Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

For a moment, Sky hesitated. Doubt had a permanent place in his life since his journey. Never regret , but sometimes, Sky had the feeling that maybe he’d made the wrong choice. He doubted his own strength, he doubted his convictions, he doubted his own morals sometimes. He did his best not to think of it, to not dwell on the millennia following his own which would suffer the consequences of his actions. Or, rather, his inactions .

The cultist at the end of his blade wore a wooden mask like all the others. The thick bark was visibly fused to the poor soul, growing beneath her flesh. Fat roots the width of two fingers pushed up beneath her skin, leeching her life as fuel for its sinister magic. It was little more than a living clock, ticking down every second until the body beneath was nothing but a vessel if she weren’t already a puppet. Eventually, the flesh would die and rot and the mask would grow into one of those faced trees in Hyrule’s era. But there was a knot around one of her eyes. A gap. And in that gap, Sky was looking at a person .

Not a ghoul, not a faceless monster. She was scared and upset and Sky could see pain in her gaze as tears gathered to be taken in by the mask. She was mortal, just like him. Once, she had a mother and father, maybe she still had a family. Sky didn’t know whether or not she’d fallen in with the cult of her own accord, but if she had, then had to do so for a reason.

Sky refused to harm her further. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as Twilight easily plowed his sword into a much further devoured figure. The rancher planted his foot against the wooded thing’s chest, shoving it from his sword. That beastly gaze felt Sky’s eyes and swept to the chosen hero. There were no other cultists left, only the frail woman at Sky’s feet.

“Is that all of them?” Sky asked.

Twilight tipped his head, a puzzled look answering the question. The rancher gestured towards the woman.

Sky shook his head. “She’s done. She’s not a threat anymore.”

Twilight paused. “Sky,” he said gruffly.

Sky tensed. “She dropped her weapon.”

“They can use magic.”

The two heroes stared one another down, their grips on their swords tightening.

“We ain’t able to afford stragglers—”

“I said she’s not a threat,” Sky repeated coolly.

Twilight glanced down at the woman, a disinterested frown falling on her. Sky knew that look of nonchalance was only a front. He’d learned in time that though Twilight never voiced his feelings on anything important, the rancher took things like life and death seriously. Twilight was far from cruel or callused, nor did he work with the sort of toxic pragmatism Warriors did.

“Go ahead then,” Twilight grunted.

Sky bristled. “Not without you.”

Twilight shifted his annoyance onto the chosen hero. “I’ll wait ‘til you’s outta earshot—”

“I said no !” Sky barked shoving the rancher.

Sky’s protest rang in the stony ruins. Twilight was barely moved by the shove, even if Sky had put his whole weight behind it. Tears stung Sky’s eyes as he gritted his teeth. Twilight let out a soft sigh.

“I know it’s hard,” the rancher said quietly. “But it’s the only way—”

“And who are you to decide, huh?!” Sky scoffed, tossing his head in a shake. “Here I thought you were merciful.”

“ Merciful? ” Twilight spat bitterly.

“You’d murder a defenseless girl!”

Twilight gathered his face, fighting down the anger clear in his scowl. “She’s dead , Sky. She was dead the moment they stuck that bless ol’ mask on ‘er. You gone let a dog bleed out?” Twilight grabbed Sky by the shoulder, shoving him deeper into the hallway. “Go join up with the others, lettem know the way’s clear. I’ll be quick, so don’t go lookin’ for trouble—”

Sky felt sick with anger. He was always so careful to reign in his temper and keep it to himself. But there was little that he hated more than the feeling of powerlessness. Here was Twilight, making a decision for Sky—making one despite Sky.

With a yell, Sky swung the Master Sword at Twilight. The rancher blocked it just as quickly, the song of their swords ringing through the musty air. Sky flinched as the hilt of his blade burned his palms, warning him not to raise her against another hero.

“I respect it, Sky, ‘n I respect you too,” Twilight said flatly. “So go .”

“No!” Sky howled, pitching the sword aside.

Instead, frustrated and furious, Sky threw himself at Twilight unarmed. The rancher kicked his own sword away from the cultist on the floor, catching one of Sky’s arms. Sky’s free hand still swung wildly, belting Twilight across the nose and lips.

Twilight grimaced, the pain immediate. Blood wet his nostrils, spilling down his lips and chin. His top lip throbbed, beginning to swell on the right side where Sky’s knuckles had glanced across. Twilight only released Sky with a push away, reaching up to clamp his hand over his nose.

“I’m serious !” Sky shouted, tears streaming down his face.

Twilight frowned. “So’m I. I’ll tell ya one more time to get outta here ‘fore I handle it.”

