Wind tore out of Sky’s house, Four at his heels, and they raced together across the backyard to where the entrance to the shelter was, Wind still able to hear the pounding at the front door.
“It’ll be fine,” Sky had said as he’d shoved them both out the door, face lined with stress. “We don’t have anything incriminating up here except you two. Go hide.”
And Wind knew that Sky was right, knew that it would be better if he went with everyone else since he and Four were both really wanted by the government right now, but it still felt wrong to leave to Sky alone upstairs.
It felt like leaving Malon after the other house had been raided.
Wind tugged open the entrance and gestured Four down, then followed after, fixing the hatch closed and securing it. They slid down the ladder just in time for Sun to gesture them into one of the innermost rooms, her face drawn.
“We have a system that alerts us,” she whispered as Wind and Four joined the handful of people all huddled in the sleeping area. “And it’s always possible they might have supers with them that could sniff us out down here, so stay quiet, and try not to move. Sky will give us the all clear when it’s safe.”
Wind nodded and he and Four silently moved to where Legend was sitting, Hyrule tucked in the corner beside him. Twilight sat up on the bed next to them, his ears twitching, and Ravio nervously fidgeted nearby. The few other people that came and went down here stayed silent and still by the door, and Wind swallowed when he saw Artemis holding a knife, her face stiff.
The minutes dragged on, Wind trying not to shake with nerves as the silence stretched on longer and longer. Five minutes, ten, twenty...
They reached half an hour, and Four leaned against Wind’s arm, his face drawn. Wind shifted a little, his bottom getting sore, and gave Four’s hand a squeeze when his brother gave him a worried look.
Forty-five minutes.
An hour.
Twilight’s face had gone grim, as had Legend’s, and Wind knew from discussions they’d had that house searches didn’t usually take so long. What was going on up there?
Sun was looking pale now, and Legend quietly slid over to her and asked in a whisper if she wanted him to go above.
“They might have heat sensors, there’s no guarantee you’d be safe, even invisible,” she whispered back. “We’ll wait.”
“What if they took him in?” Hyrule croaked, and Aryll whimpered, Sun quickly shushing them both.
She stroked a gentle hand over Aryll’s head, and Wind slid over to Hyrule, gently nudging him. Hyrule looked rather shaken, and Wind set his hand over his while the minutes continued to tick by.
Wind had lost track of exactly how long it had been when Twilight’s head snapped up, his eyes on the door. Artemis immediately disappeared through the door, and everyone tensed, Hyrule’s breath catching.
Wind heard a creak. The sound of the hatch opening.
Footsteps.
And then the door opened, and Artemis came back in, a faint smile on her face.
“All clear,” she reported, and a sigh went through the room, Hyrule slumping, Sun closing her eyes as she exhaled, then hurriedly getting to her feet.
Wind wasn’t the only one who followed her out into the main room, and was relieved to see Sky standing by the ladder, his feathers a bit ruffled.
“Did they find anything? What took so long?” Legend asked as he strode out, his face a mix of relief and anxiety, and Sky turned to look at them.
“No, they didn’t find anything,” Sky said with a bloodied grin, and Sun gasped. “...They uh, weren’t too happy about that.”
“Are you okay?!” Wind asked in alarm, and Sky nodded, then winced as he rubbed at his jaw. There was blood all down the side of his mouth and chin, the skin already looking swollen. A bruise was starting to bloom further up his cheek as well, and Wind stared.
“Looks worse than it is. Cut my mouth a bit when I got hit, that’s why it’s so bloody. The house is a disaster too, but it’s just things. It’s okay,” he said, and exhaled. “We’re safe.”
Sun went over to hold him and get a better look at his face, Aryll clinging to her legs. She quickly moved to Sky’s legs instead, and Sky picked her up as Hyrule also joined them, a discussion starting about how much Hyrule should heal Sky’s face, if it all.
Wind merely leaned against the wall, taking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. They were okay. It had turned out okay.
They were safe.
Yet despite knowing that, Wind still didn’t sleep a wink that night, his stomach a knot of anxiety.
Back to Malon again in the downfall Incredibles au, comes a bit after this one with her and Fable and Wild. Some nice pain for you this lovely day :)
Masterlist
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A long time had gone by, and Malon and Fable were still in the larger holding room.
A few people had been taken out, and a few brought in, but it hadn’t happened too often. Things were mostly quiet and boring, and it made Malon antsy. The anticipation of what might happen was almost worse than the reality would be. Hopefully.
Malon sighed. Fable was still dozing on her shoulder, Champion sitting on her other side, and Malon heard his stomach growl. She gave him a concerned look, but he just shrugged. Nobody here had food, and they obviously weren’t going to be given any. There wasn’t any point in discussing hunger.
“Do you know what’s going to happen to us?” Malon asked finally, tired of sitting in silence. Champion shrugged again.
“They’ll probably send me off to a work camp. But I don’t know. There’s a lot of options. Forced labor, prison... Things people don’t talk about.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Branding.”
