Thinking about those the chain meets wilds past self fics and thinking about just a cruel realization for both the champions and princesses as well as the chain (and also about the mental breakdown that the champion would have)
Like imagine training for what is basically your whole life (with whatever torture method was used to make the champion so stoic and depressed) and having to listen to your princess basically just sobbing pleas for an answer a calling just to be ignored time and time again from a goddess who what they can only presume has left her people now in their time of need
Just to have these 9 heros of myth walk in saying yeah the goddess basically sent us here we think, and then you just see yourself in that line up, eyes brighter and new to the world with scars that tell a horrific whisper of your planed fate
And then to learn of this fate that you no longer know if it’ll truly be set and in graved in the stone that might as well be your very own tomb
And the only thing you could be thinking is what, what did you do, what did you and your princess do to deserve her cruelty, what did you do for the goddess to hate you two so much to deserve such a fate and to see it standing in front of you
A person who doesn’t know you as he should and person who will never truly know the people you do, a person who should know, who shouldve known them.
And on the other side you just see this person who looks so much like your brother who sounds so much like him, but is absolutely nothing like him years of training turning him into a cold, stoic weapon and being forced to drill in the fact that they’re future is dim and not even you heros who’ve saved and lost countless, who’ve known loss are able to truly reassure them, to tell the people your brother knew in a life long gone that its gonna be okay, because your brothers already standing there, whos already suffered that same fate, already there with the dead whispering around him.
Its a cruel thing for them, for you all, for your brother.
Anyways!!!!! Depressed so passing it onto everyonee!!!!!! If its shitry thats cuz this was made at 1 am!!!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
A soul split, but never apart.
Link - Wild - has traveled far and wide and has yet to figure out that he's never done so alone.
Champion is just along for the ride and he's pretty happy with that. Now, if he could only convince Wind...
or to quote chiangyorange - less of a 'something else came out of the shrine' and more of a 'not everything is where they should be'
Wrote a little fic based off of @chiangyorange 's 'one foot in the grave' au! Hope yall like it!
I wrote a tiny expansion to Twin Stranger for fun almost two months ago and finally decided I like it too much to leave it in my docs.
A.K.A. Age (formerly Champion) and Wild braid each other's hair and talk about boys.
“Don’t you look nice,” Wild teases as he slips into the room.
Age glances at him, taking in the rich blue surcoat and burgundy tunic. His hair is glossy and sleek, having finally been washed after long days of travelling, and sits loose over his shoulders. Wild’s outfit looks similar to a royal guard’s uniform, but the fabric and vibrant colours speak of deeper pockets than even a royal guard has access to.
It’s a nice offset to Age’s own stunning crimson and gold attire. Despite the short notice of the ball they’re all stuck attending, neither of the outfits don’t look like they’re borrowed from someone else’s wardrobe; instead they look as though they were made to fit no one else but Wild and Age.
Whoever Warriors’ friends are, they’re magicians with tailoring cloth.
Wild twirls his finger at Age. “Turn.”
It’s not a request so, hiding his smile, Age turns. He feels Wild’s deft fingers brush through his hair and start parting, the gentle pull of hair as he begins to twist it into braids.
“Are you going to keep yours loose?” Age can’t help but ask.
Wild answers him through a mouthful of pins. “No, I’ll do mine in a second. But I wasn’t gonna leave yours down. Love him dearly, but Wars is only good for reviving hair, not styling it.”
It’s hard to not snort at that playful tease, even if Warriors isn’t here to defend himself. He’s far better than Wild is admitting aloud but because of the length his military's regulations force his hair to be, some of the intricacies of an updo escape him.
There’s a gentle slide of a cool pin against Age’s scalp, pressed firm into a whorl of braid.
“You’re good at this,” Age says over his shoulder. “This isn’t something you picked up on your quest alone, right?”
“No, I did Flora’s hair sometimes, before everything that happened.” Wild fiddles with something and another pin is slotted into place. “Usually when we’d return from her pilgrimages. And then when I decided I wasn’t going to cut my own, she taught me a few tricks and styles.”
It’s Age’s turn to tease. “And you haven’t passed anything to the others yet? Shame.”
Wild snorts affectionately. “Oh, I’ve tried. Half of them are hopeless. Legend’s pretty good, so are Wind and Time though.”
