t fake.”

“It’s a miracle,” Link repeated forcefully. “I’m sure it was your doing, so thank you, and now I should go recover in⁠—” He had to stop and cough up a little more of the junk that had collected in his throat and lungs.

“Easy,” said Killjoy, firmly patting his back. “You have to take it slow after a healing of this… magnitude…” He narrowed his eyes in confusion. “What healed you?”

Link aggressively stared him down. “You did,” he asserted. “Right?”

“No…?”

“You knew something would heal you!” Pinky accused. “I know you did this on purpose!”

“I would never!” Link insisted. “That would stress Zelda out and I would never do that!”

“HA!” Pinky shot back, storming into view. “You would if you thought it would benefit her!”

He was absolutely right. Link glared at him and prepared a searing rebuttal that was cut off by the most unexpected source.

“IT MUST HAVE BEEN THE ALIENS!” Zelda blurted out in a panic, and promptly buried her face in her hands.

Link gaped in surprise, then beamed at her. Finally, she was indulging one of his favorite stupid habits: shamelessly lying about the existence and involvement of aliens in his daily life.

“She’s right,” he agreed. “It must have been them.”

Riju smoothly interjected from where she was standing next to Shrimp. “I know you told me relations were improving, but I didn’t think they would become this good.”

”Neither did I,” said Zelda, face still buried in her hands. Her voice cracked and Link knew it was from the shame of participating in such a ridiculous fabrication.

”The… what?” Killjoy asked hesitantly.

Link was more than happy to elaborate. ”The aliens. They let us teleport, you know, but we didn’t think we’d mended relations enough for this kind of thing.”

Pinky’s eyes were narrowed down to slits. “I don’t believe you.”

“Rude,” said Link, and tried again to get free. If he could somehow reach Zelda and get her over to Riju… “It’s not like you have another explanation, Pinky.”

”Wh—PINKY???”

Sadly for Link’s escape efforts, Killjoy held him fast. “No,” he said, “I’m not going to let you get up and run around until I’m sure you’re okay.”

”I’m fine,” Link insisted, trying to squirm out of his bisected shirt. “The aliens do good work.” He thought of Mipha and mentally apologized for attributing her work to fictitious outer space visitors. “The best work, really.”

“I… I’m not sure what to believe here,” Wolf-Pelt admitted. “I just know I never want to see that again.”

One-Eye had scrubbed a hand over his face while they bickered, and now he took a deep breath. “Link,” he said with a practiced sort of calm, “did you deliberately put yourself in a position to be impaled?”

”No,” Link boldly lied, staring One-Eye down too. “Why would I do that when I didn’t know the aliens would heal me? Anyway, let go, I’m fine.”

One-Eye reached out and wiped some of the sticky, half-dried blood from Link’s face. “No. You’re not. Or at least you shouldn’t be after something like that.”

Oh shiitake mushrooms, that was true. Link tried to think quickly, especially since he really couldn’t figure out how to escape with Zelda and Riju at the moment. “I told you I died before. It’s not a big deal to me anymore. And I uh, get myself into stupid situations a lot. I’m really not a very good Hero. I’d be pretty bad on a serious mission. It’s the reliance on aliens, I think.”

His statements were met with appalled looks from the Heroes. They looked around at each other for a moment.

“This is starting to sound a lot like he let himself get hurt on purpose to try and get away from us,” Blue-Scarf said slowly.

“No it’s not!” Link protested, but no one listened to him. Or let him get up.

One-Eye sighed again. “Link… we’re only the messengers here. Believe me when I say we don’t want to take you with us and separate you from the Princess. But if Hylia has truly called you, then none of us have a say in it. This… hurting yourself was completely unnecessary.”

Link’s stomach dropped. He stopped trying to squirm free and regarded his predecessor with wide eyes. “...what?”

“We’re not the ones who can decide if you stay. I’m sorry.”

He stared, blank with shock, for what felt like the longest moment of his life. Then Zelda keened, knocking him from his daze, and he wrenched free of Killjoy with all his might. He scrabbled in the sand for a moment to get his footing, which was enough of a delay for Wolf-Pelt to get hands on his arms and pick him up. “Wait, wait, don’t run yet, you lost a lot of blood,” he said, and carried Link toward Zelda himself.

