Chapter Text

Inventory

The first time they camped out, everyone fell into routine. They checked their rations having no time between the end of the battle and the portal arriving to stock up and found it rather lacking. 

“I’ll go hunt,” offered Twilight. Though the era wasn’t his, it being Sky’s and the man truthfully unfamiliar with the surface, Twi would have a better time tracking than the others considering his other form. 

“I have enough of you want? I mean, since everyone’s so tired, might as well use my stock.” 

The others eyed him peculiarly. 

“That thing can store food?”

“Yes?”

“Does it rot?”

“Uh, no actually. It condenses into a particle state and held in place by the same energy that controls the stasis rune.”

“Stasis rune— what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Technology.” Tapping away at the screen, a bundle of bananas materialized.

With it came a flurry of reactions.

“Whoa!” 

“No way, you’ve been holding out on us!”

“That explains why you were running around without even a bag.”

“Dude, Zelda did this earlier with her slate. Doesn’t anyone remember the soup?” 

“Can you carry my stuff? It’s heavy.”

“I thought bananas were code word for Yiga.”

“Hang on,” Hyrule said louder than the rest. “I gave you my last apple for no reason?”

Wild held up the slate’s screen to his face where it read twenty seven apples among his sixty durians, eighty-four rock salts, and a plethora of other ingredients that would keep all nine of them fed for weeks.

Hyrule gripped his chest in mock hurt. “We could have been eating like royals.”

Warrior patted his head in sympathy. Just how much pocket jerky did they have to suffer through? Wild shook his head. “Hey, keep in mind I had to collect it all in the first place. You ever tried picking mushrooms while holding onto a cliff? Didn’t think so.” 

Ignoring how Time kneaded his temples, Wild couldn’t wait to finally put something really good together. If they were going to praise some seasoned fish, then half his recipes would knock their socks off.

He smiled, considering his ingredients as Hyrule went to get firewood and Legend stubbornly searched through his own unorganized bag for something to use as a cutting board (“you have all that food but no way to prep it?” he’d asked just for Wild to reply, “When it’s just you, cutting only one vegetable isn’t a big deal”). Warrior sat stubbornly upset that his fire rod (“ My fire rod,” Legend reminded) was finally out of juice while Four suggested meal options.

Let it be said, they went to bed very full and very happy. 

Ravio

Ravio whistled to himself in his empty shop as he tidied up here and there checking his inventory. He never knew when Mr. Hero would come back and reclaim his house, which when he did everything Ravio had on display would fall into disarray. Something about using his kitchen cabinets for bomb storage really pissed off Link as if he actually lit them.

But business was going good! He found it funny how so many walked in to shout about the prices and relinquish their coin purses if not that day then the next when they realized he was the only vendor with such a variety in all of Hyrule! Ravio was very proud of his booming business, thank you very much. Those that used to egg the hero’s house were now his customers and is exactly why Ravio will explain to Link that he doesn’t need to pay rent. 

And just like every other day, the bell above the door rang and Ravio greeted them with his charming smile that never broke no matter how grueling some of the customers may be. Those were some gnarly scars on the dude’s face. 

But that was a cool thingamabob hanging on his belt with a crafted eye maybe made of some sort of gem? He definitely had some rupees. “Welcome in, sir! Anything in particular you’re looking for today?”

He wandered to admire a display of short daggers but moved on to eye the upper shelves.

“How much for the boomerang?” he asked.

“Ah, this one was said to be made in the depths of Lorule. You know the tales? Past down through the generations. This fine piece stands at one thousand rupees to buy.”

He grimaced terribly as they all do, looking around the rest of the shop to eye the rows of bombs. “And the bombs?”

“Two hundred each.”

“What are with these prices?”

Ravio smiled and backed off just like the little script in his head required him to. “Hey, I know it may seem steep, but these things are hard to come by so far from the city. Even then, they don’t run cheap.” He would explain that they only run for fifty in the city having access to Mr. Hero’s stock meant it would be months before he would have to seek out more wares. 

The scarred man huffed, his agitation plain as day as they always show thinking he’d haggle with them. When Ravio offered to take off only ten rupees, he shook his head. “This is ridiculous.”

“I assure you, this is all I can do to stay in business!” Though his voice was pleasant, the man left for the door he came through, slamming it as he went. Ravio betted it would take until the end of the day for him to come back. It was always like this, but people who needed things certainly lacked the time to run to a larger town and thus would return to his shop. So he continued dusting and checking that his wares were straight. He should also work on a letter to Ms. Zelda since Link never told her where he went. While nothing may be happening right now with Hyrule rather peaceful, it’d be better she be aware then expect Mr. Hero. Plus, he could talk about his shop to her and see if she would sponsor him! Regular deliveries would be amazing!

 He went to the back to find ink when the door’s bell rang for a customer.

They always came crawling back.

He spun on his heels and called, “Welcome in!”

Except it wasn’t the guy again. They were short, probably a kid, with a cloak hiding their face, but their blonde hair stuck out and was rather long. They were barely the height of the dining table Ravio used for transactions and their voice was higher pitched than he expected. “Do you have any bombs?”

“Oh,” he said, leaning on the counter to look over. “And what would a kid like you need a bomb for?”

“Dad says it's . . .  faster than digging up tree trunks.”