Time? It’s hard not to be incredulous.
Whatever expression Age is making, Wild clearly sees it because now he actually laughs. “You heard me right. Never underestimate him. Malon says Time used to have long hair.”
“Did Legend and Wind used to have long hair too?” Age snarks back.
“Legend’s good at anything he puts his mind to, if he enjoys it.” Wild explains. “And Wind knows a bit because of his sister.”
That brings Age up short. He hasn’t been with the group long and is still working out… well, everything.
“I didn’t know Wind had a sister too.” He’s proud that his voice doesn’t wobble, even though it takes a bit of force to get his words past his throat. “… What’s her name?”
For a moment, all that answers him is the gentle tug back and forth of Wild’s braiding. Then Wild says, “Her name is Aryll, just like ours.”
Even though he imparted the information clearly and calmly, it’s impossible to miss the melancholic edge in his voice.
“Sorry,” Age whispers. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
Wild baps him lightly on the top of his head. It’s not even a hard hit – just enough pressure to be felt through the carefully placed braids – but the message is clear: no apologies. Or else.
“I swear,” Wild’s hands leave Age’s hair but a firm press against his back stops him from turning around, “you got more from Twi than I did. Maybe that’s why we’re so different.”
“What does that mean?” Age blurts out as he feels Wild set something heavy atop his hair.
Wild slides around him, fingers twisting strands of Age’s fringe around whatever circlet he’s decided to adorn Age with. “You don’t have to apologise for having a family that you love, Champion. And you don’t have to apologise for wanting to know things.”
Champion.
In anyone else’s mouth, it’s a rank, a title. Coming from Wild, it’s an affectionate nickname, one he has rarely used since Age joined the Chain.
Age waits for him to continue but Wild just steps back, his hands on his hips and his eyes focused critically on Age’s hair.
“Mmmkay, done. Go look.”
Clearly he has no intention of expanding then, which is quite rude. Age still feels like Twilight sometimes can’t even look at him, still struggling to see anything past the image of his protégé unscarred and apparently perfect.
He may have learnt his lesson about making assumptions – both he and Wild have, many times over – but that doesn’t make Twilight’s solemn gaze any easier to handle.
But if he keeps thinking about the words and spends any more time turning them over in his mind, he’s going to go insane. So Age does what Wild told him to do and crosses to the mirror.
And tries really hard not to gasp so Wild doesn't get the excuse to look any more smug than he already does.
Despite the differences in their hair lengths, Wild has managed to weave a stupidly intricate-looking braid through his hair, and his diamond circlet sits proud atop the braid, its shining gem artfully framed by twists of Age’s fringe.
The golden band matches the trimming of his outfit perfectly, almost as though the clothes had been made to accompany the circlet the whole time.
“I hate you.” Age says when he finally manages to close his jaw.
Wild laughs, already working on his own hair. A sapphire circlet sits on the table in front of him, a perfect match to his own blue surcoat.
“Don’t laugh at me! I really, really hate you right now!” Age leans closer to the mirror and nearly gawks again. “Wild, these braids are—”
“I’m not taking them out.” Wild says cheerfully as though he hasn’t just woven royal braids into Age’s hair; braids that Age knows have been passed down the Royal Family from queen to princess every single generation.
Age just shakes his head, not even bothering to hide his smile. Oh sure, Flora had only taught him a few tricks, nothing big. Oh sure, Wild totally isn’t also braiding them into his own hair as they speak.
He’d certainly never had the gall to do this, to wear a royal hairstyle so blatantly. Though maybe that’s what Wild meant when he said Age got more from Twilight than Wild did.
But if there’s one thing Age has learnt since he joined the Chain, it’s that there’s nothing wrong with letting someone else help you take a few fun risks.
Link twists as much as he can, cursing under his breath as his arms wobble violently and the piece of rubble presses down harder onto his ribs. Wild drops into a crouch beside him, one hand squeezing Link’s shoulder. Link can't shy away from the touch like he usually does, but thankfully Wild doesn't let his hand linger.
“Are you hurt badly?” He asks.
Link shakes his head, gritting his teeth. The question, the implication of incompetence, stings. “Get it off.”
“Already on it.”
