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adrift-in-thyme · 4 months

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Febuwhump Day 12: Semiconscious (Warriors & Time)

Ao3

CW for poisoning, vomiting, blood and injury, and a near death experience

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He stopped seeing clearly long ago.

His surroundings are no longer distinctive shapes. No, they are mere colors now, smeared and edged in the glare of lantern light. It is as though someone poured oil out on the street and left it to be trampled.

Warriors stumbles over something substantial and nonexistent. Another wheezing breath tears out of his lungs. Everything tips sideways and he goes with it, tripping over his own feet. He collides with a lamp post, frightens a blurred figure, garners murmurs of “inebriated” and “not right in the mind.”

He doesn’t care. Not much is bothersome, he’s quickly realizing, when you can’t breathe.

Wildly, he glances around. The buildings lean right, then left, their glowing windows seeming to leer at him. The inn…he has to find it. That is where his brothers await, that is where he can get help.

Warriors gulps in air and gains nothing from it. The ground tilts. He goes down, bile rising in his throat. He has already vomited up everything his stomach contained. But his body is desperate, desperate to rid itself of whatever is killing him.

So, it tries again.

He comes up feeling no less dizzy, no less sick. If anything, it is worse now. When he shoves to his feet, his vision goes abruptly dark. For a moment, he is certain that this is it. This is when he collapses, surrendering to the bitter embrace of oblivion. But then it screams back into a mirage of shifting shapes and nauseating shades of vibrancy.

“Captain?”

Warriors blinks rapidly. Someone is standing before him – a woman he thinks. The visible edges of her expression convey worry.

“Are you well?”

He grins and it feels wrong. Lopsided, clumsy, sharp…a grimace more than anything else.

“Not to worry. ‘M fine.”

“Oh.” She frowns now. Or at least, he thinks that she does. Drunk, her silence screams. Irresponsible. “O-oh alright, then. Goodnight to you.”

It’s good a thing, his mind assures him, as Warriors gazes dazedly at her retreating form.

It’s a good thing that they think you’ve drank too much. Better than them knowing. Safer.

…yeah. Safer.

He is certain he’s going to be sick again. His lungs rise and fall, and nothing comes of their efforts. The ground churns like the sea in Wind’s Hyrule. If only it were warm here like it is on that beautiful beach. But no. Here it is icy cold.

He shivers, stops the failure of his equilibrium with a nearby wall.

Just find them. Find…find your brothers.

Darkness tinges his vision again, spreading like an ink blot on cloth. It grows from left to right, and he lists sideways, drifting towards it. Something catches his boot on the way over. He stumbles, fails to catch himself, crashes down in a tangle of long limbs and thick fabric.

“Oh, look what we’ve got here!”

Giant forms move in the borders of his waning sight. Warriors stares up at them, icy heat prickling the back of his neck and head. Everything smells and tastes of iron. Everything hurts.

“It’s the princess’s favorite little errand boy!”

Something flat and harsh connects with his cheek. Warriors’ head snaps sideways. He chokes, coughing blood onto the pavement.

Get up! His instincts screech. Get up and fight!

He ignores them. It’s so easy to do that now. They are usually so loud, so boisterous and unignorable, hardened and loudened by years of experience.

It’s nice to silence them for once.

“He don’t look so good. Looks like somebody already got a hit on ‘im.”

“Poison?”

“Seems like it. He reeks of something rancid and it ain’t whiskey. His breathin’ ain’t right either.”

“Well, then.”

A hand fists in his collar. The next thing he knows, the ground is falling out from beneath him. He hovers somewhere above it, gazing obliviously at the space before him. Something is there – or maybe someone – but he can’t make out their features.

“He’s all lonesome out here. Might as well finish what they started. It’ll be easy.”

He should be afraid. He’s not.

Warriors feels nothing now except pain. Well, pain and the curious sensation of drowning. Strange, he doesn’t remember seeing water anywhere around here. But maybe he’s simply floating in it, unknowing, unseeing. That would certainly explain how cold he is.

His body slams back into the ground, and what little wheezing breaths he had managed to garner abruptly flee. Dull panic slices through the haze for a split second – just long enough for him to grab a wisp of air. Then, it’s back, a fog as thick as the stuff hovering over Time’s Lost Woods.

Unavigatable. Unbeatable.

For once, he can’t win this battle. For once, he has an excuse to succumb.

And he’s not one for giving in – his stubbornness is practically unmatched – but throwing in the proverbial towel now…fills him with relief.

“Go on boys! Gut him!”

The words reach his ears, but he hardly hears them. And he certainly doesn’t comprehend. Everything is so very far away…

It’s odd how without oxygen the world grows soft.

His head flops sideways. Lazily, he blinks into the indistinct expanse of Castle Town. The colors run together more than ever now. He can hardly tell them apart anymore.

Its beautiful, he thinks, with a loopy smile. Like Arty.

The soft shink of deadly metal surrounds him. Pain streaks through his abdomen. He coughs. Blood spills down his chin and drapes his tunic in crimson. It is wonderfully warm.

Again, metal strikes. More blood, more warmth. More pain.

His eyes flutter. There is not much to see now. But darkness is beginning to be replaced with dazzling light.

It is as beautiful as Castle Town…maybe even more. It beckons him, envelops him like a hug.

Come, it whispers, in the voice of his mother, come to me, dear child. Rest.

Somewhere, someone screams.

Warriors smiles and it is a soft, gentle thing. He starts to step forward.

“No!”

Hands grasp his wrist, as small as a child’s yet, much too calloused to be. Warriors dares to glance over his shoulder.

Mask stands there, his green clothing even more vibrant in the world of white. Tears have turned his large blue eyes the color of Warriors’ scarf. His lip trembles, despite the way he has it between his teeth. And while his grip is strong, his expression is a rapidly crumbling wall.

Warriors feels the tug again, the call from the endless light. He needs to go. He wants to. Sweet Hylia, he wants to.

“Sprite…”

“You-you can’t!” Mask shouts, stepping closer. He is shaking, Warriors realizes. The child who has faced monsters larger than himself armed with nothing more than a cocky grin and a slingshot is shaking. “You can’t leave me!”

The tears fall and smudge the markings that have now appeared on his face. Shades of blue and red trickle down his cheeks.

Warriors blinks and suddenly, the child’s hands are drenched in blood. He gasps, stumbling back. But Mask holds on.

“Sprite, I’ve got to go,” he says, desperately, because he must see that he can’t remain here. It’s time…isn’t it?

“No. It’s not.”

Mask ducks his head, as a sob tears at his tiny body. Salty water plunks onto the ground. It sounds like raindrops.

A downpour on a sunny day. A child curled beneath his scarf, grinning mischievously. A beautiful woman laughing, face upturned to the sky.

A tear slides down Warriors’ own cheek.

“Oh, Link…”

“Please,” he croaks, soft now, vulnerable. Broken. “Please, don’t leave.”

A single eye meets Warriors’ two. A face marked by a war god crumples, every year, every battle, every loss written in the tears streaming down it.

The captain moves closer. The light seems to dim now, lessened by the aching in his heart. Time…Time should never look like that. If he could reach him, maybe he could make that pain go away.

Time drags in a trembling breath. Crimson-drenched fingers fist in Warriors’ scarf like he did so often as a child.

“I need you, big brother.”

Warriors take another step and another and another. He can’t stop now. The decision seems plain. Whatever is behind him, wonderful though it may seem, is not yet for him. Not when Time is looking at him as though he is his entire world and then some. Not when he can hear them now — the faint pleas of the other heroes.

His brothers. His family.

He reaches out, fingers brushing Time’s cheek. The hero’s breath hitches as he leans into his touch.

“I’m right here, Sprite,” the captain promises. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

With a sob, Time falls into his arms. Warriors closes his eyes and buries his face in his shoulder. And as they cling to each other, the endless white surrounding them comes crashing down.

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 12 #blood tw #injury tw #poisoning tw #near death experience #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #lu warriors #lu time #whump #angst #trin writes #ohoho this was a fun one to write #I just love writing near death experiences for some reason XD #and picking on wars of course #that’s always a joy

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bokettochild · 4 months

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Day 8 - "Why Won't It Stop?"

Took me forever, but this one is one that I am VERY pleased with. Part two will follow in later days

Wordcount: 4,847

Rating: Teen

Summary: An effect of abusing a god's power is that the soul of the deity is now bound to Time's own, and sometimes it has more power than he'd wish. usually, he can tame it, but learning the fate of the worlds he's left behind have made him slip, and the deity is intent on purging their legacy.

Written by request of @sweetlemonad

“It’s not like heroes can die anyways.”

The uncomfortable silence that follows those words is not something Time is particularly keen on learning the source of. The boys have all been in a rather good mood for most of the day, and currently Wind and Legend are trying to see who can outlast the other by remaining balanced on the rail fence that abuts the pathway on their right. He thinks Wind dared Legend or maybe the vet just got bored and Wind decided to follow. Either way, the elder is currently strolling along with his arms behind his head while Wind walks, precariously balanced and failing a bit here and there..

Balancing at sea and balancing on land are apparently exceedingly different.

He’s not particularly sure who’d started the conversation, but he thinks it was Warriors. The man has been a bit more stressed than he’d like these last few days, and the worry that something bad will happen to them definitely sounds like something the captain would express in order to keep the rest on their guard. The sudden way Legend falters, perfect balance suddenly failing and sending him flailing, is more telling than the silence that follows Wind’s words, and he finds it only right to offer a steadying hand to the younger man to stop him eating dirt.

Sky’s eyes settling on the sailor, confused, are just as telling.

“Right?” Wind looks between the vet, whose caught his balance and looks at the youngest with pricked back ears, gnawing his lip, and the chosen one who won’t meet their eyes. “Wait,” the kid glances back and forth again, as though to be sure, “they haven’t, right?”

The vet’s hand slips out of his own, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Wind, did you receive an education?”

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Hyrule asks, sounding a little miffed. They all know the boy’s lack of formal teaching is a bit of a sore spot considering the apparent circumstances of everyone else. Had he the right, Time would maybe let slip that the captain was entirely illiterate before his enlistment, but he’s not sure that exposing that would actually help anyone.

Their chosen hero and vet share a glance at the question though, some silent conversation slipping between them for a moment before Sky gives an encouraging look that seems to indicate Legend ought to be the one to handle this. It makes sense, he supposes, considering Legend is the one with purportedly the best education out of them, or at least the most up to date between himself and Sky.

“Alright,” the pink haired hero slips down to a seated position on the rail fence, and the rest of them take the cue to stop, themselves sitting or leaning against the railing as well, save the captain, who stands at something almost like parade rest as he listens. “So, I suppose it’s lost to time for most of you, but there was a hero- a couple actually, who fell to the enemy.”

“How?” Hyrule demands. “I thought our whole existence was based off some heavenly power calling us so evil was always stopped?”

Murmurs of agreement sound from the rest, but the vet shakes his head, although he’s also very clearly avoiding eye contact. “I wish it was that straight forwards. No, actually, there are two heroes, to my knowledge and as of my era, that are quite famous for dying in their efforts against evil.” Dark eyes lift to Sky. “One was the first hero, the one who fought beside Hylia herself.”

“Sky’s going to die?” Four breathes, utterly horrified.

The boys almost all turn to their skyloftian but are quickly assured by a sharp ‘no!’ from Legend and a soft “not me, guys” from the hero himself. “It was my predecessor,” Sky says once they’ve all stopped looking so horrified, “the one who crafted the Master Sword and sealed Demise away, ages before my time.”

“So you knew.” He finds himself asking, and his question is answered with a slow nod.

“I did.” He knew about fallen heroes. He knew that the only other hero to exist before him had died. Suddenly Sky seems all the more brave to the scar-faced leader; he couldn’t imagine going into his adventure knowing all the others who undertook it had died.

“The first hero,” Legend begins again, hesitantly, “is said to have sealed Demise away, but succumbed from his injuries shortly thereafter, leaving the heavens to call another hero after his passing: Sky.”

There are a few hums, and Twilight looks like he’s half a second from taking notes. No doubt, the rancher hasn't heard this bit of Hylian history before, and while his pup is certainly less interested in the history of the kingdom than he is in the workings of things and understanding the dark magics, the dear lad is, all the same, what Mido would call “a nerd”. He finds himself smiling at the thought, watching as his boy absorbs every bit of the knowledge the vet is sharing, and what little Sky uses to back him up.

“What about the second one?” Wild asks, staring at Legend oddly.

Abruptly, he finds himself realizing that the cub himself has also died at the hands of the enemy, and though revived through some magic he couldn’t explain, the fact that it happened at all means that he too belongs on Legend’s list. Would that mean that the vet follows after the champion in the course of things then? Good gracious, would that make Legend the same to Wild as Wild is to Twilight? As Twilight is to him?

The vet, unknowing of their leader’s thoughts, drops his gaze a bit, fiddling with the bracelet on his hand but eyes clearly on the mark of the triforce he still bears on his left hand, just as most of them do. “He was my predecessor.”

Deku Tree bless, is he right?

“A hero called from the forest and trained to the blade since childhood, only to fall when forced to face Ganon.” The vet’s face twists up in something between sorrow and frustration. “He was prepared the best anyone could try, but for nothing. Ganon ruled Hyrule for almost a decade before the rebellion that sent the fallen hero managed to amass enough power to strike again and seal him into the sacred realm.” There’s a pause where Legend takes a heavy breath that’s neither sigh nor resignation, but maybe just the slightest bit sorrow for their fallen brother, and the rest keep quiet for it too, as though in mourning for a hero they’ve never met. But that’s when the vet says it. “If not for the sages and Skeik, I’d never have gotten a chance to defeat the monster that killed my predecessor, but with the aid of the Hylian Knights, they managed to seal him away for nearly four-hundred years.”

Sheik.

He knows, from the war, from meeting Warriors and watching people of all eras amass, that Sheik isn’t especial to his own time. The captain’s own princess had taken on the disguise herself in order to take a more active role on the front lines, but even so, the name catches him off guard, as does the association with the sages, which he’s only ever heard Wind talk of before.

The sailor doesn’t miss the reference either, the sharp little whip that he is. “What were the sages called? Do you know?”

The vet blinks, staring and clearly confused, but rattles them off all the same. “Zelda, Impa, Nabooru, Saria, Ruto, Daruna, and Rauru?”

The sailor nods, but the ground feels like it’s being swept out from under Time’s feet as the words sink in and that sunshine bright gaze is turned to him. Wind already has some eager words on his lips before his face falls, horror written across it as the truth of the vet’s words sinks in fully. “Holy shit.”

By virtue of simply not wanting to be met with the captain’s ire, he keeps the loud cursing within his own head internal, rather than letting it escape and being fixed under The Look. Even so, he’s half a second from slipping and repeating the sailor’s words in far more colorful language.

“Time...” Wind’s eyes are growing somehow wider, as though they weren’t just a bit too big to begin with, “....oh crap.”

It’s Twilight that makes the connection first, he thinks. He knows his story is forgotten to the world he’d returned to, the one the rancher is a product of, but if there’s one thing his pup is, it’s clever. Picking up on the clues in the exchange as well as what Legend’s said up to now, he can see for himself as realization dawns in midnight blue eyes and Twilight’s face falls. “Sweet Ordonia.”

“What?” Legend asks, glancing about between them, just the same as the others, save Hyrule who looks like he’s rethinking some matter of his own, no doubt what little history has been passed to him now bears reviewing. That doesn’t matter to the rest of them however, because those who know are now gaping, those who don’t are demanding answers, and the captain, who’d met two of the sages for himself and heard their tales, is shaking his head with a sigh.

Time did not sign up for this. Learning that’s he’d split time is one thing, but knowing that somehow, in some way, he’d done so to the extent that not only are his fears about creating multiple timelines actually a reality, but apparently there’s one that spun so far off that not only had he failed, but he’d died at Ganon’s hand and left the burden of defeating the demon to someone else. Two timelines, each resulting in a child being called to do a man’s work, just the same as he had. How old was Legend? Was he the same age as both he and Wind had been? Older? Does he resent the man who left him behind as some people in the sailor’s time do? Like Wind, does he respect his predecessor? Despise him? Curse him? Praise him? His thoughts are spinning and despite not using it, his right eye throbs.

As though sensing his distress, the deity awakens.

It doesn’t happen often. Without the mask, it isn’t nearly as powerful as to accomplish what they can with the aid of the power of the thing. Since abusing its power as a youth though, their magics are enough interlocked, souls enough intertwined, that even removing the cursed thing does not fully displace the deity’s presence from his mind. It is a silent thing at most times, but much like the mask it is sourced from, it awakens when he is in greatest need or fear, and more than once he’s allowed the modicum of its power that now lies bound to his own soul to overtake him in order to escape one situation or another. Such power does not present itself now, but the rumbling voice and the accompanying pulsing pain is enough to shift his focus towards quieting both, attention slipping from his boys and inward to the deity.

Despite managing to gather himself and the boys, to start forwards again on the path, he does not manage to silence the deity. He does, however, manage to ignore it for the time being.

He can only ignore it for so long though.

Sitting on watch after the boys have all gone to sleep, the rumbling thunder of the deity becomes impossible to ignore in the stifling silence around him. The deity will not be silenced, and try as he might, he can’t block-out nor forget the words spoken within his own mind.

“Failure follows in your legacy.”

As though he doesn’t know. It’s been bothering him all day, and despite the rest who hadn't pieced it together asking, he couldn’t bring himself to look, to say anything it was hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other. Wind revealing the split in time had shaken him, but at least he’d known how such a timeline came to be. The vet comes from a world where he’d died. How many of the other boys come from a world, an era, split off from time by his actions? How many timelines did he create?

How many of them have such dark fates as that of Legend’s own?

“He is an heir to failure,” the deity growls, “a scion of death.”

Time shakes his head, voice soft so as to not wake his slumbering team-mates. “No. He’s a hero.”

“To a world that ought not be, that ought to have perished.”

No world ought to perish, especially not because of the actions of one person. Still as he watches the vet sleep, curled up tight around his sword, the voice of the deity continues to ring about in his head. Turning his eyes away to the others doesn’t help though. The deity is truly set off and harsh whispers and growls sound, wondering, just as he does, how many of their number are born of his mistakes, his actions, in a world separate from his own because of actions he hadn’t realized the truth depth of.

He’d turned back time so many times, in both his first and second adventures. Are there timelines born of each time? What of his time in Termina? How many timelines did he create there? How many had seen the moon fall and everyone perish?

