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Link couldn't sleep.
It happened every once in a while, of course. Actually, it happened more often than not lately, Link's mind occupied with the crushing weight of his worries. Princess Zelda was still missing. He was in the middle of a war with an evil sorceress. And on top of that, he had more or less adopted a grumpy ten-year-old who insisted on joining him on the battlefield. Said ten-year-old was sleeping in the cot above Link’s.
Link had other thoughts on his mind this night, however. They mainly revolved around the empty cot to the right. Its bedsheets were meticulously arranged, a clear indicator that no one had used it tonight.
Link finally decided that he couldn't stand spending one more minute glancing at the empty bed. Quietly, he pulled on some warmer clothes and slipped into his boots. Careful not to wake the sleeping soldiers in the barrack, he made his way outside.
The air was cold and refreshing, and Link took huge gulps of it, feeling as if he had been choking on the heavy air inside. The crispness of each breath sent pinpricks through his lungs, but Link didn't particularly mind.
Without thinking, Link let his feet carry him away from the barracks. The military base was completely different at night; during the day, it bustled with activity, but now only the soldiers on guard duty were up and about.
A sound made Link's ear twitch, and his soldier's training kicked in automatically. Instead of slowing down, he kept walking for a few paces while he tried to get a lock on what exactly had alarmed him. It sounded like footsteps. Odd.
Link stopped in front of the main square, seemingly just to look at it, though his real agenda was to determine if the steps would continue or not.
Tap, tap. Whoever it was, they weren't stopping or trying to keep quiet. Probably just another soldier who couldn't sleep. Link decided it wasn't worth getting worked up over and continued.
Link's aimless walking soon carried him to the edge of the base. From here, the hill sloped downwards into a valley covered by forests. At the top of the hill, leaned back against his arms, sat Lawrence.
Link should have guessed he wouldn't be the only person who couldn't sleep tonight.
He made sure to step a little more forcefully than strictly necessary as he made his way to his friend's side. It was never wise to startle a soldier, especially not one as deeply lost in thought as Lawrence clearly was.
Lawrence looked up, as Link sank to the ground next to him. They sat in silence for a few minutes.
“I keep seeing him every time I close my eyes,” Lawrence finally said.
"Me too," Link admitted.
Silence fell over them again. Link wanted to say something. To provide Lawrence the comfort Link denied himself. But everything he could come up with was a lie. Sam hadn't looked peaceful in death. And he certainly hadn't passed in a pain-free way.
“Do you remember back in the village? How excited we were to join the army?”
Lawrence's voice was bitter.
“I remember,” Link said. “We trained every day.”
It had been a silly idea of the kind only overconfident teenagers come up with. For Lawrence, it had been about being bored with the village's routine. He had wanted to live in Castletown, the city which never slept.
For Link, it had been about getting to do something on his own. It had been about adventure and curiosity. He loved his sisters, but as the youngest of seven, he had craved the idea of, for once, doing something completely independent.
For Sam, it had been about following in his father's footsteps. His dad had died in the service of Princess Zelda's late mother, the queen, and Sam had been eager to prove himself just as courageous.
And he had.
“We were never supposed to actually be part of a war,” Lawrence said.
“Ain't that the truth,” Link sighed.
Lawrence took a swig of a flask and passed it on. Link drank some as well. The alcohol burned on the way down, but it felt appropriate to make a last toast to Sam, just the two of them. They had been his closest friends, after all.
Being part of the army had been very different from what any of them had expected. Mostly because of the war and Link's promotion to captain. Link had suddenly found himself as a front figure of the war efforts, allegedly the legendary hero. And on top of that was his unofficial adoption of Mask. The result had been that the three of them had been slowly growing apart, no longer able to recognize the friends they once knew.
That didn't matter tonight. Tonight wasn't about the future, or even about the present. It was about the past, and that they shared.
“Remember that day when we went to the lake and got lost on the way back?” Link said, following a sudden impulse.
Lawrence's mouth curled upward. “We didn't get back until past midnight. Our parents were so mad.”
“My mom made Linkle babysit me for a full week afterwards,” Link chuckled. “As if she was any more responsible than I was.”
“Well, at least she was better at not getting lost. You could get lost in your own backyard.”
“Says the guy who spent an entire day waiting to be rescued in a hunter's trap.”
“Hey, that has nothing to do with being lost! I knew exactly where I was!”
They laughed a little at the once-so-familiar banter, but soon fell quiet again. It didn't feel like a good night for laughing.
