Fierce Meeting (Hyrule Warriors era Link and the Fierce Deity)
Summary:
At the end battle, Link finds that his young Forest Sprite is still wearing the mask of the Fierce Deity. Which leads to a whole host of problems, because Link's pretty sure that guy's bad news, right? Mask had said as much. But the Fierce Deity is still there and he is not going away anytime soon because he has a mission to accomplish. Warriors meets the Fierce Deity, and it doesn't go as he expected. But at least he gets to sleep, which is a miracle for him.
(Click here to read on AO3)
The young Hero grunted as he sliced upwards with his sword, cutting a beast clean down the middle. Its blood spilled in a smattering, speckles landing on the child and making him flinch. He stepped back at the monster fell and turned when he heard another one coming his way, ready to fight, when he instead saw a blade pierce through its heart before retracting.
When the beast fell, Link appeared, blue scarf dyed red from the long battle. He gave a quick onceover of the younger Link and a pulled smile. “You alright, Sprite?”
Mask nodded, and the battle resumed.
As the fight continued, one thing became apparent to the Hero of Time: this was not a battle they were winning. He’d run enough losing scenarios before, had to escape within an inch of his life and a hasty magical song whistling through his ocarina, and start over. He knew when reinforcements were needed.
He’d honestly hoped he wouldn’t need the Fierce Deity mask this time around. He’d been using it so much it was draining him almost as much as his sleep deprivation and constant fighting. But he knew what was needed and he would do it. Perhaps the stamina potion in his system would help him not feel as terrible when he took the mask off.
Grabbing the painted wood, he felt its power surging through his arms as he pushed it to his face.
It’s up to you now, Fierce, he thought, hoping the dark magical deity encased in the mask could hear him.
XXX
The battle hadn’t been looking good, Link had to admit grimly. There were just too many enemies. The Hylian army had no reinforcements waiting, and despite the outflanking maneuver they had pulled, which had temporarily given them the advantage, they were still being pushed back.
Until the littlest soldier among them put on that mask.
Link had mixed feelings about the Fierce Deity mask. He was a force of nature on the battlefield, and his prowess was certainly welcome. But he was menacing, unnerving, and worst of all, painful to Mask. Wearing the mask wore the boy so thin Link often had to carry him from a battlefield after he’d used it. The young Hero had started to resort to using stamina potions just to get from day to day, and Link hadn’t had time to address the issue yet. For that reason, he often argued with command on whether to utilize the mask or not. It made sense for them to push, to use such an obvious aid and achieve victory, but when the only person who could wield it (or at least Link assumed that was the case, no one had actually tried to put the mask on aside from the boy) would be weakened and ill after each use, it was not the most efficient way to handle this war.
And Link just didn’t like seeing Mask in that state.
The battle was over. Soldiers were regrouping and trying to help each other. Link had just carried one to the medical tent, but his eyes were searching for Mask. The boy no doubt had taken the mask off by now and was collapsed somewhere in the carnage. It made Link’s stomach churn just thinking about it.
The field where they fought had rolling hills, but nothing with such an extreme gradient that he couldn’t see clearly for miles. This made the tall figure stick out all the more.
The Fierce Deity.
Confused and wary, Link approached him slowly. Why was he still here? He usually took the mask off as soon as the battle was over.
Link cleared his throat, his body tense. The deity turned to look at him, towering over him. Link felt the slightest twinge of fear as the blank gaze pierced into him.
The deity’s fingers twitched a moment. He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Then he said, “There are no more injured over here. I already carried them to camp.”
Link jumped a little, caught off guard. He’d never heard the mystical being speak before. His voice was deep and smooth and surprisingly quiet, though it held an energy and power to it that made his skin crawl.
Most unnerving of all, it reminded him of his little forest sprite. Young Link’s voice was also soft and quiet and held power and authority that the boy shouldn’t know how to convey at his age. But it was much higher in pitch, still untampered by time and hormones.
Link swallowed, processing the words. “T-thank you. For all of your assistance. I… must admit I wasn’t expecting to find you out here still.”
The Fierce Deity stepped forward, his body radiating energy and authority, and it took all of Link’s willpower to hold his ground. Fierce reached forward, his hand passing overhead of Link, who watched with apprehension and bewilderment, when he felt the long, clawed fingers grasp the back of his tunic.
And pull.
Link yelped, his feet dangling in the air as he was suddenly, essentially, being held by the scruff of his neck.
“You look exhausted,” the deity stated, now at eye level with him.
Link flailed. “Put me down!”
“I’ve watched you,” the Fierce Deity said as he started to walk towards camp. “I’ve watched how you care for Link, and I’ve watched how you wear yourself too thin.”
Link halted his protests, bewildered. “What are you talking about?”
How much could this mystical mask see when his sprite wasn’t wearing it? All he really knew about the mask was that the younger Hero had said it was dangerous, held a mystical being, and shouldn’t be messed with. All he knew from the battlefield was that everything Mask had said was correct.
“You are a capable warrior,” the Fierce Deity explained. “But you do yourself and your men harm by hurting yourself so. You need to rest.”
