#mortisfic

[helvetious]

A Game of Chicken :: Linked Universe::

Inspired by the incredibly fun Linked Universe AU by @jojo56830​ , (@linkeduniverse) and their latest updates. I do not know how the real plot is, and I’m taking free takes on their interactions and stories. I just want to show my appreciation towards this wonderful AU.

As a disclaimer: The original sketch of this drabble was done before the newest comics came out, along with Malon’s introduction. My writing priorities for the AU switched ridiculously fast and finished “The Blood Pulls Harder” first after the reveal. This fic is set before they reach the farm.

Rated: T because some vocabulary and um.

None of them were stranger to journeys of this kind, that was for sure. But days have passed, they ran out basic provisions and the need for warm food was starting to affect their moods.

When they reached their nearest town, they found a humble little inn near its market.

The place was small and rusty, walls were mixes of brown and red and touches of orange- the curtains, that gave the inside of the inn a warm look. They sat near the fireplace; the food smelled nice, looked hideous, tasted delicious.

And the water served to them was fresh and it tasted like water- which was a grand change after flooding their canteens with so much liquid mud during the latest rainy days.

The owner was an outrageously curvaceous old woman who only had her face to give away her real age. Everyone gave an appreciative look, except perhaps the Hero of the Wind, who was also the only one who was offered milk. He busied himself to happily chug the content of his mug instead. The milk was thick and already sweetened with honey and chamomile, the boy appreciated it with a hum.

The music in the inn came from an old violin with missing strings played by a blind, fat man.

It was a nice place. 

The Hero of Legend was the one who suggested to stay there and have a good, proper rest.

"So unusual of the stingy old man to want spend money for once" teased the Hero of Warriors.

"I'm an old man indeed, and I need a good bed from time to time" the senior hero played along with no shame.

"Now now," The Hero of Time said, "I do believe one night to spend in comfort will raise morale among us men."

"I support this" hurried the Hero of Hyrule, "every now and then it is good to find us some-" he cleared his throat and looked at his cup of water "Morale raising stuff, yes."

The Hero of Time gave him a suspicious look, but the Hero of Warriors was quicker. He stretched one arm on the smaller hero's shoulder and squeezed him, laughing.

"You’re suggesting us to get drunk are you not?"

The mighty Hero of Warriors olympically ignored their leader's burning glare, more interested on how many of his friends' ears twitched up in sudden interest.

The Hero of Hyrule though, didn't miss the leader's disproving look.

"I just say, it wouldn't hurt a little fun" he said in a low voice.

"Booze and women" suggested the Captain. He was clearly joking. Sort of. Hopefully.

The Hero of Hyrule groaned as his friend just seemed to dig a hole big enough for the both of them.

The Chosen Hero stiffened visibly. The Hero of Twilight let out a laugh, but the Hero of the Wild just rolled his eyes in annoyance. The leader, the Hero of Time, kept his one healthy eye on them with a silent, murderous warning.

"No women" warned the Hero of Swords, pointing a finger at the Captain across the table.

The Hero of Warriors winked at him. "I'll get a man just for you." Then, he blew him a kiss.

The sword smith snorted at the offer, but recovered in seriousness to then say "You know what I mean." His eyes flickered to the group's youngest.

"Why women?" asked then the Hero of the Wind, with big eyes and a mouth full of cheese. And he was met with silence.

He then frowned and twisted his mouth, looking at the Hero of Warriors with disapproval. "Does this have to do with child making?"

And the table joined in one loud gasp.

"Child making" repeated the Chosen Hero in a whisper, pressing his forehead to the table before letting out an embarrassed laugh.

The Hero of Swords crossed his arms over his chest and gave the Captain a waiting look, and so did the Hero of Winds.

The Hero of Warriors opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. His face grew warm.

"No women" he said, then.

                                                     **

 "So, no children" the Hero of Warriors raised an eyebrow, a dancing joke on his throat.

The experienced Hero of Time could tell. Oh, he could tell.

And yet, "no children" he said.

Feeling humored, the Hero of Warriors licked his lips. "May I ask why?"

"Hey now," warned the Hero of Swords, "watch out for where this conversation is going." Beside him, the Hero of the Winds blinked very slowly, then yawned. He may be fourteen years old, but no one should ever underestimate the power of warm milk and chamomile can have on a tired body. The swordsmith regarded him with healthy envy, as his cup of ale wasn't giving him the same effects just yet.

The Hero of Warriors, drunk as he was, did not pay his friends any mind no longer.

The Hero of Time just shrugged. "Bad luck, I believe- or good luck, depending on how you see it." He let out a soft chuckle. "I already worry enough for my wife now that I'm away, I do not know how I could cope if I left her to raise a child of ours, all alone."

The group chorused a hum of understanding.

On a different situation, the Hero of Twilight would've offered comfort- he'd rest his head on his master's shoulder, or pat his back. He knew "Mavourneen" (as he decided to refer to her exclusively to tease his senior) was a soft, intimate topic- secretive, even. He himself was most interested in it, he wanted to know everything he could about her.

But he did not want to know about this particular thing about her. Or his senior.

And to make it all worse, he was sober.

Because the Hero of Warriors- curse him- made sure that this time none of the seniors, Time and Legend, could skip booze like last time. But they still needed at least two of them to keep sober in case anything happens; the Chosen Hero offered himself politely, and for the other one they drew straws.

The Hero of Twilight twisted and cracked the tiniest straw on his hand once more, and took a sip of water.

He should've seen it coming, the Captain was as nosy as his junior- Wild- was, with the only difference that the Hero of the Wild was much quieter and better at hiding it.

Even as hammered as he was now, the only thing that gave away his thirst for gossip about The Wife Topic, was the little sparkle in Wild's drunk, half closed eyes.

