Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Being the wolf offered a perspective on the world Twilight couldn’t really put into words.

Most of it was sensory orientated. The change to his vision, flickers of movement jumping readily to his attention. The feel of dirt and grass underpaw. The wind stroking through his fur, the brush of tree bark against his whiskers. The sounds of the forest come alive, the smell of it all.

Gosh, the smell. It was without question the biggest difference. Everything became fuller, richer, deeper . The world had so much to say through smell alone—what had been there, how long ago events had occurred, what kinds of things had just passed through and what kinds of things lived where. It was useful for scouting, yes, and even more usefully it let him track a wild Link or two down when a portal mishap separated them, but more than anything it told the story of nature; of living.

When it came to the rest of the Chain, that was no different. Each of them, naturally, had their own unique scent, but like everything else they were beholden to the forces around them. The smell of Hylian blood indicated a hidden or unnoticed injury. An infected injury had its own smell to it, too, before it gave any visual signs. Thrice before Twilight had noticed sickness before it hit one of his companions. He could predict a dizzy spell from blood loss before it happened and nudge them into sitting.

He could also tell when someone in the Chain was stressed. It had a unique way of souring their scent. And, honestly, it gave Twilight a lot of insight to them he wouldn’t have otherwise. If someone was shaken from a fight, or having a bad morning, then he knew he needed to tread differently. 

Twilight’s senses weren’t as enhanced when he wasn’t the wolf, but he was finding the more frequently he transformed, the more certain traits began to… linger. Stress scents, he found, were particularly hard to shake. It was why he knew cold nights made Legend’s joints ache and that Warrior’s prickled with constant paranoia when they were in towns. That Hyrule kept more rations than anyone else stored away and hated being the center of attention. That when Time pushed them, it was always accompanied by a pungent worry, even when there was no describable cause. How he could tell when Four’s quiet was out of overwhelm and not thinking deeply, when Wind was loud and fidgety from anxiety and not just because he was being hyper. How he knew when Sky was exhausted from a restless night or content and sleepy, when Wild’s restless nature was from a good mood rather than anxiety.

Warriors had called it uncanny, once—Twilight’s ability to detect a subtle change in mood without any of the normal indicators. In some senses, he supposed that was a correct way to describe what he did. Most of his companions had perfected a perfect, impassable mask, and he knew he’d be irritated if he spent years doing that only for one person to bypass it by smelling something he couldn’t control . 

Twilight had memorized the stable, baseline state of his brothers’ smells months ago. He needed to, if he wanted to be able to understand the intricacies and nuances that popped up.

All of that to say, Time smelt… weird. 

Not always, of course! But there was something… different about him.

They’d been abruptly portaled right into a snowy monster camp, and in the aftermath of it all, Twilight had begun circling around and checking for wounds with a soft sniff in each of their directions. It was something he stood firmly by doing, when he was already shifted, since several somebodies liked to brush off injuries (hypocrisy, he knew, but still).

“No one’s hiding anything, are they?” Time asked him directly. Twilight shook his head, nosing obviously into Wind's side where he was most ticklish to ‘double check.’ Predictably, Wind whipped himself away with a loud expletive and a giggle, slapping Twilight away half-heartedly.

“That was once," Wild objected immediately to Time, quickly followed by Legend’s snarked, “Says you.”

Time gestured vaguely towards all of himself, body language loose with calm. “Check if you must.” His expression was neutral save for a slight amused quirk to his brows.

Dutifully, for the sake of the bit, Twilight padded over, reaching his snout out to sniff him over even though he didn’t think anything was wrong. Metal, monster guts, sweat, the fading dredges of adrenaline, and…

…huh?

Twilight did a full circuit around Time just to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating. The odd smell remained. It was definitely coming from Time, but what was it? He nosed into the loose curl of Time’s hand briefly, before pressing closer, snuffling into his hip so he could try and discern what in the Three he was smelling.

“…Is he hiding an injury?” Hyrule asked eventually, as the seconds stretched by. 

“No, I'm not,” Time replied, seemingly just as confused as Hyrule. He stared down at Twilight, eyes pinching in concern. “What are you…?”

Embarrassingly, it took several heartbeats after Time trailed off before Twilight realized that, perhaps, his vigorous sniffing was a little weird. He reared back with a forceful sneeze, giving his fur a good shake as he stumbled away to transform. With a curl of shadow, he stood, nose wrinkled and lips curled back as he tried to think. 

Whatever was up with Time was something familiar, but frustratingly he could not place it. It was just… different. Weird.

Twilight sneezed again—briefly, in one of the little play sneezes he wasn't quite sure how carried over as a Hylian—and rubbed at his face. He breathed in deeply, taking in crisp mountain air and the smell of dead monsters to clear his pallet.

“Sorry,” Twilight said abruptly, feeling his cheeks and ears burn from more than just the cold. This was awkward. “You, ah. There was an… interestin’ smell on you.”

Time eyed him warily. “Interesting how?”

Twilight shrugged, fiddling with the hem of his tunic. He didn’t know how to possibly explain it. “Just… interestin’.”

“Wow,” Legend deadpanned. 

“From one of the bokoblins, you think?” Four asked. In the light of dusk, his eyes had an almost purple shine to them.

Twilight shook his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Didn't smell particularly like any of ‘em. But…” He frowned. Why was it so familiar? It itched in the back of his mind, just out of reach. It probably wasn't that important, but…

Twilight shook his head aggressively to clear his thoughts, ears slapping into the side of his head with the force. “Eh, maybe. What do I know.”

“Does anyone recognize where we are?” Time redirected. If he wanted a better explanation, his face didn’t show it as he turned to face the group.

Wild’s hand shot into the air. “Yes sir!”

Immediately, his words were followed by several (valid) groans of despair. The Hebra mountains of Wild’s era were vast as they were barren, with a deadly chill none of them wanted to contest with longer than they needed.

“Please tell me we’re at least close to a cave of some kind,” Warriors shuddered, hands moving to sweep his scarf up around his head.

Wild frowned in concentration, looking around briefly before pulling out his slate to check. While he did that, everyone else began tugging on what winter gear they had with various grumbles. Twilight sent a look around the group, before shrugging his pelt off to drape it around Wind’s shoulders—unarguably, he had the least cold weather gear, and his clothes were made of a thin fabric suited for much warmer weather.

“Keep track of this for me,” Twilight told him. Wind didn’t protest his fussing beyond a put up scowl that was closer to a pout than he probably wanted. Struck by an idea, Twilight flipped the hood of the pelt up and pulled in front of Wind’s eyes.

“You fucker,” Wind swore, using both hands to sweep the hood back up. Even still, the snout of the pelt fell a bit farther over his forehead. Twilight just grinned at him, heart warm. 

“Cave nearby,” Wild declared, earning several relieved sighs and shoulder slumps.

“Any farther away and Legend might just wear pants,” Hyrule commented slyly.

“Obviously I’ll put pants on when we camp, I’m not stupid,” Legend glared. His arms were folded firmly as he shivered, and Twilight could see the goosebumps speckled across his shins. Twilight would’ve spared his pelt for him, but he would’ve taken much more offense to it than Wind.

“Lead the way, then,” Time nodded.

Not needing any more encouragement, everyone began to follow Wild’s lead. Twilight let everyone filter past him before reaching up to grasp his pendant, allowing shadows to sweep across him until he was on four paws once more.

He shook himself off briefly before bounding to catch up to everyone. Just once, he allowed himself another sniff and found that strange smell lingering on Time still.

Weird.

By the time they reached the cave, night had long since fallen, and everyone was downright miserable.

“Champion,” Four said, breathless from the cold and eyes shining blue in the moonlight, “I think you have a very different definition of nearby than the rest of us.”

“Sorry,” Wild said, rubbing the back of his head. He at least had the decency to look sheepish, underneath the shadow of his cloak’s hood.

“I can't feel my ears,” Four moaned, tugging his hood down uselessly. He had latched onto Warriors’ arm an hour ago, but it didn't seem to have helped stave off the cold much.

Twilight gave a rumble of displeasure at the situation, padding a few ways off to shake off the snowflakes that had settled on him. He wasn’t that cold, but his paws ached from the ice packed under the snow, and his nose and ears had gone numb long before the sun had set.

“At least there weren’t any monsters,” Sky remarked cheerfully. With all of his layers, he seemed to be the least affected from the chill, but there was a concerning wheeze to his breaths.

“Oh, now you’ve gone and jinxed it,” Legend snarled from under Sky’s sailcloth.

Legend had refused to stop their trek to put pants on, because, ‘the cave is nearby, that would be a waste of time.’ But as the wind picked up and “nearby” proved to be a lot farther away than previously thought, Sky had blazed past all his protests—quite literally just forcibly shucking his sailcloth off and tucking it around him. Similarly, Warriors’ had wrapped his scarf neatly around Time’s head in a practiced motion, the blue fabric warming his breath and protecting sensitive ears.

“No, we should be safe,” Wild said with a shake of his head.

“Let’s maybe argue after we set camp up?” Hyrule suggested. He looked a little ridiculous, unruly hair stuffed into a woolen cap and an oversized cloak draped around him.

“Let’s,” Time agreed stiffly. 

“Twilight,” Warriors called, “Go sit with Four and Wind while we set camp. They need to warm up the most.”

Twilight barked quietly in acknowledgment. He caught the way Warriors’ eyes slid towards Legend and Time—both of whom were shivering as hard as the smallest members. Time’s eyes were a little glazed, and as Legend readjusted the sailcloth his red knees stood out starkly against the pale of his skin. They need it too, Warriors was saying. Twilight dipped his head in a nod to the unspoken command, making his way into the cave to where Wind had already rushed ahead and spread out his bedroll.

“Being small has its perks,” Wind whispered gleefully to Four with a grin as the other approached. “We don’t need to help set up camp at all.”

“Could do without the cold, though,” Four muttered, hands gliding over Twilight’s ears as he passed. “Jeez, your ears are freezing too!”

Twilight twitched the ears in question, the closest to a shrug he could manage as a wolf. As Four set out his own bedroll, Wind tugged off his boots, grumbling a slew of curses.

“My fuckin’ socks are wet, this is heinous,” Wind muttered. 

“Oh, Goddesses,” Four shuddered. “Not the socks.”

“Wolfie,” Wind held up grabby hands. “I mean, Twilight.”

With a huff, Twilight obliged—spinning around the pile Wind and Four had made their bedrolls into a few times before unceremoniously flopping to the floor. Wind snuggled into Twilight’s side the instant he laid down, pillowing on his shoulder with a sigh of relief. “So warm,” he mumbled, voice swallowed by fluff. 

“Scoot over,” Four grunted, tugging their blankets over the three of them and invading Wind's personal space.

With some shuffling and jabbed elbows, the two eventually settled in a pile of tangled limbs, Twilight curled around them protectively. He settled his head onto his paws, watching the cave entrance as the rest of the Chain set up camp. 

Hyrule was starting a fire, knelt on the stone with Wild’s slate powered on next to him. Legend bustled about helping set up everyone's bedrolls and strategically placing fire rods and other heat producing equipment around the camp edges. Sky and Wild were hooking up large cloths to block out most of the draft. Warriors was helping Time take off his armor with a frown, tutting to himself as he undid straps.

“Is this even worth it?” Sky complained, after earning a face full of cloth for the fourth time in a row. He didn’t seem to be very good at the job he’d been given.

“Yes,” Wild and Hyrule answered in unison. 

“The caves breathe,” Wild added, in the same casual tone as someone remarking on the weather. “We don’t want them doing that in this cold.”

“The fuck you mean they breathe?” Legend said. “That’s called airflow, Champ. .

“So breathing?” Wild replied with a little tilt of his head.

“You are actually joking me,” Legend said. “It’s a cave. It can’t breathe.”

“Have you never heard of a metaphor?” Warriors asked, leaning around Time’s head to raise an amused brow at Legend.

Legend flipped Warriors off.

“Sometimes it’s in, sometimes it’s out,” Hyrule shrugged, raising glowing palms to the neat stack of firewood.

“That’s personification,” Four corrected grouchily. His words were followed by a crackle of flame as the fire was lit.

“Finally,” Wind groaned into Twilight’s side.

“Swap with me?” Wild asked Hyrule. Hyrule nodded, brushing dirt off his knees as he moved to help poor Sky.

“Also, cave wind is basically the same as normal wind,” Four explained. “Pressure, density, weather,” his voice cracked with a yawn, “and all that stuff.”

“Exactly!” Wild nodded vigorously. “Barometric pressure!”

“Baro-what?” 

“Like, from the atmosphere?” Wild said. He scratched his cheek. Silence met his words.

“Um,” Hyrule said. “What is that…?”

“Dinner first,” Wind demanded before Wild could say anything. “If you take any longer I’m gonna lose it.”

“Be patient,” Time chided, wriggling his way out of his breastplate at last.

“I’m cold, I’m tired, my feet hurt, you said the cave was nearby and it wasn’t, and I’m starving!” Wind cried indignantly. “I’m allowed to complain! This sucks ass!”

“Hear ye,” Legend grumbled. He’d finished with everyone’s bedrolls and was sitting on his own, Sky’s sailcloth wrapped tightly around him like one would swaddle a baby as he pulled his Pegasus Boots off. It was honestly adorable.

“Why don’t you go sit with them?” Warriors murmured, repositioning his scarf so it was both wrapped around Time’s shoulders and covering his red ears from the cold. The words were clearly only intended for Time to hear, but Twilight couldn’t stop his ears from swiveling in their direction.

He’d noticed the Old Man’s shivering, but had figured he wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and push through it. A false hope, evidently—stubbornness was in their blood, it seemed (thanks, Sky).

“I told you, I’m fine,” Time protested back, voice soft—somewhere between dismissive and reassuring. In any other situation, it probably would’ve worked. Of course, Time was a Link, with all the luck associated that came with the Hero’s Spirit, and as if to disprove his point, his entire body was wracked with a shiver a mere breath after his words were spoken.

“No you aren’t,” Warriors said in mild disbelief. “Your teeth are chattering. Actively.”

“A little cold won’t kill me.”

“That’s a terrible argument and you know it.”

“You’re shivering too,” Time pointed out. “We all are. I can help with camp. It’s pointless to—”

“Wrong,” Warriors interrupted. “You didn’t protest when I sent Wind and Four to rest. How is that any different?”

“They’re smaller, they lose heat faster,” Time dismissed.

“Exactly,” Warriors hissed, gripping Time by the shoulders. “And you were wearing armor that was stealing your body heat, making you lose heat faster. Go sit down, Sprite.” And then he shoved Time in their direction. 

Their eyes met across the fire. Twilight tilted his head. With a put on sigh and another nudge from Warriors, Time made his way over, arms curling around his midsection as he shivered again.

“You two settling in okay?” Time asked. Somehow, he managed to sound nonchalant.

“Mmph,” Four said, which might have been an attempt at words.

“Other than being starved?” Wind grumbled. “Yeah, I’m alright. Wolfie’s warm.”

Twilight thumped his tail a few times in agreement. Wind gave his flank a half-hearted pat.

“That’s good,” Time said. He faltered for a moment before settling himself down on the floor nearby—close enough to be considered sitting with them, but not enough to get any actual benefit. 

If Twilight were Hylian, he would tell him to get his ass over here. As it were, he was a wolf, and therefore could not talk. Settling for the next best thing, Twilight flattened his ears back in his best version of puppy-dog eyes and whined softly. Time turned to make eye contact. His face gave away nothing. Twilight wagged his tail a few more times.

Attention grabbed by the sound, Wind—who could, in fact, speak—propped himself up to throw a disgruntled look in Time’s direction. “What are you just sitting over there for? Get your ass over here.”

Goddesses, Twilight loved that kid. 

Something in Time’s countenance softened with an overwhelming fondness. “If you insist,” Time agreed, like that wasn’t the entire reason he was even there.

It took some shuffling around and grumbling, but eventually the three of them settled back down against Twilight: Time with Wind tucked under his arm, and Four clinging onto Time’s back, their legs piled together and blankets tucked around them to trap in the warm air. 

