Archive of Our Own ^beta

Once, a very long time ago, there was a boy who lived on the edge of Hyrule Field, in a little house surrounded by apple trees on the top of a hill. He lived there with his uncle, and when the snow started to fall and the fruit on the trees had all been plucked and stored away, he would begin to count the days. A little pegboard and cards would mark the passing of time, each day watching a new card come and go until their count reached zero. When the cards reached zero, the morning would dawn with sweet smells and bright smiles and a warm hug for a boy who was just a year older.  

Uncle used to say that each year together was another miracle. Looking back and remembering how much time was spent with worried eyes on his back, how many rupees were poured into medicine and visits to the healers, he understood, but that young he’d never known any better. Each year, then, had been another marker of adventure and excitement and new stories and new people. The day that the year started wasn’t on the new year’s festival back then, it was on the day when Uncle would wrap him up in his arms and wish him a happy birthday, offering a new book and a honeybun to start the day, and ending it with warm cider while sitting out on the lawn and watching the stars, tucked up in a blanket to fend off the cold. 

For eight years, that had been how it had been. 

And then one year, life had changed. Uncle wasn’t there, and neither was the house or the apple trees or the soft sticky buns and new books. All that waited in the future were monster filled lands and danger, but even so, even without the little pegboard, a little eight-year-old Link had counted down the days. Surely, he had hoped, when they reached zero, things would be alright again. 

They weren’t. When the count reached zero, he was sitting in the Tower of Hera, resting after climbing it for the second time. When he remembered the day he’d cried, like maybe any other little boy in his position would have. He’d cried and sobbed and whispered to his sword until at last the day was over, and then he’d picked himself up and climbed the tower for the third time. He’d finished it that day, nine years old, and then climbed out onto the roof to watch the stars. 

When the days reached zero next, he was ten. He hadn’t been counting them that year, but apparently Uncle had. When he’d woken up confused, Uncle’s smile had wilted. Things weren't right anymore, hadn’t been in a long time. He was different now; Uncle had come back to life the same as he’d always been, but he’d come back not to find his tiny little nephew with a gapped tooth smile who was eight years old, but a nine-year-old little hero who’d fought Ganon and who watched the world with fear and hid a knife under his pillow. That birthday was colder. Uncle tried, he had a book and sticky bun and a smile and hug, and Link had tried to smile and laugh and play along, but it felt like an act on both sides. 

When the days next reached zero, he was far away from home. Grandmother and Grandfather tried to make the day special but they were so, so different from Uncle. He hadn’t said it though. Uncle had sent him away because he couldn’t cope with the little warrior that had stollen his precious bunny’s place, and while the man had never said as much, he still knew the truth. He didn’t want to celebrate that year anyway, but he’d still smiled and thanked Grandmother when she’d handed him a set of paints and kissed his forehead. He’d still sat with her and Grandfather through dinner. He didn’t ask to stay up late and watch the stars though. Grandfather didn’t know anything about stars anyway. 

His next had come in the middle of his second adventure.  He hadn’t counted the days since Uncle sent him away to stay with Grandfather and Grandmother, and with the seasons muddled together, he hadn’t even known it was supposed to be winter at all. It was only when he’d finished with the adventure that he learned he was twelve-and-a-half. Impa had been horrified that they’d missed it, and of course she’d made him sit down to a nice dinner with Din and some of their other friends. She’d done the same thing a year later after they were asked to travel to Labrynna, when he’d turned thirteen.  

He never did tell the sheikah aunty his birthday, but somehow, she knew. That was alright though, he’d always known the sheikah knew everything. He didn’t count the days anymore, he was a man now after all, but being met with a nice meal at the end of the day and a little gift from his aunty still made his heart sing a little. She didn’t want him to spend the day alone, and even if he pretended it didn’t matter, it made him want to cry when he’d hug her at the end of the day and whisper his ‘thank you’s. Like with Uncle, she never tried to make him go to sleep on time that night. Instead, she’d take him to sit under the stars and tell him their stories. Not the stories that the Hylians tell each other gathered around campfires, but the secret ones that the sheikah whisper in the hidden halls of Hyrule castle. She’d tell him about the moon and the stars, and trace the constellations with him, lying back in the grass, all bundled up, like Uncle used to do what felt like a lifetime ago when he was still a tiny child and the stars had looked like jewels set far above them, only just too far away to grab. 

It was years ago that they’d last done that though. Aunty Impa made him wait until after his birthday to set sail and explore. She wanted to share it with him, his thirteenth birthday, the day he truly became a man, and he’d been thankful she had. Because when he’d come back from his adventures at sea, his mind was too muddled to remember what time had passed.  

He ever tried counting the days after he turned thirteen. It wasn’t something adults did, he reasoned, and it didn’t matter in the long run when new adventures had appeared and taken his time away. Distantly, a part of his mind would remember, when he’d see the snow falling, that he was supposed to be a year older soon, but then he’d forget again when some monster or another started swinging for his head. 

It’s been a long time since he’s counted the days now. He’s not even quite sure how many years have passed since then, or even exactly how old he is. He’s stopped counting that too, after his thirteenth. Adults don’t worry about ages and birthdays anyway, so it doesn’t matter. Sure, he smiles and maybe his mind turns to it when Wind proudly declares that he’s almost fourteen, when Wild jokes that he’s a hundred and seventeen, but those two are the only ones who worry about it. Wind’s a kid, it makes sense that he still counts. Wild’s age is screwy because of his long nap, so naturally he’d make jokes about it, they make sense . Warriors and Twilight and Sky don’t fuss about their ages though, and when asked Four will just shrug it off and say he’s “old enough”. They only ever ask Four because he’s so small though, he looks like a child, but he’s not one, he’s told them, and they’d stopped asking after that. 

Still, apparently some of them still think it matters, because the last time they were at Lon Lon, Wild had wheedled with Malon to tell them about Time. Time is different because he’s so secretive of course, so the number doesn’t matter so much as the challenge and the thrill of being right, but Malon is loyal if anything, and never parts with the truth. Although, in a moment of weakness, or maybe playfulness, she had let the date slip. He only knows it’s so because Wild had called them all together last night and told them. 

“Time’s birthday is tomorrow,” the champion whispers while their old man is off in the woods for some privacy. “I need your help to set up a surprise for him.” 

