#Loz whump

[alicewritingstories]

The Breath of the Wild series from this year's Febuwhump.

[ordon-shield]

Febuwhump Day 10 (Difficulty Breathing): Seeing Through Malice

ao3 link here (2nd in a series)

(content warning for: implied torture, mild body horror)

Link woke up slowly, in bits and starts, his body aching and his eyes bleary. His awareness of the world around him came back just as slowly. He was lying down on something made of coarse cloth that grated painfully across his skin, with hard stone underneath. Everything hurt, his skin, his chest, his throat, and his head. He also felt a dull aching pain in his right eye, but compared to everything else, that was minor.

Finally managing to get up, even as his limbs protested against it, trying to figure out his surroundings. He was in a small stone room, with no visible exit outside of a small hole up in the ceiling that the sun was shining through, projecting a small square of light onto the stone wall behind him. He was missing his clothes and gear, including the Slate, replaced instead with bandages wrapped tightly around much of his body. He could also tell that a salve of some sort had been used on them, so whoever had brought him there didn’t want him dead at the very least. In the centre of the room, he spotted a bowl of cold rice and a mug of water alongside a couple of bananas, still attached by their stems. He chuckled to himself, suddenly realising where he was, before doubling over in a coughing fit.

He tried to breath through the coughs, short gasps as the pain grew in his chest and phlegm found its way up his throat. Rolling over onto his back, he managed to stop, taking deep and slow breaths as his heart races. Carefully trying to sit up again, he felt phlegm gather in his throat, before another fit of coughing engulfed him, sending it out of his mouth and drooping down his face. Wiping it off with his hand, he realised something odd. The substance sticking to his fingers was darker than it had any right to be, a familiar black stained through with that shimmering familiar pink shine. His chest tightened as he realised he’d just coughed up malice.

Link remembered now, what had happened at the ruins, how he’d been trapped in the pool of malice, being eaten away at by it until he’d managed to pull himself free. Bile rose in his throat and somewhere in his mind he wondered if that would be stained by the physical manifestation of hatred as well. He wondered though, why the Yiga who’d held him down, condemning him to a torturous death, had brought him here. He was a prisoner, but a prisoner with treated wounds and meals, which confused him. In his experience, the Yiga tended to attack first, ask questions never, ruthlessly trying to kill him every time they met. This last time had been no different until he’d rolled out of the malice and been met with a blade to the throat, but nothing else.

He managed to eat the food at least, swallowing it down despite the bile that struggled to rise through his throat. He lay down after, watching from where he’d woken up as the light projected onto the wall slowly moved until the sun began to set, sending golden sunbeams into the stone room.

It was then that the blademaster arrived, appearing into the cell with the sound of displaced air and ominous silence. Link had heard of the Yiga blademasters before, rumours floating around the stables and villages, but he’d only fought the one who came for Dorian and the Sheikah heirloom in Kakariko. He glared up at the taller man, knowing that even if he couldn’t fight in his current state, he could still refuse to answer any questions asked of him, no matter what they might do to him. The blademaster simply picked up the remains of his meal.

“Why—,” he was cut off by a cough, “— why am I here?”

“I asked that question myself,” the blademaster responded, “but the scout who brought you in brought up a good argument… after all, Lord Ganon himself has marked you.”

Link flinched back, but the blademaster just chuckled at the fear on his face, unsheathing his blade and tilting it into the light just so, so that Link could see the reflection of his own face staring back at him, his right eye unrecognisable. While his left was the familiar blue he’d known all his life, all of it that he could remember at least, the right burned with hatred like a flame, the darkened sclera surrounding the familiar slit of an eye of malice, like he’d seen all across Hyrule.

@febuwhump

[grooviestsadpapaya]

Revalink sketch YIPPEE 🦅🦅🦅🦅

[kikker-oma]

A late birthday present for @telemna-hyelle !!

You're a lovely writer and I've been meaning to draw something for you for ages🥰 this story was so so sweet and soothed my soul❤️

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 4: Obedience (Link/Midna)

Ao3

CW for blood and injury, torture, and mild body horror

——————————-

Midna is no stranger to the sound of screams.