Twilight resigned himself to being used as a pillow all night.

Come morning, sure enough, everyone had more or less ended up in a loose circle around him.

Time, Wind, and Four had stayed right where they were, the heat slowly but surely returning to their bodies until limbs stiff with cold became loose and comfortable. After dinner, their growing pile was joined by Wild pressing himself into Twilight’s back, arm trying valiantly to wrap around him and only really succeeding in shoving his hand into Time’s hair. At some point in the night, the tangle of limbs known as Legend and Sky had wound up migrating (through a series of Legend-brought restless rolls) to end up against Wind’s back, Sky’s head awkwardly propped up on the Sailor’s hip.

After taking first watch, Hyrule had sprawled himself haphazardly across all of their legs like a blanket, face down and snoring softly. The only one who remained somewhat separate during the night was Warriors, but even still, as he took third watch (Twilight had been given second, considering everyone else clearly needed the rest) he had moved to sit close enough for Twilight to plop his head into his lap. Since then, however, he’d relocated himself to warm his hands at the fire.

Morning light was streaming through the gaps of the strung up cloth. Birds were beginning to chirp outside. The fire crackled softly. And Wild was wiggling against his back in a way that only meant that he was awake.

Sure enough, after a few minutes of persistent shifting around, Wild pulled himself away to sit up with a loud yawn and a rustle of fabric.

“Morning,” Warriors said quietly.

“Morning,” Wild replied, voice rough with sleep. “Time… yaugh,” he yawned again, “is it?”

Warriors laughed a little. “No, it’s Warriors.”

“Ugh,” Wild groaned good-naturedly. Warriors chuckled again, but said no more as he stretched his legs out.

The peace of the camp in the morning was something Twilight adored. Though he’d certainly rather be sitting next to one of his companions in a chosen silence, he would be lying if he said he wasn’t comforted by the scents of his pack—the Chain, he meant—surrounding him, calm and content, with all the stress of the day before melted off their shoulders.

As soon as Wild started on breakfast—a stew (how he made it so fast was an actual mystery) (Wind was insistent the cooking pot was magic) to help against the cold they were soon to face—Hyrule blinked awake with a start, limbs twitching.

“At ease, soldier,” Warriors cautioned fondly.

“Food,” Hyrule whined in greeting. “Oohhh, praise be.” He slowly pushed himself up to crawl hands and knees over to the fire and collapse against Warriors legs.

“Work up that much of an appetite?” Warriors raised a brow. His hand landed in Hyrule’s hair, nails gently scratching his scalp. It was the same motion he used when he pet Wolfie, and it was an excellent one, so Twilight had no judgment when Hryule sighed happily and slumped further against him with a sleepy mumble.

“Being cold uses a lot of energy,” Wild supplied. His eyes were bright, despite the slow way he was moving.

“Calories,” Four grunted. He was awake too, apparently. It took more effort for him to extract himself from the pile without waking up Time or Wind, but he managed—dragging a blanket with him and wrapping it over his shoulders like a cape.

“Everyone’s up bright and early this morning,” Warriors commented lightly.

“Mmm,” Hyrule said into Warriors knee. Four grunted again as he scooted over and curled up against Wild’s back, eyes reflecting amber red in the firelight.

“Mostly up,” Warriors corrected himself, unbelievably fondly. It wasn’t often the Captain let himself relax enough to show how truly sappy he was, but it was a welcome sight: his voice low and dripping with honey warmth, syrupy and sweet as he looked over them all.

The next 20 minutes or so went by in a companionable silence, with no other sound other than the quiet clinks and hums of Wild cooking and Warriors gently combing Hyrule's hair. Eventually, Wind stirred, but he was much less graceful than Four had been and somehow managed to kick Legend (“Wha’s fuckin’—?”) and Sky (“Aammm’sleepinnn’—”) in the head and stomach respectfully, which roused them from their slumber, until the only one not yet awake was Time. And that was unusual, but no one made any moves to wake him.

Another 20 minutes went by, wherein breakfast was served to everyone but Time and Twilight (rude).

“Is the Old Man seriously still asleep?” Legend asked. He was still grumpy from being woken up, but the concern in the words were genuine. 

“Apparently,” Wild replied, mystified. 

Time was normally one of the first of them awake in the mornings. His adventures and work on the ranch made sure of that. It was weird for him to sleep in when they were camping in the wilderness and not cozied up in an inn.

“He did seem kind of out of it last night,” Four frowned.

“He was wearing plate armor, of course he was out of it,” Legend scoffed. He gave a particularly forceful jab to where he’d been stoking the fire.

“Yeah, he was really cold,” Wind added, tugging Twilight’s pelt tighter around his shoulders.

Now slightly concerned, Twilight twisted his head around to gently sniff Time. He half expected to find a sickness smell on him with the fuss everyone was making, but the only unusual thing was the same strange smell from the day prior. Twilight pressed his nose into Time’s shoulder with a more aggressive sniff. The smell didn’t change.

“Maybe he’s sick?” Hyrule suggested, breaking the hush that had fallen over the camp. “Twilight did say he had an interesting smell on him.”

“He’s been able to tell when we’re sick before, though,” Sky countered. “He would’ve said something if that was the case.”

Making up his mind, Twilight did his best to carefully crawl away from Time’s hold. The man made a soft noise, but did nothing other than curl in on himself. Pausing to shake himself off and stretch—to the immediate chorus of Aww, big stretch! from several of his companions—Twilight plodded his way on sleepy legs to the pile of Time’s equipment.

With some thorough investigating, Twilight found that the strange scent was on every item Time owned, and had been for maybe a few weeks. That didn’t indicate sickness at all. Not only did it not smell like it, sick scents usually hit a day or so before symptoms showed. Whatever was going on with Time had existed for a while.

Twilight padded back to sniff Time again, just to truly confirm his suspicions. 

“Is he sick?”

Shadows curled as Twilight transformed back. “Nah,” he said, frowning down at Time’s figure. “He’s… probably just tired?”

Even as he said them, Twilight quite didn’t believe the words. Being tired wouldn’t produce this sort of scent.

“Sky is awake before him, though,” Hyrule pointed out. “Sky. That’s like… not possible.”

“Only because Wind kicked me,” Sky muttered into his stew. 

“I wasn’t trying to!” Wind defended immediately, far too loudly. “It’s not my fault you were right by my feet!”

“Guys,” Warriors tried to interrupt. 

“We literally weren’t, we just happened to be next to you,” Legend fired back.

“For warmth! Not violence!” Sky added. The two of them were still huddling together under Sky’s sailcloth, their arms linked and Sky’s chin hooked over Legend’s shoulder. It was a sweet sight, ignoring their murderous expressions.

“I wasn’t being violent, I was just- waking up! Innocently!”

“You stopped being innocent the moment you disturbed me,” Sky threatened back, incredibly ominously. Legend nodded solemnly in agreement.

“Y’all’re gonna wake him up,” Twilight interjected, gesturing down towards Time. He didn’t look any closer to waking up than he had an hour ago, but with the racket they were making he probably would. It was the principle of the thing.

“You did not seriously just say y’all’re.”

“Quiet, Legend.”

“Well, breakfast is ready, and he might be upset we didn’t wake him…” Wild trailed off. If there was anything Wild was stubborn about, it was feeding everyone in the Chain.

“Breakfast,” Twilight whispered back, immediately and intensely distracted by the yawning hunger in his stomach.

“Shoot, you haven’t eaten either!” Wild realized. His hand thwacked into his forehead. “I’m sorry, Twi,” he apologized, already turning to serve another bowl. Lured by the promise of food, Twilight abandoned his post at Time’s side to sink down onto crossed legs next to the fire.

“Ohh, bless,” Twilight groaned, stuffing a large spoonful into his mouth the second the steaming bowl was in his hands. It was warm and spicy on his tongue, and the roof of his mouth was totally going to be burnt later, but he didn’t even care because it was cold out and he was tired and it might have been the best thing he’d eaten, ever.

“If he’s still sleeping, he probably needs it,” Hyrule said wisely.

“Food is important, though, and he can always go back to sleep…”

“Not all of us can nap like you do, Sky.”

“He's old, though, he can just “rest his eyes” like every other old person and then boom—!” 

“Quiet,” Warriors hissed.

“—out like a candle!” Wind snapped his fingers for dramatic effect.

“He's like, 30, he's not actually old. Old people don’t do that until they’re like, 50.”

“Uh, yes he is. He’s the old man. Duh.”

“For our lifestyle, being in his 30s makes him old.”

“Allegedly in his 30s,” Wild reminded. “Who knows what the truth is.”

“His wife, probably.”

“I think he's 67!”

“You grew up in a cave, Hyrule,” Legend sighed. “I’m not trusting you to estimate how people age.”

“Well that’s just rude. And hey, so did you!”

“Why are we even arguin’ about this again?” Twilight asked, before they could get into it.

“We’re Links,” Warriors said, fond and exasperated in one. “Any deviation from the status quo is stressful, and Goddesses know we can’t be normal about it. Personally, I say let him sleep.”

“Time can eat whenever, but going back to bed isn’t always so simple,” Four—always one of the more sensible ones in any given situation—pointed out. 

Legend snorted. “Don’t we know it,” he muttered wryly. 

Sky raised his hand. “Does this mean I can go back to bed?”

“…Sure, you can. We could all use the rest, I suppose,” Warriors said slowly. 

“Okay,” Sky mumbled, eyes already slipping shut. “Yay.” 

“Naptime!” Hyrule cheered, moments before flopping face-first into the ground.

“Dude,” said Legend, who Sky had fully latched onto with both arms and was now softly breathing into the neck of, “Why didn’t you tell him to lay down first?”

Warriors lips twitched into a satisfied little smirk. “You two seemed perfectly content where you were.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Legend warned. “It’s cold as balls and the sailcloth is still warm. This is tactical.” Notably, he kept his voice nice and low and made no move to shrug Sky off. In fact, he readjusted so Sky would be more comfortable. It was adorable.

“Tactical cuddling?” Warriors repeated, delighted.

 “Aww,” Twilight said around his spoon. “Ya do care!”

Legend gave him a scandalized look.

“Finish chewing before you talk, Rancher,” Warriors wrinkled his nose. Twilight flipped him off.

“Wait, guys,” Wind said suddenly, grabbing onto Four’s shoulders in excitement, “I think he’s waking up anyways.”

Everyone grew silent before they all turned to look at Time in unison.

Sure enough, the man of the hour was shifting around slightly, face twitching. A few seconds passed. Time’s face tightened, entire body shuddering as he curled in on himself for just a precious few moments.

And then he lurched upward to vomit over the side of his bedroll.

“Ew!” Wind shrieked immediately, as was his due diligence as a 13 year-old.

“Eughoonoo,” Four said immediately after, face pale, as was his due diligence as a 16 year-old (three years weren’t much of a difference in this department).

“Oh no,” Sky gasped awake, followed by Wild’s incredibly mild, “Uh oh,” and a, “Eugh, yikes,” from Legend. 

By the time Twilight had safely set down his bowl of half-eaten breakfast, Warriors had practically teleported across camp to Time’s side.

“Easy, soldier," Warriors murmured softly, hand landing on Time’s back.

Time vomited again.

“Eww!” Wind shrieked again, with great feeling.

Twilight quickly found his way to Time’s other side, making a soft sound of sympathy as he placed a hand on Time’s shoulder and found it shaking. “Relax, Wars ‘n I gotcha,” he soothed, leaning forward to swipe Time’s bangs up with his free hand. It was an awkward position, straining several muscles, but he’d manage.

“…Fuck,” Time whispered, thready and breathless. He shuddered under Twilight’s hand once, twice, and then vomited again.

“Goddesses,” Warriors laughed a little, disbelieving and concerned. 

Time coughed a few times, hacking up some spit and shivering. Mercifully, he did not throw up again. Time groaned in misery, but it came out far closer to a whine than the man probably wanted.

“You feelin’ sick?” Twilight asked softly. He moved his hand from Time’s hair to feel his forehead. “Not runnin’ a fever, at least.”

Time shook his head, leaning back into Warriors’ steady arm. His face was still pinched, skin a little pale. “Don’t think so,” he rasped. “Just… nausea out of nowhere.”

Warriors tutted, pulling a handkerchief out of nowhere and pressing it into Time’s hand. Time gave a grateful smile that looked more like a grimace, wiping his face clean as he sunk further against Warriors’ hold

“Let me check?” Hyrule offered suddenly, spawning in at Warriors’ side.

“Mother of- goodness gracious, Hyrule!” Warriors scolded, free hand flying to his heart.

Hyrule’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Goodness gracious?”

“Dinner last night must not have agreed with me,” Time said, ignoring both of them. He took in a few steadying breaths. “Thank you for offering, though.”

“Let me check anyways?” Hyrule said. He wiggled his fingers.

“…Sure,” Time agreed. He seemed more alert to his surroundings, but judging by his face, it didn’t seem like throwing up had helped with the nausea very much. 

Hyrule’s tongue poked out a little in concentration, but after half a minute elapsed he pulled his hands away with a frown. He looked incredibly deep in thought, and did not speak for another half minute before he jerked in realization. “You’re definitely not sick, or poisoned, but…”

Time’s face shuttered. “There’s a but?” he asked, voice still a little whiny. Twilight didn’t blame him—vomiting even once was terrible to begin with, let alone three times.

“There’s… it’s probably nothing!” Hyrule lied terribly, cheery smile strained. His eyes shifted over to Twilight for just a moment, before going back to Time.

“But there’s something?” Warriors pressed. His brows were drawn and serious.

Hyrule chewed his lip for a few seconds before replying. “There’s something,” he agreed. “I’m not really sure what, but I’ve never examined Time this closely, this long before. It’s probably a thing from one of his adventure’s, it doesn’t- it doesn’t feel bad, so I don’t think it’s related to this.”

“If you’re certain,” Warriors said after a moment.

“Ease up, Cap’n,” Twilight told him. He flicked Warriors in the nose for good measure, grinning at his offended scoff. “‘Rule ain’t one to lie, not about these things.”

“No, he isn’t,” Warriors grumbled. He sighed, shoulders slumping, and Twilight had to bite back a laugh. For all their posturing otherwise, Warriors and Legend were just as soft as the rest of them and twice as worried. It was as endearing as it was infuriating. 

“Maybe later you can look more?” Time offered.

Hyrule looked startled by the offer. “Oh- I mean, if you’re sure—” 

“Hello,” Wild awkwardly announced his presence, making everyone but Twilight jump. “I brought water, to wash your mouth, and then I’m making a tea that’s supposed to help with nausea.”

“Much appreciated,” Twilight smiled. Time nodded his own thanks to Wild, but didn’t reply.

After rinsing his mouth and taking a few sips, Time still looked queasy, but less like he’d sucked on a lemon, which was a marked improvement.

It took some prodding, but eventually Time allowed himself to be guided over to fire and plopped down into Sky and Legend’s laps. Legend didn’t even pretend to be upset at the invasion of his personal space, checking Time’s temperature and pulse the second he was in reach. Sky’s hand landed in Time’s hair, scratching heavy but rhythmic circles into Time’s scalp. That proved quite effective at bleeding the tension out of Time’s shoulders, though the man still attempted to protest that ‘all of this wasn’t necessary.’ Lucky for Twilight, he didn’t need to tell him how bullshit that was, since nearly every member of the Chain jumped at the chance to call him out for being an idiotic hypocrite. 

Twilight dragged Time’s bedroll—somehow unsoiled—away from the scene of the crime, while Warriors frowned at the pile of vomit before eventually just tossing his already dirty handkerchief over it with a shrug.

When the tea was done, Time thanked Wild sincerely, cradling the mug close to his chest. It seemed to help settle his stomach well enough, and by the time (hah) he was done with it, he proposed continuing on for the day.

“I’m ready to move. You said there was a stable nearby, correct?” Time asked.

Wild nodded. “We should get there before the sun sets, easy.”

“And you’re sure of that?” Legend questioned sardonically. 

“Yes! I already said sorry.”

“Boys,” Time chided. They both shut up. 

“How safe is the journey?” Warriors asked. He still seemed a little frazzled.

