Warriors headcanon based on a conversation with a friend of mine: He's a pretty boy who focuses so much on appearance because during battle (and in war generally), there's no room for it. He gets dirty and bloody and soaked in violence, and the only time he can make himself feel properly grounded is when he gives his hair a good wash with all the best soaps and perfumes, and when he puts on lovely clean clothes and his beautiful blue scarf. Beauty as a trauma response, basically. The others tease him about it and he goes along with it because yeah, it's kind of silly how much effort he puts into his looks while they're camping and fighting, but he also never tells them about the drifting, floating feeling he gets when there's someone else's blood in his hair and between the ridges of his fingertips.
Ooh, interesting! I love it!! :D Thank you for sharing this with me! Wrote a little something for this~ Hope you enjoy. :3
- - -
“Okay, Pretty Boy, that’s it,” a miserably grimy Legend calls as he once again pounds on the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there for an hour and a half. Ninety minutes! What could you possibly be doing in there for 90 minutes?”
No response this time. Legend scowls. “Come on! Everyone else has given up waiting!”
He glances around the side of Wild’s house to the pond out front, where the rest of the heroes chat and laugh together. After a grueling slog through the previous Hyrule, which culminated in a particularly bloody battle, the heroes were tremendously relieved to arrive in Wild’s era. An R and R session at Wild’s cozy home outside quaint Hateno Village—with amenities such as ample yard space and a private bathroom—is exactly what they all need right now.
Except someone has been hogging the best perk for ninety. Freaking. Minutes.
Wild, Twilight, Time, and Wind had all opted out the gate to bathe in the pond, something which Legend couldn’t fully understand. Sure, he’d bathed in plenty of dismal creeks and nasty rivers on his journeys, but when he was granted the luxury of an actual indoor bath, he would take it without hesitation.
Swiftly (and predictably), Warriors had called first dibs on the bathroom, leaving everyone else to wait their turn. Okay, whatever.
Fifteen minutes passed, and Hyrule decided a dip in the pond was sufficient for him, too. An hour went by before Four surrendered to the need to feel clean for the first time in weeks. Now, only Legend and Sky remain attached to the idea of a proper bath.
And Legend didn’t know about Sky, but he, for one, will not bathe in a goddess-forsaken pond tonight.
Legend looks back to the door and glares. He’s been badgering Warriors to vacate the coveted bathroom at regular intervals, usually earning a vague response of, “I’m almost done.”
Well, if that wasn’t the lie of the century…!
Beyond fed up, he slams his red knuckles into the wood over and over. “Pretty Boy, Sky might have patience for days, but mine dried up long ago. I swear to the Three, if your narcissistic ass doesn’t get out here right now…!”
Pausing in his obnoxious knocking, Legend waits for an answer. There is none. He tries to tamp down the bubble of worry that floats up at that and grips more tightly to his thread of righteous anger.
As Legend lifts his hand to continue knocking, the door, at last, swings open. Out floods a harmonious potpourri of floral and fruity fragrances. Warriors stands there, perfectly clean and put-together, his expression oddly stony.
Worry returns, but Legend refuses to acknowledge it.
“Sorry,” Warriors says, sidestepping Legend.
“Oh, you’re sorry, are you?” Legend snaps. “Well, excuse me, Princess. That makes it all better then.”
Ignoring the jabs, Warriors continues to walk away. Legend grabs his elbow and jerks him back around. “Really, is a puny ‘sorry’ all you can muster? After forcing us to wait an entire hour and a half for you to dab on your perfume and fix your hair?”
Warriors looks away from him. A strange detachment mists his eyes and his tone. “…Yeah, that’s all I can say. I’m sorry, Vet.”
Brows drawn, Legend releases Warriors’ arm, which drops limply back to his side like a doll’s. All of Legend’s anger, which he normally clings to as a safe haven, drains away.
“What’s wrong with you?” he says. Concern softens his habitual harshness.
“Nothing.”
“Don’t give me that. Tell me.”
But Warriors just waves a dismissive hand and turns away. “Enjoy the bath.”
Mystified, Legend watches Warriors disappear around the house, opting for solitude indoors instead of joining the other Links.
In what should be a triumphant moment, Legend finally steps into the bathroom. It’s a disquieting moment instead. The lingering scents of Warriors’ expensive soaps and shampoos only unnerve him more, and he closes the door with unease.
Hey! i love your writing & I'd love to see a continuation of the 'Fairies' fic with Warriors and Hyrule! you wrote them both so well :)
hi! thank you so much! :D and thank you for your patience! i know it took a while for me to get to this. getting these boys to share their personal lives with one another is quite a challenge, lol. hope you like it! <3
(here's the first one)
---
The screen door and front porch creak when Hyrule sneaks outside, but he's sure no one is awake to hear. Summer air, warm and welcoming even at midnight, instantly soothes him. Homey Lon Lon Ranch elicits a cherished sense of belonging and family that Hyrule has not previously known, but even here, the need for fresh air and open spaces needles him now and again.
