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Sugar Cubes

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Time knows fairies. Knows them as well as he knows himself, so from the moment he meets Hyrule, the one-eyed hero has an inkling of the secret the Traveler is keeping. Its a good thing he is good with fairies.

@iamyourchair @lollybliz @brichan132 @bits-and-pieces-of @sapphic-loser16 @amamillalatortilla @kir404 @bokettochild

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Special thanks to @bokettochild for inspiring me to finish this fic! You are right. The world can always use more Time bonding with members of the chain that aren't warriors, wild, or Twilight.

It's a day like any other when Link's world is thrown upside down for the fourth time. He is making his usual rounds in Castle Town, dropping off fresh milk and collecting the empty canisters from the local businesses. It's one of the necessities of the farm, and the more he and Malon can keep the turnaround of the product going smoothly, the better it is for everyone.

He pulls the door open on his way out of the hotel, an empty milk canister perched on a shoulder, and promptly trips someone on their way in. It takes every ounce of skill and instinct he has to not drop the heavy metal jar or to crush the smaller person. He ends up clinging one-handed to the doorframe, body tilted forward at a precarious angle, and legs spread wide in an awkward straddle that only narrowly misses crushing the stranger's hand. The one-eyed man blinks down at the colorfully clothed child who scrambles to pull themself off the ground.

“Sorry,” the boy says, dusting himself off.

“No harm,” Link replies with a shrug, righting himself and stepping back to allow the boy to enter. The blonde child nods in thanks, and Link catches a quick glimpse of a feather earring before the boy steps past him.

By the afternoon, Link had completely put the incident out of mind, busy making the last of the day’s deliveries. He is loading up the last of the empty glass bottles into the back of the cart when a voice from behind calls out.

“It’s you!”

Link turns, not entirely sure what to expect, but finds himself smiling when he sees the boy from before along with a companion.

“Me,” Link agrees.

“Sorry again about earlier, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be going out as I was headed in.”

The one-eyed man chuckles.

“That makes two of us,”

Now that he can get a good look at the small blonde, Link finds himself revising his initial assessment of the person's age. Though short, it's clear the young man before him isn't a child. He would be hard-pressed to guess an actual age, but the set of the shoulders and the way he speaks gives Link the impression of someone on the cusp of becoming an adult.

"Actually," the second teen pipes up, voice soft, "Could you help us? We're a bit lost."

Link nearly misses the second half of the sentence due to the wave of fluttery magic that washes over him. It's soft and comforting and feels like home in a way that nothing else ever has, and it is incredibly out of place in the hustle and bustle of Castle Town. Link knows this magic– knows he would know it even if he were laying half-dead in a ditch because he has been half-dead in a ditch and was still able to recognize it for what it is:

A fairy.

He almost checks the nape of his neck out of old instinct, but the feeling is coming from somewhere else. Someone else. Link follows the feeling of fairy magic to its source and has to physically keep himself from starting when his eye lands on the taller of the two boys. He pulls himself out of his confusion, but not before his distraction is noticed by the two teens.

“Are you alright?” the second teen asks, and Links shakes his head, his responding smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“ -‘m fine,” he responds. “You said you boys were lost?”

“That's right,” the colorful teen says.

“Well,” Link shifts, pushing the small glass bottles further into the cart, “this is the central square. You can get just about anywhere in town from here.”

The two boys share a look that has Links suspicions rising. Suspicions that only grow stronger when they turn back to him and with a casualness that can almost pass for natural says.

“No, see, we aren't from around here. Where are we, exactly?”

“Castle town. Castle town, Hyrule.” Link says slowly, watching the two for any further reactions. The two turn their back on the one-eyed man and bow their heads close to each other.

“Link,” the colorful one whispers to the brunet.

“I know.” Is the response.

“But if that's true-”

“I know, Link!” the brunet says again, this time more panicked.

It's a good thing their backs are turned, otherwise, the two teens would have caught Link choking on air. He must have misheard. Surely these two teens can’t both share the same name as him? Except…

It’s happened before. In another world, in a different lifetime. Why not again. That would be his luck.

“Well, if there's anything else I can do for you boys,” Link hears himself say, but it's distant, like listening through a wall. His mind is full, and he beats a hasty exit from castle town, not even stopping to collect the last milk cartons. When he pulls the wagon to a stop just inside the gate of Lon Lon Ranch, Malon is waiting.

