Chapter Text

Part 1: Dawn

When Wild Link opened his eyes, the sun was beaming down at him like a long lost love. The warmth of the light alone nearly makes his eyes fog. It feels heavenly. He’s dearly missed having such a simple, treasured thing. It’s not the first time he’s said it, but he’ll never again forget how precious light really is. It’s not his first time promising similar things to himself. He’s never taken advantage of something so crucial since the first time. Even then, he cherished every moment. He can’t help desperately promising, clutching his shirt, bathing in the sun, like simple words will never take the warmth away. 

The sun’s at its peak, overbearing and comforting in its glory. The noon sunlight toasts his already sweaty skin almost unpleasantly. His soul’s frozen ache makes the heat more than simply tolerable. It takes him a long while to drag his eyes away from the sky, dizzy, sun spotted, and panting to finally do more than deal with after-loop shock. 

He’s young - he’s always young. It’s rare for him to return after he’s drawn the Sword. He can only faintly recall echoes from the times before when he’s actually old. The few times he’s come after the Sword, swirl and ache indistinctly, and he releases the attempt with the ease of practice. He comes back young, and rarely has that changed. Now, he’s 11, small, bruised, and weak. He’s dressed in muddy, scraped clothing marked in messy mending that speaks of young hands. His feet are bare and clearly used to it. Hair unruly, long, and kept only by a half-conscious attempt to brush the tangles. His hand, thank the three, lies bare, free from any distinguishing mark. He’ll have enough time on this loop to maybe get somewhere. It’s a relief that instantly eases his breathing. He’s not perfect at it, but he’s getting better over time. It’s the first time he’s succeeded to loop five times in a row without the mark appearing. 

Right then, what’s his plan then? What to do as a 11 year old hero bound to loop for eternity? What’s the variables in this loop? Each time has only gotten more and more extreme, turning more unique from the first. His first loops the first successful loop, appeared like a fever dream after so long. They used to be so simple and consistent. Facts and events would stay the same until he came along. He used to return much younger back then too. After so long, all those ancient memories turn indistinct and impressionistic. They feel like shadows in his mind or mere suggestions. Things have only turned more chaotic and out of hand each time. Things run without him, turning strange before he returns. He fears everything is only worsening. He can feel it worsening, something writhes and screams at his core constantly in pain. 

This loop is simple. Link was orphaned at a young age and taken in by a simple orphanage. The orphanage is housed in a little dirt smear town called Lon-mai, where frankly Link hadn’t known where it was, but he can now tell it is situated Southeast of the capital. The town is small, underfunded, and over-taxed. The noble of the territory is of low-rank and high ambition. Fortunately for him his land is too small and inconsequential for any change to occur. For the most part Lon-mai is fine. The town is down several conveniences, safety measures, and luxuries, but they have enough. Unfortunately, the orphanage draws the short stick of the town, but it’s small enough and kids are adopted quick enough no real harm is done. Link’s just unfortunate is all. 

Below him, from where he’s perched on a roof, the town bustles cherrily. He’s a little dot on the roof, bundled into a ball that no one pays to mind in the rush. Lon-mai is a small cattle settlement, dealing in primarily goats, but chickens flock the streets just as beloved as any old house cat. Most the town works outside the town limits at the ranches or fields, but the town center always bustles with life. Today, Link can spot a small trio of traveling merchants entrancing the market square with their wit and wares. Lon-mai is so peaceful and so small. 

How long can Link stay here? He’s only 11 now. He’s years to strengthen himself, relearn everything, learn this loop’s limits. He can’t draw too much attention to himself, and he can’t go straight to the Sword. There’s little he can actually do. That’s the most difficult thing about it all. The waiting. He’s had the knowledge and skills to win since the first loop. Hell, he’d won Before it all. Half a battle is knowledge, and he’s gathered plenty of it; however, he’s always returned so young, when he’s weak and reliant. With the odds stacked a mountain high and a curse crippling him at its foot. In the end, it doesn’t matter that he knows every method of attack when it doesn’t matter if he wins or dies. It all returns to another faulty start. He’s a planet caught helpless in the pull of the sun’s gravity. He’ll orbit the light for eons until so long has passed gravity has pulled him into the sun’s epicenter or that the sun itself can only explode. He’ll can’t stop, not when there’s a chance to bathe in the light’s warmth for just a little longer. He’ll fight until nothing is left before he’ll lie down and let Ganon win it all.

Eyes. 

Blue eyes and a spark. A glimmer of knowledge which can only send Link’s heart thundering. He’s throwing himself over the roof before he knows it, barely directing himself to catch the window sill on his way down to slow his fall. It wrecks his weak bruised shoulder painfully, but he doesn’t even pause to consider it. If it’s not broken, it’s perfectly fine. He’s sprinting away desperately trying to catch a perfect spot to slip away at, but it would all take too long. He was recognized, he doesn’t know how but they still recognized him. He can’t help cursing himself, feeling the frustration and self-reproach burning almost more than his panic. He doesn’t have the time to sulk. His body is already much too weak right now. He can’t waste it all over such useless things. 

“Wait!”