Relishing the unobstructed view of a million stars and the cicadas chiming in the trees, Hyrule ventures into the peacefully empty yard that, between horses and cuccos and Links, was so lively a few hours prior. He decides to amble towards the rose bushes along the fence, where bowls of sugar water are secreted to attract fairies—but stops short when, to his surprise, he spots another nighttime wanderer.
In front of the rose bushes, Warriors lounges on a bench surrounded by fairies, their blue and pink lights lazily flickering in contentment. With a deep and gentle fondness, he smiles at his companions, looking younger and more relaxed than Hyrule has seen him.
Hyrule feels like he's intruded on a private moment. He's considering retreating when Warriors says, "I'm know I'm pretty, but are you just going to stare all night, Traveler, or will you join me?"
Surprised, Hyrule laughs, then sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "Ah, uh, sorry. I can find somewhere else to sit."
"No need. I think they want to see you anyway."
Indeed, some of the fairies have started to drift towards him, compelled by unseen gravity like moons to planets. He grins at them, cupping his hands. A few nestle there, forming a pastel bouquet.
Hyrule settles on the bench, careful not to disturb the fairies he cradles.
"What calls you out so late, Traveler?" Warriors asks conversationally. Some fairies stir from where they've nested in his scarf and float towards Hyrule, curious about the newcomer.
"Just wanted some air. You?"
"Same, I suppose."
Hyrule admires the starlight that catches in the fairies' filmy, dragonfly-like wings as he remembers when he and Warriors (almost) spoke a few weeks ago in the glen. He likes the Captain--they get along fine, and they fight together fluidly--yet Hyrule's never really talked to him. Safe and relaxed as this summer night feels, he figures now is a prime opportunity to change that.
"I love it here on the ranch," Hyrule admits, "and I love being with all of you. But sometimes I feel...stifled, I guess? Like I need to get out into open air. Get some breathing room. Does that make sense?"
"Sure. Some of the others are like that, too."
Warriors doesn't offer more, but Hyrule isn't willing to let go of the conversation so easily. "Do you feel that way ever?"
"Me?" Warriors smiles at the fairies as they circulate between him, Hyrule, and the refreshing bowls of sugar water hidden in the bushes. "Nah, not really. I'm used to being around people all the time, though. No privacy in the army."
"Oh, right. That makes sense. It was a dumb question."
"It wasn't." Warriors glances at him sidelong. "You're too hard on yourself."
Hyrule flushes. "What? No, I'm-- I'm the, the...right amount of hard on myself. No, that--that sounds weird, worded like that. I mean--"
Warriors laughs. The sound startles some fairies, makes them dart away with irritated squeaks. "I know what you mean. It's fine."
Still blushing, Hyrule slumps back in his seat. Maybe talking wasn't such a great idea after all.
Warriors, thankfully, changes the subject. "They really like you."
The fairies, wary of another outburst from Warriors, mostly congregate around Hyrule now. "They're just drawn to my magic."
"That's part of it, but it's definitely you they like. They're drawn to people with pure hearts. At least, the ones not trying to catch them in bottles."
Uncomfortable with the compliment, Hyrule squirms. "Oh, yeah, you're right, but it's... I mean, it's my magic, probably. I'm kind of...similar to them...in a way? I guess? I think they view me as, like, a weird, oversized, bumbling fairy."
Warriors reigns in his laughter this time. "Doesn't your spell just replicate their magic in some way? It's not like you're actually a fairy. I think they can tell the difference."
Hyrule squirms even more, suddenly aware he's on the precipice of an important moment. "Um...well, I... That's not strictly true."
"What isn't?"
"That I'm...not... Uh..." He bites his lip. Come on, just say it! You can't get close to people if you don't let them see you! "It's just that, uh, m-my spell actually kinda makes me transform into a fairy...?"
Hyrule winces and averts his eyes, bracing for the reaction to his blurted words. He's hardly revealed this ability to anyone, and he's not at all certain what the reaction might entail. Disbelief? Laughter? Prying questions?
He isn't expecting what Warriors actually says, which is: "Have you ever been caught in a bottle?"
Hyrule looks at him, head tilted in confusion. Warriors has adopted a calculated mask of calm, so Hyrule can't tell what he's thinking. "C-caught in a bottle? No, can't say I've had the pleasure."
"I see."
"...Why do you ask that?"
When he answers, Warriors sounds stilted and detached, like he’s delivering a report: "There was a time in the war when a Great Fairy assisted us. She carried me across the battlefield in a bottle to use me as her weapon."
Hyrule crinkles his brow. Simply imagining the magnitude of such claustrophobic horror stirs up anxiety, and he shudders. "Oh my gosh."
"As soon as I served my purpose, she’d plop me back in there," Warriors continues. "I tried escaping, believe me, but I never made a dent in that bottle."
"That's awful, Captain."
Sensing a shift in Warriors' emotional aura, the fairies drift to him again, snuggling into his hands or brushing him with their wings.
"It really was," Warriors whispers, calculated mask finally slipping as he allows himself to remember. He wilts. "I was totally powerless. It was the worst feeling."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that."