Time groans, running a hand over his face, rubbing at the scars and markings left by the deity’s power. Warriors would be so disappointed if he started scratching again, and the scars on either side of his face have finally faded enough to not be as noticeable as when he was a child. There's no mask to tear off, even if the sensation of one lingers as the deity speaks. He doesn’t want to wake up to the captain’s worried stare in the morning at the sight of scars made fresh again. He doesn’t.

Still, he wishes the deity would stop talking.

It doesn’t though, because of course it doesn’t. It hisses in his dreams, whispering as he watches worlds fall and two little figures, he thinks are meant to be Wind and Legend running about, facing the monster he remembers, as well as dark, shapeless figures he doesn’t. They look so small, so young, and despite his heart crying one thing, the deity hisses another. Where he mourns their innocence, the demon screams for their end.

Come morning, he’s a wreck. He manages to go through the motions, washing up with the rest with water from a well on the roadside, shaving and running a hand through his hair enough that it’s not a total mess. The captain was always strict about hygiene and basic care of their appearances. They’re Hyrule’s finest, not to seen wandering around like vagabonds and scamps. Still, the motions feel hollow, like a puppet moving at the command of another, and it feels like a chore to get ready, to strap on his armor, to gird his sword, and to step out onto the path with the others.

Wind and Legend return to walking the fences, apparently determined to do so until the railings give way to open country again. Usually, he’d find that endearing, a proof that despite everything his boys have faced, there still remains a childlike whimsical side to them. Now though, it means that every time one slips or Wind fumbles and yelps, he can’t help but look up and the deity’s words start up all over again.

Failures.

Never intended to exist.

Ought never have come to be.

Proof of the cruelty of the goddesses.

It’s painful. They're good kids, bright young men and skillful, admirable, talented, smart, sharp, kind, and he hates that such dark thoughts invade his mind at the mere sight of them, at even the smallest sound of their voices. It's not their fault that they exist, nor their fault that their worlds are a product of his actions and his mistakes. They don’t deserve the deity’s ire for simply existing.

Yet the roaring of that horrible voice in his mind continues, pulsing through his head and aching at the eye that the demon controls.

He wishes it would stop. Why won’t it stop?

“Time, hey, Time!” He comes back to himself with a blink, head shaking slightly as he raises his good eye to find the captain staring at him. They’re still on the path, still just walking along, still with nothing and no one else in sight, although the rail fence is nowhere to be seen anymore and blessedly means that the two younger heroes are back on the path with the rest, back in their normal places behind him, out of sight and away from the ire of the deity.

“Yes?”

The captain’s face is creased with worry, lips pursed, and gaze guarded. “You blanked out.”

Not blacked out, not fainted, not lost consciousness. No, it’s something rather different, and based off the familiar expression of the other, the soldier is well aware of what it really was; a slip. When stress or pain or emotion are too much, it happens. It’s been less common since he’d put away the mask for the last time, but during the war it happened frequently from overuse of the thing, the deity exercising control in the absence of his own will to.

“I’m alright,” he tries to assure, careful not to look behind him, even though he can feel the worry from the rest, “just tired.”

“We can stop for a rest.”

The captain’s halfway towards turning towards the other, already drawing a breath to call a halt to the rest, but Time stops him with a hand to his arm and a shake of the head, eyes carefully closed to avoid the sight of bright blue or crimson. “Don’t. It won’t help.”

Sleeping isn’t the problem, it’s his mind running away with him in a thousand directions, he doesn’t want it too. Sitting still will only make it worse. Stil, the captain regards him with worry. “Tell me if you change your mind.”

He nods. He won’t, but if he did, he’d tell the other There’s no worry of that though because sitting still right now sounds like actual torture. Just sitting there, a prisoner to his thoughts, to the deity’s thoughts, to wonderings and fears he doesn’t wish to address now or ever; he wouldn’t wish such things on anyone.

Except maybe Ganon. Screw him and everything he’s done to them. He deserves to be tortured by guilt.

Warriors lets it go, but not without a final worried look, and every so often he can feel heavy blue eyes settling on him, reading him, watching for any tick or sign that e’s in need of a break. He appreciates it, and focusing on the captain’s worry is an escape, because the deity has nothing ill to say of the soldier, in fact, he thinks it might even respect the other man, not that it will ever admit to such a thing.

In some ways, it gets easier, but in others, it’s worse. Focusing on his pup, his cub, turns his attention away. He can laugh and tease and watch them tease each other. Having Warriors standing beside him, talking about this thing or that, about paths and courses of action, is almost soothing. Sky’s smile and warm laughter is a balm, and Four’s quiet presence an assurance.

The moment Legend or Wind come into view though, even if his focus isn’t on them, or even what they’re doing, the growl of the deity rises again, a splitting pain in his head.

They know too. Wind’s hurt expressions and confusion are clear, and while Legend doesn’t appear to care at first, after a few days of such treatment, the vet tries to pull him aside and demand what has him treating Wind like a plague. He's not even noticed that the treatment is extended to him, but they all know of the vet’s soft spot for the sailor. He won’t stand to see their leader, whom the kid respects and admires so much, treating the sight of the boy like it’s painful.

But it is. It’s a rush of thoughts and twitch of his hands. It’s the hiss of the deity demanding he purge his namesake of all the dark twists it’s taken due to his actions. It’s images of children fighting demons and worlds falling due to his own failures.

He can’t bring himself to apologize, because that would mean looking at them, speaking to them, and thus hearing the demon scream for their blood to right the wrongs they represent.

Legend gives up in anger. Wind closes off, quiet and pensive. He doesn’t miss the veteran’s hand on broad little shoulders, a silent comfort when he passes by. Doesn’t miss the soft questions whispered from younger to elder, or the harsh glares from violet eyes as begrudging tones reply that they have no answers. He hates it but can’t do anything about it. For their own sakes, ignoring them is kinder than risking letting himself slip and do far worse.

When next they face the shadow, it’s nearly a relief. Finally, he can pour the aggression of the deity into his motions, into the swing of his sword and the roaring of his magic. He can let the demon loose, just a little, just enough to destroy and wreak havoc on enemies that deserve his wrath, on creatures who’ve earned his ire and hatred.

It’s freeing.

There’s no need to hold back, and maybe, just maybe, he let’s himself slip into the background, lets the deity have just a little more power than he’d planned. It’s fine though, it’s fine because maybe this will exhaust the thing, grant it the blood it’s so thirsty for, quench that hunger enough to make it fall silent again.

Once the battle is over, and the deity silent, maybe now he can talk to Wind. Show the boy a smile and apologize, tell him he’s had a migraine that’s impacted by the sailor’s magic or some such thing. Legend or Hyrule might call bull on that, but maybe he’s willing to abuse the fact that Wind’s hero worship of him means he’s more likely to be believed. He’s not telling the kid the truth though, not burdening him with the weight of the horrible thoughts and impulses that wreck his mind, but he’ll give an answer that’s half true, give him something, maybe even sit down and talk about nonsense together to assure that he doesn’t hate the kid. He doesn’t. Wind’s a good kid, and he deserves the world.

He just needs the deity to wear itself out. So, he drops his guard, lets himself fall to the backseat and lets the demon take the reins, sweep over the field with full fury and power unleashed, hoping to exhaust his magic enough that the demon will be silent. Enemies fall like wheat to a scythe, a cloud of black and purple smoke rising in his wake as the deity rampages, blade moving uncommonly fast as he darts to the captain’s side to assist him for a moment, springs over to Twilight to aid him as well.

The deity’s voice rumbles, laughing, savoring the bloodshed and reveling just as much in fighting beside their “true heir”, beside the “dragon of war”. He doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Still, he can guess what it means, and while a dragon does seem to suit the man he’s watched wield flames with the same proficiency as a blade, calling Twilight their “true heir” seems like a direct jab, like spitting in the face of the two other heroes that follow in his wake. They’re just words though. Just more words from the demon god’s mind. They don’t matter. They’re not his thoughts.

Except that when the enemy is dead, when the shadow fled, when the battle over, those words still play in his head, an echo of the deity’s thoughts, and when he tries to take back control, he can’t.

He can’t control his own actions, can’t control even his words, can’t do anything no matter how much he desperately tries to retake control of the body that’s stalking towards where their veteran is wiping his sword off in the grass, can’t do anything as he hears the deity’s thoughts echo around him, watching as his body becomes but a puppet to the still raging demon.

“If Nayru will not prune back the dead branches, it falls to me.”

He wants to scream, to say anything, to catch his own hand as it raises, blade lifted high, but he can’t do anything.

Legend turns at the last second, eyes sharp and blade sharper as it lifts, catches the weapon descending towards him, pushes it and the strength of the deity away and slips himself back, flips over them and perfectly executes a helm-splitter, stopping seconds before their leader’s skull is cleaved in two, voice sharp as it demands to know what’s wrong with him, what he’s doing.

The deity doesn’t care, simply springs back and away, Time’s body swinging his sword at the younger hero even as Warriors shouts something unintelligible and Twilight snarls something sharp, something terrified as their “true heir” rushes towards the scion of death, the heir to failure.

The others aren’t fast enough to stop the deity though, aren’t strong enough to stop the blade clashing, lifting and falling and lifting and falling. He can see, although he can’t do anything else, as the force of the blows rattles up the veteran’s arms. Sees the way his teeth set and his body shakes as he responds, holding the deity puppeteering Time’s body off, but only by backing away, driven slowly further and further from the others who rush and hurry.

Twilight throws himself at them, but the deity catches him by the pelt. All ire fades in favor of fondness as the demon’s thoughts turn sorrowful. He can hear them, a sadness that their true heir will have to see this, a confusion of why the pup does not understand their intent. He knows, if Twilight understood, that he would never condone the actions of the demon, but he can’t say as much even to his own mind as the deity lifts and throws their boy out of reach. Not harsh, not meant to harm, but fully intending to distance the boy from their fight, to stop him interfering.

He flinches, as does his body, as the rancher hits the ground some yards away.

In the opening left by the action, Legend’s tempered sword strikes, blood gushing as the blade rips free of flesh, but the blow does nothing to stop the assault of the demon In fact, it only provokes him further, and the little control Time felt finally fall into his hands is ripped away as his body returns control to the thing that will protect it, to the demon that will not let them be harmed.

Legend is the next to go flying, but not with the care and sorrow granted to Twilight, and instead with blood dripping in his wake as the biggoron sword finally lands a blow.

The shouts of the other boys sound, and there’s the snarling of a wolf beside them.

When his body turns from the broken form of the felled vet, he’s met with the sight of drawn swords and bared teeth as the wolf launches at him. He’s not sure when or why Twi has shifted, but the teeth closing on his arm hold him back for a moment as Warriors throws him forwards as well, attempting, no doubt to seek some weakness. In the war, he’d learned to rip the masks free from his kid’s face when he must, but there’s no mask for the captain to tear away this time, and despite the affection of the deity for “the dragon of war”, the demon god still tosses the captain away, plunging through the hesitant and terrified heroes.

Time’s heart drops when he realizes the goal of the demon: the sailor, eyes hard and blade raised, even as terror and confusion have the kid’s body shaking, voice doing the same as it demands ‘why’. “Time, what’s gotten into you?”

The cry of his heart at the veteran’s fall echoes again as the blow of the deity comes down on the sailor, and while the boy dodges, he’s not fast enough to escape injury.

Blood paints the earth, paints blue fabric and darkens crimson. Pain clouds in violet eye sand in the ocean ones of their youngest.

A roar, like nothing the deity can manage, has him turning.

The last things Time sees are Sky’s blazing eyes and the matching gleam of the Master Sword.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #ketto writes #lu wind #lu legend #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu sky #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu four #fierce deity #dark fierce deity

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occasionallyprosie · 4 months

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"Hiding Behind Plaster and Ceremics"

Chapter 1

Legend had one job the second time he was dragged on a quest that involved time travel and ancestors, and the second time a quest involved meeting other heroes: Don't get attached. Thankfully, the other heroes seemed to believe the mask he wore, and most of them didn't bother with him as a result except to argue, especially Twilight and Warriors. Now, if only someone could tell the kid behind the mask to stop reaching out to the brothers he lost after Hytopia, that would be great. And if they could stop the frigid downpour so Legend wouldn't get even sicker, that would also be great.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 13: "You weren't supposed to get hurt"

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Event Masterlist

Read On AO3 Warnings: mild swearing

Legend knew the role he was playing.

His whole life was just one role after another, his main one of "the hero" constantly being reprised, but changing with each installment.

His first casting, he had been a terrified child, doing his best, trying to fulfill his uncle's last words. His second, he was an excited, bubbly child gaining two older brothers who shared separate yet similar pasts. His third was a kid with too big a heart and a burn to protect, giving everything he had including the clothes on his back to a dimension traveler who helped him in turn. His fourth and fifth was of a kid in a new land, wearing his heart on his sleeve, helping everyone he met even when it burned him. His sixth was the turning point for his role, he began it as the sweet kid and ended it heartbroken and begging to never feel such pain again.

His seventh was starring him as a broken teenager doing everything he could to fix things, to do the right thing and help people, without getting attached and heartbroken again.

Like any other tragedy, that teenager failed in the end and Ravio went back to Lorule, their worlds closing.

The next reprisal, lucky number eight, was of a slightly older teenager who was determined to get through this without opening his heart to a single soul, even if it hurt those around him.

So that's the role Legend played. He was the hoarder, but he coveted items and people were a danger to those belongings, he was the scholar, providing information to those who asked, who found solace in books and scrolls, and he was the veteran, tired and done with the lives they led.

The longer it went on, the harder it was for Legend to suppress that terrified child who just wanted to help out. The longer it went on, his mask was trying to crack from overuse.

It's a shame for that mask that he was a hoarder and always had something to hold it back together.

It was also a shame for the excited, bubbly child inside to watch as his older brothers failed to even recognize him with the mask he wore and the many new years he bore.

Legend recognized Ocean and Forest immediately, the moment his eyes landed on them, he knew who they were. Ocean hadn't changed much, but Forest was taller, bigger, more muscular and he had face tattoos interestingly enough.

He met their eyes and saw not a flicker of recognition appear in theirs, he supposed that was fair, he looked different and he had changed. He'd be surprised if they figured him out by anything but the fact he wore the same tunic.

They went weeks into this adventures, Legend doing whatever he thought helped him maintain that distance, strengthen that wall, that kept the other heroes out of reach of his internal child and kept his heart safe.

He couldn't do Ravio again, or, he supposed, this was more like Raven all over again. He refused to do that again.

But that child really wanted out, it was begging to be released, to call out to the two heroes he once called brothers.

No, Legend reminded himself. They don’t even remember us.

So he shut up and kept to his corner, he stitched and bandaged his own wounds and snarled at anyone who dared to approach. Especially the ones who he knew he would trust easier--the Sailor, the Rancher, the Traveler, and the Skyloftian.

Legend was sick. He knew he was and he blamed that cold storm they'd got caught in not two days ago for it. When they'd made camp, most of them bundled by the fire but Legend had stuffed himself away out of stubbornness and pride, using his fire rod for heat and wrapping an extra blanket around his soaked self.

He wasn't surprised by the turn of events, but he wasn't certain how to approach it.

Clearly, as they walked and he focused hard on keeping steady steps and maintaining pace with the others that he'd missed the entirety of Wind's story, he wasn't great. He usually listened, even if he feigned otherwise, it was a good distraction and he liked stories. It was the only thing he granted to himself, listening to Ocean ramble on about events he'd already heard the stories of. Now he was struggling and normally he would've stayed in the cave from the other day or even backtracked to it to rest and maintain a safe space, but that wasn't much of an option.

The cold of Warriors' Hebra region was piercing, and darkened clouds still rolled overhead but didn't open for much more than a sprinkle. Though humid, all the humidity did was prevent their clothes from drying, it didn't further soak them. Frankly he preferred the cold storm over a blistering, tropical hot storm.

But goddesses, he needed to take a break or he'd pass out and he didn't know how to say that. His mask was cracking, he knew it, and he was running out of energy to fix it while also trying not to stumble and fall in the mud.

To his luck, Sky called for a break, explaining the wet air was getting to his high altitude lungs. Legend didn't bother trying to understand that, which was rather telling. Instead he followed to the side they'd went to and tucked himself under a tree, letting his eyes shut and block out the painful, headache-inducing light.

Too soon, someone called to him.

"Hey Hoarder, get off your ass and let's go," Warriors snapped at him.

Legend dragged up his energy to shoot a glare at the knight. "You'd know all about sitting back on your ass, wouldn't you, soldier boy?" He snarled, pushing off the tree. The rest was helpful, but not sufficient. He really hoped he wasn't assigned a watch tonight, he wouldn't stay awake.

"One of these days, you’re going to get what's coming to you and that goddess-awful attitude," Warriors warned him.

Legend rolled his eyes. "Whatever comes for me for "this attitude" is going to get the exact same treatment as everything else that has come for me. A sword through its heart."

"Oh right, how could I forget, the Hoarder just kills everything that comes near him," Warriors spat.

Twilight got between them, shoving his way in and accidentally helping Legend hide the flinch that broke through from Warriors' words.

"Alrigh', that's enough. We have a lot of ground to cover and not enough patience to deal with you two."

Legend scoffed and he trudged off after the others who had already began to leave them, probably at Twilight's suggestion and Time's agreement. His boots threatened to get stuck in the mud and he feared his dwindling strength would have him unable to pull them from the sucking sludge, but he had the strength for now.

He heard Twilight mutter to Warriors. "Look, yer not wrong, the Scholar's f'r sure quick t'fight an' his whole personality leaves much to be desired, but none of us wanna listen t'ya two hurlin' insults no matter how much truth is with them."

Warriors groaned lowly. "You better not even try to lecture me, Rancher. I won't start a fight, but I'm not going to just take it."

Twilight backed off, surprisingly. Those two were at each other's throats just as often as Legend was with either of them.

The bubbly kid held back a sob hearing Twilight's--Forest's-- words. Legend trudged through the mud and plastered over the crack in his mask.

He wouldn't let them see how much that hurt.

He didn't kill everyone who came near him, he thought to himself pleadingly. Then names flickered through his mind and the plaster cracked too.

He was too exhausted from the growing fever to actually try and fix it back, it began to pour again and he had to keep moving.

Keep going, Link. He told himself. Keep going, then when they finally say stop we can rest. It'll be fine, just hold out a little while longer... please.