Huh, he didn’t think of that. He shrugged. How they used the bombs once they were out of his sight wasn’t his business anyway. Still, Ravio couldn’t ignore the coincidence that a previous customer of the same blonde hair had stormed out over the bomb prices. Must be his son. Two can play at this game.  “How many are you thinking?”

“Umm, four?”

“You sure, kid? Each one cost three hundred rupees—”

“ You asshole!”

Ravio started, backing away from the window where someone stood. Was this a robbery!? 

Oh wait— he squinted at the familiar blonde hair and headband. What was his name? “Five?”

The front door’s bell chimed as the door itself flung open from the captain’s swift kick. Oh, the captain! “Seriously? Raising the price on a child?” 

Oh shit. Now he really backed off with his hands up in surrender as Mr. Hero and his companions entered. “You’re back,” he tried to say.

“Honestly,” Link started, rubbing a hand over his eyes, “I’m not sure if I’m pissed off or proud of you.”

Warrior cuffed the back of his head. “Legend!”

“You’re worse than Beedle,” sighed the kid as he dropped his hood to reveal familiar scars. Ah— Ravio knew what was going on here. 

“Shrinking magic?” He asked, interested. 

“None of your business,” the kid said as he tapped at the familiar thingamabob and the boy became the man from before though his clothes were too small. Maybe he could sell him those stretchy pants.

“Say, how much for the eye stone?” 

The man held the thingamabob close to his chest and hissed. 

Nature Walks

At first it wasn’t obvious. 

Preferring ritual walks to campfire talks, Hyrule often wandered in the excuse to find firewood and berries. It was nice, for who knew nine would be a crowd and himself feel very in the way sometimes. Time never told him no, so he got to escape for an hour or two and come back refreshed.

But Hyrule knew what it was like to be followed and was careful to cover his tracks all the while moving quickly. Even if he had an inkling on who it was that tracked him, this felt a little bit like karma.  

…………………….

Wild followed after Hyrule at a snail's pace curious of where he went, and Hyrule was a patient man. Catching a glimpse of blonde hair, he held still between the branches, waiting as Wild followed his tracks to the trunk of the tree—

And Hyrule wouldn’t forget the ridiculous squeak that came from the kid’s mouth when he jumped down, Wild scrambling like he’d seen a ghost. He had to grab his stomach for how he wheezed. “Not so fun when it’s the other way around, is it?” He smirked. 

Wild brushed his tunic down and huffed. “Not funny!” 

That didn’t stop Hyrule from needing to wipe a tear from his eye. That was enough retribution for the day. Hands on his hips, he asked dryly, “Any reason I got a mini-stalker?”

“Rude.” It was just them and he found that Wild was most honest when it was one-on-one as opposed to everyone together. “It’s just loud back there. Everyone is. They’re just obnoxious and slow.” There was more to it.

“Not your pace?” Hyrule asked to be given a heavy sigh. 

He could understand. When he first started this strange adventure, it unnerved him how casually they trekked with the stealth of stomping lynels and at a drawl as if they owned the forest, meaning their first embark in his era was an utter disaster. Not every encounter with monsters ended well, and that was a sobering moment. 

But that just meant that they stomped like foals instead. So sometimes, Hyrule needed an escape. They were so unlike him and exploratory walks always left him a little calmer, like a potted plant returning to the yard branching roots comfortably. 

And maybe Wild was like him in that matter, just another free spirit that found peace in the forest without societal norms commanding them to fit inside their pot. 

“Hey, I get it. You can help me find the pond Legend said was around here.” 

Wild nodded and followed along like a duckling as Hyrule tried to reassure him. “They can be a bit much, but there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get away for a while.

“Were you alone on your adventure?” Wild asked.

“I was. My land wasn’t the kindest. It still isn’t, but to be honest, I like the quiet.” How strange to miss solitude when so much good came out of this adventure. He hadn’t realized until entering the first portal how thick like smoke his air was or that polluted rivers weren’t normal. His clothes were bought new and didn’t have any tears, and Warrior saw soldiers not as all-seeing hawks waiting for him to slip up but comrades and friends. Aches were something only in his era, and he hoped none of them would ever have to deal with enemies that disguised their intentions as poor travelers. Oh how naive he was. 

And yet despite the good brought into his life, it could still be too much. 

So he poked the bear. “What’s really bothering you?”

For a second, Wild seemed like he prepped to lie just to huff and cross his arms.  “People are annoying. They never stop talking and wanting things.”

“Twi does start to nag after a while,” he agreed.

“And Wind’s told the same story three times now.”

“Yep.”

“And did you see how Warrior blocked that tektite thing? I had it handled! And then he goes on and on about battle tactics and training and asking why I don't got the basics, and he doesn’t stop ‘til you kick him!”

“They care. They all just show it in annoying ways,” offered Hyrule. He didn’t ruffle the kid’s hair or nag back on the fact that only Wild thought barreling into his enemies by riding a shield like a sled was a good idea. If there was anyone who understood how much infantilizing someone in the midst of explaining a genuine frustration, it was him. After all, before Wild, naivety was his middle name. Being ignorant of much of developed society and education did that to you. Having someone else receive lectures of proper form and strategy was nice for a change.

“So yah,” Wild continued. “I wanted out.”

Humming, Hyrule took notice that the boy as always had his slate on him and wondered if he had fishing poles. “You like fishing?”

Wild did not, in fact, own fishing rods, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one of the funnest afternoons in his life using other means.

