Chapter Text
day 4, part 2 (fire) - first attempt
“Can I just say again that I really don’t like this plan?”
Wind groaned. “We know, Captain. You’ve been saying that every five minutes.”
“Because it’s a terrible plan!”
Scowling, Wind shuffled back from the impossibly massive archway he’d been peering through. “Look, we decided on the plan hours ago, so just give it a rest already.”
Sky cleared his throat. “Well. I’d like to say that I don’t like this plan either.”
“Oh, how nice of you to contribute that, Sky,” Warriors growled, rounding on him. “Couldn’t have said anything before the literal last minute?”
“Hey, I’ve dissented to this idea the whole time,” Sky retorted, holding his hands up defensively. “Not just because it’s dangerous, but because it’s not our place to meddle in local political affairs.”
“Agreed,” Warriors said. “We’re putting that whole town at risk. It’s not too late to turn back.”
“Since when do you run away from a fight?” Wind goaded.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Time said. Five heads turned his way, expectant, tense, and he sighed in resignation. “The Sailor is correct. We discussed the merits and drawbacks this morning. We’re committed to this plan now. I’m sorry, Captain.”
Wind smirked triumphantly despite Warriors’ heavy frown. “Great. I’ll see you all later then.”
He offered a sloppy salute and turned towards the archway, only for Warriors to grab his arm and spin him back around.
“Ugh, now what?” Wind griped. “You heard the Old Man! The plan is a go!”
The Captain grasped both of Wind’s shoulders and ducked to his eye level, his expression all hard lines. “Listen. At the first sign of danger, you get out of there. This is not worth sacrificing your life over.”
Wind defiantly tried (and failed) to wiggle out of his iron grip. “I’m gonna be fine, Wars! Why don’t you trust me? I’m the most skilled thief we’ve got!”
“I do trust you, and I don’t doubt your skills in the least,” Warriors said. “It’s just…” He hesitated, swallowed. “Tell me you’ll get out of there as soon as there’s trouble. Don’t be reckless.”
The somberness and sincerity (and was that fear?) in Warriors’ tone was sobering, and Wind finally conceded, “I will. I’ll be careful. Promise.”
Warriors’ hands lingered on his shoulders a moment longer, and Wind was surprised to find he missed their weight when they were gone. He didn’t dwell on it, though, nor did he look back as he deftly slipped through the stone archway and disappeared over the ledge.
The Captain crossed his arms, not bothering to conceal his concern as he watched Wind go, and Legend murmured to him, “Hey. You don’t do anything reckless either. Got it?”
“Of course.”
They all knew he was lying.
---
The chamber Wind had entered was more astronomical than any he’d ever seen—it must have filled the entire berth of the mountain, he thought—and even more wondrous still, it was jam-packed with mound upon mound of shimmering rupees, jewels, armor, weapons, vases…treasure. The most extensive treasure trove in this or any era, surely.
Wind grinned to himself. Tetra and her crew would never believe this. Maybe he could smuggle out a shiny little gift for them.
He picked his way across the hills of treasure, disturbing them as little as possible, and stopped near a colossal column. Steadying himself on it, Wind peered around the enormous chamber, and, for the first time since they’d departed the lakeside town that morning, felt a flicker of dismay. He had, of course, expected that locating one specific gemstone in a vast hoard of treasure would be difficult, but he’d underestimated the task. Like kind of, really, severely underestimated the task.
Well, no matter. He didn’t make it this far in his adventures by shying away from impossible odds. Besides, he felt he was graced with the goddesses’ favor today. He and the others had climbed up the mountain, strongarmed their way into the mines, and navigated the maze of corridors without one blip of trouble—and, best of all, there was no sign of the one major threat they’d been warned about again and again.
Wind smiled as he continued across the treasure trove, pausing to sift through some of it now and again. He just needed to be patient and deliberate and quiet, and then he could sneak back over to where the others were waiting and prove to them what a capable hero he was. Warriors said he didn’t doubt Wind’s skills, but he must, at least a little, or he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to let Wind do this.
The Sailor peered across the chamber towards the archway he’d come through. It was well above him now, as he’d descended from the peak of a treasure mound, although he was nowhere near the floor yet. The candle chandeliers suspended from the cavern’s apex offered a fair amount of light, which reflected brilliantly from all the gold rupees and splendid diamonds, but it was not sufficient to see any of his friends.
All the better, he thought as he continued his hunt. If he couldn’t see them, then neither could their enemy, whose other senses outweighed its sight—as he’d been repeatedly reminded by the others, who had all info-dumped him on this particular foe, as if he hadn’t dealt with any himself before.
Wind really did not understand what all the fuss was about. What made this different than any other dungeon, or any other enemy therein? Yes, this particular mission was complicated by the fact that they were helping restore some fallen regent and give him access to this treasure hoard without having all the details on the guy. Wind regularly operated without having all the details, even on missions as significant as this, and he suspected the others did as well, so he wasn’t too concerned about that.