They’re all down. It feels a bit silly to be plotting a birthday party for a full grown adult, but when he speaks his doubt, Warriors assures him it’ll delight their leader. “He’s a child at heart, even if he never lets that on to you all.” 

“And you know this how?” He cocks a brow, pausing in his cleaning of his blade to level the captain with a look. 

The captain smiles, knowing, and crosses his arms. “Reasons.” and at the sounds of protest, the man laughs, eyes shining with warmth as half of the others scowl and some pout. “Just trust me on this one. Time likes pretending he’s some big, scary, mysterious warrior, but between the eight of us, he’s really just a kid at heart sometimes, and believe me,” blue eyes blaze with something bright and mischievous, “he loves surprises.” 

The captain’s words are met with doubt, but when morning dawns and Time wakes, sharp and on time like he always does, and is met with the smiles of the chain of heroes and a small cake made by Wild that night, they all see his good eye light up. Granted, the old man hems and haws and shakes his head like he can’t believe how childish they are, but the smile that slips through when he thinks they aren’t paying attention, when the traditional ditty is sung, reveals that the captain’s words are true. 

“I’m supposing Malon told you.” The man sighs, accepting his cake once breakfast is over, pretending like it’s a burden but smile showing through slightly all the same. 

Wild grins, bright, eyes dancing. “Maaaaybe.” 

“How old are you today, old man?” Wind pipes up, eyeing the cake eagerly. 

Their leader smirks, popping a bit of sweetness in his mouth and accidentally smearing frosting over the stubble he’s yet to shave away for the day. He doesn’t answer, but no one thought that he would. Time’s age is as great a secret as any of them can think of, most likely. Even their own secrets aren’t guarded so fiercely, not even the darkest ones (how else could he have figured out Twilight’s so easily?) 

The sailor pouts, looking his right and proper age and making Legend smirk a bit himself. “Come on! Why won’t you tell us?” 

Warriors, perched up on the log at Time’s back, leans down, grinning. “At least tell us how many years it’s been since we last helped you celebrate your birthday.” 

The old man’s grin grows a bit wider, not falling for the captain’s wiles and instead poking him with his fork. “Not a chance, pretty boy.” 

Time rarely, if ever, uses that nickname on the captain, so it’s kinda weird hearing it. Usually he’s the one who calls the captain that, him or the rancher, but just as with anyone Warriors just huffs and retreats, accepting his defeat but still watching with keen eyes. 

They don’t spend the day in. They’re heroes, their duty is to fight, to work, to serve Hyrule. Monsters don’t stop causing trouble just because a birthday comes around, something he knows all too well. Granted, looking at the snow spread out around them, falling slowly as they walk, he can’t help but wonder about his own. He’s lost track of the days years ago, and traveling through portals to different eras only further throws him off balance. Sure, he could ask Time if he wanted the day; they don’t know how, but the old man knows, without fail, the day and time no matter where they are. Of course, Time doesn’t know the year, which would certainly be more useful, but since when have things ever played into the hands of a hero? Knowing where they are and what era would just make it too easy, wouldn’t it? At least, that must be what the higher powers are thinking, he supposes.  

They trek through the snow and for once, he takes the lead. It’s only fair, he’s got some of the best boots out of the group and thus cutting a path through the snow isn’t the same struggle for him as it would be for Four or Wind, whose own footwear is abysmal and meant for warmth and summer and not for knee high drifts and freezing temperatures. 

The good thing about the freeze though is that at least if someone gets stabbed then the blood will freeze over before they bleed out. Granted, that’s probably not something that’s all that normal to think about, but they’re heroes, that’s the sort of thing they’re supposed to consider, right? (Yes, yes that is good and normal to consider!) 

No, it isn’t.  

He starts a bit at the thought. That was not his. That was not one of his thoughts. 

Link, relax.  

“Vet, you good?” 

He stumbles a bit, turning back to find the others all paused behind him, staring, waiting, worried. Nervous laughter bubbles up in his chest but he manages to bite it back with a half-smile and a nod. He’s fine. “Got lost in my head is all.” 

In his mind, Zelda snorts at him. It’s been forever since he’s heard her voice. Indeed, he didn’t even realize they were in his world when the portal had taken them here, but apparently his sister did. She must have sensed his magic, even if the veteran hero had failed to do the same. To himself, Legend huffs, not bothering to block back his self-scolding from his twin at his failure to pick up on the strongest magical presence in the country when she’d clearly pegged his own. 

It’s fine. I have time, you’re busy. It happens. She assures. 

I ought to be aware, he thinks back, I shouldn’t miss something like this.  

They’ll agree to disagree though. She’s always kinder to him than he is to himself, but maybe that’s because his failures don’t weigh nearly as heavy on her shoulders as on his own. 

She’s got an argument against that thought too of course, but he misses it entirely when they see monsters ahead, monsters that see them and quickly head their way. He severs the connection before she can really send him anything at all, instead focusing himself on the battle that comes charging towards them. 

It’s messy, bloody as always, but nothing red potions can’t do anything for. Granted, they are all tired, sore, and weary when it ends after a good two hours or so of fighting (again, Time would know but who wants to bother asking?) but at least no one is dying. With it over though he’s too tired to really think all too much, so if Zelda tunes back into his thoughts, he doesn’t really have anything for her to listen to. 

Lies, it’s all lies. He’s never not thinking, it just that thoughts now are more just distant notions and observations than anything of actual substance.  

“That was messy,” Warriors groans- gasps as Sky pops the man’s shoulder back into place with a noise that makes Wind wince and Twilight grimace. 

“Indeed,” Time sounds, helping their smithy up out of the snow where Four had been lying after getting thrown right about when Legend had taken out the last monster. Their smallest has made no moves to get up, instead staring upwards and lying amidst skidded snow looking as though he’s contemplating life. He’s not concussed, they know, he wasn't thrown that hard, the other is just tired and probably settling as the voices in his own head sort themselves out in the cooldown after the battle. 

Legend can relate. Zelda has long since learned to be silent when he’s fighting, and he too has learned to cut off their connection if and when he needs, but early in his adventuring he’d been besot by both of their panicking thoughts whenever he’d entered any fight or skirmish with enemies. 

“What now?” Hyrule huffs, leaning against Wind, who accepts the weight with more grace than Legend probably would. “Do we keep going? Because if so, where are we headed?” 

