Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

His head hurts. That is the first thing Wild is aware of. The second thing he is aware of is the sound of dripping: plop, plop, plop.

Water drips all around him. Each plop bounces back and forth off of unseen walls until every echo merges together into a quiet rhapsody of nature. It is a familiar melody. Whenever there is a torrential downpour back home, all Wild likes to do is sit and just be. He will find a small nook somewhere, close his eyes and just listen to the rain patter against the leaves, the trees, the grass, the rocks. He will breathe in the smell of wet soil and feel the cool wind brush against his sides.

In those moments where he is reminded that he too belongs to the cycle of nature and that it treats him no different than it would any other animal or plant, he always feels alive. For now, he can bask in the glory of a storm but that makes him no stronger than the mountains that will one day erode under the water's weight. But what he hears now… it doesn’t sound right.

The more his brain wakes up and claws through the fog that had clouded it, the more he realises that he isn’t hearing rain. His fingers twitch as motor controls start to come back to him and he groans. The walls echo his groan back to him as he rolls over onto his side to gather himself. Instead of wet soil and earth, the strong scent of mildew fills his nose, and he finds himself pulling a face. 

Ew, mildew. Ugh, he hates that smell. 

It takes effort to peel his eyelids open but he manages it in the end. Blinking once, then twice, he stares blankly at the world that comes into view around him. On either side of his crumpled body, stone walls rise up and up, stretching forward until they're joined together by row after row of looming stalactites. The rocky walls give off a faint green glow, softly illuminating the murkiness that hangs in the air. When he looks, he finds that the walls stretch out in either direction, the darkness settling to obscure his vision of what may lie ahead or behind him.

It’s quiet. There are no sounds other than the soft drip of the water against stone. Honestly the longer he waits expecting more noise but never hearing anything else, the more unnerved and worried he gets. There had been a portal—he can't think of any other reason than a portal for why he feels as horrible as he does—so logically there should be voices, chatter, Warriors or Time calling out to get everyone together, something. But there is nothing but the water. It’s… unsettling.

A bead of water slides off the end of a stalactite above him and lands right on Wild’s cheek, making him reflexively flinch in surprise. He scrubs at his cheek and shoves himself upright, pausing only to test his limbs for any pain he is failed to notice thanks to the water and the headache. Everything seems fine, so he swallows back the lump lodged in his throat and calls out, “Guys?!”

His voice rings down the damp stone hallway but the only thing that responds to his call is his own mocking echo.

“Great,” he whispers to himself. “Just great. Start walking, Wild.”

With the order now in his mind, that is exactly what he does: picking on the pathway ahead of him and forcing his feet to move. After only a few steps, he realises that his boots are sloshing through a thin layer of water, making stealth impossible. Nervously, he looks down at the water that covers the ground with a frown and reaches a hand up to touch the back of his hair.

Damp but not wet. His tunic is the same. And yet the water on the floor around him starts to lap at the sides of his feet, insidiously inching higher and higher.

Oh. Oh, he does not like that. Swallowing roughly again, he picks up his pace, hurrying down the hallway without caring about how much noise he is making. There will be a time later to worry about what monsters he might be drawing to his position; for now, he just needs to move.

A new sound bounces down the hallway towards him and he strains his ears to hear it better. A voice… a voice he recognises.

“Time!” Wild yells and nearly weeps when he hears Time call back again from ahead of him.

He flies down the hallway but nearly trips when it smoothly rises upwards and the water falls in tiny cascades against the rocks. At the top of the incline, the hallway abruptly opens up into a wide circular room, and there Time stands at the far end of the cavern, one hand pressed against… what looks like a metal door of all things.

Immediately second-guessing himself, Wild squints through the low-light for a second look. No, that is actually a door. The stone walls around it have been neatly and perfectly cut to fit it. Baffled, Wild looks around the room again and spots another identical-looking door on the far wall. What the actual fuck? Not a cave then, but a dungeon.

Great.

“Time?” He calls as he sloshes forward through the ankle-high water.

Time turns, a flicker of relief bright in his eye.

“Are you hurt?” When Wild shakes his head, Time then adds in a mildly hopeful voice, “Have you encountered any of the others?”

“No.” Wild tries to keep his voice flat but a treasonous wobble betrays him. Trapped in some kind of cavernous dungeon that's possibly filling with water is one thing. Trapped in some kind of cavernous dungeon that's possibly filling with water and he's alone with only Time? Yeah, that’s another thing entirely.

Why couldn’t it have been Twilight? Why did it have to be anyone other than Twilight?

Time pauses at the tone and looks back at Wild again cautiously, eyeing him up and down. The intent behind his gaze is clear and Wild bristles slightly under the judgement. “I only just woke up.”

“It was a bad portal.” Time offers ambiguously in reply but thankfully he backs off, instead turning back to the door he had been examining.

With the weight of judgement shifted away, Wild forces himself to take a silent breath and clenches his trembling fists. The shaking only frustrates him more so he hisses at himself to calm down and get his shit together. He really doesn’t want to deal with this, not in this cave and not while Time is watching him. After giving himself one last pointed mental shake, he turns all his attention to whatever Time is saying.

“—not sure what’s beyond either door, but I don’t believe staying here is wise.” Time finishes, glancing over his shoulder.

Wild nods on rote but his mind buzzes as he tries to guess what the start of the sentence had been. A long second stretches out between them as Time waits, watching him carefully, and it takes all of Wild’s muscle memory to keep his face blank and calm. Finally, with a sigh, Time jerks his head to the door, stooping down slightly so he can dig his fingers underneath the bottom of it. Oh, that’s what is going on.

“Ready?” He asks and Wild hurries over to drop down into a crouch beside him. “On three. One… two… three!”

They lift the heavy door upwards at the same time only to be nearly knocked off their feet by the torrent of rushing water that bursts through. Water floods into Wild’s mouth and nose, icy and freezing as it forces its way inside him. Everything vanishes until all that is left is water everywhere. Panic bursts to the front of his mind, taking over all that the water has not yet touched. He can’t breathe!

