Summer Writes - Tumblr Posts

@cloudninetonine *waves awkwardly then runs off* So, apologies for the huge delay, in my defense, I've suddenly become a dog mom of two again of two very squeaky poodles xD, doing this differently since this got too big for an ask box, and I'm reserving those for screaming about Player's Aid and about your Linksonas for now.

Part 2, though Wane will get jumped on another one, might make this into a mini series since this suddenly became longer than I expected, apologies if it's not too good though. English ain't my first language and I'm kind of sleep deprived.

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You couldn't believe your ears. Convinced you'd finally cracked, gone fully and truly mad, that the thorns and roots and flowers of Hyrule had finally sank their greedy seeds into your soul and made you finally unhinged and insane while taking root.

Did they really...?

The person in the dark green cloak with their brilliant, verdant eye seemed to recover faster, hackles raised, their tone snapping and sharp, a fox with it's tail caught in a trap, irritable and biting and willing to bite their own limbs off to escape even as they shakily took a red potion from their pilfered Sheikah Slate, downing it like a shot, "Look, I know I'm the farthest thing from merciful, but I've had a rough week alright? Can't we save the bad time for when I'm not already on the ground?"

"No!" You spoke, cringing at the volume of your tone, looking around wildly (pointedly not glancing at the downed man at the strangers side) and the shade similarly lurches back, hissing like a cornered snake in the face of a mongoose, alert and wary, the shadows did nothing to settle your nerves, nor did the sweet and nauseating combination of rot, sickness, blood and death rancid in the air, settling agaisnt the back of your throat and chocking your lungs in poisonous fumes, but no sound besides the stranger's shaky breaths and those of the chosen of Hylia broke the tentative peace. Breathing, your hands twist the chain your fairy loved traveler gave you, grounding as you felt like falling and falling and falling, your tone weak, but you would not break "That's... Not what I meant. I just... You know about that game, you're not from here, either." Tentative hope falls from within your lips, dripping like the nectar of life you'd bled and shed already today, fragile as a flower, easily crushed.

Something about that made the stranger pause, gloved fingers twitching over the Sheikah Slate's item inventory, they peer at you from within the shadows of their hood, their emerald gaze that of an assessing, wild, wild beast, and you felt as scrapped raw as those first days in the land of divinity and legends and heroes and princesses and ever cycling conflict, torn asunder as they searched you for something you couldn't begin to describe, and found it, softening as tired understanding fell upon their shoulders like a mourner's shroud, someone who had returned to the mine and only found the canary's remains, "... No. No I'm not, and neither are you, huh kid?"

It wasn't a question. Though you wanted to contest being called a kid, you nod silently anyway.

They sigh, running a hand through their face with a low curse, "For Christ's sake, I really want to deck Hylia in the face right about now. That no good glow stick chicken really fucked it up this time for two of us to be around here now."

You couldn't help it, you laugh, an ugly, slightly hysterical cackle, nails on chalkboard, pitched agony from trying so hard to keep it together, but relieved, "You go for the face while I go for the knees?" You joked.

You weren't alone in this.

That made them bark a laugh, getting up, seemingly satisfied with their pilfered loot, a good quality spear and sword, the chain around their arm clinks as they toss you a bow and a full quiver you catch on instinct, silently thanking your Champion and Rancher and the Old Man for teaching you how to handle a bow before all this mess as they picked up W- your champion's twisted reflection with a huff (Wither, it's Wither, like decay, sickness, weakness and death. Not Wild. Chaotic but not Wild. Not magnolias and silent princesses and clear spring water after storms and howling forest winds. Not your hero), and tossed him without ceremony in an empty cell, locking it tight and placing the key in the slate, grinning slightly, though you couldn't tell if it was purely out of reassurance or from the strangled (and satisfying) grunt of pain his carcass made as he hit the dungeon's floor, they come closer to you with slow, careful steps, almost making no sound in spite of their heels, liminal like smoke. Like the world didn't have a proper grasp of their fleeting existence, "Sounds like a fair deal to me, if you've been through half as much nonsense as I did then you too deserve to commit some emotionally cathartic deicide." They examine you with their eyes, green and (e/c), mismatched and unknowable in their thoughts, a small frown on their face as they offer you a red potion, "Though no offense, you don't look quite in the shape to fight god yet kid, Jesus, did you get into a scuffle with a malice infected Lynel? Point me to who jumped you, I'll return the favor before we bust out of here."

You tense, memories from earlier in the night coming to mind-

(Conquest coming to stand guard, you nicking yourself on the broken blade you've been carefully using to pick the lock of where the Master Sword had been locked away with you, the scuffle between teeth and claw and you wrapping the iron chain you've kept concealed in your neck around his own, the hair raising, bone shaking agonizing screeching crushing open your ribcage and curling around your lungs with horror and terror as your hands felt the iron heat up with hunger. As you prayed and prayed you'd never have to hear such a sound leave your lovely, kind, sweet traveler's throat as well as the memory sunk into your very marrow and you were so sorry-)

You breath, taking the potion, wrinkling your nose slightly at it but downing it like a shot under the green clad escapee's careful watch, as you cringed from the taste you almost didn't catch their wording while trying to get the bile to retreat to your bowels where it belonged, "No, Downfall Hero, he's out for now. I'm sure I could take her- wait, we?"

"The inverted Changeling?" They hiss empathetically, though sounding impressed, you couldn't see why, as you were sure his screams would forever be etched into your mind, it's nothing to be proud of, "No wonder you look in such rough shape, the Fae are ruthless and he'd be specially troublesome given his Hyrule is a downright mess, abyss touched dragon he is. Though that saves half the work... If he and this mongrel are down for the count, then that takes two of the most troublesome one's out already. Missing two now, take the space to breath and rest up for now ok? You'll need to save your strength to make a break for it, riding on horseback or going on foot won't be a picnic either way." They raise an eyebrow, or at least you think they do, their tone disbelieving, a hand scrolling though the slate while the other offers you a wet cloth, "Yes? You're a Guide as well, no?"

"That's what everyone's been telling me ever since I got Isekaied here, doesn't mean I have noticed any difference besides Lady Luck's tendency to like fucking me over more than usual," you grumble, tone bitter as you trade them the empty bottle for the rag, you examine their arm carefully to attempt to push the memory away, silently thanking the regard as you clean your hands and collarbones off of blood, you don't think you could take anyone touching you right now, much less a kind but plain odd stranger. most of the surface of their skin is covered by dark gloves and ceremonial jewelry, claws tipped green with magic.

They nod, seemingly to themselves as they take a bundle from the slate with a small 'Aha!', and an adventurer's pouch whom you hear a faint clinking from, "Even more reason for me not to leave you then. What with the way things are."

"Why...?" You start, but close your mouth with a click, wary and bitterly amused, the you from before wouldn't have questioned it, would have accepted help from a stranger in this time in a heart beat, but you've learned, watching them wearily, you were tired, but you'd be darned if you had to deal with the same situation you did with the Shadow, where you almost died for the first time.

They look and sound genuine, but so did Abyss, before you noticed the glint of teeth and the sleeping, starved lindworm at the bottom of the chasm of his soul, you wouldn't make the same mistake again so easily.

They sigh, turning to you with a hand on their hip, you think they flinch a bit, still pained from their wounds but they level you with a serious gaze, tone soothing but firm as the roots of a tree, "You don't trust me. I get it. Under normal circunstances I would honestly just get the heck out of dodge on my own and be done with it because I don't trust you either. But two heads are better than one, and I refuse to give that dollar store, after Halloween knock off of Nightmare from FNAF 4 a single inch when it's already taken a mile." Their grip on their spear shifts, cracks run along the lonsdaleite shell of their unwavering will, ruined, but not broken, and it's so, so much like the echo of the fox clawing agaisnt your ribcage and howling with the wish to go home it makes you ache, "I have people to protect, friends I can't neglect by dying here. And either I'll kill that abomination and devour it's heart so that it won't hurt anyone ever again, or it will stop at nothing or anyone to devour The Guide and wear it's soul like a crown. It's a wounded animal looking for a way to heal and I refuse to let that vulture take from anyone else's flesh. It's not about trust, (Player), it's about plain fucking common sense and doing whatever it takes for the sake of survival." Their gaze tears through you, emerald on sapphire, wild, ruinous, but understanding on frayed, raw franticness, as they gut open the reality of the matter at hand and drop the organs at your feet, "But you already know that, don't you? I'll give you two choices: come with me while you still can, and I'll stop at nothing until you get back home or until you get someplace safe, or you can proceed alone while I burn this place to ash, choice is yours, I'm just trying to do something good for once." They growl, the fox is howling again, trapped and agitated, but not at you, they look at you steadily, itching to run but kind enough to look back, "Those people are not the hero I vowed to follow, so I don't see why I shouldn't do everything to even just mildly inconvenience them, you're a fellow Guide and were further removed from the exits than even myself, that tells me enough."

You take in a shaky, fragile breath. You've never told them your name.

Suspicion bites and pecks at your soul like a murder of crows, you were tired, you were scared, you could see that desire to run reflected in them, to not look back before you got teeth agaisnt your neck and claws dragging you down into the deep river that was despair and hopelessness, to let your weariness win.

"What's the plan?"

So you couldn't even begin to tell anyone why you looked back.

Maybe it was spite, to not let the torment you've seen while leashed to these so called 'heroes' side like a beaten dog take from you the kindness that made you human, maybe it's the protectiveness you felt towards your boys, the rekindled anger at the very thought of the Shadow gaining a single edge on them that made your vision go red, your blood become the lava and magma at the heart of Eldin, and the wounded vixen in your heart howl and snarl with the cold hunt of the deity trapped in the mask. Fury beating like the drum's of Din's booming, uncaring laughter as she jeered and taunted for war.

Or maybe it was because your Links rubbed off on you, the Chain did repeatedly say that their instincts kept them alive. Something about the person in front of you felt like a kindred spirit, like looking in a mirror, and the glittering diamond of their conviction to keep you safe felt like a promise you'd hear from Time, from Hyrule or Wild or heck even Legend, the prat. From any of your Links.

And anyone with a tone like that would surely do their best to keep that promise, or die trying.

They blink at you, visible eye wide, before smiling, cerulean with relief, before passing you one of their pouches with a wink, the softness of comfort turning into the blade's edge of viciousness, "First, we are closing your wounds and wrapping your hands, those look like a bitch to move around with. Then we blow up the corridor where you came from and the stairs leading to here, that should keep these two fairly busy."

You send them a dry look, "Says the person almost sliced clean in half."

"Shh, this ain't about me." They poke you on the chest sternly. You snort, but come over anyway, careful not to make too much noise, it draws a smile across their face as they take the bandages and a second cloth to start patching you up, your back to the wall and theirs to the corridor, head lightly cocked, it reminds you vaguely of Twilight, listening like so even when in Hylian form, "Take out the Twili Touched. If possible the veteran too, they'd be troublesome to shake off and we need to minimize their tracking chances. I could probably stall the Sky Beast enough to take the Master Sword... That dowsing would be downright impossible to shake-

"No need, it's with me. I took it after downing Conquest."

They seem to blue screen, you can practically hear the record scratch as they stare at you blankly, then moves on, "... Wow. Okay. I hope you know I would die for you."

"Now that's a bit much." You sweatdrop, trying to push away memories of other people who've made such promises. Even if the hooded figure sounds more jesting than serious.

They laugh, but move on, snickering, before their tone turns serious. "Alright, so, avoid Chrono, the sailor and Conflict at all costs, the shattered hero is manageable as long as his Shadow Link decided to forsake him, Abyss too even if he would be as much of a nightmare to face, he has less stamina than the unwanted animal so all you need to do is out last him. Those three though? I mean it, you see those bastards? You don't engage. You run, run and don't look back no matter what you hear, I can handle myself and I have a score to settle and enough rage to keep me alive until I do it, you don't have half my experience though and I sure hope you won't ever have it, so when I tell you to run, you run, go it? I'm not about to test our luck here if Lady Luck or Hylia or Demise himself have decided to screw with us."

You shiver, you'd much rather not talk about Chrono, but something about their wording makes you pause, "Chrono I get, even if your confidence deeply alarms yet reassure me, why Cyclone and Conflict though?"

Your fellow guide seems to groan, artificial hand running through their face as they start setting up remote bombs on the stairwell from which you came, "Kid has the Wind Waker. Usually I wouldn't be down for punting a small child, I'm an asshole though not that kind of asshole, but if that little menace remembers he has it we are both screwed."

Fuck, they're right, "Aah, song of control, my bad, what about Conflict though?"

"He's dangerous, a snake in wolf's clothing and a soldier to boot, if he's running with this circus of unhinged clowns then that probably means he did something so bad even the royal guard would have issues with." Your fellow inmate clicks their tongue, spitting blood to the side, "I don't want to find out what that was to put it bluntly, if you ask me he's as much of a monster as the Shadow."

You wince a bit, they are absolutely right, if both of your suspicions are right, then Conflict is arguably the more personally dangerous besides Chrono, a cautionary tale wrapped in the illusion of a perfect prince and soldier from a fairy tale, a lie within a lie. And people like that are red flags dripping blood upon the floor that even the blind, deaf and mute would rather allow Gleeok or Lynels to rip them to shreds than face the nightmare pretending to be a daydream utilizing your sweet captain's skin. The other Guide also rightfully deduced so and likely wanted to chance it as little as possible.

... Which makes what you're going to say probably make you sound absolutely insane.

"... I don't think we have to worry about him for now, actually."

Their hooded head snap towards you so fast, you almost think you hear something crack, their tone concerned, "What do you mean?" They don't even wait for you to answer, looking you over carefully as you hunch your shoulders protectively, visible alarm flaring to life in the evergreen of fheir gaze, their hands tremble around the slate, "(Player), what did he-?!" They cut themselves off, head tilted, before their eye narrows, handing you one of their pouches, it smells vaguely like spice's, and taking fhe cloak they've stolen from Wither, shoving you onto a darkened pillar by an open cell, chains clacking together, "Someone's coming. Either Wane or Abyss, I hear chainmail. I'll wear them down and either take them out or give us an opportunity for escape, if it's Wane, you wait until I yell and throw this at him okay? Time for your first lesson in how to fuck up a dog's sense of smell so badly it may never be any good for tracking again. We can talk about this later where I'll surely give you a lecture my lioness of a princess would be proud of."

"Wait- wait! How do you-!" They throw something over your shoulders and face, their nephrite colored hood, the scent of silent princesses and, the Faron Woods and strangely enough magnolia's and spider lillies flooding your nose as you glare at them, readjusting the hood over your face.

And feel your heart and blood freeze.

It's your face, your eye staring back at you. A twisted reflection, a Silent Princess necklace attached to the choker around their neck and fangs for earrings, the symbol of Farore etched onto the metal holding fhen together. Tired and older and jaded. Like looking at the ruins if your own soul and not knowing wether to flinch or cry.

...Or maybe just give them a hug, for all they look like you you're certain you've never looked this battered. They look like they could use it and frankly, you could go for one too really, and who better to know how to hug you but yourself?

The person with your face, no, you, smiles, awkward and tired and hollow, but not surprised holding your hood down with their artificial hand, you can only see the reassuring curve of their smile, warm in spite if tragedy, growth where lighting struck, "I'll explain all of it when we leave here, okay? For now, just call me Craein, and follow me. I'll guide your way."

And, after putting the hood of Wither's cloak up and concealing their clothing as much as possible, they dive into the shadows to wait. Just as you hear footsteps finally reaching the stairs of the dungeon.

Wane.

... You guess you'll just literally have to trust yourself, this time.

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To be continued...

Linktober Shadow, Day 2

Dodongos

Short one this time with Hyrule and a short one for regular Linktober as well because they DID NOT want to write themselves today and I could have done without the world throwing everything it had at me in an attempt not let me write lmao. *Collapses* Better content shall be delivered tomorrow, apologies to y'all whom stumbled onto something subpar today.

There was no sound there in the darkness, the only company deep, deep underground was the cold stone walls and a stream hidden beneath many meters of stone, the light of the lantern, your breathing and Hyrule’s hand in yours a comfort as the unfeeling dirt and solid walls pressed down upon you both from all sides in na attempt to conceal, to entomb.

