Archive of Our Own

Link steps in all the quiet places on the floorboards until he reaches the front door of the house. It’s early in the morning, early enough that the sky is all pastel blues and pinks, the kinds of colors that he never got to see before the ranch. Dungeons aren’t exactly prone to happy color schemes, after all, and the Lost Woods’ canopy had always muddled the sunrise.

He places one hand on the doorknob.

“Daaaad,” a little voice calls. Link just barely keeps from jumping. How is it possible that all his children managed to inherit his silent footsteps? He hasn’t startled this much since he lived with the Kokiri and their love for pranks. He’d long since thought himself immune, before. Malon likes to call them her little Sheikah ninjas, but Link always smiles and calls them his sneaky little fairies, instead. After all, if they could follow him everywhere, they would.

He turns to look behind him, caught red-handed. His three little ones peek out at him from just behind the kitchen counter. His spitfire of a youngest son, a redhead with Malon’s disposition and Link’s preference for quiet, shushes his sister. Link’s only daughter—blonde, pig-tailed, and with more freckles than any one person should be able to have—only laughs, as carefree as ever. His oldest boy grins. He has Link’s coloring and Malon’s nose, laughs louder than anything when he’s on a horse, and he’s a natural with a sword that Link hopes he’ll never have to use.

His hair is too light, and his eyes are too round, but Link and Malon both see the traces of resemblance. It always sets them to giddy laughter, when they remember their expansive family tree soon to come, and the inheritance of a boy in Link’s old tunic and a wolf’s pelt.

If all goes well, Link is never going to see his descendant or the others again. He’s long since made his peace with it. He will simply treasure the memories of an adventure long past with comrades long gone, like he always does.

“Mom said to stop moping at the crack of dawn,” his oldest says, smirking. His youngest nods furiously.

“I know, I know,” Link laughs. “I just want to go see Epona. I promise I won’t be moping.”

“But do you pinky promise?” His daughter asks, wide-eyed.

“I do,” Link says. He holds out his pinky finger for each of his children to wrap their own around in turn. “And if you don’t tell your mother, I’ll take you all out to see the fairies later. How does that sound?”

Link is met with whispered cheers. Heh. Works every time.

He turns around, trusting them to handle themselves in the kitchen (as risky as that may be), and opens the front door. Cool, damp wind rushes against his face, and he breathes in deep.

He steps out and makes his way across the grass, watching how the dew collects on his boots. He wasn’t lying. As much as he tends to… ah… mope, he really does just want to go see Epona.

He makes it a hundred yards or so out before Epona is trotting towards him with a soft whinny. She’s slow, now. Likes to strain herself, as if she has something to prove, but she just can’t run like she used to. They rarely even close her stable pen anymore, leaving her free to roam as she pleases, like she’s always loved to do. How long will it be, until the day that she doesn’t come out to meet him? By the goddesses. He doesn’t know what he’ll do. What Malon will do.

The strange feeling of knowing that Epona, too, will exist again someday, is… oddly comforting. It’s selfish of him, but Link will always be selfishly reassured by the presence of a companion.

While he’s not paying attention, a voice that isn’t his own says, “Oh, there you are. That wasn’t too hard.”

Link reaches for a sword that isn’t there, his fingers closing around empty air. No one but his children have been able to sneak up on him in years. Surely, Link should have at least heard footsteps from the forest beyond? Surely, Epona would have noticed? Age certainly hasn’t calmed her temper, and she will not suffer harm to her masters even now.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” says Legend, raising two hands in the air. “Mostly.”

…Legend?

“Hey!” Link feels his face break out into a smile he can’t control. No wonder Epona didn’t warn him. She’s always been distantly fond of Legend, in the way that most animals were distantly fond of their old adventuring group. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“You should’ve,” Legend says. He smirks, tilting his head, with one hand on his hip. He doesn’t look a day older than when they all went home. The familiar motions, and that old expression, all on a face that he was certain he’d never see again, twist something in Link’s chest. It twists a lot like visiting the Kokiri and seeing just how little has changed, while Link can do nothing but.

“I did always preach ‘expect the unexpected,’ didn’t I?” Link laughs.

“Not going to ask how?”

“I’ve seen enough of traversing through time and worlds to question it much more.”

“You’ve got me there,” Legend says.

Oh, where are his manners? “Do you want to come inside? I’ve got warm food lined up soon, and a few people I’d love for you to meet. Then maybe you can tell me why you’ve come. Sound good?”

Legend hesitates. Maybe Link’s joviality is putting Legend off. After all, Time was a darker man. He’d been battle-worn and weary, missing his wife and worried for the young men he’d claimed as his responsibility, grinning just to bear it as all of their laughter was overshadowed by their pressing mission. But Link has had no reason to be anything but content, this past decade. Nothing is perfect, but he doesn’t want it to be. He has his family, he has a home, he has music to play, and he has a blade in case he needs it. He couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Actually,” Legend starts. He reaches for something in his pocket. He’s not wearing his bag? That’s odd. He must’ve come here on short notice, because Legend never goes anywhere without a veritable arsenal.

Voices ring out from across the ranch, and Epona nudges Link’s hand.

“Dad!”

“Dad, you’re taking too long!”

“Mom says you have to come and help me with breakfast!”

“It’s because you’re too short to reach the plates.”

“That’s not true!”

Link looks back. His children are standing in the doorway to the house. They wave at him, and Link raises a hand. He turns back to Legend, and a dry comment about ‘new companions’ dies on his tongue. Legend is frozen in place, his hand in mid-air, still halfway to his pocket.

“You alright?” Link asks.

“What?” Legend blinks. “Yeah, fine.”

“Then… do you want to come inside?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “No. Never mind. I should’ve known better than to come here first.”

Link smiles a smile learned from Malon. “Well now, that’s a bit rude.”

“Sorry, old man,” Legend says, turning around to walk right back into the forest. “This is beyond me. I’ll be back.”

“What’s that mean?”

There is no one there to respond. Link blinks his eyes, hard, but Legend is still gone. Link knows better than to think he imagined him, but it’s hard to think that he was really there, a decade-old memory that vanished without even leaving behind footsteps in the grass.

Well. It’s not really his problem now, is it?

“Dad!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!”

Link is brought back to awareness by the snapping of the sails as they unfurl.

“Pay attention, swords-for-brains,” Tetra tells him, her hands on her hips.

“Sorry,” Link laughs. “It’s just—the clouds look nice today, is all. Did you see the octorok-ish one? It scattered a second ago.”

“It’s a miracle you’ve survived on the open ocean this long,” Tetra sighs. “The sea is a fickle mistress, and—”

“And you must always be vigilant of her temper. I know.”

“Maybe if you listened, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself so much.”

“Maybe you’re just not creative enough to insult me in new ways.”

Tetra grabs his collar and yanks him towards her. “Maybe you should think before you speak.”

Link wraps his hand around hers, the one still gripping his shirt, and tilts his head forward so they’re nose-to-nose. “Maybe you should try that again.”

He’s rewarded with the slight widening of Tetra’s eyes. She drops him like he’s red-hot metal, shaking her hand and stumbling back. “Sages, Link. Who taught you how to fight back?”

“Gee, I wonder,” Link snickers.

“Y’know what? I’m blaming your sister. She’s always been braver than you.”

“Don’t you dare! Blame Grandma.”

“I should’ve known you two got your mouths from her.”

“That’s more like it.”

“Hey, I respect it.” Tetra makes for the helm, waving off her crew. “We’ve got smooth sailing for a while ahead of us, boys.”

“And me!” Aryll chirps from the crow’s nest.

“And Aryll,” Tetra adds. “We won’t be seeing land for many a day yet. But the wind’s at our backs, and if it ever stops, well, we’ve got a backup.” She winks at Link. He rolls his eyes.

“Three cheers to that,” Mako calls from across the deck.

Link takes that as a prime opportunity to stop paying attention again. He’s spent enough years with this crew to know when he’s not actually needed yet. Like Tetra said, it’s smooth sailing, just like it’s been for the past few weeks, and just like it was for the weeks before that.

It’s a bit odd.

(The open-ocean sunlight shines a little too brightly into Link’s eyes.)

He guesses Hylia and Nayru have taken mercy on them, something that Link thinks is well-deserved after he stabbed their worst enemy in the head. He’s actually been a little bored, not that he’s ever going to say anything about it. Smooth sailing is always good. He’d never wish for a storm or a monster, and looking for new lands is plenty enough for him. Still, as the crew’s designated adventurer, he can’t help but feel a little useless during these long stretches of peace. Not much has happened since the black-blooded monsters died out and he and the other heroes could go back home. It was stressful, sure, and definitely super risky and super terrifying, but at least with a blade and some seafaring wisdom he could contribute a bit more. Even Aryll’s more useful than he is now, what with her being the new lookout.

…Maybe he just misses his brothers sometimes. And so what if he does? It’s not like anyone’s gonna call him out on it.

“Boo,” says Legend.

“Oh, shut up, you can’t scare me anymore—woah!” Link practically leaps back. Think of the devil and he shall appear, because that’s definitely Legend. Wow. This is confusing and great all at once. “Woah, hi! What are you doing here? How did you get here? Never mind, I don’t care, it’s great to see you, it’s been forever! Actually, no, I do care. How did you get here? I don’t see a portal. Are you using one of your items? Wait, why don’t you have your stuff?”

Legend doesn’t fight him when Link pulls him into an impromptu hug, which is kinda weird in and of itself, but hey, maybe Legend’s just glad to see him too. He’s a dork. A crazy-prepared grumpy dork, but a dork nonetheless. Link’s not quite as tall as Legend yet, but he’s getting there. If Legend stays this short, he’ll have a big storm coming once Link finally gets the rest of his growth spurt. He can’t wait.

“Are the portals back?” Link asks once he pulls away.

“Well,” Legend says, “in a way.”

“Is that how you got here?”

“Nope.”

“You’re so cryptic.”

“I have my reasons.”

Legend squints in the brilliant sunlight. The waves splash against the ship’s hull, and for a moment, that rushing roar of water is all Link can hear.

“Hey,” Link starts. He’s not sure why he does, because he doesn’t know how to explain it, but something about the spray of saltwater and how the long shadows land on the deck means that he has to. “Isn’t this weird?”

“What’s weird?” Legend asks, oddly intent.

“I… I don’t know.” Link grits his teeth and scuffs his heel against the wood of the deck. He’s missing something. He can’t figure out what’s going on until he figures out what he’s missing, and he can’t figure out what he’s missing until he figures out what’s going on, and he can’t figure out what’s wrong with the ocean, and he can’t figure out how Legend is here, when there were no portals and no magic items and they’re on a ship in the middle of the damn Great Sea.

“Do you like it here?”

“Of course I do,” Link says. “Don’t I?”

“You tell me.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Figure it out, then.”

Link sputters. “Hey.”

“I mean it.” Legend reaches out and grabs Link’s wrist. His grip is just a little too tight. Is he okay? “Figure it out. Pay attention. Watch the edges.”

“I don’t see how—”

“If I leave,” Legend interrupts, letting him go, “will you be able to answer me when I come back?”

“…Yeah, I think so,” Link says. He’s not all that sure, but for some reason, he just really doesn’t want to disappoint Legend right now. Not with the way he’s looking at him—serious, straight-faced, his eyes tracking every single one of Link’s movements.

“Good,” Legend breathes. “Good.”

“Where are you going?” Link asks. The ship rocks, and Tetra yells something about ropes at him. Link shouts something about knots to her and looks back over at Legend.

Or… not.

He’s gone. Like he was never there at all.

Something about that strikes a familiar chord in Link, something he should certainly remember, but with the wind whipping through his hair and Tetra shouting in his ears, he can’t pull his thoughts together enough to try.

Clang. Clang. Clang.

Giving Blue the hammer had been a good idea. He has some excess energy to let out. Vio is doing as well on the filigree as he always does, occasionally hissing a few curses under his breath when the little details aren’t exactly right. Red’s handling the storefront just fine. Green pushes down on the bellows, maintaining the heat of the flame, and Blue grunts approvingly while he pounds the blade into shape.

All in all, things are going quite well for Link. He doesn’t split as often these days, but sometimes eight hands really are better than two, especially when he’s got a sword this important to forge. It had been requested by Zelda specifically with a joking shove to his shoulder and a little laugh, accompanied by a very formal paper request. It’s for something ceremonial or other, the kind of thing that she’s long since stopped expecting him to care about, but Link’s not stupid enough to ignore that these kinds of symbols are good for running a kingdom. There’s not much he wouldn’t do for her, anyway. Making her a fancy sword so she can negotiate with… what was it? Some incoming noble Labrynnian general? Prince? Well, whatever it is, it’s not too much to ask of him.

He’s a lot faster about it now, too. He wonders what Wild would say about how quickly he could forge him that unbreakable sword with his current mastery of the craft. It took him weeks, back then, not including all the time Wild spent breaking his prototypes. Now, he could probably make that same sword in three days.

But that’s only because he could make a much better one in seven.

Red glances up at a knock on the doorframe. “Oh, Grandpa, you shouldn’t be up and about,” he frets.

“Nonsense,” Grandpa says. “These old bones have survived much more than a walk across the house, Link.”

“Still,” Vio says.

“Are you at a stopping point? There’s someone loitering outside our yard,” Grandpa says with a wry smile. “I’d tell him off, but he’s got a hat like yours. Looks a bit like one of those fellows from ages back. Your troupe of blondes.”

All four of himself freeze. “You’re sure?” Green asks.

“Positive,” Grandpa says.

“We’ll take care of it, just go sit back down!” Red insists. With a laugh, Grandpa complies, much to Link’s relief. Then he starts bustling. Blue hammers out the rough parts of the sword, plunging it into water with a hiss and a truly violent puff of steam. Vio finishes up his measurement-perfect filigree with truly shocking speed. Red starts taking everyone’s hair down from various screwed-up ponytails so they look presentable (Link’s been letting it grow out because Zelda likes braiding it, and now she just seems to like how it looks, so he’s got no reason to change it). Green scrambles to the window and runs back to his other selves.