“I doubt they’d do that to me again,” Malon murmured, and ignored the concerned look Champion gave her. She thought for a moment, then looked at the walls. “So this is a holding cell? Staging area?“
“It looks like it,” Fable yawned from Malon’s shoulder. “I don’t know why there’s other people here though.”
“They call us out one by one. I assume there’s going to eventually be some sort of interrogation before they send us away, but who knows,” Champion murmured, also looking tired. “I haven’t been questioned yet. And I haven’t noticed anyone come back after being taken out.”
Malon didn’t know what to say to that, and the three of them went quiet.
Fable closed her eyes, and dozed back off on Malon’s shoulder, her face still twisted in pain. Malon shifted herself so she’d be more comfortable, and she went back to watching the room in silence. Champion did the same beside her, eyes half-lidded, and she didn’t miss how his breath held a note of pain to it. She glanced at him again, watching him attempt to keep his hair out of his eyes without moving too much, then paused.
A conversation went through her head suddenly, one from back when Wind and Four had first shown up. They’d been explaining about their other brothers, but after realizing things here were largely unfamiliar to them, hadn’t been able to tell her much for certain except for their real names and powers.
Malon looked at Champion more intently. Super speed wasn’t an entirely uncommon power, but he also largely matched the physical description they’d given, which made her wonder...
“Champion, this is going to sound odd, and you don’t have to answer, but... is your name Link?” Malon whispered so as not to wake Fable or be heard by the other prisoners.
Champion stilled, and didn’t reply for a long moment.
“...And if it is?” he whispered back.
Malon’s heart skipped a beat for some reason. “It’s not my story to explain, but... I know some kids who are looking for you. They think you might be related to them.” That was probably the simplest way she could put it without making him think she was crazy.
Champion was silent again, and Malon couldn’t read his expression.
“I don’t have any family. They must be mistaken.”
Grief hit Malon again. “Nobody?”
“No.”
Champion looked at the floor, and Malon didn’t know if she should attempt comfort or simply leave him be. He spoke before she could decide.
“But my name is Link,” he whispered, almost like an afterthought. “I guess telling you doesn’t matter.”
Malon froze, and looked at him closer. Wind had said their brother had scars all along the side of his face and neck, with more in places that his clothes covered. Champion didn’t have scars like that, or the long hair Four had described, but something Wind had said stuck with her, and came to mind now.
“He’s kind,” Wind had said, with shiny eyes. “He’s so kind, and mischievous, and fun, and he can be really quiet and really loud, but you can’t mistake how kind he is. He’ll help anyone with anything, even if it hurts himself.”
Malon knew it was him.
The hairs on her neck stood up as she had the thought, and though she held herself back from saying anything, for some reason her eyes watered. She blinked back the sudden sting, and carefully studied the face of the boy who was her son in another world, a strange wonder and grief hitting her chest.
He looked back at her, his brows pinching a little in concern, and Malon swallowed.
“Sorry. I... the name Link means a lot to me,” she managed to say, and he nodded, still looking a little concerned, but not like he had been. “It was my husband’s name.”
And sons, and other sons, and now you—
Champion didn’t miss the past tense. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
“Thank you. It was years ago, still sometimes I forget he’s gone,” she admitted just as quietly, familiar grief sweeping over her. A small chuckle escaped her. “He looked a bit like you.“
“...What was he like?” Champion asked, a little hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure it was okay to ask.
Malon hummed, and looked at the ceiling. How could she describe everything Time had been? How could she explain every facet of him she’d loved to someone who’d never met him?
She breathed out in a slow way. “You ever hear of the Fierce Deity?” Champion nodded. “Well, that was him.“
Champion’s eyes widened a little. “Oh. I heard about that accident.”
Mal quirked her lip. “It was almost impossible not to. It was in the news for weeks.” They’d used the whole thing as an excuse to further tighten regulations on supers, proclaiming it a safety issue. Time would’ve hated it.
Champion looked apologetic for bringing it up, and Malon waved him off, wrists sore from her cuffs.
“It’s all right hon. Now for what he was like, well... the news wouldn’t tell you this, but while he could be fierce, he could also be as gentle as anything. He loved the woods and outdoors, and horses... and he had the absolute worst sense of humor.” She chuckled as she thought of it. “Puns galore. He couldn’t cook anything except sandwiches, and even then they tended to taste strange. And he was brave, courageous... no matter how busy or dangerous things got, he always tried to carve out time for me and our kids. I loved him more than anything.”
Her voice cracked, and Malon didn’t bother to stop her few tears that had welled from falling. Part of her still hurt as much as it had that day when Twilight had come home alone, injured and inconsolable, with papers she’d never wanted to see.
Champion looked alarmed at making her cry, but before he could say anything, Malon cut him off.
“It’s okay hon, I said you could ask. I like to talk about him,” she said thickly, wiping her face. She looked at Champion, and smiled past her tears. “I think he would’ve liked you. You remind me of him.”
“Me?” he said in disbelief, and she nodded.
“You’ve got that same courage, and kindness,” she said softly. “And I don’t see that much these days.”