Banana Man met them halfway. “Zel,” Link said, reaching desperately as soon as she was close. Despair was clear in her eyes as she reached back for him. “It’s okay,” he said as Banana Man… Sky ended up taking them both.

“It’s not fair!” she keened.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not! Why can’t she leave you alone! Haven’t you sacrificed enough?”

”…I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Zelda.”

Sky made a wounded noise. “Oh, kids. We don’t want you to be separated either.”

Hylia, Link prayed, hugging Zelda as tightly as he could from his awkward position, she didn’t really mean any of what she said earlier. Please don’t let her suffer because of my failure and my title. There has to be another way.

Then he felt a sharp pull, vaguely similar to the one he felt when he the Goddess spoke to him during his prayers, and his heart stuttered halfway between hope and dread. The dread won out when Sky inhaled sharply and whispered, “Oh, no. W—Link, did you feel anything just now?”

“…yeah,” said Link, though he was distracted by the thing that had appeared a few dozen paces from where he’d ‘died.’

Sky made another wounded noise. “We’re out of time,” he said, and set them both down. “Wild, this is important. Do you have any of your supplies on hand? Clothes, weapons?”

Link hesitated, but when he pulled away from Zelda he thought he saw an expression of pure determination on her face for a split second. Then her face contorted in anguish and he couldn’t spare it any more thought. “The slate…” he said reluctantly.

“Take it,” she said, pressing the artifact into his hand. She sniffled and scrubbed her arm across her eyes. “And don’t worry about me.”

“Lady Riju, we’re not going to have time to escort you and the Princess back to the Bazaar. Can you take one of the seals and get back safely?” said Blue-Scarf while Link used the slate to change clothes.

“Yes,” said Riju, unusually subdued. “I’m—sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. We… mostly understand. I think.”

Sky put a hand on Link’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You have to say goodbye to your friends for now. But you’ll see them again, I promise.”

Link expected Zelda to be crying, but she wasn’t. Instead, she reached for his face and cradled it for a moment. Then she pressed their foreheads together. He gripped her elbows in response, eyes shut as he tried to impress the moment permanently into his memory. No matter what would come, this would be his reason to fight through it and return home alive.

“No more darkness,” he whispered.

“No more darkness,” she agreed, again surprising him with her relatively calm tone. She wasn’t even pitching a fit to try and go with them, which he’d half expected despite knowing his counterparts would never let it happen. Even if she’d been her proper age, he was certain they would have told her to stay behind, where she was safe.

“I’ll come back to you.” He forced himself to smile. “Please make Purah focus enough to reverse the rune.”

“I will.”

Then they pulled apart and Link embraced Riju, who had moved over to them while they were talking. “Don’t be reckless,” she said.

“No promises.” He grinned much more sincerely when she rolled her eyes at him. “Take care of Zelda.”

“That, I can promise.”

The Heroes had already started to gather, clearly tense and ready to depart through the… thing. Wolf-Pelt was waiting for Link. “We have to go, Cub,” he said. Link nodded sharply and fell in beside him, carefully shutting away his own upset feelings. He’d had his fun; it was time to be a Knight again.

“Wait!” Zelda cried just before the first Hero stepped through. They all paused, turning toward her as she ran across the sand. “Link, I have to tell you something important!”

“What is it?” he asked. She took his hands when she caught up to him, maybe five paces from the aberration.

She took a deep breath. “If you see my predecessors, please tell them…”

“Tell them…?”

Her grip on one of his hands tightened. He blinked. “Tell them I—“

She never finished. Instead, she dropped his other hand and lunged for the unnamed aberration, dragging him along with her. He trusted her unconditionally, so of course he allowed it, but he was still confused. It was only when they were on the other side, running for all they were worth, that her obvious plan started to sink in. He balked.

“Ze—“

“If you don’t run as fast as you can I will name you Archduke of Hyrule!” she threatened, and, well. That was that. He obediently sped up as the other Heroes also emerged in the new era, shouting and chasing after them.

If he was going, then apparently she was too, and once his shock had worn off he couldn’t even say he was all that mad about it.