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#lu twilight angst
mylove-iv · 25 days
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❝could have had it all.❞
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ʚ aged up! twilight x fem! reader ɞ
synopsis: the ghost of his past always seems to loom over the hero of twilight's heart and he is forced to look it in its eye yet again. as retribution, he is offered another chance to prevent the untimely death of the ghost in his past that continues to haunt him: the ghost of you.
genres: angst, romance. | mentions an established relationship.
reader specifications: none, no pronouns are used but was written with a female reader in mind.
content warnings: spoilers for twilight princess! mentions of injuries (twilight being hit on head like the in-game event and bomb arrow explosions), time and dimension travel, and implied death.
word count: 1.6k words.
―originally posted on @mydarling-iv, jun. 26. 2023
ʚ masterlist ɞ
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The barren and war-torn earth was a strong indication of whose Hyrule they were all thrown in. The Captain needn’t say a word to the rest of them before he’s ushering them away from the castle, which promptly raised a few eyebrows.
“The castle’s that way, Captain.” Legend teasingly murmurs, a smirk tugging his lips as he recalls of the freakishly obsessive women the said reincarnation encountered.
But before Warriors could retort, a gasp leaves some of the member’s lips as they’re suddenly thrown into another portal.
It’s odd this time. Instead of feeling ominous and dark, the gateway within the portal felt wide and open, the space within it constricting while stretching simultaneously.
They catch whispers of places far beyond, unfamiliar and familiar sights flash past members of the chain before it’s only a wisp of color and their feet suddenly touch on solid land.
Confused glances are exchanged as a feeling of deep, foreboding anxiety settles in the pit of Twilight’s gut, almost urging him to throw up his stomach’s contents as he takes in the familiar flora and fauna around the group.
He doesn’t register what the Captain had been saying before Wild elbows his arm softly, snapping him out of his trance before whispering, “You’ve been distracted.”
Twilight blinks at him before nodding, “Have I?” He mutters, tone sounding apologetic causing his successor to give him a small, lopsided grin before motioning his head to the Captain.
“The sands of time within my Hyrule billowed differently before..” He continues but it all clicks for them.
They weren’t only thrown into a different Hyrule, they also traveled back in time.
Those who dealt with the complexities of time inwardly grimaced. Yet Twilight is eerily quiet, the Captain’s words confirming his thoughts while also worsening his dread.
The ranchhand goes silent, an air of unease leaking into the space around him. His eyes reflect a skittish gleam as if anything could set him off anytime soon.
The time and memory of the forest made him anxious, almost mirroring the memory that haunts his dreams—the very last memory he holds of you.
Judging from where they stand, Twilight knows he’s near the scene of the incident—your death—and the realization makes him wince uncomfortably.
His skin tingles from the sun’s hot rays just like it had been years ago on this wretched day. Twilight bristles as his enhanced sense of hearing picks up on the familiar cries and roars of that cursed day.
A painful ache spreads throughout Twilight’s body as his mind wanders to you, and Goddesses, the painful memory intensifies the ache he feels. Sky takes notice of his odd, seemingly pained demeanor and moves his hand to place it on Twilight’s shoulder but it’s only met with air.
He bolts, weaving through the group from his spot at the very back before his silhouette starts to become a wisp of dark fur amongst the shrubbery.
“Twilight!” Sky shouts, starting to give chase after the said man. A split second hasn’t even passed before Twilight’s fellow brothers-in-arms follow his lead, confusion starting to fill their veins as their guards are raised and strengthened.
┊ ੈ✩‧₊*°࿐ྂ。
It’s odd, the forest is quiet. Birds no longer sang nor trees danced with the wind’s embrace and the wild, erratic beat of his heart is the only sound that fills Twilight’s ears.
His mind drifts to you and an all too familiar ache starts to grow in his chest, one that he’s tried to ignore but is always incessantly lingering.
His childhood best friend, who smiled at everything he’d say regardless of how dumb it was, the very best friend whom he had developed a strong love for and gradually transformed into his childhood lover accompanying him from their halcyon days of their youth to their late teens.
Twilight’s body aches as he reaches the clearing before the bridge and he’s taken to the day you were taken from him.
Hours before he was transformed into a beast of twilight, his village had been attacked by armed bulbins who wracked up a storm of chaos before closing in on the spirit residing in Ordon Spring, effectively throwing the area at the mercy of the twilight that befell upon it.
It was only when you both came back from the woods, hand in hand with Twilight as love-struck grins dotted your faces, that you crossed paths with the bulbins riding atop a giant wild boar, one having an explosive arrow readily nocked.
Twilight had pushed you behind him but the beasts were faster as they took advantage of Epona bolting due to the sudden panic. Being separated by mere meters, he had felt a painful pressure against the back of his head as the world around Twilight became a muddled canvas of colors bleeding into each other.