But The Hero of Warriors' nosiness was but an enormous contrast to his junior's. He felt no pity for their leader's words, and the interested smirk never left his face. He planned to go on, because the real question in the air had nothing to do with children.

It was a game of chicken, in which the Captain wanted to see how much he could push and insist about their leader's sex life without actually saying it. He didn't just want to get him drunk, he wanted to see the always calm, collected Hero of Time embarrassing himself.

The Hero of Time met his eyes with a lazy smile, his shoulders down and relaxed. He had a cup of ale on his hand, but Twilight never saw him raise it to his lips. Or perhaps never noticed when he did so? It cannot be his first cup. It's been an hour and everyone else had consumed enough alcohol to embrace the abyss- the Hero of Legend was dropping smooches over his pouch of money, the rest of the world was dead to him.

The Hero of Twilight gulped, eyes fixed on his master. He's got to be drunk, he thought, to be humoring the captain like this.

It was a game of chicken, because their leader was aware of the other man's intentions and was allowing this much to see how far will the Hero of Warriors' insistence go to get this information out of him, without saying something that would most definitely cross a big, fat boundary.

And somehow everyone was doomed to be embarrassed on their behalf- instead of them. The Hero of Twilight could already feel the shame bubble up his throat, his face was warm and he had no ale in his system.

The conversation went on, every word chosen carefully. The Hero of Warriors had his tongue dancing around his true curiosity, and the Hero of Time replied with just enough to keep the questions coming, but nothing else.

At every question, the face of Hero of Hyrule grew redder and the Hero of Swords' glare grew stronger. At some point, the Chosen Warrior cleared his throat and tried to derive the conversation, but the rest was too shocked or embarrassed to even speak over the table and take his lead, and his attempt was crushed by the worst possible question ever.

"Earlier, you said it could be because of bad luck," there was tease on the captain's words. "What kind of bad luck?"

The Hero of Twilight tensed. The Chosen hero shut his mouth instantly and finished his full cup of water in three loud gulps. The Hero of the Wild held a snort.

The Hero of Legend did not care.

"I beg your pardon?" The Hero of Time cocked his head, looking and sounding genuinely confused. But he was not, and Twilight knew. His senior was pulling for another question. Curse him, too.

The Hero of Hyrule let out a whimper- Twilight feared for the poor man's life, his face was so red it seemed like his nose would bleed cascades any minute now.

For such a legendary warrior, this was no honorable way to meet his maker.

Twilight did not fear however, for the captain's life. He deserved this. The man was drunkenly impaling himself in the chest with the Biggoron Sword and having the time of his life while doing so.

"I just want to know" continued the Hero of Warriors, and everyone held his breath. "Hopefully she has all the curves in all the right places?" and to soothe the blow, he added "I want only the best for you, my friend."

There was a collective gasp. Suddenly Wild wasn't having that much fun anymore, he dropped his cup of ale on his lap and cursed under his breath. The Hero of Hyrule audibly groaned and beside him, the Chosen Hero covered his face with his hands and breathed an "Oh dear".

There it was- the big, fat boundary.

At this point, The Hero of Twilight was sure his entire body personified an ass clench.

The Hero of Legend did not care.

But the Hero of Sword could not take this any longer; he stood up abruptly and his chair fell to the ground.

"I'm going to sleep" he announced, not hiding his embarrassment and indignation towards the entire table. All of them, either for starting this conversation or for never stopping it. He was offended at all of them.

His eyes softened when he turned to their youngest companion. "Come with me, brother" he called.

The Hero of the Winds reacted to his best friend's voice, and let out another yawn to break his hour-long quietness.

"I'm not sleepy" he said. His left cheek was pressed to the table, had been so for a while. He regarded the swordsmith with only one eye open.

And yet, the Hero of Swords respected his comrade's claim.

"But I am" he insisted gently, offering Wind a hand. "It's dangerous to go alone."

Wind blinked once, twice, and his head rose. "You're right" he took his friend's hand to stand up, a little dizzy. He was sleepy. "You must be drunk, I'll protect you."

The Hero of Swords allowed this assumption and nodded, grateful.

And with them walking away into their rooms, the tension was gone. Or so everyone hoped.

But it wasn't.

The Hero of Twilight felt a mischievous, dangerous aura behind him.

After all, the Hero of Time had yet to react to the fact that his wife was called ugly and undesirable to his very face.

Suddenly the Hero of Twilight realized he entered a game of chicken himself, between him and the entire exchange he witnessed between leader and captain. He could've excused himself an entire hour ago, knowing he did not want to hear about this. It was a game in which he tried to collect as much of innocent information about her without it being tainted forever. The game totally humiliated him.

He turned to his master.

The Hero of Time still had that lazy smile on his face, his one eye fixed on the Hero of Warriors, whose face lost all color. Apparently, he managed to sober up a little. He looked like he regretted every single word that came out of his mouth in the past hour.

The air felt thick.

"No more questions" said the Hero of Time, his voice did not match his smile. The words came so cold the Hero of Warriors felt it on his skin and hissed.

The Hero of Twilight finally assumed defeat and sat up. Just because the captain deserved it did it mean Twilight would enjoy the slaughter.

It took all the power of his knees to raise his body up, tearing through the heavy atmosphere created by his master's authority. He excused himself with a quick "I'm going outside for air" even though he wasn't drunk, and avoided all the pleading eyes of the rest of his comrades because he was not helping anyone out of it. He was not strong enough.

He wanted to run out of the inn, but he had pride. The Hero of Twilight walked slowly towards the door that would save him, feet itching to walk faster but he had self control. He had it.

"But just so you know-" said the Hero of Time, and his voice had changed entirely. He sounded almost playful- and that sent a chill of fear down Twilight's spine. The inn had no air suddenly. Their leader cleared his throat before continuing, and the sound of it alone made The Hero of Twilight hop three steps closer to the door.