Warriors watches the fairies for a moment, then shrugs, affecting nonchalance. "Well, that was a long time ago now. Doesn't matter."
Hyrule leans back and looks up at the splash of milky way and glittering stars. Pinks and blues twinkle in his periphery. "They say time makes things better, but it really doesn't. Not by itself. So yeah, of course it matters."
Quiet understanding passes between them, ethereal and peaceful as the fairies. Nothing else needs saying.
A sudden wave of drowsiness overtakes Hyrule. Perhaps it's from the emotional fallout of trading long-held secrets; though worthwhile, the activity draws on inner energy that Hyrule isn't used to tapping. The tiredness is pleasant, though, like the satisfying ache in his muscles after a challenging but rewarding day of adventuring.
"Can I see it sometime?" Warriors asks, his tone returning to its familiar smoothness.
Hyrule blinks. "See what?"
"Your spell."
"Uh...oh! My transformation spell? I--I guess so. Sure. Why not?"
"That's not convincing," Warriors laughs. "You don't have to."
"Ahh, no, I can. I'm just not used to, uh..."
"Showing off?"
"Er, yeah."
"You should show off your abilities," Warriors asserts. "Force other people to experience your brilliance. It's an enjoyable hobby."
Hyrule's laugh startles the fairies this time. They squeak and finally give up on these disruptive Hylians, opting instead to crowd around the sugar water bowls or disappear into the pasture grasses.
"Yeah, okay," Hyrule says, slumping back and closing his eyes. The night didn't turn out the way he expected, but he feels relaxed and tranquil nonetheless. A nap beneath the stars, cushioned by the rose bushes' fragrance, sounds perfect right now. "I'll keep that in mind, Captain."
I'm playing through skyward sword rn and realized this dude has litteraly zero hesitation when it comes to diving off cliffs and such, like he grew up doing it to get around skyloft so to him its just completely normal to dive headfirst off cliffs to get somewhere. Imagine how the other heros reacted the first time Sky just throws himself off a cliff like it's nothing lol
lol, you're so right! the boys' first time on skyloft, sky just yeets himself over the edge~
most of them: O_O !?!?!?
wind and wild: :D !!! -start to get out their deku leaf and paraglider, respectively-
twilight: -smacks both of their hands- i can't believe i have to say this, but no one else will be jumping off the floating sky island!
*later*
time: -clamps his hands on sky's shoulders- sky. please don't ever do that again.
legend: at least give us some warning first.
time: no, no. look at me, sky. never. never. do that again. you just shaved a decade off my life.
(but sky keeps doing it, of course. he can't help it. time just accepts it with the weariest of sighs, gaining new grey hair every time.)
- - -
ehhhh, i also used this as an excuse to write a liddol sky & wars drabble. hope you enjoy~ :3
Warriors stands squarely in the middle of the tiny floating landmass, peering dubiously at the clouds far below. "I take it this is your Hyrule, then?"
"Yes!"
Balancing on his toes, Sky shades his eyes as he searches for something in the distance. He teeters right on the edge of the island. Warriors refrains from grabbing his sailcloth and dragging him further inland. (Not that there’s much "inland" to speak of. He could cross this puny hunk of rock in three strides, tops.)
Sky breaks into a grin and points to the silhouette of another floating island. "Skyloft is right over there!"
"Great. So what's the plan for getting there, exactly?"
Even though Sky's responding laugh is an airy, jubilant sound with no hint of mischief, it unnerves Warriors.
He suddenly has a terrible feeling about what's to come.
"With my loftwing, of course!"
"Your…pet bird?"
Everyone on Skyloft has a feathered companion gifted to them by the goddess Hylia herself, according to Sky, but Warriors fails to see how that connects to their present situation.
"He’s more than just a pet!" Sky grabs Warriors' hand. "I can't wait for you to meet him! Let’s go!"
"Go wh—?"
But the Captain's question is cut off as Sky hurls himself over the precipice and, with unanticipated strength, yanks Warriors along with him.
They fall. Warriors' stomach swoops, detached from gravity. He opens his mouth (maybe to say What the hell, Sky? or maybe to scream. He's not sure.), but his voice catches in his throat like a fly in a skulltula's web. Over the rush of wind assailing his ears, he hears Sky unleash a shrill, sharp whistle, and glances over to see his friend looking positively euphoric.
That does nothing to allay his anxiety.
Then, without warning, a blur of bright red overtakes Warriors' vision, and he collides with something hard. Before he can register what's happening, Sky draws him up into a sitting position and yells, "Hold on to me!"
The instruction is unnecessary. Warriors has already firmly vised his arms around Sky's waist, and he has absolutely no intention of letting go any time soon.
Dazed, he gazes down at red feathers, at giant flapping wings, at a gangly neck and a massive, blunt bill, and oh my gods. This is Sky's loftwing. Sky's pet is a gargantuan monster bird, and they are riding it like a horse.