You could hear faint growling and hissing, a sound like stones being struck in na attempt to light a flame. Dodongos. That at least gave you a confirmation of which era you’re likely to be, even if the idea of being in such a closed off system of caves with the false mimicry dragons made your skin crawl.

Hyrule’s eyes scanned the darkness as he led you through the tunnel, sword in hand as the one with the most experience in caves, his ears twitched and his eyes flashed in with fae blessings. Like bright starlit gems in this narrow place of subterranean maw tunnels and teeth sharp granite stalagmites and stalactites, tone like the touch of early autumn petrichor upon a breeze in it’s reassurance, “We’ll be out soon, we just need to keep following the stream until we find a breeze and then the exit. Stay close to me, alright?”

“Of course.” You nod, sticking close and scanning the twisting shadows cast by the lamp’s light and the darkness of the cave for the flash of sharp, armored hide or a ignited tail or a set of bright fangs and canines ignited aflame, you could hear the faint stalking of the lizard ever since you’ve both left the portal, separated from the Chain and right into a dungeon. It was a trial already making through the Dungeon just the two of you with supplies you needed to ration and careful care for Hyrule’s health, you knew he’d so his best to keep you safe and unharmed, and he knew that you would not allow him to collapse from the cost of having to call upon the magic in his veins when he already used a much back in the dungeon, so this was as much as a compromised you’d achieve with your mutual worry, “Rulie?”

The Traveler tilts his head, oak and evergreen eyes flicking between the beasts growing ever more silent around you in na obvious bid for na ambush, to breathe in and expell flame, and yourself, his hand over a bomb made with their brethrens stomach lining, you similarly gripped your sword tightly, you remembered the way their teeth clamped down onto your arm, searing and bleeding flame like a brand on the way out, neither you nor Hyrule wished for a repeat incident, “Yes?”

You gently squeeze his hand back, smiling, “I’m glad you’re here.”

His ears twitch, rose inking them in lovely, adorable crimson, he coughs into his hand, but returns your smile, “Thank you, (Name). Ready?”

The dodongo pack hisses, you hear the tell tale suction of air, but you aren’t nervous at all. Looking in those cold, reptilian eyes.

You and Hyrule would make sure to defend one another. You smile as he lights the fuse.

“As I’ll ever be.”

He lights the fuse just as the first three dodongos open their mouths, jaws sparking with their accursed fire and chocking on the bombs that swiftly go down their throats. You swiftly move to finish them off with a quick movement of your sword to slit their throats as soon as the smoke starts pouring and Hyrule repeats the motion with the remaining four, his own sword draw as he moves with the swiftness of a gale heralding a storm.

You swear you see wings in his shadow cast upon the walls by the lamp, but none of you say anything.

And if later on, much much later, when you’ve both found the entrance of the cave while deciding to skin the beasts for armor parts, and you’ve napped on top of Hyrule because you are both tired and your trust makes his heart swells, and he pointedly avoids the ribbing the Chain members give him for being a tad more brutal when dealing with dodongos until your wound heals, well, that’s for him to know.

He couldn’t be more grateful for having you around as well.

Linktober Day 2

Temple

Shorter one this time since this almost didn't get written today through a combination of people not allowing me to save the original drabble that was already finished. *Laments*

The contrast between Wilde’s Hyrule was always something of a surprise.

The land felt untamed and overgrown, life stubbornly clinging to every crack and crevice of the stones beneath and your feet, impossibly old and free even in a place like this.

There was much lost the unforgiving flow of time and the cyclical, sisyphean wheel of fate, which was why you couldn’t stop the sharp inhale that escaped you as you recognized the pattern along the old, weathered bricks, even among the ability of many aspects of Hyrule to stand immortalized over the course of much ruin, Wild tilted his head, “Do you recognize this place?”

You laughed, breathy with shock as you gently ran your fingers along the vines, Wild’s grin softening with fondness at your excitement, “This is from Sky’s Era! Remember the Sealed Temple?”

Sky shared your bewilderment, as he recognized the plants running along the groves of the old, almost fully weathered down stone, “How did this survive up until now?”

The Champion shrugged, “The same way the Temple of Time always does I suppose?”

“That doesn’t count,” cut in Twilight, shaking his head with an amused glint in his eye, “Pretty sure yours is in better shape than mine or Warriors’ combined.”

Gently, you paused over the old, discolored remains of the crystal Sun had sealed herself in. Thoughtfully allowing the comfortable bickering of your boys to wash over you like the rain outside, privately wondering what else could have survived.

Linktober Shadow Day 3

Twilight

Definitely self indulgent, just a small thing I managed to throw together after a sleep deprivation filled day.

My Twilight Princess lover side definitely comes out on this one, as well as some vague headcanons in a short drabble, as always can be read as platonic or romantic.

There was something special, you think, about the way autumn came in a howling moonson of glory into the Era of Twilight, heralding the coming of the temperate strokes over the woods in flowering tones of russet, bronze, maple and amethyst in gilding gold over the evergreen of Hyrule’s eternity in warmth even as the weather turned ever colder, the late afternoon sunset fleeting in it’s mercurial transition into the hour of twilight, only matched in honor to the abandoned forests of the Era of Sky, the enduring wealds of the Era of time and the untamed thickets of the Era of Wilds. Oh so contrasting to it’s hero but no less lovely for it was a perfect balance, when you first met Twilight (or well, got properly acquainted, really, but that’s a story for another day), it was clear he was no less captivating than his homeland, as steady as the oaks and pines stretching towards the heavens and with the kindness of it’s people, was it any wonder then, that you found it easy to love the man with the loyalty and eyes of wolf to match the divine beast in his soul?

So it was why through a long, long period of trying to make the true extent of your feelings as unseen as a dream after waking hours and trying to hide just how enamored you had slowly become, that you became well acquainted with the tells that showed something weighted on his mind as you left Ordon’s Spring after washing Epona for the long road ahead tomorrow. The way his head hang just a little, ears lowering to match the way Wolfie’s would when he gently nudged one of the members of the Chain into holding him after a nightmare as his walls attempt to come back up, as solemn as a wolf in mourning.

Ever so responsible, ever steady. Trying to take the world onto his shoulders as any hero would.

He should have know it wouldn’t work on you, not after all you’ve been through.

“Rupee for your thoughts?” Your tone gently broke through the stillness of the stream as you fed Epona an apple, Twilight’s ears twitch as he turns towards you, softening as he notes the way the twilit enchanted sunlight lingered upon your visage in a most ephemeral way, shadows holding affectionately and brightening the stars of your eyes and the liminal nature of this moment and how Epona neighs, gently nudging the side of your hand for more rubs or maybe apples he knew you loved sneaking to her when he wasn’t looking, making your airy, fae like laughter free to be taken by the breeze.

“Reminiscing, is all.” He answer you, tone a low rumbling of the fall winds and like handling mirror shards into something new and beautiful as he privately holds onto the memory of your smile, holding it with claws and teeth for he can never quite be sure for how long he’ll have it, “It feels like a lifetime ago since...”

Since the start of his journey, since the beginning of his new one in the throes of attempting to settle in Ordon to lick his wounds after the lingering shaded reality of another realm settled into the crevices of his soul and marrow after grabbing the neck of the beast inside his being and biting down onto the hackles had left the injury open to bleed again.

Since losing Midna shattered his heart and killed him all at once, leaving him to live a life of haunting his own existence until you looked at him, all of him, and guided him back to life. Picking the shards of his heart and slowly putting them back together with the care of someone he’d seen mourn for an unfortunate nightingale on the road even as you cut yourself when he attempted to push you away.

You nod, gently resting your head on his shoulder, your gaze flicking to the Shadow Crystal, you don’t press about Midna and Twilight feels so, so warm, breathing out, you were both working on it, slowly but surely. Midna may not be dead, but he knew her absence left you haunted too, “Does it still hurt?” The twisting of reality upon his form, drawing from a well of ambition from long gone spirits who’d attempted to grab at the Goddesses throat, and the way the darkness so fiercely claimed any part of his he could touch. Making both of your shadows darker as the veil between worlds thinned, refusing to allow anything else to attempt a claim.

He shakes his head, gently putting his chin atop yours, “No, not anymore.”

You hum, gently nudging his chin in a sweet, adoring nuzzle, “I’m glad, then.”

You both remain on the spring until night falls, basking into one another’s presence and soaking into the timeless moment of learning to love one another as you can.

Twilight silently wishes that, just this once, he’s allowed to keep this the same way the Twilight Realm still keeps the old him.

Linktober Day 3

Friend

Short drabble once again because my notebook has decided to give up the good fight but my phone isn't down for the count yet.

Showcasing how I'm not over the fact that Fi and Shadow Link (specially the Four Swords Manga iteration) are technically the One constant all of the Links all but share and how people don't talk about it enough. And also my way to cope over rereading the Four Swords Adventures Manga again and my denial over Shadow being gone.

In the late hours of the night, you liked to talk to Fi and Shadow.

You weren’t sure if they could listen, not really, Sky said she fell asleep after his journey and First confirmed it soon after he joined the Chain, with the most heartbreakingly saddest smile, not quite grieving, but not quite ready to let go as -out of perhaps Legend- they were the ones who handled it with the most care. An echo and reflection of the way Four couldn’t quite look at mirrors without the rainbow in his eyes becoming more visible, almost gray in the shared grief in his mind and would say naught when questioned about it, choosing to deflect rather than clarify.

‘An eternal dream.’ was how vaguely how it had been described should anyone ask, ‘Not death in a way that matters, but... Close, almost enough to count.’

So over time, as you remained awake for your shifts once you’ve grow closer to the Chain, once you proved yourself as someone who could keep up and stand their ground, and a friend and a confidant over many, many sleepless nights and laughter and adversity, you couldn’t help but want to include them too as the rest of the Chain went to sleep and your watch time came. Usually masking it as telling stories or singing to either Wolfie or Epona.

You knew First knew, you were absolutely sure Sky was aware as the one who held the Sword that Seals Darkness the most, and that Four was onto you whenever you leaned somewhere nearby where his shade was cast.

Given as none of them called you out on it, you didn’t see any reason to stop.

(You couldn’t hear Fi the way they could, couldn’t tell the subtle shifts in the shadows under warm firelight the way Four had grown used to as Vio, but some times, you swore you could listen to an accompanying chime in duet, or catch the glimpse of the mirage of a smile

It wasn’t much, but it was enough.)

Linktober Shadow, Day 4

Lost

I feel like we really need to talk more about how the Lost Woods are a concept as beautiful as it is terrifying actually.

Wild/BOTW/TOTK Link fans, this one's for you and brought by my severe sleep deprivation, enough caffeine to kill a grown woman with less spite and my medieval literature/narrative/poetry teacher who motivated me through the entire creative process via helping me throw ideas at the wall even as all of the essays I gotta turn in are going to make me late in posting Sage. *laughs hysterically, immediately collapses*

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, and it's up to interpretation what's going down on this one. And can also be read in or outside of an LU context, I'm leaving it vague both on purpose and because of sleep deprivation lol.

Of all places you could say you most intimately did not wish to be alone after being separated from the Chain, the Lost Woods of literally any era but specially Wild’s would definitely be on your top three at a pristine number one.

Really, if you weren’t currently being stalked through the darkened, shadowed weald of the once welcoming evergreen home of both the Minish and Kokiri, whom you knew could be much, much more beautiful lovely (it did aid in raising a good chunk of your beloved heroes, after all) and with your heart working with all the urgency of a wounded deer being chased by a wolf. You’d almost commend it for it’s choice in setting this time.

Keyword being almost, for it compared naught to the sheer and utter terror that burned through your every sinew, marrow and veins at the accuracy of that statement, and the implication that your nebulous and hauntingly familiar current hunter grew ever more clever each passing second of your adventure.

You ran, ran and ran through the living woods, trying desperately to find any possible landmark, an oddly shaped tree, one of the torches or the remain of the skeletons from the old, ruined iterations of the Temple of Time from long bygone eras that the forest had reclaimed, or the hint of the breeze soft whispers from the echoes of the Kokiri or the elated branch rattle giggling laughter of the Skull Children. At this point you’d take even the the mad, beast like howling of the Stalfos or the tortured wailing of Poes, somewhere between vesania tainted laughter and the primal, feral pleading for one’s survival that shook you to the marrow.

There was no such symphony now, the woods as silent as a grave.

(The hauting ground of so, so many that it did not love or could not hold onto anymore, whispered a corner of your mind, and it sounded like the Shadow, with it’s ominous phlegmatic hissing, twisted amusement and sadistic brutality all in one.)

Your arm had long gone numb, broken under the impossible force held by the beast of sulfur and obsidian that the world itself rebelled against warring at it’s very existence as it roared it’s wrath back at it, the Goddesses, Hylia and Demise and your heroes and princesses caught in the middle of divine design, your legs giving out under the weight of your exhaustion, you tasted copper from the wound on your head dripping down your lips but that did not stop you. Would not stop you, couldn’t stop you.

You grit your teeth so hard against the shout that wanted to tear it’s way out of your throat as you barely kept yourself from hitting your head, diverting your momentum against an old, lonely tree. Your blood sinking into the wood, good, better it than Dark Link.

You were tired, you were exhausted, you swore you could hear a growl among the melancholy of the mist. You hoped the shade did not manage to track you down as you made sure not to leave a trail of blood, but something tells you that it wouldn’t need it to track you even with the faint moonlight barely giving enough aid in your own quest to find it before it found you with your only, laughable weapon being an old arrow you’ve pilfered from a long decomposed corpse almost falling from your white knuckled grip.

You didn’t want to die, you needed to survive.

You though of the Chain, your lovely, chaotic, kind boys, of Sky’s ever ecompassing kindness and Four’s brilliant cleverness, Time’s quiet comfort and Legend’s fierce hidden gentleness and Wind’s trailblazing joy, Hyrule’s tender sweetness and Warrior’s warm protectiveness and Wild’s beautiful adoration for life.

You missed them, and it was likely you wouldn’t see them again, that more than anything hurt more than all of your wounds combined.

You try to push yourself up, to move, to live, to keep moving forward, caring not for the stillness of the glade. Barely noticing the sudden silence as you almost pitched forward once again, stumbling onto the earth as your grip onto your makeshift weapon finally gave out-

Only for a pair of arms to catch you, steady, magnolias and rosemary, petrichor from untamed, ancient Hyrule. A bright Sheikah cerulean tunic and a navy cloak falling over darkned boots.

You freeze, hands twitching, it couldn’t be an illusion. You’ve seen plenty in the corner of your eye as you traversed through the woods, attempting to lead you astray. None of them were solid, many of them weren’t quite as cold as this, whoever was holding you.

But it couldn't be real either, it shouldn't.

“Link...?”, came your tired rasp, you felt as if you’ve swallowed sand (briefly, you wondered if the taste of flowers on the back of your tongue mixing with the copper of the liquid of life in your veins was the reason. Then resolved yourself not to think about it), your traitorous body succumbing to exhaustion as the stranger gently held you up (friend, friend, but it couldn’t be, Wild tried to hold onto you, the memory of his desperation scorching under your eyelids like a brand and his howl of denial mixed with self loathing would haunt your for days to come, maybe months, he was far away and hopefully safe, it couldn’t be him).

The figure merely steadied you against themselves, silent as they swung you into their arms, you briefly struggled. It was instinct to put up a fight, to push against the liminal illusion cruelly meant to haunt your possible last moments as another soon to be lost souls chest, or heck for all you knew it could be the Shadow, dragging it out, playing with your torment as it gave you scraps of hope before taking it away. The figure paused, only to gently readjust you -painfully careful as the memory of the gentleness belonging to your Champion but oh so wrong made your heart ache-, the figure lowly speaking, their tone the emerald eternity of the kingdom’s fields and like setting stitches against your wounded self, like the soothing nature of early autumn rain. Almost a whisper, cracked like the wind through the leaves.

“... Rest. You’ll be alright.”

You wanted to protest, wanted to claw and fight and bite his throat off just in case even if you weren’t sure it would take, as with your head in the crook of his hood you couldn’t hear a heartbeat, but your exhaustion won out in the end. Held in the warmth of the sun over Faron Woods with the glimpse of fierce cerulean blue, the gaze of a reynard whom a part of you knew wouldn’t give you up without a fight and safer than you felt since getting pounced through that cursed portal.