“It’s him!”

“Are you sure?” Vio asks.

“Well, it looks like him,” Green shrugs. “We should still check, though.”

“Everyone, out,” Blue says.

Red quickly starts shoving everyone out the door, only stopping once they’re at the edge of the steps.

Now that all of himself can get a good look at him… yeah, that sure looks like Legend. Somehow.

His first instinct is suspicion. Vio has certainly read all about duplicates, Red is generally paranoid, and Green has ended up unsure, so Red ends up in a muttered argument with Green while Vio narrows his eyes at the boy who appears to be, by all rights, Legend. Blue settles back to wait, a single hand resting lightly on his sword.

“Is that you, collector?” Green says lightly.

“Which answer makes you more likely to believe me?” Legend asks. Smart. Just saying ‘yes’ is suspicious because Link expects Legend to respond to any question sarcastically. But saying ‘no,’ sarcastic or not, is also suspicious because he could be telling the truth and disguising it as a joke. This kind of noncommittal, careful, and vaguely judgy answer is perfectly Legend.

Link reaches all his hands towards his sword. With a glimmer of magical light that Link thinks is far too bright for how often he’s done this, he settles himself back into a single shape.

“Now, this is a surprise. What brings you back to ancient times?” Link asks. He grins, running down the steps to pull Legend down into a short hug. It’s been years since he’s seen any of them, he can have at least this. “Finally get that harp of yours working right? I remember you saying it’s too specific…?”

“No,” Legend says. Link waits for him to elaborate further. He does not.

Link takes a second to look him up and down. Neither Link nor Legend have grown a single inch. But where Link’s older, feels it in his hands and how long his hair is now, how his wrists have started to ache, how easy smiles come to his face, Legend looks exactly the same. Right down to the rings and loose hat. There’s sand on his boots, like he’s come right from the desert, but Link knows that the western deserts aren’t anywhere near central Hyrule in either Legend’s time or his own. What would he being doing in the desert even if he did come from one, anyway? And where is his bag?

There’s something odd about the way Legend’s looking at him. Like he’s just realized something. Link isn’t sure what there is for him to realize. It can’t have been the split, Link certainly revealed that particular secret to their old group. Maybe it’s just that Link is eight years older and not even the teeniest bit taller.

“What’s with you?” he asks. He pokes Legend in the arm, smiling at him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Legend visibly forces the odd expression away from his face. “If I was looking at a ghost,” Legend says, “I don’t think I’d be looking down.”

Link, reasonably, kicks him in the shin. “Hardy-har-har,” he says with a grin. “You’re still sooo funny.”

“I’m hilarious,” Legend says, his voice flat, a small smile growing on his face (just like Link planned. Never let anyone say he can’t be clever).

“Why are you here, if not for a social call?” Link tilts his head far to the side, a habit picked up from the Minish that he never quite dropped. “There hasn’t been any dark magic around, if that’s what you want to know.”

“What about other magic?”

“...Other magic?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, there’s always other magic around, but I’m not the traveler. I can’t pick up on those kinds of subtleties.”

“Try.”

“You can’t order me around, you know. I’m older than you now.”

“Just do it.”

“Why?”

Legend crosses his arms, neutrality failing, falling into frustration. “Why don’t you want to check?”

“Because it won’t matter.”

“So what harm is there in checking?” Legend raises his eyebrows, his hands tightening into fists.

Link huffs. “It just doesn’t matter!” He gestures all around him, sharp and sure and angry that Legend keeps insisting. “If you think there’s something wrong with—with my house, or something, there isn’t, okay? I would know, I live here. Don’t insult my skill. There’s no dark magic and there are no portals and monsters won’t come near this town while I’m here, so it’s all perfectly fine!”

Link’s outburst rings in his own ears.

“Are you sure?”

“For Din’s sake, yes, I’m sure,” Link throws his hands up.

“Fine, then! See if I—” Legend stops. Shakes his head. “Just think about it, okay? I’ll be back. I’m going to try something else.”

“Do it then,” Link says. “Maybe you’ll have a few better ideas when you come back. Like explaining yourself instead of trying to give me orders.”

Legend doesn’t say anything more. He turns around and trudges down the worn path that leads from Link and his grandfather’s house to Hyrule Town. He leaves no footsteps in the dirt. Must be a weird side effect of his boots, though Link’s own Pegasus Boots do no such thing.

When Legend is finally gone, Link cannot, for the life of him, remember why he was so angry.

“Link! Link, come spar with me!” Colin runs up to him, waving his wooden swords around. He’s nearly an adult, but he still smiles like a little kid and looks at Link like he hung all the stars in the sky. There is nothing that Link wouldn’t do for him. A spar is the easiest thing in the world.

“Sure thing.” Link ties the last knot around the fencepost. The goats will be fine for the next few hours. Let no one ever say he isn’t the best goatherd that ever lived. Just look at those knots. They’re fantastic knots, even if Midna would make fun of him for them.

The thought doesn’t sting as much as it used to. Link has had a long time to get used to her absence. He stopped looking for answers in his shadow years ago.

Colin comes to a screeching halt in front of him, holding out his glorified stick for Link to take.

Link takes a second to marvel at how tall Colin’s gotten. Much taller than Link by now, certainly. He can’t match Link in a spar yet though, and after all that Link’s done (is still doing) it’s possible he never will. Still, Link is nothing if not faithful, and someday he’d love to be knocked flat by Colin’s wooden blade.

Over the past near-decade, Colin, Rusl, and Uli are the only ones that never seemed to mind Link’s new restlessness. How Ordon presses against his skin like an old favorite shirt. The kind that’s just a little too tight around the collar, but you still so desperately want to keep wearing it, because it’s soft and familiar and yours.

Colin plants his feet in a perfect stance, holding up his sword at just the right angle. Link matches him, but his stance is just a little wrong, his sword held just a little strangely. It makes it easier to switch hands, something that Colin learned the hard way.

“Come and get it, old man,” Colin grins. For reasons that Colin will never understand, Link throws back his head and laughs.

Link takes him down in twelve seconds flat. To Colin’s credit, that’s exactly two seconds longer than it took him last time.

Colin laughs. “Oh, come—“

“—on, Link! You’re so slow.” Midna grabs his tunic and yanks him forward, and he stumbles slightly, but probably not as much as she wants him to. His feet crunch on the gravel path. Her feet don’t make a sound. Even on a mountain in the middle of nowhere, she is far more graceful than is human or Hylian. The long walk to Castle Town has given her ample opportunity to rub it in his face. Luckily, Link can rub it in her face that she has to duck to avoid tree branches now. She’s tall enough for them to very, very easily smack her in the face.

“I know, I know.”

“I’m going to turn you into a wolf again, just so you walk faster.”

“Sure you will.”

She whirls around, scattering dust, her red hair glimmering under the noon sun. “You doubt me? How dare you!”

“I usually doubt you, Midna.” Any other person would be terrified at the sight of an affronted Queen of Twilight, but Link knows better. As tall, imposing, and (goddesses help him) regal as she is now, rather than that teeny little imp, she still loves to argue and insult just for the sake of it.

“I am a queen, and I demand to be addressed as Your Majesty.”

“No.”

“I far outrank you, goatherd.”

“…That might not be true.”

“Oh?” She grins. Her teeth are sharp. That’s okay, though. So are Link’s. “Do tell me about your sudden ascension to royal status.”

“Well. The spirit of the hero—that’s me, by the way—is just one soul reincarnated a bunch of times. Right?”

“Right…” she trails off. She narrows her eyes at him, not sure where he’s going with this. Link lets himself enjoy having the upper hand in conversation for once. It doesn’t happen often.

“And we know of at least two other incarnations of myself that are going to marry Zelda, possibly more…”

“Are you trying to claim royal status from your other selves?”

“Yes.”

Midna scoffs. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I was the first King of Hyrule to ever exist. I definitely outrank you now, Queen of Twilight.”

She pretends to not preen at Link using her title. Link politely pretends to not be laughing at her.

“Even if you were right,” she says, “which you’re not, that would make us equal.”

“But I’ve been, or am going to be, a king at least twice. That’s double king to your single queen.”

“You aren’t even a king!” She throws up her hands, and her jewelry jingles. She’s been enjoying being able to wear her bracelets again. “Stop trying to escape your true farmer self.”

“Are you saying it’s improper for a king to get his hands dirty? For shame.”

“I’m going to throw you off this mountain.”

“But then you’d miss me.”

Despite herself, Midna laughs. Link covers his mouth with his hand so she can’t see his proud grin.

She stops laughing. “Hey, who’s—“

“—that?” Colin asks.

“Who’s what?” Link lowers his wooden sword.

“There’s someone over there,” Colin points. “Isn’t that one of your brothers?”

Link freezes, his hand tightening around the makeshift hilt. He’s long since stopped worrying about the splinters he gets from these things.

“…That isn’t possible,” he finally says, not even believing the words as they come out of his mouth. Who is he to talk about impossibility? “Hey, vet. That really you?”

“Yep,” Legend drawls. Link raises his eyebrows at his appearance. Namely, that he still doesn’t look a day over eighteen, and that he seems mildly nauseous.

“Looking a little green there. Portals finally catching up to you?” As far as Link is concerned, it’s well-deserved. Legend had never hesitated to rub in just how unaffected he was by hopping through worlds and times. Maybe a little magic motion sickness is what he needs.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Legend is smiling awkwardly, like he’s saying something that Link should understand but doesn’t. Link will skillfully ignore the implications of such things. Pretending to be obtuse is a skill, and he has mastered it. Legend never really understood it, if Link’s remembering those old adventures right. He was always determined to be the smartest person in the room. There’s value in that, too.

“What brings you here?” Link finally smiles back at him. Strange or not, it’s always nice to see a brother. “I thought you’d be…”

“Taller?”

“Older,” Link says. Legend scoffs. He doesn’t pull away when Link briefly clasps his hand in both of his own.

“You should come and see everyone again. Colin, you remember the hoarder, don’t you?”

Colin, who has been standing there shifting his weight and refusing to make eye contact the entire time, mutters a hesitant “Yes?”

“It’s been a while, you know.” Link gives Legend his most apologetic smile.

“Oh, has it?” Legend asks. Link supposes that it’s an understandable question to ask. It can’t have been very long for Legend at all.

“Seven years,” Colin says.

“Auspicious,” Legend says.

Colin gives him a funny look. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Woah, hey. Colin, don’t start picking fights. Vet, you know better than to take that kind of bait. C’mon.”

Legend pauses. “Were you two sparring, before I came here?”

“Yup,” Link says. “Colin’s getting better.”

“No, I’m not,” Colin groans.

Link rolls his eyes. “Yes, you are.”

“Hey,” Colin says, “Hero of Legend, right? Would you spar with me this time?”

“Sure,” Legend shrugs. It’s strange, because he doesn’t even have his sword, but it’s fine, because Link will have to go get him a wooden one anyway.

“Thanks,” Colin grins. “Maybe I’ll be able to beat you, even if I can’t beat him.”

Link laughs. He’s been on the other side of Legend’s blade in a spar before, and, well. “Sure. Keep thinking that, bud.”

“It’s possible,” Colin argues. “Do you think we can—”

“—go now? I’m bored,” Midna groans.

“Don’t be like that, Midna.” Link sighs. “He only just got here.”

“Yeah,” Legend croaks. “Don’t be like that.” His face is suddenly, drastically paler, and he’s hunched over, like he really is going to hurl.

“Oh, Faron, are you okay?” Link reaches out a hand to steady Legend, but Legend waves him off. He easily straightens. Some color returns to his face, though not much, but you wouldn’t ever know by looking at his expression.

“I don’t suppose I can spar you instead of Colin,” Legend says to Midna.

“You wouldn’t like it very much.” Midna’s grin is playfully sinister. At least, Link hopes she’s being playful.

“Why were you going to spar Colin?” Link laughs. “That would be short, to say the least.”

“Besides, the little kiddie’s back in Ordon, where he belongs.” Midna drapes herself over Link’s shoulders. Link, used to this, doesn’t even flinch, despite the sudden weight. She likes to forget that she isn’t only six pounds anymore.

“Who’s this?” Legend asks Link, pointing to her. “She’s the partner you talked all about, right? I thought she’d be smaller.”

“Ugh,” Midna groans.

“Midna, I’ve been wanting to introduce you to my brothers for ages. This is the perfect opportunity.”

“Introduce? I met them forever ago, remember?”

“What? No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Midna rolls her eyes. “When you—”

“—Came here after that redead fight,” Colin says. “I was so surprised, I didn’t think Link had any family anywhere else.”

“Neither did I,” Link mutters.

Legend doesn’t say anything. That’s odd in and of itself, because Legend always has something to say, so Link scrutinizes him a little more.

Legend looks… a lot worse. There’s not a drop of color in his face now. He clutches something in his pocket, and stumbles backwards slightly.

…Maybe this is more than just portal-induced motion sickness.

“I think a spar would be a bad idea,” Link decides.

“Aww,” Colin drops his sword. “That’s alright, though. If you’re not feeling okay, we can do it another time.”

“That should be fine,” Link says.

“Wait.” Colin stops. “Where’d he go?”

Link checks where just saw Legend standing not even a second ago. Somehow, while looking like literal death, Legend managed to completely disappear. Link is disappointed, but not surprised, and more than a little weirded out by the whole thing.

“Maybe he finally had to throw up,” Midna snorts.

“Maybe he went home?” Colin asks.

“Maybe,” Link says, but he hesitates.

Link drops another stack of uncut wood onto the pile.

“Great job, bud!” Groose shouts, waving from one of the half-constructed homes. He sets down his tools and jogs up to Link, making sure to ruffle his hair with all the fond roughness that Groose always treats his best friends with. “Just a couple more stacks, and then I’ve got you on plank slicing duty, haha!”