Wild reaches for the Sheikah Slate at his side but pauses, ears twitching. He twists on his heel, a shield quickly stitching itself into being from ribbons of Sheikah blue. A Guardian beam slams into the metal not even a second after Wild raises the shield, and the force of the blast makes his heels dig into the dirt.
Link strains his neck the best he can to look and kind of wishes he hadn’t. Several Guardian Stalkers – infected with malice, great – are scuttling across the grassy field towards them. The toxic magic drips off their legs and leaves burning pools in their wake.
Wild curses, hunkering closer to the ground so the shield can cover Link better. His eyes dart between the Guardians.
Link tries very hard not to look at the burns that cover his alternate self’s face. Everyone has been reticent to talk about just what, exactly, had happened to Wild, but the scars on his face and body say more than enough.
He’s been wondering if he and Wild – and every other version of them that may exist – are always doomed to fall to the Guardians. It’s something that’s been in the back of his mind over the last three days, ever since the stranger with his face arrived and helped free Mipha and Vah Ruta.
He doesn’t know if he’s ready to learn the answer to that question, to learn what fate has in store for him.
Wild breathes out hard through his nose and squares his shoulders. “Ah, fuck it.”
A Guardian beam slams into the shield, causing him to snarl. The metal begins to buckle and strain from the force. Link can feel the heat of the blast ripple through his hair.
Another Guardian starts to line up its shot; Link can hear it beeping rapidly.
Wild jams his eyes closed.
“I know you guys are there, and I know you can hear me.” He says softly, speaking to someone Link can’t see. “I need your help. Please.”
The air around them thickens. An unseen presence brushes kindly against Link’s forehead, and moves on to settle onto Wild’s shoulders.
When he opens his eyes, they glow slightly, illuminated by something inside him that hadn’t been there before. He grins at Link. “It’s gonna be okay, Champion.”
The beeping of the Guardian reaches a fever-pitch. Link knows Wild’s shield will not hold this time. He takes a breath, wanting his last one to be peaceful, and whispers an apology to Princess Zelda and to his family. He thinks of his little sister, remembering her bright, toothy smile.
The Guardian lets its beam loose.
Someone very familiar yells.
Fire erupts around them as the world turns teal and orange.
Link stares as Daruk appears out of the teal fire, his Protection closing around them. The Guardian beam ricochets off the barrier and sets the meadow to their right ablaze. Smoke and burned blades of grass eddy into the air.
Daruk looks down at Link, eyes solemn and sad, and vanishes.
Wild, on the other hand, lets his shield fall to the ground with a dull thud, and takes off in a full sprint, pulling the Master Sword from his Slate as he goes. The blade chimes loudly, glowing a bright, divine light.
For a moment, just like it’s done every time Wild has held it, Link hears a soft whisper of “Master,” on the wind.
It’s hard to watch from this angle, but Wild streaks across the meadow, cleaving straight through one of the Guardian’s legs. As it topples, unbalanced by the sudden loss, he leaps up and buries the Master Sword to the hilt in its eye.
As the Guardian begins to flash and shudder, Wild drops into a crouch. Five targeting lasers lock on and spirit flame dances around him once again.
This time it’s Revali who appears and launches him skyward with barely a second to spare. As the five Guardian lasers destroy the ground where Wild had just been, he plucks a bow from the Slate and pulls the drawstring back.
The world slows to a crawl, the sudden deprivation of sound making Link’s ears ring. He watches as Wild lets ancient arrow after ancient arrow fly all while Revali’s ghostly form swoops around him, using his Gale to slow Wild’s descent.
Each arrow finds its mark, striking the Guardians’ blue-fire eyes. Revali turns his head, barely slowed by the Champion ability Link and Wild share, and meets Link’s gaze head-on. Just like Daruk, Revali looks solemn, but he still throws a mock-salute Link’s way.
Wild lands in a roll as time snaps back to normal. The Guardians around him explode, purple smoke twisting up towards the blue sky. As he gets to his feet, another Guardian laser flies towards him and slams into Daruk’s Protection a second before it would've hit Wild. He still staggers from the surprise of the hit, and the three remaining Guardians close the distance rapidly.