Champion’s cheeks turned a little pink, and Malon shifted herself so their arms were touching, giving him a little comfort. Champion stilled, then carefully leaned against her, bringing a bit of warmth to her heart.
Silence fell between them for a bit, though the room itself wasn’t very quiet. Two people on the opposite side of the room were loudly arguing, something about who’s fault it was they were here and about how they should never have listened to the other person. It was quite the racket, and after watching it for a minute in exasperation, Malon turned to Champion, giving him a more serious look.
“Me and Fable were talking about escaping,” she murmured, barely legible above the arguing. “We don’t have a plan, but if we try something, would you want to help?”
Champion hesitated. “What if we get caught?”
“What if we get out?” Malon countered with a small smile, then squeezed his shoulder. “You don’t have to help us if you truly don’t want to. But we both know nothing good will happen to any of us if we stay here. Working together might be our only real chance.”
Champion closed his eyes a moment, face creased.
But then he reopened them, a determined look on his face. “You’re right. I know what’ll happen if I stay. At least with this there’s a chance.”
Fable stirred a bit as Malon grinned at him, and she smiled at Champion. “Well welcome aboard, Blue. I hope we make it out.”
He gave her a small smile in return. “I hope so too.”
Downfall iau... this is a fic for febuwhump but I couldn’t decide which prompt it went with (it fits the test subject one pretty well but I have another fic planned for that lol) so I’m just tossing it here without a specific prompt. But it’s febuwhump. It’s very febuwhump.
Fits in with this fic with Hyrule :)
Warnings: hoo boy. mention of needles/injections, some medical experimentation, mention of injuries, a lot of just physical pain, some thoughts about death... I think that’s it? sorry if I missed anything.
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Time’s arm itched.
He held back the urge to scratch at it as he paced around his cell in tight loops, already knowing it wouldn’t change anything. There was a tight bandage bound around his arm where he’d been pricked several hours ago, and no matter what he did, the spot wouldn’t stop itching.
The sensation grew worse as he thought about it, and Time gritted his teeth, digging his fingers into his other arm in an effort to ignore it. It really didn’t help much, but at least it was something else to think about.
His fingers dug in tighter as a sharp pang went up his arm, and Time paced faster. Worse even than the itching was the knowledge that he’d been injected with something new, something he didn’t know the purpose or intent of, aside from knowing they were still somehow messing with his powers.
He had no idea how any of it was possible. The idea of messing with powers was one he’d heard once or twice long ago, but no one had ever gotten anywhere with it, and anyone who’d tried had been arrested or foiled.
But that was then. This was now.
And Dark had obviously put a lot of money into the facility down here.
Time rubbed at his chest as he paced, wincing. He couldn’t tell if they were trying to mess with what powers he had or give him something new, but whatever it was they were doing was repeatedly invasive and exhausting, and often borderline torture.
A more intense feeling went through his arm, and Time bit back a whine. Or not borderline at all.
He wished he knew what was happening to him. Random flashes of pain didn’t explain anything, nor did the examinations he was often put through. He’d given up on asking questions a while ago, aware that all they brought was pain or dismissive retorts, but he couldn’t help being curious. Once he’d been locked in a smaller cell for days with no interaction with anyone for merely pushing to know what they were trying to do, but how could he not want to know?
A tremble went through him, itching and painful, and Time breathed out wearily. He was in for a long day.
Not that he knew if it was night or day exactly, but he’d run through about half of what little routine he’d scraped together (and was forced through) before the itching and strange anxiety had begun. It was about noon now by his guess, somewhere around six hours after he’d gotten the shot, and he’d given up on the stretches he’d been doing. Instead he paced around his tiny cell, his fingernails leaving bloody crescents in his arm he was gripping it so tight.
He wished he had a distraction. A book, a game, even just a window to look out of. He only had a vague idea of how long he’d been here, but it was too long. He was going mad with nothing but pain and four blank walls to focus on.
Maybe he’d just go insane. Maybe that would be better. Maybe then he wouldn’t hear Twilight’s last scream every time he closed his eyes.
The familiar pang of grief hit, but it was lost in the itching of his arm, and Time kept pacing, shaking his head. Dwelling on Twilight for too long never helped much of anything.
The day crawled by, Time’s arm only getting worse. The itching slowly turned to pain, aching all over his body in a strange flickering way that made pacing too tiring to keep up. A strange heat joined it, making him sweaty and oddly dizzy, and he almost took off his shirt in search of relief from it. The dizziness got so bad he had to lie down, head spinning and skin hot and uncomfortable, and he buried his head under his arms, pain running up and down his skin.
It grew and grew, radiating through his limbs, striking him in the chest and head. He was nearly incoherent when the door of his cell opened, figures coming inside, though he managed to give a token bit of resistance when they dragged him up and out, cuffs slapped on his wrists.
Time could barely walk, and he was dragged down hallways and rooms that blurred in his vision into one grey and white smear. All he could focus on was the heat pain throbbing throbbing throbbing.