Something grabs his arm and pulls so fiercely he thinks for a second the force is going to pop his shoulder from its joint, but then his head breaks the surface. He coughs, spluttering violently, before being jerked upright onto unsteady feet and pulled forward. A vengeful current threatens to knock him back down, so he blindly reaches out to grab on to whatever is holding him and blinks water from his eyes.

“Wild!” Time barks over his shoulder as he pulls him along at a sprint.

“’M good!” Wild yells back, spitting out the rest of the water that had invaded him. A disgusting taste sits on his tongue, all stale and mildewy and gross, and he tries not to gag.

Despite the reassurance, Time doesn’t let go of his arm as they run, for which Wild is quietly grateful for. He doesn’t know how Time is managing to stay upright; he feels like his boots are catching on every single rock and bump in the floor. Even worse, the rushing water keeps slamming into his legs and knocking him off balance. It swirls around their calves as they run, slowing them down and causing his toes to start to freeze over.

All he can see are rising water and smooth cavern walls and this never-ending hallway, and he has to bite down on the fear and bile that climbs up into his throat. He tries to push it down, looking forward, but he can't see anything past Time’s shoulders.

“Where are we going?!” Wild yells, his voice barely audible over the rushing water as he is pulled back down the hallway he had woken up in only minutes earlier. If Time replies, he can’t hear it; the roar of the water is too loud, so the answer comes instead from the ground abruptly curving upwards in a much steeper rise than the previous one.

The numbness in Wild’s feet seems to affect his fingers too and he struggles to scramble up the incline before Time hauls him up over the crest of the rise like one would a kitten. Instinctively he squawks in surprise but doesn’t complain when his fingers manage to clutch the top of the incline, and he hoists himself upwards. The second his feet are back underneath him, he starts to take off again but slams right into Time’s shoulder. Bouncing backwards, he stumbles and nearly falls back into the deepening water pooling in the hallway, and has to scramble to catch himself on the wall.

“What is it? Why’d we stop?” He pants, pushing himself back up and looking forward, and then he sees it.

“Shit.” Time breathes, taking two steps forward so he can press his hands against the dead-end wall in front of them. Even when he shoves against it with all his strength, the wall doesn’t give, and Time slams his fist against it in a rare burst of anger. “Shit!”

Wild stares at the dead-end, taking in the soft algae that clings to the jagged parts of the walls. He follows the tufts of green and his throat goes dry when it reaches all the way up to the cavern ceiling. “Time, look… it’s going to fill all the way up.”

Despite the fear that is still sitting heavy in his gut, he can't muster up any emotion to go with his statement. He just delivers the words flatly, lacking any of the horror they deserve.

Time curses again, fumbling with his armour. “Help me.”

His voice is sharp, so Wild nods and staggers forward, letting a haze overtake him as his fingers find buckle after buckle of Time's plate. Each piece vanishes into Time’s pouch post-haste and he shimmies out of his chainmail, only to then pull on a strange blue-coloured tunic that he yanks on as fast as possible. It shimmers in the faint glow of the walls, magic softly rippling across the fabric.

After securing his sword to his back, Time fixes Wild with a determined look. “We don’t have much time. Do you have any equipment that allows you to breathe underwater?”

Now dread starts to bloom in Wild's stomach, growing stronger and stronger as Time's question echoes through his head the same way his voice echoes against the walls of this tiny tomb. But he knows Time expects an answer, so he shakes his head mutely. The gesture alone definitely isn’t a good enough answer but he can’t open his mouth and un-trap his voice from where it sits caught in his throat.

Time’s jaw works as he grits his teeth, and he nods once. “I’m going to go find us a route out of here but I only have one Zora tunic.”

He digs through his pouch almost feverishly before grabbing Wild's hand and pressing something into it, forcing Wild's fingers closed around it. “If the water gets too high, I want you to use this and try to find another air pocket.”

Wild looks down at the thing now sitting in his hand. It is a large golden fish scale roughly the size of his palm. As he takes it in, it too shimmers up at him in the lowlight just like Time’s new tunic does. Attached to one side is a loop of firm string which turns the scale into the oddest necklace ornament he has ever seen before.

“It… won’t give you much air,” Time says apologetically, “but it’ll give you some. Hopefully enough.”

Hopefully?

Wild bites down on the side of his mouth so hard he tastes blood. He forces himself to nod, and then forces his lungs to take in air because breathing is essential and he needs to keep doing it. Something flickers across Time’s face, frustration maybe at Wild's continuing lack of speech, but the look is gone before Wild can identify it. Instead, all that remains is the familiar stern resolution of their leader.

Taking a deep breath, Time steps back towards the hallway they had come from, now nothing more than a frothing pit of bubbling white water. “I won’t be long.” He promises. “Just stay here, okay? I won’t be long.”

And then he’s gone, vanishing into the flooded hallway. He’s gone, leaving Wild alone with water creeping up to his knees and panic squeezing his heart.

Wild clenches his fingers tight around the scale in his hand and wraps his arms around himself. His breathing rasps in his throat, too short and too fast. Fuck, that isn’t good. He has to calm down and get his breathing under control because if he keeps freaking out like this, then he is just going to waste what little air there is left. Naturally, his mind decides to make things worse by hysterically pointing out that there’s no way he’ll run out of air before the water takes him, and just like that, what little control he had managed to regain shatters right there on the spot.

Out of everything, why did it have to be this? Why did it have to be water?

A sob tears its way out of his throat, emerging from his mouth as a tiny pathetic whimper. Despite how quiet it had been, the whimper bounces loudly around the stone walls as though it has no other goal than to mock him for his weakness. Wild claps his hands over his ears trying to block out the noise but to no avail. The sound has already gotten inside his mind, and he drops to his knees with a splash of water, curling in on himself to hide from his shame. The noises that rip their way out of him are pathetic. He sounds like a child cowering from the dark, not a hero who’s saved his realm in spite of death.

One part of him, the part of him that’s half buried in lost memories, takes over. It knows that he can’t act like this, can’t be so openly shameful even if he is afraid. His legs force him up, knees locking into place as his spine straightens out and both arms are pinned to his sides. Even as tears drip down his face, Wild stares fixated on the hallway’s sloped ceiling in front of him.