Let it be known the two returned with the slate freshly stocked on fish with Wild’s hair still wet and Hyrule in one of kid’s adult sized tunics. They were giddy the entire way back. 

And to the surprise of the duo, they found the camp in battle position wondering if they knew the source of all those explosions. 

Neither uttered a word. 

Night Watch

While he deemed himself capable enough for a simple watch, Warrior suggested he be partnered with someone to show him the ropes as if checking the perimeter hourly and stoking the fire were difficult. In truth, long nights or waking at odd hours was not new to him. It reminded him of his early days when teleportation was wasteful for his progress considering the few shrines he’d connected to the strange web of energy and “waves,” Robbie called them, that made his slate provide him with a map. Outside of his era, the map stated there to be no signal and nothing more. 

And Time figured kids liked to stay up anyway, huh? So the first watch was him and the other short blonde and blue tunic-wearing kid that had villagers assuming them to be brothers. Wind had coughed in his hand at an old granny’s dottled remarks while Warrior thought it funny to drag them around to show off his “little bros” until kneecaps were sacrificed. At least Wild got free candy out of it. 

Even so, Wind and him hadn’t really talked, and maybe everyone else noticed that Wind preferred to be up front with Time and Wild trailing with Twilight making sure he didn’t get distracted and wander off to take pictures. Maybe they noticed they didn’t sit together around the campfire for meals and chose to put their bedrolls separately. He didn’t have a problem with him, but obviously a tension spanned between them. He figured it had to do with what Wind said to him after they met back up after defeating the dark lizard that escaped. He wondered if Wind blamed him for all the tools at his disposal he let that thing escape. 

So as the others settled in for the night, the first hour was quiet as they waited for everyone to fall asleep. Wild took the time to check inventory now that there were more mouths to feed and his abundance of rations now taking serious dents. That, and Warrior was mocking his excuse for an arsenal. Just because he didn’t want to waste a great frostblade and chose something more rusty, didn’t mean it couldn’t do its job for the time being. It was some time in his reorganizing and lost in his work that Wind’s voice startled him.

“We’re good.”

Wild paused his work to look at his comrade seated on the same downed log but on the far side of it.

“I just want you to know we’re good.”

Could have fooled him, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud. “Good. . . Did I do something?”

The kid waved his hands as if panicked at the assumption. “No, I mean, I just read the room wrong, but we’re good.”

Odd. “Good,” Wild decided on. “Sorry, umm, if I’m not great conversation.” He held up the slate to show his distraction.

“Right.”

Quietness took their clearing, the snap of the fire and soft snores just white noise at this point. He decided to test the waters with a questioning he’d been meaning to ask. “No one’s really saying, but I was wondering: what happened? When we were separated?”

“Oh, that was interesting,” he started just to pause and speak much lighter. “Legend wouldn’t talk much and you had Twilight knocking on that shrine waiting for you to come out of it just for you to be gone. Then we split and find ourselves on the battlefield with Zelda. We need to figure out a nickname for her, too, yknow.

“So is Legend the reason things wouldn’t be good between us?” he asked quizzically. The look Wind gave back was of stuttered surprise but not an answer. Obviously, Wild wasn’t believing this narrative. There was more for Wind to snap at him and for the strange air between them. Now was a matter of waiting for the next shoe to drop. “Wind, what’s going on?”

At least he looked cowed until he turned away, maybe trying to come up with something but deciding to slump in defeat. Caught. “Yah, I guess it has been a little odd around here. I got angry.”

At him, Wild wondered just for Wind to answer it.

“I got angry. Everyone made you feel like you didn’t belong— like you weren’t capable, and Legend pushed you over the edge having you hide in that shrine just to really run the second no one was looking. I snapped at him.”

He leaned forward to rest his head on his hands, he looked bored at the fire, poking it and refusing to make eye contact. “Then you came back and you looked like everyone else— acted like everyone else  like you knew the right thing and didn’t need help but everyone needed your help. I thought you played me— just another adult who thought he was better than everyone else.”

Wind was just a year or two older than him, but Wild wasn’t blind to the way the others nagged about tidiness and piped jokes at the questions he asked. And the more he thought the more he wondered if he’d ever seen Wind go off on his own without supervision. No one questioned when Hyrule wanted to take a walk or when Twilight scouted ahead. But Wild knew he was only allowed to wander off because he was following Hyrule and Wind always collected wood with Sky. So that was it. Babied. Considered vulnerable. He wondered if his other form messed with everyone’s perspective of him, considering how as he aged his baby fat left him and his jaw squared. 

But Wind didn’t have that. He had himself, the tools he carried and his own wits that sometimes made not just their enemies underestimate him. 

Sighing, Wind dropped the rest of the smoldering stick. “I’m wrong; I can admit that. You’re actually pretty cool and self-aware. It just took a while for me to realize.” It was more honest than Wild expected. He pondered if he should apologize back for the trouble he caused when Wind cut in with his own question. “So did Twilight and Wolfie drag you back kicking and screaming?”

A safer avenue, he realized. Wild could take a hint. “Actually, no. I went to Kakariko Village to find Impa. Everyone there knows I can change my age. She’s actually the one who sent me to Purah to get the age rune in the first place, so I tried to give her everything back.”

“Warrior has a captain named that. Are Impas stubborn, too?” He realized Wind didn’t linger on the fact he tried to denounce his title. After all, he knew the outcome. 