Link hops down without a word, reaching one hand out to his wife and pulling her close. Without missing a beat, the red-head wraps her arms around him. It's good to be held, and it though it doesn't quiet the thoughts swimming about his head, it does give them space to mix without worrying if they will cause him to come crashing down.

When he pulls back, Malon is looking at her husband with one eyebrow lifted ever so slightly and gentle concern hanging around the corners of her eyes.

"Link?" She asks, "What's wrong?"

Link shakes his head and presses a hand to his forehead.

"I just found out what it was like for the people who had conversations with us during my third journey."

There is a moment where Malon processes what Link has said, then she takes in a sharp breath.

"Hero things?"

Link nods.

"Hero things."

Link lowers his hand and opens his eyes, and is greatest with the pursed-lipped expression that he has learned means his wife is thinking.

"Will you be leaving?" Malon asks.

Yes , his mind supplies, resigned and a little bit bitter with the taste of the past.

"I don't know," he says instead, and Malon nods in acceptance.

Later that night, he lays out what happened over dinner. Talon nods along good-naturedly, offering his opinion even though Link knows the other man doesn't fully believe the story, but never once letting that disbelief cloud his advice. Malon listens intently, asking questions when appropriate, but keeps her thoughts to herself.

They are laying in bed that night when she rolls over and looks at him.

"You are going to go with those boys, aren't you?"

"I am." He confirms, propping himself up in one arm to better talk to the woman beside him. He doesn't want to go, but then again he never did. Not on the first journey, not the second, and not even the third. Wanting has never had anything to do with it. But when he thinks of the two teens, he knows he can't let them go on their own. Link sighs.

"Malon, I'm sorry. But-"

"Fairy Boy," she cuts him off, "I know who I married. Even if getting to know him was harder than breaking in a Bronko at times."

"I thought I was a mule," Link teases, earning a light slap on his chest from Malon.

"That too," she laughs before growing serious. "I know you, Link.so you do what you got to do, and you come home. Alright?"

"Alright," he smiles and wraps himself around his wife. Holding her tight and memorizing the feel of her in his arms until the next time he can hold her.

He wakes early the next day and pulls on armor he never thought he would wear again. He tries to be quiet and allow the rest of the house to sleep, but when a pair of small, work calloused hands take over tightening his pauldron, Link knows he has failed. Malon works silently, and Link lets her, turning around when she is done to press his forehead against hers.

"You be safe," she murmurs, circling her arms around his armored waist.

"I'll do my best."

It's the only promise he can make.

Malon sees him off at the gate to the ranch, her red hair catching the wind as Link presses one last kiss to her lips in farewell. He takes off across Hyrule field, by chance or by fate arriving at the drawbridge just as the two teens are exiting the town.

"You," the blonde says with wide eyes, and for a second Link swears he sees the teens' eyes flash blue-green-red-purple.

"Me," he confirms.

He watches as the young men take in his appearance, the way his armor glints in the morning light, and the sword strapped to his back.

The brown-haired teen tilts his head, and Link feels fluttery magic brush against him. He wonders if the teen can feel his magic the same way.

"What do you want?" The blond teen asks, eyes somewhere between blue and purple.

"I was wondering how two young men could be so surprised to find themselves in the heart of Hyrule Kingdom."

The two share a look, a silent conversation that plays out in a matter of seconds before the brunet shrugs and looks back up at Link.

"It's a long story," he says.

Despite himself, Link smirks.

"Try me."

---

It is not the most unbelievable story he has ever heard, and in the months that follow his team up with the two teens, what Four and Hyrule described comes to feel mundane. There are nine of them all counted, and somehow Time - as the others have taken to calling him- has found himself in charge of the group. Time can almost hear Malon's laughter when he writes his first letter home, and he supposes he sees the humor too.

He doesn't realize how deeply he has come to care for the eight younger men until it's too late to do anything about it. Part of him recoils at how close he has let the others become, old instincts that even now rage against the unfair impermanence of life. The rest of him, the parts that have taken a lifetime to learn how to express, want to fold them closer. To keep these wonderful and unique men safe from harm.

This, time knows, is not possible. But that doesn't mean he won't try.

They are moving as fast as they can, but when the rumbling starts in earnest, Time knows that even at top speed, it's not enough.