He no longer had pride.

But it was still too late.

"-- I am insatiable around her."

Finally, The Hero of Time's face broke into a full grin as he watched his younger peers choke on their drinks. The Hero of Warriors covered his face in his hands, clearly never ready for this answer. Shame was the darkest shade of red, and it tainted the captain's ears before their leader's mischievous eye.

Everyone else was coughing ale out of their lungs- the Chosen Hero, whose cup was empty and had had no alcohol throughout the night, choked on air alone.

Everyone was dying but The Hero of Legend, pouch hugged to his chest. He did not care.

Time finally laughed when he heard a groan behind him, followed by a hard thud as his junior, the Hero of Twilight, banged his head to the door. It was then when he took the first sip of his first cup of ale.

He won the game. 

[helvetious]

The Blood Pulls Harder:: Linked Universe ::

Inspired by the incredibly fun Linked Universe AU by @jojo56830​ , (@linkeduniverse) and their latest updates. I do not know how the real plot is, and I’m taking free takes on their interactions and stories. I just want to show my appreciation towards this wonderful AU.

By the middle of the day and with Malon's help and guidance, the Hero of the Wild made lunch for everyone without delay. It was so much easier now that he had actual expert hands helping him feed this many mouths.

Several baskets of food he and the Hero of the Winds helped bring to the corral near the race track. The Hero of Hyrule brought some mantles, and a picnic was set.

Bread and cheese passed from hand to hand, hearty radish soup was served in cups- pork meat, salted rice with onions and laughter were all shared. There was a modest tomato salad, too.

"You all worked really hard" Malon said, "we thought you'd be more comfortable eating outside where there's more space."

"We're really thankful" said the Chosen Hero, sipping on his soup and smiling at the warm, creamy sensation on his tongue. He rose his cup to the Hero of the Wind.

"I know this is yours" he winked at his friend. "Your culinary touch is unparalleled."

The Hero of the Wild chuckled softly and drank of his own cup, both because he was hungry, and to cover his face behind the cup for he felt embarrassed by the praise. He whispered a soft "thank you."

The Hero of Twilight laughed at the scene, and wrapped an arm over his protege, taking advantage that he was the only one allowed this much physical contact. "It is delicious."

"Take the praise with pride for we say truth only" added the Hero of Time, "you did good work."

The rest rose their cups and cheered, Twilight squeezed him for a few seconds before letting go.

"Everyone here worked really hard, I'm proud of you all" Malon said, too. She then pointed at the Hero of Twilight, gave him a knowing smile. "I saw you out there carrying way too much a trip from one barn to another, you must watch not to hurt yourself."

Twilight let out a small snort, but she gave him a weak glare.

"I am fine m--ma'am" he cleared his throat, composing himself. He looked up at her, "I am the most experienced here on farm work."

"That I cannot deny" she said, "but it is still heavy work even for people like us, and I don't see you using no artifacts to help you with it like the others."

She was talking about magical items.

"Oh I don't rely on those" said the Hero of Twilight."Only natural strength."

Malon rose her eyebrows high. "Natural strength eh?" she said, curious.

The Hero of Twilight laughed, "I just drank a lot of milk as a child I guess" he told her, "I'm pretty strong."

"Really?" she smiled, scooting closer to where he was. The chatter on the mantles were still on and playful. "Well I shall believe you- after all, I am pretty strong myself." She spoke above the laughter of the other young men. "And I always assumed it was because of the milk, too."

"My," the Hero of Twilight chuckled, resting his head on the Wild Hero's own head, who sipped his soup, amused at the conversation.

The Hero of Time approached them, then. "I second her claim" he said. "I’ll have you know this woman lifted a cow into a tree house."

Twilight's smile grew wider, his eyes fixed on her. "I wouldn't doubt that for a second."

Malon was cackling, giving her husband's arm a playful push, who decided he should tell everyone how in fact the cow incident happened at all.

The Hero of the Wild let out a small, soft giggle before raising his head to speak, so low only his senior would hear.

"I love this place."

The Hero of Twilight chuckled, looking at his protege. "Feels like home, huh?" he asked.

"Yes" it was unusual to see such a big smile on the Wild Hero.

The Twilight hero picked his plate, feeling warm all over.

"It really does feel like home, indeed" he said, pushing some pork into his mouth.

  **

 Her voice was beautiful- truly, she sang like an angel sent by the very Golden Goddesses, to bless this world. She charmed the horses to come over to her, into the corral- and also the boys, and her husband.

All so they could hear her.

The tune was one the Hero of Twilight had known all his life. One he could reproduce himself with a few instruments, even.

She had her back to him, her singing interrupted by soft giggle as the oldest horse of the farm approached her. Just like any other farm creature, he found himself drawn closer and closer, to where she was.

Her laughter was too, a song.

And then Epona- his Epona, younger and stockier, came as well. She snorted close to the ear of the woman, who gasped and turned at her.

"No need to get jealous now, ladies" she joked, as she patted each Epona on their noses. "The mistress has two hands."

At that, the Hero of Twilight let out a soft titter. Malon turned to him, then.

Her smile as warm as the sun, the look in her eyes full of the calmest affection.

"Hello, puppy" she said, and he felt his ears twitch at the sound of her voice, regarding him.

"It's pup, uh- no, actually" he choked. The Hero of Twilight could only assume his face looked as red as he felt it hot. "I don't answer to none of the nicknames your husband calls me by, I just-"

"You break my heart" he heard behind his back. He could hear the smile on the Hero of Time's voice. He ignored his senior and gulped, eyes fixed on the woman and just her.