“I wish we'd stayed home,” Lawrence said, a weary sigh sneaking into his voice.
“Yeah, me too,” Link said. “...though I'm not sure I would've had that choice.”
“Guess not,” Lawrence said. “I suppose you would have been the hero no matter what.”
Link rubbed his arms. “Yeah, guess so.”
“I wish it weren't you,” Lawrence said quietly.
“So do I,” Link admitted. “But I wouldn't wish that title on anyone else either.”
Lawrence bit his lip like he was gearing up to say something important.
“Do you ever feel accountable? For Sam and all the others, I mean.”
Link frowned in surprise.
“What do you mean?”
“Well,” his friend said, keeping his gaze fixed on the horizon, “this war did start because Cia wanted you, right?”
“That doesn't mean it's my fault,” Link said, something uncomfortable and heavy settling behind his sternum. “Sure, failing to protect someone on the battlefield can be my fault. Or losing men to a bad strategy. But the war itself was Cia's doing.”
“That's true,” Lawrence said. “But if there hadn't been a hero, there wouldn't have been a war.”
Link eyed the other man, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. Though there was some truth to the words, of course ...
“What are you saying?” he asked, voice snapping a little. “That Sam's death is my fault?”
Lawrence shook his head. “No. But explaining my reasoning is my way of saying sorry, I suppose.”
“Sorry for what?”
Lawrence sent him a long look he couldn't decipher.
“This,” he said, and in one smooth motion, he drew the knife from his boot and lunged.
Link scrambled to get away, but the surprise from seeing a friend - his oldest friend - pull a knife on him made his movements sluggish. Lawrence landed on top of him, but Link used the momentum to roll them around. A few more rolls found Lawrence once again sitting on top of his chest, though, and Link struggled to get him off.
Then something sharp and cold touched his neck like a cool piece of glass.
“Stop that! I don't want to accidentally slit your throat.”
Link stilled and settled for staring up at his old friend with betrayal in his eyes.
The knife moved an inch away, and Link dared speak again.
“But you'd slit my throat intentionally?” he whispered.
“I have to,” Lawrence hissed.
“You have to?! Listen to yourself! One of your oldest friends died today, and now you want to kill the other one?!”
“Don't you dare bring Sam into this!”
The knife suddenly touched his neck again, and Link pressed himself into the ground, desperately trying to avoid it. His mind was racing, and his heartbeat thumped loudly right below the knife, like it was trying to panickedly insist on staying alive for just a little while longer.
Link wondered if this was how Sam had felt when he was impaled by that moblin's spear.
“I'm doing this because of Sam!” Lawrence continued, deaf to Link's silent plea. “Do you think I wanted to do this?”
Link didn't dare answer, lest he accidentally move his neck.
“It's not your fault that you're the hero,” Lawrence said, and this time he sounded more tired than angry. “And I really don't want to do this. But it's the only way to stop this war before it claims the rest of our lives.”
He nodded to himself.
“Without a hero, there's no war.”
He looked Link in the eyes.
“Goodbye, Link. And I'm sorry for everything.”
He raised the knife to strike down, and Link couldn't help but close his eyes against his coming demise like a coward.
Mask wasn't a heavy sleeper. One could hardly be, when the fate of the world tended to rest on one's shoulders. After having been woken by monster ambushes a few times, Mask had learnt his lesson. It was exhausting to wake with every small sound in the room – especially now that he was sleeping in a barrack full of people – but it was ultimately better than getting killed in his sleep by a bokoblin with insomnia.
So, when Link left his bed right below him, Mask woke with a start. He groggily peered over the railing at the sides of his bed – he did have the top bunk, after all – just in time to see the captain close the door behind him.
Mask sat there for a few minutes, trying to decide if he should go back to sleep. On one hand, the captain deserved his privacy, and he'd clearly tried to avoid waking anyone.
On the other hand, he'd been acting off all day. Mask knew it had something to do with the death of someone named Samuel – he'd been there, when Link had gotten the news. He'd seen the color drain from Link's face as the older boy asked how it happened.
Mask didn't know the depth of Link's and Samuel's friendship, but it was obvious that the captain had been deeply affected by the day's events. Mask didn't want the captain to be alone if that was why he'd left the barracks in the middle of night.
Making up his mind, Mask jumped off the bed – less careful not to make any noise than Link had been – and hurried outside. He'd worried the captain might already be out of sight, but luck was on his side, and he caught a glimpse of Link walking through the camp.