But before the world had gone dark, an explosion of yellow and red rips out before his eyes. He electric blue orbs catch onto your figure flying backwards, being blown over and into the ravine by the explosion, a scream ripping itself from your throat as you fell.
He now experiences the whole ordeal over again, only now conscious and fully prepared. But time was unkind and mercilessly slipped through his fingers quickly like fine sand. 
He was late by a few minutes and as punishment, Twilight is forced to relive the very moment that kills him inside.
Twilight sees the same bulblin swing its club at his younger self but ignores it as his body carries him farther. He hears the Captain’s shouts of him to come back and regroup as his brothers quickly tear down the foes, but it’s all muffled and drowned out to the Hero of Twilight as his eyes latch onto you.
Confusion filled murmurs reach his sharp ears but he pains no mind, choosing to keep his pale blue eyes steadily fixated on you.
You’re the only thing Twilight could focus on.
But it’s too late.
The very same flurry of red and yellow flashes before his eyes and your pained scream deafens his ears, the heat from the explosion hot against his skin yet why does he burn when your eyes meet his so briefly?
You’re free falling to your death, the very same death he’s lived through and haunts him when the moon rises.
He had lost you before and he might lose you once more.
Hands shifting with the grapple connected to his arm guard, Twilight picks up the pace before he throws himself over the cliff.
The roar of the wind running past his ears deafens Time’s shout and the screams of worry from his fellow warriors of courage, but none of that mattered to him.
Twilight’s focus was solely on you.
And as the wind runs past him, he’s ripped from reality as his thoughts envelope him in a bitter embrace.
He wanted it all—everything related to you; a future together, a simple and safe life together.
Was it such a greedy wish of his?
Mercifully, time seems to slow and his heart breaks at the tears flying from your eyes as your limbs flail wildly against the wind rushing past you.
A flurry of thoughts rushes through his head once more yet one stands out from the rest: what were you thinking of as you fell? 
Did you ever hope he’d come save you? Were you disappointed when you realized he wasn’t coming? Did you ever wish you had never met him? 
The last thought is haunting, pain and anxiety prickling at him as he realized that it was he who insisted for you to come with him on that fateful day.
Twilight’s mind blanks as his fingers brush against yours and the contact alone sends bolts of electricity running atop his skin and all over his body.
It’s a familiar feeling Twilight had been yearning to feel again.
Your eyes snap open, riddled with unshed tears as they blearily focus on his blue seafoam colored eyes.
The eye contact ignites a fire in his heart and Twilight allows himself to finally admit that he misses staring into your eyes which twinkled with delight and love whenever they would meet his.
It’s a familiar occurrence that Twilight repeatedly wished for to happen again.
Twilight’s left arm wraps itself around your waist, pulling your body flush against his causing his heart to bloom at the contact and it sets off a chain reaction.
He catches a faint whiff of your scent and it throws him into the heartwarming memories of your halcyon days filled with obvious pining and poorly hidden love-struck gazes.
It’s a familiar scent that sends him reeling into memories of him placing soft kisses atop your head, interlacing your hands that always seemed to send sparks flying down his spine, and embracing you whenever he’d catch you after a game of tag with the younger village children.
Those memories—the scars of your love—left him breathless as he so badly wished for things to have happened differently.
Twilight had lost you before.
He’ll be damned if he did again. 
Liftings his right arm, Twilight fires the hook before he tightens his grip around your waist.
A grunt tumbles from his lips as the grapple harshly tugs you both, finally latching onto something solid and only does he lower his guard slightly.
His heart stutters before a phantom pain fills his chest as you tightly wrap your arms around his neck, face buried securely in the juncture of his neck.
The smallest of touches causes tremors of lightning to dance on Twilight’s skin and when your eyes meet his, the eye contact alone lights his heart ablaze. 
Despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins and the shocking effect you've always held over him, the ever so comforting smell of you leaves him relaxed.
Experiencing the things Twilight has repeatedly yearned for felt like a dream and now that you’re in his embrace, alive, deepens the scars of your love forever etched into his heart and the very being of his soul.
Twilight couldn’t help but feel that he could have had it all.
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© 2024 𝐌𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄-𝐈𝐕. do not copy, repost, share, or translate any of my works to tumblr, social media, and any other websites/platforms.
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minty-mumbles · 1 year
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Febuwhump Day 4: Knife to the Throat
Read the full collection of my febuwhump ficlets on AO3
~~~
“Look at this beauty!” Twilight struggled even harder when he heard the awe filled voice. But just like before, he only succeeded in getting even more tangled in the net. “That’s the biggest damn wolf I’ve ever seen.” 
A pair of boots Twilight didn't recognize appeared in his line of sight, and the person crouched down in front of him. He looked up, and his eyes met the gaze of the Hylian standing above him. Twilight flinched when he saw the knife in the hunter’s hand, but couldn’t move more than half an inch away. 
The hunter turned away from him, ignoring Twilight’s distress, and spoke to someone Twilight couldn’t see. “It's got beautiful blue eyes, too. Never seen anything like them, it’s kind of freaky actually. It’s a rare one, for sure.” 