 “Yep. Didn’t hear a thing I said and had some sense knocked into me.” He didn’t mention Dorian— not because of lack of importance, but because that moment was . . . intense. And Dorian was a father in all but blood. Wild had experienced an entire world shift, his perspective changed for the better. “Turns out I don’t gotta be Hylia’s hero— just to the people who matter to me.”

“Am I on the list?”

Wild gave him a dumb look. “Duh.” They softly huft, too tired to laugh. He liked this side of Wind that could set aside worries and focus on the now. “But, really, I’m done trying to be something I’m not. I think . . . I think I want to be me more—” He pointed to himself “—this me even after I get the slate fixed. I’m done pretending to be something I’m not.” He paused, hoping he could word this right. “Pretending to grow up just made me . . . Distant. Anxious. Not sure how to walk in my shoes.” Zelda was patient with him at least, but he knew it hurt her to watch him hide behind the facade every time he entered town. “I don’t know, I just don’t want to feel like that again.”

Not instantly replying, Wild feared his anger, but Wind only hummed. “I think I get it. Four gets like that sometimes. Did you know he’d never even heard of the master sword before? Had him wondering if he was the right person or if there’d been a mistake.” He looked out at the expanse of trees. “I guess we all have our doubts sometimes.” Wild took note of that. 

Satisfied with his answer and getting antsy in his seat, he stood and smiled at Wind’s quizzical look. “Alright, tell me. You gave Legend a tongue-lashing right? What’d you say?”

He snorted. “Wasn’t that great of a speech.”

“I would have made fun of his scraped knees. You’d think by now he’d learn to wear some pants.”

“You don’t even know that half of it! One time he—. . . “ stories flitted from mild gossip to retelling of harrowing last second escapes from dungeon puzzles and ambushes. Then it was him and Wind walking the perimeter with one recalling a glimpse of Time undignifying picking his nose while on watch and Legend calling the wind waker a back scratcher that had Wild debating multi-tool use like the time he used the magnesis rune to scare a couple of traveler’s away from the “demon possessed” cooking pot so he could use it in peace. And by the end of their shift, they were barely containing their laughter, Time only sitting up after a particular comment on Warrior’s beauty routine sending Wild over the edge because who would think mashing nightshade into a paste to apply to your face was the best way to add color to your cheeks? And yah, he was still trying not to laugh as Wind moved his bed roll over to his and the late hour had him tiredly giggly.

He was out quickly, he remembered, and feeling much lighter, too. 

Malon

Hyrule had him gasping between his laughs as they passed through the next portal to distract him. They made him nervous to pass through as if he’d walk into an abyss or lynel den, but so far the two switches he’d experienced had gone well. 

They were the second pair to step through and Warrior cheered ahead. “Finally!” 

 He meant to ask if he recognized this place as his era just for Wind to shout, “finally, real beds, again!” 

“And good food! Ah, not that your meals aren’t great, Wild.” 

He’d have to test that. “Are we staying in the barracks?” He asked. The captain said he still technically served in the army even if he was on this adventure. 

When everyone gave him a strange look and went to respond, they paused at Time’s short gasp behind Wild. The kid turned and the man was full on grinning and it bled into his voice. “It’s good to be back here. Come along, we shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“Who?” Wild was asking as Time took the lead of the group.

“It’s Time’s era,” explained Twilight. “We’re not far from his home.”

“So her is—” he started, remembering the tidbits of conversation over campfires and long treks “—oh, his wife!”

“Malon. I think she’s going to like you.” 

“Is she anything like him?”

Twi mockingly pinched his fingers over his lips and across as if zipping them shut and didn’t break no matter how Wild huffed and pouted. It surprised him to hear Time was married, if he was being honest. Strangely, Wild saw everyone in a sort of snapshot or maybe a box, like what stood before him was the only truth. To learn Four had his own booming business and Sky had a Hyrule to build all the while Time had someone waiting for him to come home was jarring and image breaking. Suddenly they were more man than hero with normal lives to live and perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. They were living.

Once entering a clearing, Wind ran past the group, patting Time’s arm as he passed. “Race ya!” Ahead was a small house. 

The others only had to share a glance before the old man and the others bolted, Hyrule laughing and Legend threatening to trip people that tried to pass him. Wild followed at a jog but their giddiness was contagious. He spotted a barn off to the side and fences stretching across the landscape. Two horses watched them as they passed. 

Before they reached halfway to a small farmhouse, the front door opened, and Wild started to slow as a woman with fiery red hair bound down the steps to meet them. That must be Malon, and Time only slowed to lift her in a spin and hug her close. 

She already moved on to side hugs and holding others’ hands in endearment, giggling lovingly when Warrior tried to kiss the back of her hand like some noble knight despite Time’s stern look. Her voice was melodic and not so different to the people of Hateno’s twang. “My, my, Wind, did you have a growth spurt? I swear you were just here last time I saw you.” 

The kid perked up just as Legend leaned his arm on Wind’s head. “Look at him. He’ll catch up one day,” he said, going to pinch Wind’s cheek who slapped his wrist. 

“And you are?” she asked a little softer than how she spoke with the others, and maybe that was because Wild realized he was partially hiding behind Sky. The man scooted to the side and Wild wasn’t sure if he should shake her hand or hug her, so he settled on a hesitant wave.