Why any of them had thought that the cave system would make for a decent shortcut is beyond the one-eyed man, and now it's as if the earth itself has decided to challenge the heroes for their hubris. He doesn't even have the energy to spare to curse their collective luck as rocks ranging in size from fists to boulders crash to the ground. Times heart pounds in his throat, his breathing almost as loud to his ears as the crashing of rubble around him. No one speaks as the chain of heroes charge through the rapidly crumbling tunnel, their footsteps pounding against the ground.

For a moment, Time lets himself hope when the faint glow of the exit finally comes into view. It is a scant hundred feet away and from his place at the back of the group, the one-eyed man can almost smell the clean air of the outside world. But then Wind trips and Time watches in slow motion as the youngest hero falls to the ground. Time grunts from the effort it takes to halt his momentum so that he doesn't go flying past the downed boy. The cave rumbles again, and even larger pieces of rubble crash to the ground. He looks from Wind to the exit, and in the pit of his stomach, he knows that even were he unencumbered by the weight of his armor he could not make it to the exit in time. Scooping up the child, Time charges towards the exit and just as the opening starts to give way, throws the hero of the Wind as hard as he can.

Someone is screaming his name, voice raised in horror and panic, but the one-eyed man can't be sure who. He has just enough time to see the sailor roll across the ground before his vision is obscured by rocks and soil. A weight collides with his back and between one heartbeat and another, the world goes dark.

The sunlight is warm on his face, perfect after emerging from the cold waters of Lake Hylia. Link supposed it could be refreshing, but after so long inside the water temple, being dry sounds like heaven itself. The nine-year-old sprawls his short limbs out on the grassy shore, uncaring that his feet remain under the surface. It feels good to rest. He closes his eyes against the bright light, and between the exhaustion and fading adrenaline, the beckon of sleep is alluring.

He has almost drifted off when something small bounces gently off his forehead. Link groans, half-heartedly batting a hand at the thing, earning a musical sigh in response.

"Link, it's time to get up."

The boy cracks an eye open and peers up at the blue fairy hovering above his face.

"Five more minutes," he whines, aware that the fairy isn't likely to give him that time, but trying all the same.

"Only if you want to be stranded in the middle of Hyrule field at sundown,"

There is a pregnant pause as Navi's words process, and Link sighs in defeat. She is right, as usual, and even a handful of minutes can mean the difference between making it to a safe place or fending off a horde of stalchilds.

"Fine," Link whines and the fairy hums triumphantly in a way that the boy thinks might be fond.

"That's what I thought, now up!"

The last word echos, setting the boy's world spinning into darkness, the pitch rising and falling until the fairy's voice has taken on an edge of panic. It isn't right, setting his sense of danger on high, and the blonde claws his way through the darkness towards the borderline frantic fairy.

“-Up! Please, wake up!"

“Navi?” Time mumbles when he regains consciousness, and immediately succumbs to a coughing fit that sends white-hot agony surging through his left arm.

The pain is effective in pulling the man from the depths of his memories, and gradually the world resolves into a faint pink and brown glowing mess. The first thing Time notices is pain radiating from his left arm. The next is his pounding head and ringing in the ears. Blinking his good eye, Time struggles to pull the world into focus but between the dim light and his disorientation, the shapes around him stubbornly refuse to take on any meaningful forms. The memory of the collapse filters through the fog in his mind, and given the high likelihood of a concussion, it is perhaps understandable that the last thing to register is the realization that no light should be penetrating the gloom.

“Time?” the worried fairy voice once again calls, and the pink glow resolves itself into a small flying orb hovering worriedly above his head. Time tilts his head as he observes the fairy above him, the magical trace both comforting and familiar all at the same time. It takes him a moment to place why but when it does, both of his eyes open in realization.

“Hyrule?”

In the air, the fairy sags with relief.

“Oh thank the goddess. Are you hurt?”

Its...odd hearing Hyrule speak in this form. No fairy has a voice in the way hylian's do, the bell-like language comprehensible only because the magical beings want them to be. The words, if they can even be called such things, coalesce in the back of Time’s mind as distinct impressions and images that work just as well if not better than mortal speech. Yet even with the magical haze and musical quality, there is something undeniably Hyrule about the way the communication feels inside Time’s mind.

“I’ll survive.” Time croaks out in response, “And yourself?”