At some point they stopped, and the arms holding him pushed him down into a seat, not letting go. Time was too weak to resist, feeling sick in nearly every way possible, and in his bleary confusion he remembered a doctor’s visit for one of his sons, Legend gripping his arm so tight it hurt when he’d had to get a shot.
It was almost funny how the scene repeated now.
Voices floated over him, prodding and sharp, and Time bit back a cry as something jabbed his arm, right next to the old injection. The bruising arms continued to hold him in place, the needle remaining in his arm for what felt like forever, and then it was removed, and he was dragged somewhere and set down, not hard, but not exactly gently either.
His cuffs were removed, and Time panted for breath, his arm hurting twice as much now. He had enough wherewithal to recognize that he wasn’t back in his own cell as a door slammed, but instead a bigger room, one with a mirror by the wall that was probably one sided.
So. They were waiting to see something. He wondered what.
Maybe to watch me die, he thought with a groan as the pain briefly crested. He wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea. His remaining family thought he was dead anyway.
Don’t think like that, a voice that sounded suspiciously like his wife’s rang in his head. You can’t give up, Link. Don’t die here.
Don’t let Dark win.
Time leaned against a wall, trying to slow his breathing. He still felt dizzy and hot, and the new shot was only making him feel worse. All he could do was try to breathe through it, and not panic as the heat grew and he had to close his eyes he was so dizzy.
The hopeful part of himself wanted to get up and look for any weakness in this new room, any cracks in security, walls that weren’t as strong as they could be, but his strength had deserted him.
All he could do was sit, and breathe, and try not to scream.
He wasn’t sure how much time went by when the heat that had steadily been building abruptly increased, and intensified like a burning coal had been dropped into a specific spot in his chest. It felt bad, and invasive, something trying to reach his very heart, and Time gasped. Adrenaline shot through him, and he drew on his powers in a panic, lashing out instinctively against the attack.
But actively using his powers only made things worse. The moment he drew on them the pain doubled, rage swept over him, and something shifted and merged, and burned and spat and seeped into his chest and it was—
A hand buried itself in his hair and Time wheezed, barely recognizing it as his own. Something was wrong in there, in his middle, his heart. Something hot, burning, something that made him gasp raggedly for breath as it rubbed up against his powers.
What are they doing make it stop please just stop it—
He didn’t know what the people watching him did then, but the ever-present band on his wrist suddenly shot out a pang of energy that felt like it went straight to his bones.
The heat in his middle grew to a roar, a star, a sun, searing him inside and out. It tore at him and ripped him to pieces, turned him inside out—
Time let out a strangled scream, writhing in place as it overwhelmed him, and suddenly fire burst out of him in a small explosion.
The searing heat it brought was almost worse than the pain that struck him along with it, but they were both unbearable. All of Time’s senses went blank with agony, and when he finally resurfaced he was on his side, half curled-up, a charred pile of ashes next to his head all that remained of him being sick in the throes of it.
He dragged in a ragged gasp, feeling dry and scorched and wrong, and blearily heard a door open, voices muttering something above. Hands so cold they hurt touched his face, and he hated the whimper that escaped him. They prodded again, and he managed a displeasured groan, trying to turn away, but found it near impossible. He was entirely worn out in every way possible.
At least the itching had stopped.
The cold hands poked him more, all over, checking his pulse, opening his mouth and eyes. touching wrists and neck and middle pain bad burning—
When he came back to himself, the cold hands were pulling him upright, and then dragged him away.
He didn’t remember the walk at all, feet dragging, head spinning, throat dry and chest hot. Before he knew it he was back in his tiny cell again, dropped unceremoniously onto his bed, unable to stop the pitiful cry he let out.
His skin felt raw, not exactly burned, but hot like a healing sunburn, dry and peeling. His clothes were singed at the edges, though they seemed to have escaped the worst of the fire... minus his shirt. That was gone. Had it been taken off of him, or been burnt? He didn’t know.
Time groaned as he looked blearily around, stomach churning, head hot. Some water had been left beside him, but he felt too weary even to try and attempt to drink it.
He merely pressed his face into the farce of a pillow he had, and drifted.
...
Time spent the night wracked by fever, restless and shivering as he laid on his bed. He felt like his body was burning, like when the explosion that had killed Twilight hit him, like the fire that had come out of him earlier was still present.
His powers hummed weakly under it all, trying to give himself strength, but that aching heat sapped at it, twisted it, and Time didn’t know how much longer he could stand it.
His senses began to desert him, coherent thought fading fading, then gone. Pain and rage remained, the latter brought on by his powers, and he sweated and shook and wished he had the strength to break something.
The heat and pain mixed in an agonizing way until it was all he was aware of, lava pouring through his veins. He started to see things in his room, old friends and enemies, voices in his ears that soothed and screamed. It all wavered in the heat, heat heat heat, and when he tried to focus on one thing, it quickly faded and was replaced by another.
Time moaned, restlessly turning his head, and saw a new figure beside him, one with grey-blue eyes, a gentle face, and brown hair with a hint of red.
His breath hitched.
“Tw... Twi...” Time croaked, but Twilight didn’t move.