They couldn't make camp early enough. Hyrule found a cave again and Legend went as deep as he could until Time told him to not go that far. He came a bit closer and rolled out his bedroll.

He tucked his two fire rods in the blankets, then promptly collapsed, ignoring the others set up their camp.

He never usually helped, helping meant interacting and interacting risked attachment.

He wouldn't risk getting attached. He just had to hope the heat of the fire rods and the blankets would burn out his growing fever before dawn. With their chatter, they didn't seem to hear him down a health potion before passing out without dinner.

Dawn came and he felt no better, but he wasn't worse. It took way too much energy to get up when he heard the others rousing, it took too much focus to realize the sounds he heard was the others rousing.

He dragged himself to his feet, packed his things away and pulled on his mud covered boots. Nobody bothered him aside waiting at the entrance until they were all gathered, him included, to leave. Sky, as usual, greeted him with a good morning and Hyrule tried to fall into step with him, but a glare and a snap had the other hero retreating to Wild reluctantly.

It was raining the moment they left and continued to rain throughout the whole time.

He wasn't the only one slipping and stumbling through the mud, Four was struggling bad, as was Wind and Sky. Wild seemed to stumble but had a certain step of understanding, like he'd had to do this before, and Hyrule was similar though struggling far more. The three tall heroes, Time, Twilight, and Warriors, still slipped a bit but the knee deep mud for Legend was only halfway up their shins.

He lost his battle with the sickness and he nearly fell, barely catching himself and kneeling.

Distantly, he was aware of someone calling for him to keep moving over the roar of the heavy downpour.

He couldn't stand. His vision was bad and his body was trying to give out. He couldn't stand. He couldn't hardly move.

Come on, Link. Just a couple more hours, you've made it through worse!

Except the worse was fighting Ganon with an infection blossoming. Except the worse had adrenaline pumping through his veins and Raven at his side to help out. Except right now, one step took as much energy as a whole spin attack back then.

He had to stop. He had to breathe--

A hand landed on his shoulder and he flinched, but it tightened before he could fall back.

"Hoarder. Get up," Warriors ordered and it sounded like he was underwater. "There's no way with how much you slept you’re this tired, even the Skyloftian and the Sailor are handling."

Legend wheezed softly. He knew that. He knew he had to stand.

His body wouldn't cooperate, but he managed to smack Warriors' hand away and push against his knees to painstakingly stand.

The blur of green moved away, Warriors going on ahead. He tried to drag a foot ahead again but collapsed again. This time falling face first into the mud was a near thing, only barely avoiding such a fate.

Stand, damnit! He wanted to cry. He couldn't get his body to move, he couldn't find safety. This was why he took sanctuary whenever he got sick, so he wouldn't be a sitting duck.

He hated this. He hated it all. He hated them, those damned heroes, their stupid, stupid idea of correct and good. He hated everyone who left him, everyone who'd abandoned him. He hated himself for being so damned soft and attaching himself way too easily to others.

It wasn't supposed to hurt. Loving people wasn't supposed to hurt. He wasn't supposed to get hurt for caring.

Yet here he was, close to tears because he couldn't stand. Because he couldn't admit to weakness, because being weak meant needing help, and needing help meant letting people come close.

And he was too soft, to quick to care, to let anyone come close and not get attached. He couldn't get attached again, he couldn't lose someone again.

He glanced up briefly, just enough to know none of the blurs were approaching and were in fact moving away. He shakily took out a green potion, took way too long to uncap it and drink some, and used the forced energy to stand again and keep moving.

He'd never had to drink a green potion to keep moving before, but as it turned out, this whole quest was just a mess of "do this" so they wouldn't notice him, so they wouldn't get close, so he wouldn't get attached.

Goddesses, being alone wasn't supposed to hurt.

Legend genuinely didn't know how he made it through that day, but what he did know was that he wasn't getting up from where he had collapsed in the wet cave they'd once again made camp within.

He pressed his burning head against the cold stone and just let out a shuddering breath, eyes slipping shut and staying shut. He had made it to the back of the cave again and Time hadn't yet made him move closer.

He just needed to rest. He had to rest. His whole body ached, his insides twisted, and nausea rolled in his stomach and wound around his throat. He could hardly inhale through his mouth without wanting to throw up, but he couldn't breathe through his nose either, so this was what he had to deal with. He didn't even try with getting out a blanket or his fire rods for some heat, just curled up and hoped to the goddesses it passed tonight because he wasn't getting up until it was.

He slipped asleep quickly, but was startled back awake.

A haze settled over his mind but that didn't prevent the world from shaking and then someone grabbing him, or maybe it was the other way around and the grabbing shook him? He didn't know.

All he knew was that the light of the fire was gone, his body hurt, and he had been tackled or something by someone.

There was talking--no, yelling but he couldn't bring himself to actually process the words.

He just blinked dazedly up at the darkness and the barely-visible silhouette above him, they were shaking him. His brain rattled in his skull and the shaking grew painful fast.

"--t! Link! Come on, wake up--"

He whimpered. "St'p... 'urts."

"Oh. Link, hey--" cool hands brushed his face and he inhaled sharply, only to exhale softly. The coolness pulled away fast and he whined at the loss. "Oh Ordona, yer burning up."

The cool hand returned and he managed to lean into it.

"Sweet Ordona, Link, how long have you been sick?" They said, and the sound echoed almost painfully. He tried to curl back up into the ball he had been in before he'd been disturbed.

He slipped back asleep, finally just resting, finally letting the exhaustion take hold.

They'd made camp in a cave again, and Twilight was a bit relieved by that. He was tired of the rain and mud, the hard rock walls was a boon.

They'd made a fire, Wild was just beginning to start it when the ground trembled.

"The ceiling's caving in!" Four yelped, his eyes flashing purple. How he knew that, Twilight really didn't need to know nor did he care to.

They all moved fast, but Twilight spotted Legend still unmoving and curled up deeper into the cave.

"COLLECTOR MOVE!" Hyrule screamed, clearly having seen the same.

The cave ceiling began to break. Twilight ran and he managed to pull Legend deeper into the cave as the ceiling in the area they'd begun camp in collapsed.

Thankfully, the cave in ended far enough back that Twilight got them far enough away. He just had to hope the others got out on the other side.

To his absolute surprise, Legend had barely startled at the tackle and was currently limp beside him. Twilight's night vision was improved due to being attuned to his wolf form, but it was not perfect.

Legend's eyes fluttered open part way, half lidded and looking dazedly.

"Collector?" Twilight prompted, hoping the other hero didn't have a concussion. "Collector!" He called again when he didn't even respond, shaking his shoulder. "Link! Come on, wake up--"

A whimper, an actual whimper escaped the other hero and Twilight faltered as he heard the quiet plea for it to stop, that it hurt.

"Oh. Link, hey--" Twilight tried to move his bangs to check his eyes, to look for a concussion, but the skin he felt was far too hot for the frigid caves and storms they've been in for the past three days. He'd jerked away from the unexpected heat on instinct before it set in what was going on.

Suddenly it made sense, how quiet Legend had been the past couple days, the way he had struggled to keep up and stand. Twilight had taken it as just having a restless night and being tired, he'd clearly been exhausted the other day with how quickly he'd gone to sleep and he wouldn't have been surprised if he'd been caught unable to fully rest with how soaking wet and cold it had been. However this just... Why didn't he expect someone to get sick with how cold and wet it's been?

"Oh Ordona, yer burning up," he breathed. He placed his hand on Legend's forehead and the collector leaned into it. "Sweet Ordona, Link, how long have you been sick?"

He watched Legend's eyes slip shut and then not open. He'd passed out, oh that was not good.

Twilight tug the smaller hero closer and picked him up. He... He never realized how small Legend was until he had the Scholar curled up in his arms, shaking like a leaf and whimpering.

He delved deeper into the cave, hoping for an escape or at least for the cave to get warmer.

Light Spirits, was he so blind by his own judgment and dislike of a person as to not notice them get so sick they had struggled to stand?

He didn't find an exit but did find an underground river but a dry shore, probably a lot higher of a shore than it normally was considering the amount of rainfall. He managed to set out enough blankets, decently dry, that he thought he could bundle the collector up.

Muttering an apology, he stripped Legend of his soaked clothes, leaving his shorts, and wrapped him tight in four dry blankets. He did take the time to try and clean both their boots of mud, but was careful with Legend's precious Pegasus boots, he knew the Hoarder would kill him if he messed any of his items up.

Then he settled on the dry rock, Legend's bundled form in his arms as he tried to provide what heat he could to lessen the amount of shivering the other hero was doing.

He let himself fall asleep at some point, only to wake up a few hours later with an inkling of light above.

He looked up and there turned out to be an opening in the ceiling, rainwater a steady trickle into the cavern. From what he could tell, he could probably hookshot out, but definitely not with Legend.

So he waited.

Legend was remarkably warmer but he woke up, with the light Twilight could actually see his glassy red eyes fill with confusion.

"Where..."

"It's alright," he murmured on instinct, if Legend was more coherent he probably would've been hit. But as it stood, he had someone small and sick in his arms so he acted instinctively, pulling them closer and promising safety. "It'll be alright, just rest, kid. I got you."

Legend twisted a bit, dazed and distant eyes settling on his face. He frowned, and Twilight was struck by how much younger Legend looked when he wasn't glaring and snarling at anyone who neared like an injured animal.

"Oh..." he muttered and he went limp again, curling willingly into Twilight's chest. "It 'urts," he mumbled and Twilight felt his heart constrict.

"I know," he promised. How sick was he? Why didn't he say anything? Was it out of pride? "It'll be alright."

"Where's Ocea'?" The hero in his arms asked and Twilight froze.

Oh goddesses no.

"Apple?" Twilight croaked.

"Mm... yea?"

No, no, no.

"F'rest?" he called, voice weak, and Twilight struggled to breathe out a response.

Legend hummed. "M...M'kay."

No. Twilight felt his blood run cold, his heart beat too fast and too hard, because suddenly everything went extremely wrong. Legend --the group's Collector and Scholar, the harsh, rude, snappy, violent one who had nearly bit Hyrule's head off only that morning-- was Apple, the kid that had broken his leg in Hytopia after slipping off a roof that he'd climbed on a whim. The nine year old kid who sang songs, hummed tunes, who fooled around while Twilight and a younger Wind who they nicknamed "Ocean" did the walking. The same kid who earned his keep and, when given the chance by the two older heroes, absolutely slaughtered any monster in his path so long as he had a blade and a magic rod in his hands.

Legend, the distant, snarling, cold, bully of a hero... was his sweet little brother. Legend was the same kid that had asked Lady Maud nicely to not make Styla wear clothes she didn't like, because he said it was mean to make people do things they didn't like even if someone else was doing something to you that you didn't like. That kid was Legend?

For a moment, Twilight couldn't believe it. There was no way that Legend could be Apple.

Then, he looked at the hero in his arms and the fact he had to be at least ten years older had probably embarked on a third quest after Hytopia...

Twilight's own quest changed him for the better, he'd been a prideful brat of a teenager and became... well he wasn't sure, but he hoped he was a better person now. So who was to say Legend's didn't turn him from a bright kid to a violent and harsh man.

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," Twilight croaked. "You were supposed to go home and be happy."

Legend didn't respond, after all, the collector was out cold. He couldn't give Twilight any explanation for why he was so jaded and... and so angry, why he was so harsh.

"You weren't supposed to get hurt," Twilight repeated weakly, because that sweet, bright little kid was supposed to go home to that aunt he spoke the world of and be happy, not go on another adventure or whatever had happened that turned him into this... broken, cold, harsh hero.

Next>>

#febuwhump 2024 #linked universe #lu legend #linkeduniverse #legend lu #fanfic #linked universe fanfic #lu fanfiction #lu twilight #sickfic #triforce heroes #wind=ocean #legend=apple #twilight=forest #prosie writes

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skyward-floored · 4 months

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Febuwhump Collab Day 4 (& 22) — Obedience, “you weren’t meant to be there”

This one I wrote with two prompts in mind, and as I was going along I realized it also fits with the day 17 one as well (hostage situation) so three at once! I feel bad for Time, I’m always giving him a hard time in this au...

Warning for some injuries, some violence, and a gun that gets waved around in a threatening manner

Today’s lovely art

Ao3 link

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Time drove down the street with the windows down in his car, enjoying the cool air that blew inside and ruffled his hair. It was a lovely afternoon, and he was glad to not be wasting it in an office.

Some kind of maintenance for the building he worked in had forced Time out of his office, and with nothing better to do, he’d been allowed to take the rest of the day off. He was looking forward to being home alone with Malon for a bit before his sons returned from school, and was already relishing the quiet they’d get to enjoy.

...Assuming, of course, that there wasn’t anything else that required his attention in the meantime.

Time sighed. Ever since supers had been (somewhat reluctantly) legalized again, it seemed like the crime rate had doubled to try and make up for it. Every other day he was stopping a bank robbery, or mugging, or any number of random misdeeds. He was endlessly relieved they were all no longer classified as illegal, and they’d fought hard for it, but... it was starting to get exhausting.

As if on cue, the music from the radio was cut off, and a news anchor began spouting off a report of an in-progress museum robbery.

Disappointment washed over him, and Time sighed and changed lanes, turning away from home and towards the direction of the museum. Malon would have been listening to the radio as well, and she would know he would go to help.

So much for our quiet afternoon.

Putting aside his disappointment, Time turned up the radio to hear the details better, mentally forming a plan for when he got the Hyrule Museum of History. The robbers had gone to the wing where the gems and older artifacts were housed, and had apparently blockaded themselves inside. He couldn’t believe they were brash enough to attempt a theft in broad daylight, at the largest museum in town at that...

But then again, perhaps they want some publicity, Time thought with a snort. There were always criminals around trying to make themselves out as bigger then they were.

The woman on the radio continued with the details, and Time suddenly jerked his head down to stare at it as she repeated the name of the building.

A robbery at the Hyrule Museum of History.

The same museum where several of his children had a field trip scheduled for today.

Time breathed in sharply and stepped on the gas, navigating towards the museum with an increased urgency. Not all of the grades were scheduled to be there at the same time, but there was at least one group that was supposed to still be at the museum now, and three of his sons had been there today.

No, calm down, he berated himself, getting honked at as he narrowly made it through a light, you know they can all handle a crisis, they’ve proved that. And they might not even be there anymore.

It was completely possible that all of their classes had finished and had already gone back to the school, or that the school groups were on the opposite side of the building from where the robbers were. Or maybe his sons had been evacuated with everyone else and would be waiting outside when Time got there, wanting to help out.

Maybe.

Time reached the museum in record time, though the trip seemed to take forever. He ducked into an alley and changed into his gear at lightning speed, then ran for the building, sirens in his ears.

There was a whole crowd of people outside, confused kids and frightened adults, police and security guards trying to maintain order through the clamor. Time left the police to their business of corralling civilians— though he made sure to scan the crowd for three familiar heads, heart sinking when he didn’t find a single one— and went through a side door, out of way of the crowd.

The officer guarding the inside jumped at the sight of him, but quickly realized who he was, directing him to where the robbers had gone with a relieved look.

“We got a report that there’s some kids missing from a school group, Mr. Deity,” he warned before Time went on his way. “It’s possible they’re in the wing the robbers sealed off, but we haven’t been able to get inside to check yet.“

Time’s stomach clenched, but he nodded, and headed for the section that housed ancient jewelry.

The halls were eerily quiet apart from Time’s rapid bootsteps, normally crowded halls foreboding and empty. He didn’t go to the main doorway of the wing, knowing that’s what the robbers would expect, and also where the police would be focusing their efforts, and instead went for one of the smaller doors.

Sure enough there were no police there, only an entrance blocked off by a huge fallen statue of some kind. Time had no trouble moving it aside enough that he could get through, and began running again, his heart in his throat.

Please, please let them be outside, please—

It was even quieter in this section, and Time didn’t pass a soul as he ran past paintings and bones, ancient armor and swords displayed proudly on the walls. Yet the thieves must have hidden a lookout somewhere, for when Time turned the corner into the room housing the most rare pieces, they were waiting for him.

There were at least six of them visible, wearing dark clothing and masks that covered most of their faces. All were armed with guns, most pointed in Time’s direction, but one was pointing towards the group of kids huddled in the center of the room.

Legend right in the line of fire.

Panic and anger roared to life in Time’s chest, but he shoved them away, forcing himself to remain collected in front of the group of criminals. Showing weakness would do nothing but give them an advantage, and despite the fact that he wanted to do nothing but charge forward and get Legend out of there, he remained where he was.

Legend locked eyes with Time, and the relief in his gaze made Time’s hands threaten to shake.

“Hm, Fierce Deity,” the man pointing the gun at the kids said, levelly meeting his gaze. His mask seemed more sinister than the rest. “The report indicated that you were not the most likely hero to show up here today.”

“Let them go,” Time demanded, the other kids watching him in frightened hope. He recognized them as ones from Legend’s class, thankfully no more of his sons among them. “These kids were just here for a field trip, don’t mix them up in this.”

The man crept closer to Legend. “They will be fine if you allow us to leave with what we came for.”

“They’re just kids,” Time said, voice darkened with anger. The man looked at him in an almost bored way, then back down at Legend. “What is it you even came here to steal?”

“That’s our business,” the leader said with a smile in his voice. “Now drop your weapon, and they will be fine.”

Time breathed out, scanning the room again before returning his gaze to Legend. His son was too far for him to reach before anything happened, the other kids as well, and even if there was a remote chance he could get Legend out of the way, it was unlikely he could protect all of the hostages.

You should have been more stealthy coming in—

“D— Fierce Deity,” Legend said in a soft, urgent voice, and Time looked at his son with increasing desperation. “Don’t listen to him, just get everyone else out of here, I’ll be—”

The gun was pressed to Legend’s head, the click of it being cocked near deafening to Time’s ears.

“Put your weapon down, or he gets a bullet through the head,” the man said softly. One of the other kids whimpered. “Swiftly followed by the rest of them.”

Time looked between the man and Legend, seconds ticking by loudly in his head. It was a nightmare knowing he had the power to stop every thief in the room, but being unable to do a thing. He had to stop them, but he couldn’t do anything, not without risking Legend, or any of the other kids, not unless he—

Legend’s lip trembled, almost imperceptibly, and Time exhaled as he bowed his head.

Then he dropped his weapon.

Legend gave him an agonized look as Time raised his hands in surrender, and though Time couldn’t see the man who was still holding the gun to his head’s face, he was sure he was smirking at them both.