The loftwing flies much more swiftly than Warriors expects of such a large creature, and he closes his eyes to avoid becoming nauseated from the cream-colored clouds zooming by at high speed. Admittedly, he also wants to avoid looking down. He's never had trouble with heights before, but he's also never rocketed through the literal stratosphere before, either, so he thinks his fear here is justified.
By far, though, the scariest thing about this experience is Sky. Sky is laughing. Laughing like he's having the time of his life.
That laugh will never sound sweet and spirited to Warriors again. Oh, no. That is the laugh of a lunatic.
"Okay, get ready to jump!" Sky calls.
"Wha—?"
But once again, his question goes unfinished as Warriors is dragged off the back of the monstrous bird. He braces himself for the unsettling sensation of weightlessness, but it doesn't come. Instead, he promptly crashes into the ground, as graceless as a fledgling on its first venture from the nest.
"Oh! Sorry, Captain!" Sky says cheerily as he pulls Warriors to his feet. Heart hammering, Warriors sways, appreciative of Sky's steadying grip on his elbow as he tries to catch his breath. "Wasn't that amazing? I've missed flying so much!"
Blinking away the beginnings of vertigo, Warriors opens his eyes to see the loftwing is already a streak in the distance, a vibrant brushstroke of red paint against a colorless sky. And Sky, of course, is still grinning like a maniac.
"Amazing," Warriors huffs, raking a hand through his wind-tousled hair. "Sure. That's one word for it."
Headcaonon Now I know that being sick causes a lot of people to be tired but what if it's the opposite for Sky? Like whenever he gets sick, he’s wide awake. He can’t fall asleep on his own without help. He also seems the type to have respiratory problems that keep him coughing and wheezing all night.
awww, poor sky! :( this is a great headcanon! have a little sky & legend drabble~ <3
- - -
When the latest coughing fit finally subsided, Sky groaned and flopped back down onto his bedroll. The action was enough to knock the breath out of him again in a raspy wheeze, and for a terrible moment, he thought he’d have to lurch back up for another round of violent coughs. Thankfully, the constrictive vice around his lungs loosened, the urge to cough fading with it.
Sky dragged his sailcloth over his face, burying his nose in the wadded-up fabric before inhaling. He hoped to catch the heady floral fragrance of Zelda’s perfume that seemed to permanently linger in the silk, but through his congestion, he could smell nothing. What a disappointment.
“Please refrain from suffocating yourself on my watch, Bird Boy.”
Had this cold not stolen all his strength, Sky would have flipped Legend off. Sleeplessness was really making him cranky. But he couldn’t scrape together the energy to lift his arm, so he opted to respond with another groan instead.
“Oh, spare me,” Legend said. “Leave the theatrics to the Captain.”
Hearing shuffles, Sky pulled the sailcloth away from his eyes and startled when he saw Legend, backlit by the campfire, squatting right next to him. In one hand he held a steaming cup; he hooked his other around Sky’s elbow and tugged him back to a sitting position.
“What’s this?” Sky asked, wincing at the nasally thickness of his voice.
“Tea. Ginger and honey.” Legend pushed the cup into Sky’s hands. “Should help the cough.”
“Oh— I— Thank you. That’s nice of you.”
Legend shrugged. Sky sipped and relished the tea’s soothing heat. He tried to keep the yearning from his voice as he said, “Zelda makes me tea when I’m sick. Helps me sleep.”
“Well, this better help then. I’m tired of listening to you cough.” Legend stood and turned, preparing to return to his watch post. “It’s unsettling to see you, of all people, toss and turn, so drink that and go to sleep.”
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were worried about me, Vet.”
Legend thunked down onto a log by the fire. “Yeah. Right.” He picked up a stick and stoked the flames with it before chucking it in. The fire gnawed on it with a crackle, and the renewed orange light betrayed Legend’s soft expression. “But there’s more tea, if you want it.”
Sniffling, Sky smiled, his heart filling with a warmth to rival the fire’s. “Okay. Thank you.”
Most of the heroes’ exposed secrets were not willingly confessed so much as forcibly revealed by circumstance. A harrowing battle ended with the Smith finally displaying his Four Sword’s power; Legend reluctantly demonstrated his ability to transform into a painting during a dungeon puzzle. Compared to these two discoveries, the fact that Twilight and Wolfie were one and the same was easy to digest, Sky thought.
A few secrets, however, were tentatively shared in the sleepy evening hours when conversation turned soft and somber. Sky could recall this particular secret’s revelation with clarity. He could visualize Time carefully cradling the ancient mask that Sky now gripped in trembling fingers. Even now, he felt the horror of Time’s story, of a small, brave child compelled to be a vessel for a violent deity. And he remembered Time caressing the red markings on his cheek, the permanent byproducts of too much power used too often.
“I can’t believe you still have that damn thing,” Warriors had murmured, half-lamenting and half-accusatory.
“Would you use it again?” Wind had asked. “Even though it’s so dangerous?”
“If I had to, yes.” Time smiled sadly, tracing his fingers along the edge of the mask, as Sky, lost in memory, did now. “After all these years, he almost feels like a friend.”
A friend, Sky mused. I sure hope he’s a friend.