Okay, okay. This has to be better, he can’t look weak when Time gets back. He just needs to shove this down. He cannot and will not be a liability right now. But the faintly glowing rock mocks him as it shifts from a strange light green to a haunting blue, the colour so painfully familiar Wild can see it in his dreams. It takes all he has to not vomit right there as the paltry façade of strength he had just scraped together shatters in a single colour change.

His body refuses to move, still frozen in place though whether it is from the chilled water creeping around his legs or his long-forgotten muscle memory, Wild doesn’t know. What he does know is that he is utterly terrified. “Please,” he croaks out, “Time, don’t leave me here.”

His pitiful whine taunts him as it echoes around the tiny cavern. Time doesn’t respond. He doesn’t appear out of the water so his presence alone can assure Wild there’s another living and breathing person with him. All that is left is Wild and his panic, standing surrounded by smooth glowing rock and rising water. It's just him standing in a tiny tomb. Again. He clutches Time's scale tightly, pressing the corners of it deep into the flesh of his palm, as his breathing turns ragged. 

Again, some part of him struggles for him to get this outburst under control. It’s one thing for Twilight to know, but he can’t let it consume him, not in front of Time and not in this situation. He refuses to cower in front of Time because of this. It’s too stupid, too childish, and right now he can’t be a distraction. His fear is nowhere near as important as the two of them getting out of this dungeon alive.

Wild slowly sucks in a breath, feeling his lungs expand inside of his ribs. The air catches on his panic but he grits his teeth and keeps going, doing his best to ignore the way fear bites at his heels.

Get this back under control, Link, he orders himself, breathing out and then back in again. Closing his eyes to block out the blue glowing around him, he tilts his head back to open up his airway and continues to force himself to breathe. Each rise and fall of his lungs is painfully robotic and stilted, but he refuses to let up.

Just gotta calm down. It’s not there, he’s not there, everything will be fine. Breakdown later, hide it now, just like he’d been taught.

No matter how hard he tries to convince himself though, it doesn’t feel like enough. He stands there, face aimed at the ceiling with his hands unable to stop shaking even as he grips the scale, and tries not to flinch as the icy cold water just rises higher and higher.

Please hurry, Time. The prayer escapes him unwittingly but he holds onto it, anchoring everything inside him to it. It’s a prayer that takes an eternity to be answered, almost swallowed by the steadily deepening water.

When Time finally does return, Wild is still trying—and failing—to ignore both the freezing water that is now gently lapping at his stomach and the fear that is twisting at his insides. Even as he hears Time splash up and out of the flooded hallway, he doesn’t look at him because he can't tear his gaze away from the ceiling. It’s the only thing in this tiny space that doesn't glow, meaning that it's the only safe thing for him to fixate on. If he looks down he’s going to see the blue again.

He really doesn’t think he will keep his sanity if he sees that, not like this, not with all the water everywhere, not with the visceral knowledge that this is where he’s going to die and there’s no coming back this time that is currently burying itself into his bones. No Mipha. No Shrine. Just water.

“I’ve found a route. There are enough air pockets that you’ll be fine swimming alongside me.” Time says. He is using such an odd tone of voice, the same one he had spoken with right before he left and it takes a moment to place it. Time is being patronising but pretending that he isn’t, pretending that he doesn’t see the weakness all over Wild’s face.

Now that Wild recognises it for what it is, the tone causes another round of shame to bloom in his stomach. He is being too obvious, he needs to get it under control, he just needs to get out of here and everything will be fine.

Time steps closer, eyebrows furrowed and one hand outstretched cautiously. “Wild, are you sure you want to do this?”

Swallowing hard, Wild nods and tries desperately to shove his panic back into the box it burst out of. Panicking will do him no good; they still don’t know if the rest of the Chain are here somewhere in this flooding dungeon, and the last thing he needs to do right now is force Time to take care of him above all else.

Looking doubtful but thankfully still not pressing, Time carefully inches closer to the top of the flooded hallway and holds out a hand to Wild. There are no more words, just the quiet demand of his gesture. We have to go, now, it says.

And that box Wild just stuffed everything back into breaks.

He’s not sure how he did it, when he did it, but he’s thrown himself backwards so hard he can feel the rough stone of the wall cutting through his tunic and into the skin of his back. His hands are already bloody, nails starting to break as he digs into the stone behind him. A steady stream of babbling words fall from his mouth, words he knows he needs to stop saying and start ignoring, but all he can see is blue and all he can hear is water and it just gets worse and worse and worse.

“No, no, no, no, Time, I can’t. I can’t go back, I don’t want to go back, don’t make me go back in there, Time, I can’t please!” His breath catches on the last word, the sentence almost choking him even as it falls from his lips.

There’s nothing he can do to stop the litany of his weakness from bursting out of him like yet another frantic prayer, but he doesn’t want to die and he can’t go back in there but there’s no way out and he’s trapped just like he was in the—

“Link!” Hands grab him firmly, trying to hold him in place. This he knows. The sensation of the Sheikah who carried his dying body are as etched into his soul as the heat of a Guardian’s beam is. He knows what they’re going to do, what they’re unwittingly subjecting him too.

But this time, Link can still move and he fights, kicking and scratching, doing anything he can to get away from the fate they want to inflict on him. The hands try to fight back, not inflicting pain but grappling to gain control over his limbs, and Link snarls desperately like the cornered animal he is. At some point, he even resorts to biting down, but instead of soft fabric and flesh, his teeth sink into sturdy, unwavering leather.

“Wild!” Someone’s voice barks into his ear, commanding and strong and worried and just as panicked as he is… and with a moan, Link lets himself fall limp, hanging loosely in the Sheikah’s hold.

“Please,” He sobs, he begs, “please, I can’t.”

The hold shifts and Link’s ear is pressed to something damp but warm and soothing. The water should make him flinch back, but fingers gently cradle the back of his head as he’s held close, like something that matters, and he nearly breaks all over again.