It’s a good question, and the others all look between themselves slowly. They're in a large field that stretches out extensively, and as far as the rest are concerned, they have no clue what era of Hyrule they're even in. Legend knows though. He didn’t a few hours ago, but Zelda only ever can make contact with him this well in their era. Sure, time is no barrier, but it does weaken the connection somewhat, and different timelines altogether tend to muddle it, so she doesn’t tend to reach out as much outside of their world unless something's wrong. The strain it puts on both of them isn’t really worth it. He knows they’re in his world now though, so he should probably speak up. 

“I’m pretty sure we’re in Hyrule Field,” he groans, leaning heavily on his sword and pretending like his joints aren’t aching like hell at the moment. “If we head north of here we can probably reach the castle.” 

And regardless of the era, most of the time, the carrier of the Master Sword is welcomed into the castle, even if he isn’t recognized. He will be of course, but the others don’t know that and he’s not exactly keen on explaining that he knows they’re in his world because his sister’s voice was talking to him in his head earlier. They may be heroes, but these guys have limits of what even they think is normal or acceptable, and as far as he’s seen, telepathy isn’t exactly one of the things they have experienced before. 

Sky nods, tired, but smiling a bit. “That sounds like a plan. Captain?” Because they all tend to consult the captain about anything like direction or battle plans before doing it. 

A nod is their answer though, the scarfed soldier smiling through a wince as he straightens. “As sound as we can hope for. Shall we?” 

So, they do. They pull themselves up and together, Warriors hefting Four up onto his back and Legend taking the lead while Sky hovers at their captain’s side, worry touching sapphire eyes at strain being put on the shoulder he just reset. They’ll be fine though. Warriors will be fine. Warriors does stuff like this all the time, and it’s not like it’ll be for long. Legend knows Hyrule Field like the back of his hand, no matter the season or the weather, and with snow this thick it’ll only take an hour’s time to reach the castle. Still, mentally, he taps the connection that sings just beneath the surface of his mind. 

We’re headed up towards you, could you maybe have rooms made ready for everyone? I don’t wanna cram them all in my house again. He doesn’t mind hosting, but his home isn’t in the best state, nor big enough to provide ample room for weary and sore heroes to actually find comfort. There’s only two beds after all, and while the couch is comfortable, it’s not made to handle the six-foot something monstrosity that is the captain and his long legs. 

Zelda hums her agreement to him but doesn’t say anything. That’s alright though, she’s also pretty busy in her life, so he doesn’t mind. Especially since, after a while, her voice rings through his mind again. I was hoping you’d head up towards me, I’ve missed you! We’ll be ready when you get here. Stay safe, okay?  

It’s short and sweet. She’s likely somewhat distracted, or maybe just accustomed at this point to needing to be direct in order to decrease the strain of talking between eras. Usually, the closer they are the freer she is with her words, but sometimes she forgets they can do that. It’s fine though, words are tricky some days, he gets it, he’s speaking the same way. 

He’s not worried and she doesn’t say anything more after that. Instead, they keep walking and Wind starts humming a tune. He only realizes he’s singing along about halfway through but it’s fine. It keeps them moving, feet trying of their own accord to match the beat of the song, and thus quickening their pace. 

They’re at Castletown by the time the sun has started to hang low, sky touching just faintly red over the snowy field and towering peaks of the castle’s roof. Getting inside is... an experience. He’s never sure if he should risk the main gates or not, but the others have no clue that they’re in his era yet, so going to a side door would seem strange to them. In the end, he just follows their lead, so when the soldiers stationed there let them in without a fuss, he finds himself sighing in relief. He really didn’t want to have to deal with another fight today or explain why they had to fight Hyrule’s knights to the other heroes. That would just be a disaster. And while, yes, his very existence could easily be summed up by that particular word, it’s just not something he wants to address today. It’s honestly too cold for that. 

It’s warmer inside the castle though, and the whole staff seems to be standing outside and waiting for them to bring them in, much to the shock and surprise of the heroes, and honestly himself. He was maybe expecting Zelda, or much more likely a servant or trusted aid that would greet them and take them indoors to the prepared rooms. He wasn’t expecting a full formal welcome as his sister stands outside, waiting, smile warmer than the sun, even if it is slightly weary from endless politics and paperwork. 

“Link!” Zelda doesn’t bother waiting for them to make their way towards her, instead darting through the mess of heroes to catch him in her arms. She’s warm, oh so delightfully warm, and the soft fur on her winter cape grazes his face as she embraces him. It’s nice. 

The others are watching, but who cares? His sister is right here and Legend’s only thought is to return her embrace, sinking into it with a feeling dangerously similar to relief. “Hey, Zel.” 

He wants to hold tight, to keep holding on, to just bury his face in fox fur and golden hair and just breathe , but she doesn’t let him. Instead, she’s pulling back and scanning over him with blue eyes that are a perfect match for the chosen hero’s own, although sterner than Sky’s and better guarded, much like his own. “You look like shit.” 

Warriors chokes, and maybe that’s why he finds himself laughing. It’s a hysterical sort of chuckle, half relief and half overwhelming exhaustion, but it’s a laugh and not a sob, so that’s something at least, right? “I feel like shit!” 

His sister nods sagaciously, giving him a proper look over, hands still holding his own all the while. “you need a bath, and a good night’s sleep, and I dare say a potion for your pain.” She huffs, meeting his eyes again with a wry smile. “Right knee?” 

Another sputter of laughter. “Always.” 

“Right.” A crisp nod is followed by an order to one of the staff still standing at attention, silent and prim. “Lead our guests inside, Melchizedek, and take them to the baths. I expect you’ve had the chamber maids prepare clothes for them as I asked?” 

The steward has, indeed, apparently seen that such orders are followed, and quickly ushers the heroes towards the doors. Zelda gives him another hug as they leave, eyes softening some now that they’re essentially alone, even if the whole staff are still very much in attendance. “I’m glad you’re alright.” 

“You and me both.” It’s safe, and fine, to drop his head to her shoulder, to rest his eyes in the darkness her fur provides and let loose a sigh, breathing deeply before pausing. “Lavender and chamomile?” 

She snorts, very un-princess-like, but who cares? Who will judge? The staff? Hardly. They’re all too fond of both he and his sister to do anything more than smile at the twins whenever either of them drops their masks to relax in the presence of the other. “Yes, actually! Ralph sent it as a gift, he said it would help me not stress out so much.” 

“Stupid Ralph.” 