A hand darts out from an alleyway just narrowly missing him. A young man, blue eyed and brown haired, tumbles out from it. He’s armed with a long, wicked blade gracing his back and a fur coat. Vivid marks cover his face, making his face appear vicious. Even with his gear clearly weighing him down, he’s quick on his feet darting around obstacles and through the random alleys Link darts through. Even the herd of chickens Link disperses into a frenzy doesn't slow him down. 

Link’s not going to survive, he realizes. There’s nowhere to hide, the man’s much too skilled to have a villager stop him, and he’s too quick. Link’s too weak to fight him directly. If he had a weapon, he might be able to make a difference, but there isn’t. Something simple like a jagged tile won’t do either. Just by the gait of the man’s run Link can tell he’s skilled. Little tricks won’t do anything but slow him down, and frankly Link doesn’t have the time to grab something. Anything else, magic, skills, knowledge, are useless right now without time or strength. He’s helpless, just running down the clock like he’s done so many times before. What gave him away? The Triforce isn’t visible. How does something always happen?

The hand finally snatches the back of his shirt, pulling him into unyielding arms. The man huffs lightly as he slows to a stop, voice warbling indistinctly through his panic. The second his arm’s shift, Link wiggles loose and goes for the throat. He’s not sure if he was going fist first or teeth first, but both were caught easily. The man only bundles him again tighter in his arms, mindless of his flailing and kicking. He’s a wild beast trying to go free, biting anything in sight, but his teeth only glance over armour and clothes and what stamina he has flees him quickly. 

“You’re alright. Just breathe. Shit, I hadn’t thought this through,” hums against Link’s ear, featherlight. “Sorry, sorry. You’re alright. I’m not going to hurt you. Just breathe a little. Deep breaths.” The figure doesn’t lighten his grip once, but it’s soften, less threatening and dark. Link is rocked gently in his lap. He’s not sure when, but they both had some time ago fallen to the ground to sit against the wall. The stranger’s shoulder is soaked beneath Link’s face, but the man doesn’t seem to mind. A hand drifts up to card through his hair as his voice whispers sweet nothings into his browline. His energy has completely fled with the last of the panic, leaving only the perpetual echoes in his bones left. He’s boneless and vulnerable, but his mind lies empty, waiting. He only realizes he’s shivering when a soft cloak is shifted onto him lightly. 

“That’s good. You’re doing alright,” The man whispers, holding him all the more firmly, softer. Up close, Link can see the dark markings he’d once thought vicious lay gentle on the stranger’s face. The lines are sharp and purposeful, but they soften his face into a kind cut. His expressions only show all the more clear under the lines. His eyes, a vivid blue like steel-cut blue, are round with worry. He soaks up the gentleness with a desperation he never knew he’d been missing. In the end, he might be holding on tighter than his own capturer. 

“Who are you?” Link finally croaks out, face heavy against the man’s tunic. It’s become abundantly clear through Link’s continued survival, this man isn’t a part of them. 

“I’m - my name is Link, the Hero of Twilight,” The man (Link?) whispers lightly. He doesn’t stop his gentle ministrations even as Link tenses in his hold. “I think I might be here to help.”

“That’s a first,” Link can’t help but admit, lightly chuckling. “My name’s Link. I’m - well - was the Hero of the Wild. I’ve done this so many times I can’t remember half of it, but this is the first time I’ve seen you.”

“What?” Twilight asks. It takes Link only a moment to decide that he trusts this man. Should he? No. Does he? Yes, something innate in him has decided that’s his only viable option. He’s tried worse, weirder things over much less. 

“I’m going to trust you. You haven’t killed me yet, and I have nothing but this life to lose.”

A hand sweeps his hair from his face and guides Link’s face to meet Twilight’s eyes. His face is solemn and confused but oh so gentle as he says, “I’m never going to hurt you. How could I ever hurt you?”

“Maybe not you,” Link concedes. “But time has had a hold on me for much too long.”

“No one’s going to hurt you,” Twilight repeats firmly. Link can’t help but smile amused and touched by those ephemeral words. They are so warm and calming, as covetable as shimmering diamonds and edged blades. He can’t help but go boneless in Twilight’s embrace even if they’re useless. He’s missed such words.

Twilight’s embrace only becomes stronger at LInk’s unspoken doubt. It should’ve been suffocating - when has touch ever been welcome - but it’s more holy than the embrace of Hylia. The short time he’s trapped in Twilight’s arms feels like the most protected he’s ever been in all his lifetimes. How long has it been since he’s been hugged?

The shadow’s lengthen in the alleyway, and the sun hides behind the height of the buildings. The overbearing - splendid - warmth seeps away into the eventual chill of afternoon. The light remains, but the shadows stretch like fingers crawling towards him. Innately, he knows how the sun works, but every inch that disappears from the sky makes him tense and tremble. It’s going to take him a long time to recover from his last death. Twilight gently shushes him when a whimper shoves itself loose from his throat. Link presses his face into the divot of his neck chasing what warmth he can find. Just beneath his cheek a pulse steadily thrums like a lifeline. Hold onto it before it all ends.

“Where’s your home?” Twilight asks slowly. 

“Orphanage.”

“Hmm,” He hums calmingly in thought. “Alright.”

“What’re we going to do?” Link asks.