Daruk doesn't vanish this time. He murmurs something, inaudible over the clanging of the Guardians’ legs, but Wild nods. The Master Sword chimes again, the sound almost vicious, and Wild raises his free hand, snapping his fingers.
Daruk’s figure is replaced by Urbosa's. She tosses her hair and bares her teeth as lightning strikes all around them. As the Guardians freeze, circuits shorting out, she turns to seek Link out, and her proud expression softens into one of sympathy.
She snaps her fingers again, raining more lightning down onto the Guardians. Wild darts around her, a blur of blonde hair and divine light carving through the Guardians’ legs and chassis with ease.
The Guardians crumble beneath the Master Sword’s blade, malice wisping up into the sky above as they explode, and Urbosa’s form gently fades away.
All that’s left behind is Wild standing amidst the destroyed husks. He begins picking his way towards Link, carefully stepping around the puddles of malice strewn across the grass. Link watches him, a million different emotions swirling around inside him, with frustration and bitterness chief among them.
It’s not the first time Wild’s saved him, but he still doesn’t know how he's supposed to feel about it. He's not given the chance to decide though, because two things happen in quick succession.
The first is the Master Sword, sheathed on Wild’s back, lets out a furious chime that's so loud it echoes in Link’s ears. The second is one final Guardian comes charging over the crest of the hill.
Its targeting sight finds Link’s pinned body, blue energy already gathering around its eye as it beeps rapidly.
He sees Wild whirl around to face it, mouth open as he yells. Instinctively, both he and Link pull on their Champion ability in a vain attempt to stretch the seconds out, but the world only stutters, time tripping for a moment before carrying forward undaunted.
The laser flies true. Link thinks he manages to scream before everything goes black.
He floats within oblivion, surrounded by nothingness until someone's hands reach out to cup his face. Teal light dances behind his eyelids.
"LINK!"
He chokes on a cough, wheezing, and feels hands roll him onto his side.
"Hey, hey, you're okay, just breathe." A high, panicked voice chatters above him, holding him steady.
Someone else is talking too, someone Link recognises. He struggles against the hands holding him and manages to end up on his back again.
Wild cradles his head carefully, letting Link come to rest in his lap. His face is bloodless and pale. Mipha sits beside him, shimmering with teal flames.
She smiles when his gaze lands on her and reaches a hand out to rest against his cheek. The touch is so cold it burns against his skin, and Link barely suppresses his flinch.
Mipha's eyes are so, so sad.
"Rest, Link." She tells him, voice distant as she begins to fade away. "You're safe now. You're going to be okay."
Link stares at her disappearing form, swallowing back another wave of bitterness that clogs his throat. He doesn’t look at Wild.
Mipha’s grief-stricken eyes are the last thing he sees before fatigue pulls him under.
(This is now a full fic on AO3, which you can read here)
I'm really intrigued about the "Potential Twin Stranger sequel longfic"
I loved that fic and would be very excited to see more of it 💚
I've had a few ideas honestly but, while I do think I will write a small fluff one-shot taking place in the aftermath of Twin Stranger's ending, I think for the sequel itself I want to take a slightly darker tone.
I have been toying with the idea of the Chain and Champion all being sent to another version of Wild's era, where that Link is a little more feral and not well-liked by specific groups because he doesn't uphold their standards of what the hylian Champion should be like.
The most I have on this so far is the opening part, where Champion is pulled through a portal and finds who he presumes to be Wild fighting off masked enemies, but 'Wild' is killed before he can do anything. Everyone struggles to mourn, believing Champion is the replacement, while Champion has to carve his own way forward.
Important edit I forgot to specify: they all assume this is Wild's era and the Link that died was Wild for a good portion of the first act.
Much like in Sins, Wild would be separated from the group while this group tries to determine if he [Wild] too is capable of stepping up or another failure they should get rid of, a decision made easier when they realise Champion - who is unscarred and "successful" in his role of protecting the Kingdom - is here, and thus will do whatever it takes to claim this Link as their own.
No matter what, the sequel will be called The Path Not Taken, after the Robert Frost poem.
I don't know if this is where the sequel will actually go, but it's the one storyline that has stuck with me the most as I've tried to think up ideas.