The one who stood just outside of Twilight’s field of vision responded. “The fur will fetch a nice price,” They agreed. “Get on with it then. Don’t want it to suffer for too long.”
The first hunter hummed and turned his attention back to Twilight. Twilight resumed his thrashing as the hunter approached and crouched down next to his head, but the hunter was right to be so fearless. Twilight was so caught in this thrice-damned net that he could barely open his mouth, let alone bite. 
“Easy,” the hunter soothed, but the false comfort only made Twilight thrash harder.
Spirits, was this how he was going to go? Caught in a hunters trap, and butchered like a feral animal? 
He should have known better. A freshly killed rabbit, sitting so temptingly in the middle of a clearing? It was so obviously a trap, Twilight was ashamed he fell for it. Of course, he hadn’t been planning on eating the rabbit like a real wolf would have. He was just trying to investigate the mysterious carcass, but the effect was the same. 
Twilight should have known better. He was more than aware of the wolf hunters that were active in his Hyrule. That was how he’d gotten his own wolf pelt that he wore in Hylian form, for spirits’ sake. He’d never thought, when he’d bought the pelt at market, that he would end up on the other side of that interaction. He’d never thought that he would end up being the pelt that was sold. 
Distantly, he hysterically wondered if his body would revert to Hylian form when he died, or if he would remain a wolf. 
He wondered if the other heroes would ever find out what happened to him. 
He hoped if his pelt did end up being sold, none of the other heroes would stumble across in the market of the next town they traveled to. That would devastate them. Twilight would rather they be kept wondering forever then have them be subjected to the fate of finding his pet in a market.
His heart was pounding so hard he barely noticed when the hunter gripped his scruff tightly, and used it to raise his head, exposing his throat.
The hunter raised his knife, preparing to swing it down. A trembling whine escaped Twilight’s throat. It wasn’t a noise he would normally make, but staring death in the face made Twilight fearful in a way he’d never been before. He’d faced death before, plenty of times. But he’d always at least had a chance to fight back. He’d alway had the chance to save himself. But now, bound tightly by the tangled net, he had no chance. 
He was going to die.
Twilight closed his eyes, waiting for the final blow, and then- His eyes snapped open as a cry of “Stop!” halted the blade inches from his neck.
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ovegakart · 5 months
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twi and leg go on an adventure
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nell0-0 · 1 month
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AHHHH! He lost his EYE in the war! AHHHH!
I am perfectly normal about your last comic. I swear. Very normal. Just...not at all sobbing and emotional over it. You should know that. Definitely. ;_;
It's so good and so sad!
Yep ;u;
Glad you liked it tho!
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Take the broken mask drawing as symbolism (?). A piece of him is now forever a part of Mask, and there's no taking that back.
There are many protrayals of Fierce Deity out there, but I like to think he ain't necessarily mean (quite the contrary), just a bit out of touch with how hylians work and feel. Fierce Deity deemed some things necessary for Mask's survival and well being, and not necessarily all of them were free of consequences. It was done with good intentions tho. If only he bothered to explain/tell Mask that...
Tormenting Twilight a bit is fun sometimes too ksksks
> Context about the ask HERE
> Twili Twilight looks HERE
> Continuation of this HERE
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mischefous · 18 days
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Hello!! LU requests? 👀 With your outstanding art??
Hmm (I have many ideas, choose one if you want)
1- Someone uses a lightning rod/tool and it somehow hits Sky too. His right hand and arm hurt so much he faints, the others take off his glove and roll up his sleeve and notice how it is gull of lightning scars
2- Twilight gets hit where Dink got him last time. The cut reopens, Time brings him away again but this time Twilight is human and Time can't hold the tears
3- This time it's Time that gets hit and Twilight brings him away
4- Four. Corrupted. :) Bonus if Legend fights him to prevent him from hurting the others
5- Wars gets hit by Dink (hw reference?)
so many choices! I went with #2 hehe. the ANGST
OK I KNOW I said I wasn't gonna do comics for these requests but AGH this one had a hold on me. But at the same time, this took longer than expected T3T . ALSO I LOVE those other ideas too! might come back to one of them later hehe
I hope ya like it @bluesdesk!
CW! blood
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sorry yall don't get to see the other boys engaged in the battle around them, I have trouble with drawing too many characters on screen. it looks over-crowded when I do😅
OML i just realised theres a spelling mistake. Bruh
edit: fixed it.
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hyrulethehealer · 1 year
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Angst idea: the chain are in a dungeon and get trapped in the last room. No boss. Just a door and the knowledge that only the person with the most innocent blood on their hands can open.
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legendofzoodles · 2 months
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This post is a little gory, reader discretion is advised.
Sky: Would you help me hide a body?
Hyrule: No I am not helping you! I want nothing to do with this!
Hyrule: [curious] ...But why? Is hiding bodies a fad in society now? Dang I'm really out of touch.