“Talk. You have a lot to explain on your end, and I’d like to tell you about myself. Clean you up and get you something to eat too. Then we can figure out some plan,” Twilight starts. 

“It’s a long story,” Link idly says. It’s not meant to be a dismissal, but Twilight still tells him, “I’d expect nothing less,” like he needs to be encouraged and wrangled into sharing. It’s his story, but it’s not worth anything. He can’t gain rupees or strength from it. His memories are more of a burden than a treasure. The few pure ones - indistinct from wear - he cradles in weary arms while the rest chain him down and pull at his flesh. If his story isn’t so unorthodox, damning, and dangerous he’d be willing to share with anyone. The title of crazy means little when you’ve spent lifetimes in its embrace and know the embrace of death more intimately than another hylian. 

“Not pleasant,” he adds absently. 

“That’s alright,” Twilight comforts.

“It’s getting late. Let’s get you home,” Twilight suggests after a moment.

Link frowns at the suggestion. The cold orphanage appears painful in his mind. His little, cold bed on the floor surrounded by kids with luck and spite. He’s the curse of the orphanage, a blot of misfortune rubbing off on those who come close. Those that dare approach him are never kind there. They’re all kids though, pained little orphans scared of what comes next. What they do is meaningless and inconsequential. It leaves the orphanage cold and empty even when it bustles with energetic children. “Do I have to?”

“I have a feeling disappearing for a day isn’t the best idea,” Twilight grimaces slightly.

Link shrugs. It’d hardly be the first time Link’s disappeared in this life. People hardly care when you’re a lost case in an underfunded orphanage. The director is kind, but he doesn’t have the privilege to worry about him. An orphan disappearing into the night would hardly grab anyone’s attention either, so he wouldn’t alert them. Link suggests, “We can run away. It’s -”

“No.”

Link huffs then idly throws out his next two rupee thought, “You can adopt me then. At least on paper. It only costs 500 rupees. I can scavenge enough to pay for it.” He never thought he’d ever be saying this. Run away is always plan A through Y in a loop like this, and plan Z is to wait a little longer then run. 

Twilight must realize that that plan is - 

“That works.”

“Huh,” Link blinks, processing the words. He swore - Twi - This time loop is weird he decides. Is this one going to be one-of-a-kind or will he be able to meet Twilight again?

“You good there, Link?” Twilight asks. Link wordlessly nods his head. “Alright, let’s see if we can sort this out today and get you to bed.”

In a twirl of weightlessness and a confusion swirl of motion Wild’s off the ground. “I’m heavy,” Link points out, when he realizes Twilight is carrying him in a front-style piggy-back. Piggy-front?  It’s just as comforting as their hug earlier, but Twilight really shouldn’t be straining himself to hold him in such a position. Link’s 11, much too large and heavy to be carried around like this, especially when Link can walk just fine. Twilight should not be tiring himself out. 

A firm hand on his back keeps Link locked in place. “No. You’re really not.”

“Fine.”

Twilight’s probably much stronger than he looks. Link’s concern is more insulting than anything else. The Hero of Twilight actually won after all. He isn’t the hero locked for eternity helpless. Link vaguely recalls being strong too. His first journey was so simple in comparison to anything else. It was horrible at the time. Painful, confusing, difficult, but simple. He had strength, purpose, and an end. All his obstacles were tangible and something he could crumble with enough effort. He could carry boulders, defeat legions, and crumple gods. Now he’s lucky enough to have enough strength to pull a child’s bowstring once. The curse advanced quickly and intelligently. Leeching his strength was the simplest and deadliest thing it could do at the time. It was so long ago, but he still misses the Before. 

Twilight chuckles, “I live in a little village called Ordon. It’s a small farming village, out far enough we make everything ourselves. I have this goat ranch the village kids love to visit. Talo loves to come around any odd hour of the day and bug me. He’s 14, and he’ll make me carry him up a mountain any chance he gets. All the village kids climb all over me. Trust me, you’re like a little feather. I’m going to miss them while I’m here, so It’s actually really comforting.”

Link hugs him tighter. It’s a nice image. Picturing Twilight on a ranch happy with little menaces that won’t give a moment of peace. Link would miss that too. It must be hard being ripped away from his time without any explanation for an unknown length of time. What if Twilight’s stuck with him? Trapped in a loop unable to leave trying to fight against an endless curse. He hopes that Hylia has enough mercy to spare Twilight from that fate or to at least spare him the memories from it. He’d do anything to spare Twilight from this.

Twilight keeps a steady stream of lighthearted stories flowing as Link directs him slowly through the streets and people to the orphanage. Twilight takes his time walking the both of them to the edge of town where the orphanage lies, but Link doesn’t mind. The time it takes isn’t anxiety inducing or torturous, but calming. Link’s already exhausted and lets himself lull into the sway of Twilight’s steps and the cadence of his voice. Such unyielding comfort is foreign, but not malevolent. Link welcomes it in with open arms and a sigh of relief. Who cares how odd everything is right now?

Ganon could have actually won if he just offered to kill Link with a hug and sweet nothingness. 