Zelda giggles, dropping his hands and wrapping her arms around his shoulders instead, hunching over him like her extra two inches let her. She might also be wearing heels, he's not sure. “Yeah, he’s an idiot.” 

“He going okay?” 

And then the soft fur under his face is pulling away, taking with it the gentle herbal scent his sister wears and instead leaving him to meet sapphire eyes that smile even when her face doesn’t. “We can discuss that later. Right now , you need a bath, and out of this cold I dare say.” Her eyes turn away, but he doesn’t bother following them as she addresses another staff member. “Paige, take Link inside please, and see he’s tended to.” Feet crunch closer, but Zelda is turning back to him, eyes glinting with silent mischief. “I’d take you myself, but... I have a few things left to take care of this evening.” 

He’s not sure if he likes the way she’s smiling, because it usually means trouble for him, or some sort of unplanned or unforeseen thing. But even when he tries peeking inside of her head to see what it is, she always just shuts him out, just as she does now. Only this time, she does it with a quick kiss of farewell to his brow and a “stop snooping!” before shoving him off and towards where Paige is patiently waiting for him. 

The other heroes, naturally, have questions when he joins them again. 

They’re none of them shy, so most of them simply strip away frozen clothes and armor and gather in the baths. The others have already started when he arrives, but they have the decency to wait until he’s in the water and done rinsing blood and dirt off of himself before they start asking. 

“So...” Warriors settles his hands on his hips, staring at him from across the baths, “I assume this is your Hyrule?” 

He doesn’t even bother meeting the man’s eyes. (They’re not shy, but that doesn't mean he’s keen on looking!) “Yep.” 

“And your Zelda just... knew we‘d be here?” The others are watching them both, but no one else asks anything. Did they all get together and agree to question him about this? He didn’t take long enough out there with Zelda for them to start plotting an interrogation, did he? But they’re not accusing so much as looking... confused . 

He shrugs, turning his back (because unlike some people he’s not built like a freaking marble statue and is very aware of it) and focusing on the soaps and things set out for their use. He can’t help the smile that touches his face when he sees the goat-milk soap he just knows is there because Zelda knows he prefers it. “Yep again.”  

“How?” Wind asks from under lathery mess Sky is making out of his hair. 

Legend shrugs off the question, making to start doing the same for himself only to have the captain close the distance between them and take the soap instead. He’s not keen on being washed, but when it comes to his hair, he supposes maybe Warriors isn’t too bad of an option. “I have a very strong magical signature,” it’s not a lie, “so Zelda can sense when I’m close to Hyrule Castle. I can usually tell when she’s nearby too, but I wasn’t paying enough attention earlier, so I missed it.” 

It’s accepted with less fuss than he expected, but then again, the warm water is very distracting. So are Warriors’ hands. It’s downright criminal how soothing the fingers rubbing into his scalp feel and it’s really all he can do to not utterly melt when they pass just behind his ears. 

“You two seem close,” Sky observes, tapping Wind’s shoulders and chuckling when the sailor drops like a sack of rocks under the water at the signal, bubbles foaming out of sun-bleached curls as the sailor lingers under the surface. The chosen hero’s eyes glint just like his sister’s as they turn up to him, long bangs hanging wet but somehow almost elegantly over his gaze as it fixes on him. “Can I ask?” 

Well, it’s not like he’s going to be able to hide it, so... 

“She’s my twin sister.” 

The hands in his hair stop . Time, washing his pup’s own mange, starts, and Twilight yelps as soap gets in his eyes with a slip of the old man’s hand. Indeed, the whole bath house falls silent for a good minute until Wind pops up out of the water again with a splash and a giggle, only to frown and look around at the silent older heroes. “What did I miss?” 

“Yeah, um,” Warriors’ hands slip to rest on his shoulders, twitching slightly, “could you repeat that? I- I'm sorry,” it’s a laugh, almost nervous? “I- We had to- You two are... what? ” 

“Siblings?” He doesn’t like this, he really doesn’t like this. They are staring, and as much as he’s used to extremes from his fellow heroes, he’s also currently not in any state where he feels comfortable being the center of attention and it’s making him feel very, very exposed. More so than he was already. 

”Who?” Wind cocks his head, knocking water out of his ears. 

“You and Zelda are siblings.” Four repeats, staring, eyes dark but too far away for him to tell if they’re purple or blue. Regardless, it makes him uncomfortable, because even if he admires Four, the last time he was fixed under that stare it ended with him nearly losing his arm to the other hero. Not that Four knows that, but he most certainly does.  

“Wait,” Wind spins from looking at the smithy to looking at him, “really?” There are still suds in the kid’s hair. The sailor blinks, brows furrowing for a moment before smoothing again, a smile taking over. “That’s pretty cool!” 

It’s like the tension in the air was cut with a knife, and despite himself he sags against the captain’s hands I the wake of it. 

“Who’s older?” 

“Zelda,” he answers, slowly. He wasn’t expecting Wind to just... accept it, not when the others are still staring at him. He wishes they’d stop that, and while he’s not shy, he still crosses his arms in some attempt at covering himself. Because while, yes, he’s trained and fought and worked for ages, he’s still not really much to look at and since most of them are- well, he’s not very comfortable under their stares, even if they’re probably not even paying attention to his lack of physique.  

Wind grins, gap toothed now after he’d lost one a month ago. “Cool! That means I’m not the only one with a sister!” And with that, the sailor falls back under water for a moment, this time effectively escaping his sudsy crown before bobbing up again, all bright and sunny and warm. He sort of reminds Legend of Gully right now, although older and better spoken. “So, did you two grow up together in the castle? Does that make you a prince?” 

Warriors’ hands twitch, tightening slightly. 

It’s not good, it’s very much not good. He Does Not Like the way the hands linger so close to his neck, and while there’s a part of him that knows that Warriors is a brother , there’s another, treacherous little voice that whispers that the man is also a knight, one of the people sworn to keep pure and perfect the line of Hylia’s blood. 

“No,” he squeaks, and hates how his voice comes out. He wants to both pull out of the captain’s reach and shrink back behind him and out of the sight of the others. “Not officially anyway. Most of Hyrule isn’t aware, and we like to keep it that way. I’m just Link- or Legend, I guess, to you guys.” 

Warriors’ breath shudders for a moment, but then his hands loosen, one clapping his shoulder briefly before lifting slowly before falling into his hair again. The man doesn’t speak, but the body of the other behind him isn’t strung so tight now, and as if taking cues from the captain, the others similarly relax. 