Originally, Mask had been planning to make his presence known, but as he walked, he realized it might not be a good idea. The captain had clearly wanted to be left alone. And Mask worried that he'd be sent off to bed if he was seen.
Which was, frankly, ridiculous in Mask's opinion. He'd defeated Ganondorf, for Hylia's sake. He didn't need a bedtime.
Link evidently thought otherwise. He could be so overprotective sometimes. It often annoyed Mask, but it was a fond annoyance. He would never admit it, but it was nice that someone cared about him for once. Even if Link showed it by being irritating as fuck.
Either way, it had been part of the deal they struck when Mask entered Link's era for the first time: Impa and Link would let him fight in the war despite his age if Link became Mask's guardian. And that meant following Link's rules. Sometimes, at least.
Mask realized with a start that Link had stopped. He cursed internally. There was no way the captain hadn't heard his footsteps, and he prepared to be busted.
But Link just shrugged and continued on.
After a few more minutes of walking, they were nearing the edge of camp, and Mask began to wonder if Link was planning to leave it entirely. He couldn't for the life of him imagine why he would do so, in the middle of night, no less, but that seemed to be his plan.
Then the captain stopped right where the hill started sloping downward into the valley. When he moved to sit down, Mask finally understood; the captain's body had been shielding another person from Mask's gaze, but it must have been Link's plan to meet them all along. Now the two of them sat, side by side, and admired the view.
Mask debated, once again, if he should go back to sleep. Link was evidently not alone like he had first assumed, so there was no real reason to stay. Still, there was something intriguing about the whole thing. Mask wanted to know who this mysterious person was.
Sneaking a little closer, Mask tried to keep to the shadows. The moon was almost full – a fact which was equally annoying and terrifying to Mask – so it wasn't easy to keep out of sight. Especially because they were so far from the center of the base that there were almost no buildings.
Luckily, the two soldiers seemed entirely engrossed in their conversation.
Mask hid behind a tree and looked a little closer at the pair of men.
Link laughed quietly at something the other person had said. His blond hair was almost white in the pale light, but it was impeccably styled despite the late hour. The other person was a man on the heavy side of medium size, though the extra weight seemed to stem from muscle rather than fat. Military cut black hair was his only discernable feature, which didn't say much. There were hundreds of men with that exact hair color and style in this base alone.
Then the man turned his head ever so slightly, and Mask caught sight of a straight nose and a sharp jawline. And suddenly, a name sprung into his head. Lawrence.
Mask tried to place the name. Perhaps the guy from the armory? No, he had a wider build. It wasn't the guy Link had introduced him to the other day in the cafeteria either.
Lawrence and Link laughed again, and that was enough to finally spur a specific memory.
It had been one of the first days after Mask's arrival, and he'd been both snappy and reserved. He wasn't used to this many people, and being around them for too long grated on his nerves.
Mask had told the captain that the people in the base were stupid and annoying. Why couldn't they just deal with Ganon on their own if they were Hylia's chosen heroes?
Link had laughed and said they weren't all bad. He'd introduced Mask to two of his friends. Samuel and Lawrence. And while Mask hadn't exactly bonded with them, it had been kind of nice to just sit at the campfire and listen to Link, Samuel, and Lawrence joke around.
It was weird to think about the fact that Samuel wouldn't be joining them tonight. The three of them had seemed so happy and relaxed at the campfire that night. Mask had since learnt that Link was rarely relaxed. Maybe he really should leave the two men alone. They would probably prefer to mourn their friend in privacy.
Mask began walking back towards the barracks. The captain would come when he was ready.
He had almost reached the first building, when he heard a sound, he was intimately familiar with behind him. The sound of battle. Much more muted than on the battlefield, of course, but Mask was used to fighting alone. He knew how it sounded.
Mask turned and looked around for the source of the sound. There was no one near him except for his brother and Lawrence. Mask's blood ran cold. Surely it wasn't ...?!
Something metallic flashed in the moonlight.
A knife?!
All other thoughts were pushed from Mask's mind as his only concern became that of his older brother's safety.
He crossed the distance to the men in record time and slammed into Lawrence with his full weight, effectively knocking him off Link. Mask and Lawrence tumbled across the ground and landed a few meters from each other.
Mask was on his feet in an instant, ready to pounce again, but then he heard a strangled, pained sound behind him. He turned to look at the captain, and oh gods, he hadn't managed to knock the knife away.