Wild thought for a moment. “Nothing super dangerous should be nearby.”

“Good,” Warriors nodded. He turned to Time. “I’m banning you from your armor.”

Time’s face twisted. “What—”

“Banned,” Warriors repeated. “You aren’t feeling well, and the last thing you need is to catch a cold on top of that. Wild says the journey is safe, and I trust him.”

“He also said this cave was nearby,” Four muttered, before stiffening like he hadn’t meant to say that. 

“Here,” Wind said, and then he threw Twilight’s wolf pelt directly into Time’s face. “Now you won’t be so cold!

“You still—”

Wind reached up and tapped at the feathered headpiece that normally came with Wild’s Snowquil set. “I’m a hero,” he declared. “I can survive being a little cold.”

By the dubious look Warriors shared with Twilight, he got the impression that wasn’t exactly true, but Wind was a force to be reckoned with when he’d set his mind on something.

Under the weight of eight heavy stares, Time finally relented with a tired sigh. “You’re right.”

Wind actually cheered in response.

“Of course we are,” Wild folded his arms sternly, giving their leader an unimpressed look. “The weather is just as much of a beast as any monster we could face, and far more deadly. If you don’t have the proper gear out here, you die, plain and simple.”

A grim message, but not untrue. 

“I’ll feel better with fresh air,” Time said, and that was that.

Twilight helped Wind and Warriors break camp, resigning himself to more sore paws and frozen noses. Being Wolfie had many benefits, but he feared any longer in the icy tundra and his hands and feet would be aching for days afterward.

It was a slow start to the day for them. Not the slowest, but still of note. While everyone chatted and finished lacing up their boots, Twilight hung back, shadows curling as he sniffed around. Announcing out loud I’m gonna go sniff your puke sounded mortifying, so he was using their propensity to shenanigans as a distraction to do just that.

No sickness or poison smells met him. It was just vomit. With that same damn smell.

Twilight stalked back, ears pinning in frustration. Clearly something was up with Time. He couldn’t exactly prove the smell was related to the vomiting, but he was suspicious. He’d just have to… gather evidence, so he was off of more than just intuition. Never-mind that his nose had yet to lead him astray, and his companions had always believed him when he told them he smelt something important. He’d find a logical concern first, if there even was one.

It was probably just a coincidence. 

(Twilight allowed himself another experimental sniff of Time.

The damn smell was still there.)

It was officially later, and Hyrule was officially freaking out.

To recap: earlier that day, Time had (so very generously!) given Hyrule permission to investigate his magic more thoroughly, so Hyrule could try and identify what he had detected that morning. That wasn’t the issue he was having, though, no—the issue was that he was detecting it, lots in fact, and he had zero clue how to explain it and even less clue why it was happening in the first place.

The stable they’d arrived in was warm and cozy, everyone there greeting Wild happily like old friends. It wasn’t nearly as crowded as some of the stables they’d stayed in before, which made it much less anxiety-inducing to linger in the common spaces. After a long, cold journey, Hyrule was grateful to settle himself by the fire and let the heat soak into his bones. With the rest of the Chain around him, Hyrule felt no fear. Aside from the fear of explaining what was wrong with Time.

Okay, wrong was maybe a little bit extreme, but there was… something. Something interesting, just like Twilight had smelt on Time earlier. Something… possibly related?

The man in question was settled with his head in Hyrule’s lap, eyes closed but tense as Hyrule rested his fingers glowing and careful against his temples. Time’s nausea had calmed down during the walk over, but he’d been exhausted by the time (hah) they’d begun a late lunch. So there Hyrule was, letting his magic flow over Time’s while Wild prepared a veritable feast for the entire stable.

Hyrule was infinitely grateful no one had questioned his innate magical abilities yet. He wasn’t sure he wanted to get into the whole half-fairy thing, especially considering he didn’t know much about it either. He really, honestly hadn’t been joking when he said that he’d just… appeared in a field one day, young, scrawny, and scared. He knew they’d ask: was he born a fairy or a human (Legend)? Which was the mom and which was the dad (Wild)? Follow up: how in Farore’s lace-lined undies did that work (Wind)?

Hyrule’s face flushed at even the thought of the question. Not because he didn’t know what sex was, but because, well… he didn’t know either, okay, and he didn’t like thinking about it. He wasn’t exactly raised, by humans or faires, or anyone for that matter. He just… woke up one day. Or remembered waking up—if there was a before, he certainly didn’t know it.

Back to the point: there was something… up, with Time. Hyrule hadn’t been lying when he said nothing felt bad— there was no malicious intent lurking unseen in the corner of Time’s magiks. But there was something.

A… presence, for lack of a better word, of something. 

It was a small thing, really. Akin to tiniest of seeds under fresh soil, not yet even taken root. A beginning, soft and precious. A gathering of love. A collection that was something held close, tucked away from the dangers of the world. Something adored fiercely, that he was being allowed to witness. That he was being trusted with, implicitly, without hesitation or worry. It felt… monumental. Like a gift. Something to treasure. Something that was not quite yet something, but could be something. Would be something.

Hyrule had no fucking clue what it was. But the fairy in him sang for it. He wanted nothing more than to free his wings and chime in joy, fluttering and smiling in delight of it all. Yet the question remained, what is ‘it all’?

“Is he gonna live?” Wind asked dramatically, climbing over the couch to press against Hyrule’s back and stare at Time over Hyrule’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Hyrule joked, poorly concealing a grin. “He seems pretty diseased.”

Wind laughed in Hyrule’s ear. “Gone so soon,” he giggled. “Poor, poor Old Man.”

“I’m still awake, you know,” Time said flatly. He gave Wind an unimpressed stare through his eyelashes.

“Sometimes I can still hear his voice,” Wind sighed, going limp.

“Hyrule?” Time prompted.

This was the part where he lied. Expertly and smoothly, because he was famous for his conversational skills and social confidence. 

“You’ll be fine,” Hyrule told Time, pulling his hands away. That much was true, at least. He was confident about that. Now comes the hard part… “I didn’t, uh, actually find anything though. Thank you for letting me check, though,” Hyrule ducked his head with a bashful grin, which wasn’t part of the act.

He really was grateful—Time loved being as vague and cryptic as possible, and he kept much of himself closely guarded. But despite that, he’d let Hyrule in on something so vulnerable with such ease. It was hard not to feel flustered with the trust placed into his hands, especially with his instincts going haywire as they were.

“Of course,” Time said, like it was truly just that easy. He carefully sat up, hand moving to briefly ghost over his stomach. “I didn’t think it was anything bad. It very well could’ve been from the portal, it just might not have hit me until later.”

“That’s probably what it is,” Hyrule nodded, perhaps a tad too vigorously. Not what I’m sensing, though, he thought, watching with a careful eye as Time stood and went to talk to Wild. He also didn’t really think portal sickness had been what ailed him earlier either. He wasn’t sure if the thing and the throwing up were related, but it was… odd.

“Soo,” Wind trailed off. 

“What?” Hyrule asked. He couldn’t quite turn fully to look at Wind, considering the Sailor was flush against his back, but he did his best. 

“What happened to the thing you sensed earlier?” Wind asked, because he was a cheeky, perceptive bastard. “In the cave? You were makin’ some real weird faces just a second ago, so I know it’s still there, but you didn’t say anything to the old man. What gives?”

Hyrule deflated with a sigh. “It is,” he agreed. There was no use denying it. “But I don’t know what it is. Honest! And it’s not anything bad, it’s just not something I’ve felt before.”

“Yeah, I agree,” Wind said, and—

“What does that mean?”

“Well…” Wind shrunk back, and Hyrule took the chance to turn around so they were having a proper face to face conversation. Wind’s eyes darted around the stable in a headcount.

“Wind.”

“Okay, listen!” Wind waved his hands frantically, voice hushed. “This is just- I don’t want anyone overhearing because it’s really weird and embarrassing.”

Hyrule softened. Secrets were something of a coveted thing in the group—something he was eternally grateful for. It meant he didn’t have to explain what he didn’t want to, as long as it wasn't hurting anyone—like fairy ancestry and blood curses (okay, maybe that last one could hurt some people, but only in his Hyrule, probably!).

“Alright, alright, I hear you,” Hyrule soothed. “Do you wanna go outside for this, then?” 

“Yes,” Wind said immediately, and so they went.

“Where are you two—?” Warriors tried to ask as they passed him.

“Outside!” Wind answered sharply. He went to keep walking, but turned around when it was clear he wasn’t being followed—his hand tugging at Hyrule’s sleeve impatiently

“We’re just talking,” Hyrule smiled. He glanced around at their companions meaningfully, hand grabbing onto Wind’s to cease his tugging.

After a moment, it clicked in Warriors’ eyes. “Of course,” he said. He gave a little nod. Hyrule did not know what it meant. “Be safe.”

“Always, Captain,” Hyrule said. He saluted. A startled laugh escaped Warriors, and Hyrule promptly spun on his heel to scurry away in embarrassment. 

The air was cold and bitter outside, snowflakes whizzing past them as Hyrule hurriedly shut the door. Wind didn’t stop there, dragging him away from the stable into a little outcropping of trees.

“Where are we going? We’re already—”

Wind stopped abruptly. “Just here.” 

The cold nipped at Hyrule’s ears. Wind’s fingers were shaking as he gripped Hyrule’s own.

“Wind,” Hyrule said carefully. A gust of wind blew their scarves to the side. Concern flowered to life in his chest. What was it that Wind was so worried about saying? The Sailor had been so open about nearly every aspect of his journey and life, so to learn that he’d been keeping such a big secret was—

“I can see ghosts!" Wind blurted.

“What,” Hyrule said. He blinked a few times.

“I can see ghosts,” Wind repeated. Which.

Hyrule raised his free hand to count. “Well, first of all, I believe you, second of all, how, and third of all, how is this relevant to what’s going on with Time?”

“I was getting there!” Wind squawked defensively. “I can kind of- sense people’s souls, I guess?” Wind rubbed at the back of his head with his free hand. “It’s hard to explain, but Time’s is all—”

“What. Okay, no, back up, ” Hyrule interrupted. 

Wind had the audacity to look annoyed. “To what?”

“The sensing people’s souls part,” Hyrule hissed. Did that mean he knew? How much information did that power give him? “Explain that right now. Please.”

“Ohhh, right, yeah. I don’t even know where to fucking begin, it’s just a thing that I can do,” Wind said, not explaining. “So when you were doing your thing, I also was checking on him, and there was some, like,” Wind’s nose wrinkled, “I dunno. Wack ass shit going on.”

What a phrase. Wack ass shit. Hyrule would have to borrow that.

“Like… a little bundle? Of a thing?” Hyrule asked. If they were detecting the same thing, that would… well it wouldn’t really help, but it would be nice. 

“No,” Wind said, looking as confused as Hyrule felt. “Like.. I dunno, it was wavey-er than normal. But only just a little bit. What do you mean bundle? Is that the thing you were feeling?”

Hyrule ran his tongue over his teeth, thinking for a moment. “Sort of? It was almost like he was… gathering up little bits of his magic into a thing.” He gestured vaguely with his hands, twisting and grabbing at an invisible object as he tried to demonstrate what he felt. “But it wasn’t bad. I don’t think…”

“Ya think it’s different to the sickness?” 

“Totally. It’s weird, but I’m certain it isn’t harmful. I’m positive. The most sure of anything I’ve ever been in my life.”

Both of Wind’s eyebrows disappeared behind his bangs. “That is a bold fuckin’ statement to make.”

“But it’s true, though,” Hyrule insisted. “Whatever this is, it’s a good thing.” He knew it deep in his bones, all the way into the gossamer wings he kept tucked away.

“His soul being wavey is a good thing?”

A very fair point.

“Well- I mean, I don’t know! That could be unrelated to what I’m feeling, I’m not a soul expert. Like I’ve said, Legend knows magic, I just do it.” 

“Well neither am I!”

“You’re the one who can see ghosts,” Hyrule retorted. “ Actually, since when? Have you always been able to do that?”

“It was after my second adventure,” Wind confessed. “I thought the seeing dead people thing would go away after the ghost ship thing, but it didn’t. Makes some eras… interesting.”

Hyrule’s heart dropped in one fell swoop. “Can you not turn it off?” He dreaded the answer, thinking to The Calamity that happened in the very era they stood in only a 100 years ago. If anything were to cause ghosts, it would be the mass destruction of Hyrule.

“Don’t know how,” Wind kicked at the snow, looking away. It was as hilariously ineffective as it was sad. But…

“Maybe I could try teaching you?” Hyrule offered. He had plenty of practice trying to reign in his senses, after all—with so much of himself already hidden, he couldn’t use any of the coping mechanisms that came naturally. He’d needed to learn how to reign himself in for just a moment when things got… overwhelming. 

Wind lit up.

“Seriously?!” he cried. His eyes were big and round, reminding Hyrule how young the Sailor actually was. For all Wind’s competence and prowess, it was easy to forget.

“It might not work,” Hyrule warned, before Wind could get his hopes too high. “Legend is the one who actually knows magic, I’m just really good at it. For all I know it could be impossible. But I’m more than willing to try.”

Before Wind could try and reply, they were interrupted by a voice calling after them.

“Hyrule! Wind!” Warriors voice called “Brunch is ready! Take your time, though!”

Both of their stomachs growled. 

“Later,” Wind insisted. Hyrule nodded, feeling a little excited despite himself.

As they trudged back to the stable, the incident that morning was gone from Hyrule’s mind—replaced by racing thoughts on how to best help his brother hone his abilities.

Wild didn’t care what Twilight and Hyrule said, Time was definitely sick. 

He trusted Wolfie’s nose and Hyrule’s magical sense, but it had been a week and Time was still waking up nauseous. 

He didn’t vomit every time, but it was a near thing, and it made the man reluctant to try and eat. It ebbed and flowed—a few of the days, it had seemed like it had faded away entirely, but just yesterday Time had outright refused to even try to partake in mealtime. It had taken nearly five minutes of cajoling for him to concede on snacking on some rations at various points throughout the day, but he’d eaten worryingly little. That morning, he'd thrown it all right back up. At the very least, he had managed a small bowl of soup that was mostly broth for a breakfast, but that still wasn't enough.

It was driving everyone up the wall with concern, and even though they tried to hide it, they weren’t very good. Twilight had been hovering more than thought possible, always a step behind Time (if he wasn’t busy herding everyone back to the group). Hyrule and Wind had mostly been off in their own world, but they kept throwing soul-searching stares in Time's way the second he wasn’t looking. Four had been quiet about it all, but he was watching everyone sharply. Warriors and Legend were bickering more than usual, with Warriors worriedly fretting over all of them as he wordlessly took charge. Curiously, Sky had become insistent on helping set up the majority of camp, no matter how tired he seemed. And Wild?

He was cooking. 

When they were still in his Hyrule, he’d gone out on a massive shopping trip. Part of it was to catch up with old friends, and admittedly they had been running low on some things, but mostly he’d been preparing for his inevitable stress cooking. Like a storm on the horizon, he had known day one that it would arrive.

Not that his cooking was without merit—Wild was determined to find something that was easy enough for Time’s stomach. There wasn’t much he could do to help otherwise, anyways. Not with how Time kept insisting he didn’t think he had an illness.

“Not sick my ass,” Legend muttered. He had joined Wild by the cooking pot as he prepared dinner, gaze fixed on Time.

Wild hummed noncommittally. He'd decided on chicken noodle soup, for that night—something that he could easily add helping herbs to Time's portion of when it was ready.

“Twi says he doesn’t smell sick,” Wild said.

“And you believe that?”

“No,” Wild smiled a little at Legend’s affronted expression. “But I trust his nose as much as my eyes, and it's strange he doesn't smell like he should. Something weird is going on, I think.”

Legend arched a brow. “It’s called being sick, Champ. He's been irritable all week.”

“To be fair, I’d be annoyed too with all the hovering,” Wild said lightly. With a spare spoon, he took a sip of the broth. Hmmm…. needs more salt.