Time, at the other end of the bath, nods slowly. “Thank you for sharing that with us.” 

“Yes,” Twilight groans, rubbing at red and irritated eyes, “an’ sorry we reacted so strong, we jist-” he huffs, squinting and then rubbing again with a little groan, “was not expectin’ that.” 

“Sorry.” 

“We would have found out eventually,” Hyrule pipes up, smiling. “Thank you for giving us time to...understand. I don’t think most of us could have handled having it dropped on us sometime during dinner or something.” 

He smiles back at the traveler. It’s a strained sort of thing, but the others return it in kind.  

They’re weird about it for all of the time it takes for Warriors to finish with his hair, but when he snaps at them to “stop staring at me like I’m sliced liver!” they all stop. There’s some teasing, starting with Hyrule but quickly picked up by Twilight and Sky, and by the time he throws a wet hand towel at the rancher, laughing at him to “just shut up!” it’s almost as though things are normal again, almost . 

Although, when Warriors pushes on his shoulders to tell him to rinse, he almost drops his control on his magic because he’s still so tight wound. That would have made it worse, because there is no chance in the Dark World that he wants to explain his heritage and his tail in the same day. No thank you! 

When they finally meet up with Zelda again, things are somewhat normal again. They’re all clean, warm, and while the clothes provided for them are a fair bit more... opulent than he was expecting, even for the castle, they’re still comfortable. Dare he say it, they actually all look amazing once they’re all dressed and dried and have their hair set nicely. And while he can’t name what exactly Warriors had done , he knows that all of his muscles feel like utter jelly now, not a bit of tension left in him once they’d all climbed out of the bath, and he almost feels like he floating as they walk down the hall after Melchizedek to join his sister at...whatever part of the castle she’s at. 

When they do meet her though, Zelda is also dressed up. In comfortable Hytopian dress clothes, but dress clothes all the same, and the fact that she’s standing outside of the ballroom makes him suddenly suspicious. Suspicious and wary.  

“Zel...” his brothers all stare a bit, and he can feel it, but now his attention is on his sister’s bright smile and glinting eyes and not on his brothers’ collective surprise at his familiarity with the princess. She’s his sister , he can talk to her how he wants outside of court. 

Said sister sweeps towards him with a grin, catching his arm with her own despite his guarded expression. “Oh don’t be like that!” 

“What did you do?” 

Her eyes flash. “Only something I know you’re going to love.”  

And then the doors to the ballroom open before he can say anything. 

Legend is prepared for a lot of things, despite having no time to become so, but any tension that had managed to bleed back into him between the bath and now seeps away immediately when he’s met with the sight of the ballroom. 

The place is packed! Not with nobles in stuffy clothes with turned up noses though. No! It’s full of faces he knows! People and animals and smiles that are all turned towards him, and Ravio and Hilda standing at the very front of the group. The bunny merchant’s smile is a close match for Zelda’s own, and while Hilda’s is thinner, more graceful, less bright and sunny and more sedate, it’s still a smile as her voice joins with the variable crowd before them.  

“Happy birthday!” 

Legend blinks, then stares, and then, just as the other heroes are beginning to murmur, one of them (he’s not sure which) starting to reach out, he throws his head back and laughs . 

He’s not even sure why he’s laughing. The situation isn’t funny, nor is it overwhelming, (he doesn’t think so anyway?) or even startling. He’s not upset and he’s not thrilled but there’s laughter exploding from inside his chest, and while it gives some of those gathered- especially his fellow heroes- pause, it’s only a moment before Zelda’s arms are wrapping around him in a tight hug and Ravio is pulling Hilda over to join it. 

Just like the laughter, he can’t give reason to the tears that stream from his eyes as he lifts an arm to pull his housemate closer, not even caring if he ends up bringing Hilda with. Sure, they’re not close, they’re both wary of each other and distant even if their respective twins are bright and friendly with them both, but he respects her and she him, and right now he doesn’t give a darn if he ends up giving her a hug. 

“Happy birthday, Mister Hero!” Ravio sings and Sheerow, fluttering overhead, echoes the sentiment even as Legend giggles hysterically at the sound.  

“Happy Birthday, Hero,” Hilda repeats, surrendering to the embrace with a little sigh that does nothing to kill her painted smile or hide the fact that her arms are spread to catch the other three of them just the same as they do her.. 

“Happy birthday, Link,” Zelda giggles, before pressing their noses together with a little giggle as he wheezes back a giggle of his own. 

“Isn’t it your birthday too?” Is the first thing he can manage, but only after they all let go of him and are standing in a loose circle, he dragging a fist across his eyes even though he still can’t name why they’re wet. 

The other three exchange a smile, a matching one that highlights just how similar their three faces are. “Yes,” Zelda shrugs. 

“But,” Ravio’s hand finds his for a quick squeeze, “we’ve always had birthdays. Big ones.” His nose scrunches up in distaste for a moment in a motion that makes Legend break out in giggles all over again. 

Hilda’s smile is soft still, softer than normal as it focuses on him rather than on her own twin brother. “This is for all of us, but we wanted to surprise you because Zelda said you haven't had a birthday in years.” 

When he glances at his sister, she flushes slightly, tucking hair behind her ear. “Impa told me.” 

Because Impa knows everything. 

“Is Aunty here?” he finds himself asking. Yes, he should probably thank them. Yes, he should probably at least try to greet the guests, almost all of which he recognizes, even the obviously Lorulian ones. Yes, his priorities should probably be somewhere else, but there’s suddenly a very strong need to go and find the sheikah woman who’d so long been his rock after Uncle had disappeared when he’d gone on his second adventure. 

His twin- his Hylian twin at least -because in a way Hilda and Ravio are almost like their siblings as well, just from a different dimension, and they all share a birthday so maybe that would make them quadruplets because their parents were all just alternate versions of each other's, but that isn’t important right now- smiles, nodding over to where the woman in question stands. 

Legend all but flies from his sister’s side. He hears, faintly, the startled sounds of the other heroes, but that’s not his focus. His focus is the smile that breaks across friendly features as the woman stoops, arms open, and catches him in a hug that’s warm and soft and home in all the ways that he’s missed . 

“Happy Birthday, Link.” 

He starts back a bit at the wet sound of her voice, and even though she’s smiling, alarm steals over him in a second. “Aunty?” 