Malon laughed. "Oh I understand you, child" she said, "I'm the creative one in this relationship. Nicknames are my forte."

"Because fairy boy and grasshopper are oh so creative" they heard her husband say.

Malon gasped once more and then laughed, her eyes danced to past the young hero, to where her husband was. "Go be a terror somewhere else, will you dear?"

There was more laughter, from his senior and his comrades, behind him. Then, footsteps- everyone was getting back to work, now that the concert was over.

She looked back to where their horses were, now regarding one another with snorts and sniffles. Malon smiled.

"They seem to like one another" she said.

The Hero of Twilight smiled, too. "As if they've known each other all along."

"Perhaps they do" said the ranch owner, her smile growing. "A mother would always tell her own apart, my old girl would never deny her nature."

Suddenly, a cold sting ran up his spine. The sudden change in temperature within him must have messed with him somehow, for his knees felt weak.

"I wonder what they're talking about," Malon said, amused. But her eyes were fixed on the young hero. "Perhaps my girl is asking yours, 'Are you mine?'"

The Hero of Twilight felt goosebumps crawl under his tunic, and he turned to meet her eyes slowly, nervous.

"What makes you think your horse and mine-" he coughed up, and then swallowed, unable to finish. He looked at her with wide blue eyes, the same shade her eyes were.

"You know what they say," Malon looked at him with quiet adoration. The same kind of look the Hero of Time has given him, too. "The blood always pulls harder."

The Hero of Twilight went very, very still.

"I know what they say" he whispered.

 **

 After the Hero of Time told the story of the cow incident, it was no surprise that, throughout the day, the other heroes wanted to try and reach the record on the old race track in the ranch. All fruitless attempts, of course.

"After him, I don't give away no more cows" Malon let out a dramatic sigh.

The Hero of Time- her husband, crossed his arms over his chest. "Oh no," he said with a scowl, "she offered 'The kiss of a sweet maiden', instead."

The rest of the young men shared a laugh. Malon rolled her eyes. "He beat his own record six times."

The Hero of Time placed his hands on her hips, pulling her closer to him- till her soft bosom pressed against his hard chest. A sensation he had missed dearly. Smiling, he said. "Seven times, mavourneen."

She laughed, "By the seventh time, I told you to just ask me out."

"I proposed."

"That you did, you terror."

"Just jumped out of my horse" the oldest hero turned to their public. "Fell on my knees and gave her-"

"The tackiest possible ring!"

"Hey now," he chuckled, "you should've seen the horde of monsters I fought for it!"

Malon shrugged theatrically, a teasing smile on her face. "Pity" she said.

They both knew the dungeon in which he found that ring had been empty way before he ever went there. But the boys didn't need to know that.

Husband and wife met their eyes and smiled. Malon pressed both her hands on her husband's chest, fingers spreading over his shirt. Her hands traveled upwards to cup his jaw and pull him down; his hands however, traveled south with mischief sparkling in his one healthy eye.

It was the first time the Hero of Twilight- or any other of the team truly, had seen their senior this relaxed, calm and fun. But of course, he was safe here.

This was his home.

They watched as their senior nuzzled his darling wife and she giggled, and when their smiles finally met, pressed one to another in a tender, longing-

The Hero of Twilight had to look away.

To the race track.

He gulped, and to his annoyance he could feel his face hot all over once more. He felt embarrassed sure, but also too happy for his heart to bear.

Everyone was happy to know there was hope, that this was a possible future for all of them.

Moved by the scene, the Chosen Hero could not help but let out a soft, "Aww," a hand pressing to his cheek.

It broke the spell right away.

The spouses broke their kiss, for a second Malon pressed her face to her husband's chest as she laughed. Her ears were red.

The Hero of Time turned to the boys, blinking his one eye several times as he just remembered their presence. When his sight sank on the Hero of the Wind, he swallowed loudly, and slowly began to pull his hands upwards to his wife's back- where it was proper.

Then all the heroes' eyes were on the Chosen Hero, who froze.

"Oh boy oh dear- did I cause that?" he said, the hand on his cheek traveling to his mouth in shock. "I am so sorry, please continue!"

"Yes," hissed the Hero of Warriors, grabbing the Chosen Hero's shoulders from behind, shaking them a little. He turned to the couple sporting his most charming smile. "Please, continue."

Malon laughed aloud then, and finally pulled away from her husband to walk towards the house. The Hero of Time's slouched just a bit as he watched her go, and he sighed.

And so did everyone else.

The boys began to return to their duties, but not without the Hero of Legend turning to the two guilty young men.

"You're both perverts" he said, and turned away.

The Hero of Warriors let out a snort, this wasn't the first time he was ever told such a thing.

The Chosen Hero however, had his eyes grow wide- both hands pressing to his chest as he opened his mouth in the loudest gasp.

 *

 But Malon didn't reach the house before someone caught up to her.

"Ma'am" she heard, and with a smile she turned to the voice- its owner a breathless, big boy she'd come to adore. And how couldn't she?

The blood in her veins pulled her to. That beautiful boy before her had only given her so much joy with just his face, just his eyes, his hair. His nose. She felt she'd known him all her life.

Are you mine?

"Yes, child?" she asked instead.

The Hero of Twilight composed himself before speaking. "I want to race."

Her smile grew wider.

 **

 His Epona was younger, bigger- and a little brutish. She was faster, too.

And he was a much, much better rider.

The Hero of Twilight patted the neck of his horse, wet with sweat for she rode, hard, around the track.

"Just one more jump, love" he told his precious Epona. "One more and we're done."

He could hear the cheer of his friends and the laughter of a lady. It reminded him of Ordon, when he also showed his skills with his darling mare.

It felt like home.

The obstacle- an old fence, become closer and with it, his triumph. Epona jumped high and he felt every hair of his body rise with adrenaline.