But what was the big deal with the enemy? He understood that provoking this monster put the proximal town at risk, but didn’t that happen with every big baddie they faced? What was so different about this—?
Wind froze, thoughts cut off as he tuned in to the nearby jingle of tumbling rupees. He slowly turned his head, hand on the Phantom Sword’s hilt, expecting to see some stalfos or something emerging from the depths. There had to be someone guarding this treasure, after all.
He was not anticipating a stream of treasure would part to reveal the snout of a dragon sighing in its sleep.
Panic jangled Wind’s nerves, and suddenly he felt like he understood Warriors’ reluctance very clearly.
The tip of this dragon’s muzzle was utterly massive, with yellow, jagged teeth as tall as Wind protruding from its mouth. The rest of it, still concealed by treasure, must have been unimaginably gargantuan. Its steady breaths smelled ominously ashy.
Wind backed up a step, rupees clinking beneath his foot, and held his breath. Perhaps it was time to return to his friends…
As he began to creep back towards the archway, leaving the dragon’s snout a considerable berth, Wind felt a tug of magic. It wasn’t a variety of magic he recognized, but the sensation was unmistakable. His eyes darted around, scanning, until they landed on a strikingly sparkly gemstone, iridescent and oval-shaped and nearly the size of his head.
Dumbfounded, Wind blinked. That. That was the stone! It had to be!
It wasn’t too far from him, but it was downhill, i.e., in the opposite direction of his destination. But he was so close. He couldn’t give up now.
Wind threw a cursory look at the dragon snout before switching course and tiptoeing down towards the stone.
There was another rattling jangle behind him, and Wind paled as treasure shifted to reveal some of the dragon’s tail, ridiculously far from where the snout lie. He tried not to let this bother him as he reached the stone and carefully tucked it into his bag.
Acquiring the target item filled him with some relief, and he started the long trek up the treasure mountains to reach the archway, choosing his footholds cautiously.
He was halfway there when he slipped, smacking face-first into the rupee pile and backsliding several meters with an insufferably loud clanking from the treasure.
He froze, breath bated, heart slowed, as he gazed over at the dragon.
It didn’t move.
Releasing a soft sigh, he straightened up, prepared to resume his ascent, when the dragon snorted.
With dreadful slowness, it lifted its head from its beloved treasure, amber eyes flitting around its chamber as it swiveled its long neck around, searching.
Then it slowly rose, gems and gold cascading from its back, as its enormous, folded wings appeared.
Wide-eyed, Wind didn’t move. He couldn’t. This was, by far, the largest creature he’d ever seen.
The dragon inhaled a great snuff of air, sniffing, then another. Forked tongue flickered between menacing teeth.
And then it spoke, its baritone voice echoing off the mountain walls as it dragged out each syllable.
“Where—are—you?”
Wind couldn’t help the involuntary twitch of his hands. Some coins jingled, and the dragon gazed in Wind’s general direction. It didn’t see him.
“I know you’re here,” the dragon drawled. “I can smell you. I can hear your breathing.”
One massive, clawed foot rose from the treasure depths, smacking down on top of a pile.
Swallowing, Wind shakily began to climb again, with painstaking slowness, on his hands and knees. He was good at stealth. He could do this. Absolutely.
“I can sense your fear. Little thief.”
He faltered, hand twitching, but continued. Slow. Steady. Come on. You can do it.
The dragon lifted another foot, and its third and fourth, until it was fully free of the treasure, its tail swishing in its wake. It grazed against the high chandeliers, causing them to quiver and shoot strange fluttering shadows across the room.
“I do not have much patience for foolish little thieves.” The dragon drew a deep, rumbling breath, its chest beginning to glow a burning orange. Smoke began to filter from its nostrils. “Come out.”
Wind looked up. The archway was still so far away. He tried to move more quickly while staying as noiseless as possible. He had to hurry. He was running out of time. As soon as he got there, they could escape unseen—
“If you come out now, little thief, I won’t kill your friends quite so painfully.”
Wind tripped again, setting off a mini-avalanche of treasure.
The dragon’s head snapped in his direction, its eyes narrowing and lipless mouth curling as if in a smirk. It took a step towards him, and another, its claws clinking as the dangerous orange glow built up along its neck, up its throat, more smoke churning from its snout.
“Are you over there, little thief? I’ll give you one more chance. Come out. Now.”
Wind scrabbled, slipping again, sending more treasure tumbling, and when the dragon opened its mouth, its internal flame heating the room significantly, he lost all caution and tried to run.
---
When the dragon lifted its head, Legend wrapped his hand firmly around Warriors’ elbow.
As more and more of the dragon emerged from the depths, Four said quietly, “I think we need to prepare.”