“Wild,” a soft voice murmurs, layered with echoes, “where are you right now?”

What kind of question is that? The Sheikah should know the answer easily, why are they asking him? He’s dead, he’s floating untethered, he’s drowning.

The grip intensifies and he hears a racing pulse beat against his ear. It’s life, so close by. But Link is dying, he is dead, he is submerged, there is no life here, it doesn’t make sense. There’s nothing but the water, always water over him, under him, filling his mouth and nose and he’s not strong enough to get out of it. He gasps, choking on the water, and starts to cry even though he knows his tears will be lost the moment they fall from his eyes. Yet another thing erased by the water.

“Wild, I need you to listen to me.” The voice interrupts him. “I need you to tell me where you are right now.”

Wild? What an odd thing to say.

He tries to raise his hands to sign shrine, but there’s something blocking his way. He freezes—oh Hylia the lid—but what his hands came into contact with… feels different. It’s not cold and unmoving like the lid, but warm and alive.

Wait. The heartbeat. The warmth. Life.

Eyes burning with tears and his whole body shaking with sobs, Link reaches upwards with both hands and grabs fistfuls of damp fabric as he tries to curl closer to the living, breathing person who stands beside him. The embrace he is cradled in tightens in response as soothing words are whispered into the crown of his head. There still is water around him, he knows it, he can feel it, but there is also life. He can’t be in the Shrine of Resurrection, not if there is life here. As he cries his panic out, some semblance of clarity returns in its absence.

“Time.” Wild rasps weakly.

Time lets out a relieved sigh, his chest moving against Wild’s ear as the air rushes out of his lungs. “Are you back with me, Wild?”

Embarrassment rising in his face, he nods. Fuck, well here comes literally everything he’d been trying to avoid.

“Sorry,” he whispers, praying the word will be lost somewhere between the fabric of Time’s tunic and the gentle splashing of the water.

“Don’t apologise.” Time says, tone nearing the one he uses to give orders. Despite the curtness, he starts rubbing circles in Wild’s back, not bothering to break the embrace. “Not for this.”

Even as warmth spreads through his chest, Wild can’t help but jokingly groan. Oh joy, with one single breakdown in the middle of a life or death situation, he’s managed to get Time to go soft. He knows they need to go, or he at least needs to attempt to salvage what’s left of his pride, but Time’s arm tightens around him and stops him from moving.

They stand there for a moment before Time asks, “What caused it?”

When Wild makes a confused noise—because hello, isn't it obvious?—Time expands. “I’ve seen you swim before. So is it the water or…?”

Ah. That. Wild is beyond grateful he doesn’t have to look Time in the eye for this conversation. “I’m okay when I can choose to get in. Water’s not… the whole problem.”

“The Shrine?” Time asks delicately.

“It… was a lot of time to be underwater.”

That may have been the wrong thing to say, because Time just tries to pull him even closer. “I’m sorry, Wild.” He says into Wild’s hair. “I am beyond grateful to have met you and everyone else, but… you deserve better than this. You deserve a better life than to have been chosen by the Sword.”

Wait, what?

“No. No, Time, you’re wrong.” Now Wild does struggle to escape, forcing his fingers to release their death grip on Time’s tunic. He slides backwards and meets Time’s gaze head on, his chin held high. “I will never regret being alive and I could never wish this on anyone else. This is my life, Time. There are many things I regret too, but I’m who I am because of it.”

Time stares at him as though he’s judging the sincerity of Wild’s words, and finally nods with a sad smile on his face. “I’m proud of you. We all are. Never forget that.”

Wild hates it when he does that, becomes so blatantly open and kind. He hates the warmth that always blossoms inside him in reaction just as much.

“Hnnnn, stop!”

He slams his face into his hands, desperately attempting to hide the flush of red that has spread across his cheeks and up his ears, and hears Time burst out into laughter. One hand pats his shoulder, pretending to be sympathetic but Wild knows he’s still being teased.

“Stoooooooooop!” He whines out between his hands. Not looking up, Wild leans his weight forward blindly, bumping into Time's side to push him away, and Time goes, the water sloshing around him as he moves.

“Okay, okay,” Time chuckles and, when Wild peaks at him, he’s got both hands raised in the air to show a truce. “You make it too easy sometimes.”

“Ugh, I wasn’t expecting that level of heartfelt sincerity here!” Wild protest, throwing his hands wide, and instantly regrets his words when the light-hearted air vanishes as reality rushes back.

Thankfully, Time doesn’t pause on the change. He straightens up, his teasing, cheerful expression gone in an instant, but his eye is still sombre. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry to ask this of you, especially so soon, but we can’t stay here, Wild. Do you think you can do this?”

Wild stares at him and tries not to sink into himself when he softly admits, “I… I don’t know. I really don’t know if I can.”

Shame burns through him but he can’t hide this. Because that is the unfortunate truth: he really doesn’t know if he can bring himself to follow Time into the water, not when the Shrine is still so close behind him.

Time grab one of his shoulders and tilts his chin up so their eyes meet again. “I will not let you drown, Wild. I swear it. No matter what happens, I promise you this. Please trust in me.”

It would be easier to ask Wild to do literally anything but trust. He has never been good at doing that. Letting people in had once upon a time resulted in nothing but scorn and mockery. He doesn’t truly remember it but somehow at the same time the faces of the knights who tried to tear him down have never really left his mind.

After waking up, there was no room to let people in, not in his Hyrule where survival is above all else. Plenty of people care about him back home and plenty of them are happy to see him, but no one wants a life story or to get close. Only the bold travel for a reason; there is no point getting chummy when you don’t know if your new friend will survive to the next stable. But surrounded by the other heroes, Wild has found that his closely guarded trust has been challenged more and more often. He had managed to let Twilight in, so he has tried to ready himself for the moment when he has to do so for the rest of the group.

Now that moment is upon him, much faster than he expected and definitely not with the circumstances that he had hoped for, but maybe he can. Besides, it’s not like he has much choice right now. Mind made up, Wild decides to take the plunge. “I… I do trust you, Time.”