Her hooves met the ground once more, and the public roared.

He felt the wind hit his eyes with the speed, but did not make Epona relent until he was close enough to where Malon awaited him, back at the start of the track.

"My my, would you look at that" she said, clapping her hands and laughing. "You have established a new record!"

He jumped out of his horse and his feet met the ground unceremoniously- tired as he was, breathing through his own mouth, just like his horse beside him.

His friends came to pat his shoulders, his head- they patted Epona, too. The Hero of Swords took her reins, and walked her to the shade. The Hero of Hyrule brought her a bucket of water.

"I must warn you though" said Malon, "the prize you won has changed a little bit- but" she teased, "you didn't race for the prize now, did you?"

At that, the smile on his face instantly disappeared. It dawned on him: he didn't consider the prize at all. Why did he do it?

Why did he race? He knew there was no way his senior- The Hero of Time, could reclaim the title again with his old Epona, and his with his own prime being no more. He just erased a mark of his master, in his very home. What for? To leave his own? He wasn't supposed to ever be in this ranch at all.

The pride of his triumph disappeared and all that was left was guilt and dread.

Why did he race to win?

Malon didn't seem to notice, and she continued. "You see, I am no longer a maiden" she explained.

"And she was never all that sweet to begin with" added her husband with a laugh- and when she slapped his arm, he laughed again.

"Hush you," she told him, and turned back to the boy. "Plus, I married a very protective man."

"Well excuse me," said the Hero of Time, "I don't go around kissing every lady who beats me in archery."

She laughed and winked at him. They both knew he always let her win. Malon had joked many times that her victories are still fair, for she may not win the game properly- but she won him.

"What's be the praise then?" asked the Hero of Legend. "Money?"

"Oh it is still a kiss" said Malon, "just not from me."

The Hero of Twilight blinked once, twice. Then he looked at his master, who opened his arms.

"Come here" said the Hero of Time.

"Oh- oh no," the Hero of Twilight said. The universe apparently had a grudge on him and whatever happened in this ranch was just done to embarrass him. "No no no, no no no-"

When his senior took a step towards him, the Hero of Twilight broke into a sprint into the nearest corral. A foolish choice, he realized. As he met the fence, the collar of his shirt was caught before he could jump it.

He may be old, yes, but the Hero of Time was still a hero.

The Hero of Twilight felt a strong arm encircle his shoulders, pushing his chest down as his back crashed against his master's front. He felt a small, rough pressure at the top of his head, on his hair.

He laughed the entire time. "Ew" he said, too.

The Hero of Time tittered, "Come on now, it didn't hurt you one bit!"

But when he forced the boy to turn and see him, the senior saw tears with that laughter.

He cupped his junior's face, he let out a soft chuckle at the trembling smile before him. His thumb began to dry the boy's cheeks.

"What's this?" he asked.

The smile dropped entirely, and the Hero of Twilight choked.

"I beat your record," he said.

The Hero of Time gave him a tender, adoring smile. One his junior has been seeing way too often since they came to the ranch.

"My boy" said the older man, his voice full of pride, "you're supposed to best me." His own smile opened into a happy sigh, "if you don't, then I'm failing at my job."

He pulled the boy into a tight hug and let him sob just a bit, and then he heard footsteps, and his wife's voice.

"My my, did you traumatize the poor thing?" she teased as she got closer.

He didn't turn to look at her when he replied. "I don't know what I did- I thought I was good at this!"

"Clearly you aren't!" she stopped by his side and patted the Hero of Twilight's head.

"You liked when I do it to you" said the Hero of Time, and his smile grew when she gasped and when he heard his embarrassed junior groan against his shoulder.

The Hero of Twilight began pushing away, "Oh I do not want to hear wherever this conversation is going" he said.

But the moment he freed himself from his senior, his face was caught by the hands of his senior's wife.

She pulled him down and pressed his ear onto her chest, patted his cheek. "There there," she teased. And he knew she was teasing because both spouses were cackling.

But he could hear her heartbeat, and it soothed him. He felt the beat of her heart into his very veins, pulling on his blood.

It didn't just felt like home, he realized, as the Hero of Time ruffled his hair and joined the hug.

The Hero of Twilight was home.

[helvetious]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Shiro swallows because if there's one thing life has taught him is not to take anything for granted. Not even his own body, if his illness has a say in anything. And even less, people. Taking people for granted is disgusting and also very, very naive. Not his late grandfather, not his teachers, not his friends or lovers. Eventually, they all give up on him. Eventually everyone leaves. It's a matter of time, and all his life Shiro just waited and let it happen. Perhaps that's why he didn't mourn that much when Adam finally walked away. He knew all along. They all leave him. Keith should.

[helvetious]

Reward, and other tales :: Linked Universe ::

Inspired by the incredibly fun Linked Universe AU by @jojo56830​ , and their latest updates. I do not know how the real plot is, and I’m taking free takes on their interactions and stories- but in truth, I know nothing. I just want to show my appreciation towards this wonderful AU.

The song “A River Flows in You” as a general mood for these drabbles.

Comfort. 

Most of them had nightmares. Some more often than others. The Wild Hero woke up from them terrified, breathless, and not remembering a goddamn thing of it.

His eyes wouldn't adjust fast enough and he would be left blind for two, three tortuous, desperate seconds. A sob would form on his throat and he didn't know why. His eyes would water and his chest would hurt and he couldn't know why.

He did not like having others touching him when he was like this. He refused the Chosen Hero, the first one who tried to provide physical contact.

"I don't like when people touch me" the young wild man would say.

The Chosen Hero, respectful as he always had been, never questioned him, never insisted again. Even when he suspected him.

And with good reason- for the truth was, that the Hero of the Wild was touch starved. 