Her people had cried out when Zant had taken the throne and transformed her beautiful kingdom into something dark and twisted. Their cries of agony and anguish had echoed in her ears as she fled, a hideous imp, humiliated and furious. And they have remained with her all this time, spurring her onward toward salvation and victory.

But the noise that fills the air now is terrible in its own right. It pierces her skull and sets her heart racing erratically in her chest. And it feels as though it has been going on for eternity.

In reality, however, it has probably only been a few minutes. It doesn’t matter though. Midna has never derived joy from seeing Link suffer. This time is no different.

“Midna,” Zant’s leering voice reaches her ears once more, cascading smoothly over the waning sound of the hero’s hoarse screams. “Be an obedient dear and lend me your power. Do so and your precious, little human need not suffer further.”

Midna’s gaze travels down to where Link kneels mere feet away from her. His body is rigid, held in place by invisible bindings. His cap has fallen a short distance from him; his tunic and pants are splotched with mud, sweat, and blood. Tears stream down his ashen cheeks and well in his eyes, turning their gray the color of a stormy sky. But there is fire in them.

“Don’t,” he gasps, voice painfully ragged. “Please, Midna.”

Zant flicks a hand and the hero tenses further, an agonized whine breaking free.

“Quiet, dog,” he growls. “Count yourself lucky that I have allowed you the dignity of this form rather than letting the twilight have its way with you.”

“Lucky?” Midna shrieks, unable and unwilling to restrain herself. The nerve of this man! Calling himself her king, banishing her from her kingdom, demanding her aid…and now, hurting the hero. Her hero. “Being a human in a twilight realm is excruciating and you know that full well!”

“Come now, Midna,” Zant purrs, rounding her once more. His attempts at sweetness are as sour as his breath. “Calm yourself. This…human is pathetic in comparison to us. He has enjoyed the fruits of his people’s cruelty for far too long. It is time he felt some small portion of what we have endured.”

Midna is seething now. If only she were in her true form. If only she had that shadow crystal. She would rip this monster’s limbs off and cast him into the light-filled world he so detests.

“What we’ve endured?” She spits. “What about the things my people have suffered by your hand? You call yourself their king while you turn them into disgusting beasts!”

She kicks out, struggling against her bonds. But they hold fast, as suffocating and restrictive as this world.

“I have made the kingdom what it long should have been,” Zant replies, tone darkening. “You would have had it fall into obscurity and disrepair. You would have had our people forget all that they have endured because of the light dwellers.

“But you evade the question, my fallen princess. Will you help me or not?”

Link’s eyes find hers. He is breathing hard, shuddering beneath the weight of his own form. And yet, he smiles. It is only the slightest upturn of the lips, like a thread of twilight stretching bravely into the world of light. But Midna sees it all the same.

“Never.”

The word when she speaks it, shatters the momentary silence. She doesn’t have to see him to know Zant’s expression has turned murderous.

(Though, if she’s being honest, does it ever not look murderous? The man is vile.)

Her eyes, however, are only for Link. He is looking at her with pride in his gaze, pride and…maybe the beginnings of something else? She can’t be certain.

Whatever it is, she doesn’t deserve it.

“No?” Zant laughs and it seems to echo in the cavernous space. “Well then. You truly have fallen far Midna, to conspire with light dwellers in such a way. It nauseates me!”

Power surges through the air, a projectile of pure darkness slicing its way toward the hero. The energy it emanates is so dark, so sinister the air reverberates with it.

Midna gasps as she realizes what is about to happen. With an enraged screech, she struggles even harder than before. But she is helpless to stop it.

Darkness, fierce and sharp, collides with Link’s chest. It keeps going, shoving aside flesh and muscle and bone to burrow deep into his heart. His eyes go wide, blood bubbling from his lips as he chokes on a cry.

“This light dweller pretends to care for you and your world,” Zant sneers. “Perhaps, then, he will enjoy internalizing the shadows you inhabit.”

A skull-shattering scream pierces the air. Link thrashes, fighting desperately to get loose. Streaks of black crawl across his skin now, craters of molten obsidian amongst bloodless white.