There was a murmur of agreement, and Legend frowned. Reluctantly, he released Warriors’ arm and muttered, “Old Man, keep an eye on him.”
Time nodded, eyes already on the Captain, and Legend, Sky, and Four headed out for their destination.
Time pulled out his Biggoron Sword, watching the dragon take a step, its booming threats resounding around the chamber. He picked out Wind among the mountains of treasure.
“I need you to know,” the Captain started, drawing Time’s attention, “that I cannot live with myself if he…”
Time nodded, even though Warriors wasn’t looking at him.
“If he goes down, I’m going to save him or die trying,” Warriors said. “Those are the only options.”
“I know.”
Warriors looked at him grimly. “It’s been an honor fighting by your side again.”
Time put a hand on Warriors’ shoulder, and left it there until the dragon opened its mouth, and Warriors jumped down into the pit of gold without another word.
---
Warriors aimed for the dragon’s amber eye, but hit its cheek instead. The arrow bounced uselessly off the impenetrable scales, and Warriors doubted the beast could even feel it; yet the dragon, to his relief, turned towards him.
Warriors nocked another arrow and shot again for the eye, but the dragon simply lowered its head, bringing it close to the Captain, heat radiating from it.
“Another little Hylian,” drawled the dragon. “Where did all your little friends scurry off to, hm?”
day 10 (screaming/silence) - unfinished
Distinguishing night from day is impossible in these woods; the opaque fog that consumes them occludes both sun- and moonlight, perpetually casting a bland grey pall across the trees. It’s disorienting, and Time has entirely lost his grip on the passage of his namesake. He has no conception of how long he and Sky have been wandering around this forest, searching for an exit, and that disconnect disturbs him, prickles beneath his skin.
When Time spots an x carved into a tree trunk, he stops and drags his hand through his hair with a sigh.
Lagging several paces behind him, Sky, too, pauses. “What is it?”
Time points to the marking. “We’ve been here before.”
It takes Sky a moment to register what he’s being told, and then he visibly wilts like an underwatered flower. “Great. That’s great.”
“I can’t keep track of this place,” Time confesses. “It’s as if it’s…shifting.”
“Or we’re getting shifted,” Sky says. “Wild said the fog in his Lost Woods can move him.”
“That’s…unsettling, to say the least.” Time glances skyward out of habit and frowns in annoyance as he’s reminded that he can’t see the sun here. “How long do you think we’ve been walking?”
“I…I really don’t know.”
The elder hero side-eyes Sky, who, alarmingly, appears considerably more ill than he did before. Some time ago, the two of them had stopped to sleep, certain they’d meandered the day away, and Sky woke up dizzy and pale. He insisted he was fine to continue—for what other option did they have?—but he had been growing more and more sluggish as they walked. Now he grips his sailcloth, pulling it tight around his shoulders like a blanket, and looks as colorless as the fog, swaying slightly where he stands.
“Do you need to rest?” Time asks.
Immediately, Sky shakes his head. “I’m fine.”
“…Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I just want to get out of here.” Sky releases his sailcloth to scratch behind his ear, something Time has observed him doing on multiple occasions today (tonight?).
“You keep scratching,” Time says, gesturing towards his own ear.
“What?”
“Your ear. You keep scratching there.”
“Oh…” Sky removes his hand and clutches his sailcloth again. “I dunno. It really itches for some reason. I’m sure it’s nothing.”
Time steps towards him and brushes Sky’s hair aside to see a small but very red bump. “Looks like an insect bite. You should leave it alone.”
Sky hums in acknowledgement. “Let’s keep moving.”
Unsatisfied, Time chooses a direction for them to proceed in. He thinks they’ve taken a different turn than the last time they crossed paths with this tree, but he can’t be certain. Before they leave the area, he pulls out a knife and marks the trunk with a second x.
Time has no idea how long it takes, but eventually, they wind up back at the same damn tree.
His eye twitches as he scrubs a hand over his face. “Okay. We need a new plan bec—”
“Uh, Time?”
He looks behind him to see Sky holding one hand out, blood smudged across his fingers. “What—?” Then he spots the blood trickling down Sky’s neck, staining his hair.
Time moves closer and brushes Sky’s hair aside again, causing the knight to jump a little. “What are you doing?”
Substantially more inflamed, the insect bite behind Sky’s ear has split open. Worse, now that Time is up close, he can see that Sky’s hands are shaking and his pallid cheeks are blemished with feverish pink blooms. “You scratched the bite so much that it’s bleeding… Let’s clean it up.”
He steers Sky beneath the contemptible tree and sets to work washing the bite. It’s worryingly hot to the touch, but what really dismays Time is that the bump, which he expected to feel malleable, is hard, as if there’s a stone beneath Sky’s skin.
“Sky, are you allergic to insect bites?”
“No… I don’t think so? I don’t know, really.”