“That’s not quite it,” Legend frowned. The light of the fire sent shadows dancing across his face. “I mean, he’s probably getting kind of sick of it, but just- look at him.” 

Wild looked, to where Time was leaning into Warriors’ side: eyes closed and breaths soft. Twilight, in the form of Wolfie, was curled up in Time’s lap, head on his paws and ears perked up as he watched the camp with burningly blue eyes.

“He’s letting them,” Legend murmured, leaning in close so they weren’t overheard. “You know how he gets when he’s injured out on the road. He only puts up with this much ‘hovering’ if he’s actually feeling unwell. Why would he do that if he wasn’t sick? Nausea doesn’t come out of nowhere.”

“You have a point,” Wild agreed, because he wasn't actually denying that Time was some sort of sick, but he wanted to stress, “but I really do trust Twilight when he says Time doesn't smell sick. Something weird is going on. Do you think it's magical?”

“Hyrule would’ve sensed it,” Legend shook his head. “Or I would’ve. This has to be physical. It just… must be something the rancher isn’t used to.”

“Well… what are we supposed to do? Take him to a healer?”

It was something both Four and Warriors had suggested days ago, but they’d been in Hyrule’s… well, Hyrule, and there wasn’t much in the way of healers there.

“You’re gonna go talk to him,” Legend said.

“…Me?” Wild asked. He pointed to himself in disbelief. 

“Yes, you.”

“Why,” Wild asked.

“He’s most likely to listen to you,” Legend said, like that was obvious. Which. What. 

“Twilight’s too busy worrying to be of much use, and you basically stand in as a second Twilight. It works out,” Legend shrugged.

Wild squinted at him for a long, long moment. A second Twilight. Wild disagreed with that statement heavily—Twilight and Time had a very unique dynamic that Wild absolutely could not stand in for. What Legend was suggesting was simply not possible. 

“What exactly would I be talking about?” Wild asked slowly.

“His symptoms, so we can make an educated guess at what’s wrong.”

Wild squinted harder at him.

Legend stared back, unflinching.

“You stir the pot,” Wild told him, shoving the ladle into his hands. If Legend had a protest to that, Wild did not stick around to hear it.

It was easy enough for Wild to slink his way through the sprawling forms of the Chain, but as he approached, Twilight snapped his head around to curl his lips in a warning rumble that sent Wild stumbling to a stop.

The instant their eyes met, Twilight relaxed, ears swiveling back in guilt as he whined apologetically.

“Did Wolfie just growl at you?” Wind asked over the hush that had fallen the camp. He sounded both shocked and delighted.

“I probably startled him,” Wild said, which was enough to make everyone else shrug and move on. Warriors, who had been with Twilight the entire time, didn’t seem convinced. 

“Thanks,” Wild snarked to Twilight. Twilight had the decency to look ashamed of himself.

“Wild,” Warriors greeted with an upturned nod. Wild gave him a little wave, crouching down to peer at Time’s face.

“How you holdin’ up?” Wild asked him.

Time’s eye slowly peeled up. His face was smushed into Warriors’ collarbone, so Wild had to tilt his head to the side so their gazes met. 

“Ill,” Time said, closing his eye. 

How useful, Wild thought and just barely did not say. 

“Same old same old?” Wild said again. He reached a hand out to check Time’s temperature, but was interrupted again by the curl of Twilight’s lips.

Warriors exchanged a befuddled look with Wild, free hand pressing in Twilight’s snout in a silent reprimand. Twilight huffed out his nose, but stayed put, looking appropriately guilty.

Upon inspection, Wild didn’t find any fever. Time shifted under his hand, eye opening again to give Wild a blank expression. 

“No fever,” Wild said, more to himself than anything. “How about a headache?”

“Mm,” Time hummed descriptively. 

“Is that yes or no?”

“Just nausea,” Time grumbled, shifting again to hide his face into Warriors’ scarf. “I’ll be fine for dinner.”

“Good,” Wild breathed a sigh of relief. “Is there anything else I can—”

“I told you Wild, I’m fine,” Time snapped. The raw irritation in his voice was profound. “Leave it.”

Under Warriors hand, Twilight growled another soft warning. 

“Ohhh-kay,” Wild replied, lost for words. Time didn’t get so swiftly irritated ever. Maybe he was more annoyed by the hovering than they all thought…?

Warriors’ mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times. He looked properly astonished now.

Time sighed heavily. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped,” he apologized. “I’m just… not feeling the best.”

Wild nodded rapidly in understanding, shuffling back as he did so. Mission failed. Mission so failed.

“Well?” Legend asked when Wild sat down. 

“No dice,” Wild shook his head. He leaned in closer to whisper, “And Twilight growled at me.”

“Rancher?” Legend’s brows furrowed. “That’s odd.”

“You’re telling me. He’s probably just picking up on Time’s emotions, but still…” Wild frowned.

“Well that bodes well,” Legend snorted. 

“I hope he eats,” Wild whispered, stirring the noodles sadly. “He’s barely had anything the last two days…” 

Legend scowled, eyes dark. “If he doesn’t, I’m shoving it down his throat whether he likes it or not. I’m just glad we haven’t fought anything yet.”

“Oh, absolutely. Me too.”

They got attacked the next morning.

Because of course they did. They were Links. Who else would this happen to? 

Hylia has such a sense of humor, Wild thought as he fired an arrow. Literally the day after we spoke it aloud! The next day!

All things considered, the fight was going well. Twilight, in the form of Wolfie, was mauling the enemies with a newfound viciousness—following the heels of Sky, who was snarling in anger more than actual literal wolf (for some reason?). 

Or, well. It had been going well right up until Wild’s attention was grabbed for just a second too long. In his defense, Warriors’ had just done a sick flip, fancy scarf swishing and armor glinting in the sun, and Wild had chronic “oooh shiny thing that demands all of my attention this instant ” disease. 

Just a moment was all it took for a bokoblin club to smack him in the side of the head and send him careening to the ground. 

Wild must’ve passed out for a moment, because he woke up with spotty vision and the last of the monsters getting speared by Legend’s Tempered Blade. 

“Ow,” Wild mumbled to the grass. Ouch, ow, owie. The morning light was piercing in his eyes, aggravating the pound of his skull. At least he had experience with head injuries…

“Wild,” someone gasped, and then there were feet thundering towards him and a pair of arms gently scooping up. 

Wild groaned in response, turning his head away from the sun. When a shadow fell over his face, he looked half lidded upward to where Time’s concerned face swam above him.

“Champion,” Time said, breathless and worried. “Are you alright?”

“Ugh,” Wild replied. He gave an experimental wiggle of his fingers and toes, finding them responsive. “…Ow.”

Time’s hand carefully carded through Wild’s hair, searching for injury. Wild couldn’t help but squirm away as his fingers brushed against the spot where the club had connected.

“”M’okay,” Wild slurred, reaching up to weakly pat Time’s arm. “How’s e’ryone else?”

Time’s hold around him tightened, expression crumpling. “You need to be more careful,” he scolded, but it lacked the usual heat his words would have.

“Jus’ a small bonk,” Wild informed him. “’ve gotten waaay worse shield surfin’.”

That did not seem to assure Time at all. In fact, it seemed to make it worse, and Wild must have been more concussed than he thought because it almost looked like the man was about to start crying. 

“Don’t we know it, cub,” said Twilight, swimming into Wild’s vision. His face was absolutely drenched in monster blood. “Here, I got a potion.”

“Yay,” Wild croaked, reaching up blindly for it. The glass was cool in his hands, and the red potion went down bitter as always.

Wild smacked his lips a few times, pulling a face at the taste. At once, his headache receded, vision sharpening once more until all traces of head injury were gone. With his newfound clarity, he got a front seat view to the glassy shine of tears threatening to spill out of Time’s eyes. 

“Time?!” Wild asked in concern, pushing himself up by his palms. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Time choked out, before promptly sobbing.

“Old man?” Legend’s alarmed voice came from behind Wild.

Time clenched his jaw tightly, hand angrily swiping the tears away from where they spilt onto his cheeks. “Sorry,” he apologized, before sobbing again.

Wild reached out a little desperately, hands grabbing at Time’s upper arms to steady him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Time said miserably. “I- you went down and didn’t get up and I- I really don’t get why I’m—”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Twilight interrupted gently. He placed a hand onto Time’s shoulder, rubbing a gentle circle. “You ain’t feelin’ well, ‘course you’re gonna be a lil’ all over the place.” 

Twilight’s voice was low and soothing, and Wild relaxed at the sound of it. Time, meanwhile, seemed to get even more upset, hand clamping over his mouth and eyes squeezed as he bowed over in shame. His shoulders trembled.

“Don’t tell me you’re trying to pretend you’re okay,” Legend remarked, kneeling onto the grass next to them. His words were sarcastic, but his eyes were worried. “Talk about hypocrisy.”

The words earned a choked sob from Time.

“Sorry,” Time said again, watery and upset. “I really don’t know why I- I’m so upset, I knew you were fine.” 

“You know as well as I that emotions don’t always follow logic, Sprite,” Warriors said, appearing behind the group to settle a comforting hand on Time’s back. 

Time made a noise that was a mix between an annoyed groan and another sob.

“This is so sick of him,” Legend whispered harshly into Wild’s ear.

Watching Time give in easily to the group hug Twilight and Warriors tugged him into, Wild was incredibly inclined to agree.

Sky was losing his absolute mind.

That was peculiar for him. Sky had learned to temper his anger and emotions, and he was known as one of the calmer, well rounded of the Links. It was strange for him to be at his wit’s end, and yet there he stood. Losing it.

Backtracking a little bit: at the end of his adventure, both Sky and Sun had left the whole thing… changed. Not even just because of the obvious reasons, like the trauma of it all, but because of the divinity of it all. And not for those obvious reasons either.

It was the wings.

For Sun, it made sense. Expanses of pure white feathers extending out her back, the picture perfect iteration of Hylia’s. They were absolutely gorgeous. When she flew, it was a magnificent sight: her feathers almost seemed to glow in the sunlight, wind rustling her hair, smile wide and dreamy. It was the most beautiful thing Sky had ever seen. With her wings at her back, Sky believed. In himself, and the Surface settlement, and the country he knew they would be founding.

Sun’s wings had been expected, almost. Of course Hylia reborn would have wings. Of course.

The chosen hero was… not expected.

The running theory was that it had something to do with defeating Demise—some leftover scars of divine power, or something to that effect. Nevertheless, the results were clear: Sky had wings. But of course, with his luck, that wasn’t the end of it.

Sun’s wings were pure and radiant of origin. Sky’s, on the other hand, well…

They came with them… other things. Instincts and urges that hadn’t been there before. Feathers that like to grow in his hair and on the crown of his head, soft down scattered with his body hair. It was all distinctly bird.

Neither Sky nor Sun had noticed this until Sky had spent all day having a prolonged breakdown over the bed they’d been sharing not being good enough. He’d run all around Skyloft looking for the most perfect blankets and pillows, and he’d re-arranged it dozens of times, but nothing had fixed the itch in his brain that it wasn’t good enough. He’d tried moving its physical position in the room, and flipping the mattress around, and changing the sheets, but nothing had made it right.

Sky had wound up bawling on the floor, hands ripping out patches of feathers as he warbled in distress. 

That was how Sun had found him. Incredibly embarrassing, he knew. He hadn’t been able to stop crying, stuttering his way through an explanation on what was wrong, and Sun had laughed at him.

Oh, silly, she’d smiled, all her concerns melting away. Isn’t it obvious?

Sky hadn’t been able to speak through his distress, so he’d shaken his head no.

Even despite her amusement, Sun had been so gentle when she reached out to pull his shaking hands away from his wings and cradle them in her own. I think, she had said softly, that you might be a lot more birdbrained now than you used to be.

And she had been right.

Where Sun’s wings were pure magic, Sky’s were pure bird.

If Sky and Sun had lived anywhere but Skyloft, that would’ve been an incredibly different adjustment. As it were, everyone was used to coexisting with giant birds, and so they accommodated Sky’s new eccentricities with a grace and ease that made it much easier to settle into his new, forever way of living.

However, Sky had yet to tell his fellow heroes about his wings.

Sun, the amazing, wonderful girlfriend that she was, had helped him learn how to hide his feathery traits. That eliminated practically all of the questioning—everything else could be explained by spending time with his Loftwing. 

But. But.

It had been several weeks—over a month!—since the whole situation with Time had begun, and it had not gotten any better.

Time was still fighting a vague nausea day to day. His mood was much more unstable—he got irritated easier, laughed easier (and louder, and longer, which was honestly a good thing), and cried easier. That one was freaky—Time had cemented himself as a more stoic, closed off type, and all of that had been washed away like dirt in the rain. 

Everyone was handling it… interestingly. Twilight had been spending a disproportionate amount of time as Wolfie. Beyond that, he had grown increasingly protective of Time: snapping at anyone who moved too close too quickly and throwing himself in front of hits with a newfound reckless abandon. That only served to make Time cry, which caused a whole chain (hah) reaction of distress from everyone. Hyrule spent half his days fluttering around Time aimlessly, followed close by Wind. Wild had dedicated himself entirely to adhering to Time’s increasingly odd food cravings. 

Warriors, Four, and Legend were the only ones being normal about their worry. And yes, that meant Sky wasn’t being normal either.

He couldn’t help it, was the problem. While Twilight could shake off the vast majority of his instincts when he wasn’t being Wolfie (even though he seemed determined to keep being Wolfie, lately), Sky was stuck with his.

Enter: the nesting and preening.

Nesting had been easy enough to manage in the beginning. With everyone frazzled, Sky had simply taken over setting up camp, and they had let him. After they adjusted, however, they took that opportunity away from him, insisting that he didn’t need to overwork himself so much.

That was fine! Sky had just… spent a long time fussing with his own bedroll and trying to ignore the itch in his brain that he was being a terrible flock member by letting the Chain sleep the way they were. 

The preening, on the other hand… well.

Wind was always happy to indulge a hair ruffle or two, but that was a temporary solution. Same with petting Wolfie. Sometimes, when it would seem the least out of place to offer, Sky would get to braid Wild’s hair, and that would be enough to settle his nerves for the day.

The longer the situation stretched on, though, the more frayed Sky’s nerves became. He tried to settle himself with woodcarving, but as the days went by his go-to response to nerves became tugging at his hair and dragging his nails over the back of his wrist.

Both of those were hard to hide and increasingly harder to ignore. 

Sky wasn’t a stranger to the compulsion of stress-plucking. It was a concern with every bird, and Skyloft was full of those. Being the one to stress-pluck, however, was a… new one. He’d known it was, well, a compulsive behavior, but Sky didn’t really have those, and it made it very hard to fight.

Helpless to fix whatever was wrong with Time, everyone had pounced on Sky’s growing self-destructive tendencies the instant they became aware of it. When he wasn’t tailing Time, Twilight—in the form of Wolfie—shoved his way into Sky’s lap and demanded pets. Hyrule and Wind both made it their mission to hold his hand when they walked next to him. Legend spent his time keeping pace next to him and chatting during their journey. Warriors challenged him to spars. Four sat next to him, either book in hand or question about Sky’s woodcarving on his tongue. And Time just… stared at him, wide and sad when he caught sight of Sky trying to soothe the restless itch in his skin.

Sky loved them all for it. Really, he did—seeing them care so blatantly helped heal a wound in him he hadn’t quite realized he had. Simultaneously, though, it sort of made things worse, because it meant they were right there but he couldn’t reach out to fuss with their hair and bedding because that was weird. 

All of his instincts, however, were honed in on the member of the Chain Sky had the least chance of quelling his urges for: Time.

Sky ached, deeply and intensely, to make sure Time’s bedroll was absolutely perfect, his hair without a tangle, his plate more than full with all the food he could need. Sky wanted to mother-cucco him so badly in such a literal way it was causing him actual, physical pain, but there was no way he could indulge in it. Even before the entire situation had begun, the two of them had never been particularly close. They trusted each other, but sometimes Sky worried that Time secretly hated him because of the whole Master Sword and Goddesses thing. Even still, Sky worried, and it was driving him insane not to express it.