Now wait a damn minute, he was not—he was not—
Was this mystical dark being lecturing him?
“I can take care of myself, thank you,” Link argued, beginning his pitiful attempts to wrangle himself out of the deity’s grip once more. He couldn’t believe this; there was no way he was being hauled into camp like this. “Kindly take off the mask so I can have my Sprite back.”
“Link needs to sleep just as much as you do, Captain, if not more,” the Fierce Deity said calmly. “Foolish little Hero has been pushing himself far too much. And at his age that can be dangerous. He also hasn’t been eating enough, you know. I don’t think you’ve realized how he’s tried to ration out the meals provided for him.”
Link tried to get a word in, but now the deity was practically on a tirade, though his voice never changed in pitch, making the conversation bizarre but also eerie. Much to Link’s horror, he also heard the footfalls of soldiers and the sound of many voices and activities happening.
They were at camp.
Link twisted in the being’s grip and nearly landed a kick in his chest. The captain froze, suddenly terrified of retaliation from a monster that could annihilate entire armies, but the deity seemed unbothered.
Or, really, he just changed tactics.
Link felt himself get launched forward, and he got the wind knocked out of him when his abdomen collided with the Fierce Deity’s shoulder as he was draped over it. A strong arm wrapped around the back of his knees, locking him into place.
Somehow, this was worse.
Link was very tempted to just lay limp on the deity’s shoulder; at least if he looked unconscious, this pathetic position could be excused. But he was too proud to allow others to think he was knocked down in the battlefield and had to be hauled back to camp.
Not that his pride was going to survive this anyway.
“That’s enough,” Link said, trying to brace his hands on the deity’s armor so he could push off his shoulder.
“This is nowhere near enough,” was the deity’s rebuttal.
Link watched helplessly as they entered the camp. The soldiers watched them uncertainly, one dropping his sword with a startled yell. Fierce slipped his foot under the hilt, kicking the sword into the air effortlessly and catching it before dropping it back into the wide-eyed soldier’s slack grip.
“I need to speak to your chain of command,” Fierce said as he continued to walk.
“I am the chain of command!” Link snapped. “I’m the captain!”
“But you take orders from those above you.”
“I’m not telling you where they are,” Link huffed. He felt like a petulant child, but he didn’t have much else to barter with.
“I don’t need your input to locate them.”
Link scrambled for something to get him out of this situation as they attracted increasingly more attention. Thankfully the majority of the army was more in awe or intimidated by the sight than entertained. After all, they’d all seen what the deity was capable of on the battlefield, and none had seen him linger once the fight was finished.
Which still led Link to wondering how in the world this situation had occurred in the first place. Surely the Fierce Deity hadn’t stuck around just to humiliate him?
Then again, if his lecturing was indicative of anything, it was more of lingering concern for Mask than anything else. Which in itself was… interesting. It wasn’t something Link had considered, simply because it hadn’t even seemed within the realm of possibility. Who would assume a mask powered by dark magic sealing a mysterious warrior deity away would be anything but, well, dangerous?
The deity’s walking stopped, jostling Link out of his musings.
“Hylia’s offspring, I presume?”
Link jolted, completely bewildered by the term before it clicked, and then he started twisting and turning. “What? Zelda? Where?!”
There was silence as the deity seemed to be waiting for something, and then Sheik’s familiar voice broke it.
“My name is Sheik,” she said. “I am a Sheikah warrior.”
“A Sheik named Sheikah?”
“No. A Sheikah named Sheik.”
Fierce was silent, and Link could practically feel the deity judging the woman he was speaking to.
“Right,” Fierce quipped. “Anyway, whatever name you choose, golden child, I can still sense the Triforce piece and the bloodline. So I assume you’re in command.”
Sheik was silent, as was Link. He tried twisting again, still attempting to piece together what he’d just heard, when Fierce spoke up again.
“The captain will be unavailable for the remainder of today and tomorrow morning. In addition, the one you call Mask will also be unavailable for that period of time. I will be inspecting your army to ensure proper form and combat skill. Have a good evening.”
Link felt himself whirl as the deity twirled on his heel and headed in a different direction. He locked eyes with Sheik once she came into view, and he saw her staring, her visible eye a little wider than normal, though he wasn’t sure if she was dumbfounded by the being’s words or if they rang true.
He’d have to investigate that… once he managed to detangle himself from the Fierce Deity’s steel grip.
“That isn’t Zelda, you know,” Link informed him, giving up on fighting him off for the time being.
Fierce hummed, clearly unconvinced. “Whatever you wish to call her, I know of what I speak.”
“How can you sense the Triforce?” Link asked.
“I am a being of greater power and ability than your meager fleshy mind can comprehend.”
“Meager?!”
“Be quiet, little soldier. You need to rest.”
“Hard to rest when I’m shoved against full plate armor,” Link muttered irritably.
Apparently the Fierce Deity heard him, because before he knew it he was slipped off the deity’s shoulders and secured snugly in his arms.
“W-what are you—no, this is not—put me down!” Link hissed, his face flaming red as they passed more soldiers. “What is wrong with you, you’re supposed to be this super soldier who goes away when the fighting’s done!”