“I’m okay,” she laughs, pulling him close again, far stronger than him and easily pulling him off his feet. “I’m alright, Link, I’m just...so happy to see you again, you little rascal!” 

And he’s happy to see her, so, so happy. He doesn’t care of the others are watching, staring, gaping even, he just wraps his arms as far around Impa’s bulk as he can and hugs her until she at last lets go to wipe her eyes with a flowery handkerchief he seems to remember having bought her in Labrynna. 

He sort of forgets to pay attention to the other heroes after that. He’s not trying to ignore them, but suddenly Smith and Berta are right there and Gully is all but jumping into his arms and- well no one can really blame him for getting distracted, can they? Especially since Berta is all fussing at him, hands fluttering until at last she can catch his face while her son has his hands busy, the smithy's wife giving him a good once over, eyes glittering. Most of the time, he avoids the attention she’s always so eager to give, the way her eyes soften with something too close to pity for comfort but which now is just warmth ad the slightest bit of melancholy.  

“Look at you, all grown up now!” 

“Berta,” her husband scolds, setting a hand on her waist to pull her back, “don’t fuss so. Link’s a right, proper man now! He’s no child anymore!” And the smile that’s turned on him is bright and wide and proud in ways he really wasn’t expecting, but can’t avoid. Still, he flushes under it, ducking is head. He was a shit apprentice, and he knows that, knows they know it too, but somehow that doesn’t seem to matter to them. Gully’s never minded, and the whole family simply drowns him in well wishes before Smith eventually pulls them away to “let the man greet his friends, before you start sobbing", which is a very real risk, and prompts Impa to offer her handkerchief. It’s accepted with the first of what he supposes might be many sniffles. 

After that, he finds himself drawn into the crowd. 

There’s a part, a very small part of him, that registers that this probably looks very strange to his brothers. He’s hardly the open and bright hero with them, but there was a time, not that long ago really, where he used to be, and that hero still exists somewhere behind all the thorns and brambles that have grown over his heart, and while the hedge doesn’t exactly fall, it does sort of flower somewhat in the presences of so many familiar faces. 

Din and Farore both sweep him up into hugs, the former swinging him around in an arc before letting his feet touch the ground again, her smile bright and blazing like the element she’s best known for. Nayru is less familiar, taking his hand with a bright and gracious smile, all poised and proper but no less fond as she offers her best wishes to him, and quickly follows it up with a kiss. That of course makes Din offer the same and then Farore, until he backs off with a nervous laugh for fear one of them will try going for his lips next (not that Farore would, but Din has hinted). 

Of course, that’s about when Ghanti pops through the crowd to scold and fuss and smack at him as though she’s not red as a cherry herself, which of course makes him tease and her scowl and swat until he’s laughing and she’s rolling her eyes. 

And then Zelda’s there with the others, and the heroes are all staring and somehow, for some absolutely bonkers reason, he can’t find it in himself to care. 

“Having fun, Mister Hero?” Ravio asks hopefully, and Legend can only shake his head and laugh.  

“Yes,” he runs a had through his hair, smile so wide it feels like it’s going to split his face, “how did you guys even do all this?” 

“It took some effort,” his sister admits, hands catching behind her back as she smiles at him, beams really, bright and warm and so, so impossibly fond. “You have a lot of friends.” 

“A lot,” his counterpart repeats, running a hand through his own hair with a blown out huff. “Like, more than most people.” 

He giggles. The heroes are staring, faces all questioning or just in overwhelmed confusion, but all he can do is giggle . 

“We managed though. Which is very good, because this would have been a rather droll party if we had tried to invite only people we are close with.” Hilda observes, lips twitching upwards as she scans the hall with a little smirk. 

Ravio stares at his sister, frowning. “That would just be the four of us though?” 

“Precisely,” The Lorulian princess drones, “and four makes for a boring party if everyone there are the celebrated persons.” 

His laughter gets slightly more hysterical when Four, the hero, makes a face at that. But then Ravio is spinning to him and demanding introductions, and the other heroes are turning eyes on him that hold the same request, although touched with a slight hint of hysteria, and then he’s turning out to the crowd again and introducing them all. 

Ralph greets him with a firm handshake and a good deal more respect than their last encounter. The man’s grown up, in the most literal sense, and is a good head taller than him now (but still incapable of a spin attack as he cackles at learning). Warriors holds a very long staring contest with the Labrynnian, but then bright aquamarine are turned on him again and wishing him felicitations with a marked dismissal of the warrior captain. It makes him grin. Apparently, the presence of a new hero to bump heads with, one whose head is more level with his own, is reason enough to treat him like a equal, although, the scowl on Hyrule’s face and the way Wild is looking between himself and his old companion makes him wonder if the other heroes are thinking something very-very different. 

They might have lingered with Ralph a moment more, but that’s about when all the heroes start and reach for their weapons, and Legend finds that his red-headed friend has been pushed aside by a much larger, hornier head with a rumble that has him grinning from ear to ear. “Dimitri!” He ignores Ralph’s complaints, the panic of the heroes, and the laughter of his sister and Lorulian siblings in favor of greeting the dodongo. And after Dimitri, Ricky and Moosh are bouncing up after (Ricky bouncing and Moosh whining), and then it’s Styla and Ballad (which makes all of the heroes’ jaws drop in a display that has both he and his old companion sharing a look and a laugh) and after them are the witches.  

Irene, Maple, and Syrup are in what appears to be a very heated debate, but it’s dropped the moment they see him to instead take up a group scolding that lasts for all of few minutes before they stop and offer him their own versions of cheers. Syrup’s is warmer, of course, joined with a almost ominous but very affectionate laugh, but the girls at least smile, and while his brothers are scowling at the two, he knows that the cousins mean well. They’re harsh is all, they always have been, but it’s alright, he knows that their rolled eyes and scoffed congratulations are meant from the bottoms of their hearts. Maybe the other heroes are expecting him to snark or hiss back, he’s not sure, he knows Twilight probably expects it, but these girls are safe, and warm, and kind in their own way and he’s simply in too good a mood to do anything more than grin and grab them both in a hug.  

“Thank you,” he snorts, even as Irene squawks and Maple turns a cherry red, “I'm really glad you’re here.” 

“Whatever, hero boy,” Irene sighs, but she doesn’t pull away, and even sinks into his arms a bit.  