Rage abruptly slammed into Time, more powerful then any of the emotions he’d been dealing with so far, and he gave the robber a look of pure hatred. How dare he mix these kids up in a stupid scheme that was doubtless just to make some money?

No lives were worth a couple of pretty rocks, no matter how rare.

“Get on your knees,” the man demanded next, a hint of glee in his voice, and Time grit his teeth and did as he said.

The other robbers jeered as he kneeled down, and closed their circle around him, one kicking at his legs to make him go down faster. A fist suddenly connected with his face, and Time flinched backwards, laughter ringing in his ears. Another blow hit him on the knee, pain bursting up his leg, and he forced himself not to react.

“You’re not going to fight back?” one of them mocked, making him gasp as he jabbed him in the stomach. “It’d be so easy, just one little punch!”

“Let them go and I’ll give you a fight,” Time growled, but the man with the gun shook his head.

“No, I’m enjoying myself too much. Leaving can wait, the Fierce Deity at our mercy is too good of an opportunity to pass up on,” he chuckled. “Rough him up boys, this could be our break into the big time if word gets out.”

Time barely had time to brace himself before the blows began to rain down, all of the robbers eager to swing a punch or two his way.

Now part of Time’s powers was increased durability, his body able to handle much more strain and abuse than any normal person. But he wasn’t invincible in any sense of the word, and the robbers all had extremely hard boots and gloves, and a few had weapons that slammed into and jabbed at sensitive points all over him.

And he didn’t dare fight back.

By the time they were finished knocking him around, Time had a split lip and bruised ribs, and he wasn’t confident his knee would hold his weight. But despite the pounding in his head and the sharp ache radiating up from his middle, Legend was still unharmed, and so were the other kids.

That was all that mattered.

Time breathed in and met Legend’s eyes for a second, his son’s blue gaze wide and equally angry and fearful as they looked at each other.

“You’ve had your fun,” Time said in a voice more hoarse then before. “Now do what you said, and let them go.”

The leader idly twirled his gun, the barrel no longer pressed to Legend’s head, but still much too close to it. “I don’t think so. I don’t want any funny business from you. They’ll come with us until we’re well on our way, and then they’ll be freed.”

The fire in Time’s stomach roared. “You said you’d let them go if I dropped my weapon.”

“Your own fault for trusting the word of a thief,” the leader shrugged, and Time nearly leapt at him then and there. “We’ll be on our way now. And if you decide to follow us before we’re gone, this little group here might just—”

Someone dropped from the ceiling and landed on top of the man.

He let out a shocked cry as he was thrown to the ground, and Time realized Wild had been the one to drop from above, fully in his costume, and Hyrule and Malon soon dropped down along with him.

Relief swept over Time at the sight of his wife and other two missing sons, both safe and sound. Despite the pain when he moved, he swung out at the nearest robber, who took his punch full on the chin and fell to the ground, immediately unconscious.

A gun went off somewhere, but the familiar sound of the bullet being stopped by Hyrule’s shield rang in Time’s ears. A shriek accompanied it, and Time saw his wife hustling the kids back and away from the fight.

“We got what we came for, let’s go!” the leader of the thieves shouted, having somehow wrestled himself away from Wild, and they all sprinted out into a hallway.

Wild’s face screwed up in anger and he bolted after them, Hyrule following close behind. Malon didn’t immediately follow though, pausing at Time’s side and putting a concerned hand on his face.

“Are you okay?” she breathed worriedly, running her thumb by his split lip. “I heard on the radio, I came as soon as I realized, but I had to find the boys first—”

“You need to get those kids out of here,” Time interrupted softly, clasping her hand for just a moment. Malon scanned over him, then nodded, her eyes worried behind her mask.

“You’re right. We can regroup in a bit,” she murmured, and Time pressed the briefest of kisses to her hand.

Malon quickly stood and went back to the group of kids, giving Legend only a short squeeze on the shoulder since she was in costume and wasn’t supposed to know him. She began ushering them out in a different direction than the bandits had gone, and Time watched them leave, relieved they were all fine.

Stumbling slowly to his feet as they trailed out of the room, Time winced as he put weight on his one leg. He’d certainly had worse, but unless Hyrule was willing to help him along, he’d probably need a doctor. Relaxing afternoon indeed.

Legend suddenly materialized at his side as he managed to stand, his face still pale from what had just happened, eyes wide as they looked him over.

Time didn’t hesitate to bundle him into a tight hug.

His ribs ached with the action but Time didn’t care, and he ignored the way his hand shook as he ran it through Legend’s hair. Legend hugged him back equally tight, and Time rested his head on top of his, relief threatening to send him to the ground again.

“Dad, I’m okay,” Legend said, his voice shaking a little.

“I know. I know you are,” Time breathed. He didn’t let go though, and neither did Legend, and Time ran another hand through his hair, still unable to get the image of Legend with a gun pressed to his temple out of his head.

If even one thing had gone differently...

Time silenced the thought before it could form, and gave Legend a squeeze.

“You shouldn’t have let them do that to you,” Legend said, his voice unusually quiet, and Time sighed, pulling back just a little.

“I couldn’t let them hurt you,” he replied, cupping a gentle hand around Legend’s chin. Legend swallowed and averted his gaze. “And I can handle a few punches. That’s nothing in comparison to what he would have done to you and the others.”

And I would endure it thousands of times if it ensured your safety.

“You still shouldn’t have,” Legend mumbled.

“But I did. And I’m okay,” Time reassured, ignoring every ache that protested the fact. “This wasn’t your fault, Legend.”

Legend only closed his eyes, and Time drew him near again, Legend’s hair brushing his chin.

“I’m okay,” Time reassured again, this time in a whisper. “We’re both okay.”

Legend gripped a little tighter at Time’s suit, Time’s hand running over his hair, and they stood there in silence for what felt like a long time before pulling back, and joining the fight with the others.

#this is after when the movies would take place but not too terribly long after #linkeduniverse #Incredibles au #lu time #lu legend #whump #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #day 4 #day 22 #day 17 #tw gun #tw injury #Incredibles au fic #writing from the floor

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cutthroatcarnival · 4 months

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Febuwhump Day 8: “Why Won’t It Stop?”

Tags/Warnings: None (?)

Warriors gets cursed to feel all the pain his fallen comrades faced. Sky and Twilight try to comfort him while attempting to hold themselves together.

Read it on AO3!

Captain’s Bane

Twilight nursed his jaw- it was likely bruised, the captain packed quite a punch- as he shared a helpless look with Sky, the Skyloftian equally as lost, torn between staying with him or aiding the rancher.

Warriors had collapsed after the battle. He hadn’t been hurt, not physically, but when Hyrule had checked him, he reported the presence of dark magic on him. They had gathered around the fallen captain in a panic before Time had called on them, entrusting Warriors to Sky and Twilight, as they followed the direction the enemy fled.

He had been expecting something like a sleeping curse, or one that would render him unconscious for a while, but not this. Sky had remained at the captain’s side, luckily managing to avoid the swings, and Twilight? Not so much.

Scooting closer to Warriors, more towards his head, Twilight sighed, feeling utterly useless as his brother writhed on the ground, clutching and scratching at his neck. His voice had gone hoarse from all the screaming, now expressing everything through anguished whines that thoroughly broke their hearts- never had they heard Warriors, the level-headed and steadfast captain, this vulnerable.

Warriors had gone still again, and on the dot, Sky swooped in, pressing his fingers against his wrist, sighing and hanging his head in poorly concealed relief- just another lull in whatever was happening. Twilight pet the war hero’s hair, pushing back the sweat-slicked strands carefully, purposefully ignoring the way his hands shook.

Curses weren’t fun, he understood that at the very least. His definitely hadn’t been at the start, but it had gotten better as Twilight lived with it, growing with it, learning with it, and wholeheartedly trusting the wolf that resided as part of his very being. These were on two separate ends of curses- Warriors laid on the malicious side, the one he was afflicted with purposefully casted to cause suffering. Twilight’s was a byproduct of his original transformation under Twili influence, a rather necessary curse to save two realms from crumbling.

A hoarse scream wrenched him out of his thoughts, his attention snapping to Warriors, whose eyes had opened. Twilight could tell he wasn’t completely there, his eyes were hazy. He nearly bumped heads with Sky as they leaned over the captain. Pain-riddled eyes met their’s, tears slowly sliding down.

“Why won’t it stop? I didn’t mean for them to die.” His voice was raw, both from screaming and unconscious emotion, every word spoken with such immense sorrow.

He could hear Sky heave a shuddering breath, clearing his throat to fight against the urge to cry, and he himself wasn’t faring any better, staring at Warriors- whose eyes had drooped shut- feeling his heart shatter into pieces. The lull had ceased, as the captain began writhing and twisting again, legs flailing as if trying to kick someone away- or run away- arms wrapped around his ribs, curling slightly with a whine.

The others needed to find that curser soon, and find them quick. Sweet Ordona, he didn’t know how much Warriors could handle. Sky was close to breaking, the other hero mumbling under his breath what sounded like counting, staying vigilant by the captain’s head. And Twilight could only stare. This wasn’t something that could be fixed with words and hugs- not until much later, that is- and he felt helpless. His chest ached at every small noise the captain made.

He joined the skyward knight at Warriors’ head, pressing their shoulders together. Ordona, hear his pleas, and let their presences be enough for their brother.

#linked universe #lu #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu sky #warriors linked universe #twilight linked universe #sky linked universe #linked universe warriors #linked universe twilight #linked universe sky #mars writes #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024

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sun-and-moon-mushroom · 4 months

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Day 11: Time Loop

AO3 link

(Based on the AU in this post)

(cw for canon typical torture, suicide, implied SA)

During Luo Binghe’s first life, he was one of Shen Qingqiu’s favourite students. It wasn’t something he achieved right away, but rather something he worked for, until his shizun could look at him with pride. Among his martial siblings he was one of the strongest, and was overjoyed when he was given the chance to defend the sect from a demonic invasion. When Shen Qingqiu was accused of murdering the Bai Zhan Peak Lord, Luo Binghe was his most ardent defender, making sure that the Bai Zhan disciples that attacked their peak would never disturb his work or rest. Shen Qingqiu might seem cold and cruel to others, and Luo Binghe wouldn’t deny that he was — it was just that those were the traits he admired in his master, the ones he dreamed of emulating some day.

When the seal on his demonic heritage broke, he was terrified for the first time since he was a child. It was something he’d been having nightmares about for years — that his nature as a demon would be discovered, and that Shen Qingqiu would think he was a traitor and cast him out. What happened instead, after a tense interrogation, was his shizun ordering him to jump into a rift that led to the Endless Abyss, warning him that if any of the other cultivators in the area saw him — a heavenly demon in the middle of a demonic invasion of the largest cultivation event in years — he would be dead within moments. Luo Binghe left, but not without promising Shen Qingqiu that he would be back as soon as he could.

He could never figure out why a flash of sorrow flew across Shen Qingqiu’s face at his words, not until he returned to the human realm once more, six years later, to the news of his imprisonment by Huan Hua Palace for his crimes — something the sect leader, who had always been apologising to Shen Qingqiu for some unknown failing when Luo Binghe was a disciple, had stood by and let happen. Luo Binghe had stormed Huan Hua with an army of demons, intent on keeping his promise, but in the end, he was too late. Shen Qingqiu had died of his injuries just a few days before.

Even as he went on to become Emperor of both the human and demon realms, amassing a harem of a hundred women and becoming more and more powerful with each year, that old promise still lingered in his mind. He made it a point to return any kindness shown to him at least ten-fold — if Shen Qingqiu was still alive, he would be safe and living in luxury, perhaps as one of his advisors, while the sect that betrayed him burned. He wasn’t though, and so the thought remained, until Luo Binghe came across rumours of a rare technique.

It was an ability said to send the user back in time, into the body of their former self, in order to fix their past mistakes. Luo Binghe made it his mission to track the technique down, spending years on the project, until he finally found it. There was an aspect to it that none of the rumours had told him about though — if he returned to a time after he had begun to cultivate, the shock of the transition would send his body into a qi deviation, one that would probably be fatal. That was fine by Luo Binghe though — he knew the perfect time to go back to. The next time he opened his eyes he was back in the body of a child, right before being accepted into Qing Jing Peak.

Things were different the second time. He wasn’t sure what he could have changed — maybe it was just something he said, or maybe Shen Qingqiu was able to see the spark of his older self in his eyes. Either way, when the other disciples started bullying him, when they pushed him out of the dormitory and into the woodshed, he let it happen — it must just be Shen Qingqiu testing him, right? What once was an affectionate nickname becomes a cruel insult. He doesn’t even notice how wrong his cultivation manual is until much later, just using the knowledge from his first life to progress.

As much as he hopes for it, his relationship with Shen Qingqiu in his second life never gets better. He doesn’t know what went wrong for his shizun to hate him so much, doesn’t know what went differently in this life compared to the other. At his worst moments he starts to wonder if the Shen Qingqiu of his first life ever actually cared for him, or if he had simply seen his potential earlier and wanted to claim it for himself.

Years later, the Endless Abyss is open once more, and the sign of his demonic heritage is clear on his forehead. Shen Qingqiu looks at him with rage as he pushes him over the edge while he’s still unsteady from the unsealing, and he wonders if this was how it was always going to be. He makes it through the Abyss faster this time, returning to the human realm after only five years. Xin Mo seems louder in his mind, but it’s nothing he can’t handle.

This time, it’s Luo Binghe who orchestrates the trial, using every piece of knowledge he has to bring Shen Qingqiu under his power. As before, his martial siblings are quick to abandon him, like the cowards that they are. When he first visits his former master in his cell, Shen Qingqiu calls him a beast as he spits at his feet, and in a sudden moment of rage, Luo Binghe tears off his arm. His mind becomes clouded with fury as he thinks back to everything he endured, all out of a hope that Shen Qingqiu would care for him again, only for each and every effort to fail. If Shen Qingqiu won’t love him, he concludes, then he can face the consequences of his actions, here in this cell.

Years later, when Luo Binghe sits on the throne of the combined realms, with six hundred wives, Shen Qingqiu finally dies, and Luo Binghe goes back in time once more.

In his third life, he leaves for the demon realm instead of Cang Qiong, and takes his place at it’s rightful heir by the time he’s fifteen. He comes with Sha Hualing when she leaves to attack the sect, and in the chaos of the fight, he manages to capture Shen Qingqiu. He’s still injured — from the caves, from Liu Qingge’s death he assumes — so he can’t fight back as well as he could. Luo Binghe brings him to the palace he’s been rebuilding, the one that once belonged to his father, and locks him inside a set of luxurious rooms. Maybe, if he sees what accepting Luo Binghe will get him, he’ll be more open to it?

Instead, Shen Qingqiu slits his throat in his room before Luo Binghe can even feed him his blood. He spends the next few years recklessly cultivating, until he is once again strong enough to use the technique that will send him back in time.

In his fourth life, he resolves to make sure Shen Qingqiu will not die, not without his consent. He becomes a disciple again, and slips his blood into his food after breaking his seal in secret. He uses the chaos of the Immortal Alliance Conference to capture him this time, keeping him in an enforced sleep until he finds somewhere safe to keep him. This Shen Qingqiu thinks he’s a spy, thinks he betrayed the sect and kidnapped him to weaken it. He laughs at the idea of a ransom — they both know that the other Peak Lords would never agree to it.

Luo Binghe almost dies in that life, impaled by the blade of Xuan Su, but he manages to survive it, turning his own blade on it’s wielder. In the moment of panic before he breaks free, he pulls on his blood parasites and they tear Shen Qingqiu apart — if he can’t have him, nobody can.

The lives go by, again and again. He’s familiar with the sight of Shen Qingqiu flinching now, with his rare tears of pain, but the way his smile looked is starting to fade from his memory. In one, he tries wiping away his memories, in another he tries wearing a different face, but each time it ends in failure. In one life, he even takes Shen Qingqiu as a concubine — the pills he’s fed provide an illusion of love, but Luo Binghe knows it’s not the real thing. Nothing he tries seems to ever work.

This is what Luo Binghe doesn’t know — Shen Jiu remembers each life as well. Not consciously, not the details, but the impression of the emotions he felt remains. From that first life, where he died alone and cursing his own hope that a half-demon disciple would ever keep his word, he’s been turned against Luo Binghe from the start, with each successive timeline only making things worse and worse, as the hate and fear he feels for him grows.

In a life long after the first, Luo Binghe opens his eyes, once more about to become a disciple of Cang Qiong. Instead, he feels a hand press against his forehead, breaking the seal on his demonic heritage too early. The next thing he feels is a sword through his chest. He looks up at Shen Qingqiu, who is standing there with his sword outstretched — and sees that same look of sorrow he remembers from so long ago.

#svsss #svsss au #shen qingqiu #shen jiu #luo bingge #time loop au #bingjiu #technically!#my writing #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump

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blackrosesandwhump · 4 months

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Febuwhump Day 15: Who Did This to You?

CW: 2nd pov, injured, blood mention, unconsciousness

Something happened to you.

Your consciousness is nothing but a grey haze, letting certain sensations and noises through: pain in your head and neck, footsteps, voices, a low roar that could be wind or traffic. You’re conscious enough to realize that something’s wrong, and that’s it. No strength, no willpower, barely enough breath in your lungs.

The voices grow clearer. One of them filters through the strange haze that has you in its numbing grip.

“Who did this to you?”

You recognize the voice. Someone you care about, maybe. It sends a ripple of desperation through your veins, desperation to get up, open your eyes, do something, but all you can manage is a slurred “I…don’t know.”

“Who did this? I’ll kill them.” A pair of hands clamp onto you, heaving you upright. Your legs buckle; the hands grip tighter. An arm braces against your back. And now you taste something: blood, metallic and bitter. Your own blood.

Something happened to you. But what? And why do you feel like death?

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kybercrystals94 · 4 months

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Hide and Seek and Training

Read here on Ao3!

Febuwhump 2024 | Day 9 | Prompt 9: Bees

Rated: T | Words: 2496 | Summary: Training with Omega goes awry when bees become involved. [Character Focus: Tech, Omega, Hunter, Wrecker, Echo]

“I love this game,” Wrecker whispers loudly to Omega, interrupting Hunter for the third time.

Tech adjusts his goggles irritably. “This isn’t a game, Wrecker. This is training.”

“If it’s training, then why is it fun?”

“I think all training is fun!” Omega pipes up happily.