“I wonder how much he can take before he breaks,” Zant muses.

He twists sleeve-hidden fingers and abruptly, Link crumples. Shadows dance in the air around him as he transforms. And then a beast lays twitching on the ground before her.

“No, stop!” The shout breaks free before she can restrain it.

But Zant doesn’t seem to even hear her. He is too enraptured by his own sadistic glee at Link’s agony.

The shadows around him grow thicker now, more potent. The obsidian marks spread like jagged lines of ink and blood oozes in their wake. They mar the hero’s lush gray coat, trickle into his once-bright eyes.

Midna inhales a ragged breath. If she doesn’t stop this, if she doesn’t act Link will die. That cannot happen.

She needs him to help her save her kingdom and her people. She needs him to save that little country town of his, and the kids who gaze at him like he is the sun itself, and the family he adores despite how they so violently despised his wolf form. She needs him to save the land Zelda has sacrificed so much for, the land Link looks upon with wonder.

She needs…she needs him.

So, she takes a deep breath and focuses. There is a crack, she realizes with a spark of hope, in the magic Zant is using to restrain her. She isn’t certain how she didn’t see it before. Perhaps, it wasn’t even there before.

It doesn’t matter. All that’s important is the way she can exploit it.

Midna forces her hands inside it, pulls it wider and wider until it is a gaping hole. Then, she shoves herself through, shattering her bonds as she does so. And when she opens her eyes once more, she is free.

She hits the ground with a dull thud and scrambles up. Zant whirls to face her, a screech of indignation ringing out as he unsheathes his swords. But she is too fast for him.

Fiery locks fly free, scooping the still-shuddering hero into their silken folds. Magic surges through her panicked and quick. And with a burst of sharp shadows, they are gone.

She lands them in Hyrule Field, for lack of a better place. It is far from most villages at least, with their mindless terror and ready torches. Gently, she lowers Link into the blades of green grass.

She can only hope that the teleportation wasn’t too much for him. But what other choice had she had?

“Link.”

Midna reaches out, ghostly fingers brushing his cheek. The word hitches in her throat, traitorous emotion struggling to break free. Fiercely, she shoves it back down.

“Come on, you idiot! Wake up!”

As if in response, his breath stutters. Gray-blue eyes flutter open, flitting about in a panic before they land on her. He shifts, brushing his nose against her immaterial form. A low whine echoes in his throat.

Midna lets out a shaky sigh. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. Worry about yourself like you should.”

Link huffs a breath, seeming indignant. But his efforts are weak. His usual snark is gone with his strength, sapped by the madman who had sought to use him.

Shaking her head, Midna turns to gaze at the castle that bravely rises past the horizon.

“You just hold on, Link,” she murmurs. “I’ll get you the help you need.”

And after that? She’ll find the might necessary to hurl Zant into the sun.

[skyward-floored]

Temple of Darkness

Four swords manga scene rewriiiiiite

I forget specifically which number chapter this is, but it’s the one right at the end of the first volume with Blue and Red and the Temple of Darkness. I didn’t change a lot either— I mostly wanted to see how good of a job I could do writing out one of the scenes— but I’m happy with how it turned out :)

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Blue isn’t planning on admitting it to anyone, but if he ever sees snow again, it’ll be too soon.

He gives his fingers a flex as he and Red walk through another portal the fairy makes, just to be absolutely sure he can still move them. They seem fine, but who knows? An ache still runs through his skin from being trapped in the ice, and there’s a small pit in his stomach whenever he thinks back to the time he spent stuck like that, blurry and indistinct as it was.

But he’s not there anymore. He can move, and breathe, and he should be focusing on finding Green, which is more important than his dumb urge to make a fire and take a nap beside it.

“Where are we now?” Blue asks in an effort to ignore his icy thoughts, looking around at where the fairy has brought them. There’s a structure ahead in the distance, but not much else. “I don’t see Green anywhere. ...I still think this is a trap.”

“We both heard him though! He’s got to be here somewhere,” Red says as he looks around, optimistic as ever. He points at the building. “Maybe he’s in there.”