 “Uh, hi.” 

Warrior patted Wild on the back. “Little chef has been keeping us from starving in your stead.” 

She leaned a little on her knees like how most grownups do with him. This would usually annoy him, but this was Time’s wife and she wasn’t using a baby voice at least. “That’s very kind of you! These poor things don’t know the difference between water and cooking oil.”

“My tunic was never the same,” sighed Twilight. 

Warriors groaned. “For the last time, I didn't know it was oil!”

“It was in a bottle labeled oil!”

Wild looked at the two bickering and eyed Malon. She mumbled to him, “caught a spark on the end of his clothes. Whole thing went up in flames. Now come on, I’ll start some tea before sending you out.”

“Out?”

“You’re in time to bring the horses and goats back towards the house. Don’t dottle now!” She set a hand against Wild’s back to nudge him forward as her other hand clasped Time’s, the three walking in tandem. Compliments and miss-you’s were traded with soft jabs between, and the others followed suit excitedly talking about dinner. “I don’t think I heard your nickname yet, little one. What do you go by?”

“Wild. It’s Wild.”

“Happy to have you Wild!”

It’s a flurry of activity as they enter the home, some pushing past each other to drop their bags or hang scarves, Twilight taking the stairs to where Wild assumed would be bedrooms with Time’s bag in his hands. The older man quickly shed his armor, people scattering, and Wild stood unsure with his cloak still tied around his neck. 

Malon tapped his shoulder. “Here, let’s put your things here.” She pointed to an empty coat hook, taking his cloak the moment he untied it. “Now, now, everyone, you must all be exhausted. Make yourself at home. Wild, the dining table is this way.” She didn’t nudge him this time but led him towards where Warrior and Hyrule already sat around a long dining table that could be seen from the kitchen. They almost lounged in their seats, and it was strange to see them without their swords nearby chatting with pastries in hand, a plate between them. 

Time’s stern voice rang over him. “Did you even ask first?” 

“Yep!” Malon chirped. Time frowned at her, questioning, and Wild nodded along even if it wasn’t true. 

“Thin ice, boys. Thin ice.” When he turned, Malon offered a wink and the captain barely held back a laugh. Still trying to get a grasp at the fast pace, Wild looked up at Malon. 

“Are they still free game?” he asked. 

“Absolutely. Make yourself at home! Tea, everyone?” Malon already whisked away to the kitchen, leaving Wild to take a seat with ‘Rulie and select a pastry with some sort of jelly in the center. 

Trying to settle in, he leaned back in his chair. Eyeing his fellow compatriots, he noted, “I thought you two had manners.”

“Malon doesn’t mind,” Warrior said, “She encourages it, actually, if it gets a rise out of Time.” 

Hyrule smirked with his arm hooked behind the chair’s backrest. “She has a devilish streak to her.” It surprised him to see the traveler so at ease, being one of the more jumpy and nervous of all of them.

It's just so. . . domestic. Little nick nacks peppered the home, a fireplace lit that they had passed to the kitchen. It smelled with the hint of burned sugar, likely from the pastries. Simple. Like the only worry is if the cows were milked that morning or if they'd run out of soap. It's like this farm had a bubble around it, or maybe this whole era considering everyone’s relaxed state the moment they stepped into it. Did Time fix everything? Was there peace and no more wars or petty fights between the nations? Was there order and peace, and happy little towns unknowing of a history where once upon a time many people were hurt?

It drove the disconnect between him and the others harder than usual. Malon carried on with her day like monsters hadn't been an issue in years.

"Should we do a perimeter check?"

Shaking his head, Warrior spoke. "There's no monsters out here. The only time we've had to deal with any is when we go deep into the woods, and I mean deep. Like caverns, more than anything. We're safe here— don't worry about it."

Nothing to worry about. Untouched by pain. What would that be like to have lived?

He took his first bite and came to realize just why everyone got so excited to arrive in this era. Flakey and still moist, they must have been made this morning, and the jelly was flavorful. 

Warrior smirked. “Oh, I know that look. If you ask nicely, she’ll give you the recipe.”

“Are Malon and Wild teaming up?” asked Twi followed by the others. 

Giddy, Sky clapped his hands. “My mouth’s already watering.”

“Tea’s ready!” called Malon, entering once more with a tray and mugs filled to the brim. Time took the offered try to divvy up the teacups to grabby hands. “Now, what’s this about teaming up?”

“Two master chefs, what crimes will they commit,” joked Four. 

Malon grinned. “I believe someone is on cucco duty.”

Eyes widening, Four raised his hands in surrender while Sky sighed disappointingly. “Sorry ma’am, won’t happen again, ma’am.”

Satisfied, she turned back to Wild. “I’ll tell you over making dinner. You’re a little chef, you said? You can help me prep dinner while the others put their back into some chores.”

Not one to miss an opportunity to not do boring work, he nodded. “Sure, tell me where you want me.” 

He heard a grumble of “no fair” and “I’m too old for this” and more groans of displeasure as Malon waved her hand to shoo them off. Wild waved, watching as they set their cups of half-finished tea. Time gave his wife a farewell kiss the Wild shaded his eyes from, and Wind tried to guess what they were having for dinner.”

“Bye, boys! Supper’ll be just over an hour! Now,” she said with the house’s door finally shut and closing off the other’s annoyed grumbles, “I’m thinking of something with pasta with lots of vegetables and maybe chicken. I think everyone would like that.”