When you next came to, it was to Wild’s frantic worry at the edges of camp, his hair like a frazzled shroud as he dropped everything in hand of his watch to check on your now wrapped wounds. Hugging you tight as you held him just as close back.

This time, you found a heartbeat, and you could almost weep with relief, and in the darkness of the woods a shrouded shade smiled.

Returning to the mist unseen and unheard. But content you were home.

Linktober 2023

Sage

Disclaimer from the get go: All platonic this time! I don't like writing Wind or Wind Waker Link or many people from his games in a romantic context so don't be weird about it guys, Reader is also the same age (unless stated as older) and if anything is implied, it's only on the stage of boyish crushes and otherwise either strictly friends or sibling-like relationships for obvious reasons, if it's not stated on that context of crushes then please take it as platonic. Seriously, don't make it weird. I mean it.

On a lighter note, the Wind Waker Sages are really underrated and I would die for Medli. Makes the older sibling in me want to give her headpats.

There were some constants to Hyrule that you’ve learned over a period of time, experience and outside observation.

A Sorcerer King will inevitably rise (some times just a sorcerer, some times just a king albeit a powerful one), traveling to other worlds and times can basically be another Tuesday when that inevitably happens. Links will always be kind and at their very best when protecting others (which was equal parts heartwarming as it was exasperating, because you knew the Chain would run themselves to the ground if you didn’t keep make sure to keep an eye on them as they did one another, always giving so much of themselves away to a point you always worried there would be nothing left), and that Zelda’s were forces of nature with divinity trapped beneath their skin that should not be underestimated, for they were willing to go through any length of sacrifice for their people and kingdom even if it includes themselves.

Sages, whoever, were another matter entirely that no one can really prepare for, from Nabooru to Gulley and even the Zelda’s themselves. Wise beyond their age and always willing to lend a helping hand to the kingdom should it be needed, always one step behind the Princess in support and only closely followed by the Hero and the Sheikah, chosen seemingly at random but still more, in a way, as magic brushed against their skin with the affectionate touch of an old friend. It was honestly a little intimidating.

Which was why meeting Medli was so refreshing.

“I’m happy to meet you, I hope you’ll feel welcome here in Dragon Roost Island.” Came the sweet thrill of greeting from the young, chestnut haired Rito as she took your hand in wing, smiling gently, “My name is Medli, Link talks quite a lot about you.”

You blink, tilting your head, “Does he now? Hopefully only the good things.” You laugh, a bit awkwardly, you’d be the first to admit you’re way out of your depth ever since you were dropped into Hyrule, but you were trying your best.

She nodded enthusiastically, you think you can see her feathers ruffling from excitement, cute, “Mhm! He talks about you quite highly, in fact-“, she gets a glint in her eye.

You hop back as Wind comes in like a tempest at sea, cutting her off in offense,“Hey! You promised you wouldn’t tell!”

“Well it’s true, I’ve only ever seen you that excited about Tetra and Mask, they deserve to know.” Countered Medli, Wind crossed his arms with a small ‘hmph!’.

“Would you like it if I did the same about Komali?”

Medli gasped, feathers puffing up in surprise and almost dropping her harp with a stern squawk which you quickly dove to catch, exhaling with relief, it looked important to her, “You wouldn’t!”

“I would!”

“But it would just distract him!”

“Don’t care, you spill my secrets I spill yours!”

You couldn’t help it, you laughed, patting their heads on instinct. Can anyone blame you? They’re precious. “Alright, alright, settle down. Why don’t you guys show me around? You did mention a nice dragon lived here, Link.”

Medli immediately brightened up, excitedly diving into all the information she could about Lord Valoo, as he was called, while Wind took your hand and dragged you along.

Mhm, you quite like Medli.

Linktober Shadow Day 5

Master Kohga

*slams this down* LATE AND WITH ONE HECK OF A HEADACHE BUT I MADE IT!

Also I feel like we also need to talk about that the reason the Yiga are such doofuses usually is because they're riding the high of a full 100 years victory, and that after getting throughly kicked in the ribs they're probably gonna commit more crimes and probably return to their even more brutal roots actually, Kogah probably being the most likely one to shift to that first.

This goes out to you Warriors fans and simps, because ooh boy is he a delight to write, I think the duality of his name and status as a soldier is neat even if he's not my favorite Link.

Though the regular Linktober one will have to wait after I'm a bit more rested though so either later today or tomorrow, sorry folks.

Also uh warnings ahead?

TW:

Some descriptions of violence, specifically wrist targeted violence, kidnapping, and Reader going a little feral in defense of Warriors, nothing too big, but as this is coming from a horror fan I advise anyone who is squeamish to skip this one.

On a scale of one to ten of intimidation wrought by enemies of the Chain has faced, you’re pretty sure Kohga and the Yiga wouldn’t make even a negative ten on a normal day.

You’re not sure if it’s due to Wild’s most blase attitude about having a literal clan of traitorous, murderous Sheikah at him, a mix of bafflingly phlegmatic and elated with amused delight when talking about schemes you’d more associate to slapstick comedy than anything, the way you’ve seen any Yiga members dive for any throw bananas like a starving Wolfos pack on a lone Stalfos even if there was a cliff right in front of them with even more single minded determination than what was given to their mission, the way he’d refer to them as “Look they’re technically insane menaces to polite society out for mine and Flora’s blood, but they’re our technically insane menaces to polite society out for our blood” with a mix of bemusement and amusement or a mix of all three but according to the resident cook they truly weren’t a threat compared to, say, the cultists of Hyrule’s time whose sole goal wasn’t even to kill him but simply make him bleed, or Majora whom indirectly inflicted endless torture on Time, or Demise who literally started the cycle all of your heroes inevitably went through (because you could never blame Sky, none of you would even if it took shaking the notion into his thick skull). And they’ve apparently gone even more docile and to ground after Wild had defeated their master.

“And THEN he apparently has the nerve to go through our base and raid our banana supply! The nerve of that pesky, insistently annoying pest- Hey, are you even listening?” The sudden call made you jump, hissing as your wrist restraints dug into your skin, because apparently shackles with spikes on the inside of them are a thing and you very much would not have liked the approximate feeling of barbed wire wedged into your skin, biting into your flesh with all the viciousness and brutality that ensured you wouldn’t move your hands without feeling agony, the tone indignant as the presumably dead man stomped his foot nearby, “This is serious! First he peels me and my clan members like a banana, greatly exaggerates the rumor of my death and then THIS?!”

You school your features, trying really, really hard not to act out again as it comes down dangerously close onto Warrior’s unconscious head. Nodding along with the seriousness and solemnity worthy of a funeral, “Talk about the pot calling the kettle black! Such disrespect, at least you guys didn’t exaggerate about his death. And you’re supposed to be the bad guys here?”

(Well, more like you couldn’t move, really, funny thing about spikes on one’s skin and having one of your legs broken to the point glancing at exposed bone makes you want to dry heave at the gory sight, it.is.agony. Funny, how pain is an effective restraint in keeping people pinned down better than any arrow.)

You quickly revised your opinion and reassess the threat given the situation you're in now, as after your patrol on Wild’s Hyrule with Warriors you’d gotten ambushed and kidnapped through a mix of a double Silver Lynel ambush and sheer element of the surprise as bait, Warriors going down protecting you with all of the ferocity of his namesake, and choosing to risk getting a little roughed up over being separated from him.

You’re quite proud of yourself really, what with the way that you almost fully tore a chunk out of a Blademaster’s throat with your teeth and before they gave up, leg broken and with the spikes on your wrist as you woke up first with the fury of Volvagia’s fire scorching your veins, overwhelming the icy chill of terror in your veins and only instinct driving you because who knows what they’d done to him. Worth it. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you let something happen to your favorite soldier boy. At least now you’re both in the same place, even if it’s with the man running the doomsday show himself.

“I know right?! Once I get my hands on that little nuisance, I am going to kill him dead!”

It’s a bit of a pity, in a way. You’re sure that under better circumstances you’d be as amused as Wild by him and he’d be a lovely conversation partner, you doubt the Yiga would follow him if he wasn’t charismatic after all, like watching a wet cat get their head stuck in a jar you had to admit watching the man struggle and fail was just a bit hilarious.

Alas by the whims of the gods spinning the wheel of fate and making it be fully comprised of misfortune to the point you really would like to have a nice chat involving your fists and their faces and maybe one foot straight up Hylia's gash, twas not to be, but it works in your favor. You just needed to stall for as long as you could until Warriors woke up or had an opening stop feigning sleep, either works.

“I just had a thought, a truly magnificent idea worthy of someone as worthy of being the Calamity’s most trusted champion! You travel with that twerp and his companions don’t you?”, the man stilled, then swerved towards you, you contained a flinch in a sudden movement, just on the edge of cartoony, adamantly looking over his shoulder rather than the twisted, crimson eye of the cold mask of the leader of the people who joked about keeping one of Warriors’ eyes as a necklace for it worked just as well as gem, “You could work for us instead, we’d pay you quite well for the information.”

Adamantly trying not to look at Warrior’s behind him, you hummed, head tilted, pretending to think about it, then shrugging, “Eh, I’ll pass. You Yiga don’t take well to traitors no?”

The man crossed his arms, adamantly nodding, “Of course not! Any and all who forsake our god should be slowly watch as their body parts are fed to Moldugas while they’re still alive!”

Cool, cool, lovely imagery to have, you were going to have one serious talk with Wild about proper threat assement once you’re back in camp by the way. You smile a bit back, remembering Warrior’s and using it as a reason to force a grimace away. Of the way he could charm better than any prince, making people fall in love with him effortlessly for better or worse and how you or Legend would viciously defend him from the worse crowd even if it gave you both Time’s exasperation (and grief from the other Links, who are all menaces whom you wished were less perceptive at times). Of the way he amusedly shared with you he main advantage was that no one could ever tell wether he was being friendly or baring his teeth, and how he slowly let you notice wether the curve was sharp or soft as you got closer. Making a point of showing your bloody, bloody teeth from both the Blademaster and which dripped down your head from one heck of a Lynel kick, you did not have Warriors natural charisma but you’d make do with your mediocre charm. “Well, I’m not in the habit of liking traitors much either you see. Sorry to let you down on that, plus if I can turn on them I can turn on you right? Better we skip that, I can give you a banana cake and banana pretzel recipe from where I’m from as compensation though?”

(You did not, in fact, know a recipe for banana cakes and pretzels by the way, but at this point you'll say anything just to buy you more time. Nothing like the age old ancient technique of lying. Wars would be proud his lessons came in handy.)

To his credit, he didn’t flinch. You’d actually be a bit shocked if he did given his clans entire gimmick to be fair. Sliding away from Warrior’s prone form and towards the one actually open door, keeping his back to the soldier, although his attention immediately focused on you like a Guardians aim, completely missing the light twitch to Warriors’ fingers you could spot in the dim torch light, “Fair enough, though you’re missing out on a lot if you ask me. Now! Banana cake you say? Might you be a person of culture after all even with an horrendous choice of company?”

Would you look at that, looking like a horror show does have it’s advantages!

“I mean I’d write it down but you know,”, you make a vague motion with your wrists, wincing a bit at the spikes, those would be a pain to get out later, you’d much have preferred ropes or chains, “But if you get some paper or get me to a kitchen I can direct your folks how to make it? You’d be the first to get a taste of it if you’re there too.”

He hums, pacing back and forth, Warriors eyes lightly crack open, the sapphire clouding with shock at your state, you can’t look at him long enough to figure out the ensuing combination of emotions, flashing, but you do see when the gems are forged into cobalt blades, you quickly mouth to him ‘Get free’ as soon as Kohga isn’t looking at you, he closes his eyes as Kohga turns towards him and nods. Though the Poe flame azure of his gaze could have probably killed the leader of the Yiga ten times over as he addresses you, “You’re an awfully generous hostage aren’t you? Though I like the way you think.”

You shrug, “I mean I’m not being manhandled, plus I’m bored so why not make some good food to kill time?”

You can see him weight his options, unnervingly staring at you beneath the mask. You adamantly don’t look at Warriors’ as he slides his boot very lightly against the wall, a small blade springing from the small compartment, thanking the Three the Yiga didn’t check either of your shoes as he twists around as silently as he can manage to cut himself free as Kogah nods, “Anyone with an appreciation for bananas should be allowed to share their wisdom, can you walk?”

You give him a flat look, you think Warriors bites his tongue to keep from making an equally indignant sound as Kohga seems to have the dots, awkwardly coughing, “That was a retorical question of course you can’t! I shall however extend you my benevolence, and call on my subordinates to carry you-“

He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence when Warriors pounces with a snarl, you lurch back, hissing as the spikes make your wrists bleed and chocking down a shout at the pain that crawls through your leg like lightning, but it’s enough.

Warriors wraps the remains of his rope around the Yiga Clan Leader’s throat in a makeshift garrote, and make sure to use his momentum to slam his head against the cold, hard ground of the hideout, doing it again for good measure with all of the strength and ferocity you knew for a fact he kept as well sheathed as a hidden blade.

It all took but a second, he didn’t even scream. You doubt that killed him, but he isn’t getting back up any time soon.

You slump over, coughing blood from your mouth, it wouldn't help much but it was a start, “Welcome back to the land of the living, Wars.”

He rushes towards you as soon as he finishes tying Kohga up with the remnants of his own rope, gently wiping the blood from your sight, he was battered and bruised but the most beautiful thing you’ve seen in your life as he checked you over, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, relief ringing like a sword being sheathed, it would be alright. “Can’t say I’m happy to be fashionably late this time. What did they do to you?”

“Hey, none of that,” you gently touch your foreheads together, you smile, tasting rust on your lips though Warriors doesn’t mind as you lightly try to take his mind out of it, “You should see the other guy.”

He sighs, fondly exasperated as he shakes his head, you consider the quirk of his lips a win even as he pauses over your wrists, eyes flashing with rage before focusing on your leg, “I’m sure, that was a killer performance. Maybe after all this is over you should take up acting back home.”

You snort, “I mean I did learn from the best-“

it distracts you long enough for him to snap your leg back into place. And all you know is that you with pain, ripping through your throat as you finally, finally, feel safe enough to pass out.

(Warriors winces sympathetically, heart breaking a little at your pain but knowing it was the only way you wouldn’t focus on it, better than for . Holding you close and allowing you to muffle your scream into his shoulder as he wraps your leg in his scarf, guilty and fury carefully hidden behind the soldier mask, knowing that the only thing that would satisfy the flames of retribution in his chest would be to use the Yiga as kindling until they eventually burned the remnants of protective rage all away to ash.

But he could make do with taking you as gently as he could as you pass out in his arms, resolve himself to get the contraption on your wrists out as soon as you were both back at camp. And to kicking Kogah on the way out. It's not nearly enough but it's a start.

You protected him as best as you could, it’s his turn to return the favor as he can as well. Anything else can come later.)

Linktober Day 5

Race

Unfortunately this is short and late but at least it's out XD, both the sixth entry for Linktober Shadow and following this one should be regularly posted if I'm not too sleep deprived because I am having way too much fun writing them.

Shout out to the Four fans because they are extremely based, and a small love letter to the Minish Cap, I adore the Minish to death and they're really neat, shame we don't talk about them more.

Can be read as platonic or romantic and in or outside a LU context.

If you had to say anything about the Smithy’s Hyrule, is that it was heartbreakingly charming.

It wasn’t as vast as any of the others, not quite the reclaimed and untamed nature of Sky’s anymore but not yet the most concrete form to the rigid Hyrule that stood on it’s own feet by Warriors’ time for as long as it could with the unyieldingness of granite, that didn’t mean you didn’t adore it to death, with it’s growing oaks and flourishing May lilacs and cerise autumn shades that came dancing in with all it’s cicada laughing whimsy and kindness with the raw and unapologetic stubbornness of a hunting Lynel, inviting and goading and jeering you into exploring every little crack you could until there wasn’t anymore left to see. Fitting for Four, the Hero as kind as he is stubborn and arguably the most clever and rational of the Chain (well, as rational as any of your boys ever were, can’t be the Hero of Courage without being some mix of crazy, genius, a bit of na oblivious fool or all three) on sheer account of the way he looked that challenge right in the face and decided to double down and apply it to his life in general, it was charming and you all adored him for it.