Link smiles. It is definitely not strained. “Sure thing, Groose.”

“Nah,” Groose shakes his head. “What’ve I told you about being a pushover? I know how much you hate slicing duty, you artsy wimp.” He elbows Link with a little grin. “I’ve got you doing painting on the doors and shutters down that-a-way.”

“Oh, thank the goddess,” Link laughs. Groose’s smile widens. He’s been getting better at delegation lately, and he gets prouder of himself with every successful task delegated. He likes it when they like the work.

“Thank her yourself,” Groose snorts. He looks askance at the enormous statue in the center of their settlement.

“Speaking of which, have you seen Zelda? I can’t find her anywhere.”

“Zelda…? Oh. Nope. Betcha she’s off frolicking somewhere, you know how she is.”

“Oh, hush, she’s just enjoying the surface.”

“At the cost of productivity!” Groose laughs. “Speaking of which…”

“I’m on it,” Link sighs.

“‘Atta boy.”

Link trudges back to the forest. Just a few more stacks, Groose said. A few more stacks. Then he can paint. Then he can find Zelda. What time is it? He checks the position of the sun. Around ten or eleven. That’s fine. He has plenty of time.

A few stacks of chopped wood layer, Link dumps them onto the pile. “Hey, how much more do you need?”

“Only a couple more,” Groose says.

“Have you seen Zelda?”

Groose gives him a confused glance.

“Yeah, alright.” Link shakes his head. Of course he hasn’t seen her, he’s been here building houses the whole time. It hasn’t even been that long—when he checks the position of the sun, it’s still around eleven.

Link resigns himself to chopping more wood. He deserves the longest nap ever after this. He picks his way into the woods, trying to choose trees that won’t disturb the natural landscape too much. Between two larger trees, Legend watches him with a bemused expression.

Wait a second. Wait a second! Legend?

Link does a double take, looking back and forth between the forest and Legend, the forest and Legend, but Legend doesn’t vanish, so Link’s not imagining him. Probably.

“Hey there, Sky,” Legend waves. “How’ve you been?”

“What are you doing here?” Link gasps, running up and pulling Legend into a quick hug. Legend squawks, but pats his shoulder, which is probably the nicest response that Legend has ever had to a surprise hug.

Link knows better than to push it, and he lets go of Legend quickly. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

“Just checking in,” Legend says. Link doesn’t quite believe him, because Legend has the look of adventure about him, but if Legend’s not coming clean then Link isn’t going to press. Yet. Besides, Link is busy.

“Oh, perfect! Hey, do you think you could help me out? I need to cut down more wood for Groose—he’s in charge of construction, he’s impressively good at it, you should see the kind of math he has to do—and after I’m done I get to paint, so it would be lovely if you could help me finish it faster. I have so many ideas for the doors, I think I should border them with designs like our embroidery patterns but I’m worried it will leave the centers too empty. But at the same time, I don’t want to make them too busy. You know?”

“You’re feeling talkative today,” Legend says.

Link fusses with his hair a little sheepishly. “I haven’t seen Zelda in a while. I’ve got a lot of things to say stockpiled up.”

“How long has it been, exactly, since you’ve seen her?”

“You know, I don’t know exactly… a long while though, that’s for certain.” Long enough for his concern to quietly begin to mount. What time is it, anyway? Eleven? Surely, the sun should be lower in the sky by now, but Link has never had the best sense of time. What he would give to be able to ask Time himself… ah, well. Such is life. He’s lucky to have even Legend here now, after the certainty of their goodbyes.

Legend picks up a stack of chopped wood.

Link smiles. “Thank you.”

“Whatever,” Legend rolls his eyes. “I just want you to get done faster.”

“Just a few hours,” Link says.

They go back and forth between the forest and the growing town for a while. Groose gives Legend an odd look, but doesn’t say anything. Link chatters on about the settling and the state of Skyloft and his wedding a year ago, while Legend quietly ‘hms’ and ‘mhms’ in all the right places. Link doesn’t think Legend is really listening, but he doesn’t mind. Honestly, it’s just nice to see him again. It’s good to know that he’s alright. Link hadn’t realized just how bad his worrywart tendencies had gotten until his pool of worrywart victims was so suddenly reduced.

“Hurry it up, slowpoke,” Legend says, scrunching his nose, much like a rabbit. Oops. Link keeps letting himself get distracted.

“I’m going, I’m going.”

He hadn’t noticed it much before, but Legend really is rather… rabbit-like. In the same way that Link hadn’t known to compare Twilight to a wolf before seeing packs of wolves, he hadn’t been around enough rabbits on the surface to really see it until now. None of the surface rabbits had been quite as pink as Legend’s rabbit form had been, or quite so chatty, but Legend’s hair hangs down around his face much like rabbit ears do, and when he flicks his head around to check if Link is still following him, Link has to hold his laughter in his lungs.

When he sees just how far behind him Link has gotten, he says something falsely berating with both hands on his hips, and he bounces a little on his heels. The motion is undoubtedly rabbit-like, yes, but also so much like Zelda that it steals his breath for moment.

He needs to find her.

After they drop off their stacks, like he read his mind, Legend says, “Shouldn’t your Zelda have been back by now?”

"Normally she comes to find me,” Link admits. “I’m getting a little worried.”

“Is there anything else you’re worried about?”

“No. Should there be?”

“Yeah.”

“Like what?”

“…How much wood Groose needs.”

“He’s building houses, vet. Of course he needs a lot of chopped wood. Just be glad we’re not on slicing duty.”

“How long are we supposed to keep doing this, anyway? It’s been forever,” Legend groans.

“It can’t have been that long. Look, the sun hasn’t even reached noon yet.”

“There’s no way.”

“See for yourself.”

Legend looks up, and groans even louder. “That’s it. I’m coming back when I have some better ideas.” He turns right around and stomps off.

“Where are you going to go?” Link smiles and asks, bemused. It’s not like there’s anywhere else for him go on the surface, unless he feels like hanging out with Hylia’s statue or some old temples.

“I said I’d be back, and I’ll be back!” Legend waves, without looking behind him.

“Okay,” Link says. “Sure.”

He didn’t really believe that Legend was actually leaving then, but when Link goes looking for him, he can’t find him at all. Now he’s lost two people in one day. Strange.

He might as well take a break and head to Hylia’s fallen statue. Knowing their own connections to her, it’s as likely a place as any for Zelda and Legend to be. He easily reaches the foot of the statue, and he goes to smile up at her stone visage, where her stern, carved expression will be, hiding her kindness underneath.

But when he raises his eyes to look at her, her face is entirely gone.

“I’m going to check the perimeter,” Link all but growls.

“It’s useless,” Zelda sighs.

“You, of all people, know that it can never be useless.”

“Five years, Link. Five years without so much as a monster attack, much less another large-scale invasion—“

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Link says.

“—So you could stand to relax for a single moment.”

“No.”

“You haven’t been doing well, lately.” Zelda’s face softens, her voice quiets.

Link knows that already, thank you very much. If his head was clearer, he wouldn’t be fighting with her. At the very least, he would certainly argue with her more skillfully. But as it stands, he is right, and he isn’t going to let his muddled thoughts excuse his inaction when the time comes for another bloody battle.

He can’t—he can’t really—he can’t quite remember when it started. When the monsters stopped coming, and he stopped being able to think. Impa thinks one too many concussions caught up to him, Zelda thinks he’s sick, and his men think he’s just become terribly paranoid in the wake of the war. Zelda claims it’s been five years, but—he didn’t do anything, those past five years. And that can’t be right. He wouldn’t have sat around waiting for something to happen for five whole years. Would he?

It would be easier if he could remember those five years. If his last clear memory wasn’t reaching for his sword in a town he doesn’t recognize. Or maybe it was Time’s stern eyes, blue gone golden under the heavy sunset, framed by desert sand. Or maybe it was stepping through the portal for the last time, goodbyes ringing in his ears. By Hylia, is this how Wild felt all the time?

“My thoughts are not as quick as I’d like them to be,” Link admits, “but my experience is as clear to me as ever, and my strategies have not changed.”

“I know,” Zelda says, “but—“

“Five years is not long enough to satisfy me,” Link insists. “I’m going to check the perimeter. Just around the castle grounds. I won’t be long.”

Zelda closes her eyes. “Fine.”

Link bows, as is proper, even as a headache starts to press against his temples. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Zelda nods, dismissing him, and Link whirls out of the throne room. His armor clanks, and Link has never wanted to throw something so pretty into a volcano more than he does right now. It’s ceremonial, apparently, and just like his green tunic, meant for the hero or something. It reminds him a little bit of Time’s old getup, but if it looked stupid instead of heroic. He’s only wearing it to keep Zelda and the soldiers happy, because they seem to think that he deserves to be fancy, or something? Link doesn’t know. At least he can still wear his scarf.

Five years of utter peace. Five years without a conflict in sight. Five years. That’s ridiculous.

Five years he can hardly remember. He came back from his adventure with the others and absolutely nothing has happened since. It’s impossible. Something is brewing, something must be brewing. There is evil on the horizon. When was the last time Link left the castle?

By the time he reaches the edge of the grounds, Link’s headache has reached truly epic proportions. The more he thinks about it, the more it hurts, but Link is nothing if not stubborn.

There is something more here that he doesn’t understand. And nothing is going to stop Link from tearing apart this mystery until he figures it out. Headache. Or. Not.

Hang on. Is that Legend?

Link squints at the figure eyeing the castle walls. That’s him. That’s him! No one else has bangs that stupid! It must be destiny. Link doesn’t even care if this is the start of another journey, as long as it gets him out of here.

“Veteran!” He can’t help but shout. “Vet, by Farore’s green earth and Din’s holy fire and everything in between, thank goodness you’re here.” He rushes up to where Legend is staring at him with wide, startled eyes. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew something was up! Let the goddesses know that I called it!”

Legend recovers quickly. He crosses his arms, smirking, but his searching eyes betray him. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really, don’t give me that.”

“Is it the outfit? Because…”

“Believe me,” Link takes the time to glare down at his armor, “if I had a choice, I would not be wearing this.”

“Interesting,” Legend says.

“It is?” Link frowns. Why would he think it’s interesting? You know what, never mind. “Anyway, I—“

“What do you think is happening?”

Link freezes. “—Was hoping—what?”

“You said you knew something was up. What do you think is happening?” Legend’s giving him the I’m trying to hint at something face, which means that Link should probably listen. Forgive him for being a little overwhelmed, okay? His brain is absolutely scrambled to high heaven right now. It’s exceedingly uncomfortable.

“Something is keeping me from,” he lightly hits the side of his head with his fist, “thinking properly. But I remember almost nothing of the past five years, and for some reason I agreed to wear this, and… let me try something.”

Legend tilts his head, but says nothing. Link takes that as an invitation for him do his experiment, so he walks to the very edge of the grounds.

“...What are you doing?”

“I can’t remember leaving the castle at all, recently,” Link says. “Why wouldn’t I leave? I need to go on patrols, I need to check on the garrisons, I don’t want to be stuck cooped up in here. Not after everything we’ve done.”

Steeling himself, Link marches down the pathway, where the cobblestones turn to dirt, marking the end of the grounds and the start of Hyrule proper. When he makes to step his foot over the edge, he stops. Feels his knees lock, his muscles freeze and tense. And he cannot move any further.

No, that’s not right. He won’t move any further. Nothing is stopping him, he just… doesn’t want to. So he will not.

“That’s what I thought,” Link mutters.

“Sloppy,” Legend observes.

“Hey.”

“No, not you.” Legend looks up, at the sky, like he’s expecting to see something there. “This place. It’s sloppy work.”

“Why won’t I go any further?” Link asks. “The longer I stay here, the more I want to scream, but I can’t make myself leave.”

Legend points to the far distance that Link just barely cannot reach. He makes no move to try Link’s experiment for himself. “Is there even anything there?”

Link scoffs. “What do you mean? The rest of the kingdom is out there, just beyond.”

“Is it?”

Link glances over at Legend. Legend’s eyes are on him, wide and intense. His fingers are clutched around something in his pocket. Where’s his bag? How is Link supposed to tease him for being a hoarder if he isn’t carting around four boomerangs, three shovels, and an entire orchestra? Is he okay? He looks fine. Maybe a little stressed, but hey, so is Link.

“Look,” Legend says.

Link looks. He sees, at first, what he expects to see—forests, the rising smoke of the chimneys of distant towns, rolling hills that preface mountains. He blinks. It’s a little blurry, but that could just be his headache. He stops expecting. He blinks again.

Nothing. There’s nothing there.

Is this why he won’t go any further? Because there is nowhere further to go?

His headache increases tenfold.

By the time that Link can see again, he is on the ground, clutching his head as it throbs in time with his heartbeat.

“—tain? Captain, look at me. Don’t make me slap you. I’ll do it, you know I will.”

“No,” Link coughs, “no need for that.”

Legend sits back, relief clear in the slump of his shoulders, even as he narrows his eyes at Link. Legend pulls him up from the ground. Link stumbles, but it is only perceptible to himself. There’s no need to worry Legend any more than he’s already worried, now is there? Goddesses, he’s missed him. He can’t wait to get out of here so they can start arguing again.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing,” Link laughs. “And that’s the problem. Hey, vet, can I ask you a weird question?”

“Sure.”

“Is any of this real?”

To Link’s surprise, Legend’s face breaks out into blinding, genuine grin. “Now you’re asking the right questions.”

“I… am I hallucinating? No. Am I dreaming?” Link’s eyes wander across the forest, the brilliant blue sky, the castle behind him, Legend standing in the grass. The entire scene wavers, as though it can hardly hold its shape. Legend turns his head, and the sky silhouetting him follows the movement, creeping closer, then it skitters back at the last second, repelled and frightened by something Link cannot quite see.

It’s… nauseating. To say the least.

“Yes. You are.”