“Link, where’s the director going to be?” Twilight inquires as he wanders towards the worn old church turned orphanage. The little old church has clear additions built onto it to accommodate all the occupants. The church section of the building looks so old that it looks like it’s only supported by the newer additions, but the church section is by far the sturdiest section of the building. Maybe it’s Hylia’s blessing seeping into the floorboards or a difference in the builder’s knowledge, but it’s held on through more than it should’ve. Link recalls storms which should’ve leveled the building leaving the church untouched and shearing through the newer sections. This little orphanage, a step away from town, burdened with poverty still garners its own blessings. That’s why Link can’t help but love this little building. 

“He’s either in the office or starting to oversee dinner. It’s rare for anyone to visit this late,” Link shares, pointing to a side door rather than the more obvious front door. Twilight would see the front door has a sign directing this way too. The front door leads directly to the bedrooms, so it’s been blocked long ago. Twilight doesn’t spend a single moment contemplating the direction before following along and walking through the door. They nearly collide into someone the moment they step through the threshold. 

“Link?” The director tiredly asks. He’s a thin, tired man. His eyes are weighed down with heavy, discolored eye bags that even his spectacles can’t disguise. His clothes are clean, but are aged and wrinkled that appear too long even though they fit him well enough. It’s because the director is much too tall and much too skinny. Even Twilight, who’s tall in his own right, is several inches short from the director. 

“Hello, director,” Twilight calls tentatively. When the director greets him, he continues. “My name is Twilight. I’m here to adopt Link.”

The director’s tired face lights up, genuinely joyful at the news. Link’s fond of the man. For as tired and helpless as the man is, he genuinely tries to help all the kids. Link’s drawn the short stick, but even he is still cared for here. “That’s great!” He exclaims. “I’ve been waiting a long time for Link to finally find a home.”

“I’m glad to finally give him a home.”

“Are you already aware of the adoption process?” the director asks as he leads Twilight towards his office.

“I know there’s an adoption fee,” Twilight replies.

“Well, that’s pretty much it. Lord Henrith has considerably lighter regulations in place than most other regions. Just a high fee. Really, it only makes adoption harder. Apprenticeship or wardship is much more common instead. With such a high adoption fee nowadays, something unofficial is much easier. These kids are lucky everyone here is so kind. You hear horror stories of what can happen, but we’ve never had to worry about that,” the director prattles on. His voice wavers, sounding dry and anxious. It’s alright though, he’s always as timid as a mouse. Any visitor sends him scrambling over his feet, trying to make the best over the opportunity. It only goes to show how much he tries for them all.

“The fee is 500 rupees. I know it's a lot, but the lord allows a generous share to stay at the orphanage and help pay for upkeep. He’s really so very kind,” the man prattles on aimlessly. 

Link only half listens, it’s stuff he for the most part knows. Little Link, the Link before he looped, never completely sat down to understand the implications. Little Link was smart, but politics was never a primary concern for him so he left it to float loose. Now, Link is only saddened by the director’s words. Lord Henrith, the benevolent cause for this orphanage's struggles. Link understands though, sometimes the stress becomes so powerful it’s easier to pretend what little good comes your way is a blessing. Hernith robbed his land of thousands so he can graciously hand off a few rupees. After a while, the reasons matter less than the single rupee you need to survive.

“The price is worth it,” Twilight responds, passing the required funds. Wild ignores how deflated Twilight’s rupee pouch looks at his hip. He’ll pay it back. It might take some time, but Wild refuses to let Twilight get nothing in return for this favor. He’ll return every single rupee and more. 

***

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Twilight begins, staring down at the skinny little thing in front of him. “You’re going to eat this slowly while you explain. Then you’re going to have some more.”

The light soup he pushes towards Link is quickly scooped up, taken in by small, scraped hands. Twilight’s half relieved and half worried when Link takes small, tentative sips. Link’s so small and fragile, he’s not sure what else he can do other than give him the food he’s clearly been lacking. What in the world can he do if Link’s unwilling to eat on top of that? Fortunately, he does eat small, careful spoonfuls, which is probably for the best. He can tell at first glance, Link’s exhausted. His hands are shaking and he’s slow to react. On the fortunate side, it’s given Twilight much more time to consider Link. 

He’s not sure what to think. 

They’re sitting in the back corner of an inn, ignored by the few patrons milling about. The few times anyone does glance their way, no one cares to question them. Link keeps one eye on every single movement in sight, with a glimmer of caution and tension in his eyes. He’s a small, skinny thing of dirt. The mess doesn’t even begin to hide his sunlight blonde hair or powerful blue eyes.

Something pulses between the two of them, like a live wire. It crackles and breathes and pulses. Something living embedded between their souls. It’s like nothing Twilight’s ever felt before, but it settles perfectly in his soul. Link crackles like shattered glass, a collection of fragments, contradictions, and half-formed expressions. So vividly he can feel the comfort of a campfire, stars twinkling brighter than suns, nature's breath, the thrum of a thrilled heart, and endless joy. He can also feel aching pain and confusion, billions of unique same-cut leaves, and fear. Link’s ‘signature’ is in so much pain, Twilight aches just at the sight of him. He’s clueless of what it all means. What’s his purpose here? He does the only thing he knows he can do, and bundles Link in as much comfort he can physically and hopefully mentally. He can’t imagine such a profound link is only one way.