Time’s lips quirk upwards into a smile, wide and sincere, and he squeezes Wild’s shoulder tightly as though he can etch his promise into Wild’s flesh and bone. Then his face smooths over into his well-worn calm leader mask, and he steps towards the way down into the flooded hallway. Wild steels himself. The time for jokes and levity is over.

“I went back to the doorway that flooded this area and found the dungeon continues onwards. The hallway we’re in leads to empty rooms, so we’re going to end up in the unknown. I need you to tap my arm twice here if you need air, all right?” Time demonstrates, tapping the side of his upper arm.

Wild takes a breath. “Yeah, yeah, okay. Uh, are there any enemies?”

“Nothing I don’t know how to handle.” Time looks at him solemnly. “Are you ready?”

Well, when he asks like that… Wild tugs nervously at the hem of his tunic, then blinks as realisation strikes him.

“Wait a sec, I’m an idiot.” he says, shoving the scale into Time’s hands and yanking his champion tunic up over his head.

While he regretfully doesn’t have time to don all of his Zora armour, he is used to quickly shimmying into the chest piece. It is certainly better than nothing. Water ripples just below his ribs as he tugs the chest piece into place and stows his tunic into the Slate, along with his weapons and quiver. No use losing arrows while swimming, though he does mourn the loss of its familiar comforting weight. He holds onto the edges of the Slate tightly and takes a deep breath. Okay, they have to go now, so he can't keep stalling even though he really wants to. Wild turns to meet Time’s gaze.

“Ready?” Time asks as he steps closer.

For a moment, Wild doesn’t understand what he is doing but then Time carefully lifts the woven necklace attached to the scale over Wild’s head and places it around his neck before fussing with it for a moment, ensuring the scale doesn’t get caught on the pauldrons. Wild can’t hide how grateful he is that Time is giving him this moment to pretend to get his shit together, though it does little to help.

“Ha, no.” He jokes weakly as he reaches out with a shaking hand to grip Time’s arm. There is no way to hide how badly he is shaking now, not when he barely resists the urge to attach himself to Time’s side as Time starts to ease them both into the frigid water.

“Deep breath,” is all Time says—Wild automatically doing as ordered—before he tugs Wild underwater and into the hallway.

The second the water closes above his head, panic grabs for Wild’s heart and he freezes, clawing at Time’s arm. Thankfully, Time waits patiently, his free hand closing around Wild’s own in a show of support. Finally Wild nods to him, gesturing to go and, when Time raises an eyebrow in question, signs, ‘We have to.’

With a nod, Time pulls him along and Wild kicks his feet to stay close, reaching up to grasp nervously at the scale around his neck.

The scale gives off a strange sensation, easing the pressure on his lungs and letting them draw out his breath for longer than normal. Time seems to have an innate knowledge of how long the scale’s magic lasts because their first air pocket appears just as some of the pressure returns. They surface, instinctively gasping for air, and Wild has to catch himself so his enthusiastic breach from the water doesn’t end up with him bashing his head against a stalactite. He takes a second to pant, closing his eyes and trying to regain his bearings as Time treads water beside him.

“Are you okay?” Time eventually asks. He speaks softly but the air pocket is tiny and only just fits the two of them, so the tight space amplifies every word he says.

“Still no.” Wild laughs. It sounds manic even to his ears, so he chokes it back before it reaches full-blown hysteria. Hylia above, they’ve barely even left the hallway, he can’t break apart now.

After a second to gather his wits, he grabs onto Time again, who nods and leads the way forward.

Despite the panic gnawing at his insides, they advance relatively easily as Time guides him through the doorway they’d opened and into the rest of the dungeon. He hates that this place is beautiful. As they progress, the glow fades as parts of the rock have been replaced by intricate tilework of various colours and patterns. Many of the rooms they swim through have high vaulted ceilings that look painstakingly hand-carved.

Odd enemies float around, ones that Wild has never seen before: strange-looking see-through clumps that buzz with electricity and large clam-like things that chase after them at too slow a pace. However, just like he said, Time seems to recognise all of them. He doesn’t bother to pause so he can deal with any of them, using his hookshot to knock the clams off balance and diving around the floating clumps with ease.

It stings a little, having to be ferried from room to room without being able to do anything to help. To make things worse, every time they surface to get a breath of air Wild knows Time is watching him to see if he will crack. It isn’t like he can blame Time for that; the earlier breakdown had definitely thrown him off so Time’s concern shouldn’t be frustrating him. But no matter how hard he tries to ignore it, Wild can’t deny that Time’s concern is frustrating him, even though he knows it shouldn't be. 

Sure, panic is intertwining itself with his guts and embedding itself into his bones, but he’s still here, he’s underwater and he’s somehow not having another breakdown. This will not beat him. He will not be any more of a liability than he already is.

Honestly he doesn’t know how many more worried looks and reminders of his shame he can take. Can they not just get through this as quickly as possible so he can put it behind him and pretend it never happened in the first place? Well, that isn’t exactly an easy thing to achieve because Time is nothing if not tenacious and Wild knows he’s deluding himself if he thinks he can escape dealing with it all.

But it’s a nice fantasy to hold onto as they go back underwater and enter a large room with high maze-like walls. Unlike the other rooms, here the glow of the rock is barely visible and the water is dark and murky, making it almost impossible to see what’s around them. Time brings them up into a tiny air pocket. “I haven’t scouted this room yet. Do you want to wa—?”

“No!” Wild cuts him off immediately. He can’t think of anything worse than treading water here just waiting for Time to return, not again. “I—I’ll be okay, I swear.”

“I don’t know if there’s anywhere else to breathe.” Time counters, voice bordering on curt. “And we don’t know the way through.”

In his mind, Wild hysterically pleads please don’t leave me here, but bites down the words before they can leave his mouth. Instead, he tells Time, “I know it’s a big risk, but it’s so dark. I…”

He cuts himself off before he can voice any of the worries bouncing around his head. What if Time can’t find him again? What if there’s something in the water and Time gets hurt? What if, what if.