It wasn’t even to do with whatever was going on with Time. There was just something in his brain that knew something he didn’t, and was insistent that he needed to take care of and protect Time. Sky just didn’t know what it was.  

He’d had to keep a wide physical distance between them at all times (hah) so he didn’t literally jump the man. Everyone in the Chain knew Sky worried, and that he fussed, but not to the degree he was actually capable of, and not to the degree the unfamiliar, primal part of his brain wanted him to.

The only way to fix it would be if he told them the truth of what was wrong, and Sky was not going to do that.

As it turned out, Sky was going to do that.

Not on purpose, of course!  But they’d settled down in a wonderful inn in Legend’s Hyrule, and that had unintentionally been the end of things.

They’d split up three to a room. Time, Twilight and Warriors in the first room. Hyrule, Wind, and Wild in the second room. And Legend, Four, and Sky in the third.

It had been wonderful right up until the point where they’d actually needed to go to bed and Sky could. Not. Settle. 

Sky tried. Extensively. But he kept tossing and turning, flipping his pillow over and over and readjusting his blankets and telling himself it was fine and he didn’t need to make a nest because he was a Hylian, not a bird, and he was normal. After several hours elapsed, and Legend, notorious insomniac, was asleep before him, Sky had given up on sleeping and instead perched himself on the floor, back to the wall so he didn’t get any funny ideas like letting his wings out so he could pull out his feathers.

Sky was normal. Cool. Collected. The level-headed of the Chain. The one everyone counted on to be easy-going. He was a patient man, and that was something he’d fought long and hard for. He was so so normal.

His eyes welled with tears. 

Oh, who was he kidding. Sky wasn’t normal. He was the opposite of normal. If there was a least normal guy award, he would be winning it. 

Sky buried his face into his hands and did his absolute best not to sob, even as his throat burned with the urge. He couldn’t wake either of his roommates up, not when Four had gone to bed with a portal-induced migraine and Legend struggled with sleep enough already.

The thought of Legend’s sleeping habits only made it worse. Because what if he could fix it? Legend had slept soundly the night they had huddled for warmth in the cave. Maybe the solution was letting Sky fuss- no, he couldn’t think like that. He…

Sky’s eyes slowly shifted over to Legend’s prone form. Then Four's. And the urge just got worse. His hands slid under his sleeves to scratch, but the second his nails touched his skin Legend awoke with a twitch of an ear.

Sky went very still. He didn’t dare breathe. 

Legend shifted on the bed. Paused for a moment, and then quietly pushed himself up. His eyes scanned the room, darting around for a few moments before they finally landed on—

“Sky?” Legend rasped. His face was red and crumpled from sleep.

Sky burst into tears. 

“Woah, what’s wrong?” Legend asked, barely whispering as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. That was enough to wake up Four, who jolted upward in a panic. 

Sky just shook his head, hands pressing over his mouth in an attempt to block his sobs from escaping. Legend stumbled a little on his approach, but soon enough he was sitting on the floor in front of Sky, eyes wide with concern. Sky had to rip his eyes away, entire body trembling as he tried to contain himself.

“Is everything okay?” Four asked.

“Clearly not,” Legend snarked back, but he only had eyes for Sky. After a moment's hesitation, Legend placed a careful hand onto Sky’s shoulder. The contact burned. 

“Oh,” Four said. He stared for a moment before kicking his sheets to the side and sliding to the floor to sit next to Legend. 

They were both looking at him. They both could see the utter mess that he was. Sky made a noise that he knew wasn’t Hylian, curling his knees to his chest and curling over like he could possibly hide from them.

“Hey,” Legend said softly. “Talk to us. What’s going on?”

He sounded so earnest. And Sky broke.

“I—” Sky had to stop and sob, the heels of his hands uselessly brushing away tears that wouldn’t stop coming. “I’m- I’m not Hylian.” The confession was sour and heavy in his mouth. “Not fully. And it’s- this whole situation with Time is making it hard to- to—”

A sob interrupted his words. And then another, and another, and it seemed he wouldn’t stop at all.

“Is that what all the repetitive self harming behaviors are about?” Four asked plainly. His tone gave away nothing.

“Four,” Legend hissed.

“What? It’s a valid question—”

“You didn’t have to ask it like that,” Legend said harshly. “I know I’m an asshole most of the time but I have tact.”

“No, he- he’s right,” Sky sniffed. Both of them snapped their eyes back to him. “I don’t- I didn’t know how to bring it up after it’s been so long, and then, it never mattered that much before—” a lie, that was, Sky had slowly been reaching his wit’s end for months, “—but now that- that, y’know, I mean, no one is taking it well, and it’s been driving me up the wall that I have to keep pretending and restrain myself so much and I’m still not used to- to—”

“Not used to?” Legend latched onto, because of course he did. “Were you… fully Hylian before?”

Sky nodded. “My- my quest,” he whispered. “After I finished it, I- I woke up one morning and—”

“Oh my Gods,” Four gasped suddenly. His eyes were bright violet in the moonbeam drifting through the window. “Birdbrain.”

“…Huh?” Legend said.

“That’s what it is,” Four said, somehow excited despite the way Sky was still shaking and crying. “When you first got called that nickname, you seemed peculiarly nervous—and you’ve been overly fussy with the camp lately, and offering to do Wild’s hair far more than ever before and doing quite intricate styles while doing so, and when avians are stressed quite commonly their stress response is compulsive feather plucking, which would align with your sudden onset of self-destructive behaviors, all of which indicate that you are some mix of Hylian and avian yourself and coping poorly with your worry about Time.”

Four punctuated his speech by taking in a massive, gasping breath.

“Wow,” Legend said appropriately. “I didn’t know you had that much air in your lungs. Also, what the fuck?”

“Y- you’re—” Sky couldn’t get the words out. He managed the tiniest of nods. Both Legend and Four’s eyes softened.

“If it helps,” Four said, serious and gentle, eyes shifting to an amber red as he gathered Sky’s hands into his own much like Sun had not so long ago, “I am four people in a trench-coat. I won’t judge you for whoever or whatever you are.”

“Pardon?”

“…You’re sure?” Sky asked, pitiful to his own ears (he was electing to ignore whatever the hell that meant).

Four smiled at him, warm and bright. “As sure as I’ve ever been. We wanna help you, Sky. You just have to let us.”

“That part,” Legend said. He gave Four a baffled look before continuing. “If we can… I dunno, help your birdbrain settle somehow, of course we will. You just have to ask.”

The words landed a bit awkwardly, but it was clear that they were genuine and true. He meant them.

“Okay,” Sky sniffled. He pulled his hands away from Four’s to scrub at his face, desperately trying to will his breakdown far, far away. “Then- I don’t wanna be alone. To sleep. I, uh… oh, this is embarrassing.”

“Nonsense,” Four insisted.

“It’s,  um…” Despite the reassurance, Sky’s face burned. “I know I’m a physically affectionate guy, but when I get like this it’s… a lot more, uh. Intense?”

“We could push the beds together,” Legend suggested immediately.

“No need,” Four said, grinning. “I’m little. We’ll fit.” His face then immediately fell into something blank. When he twitched back from wherever he’d zoned out to, his eyes were purple again. “Are you wanting to nest? Is that why you wanted to take charge of camp building?”

Sky nodded, shoulders slumping in relief that he didn’t have to say it. “Yeah. It’s… soothing. My brain gets all itchy and convinced I’ve failed you guys somehow and, well,” Sky reached up to mime tugging at his hair.

Legend’s lips pressed into a firm line. “And the hair thing is preening related, I presume?”

“Yes, allopreening. Obviously,” Four scoffed. His limbs jerked oddly, left eye twitching violently. “Sorry, the other three people in the trench-coat aren’t very pleased we told you that. Myself included. I mean—”

Four’s face went through several expressions, eyes swirling until they landed on green—not quite the hazel they normally were, but close enough.

“Um,” Four said. 

“You know what? I literally don’t even care,” Legend laughed a little. “Why the fuck not. I’m so tired. Can we please go back to bed?”

“Yes,” Sky said. The thought of it was enough to almost send him over the edge of tears again. “Bed. I haven’t slept properly in a week. Let me- I need to—”

He gave up explaining himself, awkwardly stumbling to his feet and pushing past them to fuss with the bed. And fuss he did: ripping the blankets and pillows from the other two beds and arranging them until the itch in the back of his brain was satisfied. Legend and Four watched him—Legend with half-lidded eyes and Four’s expression still at war with itself.

Sky gave his work an appraising once over. He nodded once, and then collapsed face first into it. Four was quick to follow, worming in against his back and curling up with his face tucked into Sky’s shoulder blades. Legend was slower, clambering in on the other side close enough for Sky to reach out and tug him into optimal preening distance. Legend, true to his word, didn’t protest as Sky sunk his hands into his hair. And oh, there went his nerves and anxieties and negative emotions.

The air of the room was silent and still for a few minutes, all of their breaths slowing and bodies relaxing. At last, Sky felt calm. Maybe he could actually fall asleep now.

“This feels nice,” Legend commented quietly. Four hummed an inquisitive note, and Legend elaborated, “The preening thing. ‘S’basically jus’ hair brushing, but… more.”

“Ohh,” Four realized softly. 

“Mhm,” Legend said. He shifted in place, pressing himself a little closer.

“Tomorrow,” Sky mumbled, barely awake enough to think, “You might need to actually hold me back from Time now that I’ve done this.”

“Hm? Why?” Legend asked. Sky hummed, not responding right away as he busied himself with the pink strand of Legend’s hair. 

“Something about him is making my instincts go haywire,” Sky confessed at last. “I haven’t been… birdbrained, as you put it, for very long, so I don’t know what it is, but it’s impossible to ignore. There’s… my brain is yelling at me to fuss over him, and I have no idea why.”

Even in the dark, there was no mistaking Legend’s classic suspicious squint. “Huh,” he said thoughtfully. “That’s… interesting. Is it because he’s been sick?”

“I don’t think so,” Sky said. His hands mindlessly braided and un-braided a section of Legend’s hair as he thought. “I mean, I don’t think that’s helping, but… there’s something about him that’s setting me off. My hind-brain knows it, but not me.”

Legend squinted harder. “You wouldn’t be the first person to say that,” he said, which. Whatever that meant.

“Very,” Four’s voice cracked with a yawn, “Fascinating… uh… can we…?”

“Bed,” Legend suggested sagely.

“Bed,” Four agreed.

And bed they went.

It wasn’t unusual for Four’s brain to be loud sometimes, but there had been a real racket going on up there lately.

It had been a week since Sky had finally confessed what was bothering him. That, Four was immensely grateful for. Sky hadn’t seemed to quite realize how much he was stressing everyone out with his abnormal behavior—conversely, though, none of them had quite been paying attention to him in a way that mattered either. Ergo: mental breakdown on the floor.

It was almost laughably easy to settle Sky once they knew what he needed. Four and Legend weren’t the most physically affectionate of the Chain, but the other option was… not something either of them would ever actually consider. So when Sky got twitchy, one of them would plonk themselves nearby and let him fuss.

And because monkey see, monkey do, once the others began to notice, it caused a chain (hah) reaction throughout them: Wild eagerly let Sky do his hair without the skyloftian needing to ask, Wind lurked nearby for a hair ruffle, and Wolfie demanded twice as many pets (once, Twilight had bowed his head for a scratch, and it said a lot about how overwhelmed with instincts they both were that literally neither of them had seemed to notice anything unusual about that interaction). Even Warriors, notoriously picky about his appearance, had graced Sky with the chance to help neatly tuck unruly strands into place. 

None of them had any reason to know why it was so soothing to Sky, but they did it anyways. It was incredibly obvious, after all, how helpful it was.

Despite the circumstances, it was nice. Sky’s fingers were careful as they ran through his hair, making loose braids over and over and scratching gently at his scalp. It helped to quiet Four’s brain—something sorely needed. 

Four had… mixed emotions about confessing his biggest secret just like that. Four (the number) very mixed emotions.

It didn’t help that he hadn’t been able to split in ages. His brain felt like it was actively ripping itself apart and melting into a soup most days, as his four colors each fought for control of their collective braincell. 

This is ridiculous, he thought. Why did I tell them? But it’s just Legend and Sky, and neither of them would tell anyone. Unless they did, in which case all of their his secrecy and immense effort to keep everything under wraps would go to waste. Legend literally said that he ‘literally didn’t care.’ He was half asleep though, his opinion could have changed. But—

Four groaned miserably. While being so unstable he was little more than four (the number) people stuck in one body was a horrible, horrible feeling, there was something uniquely awful about the in-between state of not-quite harmony and not-quite chaos. At least everyone’s thoughts were separate enough to be decipherable instead of crowding Four’s brain and turning it into a jumbled mess of overwhelm.

“You alright?” Sky asked softly. The pads of his fingers pressed a little more forcefully as he began to massage Four’s head.

Obviously not, we’ve been worse, it’s just a headache, why won’t everyone just shut up, he needed to calm down, he was so fucking calm, Guys we need to work together—

"Trench coat problems,” Four said simply. 

Sky’s hands stilled. “Oh. Can… I help with that?”

Why did you say that I said it because he cares—

Four felt his face spasm violently. Anger, anxiety, and fondness went to war in his heart, hands twitching as if to curl into fists but also clutch at his chest. I’m fine no we aren’t we’ve handled ourselves This is complexly illogical what needing help obviously that’s not what he meant everyone shut up—

“Yes,” Four (?) said, spine straightening. It was getting so much worse and his skin crawled. I have to step in because of you dummies oh fuck off we’re only here because you won’t shut up oh we all are worried let’s not fight guys please. “We need privacy. Swiftly.”

“Of course,” Sky said easily, because of course he would do that, that's what I thought. “Hey, Wars? Four and I are going on a walk.”

Warriors didn’t look up from polishing his sword. “Very well. Watch yourselves and call if we need help.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n,” Sky mock saluted.

“Aye aye!” Wind immediately cheered with a loud laugh, smacking Warriors on the shoulder with a loud thump. Far too loud and Four had never been more tempted to stab his companions before that very moment. He settled for clamping his hands over his ears and biting back a scream. 

“Army Captain,” Warriors sighed. “Not a pirate.”

“Let’s leave before they get at it,” Sky murmured. His hands landed warmly on Four’s shoulders, and Four became acutely aware of how hard he was trembling. Four nodded his assent, standing up on unsteady feet. Sky was gentle as he guided them through camp, careful and steady.

“Everythin’ okay?” Twilight checked in, eyes landing heavy and worried on Four.

Four couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. Not when he knew his own were probably swirling with different colors. Not when he was about to go absolutely feral. 

“Just a walk,” Sky replied lightly. His tone left no room for questions.

After a moment, Twilight nodded. “Shout if you need anything.” 

Four kept his eyes down as they made their way through the camp and into the woods around them. Sky was blissfully silent as they walked, but kept throwing concerned glances. That was fair, considering Four currently wanted to crack his skull into a rock to quiet the buzzing in his head. 

“This is far enough,” Four announced, once they’d reached a suitable enough clearing for him to lose it in.

“Okay,” Sky agreed. “What’s going on?”

“I need to—” Four cut himself off. He didn’t have time to explain properly and his head was so loud—

Fuck this.

Four’s hand reached up and grazed the pommel of the Four Sword. And, with a flash of light, he was Four no more.

The force of the split sent all of them stumbling and flying about the clearing. 

Four—or, Red, as he now was—went flying directly into Sky with an oof.

Sky’s arms circled around him automatically, warm and steady. Red couldn’t stop himself from grabbing back, gripping onto the back of Sky’s sailcloth and burying his face into his tunic. The migraine they’d been nursing had split between them, but Red had taken the brunt of it.

“Woah!” Sky grunted. “Are you o— ohh… there’s four of you. Wow.”

“Why did you do that?” Green shouted.

“Someone wouldn’t shut up!” shouted back Blue, sharp and accusing. 

“I’m sorry for thinking,” Vio said sarcastically. “It isn’t like that is my whole purpose or anything.”

Red twisted in Sky’s arms to glare at Vio. “No that isn’t, you know that! You’re allowed to have feelings!”