Scanning the battlefield a final time, Sky could see how exhausted and injured all of his brothers were, could see the monsters’ massive cavalry was still invigorated and ruthless.
Unless someone had another miraculous secret ability to pull out, this was a losing fight. The time for drastic, maybe desperate, measures had arrived, and this damnable mask was the only failsafe Sky could think of. Its unparalleled power would easily secure them a victory.
More importantly, it would easily save their lives.
Mind made up, borrowed item in hand, Sky stepped away from Epona, who was burdened with everyone’s bags. She whinnied questioningly, no doubt sensing Sky’s nerves, but he ignored her as he trudged back onto the battlefield, raising the Fierce Deity mask to his face.
The transformation was instantaneous. Sudden and extreme, it made Sky feel dizzy and nauseated—except it didn’t, because he was bodiless. His consciousness had been snatched from his physical form—except it hadn’t been, because his head felt achy and overstuffed, like he’d experienced an abrupt shift in air pressure, and his stomach violently churned.
Yet simultaneously, he felt a radical disconnect from his body. Sky could vaguely discern his own motion, and then only in ephemeral moments of clarity. He likened the paradoxical sensation of being and not being to the blurry region between sleeping and waking, but that analogy didn’t quite encompass this disconcerting, disjointing experience.
He was himself, but he wasn’t; he wasn’t someone else, either, but he was. He wasn’t alone; there was another consciousness beside him, inside him. Inside his body or his mind? He couldn’t tell. Both, neither. He felt like his consciousness wasn’t his own, like someone was sharing his thoughts, or maybe thinking his thoughts for him.
Sky felt all manner of confusing, contradictory things, and it was too much. Too much.
Before rummaging through Time’s bag to fetch the mask—an event that must have happened hours ago, maybe seconds ago—Sky had reaffirmed his private vow to accept any and all hardships in place of his brothers. For Sky’s mistakes, they had suffered enough. Not just the mistakes he’d made on his adventure, but all the errors thereafter for the rest of his life. All the choices he would make—the choices he’d already made, in his brothers’ histories—affected them in ways he couldn’t even conceive. He could never atone for that, but he would try his damnedest to protect them from anything he could.
(Do I really sacrifice myself for them? Sky often wondered. Or is it because I can’t live with the guilt?)
Sky had chosen to don the consumptive mask so Time wouldn’t have to, but now, in this realm of existing and not existing, of pain and total numbness, he wished he hadn’t. He selfishly wished he could strip off the horrid, possessed article and return to himself, because this was too much.
How long was he trapped in that in-between? Sky didn’t know. Reentering the normal world, when it happened, felt like surfacing from a sea after nearly drowning. No, it was more, he imagined, like being birthed. His body felt foreign in its familiarity as he frantically gulped in air, acutely aware of his lungs expanding, feeling terribly, definitely ill.
Unconsciously, he rolled from his back to his side and vomited. As soon as he was finished, a dribble of bile on his chin, he was scooped into someone’s lap.
Blearily, he looked up at Time, catching a glimpse of the oldest hero’s devastated expression before the man pulled him close. Time’s bulky armor made the tight hug painful, but Sky didn’t mind. Depleted, he sank into Time’s embrace.
“Are you okay?” Time whispered. Sky nodded into the Old Man’s neck, a slight movement that nonetheless renewed his dizziness.
“Are you?” Sky murmured, his mouth dry, his head heavy. He could feel himself drowsing despite the reticence in Time’s lengthy pause.
“Everything will be okay,” he said at last.
Not exactly a reassuring statement. Sky struggled to open his eyes, to draw back and look across the battlefield. He blinked at a blood-drenched heap of mangled, shredded monster parts before Time gently pulled him back, settling Sky against his shoulder again.
“It’s okay,” Time soothed. “It’s all going to be okay.”
Sky thought he should try to get up again, to survey the decimation that occurred by his hand, the destructive consequences of his choices. Before he could, though, Time’s fingers combing through his hair lulled him into that strange space between dreaming and waking, and he decided he would rest.
There is something that I noticed while watching a game play of Hyrule warriors. Once You get the great fairy in the game but the way she fights is what got my angst side tickling. The way she fights is that she puts Link in a bottle and fights while he’s in the bottle, and once there’s a victory. The great fairy lets him out and you can clearly see his discomfort when she spins around him and such. Just something i noticed that i thought might be important for yah. :3
thank you so much for sending me this! it makes me so happy that you thought to share this with me. thank you ;w;
the whole getting-stuck-in-a-bottle thing is perfect for angst, and i was going to write something angsty, but then...this happened?? tl;dr for this fic is as follows~
hyrule: i don't like trapping fairies in bottles.
warriors: yeah, getting trapped in a bottle sucks.
hyrule: wait, what?
warriors: what?
like that's it, that's the fic. also, wind is the problem child here because the fairies in WW look so sad after you catch them XD
Deep in the woods, the heroes find a sanctuary.
The densely-packed, straight-backed trees open up into a sunlit pocket, a secret glade undisturbed for centuries, where the air holds still like bated breath. Playing among the sunbeams, fluttering on filmy dragonfly wings, are dozens upon dozens of fairies.