He would like to feel warmth of another living, breathing being. He craved for the safety that he as a hero was supposed to provide.

He was so lost sometimes. Even with them around. He was so lost.

But he didn't know how to ask for help. Everyone in the group had their own demons, everyone put up with them on their own- or so he believed. Even if offered, he couldn't handle the small peck of humiliation he felt on the back of his neck, to the idea of requesting comfort after rejecting it at first.

The next time it happened and to his bad luck, one of the other heroes that was awake keeping watch had been sitting just near where he nested.

"Are you alright?" asked the Hero of Twilight.

The Hero of the Wild hugged his own arms and looked down, waiting for his eyes to retrieve their focus, panting. "I'm fine" he breathed.

The Hero of Twilight looked at him with doubt, and the Wild Hero could feel the man's gaze on his cheek.

When he heard rustle of clothing and movement beside him, his first reaction was to flinch. "I don't like when people touch me" he lied again, softly, with regret.

But when he could see again, and he managed to look up, he saw his friend- he who trusted best among them all, stand up, give him a short nod. And then he left, walked into the woods.

The Wild Hero felt his guilt and his loneliness made a void in his stomach as he stared to where his friend had disappeared and let out a shaky, weak sigh.

And then it appeared.

A grand, black wolf with strange gray markings on his face. It made the hero squint, a little, and then he recognized him.

The wolf approached him carefully, but not out of fear. There was sentient, honest worry in his eyes. The Champion opened his arms slowly, his heart beating fast into his chest as he invited the creature closer.

"Hello" he whispered. He heard himself in a tone of begging as he added, "Friend."

The patient black wolf reached him at last, and the hero's arms encircled the beast's thick neck. He buried his face in the familiar fur, closed his eyes. He inhaled it, the smell of the forest through the mane of the beast, and noticed just the faintest scent of a dear friend.

A lump formed in his throat.

When his hug tightened around the beast's neck, and the hero pressed more of himself to the creature- seeking warmth, the wolf did not whine. When his shoulders shook, the beast rested his head against one of them and waited. His eyes still searched around, his long ears twitched in alert just in case danger came.

It was still, after all, his turn to keep watch.

But even when the Hero of the Wild calmed down and his breathing evened, even when he fell asleep again, the wolf did not move away. 

Praise.

For most of his life, the Hero Time thought himself a bitter person, jaded and hardened by the path the Master Sword forged for him, and then denied him.

He held no love for the Sword nor the Goddess it bent for, and resented the wants that they inspired in him. The thirst he used to have for glory, for a legacy of his own- all that he once reached and then lost, in another time.

The sweet one was his wife, beautiful and caring.

She didn't call him brave, or courageous, or strong.

All that praise was given by soldiers, by kings and princesses. He heard them enough times. He resented them, for they fed his ego, indulging the hunger of his sword.

His wife called him kind. She said he had a big heart.

She saw his scarred face, his battered body, his hands tainted with death and duty. And, she called him handsome.

And he had to believe her, for she would never lie to him.

She called them the silliest pet names she could think of. Those, thought the Hero of Time, those were the real praise.

(The day he left, she kissed his hands, cupped his face and called him "sweet". It rained that day. As he rode away, he was thankful it rained that day.)

Reward.

The Captain, the Hero of Warriors, decided to stray into the nearest village that day. Truly, he was on duty to bring milk and wheat, but he blew some rupees of his own pocket to bring a bottle containing a dark, strange beverage.

Most warriors in the group knew what it was- their eyes sparkled with a tiny bit of longing, as they watched the bottle rest on the Captain's lap.

Dinner went smoothly, the stew was a delight, the bread was fresh. There was an almost tangible sense of anticipation in the air, the men eager to indulge in the present brought by the Hero of Warriors.

The Hero of Winds was not allowed to have not even a sip.

He just sat on the ground, hugging his knees as he saw his seniors drink and laugh together.

Someone sat by his side.

"I promise to you, dear" said the Hero of the Four Swords, "it tastes bad anyway."

It didn't matter. "I'm just as much a warrior as you all are" huffed the youngest hero.

"And no one is denying it" the older hero spoke.

"Then why can't I share with you?" he sounded hurt and with fair reason.

The Hero of the Four Swords cleared his throat awkwardly. "This is an awful habit, actually. Shameful even" he said. "No one here wants to take the responsibility that will mean introducing you to it."

The Hero of the Winds blinked at him. "Oh," he said.

They watched The Hero of Time take one gulp of the bottle, give a smile a bit wider than usual and then say "Now that's enough for me."

Then, he stood up for patrol. The Hero of Legend accompanied him.

The Hero of Warriors booed at them, over and over until the two older men disappeared into the forest. The Hero of Twilight shook his head. The Hero of the Wild said nothing though- he pried the bottle of the Captain's hands and took the next, large gulp.

The Chosen hero laughed. "Don't hurt yourself, my friend" he said, the alcohol in his system allowing the faintest, tiniest touch of sass in his comment.

The Hero of Hyrule told the first joke. The Hero of Twilight told the second.

And from there, as the bottle passed from hand to hand, the tales got raunchier. Or at least, The Hero of Warriors made everything sound horrible, laughing loud and shamelessly.

Some jokes were too much- they made the Captain blush, the Chosen Hero cover his reddening face. They made the Wild Hero's pull his hoodie on and hide behind the laughing Hero of Twilight.

The Hero of Four Sword cursed under his breath. "Seems they all forgot you are here."

The Hero of the Winds let out a titter. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The sword smith blinked at the younger hero, who looked at him with naive, wide eyes. Every joke that was thrown, he barely paid any attention. Every joke flew over the boy's head like an enemy arrow on a lucky day.

"You're very precious, little one" he said, at last. He wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulders and squeezed him.