“It’s not real,” Link says, testing out the words in his mouth. His headache rises, but he ignores it, because it’s not a real headache anyway. “None of this is real.”

“Yep.”

Link feels a relieved smile grow on his face. He can’t control it, and doesn’t particularly want to. “Oh, thank the goddesses. This dream is awful. I can’t stand it. If it had been real, if this was really my life, I might have actually, genuinely exploded.”

“See, that’s what’s strange,” Legend says, squinting at Link a little. “These dream constructions are supposed to be about what you want. Why were you so unhappy in yours? None of the others so far have been quite so… uh… stir-crazy.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Link says. “I want peace. I just know how impossible it is when I’m given it.”

“Now that’s a loophole if I’ve ever seen one.”

“It sure is. Wait, the others?”

“Yeah,” Legend sighs. “We need to get out of here. If these dreams don’t kill us, the champion’s Hyrule probably will.”

Now that he’s mentioned it, Link does remember something like that. He can almost feel the hot desert sun and the sand beneath his hands, if he tries. “How?”

Legend grins again. This time, it’s a little less genuine, and a whole lot sharper. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen for years. I knew it would happen. I knew. So I’m prepared,” he says. He finally pulls his hand out of his pocket. He holds out two charms, inlaid in an iridescent gold-ish metal, carved with circular shapes and colorful triangles. “You just need to hold this and say the code word I’ve set.”

“Easy,” Link says. Legend keeps ahold of one charm and tosses him the other, and Link catches it. Instantly, the feeling of sun and sand against his skin comes into sharp clarity.

“Not quite.” Legend hesitates. “I can’t tell you the code word myself. I can’t let go of the charm, just in case it traps me here too, and I can’t say the word without waking myself up too quickly. And…” He hesitates, oddly embarrassed. “I made it sort of… complicated. I wanted to use a word that I would never say normally.”

“You just need to write it down,” Link shrugs. “How hard can it be?”

The answer is extremely.

At first, Legend started writing it in the dirt with a stick. This was reasonable, until they remembered that their Hylian scripts were different, and promptly started arguing over correct lettering. Eventually, Link ended up writing out his alphabet, and with each sound that he described, Legend wrote his own corresponding letters. Finally, now, they have something cobbled together that should work.

The problem is that it is ridiculously hard to pronounce.

“Say it,” Legend says. He slaps his drawing stick against the ground. “Go on, say it. I’ve transposed it entirely into your Hylian and everything. Come on.”

Link hisses air through his teeth. “Um. Sashas—“

“Wrong.”

“Saharsh—“

“Wrong.”

“Sahasrasha?”

“Still wrong!”

“Good goddesses, why did you make this so hard?”

“I didn’t name the man!”

“This is someone’s name?”

“Yes!”

“Did you call him this to his face?”

“No! That’s why it makes a good code word!”

“You really should’ve thought this through.”

Legend throws up his hands. “I was sixteen when I made these, alright? Give me a break.”

“Aren’t you still, like, eighteen?”

“Who cares!”

“Okay, okay. One sound at a time.” Link takes a deep breath. “Sa-has-rah-la.”

Warriors flinches as his eyes shoot open and sounds rush into his ears, no longer the falsity of a dream but real, oh-so-very real. He doesn’t know how he could’ve ever mixed a dream up for the real thing, now that he can tighten his fists and grip sand between his fingers, now that the sun, low in the sky, burns his eyes and leaves spotty afterimages, now that he can hear his own harsh breathing. In, out. In, out.

He struggles to sit up. He feels, above all things, exhausted.

In, out.

No more sleep for Warriors, though. No, thank you. He’s done plenty of that already.

“Are you alright?”

Legend stands above him, a hand held out for him to take. Gratefully, Warriors grips it with both hands, letting Legend pull him upwards, handing the charm back as he does. Warriors feels leagues better with his feet solidly below him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

In, out.

He takes a look at their surroundings. The two of them are inside the enormous ribcage of some great beast, the bones bleached white from sand and sun and time. The skull of it hangs limply some distance ahead. Around them, Wild’s Gerudo Desert stretches for miles in every direction. The sky is stained the same color as the sand, offensively orange, while the sun burns closer and closer to red with every passing second.

Their seven comrades lay, asleep, in the sand beneath the bones. They look okay. They look a bit like Legend must have arranged them, because while everyone is lying comfortably with their weapons laid out nicely beside them, Warriors can faintly remember just dropping where he stood.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Warriors asks.

Legend gives him a questioning look.

“That it was a dream,” Warriors explains. “I would have believed you.”

“Would you have?” Legend says. He smirks. Tilts his head, a silent invitation.

Warriors doesn’t give him the chance to turn it into a joke. “Yes.”

“…Do you remember how when you tried to leave, you couldn’t move any further?”

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t have had the chance to believe me. It wouldn’t have given you the choice to listen.”

“It?”

Legend gestures broadly at the old bones. “It’s dead,” he says. “I know that. It’s dead, and it’s not coming back, but… listen.”

Legend hums. It’s a short song, cheerful but a little haunting, and pretty in the same way that Time’s songs are pretty. What’s really striking about it is the way that it sort of echoes, filling the skeleton and reverberating through the bones. Legend lets his voice trail off, and as though it cannot stand the song ending, the skeleton heaves a quiet, breathy sob. A wounded animal, crying out for help without a voice.

“It’s dead,” he says again. “But I don’t think it left.”

“Veteran!” Link calls. He waves with as much energy and speed as he can muster, and his chest warms when he sees Legend laughing at him. “Hello! Fancy meeting you here!”

He skillfully picks his way up the side of the steep, rocky slope, careful to not crush any of the new saplings. Legend waves back at him from the top, not any older than the day Link last saw him. It must’ve been much quicker for Legend, than the three years it’s been for Link. Time travel is weird, and Link does not want to think about it. He’s been lucky enough to mostly avoid time travel adventures, excluding the portal situation, and he does not want to break that track record now.

He doesn’t feel his footfalls against the grass as he goes. He’s used to it. Link has felt nothing but feverish for forever and ever, and it’s perfectly okay. He can’t remember a time where he felt much at all, except, perhaps, the current of heavy numbness that sometimes pulls against his lungs, river water against smooth stone.

“I have a lot to show you,” he says as he reaches the top of the hill. Legend leans against a tree, smirking, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?”

“We’ve gotten a lot done, since I came home. This way.” Link gestures for Legend to follow him. Legend does without much hesitation, but he keeps watching every which way, like there’s going to be an ambush at any second.

“We’ve been getting a lot less monster attacks,” Link offers.

“That’s good,” Legend says, but that doesn’t stop his searching eyes. “No thanks to you, I bet?”

“Pfft. Sure. I learned a few tricks from the champion,” Link grins, knowing the reaction that will elicit, “and I got a lot faster at taking those things down.”

Legend rolls his eyes. Perfect. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Haven’t died yet, won’t die anytime soon.”

Link leads them across another hill. Legend tenses more with every passing second, so Link makes sure to walk like his feet aren’t numb and to breathe normally, like a person, not like his lungs are rivers and stones.

“Hey,” Legend finally says, “you didn’t seem all that surprised to see me.”

“I figured it would only be a matter of time,” Link admits. “I tried to tell myself you were all never coming back, so I wouldn’t be disappointed, but I think I got a little too used to you all accomplishing the impossible.”

“Fair enough,” Legend says. “And you’ve been okay?”

“Perfectly fine,” Link lies.

Three more hills later, they crest the final one. Hyrule’s sky stretches out like rubber in every direction, just barely touched by the distant mountaintops. In the valley below them, a bustling little village goes about its day. It is brand new, just completed in the past year. The grass around it is green, there are children laughing and playing, and farmers till crops in a way they haven’t in decades.

“See? And it’s like this everywhere.”

“Mhm.” For some reason, Legend isn’t looking directly at the village, but rather beyond it. Still, Link thinks he’s getting his point across.

“I remember that you weren’t all that good about hiding how worried you were,” Link smiles a bit. “But look. It’ll be okay. You can stop worrying. You can, you can, you can go home,” Link swallows, “and be happy somewhere, without ever thinking that my time is going to go wrong. Especially not because of you.”

“Hey now,” Legend says. “I’ve got nothing against your time. I rather like it. I like new places.”

“Still. You thought it was your fault. Ganon, all the danger. Me. I could tell.”

“Doesn’t matter what I think,” Legend huffs.

“Of course it does,” Link says. He’s unsure how to articulate the feeling. You’re hurt, and I’m a healer. You’re my predecessor, and I owe you my life. You’re my friend, and I’m your friend. You’re me, and I’m me too.

“You know you don’t have to worry about me, right?” Legend asks.

Link laughs a little. “Sure.”

“I mean it.” Legend grabs his shoulders with both hands. Link cuts off a gasp at the riot of pins and needles that scatter across his body in waves at the sudden contact. Why isn’t he numb anymore? Why does it hurt? “Never. Never, ever. Got it?”

“But—”

“I’m your mythology, remember? Have a little faith in that.”

All Link can see is his face, his eyes. They’re watercolor-blue, in a pale face hidden behind pale hair. Link doesn’t look anything like Legend, really, even though he was always supposed to. Maybe the shapes of their eyes, the slope of their jawlines, the placement of features. The same way that all of them looked a little alike. That’s… that’s it, though.

Link didn’t know what the Hero of Legend looked like for most of his life. All the old carvings had their faces worn away, the old paintings cracked and faded, and the old folks’ stories were so watered down that no one could tell him what the Hero of Legend really looked like. Some of them called him blonde and green and gangly, some of them called him pink-haired and teal and tiny, some of them called him a redhead in matching red clothes. Blue eyes, violet eyes, green. Tall, short, pale, suntanned, an unblemished face or covered in freckles. No one really knew. Everyone just picked a favorite.

It was easy for Link to imagine a hero that was a lot like him, just more.

Legend says, “It doesn’t matter what comes for us. I will always be better.”

What does it mean, that they look almost nothing alike? That they don’t share anything but a passing similarity in the face? What does it mean for the old folks and their stories, now that Link knows more than they do, now that he knows exactly what the Hero of Legend looked like? Now that he knows he wasn’t any older than Link was when he killed Ganon for the first time? That Legend killed him again, and killed him again, and even then, Link needed to kill him once more?

They never tell him what happens to the Hero of Legend at the end of the stories.

He just sails away, and doesn’t ever come back.

“Don’t you ever worry about me,” Legend repeats. Insists.

“Okay,” Link says. “Okay.”

Legend lets go of him. The pins and needles vanish as quickly as they came. As painful as they were, Link thinks he misses them. It was better than the nothing-at-all that he feels now that they’re gone.

Legend freezes. His right hand goes to something in his pocket, and his left hand goes to his head. “I think I need to leave.”

“That’s fine,” Link says. “Can I come with you? Can I help?”

“Did you ever meet an telepathic old sage with a fondness for yellow?”

“...No?”

“Then no,” Legend says. “Not yet, anyway. Are you alright?”

For some reason, the pressure in Link’s lungs has been getting heavier. “Yep.”

“Oookay. I’ll come back, just hang tight.”

“Yep.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Legend asks.

“Yep,” Link reassures him. A little unsuccessfully, if Legend’s narrowed eyes are any indication, but it’ll be fine. Definitely, totally fine.

“I’m going to go, then,” Legend says, “but I’ll be right back. Very soon. And you’re going to tell me what’s up with you.”

“Yep,” Link says, on purpose this time. He laughs when Legend rolls his eyes.

Legend says something into his hand. Whatever he says is cut off partway through when Link blinks. His eyes open after only closing for a fraction of a second, and Legend is entirely gone. There aren’t even tracks in the grass—instead, all he left behind was the faintest sense of something, where there once was nothing.

“Sorry,” Link laughs to himself. “Sorry. It’s just hard to breathe, sometimes. That’s all. That’s all it is.”

Warriors jabs his sword through the skull of the last lizalfos. He breathes, trying to shake off the frantic feeling of defending all eight of his unconscious brothers on his own. There were so many of the stupid things—the battle had been far too close. Warriors can only be in one place at a time.

Blood drips in bubbles and blobs onto the sand from the edge of his sword. Thank the goddesses that it’s not black. But who knows how long that blessing will last?

As the monsters’ bodies disintegrate, he hears Legend scramble upwards from beside Hyrule, a mess of cascading sand. Warriors turns to him. One of the bastards almost got him, before Warriors managed to slice its arm off, and it left thin claw scratches across Legend’s face. Blood runs down in thin streams, like a mockery of Time’s markings was splashed onto him.

“Cap,” he says.

“I hate to say this,” Warriors grimaces, “but I don’t think I can pull off another miracle. How much longer do you need?”

Legend visibly makes a decision, his eyes skittering reluctantly away from Hyrule. “Give me a few minutes.”

Experimentally, Link presses his palms against his ears. It does nothing to dull the deep, rushing sound of the waves. When he lowers his hands, the volume goes entirely unchanged.

“Did you know,” Legend says, “that I’ve wrecked every ship I’ve ever been on?”

Link startles so badly he nearly screeches, but years of tampering that particular instinct work in his favor. “Vet! You’re back! Thank Hylia! Wait. Wreck my ship and you’re dead. Hey, what happened to your face?”

Legend laughs. He leans against the deck railing, letting the wind tousle his hair. He looks at home, on the open ocean, but he also does look like someone that would crash a boat.

“Do you have an answer for me?”

It hasn’t been that long since Legend’s last spontaneous appearance on his ship, but Link thinks he has it figured out by now.

“I think I do. Can you stand more in the middle of the deck for me?”

“Sure,” Legend says. He pushes off from the railing and goes to the center. He has no problem with walking despite the rocking of the boat, but he has the careful steps of someone who learned the hard way. Link knows very much what that’s like.

“Yep,” Link says. “Just as I thought.”

“What?” Legend asks.

“These places never get the lighting right,” Link sighs. “Look down. You’re not even casting a shadow.”