The glowing pink orb flits from side to side, and the tinkling sounds hum a low negative. The older hero sighs in relief and gingerly hauls himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the cavern wall. As soon as he is upright, the hero-turned-sprite lands on Times shoulder, and almost instantly the magic that radiates from the creature begins to soothe the injured man's pain.

“Stop that,”

Time means for it to come out as an order, but the words slur, undermining any authority they might have had.

Though as a fairy Hyrule does not have a face propper, Time can feel the incredulous look the other hero is giving him.

“Absolutely not. You are hurt and I can help.”

“And I know what kind of energy it takes for a fairy to heal someone my size, so knock it off.”

There is a musical sigh and after one final pulse of magic, the power radiating from the sprite dims until it is background noise. The effect of the magic lingers and with each second Time’s mind clears and the throbbing pain from his head lessons. It makes it easier to think and recall the events leading up to his current predicament. For a second time both of the elder hero’s eyes widen, this time as dread shoots through his system. As fast as he dares, Time looks over at Hyrule.

“I thought everyone else made it clear of the cave in.”

“They did.” Is Hyrule's immediate response, and some of the panic that has made a home in Time’s throat dissipates. He can’t help but wonder at the other hero’s presence inside the pocket cave, but just as Time is about to open his mouth to voice the question a grinding crunch comes from the rubble wall.

“Time?” A muffled voice shouts through the debris.

“I’m okay,” The man in question shouts back, wincing as his muscles pull and aggravate his arm.

The faint sound of several voices filter through the rock, and someone that Time assumes to be Twilight calls again.

“Is Hyrule with you? We can’t find him.”

Between one moment and the next, the magic surrounding the sprite on Times shoulder compresses, and before he can blink the pink glow vanishes plunging the cavern into darkness. Air displaces, and Time can feel as someone reforms at his side.

“Yeah!” A once again hylian Hyrule shouts. “I’m here, I’m okay. Time is a little injured but I will see what I can do.”

“Good, that’s...that’s good.” Probably Twilight says, relief evident even though the rubble swallows most of the sound.

For a few seconds, silence permeates the inky darkness, then the sound of rocks shifting echoes in the small space, and Time braces himself just in case the debris decides to move again. The sound stopped after a moment, and both Time and Hyrule let out a breath of relief.

“We are going to work as fast as we can,” a new voice - Four, Time thinks - shouts. “But this stuff is really unstable and we don't want to bring the whole thing down again.”

“We appreciate it,” Hyrule responds for both of them, a touch of amusement in his voice despite the real danger.

The conversation trails off, leaving the two heroes in pitch black. Time makes the mistake of shifting his position. Unable to track his movements in the dark, the older man rams his injured arm into the wall, and a strangled gasp of pain escapes his lips before he can stop it.

Soft hands find his arm in the dark, fingers sticking to the blood-soaked fabric.

"This feels bad,"

"I have a red potion in my bag."

Inwardly, Time sighs. He knows he is being a touch unreasonable, and that as the groups resident healer Hyrule is more than qualified for handling the break in his arm. But it's different now, knowing that the source of Hyrule's magic is himself. It's one thing to use magic from an amulet or an outside source, but for a being that is made of magic? Time would rather explore every other option before asking Hyrule to give out more of himself than the Traveler needs to.

There is a pause as Hyrule weighs Times injury against the one-eyed man’s stubbornness, followed by a soft exhale and the pulse of magic as the Traveler turns back into his sprite form. The light isn’t much but it does allow them to locate the bag and the Biggoron Sword.

In his current form, Hyulre is too small to be able to bring the items to the injured hero. Instead, he waits near the objects, having turned golden allowing Time to come to him. It has been a long time since any fairy has offered this kind of support to the one-eyed man, and Time hopes that in the dim light the tears that well at the corner of his eyes will be mistaken as a result of pain and not the memories that the act has drawn to the surface. Time half-crawls, half-drags himself to his buried bag and sword. The act of reaching his items is draining and by the time he makes it to them, Time has to pause to catch his breath and will away the pain. One tug on the Biggoron sword is enough to confirm his suspicions that retrieval of the weapon will have to wait, but the bag moves easily. It takes a few more tugs to dislodge the pouch completely, and when it comes free Time can't help the sound of victory that escapes him. The celebration is short-lived as the red liquid seeps from the seams of the canvas bag, and Time mourns the loss of the red potion and bottle.