"Why don't you drink with them?" coughed the young sailor.

"Mmhmh" said the older warrior. "There's a reward to keeping sober. I'm sharing it with you."

The young warrior's eyes widened with wonder. "What kind of reward?"

Just then, the Hero of Warriors tripped over himself, fall on top the Hero of Hyrule, and on his way down he kicked dirk into the bonfire, managing to extinguish it.

Loud curses filled the night.

The Hero of the Winds laughed, until tears filled his eyes. He leaned into his friend's embrace and the sword smith laughed, hard, himself.

"We get to see these fools embarrass themselves".

Handiwork.

He used to be obsessed with it.

With a legacy of his own, a legacy he once built and then was taken away from him. It hurt his heart, it hurt his soul. It filled him with bitterness, and while a lot healed when he grew older, wiser- got married, when he found a bit of happiness, there was still something giving tiny pecks at the back of his neck.

Groundless impatience, burning doubt.

What was left of the insecurities his wife couldn't kiss away disappeared on the first day he trained the Hero of Twilight.

The boy was strong.

Sure he had no elegance, had the clumsiest footwork, yes. But ah, when their swords first met the weight of the blow had the Hero of Time's weapon recoil with a deafening sound, had it shake in his hand. Had him hiss in pain as his wrist protested at the sudden abuse. His stand almost faltered.

The Hero of Twilight was unstoppable. A furious, beautiful force of nature.

When their swords met a second time, he was prepared- he wasn't going to underestimate the boy again. He held the blow and their eyes locked to one another.

The Hero of Twilight had his face twisted in determination, in thirst for victory- a thirst the Hero of Time knew too well. But the blue of his eyes spoke with the softness, kindness. One that the Hero of Time also knew, all too well.

When he saw the boy's nose, he saw his wife.

And when he saw the boy's eyes, he saw himself.

And then it hit him.

As he found his strength and noticed a weakness in the boy's feet, managed to push him down, make him lose his sword. 

Was it a cruel joke from the goddesses? To know his blood was cursed by the sword still, over the generations.

Was it a blessing? To meet him.

He was panting as he pointed his sword to the boy's face, who looked up at him with defiance.

Ready to face him once more.

That is when the Hero of Time knew that his legacy wasn't a concept anymore, a legend, an epic.

His new legacy had a shape. The shape of this boy, the hair of this boy, the eyes, the blood of this boy. His legacy still had some chub on his cheeks, from the innocence that didn't fully leave him just yet.

His legacy was a walking, breathing being.

And when the time passed and the boy grew better, stronger, when he managed to disarm his senior for the first time, the Hero of Time felt his heart swell with happiness.

The young man before him was his handiwork, and he could not be any prouder.

"Good job" he breathed. My boy, he wanted to add- but the words would get stuck on his throat, choking him.

They choked him every time, afterwards. He could never bring himself to say them. But the Hero of Twilight kept on growing, kept on getting stronger. He began to almost beat him during sparring sessions. Almost.

Sometimes the pride was too much, too overwhelming, too unbearable. His love would find a way to pour itself outside his heart and try to reach the younger hero. He would indulge, sometimes; ruffle the boy's hair, pinch his cheek.

Sometimes he called him "pup", teasing in his voice. Sometimes the word would come out of his mouth dripping nothing but adoration.

It often earned him a look of suspicion, from the Hero of Twilight.

Did he know?

The Hero of Time will never tell him. This was enough.

This was enough for him.

His horse's name was Epona. The Hero of Time smiled fondly whenever he approached the mare, nostalgia filling his chest for the loss of his own sweet Epona, who passed some years ago.

The Hero of Twilight whistled to her, played on the Horse Grass, her song. A song the older man knew too well.

He sang along, his voice raspy and not as sweet as the boy's instrument.

The Hero of Twilight stopped playing, looked at him.

"How do you know this song?" he asked, eyes squinting, his nose wrinkled.

The Hero of Time smiled at him, hands twitching at his side because oh how he wanted to pinch that nose. His wife's nose.

"How do you know this song?" he asked, instead.

They held each other's gaze.

The Hero of Twilight then swallowed, his face growing warm, pink. His lips pressed into a tight line and he inhaled deeply before he spoke. He let Epona press her nose to his cheek, but did not look away from his senior.

His stand was firm, like a warrior. His eyes were soft, like a hero.

"I've known this song all my life" he said, his voice was full of pride and affection.

The Hero of Time heard himself gasp, his eyes widening- his heart jumping to his throat, rendering him speechless, breathless.

The boy knew. He knew all along.

[helvetious]

“Bed time story” :: Linked Universe::

From the incredibly fun Linked Universe AU by @jojo56830​ , inspired on their latest update.

The night fell over them like a mantle, the forest grew so quiet not even crickets were heard. Shifts were taken, yawns were heard, then snoring.

The Hero of Time sat on the ground, watching the darkness, blinking slowly as he fought his own tiredness.

The Chosen Hero sat near the fire, staring at the older man's back, a question tickling on his tongue. But even if they were put together to keep watch as the rest slept, it wasn't a necessity for them to have a conversation. And with the old man turning his back to the bonfire, the Chosen Hero assumed an interaction was out of question.

He let out a soft sigh.

The old man had the kindness and the wisdom of a person who had been hurt, and had seen hurt, all a bit too much. He was the only one who refused to touch the Master Sword. He only spoke of the sword once, called her a curse.

The Chosen Hero begged to differ, would love to argue such statement. But he didn't dare- he didn't know what took the older man to resent the sword. Just as most of his comrades didn't know why he himself, loved the sword so dearly.

It wasn't his place to ask, to argue, just as it wasn't his place to know.

He blinked. It wasn't his place to assume, either.

"Sir," he called.