“In there?” Blue says with a raised eyebrow, looking over the large temple built halfway into the rocks, foreboding dark stone reaching up to the sky. It doesn’t exactly seem like a place someone would want to go.

“Sure!” Red says optimistically, and Blue huffs, gesturing at the place.

“Why would he go in some creepy old temple?”

“Why not?”

Blue finds he doesn’t have a good argument for that.

So he follows Red towards the building, an uneasy feeling growing in him the closer they get. A prickle down his spine makes him shiver, but Blue shakes it off. He’s probably just cold from the ice still.

“This place sure looks creepy,” Red says as they get closer, his voice more quiet. The fairy that Red picked up somewhere is sitting on his shoulder, nervously fluttering her wings.

“It used to be called the Temple of Light,” she says as the building looms above them. “But... the rise of evil has turned it into the Temple of Darkness.”

“Well that’s great,” Blue says as they stop in front of the doors, Red eyeing them a bit nervously. “Sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe we can come back and take a vacation here—”

The doors creak as something pushes them, and Blue’s hand goes for his sword as Red jumps, both of them staring as footsteps approach.

“You’re finally here. I’ve been waiting.”

Unfortunately, Blue would recognize that obnoxious know-it-all voice anywhere.

“Vio?” he asks.

“Vio!” Red shouts at the same time, his face lighting up in ecstasy as the purple hero steps through the doors. “Vioooooo!”

Red rushes forward onto the steps of the temple to greet him, and as Blue follows him at a much slower pace, Vio gives them both that insufferable smile he always has plastered on his face.

...Blue certainly hasn’t missed it or anything.

“You’re safe! I’m soooo glad!” Red continues in an ecstatic voice, and Vio edges away from him when he goes in for a hug, merely patting him on the arm.

“So whaddya mean you’ve been waiting?” Blue asks, and Vio looks at him, expression unchanged.

“Green is inside too,” he says, gesturing to the doorway. “Hurry on in.”

“Really?! That’s great!” Red cheers as Vio pushes the doors open further, the same ominous creak accompanying the action.

Despite the creepy temple, Blue can’t help let a bit of Red’s optimism rub off on him as they follow Vio inside. Finding Green and Vio both in one fell swoop makes their job immensely easier. Now they’ll finally all be together again, after... he’s actually not sure how long apart.

He was encased in ice, sue him.

Point is, with them all together again, they can get back to stopping Shadow Link and Vaati, and finally save Zelda.

Blue nudges Red with a grin as they trail behind Vio, barely even caring how creepy the temple is. “With the four of us all back together, we just have to get the... Four Sword... and...”

He trails off as he takes in where Vio has brought them. It’s a large room with platform of some kind in the middle, a rectangular stone box at the top. Green’s sword is resting on the lid of it, and a strange feeling goes through Blue at the sight of it without its owner.

“...What’s this?” he asks Vio, staring at it in unease as Red peeks over his shoulder. A coffin?

Vio doesn’t look at him.

“The truth is...” he says quietly. “Green is dead.”

Something in Blue cracks.

“Wh... WHAT?!” he shouts, at the same moment that Red gasps out a horrified “no!”.

Vio still doesn’t look at either of them, and Red’s eyes well with tears as he drops to his knees, resting a horrified palm over the lid. Blue feels his hands begin to shake, and he moves forward and shoves the lid of the coffin off, determined to see Green for himself.

Then stares in disbelief at the sight that meets him.

“It’s empty!” he and Red say at the same time, Red’s voice shocked while Blue’s demands an answer.

“A monster engulfed him in flame,” Vio answers, voice still quiet, almost detached. “There was nothing left. It’s so sad...”

“It... it can’t be! Oh Green!” Red wails, tears already pouring from his eyes.

Blue can only stare at the empty coffin, a million different thoughts running through his head as his shaking hands grip the edge.

Anger is what shoves its way to the forefront though, anger at Vaati, anger at Shadow Link, anger at the monster that killed his brother so thoroughly that all they have to bury is an empty coffin and at Green for being stupid enough to die—

“We’ll never be four heroes again,” Vio continues, and Blue almost tells him to shut up when Red lets out a louder sob. “And there’s no way we can complete our quest.”