The task completed, Hyrule flys back to Times side once again a soft pink, and the one-eyed man can feel the disappointment radiating off the magic-user.

“I can still heal you,”

Looking down at the pooling potion, Time weighs the pain in his aggravated broken arm against the stubbornness of the hero beside him.

“Fine, but just my arm and not in fairy form.”

There is a moment's pause before the traveler bobs in acquiescence. For a second time, the soft light given off by the magical form of the other hero vanishes as Hyrule changes back into his hylian shape. The cave is just as dark as it was before, and Time ignores the slight wave of dread that passes through him as the darkness presses in. Hyrule’s hands are gentle as he examines the broken bone, and Time focuses on the explorative tendrils of healing magic that the traveler uses to knit the wound.

Healing the bone is a slow process, and the longer it takes the worse Times control on his anxiety grows. Today seems to be the day for old memories, and in the total darkness, they drift unimpeded across his mind's eye. Gibdos and Redeas shamble out of the darkness, and the sound of rocks and earth shifting conjure the sensation of Infinite Hands clawing their way out of the dirt and over his skin. They press in, narrowing the world to damp tunnels and false walls. It's like crawling through the well and shadow temple all over again, and the air feels stale in his lungs as Time struggles to maintain even breathing. He clings to the feeling of Hyrule's magic, the only anchor he has against the storm of images his mind has brought to torment him.

A bright flash of magic and light drag Time’s attention away from his panic, and when he finally manages to open his eyes (and when did he close them?) he is met with a very concerned fairy hovering inches from his face.

“S-sorry,”

“It’s alright,” Hyrule’s bell-like voice responds, “Just breathe with me. In-” The light given off by the traveler grows, “and out-” and then dims. The process repeats several times, and Time does his best to match his shaky breathing with the pattern the other hero has set. Eventually, his heart slows to a more reasonable pace.

“Thank you,” he whispers and Hyrule flies to his shoulder, resting himself against the side of Times neck in a comforting manner.

As he becomes more aware of his surroundings, Time realizes how much dimmer the cave looks. He sits up, and cups two hands around the dimming fairy, and pulls Hyrule into his line of sight. Up close, he can tell that it's not his imagination, and more than the overall color of the fairy is showing signs of exhaustion. Hyrules' wings droop ever so slightly and the pulses of magic that naturally radiate off of all sprites is growing weaker. Now that he is paying attention, his head feels clearer and his vision, though struggling with the low lighting, is sharper than it was before. Time curses softly.

“I thought I told you to just heal my arm.”

In his hands, Hyrule shifts unapologetically.

“And I had the opportunity to heal you properly without any nagging, so I took it.”

Time wants to scoff, to chastise the other man, but it's been so long since someone has called him out like this, and Time finds himself laughing instead.

“Someone save me from the stubbornness of fairies.”

Time’s good eye lands on his red potion-soaked bag, and an idea comes to mind. He can only hope that none of the boys had found his secret stash, and he carefully replaces Hyrule to his shoulder.

“About that…” Hyrule starts, his magical voice hesitant inside Time’s mind. “You don’t seem surprised about me.”

“I had my suspicions.” Time confirms, pulling his battered bag to him with a slight grunt as the motion utilizes still tender muscles.

“You never brought it up.”

Time snorts in amusement as he digs through his bag, careful to avoid any of the broken glass, and side-eyes the pink being.

“Boy I was raised by fairies, I know better than to push where any of their secrets are concerned.”

The sound of Hyrule’s laughter is musical and bright, and the inherent magic of it warms the cold stone around them. It does wonders to soothe the remaining anxiety that coils in Times' stomach, and he is about to remark when his fingers find the edge of the jar he was looking for.

“Ah-ha!”

The small container is slick with the spilled potion but a quick inspection reveals that none of the bitter liquid has compromised the contents. Moving slowly, Time flicks open the latch and shakes out two of the items into his palm, and offers one to Hyrule.

“Sugar cubes?” The traveler asks with curiosity.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Hyrule accepts the offered sweet without further comment, taking the object and the one-eyed man smiles as he pops his own cube into his mouth. The effect of the sweet on the fairy is rapid; his color and brightness returning over the course of minutes rather than hours, and Time allows himself to hum in satisfaction. It is not a perfect solution to the depletion of the others' reserves, but the older man feels better knowing that he has done something to help.