Sky glanced at their swords on the ground. He threw his arms out, guarding them from Twilight. With a dry expression, Twilight simply drew a hunting knife from his boot. Sky’s eyes widened in horror.

“Leave,” Twilight said quietly.

Sky hesitated. He could throw himself at Twilight again, though unarmed, he knew he’d never win that fight. He could stay there and watch as Twilight did the unthinkable. Or Sky could give up on his convictions—

“Sky,” Twilight said softly, laying one hand on his shoulder. “I don’t blame ya. No one does. It ain’t fair. You done enough.”

Sky balled his fists, choking on a sob. He nodded, wiping his arm across his face. Devolving into further hysterics, Sky hugged himself as he trudged down the hall and towards the dungeon to rendezvous with the others as agreed upon.

Twilight sighed, drawing his hand down to rub his bloody fingers together. He knotted his brow, listening as Sky’s shuffling steps and unsteady breathing grew more and more distant. Once he was certain Sky was far enough away, Twilight kneeled in front of the cultist on the floor.

He smiled bitterly, resting one of his hands on her head. She watched him like a frightened animal caught in a trap, one which knew what was coming next. Twilight did his best to give her some comfort she likely hadn’t known in ages, and finally, he dispatched of her swiftly to ensure she felt none of it.

As Sky approached the others, Four’s eyes widened. The smith darted up to meet Sky, bewildered at the sobbing hero.

“Sky!” Four cried. “Are you okay?!”

“Where’s your sword?” Warriors asked.

“Where’s Twilight?” Time added on.

Sky shook his head, unable to get any words out through his tears. Four frowned, his eyes melting in a deep shade of ruby. He took Sky’s hands, squeezing them gently and making an active choice to not bring up the faint burns on his palms. Sky sank to his knees, wrapping Four up in a tight hug as he wept into the smith’s shoulder.

“Blessed be,” Time huffed. “I’ll go looking for Twilight—”

“I’m right here,” the rancher called from the corridor.

Moments later, he appeared from the shadows, the Ordon sword sheathed over his back and the Master Sword in hand. Fresh blood still seeped down his face, his lip reed and puffy.

“I told you to stay together,” Warriors scolded.

“We cleaned out,” Twilight answered. “I sent Sky ahead.”

“Are you hurt?” Four asked Sky as he rubbed the older hero’s back.

Sky shook his head swiftly.

Warriors crooked a brow, opening his mouth to ask more questions.

“We’ll talk later,” Twilight said, waving the captain off. “Give ‘im a minute.”

Warriors narrowed his eyes. Twilight held the man’s scowl just as stubbornly. Finally, Warriors gave up, waving his hand with a roll of his eyes and an impatient huff. Twilight sat down to see to his only injuries—those which Sky had given him.

Glancing up, Twilight saw Legend consoling Hyrule in the corner. Since banding together with the others, it wasn’t often Hyrule was captured, but when he was, he could be inconsolable for days. Already a flighty thing, the heroes knew they were in for at least a week of Hyrule’s worst tendencies. The boy would barely sleep, would refuse to eat anything he didn’t find or make for himself, and would stay out of reach of everyone except for his own predecessor.

Finally, Sky withdrew from Four, wiping his eyes. His sobs quieted into shudders, his eyes puffy and nose red and face wet with snot and tears. Four wet a handkerchief, using it to wash Sky’s face as much as Sky would allow it.

Sky darted his eyes up to Twilight, watching as the rancher accepted an ice jelly from Wild. The rancher pressed it to his face, relishing in its cool touch as it fought back against the swelling. Sky felt his heart squeeze with guilt again, but also uncertainty. His eyes fell, his face growing more sullen.

Sky was mad at himself for not doing more, mad at Twilight for doing it at all, and moreover, he was scared . Scared that he’d given up. Scared that Twilight could do something so terribly so easily and it dawned on Sky that perhaps it was only because Twilight had done something similar before.

Warriors eyed the two, the tension between them having a presence of its own in the room. The captain could see dread in Sky’s expression, and he saw the dullness in Twilight’s gaze that often attached itself to the man’s melancholy. People were born with a light which Warriors found was snuffed out to never shine again once certain deeds were carried out.

The captain could only assume it was the cultists. Time had struggled with it himself, but there was no denying that the only life under those masks was artificial. The poor wretches wearing them were lost the minute the masks had latched on.

Warriors traded a quick look with Time. The two men came to some unspoken understanding, immediately working together to keep Twilight and Sky as far away from each other as they could until cooler heads prevailed.