Hyrule smiles fondly as he steps into the clearing, stretching out an arm in invitation. Several fairies, awash in a pastel pink glow, drift towards him and perch there like birds on a branch. A few more land on his shoulders; a couple snuggle into his nest of unruly hair.
“Oh, this is great!” Wind chirps. His voice seems unnaturally loud in the quiet, sacred space, and a handful of the fairies on Hyrule’s arm startle and flit away. The Traveler turns, prepared to admonish the Sailor for his volume, but he pales as he sees Wind, and several of the other heroes, fishing empty bottles from their bags.
Fairies’ healing magic is more potent than any potion, so Hyrule understands why the other heroes want it at their disposal; yet the idea of trapping one of these magnificent little creatures for days or weeks on end merely to exploit her generosity makes Hyrule uneasy. He knows what it’s like to be so small and helpless, and he can only imagine the horror of being imprisoned in a cramped bottle with nothing to do but breathe increasingly stale air and wait for freedom.
Hyrule holds out his other arm to offer refuge to more fairies; several more pink orbs alight on him without hesitation. Dismayed, he watches Wind ready his bottle and make a wild swing for a fairy. She bleats in alarm before zipping away.
His next target is not so lucky. Wind catches this fairy between his hand and the bottle, effectively jamming her inside.
“Sailor—,” Hyrule begins, but he cuts himself off as, to his surprise, Warriors clamps a firm hand on Wind’s shoulder and spins him around. He’s wearing the irritated scowl that’s usually reserved for Legend.
“What do you think you're doing?” the Captain snaps.
The triumph over a successful catch swiftly drains from Wind’s face. “What do you mean?”
“You have to be more careful,” Warriors chastises. “If you insist on detaining them, at least don't hurt them.”
“What? I would never—!” Pausing, Wind gives the cross-armed Captain a once-over, defensiveness dissipating in favor of curious realization. “Wait, why aren’t you grabbing any fairies…?”
Huh. Now that Hyrule considers it, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Warriors with a bottled fairy of his own. He hadn’t realized the Captain, too, is sensitive to the plight of these little winged creatures.
Blatantly discounting the question, Warriors says, “Look, why don’t you let Time give you pointers on how to do this properly.”
Wind’s imminent protests visibly shrivel as his gaze follows to where Warriors points. Time stands peacefully in the middle of the glade, open bottle passively upheld; a fairy willingly flies inside and allows herself to be stowed in Time’s bag. Attention captured, Wind bounces over to Time without another word to Warriors.
Eyebrows raised in amusement, Hyrule relaxes. Wind hadn’t intended to mistreat the fairies, and his youthful vigor is disarming. He glances at Warriors, expecting to see a similarly amused expression on him, given the massive soft spot Warriors has for the kid, but Warriors isn’t looking at Wind or Time at all. Instead, he’s watching the others collect fairies with an expression Hyrule has never seen on him.
His irritation, it seems, was a knee-jerk reaction, a symptom masking the real problem, which apparently is…discomfort?
Hyrule watches as now, in the quiet, some fairies drift towards the Captain, languidly orbiting him or touching down on his shoulders. If he notices, he doesn’t acknowledge them, continuing to watch the other heroes with crossed arms and pursed lips, like he’s tasted something sour.
As if he’s forgotten Hyrule was standing nearby, Warriors startles, but he quickly composes himself, seamlessly transitioning to an air of detached, smoothed-over neutrality. “Yes?”
“You okay? You look a little, uh…spooked.”
“Of course.” He buries one hand in the folds of scarf around his neck. The lie is painfully obvious, though Hyrule isn’t certain if that’s a cue to keep pushing or to let this go.
Fortunately, he doesn’t need to decide. Warriors drops the hand from his scarf and instead hooks his thumbs onto his belt. He’s in his observational tactician mode, his posture and expression shuttered so that he gives nothing away, only takes in. “You know, I'm not as in-tune with magic as you or Legend, but I’ve always been able to sense the residue of fairy magic on you, Traveler. Why is that?”
The deflection is unexpected, Hyrule thinks, but he supposes he can’t call it unfair. Secrets are like anything else: earned, not free. So he barters.
“Yeah, it’s, um. It’s from…a spell I can cast.”
“What does it do?”
“Uh, well, it’s…” He swallows. Maybe he isn’t ready to divulge this particular secret in full. “It sort of…replicates fairy magic, you could say.”
Warriors looks like he wants to ask more; Hyrule jumps in before he can. “So you don’t like catching fairies, huh?”
He can almost see the same thought process flicker across Warriors’ face: get a secret, give a secret.
One hand trails up to his scarf—a nervous habit, Hyrule figures—but then drops to his side again. “I don’t like the idea of trapping them.”
“Neither do I,” Hyrule agrees.
Warriors’ gaze is fixed on the others again, on the bottles in their hands. His hand returns to his scarf, and this time he absently toys with it, mind preoccupied. “...I know what it’s like.”