It's probably not the sequel people wanted, but I'm determined to keep the themes of learning to know yourself and who you are, and adding another alternative world on top of the dynamics of a new Link entering the Chain in such extreme circumstances doesn't feel as high of a hurdle as it did before I started writing Sins.
This got way longer than I expected lmao, but hopefully this piques your interest, Natsue!
Bonus snippet under the cut btw
He keeps his eyes closed when he hears Wild’s voice softly breaking the night, barely above a whisper.
“You going to tell me what’s wrong?”
It’s not a question aimed at Champion. He stays where he is, huddled in his blanket with his back pressed against Sky’s, and peeks carefully through his lashes. In the gloom of the late night, the form of Twilight shifts slightly. “Not now, cub.”
“Convincing.” Wild teases, still in that same low murmur.
Champion wonders how many of the others are awake, listening in on this conversation but pretending they’re not out of a modicum of privacy. The Chain seems good at that, respecting boundaries.
The group’s made up of bonds, both of spirit – like Legend and Hyrule, or Wind, Warriors and Time, or Sky and Warriors – but also those of blood as well – like Four and Wind, or Time, Twilight and Wild and Champion himself, though he still feels hesitant to add his name to the list. Time and Twilight had taken Nobody’s death the hardest and could barely bring themselves to look in Champion’s direction, but they were somehow also the kindest of the group in those few days, still trying to extend their hand as best as they could while stricken with grief.
“It’s nothing, Wild.” Twilight says on a sigh. Even to Champion’s ears, he’s not very convincing.
There’s the sounds of shifting fabric before Twilight lets out a tiny oof of air. Champion peers into the night, watching as Wild curls up against Twilight’s chest, leaning his whole weight onto Twilight’s ribcage.
“Now you have to tell me.” Wild says with faux triumph dripping from his voice.
“You know you weigh nothing to me, right?” Twilight teases but he still reaches up, gently wrapping his arms around Wild in a hug and letting him wiggle into a more comfortable position.
Sky, slumbering on and completely unaware of the events unfolding nearby, is warm against Champion’s back. He’s one of the few who hadn’t been hesitant with physical contact, never once shying away. But the press of backs against his is familiar, one Champion knows from long marches and cold nights.
He knows the Chain are close and that their dynamics are shifting because of his appearance, but he doubts that any of them will ever want to hold him so dearly as he sees now. He’s not ashamed of his envy – he’s learnt that lesson, thank you very much – but it takes work to ensure it doesn’t cloud his thoughts as he listens to the whispered conversation continue.
“You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?” Twilight says.
“Nope!” is Wild’s only reply, cheeky but fake.
The exasperated sigh that leaves Twilight’s lips makes Champion hide a smile into the bunched fabric of his blanket. It’s a familiar sound, one he himself has used to evoke a reaction out of Aryll.
“Fine.” Twilight jokingly drags the consonants out slightly before his voice turns serious. “I can’t stop wondering if there’s another version of me out there. I… I want to know what path he chose, where he struggled. I want to know how we’re different, and how we’re the same.”
Wild doesn’t reply at first and the silence drags out so long Champion almost wonders if he’s fallen asleep. Then he hums slightly. “Champion and I. We’re not the exact same person, Twi. Neither was Nobody. And we’ve all walked the same path differently. So if there is another you or multiple yous out there, yes one of them probably did end up there. But that doesn’t mean you walked your path wrong.”
Twin Stranger officially has escaped ficlet containment and is working its way towards being a multi-chapter fic. You can read it on AO3 here.
Twin Stranger
Summary:
Link doesn't know what to make of Wild. None of the Champions do, but Link is confident that he's struggling the most.
Because as odd as it is to see little Sidon now tower over Urbosa, nothing can compare to the weirdness Link feels when he looks at Wild; the stranger who looks like him but wrong.
A.K.A. Mid-quest, Wild ends up in Age of Calamity. No one is happy about this.
Chapters: 1/3 (Firstcomer)
Relationships:
Champion & Wild
General Tags:
Age of Calamity Timeline
Angst and Hurt/Comfort
Miscommunication & Lack of Communication
Temporary Character Death
Bittersweet Ending
I'm still a bit uncertain about posting if I'm being completely frank, but I'm going to anyway as a thank you to those who reached out yesterday. Your kind words and your support means a lot to me <3