“-Alright, so you stick close to me ok? The other’s can’t see you but as soon as they’re asleep-“

... Which was why you were rightfully worried when you seemingly walked in on him talking to himself when going to get him from a water fetching run, the line between insanity and genius was really fine and something in you just knew Four would be the type to stumble headfirst into shenanigans caused by his own hubris and then not tell anyone about it unless under threat of death because prying anything out of him was like trying to pull a lynel’s teeth out.

“Link?”, he jumped, frantically hiding his hands behind his back and looking so incredibly suspicious you couldn’t help but look around already, “Look, I’m not judging or anything. But I’d like some forewarning if I have to hide a body because I didn’t bring a shovel.“

He chokes, startling into a laugh, it’s warm and startled, you think you spot verdant and crimson in his gaze and can’t help your own smile, “Wha- Why would that be the first jump you made?!”

You gestured to him, skipping closer to his personal space, not too close, you knew that he could be like a feral cat about his boundaries, but enough that he wouldn’t be able to run away, “I mean you are looking suspicious and talking to yourself. Pardon me making some leaps in logic with the information I have at hand.”

He gives you a look, a small ‘Hah’ escaping him, deadpan, before he leans back a bit, looking away, “You’re ridiculous, I was just... Practing some acting? For the upcoming Picoto Festival?”

Now it was your turn to give him a blank look, raising an eyebrow for good measure.

He winces, shaking his head, shifting onto his feet and pointedly not looking at you, “... In hindsight that’s not my best one.”

“Not by far, but I’ll let it slide.”, you place a reassuring hand on his shoulder, and he relaxes into the touch with a sigh, some times he’s glad you can see through him, other times he’s not sure he shouldn’t be a bit concerned, “Now, what’s bothering you? How can I help you?”

After a second, he looks at you, considering amethyst warring with the prism of his gaze, studying, analyzing like he would a weapon, before finally speaking, “Can I trust you not to say anything? And to not think I’m crazy?”

“Really not helping with my running theory you killed someone and need help disposing of the body.” You snipe back drily, but nodding anyway, “But you can, promise.”

He nods, then finally draws his hand from behind is back, reaching into his hood with a quiet, soothing murmur of ‘it’s alright’, you swear you hear a small sound, somewhere between a high pitched squeak and a chirp.

You gasp softly, the little being’s tail swishes, squeaking up at you, Four smiles a bit crookedly. Slumping shoulders betraying his relief, “I’ll take it you can see them?”

You nod, gently waving to the small, ivory colored mice like creature, “Mhm, hello. What’s a Minish doing here all alone?”

Four tilts his head, ears twitching as the Minish squeaks up at you, waving back, feathery tail swishing as they gesture animatedly, their leaf cloak swaying with the movement, “You know of them? And they got stranded here after it rained, I was going to help them get back to the village since we’re close by and well...” He trails off.

“I do, never thought I’d be able to see one though. And you didn’t think anyone else could either.” You smile apologetically at the Minish, “Sorry buddy, I can’t understand you.”

They squeak, ears going down, then perk up gesturing to their head as Four chuckles, “They ended up losing their hat, wanna help me look for a new one before we set off?”

You grin back, nodding, “Of course! Do you mind translating? I’d love to know more about them if you're up for sharing and they're okay with talking.”

“It’s a bit of a long story, are you sure?” Four asked hesitantly, placing the Minish on their shoulders, they squeak from their new perch, giving you a little nod.

“Well, it’s a good thing we have time.” You smile, locking your arm with his.

Linktober Shadow Day 6

Shadow Beast

The Twilight Princess fan in me really came out on this one huh? I blame the sleep deprivation. We never quite addressed the effects of the Twili Magic on Twilight and how it's only sheer force of will and the fact he's so darn kind, Midna's influence and Time teaching him the Song of Healing first being the main factor in making sure he doesn't fall huh? Even more so than the One Cutscene. We also need to talk more about the fact we technically kill Midna's people and how by the end of it all Twi is so changed by the Twilight Realm who's it's own can of worms that, much like Time he can't quite go home as himself me thinks, as a treat to myself

Mostly Twilight x Reader, this goes out to all of the folks who never quite recovered from Twilight Princess and the fact we never got that sequel (I mean it gave us BOTW and TOTK and Wild, but at what cost?), but can be read as Link x Reader either on the platonic or romantic.

Don't think there's any warning this time but might edit later if needed.

Actually yeah there is one warning

TW:

References to body horror typical to Twilight Princess, though I recommend not reading it I'd you're squeamish period.

Even after so long, you and Twilight could still remember the beauty and solemnity of the Twilight Realm, with it’s zircon skies with clouds of trapped fire and rains of viper obsidian.

The silence of the infection upon the realm of light broken only by the echoes of the howling elegy of the Twili and Interlopers who came before creeping over the land like rot and wither over flowers, the lament of the lost spirits of the people and animals of Hyrule falling over your spirit like a shroud, a shared hymm from two worlds reality had been twisted, only both of it’s princess, one filled the luster of empyreal sorrow in her mind and one with the scorch abyssal fury in her heart knowing to see the reflective tragedy befallen to their people. With Link as the one who restored the memory of what once was in both worlds as divinity and calamity sang in his bones and you a witness to the restoration of harmony to the discordant symphony, the two different songs of light and shadow refusing to let go of either of you in an eternal duet.

(Once touched by magic, it shall never leave the one if holds onto Twilight may have been the one with the Beast in his soul, with the howl of a wolf, the bite of shades in his veins and the lament of innocents taking precedence over anything purely because he learned how to silence the whispers of the one’s who made a grab for heaven’s throat and we’re pushed in the cracks of reality for their prideful vánitas even as he could taste it in the back of his tongue, twining around his ribs and overgrowing into his shattered mirror heart like vines, flowering with the divinity and eternal nature of the Hero’s Spirit, already having the hunt of the Fierce Deity in it’s veins and the remains of cursed divinity welcoming the new aspect merrily so he could bear it. The song of the innocent wrongly punished among the sinners rang into your mind, scratched at your skin and dug it’s claws around your throat, chocking you with sorrow and regret, more willing to leave gouges than to let go of someone’s who’s looked into the reverse side of the sacred realm and wept with grief for it’s people and the curse of it’s beauty.

It would never leave you, Link or Zelda, who learned who love the darkness the way Midna did, madness and unsightly delight and all.)

While the people of Hyrule merely became trapped as observers at best, if they were lucky, Midna’s raging grief and resentment quickly became obvious, once she revealed that rotten Zant had done to her and her people, twisted into a new form, distorted in body and trapped in mind like the animals and beasts of Hyrule, their pain driving them in becoming feral attack hounds for the usurper, their howling screams as much sorrow, wailing in an attempt to let their agonized, tortured souls to escape from it’s mouth, a futile attempt to flee from the strain of reality forgetting their true form in favor of Zant’s twisted design, of being used as sentient canvases for cruelty and ruthlessness, of their will being stepped over in favor of corrupting recreation.

Of how it only didn’t quaff down at Midna’s mind because of the nature of her ephemerality, fully beloved by the Realm of Darkness, of how she loathed him for it and wouldn’t wish her fate of that of her people’s on any living or dead soul, once she came to love the Realm of Light through Zelda’s sacrifice.

Which was why, when you saw three of the victims of the telltale twisting from darkness utilized with the intent to drive one insane, a familiar looking plate of stone engraved on the remains of ashes from their identity, the curling of distorted, solid darkness making crooked mishapen manes, bent out of shape from their too long torso and long, long arms adorned with twitching, deformed claws, you feel very justified in way your blood froze, holding onto Wild’s arms and yanking with all you had so his shot will miss, his yelp of surprise swallowed by the bone cracking, blood curdling screech from one of the beasts as a Skyward Strike grazed it’s petrified flesh.

You feel something warm drip down your ears, taste the promise of violence and the cry of lost souls on the back of your tongue and swallow it down as the memory of the Twilight Realm attempted to bite and crack your ribcage to quaff down your heart, to devour it bones and all, calling out in desperation, “Don’t! That’s a person!”

Sky freezes, as still as a statue, Legend curses the heavens crimson in a way you are so glad Wind isn’t around to hear as he retreats Twilight snarls, the wolf in him revolted and disgusted, you wonder if the Twilight is singing in his mind too as he restrains himself from reaching for the crystal as nails just a tad too sharp invite droplets of blood to one hand, grimm as a graveyard “We need to get them together anyway, felling just one won’t be enough.”

You grimace, releasing Wild, keeping your eye on the Shadow Beasts and another on your group, pointedly not mentioning the twitch in Four, amethyst clouding his gaze and the prism of his eyes turning gray with memories you and Twilight both knew all too well, of the grimace in Time’s otherwise stony countenance, you’d wished to avoid bloodshed of whoever was turned against their will, but you and Twilight both knew that might not be possible, death, unfortunately, might be the greatest mercy you can grant these poor souls.

(The Twilight is harmonizing in your ears, jeering, you feel the Interlopers insanity and the Twili’s lament on your teeth. As lovely as it could be cruel, the merry feeling upon meeting, the sorrow at a parting.

If you ever see the Shadow, you might just try indulging the echo by offering it’s blood as tribute. You'd make it hurt. The fact it learned the spell used to deform reality in such a way was cruel and vile.)

“Legend, how is your magic?” shoots Warriors, analyzing, calculating, it snaps the purple back into Four’s gaze, brings his mind back to focus as he reaches into his inventory for his Moon Pearl, Twilight is circling the beasts with single minded purpose, herding them together and prowling as he would as a wolf, Wild thankfully listened to your warning and had switched from the more destructive Flame and Lightning Arrows to ice ones. It doesn’t contain them for long but it gives a few precious seconds to strategize.

Legend catches on, switching to the Ice Rod on one hand and grasping his own Moon Pearl with the other, Sky has another Skyward Strike ready, but doesn’t release it, you switch from your sword to accepting a Magic Rod tossed at you from Wild, “Good enough.”

You breath in shakily, the symphony of the Twilight Realm has quieted, more lament than anthem as it’s Hero steps back, returning to your side, he nods grimly, “... Then, let’s end this quickly.”

You know your will boys will do their best to heal them, and failing that, you hope that they’ll hear the requiem of the Twili rather than the lament once they’re at peace, that they'll find some form of threnody.

It is a horrible thing, to be forced to die as a beast.

Linktober Day 6

Mask(s)

Soft and sweet with just a hint of melancholic because 1.I'm tired and probably need a nap father than coffee, 2.I actually managed to make a pretty good mocha and the Anchorage LOZ animatic came onto my playlist before writing this and it kind of influenced my mood, and 3. I'm saving the usual Majora's Mask flare of angst for another prompt because I was having way too much fun dissecting the tragedy of the Hero of Time before sleep deprivation snatched the idea away which is usually my sign to pass the heck out and save the second option for when I have more energy lol.

For the Warriors fans, also Warriors is a disaster of an older sibling but we adore and appreciate him for it in this household, as always can be implied romantic or platonic between him and reader.

You were all but pinned down to the ground, brought down more effectively and unable to find the strength to get up.

Well, not literally, there were no enemies nearby, the chaos at camp had long since died down and there wasn’t anything much to do now that night had fallen, the heavens deigning to put all of it’s glittering jewels on display.

Were it any other day you’d probably focus more on appreciating it in full, the fire was crackling merrily, you were safe and had a full stomach and even with the ever present threat of the Shadow possibly deciding to ambush you all while most of your guards were down, you had your boys with you and the crisp autumn petrichor was a balm on your soul, weary from the journey.

Maybe it would be fine to rest for a little while.

And then the small figure clinging to you flinched, burrowing closer and holding onto your tunic like a lifeline. And awareness came to you like a smack over the head with a log, your fingers gently carding through blond locks as you hum gently. Weighting options and just how quietly you could move without bothering the precious Sprite at your side.

You had guessed Time had been a sweet kid, and you still wanted to lodge a formal complaint with the gods for writing such cruel fate for him because the man couldn’t catch a break and you’re not the only one to take it personally. But he was killing you here, this is how you die, with an adorable but oh so heartbreakingly sad little boy having fallen asleep leaning against you after telling you all sorts of stories about his extensive mask collection.

(You don’t know wether you want to cry, scream or laugh, Mask was so, so young. It breaks your heart, just a little.

Really, the deities of Hyrule must adore tragedies. Bastards.)

Sighing, you decide to compromise, gently keeping the Kokiri boy right where he is, fast asleep and with barely any nightmares as you hum and card your fingers through the spun gold strands, you brush your fingers through the last masks he fell asleep mid through telling the story of how he’d acquired. If you were careful surely you’d be able to reach his pack on his side so he wouldn’t worry later.

A pair of brown boots invade your vision, Warriors crouches down. You think you spot a flash of surprise on his eyes as he spots Mask napping on you, and then fond amusement of a big brother you knew he directed often towards Wind, tone low, “Well would you look at that, out like a light. It’s a rare honor for him to trust anyone like this.”

You chuckle a bit, shaking your head, “I can tell, he’s a good kid. I’ve barely met him for a day and I’d already take on an army for him.”

“Welcome to my world.”, comes Warriors dry response, though you both knew he was a hundred percent serious, his own mask quickly falling away as he gently picked up the Deku Sprout Mask to put it back in the small sprite’s pouch, hiding it’s confused, fearful sadness from your gaze (and it’s an effort, not to twitch, as your rage towards Majora gained even more kindling to burn) as the soldier handled it with the due solemnity of being one of the few Mask would allow to even touch the masks without his immediate supervision, “... I never thought I’d see him again, as...”

“I know.” Your tone was quiet, as you carefully picked your choice of words.

If there’s one thing you knew about any Link, is that they’re all really good elder brother’s and that they are too hard on themselves. Warriors specially, Mask and Wind were his everything, there wouldn’t be words that could describe how gutted he was, after confirming his suspicions with you, regretting not saying anything against Mask joining the battle field back then, loathing himself for not convincing him or Lana into letting him stay in spite of his bad feeling that as soon as the young hero of time passed through that portal he was unlikely to ever meet him again.

... You settle for something simple, instead, reaching a hand to softly pat his head, taking care not to mess his hair too much, “You did good, Wars, it’s not your fault. Mask also knows you did your best.”

He still, sighing, the mask falling away as he guides your hand to his lips, quietly thankful (really, like big brother like little brother, your wonderful, silly, caring boys. You make a point to cheerfully bat away the butterflies in your stomach, ), “... Feels hard to believe that, some times. Thank you.”

You hum, after putting the Zora mask away, Warriors takes Mask’s other side, pulls you closer and breathes.

(Just in case, he lies to himself.)

You quietly listen to his stories about his little brother, and Warriors is content.

Linktober Shadow Day 7

Gloom Hands

This goes out to the way I cackled hysterically once seeing these things in TOTK, well done Zelda Team. They're a terrifying concept and I really feel exploring that could be fun, even if this prompt gave me a headache and a half.

Bit late today because we've been pelted by way too many storms/lightning and writing on mobile with lightning shaking your house is generally a bad idea, so I spent most of the time writing this and the Linktober prompt by hand, then transcribing it back onto mobile as soon as I could touch eletronics without the major risk of being zapped and picking a god and praying that my internet wouldn't be too funky so I could get it out on time. Short one again though because I still need to finish the Linktober prompt so it should come out later today or fully tomorrow, sorry folks.

Anyway, as always can be read as romantic or platonic, also Sage is here both because of the prompt and because the mental image of Wild Reader and Sage trauma bonding over the extremely twisted nature Gloom/the Malice have compared to just dark magic in general in LoZ was too funny to resist, if Nintendo won't talk about the many variations of Dark Magic in LOZ and how it affects any who come in contact with it then lord darn it I guess I'll just have to do it myself (or as much as I can without breaking out the companion essay to the Realm of Darkness and Realm of Light essay which I'm already having trouble digging out).

TW:

Technically graphic descriptions of decay, gore and eldritch horror, and Reader just not having a good day in general, don't recommend reading I'd you're highly squeamish.