“What…what’s like?”
“Being trapped like that.” His voice has gotten quieter, his gaze more faraway. “And no matter what you do, you can’t get out.”
“Oh...I...I'm sorry,” Hyrule fumbles, not sure what to say.
“No one took it seriously,” Warriors continues. He untangles his hand from his scarf, holds out a finger so one of the fairies on his shoulder can perch there instead. “I felt so small and helpless...but it was just a joke to everyone else.”
Hyrule shuffles uncomfortably, scrutinizing the somber way Warriors is looking at the fairy on his finger. “So, um...what...where were you...trapped, exactly?”
Warriors frowns, and for one hopeful moment, Hyrule thinks he’s going to get an answer. But then Wind is bounding over, chattering excitedly, earlier tensions seemingly forgotten. The fairies around Warriors flutter away in a cloud, and Time is gathering everyone up so they can keep moving.
Well. A half-truth exchanged for a half-truth. It’s a start, Hyrule supposes. At least it’s a start.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
“Time,” Warriors breathed, throwing down his armload of firewood. Branches and twigs bounced and scattered. “Something strange just happened.”
“What?”
“It’s Legend. I saw Legend, but he didn’t— He sort of—” Warriors waved his hands vigorously but vaguely, trying to grasp onto the right words. “He just—just appeared. Out of thin air. Literally.”
a crack and angst collaboration by @gintrinsic-writing, @lyrabythelake, and me~ for the wonderful @kasanya-01!
I had an angsty interesting idea and thought you’d maybe like to hear it (since you’re a fan of Wars and Time bonding)
Time and Warriors get separated from the group and are fighting a big ol’ horde of monsters when Time gets hit hard. Like, he-needs-a-fairy-NOW hard. And Wars knows he can’t protect Time while fighting off all these monsters, he’s horribly outnumbered without him, he needs help, he needs more power-
Then he remembers the Fierce Diety mask.
anon, thank you for thinking of me!! i do adore these two bonding! <3 hope you enjoy this little thing i wrote~ uwu
The realization that this ragtag monster horde was capable of implementing a coordinated battle plan carries myriad unsettling implications, but Warriors puts all that aside for later consideration. Right now, he’s rather more preoccupied with his other realization: he and Time are kind of fucked.
Separated from the other heroes by the latest portal (and maybe that was all part of the enemies’ strategy, too?), Time and Warriors are severely outnumbered, two to two dozen. The only reason they haven't lost already is because they've managed to stay back-to-back, fighting together fluidly, watching each other's blind spots. Everything they're doing is purely defensive, purely reactionary, and their stamina is quickly getting whittled away by endless waves of brutal attacks.
And maybe their draining stamina is why there's a slip-up. Warriors hopes that's why there's a slip-up, because he can't bear the idea that his carelessness caused whatever just happened behind him to make Time shout in agony.
Warriors whirls around just as Time crumples to his knees. He steps in front of the Old Man in time to block the heavy stroke of a darknut's broadsword. The blunt impact forces him back half a foot. He grits his teeth and smashes his shield into the darknut's helmet as it winds up for another strike. Armor rattling, the monster stumbles back, briefly stunned.
Swinging around, Warriors throws out his shield against the thrust of a lizalfos' spear, but both weapon and shield collide instead with a translucent blue wall that materializes between them. Sapphire-colored and diamond-shaped, the sudden barrier surprises Warriors for a second before he remembers a child casting the same spell on battlefields some years ago.
"Can't hold it for long," Time says, voice strained, as he presses one hand against his side. Warriors drops down next to him, ignoring the sounds of baffled and angry monsters pounding on the barrier encasing them, and pulls Time's hand away to reveal a terribly deep gash.
Time coughs, and a trail of blood mars his chin. Cursing, Warriors carelessly rips a swatch from his scarf and stuffs it into the wound in the hopes of slowing the bleeding.
"Give it to me," he blurts before he knows what he's saying. His conscious mind takes a moment to catch up to his mouth, but then he feels it. Beneath the clean, blessed magic that Time exudes beats the pulse of something darker, something that wormed into Warriors’ mind without him even noticing.
Suddenly, Warriors knows with certainty how this fight is going to end. He reaches for Time's satchel without awaiting an answer. The Old Man clamps a surprisingly firm hand onto Warriors' wrist.
"No," he says, the tremble in his voice belying the sternness of his tone. "I won't allow it."
The magic, which feels like frenzy barely contained, wraps more securely around Warriors' heart. He wonders how it leaked into him without his consent, how it made him its pawn before he even considered using the mask.
"It's our only choice." Warriors drapes his other hand on top of Time's. The barrier around them flickers, disappearing for half an instant.
Time retrieves the mask from his bag without looking, like he knows exactly where it is. In the open, the mask's alluring magic is more potent. It feels like chaos masquerading as calm, like a threat camouflaged as salvation.
"I could do it," Time weakly offers, even as more blood beads on his lips, as more color drains from his wan face, as resignation clouds his eye.