Red truly wails then, grief and the weight of what failure means hitting him and Blue both. Red presses his head to the coffin, and Blue feels the anger in him swell to something overwhelming. He grips Green’s sword in his hand so hard it hurts, his vision blurry and hot as Red sobs beside him.

“Green how could you?!” he shouts, voice breaking with grief, and he slams Green’s sword against the stone of his empty coffin.

The sword breaks into pieces.

Red jumps, and Blue stares in shock at the pieces of the sword, the blade crumbling, hilt cracked with pieces falling off.

“It’s... it’s a fake... made of stone,” he says as he and Red both stare in disbelief.

Then Blue feels the anger roar to life in him again as he realizes what this means, and he whirls back towards the purple hero.

“Vio, what’re you up to?!”

But Vio isn’t there.

“He... he’s gone!” Red gasps, voice still thick with tears. He and Blue both look around, and laughter echoes through the halls, high and cackling.

“Putting an end to you two fools!” the voice laughs in response to Blue’s question, and the ground shakes beneath them.

Monsters burst up through the stones, countless legs wriggling and pinchers gnashing as they loom over them. Blue can’t remember what they’re called, but he doesn’t waste time trying to figure it out, mind already swinging towards how to beat them.

“Both Vio and Green have already fallen into my clutches,” the echoing voice continues with no small glee. “The temple of darkness will be your grave!”

“Run!” Blue shouts as the voice tells the monsters to attack, and he and Red bolt out of the way as the moldorms dive at them.

The voice continues to laugh as they run deeper into the temple, Blue trying to put distance between them and the monsters. He hears a small noise over all the snarling and distant laughter, and looks back to see that Red has stopped moving, kneeling on the ground with his head bowed.

“C’mon Red! What’re you doing?!” Blue shouts, and Red looks at him through his hair, eyes shining with devastation.

“Blue I... I can’t go on,” he says in a small voice, dull with shock. “Green and Vio... both gone...”

Blue blinks at him, then marches back and grabs Red’s sleeve, trying to pull him to his feet.

“Pull yourself together! This is the trap!” he snaps, dragging Red to his feet as the monsters catch up. “They can’t beat us so they want to break our spirits!”

The possibility of Green and Vio truly being gone doesn’t even cross Blue’s mind. He doesn’t let it. It’s not a problem for now, not while they’re being chased by monsters trying to kill them.

Red doesn’t reply to Blue’s words, and as a monster lunges forward, Blue shoves him behind him and away from the snapping pinchers.

Red cries his name as the mandibles snap around Blue, and he grunts, wedging his sword in the moldorm’s mouth just in time to stop it from chopping him in two. He wrestles against its strength for a moment, arms straining as it tries to crush him. But then Blue shoves his blade down, slicing the moldorm straight down its middle.

He hits the ground running as it falls to pieces, and succeeds in pulling Red to his feet, grabbing his arm and tugging him deeper into the temple.

Red stumbles a little, but Blue doesn’t let go of him, slipping his grip down to hold Red’s hand instead of his arm. Red squeezes it tight, fingers trembling a little, and Blue holds back a sigh.

Red obviously isn’t going to be much help, not in this state. Which means it’s up to Blue to get them both through this alive.

Great.

It gets darker as they run, and colder too, but there’s nowhere else to go, so Blue keeps pulling Red along by the hand, going deeper and deeper into the Temple of Darkness. Red’s hand is shaking a little still, and the occasional soft sniffle reaches Blue’s ears, but Blue ignores them, and keeps going.

They run into what Blue thinks is a larger room, but it’s so dim he can barely tell. The moment they go through the doorway it slams shut behind them, leaving them in almost complete darkness.

“Ugh! Trapped again,” he growls in frustration, wiping some sweat off his brow. “It’s pitch black in here, I can barely see my stupid hand in front of me.”

Laughter echos somewhere again, but Blue ignores it, still catching his breath from his and Red’s sprint. He looks back at Red to see if he’s ready to keep moving, and huffs in annoyance.