When you’ve first met Sage, as the Chain temporarily dubbed him, you and Wild didn’t miss the way he looked so, so haunted. Emotions warring like a storm as he looked Wild over in a mix of disbelief and the weariness of a wounded fox getting ready to bite just to escape, at the Chain with such longing ache that made one’s heart break, the way the first time he met Wolfie he didn’t hesitate to throw himself atop the canine and hug him so close like he was trying to melt into the fur, and looking at you like he didn’t know wether to cry, scream or to shut down before he buried it under the mask you knew your resident Champion could use when trying so desperately to keep it together, hands shaky as he signed in a way that set your teeth on edge and felt like you had taken a dozen of ice arrows to the back, urgent, 'It’s not safe. None of you should be here. You need to leave. Now.'

Needless to say it was alarming, even as you all knew just how ferociously untamed his and Wild’s Hyrule could be, with being overrun with so, so many types of divinity through each crack, root, drop and flesh of it’s beings. From Hylia’s cold calculating care, the Three Goddesses blood, tears and breath of life, to the Malice’s howling self sustaining fury, The Lost Woods ever overgrowing freedom and even the remnants of the Fierce Deity’s hunt in Satori’s and Malaniya's savage display of cyclic eternity, it wasn’t any surprised that apart from the Traveler’s Hyrule it was the most aggressive one with the smorgasbord of energy so thick it made even you choke on it everytime you stepped foot in it. Beautiful and free in an echo of it’s once untamed state in the age of myth even before Sky.

Over time, you and the Chain learned how to adapt to it. To listen to the warnings Wild gave about the Guardians and about the remains of Malice in his monsters, of how the moon had been forever tainted with it and how, until Sheikah tech was fully repurposed it would be best to avoid the castle all together it was difficult but manageable, and even if Sage’s reaction was alarming (and he seemed even more troubled once Wild passed onto him from Sky that, while he wasn’t to come with them yet due to how things were apparently ‘fated’ to happen, there was no way you all could leave quite yet, distantly sticking by Wild and Twilight when possible and checking on everyone’s health when not doing so), you’d though it would be much the same for his own, and in parts you were right as the Chain had taken to the new environment like fishes to water even if it took some adjustments.

Though you were quickly proven wrong, and you could have laughed at your past self’s naivety.

It was meant to be a quick run to clear a black blooded monster camp, and while decently challenging, it was over quickly between the Chain getting more apt at fighting the enemy, Sage’s addition as the man fought as ruthlessly and ferociously as Wild, switching between deadly marksmanship and feral combat on a dime and the absence of the unnaturally inteligent black scales lizalfos, you’d rest and be on your way quickly. Or so you all thought.

Twilight had been the first to smell it, the bubbling of dark but distinctively twisted magic, even more so than Zant’s brand of madness. Wild the one to spot it, the rot black and blood crimson building up at the edges of camp from his vantage point but it was Sage who had tensed, eyes snapping to the faint glow the Master Sword emmited just as the sky darkned before his frantic, alarmed howl swept over the Chain, the sheer desperate, protective panic making all of your boys still, because Sage never used his voice unless he absolutely had to, “IT'S NOT OVER! MOVE!”

It was all the warning any of you got before reality twisted, straining, and then finally screaming, the heavens staining with crimson as if gutted open, the eyes of a sin against nature itself cutting through your relief and infecting your veins with terror. It shakes you to the core, freezing with indecisive flight or fight as you spotted the tide. Heart in your throat as you tried to comprehend what you saw.

“WHAT THE-“, Legend cursed, looking ashen as his grip on his fire rod tightened. Really, all of your heroes look disturbed and you can’t blame them.

“Get to high ground if you want to live! We can’t fight these things.”, snapped Sage, much more composed, but no less frenzied.

None of you hesitate to listen.

(There were some unspoken rules, when in Wild’s Hyrule the first time around. If there is something the Champion, the most reckless of all Links, wasn’t willing to fight head on or said wasn’t worth it, the best course of action was to listen, specially if the group was vulnerable.)

The hands screech, the tide rolling over the land with an reality splitting clamoring, a sound so filled with fury and so, so twisted it made your Hylian’s ears friends bleed and you lift a hand to your head in pain as Wild pulled you along, Sage leading the charge for the nearest cliff face as Warrior’s threw Wind over his shoulders and Twilight didn’t hesitate before doing the same to Four, the frost from Legend and bomb arrows from Time and Sky barely doing nothing to slow it’s relentless charge, merely taking from it a distorted, pitched crescendoing belt of pure rage and the overlaying of many tortured souls screaming all at once, of Hyrule rejecting this existence from the world but wounded at being unable to vanquish it, the sound it makes as it spreads and drags itself across the ground with uncanny speed with it’s many, many arms like something in between sludge and smacking, wet, rotten flesh.

Sage switches between shooting arrows to helping the other Links up the cliff and shooting at it’s eyes with the strongest bow he has,making as many arrow fusions on the spot as he dares. The others quickly taking as many ranged weapons from their sides to do the same. You help Hyrule up the clifface, while Wild swipes Cryonis over the field, climbing up himself, being hauled to Sage’s side.

You are almost there when one of the hands latch onto your ankle, and you go down with a scream, Sage all but dropping the bow in his hand in favor to latching onto your hand with snarl. And

It.

Is.

Agony.

(It burns through you like your very atoms have been set on fire,bthe hands take the opportunity to sink into you, long long unnatural fingers sinking into your flesh in a unhurried blanket of darkness, the Demon King’s will is roaring, growling with abyssal rage, if it cannot rule Hyrule, it would kill everything in it instead. Gloom sinks into your cells, raptures the membranes and makes the skin slip, frantically invading, you taste rotten flesh on the back of your throat and the scent of wither and ash choke you as it sinks into your flesh, marrow, breaks down your bones bit by bit, cracking and infecting and breaking down your very essence with the fury of a dead deity which refused die, decay on an accelerated rate all over where the hands clutched like a vice as the Links trunfo pull you out or attack it and it is painful and it’s excruciatingly wretched and make it STOPCEASEITHURTS-)

A well aimed Skyward Strike severs the connection, the pain stops and you fall into Sage, breathing hard and unevenly, grasping at him like a lifeline, clawing and counting at Wild’s arm on your other side like a wounded animal, your taste blood on your throat from the screams that were ripped from it, Hyrule falling to his knees on your side as healing magic washes over you like a shroud, trying to get you to respond.

Reality howls along with you, before all is silent.

It barely took a second.

“... Just what were those things?”, rasps Sky, horrified, a sentiment echoed through the Chain, though you can’t focus on it, trying not to choke on your own blood and to pull yourself together, Wild’s hand unconsciously settling on your pulse, shaking, and Sage’s tense tone cuts through the air as he scans the area. Still tense, tone hoarse.

“... The reason why I wanted you to leave.”

Later, much, much later, before you all leave, you learn they are called Gloom Hands.

It’s unanimously agreed that all you hold loathing for those abominations, even long after you’re forced to leave Sage.

He whispers something to Wild on the way out, hugging him close, trembling. Your Champion nods, you can’t make out the words, but you make sure to hold him as close as you can before you go, indulge him in checking for your pulse even long after you’re healed.

You hope he’ll be safe, he hopes that the next time you all see each other again, it’ll be under better circumstances.

Linktober Day 7

Sky(loft)

*throws rose* For the First lovers.

Soft and sweet drabble with just the barest hints of tragedy, and more set on Skyloft than anything but I'd say it counts.

This chapter was brought to you by me getting emotional about the First Hero and his fate again due to the rain, the fact I believe all Links deserve to have love and appreciation but specially him. And the fact I think it's an absolute CRIME that we don't get anything more on him and that he and Sky don't get to have what Time and Twilight have, no I'm not bitter Nintendo I just want to talk, y'all can't just keep giving us like four Links before the actual heroes and then expect us NOT to want to elaborate with the crumbs we are given. If you ask me First and Sky deserve to interact and for First to have closure.

Anyway, as always can be read as romantic or platonic, up to y'all, and can be read in or outside and LU context, I just use Sky and First for simplicities sake but if you don't gel with LU then feel free to interpret this as something else, this is all highly self indulgent before I pass the heck out lol

If there was any place in Sky’s Hyrule that you could confidently say you adored with all of your heart and soul, Skyloft would be the most likely pick.

Even so high above it all in a way that would have you catastrophizing had you think too hard about what could happen if anyone ever accidentally fell from the isle even with all of the knights trained to not allow that to happen, you’d be lying if you said that it’s a wondrous mix of empyreal beauty and the comfort of safety and the wonder of touching the sky, a true breath taking haven that could soften even the hardest of hearts with time. Fitting of the warmth of the reincarnated goddess in Sun and the vast nature of Sky’s kindness, for all you knew he could be as frigid as the title of Godslayer demanded.

Looking at the way First let himself be tugged along the isle as soon as they’ve arrived in Sky’s land in a tour just reinforced that notion, you couldn’t help but chuckle a little. First was one of the harder Links to read, even more so than Time or Warriors, but looking at the way the stars of his azure eyes brightened with the fire of life hearing Sky talk about life in his home and about the many people made you feel so, so warm, like finding a nice sunny spot for a afternoon nap.

What could you say? First was such a wondrous person, calm and charming and perfectly polite and oh so kind in the way you knew all of your boys were. If there ever was someone who embodied chivalry and the ideal side of knighthood, he’d probably be the one to come to the forefront of your mind, and you’ve been insatiable for his happiness ever since.

When he first arrived to the Chain, he was as cold as the howling blizzard winds, heart a cold fort left in ruin and remade as best as a single man could for the sake of remaining kind, to do the right thing no matter what, it was a sentiment you knew far too well in your other boys, but specially so in First, who tried so, so hard to distance himself from getting attached. But who you knew loved the sight of the sky, as cold and numb it was in it’s distance, whom cared so so much he would driven himself into an early grave just to make the Surface a safer for the people who’d shunned him, whom after a long, long period of adjustment and effort from the Chain, allowed you to hold him close as he shaked from nightmares at night, allowing you to chase away memories of being held up by cold chains until the impression of them became one with his skin and subconscious, of being entombed and imprisoned in uncaring stone and iron to starve alone, being bitten at by hungry, crawling rats all because he wished to keep his people safe, made sure he could tell that your presence was tangible and real through telling stories from your world and singing him into dreams even through the fortress’s that was his stubborness. Trying your best to make lilies bloom on what looked like a most hopeless winter.

The day he actually chuckled and smiled, safe and healthy and alive in the presence of the Chain felt like the biggest victory you’d ever had.

He deserved to know love and to be loved as much as any of your boys, something real and tangible and that was actually properly reciprocated rather than used to justify an end. So seeing him being able to visit Skyloft with his descendant with a whispering, hidden smile was more than enough for you. And you can’t blame Sky for being equally animated about it, bless his heart, always wanting his people to be happy, always so, so kind, wanting to bring some solace to the older hero but being carefully attentive so his mood was still good

After all they went through they deserved it.

“Oh! There you are, I was just about to show First to the waterfall, want to come with?”, Sky snaps you out from your thoughts, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile.

“Unless something is ailing you, you did look quite deeply in though.”, added First, soft as the warm breeze on the isle in the sky.

You shake your head, smiling as you take First’s offered arm, an instinctive motion when he wished to be close but wasn’t quite ready for any other touch yet, and Sky’s hand in yours, which he swings with a hum, ears twitching, how precious. “Not at all, lead the way.”

As Sky leads you along, and you catch the ghost of a smile in First’s otherwise stern countenance and you take in the warmth of the late afternoon sun in Skyloft and the soft, eternal spring breeze. You think there’s quite a bit you’d give to keep witnessing these moments indeed.

The road to recovery was long and arduous, but you’d be there, and you knew the Chain would do their best to be there too.

Linktober Shadow Day 8

Majora('s Mask)

*throws bouquet of roses* For the Time lovers.

Also my bias is probably coming through really strongly right now, but I'm not well rested enough to care plus I've been playing Majora's Mask a lot again this month, it's as important to me as Twilight Princess so this is kind of my love letter to it and Time and my excuse to explore the concept of Majora and the Fierce Deity and divinity in LoZ, though that's an essay for another day lol (/j)

As always can be read as romantic or platonic depending on your preferences, Reader is gender neutral and this is definitely self indulgent so it can be read in or outside of an LU context, most of the references to the LU names are for simplicity and to give a rough idea of why Reader has some stuff they do. Makes it easier to clarify lol, though as I've been hit by yet another storm the Linktober prompt will be for tomorrow, I'm basically picking a god and praying this actually posts X_X

TW(?):

Don't think there's any warnings besides MJM's typical body horror really, and very graphic descriptions and Majora in general.

Even after so, so long, so much so it feels like a lifetime ago, Termina still stuck with you and Time.

The thing about being in a timeloop that went on for who knows how long and whose failure to reset it would be total destruction to so many good different people, is that you quickly learn some habits to try and maximize as many successes as possible, how Time (Mask, then, after the living nightmare of Termina, during the War of Ages, still Link though) quickly learned the location of each enemy he could, how you learned to call out the best way to quickly assess and take down an enemy as quickly as possible, how you both learned to watch each other’s backs and to care for the people and Termina to the point Link went from just a warrior to a healer, granted the trust of holding the crystalization of the hopes and dreams of the people of Termina that, even if they couldn’t remember it, wanted the cycle to end, wanted to hunt the threat to reality itself and purge it from the world. To bite down onto it’s neck and feel the thrill and glee and cutting down such an opponent.

Most importantly, after bleeding, crying, sweating and toiling against the unrelenting flow of time and insanity all brought upon by a lonely child being left alone and manipulated to commit heinous acts as ‘pranks’. It taught you and Time the importance of contingency plans, and about always, always being prepared for any and all situations, unlikely as they could be. Of taking through note of even the smallest detail that caught your eyes at a glance.

‘To defeat an abomination, you need one of two things: A deity, or a monster.’, you think cynically to yourself, stepping over Time’s fallen form as Warriors bolted over with blizzard forged fury in his cold, calculated movements to defend him in your stead as you called Hyrule over, the young man quickly starting to heal your Hero as you glare down at the disgusting stain on reality engaging Twilight and Wild all at once, gleeful at having watched the person you adored the most fall, bringing out the ultimate contingency from your cloak, you hadn’t even told him about it, because you prayed you’d never need to resort to this, ‘… Forgive me, Link. The first option isn’t doable here.’

Time was your everything, you knew how his story ended, with so much grief until he finally met Twilight again. You tried, you really did, to not allow yourself to love him but it was impossible because he was Link, the man who longed for adventure ever since he was young, embodying the freedom of the forest of life and death that made up the whole of Faron Woods and the Lost Woods and as steady as it’s moors, voice quiet and calm like a stream in the woods and with and with a smile to rival the warm sun and so, so heartbreakingly kind. Who protected and saved and healed people while slowly healing his own soul and who attempted to soothe his descendant’s pain the second he could even from beyond the grave.

And you’d be darned if you allowed anything to take him from you or the boys before his time without a fight. You couldn’t care less if he would eventually die as he was destined to in every timeline, it didn’t matter if it was futile, because he mattered, you loved him, and you’d keep him safe and happy for as long as you could.

It didn’t matter if one day tragedy will catch up to him, it mattered that he was loved while alive.

Even if you had to step on fire to make sure of it.

“Twilight, Wild. Step away.”, the edges of the spikes of the purple and crimson mask that haunted your nightmares as much as it did Time’s, it leered at you with it’s arsenic and pus eyes, picking apart at your weaknesses as it’s spikes dug into your hand as you tightened your grip to keep if from shaking. Tone falsely confident as you called to the Hero of Twilight and Wild to retreat.

(‘To defeat an abomination, you need a deity or a monster.’

The definition is awfully interchangeable, if you look at it.

You had found it, abandoned and in a dungeon Wind’s Era, not quite awake, but not asleep either. The eldritch hunger almost chocking you with it’s voracity, the darkness assessing, stalking, prowling and starving, it prodded at you but didn’t dig yet. It knew how to play the long game in it’s quest to stop feeling empty.

Funny thing is, so did you. You were a lot harder to break than the Skull Kid, would not break.

Majora wanted to cease, like how it had ceased before the Terminan Tribe ripped it from it’s slumber, taught it hunger, taught it cruelty, taught it how to manipulate and take amusement in consuming the wishes of mortals and their very souls only to never be satisfied. Had fueled it with wrath from being ripped from a lovely, endless dream of beautiful songs and a kind soul. To be torn from it’s fantasy and then left to rot.