There was something in his son’s gaze, something Time didn’t understand. Something accusing and grieved and angry, and the pain in his chest grew worse again.
“Hhh... T-Twilih... ‘m s-sorry...” Time whispered, and Twilight just looked at him sadly, then turned away. “Twi-i...”
His son melted into the shadows, and Link lost himself.
...
He awoke to another new room, something hard under his back, something cold on his forehead.
Link blinked slowly, his eyes crusty, bad eye aching, and something moved in the corner. He was too weak to turn his head, but the figure came nearer, and Link looked at him blearily, dislike hitting him for some reason.
“You are quite the mess,” Dark said, arms crossed as he took in Link’s miserable state.
Link couldn’t remember why he hated the man in front of him, but he very much did.
“My team assumed you’d adapt quickly, but you’re handling this much worse than we thought you would,” Dark continued. “Though I suppose a lesser man would’ve already died by now. Not unlike some others we’ve had down here. But you’re a hardier breed, aren’t you, Link?”
The words washed over Link without much meaning, burning away in his fever, and Dark hummed.
“You really are pitiful like this,” he said, leaning over him so he could better see. “It’d almost be kinder to just let it take you, I think.”
Link closed his eyes.
“...But I’m not quite done with you yet,” Dark’s voice continued, a smile in his voice. “It’d be a waste of money to let you die now. And if we can get this to work... the implications would be staggering. I’m sure you understand.”
A hand patted his cheek in a condescending way, and Link scrunched his brow.
“Rest up, Link. We’ll drag you back, and then we can try again.”
The hand withdrew, footsteps trailing away, and Link was unconscious again before they even fully faded.
...
He was moving, lying down.
Air brushed past his face, doors opened and closed, figures murmured above him. Things moved past him, floated in his peripheral, and an occasional cold touch brushed his skin, Link too weak to even try to stop it.
He was burning. He was nearly gone. His chest felt like ash, like if he breathed too hard he’d just flutter away into dust, nothing left but bones.
He came to a stop.
More doors were opened. Voices floated above him, high and low, soft and sharp. Things went still for a minute, light footsteps approaching, and then something touched him right where the fire was—
Link groaned, too exhausted to do much else, and heard a voice quietly apologize. That was strange, and the mere idea of being apologized to was so bizarre that Link blearily opened his eyes.
A boy leaned over him, one with brown hair, and Time’s breath stuttered, briefly wondering if he’d died and Twilight had come to guide him to whatever afterlife was waiting for him. But then he saw the green eyes, and thicker, fluffy hair, hands lit up in a soft blue.
It was someone else. A boy. Younger than Twilight.
Why was he here? Why was a child in this hellish place?
Time stared, looking at the boy’s softly glowing hands, then somehow put together what was going on. Healing powers.
They’d brought in someone with healing powers.
Time stared, the boy staring back, and even though he was barely conscious, one thing stuck in his mind as he looked at him.
“You’re so young...” Time rasped, barely able to get enough air in to speak, then stretched out a hand, not convinced what he was seeing was real. But his trembling fingers touched skin, and the boy froze as he ghosted his fingers along his cheek. “You shouldn’t… be here…”
“I… p-please hold still, sir, I need to heal you,” the boy stammered, frozen in place by the hand Time kept on his cheek.
Time looked at him a moment, emotions he was too exhausted to process rolling through him, then he hummed, and withdrew his hand. His fingers shook, and he closed his eyes again, too weary to keep them open.
A part of him wanted the boy to fail. Leave him to fade away into ashes and dust, burned until nothing was left. Let him finally be free of this place.
The boy carefully touched his chest again, lighter this time, and Time hissed softly. A weak touch of coolness trickled through him, a balm that almost soothed the flames... but they quickly roared back, and the cool feeling recoiled, burning away.
And yet... it didn’t fully retreat.
Time expected the boy would quickly deem him a lost cause, the injuries too great, whatever heat that was strangling him too powerful. But again and again he felt the gentle touch of healing, continually pushing and nudging him. It often retreated, but it always came back, even when the ugly, jagged coals inside him tried to smoother it, beat it down.
Time felt the healing wrestle with his injuries over and over, push and prod and soothe whatever it could. He was amazed at the boy’s tenacity, that he just kept throwing himself into trying to heal what was clearly a lost cause.
Did this boy not know the meaning of giving up?
The healing tried yet again, still getting nowhere, and something flickered in Time, then, something that wasn’t just pain or anger or anything else he’d experienced here.
It was something almost like hope.
The healing pressed at him once again, but Time could tell it was weakening, the coolness faltering, flickering. He himself was exhausted, half-dead he knew, but he tried reaching out anyway, with what bit of his powers he could.
The healing met it, nudged it, then latched onto Time’s powers like it was drowning, sending a soft buzz through his skin. Time let the boy’s powers draw on his, letting them work together, and the soft wave of healing finally grew big enough to have a chance against the flames that were still turning him to ash.
They started to weaken, though in a bit of a strange way. The flames remained, but their burn grew less severe, and the decaying ashes started to heal over, the healing sweeping over them like a wave brushing across the sand at the beach. The flames still flickered, but their burning heat had been calmed.