“Okay.” Time says, pulling Wild from his spiralling thoughts. When Wild peers at him, he just nods, the previous terseness of his expression softened with understanding. Fuck, of course Time still worked it out. Wild takes his arm meekly and follows him back underwater, glad the murky darkness will at least hide his burning face.

Despite Time’s concerns, the maze doesn’t seem as bad as he thought it was. The few dead-ends they come across are nothing more than shallow alcoves in the winding walls, easy to notice and avoid, and they soon find the small doorway out. As they swim towards it, Wild can’t help but wonder how much more of this place is left. They have got to be close to the exit of the dungeon now, right? He really hopes so. If this was a Divine Beast, they would have swam its length at least twice now.

Something moving in the murk catches his attention and he pauses, pulling Time to a halt so he can squint into the water.

‘What is it?’ Time asks, peering past him.

Wild waits a moment more but the movement has gone and the darkness has stilled, so he ducks his head, embarrassed by his jumpiness. ‘Nothing. I thought I saw something, but it’s—’

The water surges around them and Wild barely manages to hold onto his lungful of air as something slams into them at full speed, sending them tumbling through the water. Wild feels his arm rip free from Time's grasp but he’s still too busy pin-wheeling uncontrollably to try to reach for him.

When his side slams into one of the walls, he finally manages to right himself. A jagged piece of rock digs painfully into his shoulder and makes him hiss with pain, though when he reaches up, he is relieved to find that it hasn’t broken through Mipha’s armour and into his skin, but the spot is still tender. Great, he grumbles mentally as he grabs onto the wall for support, now he’ll have fantastic bruising on both sides.

Twisting around, he starts to peer into the gloom to see if Time is okay but freezes. A strange skeletal creature glides past him almost lazily, half-obscured by the murky depths. It is huge, way bigger than any fish he has ever seen before and rows of jagged teeth line its jaws. Wild risks glancing around but there’s no sign of Time anywhere in the murky, dimly lit water.

Okay. This is fine. 

He fixes his gaze back on the skeleton as it loops back around to pass by him again, its tail effortlessly pushing it through the water. One of its large glowing orange eyes is just as focused on him as his are on it. Something predatory gleams in the depths of that thing’s eye, something that seems to know how out of his depth he is, and he shies back against the rocky wall, cursing his luck.

One hand falls to the Sheikah Slate at his hip but he knows it won’t be helpful in this situation. The runes are notoriously unreliable when used underwater. Stasis and the remote bombs are definitely out, but Magnesis could work—though there doesn’t seem to be any metal nearby. So the Slate is definitely useless, shit. He is running out of options.

Switching tracks in his head, he looks at the skeleton again. He has no idea what this thing is called, how it behaves, and he doesn’t have any way to kill it. Swords and spears would be too slow as the broadside of the blade will only drag through the water, and there’s no way he can fire off an arrow underwater either. But he can’t stay here. His lungs are already straining for air. The scale’s magic is starting to reach its limits.

Where is Time?!

With a sharp pulse of its tail, the skeleton abruptly changes directions and charges for him. It cuts through the water towards him at speeds Wild knows he has no hope of matching if he wants to escape. He reaches behind him, fingers patting the wall for the jagged edge that had caught his shoulder, and then tucks his legs up under him, feet flat against the wall.

Staring down the rapidly approaching skeleton, Wild has to remind himself to be patient. This is just like any other enemy; there will always be an opening, he just has to be smart enough and fast enough to take it. The skeleton closes in, opening its jaw wide to reveal rows and rows of sharp teeth, and he kicks off from the wall hard, shooting along the skeleton’s underbelly. A muffled thud rings out behind him as the skeleton ploughs headfirst into the wall, but he doesn’t look back.

His lungs are aching, almost empty of the huge breath he had taken barely even a minute ago, so he tries to use what speed he got from his kick to swim upwards and race to the surface. The top of the water gets tantalisingly close before something again slams into his side and he is thrown backwards into the depths once again. A cloud of silt rises up around him as he bumps into the sandy floor, obscuring so much of the world he doesn’t know which way is up or down or where he even is. All he knows is that he needs to breathe!

Instinctively his mouth opens to inhale greedily, but Wild finds himself choking at the influx of water against his tongue. Even as he reflexively gasps for air, the only thing to fill his mouth is more and more water. Panic creeps in, digging its claws into him and making his heart pound, but he finally catches himself and slams his jaw shut in a mad attempt to stop breathing so quickly that the feeling reverberates around his skull. His head feels foggy, his lungs are bursting and water is running down his throat. If he could cry, he would. Fuck it, he has to take the chance, he’s going to drown!

Kicking upwards again, he desperately tries to push through the water to swim for the surface barely visible amongst all the silt, but it’s far above his head. No, please Hylia he was so close, how did it get so far away?

At the edge of his wavering vision he can see another skeleton approaching—or maybe it’s the same one, he can’t tell. The monster takes its time, idly nearing him and watching him flail like a bear would watch a baby deer. If he could, Wild would whimper, utterly terrified as his lungs burn and pain rips through his chest. His eyes sting with tears that are swept away by the water the second they fall from his eyes, an oh-so-familiar loss. The skeleton turns towards him, tail swinging out to propel itself into another charge and—

The gleaming points of a hookshot burst through the skeleton’s head, tearing its skull clean in two. Time swims through the disintegrating pieces of the skeleton towards Wild, both of his eyes open and barely holding back panic. He hooks an arm around Wild's waist, pulling him close and kicks up off the sandy floor, but Wild is barely following anything that’s happening.  As his lungs continue to fill with water, he kicks and thrashes and claws desperately at Time’s arms, but Time’s grip only gets tighter, his golden gauntlets bright against the water’s gloom.

Wild thinks he loses seconds, or even minutes. He's not sure. One moment they’re underwater and he’s dying, and then the next moment a hand smacks hard against his back and he’s coughing and vomiting up water, gasping for air.

“Easy,” Time tries to soothe, though the panic in his voice is just as audible as Wild’s panic is visible, “take it easy, Wild, just breathe.”