You offered to grant it a proper rest. And so a deal was struck. Your one contingency if the situation was truly dire, in case you couldn’t get the Fierce Deity Mask instead -because you knew how Link was, he’d burn himself out until there was naught but ash. You refused to let it ever come to that, after his excruciating screams of pain had clawed an aching, hurtful place into your very soul-, and Majora was starving and desperate, a dangerous combination for any being but something you could use.

So be it, if to protect divinity you needed to become a monstrosity, a monster was what you’d be.

You’d keep him safe. And you knew that if the Fierce Deity put him down once, he could do it again in case you slipped. Between him and Sky you weren’t afraid at all of the risk.

Even if Time never forgave you for taking it.)

You smile bitterly, tearing up in spite of yourself as you see the second Time spots you and the cursed artifact in hand, eye wide, voice ripping from his throat in desperation, “I’m quite selfish, I’m sorry.”

His haunted expression cuts you deeper than any knife, as you knew it was an image that featured in many of your nightmares and his own. But you’re insatiable for his happiness, so you take the plunge.

“NO NO NO NO DON’T-“

You put on the mask, and you scream.

It’s like stepping on fire, a twisted, desperate tune, a note of discord, a belt of harmony and fury and most importantly, the mighty need to consume the one who had tried to take the one you loved away from you.

Defy death, defy entropy, defy chaos, defy flame and voracity.

You cling to your self control with a snarl, howling in defiance. Sinking your nails into the abyss’ throat and biting, tearing, holding, tasting rot and withered flowers and the writhing of shadows and the blood of distorted gluttonousdivinity on your tongue with savagery equal to the way the demon sinks it's spikes onto you. Chew on it’s tender, rotting flesh, quaff down the lukewarm pus of it’s heart and the rust of blood as it bites off your skin, stripping your mind into chunks as it nests into your ribs like the spikes of wild, dead roses when it finds your mind tougher to break and you BURN YOU ARE LIFE YOU ARE CHAOS AND YOU ARE DROWNING AND YOU ARE FLAME-

You move, and Majora’s laugh sounds like a scream and a song as reality howls.

Your bones, sinew, muscles, nerves, veins and teeth are reformed, the being pounces, dancing, swerving, whipping, cleaving, ripping and feeding into the monsters with putrid, revolting gusto. Whenever it’s attention even tries to waver towards the Heroes you sink your hold in harder, stubborn, you’re sure there’s blood dripping from your mouth beneath the mask, your eyes, your ears, as it reaches a crescendo of glee and pain. A human body isn’t meant to hold so much divinity at once, much less as wretched and horrific as Majora’s, but you don’t care, can’t care, when you’re holding onto yourself like a vice, refusing to give it even a single inch.

It doesn’t kill Dark Link, the bastard (the one who’d hurt Time, the one who would have finished him off if not for you and Warriors). But the screech the Shadow releases as it gets ripped to shreds and the ripple of it’s retreating form is enough to make you partially agree with Majora’s vicious, amused glee that it was satisfying. Even if the feeling of you allowing it to utilize your skin temporarily felt revolting and disgusting in a way it made you wish you were actually on fire, not just in so much pain in a metaphysical level that it sure rivaled being set on fire, frost burned and lightning struck all in one go.

All is still now, all is silent.

Now comes the difficult part.

'Are you quite sure?', whispers Majora, crooning like nails on chalkboards, and it’s spikes sink into you tighter when you grip the sides of it, teeth gritted as you start prying it out of your face, amused by your defiance, but no longer as hungry. You did allow it quite the meal, you bet nothing like fellow divinity tastes better to the being, like the taste of a forbidden fruit you were going to be unfortunately acquainted given you’re sure Dark Link’s blood is on your teeth.

'Yes.' comes your faint response, as your sanity frays in fragile threads, you think someone calls your name, but you are drowning, you are burning, and you know that if you don’t focus it will break you. And you’d be fully dead before you let that happen. If you’re going to die you’re going to die as a human.

'Tou are so, so cold… So cruel.' It drawls, the demon’s voice like the gnawing of rats, like maggots under you skin, you convulse, falling to your knees with a wounded keen and pull harder, you barely noticed someone falling by your side, frantically calling your name, but the mask’s eyes dim to an outsider’s perspective, resigned as it hums dreamily, 'I suppose that’s why The Divine Hunter cares for you so, why it’s vessel’s claim is so strong.'

Good, you were banking on it being sleepy, after gorging yourself on the enemy of your boys, Hylia’s gash and Din’s assets your mouth is going to taste putrid for months isn’t it?

Majora hisses, growls, howls and screeches, a brush against your essence as it retreats. Unwinding from every single cell of your body, distorting your atoms back to their proper shape. It still hurts, buy it’s more bearable, although you quickly notice you’re chocking on a different form of Divinity, more possessive, more wild but just as old and ferocious as it snaps at the retreating heels of the twisted, chaotic thorns. Making reality remember your own shape quicker at the cost of filling every crack consumed by the demon.

You swear that thing is smiling smugly at something else, teeth bared and very entertained, taking the suffering of the people of Termina and the cold revulsion in your veins with it as it retreats with it's cacaphony of voices to the shade, 'A shame. Feasting more would be delightful, but very well. We trust that though you hurt today, tomorrow you’ll make sure we head on our way.'

You don’t have the mind or heart to say anything else to it, for it grows silent as the spikes rip from the sides of your face, you bite of a tortured yell as the spikes rip off chunks of skin and flesh, clawing at the ground with, thankfully, soothing, perfectly regular fingers and nails, albeit cracked, you feel someone take their hand in yours, and you crack open an eye, carefully aware of the blood dripping down your face from the half removal of the heart shaped mask and the thrum of thunder replacing the cold in your veins with boiling, protective warmth.

Time.

“You shouldn’t be up already.”, you rasp, looking over his wounded form, healed by Hyrule, you shakily take your left hand to keep prying at the Majora’s Mask, only for him to take it gently in yours, you taste blood, the petrichor of the Lost Woods mist and pine on the back of your mouth, chasing the rot of Majora away.

“It’s nothing, we both know I’ve had worse.” He says, firmly shaking his head. His scarred eye is open, ivory like bone, the markings more vibrant and prominent with the ferocity of a god, he looks tired, and you attempt to speak, to apologize, to voice your worry because you knew channeling the deity without a conduit was a bad idea, before coughing, shaking from the aftermath of your reckless, reckless plan.

(You unfortunately can’t say you regret it much, though, when you silently bear the combined brunt of Time and Fierce Deity’s care once you reach camp and the protective way they act towards you. Even though Majora is long gone much to your resigned exasperation, and the rest of your boys amusement, but that is for much, much later.)

Time gently hums, it rings through you like thunder as he holds you close, tapping your neck in a rhythm you could recognize in your sleep for when he was about to pull arrows, blades or shrapnel from your skin, or was ready to have it done to himself, you immediately loosen yourself as much as possible, gripping his hand tightly as he rips the rest of the Majora’s Mask off, inert and lifeless as when you’ve both woke up from a new day, he holds you close as you try to breathe, reassuring himself you’re still here, “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Please.” He pleads, begs, prays. He can't lose you too.

And you can’t help it, you smile as you cry crimson and russet tones from your eyes, holding him back as close as you dare to. He doesn’t hate you, you’re sure you’re going to soon participate in the argument of a lifetime. But Link doesn’t hate you, doesn’t see you as a monster any more than you could ever see him as anything but the kind companion you always knew.

So you let yourself nod, helpless to say no to him for anything really. And allow yourself to breathe, you’re both going to be alright.

Linktober Day 8

Constructs

Way too late if ya ask me because Nayru and Hylia have decided to forsake me but it's done. *Collapses* This one did NOT want to write itself no matter how hard I tried even if I have so many feelings about constructs, in the end Hozier, the SS and TOTK soundtrack carried this to the final stretch even if it's just a small drabble lol.

Mostly referenced this time though, something soft and nice about Sky and Reader and Constructs, can be interpreted as platonic or romantic. Day 9 and 10 prompts will be released on the same day if it all possible though depending if I actually get some darn rest and have the time (because Legend is being a bit difficult on the Linktober Shadow one in contrast to how deity is going and I have irl stuff to get done, hopefully this is good enough until then.).

Wild’s Sky Archipelagos couldn’t be different from Skyloft, though no less breathtaking. The eternal beauty of the sky ringing true and everlasting over the cloud barrier enforced by Hylia, though if the sky found in your favorite Godslayer’s was beautiful due to the life that thrived in the loneliness in spite of it all, of creating a community that would outlast the wish for entropy Demise attempted to enforce into the world with the black hole heart of his greed, then Wild’s was because of the echoes of what once was there, that it was lovely and beautiful even in ruin as nature reclaimed what belonged to it by right. That even if the people were gone they existed, they thrived and lived and loved and even in tragedy, that mattered.

And nothing reflected that better than the Constructs which of outlasted the civilization. Made out of now decayed copper and sturdy ceramic, made cute, so the people would remember to treat their new helpers kindly, and made sturdy so they’d remember the people who loved adored them and their built in sense of duty and kindness to aid any guest of friend in need and given voices so they could listen to them speak, to make them just a little closer to humanity.

‘Many of them are deactivated now,’ Wild had told you, the first time you’d all stepped foot onto the main island, it was disorienting for you and most of the Chain (except for Sky, because of course your heavenly, cloud trailblazing boy would have taken to the abandoned, atmosphere cold and echoing sun gold clear beauty of the sky island the quickest like a fish whom was questioned on their ability to swim or a falcon on their ability to hunt, you were almost jealous if not for the fact you or Four always made lunges for his collar – Crimson didn’t come with through the portal after all, nor First’s Russet’- when he attempted to follow Wild’s lead and in consequence give you heart attacks), the little beings of ceramic and old bronze completely non hostile, going about tending to the islands with their faint whirs of gears and whistles of self sustaining magic batteries, voices cold but calm, almost comforting and the first pieces of technology far away from Sky’s them that weren’t immediately hostile towards your boys, ‘Mostly the soldier ones, the Stewards have remained though. Carrying on with their duty, making the place homey even if the people are gone.’

Something about that gave you pause, lagging behind your group in a long abandoned garden, the scent of Sundelions and lavender tickling your nose and a deactivate Soldier Construct coiled up in slumber. Remembering the ancient robots in Sky’s Era, carrying on in their little pockets of time, unaware that the people they were created to aid have long since gone, that their time had long gone, of Fi, everlasting, ever sleeping Fi, bound to duty, always remembering the one’s who created her, of Sky who treated her as a friend, and always watching as people so very unlike him but achingly similar came and went, unable to do anything. Loving like a ghost.

“Guest?”, came a little mechanical chirp, you blink yourself back into awareness, a Steward floating over with a tilted head, jade ceramic earrings clinking, “If I may, you look troubled. May I offer unsolicited aid?”

You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head gently, an idea stitching yourself in your mind like threads of silk upon a gown, “No no, sorry, I’m alright, I was just wondering. Is it alright if I come on by to pick some flowers? They’re lovely, you did a great job caring for them.”

It inclines their head, chiming, something close to delight, as much as it can express as a machine, “Ah, I see you were admiring them. If I may offer a bit of trivia, Sundelions were the queen's favorite, you may. Will you take care of them?”

You smile, gently reaching a hand to pat it’s head with a nod, it clicks and whistles, surprised, but doesn’t pull away, “Of course, may I ask you a few questions as well? I’d like to know how many Soldier Constructs are resting now.”

You should also ask Sky what Fi’s opinion is on flowers, as well.

It might be a bit silly, but they deserve it after so long.

(Later, much later, when the Chain notices you’re gone after talking to Zelda in the Temple of Time high up in the. Sky finds you in the garden, gently weaving blossoms into a crown, the construct from before amicably chatting with you as it tends to the Sundelions with a ring of flowers around it's long, long neck.

He joins you, and when asked what his and Fi’s opinion is on flowers, he tells you she won’t mind, much less him.

Later that day, Fi’s gains a crown of yarrow, bluebells and morning glories

It’s not much, but it makes Sky smile, you hope she likes them.)

Linktober Day 9

Deity

*sneezes after downing coffee* Well irl stuff got in the way so I'm way behind my original schedule for these and for Linktober but here we go with another arguably short one, fuelled purely by self indulgence, headcanons, spite against my linguist essays that kept me from keeping to schedule, severe sleep deprivation, a shout out to the Ender Lilies soundtrack and Majora's Mask soundtrack, and Nintendo for not clarifying anything about the lore so I'm snatching what I can and making it my own lol. Look, when you fíxate so much on details the Zelda team doesn't elaborate on you have to fill in the gaps with what you can.

As always can be read as romantic or platonic, technically in a LU context but not explicitly in it by itself.

The Lord of the Mountain liked hearing people sing.

In a way, it wasn’t a surprise, Hylia and the Golden Three each had their ballads and symphonies and minuets, each splendid and with cuts of their divinity in it, Farore was fond of lightning and forest alive minuets, and you could swear Farosh sparked just a bit brighter when one would him the beginnings of the Minuet of the Forest near their spring, Din was fond of boleros, fiery and alive and howling with the echo of flame touching earth that made a shine run through Dinraal’s scales, Nayru, in contrast, was much fonder of blizzard and river quiet serenades, the songs of contemplation at first snow ringing clear when Naydra curled around it’s spring, content to be free of Malice.

And of course Hylia had her ballads and lullabies, perfectly fitting to her display of divinity, of honey days and vast bird like wings, of ambered summers to come and to pass and dazzling solar storms of starlight and sunlight sparking through the human form of her descendants and heroes. So in a way, you weren’t surprised at all that the Lord of the Mountain – Satori, with a familiar touch of londsleite divinity, the hunt of the woodland beasts and diamondscar adoration for the Hero of the Wilds, similar in glory to the Light Spirits petrichor and vermeil fondness for the Hero of the Twilight – liked to listen to people sing. What you were surprised was how it attempted to follow along, it’s head across your lap the second you sat down in the clearing, a gentle hum on back of it’s throat, an owl’s cry and a cicada’s humming and faintly, chirring purring as presses it’s faces into your hands, a gentle request for petting.

It was adorable, even with the faint notes of the chill of clear spring water on winter and the livewire feeling of magic, like holding your hand too close to a flame but not quite touching it.

A low chuckle brushes against the back of your mind, a feeling like biting on ice, the prowl of a wild beast and the build up of lightning and light used to create his blade, the amused affection of a warrior reconvening with their brother in arms, you think you see the bone ivory of the Deity’s hair on the side of your vision, though you know he’s not physically there, ‘He likes you.’

You hum, gently patting behind it’s ears, pushing through the chill, gracefully not mentioning the burning with a smile at the mythic being’s faint chirring, birdsong and the wind through cherry blossoms that sparkle like rose quartz, “Well I quite like him too, I can see where it’s gentleness comes from.”

The ghost of a touch over your hair, the caress of lightning striking over your skin and the hair on the back of your neck pricking up and the crisp cold of winter, the chill of the ending and the flame of a new dawn, of new days, the phantom of magnolias and spring water on your tongue. The fragrance of pine, daffodils and blood soaked lilies on ashen fields on your senses, gentle and careful, marking but not claiming, ‘Only because it’s you, beloved. It’s not something easily given.’

You sigh, shakily composing yourself, you let yourself relax into the phantom sensation. Of hopes and dreams and healed suffering, of the divinity of hunt turned into protection and lightning given form, of tangled timelines and crystalized memories, “I know. It does not change my opinion, either way.”

To be the subject of a god’s care and regard was dangerous, after all. For the human and the deity in question, you know the stories from your world well, of the effects of Hylia on First and Sky, of Twilight and the personification of the Twilight Realm and the spirits of his land, of Wild and clawing from death’s embrace into that of the wilderness.

Knew how the fact the Fierce Deity’s mere proximity causing pain on those who changed him into hunting for hunt’s sake into protection for the sake of someone else cut deeper than even the ever encroaching entropy all beings must one day face. It was no wonder the Song of Healing was his creation, to want to ease the burden.

You gladly grant him some peace, in turn, even if it wasn’t much. It’s the least you can do, for always having his ways of watching over your heroes.

“Join me? We can make a duet.”