Hunter sighs. “Can we just get through the instructions before we decide what’s fun and what’s not? Please?”

Echo chuckles from his perch on the Marauder’s ramp. “Kids, listen to your dad!” he calls out.

“Maker help me,” Hunter mutters. He takes a breath and starts again. “Alright. Omega, Wrecker, and Tech…you three, separately, are going to find places in the woods to lay low. Make sure to cover your tracks. After ten minutes, we’re going to see how long it takes me to find you.”

“And the last one found, wins!” Wrecker practically shouts.

Another sigh. “Sure,” Hunter agrees reluctantly.

“This sounds a lot like hide and seek,” Omega comments, smiling brightly up at Wrecker.

“The strategies are similar,” Tech admits, “however, this is a survival simulation.”

Wrecker laughs. “Can we start, Sarge?”

“Get out of here,” Hunter says, waving them off with a grin.

Wrecker and Omega are off like blaster shots, tearing into the forest like their very lives depend on it. Hunter can hear them crashing through the undergrowth even after they’ve disappeared from sight. At this rate, he won’t have to use his enhancements at all to pick up their trail.

Tech takes a much more tactical approach, starting the timer on his chrono and heading out in the opposite direction of his far more enthusiastic siblings. He is absolutely going to give Hunter a run for his credits.

Hunter ambles over to Echo and sits down next to his cyborg brother, glancing at his own chrono to keep track of the time.

“Who are you going after first?” Echo asks.

Hunter chuckles. “How upset do you think Tech would be if I made him lose to Wrecker?”

“You’d better start sleeping with one eye open if you go that route,” Echo muses.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll just play it by ear and see what happens,” Hunter decides, leaning back on his elbows, ready to enjoy the peace and quiet these ten minutes will indulge him.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega stops suddenly, turning to look back at where she came from. She can’t see the Marauder through the trees anymore. Perfect. Glancing around, she kneels and touches the cool, damp earth with her fingertips. Hunter will be able to track her to this point easily. Just as she planned. It will make it much more fun when she disappears like a ghost.

With little effort, Omega clambers up the nearest tree, the toes of her boots finding quick purchase in the gnarled bark, and her fingers easily curling around protruding knots. She makes it to the first branch in seconds, and straddles it for a moment to plan her next move. The neighboring tree has a branch nearly touching hers, so she stands and edges her way toward it. A small jump later, and she claims the adjacent tree.

A few minutes lates, Omega is more than half a dozen trees away from where she started. Hunter will begin his search soon. She might have the advantage of him going after her more experienced brothers first; however, she can also imagine him coming after her first, if only to make sure she is safe. Therefore, she needs to get herself out of sight as quickly as possible, just in case.

Omega begins to climb higher, where the leaves and branches become denser. She smiles to herself, wondering if Hunter will be surprised at how well she has done. Her training is finally paying off.

She is so distracted by her joyous thoughts that she doesn’t notice the humm of agitated buzzing just to her left as she settles comfortably onto a thick branch, peering down through the soft leaves.

After a few minutes of quiet, Omega feels the sensation of legs on the back of her neck. She stiffens, resisting the urgent impulse to reach up and slap away the unknown creature. If she threatens it, whatever it is might sting or bite. She prays it has wings and will just fly away on its own. Then the sensation tickles down to the collar of her shirt.

No, no, no, Omega thinks desperately, not down my shirt!

She catches movement on her arm out the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she sees an insect, brightly colored, winged, and armed with a stinger. Omega releases a shuddering breath when she sees another join its friend on her sleeved arm, and another flying lazily past her face.

She notices the buzzing now.

Slowly, Omega looks back at where the branch she sits on meets the tree. Tucked into the crook, a muddy looking structure is swarming with the colorful insects. Bees, Omega’s memory supplies frantically.

She needs to get down from here.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Tech has found the perfect hiding place when his comm pings. Internalizing a sigh of frustration, he glances down at the source code. Crosshair’s old source code…Omega’s current source code. He answers immediately. “Omega?”

“Tech,” Omega’s voice is strained and hushed. She sounds terrified. “I need help. I don’t know what to do!”

“Alright. First, we must remain calm. Tell me exactly what is wrong and where you are,” Tech says, keeping his own voice temperate. He pulls out his data pad and begins the trace on Omega’s beacon.

Omega’s voice quakes, and Tech thinks she might be crying. “I’m–in a tree…and there’s bees? A lot of bees, and they are everywhere! They have stingers, and I’m afraid they’ll sting me if I move.”

Not an unreasonable fear to have under the circumstances. Tech climbs down from his hiding place and begins to follow the beacon at a brisk pace. He plans to briefly research the type of insects Omega has encountered during his trek. It might be vital to her safe extraction from the situation. “Can you describe what these ‘bees’ look like? Do you see their domicile?”

“Uhm,” Omega’s voice wobbles through distractedly, “Yeah. They’re colorful…red and blue and orange and yellow with black stripes. And they have a hive that looks like it’s made out of mud…maybe?”

Tech types in the brief description and pulls up an article on the species. Polychromatic Wasps. His eyes drift over the information briefly. “Alright, Miss Omega, I am enroute to your location now. It seems that this particular species of wasp - or bee - will not attack unless they feel threatened. My recommendation is that you remain perfectly stationary until I arrive.”

“I’m scared,” Omega admits weakly.

Tech hesitates. “I understand. We will have you out of this situation in short order, and you will be fine. I promise.”

“Okay,” Omega says. A slight strengthening in her tone suggests that she believes him.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter is surprised when he hears Tech’s familiar tread coming toward him, and is even more surprised at the speed at which his brother is moving. He comes into view a moment later, not even glancing up from his data pad as he approaches Hunter. “Omega is in distress. We must get to her location immediately.”

Tact and gentle verbal blows are not among Tech’s enhancements. Hunter’s heart rate accelerates to what feels like an inhuman speed. “What? Where is she?” he demands, falling into hurried step next to Tech.

“I’ve got her location locked,” Tech tells him. “She says that she came across a wasp nest when she climbed a tree. She is unharmed at present, just frightened.”

Hunter at first questions why Omega would comm Tech before any of her other brothers, especially brothers that might be closer to her aid. It dawns on him that Omega – always resourceful – would have called Tech first in order for him to provide her the information she would need until rescue came. She knows how to utilize her brothers’ strengths, and for that, he is incredibly proud of her.

“Here,” Tech says, stopping at the base of a tree. He looks up. “Omega?” he calls out.

A small voice calls back from the depths of the leaves and branches. “I’m here, Tech. They haven’t stung me.”

“Excellent!” Tech calls back. He starts to remove his pack.

“I can go,” Hunter says, already putting his hands to the trunk to find his first grips.

Tech shakes his head, dropping his pack to the ground and nudging Hunter aside. “I am far better suited to the task…and I’ll need you down here to catch her when I drop her down.”

“Wait, what?” Hunter asks in alarm, but Tech is already climbing.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Omega almost bursts into tears of relief when Tech appears through the leaves and branches. But she holds them back with a painful swallow, keenly aware that she now has at least a dozen bees crawling over her person, with dozens more flying about, perturbed about their motionless intruder.

Tech climbs the rest of the way up onto the branch, bracing himself so that he is facing Omega. “I have a plan,” he says immediately.

Omega gives the tiniest nod. “Okay.”

“It seems that the wasps are becoming agitated, probably due to the presence of your scent in their territory,” Tech continues. “That is why we are going to remove you from the situation rather abruptly.”

“How?”

“I am going to drop you down from the tree, and Hunter is going to catch you. That is the fastest way.”

“Am I going to get stung?” Omega asks. “They’re all over me!”

Tech moves closer, slowly. “I can see that. Unfortunately, there is the possibility that any or all of us will be stung. While it is painful and not ideal, it is not deadly. Clones are not allergic to bee or wasp stings.”

Omega knows Tech means to be encouraging; however, just the idea of being stung renews her impulse to cry. She sniffs, willing herself to be brave. After all, she got herself into this mess, and her brothers are bravely getting her out, at the risk of being stung themselves.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Omega says, “Okay, tell me what I need to do.”

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Hunter hates that the canopy of leaves is shielding his siblings from view, although he can hear Omega and Tech talking in hushed tones — which means, he supposes, that they are okay for the moment. If she hadn’t happened to come across a wasp nest doing it, Hunter would be very impressed with Omega’s hiding place. Obviously, though, they still needed to work on her spatial awareness…

His comm crackles to life. “Hunter, I am going to be lowering Omega through the branches, and on the count of three, I will release her. Are you ready to catch her?”

Instead of speaking through his comm, Hunter calls up, “I’m ready!”

“I should note,” Tech adds, as an obvious afterthought, “there is a high likelihood that you and Omega will be stung. I was not able to get many off of her without angering the hive.”

Hunter grits his teeth. He would rather none of them got stung, especially Omega; however, a sting or two is better than the alternative. “Got it,” he calls up.

There is rustling, and then Omega’s boots appear, immediately followed by her legs, torso and head. She is dangling by her arms, both hands clinging tightly to Tech’s forearm. Hunter can see the multicolored wasps crawling against the muted fabric of her clothes. There must be about a dozen of the things. He hopes most of them fly away the moment she drops.

As if they’d be so lucky.

Hunter shifts his stance, readying himself.

Omega’s eyes meet his for a moment, and he sees the tears glistening on her eyelashes.

“We got this, Omega,” he says encouragingly, hoping his expression doesn’t appear as frantic as the blood pounding in his ears.

She nods and looks up again at Tech, who is still invisible to Hunter. “I’m ready.”

Tech says over comms, “One…two…three!”

Omega drops then. It is only a split second between watching her fall and catching her, but it stretches for hours, especially when Omega lets out a squeak of terror at the brief free fall. Hunter catches Omega under her arms and places her on the ground. Using his gloved hands, he swats away the wasps that cling to her. Most of them fly away, but a couple decide to fight back against the assault.

Hunter feels a couple of stings immediately on his exposed wrists, and one just under his right ear. He is more focused on Omega, who seems to have been stung on the back of her neck and hands.

Tech drops down from the tree a moment later. “I suggest we run,” he says as the sound of enraged wasps buzz louder.

Hunter scoops Omega up and runs.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

Tech hates being fussed over but Echo is relentless. So he tries to hold as still as possible as Echo analyzes each sting to be sure they are healing properly, and dabbing bacta ointment over the wounds.

“Are you about finished?” he asks with a hiss after Echo accidentally prods a wound a little too hard.

“You are making this harder than it needs to be,” Echo says without a hint of remorse as he pokes at the next sting.

Tech rolls his eyes, but allows Echo to finish his checks without further complaint. At long last, Echo leaves Tech alone to do as he pleases, which is to sit in his rack with his data pad and try not to irritate his minor injuries.

He isn’t left alone for long.

“Tech?”

Tech looks up to see Omega standing at the foot of his bunk.

“Are you doing alright, Omega?” he asks her, noticing the swollen welts on her hands and neck from her own stings. They don’t look red or irritated, which is excellent.

Omega nods, wincing slightly at the movement. “I’m okay. I just wanted to thank you…for helping me…and I’m sorry you got stung more than any of us.”

Tech smiles. “No thanks are necessary. I was more than happy to assist.”

Omega smiles back, but it doesn’t reach her usually bright eyes.

“Also, I meant to tell you,” Tech continues offhandedly, “that had the wasps not been involved, I am quite confident you would have won the training exercise.”

This catches Omega’s attention. She stands a little straighter. “Really?”

“Absolutely,” Tech says. “I was hoping you might share with me your strategy. It could prove to be a valuable resource in the future.”

Omega looks absolutely delighted. “Sure! Are you going to write a report about it?”

“I’ve already started.”

At that, the little girl in their care practically radiates light as she rushes to his side to give him all the details.

END

✨Let me know if you’d like to be a part of my taglist!✨

Taglist: @followthepurrgil @isthereanechoinhere96 @amorfista @mooncommlink @arctrooper69 @nagyanna424 @merkitty49

#febuwhump 2024 #febuwhumpday9 #prompt 9: Bees #star wars #fanfiction #the bad batch #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #echo tbb #tbb omega #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb hunter #some whump with a dollop of fluff #this was a monster to write. But worth it!#stories by kyber

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teejaystumbles · 4 months

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Febuwhump Day 2 - Solitary Confinement

This fit perfectly with what I was planning to write for Fire Elemental Hob so have a new snippet!

When Hob wakes up he finds himself in an empty room. It is small and the walls are made of stone, sheer granite without any visible cracks or fissures. There is no door, no window, no opening at all. Hob feels his breath catch and his throat tighten in panic. He cannot- he cannot be back here! This can't be real! He can't breathe. He feels his form shrink from the lack of oxygen to feed on. He'll die, suffocate slowly until nothing of him remains, until he- He hears himself whimper and it echoes loudly in the empty space. "Please let me out, please, I don't want to die, I don't-" Suddenly there are no more walls. He is kneeling on the stone kitchen floor of the Dreaming's castle and the Lord of Dreams is standing in front of him. Hob can see flames dance in the fringes of his coat. Was that him? Has he set Lord Morpheus' mantle on fire? Is that why he is being punished? He bows his head to the floor and pleads, "My Lord, forgive me, please don't put me back in there, I beg you, please-" "Hob. Calm yourself." Hob gasps and stays where he is, not daring to look up, breathing raggedly. He's not dead. He can breathe. He tries to focus on that. The Dreamlord moves and Hob sees his mantle fringe sweep over the floor. At a closer look the flames don't seem to feed on it, they dance along the black fabric without damaging it at all. Hob feels a strange desire to reach out and touch them, find out if they are his kin or if they are somehow as cold and untouchable as their master. "Hob," Lord Morpheus says again, "it was not my intent to bring you discomfort." Hob shakes his head slowly and tries to understand. “But…why put me in such a room, then? Have I done something?” He dares look up and sees the Dreamlord look down at him with something like unease on his face. He is frowning and his hair is a wild mess, as usual. Hob still finds him very beautiful. The thought both terrifies and calms him, strangely. It is a now familiar feeling that Hob can use to push back the panicked scream still clawing at the back of his throat. Strange how the sight of this realm’s lord has become a welcome source of peace for him. He realises that it is because he trusts Dream to not hurt him. Intentionally.

The working title for this fic is "Rekindle my heart" btw. I'll try and tag all related posts with it

#dreamling #fic: rekindle my heart #the sandman fanfiction #teejay writes #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #hob gadling #dream of the endless #fire elemental Hob

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serickswrites · 4 months

Text

Solitary

Warnings: captivity, torture, restraints, solitary confinement, small spaces, sensory deprivation

"SHUT UP!" Whumper growled at Team Leader. Whumper had, for the better part of an hour, been trying to hurt Teammate One, but each time Whumper raised their hand, Team Leader began to scream. Scream at their top of their longs, breaking Whumper's concentration.

Team Leader didn't relent. They couldn't. As long as Whumper wasn't distracted, they wouldn't hurt any of the team. Team Leader wouldn't let Whumper hurt their team.

"If you do not shut up, I will make you." Whumper said as they stalked away from Teammate One.

But Team Leader didn't stop. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Their throat was ragged from screaming, but they wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop.

Whumper stalked forward and boxed Team Leader's ears, disorienting them quickly. Team Leader's scream faltered as they listed sideways from the blow. Whumper took advantage and began to drag Team Leader out of the room. "I will have my way with your team. I will. There is nothing you can do to stop me."

Team Leader opened their mouth to start screaming once more, but Whumper shoved a filthy rag in their mouth. "You will not spoil my fun."

Team Leader began to struggle in their restraints, trying to free their fingers enough to rip the rag out of their mouth. Whumper quickly pulled a blindfold down over Team Leader's eyes. Team Leader struggled violently against being blinded, but Whumper boxed their ears once more before lifting them into the air.

"You will not spoil my fun," they growled in Team Leader's ear as they dropped Team Leader.

Team Leader's heart fluttered as they had no way to gauge how long they would fall. Their fall was broken abruptly by cold metal. They were enclosed on all sides by metal. They thrashed against the sides. They had to get out of the box.

"Let's see how you do with some time alone with your thoughts, Team Leader." Whumper whispered in their ear before shoving something thick and cottony in both their ears.

Team Leader was cut off from their senses. Cut off from the world. Cut off and in a tight space. Cut off and unable to help their team. Cut off and unable to do anything but try and calm their breathing.

Time passed. Or didn't. Team Leader had no way of knowing. Had no way of knowing anything. They only had their hope that Whumper would come for them soon. And then they would have their revenge.

#serickswrites #whump #whumpblr #whump writing #whump community #tw captivity #tw restraints #tw torture #tw solitary confinement #tw small spaces #tw sensory deprivation #team whump #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #day 2 #prompt: solitary confinement #queue

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kabie-whump · 4 months

Text

♡ Febuwhump Day 6: "You lied to me." ♡

@febuwhump

Content: betrayal, suggestion of attempted recapture

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“You lied to me!”

Whumpee’s voice was hoarse and broken. They weren’t supposed to be using it this much yet. It wasn’t finished healing.

Caretaker held out their hands, moving slowly towards where Whumpee was curled into the corner of the storage closet, their knees tucked to their chest.

“Whumpee, please. Calm down.”

“No! You lied to me! You told me I would never have to see them again!” They were sobbing now, chest heaving.

“You don’t, Whumpee, I promise. You’re safe from Whumper.”

“Shut up!” Whumpee’s voice cracked, forcing them to resort to a frenzied whisper. “You’re lying. I saw them. I saw them. You’re letting them live here!”

“You- oh. Oh shit. The person in the lobby? Gray sweatshirt?”

Whumpee nodded miserably.

Caretaker’s heart dropped. The new member of their little team had seemed so nice during the interview. Their eyes had lingered on Whumpee as they walked by, but Caretaker had taken it to be innocent curiosity at their many scars.

“Shit. I am so sorry. I’m going to get rid of them, I promise. Just stay here. Lock the door. Don't open it for anyone but me.”

Whumpee didn’t respond, sobbing into their knees.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Part 2

#whump #whump tropes #whump writing #whump community #whumpblr #febuwhump #febuwhumpday6 #febuwhump day 6 #whump scenario #whump ideas #whumpee #whump prompt #recovery whump #whumper #caretaker #recapture #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump2024

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adrift-in-thyme · 4 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 10: Human Shield

Ao3

CW for blood and injury

————————————-

It is raining. A torrent of water cascades down from the sky, soaking Warriors and plastering his tunic to his skin. The fierce winds whip his hair into his eyes, washes the ground out from beneath his feet. Fighting in such conditions is…less than enjoyable to be certain.