Chapter Text

Warriors never was very sure how to start an open dialogue with Twilight. The rancher could talk about other people’s issues easily, almost always with the benefit of doubt. He afforded grace where there was no need, sympathetic to a fault sometimes. The others could vent to him and if asked, he would give advice. His real forté was simply as a listening ear—a confidant. And even as Twilight provided that for everyone else, he had no such outlet himself.

Twilight hated talking about himself. When asked for details, if he didn’t brush it off, he would answer with a joke or exaggeration. When badgered too much, he was cagey. Personal questions seemed to annoy him, though none of the rest knew why. Perhaps it was some sort of self-inflicted punishment, maybe it was because he simply couldn’t find the words. In any case, having serious talks with Twilight about Twilight was nothing short of a waste of everyone’s time. But Warriors had to try if nothing else.

With Hyrule on the brink of panic and Sky wallowing, the heroes simply elected to stay the night in the cleared out dungeon. They were overdue for a rest anyway, and the break would help Wind reset his worsening attitude and Legend be just a little less grumpy once they set out again. The dungeon was comfortable, dark though not unwelcoming. It was rich with the scent of moss and soil as the earth consumed the ruins of what had been some kind of public building in the centuries before. Warriors guessed a bathhouse based on the mosaics and half-buried pools, though the only water remaining was stagnant and brown.

Twilight sat to the side, keeping to himself as he often did once they began to settle for the night. He enjoyed keeping watch as if he was looking after his herd of goats in Ordon. Steadfast and still, the man kept his ears piqued as he put his efforts into maintaining his blade.

“So,” Warriors said as he approached.

Twilight flicked his gaze up, greeting the captain with one of his brief smiles. “So.”

The captain took that as enough of an invite, sitting down beside Twilight. The two men sat with their backs to the wall. Torchlight washed across them in shades of pale orange, flickering over the oiled surface of the Ordon sword and catching Twilight’s eyes in a vicious yellow glare from time to time. Warriors did his best not to dwell on it. It seemed Twilight was aware of the way his eyes sometimes glowed yellow like an animal’s in low light, but the rancher clearly never wanted to talk about it. Or his teeth. Or his markings. Not even the way he—

“I’m gone cut myself,” Twilight whined unseriously as Warriors snuck a scratch in behind his ear.

The captain snorted, withdrawing his hand. “Then put the sword down and talk to me.”

Twilight tipped his head with a hum. “What’re we talkin’ ‘bout?”

“Today.”

“Pretty sure it’s Thursday—”

“Twi,” Warriors sighed.

The rancher grimaced, nodding. Dutifully, he set the blade on the ground next to him, leaving it with a loving pat.

“What about today, then?” Twilight asked.

The rancher never gave up answers willingly. He had to be asked pointed questions, things he couldn’t dance around or only answer vaguely. Warriors folded his arms, narrowing his eyes at a torch as he chose his words.

“Sky was…upset.”

Twilight nodded, agreeing wordlessly.

“He cries often enough,” Warriors sighed, dropping his shoulders in a tired sag, “but this was different than usual.”

And it was true—Sky did cry more than the others. Sky was an open book—alarmingly so—and he had no shame for feeling the way he did about anything unless he felt it was mean or judgmental. He cried over baby animals and rainbows and the view of the ocean from a rocky cliffside. He cried on his own too while he sat on watch, though those tears came from some other well of emotion than simple awe.

“I assume,” Warriors continued when Twilight said nothing, “that a cultist died.”

“You’d be right.”

“I also assume that you killed them.”

Twilight’s face fell. It was that sort of grief he carried around everywhere, as if someone had tied a boulder to his back. It was always with him, always punctuating his words and actions. Twilight was a sad man in Warriors’ opinion, and much of his sadness came out of reservation. Twilight had mentioned ‘ necessary evils’ before. His black magic surely, or his vicious temper despite his generally gentle disposition. Twilight and Sky were both optimists, but Twilight was a sad optimist. Things would be better, but not for him.

“I’ve no doubt you did what needed to be done,” Warriors supplied after a moment of silence passed. “I would just like to know what upset Sky.”

Twilight drew in a long breath through his nose, raising one hand to knock some stiffness from his shoulder. He closed his eyes, piecing together his answer. It infuriated the others sometimes how Twilight was so intentional with the things he said and what he chose not to say at all, but at least he made it obvious that’s what he was doing. He wasn’t lying, he simply rarely told the whole of anything.

“It was all I could do,” Twilight said softly. 

He knit his brow, reaching into his top to find his pouch of tobacco. The rancher plucked a pearl from the bag, wedging it between his gum and cheek. It was something of a pacifier for the man despite Time and Warriors’ efforts to help him find something healthier. Warriors knew Twilight would keep talking if the captain didn’t give him an out, so Warriors stayed quiet.