He mentally probes Link, instilling something in him. He can feel Link stir under the attention and see him blink away the drowsiness. His spoon continues its slow journey, and Twilight begins to feel Link’s mind mull over itself. It’s an oddly jumbled experience to sense. He can feel memories being considered and leaping away under Link’s grasp. Are all thoughts like that? Or, Twilight considers the fracturing he feels across the bond. 

“I’m in a time loop,” Link calmly and quietly starts. Not calmly Twilight realizes, Link’s mind recoils at the mere mention of it. However, some part of him is so innately exhausted that it’s numb at the concept. “Upon either my own death or Ganon’s I return in time. Over time the curse has strengthened, making the time loops more and more unique. The circumstances of my awakening are different every time, but are rarely fortunate. No one’s been able to so much as notice the curse, but I think it’s safe to say it’s evolved to carry a very potent curse of misfortune. There’s more to the curse, but it’s powerful and inconsistent enough it’s hard to pin down with a simple name.”

“A time loop? LIke the Hero of Time?” Twilight asks, stunned. It explains Link’s vague words earlier and the aged sense to his mind. It must be far more than just taxing on the mind. No wonder he was so distraught earlier. He’s been - 

Twilight projects as much serenity and support he can before he asks, “How long have you been in it?”

Link looks to the side, pained but also achingly shamed. Twilight blocks the immediate anger at the situation. There’s no reason for Wild to feel ashamed of all things. Horror, frustration, sad, sure. Twilight will give him a hug and help him the best he can. But shame? For what? Being trapped by magic he has no way to escape? If Twilight has learned anything from his own quest, it’s that being cursed is never your fault. 

“Long time. Far longer than I know how to conceptualize,” Link painfully says. He takes a moment to drag in a long bracing breath before continuing his meal.

“Alright,” Twilight passively says. What else do you say to that? It’s horrible. How many times has he beaten Ganondorf just to return. How many times has he died? Twilight’s beginning to realize how much more complex his time here’s going to be than he originally thought. Help Link. Same deal as before, only there’s a mountain of trauma and a very complex curse on top of the typical hero’s journey. It’s heartbreaking to consider, but Twilight would rather be nowhere else. He’s not sure how, but he has to end this. For Link.

“Do you have any clues on how to end it?” Twilight asks, fearing the worst.

“No. I’ve tried just about anything. I’ve killed Ganon every conceivable way, seen every expert, prayed Hylia to godhood. Hell, I’ve even learned magic myself. Nothing has affected it, and it’s only been growing stronger.” Link says frustratedly. 

“Not even the Master Sword or the Great Fairies? The Three? The Ocarina of Time?” Twilight asks incredulously. He’s only frustrated at the answer. He’s not qualified in the least to solve omnipotent curses. He anchors himself to the ripple of Link’s soul. It doesn’t matter what he knows or doesn’t because he’s here, and he’s going to help no matter what. It’s not only his job, it’s a promise now.

“Alright, then. You’re stuck in a killer time loop with no current way out. I’m a time-leaping hero sent here to help you, who may or may not now be also stuck in the loop.” Twilight takes a second to let that thought sink in before continuing. “I’ll be honest with you, magic and curses are by far not my specialty. But I promise you, we’re going to work this out.”

Link exhales, revealing a relieved if doubtful smile. “You don’t know how nice it is to hear that.” He’s right, the overwhelming joy-relief-grief-pain-kinship he feels across the bond is only a fraction of the true sensation. 

Twilight gives Link his brightest smile, “I’m glad to hear that. For now let’s just get you fed and to bed. We’ll figure out the rest later.” Twilight’s pleased when Link softens under the words. He can feel just the slightest stir, an inquisitive instinctual leaning into their connection. Twilight fills it with as much care as he can. 

Twilight spends the time it takes for Link to slowly finish the first and second bowl considering the entire situation. He’s not sure how he can stand to eat so slowly with how starving he is. He finally drags his own bowl to himself and sips the lukewarm liquid as he spends the time puzzling through everything from the start. There has to be a way to solve this. He wouldn’t be here otherwise. 

He can still feel Hylia’s touch across his skin from the shift. If he closes his eyes he can picture everything shifting and warping around him and the divinity dancing across his skin. From one moment he was admiring the sunset the next he’d appeared on the street. And he’d felt different, connected since the moment he’d arrived. It’d only taken a split second to find Link on the rooftops. Little blooming flowers on mountaintops and wind borne chuckles. He immediately knew his purpose, what’d happen, and who the kid was. It didn’t matter then of course because all he could think of was how much Link was aching. 

Hylia brought him here for a reason, and he’d be damned if he didn’t find a way.

When Link finished Twilight gently guided him through a bath. A battle, when Link could barely keep his eyes open by then. The grime washing off only revealed more bruises and skinny skin. It’s horrifying to see, but Twilight brushes it aside to keep a constant stream of safety flowing. Link’s clearly been starved from such simple affections. It hurts to see how boneless he goes in the face of affection, but the display of trust only emboldens Twilight’s loyalty. He dresses Link in soft new clothes he payed an employee to grab, and ferries him away to their bed. 