On his other side, Maple is very much tensing up, but she’s also bright red and a tiny smile is touching her lips. “Yeah, yeah, you’re such a sap, Link.” 

He can almost hear Twilight’s jaw hit the floor. 

“Happy birthday, boy,” Syrup croaks, “I’m glad to see you well, but I’d suggest letting poor Maple go before she combusts.” 

Irene snorts, Maple smacks her cousin and of course that sets off whatever fight they were having before, but that’s fine. That’s them. He'd honestly expect nothing less, and there’s a lot to distract him. 

Myth scooping him up into a hug and, just like Ballad, making the other heroes double take is one of those things. The small crowd of sages and Holy Maidens that descends on them the moment he’s on his feet again is another. And then after that there are just so many other faces to speak to, to greet, to find himself utterly and completely overwhelmed at seeing again after so long. There’s his grandparents and his cousins from Holodrum. There’s the circus troop; Mel and Rom dancing around him and poking and speaking in turn like they do, Jovan and Perrot hemming and hawing, and of course Rishu, now nearly thirteen himself and all too eager to gush and gape at his one-time teacher. There’s Bipin and Blossom and their son. There’s any number of people he remembers but who he’d never have thought would take time to come and see him again. Even Rosa is ‘here, flirting and batting her eyes so much that Warriors’ gaze is near burning into the back of his skull, brows so high on his face they’re an inch from flying off of it. 

And when the greeting and talking and catching up has finally started to settle, then everything actually starts . 

Because it is their birthday, not just his, it’s the four of them who take the dance floor together for the opening dance. Like the genius she is, Zelda chose to open the night with one that lets them switch as they go, so that one moment it’s his sister in his arms and the next it’s Hilda, smile more real each time her eyes meet his, to the point where she actually giggles a bit when he spins her at the end, and even, once in a bit, Raio and he will link arms and take a turn about while the girls mirror them. He’s the only real dancer of the four, so Din captures him a moment later for the second dance, but he drags Zelda out again after that, and after a few more he gets up the guts to grab Hilda and ignore he flushed protests and take her across the floor with the rest. She’s an amazing dancer too, almost better than he is, and it only takes a bit before he realizes that court rules are her only reason for not joining of her own free will. 

And, okay, maybe they got off to a bad start, and maybe they’ve never really gotten along so well, always wary of each other, putting up walls and hesitant with words, but dancing doesn’t need words, and her steps are light and his are too, and her laughter is clear when he spins them round, a little shriek escaping when he drops her into a dip, eyes glinting as she huffs and glares at him, red eyes sparkling. 

He makes her dance with him again later, but only after joining Gully for one, Hyrule for another and letting Din steal him for a fast-paced jig that eventually makes all the other dancers give up but which only leaves them panting by the time Perrot’s guitar stops and their own feet find their ending positions on the floor. 

He stops thinking, after a bit, about where his brothers are. If he’s not dancing with one of them (and he does end up dancing with almost all of them, except Sky who can’t and Time who won’t) then it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t watching him talk with this or that person, or tease Ralph and Ghanti or let another person embrace or kiss him. It doesn’t matter. What matters are that people are having fun, that Hilda is beaming, that Fable’s laughter rings sweet over the hall, all the weight slipping off her shoulders. What matters is that Ravio is eagerly chatting up one or another person, hands flying freely and without nerves holding them down, Sheerow buzzing around him excitedly in a mirror. What matters is the way that, when it’s all over; dancing done, food and drink shared, farewells said and heroes ushered off to bed, he’s left standing in the hall with his twin and otherworldly siblings, the four of them wired and tired at the same time, but all still giggling and laughing as Hilda leans on his arm smiling while Zelda and Ravio giggle and cling to each other for support. 

“Thank you,” he tells them, gaze trailing from blue to green to crimson, and then up again to warm garnet where Impa stands over the four of them. “This was amazing.” 

“No, thank you!” Zelda snorts, “Like Hilda said, this would have been just another dull political fuss if you weren’t such a social butterfly!” 

“Or so popular with the ladies!” Ravio chirps, eyes glinting, “I think I counted seven different gals all ogling you all night long, and that was just the women!” 

Laughter squeezes up out of him, flustered and confused. “We literally all have the same face?” 

“Different color schemes, darling,” the merchant dismisses with a wave of his hand, an action and tone that speaks of hours chatting with Styla. “None of us were exactly blessed with starlit gems for eyes!” 

“Yours literally look like rupees!” 

“Regardless! I’m not near half as dashing, nor so charming as to make the ladies swoon with my flare on the dancefloor!” And as though to illustrate his point, Ravio presses the back of his hand to his brow and drops into Zelda’s waiting arms, sending both into another flurry of giggles that even Hilda and he can only roll their eyes at. 

Impa beams at them all, hands setting on her hips as she shakes her head. “You all know the night’s not hardly done though, right?” 

“Of course!” Zelda straightens, eyes wide, and promptly drops Ravio, who hits the floor with a loud squawk that nearly rivals Sheerow’s own as the thing dives after him. “I almost forgot!” 

“Forgot what?” He finds himself asking, looking between the other three and Aunty Impa, only to find only sly smiles from the girls and sparkling, barely contained excitement in the rupee green eyes of his counterpart. 

 No one answers him. Instead, Impa helps Ravio up and ushers all of them up and out of the hall, moving up a few flights upstairs before tired legs start aching and Hilda groans and then all four of them find themselves gathered up in a bundle and carried like kittens up the stairs. They’re only let down again once they reach Zelda’s bedchambers, and even then it’s only so Legend can get the door so they can all enter. 

Waiting for them in the room are three warm night-dresses and one sleep shirt and pant, as well as bathrobes that appear to be color-coded, purple, green, red, and blue. The irony, or perhaps alternate meaning of the colors makes him start laughing all over again, this time unable to really explain why to the other three who stare at him like he’s gone mad before shrugging it off. 

Surprisingly, he’s given the purple robe, and Ravio makes no point of hiding that he thinks Legend should wear the color more. “It suits you! You should try wearing my hood sometime!” 

Not a chance in hell. 

Eventually though, they’ve each had a turn behind the changing screen and are all comfortably dressed down, hair loose and free and sweaty after the night’s fun. Smiles still trail on their lips as they settle together on Zelda’s bed, waiting and chatting between themselves until Impa comes back into the room. 

In the sheikah woman’s arms are four boxes. 