The balm of the healing powers spread across him, reaching all the way to his fingers and toes, and Time took a deep breath for the first time in what felt like weeks.
He knew immediately that the boy had done it.
Time opened his eyes, still feeling drained and exhausted, but much better. Before he could think about it too much, a harsh exhale came from somewhere nearby, and Time looked over to see the boy, hands violently shaking, face white as a sheet.
He started to fall, and Time quickly sat up and caught him, stopping him from entirely collapsing. He marveled briefly at the fact that he was able to sit up, then adjusted his hold as the boy twitched, looking nauseous.
“Easy,” he reassured quietly, and the boy opened his eyes, looking at him hazily.
His gaze was unfocused, arms thin in Time’s grasp, and as he scanned the boy’s face, a mixture of concern and anger welled up within him. This boy didn’t even look to be in his teens yet. How much was he forced to use his powers on the daily, without adequate rest or recovery afterwards? How far was he forced to go?
“You didn’t need to push yourself that far,” Time said worriedly, and the boy just shook his head, blinking at him.
“They wouldn’ settle for an unfinished job,” he mumbled, and something unrelated to the flames crackled in Time’s heart.
“I’m not worth wearing yourself out for,” he said quietly.
The boy blinked at him again, like the mere idea was crazy, and then harsh arms grabbed him and pulled him away, nearly sending him to the ground.
Time’s heart jumped and he moved to go after him, but his exhaustion was still strong, and his arms shook as he tried to push himself up. He attempted to get up anyway, but then a flood of people entered the room and pushed him back down.
The familiar dark bands were slapped back on his wrists, and he was wrestled down to the table and strapped there. Time fought to get free even through his exhaustion though, a new determination running through him. This was something he could do, this was someone he could help.
Time was quickly restrained to the point that he couldn’t get free, but he still thrashed against his bonds, a new hope roaring inside him. The despair he’d been succumbing to still lurked, but it had weakened, and he wanted to get out.
Time turned his head as he fought and saw the boy get dragged away, his face pale, legs barely holding him up. But he still raised his head and looked at Time, and relief shone in his gaze.
Grief hit Time, as well as a need to do more, to get this boy out of here, but Time knew he was in no condition to do anything right now. Instead he mouthed a silent thank you, and the boy smiled back.
Then he went fully limp, his head lolling.
Time was firmly secured on the bed and taken away, but despite how quickly he’d been subdued, a new determination was in his heart now, hope he thought he’d lost. He wouldn’t just roll over and die. He would fight. For his wife, his son, for this boy... for Twilight.
Even if he never got out of here. He wouldn’t give up.
What would an interaction between downfall IAU wars and wild look like after wild’s arrest? Or an interaction between wars and flora?
Ask and ye shall receive :) Takes place a few days after all the raid/arresting stuff.
Masterlist
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Warriors walked silently down the empty street, a wonderful cold wind brushing his hair and coat. He was in civilian clothes for once, for the first time in what felt like months, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.
After the mess with the raid on Malon’s house and everything after, he’d abruptly been put on leave. He had no idea why, she hadn’t given him any in ages— Cia liked to keep him close. And he knew she wasn’t happy with his performance, so why did it almost feel like he was being rewarded?
Warriors grimaced. She was up to something. He didn’t know what, but it made him worried. Plus the leave was stupid anyway, he didn’t really have anywhere to go— he lived in one of the bland apartments a few higher-level supers were given that were located in one of the government buildings. He didn’t have a home to go back to.
And he certainly didn’t have family to visit.
Another cool breeze whisked leaves past his feet, and Warriors stopped, and sighed. He’d basically been put on a strange sort of probation for the next couple days. Which was probably their way of keeping him away from Malon, in case she... what, convinced him to help her? In case he went rogue and busted her out, even though he’d been the one to arrest her in the first place? Did they have so little trust in him?
Had all these years of trying to cement himself as loyal been for nothing?
Warriors scowled and kept walking, resisting the urge to just spew ice at the nearest destroyable object. That would be childish.
Surely they knew he couldn’t break Malon out without risking his life. Security in there was tight, and Warriors’ powers weren’t very subtle. No...more likely, they suspected he’d helped Twilight the other night, and was hoping Warriors would lead them to the rest of his escaped family.
Jokes’ on them. I’m not getting anywhere near my family.
His heart stung, and Warriors kept his head down as he stalked down the streets in a random pattern, hands shoved in his pockets. He didn’t know where he was going, and he didn’t care. The events from the other morning would continue to plague him no matter where he went, so he might as well keep walking. Even if it wouldn’t make him forget the accusing glare and venomous words from his nephew, the almost gentle look from Malon even as they’d fought each other, and the other two kids...
Warriors frowned. That was a piece of the puzzle he still hadn’t figured out.
He trailed to a stop again, finding himself on a lonely street corner with nothing but a flickering streetlamp beside him. The report had mentioned two unregistered supers, so he’d expected their presence, but the one... he’d looked like Time. Even with a mask on. The other had too in a way, though his face was more like Malon’s, but... that didn’t make sense. Warriors would know if Time and Malon had had more kids.