Vio folded his arms and looked away. “Tell that to Blue.”

“That was not what I was saying,” Blue snarled. “Don’t twist my words like that!” 

“Guys, don’t fight like this,” Green tried to mediate. “You both know you’re wrong.”

“How am I wrong?” Blue exploded, gesturing wildly. Red flinched back at the sound, hiding himself against Sky’s steady hold. “Half the reason we’re like this is because he just kept theorizing, do you realize how stupid a reason that is for our secret to get out?”

“It wasn’t stupid to be honest,” Red protested hotly, even as tears pricked at the back of his eyes. He blames me. He’s mad at me. “It was killing us!”

“We would’ve been fine!” Blue shouted. “We made it this far!”

“Statistically, most people have a lot of vitriol for what they think is odd or don’t understand,” Vio added quietly.

Blue whirled on him. “Oh, so now you’re on my side—?!”

“Hey,” Sky interrupted , and all of them went very still. “How about we all calm down for a moment instead of yelling at each other?”

“Thank you,” Green said at length. 

“You’re not the boss of me,” Blue tried to retort, but his face betrayed his nerves.

“I’m not trying to be,” Sky replied smoothly. “But you’re all probably scared, and I just want you to know you don’t have to be.” The words were soothing and assured, and Red felt all of his anxieties melt away. It didn’t matter if Blue was mad at him, because Sky was there.

(They all should cuddle with Sky more often, as Four and otherwise—he really was a great hugger.)

Red nodded into Sky’s tunic in agreement. “I told you,” he grumbled. “He doesn’t care.”

Sky’s hand handed in Red’s hair, ruffling it gently. “What are you theorizing about, exactly, uh…?”

“Vio,” Vio introduced curtly. “Well, I’d be happy to indulge, but I’m afraid—”

“Do not,” Blue hissed. “Not when I can finally walk away from you.”

“I’ll go with him,” Green offered immediately. “To keep him safe.”

“You just don’t want to hear my theories,” Vio accused. 

“No, not at all!” Green denied. “You know how Blue gets.”

“Wh- hey!” 

“Just don’t go too far,” Sky cautioned.

Blue scoffed. “Of course not.”

And then they were off.

“So,” Vio began, turning to his captive audience, “My theories. About, of course, what is going on with Time. Now, naturally, some strain of flu is the first thing that comes to mind, but I have several additional avenues to explore that I think are just as optimal. The first, of course, being the affliction of a strange curse…”

Red loved his brother, but he hoped Sky felt very afraid.

All of the questions Legend had about the bullshit going on with the Chain were all answered in one measly afternoon.

It had been maybe 14 weeks since that first morning where Time had thrown up, and Legend was at his actual wit’s end.

He got it. He was concerned for their pseudo-leader as much as the rest of them, especially since normal sickness didn’t act anything like this nor last anywhere near as long as this. But at least he was being normal about it.

And look. Normal was subjective. Legend had seen a lot of weird shit in his time. He was weird. But the Chain was being exceptionally abnormal.  

Legend tried to not give them grief about it (shocker, he knew—he actually cared!), but they were making it hard. He didn’t even get it. Sure, he understood that they all liked to worry and fuss, but they had all been acting so out of character that Legend had half a mind to be concerned that there was some sort of spreading plague-like curse infecting them all and making it so they would act weird.

The only normal one was Warriors. Fucking Warriors.

They’d formed a camaraderie over it, despite themselves—casting each other baffled glances whenever one of the others did something especially odd, and leaning in to whisper and confirm they weren’t seeing things. 

Hyrule had kept up with his magic detection thing, allegedly finding “nothing” and yet skipping away with a bright grin like he’d just been told a wonderful secret. Wind seemed to do the same, which was odd because last Legend checked Wind couldn’t do that. Wild was another mostly normal one, but he’d been utterly stuck in adhering to Time’s cravings and helping soothe whatever the fresh fuck was wrong with Twilight. At the very least, he seemed happy about it.

Legend wished he could say that Four and Sky were being normal. And yet, there they were. Four just… watched everyone. Incredibly intently. Legend was not afraid of the smithy, but there was something unsettling about his constant staring and he wasn’t sure he was a fan of it—not to mention the four people in a trench coat thing. Sky was just… clingy, and fussy, and hovering, and inserting himself into every helping position he possibly could. 

At least Legend knew why. Sky’d had his entire existence altered and literal brain rewired. Legend could give him grace for that, and it was better than the down-spiral he’d been in, but it was still weird.

Legend had tried researching, to see if there was something even remotely similar to what was going on in any of the Castle libraries, but he hadn’t found anything. Wild had been right: something weird was going on.

Actually, a lot of different members of the Chain had said something similar about Time.

Twilight had said he smelt interesting. Hyrule, upon being pressed, had mentioned that there was something up with Time’s magic. Wind, after a thorough interrogation, had admitted to something similar because of powers he refused to elaborate on. Sky’s compulsive urge to mother-cucco Time because of an ambiguous something about him. Four (who Legend still had questions for, but whatever) had agreed that there was something strange and unusual going on.

It painted an… interesting picture. Legend had no clue what, but it was pissing him off.

Even still, their quest persisted.

They’d landed back in Wild’s Hyrule, and had made a swift trek to the closest town—Hateno—to stock up on supplies and rest in an actual bed for the first time in weeks. Everyone there had greeted Wild, and them, with cheerful smiles and happy waves all around. Wild, of course, insisted on talking to half the people they’d stop to chat to, and because the Chain was being weird, none of them dispersed like they normally did to speed things up.

“It’s so nice to see you’ve made so many wonderful friends, Link,” the women they’d been talking to—Zamanda—told Wild earnestly.

Wild grinned bashfully, rubbing at the back of his head in embarrassment. Even still, he was grinning as he replied, “Yeah, it’s been really nice. But hey, how have you been!”

“Oh, just wonderful! Business has been booming, and the warmth of spring has been more than welcome. And I— oh my—!”

Whatever she had been about to say was interrupted by Wolfie nudging into her space to give her a thorough sniff. Which was so out of character for Twilight that Legend opened his mouth to call him out on it before remembering the townsfolk weren’t supposed to know the Rancher and the wolf were one and the same.

“Oh, don’t worry!” Wild rushed to say before she could freak out. “I know he looks scary, but he’s a big softie.”

“He wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Time added, eye twinkling in amusement as he stepped in to place a hand on Wolfie’s back.

Legend couldn’t help a dubious raise of an eyebrow, because he’d seen Twilight slaughter monsters twice his size without hesitation. 

“Oh, no worries,” Zamanda said. “He isn’t bothering me at all. He’s just like all the other animals in the village, all up in my business.”

“Really? In what way?” Time asked politely. 

The woman laughed warmly, reaching up to scratch Wolfie's ears. “Well, dogs used to be wolves, didn't they? He can probably smell that I'm pregnant like all the other dogs here can!”

“Congratulations!” Wild gasped, grinning ear to ear. And the others—

Wolfie reared back from the women with a violent sneeze. Hyrule tripped over thin air. Wind’s eyes went comically wide. Sky made a weird squawking noise. Four’s mouth dropped in silent horror.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Warriors said, serenely oblivious to the chaos happening around him. And Legend?

Legend was going to kill everyone in the Chain and then himself. Because are you fucking serious. 

Literally fucking of course. It was obvious now and Legend wanted to strangle himself for not noticing sooner because it was literally textbook pregnancy symptoms. And no wonder everyone had been so fucking weird about Time lately! No fucking wonder!

Wolfie slowly turned to make desperate eye contact with him. How a wolf conveyed such a deep, visceral despair so clearly, Legend didn’t know.

“Oh, bless you, baby,” Zamanda said to Wolfie, in regards to the sneezing fit he was having.

“How many weeks, do you know?” Time asked her, smiling genuinely because he was the type of chatty old person to actually be interested in that type of thing.

She smiled, sliding her hands to cradle her stomach through her dress. “We think around 30.”

“Do you have names?” Wild asked, hands curled up by the side of his face as he leaned in eagerly. 

“Yes! We were thinking Floss if it’s a boy, and Lentil if it's a girl,” Zamanda said, smiling wistfully down at her belly.

Damn, those are some shit names, Legend thought instantly, before remembering he needed to do damage control.

“Hey,” Legend interjected before anyone said anything stupid, pushing his way past Sky’s frozen figure to grab Warriors by the elbow. “Why don’t the rest of us go settle in while the four of you chat?”

Warriors nodded, looking at Legend briefly to smile. “Of course, yes, go ahead.”

“Come on, gang,” Legend told everyone. He clapped a hand onto Four’s shoulder, and the smithy jolted into motion with a start. “House time. You too, Wolfie.”

Wolfie did not need to be told twice to book it from the conversation, paws stumbling as he circled as far away from Time as he could possibly get.

Legend had to pull Hyrule up from where he'd planted face-first into the floor and shove Sky forward to get him moving, but eventually they all began walking away from the conversation.

“That cannot be true,” Wind declared the second they were out of probable earshot. “We're all thinking the same thing, right? But that's not possible because—”

Legend smacked Wind's arm with the back of his hand before the twerp could get any louder in his shrill distress.

“Haven't you ever heard of trans people?” Legend glared.

“Of course,” Wind said back frantically, far too close to a shout, “But I didn't think Time was—”

Legend yanked Wind into a headlock, hand clamping over the Sailor’s mouth. “Not so loud,” he hissed into Wind's ear. “Wait ‘til we get back to Wild’s house before you freak out.”

“I'm freaking out,” Four said blandly. His eyes were a muddied color, like mixed paint water.

“Quietly, at least,” Legend pointed out.

“…I feel so stupid,”  Hyrule said.

“Save that for later.”

“I think ‘m gonna pass out,” was Sky’s helpful addition to the conversation. 

Legend sighed heavily. He was on his wit's fucking end. “Please don't actually– oh my Gods Sky—”

(Sky passed out.)

“So,” Legend said, after he was certain the door was closed.

They’d gotten some odd looks, what with Wolfie’s quiet whimpering, Sky’s unconscious body, and everyone else's dazed looks, but the people were clearly used to Wild because by the time they reached the house no one seemed to care what they were doing.

“Please don’t pass out again,” Four quietly told a still-pale Sky.

“Not planning on it,” Sky replied faintly. 

“How is he pregnant?!” Wind shouted, arms gesturing wildly. Which, well. Question of the hour, that was. 

“That makes the most sense out of everything going on here, actually,” Legend said. “We’re starting with you, rancher, why are you whining?”

An explosion of shadow, and there Twilight sat, curled up and crying. Aggressively.

“Oh no,” Sky cooed (like, literally—had he always done that or had Legend just never noticed?), flinging himself off the bed to place a comforting hand on Twilight’s back.

“He’s pregnant,” Twilight sobbed, which was true but did not explain anything. 

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re happy or sad about this information,” Legend told him. Seeing the rancher cry so hard he was shaking, Legend would admit freely, tugged at his heartstrings. He seemed genuinely devastated, like someone had killed a kitten in front of him. But—

“He’s pregnant,” Twilight whispered, not elaborating at all. “He’s- he’s gonna give birth and—” he cut himself off with a loud, agonized sob.

Okay then.

Legend sighed, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Okay, great. I’m glad you… know what’s happening, at least? I guess. Whatever. Sky—”

“Yeah,” Sky said, before Legend could finish. “I get it now. I’m—” Sky paused, nervous, before his face hardened with determination as he turned back to consoling Twilight. “Twilight, it’s okay. I’m… I’m not fully Hylian, and I’ve been having weird instincts too, because my subconscious noticed before I did. You didn’t mean to snap at any of us.”

Twilight just kept crying.

“I had theories,” Four said slowly. For the first time in forever, his eyes were back to their normal hazel. “Some more outlandish than the last. But I never… I didn’t think this was an option,” Four shook his head in disbelief.

“We could be wrong,” Legend pointed out, even though it made complete sense. There was hardly anything else it could be. “It would be smart to—”

“No,” Twilight interrupted, the word shouted and followed by a sob. “I- I’m certain, I knew the smell was familiar but I didn’t know why or where to place it but ‘s so obvious now that I know what to look for, ‘nd I know, I know my nose, I promise ya that’s what this is,” Twilight wailed. He then hid his face into his hands, nearly doubling over under the weight of his distress.

Legend had no idea what to make of that. 

Sky cooed again, pulling Twilight into a tight hug and murmuring soothing words as he sunk a hand into Twilight’s thick hair. Legend was incredibly glad Sky was there—if he’d had to deal with Twilight’s emotions all on his own, he had zero fucking clue what he’d do. 

“So he… is this why you—?” Wind glanced into Hyrule’s direction before guiltily pulling his eyes away.

Legend sighed again, slow and measured. He turned his gaze towards Hyrule.

“The thing you were sensing,” Legend prodded flatly. “That related to this, by any chance?”

Hyrule stiffened, weight shifting back and forth as he picked at one of the bracers on his arms. “Um.” 

“Hyrule,” Legend said. “I am at the end of my Goddesses-damned rope. You lot,” he made a sweeping gesture with his hand, “have been acting so insanely weird that I’ve been forced to bond with Warriors to get away from it because no one would say what was wrong. Please fucking explain.”

“His soul is wave-y!” Wind, who was not Hyrule, exclaimed.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Legend asked desperately. He reached up to tug his ears down in distress.

“I can sense people’s souls, kind of, and Time’s has been weird! But if he is pregnant, then that would make sense, because his soul would be like, preparing for…” Wind trailed off and went bright red.

Legend blinked slowly. 

“You can sense souls?” Four questioned appropriately. 

“Not important right now!”

“Okay,” Legend said. He stared down at the floorboards and wished so deeply to crawl into them and never leave. “Sure. Literally why the fuck not at this point. Anyone else have a lore drop they wanna give right now in this moment, since we’re doing a fucking share circle now?”

And it was a joke. A funny, haha silly. And yet. And yet. And yet.

“I’m half fairy!” Hyrule announced to the room.

Everyone went quiet.

Twilight sobbed.

“…Excuse me?” Legend asked at last.

“I’m half fairy,” Hyrule repeated, determined. “And I’ve been- I didn’t know what it was, but there’s been something magical going on with Time that I didn’t understand but knew in my deepest of hearts was a good thing, and now it all makes sense! He’s preparing his own excess magic to pass it along to his kids! Which is why it felt so special to see every time I did, because it meant he trusted me and—”

“How are you half fairy?” Wind interrupted. “How does that—”

“Don’t ask,” Hyrule cut him off viciously. He shuddered. “Seriously. I literally don’t know.”

“Pause,” Four interrupted. “Did you say kids just now? As in, plural?”

Hyrule blinked. “…Did I?”

“Wait,” Legend realized. Horror struck his chest ice cold. “Guys,” he said shakily.

“What?” Four asked frantically.

“He.. Time’s been just as confused about what’s going as the rest of us. Which means he doesn’t know. So…. how are we gonna tell him?”

The house went quiet for another beat. And then all hell broke loose.

Warriors was getting the distinct feeling he was missing something.

It had started a few days ago, when they’d landed in Wild’s Hyrule. Warriors had thought it was going wonderfully! The townsfolk were more than pleasant, restocking their supplies had been a breeze, and resting in a proper bed was a dream come true. Everyone had been a little quiet that first night, but that hadn’t been particularly odd by their standards

The next morning, however…

A few helpful townsfolk had pointed them in the direction of unusual, likely black-blooded monsters, and so off they had gone. The fight was difficult, of course, but hardly the worst any of them had faced.

However, Warriors had never once seen his brothers so Goddesses damned distracted.

It was like the beginning of their quest, when no one but Warriors and kind of Four knew how to fight in a group without stepping on each other's toes and nearly slicing each other’s limbs off. Everyone except Wild seemed to have developed a sudden, acute anxiety in regards to Time’s safety and wellbeing, which led to an unfathomable amount of friendly fire and very little in the way of actual fighting.

Most, if not all of their injuries were from stupid stumbles like it was everyone’s first time holding a sword. Warriors had never been more flabbergasted in his life. 