The Fierce Deity paused from his quick stride, staring at Link. The captain shriveled into the cradled hold a little at the intensity of the stare, sufficiently guilty at the assumptions he’d just stated aloud.
After all, the deity did seem to care… even if it was on the overbearing side.
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand,” the deity said softly before resuming his pace.
Link remained still and silent, regardless of the shame his situation brought him. When they reached his tent, he said softly, “I’m sorry. I… nobody really knows much about you aside from what we’ve witnessed in battle.”
The mythical being halted in the middle of the tent, looking at Link once more, though this time his stare was less intense, his face softening. “There is far more to me than battle, Captain. Just as there is far more to you than your title. But you should be aware of my status and abilities. I am not some lowly soldier for you to order around. I once ruled over a land in an age before your people even existed. That is to be remembered and respected.”
Link swallowed and straightened, nodding in acquiescence and acknowledgement. He could understand that much.
“Now, it’s time for you to rest,” Fierce continued.
Link blanched. “Wait, what? Are you kidding, the battle just ended, I have reports to write, meetings to attend—”
“You will do no such thing.”
“With all due respect, I am a captain and have duties to fulfill—”
Fierce finally plopped Link onto his cot, and the captain landed with a decidedly undignified OOF, bouncing on the mattress briefly.
“Honestly, I am a deity and a warrior and I’m relegated to babysitting because certain heroes can’t be bothered to take care of themselves,” the deity muttered, disregarding Link's earlier words and poking Link so forcefully that he collapsed onto the bed entirely.
“Hylia only knows why I ended up with such a fate,” the deity grumbled, grabbing Link’s armor and slipping it off with practiced ease before the captain even had a chance to protest. “I still haven’t even gotten any word about Hylia, how does an entire people just forget the woman they’re named after—”
“Will you stop it—” Link snapped as his boots got yanked off.
“As you said, you are a captain, which means you should know better, how are you supposed to lead troops in a state like this—”
“I can handle it!” Link yelled, standing on his cot to be at eye level with the mystical overbearing mother hen.
Fierce huffed, grabbing the clothes and armor he’d managed to obtain and folding them, placing them in a neat pile in the corner of the tent. Then he proceeded to grab other items that were discarded and started to organize them.
“What are you doing?” Link asked, exasperated.
“This place is a disaster,” Fierce replied.
Link stared at him. This was—he didn’t—all right, this was ridiculous, the being had just emphasized that he was a former deity of immense power and he was playing housekeeper and where was this coming from—
Wait a damn minute.
Link squinted, and horror chilled his blood. “Mask drank a stamina potion.”
“Yes, he does that far too often—”
“No. He drank one before he put on your mask.”
“I don’t see how that makes any difference.”
“Your hands are shaking.”
Fierce looked at Link, his blank eyes narrowing as one of his eyebrows rose. “Don’t be ridiculous, my hands never shake.”
Link crossed his arms and gave the most stubborn look he could possibly throw in an overpowered mystical being’s direction. The Fierce Deity looked back, unimpressed, and then looked down at his hands, which were, in fact, trembling.
Fierce blinked.
“Oh,” he said.
“Told you,” Link confirmed. “Now take the mask off and let Sprite come back.”
“Link is resting.” Fierce emphasized, returning his attention to folding the captain’s laundry. He curled his lip in annoyance. “What sort of military training breeds such slovenly accommodations?”
Link blushed. “I usually am better organized, but we’ve had four days of fighting on and off and I hardly have time to even see the tent let alone get in, strip, and pass out.”
Fierce shot him an analytical look. “You haven’t bathed in four days?”
Link immediately felt dread fill him. He didn’t know where this deity drew the line and he was not testing it. “No, no, don’t you dare. I’ll sleep, I promise, I promise!”
True to his word, Link scrambled under the thin blanket provided to him and watched the deity with a near panicked gaze. Fierce continued to look at him for an agonizing moment before continuing his ministrations.
Link didn’t honestly realize just how bone tired he was until he laid his head on his pillow. His brain went from this is insane to wow this bed is amazing, this is so comfortable, just wow to nothing at all as pure exhaustion overtook him. He felt another blanket get tucked around him, long, calloused fingers smooth hair out of his face, and then he felt nothing at all.
Honestly, he didn’t regret the sleep he got. He woke up mid-morning the next day, feeling far more refreshed than he had in a solid month. He didn’t regret the sleep at all.
Until he went out into camp and found half his healthy troops passed out from exhaustion after being drilled all night by “the Old Man with tattoos” and had to get an earful from Impa about letting Mask run the camp with his magical artifacts. Mask himself was wrapped in more blankets than Link thought were even in the camp, sound asleep and at peace.
Sighing heavily, Link carried the boy to his own cot, tucking him in. When he caught sight of the Fierce Deity mask hanging on his belt, he scrutinized it carefully, scrunching his nose. Picking up the object like it might burn him, he plopped it on a pillow beside the boy and sighed heavily.
What a bizarre encounter. But he’d be lying if he said it had been all bad.