Red is sitting silently against a pillar, his hands on his knees and expression vacant. Blue looks around for any monsters in the immediate vicinity, then glares down at the silent hero.

“Red! Quit your moping! Green and Vio aren’t dead,” he snaps, looking down at the fake sword of Green’s. It’s a convincing fake, but definitely that, the weight too heavy, the gold and green chipping from the handle. “That Vio we saw was probably just Shadow Link in disguise!”

“I don’t know,” Red says quietly. “He seemed pretty real.”

The response is so unlike Red that Blue is actually thrown a little, but a sudden cold feeling distracts him, prickling up his spine and giving him goosebumps.

Ugh, why did dark magic have to feel cold of all things?

Red puts his head to his knees, visibly wilting. “And where’s the real Vio?”

“Who cares?!” Blue snaps, looking around as the coldness intensifies. His heartbeat is speeding up, but he ignores it. “The whole reason we fell into this trap was ‘cuz we were so busy crying over Green!”

Red looks up then, tear tracks barely visible in the darkness. “Blue, aren’t you worried about the others?”

Blue pauses.

Yes, a little voice says in his mind, remembering how they’ve been split apart, the words of the echoing voice ringing through his ears, uncertain grief for Green and possibly Vio too still lurking in the shadows.

But he knows Green and Vio have both made it out of tough situations before. He knows they’re tough, they’re him after all, and if Blue is still here, then there’s no reason for them not to be.

“Not really,” he replies.

Red looks at him in disbelief. “...Seriously?”

The laugh echoes again as tears well bright in Red’s eyes, and suddenly he’s on his feet, grabbing at Blue’s tunic and giving him a watery glare.

“You can even make me mad!” he shouts, tears spilling over again as his voice breaks. “Were you stuck in that ice so long that your heart froze?! How can you not care?”

“Back off, Red!” Blue snaps back, ignoring the sting his words leave, cold sinking over him all over again. “You don’t get—”

“HEY! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!” a different voice howls, “I’M THE MONSTER HERE!”

Red and Blue freeze, and turn around to see a giant, snarling poe looming over them, glaring at them and baring its fangs.

...They run away screaming.

Unfortunately it’s still black as pitch in the room they’re in, and Blue doesn’t make it too far before he slams right into something made of very solid stone.

He yelps as pain radiates up his face, most sharply in his nose, and he’s so distracted by the blood dripping down his lip that he almost doesn’t notice the little ball of light that flitters by.

“Fairy!” Red calls in relief, and Blue blinks over at the little creature. Huh. He hadn’t even realized she’d left until now. “Where have you been?” Red asks as he reaches out to her, her glow lighting up the smile on his face.

“I’m sorry, I’m terrified of evil energy!” she apologizes, voice still a little weak, and she flutters off with a purpose. “Come! This way!”

Blue wipes the blood off his face, nose still stinging, and the fairy leads them through the room, her light bright as a beacon in the utter darkness that surrounds them. She leads them around a corner, and Blue blinks rapidly at the light that meets them. A lantern hangs from a hook on the wall, glowing a warm orange, and Blue takes it, relieved at a reliable source of light.

...And warmth.

“A lantern!” Red smiles, looking more like his old self with the discovery. His voice is still dull, but it’s lightened somewhat. “Thanks! Now we can see where we’re going!”

Blue almost smiles, then stops in his tracks as the cold feeling rushes back, striking him like an arrow and making their fairy freeze with terror.

A figure drifts out of the darkness, the same giant poe that scared them earlier. Blue and Red stare up at it as it looms closer, licking its lips, and Red grabs his arm with a scared look.

“You saved me the trouble of bringing you here myself!” the poe hisses, a few Bubbles floating by, skulls clattering as they quickly get out of the way. “This dark and unholy place is my home... a place of pure evil.”

It glides closer, and Blue feels that awful cold intensify, the one that reminds him of being trapped in the ice. Slowly freezing to death, every bit of him numb, unsure if he would ever be rescued.

It feels like pure despair.

“I can taste your fear, so delicious...” the poe chuckles, licking its lips, “but don’t worry. I’ll put you out of your misery soon.”