Lopey by now, Link doesn’t resist in the least being pulled into the bed, bundled in blankets, and pulled into Twilight’s arms. I promise to protect you, Twilight swears. 

***

Link has never liked sleep. It started as an interruption in his day, a stop point of his childhood fun and adventuring. Then it became a period of disappointment, time he couldn’t train for perfection to prepare himself for his destiny. Then time he wasn’t spending defeating Calamity or doing something out in the wild. Sleep was time wasted on an already late quest - a late rescue plan. It stayed that way throughout the entirety of the Before. Through two quests it was just wasted time and disappointment. 

Now, sleep gives life to living terrors and lifetimes. Sleep heralds the night, void of light and warmth. A period of time loneliness and safety become so apparently absent and missed. He’s known sleep for longer than the curse, and his fear for it is unfathomably worse. Children are aided to bed being told their fears aren’t really, that vivid nightmares are fragments of imagination. Link is forced to bed knowing he’s already lived each and every single nightmare he sees, and that he’ll relive each and every one again. 

He wakes feeling small - miniature - and fragile. He’s embraced in warmth, awakening for his first time, wailing as a newborn. There’s divinity in the air, painting his skin with a mark of favor and doom. His mother’s arms cradle him in more safety and love than he’s ever felt before, but all he can feel is doom. Shadows lie in the room waiting to lunge. No. Please, not again - 

He’s wailing trying to warn everyone of danger, but he’s weak and wreathed in blankets. The embrace only tightens, trying and failing to calm him. Can’t they see death on the horizon. He’s marked, and they hunt for his blood. Hands cradle his head like a mother might, gentle and placating. He finds his voice to babble some form of a warning, but it’s nonsensical and vague. 

“Shhhh,” is hissed softly into his hairline, like a summer breeze. He can feel the vibrations rumble pleasantly against his hands where he clutches a night shirt. A lullaby, hummed roughly but featherlight, drifts in the air. The sound forces figures away to the recess of Link’s mind, morphing into vague impressions.

“Good morning,” Twilight murmurs softly into Link’s hair. 

“Morning,” Link whispers back, choking over the remnants of sleep and the budding shame.

“It’s alright,” Twilight placates, like he has an ear to Link’s thoughts. “I get them too.” Link’s ashamed how easily it placates him, but something about the admission does. It’s not even a secret that any hero’s quests would leave scars, but the words seem more solid than what he’s told himself before. 

“What time is it?” Link asks.

“11.” 

Link hides his surprise. It seems he’s actually managed to sleep for once, something he figured got killed off long ago. One rude awakening is a genuine miracle. Not one he’ll greet with open arms purely on principle, but it’s still welcomed. 

“Are you ready to get up?” Twilight asks. Link pulls himself up and off the bed rather than answer directly. He fishes his shoes as Twilight pulls himself from the bed and dresses himself. Chain mail and a wolf pelt, Link notes, and an exquisitely made broadsword. Little magic adorns his supplies, a spark of mild enchantments here and there but nothing nearly as vibrant and the bag of holding at his hip and crystal necklace of shadows. The spell itself is foreign to Link, but with what little magic Link can rally now he can feel the shape of it.

“What’s the plan?” Link can’t help but ask again. 

“Supplies. I figured we could travel to a larger town and get some supplies for the two of us. Then, ah. When’s Ganondorf appear?” 

“6 years from now.” Most times he appears on Zelda’s 17th birthday. Link figures mentioning some unknown chance of it being different would just cause needless confusion or concern. He doubts when Ganon appears will actually come into play much. 

“Oh, damn,” Twilight mutters. “This is going to be a long journey.” 

It takes until breakfast and Twilight purchasing a horse for him to finally add more. “I suppose we’ll settle down for a while. You can use some time to settle and train while I still have a lot to learn about this time. We’ll travel around some and learn what we can about the curse. We have time for now.”

“You just want to own another goat ranch,” Link accuses. 

Twilight chuckles easily, swooping down to hoist Link onto the horse. Link would complain, but he really is too short to climb up himself gracefully. He won’t lie and deny that he’s also a swooning cat for every touch. 

“Do you want to name the horse?” Twilight asks, joining him from behind and snagging the rein. He lightly guides the horse out of town, heading East. They’ll travel East until they find a road heading North then down East to Mabe village. Not a large town, but significantly larger than little Lon-mai.

“She didn’t already have a name?” Link asked.

“She does. It’s just a little goofy. Her name’s Mackerel,” Twilight explains.

Link smiles, “I for one like it. Mackerel’s an amazing steed.”

It’s been hours of peaceful quiet and ranch stories by the time Link gathers the courage to ask, “Hey Twi? What was your journey like?”

“Well, I was 17 when monster’s kidnapped the village children. I saved them, but ended up cursed in the form of a wolf -” Twilight tugs the string of his crystal up just enough for its black surface to flash in the light. He goes on to share everything in detail until his voice grew hoarse and the sun leans clearly to the West. It’s a wondrous tale, weaved with sorrow and helplessness. Link’s not sure whether it’s the kinship or knowing Twilight succeeded that allows the curiosity and wonder to flow. He would’ve thought hearing Twilight’s success would only make him realize his own shortcomings, but he feels more wonder and pride for Twilight than anything. Twilight’s been through so much, and he not only survived, but thrived. If anything, Link wants to be like him.