Sky: In what Hyrule is that a fad?!
Wild: [coughs]
Time: [sighing] I'm always cleaning up after you boys.
Sky: Wait Old man it was just—
Time: [pulling a trash bag from his adventure pouch] Where is it?
Wild: Hide...a body? O-Okay sure, I'll help you...
Wild: [muttering] Oh but not all of it I'm sure I could find uses for at least a few of the body parts...
Wind: [thumb up] Yeah of course! We'll just toss it into the ocean.
Sky: Ok but what if the Hyrule was landlocked...?
Wind: What if what? I'm a pirate.
Sky: Is that really how it works?!
Warriors: [polishing his sword] Huh? Dispose of a body? I can do that.
Sky: You...can?
Warriors: [glancing at his reflection] Eliminating traitors is a bit sporadic with its state funding so, I've had to get my hands dirty.
Sky: ...oh buddy.
Legend: Whose body is it? Under what circumstance? Who did the killing?
Legend: Sorry, I need to know if I should do it with enthusiasm or not.
Sky: [voice crack] Ledge...
Legend: Well I'm sorry, you keep telling me to find joys in life. I am trying!
Twilight: A-A body?! W-Why would you want me to...?!
Twilight: Wait, this one of Wild's pranks? Is he in that bush with his Sheikah Slate?
Four: [deadpan] Here's a list of ten efficient ways to dispose of a body.
Four: [very deadpan] It was my best self study project when I was a kid.
Four: [we all know this is Vio talking] The example body wasn't human, but that can't be too different.
Sky: [disturbed] ...No you can have it back. That question was just...
Warriors: [dutiful in improving his craft] Great can I have it?
Sky: Ok this is the last hypothetical! Between Wind's magic box thought experiment, Four's out of context question and this?! We're clearly really bad at these.
Twilight: Not sure what kind of responses you were expecting with that one to be honest.
Sky: ...You're right this one's on me.
~~~
Thanks for reading! Based off this
Sky got the fun hypothetical question from a friendly bar patron.
Wild coughed in that first one because with the restoration of his Hyrule ground in Hyrule field is being built on and, well, they are unearthing a lot of 100 year old skeletons. Not exactly hiding bodies, but...
Masterlist
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katsettee · 11 months
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Whoops
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linktwilibeast · 4 months
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This "comic" is inspired by the LU fanfic Smoke & ashes by @illegiblehandwriting1
(for illeg: lamento tardarme tanto, pero espero que te guste, traté de esforzarme muchisimo.)
If you want to read Sky angst, please read this amazing fanfic.
Linked universe belongs to Jojo.
I would apreciate it a lot your likes and reblogs ;3
My first language is spanish, if i have mistakes, please tell me.
please do not repost my art.
This is Sky's Point of view.
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breannasfluff · 13 days
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Eldritch Time
Time pulls the Fierce Deity mask from his face. One part of him wants to throw into a fire and watch the wood pop and smoke. The other part stares at his boys, bruised and bloody, but alive. They look like they’ve gone three rounds with Ganon and lost.
Hyrule is already moving from person to person, hands glowing with healing magic. Others chug potions. No one rushes for him or cheers—not that he can blame them. Considering the fight they must have had? They can have a moment to process.
Time needs a moment to process. He needs more than a few and he has the experience to back how precious those moments are.
He may be 30, but right now? He’s as old as the Chain teased him to be. Trauma is different for everyone. Legend buries it behind visible walls. Time does, too, but his are invisible. He’s lived long enough to know not to burden the boys. For all they insist they are grown, most are still children.
Pushed to adventure too soon, forced to maturity beyond their years—but still, children. Even Legend can’t bury the spark completely. If only they didn’t have to.
Time should have put the Fierce Deity mask on sooner.
He looks down and accounts for the one person missing from the group. Wild. The champion is slumped, probably passed out. For as long as the moment feels to Time, it’s likely only been seconds.
He beats them to further action. Hanging the mask on his belt loop, he scoops Wild into his arms. Immediately, there’s a sucking emptiness. A hole in the shape of a hylian. A darkness where there should be life.
Read the rest here!
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adrift-in-thyme · 5 days
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Here it is! The fairy Time fic I promised. Be warned, it is extremely fluffy
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It is a quiet night.
Time is always grateful for those. They are in short supply on this journey, too often interrupted by the rise of the cursed Blood Moon or an outburst of beasts from under the cover of foliage. But tonight, the moon is tranquil and golden and the surrounding bushes and trees conceal nothing except chattering critters.
The heroes have settled around the fire, and are trading lazy quips. The occasional tale sneaks in between them, which quickly becomes a competition to see who has endured the more exciting experience. 
Time doesn’t normally make a habit of joining in. He is content to remain just outside the conversation, close enough to comment if necessary, but far enough to merely listen. Such peace and joy are precious things – as precious as every moment spent by Malon’s side – and they surround him like a warm blanket.  