Mask absentmindedly noticed Lawrence size him up. The older man apparently decided this wasn't a fight he could win – he'd seen Mask on the battlefield before – and made a run for it. Mask cursed but let him go. He had much more important things to worry about.
Such as the knife sticking out by Link's collarbone.
Mask rushed to his side.
“Don't move!” He snapped when Link tried to turn his head to look at him.
“It's me, Mask,” he said in a much gentler tone. Relief washed over Link's face, and it made Mask feel really bad – he didn't deserve that level of trust. Not when Link would bleed out in minutes and Mask had no idea how to help.
He'd seen bad injuries before, of course. Actually, he'd been on the receiving end of them many, many times. But taking care of his mortally wounded brother all alone? Between the two of them, Link was the trained medic.
“Mask,” his older brother said dazedly. “Wha- what happen'd?”
“Don't move!” Mask repeated when Link tried to look at the knife.
“Shit,” Link stated, his eyes widening as he realized where the knife was embedded.
“What do I do?!” Mask asked. He could feel himself beginning to panic and knew it would be stupid to do so, but he couldn't help it. Link was fatally wounded with a knife sticking out of him and he had had no idea what to do.
“Mask,” Link said, his voice firmer than before. “Mask.”
Mask tore his eyes away from the wound and looked at the captain’s face. He was pale, but his blue eyes shone as brightly as ever. Somehow the captain had wrangled his expression into his usual calm one despite the situation.
“You've got this,” Link said. His eyes were filled with a trust so intense that Mask had to look away. “There's something I need you to do for me. Okay?”
Mask nodded and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
“Do you have a potion or a fairy?”
Mask rummaged through his things and felt immense relief when he realized he'd brought his pouch. He had a red potion in it. Lately, he never went anywhere without it if it could be helped.
“In a moment, I'll need you to pull out the knife,” Link said. “When you do, it's really important that you pull it straight so that it doesn't hit anything important.”
Oh Hylia, he's talking about arteries, Mask thought hysterically. He might actually cut Link's most important artery if he wasn't careful; while the knife had missed the neck itself, it was still awfully close ... Mask felt nauseous at the thought.
“Right now, the knife is keeping the blood in. When you pull it, you need to be ready with that potion to stop the bleeding,” Link continued. “I might pass out, but don't be alarmed. Everything will be okay.”
Liar, Mask thought, but he kept it to himself. He didn't want to say something like that when this was possibly the last time-
Killing that thought, Mask grabbed the knife handle with shaking hands. He counted to three. Then he pulled it as firmly and steadily as he could.
The knife pulled free with a sickening squelch.
Mask had thought there was a lot of blood before, but it was nothing against the flood which now flowed out of his brother. Red, red, red, dark in the pale moonlight but nevertheless clearly discernable against his brother's skin.
Mask pressed his cape against the wound with one hand while he fumbled for the potion with the other. The captain’s breath hitched when he touched the wound, but that was the only response he got - Link was, as predicted, out cold.
Finally, Mask pulled the cork off the bottle and poured some potion into Link's mouth. He had a moment of panic when the captain didn't swallow, but he managed to get it down by massaging his neck. Slowly, much too slowly, Link drank the entire bottle. About halfway through, he regained consciousness, though he obviously had no idea what was going on. He whimpered in Mask's hold and weakly tried to push him away. When he was unsuccessful, he looked directly at Mask, eyes wide and fearful and entirely devoid of recognition.
Link was never this open with his emotions when he was properly awake. Mask had never seen him so afraid.
“It's okay,” Mask tried, painfully aware of how awkward his attempt at comfort was. “You're safe.”
Mask eyed the captain's size and quickly pulled out the Fierce Deity Mask. Using it was always a risk – there was no saying what Fierce might do or if he'd even let Mask take back control of his body – but there was no way he would be able to carry the captain without it.
He slipped the mask on – knowing the captain would have been clearly opposed to it, had he been awake – and felt his consciousness be pulled to the back of his mind as Fierce took over.
Please. Help us.
Fierce looked at the wounded man on the ground, his glowing eyes casting shadows across the pale face.
Then he pulled Link into his arms and gently carried him away.
Link woke up with a blaring headache, feeling like a wrung-out cloth. For a moment, all he could do was just lie there, wherever there was, and breathe.
“I think he's waking up.”
The sentence floated through his skull, bouncing around a few times before his brain finally made sense of it.