The cold feeling is sunk into Blue’s very bones now, worse than being trapped in the ice, terror rooting him in place so harshly he can’t so much as wiggle his toes.

I can’t move, he thinks in horror, gasping as he watches the poe stop directly in front of him, extending a ghostly hand. I can’t move, I can’t move I can’t move I can’t move again—

The hand settles above him, cold so intense it burns, and Blue feels something tug, something deep inside of him, something that shouldn’t ever be moved.

Then it’s being pulled out, and Blue can’t stop his scream. Horrible pain and unnatural wrongness tear through him as whatever it is is slowly, agonizingly, pulled out of him, and he feels like he might throw up.

“How sweet,” the poe purrs, laughing at his scream. “I love the taste of a soul trembling with fear!”

Red whimpers his name, but Blue barely hears it, mind nearly overwhelmed with fear and pain. He twitches as his soul is tugged around, the big poe muttering to itself, and Blue falls to his knees as the poe gives it a jolt.

“Yes... Green and Vio made great appetizers,” it says as it hungrily licks its lips, “but you two are the main course.”

Red sobs out his name as the poe starts tugging again, and Blue can’t even scream this time, breath stolen from him. The pain grows right to the edge of truly unbearable, but something about what the poe said sticks in Blue’s mind, trickling past the hopelessness and urging him not to give up.

He fights desperately past the pain and panic and coldness that’s only growing deeper— colder than anything he’s ever felt before— in order to speak.

“I... might...” he gets out, shaking with effort as his hand grips around the lantern, “have fallen for your tricks, but... Green, and V-Vio...”

Something warm fights against the coldness in Blue’s chest, and he shakily raises his head to glare at the poe.

“...they never would have! Y-you’re... hiding something! So let’s shed some light on the matter!” he yells, and using every bit of his strength, he thrusts the lantern into the Poe’s face.

It screeches and covers its eyes, releasing whatever it was of Blue’s that it had grabbed. Blue snaps back into himself with a full-body jolt, dizzy from the echo of pain in his soul, but he forces himself to focus past it. Later, it can wait until later.

“My eyes! Cursed light!” the poe howls, and their fairy jingles suddenly with an idea.

“Look, torches!” she cries, flying over to a brazier, “use the lantern to light the torches! Light drives off evil!”

Blue springs into action, Red still shivering in place with fear, and he lights them as fast as possible, his numb legs stumbling from remaining cold and fear.

“Oh no, we’ll have none of that!” the poe booms, recovered from Blue’s attack. It quickly blows a cold wind through the room, extinguishing all the torches Blue managed to light, and Blue growls in annoyance.

“Fine! I’ll just have to light ‘em faster!”

He runs along the wall, lighting torches fast as possible, and the poe snarls in anger while Red looks on in amazement.

“Why won’t you give up?!” the poe snarls, then blows the freezing wind again.

Except this time it doesn’t blow out... It sucks in.

And Blue is directly in its path.

His grip slips from the lantern as he’s pulled, and he drops it with a shout. He hears it crack, and then everything goes dark around him, freezing, endless cold hitting him from every side now.

“Oops... I swallowed him whole!” the big Poe’s voice echoes around him, and Blue slams a fist against the walls, ignoring the panic that’s roaring to life in him again.

“Hey!” he shouts, barely stopping his voice from breaking as he slams his fists against the poe. “Lemme out!”

The poe is unmoved. “Oh well. I’ll just have to crush your spirit...”

The dark walls around him suddenly constrict, cold squeezing him like a horrible embrace, and Blue’s breath is stolen as something crunches, pain shocking up his middle.

“...from the inside!”

“C-can’t draw my sword...” Blue grunts, making a desperate effort to grab it, but he’s being squeezed too tight to move.

His brain begins to go fuzzy as the walls squeeze tighter, making it hard to breathe. He hears distant shouting, Red’s voice echoing somewhere outside, but his ears begin to ring, and he can’t make out the words.

