Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cold bite harshly at his arms. It’s been at least three days since they escaped, and Time has seen nothing but the rolling snowy hills. 

It reminds him of snowhead, except there are no Gorons about to talk to. He’s pretty much alone except for a mumbling Four every once and awhile. 

Four wakes up occasionally, he doesn’t stay awake for long but sometimes he’ll say a couple of things, or try to steal more warmth from Time. It worries the man, Four has lost a lot of blood, and had open wounds in the dirty cage that went unattended for so long. That is still unattended. 

Time looked them over and tried to clean them up as best he could. He can hardly melt the snow to use, in fear it would freeze Four. His original plan of using the guards' stolen pants has also come to a halt. Time needs as much fabric to keep Four and himself warm in this weather. 

Four sits on his back wrapped in the stolen tunic, while Times arms had been wrapped in the ripped fabric from the pants. 

The two were hardly warm enough, but Time couldn’t stop, he had to keep moving, if only to get out of this weather or find another soul that could actually help them. 

He’d rationed their few loaves of bread, but it was running out quickly. Four barely ate any of it, too tired and in pain to want to, and Time can only push so much. He worried, worried even more when on the fourth day, Four’s forehead was burning hot, like a blazing fire against the frigid cold that surrounded them. 

“No,” Time whispered, his hand on the teens forehead, pushing back his ratted blonde hair from his face. It could be anything, an infection, a normal cold, the flu.

Time got to work checking all the injuries, trying to find any sign of infection from them. 

“Wh’ you doi’n,” Four slurred out, his eyes looked at Time blearily. Time’s hand immediately when to the back of the his head to hold him up better. 

“Looking over your injuries, does it hurt anywhere perticular?” Time questioned. 

“Col’,” Four stated, although it didn’t actual seem to be a response to Time’s question. 

“I know, I’m sorry, but is there anything else that feels out of place, except maybe everything?” Time placed his forehead against Fours, it burns to touch, but Time hopes his freezing skin can cool down the youngers fever. 

Four looks at him, but it doesn’t seem like he’s actually looking at him. His eyes unfocused. He doesn’t say anything, and after a minute or so, he closes his eyes again. 

“Four,” Time whispers again, he pulls the boy into a hug, cradling his head into his chest. They don’t have any supplies, and there’s nothing around them but the cold. Even so, Time’s determined that Four will survive, no matter what.  

He stands up, wrapping Four back in the makeshift blanket and begins walking again. 

He walks.

And walks.

And walks.

Nothing but snow and sky, and occasionally the sun ,stars, and wretched moon. 

He doesn’t dare sleep, especially when Four’s breaths get weaker and raspy. When it sounds like every breath the little hero takes is harder than the last. 

Time makes sure to always be able to feel the hot air though, to keep attention to that or his pulse, sometimes both. 

Time’s tired, and hungry, and horribly cold. His finger tips have started turning a slight purple, and he’s sure his toes and nose might be as well, but he can’t bear to look. 

The crunch of snow, and the whoosh of wind, the occasional whisper of Four breathing. And then. 

The rush of water. 

Unfrozen water. 

The crunch of snow is faster as Time starts running. 

“It could mean a number of things, animals, fish, civilization, a hot spring at it’s source.” Time lists off all he could think of he smiles, and hold Four close. 

His feet stop.

His smile fades. 

He holds Four close and waits.

Waits for a raspy little breath, but none comes. 

“No, please,”

Time lays Four on the snow and hold his wrist, the beat it carries is slow, and rapidly slowing. He still won’t breath. 

“No, Four, please, smithy, kiddo, please, Link, no, no, no,” Time repeats. His hands fly everywhere, checking for reopened cuts, or injuries, titling his head to open his airway. Checking and rechecking and checking again, is pulse and heart beat til it slows to a final stop. 

Malon’s always been a great teacher, and she knows plenty of first aid. Time tries to remember as much of her lesson as he clasps his hands and pushes down on Four’s chest. Nothing came of it but digging them in a hole of snow. The cold bites fiercely. 

Time stops, he picks him up gingerly and holds him close, his tears fall into Fours tangled blonde locks. He’s desperate. He’s desperate because one of his boys is slipping through his fingers, one of his littlest boys. And he couldn’t protect him, he couldn’t do anything. 

Something deep within Time pulls through his veins. He remembers from so long ago, from a world that he which no longer lives. From a time he left behind. A gift that he thought through time had faded from him, to never exist within him in the first place. But the blue magic flows. 

Nayru’s Love. 

Four breaths life again, and his heart beats with the help of a goddess and fairy magic. 

Time’s got 12 hours to change the tides.