Legend does. “Oh, that’s new,” he says. “But you’ve got one?”

“Not a good one. Look at where the sun is. According to its position, the shadows should be…” Link tracks the light, to where he knows the mainmast should be casting its long shadow across the center of the helm, and is instead about twenty degrees too far to the left. “There. But they’re not.”

“That, my friend, is a very good trick.”

“I know,” Link smirks. “This isn’t my first time. I’m actually embarrassed I didn’t notice until you said something.”

“I didn’t realize I have no shadow,” Legend says drily.

“Eh. So this is a dream, right? I guess it could be a pocket dimension, but I’m really leaning towards it being a dream. I haven’t even seen rough seas in weeks.”

“Ding,” Legend says. “Congratulations, you’ve done it.”

“Do I get a prize?”

“Sure, as long as you give it back later.”

Legend tosses him something glittering and small. Link catches it. The second it hits his hands, the harsh feeling of hot sand scratches against his arms and the back of his head. It’s a charm of some kind, filled with shimmering patterns. Most starkly, he sees, hidden in between some purple triangles, the teardrop-and-curve sigil of the Ocean King.

…He’s going to need to talk to Legend about that.

“Okay,” Legend continues. “Do you have a piece of paper? I have to write down a code word for you to say.”

Link ended up grabbing Tetra’s captain’s log. Normally, she would kill him for this, but since she’s not the real Tetra, Link is pretty sure he gets a free pass. And it’s not like dream-Tetra will ever have to know.

“Yeah, okay,” Link says when Legend hands him the word. “This looks nothing like my Hylian. I don’t even know where to start.” Legend’s Hylian is a bunch of slashes and weird curves. Link doesn’t even recognize the characters, except one that looks a bit like a backwards shi, and another that could be an upside-down mi.

“That’s what I expected,” Legend sighs. “Write down your alphabet, we’ll figure it out.”

Turns out, after Legend says a bunch of linguistics jargon that Link can’t understand, the word doesn’t even translate properly. Their alphabets don’t line up, because Link’s objectively better Hylian doesn’t have one of the sounds organized in the way Legend needs, and uses syllables rather than just letters, or something? He doesn’t know. He’s never really thought about it before, okay?

“Sa-ha-su-ra-ra,” Link says.

“No. No. You don’t say su, it’s just an s, and it’s la at the end, not ra.”

“Sa-ha-sa-la-la,” he tries again.

“That’s somehow worse.”

They eventually figure it out, but Link makes a mental note to ensure Legend is never, ever, ever in charge of code words ever again.

“Sahasrahla!” he finally says.

Wind throws himself upright, coughing up sand. The desert overtakes him for a second, and he is caught off-guard by real sights, real sounds, real smells. Sunlight on his skin is almost too much. Huge bones cage them in, casting shadows on the sand that are at exactly the correct angle. Next to him, Legend stumbles to his feet, shaking his head, taking back the charm from where Wind dropped it. Warriors looks over his shoulder, caught halfway through his paranoid pacing back and forth just beyond the skeleton. He makes his way over to them, his face half-shadowed by the bones. The angle is still right. Wind has checked. Three times.

“Oh,” Wind blinks. “Oh, okay.”

“Yeah,” Warriors chuckles, “it’s a little much. Welcome to the land of the living.”

Wind waves off Legend’s offered hand and pulls himself up. He does not wobble at all, thank you very much, and he is not at all tired, no sir.

“Sorry sailor, but you’re being hired,” Warriors says. “Monsters keep trying to kill us while we’re asleep, so…”

“Who would’ve thought,” Legend drawls.

“Aw,” Wind smiles, “but I just woke up.”

“Too bad, so sad,” Legend says. Wind dodges the hand that reaches over to ruffle his hair, and he sticks his tongue out at Legend’s offended face.

“There’s been nothing more yet,” Warriors tells Legend. “Any second, though.” He’s still smiling a little bit, but he’s making one of his Captain faces. The ones that he uses to be actually deadly serious, but he doesn’t want anyone else to worry, because that would start a panic in the ranks.

“I’m a little worried about sandstorms, too,” Legend grimaces. “The champion said this place was prone to them.”

“No need to worry,” Wind says. “I can handle any storms that come our way, sand or not.”

Legend nods at him, sharp and businesslike. Wind nods back, because it seems like the right thing to do. He is settling easily into this group of three. They need him. Not like Tetra and Aryll in the dream, carting him around like dead weight while nothing ever went wrong.

“Is the champ next, then?” Warriors asks.

Legend hesitates. “...No. I’m getting the rancher. You need another pair of hands. Or… paws, maybe.”

“You sure? I trust your judgment here, but this is his Hyrule. He might be able to just…” Warriors swishes his hands around in a spiraling motion. “Whoosh us out of here, y’know?”

“The problem is… well, I haven’t tried to find him yet, but…” Legend’s eyes fall on Wild’s body, and Wind follows his gaze. Wild looks peaceful in this strange induced sleep, and that, if anything, is what is truly disturbing. None of their sleeping brothers really look alive. Still as rocks, except for the rise and fall of their chests. Did Legend really wake up here alone? Did he even fall asleep with the rest of them, or did he just watch them all drop like stones?

“His memories,” Wind realizes. “You’re worried about his memories and the dream world.”

“I don’t know what I’ll find,” Legend agrees, reluctance lacing his voice. “The rancher’s head is bad enough.”

Without explaining any further, Legend picks his way through the sand and down the line of their sleeping companions, kneeling next to Twilight, who has to be downright miserable in this desert heat and that pelt. None of it shows on his face.

“G’night,” Legend says, and then he touches Twilight’s forehead, and falls to the sand. He doesn’t move again.

“What.” Wind blinks.

“You have to admit, it’s a little funny,” Warriors says.

“Is that what he’s been doing every time?” Wind asks.

“I haven’t been awake long, but yes, I think so.”

“It looks… painful.”

Warriors laughs, short and surprised. “It does, doesn’t it?”

Wind smiles, but he feels it fade from his face too quickly. “Does he have to do this by himself?”

“I asked. He said he’s the only one this thing’ll listen to.” Warriors gestures at the skeleton. “It’s some kind of blasted ghost, and it won’t let anyone else have the same kind of freedom.”

“Ugh.”

“Agreed.”

“I wish there was some way to help him. This isn’t my first time dealing with dream-ish worlds, y’know. I should’ve been able to tell.”

“You could. That’s why you’re awake now, and not the old man.”

Wind smirks. “Are you saying I’m better than the Hero of Time?”

“Now, I wouldn’t go that far—“

“I’m gonna tell him when he wakes up.”

“Don’t you dare.” Warriors ruffles a hand through Wind’s hair. Wind doesn’t pull away, this time. “Wanna start helping me patrol?”

“Sure,” Wind says. “Yeah, I can do that.”

As he walks away to watch over the desert, the bones seem to almost cry out, whining and creaking as the dry wind whistles through them. Wind shudders. He knows what whalesong sounds like.

“The hoarder is back,” Midna says.

Link whips around. Sure enough, Legend is there, leaning against one of the boulders that line the mountain trail. He didn’t hear him show up—no whirring of a portal, no crunch of footsteps.

Colin asks, “Are you gonna spar with me this time?”

“Nah,” Legend says. He pushes off of the tree he was leaning against, and starts walking towards the two of them. He looks better than he did when Link last saw him, but there are new scratch marks across his face. That’s strange. He shouldn’t have run into any monsters in Ordon. “I’m just here to talk to the ranch hand.”

“Boring,” Midna says. Legend trips on his next step.

“Oh, okay,” Colin says.

“How are you doing this, rancher?”

“Doing what?” Link asks. It’s weird, being called by that old nickname, but not in a bad way. He’s missed it.

“Surviving,” Legend says, with a little huff of laughter. “You don’t seem bothered by this place at all.”

“Should I be?”

“Obviously.”

Midna rolls her eyes. “He’s probably trying to pull you into another adventure. Don’t listen to him.”

“I should hear him out,” Link says.

“What’s even the point? Who cares,” Midna groans. “Let’s just go. We have stuff we wanna do, remember?”

“Well…”

“I’m only looking out for you.”

“I…”

“We promised Colin—“

“Yeah, you guys promised me,” Colin says.

“—That we’d get back home as fast as we could. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you? Nothing is more important than that.”

Legend tilts his head. “C’mon rancher, are you really sure you should be listening to that kind of advice?”

Midna frowns. “What are you trying—“

“—To say?” Colin asks.

“Because I think you’re accusing—“

“—Me of something, and I—“

“—Really don’t—

“—Appreciate—“

“—Getting—

“—Called a—“

“—Liar,” Midna growls.

“Holy Din,” Legend wheezes. “Give me a second.”

“Mid—I mean, Col—I mean,” Link shakes his head, “Midna, she… well…”

“Oh good, now we’re both confused,” Legend groans.

“Colin… he doesn’t know anything about her. You.” Link turns to Co… Midna. “He doesn’t know you. I never told him that I missed you. I… I thought he’d feel bad. I thought he’d feel like he wasn’t enough.”

“You were right. I would have,” Colin says. “That’s why you’re here with me, instead of in the Twilight with—“

“Me,” Midna says. Her voice cracks. Link has never heard her sound this upset, not even when she nearly died on his back, not even when his blood ran thin and dark over ancient temple ruins. Not even when she left him, because she didn’t say goodbye then, only see you later. A promise left forever unfulfilled to Link, but perhaps not to his immortal spirit. He won’t ever know for sure.

That’s how he figures out it’s not really her.

Midna wouldn’t ever condemn him for leaving her. Not when she expected it all along.

“Leave,” Link whispers.

“What?” Midna steps back, eyes wide.

“You’re not her,” he says. A snarl slips into his voice. His teeth have always been sharper than hers. “Leave.”

Everything that isn’t Legend stutters. Legend lists to the side, barely keeping his footing. The cuts on his cheek are stark against the blood draining from his face.

Colin grabs Link’s arm. “Link? Are you okay?”

“Are you fake, too?” he can’t help but ask.

“Yes, he is,” Legend says.

“No, I’m not!” Colin shouts.

Link levels a glare at them both. “Prove it, then.”

“Do you really think I’d lie to you about this, rancher?”

“I’m your brother, Link!”

This is giving Link a headache. “One of you is false,” he says. “Prove to me which one.”

“When I was five, you helped teach me how to catch crickets in the grass!” Colin says. “Oh, oh, oh, and when I was six you and Dad let me ride the goats around until Mama caught us. Your favorite colors are green and orange, and your favorite food used to be meat skewers but I think it’s soup now. And when I was seven you—“

Legend interrupts. “The captain and the sailor are just outside. They need your help.”

“—And when I was five you also helped teach me how to climb trees and you broke your arm because I fell and you caught me but I knocked us both down, and—“

“The champion’s helpless right now. You need to be there for him. He’s going to need you when he wakes up.”

“—And when I was seven you started teaching me how to herd the goats, and I was so excited ‘cause it meant I could be more like you, and—“

“Wait,” Link says. “I never did that.”

“Yes you did,” Colin says. “I remember.”

“No. I wanted to teach you, but Rusl and Uli wouldn’t let me. They said you were too small to handle them. Didn’t want you getting speared by the horns.”

“That’s not true,” Colin says.

“I remember,” Link says. “It’s one of the only promises I ever broke. I still hate how disappointed you looked. I’ve wanted to take it back my whole life.”

“But—“

“The old man’s stuck in a place like this too,” Legend says. “I saw it. He’s got a family. Kids.”

Legend hesitates.

He says, “One of them looked a whole lot like you.”

“Oh.” It’s all Link can manage to say.

“Yeah. Oh.”

Link closes his eyes. Colin is gone when he opens them. “What is this, then? A trap? A dream? I know it’s one of the two.”

“Both. And you’re my damsel in distress.”

“Great. What do we need to do?”

“That’s where things get more complicated.”

Luckily for both Link and Legend’s constitutions, Link’s dream world has stopped whatever insanity it was doing before. Link can’t remember it perfectly, but what he does remember makes his headache even worse. Goddesses, he hates magic. Nothing but trouble.

Legend has Link hold a strange charm that makes him feel uncomfortably warm, and then write out his alphabet in the dirt, which he does with some trepidation. Legend proceeds to translate some kind of nonsense word out of his strange, jagged Hylian into Link’s.

“What even is that?”

“Just say it.”

“That is unpronounceable.”

“If we have to stay here any longer, I’m going to throw up on you in the dream and in real life.”

“I’m not sure I even know where to start.”

“Do. Your. Best.”

“Shas… Sasher… no, that’s not right. Sahasher…”

“By Farore’s secrets,” Legend says through gritted teeth. “You’re somehow worse than the Captain.”

“Sashasra… no. Shahas… no, no.”

“Not to tell you how to read, but maybe you should try sounding it out.”

“I’m trying. Sahasrasha. Shasarahal? Sahasrahla?”

Twilight is standing almost before he’s fully awake. He feels the sand sliding beneath his boots before anything else. Spots grow in his vision, and he squeezes his eyes shut and throws off his pelt, feeling sticky and gross in the heat. He can’t breathe. Whether it’s because of the heat or the dream is anybody’s guess.

“Don’t give yourself a stroke,” Legend snorts. “Almost gave me one, that’s for sure.”

“Sorry,” Twilight pants, “sorry for getting tossed into a dream world,” he tries to catch his breath and fails, “and having no control over what it showed me.”

“You’d better be sorry.”

“You… should be sorry… for that code word.”

“Trust me. I am.”

Twilight slowly opens his eyes. He blinks away the deep orange light that tries to burn through his vision, forcing his eyes to focus, to take in something real. The looming skeleton will do for now, morbid as that is. He hasn’t quite settled back into his body, yet. Midna and Colin are still juxtaposed with each other in the back of his mind, in the place where his shadow lies long and muddled on the ground.