As soon as Time finishes bandaging the bite, Sky is reaching up to scratch it. Time grabs his hand. “Sky. It is imperative that you do not touch that.”
“But it—” He makes a throaty, frustrated sound. “It itches so badly.”
“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do about that.” Time looks around, as if he’ll magically spy an exit from the woods that he somehow missed before.
“Okay. Okay.” Sky grits his teeth and clenches his sailcloth until his knuckles turn white.
day 17 (phobia) - first attempt
For half an hour, rain had been falling in a steady, serene drizzle so light that Sky hardly noticed it until a stray droplet snaked beneath his tunic collar, slithering cold and uncomfortable down his spine. Absently, he scratched at his collar, as if that would alleviate the remarkably unsettling sensation, just as the rainfall picked up.
He blinked up at the sky, which brimmed with plump, grey clouds, promising wet weather for the remainder of the afternoon.
“Guess there’s no point in waiting out the rain,” he commented over the downpour’s soothing heartbeat.
Beside him, Legend swept his damp hair away from his eyes, minutely scowling. “Yeah, let’s just keep going. The sooner we meet up with the others, the sooner we can track down some suitable shelter for the night.”
Sky hummed his agreement, hoping that in scouting this new area they’d been dropped in, some of the others had found a town. He and Legend had discovered an overgrown trail and followed it for most of the morning, but their efforts were fruitless, as the path seemed to stretch endlessly through uninhabited wilderness.
Minutes later, a resonant boom of thunder rolled across the sky, followed swiftly by a flickering tongue of lightning in the near-distance. All of Sky’s muscles locked up so suddenly that he awkwardly stumbled, only staying upright because Legend’s hand shot out to catch him.
“You okay there, bird boy?” Legend asked, eyebrows arched.
“Yeah, of course,” Sky murmured. “Tripped. That’s all.”
He reached back and grabbed a handful of his sailcloth, pinching and rubbing the silken fabric as he tried to ignore Legend’s scrutinizing stare boring into his temple.
day 25 (goodbye) - unfinished
Dinner is eaten, the dishes washed and packed, and the campfire doused, all in dreary silence. As the last of the fire’s smoke dissipates, Wind speaks. “What happens if we don't go through them? Will they disappear?”
No one answers for a moment. Eventually, Legend says, “We have to go through, small fry.”
“I— I know,” Wind stammers. “I’m just asking, like...what if we didn’t? What would happen?”
“Hypothetically,” Hryule offers.
“Yeah! It’s hypothetical.”
“There’s no reason to consider hypotheticals,” Legend says.
“There’s not,” Wild agrees bitterly. “Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”
He stands, gathering his belongings with a scowl as he adds, “As a matter of fact, we should get this over with.”
“Wait!” Wind jumps up, practically vaults across the now-damp firewood to grasp Wild’s arm.
“No, there's no point in stalling any longer,” Wild says, even as he involuntarily leans into Wind’s touch.
“Of course there is,” Wind argues, eyes wet. “Any more time I can have with you guys is worth it. Even just one extra minute.”
Wild looks away from him as he lightly pulls out of Wind’s hold.
Legend stands now, too, eyes averted. “You’re just making this harder, kid.”
“Goodbyes are always hard,” Four says quietly.
Another moment of silence lapses, until Time stands, plates of his armor shifting.
day 29 (lies/terrible truth) - first attempt
In the lean privacy of a secluded clearing, Twilight offered his confession without pretense or embellishment, a simple statement of facts. He didn’t appear nervous as he spoke, like someone who had been caught off-guard might; rather, he seemed resigned, his words rehearsed, as if he’d known this conversation was an inevitability.
Wild expected—hoped—he would glimpse some relief on Twilight’s face when the confession was done, but that wasn’t the case. He seemed sorrowful, ailing, but not relieved to be rid of the heavy secret he’d burdened himself with. Not remorseful for his wrongdoing.
The oddest thing about this moment, Wild thought as Twilight looked squarely into his eyes, was the quietness. How could the moment feel so still and calm, even as it decimated him? Even as it violently impressed its place into his personal history as a pivotal event? Even as it cleaved his life into a clear before and after?
Through Wild’s cluttered, confused thoughts floated a memory. Not a century-old, faded memory, the kind that abruptly flickered to life in the deepest fathoms of his subconscious and dragged him into catatonia. No, this memory was recent, crisp, bright. He could still feel this memory, could still smell its scents and hear its sounds. It replayed over and over, an inescapable loop, as he stared at the man who only minutes before had his unshakeable trust, his highest admiration, his purest love.
Wild broke eye contact and shook his head, trying to clear it. “You’re lying. You have to be. This makes no sense.”
He only looked back to Twilight when he heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. He came face-to-face with Twilight’s blade and reflexively jumped back, hand flying to the hilt on his back.