Tonight, however, that wonderful feeling is making it rather difficult to remain awake. 
It doesn’t help that the healing spells he had cast in the aftermath of today’s battle have left him feeling drained. With the traveler down and their potions used up, he had had little choice but to act. And he doesn’t regret it in the least. But that doesn’t negate the fact that healing magic has never been his strong suit.
Every fae possesses the power, yet not all have the strength to employ it in such a measure as he had today. Healing is a delicate act. It requires attentiveness and care, dedication and focus. He had poured all of that and more into his spells, used his heart and mind, his soul to heal his brothers’ wounds and save their lives. And in the moments afterward…had collapsed. 
He is fortunate his brothers had been there to catch him. Too many times before he learned his limit, this weakness had spelled his doom. He has scars on his wings to prove it.
Still, he is practically useless, even now after the impromptu nap. He feels dried up and hollowed out, limbs heavy with the same exhaustion that drags his eyelids downward. And though he would normally protest at least a little at the prospect of staying in his current position, he cannot dredge up the will to do so.
So, here he remains, curled up on his side on Wind’s lap, Warriors’ scarf a silken cocoon about his body, one giant wing draped over him like a comforter. 
He shifts with a small sigh. The sailor giggles, ever amazed at his fairy form, and reaches out to run a finger over Time’s wings. He is gentle, careful in every movement. Still, Time is a bit surprised at the lack of the fear that usually bubbles up whenever anyone touches him in this form.
He has had too many injuries, too many close calls with death or worse. They have made him wary. But he trusts the sailor. Wind is nothing if not kind. 
He is safe here. 
The knowledge hits him harder than any monster blow.
You are safe here.
Something breathtakingly warm wells up in him at that thought, similar to the feeling he has been basking in since he awakened, yet unique all the same.
“Alright, old man?” A soft voice asks, now, and Time pries open the eye he hadn’t even registered closing. Warriors grins down at him. 
Time’s soft hum quickly dissolves into a blissful sigh as the captain tucks him more securely into his bed of softness. He allows his eye to slide shut again, his body to relax more fully. He allows the sensations and sounds to envelop him, surround him in warmth and comfort. To pull him down into blessed darkness once more.
“He’s adorable like this,” Wind says, his noisy whisper breaking through the haze. Another giddy giggle bursts forth from him like gurgling water. 
“He is, isn’t he?” It’s Twilight now. Time can imagine the dirt-eating grin on his face, the same one that spreads across Malon’s when she beats him in yet another race around the pasture. “Though I doubt he wants us calling him that.”
There’s a pause, then in a disapproving whisper-yell, “and he definitely doesn’t want that. Put that slate of yours away, champion!”
There is the distinct sound of a camera snapping a photograph. Laughter ripples through the group like the wind through the trees. 
“When he kills you all, don’t come running to me,” Twilight says, though there’s laughter in his voice too.
Traitors, Time thinks, lazily, all of them.
“Oh, come on, Twi. Look at him! He wouldn’t hurt us! Not like this anyway.”
“Then, you haven’t gotten a good look at his wings,” Legend pipes up, drily. “They’ve got eyes on them, you know.”
“Ooh.” Time can feel Wind’s breath ghosting him as the boy leans down to get a closer look. “I wonder if they make up for the one he lost. I’ll bet he can see us through ‘em!”
If Time wasn’t quite so tired (or finding this quite so exasperatingly comical) he would correct that assumption. But then again, what’s the harm in allowing a little rumor like that to spread and strike some healthy fear into the hearts of his would-be blackmailers? 
“Come on guys.” Warriors’ voice rises above the hushed clamor of the others, all bickering about Time’s ability, or lack thereof to watch them through his wings. “He’s exhausted. Let him sleep.”
The heroes try to quiet, though their efforts are about as successful as Time suspected they would be. Whispers and barely stifled laughter continue to weave their way gallantly through the night.
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
…though a few more telltale clicks of Wild’s slate cement his decision to play a prank on him as soon as he regains his strength. 
“He’s so small,” someone murmurs, now as the hubbub begins to subside, sleepiness getting the best of even the most energetic among them. Sky, Time’s mind slowly supplies, putting a face to the voice that wafts gently around him. “To think, he healed us all while in that form…”
“Something you get to know very quickly about Sprite is that size doesn’t bother him,” Warriors replies, fondness in his tone. “Even as a kid, he could take out groups of monsters much larger than what we faced today.”
Sky chuckles, soft and almost sad. Time is too far gone to decipher why. 
But he can’t deny the sudden rush of warmth when the chosen hero whispers, “thank you…little one.” And when, in the next moment, Sky ghosts a finger over the very tip of his wings, Time is unafraid beneath his touch. 
He drifts off not long afterward to the sound of tired murmurs, the crackling of the campfire, and a soft song played upon an ocarina, the notes drifting up toward the moon.