Legend waves a hand in front of his face. “Are you dead yet?”

“You wish,” Twilight says. Legend doesn’t look any better than he feels. Still white in the face, which is still stained with flaking blood. His hands keep fluttering from his stomach to his head to his pocket and back again. Speaking of which—Twilight holds out the charm, and Legend takes it from him.

“You’re needed on the front lines,” Legend says with a grim little smile.

Twilight looks past Legend, at Warriors and Wind, who have yet to look back and see him. Faintly, he can see monster blood on their swords, and the faintest trace of malice blows away with the top layer of sand on the ground.

“Hey,” Twilight calls to them. “Everything okay?”

“Rancher! Hi!” Wind bounces a little, waving furiously. He seems oblivious to the blood running down his hand from a long cut across his palm.

“Look who decided to join the party,” Warriors laughs. He spins his sword around, flinging monster blood that Wind jumps back to avoid. If he’s injured, it’s somewhere Twilight cannot see. “We’re fine, but we could use a little backup.”

“I’m on it,” Twilight says. But first, he needs to… “Hey, vet? How’s the champion?”

“An unknown,” Legend says, reluctantly.

“And the old man?”

“Last on the list. I’m not dealing with that for as long as I possibly can.”

“And everyone else?”

Legend shrugs. “They’ll be fine. I think.”

“Sounds a little careless.”

“Better than panicking.”

Twilight can’t argue with that. He nods his thanks to Legend, who barely acknowledges it, and reaches for his pendant. He allows himself a brief moment to remember what Midna sounded like in his ears—walking with him, laughing with him, with her face as she likes it to be—but it’s already starting to fade. Twilight resolutely decides that he will not mourn the loss of something that was never real in the first place.

He touches the crystal to his forehead.

“I’m back,” Legend says. Link whirls around, a numb hand on his sword, but he relaxes when he sees who spoke.

“Where’d you go?”

“Oh, y’know. Out.”

“We’re already outside…?”

“I know what I said.”

“What happened to your face?”

“I’ll tell you later. You need to tell me what’s up with you, first.”

Link doesn’t say anything for a moment. This isn’t for lack of trying, really, but he can’t tell what Legend wants from him. “I think I’m fine,” he says.

Legend pauses. Considers him, for a second. Link never knows what to do under this look. During their adventure, Time may have had his signature glare, Twilight may have had his I’m-not-mad-I’m-just-disappointed face, and Sky had mastered the kind of patient disapproval that made you want to dissolve, but Legend always had this… calculating sort of look. Link is picked apart by it, every time, and every time, he is torn between rebellion and acquiescence.

“What’s your magic saying, right now? Use your senses.”

“I already am,” Link says. He would know. He can’t turn them off. If he could, he’d be able to breathe.

“What are they saying?”

“They’re wrong,” Link says.

“I don’t care. What are they saying?”

Link flexes his fingers experimentally. They don’t even have the courage to hurt. Just nothing, nothing.

“That it is everywhere,” Link whispers. “But that can’t be right.”

“It is.”

It is?

It is.

Link lets loose a too-heavy exhale. It is right. He is right, and the fever curling up Link’s neck is wrong, and he should be able to feel his own skin.

“Where am I, then?” he asks.

“You’re the magic expert,” Legend says.

Link laughs, a little. “That I am.”

The simplest answer must always come first. If years of puzzles have taught Link anything, it’s to stop overthinking them. If everywhere is magic, then he is somewhere entirely made of magic. It’s impossible to be somewhere entirely made of magic. Therefore—

“This isn’t real,” Link says.

“See? You got it.”

“What do we do now?”

“First, hold this.” He tosses a charm to Link, which Link catches. It burns his hand, but Link is so relieved to be feeling such a thing that he doesn’t care to notice the pain.

Legend hesitates, then he picks up a stick and scratches something in the dirt. “Can you read this?”

“See-has-raysh-ala,” Link says.

Legend curses. “Why,” he seethes, “why must languages evolve over time. Okay, write your version of our alphabet and tell me the sounds for each letter.”

By the time they figure out phonetics, Link is genuinely certain he’s never been more stressed in his life. And he kills dragons! Dragons!

“Shashasara,” he says.

“Wrong.”

Somehow, Link feels like he’s failing a test. “Sasharasal.”

“Wrong.”

“Slahashrala.”

“Wrong.”

“Sashaslarah.”

“Wrong.”

“Sahasharala.”

“Wrong. Please, please just try one bit at a time.”

“Sa.”

“Yep.”

“Hash.”

“Nope.”

“Has?”

“Yep.”

“Rash?”

“Nope.”

“Rah?”

“Yep.”

“La.”

“Yep.”

Okay. Link can do this. “Sa-has-rah-la.”

Hyrule cannot move for the first minute that he is awake. He does not come to consciousness suddenly, or even particularly well. One nerve at a time reawakens, and painfully makes itself known. After the onslaught of pins and needles fades, it is first his hands: warm, perhaps too warm, touching sand. Then, his arms and legs: definitely too warm, and painfully stiff. His feet: stuffy in his boots. His face: certainly burned. His ears are next.

“—veler? Traveler, are you okay?”

Then, his voice.

“Yes. I’m okay. Just…”

“Alright.”

Next: his mouth, dry and starting to crack. It’s a wonder he’s not delusional with heat stroke. Perhaps the dream protected him? Then, his nose: dirt, sweat, the faint scent of seawater, and the sickly-sweetness of dead flowers.

Finally, his eyes. For a brief moment, all he sees is bone and sun. Then he stops looking up.

“There you are,” Legend says.

“Here I am,” Hyrule says. “Good morning.”

“Morning!” Wind shouts. Twilight, as Wolfie, huffs from some distance away. Warriors waves, and Hyrule waves back. The three of them have set up some kind of triangular watch, though Warriors has abandoned his post to greet Hyrule from closer up.

Legend snorts. “The sun’s nearly set, you know.” He picks himself up off the sand, brushing it off of his knees. Hyrule takes the cue to follow suit, and is pleasantly surprised when he can feel his feet underneath him.

Hyrule tosses Legend the charm, and he catches it easily, gently sliding it into his pocket.

Hyrule watches Legend watch the others. He looks, for all the world, as still and silent as the nameless little statues and murals that litter the ancient places of Hyrule’s time.

He takes a single step towards Sky, and wobbles on the uneven sand. Just a little bit. Hardly even noticeable, really. Hyrule only saw because he’s as jumpy as a spider right now.

He reaches out a hand—to steady Legend or to steady himself, he’s not sure—and flinches back, imperceptibly, a motion disguised as reaching for something on the ground. He clenches his hand into a tight fist, pressing his fingernails in to try and rid his palm of the pins and needles. Legend glances at him, catches his eyes. Whatever he sees in Hyrule’s face has Hyrule looking away first.

The buzz of magic around Legend feels just like the dream world. It’s clinging to him. The magic is an old blanket, it is grabbing hands in a graveyard, it’s a child gripping his mother’s dress and pulling so she can’t leave. It’s just as heady as it was when Hyrule was drowning in it, willow bark and chamomile. His hand is still numb.

It must be purely magic, because no one else is complaining of numbness, but the little bit of distance that they all seem to be putting between themselves and Legend has Hyrule thinking they can feel it, too.

Legend, for his part, wears the strangeness like an old friend’s cloak. He cracks a joke about royal armor to Warriors, who laughs without awkwardness or fear. Hyrule lets his own expression twist up into a small smile, and is rewarded when Legend winks at him. He doesn’t want Legend to think he is afraid of him. It’s important, to Hyrule, that Legend knows he’s strong, and knows that he spits venom in the face of pain too.

Not a single one of them is going to crumble here. Not Warriors, already set to smiling, keeping watch with all the might of a military in one of his hands. Not Twilight, a stone sentry, shaped like a wolf and casting a shadow that’s a little too long. Not Wind, tossing sand with every step of his feet, mirroring Warriors’ grin, his well-worn blade in his left hand. Not Legend, moving through dreams like water and carelessly scattering them as he goes, muttering something that’s dramatic and pointless enough for Wind to tease him about it. Not any of the others, when they wake up. Not Hyrule. Especially not him. Not ever.

Hyrule walks deliberately over to Legend. He gets close, as close as he normally would, and then he reaches out his hand to tap his shoulder like he’s daring the odd magic to even try, like he’s taunting it.

“How can I help?” he asks.

Legend turns around and quirks an eyebrow at him. “First things first,” he says, “get all that sand out of your hair.”

“Shut up,” Hyrule says mildly.

“You can’t be helpful with sand in your hair.”

“Maybe I like it that way.”

“Second things second,” Legend says, “wipe that look off your face. This isn’t the gallows. You got that?”

“Only if you stop trying to talk like our leader,” Hyrule says. “It’s a bad look on you.”

“I’ll get you for this.” Legend shoves Hyrule’s shoulder, leaving a cold spot of old magic that vanishes as quickly as it came. Hyrule steps on his foot as vengeance.

“Really though—“ Hyrule starts.

Warriors interrupts, “Think you could start checking out the area near here? Look for signs of life… uh… anywhere? Then stick around and help out the defense?”

“I certainly can.”

When Hyrule’s hands close around the hilt of his sword, his hand isn’t numb.

Rising above him is the statue of Hylia, his Hylia, his Zelda. His goddess, who is gone.

“Link!” Groose shouts. A few of the nearby settlers roll their eyes fondly at the volume. “Why’re you lollygagging over that old thing? I need more wood, or I really will put you on slicing duty!”

“What happened to the statue?” Link asks.

“Nothing, man.”

“Groose. Groose, look at it. What happened to the statue?”

“What is your deal with the statue? It’s just some old ruin, leave it alone.”

“Just a—Groose, what is wrong with you? She has no face!”

“She’s never had a face. Are you losing your mind, shrimpy?”

“Um…” Legend says. “Is this a bad time?” Oh, so he’s back now? Just great.

“Yes,” Link says, at the same time that Groose yells “No!”

“Woah. What happened to the statue?” Legend leans back to get a better look at it. At least Link knows he hasn’t totally lost it, even if Legend looks mildly like he has, what with the cuts on his face and his windswept hair.

“There—what is wrong with you blonde idiots? The statue is fine!” Groose throws up his hands. “We need to be working, not nattering on about old statues and missing faces.”

“Hey, Sky?” Legend says. “This one doesn’t have a face either.” He’s crouching at one of the smaller statues a few yards away, nearer to the settlement proper than Hylia’s fallen island. Those were made for closer worship, and for folks who get vertigo.

Link dashes to Legend, practically shoving him aside so he can get a closer look at the little stone statue of his goddess. It is entirely faceless, like it was scratched out with a hammer and chisel. Even the Triforce symbol on her chest has been slashed through.

Link yanks off his glove to check the back of his hand. Sure enough, the telltale marking is gone. Even when he tries to summon its light, there is no response, no familiar pull on the thin golden thread that must surely tie him to Zelda.

Zelda. If Hylia is—

“Groose,” Link says, slowly. “Where is Zelda?”

“Zelda?”

“Where is she?” Link stomps up to Groose, only marginally aware of how the townspeople scatter like frightened little forest animals, leaving Groose to face Link alone. “Where is my wife?”

Groose flinches back, then recovers himself. He straightens, an admirable feat in the face of the man he watched beat a god into the ground when he was seventeen years old. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Don’t give me that,” Link snaps. The Master Sword is in his hands. She wasn’t there before, he’d left her in her pedestal. Fi wraps her cold hands around his throat, begging him not to speak. For the first time, Link doesn’t listen. “Your friend, your goddess, my wife. Where is she?”

“I don’t have any goddess,” Groose sneers.

“How dare you,” Link snarls, and though he has no intention of turning his blade on a friend, still he raises her to the skies. And for him, of all people, the skies will open.

“How far have you fallen, old friend?”

Link freezes at Legend’s voice. At first, he thinks Legend is speaking to him, and whirls around to defend himself—to defend Zelda, to defend Hylia. No one, not even Groose, gets this kind of freedom to blaspheme. But when he turns, Legend is only addressing empty air, his face turned towards the sky.

“That not even Hylia is willing to show her face here… Hylia, Zelda, who braves the darkness of any world, who even braved mortality?”

The skies shudder.

Impossible, Link realizes. A world without Hylia is impossible. There cannot be a world where Zelda is gone. There would not be a world left to save. Which means—

“Collector,” Link says, slowly, “who are you speaking to?”

“Someone I once knew,” Legend says.

“And,” Link continues, lowering his sword, “where are we?”

“Now that is the question of the hour.”

“Hour,” Link says. He looks up at the position of the sun—it has not moved past eleven in the morning. “That’s funny. That’s a good joke, vet.”

“Where do you think we are?”

“Somewhere false. The Silent Realm, maybe, or somewhere else, but wherever this is, it isn’t real,” he says, “and I need to wake up from it.”

Fi is silent. He has gotten used to Fi’s silence, over the years, but for once, he selfishly wishes she would wake up and say something. Anything. Even if it is to berate him for caring only for himself.

“That’s it,” Legend says. He smiles, just a little bit.

“You’d think I’d be used to dreams,” Link sighs.

When he turns back around, the town square has emptied itself out entirely. Whether the people are gone or if they’ve simply run from him doesn’t matter anymore.

“Alright,” Link claps his hands together. He is no longer holding the Master Sword. “How do we get out of here?”

“First, hold this. Second,” Legend grimaces, “I need you to write out your alphabet.”

By the time that Legend has transposed his strange code word, there have been no less than ten arguments about the letter a, and Legend has threatened to end the entire Hylian royal bloodline in at least three separate ways.

“Everyone else has… struggled with saying it.” Legend finishes off his dirt calligraphy with a flourish. “Just be warned.”

“Oh, that’s not so hard,” Link says. “Sahasrahla.”

When Sky wakes up, the world is ending.

At least, it sounds like it is.