---

It starts a tradition between the two of them. After battles and other times where Hyrule's magic has gotten more than its fair share of use, Time does his best to find a quiet moment to slip the magic-user a sugar cube or two. In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t amount to much, but it doesn’t stop Time from hoping that the simple act means as much to the younger hero as it does to him.

Things had been going well as far as Time was able to tell. The last few days had consisted of easy traveling and minor battles, and spirits had been on the rise as a result. They make camp by a river, far enough away that should the weather turn they won't find their bedrooms flooded, but close enough that water -good freshwater- can be gotten en-masse.

The chain of heroes is rated around what will be a fire once it gets dark enough. Sky, Hyrule, and wild are engaged in a conversation, the cook and the knight dominating the chat while Hyrule watches them both intently. Across from Time, the rest have made themselves comfortable and things seem like it will be an uneventful night.

So when the Traveler chokes on a sob stands up without warning, and sprints from the camp, everyone is taken aback.

"...what did I say?" Sky asks, eyes wide and horrified.

"I'll go after him," Warriors offers, already climbing to his feet when a small red orb shoots into his face, the bell-like voice of the fairy sour.

The captain nearly trips over his own feet as he backs up.

"I don't think she wants you to follow him," Wind offers, eyes wide as the Sprite continues its assault on the Captain.

The fairy blows a raspberry in response as Warriors is backed against a tree.

"No shit, sailor."

"Little one," Time tries, coming to the Captain's aid, only to have the fairy turn her full attention on him.

He has to duck as the Sprite dives for his head, barely avoiding having a lock of his hair snagged by the magical being. If possible, the fairy turns even redder, her voice raised in anger in a way that Time has not heard since the Know It All Twins played a prank on Mido and faced the swift retribution of the Kokiri's companion fairy. With each incomprehensible sour note that the fairy hurls his way, a stomach-churning dread grows within the one-eyed man. Whatever it is that has caused Hyrule to run, it is their fault. And going off of the anger being directed at them by the traveler's pseudo-sister, Time is afraid of how deeply their friend may be hurting.

"Little one, we don't know!" Time shouts, shielding his eye from the intense light. He waits for the impact of the small being against his arm, but after a few moments where nothing hits his skin, Time cautiously lowers the appendage.

The fairy is watching him, her body still pulsing with furious red light, but listening. Not about to waste the opportunity, Time talks fast.

"We don't know what's going on, but we are worried. Please, just tell us- is Hyrule all right?"

The fairy's light loops through several different colors, caught off guard by Times earnest question. Eventually, her color settles on a sickly blue and her voice rings with morose tones. The flashes of emotion and vague images that her tones elicit are encouraging but only slightly, and Time nods sadly.

"What's she saying?" Wind whispers loudly.

"I don't think she's actually saying anything," Warriors responds, succeeding in actually keeping his voice quiet. "Not all fairies can talk, but that doesn't mean they can't communicate. Wait, Old Man, can you understand her?"

"Uh, sort of?" Time responds distractedly, his attention momentarily split between processing the two different languages. It's’ only because he looked over at the main group to answer the question that the eldest hero sees Sky approach.

"Miss?" The knight asks, and the sprite quickly darts into the other hero's space, once again red though not as intense as before. Time finds himself impressed at how well the younger hero maintains his composure when faced with the angry magical being only a foot away from his nose. Sky does not flinch when she advances, nor does his voice ever change from the quiet worry he introduced himself with.

"Would you be willing to take one of us to Hyrule? Please-" he adds on quickly, seeing how the sprite quakes in the air. "If he asks us to leave him alone we will, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that we would like to check on him ourselves."

The fairy pulls back and flies around to each of the other heroes in turn, checking the veracity of Sky's statement for herself. Even once she has gotten the last confirmation from Wild she does another pass of the assembled group, her color a neutral white before pausing in the middle of the camp. Without warning, the fairy turns a bright yellow and flies directly at Time. He jumps slightly when she bounces off his forehead lightly, then nods.

"Right,"

He grabs his bag from the ground and spares enough time to lay a comforting hand on Sky's shoulder before following his guide. The fairy leads him on a winding path through the trees and underbrush, and though Time has his suspicions that there must be a more direct route, he keeps quiet and lets the magical being put him through his paces. Eventually, she stops at the trunk of a gnarled old tree and circles it twice.