“This is ridiculous,” Time snarled. He’d been scolding them for the past three minutes, growing increasingly more upset as he tore into them. “What has gotten into all of you? I am genuinely asking.”

It was a little hilarious, honestly—all of them lined up like school children who’d broken the rules. Legend was scowling, arms crossed as he looked away. Hyrule was staring at the floor, hands wrung together. Wind was pouting. Four looked appropriately apologetic. Sky had a thousand yard stare. Poor Twilight looked utterly devastated to be on the receiving end of Time’s ire.

“Do you truly think I’m that incompetent?” Time demanded.

Tellingly, no one replied.

“Seriously? None of you can cough up an explanation for why you’re suddenly acting like this?” Time looked moments from stomping forward strangling them with his bare hands. Warriors had never seen the man so genuinely angry—the last time (hah) he’d been anywhere close, he’d literally been twelve years old.

“Now you know how I feel,” Wind muttered out of the corner of his mouth. Not quiet enough—Time’s sharp gaze snapping over to the Sailor like a predator.

Warriors winced in sympathy. He knew that look. Time had gotten it from him, after all.

“What was that, Sailor?” Time asked, deadly calm. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Nothing,” Wind fired back. Warriors had to hand it to him, at least he had the courage to look Time in the eyes unlike everyone else.

“Really? Because I could have sworn I heard you try and claim what you all were doing just now was remotely similar to us looking out for you.”

Despite Time’s blazing stare, not a single Link appeared to have any explanation for him. After several long seconds, Time sighed, sharp and angry, and pushed past them to stalk off back to the village. From the sidelines, Wild threw them a wide eyed look, before hesitantly following after Time. 

A few yards away, Time paused abruptly.

“Don't be mistaken,” Time said icily over his shoulder, “Not only am I disappointed in you all, I am angry.”

Four threw his hands up in disbelief, and then Time was off, Wild scampering after him.

“That’s hilarious,” Legend whispered inexplicably, grinning like he’d told a joke. Next to him, Hyrule clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle a sudden laugh. Sky buried his head into his hands with a drawn out groan. 

“I mean, seriously,” Legend continued, “that is the quintessential dad line.”

Twilight burst into tears

That had been a few days ago, and Time still seemed rightly pissed off about it. Frankly, Warriors was too—how incredibly irresponsible for them to play around in combat like schoolchildren and then not even be able to provide a reason. 

Even still, his companions were now being even weirder than Warriors thought possible. Twilight didn’t seem to know whether he wanted to be as far away from Time as possible or glued to the man's side. Four had kept his nose shoved into a book he refused to let anyone read the title of, with Sky at his back obsessively doing his hair over and over again. Hyrule and Wind kept whispering intensely at each other and staring in Time’s direction. And Legend—

Legend was trying to talk to him, apparently. Warriors blinked at his approach, warily eying the tense set to his shoulders. While the sharp edges to their interactions had long dulled, and their fights reshaped into well-meaning banter, it wasn’t often the two of them seeked the other out.

“I need to talk to you,” Legend said curtly. “Alone.”

Warriors slid his whetstone over his sword one last time, feeling utterly baffled. For what? “Of course,” he acquiesced. “One moment.”

Legend crossed his arms and tapped his foot impatiently as Warriors set aside his things. The second he stood, Legend latched onto his arm and began dragging him away from camp with an urgency that was, frankly, alarming.

“Walk,” Legend announced to the camp at large. No one protested.

“Is everything alright?” Warriors couldn't help but ask. “If I were to make a list of people you'd go to for something, I dare say I'd be at the bottom of it—”

“This is something only you can help with,” Legend cut him off dryly. “Trust me.”

“…Alright then,” Warriors replied. If it was something emotions related, Legend was doing a remarkable job of seeming nonchalant. Perhaps it had something to do with the group’s… ongoing weirdness?

When they were suitably far from camp, Legend stopped abruptly, wheeling around to look Warriors dead in the eyes.

“What’s going on, Legend?” Warriors asked, beginning to feel more than a little concerned. Surely, this was more than a social call, or a simple confession. There was an urgency in this. It had to be something serious.

“Is Time transgender?” Legend asked bluntly. 

Warriors nearly choked on his spit. What kind of question—

“Pardon?” Warriors managed at last. A protective fire burned to life as he looked at Legend in a new light. He'd never even considered that anyone in the Chain could be transphobic before, but the sudden line of questioning was making him do so. Because while the answer, indeed, was yes, Time was trans, there was no way he was going to out him willy nilly. “What makes you think I know the answer to that?”

Legend’s gaze was sharp and gave away nothing. “You knew him when he was younger, yeah? During the war? If anyone would know it would be you.”

“I don't see how this is relevant,” Warriors said hotly. He tried to keep himself calm, but he couldn’t stop his glare. Part of it was anger on Time’s behalf, but another part of it was for his own. Sure, it was true that Warriors had known Time before any of them, but it didn’t escape his thoughts that Warriors himself was trans, and perhaps Legend had noticed that. If that was the case, then the implications were… “Let alone why you might be asking me instead of him directly, especially about such a personal question—”

“He might be pregnant.”

All of Warriors’ thoughts abruptly halted.

“What.”

“He might be pregnant,” Legend repeated. It made no more sense than the first time he'd said it.

“How‐ why- what—”

Legend needed no more prompting to explain himself.

“You remember the woman in Wild’s era, a few days ago? The pregnant one? Who said that Wolfie probably could smell that she was pregnant? Turns out,” Legend laughed a little hysterically, hands flying as he began to pace and talk. “It’s the same smell that Twilight’s been picking up on Time for weeks. And on top of that, literally everyone has been noticing unexplainable things happening with his magic or getting filled with weird instincts that make zero sense. So the only logical conclusion is that he is, indeed, pregnant, but there’s a slight possibility we're wrong, and the only person who could determine that is you. So again: is Time trans?”

It was absolutely absurd. By far the strangest and stupidest claim anyone in the Chain had made about anything ever before. But. It wasn’t impossible. 

So, despite himself, Warriors searched through his memory, for both Time's behavior and what he knew of the typical early pregnancy symptoms to compare them. Persistent on and off nausea, headaches, mood swings and intensified emotions, odd food cravings and aversions, increased fatigue, missing his cycle….

It was textbook. 

“Goddesses above,” Warriors breathed in horror  “He's pregnant.”

Legend’s jaw dropped. He stammered for a moment. “You're serious?”

“How did I miss this?” Warriors asked himself frantically, turning his eyes skyward like the stars twinkling to life in the evening sky held the answers to his hysteria. “I literally knew this was possible. I– I spent three whole days thinking about this exact situation when Time first told me Twilight was his blood descendant. I– oh, Din's tits Time is pregnant and he doesn't even know it.”

“That's what I said!” Legend exploded, gripping desperately onto Warriors arms. “Please tell me you know how the fuck we're supposed to tell him.”

“Wh– why would I? Just because I've known him longer– we don't talk about these kinds of things, it's- it’s not exactly an everyday sort of conversation. Time, how's the weather, oh by the way, you're pregnant. What the fuck. He's– okay. Wow. Wow! This is fine. Wonderful, even.”

“How,” Legend said.

“The beauty of children,” Warriors replied. He felt dazed, like he'd decided to go shield surfing and then crashed and rolled all the way down the hill.

Legend shook him a little. His eyes were desperate. “Wars. I don’t think you're getting it. Time is pregnant.”

“Trust me, I am getting it,” Warriors replied through gritted teeth. He then had a realization. “Is that why you all were so weird during the fight? Because you– oh Goddesses.” Horror ran through him. “I get it. He's– he's pregnant. He's actually– sweet fucking Farore. I get it.”

Legend shook him again. “Wars. What the fuck do we do.”

Right. Warriors took in a deep, steadying breath. He needed to be level headed, since everyone in the group was clearly demonstrating that they weren’t very capable of that anymore.

Warriors placed his hands on Legend’s shoulders, grim and determined. “We have to tell him. And Malon.”

Legend went pale. “Oh my Gods, his wife.”

“Wait,” Warriors realized, in the middle of trying to figure out how to break the news to his big-little-brother. “Does Wild know?”

Legend paused. “…No, actually. He doesn’t. Fuck, how do we tell him?”

“Time is WHAT!?”

Lon Lon Ranch had been a much needed balm to Time’s fraying nerves, right up until Twilight had nervously pulled him aside and said that he needed to talk to him and Malon that night about something “important.”

Time didn’t have the faintest clue what he wanted to talk about—especially since it apparently required Warriors, Hyrule, and Legend to be there for emotional support.

Stripped of their usual armor and gear, they all looked smaller. Softer. In the gentle candlelight, sitting around the table in Time’s home, they looked all the part of a typical family. It struck him in his chest, right over his heart like a bruise. It was almost enough to make him tear up—and he couldn’t help but curse himself for how emotional he’d been lately. 

“What’s wrong?” Malon asked them. Her weight was a steady comfort in Time’s side, hand tracing up and down his forearm. It soothed the anxious part of him that he could never quite quell when on the road. He always felt braver when she was around.

Warriors leaned forward on his elbows, hands folding and pressing against his mouth. Hyrule stared intently at the table. Legend crossed his arms. The silence stretched on, until finally Twilight spoke up.

“I, uh… we um…” Twilight looked incredibly nervous, ears pinned back and hands wringing together. It panged Time’s heart to see, even if he was still pissed about that disastrous fight.

“What is it, pup?” Time asked him gently.

“There’s something you should know,” Twilight said in a rush. “We- you, uh…”

Taking mercy on him, Warriors took the reins of the conversation. “I’m sure you’re more than aware of how… weird everyone has been lately.”

Time’s eye twitched in irritation at the mention. Were they finally going to talk about it? “I am, yes.”

“There is a reason for that,” Twilight jumped back in. He couldn’t seem to meet Time’s eyes.  “We just didn’t know how to tell you. Because, it’s, ah, uh…”

“So now you’re willing to talk?” Time couldn’t stop himself from saying. Immediately after, regret filled him as Twilight flinched back.

“Link,” Malon scolded him.

“No, that’s fair,” Twilight said, smile strained. “We’re- I’m really sorry for that, Time.”

“I’m sorry too,” Hyrule blurted, shoulders hiking to his ears.

“…Me too,” Legend offered eventually. 

Time regarded them for a moment. An apology too late, but an apology nonetheless.

“Thank you, boys. If you can explain your reason, I’ll accept your apology,” Time said. It wasn’t a placation—the most upsetting part of that fight hadn’t been the stupid blunders and unnecessary coddling, but the lack of a reason. That was why Wind’s little comment had set him off: they were protective of him because he was young. There was no reason to be protective of Time so suddenly. 

Twilight wilted further at the reminder of explaining. 

“Right,” Warriors sighed forcefully. The look on his face was a throwback, and in the worst way: it was the grave face he made when he had to deliver news. Usually the loss of a life to a distressed family. Time did not like having it directed at him. “We…”

“Captain?” Time asked, now alarmed. “What’s going on?”

“Um,” Hyrule said, which did not contribute to the conversation but made Time’s heart begin to beat faster.

“We… well, you… ah… um…”

“Just spit it out already,” Time snapped. He pulled Malon closer to himself in a desperate attempt to calm himself down. He always felt more relaxed at Lon Lon, but he’d been stressed the past few weeks and the dancing around the topic was making him—

“You’re pregnant,” Legend said.

Absolute silence. 

“Oh,” Malon gasped. Her hold on Time’s arm tightened.

Time felt like the floor had been ripped right out from under him.

“…What?” he croaked. 

“You’re having a baby,” Legend unhelpfully elaborated. “Congratulations. Eugh, that sounded really sarcastic, sorry, I do actually mean that. Unless you aren’t happy about this, then, uh, my condolences?”

“How… why do…” Time couldn’t even form words.

“Your smell!” Twilight exploded, turning bright red as he hurriedly explained, “You- you’ve had a weird smell on you, and I didn’t know what it was, and I just- it made me so protective and worried and I didn’t get it but it’s because you- you smell—”

“Remember when we first landed in Hateno?” Warriors smoothly took over once more. “The woman we spoke to with Wild?”

“Y’all smelled the same,” Twilight cut back in. “And- and I dunno how that could be possible if you weren’t if—”

“Also your magic,” Hyrule rushed to add, “You- um- you’re like, gathering it up like- like to prepare to pass it down, like- kind of how faeries do but also not really, and it—”

“Additionally,” Warriors continued forcefully, “comparing your behaviors and the typical early signs of pregnancy all point to, well…” He made a face.

 “Okay. How long have y’all been suspecting this?” Malon asked. Steady and calm.

“Only a few days,” Warriors replied, smiling wryly. “We knew it wouldn’t be right to withhold the information, but were… unsure how to proceed for a while, especially considering Time, ah… didn’t seem to know.”

At that, Malon turned to throw him a flabbergasted look. “Link,” she said simply—somewhere between exasperated and fond as she bit back a grin.

“I forgot,” Time said, like an idiot. He felt dazed. “That I could do that.”

“What, get pregnant?”

“Yes!”

“Y’know, that’s fair,” Hyrule said.

“Wh- no, literally- the rancher is your descendant by blood, did you really not consider the implications of that?” Legend demanded. 

Twilight sniffed loudly at his name. Silent tears were streaming down his face.

“No,” Time answered, feeling a little hysterical. “I didn’t. Not really. I- I’m—?”

Time stared down at his hands. His body felt brand new to him, like he’d woken up in one aged and wrong once more. He was actually…?

“Thank you for telling us, boys,” Malon told them sincerely. “That was very kind of you. Now, how abouts y’all give us some space to talk about this?”

“Oh, certainly,” Warriors said, sitting up smoothly. “I’m ready to retire for the night anyways. Let’s go, men.”

Hyrule gave Warriors a sharp salute.

“Come on, rancher,” Warriors murmured, hands landing on Twilight’s shoulder. Twilight nodded, scrubbing at his face and stumbling his way back towards the guest rooms. Soon enough, it was just Time and Malon.

“Oh, honey,” Malon said. “You really didn’t know?”

“You can laugh,” Time said. And Malon immediately proceeded to do just that: laughing, loud and delighted into his face. 

“How?” Malon asked. Her hand covered her mouth like it could hide her smile.

Time just shook his head, despaired. “I don’t know,” he said miserably. “I was so distracted with managing all of them and our quest that I didn’t think…”

The worst part was that it made complete sense. Now that he thought about it, it lined up exactly with his strange symptoms he’d been experiencing. Especially since the last time they’d been at Lon Lon, he and Malon had… uh…

“Well, they’re givin’ you plenty of practice for fatherhood, huh?” Malon grinned. 

Goddesses. They were, weren’t they? They even called him old man. What did people commonly use to describe their fathers? My old man. Time was going to have a heart attack.

When Time didn’t reply right away, Malon grew serious—taking his hand gently into her own. “How’re you feelin’ about all this?”

“Overwhelmed,” Time confessed immediately. It was easy to be honest with Malon. “Terrified. But…” Time thought, not for the first time, but in a new light: a little kid, with Malon’s eyes and her fiery red hair. Thought of the two of them raising a kid together. He couldn’t help but grin, even as his eyes grew wet. “Happy. Excited…. Mostly terrified, though.”

Malon laughed a little, reaching up to cup his face. “Oh, Link, I am so excited. I just…” Her expression darkened. “I wish you weren’t on this quest for this.”

A sobering thought.

Their multi-era quest was dangerous enough as it was, even with nine accomplished swordsmen. Time was already risking a lot by going on the quest in the first place—their family and future. Time knew the risks of meddling with time—the rest of the Chain’s existence was proof enough. Adding in the health and safety of his child into the mix?

“I won’t be very helpful to them at a certain point,” was what left Time’s mouth, instead of any of those worries.

Malon smacked him.

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about, Fairy Boy,” she grumped, but she was visibly fighting a grin.

“We do so much walking,” Time continued, smiling despite himself. “And I won’t be able to wear my armor. Oh, Mal, they’ve been insufferable lately, and that was before they even knew why. Last time we fought something, it was like the first time we’d ever fought anything. They were tripping over themselves to guard me. I just know they’re only going to get worse.”