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Protecting the homie
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bokettochild · 2 months
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Febuwhump Day 18
@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)
I hope you enjoy!
Rating: Gen
Wordcount:
Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?
(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)
-
  They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes! 
They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle! 
But who really listens to him anyway? 
No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying. 
Twilight and Wild are their own story. 
The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them? 
Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be. 
He told the champion to stay. 
He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to. 
They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done. 
Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where! 
A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.  
Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids. 
Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely. 
Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t. 
Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance. 
He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.  
Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice. 
He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice. 
His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs. 
The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here. 
By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand. 
By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!  
That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time? 
Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him. 
More tracks join the mix; an ambush. 
He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.  
Not great odds for one already injured rancher. 
He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight. 
He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done. 
“There you are, rancher.” 
The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor. 
Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic. 
So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open. 
“Cap’n?” 
Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with. 
There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.” 
“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.  
“The others?” 
“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless. 
“Wild?” 
“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable. 
“The kids?” 
He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.” 
Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic. 
“Yer upset.” 
The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.  
Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?” 
“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.  
“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself. 
“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.” 
Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards. 
Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?” 
“I said stay still.” 
“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?” 
“Nothing.” 
“Why are you actin’ like this then?” 
The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though. 
“Wars?” 
“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.” 
They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was. 
Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out. 
He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-” 
A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?” 
A tick. “What does that mean?” 
He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.” 
Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished. 
It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,” 
He doesn’t answer. 
Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.” 
“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”  
That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.  
There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.” 
A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place. 
He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?” 
A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.” 
He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.” 
Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-” 
“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns. 
Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise. 
Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp. 
Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone. 
After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into. 
Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor! 
101 notes · View notes
squidos-goodies · 2 years
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Time: I don’t want you to see this. Look away, kids, and try to remember me smiling.
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Twilight: Looks like this is where we part ways. Never forget—you’ve already made me proud.
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Warriors: You’ll have to find it in your heart to forgive me. I don’t think I’ll be able to give this back to Legend.
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Hyrule: I’m not going to say it again. Run.
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Legend: I don’t want to do this, but someone has to. And I refuse to let it be one of you.
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Wild: Come on, I was already living on borrowed time. It was bound to run out eventually. Looks like the rest is up to you, now.
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Sky: I have too much to say and too little time. Just look after each other. It’ll have to be enough. I’m sorry. I have to go.
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Wind: So there’s no cure… good. That makes this easier.
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Four: Thanks, everyone. It’s been fun. I’m going to do something exceptionally badass, now. Don’t die, or I’ll just look like an idiot.
//
Last words.
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archerlullaby · 10 months
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There aren’t enough TOTK comes back to the Chain fics out there so I figured I would write one. Hurt/Comfort, some angst, and some self-worth doubts. TOTK Link needs a hug tbh. Also, This is a Zelda slander fic, though I don’t directly hate her she kinda gets on my nerves in totk. MY BOI IS JUST SO TIRED LET HIM SLEEP PLZ.
Weariness and Worth
He was just so damn tired. He tried to be patient. He tried to put on the “Hero Façade”. But his resolve had begun to splinter with each passing moment alongside the princess.
He dragged his feet to the nearest cooking pot as Zelda strode purposefully up the Lookout Landing staircase. As soon as she got her wits about her after falling from the sky, she vehemently insisted that Purah is the first one she needed to see. It had only been a few hours since he had dragged her out of that lake, his body aching from his fight against the literal incarnate of evil, and the first thing she focused on was how she was home. How she needed to talk to Purah. How she needed a change of clothes. How she, who was a dragon for 10,000 years thank you very much, would like a good, hearty, home cooked meal, so Link, could you whip something up while I talk to Purah, please and thank you? He sighed, and all but collapsed at the edge of the fire, eyes starting to close of their own accord. The others in Lookout Landing all but ignored him, the Princess taking up all the attention while she smiled and waved as the individuals around her practically worshiped the ground she walked on.
“You look pretty worn out there son,” the elderly stablemaster chuckled, startling Link out of his stupor. This old man was the only one not rushing to greet the princess, and is instead settled a couple yards away from the cooking pot, his gnarled walking stick leaning against the inside of his knee. Link did his best to give him a smile, but only came up with a strangled-looking grimace. In the very least, he was grateful somebody at least acknowledged him. The stablemaster sighed.
“If only I was younger, maybe I’d have a chance with the young lady. I used to be something of a hero myself back in the day. Now all I got are my horses and these old bones!” He laughed, rapping a knuckle against his knee. “You are one lucky young man!”