“Four’s allergic to nuts, by the way,” Wild added.

“I’m aware — did you have to learn the hard way too? Wash your hands, hun.”

That was an experience he never wanted to repeat. He nodded. “It wasn’t pretty.”

“He seems okay now, and that’s all that matters. I’ll have you start cutting the veggies after I wash them. Did I hear you wanted a recipe?”

“Your pastries. What’d you use for the jelly?”

“Mix of raspberries and strawberries. It’s all about getting it stirred as smoothly as possible. I have it written down somewhere, . . .” She spoke and he listened. She recommended trying peaches, and when he said he had none offered him a preserved jar then went on about how the boys can’t cure anything right, which Wild agreed. Their attempts at dried meat tasted awful.

It’s peaceful here. Through the window above the sink, he spotted Twilight and Warrior leading horses to a barn, the others certainly around the farm completing other even chores at a snail’s pace until dinner’s aroma catches their attention. 

She was funny. She snorted in her laughter and said Time used to be so nervous around her like she would bite him. “I don’t blame him. I was a bit everywhere as a kid, but he loved me for me and I loved him. I’m lucky to have him. But what about you? How are things? Are you staying warm, because I think Link may have some of our old things put away in the attic. I noticed a hole in your cloak, but I can patch it tonight if that’s alright for you. I don’t know when you will all leave, so the quicker the better!” 

He wondered, in a life long forgotten, if such a scene of a doting husband and a charming wife were something his parents were like. He wondered if they were ever this happy in a little cottage away from town with linens drying by the front porch and the scent of a meaty stew wafting through the house’s open windows. Did she hum as she cut the vegetables and laugh when his father snuck up behind her for a kiss coming home after finishing his chores? 

Did he change that?

And maybe it was hard to look at her and how she smiled, like a bittersweet thought on the tip of his tongue or a pen inked and dripping onto the page with the first words fleeting. There should be something there but the memory laid just out of reach. 

“My husband might as well torch the house before I leave him alone in the kitchen. He tries, but the last time he tried to cook, the pots were so burned— . . . Wild? Wild, sweety, why are you crying?”

Wild blinked, rubbing his cheeks with his sleeve that came back damp just as Malon knelt in front of him to gently hold his face. Her hands were caoulessed but careful when his breath hitched, shoulders flinching, throat sharp, and he didn’t know why he was crying or why Malon wasn’t annoyed, because they stood there in the kitchen with a meal only half-cooked soothing him like a doting—

—a doting mother whose face he couldn’t remember.

She embraced him, and he pressed his face into her shoulder not daring to move. “Sorry, I don’t know what got a hold of me.”

“Don’t be. It’s alright.”

Minutes passed. 

Malon pulled back but kept her hands on his shoulders to study him. “You have the same look Link used to have. Come back to earth.”

He wiped his snotty nose, an apology on his lips she quickly hushed.

“It’s okay, sometimes it’s hard not to get lost in your head.” She looked so familiar and not, with freckles across her nose and eyes too honest. He was feeling really dumb. “I’m guessing you haven’t had this in a long time: . . . safety? Normalcy?”

Was that it? Nostalgia or realizing what he’d been missing? That there were kids with moms and dads who made your favorite meals and took you out on chores? He didn’t remember much of his father except the glint of his armor, the sound of his steps when he walked across the castle’s corridors — fleeting memories. And his mom? Blank. Did she have freckles? 

“Honey, look at me.” Lost in thought again, he tried to focus on her and her words. “I think we all have our experiences, and many are good and bad, and they’re all important because at the end of the day, they are what make you you.” He didn’t even remember what those experiences were. “I won’t dare assume I know what you’ve been through, but let it be said that you’re surrounded by people who aren’t strangers to a god’s hand. You’re younger than he was, I can’t even imagine.”

How much had Time told her?

“I hope that you feel safe with them. I know every single one of them out there would do everything they could to get you home and make sure you can keep smiling. It’s not easy. There are going to be many, many bad days, and sometimes you’re going to feel like it’s too much. But I want you to know we’re all rooting for you, okay?” 

Wild believed it was time to let some things go.

Dinner went off without a hitch, and Wild had wiped his eyes dry before anyone had come in. None acted wiser except Time’s odd looks to his wife, their hands held where they sat together, and she squeezed back every time he eyed her. 

Wild habits

Wild was an enigma — and yes, Wild was his name and how fitting— because the kid was his own pandora’s box of wild cards. 

Learning that Wild had essentially unlimited bombs (“Don’t forget the recharge!”) was a god send for roaming around dungeons (“You’re going to bring the ceiling down on us!”; “Details, details.”). Then there was that time he literally froze time on a boulder just to ride it over a cavern which was always funny and he knew Four had him scheming something with magnesis. Oh, his age made him great for reconnaissance. When the people of Saria town quickly went quiet at the sight of the nine of them, Wild easily pretended to be a drifter in his aged form, a second chance to get information. 

But some things bothered him. 

And he didn’t mean the fact Wild could pick out a thief or bandit from a crowd with just one look or that he took meticulous notes on the kinds of trees and frogs he spotted. Those were just perks. They had a minnie scholar on their hands on behalf of Zelda. 

Most days it was just like looking at Hyrule, where it was easy to brush away a lack of knowledge as having little exposure because of living different lives outside of any villages or cities. Other times, it was hard to come up with excuses. He eyed passing travelers like they pissed in his breakfast.