When Warriors' fingers graze the mask's smooth wood, a shock runs along his spine, prickles the hair on his arms and the back of his neck. The faded red and blue lines that mirror Time's remind him that dabbling with something this powerful has irreversible consequences. In an odd moment of detached lucidity, Warriors recognizes that after he puts on this mask, his life is never going to be the same.
But as he takes the cursed object, he looks down at Time's weeping gash, poorly plugged by blood-drenched scraps of scarf, and feels at peace with his decision.
"I'll be fine, Sprite," he says. "Just promise me you'll be fine, too."
As Time's spell withers and the blue diamond barrier shatters, Warriors puts on the mask.
He's dropped into an abyss that somehow feels both bottomless and claustrophobic. He can't see or hear or touch any more, can't feel his body or what he's doing; he's confined to his mind, condemned to an inky, oceanic emptiness that is filling up with poisonous magic. The deity's overwhelming presence invades more and more of Warriors' mental space, grappling for control.
And it hurts. It's agonizing, the way the subjugating magic bleeds into his every crevice, sunders him at his seams. Peels him apart layer by layer. Breaks him down to his basest pieces. Divides. Consumes.
Rational thought disappears; his darkness is lit only by instinct now, and his instinct tells him to fight. So Warriors resists. As puny and piteous a creature as he is compared to the deity's wrath, he resists, struggling to retain a foothold in his own mind.
And just as abruptly as this hellish internal fight begins, it ends. Full consciousness slams back into Warriors with merciless force. The world seems like a hazy mess of colors and light that he can't decipher. His body feels foreign, and he can't distinguish, spatially, where he is, what he's doing. He thinks he's standing--no, he's falling--
Warriors tumbles back into something solid. Someone solid, who secures their arms around his middle and lowers him to the ground. Dizzy and muddled, he squints up at the concerned face hovering above him. Twilight. The Rancher's mouth is moving, but the words are distant and incomprehensible.
Simply holding his head up is a strain, and Warriors lets himself go limp in Twilight's arms. Through blurry vision, he can see the signs of a massacre: the decimated remains of all those monsters, strewn around the battlefield. He vaguely registers Twilight's fingers on his neck, checking for a pulse, and Twilight's hands running along his limbs, his torso, feeling for injuries.
There's a swirl of red and pink in his periphery. Legend, not bothering to conceal his concern, appears on one side of him. He's speaking, too, and though the words sound a bit clearer than before, Warriors still doesn't understand. Exhausted, he doesn't worry about it, and lets his eyes slip closed.
Twilight and Legend's conversation drones over his head as comforting white noise, and the Rancher's steady breaths begin to lull him to sleep. Then something tugs at his hand, and he pries his eyes open, annoyed, to see Legend trying to take the mask from him.
Warriors blinks down at the cursed item, surprised to see it still clasped in his fist, his unyielding fingers coiled through the eye holes.
"Let go of this damn thing, Pretty Boy," Legend says when he sees Warriors' eyes are open. The Captain can't decide if Legend's voice is actually quiet or if it still sounds weirdly far away. Regardless, he loosens his hold and watches Legend take the mask, grimace at it with a mix of revulsion and anger, and artlessly toss it out of view.
"Captain?"
Turning his heavy head, Warriors finds Wind kneeling at his other side. His expression is all unrefined concern, the watery eyes and exaggerated compassion of a child. Warriors wants to comfort him, but he can hardly move at the moment. He supposes speaking is out of the question, too.
"Are you okay?" the Sailor asks, taking up Warriors' hand in both his own.
Getting no reply, Wind glances between Twilight and Legend. "Why isn't he saying anything? He's okay, isn't he?"
"I'm sure he's fine," Twilight replies. It's a stilted, rote response that holds little conviction. Warriors thinks that should bother him, but he's too tired to care.
"What about those?" Wind says, nodding towards Warriors.
On reflex, Twilight brushes his fingers against the Captain's cheek, looking sadly at whatever is there. "The magic imprinted on him, but he wasn't changed for long. The marks will fade."
Marks? Warriors tunes out the rest of the conversation, trying to deduce what marks they're referring to--until he pictures the red and blue lines tattooed onto--
Time. Warriors twitches, wanting to sit up, wanting to ask after the Old Man. Legend puts a steadying hand on his shoulder, instructs him not to move. Still, he swivels his head around, trying to squint through the still-indistinct mass of shapes and lights that make up the world beyond his little sphere.
Finally, he sees, past Wind, the rest of their troupe. As Warriors is with Twilight, Time is reclined against Sky, with Four and Wild on either side of him. Hyrule is bent over him, hands aglow with golden healing magic that surges into the dangerous wound on Time's side.
Warriors tries to focus on the Old Man's face, and his eyes finally adjust enough that he can see Time, grim and weary, looking straight back at him. He looks sad, Warriors thinks. Sympathetic. Pitying.
It's off-putting, and Warriors looks away. He closes his eyes again and sinks back into Twilight, deciding for now that he'll pretend this is a nightmare, and soon, he'll wake up somewhere else with his soul and mind intact. Yes, he thinks, he’ll let himself pretend for a little while.