He can hear nothing but the heavy roar of wind. For a moment, he is seventeen years old, and Zelda’s hand is too far away from his. For a moment, he forgets that she isn’t lost, and he doesn’t have to look for her anymore.

Sky opens his eyes.

“Keep going, sailor!” Warriors shouts over the noise. “Just a little more!”

“I know, I know!” Wind shouts back.

Legend’s hands close around the charm on the ground. He and Sky both look around, wide-eyed, at the storm.

The sandstorm swirls and screeches in a perfect circle around the ribcage of the skeleton they’re inside. Sky remembers, faintly, how his stomach had dropped at the sight of such a thing, the image of a kind old face with heavy eyebrows superimposed on the skull of it. Now, it’s almost as if he can hear it groaning, singing along in harmony with the monstrous screams of the wind, as sand pelts the skeleton in a steady rhythm.

Warriors, Hyrule, and Twilight stand in a loose circle over the bodies of the others. Warriors’ scarf is wrapped around his face, Hyrule is holding up an old floppy hat, and Twilight has covered his mouth and nose with his pelt. Their shields are held low to protect their sleeping brothers from the sand—after all, they can’t know to not breathe it in. Wind stands in the center of it all, a red bandana tied around his face. He holds his strange little baton in one hand, and he is raising the other in the air to move alongside it.

With every flick of the baton, the air rushes to follow, and it parts the storm around them for a little bit longer.

Sky, taking the cue, raises his sailcloth to cover his own face. Legend pulls off his hat and does the same. Let no one ever say that Sky can’t read the room, because the second he can think straight, he grabs his shield from the sand and scrambles over to join their makeshift shield wall. Hyrule and Twilight step apart to make room for him.

Hyrule shouts, “We need to get out of here, soon!”

The skeleton wails.

“Shh, shh.” Legend lowers his hat from his face and lightly brushes his knuckles across the old bones. His lightning-quick glances at the others betray the confidence he moves with.

He hums something low and sweet and a little sad, and despite the rush of wind and whaleish screaming, the song is what fills Sky’s ears. The screaming quiets, even as the wind roars ever louder.

Legend dashes between Twilight and Sky into the shield wall, skidding to a stop in front of Four. He touches the side of Four’s face, like he’s searching for a pulse.

Legend crumples like a doll, and the song cuts off.

“I’ve figured it out!” Link shouts as soon as Legend makes a sudden reappearance on his front lawn. He decides to not be concerned about the new slash marks on Legend’s face. He has bigger things to worry about, for now.

“You’ve what?”

“I’ve figured it out,” Link says again, resolute. “I know what’s wrong with this place.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Well, it really bothered me that I got so mad at you.”

“Apology accepted.”

“I’m not apologizing. It did bother me though, especially because it didn’t stay. I had no reason to be angry, and no reason to not stay that way, but I had been angry, and then it stopped, and that doesn’t make any sense at all. So I got to thinking.” Link starts pacing. Legend looks like he’s barely holding in his laughter, eyes slightly wide with surprise. Link gracefully ignores him. “You’re here. Shouldn’t I have been more concerned about the time travel? We could unravel the fabric of time as we know it. And shouldn’t I have cared more about you wandering off on your own in an unfamiliar Hyrule? What if there were monsters? What if the black-blooded monsters came back? I didn’t care, though, and that was weird.”

“So what’s your conclusion?”

“I think I’m being mind-controlled,” Link says.

“Not quite.”

Link curses. “I really thought that was it. My second, third, and fourth theories are a wizzrobe spell, a dream, and an expired potion-induced hallucination.”

“The third one.”

“Terrible. Of the… ‘showing me everything I’ve ever wanted’ variety?”

“Yep.”

“I hate that,” Link says. “This is my ideal future. No one else gets to imagine it but me.”

Legend finally gives in to the urge to laugh. “It’s a good thing I’m here on a rescue mission, then. What clued you in?”

“I checked for magic, like you said,” Link lies. Well, not entirely. He did check. It just didn’t tell him anything.

It was really the Minish.

He could still see them. Can see them, now. One makes a wide berth around Legend, carting around a handful of seeds.

Link has been an adult in this dream for a long time. And if hearing about the Kokiri from the old man was any indication… well. Forest sprites don’t make any exceptions.

Legend doesn't need to know that, though.

“Is this really what you want to do? With your future?” Legend asks him suddenly, strangely.

“Yes,” Link says. “It is. Is that so odd?”

“No, but I do wonder why.”

Link shrugs. “I like adventuring. Never had a thing against it. I’ve become less fond of the danger, though. There are too many people who’d miss me if I got myself killed, and… well, I think I’ve felt more than enough fear of death for one lifetime. As far as I can see, the old man’s got the right of it. Get a home. Get good people around you. Get a job that you like, one that won’t try to put you in an early grave.”

“And,” Legend asks, “if you managed to settle down, and you were called to pick up the sword again… would you?”

“Probably. No one else is going to do it.”

“Try not to, then. As a favor to me.”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Link says.

“You will, after this.”

Link shakes his head. “Goddesses, vet. I don’t know how you do it.”

“Do what?”

“Just keep on going, and going. Three was enough for me. I don’t think seven is enough for you at all.”

“Well then, we’re in the same boat,” Legend says. “Because I don’t know how you could ever stop.”

Link laughs, despite himself. “Maybe someday, you’ll get it. When you’re older.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Not here, you’re not.”

“Shut up, grandpa.”

“Now that’s more like it. Let’s get down to business. What do you need to me to do to get us out of this place?”

“...Do you have any paper?”

Link does, in fact, have quite a lot of paper, so he lets the Minish play with his hair while Legend scribbles away. He said something about a code word? Eh. Whatever. He’ll find out.

He holds up the charm Legend’s given him up to the light. It’s well-crafted, with smooth, shimmery metal. Grooved patterns that Link vaguely recognizes as warped magic symbols line every cramped corner of the thing, even between the simple inlaid gemstones. It all wraps up in a nice, neat little mandala. Based on the way the metal lies, it had to have been homemade, probably by Legend himself—it has the hallmarks of his terrible tendency to freeze and heat his metal with his magic rods. While it makes for some rickety metal, it was probably helpful for this, since it seems to have sealed quite a bit of magic into the thing. Not to mention whatever nonsense is carved into the sigils and held in the stones. It’s like he can almost feel the real world through it. It’s grounding.

“Did you make this? It’s done well.”

“What? Oh, yeah, I did. Thanks. It’s old work, I can do better now.” Legend slides the paper over to him. “Please tell me at least one of these looks familiar to you.”

Link inspects Legend’s handiwork. The (presumably) same word is written out five times, in four different Hylians. Actually, two look to be the same alphabet but different letters?

…This is why Link just eats jabbernuts.

“Oh, that one looks right.” Link points to the one that Legend has labeled with a little doodle of Wind’s tunic’s lobster pattern. “Um.. San-han-su-rath-rath.”

“You could not be more wrong.”

“Damnit.”

Eventually, after much muttering on Legend’s end about the evolution of lettering systems over time, phonemes, unconditioned mergers, and how did you even evolve this system out of Proto-Hylian, Legend has a second, entirely rearranged version of Wind’s alphabet to memorize, and Link has a word that he can sorta pronounce.

“Sa-ha-su—“

“Stop. Just s, no su.”

Link grimaces. “It feels so wrong.”

“Deal with it.”

“Sa-hashera—“

“Nope.”

“I’m going to kill you after this. Sa-has-r…rah…la.”

Four doesn’t really wake up, exactly. More accurately, he just comes to awareness coughing up sand. “Eugh.”

“Sorry,” Sky says. “We had a sandstorm.”

“You had a what?” His voice comes out hoarse, scratched with the effort of coughing and all the sand, sand, and more sand. He blinks, blearily, only to find more sand in his eyelashes. Goddesses, it’s all just sand. It’s in his hood, his pockets, his boots. It’s even in his headband.

“Is it over?” Legend asks.

“A few minutes ago,” Hyrule says. “You just missed it.”

“That was too much sand to keep track of. It was exhausting. I’m going to sleep for a million years after this,” Wind groans.

At least four different voices chorus a resounding “Don’t you dare!”

“I won’t get trapped in a dream, it’ll be my own choice—”

“Stop,” Warriors says. “Just stop.”

Four finally clears the grit from his eyes, only to be assaulted by the glaring orange light of late sunset. Sky is sitting just in front of him, silhouetted and ringed by gold. To his right, Legend has picked himself up off the ground, having taken the charm from Four’s loose grip.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” Four says, “but it wasn’t a skeleton.”

Warriors shoots him a small smile. “I know. I haven’t seen too many whales in my time, much less a skeleton of one. It’s a little jarring.”

Four politely ignores how Sky, Wind, and Legend look askance.

Wars is right, though. It is jarring. Bones aren’t supposed to be so… big. It’s like Four shrank without realizing it, the way it looms above him, casting shadows that stripe over Twilight’s face and darken the pale glint of Sky’s eyes. The ribs arch over the whole of them, cutting off the firelit sky, trembling as the winds slowly tear into the bleached bone.

…Four has never been the biggest fan of being trapped. The dream has left him with a jitteriness to his limbs while exhaustion still weighs heavy on his head, forcing him down, down. Pins and needles lightly skitter across his skin, as if his nerves need to remind him he’s awake and alive.

“Why couldn’t I tell?” Four asks Legend. “Why couldn’t I tell, right from the beginning? Why did I fight you, so much?”

Legend only shrugs, tracing his fingertips across the bones as he walks over to Wild. He sits on his knees, by Wild’s body, uncaring of the sand.

“Why couldn’t we all tell?” Twilight murmurs.

“We’re heroes,” Hyrule whispers. “We’re supposed to be different.”

There is no response from Legend, who lies unmoving on the sand with his left hand resting on Wild’s forehead.

“Come on then,” Warriors says. “Up we get. We have patrols to do, and plans to make. I will not be getting caught in another monster horde today.”

Link creeps forward. He lowers his foot to the grass, slowly putting his weight down, making no sound. His fingertips easily reach the proper positioning on the bowstring, holding the arrow loosely between his fingers until he can nock it properly. It snaps onto the string, which he pulls back with perfect smoothness, anchoring his fingers to the side of his face. His wrist does not twist and his arm does not jolt when he lets the arrow fly. It sticks in the neck of the boar. The boar falls. The others surrounding it flee, but Link only needs one, for food. He has no reason to hunt the others.

“Three at once? How is it done?”

Link shakes his head to clear it of the stupid voice and strolls after the fallen boar. He does not pass any sign of civilization as he does, and he won’t for a very long time. There is no one, no one anywhere here. No one except him.

“Huh,” Legend says. “Strange.”

Legend finds himself with Link’s bow at his throat, before Link properly registers just who came through time and space to see him. Legend doesn’t look any older, but Link doesn’t either, so it can’t have been that long for either of them.

Leave it to his old gang of brothers to figure out a way, even here.

Though, Legend does look a little like he was mugged by a lizalfos and then run over by a sand seal, but that’s not Link’s problem. Link’s pretty sure he looks like he was mugged by Koroks and run over by the woods, so.

It should be nice to see him. A thousand jokes congeal together in his head. A thousand jokes die on his tongue. None of them feel right. He doesn’t feel like laughing. He doesn’t feel like anything.

“Hey,” Link says. “How’ve you been? And, uh,” he smiles a little, even though the expression strains, “why’re you here? How are you here? I thought… the portals…”

“I’ve come for you,” Legend says.

“You may be disappointed, then.”

There is a thin layer of something that stretches cobwebbish over Link’s thoughts, inside his mouth, across his skin. It keeps anything from reaching him too deeply, even when the quiet little part of him that screams TRAPPED is too loud, and Link has to shut it up. He is not trapped. He can go anywhere and everywhere he wants.

Legend looks around at the temperate, picture-perfect wilderness. “Y’know, I thought it would be worse than this.”

Link winces at the reminder. Voices flicker unsteadily in the air, swelling and fading and slipping through the holes in his head. “You remembered my favorite! The silent princess.” “You hold it like this, champion. Reel it in.” “You’re so quick, little guy!” “I haven’t had soup this good in years.” “You’re a natural swimmer, you know.”

…Okay. They’ve stopped.

Link untangles his fingers from his hair. Legend lowers his hands from where he’d started to cover his ears.

“Play pirates with me, Link!”

Link mutters a string of curses under his breath.

“It was,” he says. “It was worse. But then all I wanted was for it to stop. So it did.”

(He’d started out in a castle.)

“Do you know where you are?” Legend asks.

“No.”

“Do you want to know where you are?”

“Not really. I like being lost.”

“I need to take you back with me, you know.”

“No, you don’t. I can just… stay here. Where it’s quiet.”

“When you’re the bad guy, you just—“

That one really hurts. They both wince. Spots ripple and bloat in Link’s vision, and Legend blinks rapidly, startled, like someone threw a deku nut at him.

He recovers quickly. Too quickly. “By yourself?”

Almost as if he called for him, Wolfie comes up to Link’s side. He nudges Link’s hand with his nose, and Link digs his fingers into Wolfie’s fur.

“No,” Link says. “Not by myself.”

“It’ll get boring here,” Legend says.

“I’ll want something more exciting, and it will be there,” Link says.

“That’ll get boring, too.”

“I don’t want to leave,” Link says. “I don’t want anything.”

“Nothing? At all?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell the king that I continue to—“ “You’ve remembered my favorite
foods, too. I’m glad.” “Master, I detect—“ “It’s dangerous to—“ “Every time, I would heal you.”

Link grits his teeth. “You should leave. You’re making it worse.”

“A sword is just a tool for—“ “But I am powerless here.” “It suits you, little hero—“ “Take my sword and shield and—“

Link does not miss the sudden tensing of Legend’s shoulders at the last voice, as it snaps across the woods. His face does not change, but his hands curl into fists, and he reaches for something in his pocket. Link would wonder why, if he could.

“I think they’re trying to tell you something,” Legend says. “You should probably listen.”