He figured that like many of them, Wild didn’t have much of a childhood, but that didn’t explain the complete blank of discussion of anything before the calamity.  

For a military brat, he stared oddly confused at those training in Warriors’ era. He asked how ranks worked and shrugged when asked about his own. “Just bearer of the sword or something.”

“What does that mean? Like you could do whatever you wanted?”

Another shrug. Legend picked up then. “Doesn’t matter rank— all soldiers are pushovers.”

Warriors scoffed. “Says the guy who lost our last spar.”

“You used Wind as a hostage.”

“All is fair in love and war.”

“Didn’t know you were a bard on the battlefield.” Wild listened on silently as the two bickered.

That was just one oddity.

When in Four’s era buying supplies of all sorts, Wild asked about its layout and accessibility to the castle itself.

“It might be an open market,” Four explained, “but guards are stationed to avoid any unwanted guests reaching the castle. Was yours like that?”

“Dunno. I know there used to be one, a Castle Town. I was just wondering.” As if it were gone before he was born? Was only the castle still standing when he pulled the sword? Legend didn’t know the answer as Wild continued. “It’s weird to imagine Zelda being on the throne, too, not that I remember the king.” 

Wind wrapped an arm around the younger’s shoulers. “It’s okay, the king of Hyrule turned into a boat for me— don’t look at me like that, I’m serious!” 

Other times, it was like he blanked— not in the sense when Legend looked at the sea in mild panic, but more like . . . maybe so lost in thought that nothing existed beyond whatever memory had its grasp on him.

The first time it happened, Wild stared up at the large statue of Hylia in Sky’s era, where her stone towered on Skyloft as the sun began to set. Sky tried to lead them away to a sleeping quarters. 

Warrior had tried to catch his attention as the group headed down the steps. “C’mon, Wild, let’s go.”

And Four had paused, unsure. “Wild?”

The boy stared up at that statue despite demand for his attention. “Kid, come on,” Legend started, the rest of the group waiting at the bottom of the steps. “You can ogle at it later. Kid?”

Four waved a hand over the kid’s eyes as Legend and Warrior went to join. “He’s not responding. He’s not even reacting.” 

Poking his shoulder, Legend found no reaction. Wild only looked on dully at the statue, unseeing— or maybe seeing something more.

“Everyone, you can go on ahead. I’ll sit with him.” That was Time returning to stand next to the catatonic kid. 

“Is he okay,” asked Four.

“He will be. Go on. We’ll catch up.”

Crossing his arms, the veteran questioned, “And what exactly is this?”

“I’ll let you know when I find out. Go.” It wasn’t demanding nor a plea, just soft and mildly defeated. Perhaps even Time didn’t really know what to do. And so despite how Wild’s blank stare made his chest feel funny and thoughts wander to terrible reasons for such a blank state, Legend gave Four and Warrior a push towards the others. If anyone could coax him out of a bad spot, it would be Time.

And when they returned to the sleeping quarters, Wild remained quiet and Time tight-lipped.

“Just keep an eye on him if he does it again. Don’t leave him alone.” He’d said it in a whisper to the eldest of them while Four helped their subject of topic put away caught butterflies in his Sheikah slate. 

More oddities.

Weary of who cooked meals when it was made out of sight by strangers. Cautious of all travelers on the road. Looked at bodies of water like a death trap. And yet, Legend knew his curiosity would bite him in the ass even if the rest of the team were as interested as him. 

It was painting an unfriendly childhood, if he had one at all. 

 Maybe it was a lack of consideration on their part and topics that don’t have good stories for all of them, but they received their answers soon enough during a chat around the fire.

“My grandma is the sweetest! I don’t remember much of my parents, but grandma was always there for me and Aryll even when I almost fell off the cliffside. I’d never seen her move so fast.”

“I was raised by Russel and Tio. They were always good to me even if I was a brat in the beginning. They had to coax me out of a tree so often that they eventually put in the work to make it a real home for me.”

“It’s definitely my fault for grandpa’s bruised toes and some burns. I liked to play in the forge and tripped right where I shouldn’t or he tripped on me not seeing me until it was too late. Can’t say I ever got hurt from it.”

Wild sat silently to listen. 

Legend considered when eyes turned to him and their topic of growing up before the sword. It seemed so long ago, really. “I had my uncle,” he admitted. “He was a good man.” Leaving it at that, the others offered nods in understanding.

“I’m actually not from Hyrule. I grew up in a neighboring kingdom called Calatia,” explained Hyrule. “I remember when I made enough in allowance, there was this old woman who lived in the middle of town who had this mean grin and little dog that would snap at your ankles when you walked past. I, uhm, a neighbor kid and I put a little bomb in the doghouse when we had it distracted.”

“Hyrule!” scolded Twi.

“It didn’t get hurt! And our ankles were saved!”

As the two squabbled, Legend decided now was the time to ask. “What about you kid? Were you always a little shit?”

Glaring, Wild scoffed. “Haha, very funny. Dunno.”

“Really?” Asked Warrior. “I was in the military young, too. There was this old captain that took me under his wing. He actually had this scarf made for me. Should’ve seen his face every time I came back with a tear in it. ”

“Anything like that?” Legend asked.

“Dad was a guard?”

“Anything else? Ever skip training?”