But such is the way of heroism, he supposes. If you come across a heavily populated monster camp, you can’t very well just turn around and walk away. Even if it is raining bokos and keese.

“I’m gonna assume,” he remarks, as he drives his sword into a nearby moblin and almost slips in the mud, “that this isn’t your doing Sprite.”

He can’t see Time’s expression — the old man is busy slashing at the handful of beasts currently trying to cage him in — but he can tell that he’s grinning anyway.

“Not this time, no.” Time whirls in a spin attack, sending monsters and mud and water flying in all directions. “Believe me, if the Song of Storms had the power to end this downpour, then I wouldn’t hesitate to play it.”

Warriors chuckles. “And here I was thinking you liked the rain.”

“I do when I don’t have to fight an entire camp of monsters in it.”

Warriors laughs again, bringing his sword in a harsh, upward stroke. Black blood flies, splattering into the makeshift river sprouting into being beneath his feet. Quick as a flash, it is washed away.

The feeling of victory is short-lived. Several more monsters jog up to take their fallen companion’s place. Warriors steps back, shifting his feet to get a better grip on the ground. They come at him and he whirls in his own imitation of Time’s move mere seconds before.

“Well, if this is what it takes to get you back for all those times you drenched me for no reason besides your own gremlin joy…then I’ll deal.”

Time faces him from across the space that separates them. Raindrops drip from his hair and run in rivulets down his face. They wash away the blood dribbling sluggishly from a cut across his forehead. They can do little, however, for that which stains his trousers right above his boot. Nor can they rinse off the mud that sullies his usually spotless armor.

But he smiles as though none of that matters. And for a moment Warriors sees a mischievous little forest child, grinning up at him as he complains about his latest prank.

“Truly?” He cocks his head, brings his claymore down with hardly any effort, and sends ten monsters soaring. “You would endure this just to get back at me? And for something that I allegedly did years ago? I never took you for a petty person, captain.”

Warriors rolls his eyes. He is traveling even deeper into the camp now, cutting down the monsters that try to get in his way. There is a cluster of them in the middle of the encampment, gathered around a skeletal treasure chest. He’s willing to bet that killing them will make the largest impact.

“I’m not being petty, Sprite. I’m defending my honor.”

“Ah. My bad.”

Time’s voice has a lilting tone, mischievous and slightly mocking. It has been too long since Warriors heard it. Too long since he has seen the child hidden deep within the man trying to be the responsible one in their little group. The leader.

“Well, is your honor suitably — ”

He cuts off abruptly and Warriors cranes his neck in an attempt to ascertain the disturbance. It’s difficult to see over the many heads of his opponents, however, and even more so through the torrent of murky water.

In the end, he doesn’t have to see a thing to realize something is coming. Something large and metallic and decidedly different from the beasts they have battled thus far.

A fast, panicked tune sounds in Warriors’ ears, alarm bells jingling like the notes on a piano.

The monsters surrounding him skitter out of the way, shrieking in fear. In the space that they have left shines a blurry, crimson light. It emanates from a single eye of purest blue, situated in the cylinder-shaped head of a skulltula-like monstrosity.

And it is pointed straight at him.

The air itself begins to heat, turning cool rain lukewarm. Warriors’ eyes go wide.

There isn’t time to run, there isn’t room to run, but he needs to try anyway, he needs to get away…

Arms working without conscious effort, he lifts his shield and prays that it will be enough.

“Captain!”

Firm hands connect with his shoulder. Warriors stumbles sideways, slips, and splashes down into the mud. Heart in his throat, thoughts a jumbled mess of adrenaline and panic signals, he scrambles to all fours.

Only to collapse again mere seconds later when the world erupts.

Crimson light blinds him, molten heat smothers him. The air is thick with it, screaming with the agony of it.

Or maybe someone else is screaming. He can’t tell. All he knows is that he can’t breathe, can’t hear, can’t see anything save for the cries of destruction.

Again and again, the monstrosity fires. Again and again, heat batters at all sides, yet somehow doesn’t touch him.

And then, it’s over.

Warriors can only lie there for a moment, ears ringing, breath coming in ragged gasps. Slowly, painstakingly, the world crawls back into focus.

Carnage lies everywhere. Every monster has disappeared, either escaped into the forest or lying in the dirt. The gore that they have left behind peppers the area. Trees and bits of rock are strewn about, shedding leaves, branches, and pebbles into the rivers of mud. The towers that the beasts had stood upon are no longer the stalwart things they once were. Some are only half standing, others little more than shattered pieces of wood.

And in the midst of it all crouches the smoldering form of the mechanical skulltula that had borne down upon them so quickly. Beside it, lies another of the same build and same size. The lights on that one have just begun to flicker out.

Dazedly, Warriors stares at them from within a strange veil of blue. Then, slowly his gaze drifts to the hero that rises before them.

Time stands straight and tall amongst a river of mud and gore. In one hand he clutches his gilded sword in a white-knuckled grip; in the other his shield. Cracks snake along the pearly silver surface.

Water runs off of what is left of his armor, soaking into his tunic and trousers where the plates have been blown away. Blood oozes from a cluster of deep cuts speckling his upper back. More of the same type mar his left leg and hip.

His shoulders rise and fall with every haggard, gasping breath.

“Sprite?” Warriors croaks and Time turns to him.

He smiles, even as blood trickles from his nostrils and mouth and the gash on his cheek. Even as he wavers.

“Alright, captain?” He croaks, right before his legs give way beneath him.

Instantly, Warriors is on his feet. The haze of shimmering cerulean fades as he stumbles up, leaving behind remnants of an oddly familiar magic.

But he doesn’t have time to ponder that mystery.

He slides to his knees in the mud and pulls Time into his arms. The hero slumps against him. Quickly, Warriors looks over him, assessing the wounds that he can see.

The gashes he had seen before are claw marks, he realizes now, as though a giant beast had tried to pin him to the ground. And the burns searing his arm and side look disturbingly similar to Wild’s scars.

Warriors drags in a steadying breath. Time needs a potion at the very least. Preferably a fairy.

They have neither.

“Sprite.” His voice is oddly detached. To his ears, it sounds as though it is traveling from very far away. “What was that?”

Time’s eyelid flutters, showing a slit of blue. Raindrops roll down his cheeks like tears.

“Nayru’s love,” he croaks, and a smile quirks his lips. “Takes an a-awful lot of damage.”

Warriors’ eyes widen slightly as it hits him.

A spell. That blue haze that had shielded him from the onslaught of fire was a spell. One that Time had cast on him and not himself.

“Someone had to kill them,” comes Time’s quiet voice, raspy with pain. “And I didn’t have enough magic to cover the both of us.”

Warriors looks back down at him and there is no remorse in his gaze. Only calm acceptance.

The captain wants nothing to do with it.

“Well, I’m not losing you,” he grits out. “You deserve to go out in a warm bed, in a warm house, when you’re ancient and insufferable. Not like this. Not here.”

Not because you sacrificed yourself for me.

Time’s hand finds his and squeezes. His fingers are frigid, wet with water and blood. But his touch is firm despite the weakness caging him in. Firm and reassuring.

“You s-sure you can handle me when I’m ancient and insufferable?” He murmurs and Warriors chokes out a chuckle.

“You can bet on it, Sprite.”

He drags himself up, slipping in the cursed sludge that the ground has become. But he manages to gain a steady enough footing. And when he drapes Time’s arm over his shoulders, he is able to take the older man’s weight without losing his balance.

“I’m going to get you back to camp,” he assures him, as Time lets out a low groan, eye slipping closed once more. “My medical supplies are there and I’ve got a few potions. Hyrule can heal you if we need him to, as well.”

Time nods. Warriors tightens his grip. And slowly, arduously, they begin their journey.

#and here’s today’s lol #yes I’m picking on time yet again #there’ll be many more days of that I assure you #such is the price to pay for being my blorbo #plus today’s my birthday so I’m legally obligated to torture my fave XD #febuwhump 2024 #febuwhump day 10 #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #whump #angst #lu warriors #lu time #trin writes #blood tw #injury tw

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bokettochild · 3 months

Text

Febuwhump Day 21 - Unresponsive

@kuroro-uwu Okay, I know I am LATE, but I did write it! I hope this suits your fancy!

Wordcount: 6,697

Rating: General

Summary: Minish Four and Fairy Hyrule go on a mini-expedition to seek out information. One minute, all is well, and the next- well, Four's not sure WHAT happened, but now he's got a passed out fairy on his hands and no clue what caused it.

(No warnings, this is all pure fluff)

They needed information.

It really was as simple as that. They’ve been trying to learn anything they can about what’s happening to the worlds around them, but hylians are so often ignorant and their group is anything but subtle, so getting it without causing a stir has become something of an issue for the traveling heroes.

It’s the weapons and armor, Legend tells them with a huff, and he’s not exactly wrong either.

People do tend to become more wary when they see soldiers around in the country.

He’d noticed it before, back when he hadn’t yet met the others. Carrying a sword put people on edge. An axe, a spear, or even a bow, out in the country, can be excused as a hunting tool or something to do with your trade. A sword though, a sword means that you are, undeniably, a fighter, and fighters don’t tend to go about armed unless there's danger around to be fought. So, correlation of swords to nearby danger makes people wary, and their group, all armed with swords, and many of them being intimidating looking persons, only further sets people ill at ease.

Getting concrete answers from people who are questioning your intentions all the while isn’t easy, and by now, their group has sort of given up. Or rather, almost all of the others have; Four still has an ace up his sleeve.

“I may have something I can try.” He states as the rest seem just about ready to give up for the day.

Eyes turn to fix on him, various expressions of discouragement, frustration, disbelief, and exhaustion coloring the different shades of blue. It’s Legend that speaks though. “If it involves pretending to be a child, keep me out of it.”

Twilight coughs into his fist, but his dark eyes sparkle. Simultaneously, Warriors rubs at his own brows, the captain following up their scholar’s words with his own. “What’s the idea, smithy? And please, do not say it requires-”

“It’s a me thing,” he assures them. “You guys being around actually won’t work.”

“No one is going off alone,” Time states, just at the same time as Warriors says: “What did we say about leaving the group behind?” Both men shoot glances at each other after, but then Four’s fixed with both stares, one tired and one firm, and neither wavering as he sighs.

“It involves magic, and it won’t work with a second person.”

Wild stares, pointed, but Twilight frowns. “S it what I think it is?”

Abruptly, he remembers that Twilight does, in fact, know, and has known about this as long as he’s known the truth about the wolf. They hadn’t talked about it since, and he’s not exactly employed the magic since then, but Twilight had seen it all the same. “Yeah,” he nods, ignoring the confused looks from the others, “that thing.”

“More secrets,” the captain sighs, “excellent.”

A few eyes turn to the soldier, annoyed, but they can’t blame him. Four can’t either. It’s been a bit rough dancing around the new things falling on their heads when their brothers deem it the time to drop new knowledge out of nowhere. Even if he did know about the wolf, there’s still knowledge he hadn’t had about that one.

“I’ll go with the smithy,” their rancher announces, turning to their leader.

Time’s brows raise. “You have similar magic?”

“Naw, but I can keep watch for him, an’ guard his back.”

“No going off alone,” Warriors repeats, again, this time from behind a hand that’s scrubbing at his brows. “How may times must I say it?”

But Twilight can’t come with, and neither can the others. No one else can because no one else can shrink down to the size of a minish!

If there’s anyone who will know what's going on across the kingdom at any given time, it’s always the little people. He knows they can give him answers even if no hylian will, but he’s not too eager to explain that. The other heroes might not even know about the minish, and if they do, the doubt on whether or not he should be able to see them still will linger or make them question his skill like they do with the sailor. Neither option is something he’s keen on.

“I’ll go with,” and he doesn’t expect the traveler to speak up, but the other lad does, stepping forwards with an awkward half smile. “I’m decent with magic, so maybe I can replicate whatever you’re planning to do.”

Given the choice between no answers and letting Hyrule in on it, he supposes the traveler is the better of the two options. The other lad is cheeky at times, but he’s capable, and trustworthy. Besides that, he’s kept so much secret about his own magic, to the point where they still have no clue about all of it. Surely, he can also keep Four’s secret as well, right?

“Fine,” he nods to their curly haired companion before turning to their leader, expectant.

Time sighs, glancing briefly at the captain, but then nods. “Be back at camp by dark.”

“Understood.”

The good thing about working with Hyrule is that he’s good at following directions, and he never asks unnecessary questions. It’s clear he’s thinking them, of course, but he doesn’t talk too much, and he doesn’t push things with Four, not ever. It’s a bit of a welcome change of pace after having the heroes all up each others’ tails about so many things.

They wander back through the village for a short while and into the inn and bar combo they’d been to with the rest. He knows the other two probably want to know what he hopes to achieve in here, even Twilight who knows his arsenal probably isn’t sure how it would be useful, but that’s not his main focus.

They can ask their questions later. Right now, we need that portal.

Where was it again, Vio?

Left corner, floor level. Looks like a mouse hole.

Well, it sort of is. Red snorts softly. It’s a minish hole.

Very funny. Blue deadpans back. If he had his own eyes, he’d be rolling them, but all of Four knows it wouldn’t be in any real ire. That’s just how their more abrasive aspect is.

Twilight and Hyrule are watching as he moves down to the corner. The rest of the folks within the inn don’t seem to even notice the trio, too busy with their own business. Those that do are carefully avoiding eye contact or even being caught staring, wary less they draw attention to themselves. It’s kind of sad, honestly, but Four doesn’t have time to dwell on it.

Ezlo’s spell plays across his lips with the ease of a thousand speakings, and in seconds he’s down to his other normal size.

Twilight grins down at him.

Hyrule gapes for a moment. “Is this what you were talking about?” He asks, as though it’s not rather painfully obvious. Before Four can answer though, the traveler’s face twists up into a grin, eyes sparking. “Alright, I- I can work with this.”

It’s his own turn to gape as the traveler himself mutters a few words, and in a brief cloud of magic, the young man is gone, replaced instead by the shimmering, hovering light of a fairy.

Four stares. Twilight does as well.

The ball of light laughs. “You said it yourself, we’re all sitting on something, smithy.”

“Ordonia’s kids,” the rancher murmurs softly, “’fore we know it everyone will out ‘emselves as a shifter of some sort.” Neither of the other two have any knowledge of how true that rings, but regardless, they don’t exactly have any grounds to deny it either, considering it seems to be true of their little trio at least.

Finally reclaiming control over speech, Four turns his face upwards to stare at his flying brother. Inside his head, Red is exclaiming in delight over the flight, Blue marveling at the wings, and Green ecstatic at the presence of a fellow shifter to match Four’s size, but outside his head, he has to focus. “This hole here should lead to a community of people more on the magical side.” he nods to the gap in the wall, starting a bit when the fairy’s light flickers and zips down to be level with him.

It’s definitely Hyrule, although the change from Hylian to fairy is more than just a shift in size. He’s not sure which set of eyes to focus on or how to react to other definitely not hylian features displayed beside familiar ones, but Vio somehow wrests enough control to keep his face straight and his jaw in place.

“It might take a bit, but the gossip vine is strong with these folks. They should have what we want to know.”

“Excellent,” Hyrule trills, voice more melodic, but pleasantly so. It has the smithy’s ears flicking forwards to catch it better, the warm fairy magic settling his own.

He glances up to Twilight, still normal sized and crouched in the corner, practically looming over them. “We’ll be back before dark. Just wait here, okay?”

A thumbs up is their answer, and the rancher stands, hailing a server in the barroom and claiming the table closest to their future exit as the two smaller heroes- and by now they are much smaller- pop through the hole in the wall to move along to their destination.

Minish passages are nothing new to Four, but Hyrule keeps gasping in surprise and delight as he looks about the lever and pulley systems between one part of the network and another. It has the smithy smiling to himself, and while it’s not his own work, he does take pride in the efforts of his little friends, and their skill, which he’s sure to share with the only other hylian (sort of hylian?) to get to see it firsthand.

“Inns like this are hotspots for minish too, just like people,” he explains to his wide-eyed companion. “They catch rides on wagons or in people’s bags sometimes, and, just like us, they need a place to stay when they tire.” He pads along carefully to the lift made from an old cup and some twine, climbing up into it and almost reaching out to offer a hand to the traveler, only to catch himself when he remembers the other has wings. “A big place like this is sure to house practically a city of minish, so it might take some time, but we’ll have lots of options when it comes to asking around for information.”

The traveler nods, gaze flicking to the little lever just inches from the smithy’s tiny paw. The signal is clear.

Four pushes the lever, and the lift starts its ascent, the fairy flying up behind him even as they watch another such lift lower, granting Hyrule his first sight of a real minish. The traveler’s catching breath and little gasp makes him smile, but he’s careful to warn the other the moment the other lift is out of sight. “Remember not to call anyone cute, okay? If anything, be prepared for them to call you that. They're not very used to fairies.”

“Understood,” the traveler’s voice is distant as he looks around, words almost an afterthought as he seemingly takes in the whole of the new world he’s discovering.

He won’t be much help, will he?

He’s here so we’re not alone, Green sighs, although there’s no lack of fondness in his tone, He doesn’t need to help us, just be here so Time and Warriors won’t get upset.

He won’t be able to understand the minish anyway, the more sedate aspect reminds the others, he’s never eaten a jabber nut.

Right.

Perhaps he should have remembered that earlier, but he wasn’t exactly planning on taking Hyrule this far along when he’d agreed to keep the traveler with him. If anything, he’d expected the other to wait with Twilight while he took care of the reconnaissance. Still, it should be alright, Hyrule seems content to stare about at the thrumming new world he’s witness too, and he lets Four take the lead as the smithy climbs out of the lift and starts towards the minish puttering about.

Greetings rise here and there and everywhere, although no one seems to recognize him. If anything, that proves they’re not in his era, so even the small things mean something (as a small thing himself, the thought makes him laugh). Still, he guides the way, Hyrule fluttering after him and attracting many a startled stare. In the long run, he thinks Hyrule’s presence works to his favor, because while a minish stopping by at an inn and wandering about a new place is hardly anything to look twice at, a minish with a fairy trailing after him garners much attention, and before they know it, a very elderly looking member of the community approaches. The staff in his paw marks him as an Elder, and while the traveler doesn’t know that, he still bows his head politely at the sight of long flowing whiskers.

“Greetings, strangers.” The elder smiles.