“Hey, listen!”

Link breathes. It catches in his throat. “But then it’ll…”

“I’ll be there,” Legend says. “Just try.”

And, really, he has no reason to not believe him.

“…Okay.”

Link lets go.

“But verily, it be the nature of dreams to—“

Link is everywhere at once. He is in the forest. He is in Hateno. He is in the castle. He is Zora’s Domain and Mipha’s hand is reaching for his. He is in a house in a town he doesn’t recognize with a man he doesn’t know. He is on a horse and Zelda is riding alongside him. He is at a stable and a little girl grabs his hand and hides her face in his shirt. He is knee-deep in water and Zelda is shivering against him. Everyone is saying something. All of it is important. No one will shut up to let him think. The cobwebs are gone, and he feels every inch of it.

“This can’t be real,” Link whispers. It’s even worse than before. Now that he has the capacity for it, he shudders.

“Good, you’re catching on,” Legend says. He gives Link a shaky little grin, looking for all the world like he’s about to throw up. “Do you get it now?”

“Maybe,” Link says. He hesitates.

One of the voices rises above the others. “You’ll come with me… right?”

Link says, “It’s familiar. When I was in the shrine…”

He reaches up to trace the scars along the side of his face, only to touch smooth, unblemished skin.

Legend watches him.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” Link asks.

“Wake up, Link.”

Legend smiles at him. “Finally. Took you long enough.”

Link settles, just a little bit. “Hey. I make your food, and that’s a threat.”

“Nah. Don’t get your tunic in a twist. I think your wolf took longer.”

“Really?”

“He had the gall to make me prove it.”

“Yikes.”

“I know!”

“So…”

“Take this charm and write out your alphabet.”

Sixteen mispronunciations, seven death threats, two games of charades, and a few bruises later, Link has finally managed to wrangle Legend’s utterly ridiculous and frankly appalling dream-world code word, which is totally a thing that is normal for someone to have.

“Sahasrahla,” he groans.

Wild wakes up with about half his hair in his mouth, sand coating every inch of his body, and an absolutely raging headache. Legend’s hand is directly on his face. Wild smacks it off.

“Sahasrahla,” Wild groans again. “That is the worst possible choice of code word.”

Six versions of “I know, right?” hit him all at once.

Wild cracks open his eyes. All of the others, except Time, are gathered in a circle above where he and Legend are still laid flat on the sand. Faintly, behind them, he can see the impression of pale bones against a quickly-purpling sky. The temperature is cooling off fast, enough to be dangerous soon. Wild would bet good money that the only thing that kept them from getting heat stroke before is that they arrived at the Gerudo Great Skeleton with the late afternoon sun near to setting.

“I was literally sixteen,” Legend says with the air of someone who has been defending himself for a while now. It’s entirely ineffective, since he’s still lying down with his face pressed into the sand. He holds out his hand to Wild without moving another inch. “Gimme back my charm.”

Wild drops it into his hand. “It’s pretty. Think you could get me one of these?”

“If we ever stop off at my Hyrule again.”

“Appreciated.”

Wild sits up and tries to shake the sand out of his hair.

“It’s futile,” Hyrule says, a sympathetic hand on his heart. And sure enough, his own curls are still encrusted with sand.

Legend shoves himself off the ground with a grunt and a hand to his head.

Seeing that they’re alright, the rest of the group has scattered, taking up watch posts around the skeleton like a six-pointed star. The fairy fountain is totally inert, which is mildly concerning, and the shrine’s faint blue glow is quickly becoming the only source of light in the vicinity.

“Just the old man left,” Warriors calls over to Legend. “He’ll be furious that you’ve left him for last.”

“His problem, not mine.”

Wild squeezes his eyes shut and smacks his forehead lightly with the heel of his palm, like that will scatter the echo of the voices. There’s no time for that now.

When he opens his eyes, all he can see is the fluffy face of Wolfie. Wild, despite himself, smiles and buries his face in Twilight’s fur.

Link picks up his daughter and twirls her around in the air. She giggles, high-pitched and sweet. When Link sets her back down again, Malon tuts over her flyaway hairs and starts to retie her pigtails.

“You’re going to destroy our living room,” Malon says.

“Do it again!” his daughter squeals. Her grin is missing a front tooth. “Faster this time!”

“Faster? I’m not sure I’m strong enough to do faster…”

“Faster! Faster!”

“Fine, maybe a little faster.” A laugh rises from his chest at the way she cheers, nearly breaking Malon’s nose in the process. Malon shoots him a fond glare.

“See what you’ve done? You’ve got them all riled up, just before dinner.”

“The boys are fine,” Link says. Malon wordlessly points behind him. He turns around, only to see his youngest son standing on the arm of the couch with a pillow in his hand, prepared to dive bomb his older brother on the floor. Said older brother is cheering him on, covered in pillows that make up a mostly-ineffective cushioning.

“Boys,” Link says, in that old familiar tone he used to use, mostly with Wild and Twilight. Both of his sons wince. “Why would you think that this is a good idea?”

“It’ll be funny,” his oldest says with a sheepish, embarrassed smile.

“Vengeance,” his youngest says.

“‘Cause they’re stupid,” his daughter says from the kitchen.

“Hey now,” Malon warns her, covering her smile with her hand. “We don’t talk like that in this house.”

“But I’ve heard Dad call Mister Ingo stupid aaalllll the tiiiiime,” his daughter whines.

“Link!” Malon rounds on him.

Link raises his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey! If he’d stop messing with Epona’s pen we’d have a better working relationship, don’t you think?”

Malon grabs her wooden spoon from the counter and gently whacks him with it. “He’s only trying to help. I won’t have you teaching our children to be mean.”

“You’re a tattletale,” Link tells his daughter. She only laughs at him.

A rapid-fire knocking at the door stops them all in their tracks.

“Who ever could that be?” Malon says, her hands on her hips. “We’re not expecting any visitors.”

Link remembers the sudden appearance and disappearance of an old friend in the early morning. “I may have an idea.”

He looks back at his family. Malon spent a long time as vibrant as anything, and she still is, but she has finally begun to look older. Threads of white are starting to twist their way into her hair, and laugh lines trace the corners of her eyes. She is as beautiful as the day that Link married her. Maybe even more. His oldest son has picked himself off the floor, and his sunlit hair sticks up in every direction. He ruffles his little brother’s hair, and goes to sit next to his sister, always willing to listen to her chatter on and on. Link’s daughter starts to play with her brother’s hair while she babbles, making little braids, bouncing on her toes, as restless as ever. Her hands are scattered with uncountable freckles. His youngest son runs over to his mother and grabs her sleeve, asks to help with dinner in exchange for going to see Castle Town sometime soon. Malon scoops him up into her arms, and his head of vivid curly hair matches hers.

“I’ll get it,” Link says. Malon smiles at him gratefully.

Legend is waiting for him when he opens the front door. He closes it gently behind him.

“Well?” Link asks. “Oh. Um. Did you run into monsters on your way back? We can take care of that,” he gestures to Legends’ slashed face, “inside if you want.”

Legend shakes his head. “I need to talk to you.”

“Yes, I can see that. What for?”

“I think,” Legend starts, and then he hesitates. “You need to—well, I have to—I need you to—”

“If you’re asking me on another adventure, I’m sorry to say it, but the answer is no.”

“That’s not… I’m not… That isn’t what I’m...”

“Then what?”

Legend finally manages a full sentence. “Our adventure didn’t end.”

Time narrows his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re not done,” he says. “You’re not done. I’m sorry.”

“I’m afraid,” Link smiles without really meaning it, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“What time is it?”

“What?”

“Old man,” Legend says, “what time is it?”

Link’s breath stills in his lungs. “That’s funny,” he says, laughing a mirthless little laugh. “I don’t know.”

“...Please tell me you understand.”

“I don’t think I do. Where… how did you get here, veteran?”

The wooden porch is solid beneath Link’s feet. His clothes are that of a simple farmer, soft and sturdy. His hair is long again, and in the faint breeze his bangs twist and turn in front of his good eye. He can hear his children and his wife laughing behind him in the house. Epona is trotting happily in the field. Birds fly overhead, and the forest gently rustles in time with the waving grass. Somewhere far away, someone is singing.

“I didn’t leave. None of us did.”

“...You’re speaking nonsense.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that, and you won’t be the last.”

“What are you trying to say, vet?” Link says. “That all I need to do is open my eyes, and all of this will be gone?”

“Yes,” Legend says. “I’m sorry,” he says again.

He does not hear any more laughter from the house.

“It’s a dream, then.”

Legend nods, stiffly.

“And you can free me from it?”

He nods again.

“How did you do it?” Link asks. He remembers pale hair and a red tunic vanishing as he blinked. He remembers no footsteps left in the grass. “How did you know? How did you come and go so easily?”

“You know, you’re the first of them to actually ask.”

“Will you answer?”

Legend pauses. Thinks for a moment. He touches a hand to the bloody slashes on his cheek. “The champion’s Hyrule has ghosts from all your pasts,” he ends up saying. “Why not mine, too?”

Link faintly remembers, before it all fell away, walking through the desert and seeking shade underneath the skeleton of some great beast. He does not remember much about the skeleton. He does remember Legend’s wide eyes taking in every inch of the thing, craning his neck to look at the thin wing bones. He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he remembers Legend shouting something at them all. He remembers already being too far gone to hear it.

“This is going to be such a mess, but,” Legend says, “I need you to hold this, and write out your alphabet for me.”

After much undignified scratching in the dirt, they finally have a working translation of Legend’s very, very stupid code word. Not that Link is one to judge, really, but come on now.

“Sa-ha-shu-ra-ra,” Link says.

Legend groans. “Not again.”

They end up needing to have an unnecessarily long discussion about syllabaries versus alphabets and pronunciations thereof, but they manage it. Barely.

“Sasharala.”

“Nope.”

“Sahashrahla?”

“Close. Stop with the sh sound, there isn’t one.”

“I could’ve sworn… ah, well. Sahaserlala?”

“Closer.”

“You have experience with dream worlds, then?”

“You could say that.”

“What will be worse?” Link asks. “Remembering them like they died, or trying to forget them, because they weren’t ever real?”

“It hurts the same either way,” Legend says. “Just pick one, and move on.”

Link looks at the jumbled, overcomplicated code word scratched on the ground among a hundred other letters from across time. “Sahasrahla.”

It is freezing.

Time shoots up into a sitting position with all the speed he can muster, ignoring how it jostles his newly-aching head and casts spots into his eyes. There is sand between every joint in his armor. That’s going to be a joy to clean up. It’s in his hair, too. Farore damn it all.

“Old man!” Twilight rushes over to him with a hurried flash of dark magic, shedding the form of Wolfie. For a moment, Twilight’s relieved face is juxtaposed against a younger one. Time is briefly furious at himself. That’s such a silly thing to mourn, and Time immediately makes his decision—those memories are a remnant of something lost that he never really had in the first place, and Time will not stand for such fantasies even in his own mind.

“Hey, they’re back!” Wind calls to the others.

They cluster in a group of seven around Time and Legend. Time lets a bit of a sheepish smile rest on his face.

“Thanks for the save, vet.”

“Give me back my charm and we will never speak of this again.”

“Fine by me.”

Twilight snorts.

“Hey, uh, not to break up the party or anything,” Four says, “but it’s getting really cold.”

“It sure is. Everyone start packing up!” Warriors orders. “Move, move, move!” Time shoves down his laughter at a Warriors gone soldier-mode. He knows he doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s only because of this place, because of this thing hanging over their heads—literally.

The ruined skeleton arching above them creaks and moans. Why, Time cannot truly tell. Is it lonely? Is it mourning the loss of its victims? Is Time only imagining its song, as Time imagines music to so many things, or is it truly singing? Warriors mutters blasted spirits when he bustles near Time. Hyrule touches the bones with a single finger, and recoils as if he’s been burned.

With every move they make to leave, the old bones wail louder.

Levias, whispers Sky.

Ocean King, mutters Wind.

Legend has not yet named the thing, but there is a name on the edge of the song he hums to placate it.

“Are you alright?” Time overhears Warriors ask him. The question is quiet, hardly a murmur. Not meant to be eavesdropped upon. That intention fails spectacularly.

Legend looks, if anything, confused. “Nothing happened to me,” he says. “I was the one on a rescue mission, remember? I need to be asking after all of you.”

Warriors shrugs. “You look tired.”

“Want me to get out my shield, Captain Pot? This kettle thinks you need to take a look in a mirror.”

Most of the others chuckle at that. Time thinks that was probably what Legend was aiming for. It even has the added benefit of even being true. Alll of them look exhausted.

Legend especially so.

He hasn’t even tried to wipe off the dried blood where he was slashed, and there’s only so much he can do to hide the paleness of his face, the slowly darkening shadows under his eyes like thumbprint bruises. Whatever he’d done to wake them up must have expended a lot of magic—but there’s something beyond that. Something just to the left of exhaustion. A kind of restlessness, maybe.

Above all else, Legend just looks like he wants to leave.

“We need to get moving,” Time says. The others nod their quiet agreements, slinging shields over shoulders and sliding swords into sheaths. Twilight reluctantly latches his pelt back on. Four tries to shake the sand off of his headband, to no avail. Warriors watches everyone like a hawk, and he hardly looks away even while he packs up his own things.

Legend traces a lingering hand along the bleached, cracked-dry bones. The expression he gives it is the same expression he gives his season-changing rod, his time-changing harp, his worn old book practically tearing from its bindings, the jeweled bracelet on his wrist. The same expression he gives seagulls far from the coast, looming thunderheads on the horizon, the quiet glow of the Master Sword, the iridescence of the Four Sword. The same expression he gives all their variants of a Kakariko, the same expression he had on his face when Hyrule once asked him if he had any living family, and he’d said yes.

When Wild starts to lead them back across the desert, Legend is the first to follow after him, and he is the only one who doesn’t look back.