After a small stretch of silence, Twilight added, “She’s unarmed a’ready. Sky done it, says we c’n leave her ‘cuz she ain’t a threat no more.”

“Right,” Warriors sighed.

The captain would never leave an enemy alive unless they truly were incapacitated. Being unarmed didn’t mean the cultist couldn’t rearm herself, and that was even thinking outside of the magic most of them could use. Warriors had little ruth but Twilight was even far more ruthless than he. The rancher had a bloodlust in him, the others knew. Twilight hated unfinished business.

“S’not like I done it t’ be mean or nothin’,” Twilight continued. “Those masks—I was freein’ her, that’s all.”

“Time talked to me about them some.”

“Rotten things,” Twilight cursed, spitting on the ground to make his point.

“Indeed.” Warriors raised a brow, eying Twilight. “So you killed her to make it quick and painless?”

“Basically,” Twilight agreed, though Warriors felt there was more to it than that.

“From what I’ve been told, you have little magic inclination yourself.”

“Well, I c’n use tools,” Twilight offered. “But I ain’t like Ledge ‘r Rulie if that’s whatcha mean.”

“I’m curious how you would know about those masks in that case.”

Twilight frowned, the expression bringing a small wrinkle to his nose. Using his tongue, he pushed the wad of leaves in his mouth from one side to the other and then licked his teeth. He spit to the ground again.

“Seen ‘em before,” Twilight answered. “Not exac’ly the same, but close enough.” The rancher tipped his head back against the wall. “Good people get caught up in it. No way to gettem back, not really. Even still there’s folks gotta live with it.”

“Twili magic?” Warriors guessed.

Twilight nodded, a sorrowful look in his gaze. “Woulda been me too if I ain’t so doggone special, cap’n. I ain’t able to save ‘em from that fate, but I c’n at least spare ‘em.”

Warriors nodded again, chewing on Twilight’s words. “You see it as an act of compassion?”

“Well,” Twilight laughed weakly, “compassion mayn’t be the right word.”

The captain smiled briefly. “I suppose you’re right.” Warriors shook his head slightly. “I see it in how you carry yourself, rancher. It brings you no pleasure to do what’s needed.”

“‘Course not,” Twilight said. “Maybe they ain’t good people, how’m I s’pose t’ know? But they ain’t ask for it neither, ‘n it ain’t fair to ‘em.” Twilight sighed, tousling out his hair. “I dunno, maybe I ain’t got the right to ‘cide things like that, but I just—I know how painful that magic is. I know how scary it is to be lost in it. Who knows how much of ‘em’s even left.”

Warriors eyes fell on Sky. With all his tears, the chosen hero had tucked himself into bed early. Four slept beside him and in Sky’s arms was Wild’s sandseal plush to keep him company throughout the night.

“You sent Sky away to do it then?” the captain asked.

Twilight nodded. “Watchin’ someone die is…” The rancher trailed off, struggling to find the word. “It’s special ,” he decided finally. “Ain’t gone make Sky go through that. Ain’t cruel or nothin’. He fought for what he thought was right, but he didn’t lose so there ain’t no reason to punish him. Not like we had a bet or nothin’.”

“I understand,” Warriors said. The captain smiled slightly, wrenching Twilight’s head affectionately. “Thanks for handling it.”

Twilight swatted the captain away. “Don’t thank me for nothin’. It’s just duty.”

“Well not every man rises to their duty. Besides, you did more than you needed to, knowing you.”

Twilight shrugged.

“You sent Sky away.”

A nod.

“You picked up the Master Sword.”

“Mhm.”

“I presume Sky’s the one who hit you in the face?”

Twilight looked away with a grumble, his ears warming.

“And I’m sure you were as gentle about it as you could be.”

Twilight sighed. “Yeah well, I put down ‘nough animals in my life. Never really gets easy, I just get better at it, I s’pose.”

“So it was quick and painless and fuss free.”

“Yes.”

“And knowing you, you prayed over her too.”

Twilight nodded again.

“So,” Warriors teased, “short of a grave I’d say you carried out a whole funeral—”

“Aw shut your trap,” Twilight drawled, shoving his hand into Warriors’ face. “Nex’ time it’ll be yours. You brush your teeth this mornin’?”

“Oh I don’t know, you tell me.”

The captain let out an exaggerated breath, breathing right into Twilight’s face. Twilight squirmed as if disgusted, shoving the captain away.

“Worse’n when I eat your momma—”

“Well it’s from eating yours—”

Immediately, the two were locked in a wrestling match. Time lifted his head from the letter he penned, peering at the two. He paused, rolled his eyes, and continued a crude doodle in the margin of the pages for Malon to giggle at later.