“. . . Don’t know.”

Twilight, seemingly happy with his scolding, returned to the conversation to say, “I highly doubt the kid that says lynel hunting is fun doesn’t have a story or two.” 

“Well, Zelda and I would go to each of the ancient springs to see if it would waken her power. She tried to make me eat a frog.” 

“Gross,” Wind commented so helpfully.

“But you already had the sword, right” Warrior questioned. “I’m talking pre-adventure, pre-sword— when we didn’t know anything.”

“Dunno,” Wild stated.

“You saying you once weren’t a snot-nosed brat,” Legend tried to joke, and a truth just out of reach. Legend was starting to wonder if the kingdom and its knights were as horrible as he was thinking. To make a kid that small join the royal guard— and instant growth like he had now with that slate. How many hours did they make him work with a sword before he could even hold it properly without exhaustion? 

“Don’t remember,” Wild replied.

A push. Legend pushed because that’s how you get answers. “C’mon. What’s the real reason you don’t wanna tell us?”

Wild inhaled deeply. “Memory loss.”

A silence swept over them, any side conversation pausing. Oh. And some were connecting dots and reconsidering conversations or lack thereof. A blank. There existed a blank in many things about Wild they hadn’t realized considering how young he was, like never mentioning a family of any sorts beyond Zelda and the Sheikah scientist, or not knowing much about the military when he supposedly had been a part of it before it all fell. He should know more about Castletown and what the king was like. Answers that should have fell easily from his tongue were never there to begin with, or rather had been until his memory began to fail him.

Four’s breath hitched. “From your first battle?”

None dared to ask their own question, watching unsure of Wild's reaction, who only nodded with his fingers gripping the end of his tunic. “Yah. I guess the damage was pretty bad. . . I woke up not even knowing my name.” Hesitant, Wild didn’t make eye contact. “I, uh, it hasn’t been an issue, has it?”

Time spoke for the first time. “It’s not a problem, Wild. And you don’t have to explain anything you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay. It’s not as bad as it used to be, and I started remembering some things, too, like Zelda.” He shivered. “And the frogs.”

Like a spell lifted, Wind snorted. “Of all the things to remember,” he barked out, laughing, and when Wild joined, the others found mirth in the oddity of it all.

“Okay, but really, it’s fine, guys. It’s just been my normal, so. I know it’s weird.”

“Not weird,” Sky commented, “just different. Is that why you were distracted in my era? In front of Hylia?”

“Oh, yah. Sometimes—” He paused looking at Time, who nodded encouragingly. “I mean, since I’m still trying to remember things, something can trigger it. Sorry for freaking you out.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said with a smile, and Wild offered on back.

But that explained some things: missing information, some odd quirks or decisions. Legend grimaced, a question rolling in his head he had to ask. “Has it ever happened in battle?” 

That had everyone hesitant once more.

Wild didn’t immediately answer, instead staring back, maybe testing his answer in his head. “Not like that. No.”

“You froze in front of that guardian.”

“Because they weren’t supposed to be moving anymore.” He spoke rushed, voice rising. “They were supposed to be all shut down. And I died in that clearing the first time.”

His heart lurched, a chill striking him and goosebumps raising on his skin. They walked through his grave. None of them had put the pieces together even out of what Zelda told them. They hadn’t considered it.

“Is that what you wanted to hear,” Wild challenged.

“No,” he said, and Legend meant it. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Though he didn’t respond, Wild deflated, his defense dropping. 

Sometimes when Legend stared at the man who always had a plethora of insane battle strategies, it was easy to forget the boy he was. What he saw was someone very lonely and for a multitude of reasons. 

It was then Twilight scooted closer to Wild and careful wrapped an arm around him, squeezing his shoulder. “Sorry,” he said simply.

Wild didn’t cry, but his voice cracked. “For what?”

“That you had to go through that. That you don’t remember other things. I wish I could help.” 

Sitting quietly, Wild sighed, leaning into Twi. “I don’t like pity parties.”

“This isn’t pity, kid. And you’re allowed to be upset about it.”

“It’s just my normal though.”

“Doesn’t mean that it doesn’t suck,” Time stated. None commented on his word choice. “I wouldn’t wish for such a fate on anyone.” 

Sighing again, a little more broken, Wild didn’t move from his place against Time, and the others in some minutes returned to quieter discussions, many ready to turn in for the night. Legend’s own mind replayed all the little interactions in their journey so far with Wild, even back to the day they met him, and really, Legend wondered how much of Wild’s experience, or lack thereof, warped his perception.

It seemed every day a new layer was peeled back, a story unfolding, much longer than he ever realized.

Something Scrapped

Like genuinely scrapped. There was gonna be a long segment about how Wild switching back and forth on his ages has some temporary effects, maybe a bit of a mood swing considering going going through different stages of brain development

“It’s hard to explain. Like Purah says your brain doesn’t stop developing until you're twenty-five, right? And I’m going back and forth between developed states, I guess, and the time in the shrine. . .  so sometimes I’m just. . . I’m different? I know I’m smarter when I’m older, and it’s hard to turn back, like everything is too much until I readjust, sometimes.” He shrugged. “Something like that. 

But that explained some things. Sometimes Wild’s emotions didn’t match, just like how Wind missed home and Hyrule needed a break from socializing. It was a quirk that a little patience and understanding couldn’t handle.