“How old were you when you started?” Twilight asks. 

“16, 117, and 122. But one of those doesn’t count, and really the others should be 1 and 5.” Link replies. Discussing the Before is easy compared to the After. It plays out like a dream in his mind, simple, easy, and weightless. 

“What?” Twilight choked, surprised. “You want to explain that, miscreant?”

“Turns out taking a nap mid job has actual consequences,” Link shrugged mischievously. He goes through phases with how he views the Before. It doesn’t exist anymore. That life, as difficult and heart-breaking as it was at the time, was the best time of his life. It was simpler back then. Sometimes he can only look back with sorrow and shame while other’s fondness and longing. 

“Link,” Twilight whines. “I just told you my life’s story. You can at least explain yourself.”

“Nah, I’ve got to keep my secrets. It’ll keep you captivated,” Link teases.

“You’ve got me. I’m captivated for life. Now tell me, or you’ll never go a minute out of my grasp.” Twilight snatches Link up tightly, grumbling in his ear. 

“You wish,” Link goads.

“Last chance or I’ll force it out of you,” Twilight warns teasingly.

“Never.”

“You’ve been warned.”

Link has a moment’s breath before he’s screeching and writhing in Twilight’s grasp. Little, child-like giggles are forced out of him as Twilight tickles him mercilessly. “I’m going to kick Mackerel!” Link gasps.

“Not stopping,” Twilight warns.

Link nearly holds out longer just for the pure fun of it, but Mackerel snickers uneased beneath him. “Fine, fine. I yield.”

“Good, as you should.”

“Ganon arose on Zelda's 17th birthday. No one was prepared, so I died. They put me in a shrine for 100 years  where I was revived. A few things went wrong and I woke up without my memories, but I still go beat Ganon. A few years later, Zelda and I find Ganon’s original seal, and he breaks free. He cursed me right before he died for real,” he says once Link’s finally caught his breath.

“Damn, Link, that sounds hard.”

“No,” Link mirthlessly chuckles. “That’s been the easy part of this entire thing. All of that was easy.” Twilight shifts behind him. Link gets the distinct feeling he doesn’t like what he said. Link doesn’t complain when Twilight keeps a hand around his waist even when they finally arrive at Mabe.

Twilight takes him wandering through Mabe’s open market happily. He finds new shirts and boots that fit Link perfectly. A sturdy backpack, but promises he’ll get Link a bag of holding one day. He purchases snacks for them to nibble at as they explore. They stop by the only weapon vendor in the town and leave disappointed with only a small dagger Link tucks in his boot. Twilight collects so many supplies is poor rupee bag lies shapeless at his hip. 

“I can’t believe no one sells potions around here,” Twilight exclaims tidying the Mackerel’s saddlebags. He flicks a nut out of the bags which smacks right into a stranger's face as he passes behind them. He growls stalking off to a nearby stall. The both of them return an apologetic smile, but he’s staring darkly enough it’s meaningly. Idly Twilight passes the last of a chicken kabob to Link to finish. 

“Elixirs are too expensive at this time. Only the army or nobility can use them. They only were in common use when I took my good long nap. They became common knowledge then, something anyone with the materials could make a passable attempt at making,” Link shares

“Ever tried telling the recipe?” Twilight asks.

“It’s never ended well,” Link answers. Turns out monopolies don’t like being disturbed. No matter how discrete he’s been he’s died a quick death afterward. Even a randomly dropped note in the middle of nowhere has landed him straight into the next loop. He wonders how much of it was the curse and how much of it was the genuine reflection of his actions. 

“Damn,” Twilight whispers. “I guess no red potions here then.”

“It’s alright,” Link comforts. “I’ll teach you later. Besides, if I'm here long enough to gather some mana, I know some very basic healing spells.”

Twilight smiles pleased, “That’s good. I was worried how we’d survive without them.”

“Most people survive without magical healing items.”

Twilight quickly refutes, “Most people aren’t heroes with death curses.”

Twilight ties the last of the saddlebags closed and lifts up Link to the saddle. Right before Twilight himself goes to untie the tether and leap on himself, a elderly woman taps him on the shoulder asking for help. “I’ll just be a minute,” he says, tying the horse lead back and catching Link’s eye. He only moves when Link nods, and slips away to the lady’s stall to shift merchandise. 

“That’s a nice horse there,” a man calls, startling Link. Mackerel skitters uneased beneath him, but calms after only a moment. There’s a reason Link likes Mackerel afterall. 

“What breed is she?” The man asks, appearing at Link’s knee. He has brown cropped hair and a sharp face. He leans about as if observing Mackerel, but barely shifts an inch from Link’s knee. 

“I don’t know,” Link mutters, lying. He nudges Mackerel to shift away from the man. 

The man follows seamlessly, running his hand across her mane. He’s tall, tall enough Link can feel the power of his breath even from on top of the horse. His eyes are dark and serious, watching her shifting beneath his hands. “Where’d you get her from then?”