Link’s grimace turned into a scowl. Yet again was he fooled into thinking someone cared about him. How naive of him. He stood and turned away from the old man, taking the Purah Pad from his hip. After stoking the fire, he decided on meat and rice balls. However while flicking absentmindedly through the Purah Pad for ingredients, he felt a very deep, sharp ache slam into his ribs. The pain gnawed at him like a wild beast, quickly buckling his knees and knocking the wind out of his lungs as his butt hit the ground. He gingerly felt around his chest, and came to the conclusion that becoming a dragon’s chew toy probably wasn’t the healthiest thing for ribs. He chuckled darkly. At least his shining sense of humor survived. The amusement was short lived, however, and tears pricked the corner of his eyes when he realized he used all his healing potions during the fight against Ganondorf, and that nobody, not even the stablemaster a stride away, cared enough to come to his aid. Everyone was so enthralled with that Princess. He fought the urge to bury his face in his arms and cry because he’s the Hero, the Chosen One, the Sworn Protecter of the Crown. Instead, he gathered himself quietly, stood, clipped the Purah Pad back to his hip, and hobbled out the southern gate without barely a glance towards the gathered crowd.
It had been an hour when he finally stopped walking, or rather, when his legs gave out and he flopped to the grass. The sun was just touching the western edge of the world, dew and darkness creeping into Hyrule Field as crickets began to sing. He knew he should go somewhere safer, somewhere where the wolves and the monsters wouldn’t catch his scent, but he could hardly keep his eyes open, and the smell of the earth and grass was so encompassing that he couldn’t bring himself to care about the danger. So instead, he closed his eyes and peacefully listened to the sounds of the coming night. That is, until his thoughts caught up to him. Coward, they called him. Abandoning duty for some pitiful, self-absorbed notion that he should be recognized, awarded, for accomplishing that for which he was destined to accomplish. These thoughts swirled through his head and screamed in his ears until he thought he would be deafened by the voices themselves.
That is, until the familiar and oh-so-welcome sound of time and space being torn open met his ears. Link blearily stumbled to his feet, and was met with the sight of a portal suspended in air just to his right. It couldn’t be. It shouldn’t be. He’s Link, he doesn’t get this type of fortune in his life. He felt like he could cry as he tripped over his feet and fell just a step away from the entrance, the burn in his side stealing away his breath. He only paused for a moment as he considered what this meant. He would disappear again, the people of Hyrule clueless as to where he went. Zelda clueless as to where he went. He bit back a bitter smile. She’ll just have to find him this time. Perhaps it was cruel, but he found that he couldn’t bring himself to care. So, on his hands and knees he dragged himself to the very edge and lurched through the swirling colors.
It was so warm, so gentle, so peaceful to just lie floating in the darkness. This didn’t feel like the icy cold waters of the shrine of resurrection, nor was it similar to the dark and damp cave he woke up in on the sky islands. No, this felt like a warm, thick wool blanket wrapped itself around his body, a soft embrace. Perhaps it was the downy feathers of the soft bed in Rito Village. Or maybe, Link mused, this was the water bed at the Seabed Inn in the Zora Domain. Sidon had spoke about a warming technology for the beds Kayden was trying to develop. Whatever it was, Link wanted to stay in it forever. Unfortunately, this peace was cut short.
“Cub? Wild, please look at me.” A familiar voice cut through the fog as he started to come around. His body changed from warmth to and almost refreshingly cool, as if aloe had been spread over a burn. A gentle magic encompassed him, one that was similar to Mipha’s, though less like a bubbling stream and more like that of the sun in the deep woods. He sighed, and snuggled further into the comfort that called to him. “Cub. CUB. Link!” Something tickled his nose, and it quickly pulled him away from soft darkness and into an irritating light. He blinked his eyes open all the way and was met with the welcome sight of a face donning a single black mark upon his forehead.
“Twi?” He muttered, voice raspy from lack of use.
“Oh, Wild, what happened to you?” Twilight asked, voice thick with emotion. Wild opened his mouth to reply before Twilight shook his head. “It doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is that you’re okay.”
“Damn right. You fell through that portal and straight into Time’s lap. You’re lucky he wasn’t wearing his armor. You would’ve ended up with a concussion to add to your broken ribs!” Several chuckles came from the group, and a hearty laugh rang from Warriors. Hyrule, with his hands alighted on Wild’s side, looked pleased with his joke. Twilight merely shook his head and brushed his hand through Wild’s bangs. Wild had a thought to bat the hand away, but the worrying felt so good, so needed, that he found himself leaning into the touch, and, as Twilight continued his ministrations, Wild couldn’t help the tears that began to leak from the corner of his eyes for a second time that day. He brushed them away quickly and palmed his eyes.
“Sorry. M’fine,” he said gruffly, “Help me get up please.”
Twilight opened his mouth to protest, but Wild was already trying to shuffle himself out of Time’s lap when large hands, one on his forehead and the other on his shoulder, gently pushed him back down.
“Rest, Wild. You have no need to push yourself now. Your family is here to care for you,” Time’s voice rumbled from his chest, soft but demanding.
“But—”
“No arguing.”
Wild relented, and settled back into Time’s embrace, eyes feeling heavier than he would like to admit. Though despite the welcoming tendrils of sleep that curled around his consciousness, he couldn’t find it within himself to give in, not yet.