Four bows, politely. Hyrule cannot, not while flying, but he thinks the respectful bob of the head the traveler offered will be enough. Minish are polite, but they aren’t fussy about others needing to be so. Well, those who aren’t Ezlo. “Greetings, elder.”

“Greetings, elder.” Hyrule mimics, words a soft chime that echos off the interior of the inn’s walls.

The elder smiles again, thanking them for their kind welcome. “Forgive my asking, but what is it that brings two youngsters like yourselves here?”

“We seek knowledge of the world outside.” Four answers, because obviously Hyrule can’t. “We are travelers through time, and this era is new to us.”

“Ah.”

“We have hylian companions who need knowledge in order to travel safely, so we hoped to come here and inquire what there is to be known of the world outside.”

His explanation is met with some surprised twitching of noses and flicking of ears, little murmurs all around them, excitedly twitching tails flicking all sorts of colors from the many gathered minish peoples, but he pays them little mind, although Hyrule stares about in awe. The elder welcomes them though to speak to any they would like. “I have not been in the outside world for some time now, but we have many travelers, like yourselves. Please, ask all you would like. I hope we are of aid to you young heroes.”

It’s only when he’s watching the elder’s tail disappear into the crowd again that he realizes at all that they should not have been recognized as heroes. Then again, Minish Elder’s are proficient in magic most times, and maybe he’d sensed it. At any rate, the title seems to spark excitement among those gathered around the two heroes, and it’s no trouble at all to find who he should speak to. In fact, it’s more a matter of them trying to speak to him all at once!

Hyrule hovers at his shoulder as he asks questions and talks. Well, he does at first, but after a few minutes, the fae drifts away, looking around curiously, soft chiming voice echoing back to Four here and again from different parts of the space claimed by magic.

He’s able to learn there’s no hero known about in this era, and that the last one that anyone remembers was a little boy who was close to the fairies. Considering the fondness all his brothers have for all creatures magical, it’s not a very specifical descriptor, but it’s something at least. Maybe one of the others will be able to pinpoint who it is talking about, be it themselves or someone else they’ve heard of. He does learn though, that the world isn’t in the best of shapes. Dark magic is common, a side effect of Ganon’s power, despite the fact that the monster is sealed away.

That, he decides to ask about.

Most of the minish don’t have answers, saying they avoid it, saying they only heard it from someone else, but pressing them leads him on a bit of a goosechase all over the building, looking for this person who knows more and that one who does as well.

Like hylians, minish have many a trade, and a place like this is basically their equivalent to a trade city, even if the hylian town around it is rather small. Packed up in one building, but spread across rooms, attic spaces, the cellar, the larder, and even the bar itself, he finds himself hunting down leads and doing a few favors in order to get what he needs to know. He's halfway through delivering some mushrooms in exchange for more details on the dark magic that apparently lies around the world, when Hyrule’s soft glow returns to his side again.

“Four, I think we need to head back.”

He sighs. “I know, but I’ve got a lead.”

“We could come back tomorrow?”

A shake of the head as he adjusts his hold on the mushroom; it’s huge in comparison to himself. “No, apparently they’re leaving at dawn with the coach that stops here.”

Hyrule’s feet touch the ground, wings stilling. Honestly, he thought fairies flew everywhere, but he supposes that a shapeshifter might use various methods. “Four, we have to go back.”

“I’m this close to getting answers,” he drops his shroom to pinch two claws close together. “Just a bit longer, okay? Time will understand.”

He’s not sure what time it is, but the noise of patrons in the inn does carry slightly past the magic of the minish to sound in his ears. Inns and bars are always noisy, especially when combined, but while he’s not their old man, his inner clock isn’t bad either. They have time before sunset, and if they didn’t, he wouldn’t have risked trying this at all.

“Come on,” he urges. “Help me with this shroom. The sooner I deliver it, the sooner this guy will tell me what I need to know.”

Hyrule’s face is pinched, and briefly it registers that something isn’t quite right about it, but it’s hard to tell with changed features and maybe it’s just worry from the traveler. He dismisses it, promising both Hyrule and himself that they’ll only take a very little bit longer.

They deliver the shroom, but in true runabout fashion, the only knowledge he gets from the minish in question is a few wary words that had been heard from someone else entirely, and he’s sent darting across the inn again to try and find that other minish before they too decide to leave. It’s the frustrating thing about communities like this, rather than the ones he finds in the countryside. Minish who make their homes in the forest, the grass, or even up in the mountains and quarries, they all keep to their own space. Traveling minish, those in small towns and hylian communities, are often unpredictable from one day to the next, and there’s no telling when or where you’ll have a chance to see them.

Hyrule tries asking again, telling him that they really need to get going, but Four brushes him off. One or two minutes more. Just a bit. He’s almost done, he promises!

The traveler’s feet are dragging a bit as he follows the smith, and his wings have long since folded against his back. It’s clear he’s tired, and Four is too, but they’ve only got so many chances to learn what they need to know, and passing this up would be foolish. It would make this whole trip into the world of the minish utterly pointless!

Finally, though, he’s able to find someone who doesn’t send him on an errand, who doesn’t ask for anything he doesn’t already have and who is both willing and capable of answering his questions. Near immediately, Four dugs a notebook from his bag and starts asking. How strong is this dark magic? Has it affected any monsters? Have monsters been a prominent problem recently? Are they acting oddly? Does the magic have any effects on anything else?

The minish, who in an odd way reminds him of Time; a prominent scar running over one eye and with a shredded ear on the same side, answers his questions. The magic effects the water and the land, and monsters are more abundant now than they had been years ago. They get worse every year, and they are stronger than the elders say they used to be. None of it lines up with the supposed infection of the monsters in other eras, but Four is not ruling it out as a possible source or contributor. He keeps asking, getting more details, channeling his more pragmatic self, but also the tactful part. He needs to think of this as a traveler, a fighter, and a survivor. In a way, he tries asking what Legend or Warriors or Twilight might ask. What would Wild want to know? What would Time need answers too? He’s going to be the one passing on this information to them after all, so he needs to be ready for the inevitable questions they’re going to have.

He sort of forgets that Hyrule is still waiting for him. Really, the only reason he remembers at all is because his informant tells him that it’s getting late, and she can’t think anymore. “That should cover everything anyway, I hope it helps.”

He bows his head, still sitting, so he can’t offer a proper bow, even though he wants to. “Of course. Thank you so much for your help.”

She waves a farewell to him before heading off to wherever it is that she’s going to rest for the night. He’s seen beds around, but didn’t ask, and never does. Honestly, he should be heading back, because bed sounds fantastic right about now! He turns, stuffing his notebook back in his bag, only to stop short when he sees the traveler.

Hyrule looks like shit.

The fairy is slumped over, glow almost gone and while there’s no apparent injury, no sign of what on earth would cause him to look so, he looks a bit like death! The smith drops down beside his friend, catching the fae’s face in his hands and patting freckled cheeks cautiously. “Hyurle? Hey! Hey, I’m done. We can go back now.”

There’s no answer.

Despite knowing Hyrule was fine before, knowing the minish would never harm him, probably couldn’t without special magic, he still gives the other a once over. There are no visible injuries, nor blood. His eyes, when pried open with claws that struggle so hard not to slip, don’t show signs of being concussed. For all intents and purposes, Hyrule isn’t hurt, but his skin is pale, the fairy’s glow is absent, and he slumps almost lifelessly against the walls.

We need help. Green sighs, desperately trying to balance his thoughts.

Blue’s voice is low, straining. The elder?

Is he going to be okay?

Hush Red, and Blue, the elder can’t do anything for a fairy. Minish magic is too different.

Well, we could try at least!

Guys, please. No fighting. We need to focus on Hyrule.

Blue seethes, but doesn’t argue, something he’s been doing much better with as of late. Vio on the other hand, does continue his stance. We should take him back to Twilight. Maybe he can help.

But Twi doesn’t like magic!

But he is Time’s kid, and he loves fairies. Maybe he knows something about them that we don’t. Come on.

The logic of his logical facet wins over the rest of him, and for lack of a better course of action, the minish hero hefts his fairy brother up into his arms. Hyrule’s still bigger than him like this, but he’s also always been very light, and the smith is strong. Gathering his brother up onto his back, careful not to crush iridescent wings, he heads back for the lift.

Catching Twilight’s attention is hard, once they’re back out in the world of Hylians. His intent originally had been to shift back with a murmur, but he doesn't know how to trigger the change for Hyrule, and without a glow to aid him, he’s not sure how quickly he’d be able to find the traveler again after the shift to his normal size, which always leaves him just a bit disoriented. That, and if it turns out Hyrule needs help of the more hands-on sort, it’s more practical to stay on the same scale as the traveler in order to give it.

Luckily for him, and the traveler, he has lots of experience in trying to make himself heard, and while the sound of a screaming voice would definitely draw unwanted attention, there is a sound he knows will, without fail, catch the rancher’s attention without scaring other people. Four sucks in a breath, and with all the ability he’s got in him, he pushes it out in a sharp little ‘meow’.

Twilight’s ears prick up immediately, the rancher lowering the drink he was holding to scan the area around him, eyes glittering.

Four tries again, a soft ‘mew’ that takes every bit of breath he has but has bright blue eyes fixing on him in seconds.

Twilight chuffs, looking slightly disappointed, but also relieved. Well, until his eyes land on the traveler, and then the man is sliding from his chair to crouch, facing the wall and shielding the two small heroes from sight. “What happened?” he asks, offering a hand laid flat on the ground before them.

Typically speaking, Four does not care to be picked up, especially like this, but for the traveler’s sake, he allows it. Stepping onto the rough pads of the rancher’s fingers is a bit of a struggle with his hands supporting the fae slumped over his back, nd after failing twice he gives up. Instead, he turns and carefully lets his brother slip down into Twilight’s hand first, crawling after him once he’s got use of his hands again.

The rancher waits until they’re both stable, Four holding Hyrule with one hand and fisting a tiny fold of his glove with the other, before he stands again, carefully steady as he heads back to his table. “Is he okay?”

Four shakes his head. “I don’t know. He’s not injured, and I don’t think he’s concussed, but he just-” his gaze drops down to the freckled face cradled in his lap, “-I turned around and he wasn’t moving anymore.” Breathing, yes, softly and slowly, almost too slowly, but it was steady, and considering he doesn’t know how fairy bodies work, maybe that was how it was meant to be. He’s not sure, and he hates not knowing, but as long as Hyrule is still breathing, things will be okay. Goddesses, he hopes he’ll be okay!

Glancing up at the rancher, he sees furrowed brows and a harsh frown. It’s not angry, not fierce, but guilt plummets through him all the same as he watches it.

There’s silence for a spell, just blue eyes staring down at him as he sits in the rancher’s hand, Hyrule pulled into his lap, wings still behind him without so much as the slightest of twitches. The traveler’s breath is shallow but steady as it puffs against his collar. And then Twilight speaks. “Did he maybe touch something weird?”

He shakes his head. “I wasn’t watching him, but this Hyrule, not Wild.” Hyrule doesn’t touch unknown things, not without taking every precaution to ensure they’re not dangerous. Besides, minish don’t tend to keep anything dangerous around, and if they do, it’s well hidden and out of sight. Even lacking experience with other living beings, Hyrule isn’t the sort of person to go poking around other people’s possessions in plain sight. No, he’d wait until no one was around to see or stop him, and then he’d get into their stuff.

The rancher’s frown deepens, but then midnight blue eyes are falling on Four again, something almost apologetic in their depths. “Look. I don’t got a clue, smith, but we gotta get him help.” The unspoken rings in the air between them: ‘we need to talk to someone else who knows about this stuff, and that means telling them your secret’.

He sighs, nodding. “Time seems to know the most about fairies.”

The rancher’s head jerks in a sharp nod, rupees hitting the table as the man pays for his drink and then he’s whisking them out the door and back towards camp.

It feels like it takes forever for Twilight to return with Time.

Rather than announce their presence, and thus secrets, to the whole chain, he’d carefully settled the two tiny heroes on an old tree stump at Four’s instruction. Vaguely, he thinks it might be a minish portal, or close to one, but that’s something to worry about later. For now, he’s looking after Hyrule as best he can in a cave made from the rancher’s pelt, erected for their protection against any predators while the other fetches their leader under the premise of Hyrule and Four needing to talk with him. The rest will worry, and have questions, but they’ll (probably) respect the privacy of the other two, if only as long as they’re gone. Returning to camp will, no doubt, come with questions, but right now, helping Hyrule is what matters most. He’ll handle anything that comes after, as long as the traveler will be okay.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs into brown curls, not for the first time since Twilight left, “just hang in there, traveler, okay? Time will be here soon, and we’ll get you all fixed up.”

He dutifully ignores how dark hair darkens further in the fading light of twilight. How the hand that's fallen to brush his leg has claws at the fingers, that as the shadows grow longer, he could almost pretend he’s holding somebody else. No, he focuses on Hyrule and that it is, in fact, Hyrule he’s clutching ahold of under the fur, waiting for their leader to come to them.

Time’s puffing breath announces his presence, alongside heavy feet to match the easy lope of their rancher. The way that he heaves for breath, he really does sound like an old man, but when the fur is moved aside and Four can see their leader’s face, he rethinks that. Time looks worried, terribly worried, and the heavy breathing is probably from a slight panic rather than anything else. Hylia above, what did Twilight tell him?

“What happened?” Time demands, even as Four shivers slightly at the return of the breeze the fur had blocked off.

He sighs, tired, worried, and tired of being worried. “Hyrule collapsed. I don’t know why, but he’s not waking up no matter what I do.”

The blue arrow painted between their leader’s brows distorts as his face pinches up, the man dropping to a knee with surprising grace in order to be better level with the two shrunken heroes. “Is he injured?”

Twilight shakes his head. “Four already checked.”

A hand, slightly smaller than Twilight’s own, but somehow more callused, is extended towards them. Even that motion is more graceful from their old man than from the rancher, and Four is surprised by the lack of panic having it settle before him causes. “Let me look at him?”

It’s work to climb up again, shifting Hyrule with all the care he can before depositing him in the old man’s palm, but he does it. Time doesn’t say anything as the man pulls in their precious cargo a bit closer, staring down with his good eye and prodding gently at the fallen form of the traveler.

Behind him on the stump, Four feels Twilight settle, blocking off the breeze and providing a wall of warmth that assures nothing else will appear behind him. “Well?”

“Shh.” Time breathes, but it’s not harsh. His gaze is incredibly gentle in fact, and as he handles the tiny form in his hand something impossibly warm lights his blue eye beneath the worried furrow of his brows. They wait. It feels like forever, but they wait, and they don’t press until, at last, their leader lifts his eyes to them instead, relief coloring his expression. “Magical exhaustion.”

“No,” Four shakes his head. “I’ve seen Hyrule overuse his magic. He gets tired, but he doesn’t turn.... grey. And he doesn’t stop moving!”

“That’s when he’s a hylian,” one blue eye drops again, a sad little smile tugging at the mouth of the elder man. “As a fairy, it works differently.” The hand lowers, moving close to Four again, offering him the responsibility of taking back his unconscious brother while Time turns his attention to his bag. “Transformation magic takes a lot out of a fairy. For Hyrule, being a fairy would be the transformation, but if, for some reason, he’d been brought into a space where only tiny beings could exist, rather than changing back when his magic runs out,” the potion’s cork pops loudly in the night air, “he’d get stuck.”

“Stuck?” He and Twilight chorus together.

Time nods. “Yes. His magic knows he can’t change back inside a tiny space, but if it’s run out, then he can’t maintain his form normally either. Instead, he has to draw directly on his magical core, which strains him considerably. That’s why usually, when fairies are weak enough to need to pull on their core, they slip into a hibernation so that their magic can keep them alive at the least cost to their core.” As if sensing the inevitable question, the man adds, “drawing on a core for too long damages it.”

“So...” Twilight blinks, speaking for them both. “He’s in hibernation?”

“For now.”

“How do we fix it?” Blue takes the reins, and the others let him.

The old man raises the potion bottle in his hand. In the faded light, Four can’t make out the color (how appropriate) so he waits to hear it spoken. “A green potion ought to help restore his magic and stop him drawing on his core for survival.”

“Then he’ll change back?”

He sees their leader wince, and Twilight does too, shoulders tightening above him. “He will change back, right, old man?”

Time avoids their gazes, reaching for his bag again. “Not without doing it himself, but he should, yes.”

“Good.”

“We just have to wait until he wakes up.”

“And...how long will that take?”

A flinch. “Even with his magic restored, it’s unlikely he’ll come back immediately. He’ll need time.” If Legend were here, or Wild, one of them would point out that their leader is here now, so what else could be needed? But they’re not here, and neither Twilight nor Four speaks up in their place. Instead, Four stares as Time produces something else, settling it before him carefully, before lifting his hand away. With nothing blocking him, he’s able to see that the object set before him is a thimble, “I think you ought to help him with the potion, Four. At his current size, we’re more likely to harm than help.” Which isn’t true at all.

In reality, Time helps quite a bit as he pours out the potion (that they all claim is green) into the thimble, which is far more manageable for Four to lift. Situating the traveler against his front, he has to fumble a bit to get the rim to his brother’s mouth, but Time’s finger helps steady the traveler while he does so, stopping him sliding away from the smithy’s front or his head falling to either side. It’s awkward, when he actually stops to think about it, but they make it work.

After the first thimble, Time pours three more, which is honestly more than Four thinks he could hold in his own body at this size, but the old man assures that it’s basically liquid magic, and the traveler will need lots in order to wake again. “Four thimbles might not be enough, but we’ll see.” He tells them, once more taking the traveler in his own hold, hand cradling the limp form of the fairy with all the care he’d show a baby. More, maybe. Fairies are smaller than babies, so they are a bit more delicate.

“What now though?” He asks, watching.

Time’s gaze falls on him in answer. “Do you need help shifting back?”

“Should I?”

“If you can.”

“And if he needs more of the potion?”

“He won’t,” the hand holding his brother tilts slightly, although Time needs not lower it at all for Four to see the faint shimmer of green light that the fairy within is emitting. “I think that was enough. I’ll have him drink the bottle when he’s changed back, but you don’t need to help any further, smithy.”

He nods.

Finding a portal in the dark takes some help from Twilight, but once he has, and has shifted back, it’s a breath of fresh air. Returning to their leader’s side though, he finds the man now seated on their previous stump, gaze fixed on the tiny, unmoving, but also unwavering, glow in his hands.