The ears of the old man twitched and the Chosen Hero knew he had his senior's attention. "Tell me about her" he said, his voice so soft it barely rose above the crack sounds the wood made, as the fire consumed it.

But the Hero of Time said nothing.

They kept in silence for a few seconds. The Chosen Hero pressed his lips into a tight line, a touch of concern twisting his gut.

He cleared his throat. "I too, have someone I love" he heard himself stutter, the cape his Zelda crafted for him rested on his lap, his hands caressing it anxiously."And I miss her, too, everyday."

Tortuous silence fell again between them, the cape of the the Chosen Hero twisted under his hands.

"Very well, then" said the senior warrior.

The Chosen Hero perked up.

Then there was a small crash sound, and a breathless curse. The Hero of Twilight walked barefoot to where the duo was, pushed away the pot he accidentally kicked on his way to his comrades, half awake as he was.

"My dear friend" called the Chosen Hero, trying to hide his amusement. "Your shift is yet to come, please go back to sleep."

The twilight hero replied with a grunt, shook his head. He went straight to sit on the ground where their leader was, and leaned on him.

The Chosen Hero let out a soft titter. "What is he doing?"

"I think the pup wants to listen" replied the old man. There was tease in his voice.

"Don't call me that" said the Hero of Twilight with a yawn. He rubbed his cheek against his senior's shoulder, sighed, and closed his eyes again. "You can go on, now."

"My, aren't you too old for a bed time story."

The Chosen Hero could hear the smile in the old man's voice.

"I love it when you talk about her" was the other young man's reply. "Please keep going."

The old man let out a soft, breathy laugh and wrapped one arm over his junior's shoulders, his hand going to pat his hair.

The Chosen Hero hugged his knees as he watched them, a smile on his lips. "You two are very close."

The old man chuckled once more, his free hand patting the ground by his other side. "Come here," he said.

The Chosen Hero gasped, his heart skipped a beat.

Almost stumbling, he got up and obliged. He didn't lean on his leader like the Hero of Twilight had, kept even a small gap of space between them, for respect's sake.

The Hero of Time let out a sigh.

"She spoiled me a lot," he whispered, "my wife."

The Chosen Hero found himself smiling wide, turning to eye at the profile of his senior, who smiled softly under the light of the moon. It felt ethereal.

"She would shave my face, and braid my hair- back when it was longer" the old man continued. "She cut it herself, when I told her I had to go back, to fight. It made her cry. She loved my long hair."

The old man cleared his throat. Once again the Chosen Hero hugged his knees tight to his chest. "I'm sorry," he said.

The Hero of Twilight tensed up against his leader, but the older man pressed his cheek to the top of his junior's head, scratched his scalp. He didn't stop even when the younger man relaxed again.

"She's a very honest person, always told the truth-- could be a little blunt, at times" he went on, "but I appreciate that about her. I know she would never lie to me."

"She was strong" he said, "never held a weapon in her hands, but she never had to. Her strength came in a different way- she made me feel safe with her voice alone."

The Chosen Hero's eyes grew wide, at that. He knew this feeling the older man talked about. He's felt it too, with his beloved.

"She sings," whispered the Hero of Twilight, half asleep.

The old man let out a snort. "She's loud" he tittered, "she sings, she dances, she laughs, she calls me the silliest pet names."

"I know them," said the Hero of Twilight.

"Hush now," said the Hero of Time.

The Chosen Hero giggled quietly, shaking his head. "Did you have pet names for her, too?"

The old man choked.

"I-" he cleared his throat. He was embarrassed. "I call her ‘wife’, most of the time."

"Pops is a horrible husband" whispered the Hero of Twilight, teasing.

Rolling his one healthy eye, the Hero of Time stopped patting his junior's head to lower the hand to his face, and pinch his cheek. "Sleep," he said, amused.

The young man laughed in response.

"What about the especial times?" insisted the Chosen Hero.

The older man turned his head to meet him. For the first time since they started talking, he and the Chosen Hero finally saw each other eye to eyes.

The Chosen Hero held his gaze, held his own breath. 

The Hero of Time swallowed, hard.

"Mavourneen," he whispered, his face sported the faintest blush.

The Chosen Hero was beyond himself with delight at the both the sight, and the show of trust. Silence fell between a once again, but it wasn't awkward, there was no anxiety.

He felt thankful.

The Hero of Twilight let out a sleepy, breathless laugh.

"Cheesy old man," he said.

[helvetious]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Link cleared his throat awkwardly. He had been starting to suspect the reason of his visions were some warning. And he knew exactly what he was being warned about.

In truth, he didn't want to address it- that what the visions warned him about. He'd been fine. All these seven years, he'd been fine.

But last night he dreamed again, of the beach and dungeons and music, and endless water.

The seagull was a girl, once. Or maybe she never existed as any of those creatures.

It didn't matter- her bright orange hair and her voice made his chest hurt all the same.

Link sighed, and set his quill and paper aside. He would answer the prince later.

He stood up, grabbed a coat.

The veteran champion needed a drink, first.

[helvetious]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

A slow journey to Zora's Domain. A long journey to a love confession.

[helvetious]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Link took in a breather of the whole place, he inhaled the air with the scent of the horses, the grass, the corn wherever it was, the smoke that came from the chimney in his house (it must be his house, it felt like it was his) and the food- someone was cooking and it made his stomach growl. Everything in him told him it was going to be a great meal.

And then, were the noises.

This place was full of it, whether it be the animals or the old men bickering near the entrance of his ranch, whether it be the little girls (oh goddesses, so many children!) running around and laughing or the lovely singing voice of a woman from inside the house.

It was her voice that Link related to the delicious smell of steak and vegetables that tempted his stomach, and to the warmth that invaded his heart.

Wife.

Link’s heart skipped a beat.