You feel more than see him shift, ephemeral, fleeting, gentle against the edges of your existence, as foreign to Hyrule as your own, sparking over your spine as you feel ozone and rust on your teeth. Satori is humming again to match the rumble of thunder in the man’s voice, the heralding of songs of war and elegies for the dead, ‘Of course, though I’m afraid I do not know many songs, besides…’

“It’s alright,”, you smile faintly, there’s a white ocarina in his hands, as he leans, a spectre against your side, “I’ll teach you some of my own, though you’ll have to forgive me if I don’t remember all the lyrics.”

‘It would be my honor to learn.’

You think he smiles, from the fluttering of something ancient and long forgotten against your side.

You sing to Satori and the Chain, a small respite of familiar and forgotten tunes, the Lord of the Mountain hums along. The Fierce Deity’s song cutting through any nightmares that may ail your heroes for another night.

When the dawn of a new day comes, the feeling of divinity against your skin feels just a bit more obvious, sinking into every crack of your being like a shroud, falling over your boys like a veil, reflecting the breath of eternity over Hyrule.

(First gives you a look that’s half exasperation, half understanding. Sky pointedly sticks to your side as Time looks you over, markings deep with vibrant color. You shrug with a helpless smile as you feel the lightest brushes of Hylia’s fond days of gold and starlit summers days against the Lord of the Mountains warm, luminous affection and the Fierce Deity’s smug, but content lonsdaleite smile.)

Linktober Shadow Day 9

Wallmasters

*Downs cofffe like a shot* Also know as The One Where Legend Did Not Collaborate, and the reason all other prompts are late along with exam season so I'm not fully satisfied with it even with the Hollow Knight ost, the Link Between Worlds ost, tea and spite carrying this. Ah well, I'll just do my best to catch up and maybe rewrite it to give Legend more justice later, this is a self indulgent little series anyway. Having a lot of fun with the other prompts for both Linktober and Linktober Shadow. Legend is my second true Link (Time being the first and Twilight the second), so this goes out for him and his fans, he's such a complex Link and I shall do my best to do him proper justice in the future.

As always can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, and before anyone asks yes I am making Reader gender neutral on purpose, whatever gender they are is up to ya'll lol.

Walking through Dungeons could be a fifty fifty experience.

On one hand, the loot was usually always good and it could be a pretty thrilling or simple experience, on the other hand, the danger was very, very real, between the monsters and many puzzles and traps, it sets every hero on edge, even if most weren’t used to the structure of dungeons all of them could recognize danger at every corner.

Which was why when hearing a faint skittering from the shadows of the abandoned ruins and seeing Legend twitching for his sword, you were immediately on alert, making sure to speak lowly and to keep yourself in his sights (it was a hard won crumb of knowledge, that Legend preferred to have any members of the group in his line of sight if possible, but easy enough to accommodate and you would not question it, didn’t need to), “Any guesses, hero?”

Legend pursed his lips, eyes flicking to the sides then the open fissures of the floor, undoubtedly leading either to a long way down to the previous floor or many broken bones – most likely the second really with a healthy heaping of painful death on top – and then above, cursing as he shoved you back against the doorway alcove with a grimace, “Wallmasters. You better be ready to book it for the chest when I tell you to, got it? I am not fighting my way back down just to drag you back up. We need to take those out if possible.”

You nodded,  grim as you tightened your grip onto your sword, you knew Legend wouldn't, he'd never be the one to leave someone first, but you could agree that getting separated in a dungeon with black blooded monsters in it was a recipe for disaster.

"One.", you squinted at the shadows above,  trying to make out the scratching of long, sharp claws over stone, vision wasn't always the most reliable sense in the dark.

"Two." Legend's grip on the fire rod shifted, more used to spotting these things than you are, you'll just have to follow your reliable veteran's lead.

"Go!" He snapped, and you didn't hesitate, the door was locked so you'd need the key as urgently as possible-

You jump to the side, a 'SLAM!' rocking the dungeon floor to it's foundations, you slash away at a nearby keese swarm with a curse as Legend sets the Wallmaster alight. It doesn't scream but it does shudder, nails racking over the floor with an awful, cutting sound, leaving black gouges that you are sure you'd hate to be touched by, "Any others?!"

Legend flicks his gaze up,  switching to his sword a heartbeat later  to his other hand and slashing at the smaller hands which rose from the death of it's progenitor, their nail rake over his sword with a screech and bones crunch over his boot, "Not yet, go grab the key!"

You don't need to hear it twice,  quickly kicking the chest open with no hesitation, grabbing the key. You hiss as one of the smaller hands escape one of Legend's guard and make a grab for your ankle, it's claws sink into your flesh and it hurts like hell but you persevere, making a break for the door. As soon as you open it you can work on dealing with the blood and undoubtlety quickly rotting flesh.

A second 'SLAM!' rocks the ground, Legend snarls, cutting through the second Wallmaster with a lot more difficult than he ought to, when it's blood comes black,  backing off from the crawling hands, conserving as much magic as he can as the hand returns to the  ceiling, dripping ink down into the ground, "An exit any second now would be really nice you know!"

"I'm working on it Din damnit!" You growl back, slotting the key into the slot and bashing your leg agaisnt an uneven leg, it hurts but it also hurts the hand, letting you go with a sickening crack of bone, you twist the key and hear the tell tale click of a lock opening, you turn back to Legend with a relieved breath, "Quick, come help me open it!"

Legend nods, baring his teeth back in a smirk as he helps you push open the door, black blood drips in front of you both, making his blood freeze.

"GET BACK!", He hollers, tackling you down into the ground, you both go through the door with a curse, your head almost cracking against the solid, old brick floor if not for Legend's hand, the space where you both were shakes as the wounded Wallmaster comes down, curls it's slashed fingers into a loose fist, as much as it could when burned and slashed.

All is silent, and you both finally breath at ease, Legend offering his hand to you with a sigh, "Come on, let's get out of this thrice damned dungeon already. Make sure not to keel over on me."

You accept, scoffing, hip checking him as soon as you're up, "As if I'd let you have all the fun, Leg."

You and him, however, wholeheartedly agree in your shared hatred of Wallmasters.

If you don't call out the shaking of Legend's hand when he pulled you up, or the hint of red on his face or the way you both stick close to one another as you continue through the dungeon. You'll just chalk it up to poor visibility and the want to not be separated.

Linktober (Shadow) Day 10

(Puppet) Zelda

Summer Stop Showcasing Your Love for Twilight Princess and Sleep Deprivedly Writing when Exam Season is Right Around the Corner Challenge (Impossible) /j

Look, we don't talk enough about the Zelda's (or as I affectionately call them, Valkyries) and certainly not about Dusk, whom I am still so bitter that they gave her such a good design but never did anything with it, hence this is my attempt to fix that by giving her the spotlight and some love and give homage to the original Puppet Zelda, Dusk walked so Flora could run it (or well, TP Ganon did so TOTK Ganon could), hence I smashed these two prompts together lol, might make it a two parter after the others are done, but for now as always it's left to interpretation.

As always anything can be read as romantic or platonic or in and out of an LU concept, though the names are used for convenience and to give a rough idea of which kind of scenario we're working with here. Though it's less one of the boys and reader and more one of the ladies and reader this time, if that's not your cup of tea then kindly scroll by, again, this is just something very self indulgent before I pass out and work on the rest lol.

Anyway, good reading!

You slowly but surely came to adore festivals in Hyrule.

No matter the era, it filled you with so much joy whenever your group would come to a new Hyrule during the Hylian holidays, from the Picori Festival in Four's Era, to the Harvest Festival in Legend's, the Pioneering Celebration's in Wind's or the Spring and Summer Equinoxes in Time's and Warrior's, it usually meant your heroes would get the chance to unwind and relax, to eat good food with little worry for a portal (as they strangely didn't appear directly during festival days), you could see the Chain's family and friend's and have such a good time eating or dancing or learning the tradition's from your boy's. Such a stroke of luck came the next time you landed on Twilight's Era, as well as an invitation letter from Dusk to come to Castle Town and celebrate.

(Also translated as 'The nobles are probably hounding her about having 'The One Who Purged the Twilight' make at least one appearance in the castle and she couldn't stall them anymore' by Twilight, with tone tinged by exasperation and aggravation both, albeit much less than the poison of the sharp bitterness of Legend towards the nobility, Wild's tense silence that could mean a memory, or even Warrior's passive aggressiviness when it came to formal events.)

It would be the first time you'd truly meet a Zelda since joining the Chain, and Dusk was likely the most curious case, being crowned queen soon after the Twilight invasion was over and done with and only show during times of war and the only one to have an almost fully cordial relationship with Twilight until the coronation (even Time was closer with Lullaby according to Malon, likely due to knowing her future self). Neither you nor Twilight could say you knew much about her compared to the other's and their respective princesses (or queen's in Warrior's case), so it was a surprise to be invited at all though none of you could say you minded, the plaza of Castle Town was brilliantly decorated in the late autumn sun,  with the decorations glowing orange, yellow and blue witth lanterns and banners all around Castle Town, with decorated shops many stalls rented out for food, games and people, from young children laughing as they played to couples stealing kisses to family and friend's reuniting, it was no surprise you and your boys also got lost in the excitment after having set off from Ordon's own festival, decked out in fall colors and the green many of them favored and paint made to mimic Ordona's markings , you and Twilight getting swept away in the dance at the center with one of the many traveling troupes of musicians, you couldn't help your bright grin to match his as you occasionaly had to dodge running children in between the spinning dancers, clapping along to the song, just a few dances before you had to head on to the castle and finally meet Zelda wouldn't hurt, right?

"Pardon me," Came the soft, musical tone of your new partner, spiriting you away from Twilight with a small smile as he excused himself to find WIld and hopefully some refreshments.

At least that was what you thought, before almost having your heart jump out of your throat by Queen Zelda Vespera Hyrule herself entering the ring of dancers, taking you as a partner.

"Your-"

She spun you around with a hum, you almost struggled to keep up in your shock thought thankfully she held you steady, dark, ash inked hair held steady in a braided crown, looseing around her shoulders and eyes vibrant with vaguely masked cerulean amusement as she shook her head, the lanterns casting burning gold upon her irises, "No need for that. I'd rather my presence not be announced. I thought I'd meet you and Link halfway, away from the court." Another twirl, and she sighs, understandingly, as regal as ever, her gloved palm upon yours warm as you are sure your face is, "He's expressed dislike for the castle in the past and I cannot blame him for such, it's only fair I find him first then, after all he's done for us."

You are briefly separated, as you digest the information and reeling from the surprise, it makes sense. None of the Link's were overly fond of Hyrule Castle and Twilight was no exception, with the nobles who minimally contributed to anything yet demanded reward or for their schemes to be enabled and the complacent knights, easily swayed by the honeyed words of vipers and who were useless in the face of true danger even during the invasion, none of your boys - even Warriors who learned how to swim or drown in that mess - felt comfortable there. You can't imagine it wasn't similar for Dusk, even growing up among them.

... She did seem very lonely, even back then.

You dance back into her arms, nodding easily as you take her in, with her hair braided in white ribbons and cream, ruffled poet's shirt and lightly heeled riding boots, she really did look just like any other young woman out for a night of festival fun, albeit breathtakingly beautiful just the same, "Alright then, would Zelda be fine then?"

Her smile was radiant, as bright as the lanterns in the plaza in contrast to her shaded lips, voice soft like the whisper of a breeze through autumn leaves, "It's perfect, I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you personally." She twirls you, and you laugh as it transitions into an unexpected dip, the disguised queen giggling in turn and it's soft and fluttering, "Link's letters don't do you full justice, the flesh is much more captivating than the imagination."

"Says the Queen of Hyrule," You snipe back, hoping to all being's holy in this land and the realms beyond that you are not flushing crimson enough to outshine the lanterns, you briefly catch a glimpse of Twilight, standing somewhere just beyond the dancers and sipping on an apple cider, you lock eyes and you briefly tilt your chin to Zelda, 'So. This is the Queen of Hyrule. HELP?!'

He briefly looks you over, seemingly studying the situation, then gives you a wolfish smirk at whatever he saw, 'Have fun.' He mouths, taking a long swig.

'Traitor.' You hiss in your thoughts because turns out you are NOT well equipped to handle Hylian Royalty suddenly sweeping you off your feet (literally) without ample preparation and your only hope of composing yourself clearly wasn't going to help, so you smile and continue on, "I'm hardly that much, but thank you, y- Zelda."

"Nonsense," She primly answers, before you switch partners once more, to the left, then back to Dusk, and back again, she tilts her head, humming contemplatively, "Would you mind showing me around the festival? I'm sure Link won't mind if I steal you for a couple moments."

You chuckle, "I hardly know Castle Town all that well myself, I doubt I'd be a good guide." And that's true, you've only seen it distantly, during Twilight's adventure, it could hardly compare to the real thing.

She smiles, somethibg soft and beautiful and sharp with amusement, eyes glinting like clouded aquamarine, rhodedendron eargerness and hydrangea beautiful, "Then I suppose we'll just explore it together then, shall we go?"

"We shall." You answer back, after all, it's not everyday you can say you went to a festival with a Zelda.

She links her arm with yours, grip tight and warm.

(Later, although not much later, Twilight will meet Dusk at Telma's.

She had not even seen you on the way, though she had been looking forward to your meeting.)

Linktober (Shadow) 2023, Day 11

Monsters (Dead Hand)

Summer Stop Giving Reader/PoV Character and the Chain a Hard Time and Trauma Challenge (impossible) /j. But really I'll probably write something lighter for Linktober or Linktober Shadow later to compensate for this one lol. Probably a sequel to this one that has Reader actually having a nice time with the Links for once.

Technically since unfortunately studying for future exam season in like a couple of days has been kicking me in the ribs and thus my time was highly cut and unfortunately I don't have an Ocarina to give me more, this is actually a mix of prompts! The ones in the title, Keese, Wolfos, Wizzrobe, Lizalfos, Redead, and Boss, although they are not the focus here, mostly just mentioned but technically checking out the boxes, maybe next time I'll go more in deep on that (Like the original idea that basically was Reader taming a pet Wolfos as a guard hound that I will not elaborate on at least not this year), instead y'all get this with the boss that gave a lot of people childhood trauma and was never seeing again since because we really don't talk about just why Dead Hands are terrifying much, just that they are, really missed opportunity to use them more in an LU context lol.

As always any relationship between Reader and any of the Chain can be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and Reader is Gender Neutral on Purpose. And First is here because again, this would have been longer if exam season wasn't kicking me in the ribs and I have some really evil ideas involving First, Reader and Time bonding over having trauma of enclosed spaces, but thankfully y'all don't get that today lol, or not, it would be a really fluffy scene so up to y'all if it's a win or a loss.

TW:

Don't think there's anything too heavy-ish? But I'm a horror fan so I'm not someone who can accurately judge that. I'd say graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and being restrained/pinned in place and the entire deal that is the Dead Hand's existing, so please don't read if you're squeamish or uncomfortable. Health is important and specially mental health and I always leave these warnings on Linktober Shadow related prompts or heavier stories, so just a heads up so no one is caught by surprise.

Anyway, enjoy reading!

It was an almost unanimous agreement that no hero liked to pass through a cemetery in Hyrule.

From the restless Gibdo, to the mischievous yet usually cruel Poes and the lost Ghini, to the ever wandering Stalfos and the ghastly agonized Redead and ever determined ghoulish Garo, nothing good ever came from entering in areas where dead things roam. You can't be sure if it's because of the magic in Hyrule, the living force of light and shadow and the divinity coursing through the land, or simply the will of the undead or the consequences of Demise attempting to claim the Triforce, graveyards and desolated fields meant silence, they should be where those who are gone should finally acquire their final catharsis, not to roam endlessly without release, solemn as these places are they are still places for a peaceful end and to be denied such due to the whims of the Shadow... You can think of very few awful fates that can compare.

('Terrible fates, you could say.' The grimly bemused part of your mind whispers, as you walk alongside Time further down into the crypt that you and the Chain had followed the shadow into, silver, prisitne armor briefly blends with old, rusted, bloody gold and you think you hear the rattling of bones in the distance, the draw of a rusted, but still serviceable sword. You shut it away with a snarl as you cut down the Stalfos attempting to ambush Wild from the rear, and it goes down and back into the darkness with a screech alongside the chilling knowleged and the sick cracking of broken bones, not on your watch, never on your watch, you refuse.)