"Thank-" Time begins, but is cut off when she flies one last time into his face, bright red, and gives a deep warning sound. She flies off without another word, and the hero sighs deeply.

Looking up into the branches, it takes the one-eyed man a moment to spot the green-clad traveler hidden amongst the boughs and when he does, his heart breaks. Hyrule looks wretched, wedged between two branches in such a way that he won't fall, face streaked with tear tracks that reflect the dappled sunlight.

It has been years since the one-eyed man has climbed a tree, but some things are impossible to forget. Squaring his shoulders, Time takes hold of the solid wood before him and starts to climb. It's slower going than he would like, and at times his armor prevents him from being able to move in a certain way and reach the next grip, but his childhood spent living in a forest does not fail him and before too long, Time draws level with the wayward magic-user. If he thought Hyrule looked wretched at a distance, up close is worse. The brunet's eyes are red and puffy, and twigs cling to him from when he went crashing through the underbrush. His hair is a mess and his skin is pale, and every angle of his body is curled into itself in order to be as small as possible.

"Your sisters are out for blood. I haven't been yelled at like that since the first time I was nine and tried to climb Death Mountain without a proper shield."

Though he won't meet Time's eyes, Hyrule laughs once at the absurd (and entirely true) statement and Time counts it as a victory. Mindful of the added weight of his armor, the older hero slowly maneuvers his way as close as he dares.

"Why'd you come?" Hyrule mumbles into his arms.

"We were worried."

"You shouldn't be. I'm not one of you."

It is one of the most preposterous things Time has heard in years, and that's accounting for all the things customers have told Malon and himself in order to try and lower the price of milk. But he can feel the genuine distress behind the words so strongly his teeth hurt.

"I'm not a knight or some fighter. I'm just- I'm just some guy. I wasn't even the one Impa was searching for, just the one who found her. I hadn't even picked up a sword before, an old man had to give me one."

Wherever this self-deprecation is coming from, it's crushing to hear expressed, and time wants to kick himself for not seeing the signs of the other's distress sooner. He knows he is not the most tactical of the Heroes of Courage. That honor goes to Sky, whose friendly and comforting touches are doled out as easily as his kind words and smiles. It has taken years for the one-eyed man to become comfortable with giving even the most casual of touches. But as he listens to Hyrule expound on his perceived inadequacies, Time wants nothing more than to either shake the younger man or hold him till the blatant falsehoods have left Hyrule's consideration entirely. It is probably for the best that their current placement in the tree makes acting on this impulse impossible.

"Hyrule," Time says softly when the other hero runs out of steam. "None of us were qualified for the job we were given."

He thinks of Warriors, still a knight in training when he was made Captain. Of Wind who had never left home before his sister was taken. Of Twilight and the curse that was placed on him almost from the outset of his journey.

"None of us. And if being a knight or a fighter were the basis of being a hero of courage, then many of us wouldn't be here - not Wind, not Four, not Legend, not even myself."

Hyrule looks up, surprised, and Time nods in confirmation.

"I don't know what it is that makes us heroes, but you belong amongst our numbers."

There is more, so much more, that he wants to say but he doesn't know how to say it. The feelings jumble together and clog his chest - a twisted knot of pride, sorrow, love, and honor that stick to those parts of himself that Time once tried so hard to keep from seeing the light of day. He cares — cares so much it's almost physically painful and yet defies words.

The wind changes and Time is reminded of the pouch hanging from his shoulder when the canvas item catches the breeze. Careful not to overbalance himself, the older man reaches into the bag and retrieves a now familiar object. The jar of sugar cubes is almost empty, and unless the chain of heroes can find a town soon there will be little chance of getting it refilled. He feels silly holding out the offered sugar cubes, the small things inadequate to convey all the thoughts he can't put into words. But when Hyrule takes the delicate sweet -rolling it between his fingers, puffy eyes guarded and searching- maybe, Time thinks it's not so inadequate after all.

Hyrule looks up at Time, and though the others perceived faults still float behind glossy eyes, there is a tentative hopeful smile tugging at the corners of the young man's lips. It's warming, like the first hint of sunlight after a blizzard- a promise that though things are not better this instant, they can be.

#time centric

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#time centric