“That does sound like your boys,” Malon laughed. Unsteady as he was, the moniker struck a deep chord. His boys. Would he truly have one of his own, one day? “I know you’re in good hands. I just… worry. Gee, I was already sick with it, and now this?”

“I know,” Time murmured, leaning down to press their foreheads together with a shuddering sigh. He didn’t like it as much as she did. While his heart ached for the Chain, he wanted to stay with his wife for this. Wanted to be home. “Trust me, if I could stay, I would. But you know how the portals are. We hardly have a choice. I hardly have a choice.”

He couldn’t help the bitterness in his voice. How cruel the hand of fate was.

“Maybe you’ll get lucky,” Malon suggested. Even as she said it, Time knew she wasn’t serious. “You got sent here just in time for them to tell us. Maybe you’ll be back in time for…”

“I hope so,” Time said. “As much as I love those boys, I don’t trust any of them to know how to midwife.”

Malon chortled loudly. “Just thinkin’ about it is ridiculous. Could ya imagine Twilight’s face? Goodness gracious, what about Wind?”

Time laughed back, and soon enough they were giggling together like the weight on their shoulders was hardly there.

It helped that they’d spoken at length about the idea of children, years before Time’s current quest had begun. It had been something both of them wanted, but hadn’t ever thought they’d get—Malon especially. It had been pure luck that both of them had transitioned, and purer luck that Malon had wanted him in the first place.

Malon’s hand, careful and gentle, pressed into Time’s stomach. On instinct, Time reached his own up to cover it.

“A baby,” Malon whispered into the night. “A little kid of our own.”

“Let’s hope they don’t get my nose,” Time said.

Malon laughed brightly and kissed him.

The Chain, as predicted, became insufferable. But not just because they were protective (though they still were, and it was as infuriating as the first time). No, no, because there was something that Time hadn’t even considered they would do:

Name suggestions. 

“Consider,” Hyrule said over dinner, a few weeks after the revelation, pointing his spoon at Time. “Bins.”

“What?” Legend, who was sitting next to Hyrule, asked.

“For the baby,” Hyrule explained, with a sweet little smile. The perfect picture of innocence.

“Absolutely not,” Time shut down. It was far too close to ‘blins, which some of them used to refer to bokoblins. And besides, even if it wasn’t, just… why.

“What!” Hyrule exclaimed, throwing his arms up in outrage. “Why! Bins!”

“Oh, are we doing name suggestions?” Wild piped up gleefully.

“No, we aren’t. It’s really not necessary,” Time said. Were he surrounded by anyone other than a group of Links, perhaps that would have been the end of it. Any normal, sane group of individuals would have respected his wishes and dropped it. And yet there Time sat. Trapped in on all sides by Links.

“How about Brianna,” Wild said, “But Bins for short.”

“Binana,” Hyrule fired back immediately.

Wild’s nose wrinkled. “No. Too close to banana.”

“Time said no suggestions,” Twilight interrupted them sternly. “Eat yer dinner before you start harassin’ people.” 

The pair pouted, but listened.

The peace lasted until the next morning.

Sky, of all Links, caught Time’s eye and, unprompted, suggested, “Hector?”

At least it was a normal name.

“Maybe,” Time answered vaguely, hoping that was enough to satisfy him.

Sky beamed at him and moved on.

“Okay, but are you gonna name them something like your name or Malon’s?” Wind asked. He’d drifted over during their afternoon trek and attached himself to Time’s side. It was an honest question, so Time felt no apprehension in answering.

“We’re not sure,” Time told Wind truthfully. “If we were, though, it would be after Malon.”

Wind nodded seriously. “Okay, because if you were gonna do your name, I have some suggestions: Twink and Blink.”

Time almost tripped over nothing in his shock.

“What?” Warriors appropriately shrieked. 

Legend howled with laughter. “Twink?!”

“Blink?” Time repeated in disbelief.

Four was in a similar state to Legend, both hands clamped over his mouth as his whole body trembled with silent laughs. 

“What!” Wind asked defensively. “They were serious suggestions!”

“I like Twink,” Wild chortled. “It’s- it’s beautiful.”

“Yeah! What’s wrong with Twink?” Wind defended. 

“Wind,” Sky began, barely controlling his own amusement. “I, uh… don’t think you know what that means.” 

Legend reached out to grab onto Twilight for support with another howl of laughter. He was literally crying.

“What, names?”

“No,” Warriors managed. His voice was incredibly strained. “Twink.”

That set Legend off again. “I’m gonna piss myself,” he barely managed to choke out between peals of laughter, fist slamming into Twilight’s arm in glee. 

Wind squinted at them, shoulders hunching. “What’s so funny?”

“…I don’t get it either,” Twilight confessed. That was enough for Legend’s legs to completely give out as he collapsed hands and knees to the floor, dying of laughter.

“What’s a twink?” Wind asked, irritated.

A sharp bark of hysterical laughter escaped Warriors before he could clamp his hand over his mouth. He didn’t seem capable of responding.

Four’s eyes were delighted and full of evil as he opened his grinning mouth to explain. “A twink is a—”

“No,” Time finally recovered enough to command. “Absolutely not. We are not doing this.”

“No, tell me!”

“A twink,” Four barreled on, ignoring Time, “is a word used to refer to a thin, hairless gay men—”

(Legend, indeed, ended up pissing himself with how hard he was laughing. They stopped for an early lunch so he could change.

Time stared numbly into the trees and regretted his life choices.)

“New ideas,” Wind said that evening. “Clock and Watch.”

Time leveled him with an exhausted stare.

“Like, for Time, y’know?” Wind explained.

“No, I understand,” Time said slowly. “I’m just surprised you actually said that.”

“Hey!” Wind squawked. “Fuck you! My suggestions are amazing!”

Legend immediately started snickering into his fist.

“How about Adette?” Warriors suggested.

It actually wasn’t terrible. In fact, Time sort of liked it. Of course, out of all of them, Warriors would be one of the only to be normal about it.

“That is nice,” Time told him. Warriors smiled.

“What’s wrong with Clock or Watch?!” 

“You know exactly what’s wrong, Sailor,” Legend sighed.

“Bean,” Hyrule said suddenly.

“Hm?” Time said.

“Name suggestion.”

“Ah… noted.”

“Sacabambaspis.”

“Wind, what the fuck?”

“It’s a type of sea beast!”

“The Old Man is not naming his kid after a sea beast.”

“You don’t know that! Hey, Old Man! Would you name your kid after a sea beast?”

Time walked faster to get away from them.

Wild snapped his finger suddenly like he’d solved all the mysteries in the world. Sky, who had been braiding his hair, flinched. “Majorie,” Wild announced. “Or Michelle.”

“Oh, are we doing names again?” Hyrule perked up.

“I like Jasper,” Four reasonably said.

“Let’s not,” Time weakly protested.

Hyrule gasped. “How about Grass?”

“Grass?” Warriors questioned incredulously. 

“I knew a guy named Error! It isn’t that weird!” Hyrule defended. “You all call me Hyrule. Time can name his kid Grass!”

“Sometimes, Traveler, the question isn’t if you can do somethin’, but if ya should,” Twilight said wisely.

“Well, what about you, Rancher?” Legend, professional instigator, asked. “Any names from you?”

Twilight stiffened, turning red as he stammered for a moment. “I, ah, um… Beauregard?”

Wind blew a raspberry. “Too normal. This is a hero’s kid, not just any kid. They need an extra special name.”

“Well- hey, what’s wrong with Beauregard?”

Time sighed, long and suffering. Warriors just laughed and gave him a sympathetic pat on the back.

“Micheal,” Sky said. In the middle of combat. “A nice, regular name.”

“Thank you,” Time managed.

“Juncle?” Wind suggested brightly.

Time cringed. “Maybe for a cat.”

“Consider this,” Hyrule began. Naively, Time expected it to be related to the fairy wings he was currently inspecting for injuries with careful fingers because Hyrule had gotten himself stuck in a bottle and gone missing for four days. “Sprig. Or, perhaps, Twig.”

Time paused his hands. “Excuse me?”

“I had a lot of time to think in that bottle,” Hyrule defended.

I should have left you there, was Time’s immediate, vicious thought. It was only through decades of self restraint that he did not say it anyways.

“Spord,” Legend declared, looking Time dead in the eye. “Lord Spord.”

“I will fix your chronic pain by removing all of your bones one by one if you keep this up,” Time threatened.

Legend just laughed and scampered away to bother Warriors.

“Flemming?”

“No.”

“Gertrude.”

Time pressed his face into his hands in despair.

“What, that was a normal name!”

“Marlowe?” Twilight suggested earnestly, head tipped to the side like a dog.

“…I’ll write it down.”

Twilight’s grin was bright enough it could’ve burned the shadow they were chasing in the first place.

“Joseph,” Warriors said. “Pierre. Francois.”

“Warriors,” Time said tiredly. “We’re on lookout duty. We need to be quiet. You know this.”

“Orthanc. Vandernere. Durin”

“I’m going to throw myself off this cliff.”

Warriors lips twitched. “Bolg.”

“You’re going off first,” Time said, before lunging at his brother, stealth mission be damned.

“Billard,” Hyrule suggested.

“That sounds like a type of duck,” Legend pointed out.

“Like, mallard?”

“That’s a good point,” Hyrule nodded. “Mallard. All you need in a name!”

Time hated that it wasn’t even that bad of a suggestion.

“Pimperdinkle.”

“Sometimes, Hyrule, you make it abundantly clear you grew up in a cave.”

“Hey!”

“Okay, wait, here’s more: Plond and Plend, for siblings.”

“Which one is first?”

“Plond, obviously.”

“Not an actual name suggestion,” Twilight prefaced, because he was Time’s favorite. “But if you do end up having two little ones, you could, ah, call ‘em Little Bug and Big Rug. ‘Cause they’d be snug as a bug in a rug.”

It was a sweet suggestion. Time considered it, wholly and deeply, and found he quite liked the idea. He’d only considered the one kid, since he didn’t have much a choice in the matter, but two…

“Actual name suggestion,” Wild ruined the moment. “Bert. Or Ernie. Or… Circle.”

“Circle?” Legend repeated. “Are we just doing fucking shapes now?”

“Trap and Zoid,” Wind said. “But like, seriously. Trap and Zoid”

“No,” Time sighed.

 “I like Zoid,” Wind protested. “Please consider Zoid. With an open heart.”

“My heart has never been more closed, Sailor.”

“Thneedle?”

“No.”

“If you want a more colloquially-feminine sounding name,” Four finally joined in on the chaos, “Arceus and Anemone are on the table.”

“…Thank you, Four,” Time replied.

“Also, Tungsten,” Four tacked on, vanquishing any respect Time had for any of his suggestions going forward.

“Hey, how about Valence?” Wild asked. “This one’s serious.”

At least he was clarifying. 

“McElroy,” Legend grinned, rather wolfishly for someone so rabbit-hearted.

“Paddy and Pimblet,” Hyrule said with a nod.

“I think that’s enough for today,” Time said weakly.

“McLink and McZelda,” Wind said.

“No.”

“Clink and Blink,” Wind corrected himself, like that was any better.

Hyrule held up a hand. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Partial to Blink.”

Hyrule’s hand gently gripped Time’s own. On instinct, Time squeezed it, and a small pulse of healing magic followed—soothing his aching feet and the headache he’d been nursing.

When Time turned to him, Hyrule’s face was suspiciously pleading.

“Billow and Millow?”

“This one’s serious,” Wild said, which meant absolutely nothing coming from him. “Mud.”

“Mud.”

“Yes! Like, imagine you’re introducing yourself, and you’re like, hey, what’s up, I’m Mud?”

“I’m so glad you transitioned before you died,” Warriors muttered to himself.

Wild grinned. “It’s never too late to be your truest self!”

“Who would willingly name themselves Link?” Wind asked.

“Literally over a third of us,” Sky told him.

“Okay, what about Trout if it’s a boy, and Brook if it’s a girl,” Wild continued, either oblivious to or ignoring the conversation happening around him. “I know a guy named Sturgeon, so it isn’t that weird.”

Twilight raised his hand. “How about Margret?”

“Boo,” Wind booed. “Too normal. How about Worm?”

“Big fan of Worm,” Wild nodded.

“Flarka,” Warriors said. “Or perhaps Reginald.”

“Reginald?” Legend repeated with a laugh.

“Are you judging me? Why don’t you make a suggestion then, Vet?”

Legend, not one to be beat, raised his chin haughtily. “Evelyn.”

“Ooh, fair play. Peter?”

“Somehow worse than Reginald.”

“Pitri?”

“I knew a rat named Pitri,” Hyrule gasped. “I hope he’s doing okay…”

“You know,” Time said, utterly exhausted. “This experience is making me sincerely hope none of you ever have children.”

“Thank the fucking Goddesses,” Legend said immediately. 

“Well, Sky has to, but otherwise I agree,” Warriors snorted.

“I do?” Sky yelped.

“How else is the royal line of Hyrule getting founded?”

“Sky’s pregnant too?!”

Time dropped his face into his hands and prayed.

Time (the concept) passed, and the name suggestions continued. Each felt more ridiculous than the last, as if they were actively competing to come up with the worst name possible. Knowing them, they probably were. It was infuriating. It was endearing. And entirely useless.

Malon had laughed her ass off when Time presented her with the growing list he'd been keeping, a mere two weeks after the news had been dropped. Which was an honest and fair reaction—they were all absolutely insane. The normal ones felt more like a way to lure him into a false sense of security than for the merit of an actual suggestion.

Despite their shenanigans, though, it was clear that they all cared, and that was just an unconventional way of showing it. They fussed, and worried, and were incredibly protective, but it was admittedly nice. It helped that none of them seemed immune to being told off sternly, despite all they had faced.

It was good practice for his future, Time supposed. What a thought. 

At the very least, Malon had been right in some regards: they were lucky. While the portals often had no rhyme or reason to them, the amount of days they spent at Lon Lon Ranch increased anyways. Were Time a pious man, perhaps he would’ve thanked the Goddesses. As it were, he simply was just grateful.

Sitting on his porch with his wife, watching them all chase each other around and get up to their regular nonsense brought out an overwhelming fondness in his chest. When he was younger, and more bitter, Time had never imagined he would have anything remotely like this in his future. He had expected to be on the road forever, slaying monsters and aimlessly wandering. To have nothing that lasted, and a trail of goodbyes left in his wake. Malon had changed that. Seeing his boys get chased by cuccos and roll around in the grass was changing it more. Giving him a hope for his future beyond this quest, beyond just hanging up his sword. He just had to get there. 

“We’re really gonna make it, huh?” Malon asked quietly. It seemed that she was thinking of the same thing. “Look at ‘em out there. Proof that our family will live on.”

She was clearly talking about Twilight—who, sure enough, was grinning widely as he picked Wind up by the ankle and swung him around like he weighed nothing. Wild was lunging at his dangling form with a determined look on his face. Evidently, they were playing some strange game of a keep away—Wind flailing violently and shrieking out threats of imminent violence between loud laughs.

Time slid his arm around Malon’s shoulders, pulling her closer with a proud smile. “It will. Not too long from now, it'll be more true than ever.”

“All thanks to you, Fairy Boy,” Malon leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Time’s smile grew to a grin as he moved his head to kiss her on the lips.

“Time! Wind kicked Twilight in the face and now he’s bleeding!” came a sudden shout from the grass, ruining the mood immediately. Time’s head snapped up at the panicked sound, hand twitching for blade on instinct.

Sure enough, Twilight had an impressive amount of blood streaming from his nose. The hand he had pinching it didn’t seem to be helping matters very much. Twilight appeared to be trying to wave them off, but Wild was frantically grabbing at his cheeks and pulling him close to prod at his face while Wind waved his arms around frantically—the Sailor somewhere between panic and amusement at the situation.

The porch was quiet for a moment.

“Practice, right?” Malon smirked.

Time sighed heavily. Could he not have one moment of peace? “They’re gonna kill me before I even get there- hold on- Wind that is not how you administer first aid—!”

Malon just laughed at him, all the way down to the grass.