The resemblance must have been a coincidence. Like how Dark almost resembled Time if you looked at him right.
...Those kids weren’t related to Dark, were they?
Warriors grimaced. No way. They’d be much higher priority if that were the case. It just... had to be a coincidence. A confusing, concerning, coincidence.
...One that he wondered if he should look into.
“Excuse me, Mr. Forester?”
Warriors jumped and nearly froze the person standing behind him solid.
He managed to stop himself when he realized it was a girl who only looked to be somewhere around Legend’s age, her hands nervously clasped together. She had a tense look on her face, and kept glancing around like something would get her, but there was something steely in her expression too, firm past the fear.
He stared, studying her blonde hair, green eyes, rather nice clothes. He thought he recognized her, but the name wasn’t coming to him.
“...You are Link Forester, yes?” she asked after a moment, and Warriors blinked, realizing he hadn’t actually replied to her.
“Yes, I am. One of many,” he added in a mutter. “...What are you doing out here, Miss? This isn’t a good part of town for anyone to be in so late.”
The girl straightened, and folded her hands behind her back. “I was looking for you.”
Warriors raised an eyebrow. “...For me. Who exactly are you?”
The girl took a deep breath. “My name is Zelda Floriana Hyrule. And I need your help.”
Warriors narrowed his eyes. He knew that name, and was now even more on edge. “What makes you think I can help you?”
Zelda never looked away from him. “Because you’re Cryonis. And my friend needs you.”
Warriors winced at the casual reveal of his super identity, though he supposed it wasn’t surprising. She’d obviously done her research. And a senator’s daughter probably had a way to access that sort of information without much trouble. “Who’s your friend?”
“Champion,” she said quietly, her face falling. “He said you helped him before. I’m asking on his behalf for your help again.”
“What happened to him?” Warriors asked slowly, and Zelda breathed in shakily.
“We helped someone. It was mostly my idea, and— and we got caught. He covered for me,” she whispered. “I went free and he got arrested, and he’s been in custody for about a day. Nothing I’ve done has helped with his case.”
She breathed in slowly, in and out.
“I want your help getting him out.”
Warriors stilled. All of that was news to him, but... “You understand that you’re admitting you and Champion have been partaking in illegal resistance by telling me this, right?” he said quietly, and Zelda nodded.
“I do. But I don’t think you’ll turn me in.”
Warriors smirked. “Because your father is powerful enough of a politician that nobody would listen to me?”
“No. Because Champion once told me you were the closest thing to a friend he had before he was my bodyguard. And I think you’re a good man,” she said more quietly, and Warriors couldn’t help his chuckle.
“No I’m not.”
Zelda looked taken aback, and Warriors leaned against the light pole, looking up at the cloudy sky.
“You’re going to get yourself killed trying to save him,” he said as he crossed his arms. “Don’t throw your life away like that.”
“I’ll be careful. I won’t get caught again,” Zelda said firmly. “The risk is worth it to me. And with your help—”
“No. I can’t help you.”
Zelda startled, then stepped closer. “But... Cryonis, please, I need your help,” she pleaded, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “I didn’t go to all this trouble of finding you just for you to say no! And it won’t just be you, I can assist with the mission as well, I just need someone on the inside who can help get him out! I’ll pay you even, as much as you want, I just—”
Her voice broke a little, and Warriors swallowed as he kept staring up at the sky.
“I don’t want him to be another person who dies just because he did the right thing. I’m never going to see him again unless I do something. And I can’t do it alone. I need your help. He needs your help. Please,” she said in a thick whisper.
Warriors looked at a spot where the clouds had parted a little, a handful of stars visible through the gap, and didn’t reply.
He couldn’t say yes. Even though he did care for Champion. Quite a bit in fact— doing what he could to look out for the younger hero had pulled him from the worst of his dissociating after Time had died, and made some of the terrible days a bit better. He and Champion didn’t cross paths a lot, but when they did, it was a comfort to have someone else in the room who understood. And once in a while Warriors would find Champion in a closet and talk him down from a panic attack, and the kid had in turn found him once after Cia had... been Cia, and helped ground him a bit.
But despite all that, despite how the thought of Champion being imprisoned or branded or carted off to a work camp where he’d be worked until he broke made Warriors feel sick, he couldn’t agree to this. Not right now. Not while he was on such thin ice. Not after already barely getting away with everything else he’d pulled this week.
But... maybe someone else could.
“You’re really intent on this,” he said after a long silence, and Zelda nodded, wiping at her face a bit.
“I’m not leaving him. I’ve lost too many other people to lose him too,” she said quietly. “But I know I need help.”
Warriors breathed out as he slowly straightened, then turned away from Zelda.
“Sky Carver,” he whispered.
“...What?”
Warriors put his hands back in his pockets. “Find him,” he said in a low voice, not looking at her. “He can help you. You didn’t hear it from me.”