“Is he waking up?” He asks, slipping from Wolfie’s back to stand at their leader’s side. At this size, Hyrule looks even tinier, and so much more breakable in Time’s big hand. He’s not moving though, still.

Time shakes his head though, as though the smithy can’t see for himself. “As I said, he’ll need a while to come around.” Blue lifts, and it’s strange to have their leader level with himself. “You boys should head back to camp. Dinner will be ready soon.”

“What about you?” Shadows slip free of the wolf, leaving the rancher standing in it’s place, brows furrowed and voice low.

Time’s gaze drops to his precious cargo, a tiny, almost tender smile touching his features. “I’ll wait for him. Tell the rest that Hyrule needed my time a bit longer, but we’ll be back when he’s ready.”

So, they do.

They head back to camp, joining the others for dinner just as Wild’s beginning to serve it. There are questions, and he still is yet to make his report, but doing so is a quick way to divert attention from their absent leader and wanderer. Later, Time will come back, a sleepy, but normal sized Hyrule curled in his arms, face buried against his chest as the traveler dozes, but for now, the camp muses over the information they were given. Any questions on how he’d gotten this knowledge are lost to worry about Hyrule’s absence, and any fear for Hyrule is lost to questions about the report Four gives.

When Time does come back, it’s only after Warriors has assigned shifts and most of them have at least pretended to go to bed. Their leader’s return has them all watching though, no longer pretending as their eyes, so many shades of blue, follow Time’s path through camp to his bedroll, to Hyrule’s settled beside it at Warriors behest. The man settles the traveler down carefully, but the hand caught in his tunic isn’t pulled free, instead tolerated as long hair is brushed back from freckled cheeks and their leader settles down beside the younger hero.

Even when his good eye slips shut, there’s something warm playing on Time’s face as Hyrule unconsciously nestles up against him once more, and a callused hand becomes lost in dark curls.

Twilight’s gaze meets his own, something like a smile in them as he shrugs, disrupting his blanket. Four just smiles back, shaking his head. Fairy boys, the unspoken thought flickers in both of their heads. It’s only when he lays down again though that he realizes that Time might even be who the minish meant when talking about the last hero.

Well, that would make sense. He’ll ask tomorrow though, right now, he has no interest in disturbing either of the two heroes.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #ketto writes #febuwhump #febuwhump 2024 #lu four #lu hyrule #lu twilight #lu time #fairy hyrule #minish four #fluffic

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occasionallyprosie · 4 months

Text

"A Halo of Black and Red"

Legend wasn't actively hiding his pedigree from the other heroes... but he was avoiding telling them that he was a prince as long as he could. Of course, he knew it wouldn't stay secret forever, but he would put it off to avoid the eventual betrayal from the knights in the group. Finally, that not-quite-hidden secret came to light when Legend took the other heroes to Hyrule Castle. At least the reveal itself had been amusing, it's aftermath? Not so much.

Febuwhump 2024 | Prompt 14: Blood-stained Tiles

Event Masterlist

Read On AO3 Warnings: Graphic Violence, Major Character Death

As surprising as it was, Legend wasn't actively hiding anything from the other heroes.

He just wasn't up front with them. It wasn't that he was keeping secrets, if they asked he'd honestly answer, but... They didn't ask and he was not going to say it outright until he had to.

"I thought you said we were going to go see your sister," Warriors said as Legend led the way through Castle Town and up to Hyrule Castle. "Does she work at the castle?"

"I did and yes she does," Legend confirmed. Honestly it was amusing, sure he wore a dozen rings but one was his mother's signet ring, he literally had a Triforce hair clip... that was usually hidden by his hat but he's lost it in battle and taken it enough times for them to have seen it, and he's signed his name "Link Hyrule" in front of them at least a dozen times.

At this point it was a bit of a game to see how obvious he could be without outright saying who his sister was and what he was. Though, admittedly, he kept quiet for safety reasons as well.

"What does she do?" Hyrule asked curiously. "Is she... a handmaiden?"

"No, she's not a handmaiden." Legend barely held back a snort. He kept a hand rested on the magic rod on his hip as they passed the guards who shifted but didn't attack him.

"Is she someone of importance?" Wild piped up, appearing on Hyrule's other side.

"You know," he feigned thoughtfulness, "she is rather important."

"Is she older than you?" Warriors joined in on the theorizing. "Because I could see a... twenty-something year old being a general or high captain depending on their experience."

"Well..." he thought about it. "I guess she's kind of like a commander? That's not her official title, but by definition she could be a kind of commander."

Commander in chief, he supposed.

"So she's in the military?" Warriors concluded.

"In? No, she's not, but she is a great leader and she could've taken Ganon on alone if he hadn't prioritized getting her out of the way first."

"Ganon prioritized her?" Hyrule gasped. "Who--Why?!"

They reached the last door to the throne room. Legend grinned.

"Take a guess," he said as the guards pulled the door open.

Zelda was talking to Impa by her throne, but as the door was opened, she looked over and a bright smile appeared on her face.

"Link! You’re back!"

He sped up the slightest bit to meet her part way as she tackled him in a hug.

"Oh--You better not have a new scar, I've told you to be more careful!"

"I'm fine, no new scars, I've barely been injured so far. There's three idiots here who like to take hits not meant for them and I'm not one of them."

Zelda scanned his face before she nodded. "Good." She then moved to face the heroes. "Apologies--It's been several months since Link last came by the castle and I like to make sure he's alright before anything else when he does. Welcome to Hyrule Castle, I am Queen Zelda. How can I aid in your quest?"

Legend held back a laugh at the completely confused looks that were shot toward him.

"Well--Currently, we are only seeking to find a place to rest," Warriors said formally. "But we would welcome whatever information on monster sightings and movements you have."

"Of course," she did a subtle gesture and one of her handmaidens approached, "Estelle here will take you gentlemen to one of our guest wings, you may settle as you wish. Link and I will ensure tonight's dinner will accommodate all of your different dietary needs while we catch up and discuss."

"I thought we were visiting the Vet's sister?" Wild muttered to Sky.

Legend couldn't hold back the laugh while Zelda just tilted her head.

Twilight elbowed Wild but the damage was done and Zelda looked at Legend with a frown.

"You didn't tell your companions prior to bringing them here?"

"I swear it wasn't a secret--I am wearing both my ring and the hair clip."

Her frown deepened. "Your hat hides it."

"And I take my hat off all the time, it falls sometimes when I fight too. If they haven't seen it that's not my fault."

Zelda gave him a sharp look. "I told you that you need to introduce yourself."

"It's time travel and heroes of past and future," Legend defended. "I introduced myself appropriately for the situation! You said that if it doesn't call for it then I don’t need to say that whole title."

She stared him down.

"Besides," he added quickly, using his last card of defense, "half of them are knights."

Her eyes narrowed briefly, flicking toward the group, then she nodded. "Fine," she turned to the partly confused and partly very shocked group of heroes. "My apologies, it seems my little brother's lessons still haven't stuck."

"You said hero came first!" He protested, happy she wasn't going to outright mention anything.

"That doesn't mean you can neglect your position as prince!"

"Din give me strength, you’re impossible."

"You're impertinent."

"This is being impertinent? Oh I can show you impertinence."

Someone cleared their throat. "Umm--"

Zelda shot Legend a threatening look as he huffed and turned away. She turned to the other heroes with a graceful smile.

"My apologies again, as you can tell, Prince Link and I often have points of conflict in regards to his responsibilities. Please, follow Estelle. She will also be the one to fetch you for dinner."

"Of course," Warriors said as he grabbed Sky's arm. "Thank you for your hospitality, your majesty."

Legend rolled his eyes, that was also part of the reason he didn't introduce himself fully when they met. The unnecessary formality was a small part, but a part nonetheless.

Estelle led them away, Legend avoided Sky's eyes very stubbornly and the moment they were gone, Zelda turned on him.

"Are you safe with them?" She demanded. "Knights? Link, you--"

"I am well aware, Zel." Not introducing himself as a prince had been a choice, and it was one made in self defense, even if he defended otherwise in front of the heroes.

He supposed he would find out how they treated Hyrulean Princes soon enough, if one of them tried to kill him anytime soon, at least he would know why.

"Are you safe?" She repeated.

He nodded. "I am." He didn't confess how unsure he was of that fact, it was a point of uncertainty, whether the knights of the heroes would kill him because of his heritage and gender, but he wasn't telling his rather protective older sister that.

She sighed softly and nodded. "Good." She gestured for him to walk with her. "Then tell me about this quest, these... heroes?"

He sighed softly. "Well..."

He reluctantly had put his cap away--look, it was representative of his sanity, he was emotionally attached to that thing--and fixed his hair into something nice and not as practical, triforce clip a bit more on display as a result.

Dinner came and there was more meat than Legend was used to seeing on these platters, but he had been the one to alert the chefs that most of their guests enjoyed meat, majority of which on the rare side, and another few liked fish.

Sky had stubbornly taken the seat beside Legend and when dinner began and Zelda ate, he finally prodded the subject.

"You never said anything," he said quietly, other conversations flowing around them.

Legend shrugged.

"You’re the one who figured it out and said it, why didn't you tell me?" It being the fact that Sky was the patriarch of the royal bloodline.

"I didn't think it was important," he lied.

"You didn't think it was important that you’re my descendant?" Sky hissed, if Legend didn't know better he was hurt.

Except Legend did know better and he was avoided those bright blue eyes because if he met them he knew he'd see how hurt Sky felt at his omission.

"Is it?" He managed instead.

"Yes."

He somehow didn't show the wince he felt. "Oh."

"You--" Sky seemed to be struggling and he kept glancing at the wider table. Legend had a feeling this was a conversation meant to be had in private.

So he sighed and stood. "S'cuse us, Zel."

Zelda waved him off as she continued her conversation with Four about... some book?

Sky was quick to follow him, Impa moved to as well but Legend subtly gestured for her to stay. She did, turning her attention back to Zelda.

They stepped out into the hall where the guards didn't linger.

"Why don’t you think it's important?" Sky asked, and he sounded hurt. He sounded so genuinely hurt.

"Because..." because princes were believed to be the scourges of the goddess' bloodline, because since as far as he could remember he had been told that the goddess had no sons, and he'd believed it because he was unaware he was her son. Because he didn't fully trust the knights in their group to not kill him now that they know.

Sky visibly faltered. "You clearly don't mind your sister--Am I the reason you..."

"No! No--It's not-- I'm... I'm not against my heritage or anything," Legend insisted. "I'm not ashamed of being--Zelda's brother, I'm really not. It's just..."

"Just what? Is it Hylia?"

"No. Sky, I didn't even know her name before meeting you. She was just the... the goddess born mortal, the first queen of Hyrule, its divine protector who chose mortality to be with her lover. It's just--Princes are not considered a good thing, they--we are considered the scourges of--"

CRASH

Glass shattering echoed through the hall, followed by a scream, his left hand burned and he ran back to the banquet hall.

The doors slammed open and, though he noticed the shattered window and Four and Wild both leaping out of it as Warriors had a guard pinned, his eyes set on Impa kneeling on the ground beside Zelda's fallen chair.

He ran across the room, Pegasus Boots spurring him into near teleporting across it to see a sight he had never, in his life, wanted to see.

No, no, no.

Zelda laid on the cold tile floor and blood pooled around her head like some demented halo.

Amethyst eyes that were mirrors of his own was staring blankly at the far wall, unblemished features marred by the blood that soaked the right side of her face.

A black blade made of shadows melted back into the darkness from the hole in Zelda's head.

Some part of Legend brokenly laughed at the irony, she had a halo now, as if her crown hadn't been enough. A halo of blood and darkness behind her head, a representation of the darkness, death, and destruction she held back with that bright light of hers.

"I'm sorry, Link," Impa croaked, the heroes in a chaotic circle with potions and fairies but none of them moved. It was obvious nothing could be done, Twilight helped Warriors with the guard but Legend could already feel the dark magic on him. "I didn't..."

Her voice became a background noise, a background ringing as his thoughts grew frantic.

Why didn't he notice?

He was gone for ten seconds.

How could this have happened?

No, no, no--

"Zelda?" His voice escaped him and he sounded like none of the last seven years ever happened, like he was still that ten year old child who had found Zelda asleep like the dead in that bed in Kakariko.

"Vet, I'm so sorry," Hyrule whispered.

She can't be dead. She can't be.

She wasn't supposed to die before him. She was supposed to live here in the castle, safe and leading their people, she wasn't the one constantly running head-first into the dangers that plagued Hyrule. She wasn't the one returning to the castle soaked in blood, a new scar marring her body every time. She wasn't the one who--

She wasn't supposed to die first.

"No," he whispered, kneeling down beside his older sister. There was a tiny splash as his knees hit the blood puddle and a brief flash of pain from them hitting the hard tile. "No--Zelda don't you do this."

"She's dead, Link. I'm so sorry," Hyrule said as he stepped away.

Legend shook his head. "No! No she--" his voice broke.

"You can't revive the dead, Link," Impa said weakly. "She's gone..."

He could though. He could revive the dead, or rather...

He held his left hand over her forehead. "Watch me."

He heard Hyrule say something and felt a hand land on his shoulder.

Come on, ladies, you owe me one. Farore, Nayru, Din--Don’t take her too.

Light coursed through him and he felt his Triforce absorb it, he felt the familiar caress of time, the whispers of secrets, and the moving of seasons.

The single triangle on his hand blossomed into three, all of them glowing bright.

Zelda gasped. Amethyst eyes glittered again with life and she shot up. Legend dropped his hand and pulled her into a hug as she gasped and coughed blood onto his tunic.

"Link?" She breathed. "How--"

"You’re not allowed to leave me yet," he whispered, pulling back and pressing his forehead against hers, not caring for the blood that covered her and now him. "You're not dying first."

"Oh, Link." She let out a shaky breath, clinging to him. She was shaking something awful, and Legend couldn't fault her for it. She had died. "Impa is here--Go."

He nodded before standing. Impa was quick to swoop in and pull Zelda into her protective arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. His Impa was not the warrior of the Captain's era, or anyone else's Impa, she was a matron, a nursemaid, a protector as much as any mother but not a warrior.

Legend went to the window and looked out. Four and Wild were long gone, Wind apparently giving chase as well. He didn't know what happened, but he knew there was one set of clues far closer.

He turned from the window to the guard that Twilight still had restrained.

He didn't even draw his sword, just took steps toward them both and the guard made a strangled, terrified noise and instead of trying to get away from Twilight, he scrambled back toward the Rancher.

Legend grabbed the strap of his helmet and Twilight quickly backed off as he slammed the guard to the ground, anger fueling him more than his power bracelets ever could.

"So," he growled as Impa, Sky, Hyrule, and Warriors rushed Zelda from the room, which left Legend with just Twilight and Time... And the traitor. "Who decided it was a good idea to try and assassinate my sister?"

The guard sobbed out his terror. "I don’t know! I just had to break the magic off the windows! That's all!"

"Why?"

"They paid me! They paid me!" He screamed, as if Legend had been torturing the answers out of him, but he hadn't even touched him beyond throwing him to the ground. "Please--Your highness--"

"Don’t beg," he snarled. "Congratulations, you can tell your employer his plan succeeded. He killed the Queen--He just didn't account for me and just how much power I hold in the palm of my hand."

He trembled and stared up at Legend, Legend could see the dark magic in his eyes and the broken glass in his hand... The Shadow, the Shadow had given him that power to destroy a Triforce-formed shield of protection.

"Y-You’re letting me go?"

"If your target had been me, then I might've. But since you decided to go for her--You can go to hell. I'll send that employer of yours along soon enough so you can relay that message."

Black blood soaked the tile floor when Legend drove his blade into his throat.

"We could've gotten more information out of him," Time admonished.

Legend turned his attention to the elder hero. He raised his sword up and drove it down again, causing more blood to splatter and the body to twitch, not looking away from his eyes.

"If you couldn't tell since you’re half blind," Legend started lowly, "he is black blooded. I personally am not sparing a person so juiced up on pure darkness to the point they could take down Hyrule Castle's magic defenses on the off chance of gaining information."

He stabbed the body again, blood gushing and splattering across the tile floor, staining it and his blade, his hands, and his boots.

"You think The Shadow would've let this guy near us if he had actual information? No."

He raised his blade to stab again when Twilight caught his hand.

"He's already dead," the Rancher croaked, and Legend noticed how pale he looked. "Zelda's alright, the threat's gone f'r now. It's fine... Breathe, Vet. It's alright. Just--Breathe, calm down."

Legend blinked, he stared at Twilight, confusion hitting him and the haze of red, of protect and avenge faded away.

Suddenly the black blood staining polished stone tile wasn't vindicating, it didn't feel good to see, it felt awful. The body in front of him was a gruesome scene, bloodied and its face a permanent expression of fear.

It was horrific, disgusting, and he felt dirty and wrong just knowing he caused it. Zelda's blood still soaked the floor too.

Twilight gingerly took his sword from his hand and Legend realized distantly that he was shaking.

"Vet--Hey, Link, look at me," Twilight said gently. "It's okay. Everyone is safe, they're alright. The Captain, the Traveler and the Skyloftian has Zelda, nobody's gonna be able to hurt her with them right there protectin' her. You need to breathe."

He was covered in blood, soaked in it, some of it was Zelda's, some of it the traitorous guard's, but nonetheless his clothes were saturated in blood, Fi's golden blade was hidden beneath the black ichor, even his skin was covered... his hands and his legs and he knew his face was too.

"Sorry," he managed to say with a somewhat even voice. "I... I lost myself there."

"We noticed," Time stated. "It happens. Your anger will get the best of you..."

Legend wiped his face off a bit, it didn't help, only smeared the blood and made him feel even worse.

"I... I should clean this up," he said weakly. "The servants don’t deserve to deal with this mess."

"You should go clean yourself up, and then go to your sister," Twilight corrected. He moved forward and directed Legend out of the room, and he let the older hero do it.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from the blood soaking into the tile, the body, the puddle of Zelda's blood.

Zelda died.

His sister died, she did. It was only because the goddesses owed him one that she was alive right now, but that didn't change the fact that she died.

He didn't protect her. He had been too busy trying to fix his own mistakes to be there and protect her.

He hadn't been there.

And now there was a puddle of her blood soaking into the floor, and the only reason she wasn't laying there and adding more blood to it was because the goddesses owed him a favor.

Yet he couldn't shake the thought that he was the reason she had ever been in danger in the first place.

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