Oh, because breathing is easy?! Wild would laugh if he wasn’t too busy hacking up half the dungeon from his lungs. He sobs as he coughs up more water, still clinging desperately to Time’s arm, then sobs as he tries to replace all the water with heavenly, beautiful, desperately needed air.

“Fuck!” He manages to rasp out eventually, slumping back into Time’s hold. His limbs feel heavy and a headache pounds against the back of his eyes. “Those things suck.”

“Desbrekos.” Time tells him flatly, as though that means anything to Wild. He leans his head against the side of Wild’s, the closest they can get to a hug right now. “I’m sorry, Wild. I didn’t know they were here. They shouldn’t be here.”

“’S'okay. The Shadow’s a dick.” Wild weakly pats his hand. Time barks out a harsh laugh, the sound fraying around the edges, so Wild leans against him a bit more. “’M okay, Time. Promise.”

“There is no need to lie to me right now.” Time tells him, trying to angle himself better only to let out a hiss of pain, air whistling out through his teeth. They dip into the water slightly and Wild feels the way the surface rises up around his neck.

Behind him, Time tries and fails to muffle a grunt as he shifts his grip on Wild and kicks harder to bring them back up. A new type of panic seizes at Wild’s heart and he twists, craning his neck to look over his shoulder. “Time—”

“I’m fine.” Time says quickly. Too quickly.

Wild wriggles some more, trying to slip out of Time’s hold but Time doesn’t let go. Frustration boiling beneath his skin, Wild doesn’t let up either. “You’re hurt!”

“And you’ve only just started breathing again!” Time actually snaps back, anger heavy in his voice.

The words freeze Wild in place, robbing him of any strength he could have used to move. He stares straight ahead at the rocky wall inches from his face, taking a second to bite back the stinging in his eyes. The anger in Time’s voice says it all: no matter how hard he’s tried to ignore it, he really has been a dead-weight. And now he’s gotten Time injured, all because of this stupid, stupid fear.

“Wild.” Time starts again, quieter, but Wild just shakes his head.

“No. It’s fine.” He tries to pull away again and silently thanks Hylia when Time lets him go. After taking a second to gather himself, he turns but can barely bring himself to meet Time’s gaze. He isn’t ready to see whatever expression is on his face. “I… I really am okay.”

“You just—” Time cuts himself off with a sharp inhale of breath and Wild cringes, glancing upwards to see Time shaking his head. “We both need to rest. You especially.”

Actually, you know what? Screw being meek. Wild glares at Time, snarling out, “No, don’t you dare do that, Time. Don’t hide shit from me just because you think I can’t handle it!”

Time scowls back but when he speaks, he keeps his voice calm and steady. “That’s not what this is. I don’t know how much water is still in your lungs. I don’t want to push you.”

Wild sighs as all the fight drains out of him. “We can’t tread water forever. We can’t rest here, so we should keep going.”

“You really want to go back under so soon?” Time raises an eyebrow at him with none of the niceties the expression had previously held.

They both know the answer but Wild refuses to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. He doesn’t care that his muscles are burning or that his head is aching or that his throat feels like it’s on fire. He need to move, to do something, do anything so he can’t see that worried look on Time’s face anymore.

“I do.” Wild says firmly.

Time sighs, world-weary and heavy, the way he always sounds when he’s angry with Wild but doesn’t want to show it. The sigh hurts more than his waterlogged lungs do, but Wild refuses to back down. His stupid fear has already gotten Time hurt once. If Time won’t prioritise himself, then Wild will make him.

“Okay, fine.” Time says eventually, holding a hand out to Wild. “Deep breath, then.”

The water below, while still murky and dark, has stilled, so Time moves quick, leading the way across the room towards yet another door. The world beyond is very different from the cavern walls they’d expected. Instead of smooth, faintly-glowing rock, they’re faced with an inorganic hallway made of tile and stone but no walls.

Here the stone has been chipped away until all that’s left behind is an intricate detail almost like netting. When Wild peers out through the holes in the walls, he can see nothing but darkness with no sign of how far into the dungeon they are. Curiosity burns in his veins and Wild can’t help wanting to look just a bit more, but Time stops him by grabbing his arm and tugs him forward through the door at the end of the hallway.

The room they swim into is just as intricately detailed as the hallway behind them, but much wider. Strangely enough, a staircase seems to be the feature of this room, submerged and connecting two floors together. This room stretches far down below them, the details of the bottom lost to the gloomy darkness, while the top is softly lit, almost welcoming them upwards. With a single glance between them, they both swim up, breaking the surface right near the top of the room. The ceiling is decorated with the remnants of the glowing rock, painting the surface of the water in eerie colours.

“Over there,” Time calls as he pushes forward, swimming cleanly through the water towards an open area that looks to be the top floor.

Wild follows after him, still taken by the strange designs on the walls, and yelps when Time practically heaves him out of the water. “Hey!” He protests as he is dropped unceremoniously onto the cool stone floor.

Time flops down beside him and sprawls out on his back, panting. “We need to rest.”

Unlike before, he is more pointed in his tone, bordering on accusatory, and Wild wilts. Now is definitely not the time to argue. He glances down at Time, narrowing in on a small row of dark patches just below his ribs. It’s obvious to him that Time is really the one who needs the rest, considering he’s lugged Wild across what has to be almost an entire dungeon.

Blessed Hylia, and what has Wild done to thank him? Nothing but act like a brat. Chastised, he pulls his knees up to his chest and stares out across the still water, cheeks burning. “Hey, Time?”

When he hears a gruff hum from Time to signal that he is listening, Wild hesitates. Nervously, he traces his fingers over the gauntlets of his armour, following the etched groove of Mipha’s handiwork. He thinks about all the possible things he could say, starting and discarding sentences as the seconds start to drag out. 

Finally, he just says, “Thank you.”

It’s nowhere near enough to make up for anything. It’s barely even an apology. But he still feels Time reach up to rest a hand against his back, firm and unwavering.