Someone was watching him sleep. For some reason Link couldn't quite place, the thought alone filled him with panic.
Link struck out blindly before even consciously deciding to do so. His wildly flailing arms connected with something hylian-shaped, and he heard someone curse.
Link's ragged breathing slowed a little. He knew that cursing.
With tremendous effort, he pried his eyes open and looked up at his little brother, who was rubbing a sore spot on his chin. Mask's hand stopped abruptly, chin forgotten, when he noticed Link's gaze.
“Captain!”
The genuine relief in Mask’s voice was overwhelming.
“Good to see you awake, captain,” came Impa's voice from the other side of the bed. Her back was straight, and she wore her armor, but even she seemed happy to see him conscious.
She looked between Mask and Link a few times, something unreadable in her eyes.
“I have some pressing matters to attend to. I'll leave you in Mask's capable hands for now.”
She turned to leave the room but paused with a hand on the door frame. Through the open door, Link could see a guard standing at attention.
“I expect you to spend today resting, captain,” Impa said with a pointed glare in his direction. “And that's a direct order.”
With those words, she strode out of the room, closing the door behind her.
Link turned back to Mask. Now that they were alone, he could suddenly feel how tense the atmosphere between them was. Link didn't even know how to broach the subject. No words seemed like quite enough when directed at your ten-year-old brother the day after he saved your life.
Well. He could always start with saying the most important stuff.
“Thank you.”
Mask looked away.
“Yeah, well ... I'm sorry I was so useless when you needed me,” he said. “The medic said you were really lucky; the knife missed everything important. You'll be back to normal in a few days.”
Link frowned, looking at the kid in front of him. He stood with hunched shoulders, an uncharacteristic shamefulness over his posture.
“Mask, you saved me,” he said, making sure to stress the words. “I can't thank you enough for that.”
The kid finally looked up, and Link realized with a start that there were tears in his eyes.
“But I didn't do anything! You were bleeding out, and I just stood there and let it happen!”
Mask angrily wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.
“I didn't even know what to do, and you could've died because of it!”
“And that was my fault,” Link cut firmly into Mask's tirade.
“What?” Mask sniffled. “How could that possibly be your fault?”
“Well, for starters, I should have been more careful. I shouldn't have left the barracks alone in the middle of night. And I should have realized something was up when Lawrence ... when he started saying all those things.”
An echo of Lawrence's voice whispered in Link's mind. Do you ever feel accountable? This war did start because Cia wanted you.
Link pushed it away. He would think about that later. Right now, Mask needed him.
“I still should've been able to help you,” Mask insisted in a watery voice.
“It was my responsibility to prepare you for that,” Link said gently. “And despite not being properly prepared, you still managed to step up and save me. That's really impressive, Mask. So thank you. You did more than anyone could have expected of you.”
Mask sniffled loudly.
“Really?”
“Really. And if you want to, I'll teach you how to care for wounds. So that you never get in a situation like that again.”
“I'd like that,” Mask said quietly and wiped his nose.
“We'll start as soon as I'm allowed to work,” Link smiled. “Now, c’mere. I lost a lot of blood, so I'm freezing.”
He held out the blanket he was covered by, and Mask climbed onto the bed after only a moment's hesitation. Link smiled as he settled his arm around his younger brother. He was freezing, so the extra body heat was nice, but it was mostly just a cover for demanding some cuddle-time with his little brother. Mask saw directly through that, of course, but neither of them commented on it.
There was still one thing Link needed to ask, though.
“Mask?” He started carefully. “I was wondering ... what happened to Lawrence after you pushed him off?”
Mask shifted in Link's hold.
“He got away,” the kid admitted quietly. “Impa sent out troops to look for him, but they haven't found anything yet.”
“I see.”
That was to be expected, Link supposed. Mask had been busy saving his life, so Lawrence would've had a solid head start when someone finally began looking for him.
Still ... it filled Link with some strange emotion to hear it confirmed. He couldn't quite place what it was. Dread that Lawrence got away? Fear of something similar happening again? Relief that his childhood friend was okay?
Link sighed. More than anything, he felt tired. He'd added another worry to the growing pile of things which kept him up at night.
“Link?” Mask asked.
“Mmm?”
“You said Lawrence said some things. What'd he say?”
Link pulled Mask closer and tried to still the whispering voice in his mind. He didn't quite succeed.
“You don’t have to worry about it,” he lied. “It was nothing important.”