“Oh— you mean— thank you!” Zelda breathed, relief coating her voice, and Warriors shook his head as he began to walk away.
“Don’t thank me. I still think you’re going to get yourself killed. Or worse.”
“I’m not,” Zelda said firmly, and Warriors paused. “And... maybe once I’ve saved Champion, I’ll come save you too.”
Warriors almost smiled. “I appreciate the thought, but that’s not going to happen. Get home safe, Miss Hyrule. I’d escort you, but they’re tracking me, and neither of us needs more suspicion on our heads.”
“I understand. Thank you,” Zelda said quietly, and Warriors swallowed.
“Thank me by staying alive.”
And with that, he turned and continued on his way down the street, the wind whisking away the flakes of ice his footsteps left behind him.
This fic I’m writing is cracking me up because it’s from Twi’s perspective and he’s just really confused and like half dead but if it was from Midna’s it’d pretty much be like—
Midna: dang I really need someone to help me with this problem. it needs to be someone really capable and strong and—
Twilight: *stumbles by, being chased by the police, half awake and bleeding and covered in mud*
thinking about how Downfall IAU Twilight thinks that Time is dead, and how Time thinks Twilight is dead, and imagining their faces when/if the first time they see each other again, and crying 😭
- hero-of-the-wolf
*hands you a tiny PURELY HYPOTHETICAL snippet* like... this?
...
“Twilight,” Time breathed, cradling his face in his hands, an astonished look on his face.
Twilight’s eyes watered, and Time thumbed away a tear that escaped down his cheek, before wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close.
“Twilight. I thought you were dead, all this time—”
“We thought you were dead!” Twilight choked out, and Time held him even tighter, a sob escaping his son’s throat. “W-we thought— we had a funeral!”
Time let out a laugh of all things, thick with emotion. “It’s a pity I couldn’t be there.”
A low howl from somewhere outside broke the silence of Wind’s breakfast, and he stiffened, before realizing it sounded like Twilight.
“Why’s he howling? Is something wrong?” Wind asked Sky, and Sky set down the glass he’d been drinking from with an expression Wind couldn’t quite read.
“Nothing to worry about. It’s just that today... it’s the anniversary of when Time died,” he said softly, and a lump landed in Wind’s stomach as another mournful howl rang softly through the air.
“...So that’s Wild,” Wind explained, sitting on the couch next to Four. Legend leaned against the doorway, listening, and Malon sat in the chair closest to him, sewing something. He and Four were explaining to them what Wild and Hyrule were like as best as they could, in hopes they’d be able to help find them.
So far, they hadn’t been able to help much.
“And Hyrule... he has brown hair, and kind of greenish-brown eyes,” Wind explained, waving his hands as he spoke. “His powers are like this shield-force field thing he can do, and he also healing powers— it wears him out, but as long as it’s like a gash or broken bone or whatever, he can fix it.”
Malon and Legend froze, then exchanged looks.
“What?” Wind said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “Do... do you know him?”
“...No, I don’t think so, but it’s... healing powers. They’re...” Malon hesitated, like she wasn’t sure how to continue.
“Valuable,” Legend said dully, face grim. “If your, uh, brother has healing powers, it’s almost a sure bet he got scooped up early. And wherever he is, he’s probably not allowed to leave.”
“Most likely he’s working in a clinic somewhere,” Malon murmured worriedly, her needle moving even faster across her sewing.
Legend made a bitter noise and crossed his arms. “Or he’s owned by some higher-up.”
“Owned?” Wind asked.
Legend glared at the floor, and didn’t reply for a moment.
“Sometimes people rent out supers from the government,” he said finally, “as glorified bodyguards, or status markers or... whatever. It’s not as common since it’s expensive, but it happens.”
Wind clenched his fists, and a breeze suddenly picked up in the living room, Malon’s sewing rippling, Legend’s hair blowing in his eyes.
“How dare they,” Wind said, voice shaking with anger. “They can’t own him, Roolie— Roolie’s a person, he’s not some product, they can’t—!”
“Supers are merely tools here, hon,” Malon said quietly, leaning over and putting a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have a lot of rights. I know it’s awful, but it’s one of the things we’re trying to fix.”
Wind blinked away frustrated tears with little success at the thought of anybody owning his brother— it made him see red to even consider it. How did it ever get so bad here? What went wrong?
“I hate this place,” Wind said in a harsh whisper, wrapping his arms around himself.
Four swallowed beside him, and put a hand on his arm, Wind feeling it shake. Wind breathed out, and leaned on Four’s shoulder, Four leaning on him too.
“Legend? Do you know anybody like that?” Four said in a quiet voice. “Anyone... owned?”
Legend looked away. “A few. Most of them don’t have it too bad.”
“And... the ones that do?”
“It’s not worth discussing,” Malon interrupted gently, her gaze tired. “And we have more important things to talk about. Let’s focus on your brothers.”
Wind and Four exchanged looks, both of them hurting and frustrated, but they both finally nodded.
“Okay,” Wind murmured, and shoved all the gross feelings aside, replacing them with determination. He’d focus on finding Wild and Hyrule. And then...