They sit there in silence for a long minute, not speaking but just listening to the gentle sounds of the water moving back and forth. And then something new shifts. Wild stiffens, tilting his head slightly as he listens for the sound. Something moves gently against the stone, barely audible above the water but still there. Slowly, he reaches back slowly to tap Time’s wrist and feels him roll himself upright so they are sitting shoulder to shoulder.

‘Left.’ Time signs as he carefully slides a hand into his pouch.

The sound gets closer and Wild lets his hand fall to the Slate, ready to pull a weapon out in an instant. He meets Time’s gaze, sees Time ready a hand. There's a scuff right behind them, and Time whirls from signing ‘Begin!’ straight to launching himself to his feet, the Biggoron sword already in his grasp.

He heaves the claymore upwards, the blade carving a deep gash into a bokoblin’s chest and it falls back with a screech as red blood pours down its sides. Wild throws himself forward, scrambling across the stone floor on his knees so he can stab a sword into its throat. With a weak gurgle, the bokoblin goes still and its corpse begins to dissolve around his blade.

A battle cry makes him jerk his head up just as Time catches a club against the flat of the Biggoron sword, stopping the blow from connecting with the back of Wild’s skull. Wild twists on his heel, slashing outwards in a deadly arc and his blade leaves a deep gash into the attacking bokoblin’s legs.

As he shoots to his feet and summons a shield, he catches sight of Time bashing the bokoblin’s skull in with the pommel of his sword before turning to engage a large heavy-set moblin carrying a shield and spear. One of Wild’s lizals darts forward, trying to get at Time’s unarmoured side and Wild darts in. The lizal’s tongue bangs into his shield and it throws itself backwards to watch them with beady eyes.

“Move.” Time orders and Wild slides backwards as the moblin jabs its spear. Time dodges sideways into the space Wild had been in and swings his sword up before heaving it down onto the shaft of the spear. The wood shatters under the weight of the blow, snapping the spear in two, and Wild sprints forward to take advantage of the opening.

He slides around the moblin’s gigantic shield to slash deep wounds into its stomach, then down to cut the tendons in the back of its leg. The moblin staggers with a grunt, falling forward, and Wild takes off towards the lizal. Behind him, he hears the sound of Time’s sword burying itself into the moblin, hopefully finishing it off.

Eyeing up its chances, the lizal meets Wild halfway, jabbing experimentally for his stomach. Wild hops to the side, feeling the world snap to a honey-slow crawl as his magic ensnares the flow of time. He races forward, slashing at the lizal’s now exposed stomach again and again and the moment time escapes his magic’s hold, it crumples silently to the ground.

“Normal blood.” Time says from behind Wild, sounding just as puzzled by the red blood as Wild feels.

“Maybe it thought the… uh what did you call those stal things again?” Wild turns around, snapping his fingers as he tries to remember the weird name Time had mentioned, and his eyes go wide. “TIME!”

His sword clatters against the ground as he throws himself forward, clearing the gap between them as quickly as possible. Time startles, lifting the Biggoron sword up as Wild darts between him and the moblin that hurtles out of the shadows towards Time’s unprotected back with its spear raised.

Its first jab slams straight into the front of Wild’s shield, making him stagger backwards and bounce off of Time's shoulder. The metal of his shield creaks ominously, but Wild doesn’t get the chance to reach for something sturdier. He doesn’t even get to see the moblin’s next move. All he feels is the shaft of the spear slam into his side before the force of the blow sends him flying. He waits for stone to strike skin but instead he hits the water hard and sinks in a flurry of bubbles.

Down, down, down Wild sinks, as though the water has taken hold of his ankles and is determined to pull him to the bottom of the room to drown him.

He thrashes, twisting around and trying to peer through the bubbles, trying to find the surface, trying to find anything. His shield feels like an anchor, helping the water pull him down, and he fights to unstrap it from his arm. Eventually his arm slides free and he doesn’t stop to watch the shield fall into the gloom below.  His lungs begin to burn for the second time in barely twenty minutes and Wild desperately wishes he could cry as he searches for the surface.

Where is it?!

Someone’s voice, long ago, whispers in his ears. A phantom’s arms are tight around him, shielding him from the panic he once felt.

“Remember, Link, if you’re ever lost underwater, follow the directions of the bubbles.” Mipha smiles kindly at him as she tows him back to the water’s edge. “Works like a charm every time, I guarantee it."

The scene is there and gone before he even realises what had happened, but Mipha's words ring loudly in his ears. Even now she is still looking out for him.

Glancing around, Wild manages to find where the plume of bubbles has travelled and kicks upwards. Lungs screaming, he breaks the surface and gasps in a giant breath of glorious air.

“WILD!” Time yells and Wild twists around and around, looking at the unfamiliar room as he tries to work out where he was thrown from. 

“I’m okay!” He yells back, finally managing to locate Time, who is pulling the Biggoron sword loose from the moblin’s dissolving throat. Time meets his gaze. A look of sheer relief passes over his face and his shoulders sag.

“Giving me a heart attack, cub.”

The walls echo his short burst of laughter, and Wild can’t help but smile. Whispering a quiet thank you to Mipha, he starts forward. “Are you okay, Time?”

That gets him a familiar look, one that’s all exasperated and dry. “Are you really aski—”

Everything around Wild explodes.

He’s thrown upwards, his body spinning uncontrollably as the water around him bursts.

Something gigantic and dark launches up through the geyser of water and Wild screams when what feels like thousands of tiny knives bury themselves into his abdomen with more strength than a Hinox uses to grab its prey.

He barely has enough time to see the water rising back up to meet him and inhale a weak breath of air before they crash into the surface and whatever’s holding him charges down, down, down in another flurry of bubbles, bringing Wild along for the ride.

His hands slip against warm fresh and sharp bone that’s piercing into his skin, too deeply for him to escape. He tries twisting once in vain hope that maybe he's wrong, and nearly loses his lungful of precious air when a scream tries to tear loose from his throat.

Down, down, down he's pulled, his ears popping from the speed of the dive.

Wild holds onto Time’s golden scale, gripping it tightly in one hand, and desperately prays to whoever may be listening that the tiny scale will be enough to get him through this alive.