“What’s the matter, Cub?” Twilight still knelt next to him and Time while the others had begun to set out their bedrolls. Wild merely shook his head.
“It’s just-” he swallowed, “I’m afraid if I fall asleep, everyone will be gone when I wake up,” he whispered, embarrassment turning his head and closing his eyes so the others couldn’t see his face. “That always happens to me.”
He shouldn’t be saying this. He’s the Hero. The Savior of Hyrule. He doesn’t get to show weakness. Wild doesn’t want to open his eyes and see what surely must be disappointment on Time’s face, or disgust in Twilight’s eyes. Only a gentle warmth along his side breaks him from his thoughts. He looks down hesitantly and is met with the wide eyes of Wind, who has taken residence tucked along Wild’s hip, an arm thrown across his chest. The youngest gave him the biggest smile he could muster.
“It’s okay to be scared. I promise I’ll stay right here until you wake up in the morning. Even if you snore,” Wind said, and snuggled closer into his side. Time shifted, lying down close as Twilight tucks his pelt under Wild’s head.
“We all will,” the eldest reassured. It was only then Wild allowed himself a small smile. The doubts still ate at him, but they were lessening in their ferocity. The tiredness he felt before settled deep in his bones, an exhaustion so deep it slowed his breathing and finally closed his eyes, and finally, finally, he could sleep.
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ginger375 · 4 months
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Merry Chrysler!
Who asked for some holiday-themed Wild angst?
Wild hadn’t expected to fall into a memory.
He hadn’t expected it to be a memory of before his time as Zelda’s personal knight. He hadn’t expected when he woke up that day he would actually remember the face of his father…and his sister.
The ensuing panic attack after he came back to himself had Wild stumbling back to the inn as fast as his wobbly legs could take him, ignoring the calls of his brothers that followed.
It started off as a lovely day in Warriors’ Castle Town. Large fluffy snowflakes danced through the air, leading Hyrule and Wind to try and catch them on his tongue. Lanterns were hanging everywhere, the flickering light casting a warm glow on the snow-covered streets and the people walking them.
It was so much. The lights, the snow, the people laughing and calling out to each other, the faint sound of music coming from somewhere; he hadn’t even realized it was happening until he wasn’t…there anymore.
Upon arriving back at the inn, Wild blew past the woman at the check-in counter, bolted up the stairs and slammed the door to the room he was sharing with Twilight before crawling under the bed. There he curled up in a ball and tried to stop the wails of anguish from escaping his throat.
He was somewhat successful in that last part.
Wild’s mind swirled with the images the memory had granted him; a little girl with the same bright blue eyes and blonde hair he himself had, only with a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She had been twirling around in the falling snow, laughing when the fluffy flakes landed on her nose.
Link! Come play in the snow with me!
He laughed and went to join her outside when a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He looked up at the kind face, a full beard and his own eyes smiling at him.
Not so fast, Link! Get your coat on and bring Aryll her hat, can’t have either of you catching cold on Solstice.
Okay, Pa!
Link put on his coat and grabbed Aryll’s hat off the hook by the door before running out into the snow. He could see the glow of the lantern lights that lined the Main Street of Hateno.
Papa, can we go see the lights?
Only if you wait for me!
Aryll laughed and clapped in delight before grabbing her big brother’s hand.
We’re going to see the lights, Link!
He laughed with her, swinging their joined hands back and forth before dragging her hat onto her head with the other. Once Papa joined them, they separated so they could each take one of Papa’s hands to walk across the bridge and down the hill to—
Wild bit down on his knuckle to try and distract his reeling mind. He’d celebrated the last Solstice with Zelda in Hateno, why hadn’t this memory shown up then?!
The creaking of the bed above him pulled him out of his thoughts. A pair of familiar boots were visible at the edge of the bed.
“Hey cub,” Twilight said as he leaned down to get a peek under the bed. “You wanna talk about it?”
He didn’t know if he could even form words right now. At the sob that escaped, Twilight laid down on his stomach at the edge of the bed. The concern on his brother’s face made Wild feel worse.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Twilight reached a hand under the bed for Wild to grasp. “Whatever it was—“
“I remembered my f-family,” Wild choked out. “M-my father and my si-sister…”
Twilight’s eyes went wide before they went glassy with compassion. “Oh cub…”
Wild held Twilight’s outstretched hand in both of his. He felt awful for ruining Twilight’s—and everyone else’s—day, he felt sick that he couldn’t keep himself together, and he grieved for his family that was long dead.
“You just let it out, Link, okay? I’ll be right here,” Twilight’s watery voice breaking through Wild’s sorrow. “For as long as you need.”
It would be hours before he could find the strength to crawl out from under the bed. Twilight had shifted into Wolfie and stretched out of the rug, a silent offer for comfort that Wild gladly accepted.
Wolfie licked the dried tears from his cub’s face, keeping watch while his cub fell into exhausted sleep. No matter what happened, they would get Wild through this.
Together.
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