"Of all places why did it have to be a bloody crypt?" Grimaced Warriors, casting a weary glance towards the skulls decorating the walls, their empty sockets empty but silently cutting, as if sneering at the fact you lot had dared disturb the dead, as if it wasn't the Shadow's mere presence making what would otherwise be a place for rest into a possible death trap.

Legend smirked, though you could tell he wasn't anymore pleased from the way he marched through the cold, cracked stone floor, steps flighty and eyes darting around corners, "What, a bit too much for you, soldier boy?"

"No," came the prim answer, although the twitch of the hand near his scabbard as you stepped into an open chamber gave him away, as well as Wind being kept at his side rather than near the wall, "Just don't generally like fighting the undead in closed spaces. It's a recipe for disaster."

"On that I believe we all can agree on." Came Time's voice, cutting through the banter, tense as a drawn bowstring, you knew being back in a crypt wasn't easy for him, with the way his jaw tensed, you both had the same awful memories of a similarly buried, abandoned place where dead things roamed without cease, frantic, hungry for the warmth of the living, "Keep your guard up, and stay close together."

Almost as if on cue came the monsters from the open corridors, you didn't hesitate in drawing your blade to cut through the enemy, keese were easily dispatched by Four and Legend's swords, you spun to slit the throat of a growling Wolfos from Twilight's era going for Sky's back just as he mercilessly chased down the Black Lizalfos, the beast clearly avoiding the glow from the Sword of Evil's Bane. Time's back to yours as you cleared the path for him and blocked the Shadow's exit through the left corridor, it had already proven that it would not matter if you did or not, but you refused to not let it work for survival.

The jolt of magic being used crawling up your spine was your first warning. Like the build up of lightning in a storm, the taste of rust and a feeling like tar  slithers up your throat.

The second was Wild's warning shout as the chamber shook with the grating, chilling, blood curdling howl of the Redeads, Time lunging away from your side to slash the beasts away from Wind and Warriors with all of the fury of a wolf defending it's pack, before you had to throw yourself back, slamming your back against the arch on the right as it caved in, lest you be crushed alongside the Wolfos coming for your neck the second the older hero moved.

You were separated.

You were alone.

A really, really bad spot to be when in Hyrule's catacombs.

"Are you alright?!", Came muffled from the other side of the stones, the hint of an actual wolf's growl and the distinctive Ordonian cadence, Twilight.

"I'm fine! Keep fighting, I'll find my way to you guys!", You yell back, heart racing, trying not to think about what you could find on your way back, you didn't have any bombs on you, it wasn't feasible to use them in a place as old as this, not without risk bringing down the ceiling on you and the Chain. But most catacombs have interconnected hallways, if you moved quickly, you might just avoid finding anything that you won't be able to handle on your own.

You think Twilight replies, but it's muffled by another Redead's yowl, you wince, your muscles lock up and you feel something warm drip from your ears, but thankfully you are not rendered immobile due to the involuntary wall, you swallow your trepidation and get moving.

The further you get away from the fallen stones, the more silent the catacombs extending from the crypt you were dropped in became, shadows twist oddly by the torches upon the wall with only your breathing and the cold, unfeeling remains of the dead to keep you company, the lowly burning flames bringing you no warmth. The corridors blended together in the darkness cast by the faint light, the shades contorting themselves in the crevices of your paranoia the longer you went on with only your own hurried footsteps to make any true sound.

Not one monster had found it's way to you thus far, though, and according to the copy of the map Legend had made the second you had acquired the original from a very unfortunate Wizzrobe from Wild's era. You just needed to pass one more open chamber to find the corridor leading to your boys, You couldn't keep them waiting, who knew how long it would take for the fight to finish if Redead's were involved? And staying still when the Shadow could turn itself intangible was practically begging it to switch it's attention, it usually didn't pay you as much mind as it did the heroes, Time specially (it seemed to hold a grudge against him more than any of your boys, you noted bitterly), but it would occasionally target you if it meant getting a rise from any of the Link's or if it felt you were too  secure in your safety, it was better if you found your way back first to the hunt before you became hunted.

You grit your teeth, by Hylia's dripping gash, you were so. darn. tired. of. being. hunted.

Of watching your friends being led into a wild hunt with no end in sight, dragged by the noose by a remnant that refused to stay dead, you never thought you could burn with so much anger, with the desire to see if fire would scare it sober into ceasing in it's infection of all of Hyrule's Eras. But unfortunately you knew it didn't work like that, so you had to survive, you would survive, because someone had to protect the heroes when the heroes protected everyone else and if no one was going to step up to the job, you'd just have to do it yourself.

Shaking yourself from your thoughts, lest you end up drowning in them, you breath in relief as soon as you come upon the metal door with the symbol of the royal family, faded and rusted with age, there. You just needed to pass through this chamber and the corridor next to it, and you'd be back with Link, all of them, and hopefully out of here. You push it open, grip tightening on your long dagger, almost a sword, good enough to cut and hide. The thick and pungent combination of old, congealed blood, sick and decaying flesh, something like rotten eggs dipped in alcohol and withered flowers hits your nose, making you nauseous but you press on, the chamber is circular and dimly lit, with a long cracked, soft stone from a leak in the walls. You studiously do not look at the far corner of the dungeon or the pillory's and shackles scattered around near the cells,  there's a second door to the other side, as soon as you pass through it you'll be in another corridor.

... It's silent, too quiet. Unease slithers and twists around you like vines, but you can't delay, you won't, so you keep walking-

Until you can't.

Something has grabbed a hold of your leg. You look down, and your blood freezes, spotting a long, sickly, pale arm and a bright crimson, elongated nails, claw-like, digging into your ankle, having dug itself up from the fragile ground.

You don't hesitate, slashing down violently at the offending limb, frantic terror spreads through your blood, you knew what was here. It featured in your nightmares for a long, long time, you knew it still haunted Time's, the limb goes slack as it is severed, and you barely note the way it starts bleeding black and green at the stump, thankful for Four's expert craftsmanship and maintenance hints as you dive to the exit. You don't make it far, it's companion limbs  bursting in front of your path like a snake emerging from the ground, it makes a solid grab for your  arms, one of them grabs you by the scalp, firmly digging as you dodge and weave between, a stabbing pain upon your skull from the indomitable grip of something fueled by fury, twisted magic and rigor mortis and makes you cry out, your slight moment of hesitation allowing two more hands to latch onto your legs and arms, nails slicing through your flesh like easily and digging, tearing like a rabid hunting dog's teeth upon an unfortunate deer, leaving deep gashes upon your arms and ankles, it's not unlike being pinned and held to a torture rack, in hindsight, ironic given just where in the crypt you ended up.

Your hear the ground below shifting below you, a groan carrying through the air, awfully monstrous, coldly human. You struggle harder like a desperate butterfly upon a dissection board, from your peripheral, you see the form of the thing unhurriedly dragging itself over, it uses the sharp and bloody ends of where bone was broken to slice it's hands off to shuffle out of the grave, using it's stubs as support. Long long neck barely supporting it's elongated head, the scent of rot intensifies and you feel like gagging as it settles it's empty, frigid, hungry eye sockets on your bound form; it's broken jaw contorting itself in a mockery of a human smile over rotten gums and exposed teeth, stretching unnaturally and bringing emphasis to it's rotting, bloodied sunken features. From behind it's bloated, putrid shape, barely obscured by the bloodied white cloth and the grotesque vision of the undead you swear the crimson eyes of the shadow, watching you coldly, the hint of a knife sharp, serpentine smile as the sound of wet meat slamming across the ground rings in the chamber.

Fury mixes with your panic as you snarl, trying to twist the dagger in your grip as best as you can to drive it into the arms, pain and blood drips from the open wound but you don't care; you need to get away from the Dead Hand. A monster like that feels no pain when struck for it is not human, not any longer, and you couldn't hope to face an infected one alone, it shuffles over the floor, unhurriedly shuffling like a predator that knows it's prey can't run away, it moans and groans with hunger as it approaches and you have no intention of giving it a meal, you grit your teeth as the nails sink deeply into your shoulders and arms, using your blade to saw through rotting flesh and hopefully break bone with every single inch of strenght you have, the blade is slick in your hand with your own blood and the poison-tar of the Shadow's infection burning through you but you do not mind, can't. You need to get away-

The undead's teeth sink into the hollow of your collarbone, blunt, human teeth that shouldn't have half the strenght it does to rip through flesh, blood and crack bone, and you caterwaul with pain, skin crawling and numbing and set aflame with curses sent from the dark reflection of the hero, darkening, veins blackening, your eardrums vibrate with the force of your own agony and you are sure you could rival a Redead on pitch alone of your tortured howl. Struggling even more ferociously, attempting to disloged it, kick it off, your blade sucessfully slashes through the arm from your reverse grip, pushing away from it with the savegery off a cornered predator you sink your long dagger into the undead's eye sockets, tearing through it's cheek with animal ferocity, it keens high and chilling, you're losing blood quickly and it (for it's not a human, not anymore, you can't feel sympathy for it, won't. You can't hesitate.) knows, for it tries to chomp down onto your vulnerable neck, your arm being the only thing keeping it from biting it out as you growl with pain, although you can't be sure it just won't bite through, it's teeth are bared, the pitch of it's blank eyes locked onto yours in stalemate, you have the advantage of not being weakened by hunger and decay, not sluggish like it but that will not help for long, the clammy being determined to bleed you dry and feast on your corpse and you are drowning drowning drowningDROWNINGWITHWRETCHEDTORMENT MAKE.THE.PAIN.STOP-

A scream of your name, sword calloused hands yank you away from claws and fangs (because nothing with blunt teeth and nails should be able to wound someone so throughly), you waver on your feet, swaying, supported by a warm, strong body and pulled away. A sword slashes the foul being away from you and you go lax, numb with pain.

First, First was supporting you. Keeping you steady, stopping you from falling, snarling at the corpse with a lion's fury, holding you protectively. Time tears by him like a man possessed, frenzied with the look of a man looking at his worst nightmare and growling in denial. The Links, wounded but alive, the Chain had met you halfway.

The last thing you remember before losing conciousness as adrenaline leaves your body and everything goes dark, is wishing that they'll burn it to be sure it's gone for good. It's the kindest thing that can be done for a such a wretched existence.

You'd be okay.

Linktober (Shadow) 2023

Spirit

Welp turns out my exam season throughly steam rolled through my general Linktober plans, so you get this VERY late thing for now folks who find this, at least until I decide whether to continue this until I finish it even though it's no longer Linktober or if I'll make whatever other stories come later their own thing after exam season is over (mostly because the original for this one is my preferred draft, and that I feel the one for the Link/Dark Link prompt would be kind of wasted if it just sat there collecting dust cause I worked hard on the tension and horror there lord darn it, along with a few others mainly involving Fae Hyrule, Twilight, Time, First, among other Links like Legend, Sky, Warriors, just all of the boys, I wanted to give them all proper spotlight and still want to do that in any way I can). Welp. *Downs coffee like a shot* Also really need to find out how to make a Masterlist on mobile, figure out how AO3 works and answer asks.

Anyway, not really any warnings this time besides Reader Not Being Okay (par the course really) and angst.

As always can be read as either romantic or platonic, Reader is gender neutral on purpose, technically is meant to be read as either Hero's Shade Time x Reader or First x Reader mainly, but you can interpret it as any Link really lol

Good reading!

This corner of Faron Woods was quiet this time of year.

The woods were solemn in this Hyrule, the sliver of moonlight barely enough of a guide through the mist, it was silent but for the soft padding of animals through the underbrush and the howl of a wolf in the distance (not Wolfie's, not musical enough). The stars were your only company as you were separated from the group, the air was cold agaisnt your skin as you attempted to find your way.

Being alone in the forests of Hyrule never spelled anything good for anyone, but as you felt the brush of a hand tenderly twined in yours, the ghost of leather and the faint clinking of steel, and a faint glow of pale gold and ivory cutting through the veil of the night, mindful of roots you may trip onto and never flickering too far out of sight you couldn't feel safer, even  if instead something like melancholy threatened to lock your throat with the chains of silence, you felt as warm as the soft twilight glow and as frigid as ice, frostburned with the bitter cold of your own warring emotions.

You can't help but chuckle a bit whille holding a old scabbard close to your heart, it's a wry sound, "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

There is no answer, of course there isn't, but you don't mind, you know he'll listen, thorns wrap around your heart and crawl up your throat, the smell of lilies and steel coats and sticks in your throat like honey, or maybe blood, "... I didn't think you'd show up, you know? I always considered the possibility but..." You trail off, you feel something brush your side, you can only see him in the corner of your eyes or with a passing glance, there but not, existing but gone, so you keep your eyes on the road and in the flicker of light, so you carefully don't look to your side, you don't think you could contain the shaking in your heart otherwise, to stare at inevitability and prophecy, "... I know, I know you're fine. At least for now, I apologize for all the trouble I gave you."

'It's alright. It could never be a hardship aiding you.', the voice echoes in your ears, and you swallow thickly, breath hitching, the warmth of the sun in the fields of Hyrule, the wind caressing your hair, the song of the animals in Faron Woods, someone holding you carefully, fondly. The warmth of your hand in his. Not really here, but not gone either, more feeling than true echo.

You chuckle, and try to pretend it's not a bit breathless, something like a wounded keen, "... You're too kind. Too, too kind, thank you."

Spirits in Hyrule never spell anything good, in this wild land of light and shadow in a gestalt of divinity. There are some exceptions though, even if it hurts to witness then. So you follow him through the dark, certain that as you've guided his way once, he'll lead you now to where you need to go.

----------------------------------------------------------

... The clearing he leads you to is open, but by no means truly quiet among the trees, there is no peace to be found for the armored skeleton here. You choke on sorrow, on unfinished business, on the cruelty of being brought to ruin and being denied peace, and you stumble towards the familiar figure, almost in a trance as your vision blurs, roots and thorny vines wrap over rusted armor and a thorn cape, the skeleton's void sockets piercing through your soul, illuminated by the solemn gaze of the wretched moon and it's uncaring maids of honor in the stars.

You fall to your knees near the decaying skeleton, biting back against the wounded sound that attempts to leave your throat with enough strenght to bleed, you lay the scabbard by his side with a bouquet of lilies and shiver at the gentle, phantom touch, so soft, so loving it almost leads you to ruin all over again.

'... It's foolish to grieve for someone who isn't gone yet.' the thought comes to you, yet you can't help it. You still hurt for him, you still hold onto the fury at the heavens themselves for denying them quietus. For denying them rest over and over and over again. To watch this cycle and be helpless to stop it all due to the will of uncaring gods.

Alive. Dead. Alive. Dead. Denied full rest over and over again, to watch the chance at rest to the kindest of souls found in this world you found yourself in.

You barely register the touch to your cheek, ephemeral as it is, as you can't help but shed tears, can't help but grieve. Because if you don't, who will?

You know by now that some wounds can never heal, some rifts can never be mended. Even with the guarantee of cyclic, eternal rebirth, some things never return to how they were. And reminding yourself of this inevitability to them will never not hurt, even if you know it's futile to blame anyone but the one god who started this, and maybe the goddess who stood complacent to it. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that it'll one day come to this, that the frost of death and the sharpness of pain will leave a mark the sands of time can't scar over.

You reach a trembling hand towards the one in your cheek, try to find catharsis in the remains of decayed, dead yet ever eternal, ever growing love. And you breathe.

'We'll meet again. So do not mourn for me, please.'

You don't think you could deny him if you tried. Not when you know he's trying to soothe you, to thaw your sorrow. To allow your heart's healing to fallow.

"We will, I know. I'm sorry for making you worry." You chuckle, leaning into the cold, trying to brand the memory of the shadowed, but not gone love given to you so you can return it in kind. Just until you meet again, just until you can give all you can to his not yet decomposing self, grasping onto what remains of him, "I love you."

'I love you too. Until we meet again.'

The cold is gone, the echo of love leaves. And you breathe, and pretend you don't feel empty.

(When you see Link again, reuniting with the Chain on the next day's twilight. You hug him as tight as you can, and hope you he doesn't notice the tears in your eyes. And that you don't feel the lingering traces of a frigid embrace.

When no one is looking, you wave goodbye to the shade. And pray he dreams of warmer days until he finds quietus.)