“Are those presents!” Ravio exclaims, catching his and Zelda’s shoulders and using them to shoot himself upright and stare, eagerly, at the brightly wrapped boxes. 

Amid their sighs and giggles, Impa answers that yes, yes they are. “It’s your birthday,” she tells them, settling on the bed and making them all giggle, still giddy, as the mattress sags towards her and sends them all tumbling over each other and into her. After they’re settled again, she hands out the boxes. “You all may be of age now, all grown up eighteen year olds, but no one's ever too old for presents.” 

The words give him pause, even as the others offer thanks and smiles. “Wait, we’re eighteen now?” 

He’s fixed under our different stares, all disbelieving. “You didn’t know? ” 

He flounders, blinking at them, “I don’t keep track! I’m off saving the world every other year, since when do I have time to keep track of how old I am?” 

The bright lights in their eyes fade, and suddenly Legend is struck with the thought that that was perhaps not the right thing to say in this moment. Suddenly they’re all looking at him with eyes that betray feelings so starkly different from the second before, Impa’s weary, Ravio’s tearful, Fale’s resigned and sympathetic and Hilda’s regretful. 

“I suppose in the balance of things, a birthday really is so small a matter.” Hilda whispers, hugging printed paper close and making it crinkle. It should be a satisfying sound, but suddenly it’s not. 

He hates himself. “No, this was amazing! I-” he flounders, “this was one of the best ones I’ve ever had!” It should come out joyful. It sounds desperate. 

Ravio’s lip trembles. “How many did you actually have though?” 

“Several!” His eyes dart up to Impa, pleading. “Uncle used to celebrate with me, and after that, Grandma put something together, and Impa always made sure something nice happened before I went to sea!” 

“But about when you came back?” Hilda asks, gaze piercing like always. It’s not sharp and harsh now, not accusing, but it is demanding. “What about when we came around?” 

The year the first snows had come and he’d been darting from dungeon to dungeon, searching for sages and tools and still not ready to trust Ravio, much less seek him out for company. The year when he’d vaguely registered the falling snow as a sign to a forgotten inner child to start counting, but had quickly dismissed to plunge into Lorule and things there. 

“I didn’t care then,” he tries to assure. “I- birthdays aren’t really important to me.” he shrugs, tries to smile. “This one is, will always be, but it’s not the end of the world if I miss one.” 

They’re all dubious, watching, wary, and Zelda’s eyes are heavy again with the burden that he’s only rarely seen leave them (only rarely seen leave his own). Impa doesn’t let it last though, sighing softly and setting a hand on his shoulder, the other falling to Hilda’s, making the girl start some. “Sometimes life takes things from us, but todays not a day to focus on that,” her lips quirk upwards into a hint of a smile, “or are you all determined to deny this old woman the chance to see you opening your gifts and smiling?” 

“No!” Ravio snatches his closer, eyes wide.  

“Of course not,” Zelda’s smile returns, tired but real. 

Legend himself scoffs, smiling up at the woman who’d spent so long looking after him. “Never.” 

Hilda doesn’t say anything, but she offers a weak smile. 

They aren’t back to cheer immediately after that but smiles all around grow wider when Ravio rips open his gift to find glittering emerald earrings inside, ones he delightedly shows them all before prattling on about for a good five minutes until Hilda finally swats at him and tells him to shut up already.  

It’s a bit more natural after that. Zelda insists that Hilda go next, and while the Lorulian princess is dubious, she does, and then stares down at the magnificent set of paints and brushes within. Her fingers trail over them almost reverently, and though Legend says nothing, he does see the way tears touch red eyes at the gift, disappearing when she hugs it close, eyes shutting tight with a little choked-off sound. “Thank you.” 

The irony of the gift isn’t lost on him, but according to Ravio, Hilda has always been an artist, and just as shiny things are her brother’s escape, art is her own, and the rare, plant-based paints that can’t be found in Lorule, richly colored and vibrant, are something she’d probably not dare get for herself when her focus has been so much on funding the rebuilding of her kingdom. It’s the perfect gift, but it’s Impa, so he’s not shocked. 

Zelda’s own present is a little music box with intricate little machinations that make her eyes blow wide and her lips part is a soft little gasp. The light, the wonder, the joy, springs back onto her face as she turns it over, peeking at it from all angles and winding it up to watch it play. He knows, just as Impa does, that the tune, while sweet, isn’t nearly as much of as interest to her as the workings, but that was likely the intent of the thing. 

And then it’s his turn. He doesn’t even need to open the bright paper to know what’s inside, Impa’s smile warm and familiar and fond, betraying what he already knows but, for the sake of everyone else, reveals. Beneath the paper is a book. 

“Only a book?” Ravio frowns, glancing up at Impa as though in a question of why his best friend and brother got such a boring gift while the rest of them have such marvelous ones (Zelda’s music box is stunning just to look at even when still, all gold and polished wood, and the glitter matches the others’ gifts well.) The sheikah just smiles though, watching him keenly as Legend traces the cover. 

“Thank you.” 

There’s doubt on the faces of the Lorulian twins, a wry smile on Zelda’s own, but since he appears content, they don’t question it further. 

“I suppose it’s over now,” Hilda observes, after they’ve all spent a moment or so admiring their own presents and each other's. She sounds wistful, sitting there and clutching her paints, ears drooping some like the idea of the night being over is devastating. 

Legend’s gaze trails up towards Impa’s. She smiles, nodding. “Not nearly,” he announces, pushing himself up. His feet graze the floor, sending shivers up his spine at the cool stone, but slippers wait for all of them, and once on he’s got his on he's quickly ready with the crimson set he supposes are for Hilda.  

She stares openly at him when he offers them. It’s not like the heroes though, it’s not weighty like he’d think it would be. It’s sort of just surprised. 

“Come on,” he urges, smirking and shoving them at her before nodding towards the balcony. “The stars are waiting!” 

There is no pegboard this year, no count, no thought of counting. There’s no Uncle or apple trees, or a little house on a hill or a stickybun and a bright morning by the fire. Tonight, ten years since the last time there had been such things as they were meant to be, there are four siblings curled up on a stone balcony in a giant castle on a hill, vines wrapping around the railing. There’s a warm Aunty who brings them hot chocolate to sip as they stare at the stars, all wrapped up and warm, and like the sheikah do in hidden halls, Link shares the stories of the stars with his siblings. 

It’s the best birthday any of them can remember.