“I don’t know,” Link repeats, he pulls further away, but Mackerel’s tether is pulled near taunt, and it’s tight enough he can’t loosen it from his seat. He still can’t see Twilight returning. He’s still in shouting range, Link tells himself. 

The man continues his gaze boring as he continues, “That’s a pity. She’s a beauty. Say, where’d you live. Maybe I can talk to your folks. She’s just too much to pass up”

“They don’t know either. She was a mix-breed gift from a friend. I’d tell you who gave her to us, but he’s gone,” Link tries again. Link sees no genuine flicker of disappointment in the man’s eyes. 

“Well, darn. She’s a fine one. Say, are you a big fan of horses? Are you looking to be a rancher or knight one day?” The inches minutely closer, watching Link like a hawk. Twilight’s still occupied and out of reach. The time it’d take Link to jump off Mackerel or draw his new dagger would take too long. If the man wanted him dead now, there’s little Link can actually do. But, the man doesn’t shove a sword up his back or drag him from Mackerel kicking and screaming yet. If nothing else, the potential draw of eyes holds the man back.

“Mister, I was watching that performance over there. I’d really like it if you left me alone, so I could watch.” Link says.

“We could watch it together,” the man brightly says. “You see, I’m a retired knight myself. Now I raise horses and train curious kids like you. I could say it’s my calling, a divine purpose, and it’s guided me to you. What do you say, kid. I can teach ya. You’d be the best one around,” the man joyfully shares with dagger-like teeth and dark eyes. The man's second hand has reached back to rest against Link’s back, bracketing him in with nowhere to go. The hand burns like acid against his skin, and his eyes seem to bury him beneath their weight. 

“Sir,” Link forces between his teeth, doing everything he can to make his tone even and clear. Don’t show weakness or it’ll only be worse. These types of people only grow bold with the sight of terror. He’s a sick coward waiting for his moment to feed. “If you don’t leave, I’ll scream.”

“Hey, hey. I wasn’t trying to scare you,” the man cloyingly placates. His hands leap away from Link’s back and he takes one blessed step back. “You just look like a good little kid. I thought you’d be interested. I’d hate to see all that potential go to waste.”

“I’m clearly not interested,” Link repeats. 

“I mean it’s a really big opportunity. I was part of the royal guard. I can teach all the best skills, and I raise just the most gorgeous horse you’ll ever see. I could teach you so much.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Are you sure-”

“Link?” 

Link doesn’t try to hide the flood of relief he feels when Twilight appears and brushes aside the man, shoving himself in between them. The man backs several feet away the second Twilight appears, anger flashing in his eyes. He hides it quickly behind a sweet smile. Link clutches strands of Twilight’s fur cloak like a lifeline. 

“Ah, you must be Link’s,” the man’s mouth curls around the name pleased. “Brother,” he finishes. 

“Who are you?” Twilight hostility asks. 

“I was just telling Link how lovely his horse is. You see I raise horses, and since Link’s so interested I was offering to take him as an apprentice rancher,” the man replies unphased. 

“No thanks,” Twilight hisses, glaring daggers. His hand inches towards his blade not even trying to hide the hostility in the motion. “Our parents are ranchers, and he’s learning just fine there.”

“Oh,” the man pauses, smiling sharply at Link. “Link must be rather smart then. Knows all about horses and their breeds I’m sure.” 

“Leave,” Twilight commands again.

“Alright,” the man concedes. He glances for a long, tense moment at Link before flashing a devilish smile and disappearing into the crowd without a trace. 

“Shit,” Twilight exhales. In a moment he’s facing Link, face alight with concern.“Are you alright?”

“Can we leave now?” Link whispers back. Twilight barely takes a second to untie the lead and leap onto the saddle. His arms clutch at Link tightly and protectively. If Link looks, he can see the fine tremor in his hands and the way his knuckles have gone pale white around the lead. Link can feel the anxious thrum of Twilight’s heart against his back, a twin to his own pattering beat. It’s almost painful to feel someone else’s panic, but he’s still too tense and relieved at the same time to realize it.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asks.

“He didn’t do anything,” Link replies. 

“Are you okay?” Twilight repeats against his hair. 

“I’m okay,” Link says

“You’re okay.”

“Are you okay?” Link asks, still feeling the shaking in Twilight’s hands. 

Twilight grips tighter. Always tighter, like Link’s going to slip through his fingers into the void. They’ve only known each other for a day, and it’s like they're a long lost family. Link’s not sure how he’s going to tell Twilight this is only the beginning. The chances of Link surviving to an age where he can regain enough strength to actually protect himself is minimum. The man - he’s tame, contained - compared to what other dangers lurk about. He was a coward unwilling to chase further than a few simple words. He wasn’t bold enough to attack in broad daylight in public. 

“I’m alright now that you’re safe,” Twilight replies. “Link, if that happens again, I need you to promise me-”

Link interrupts, “I promise, but It won’t help. We’re lucky he was just a talker, and ran away at the first sight of trouble. If he wanted me outright dead, he’d have killed me long before you arrived or I could run away. Most times they don’t bother talking. Death comes quickly and rarely with time to struggle, especially when I’m this young.”

“We’re sticking together,” Twilight proclaims. 

“Yeah, okay.”

Link really wouldn’t have it any other way.