I don’t want to die, not like this, please not more cold again—

Suddenly the big poe howls, and the pressure is abruptly gone from around Blue, making him gasp in relief. He blindly grabs for his sword, and feels the force light up inside it, warming his hands.

“Prepare to face the heroic might of Blue Link!” he yells hoarsely, then stabs his blade directly into the big poe’s stomach.

It howls again, and explodes into pieces as Blue falls to the ground, Red screaming with joy and relief. He runs to Blue’s side and hugs him as light washes over the temple around them, and Blue doesn’t have the energy to resist.

“You did it Blue!” he cheers, tears back in his eyes, and Blue smiles back, his aches and pains forgotten in the rush of victory.

They did it.

A sudden thrum runs through his hands, and Blue looks down at his sword, the blade lighting up.

“Whoa! The Four Sword!” he exclaims, holding it out as it pulses with light.

Red moves to look at it in awe, and Blue feels a faint thrum from what must be the other blades, a distant chime of green washing over him, a steady glint of purple... warm red, but muted, and quickly silenced by shadows.

But Green and Vio are safe. That much he can tell.

I knew it was just a trap!

The glow fades, and Blue’s strength goes with it, his legs shaking as he practically collapses. Red plops down next to him, his hand still on his arm, and Blue breathes out, closing his eyes a second.

“You did it!” their fairy cheers, flitting over excitedly. “Big Poe is no more, and now the temple can return to the domain of light!”

“Good,” Blue croaks, holding a hand to his side. “It better, after all that.”

Red’s excitement dims a little at his raspy reply, and he frowns and puts a hand on his ribs. Blue flinches back, hissing through his teeth, and Red’s frown deepens. Being nearly crushed to death inside of that poe certainly didn’t do him any favors.

And maybe he’s a little shaky from all that dark magic, and the remnant of the freezing cold in his system, but Red hardly needs to know about that.

“Are you okay, Blue?” he asks, and Blue shrugs, wincing at the action.

“Fine,” he grumbles, pushing Red’s hand off. “You don’t need to fuss.”

Red looks at him hesitantly, then sighs, and begins rifling through his pouch in silence, the fairy sitting on his shoulder.

“...I’m sorry about what I said earlier,” Red says finally, voice a little thick. Blue looks at him in surprise, and Red chews nervously on his lip. “I know you care, Blue. I was just upset. And I’m worried about Green and Vio and everyone, and I was scared in there when it all seemed so hopeless... I shouldn’t take it out on you,” he finishes in a whisper. “Sorry.”

Blue huffs, and looks away, ignoring how the apology mends a little something inside him. “It’s not a big deal. But... thanks,” he mumbles.

Red brightens almost immediately, a wide smile on his face, and he gives Blue a quick squeeze before handing him the potion he’s dug out.

“Here. This’ll help your ribs.”

Blue nods his thanks and knocks it back, the potion’s magic quickly swirling around and concentrating in his middle. He sighs as it does its work, and Red leans on his shoulder, Blue not shoving him off.

“We should try to find Green again,” Red mentions after a minute, and Blue nods.

“He’s safe, I felt him through the Four Sword. But you’re right, we need to regroup,” Blue says. “We’re... stronger together. It’s time we became one team again.”

“I’ll see if I can sense any heroes nearby,” the fairy says, and Blue smirks.

“Just try not to dump us in another trap, alright?”

The fairy’s glow turns a little more pink, and Red giggles, the fairy chiming a little laugh as well after a moment.

“I’ll do my best. Try to rest up in the meantime, you two,” she suggests, and Blue closes his eyes, leaning a little more against Red and enjoying his warmth, the deep cold finally fading.

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

[onlythegoodpretzels]

Straight from the sketchbook King Rauru from Tears of the Kingdom. I might color this sometime, but...glowing...so many layers...

I love the idea of him surviving sealed with the Demon King, and he and Link having to share the arm. Usually Link has it. It only reverts to Rauru when he's in a very bad way and can't stop the reflex calling it back trying to survive.

For @amonthofwhump trope-a-thon day 1: Duel

[links-crosses-multiverse]

Whumptober Prompt Challenge

Whumptober Prompt Challenge #7

Title: The Twilight Princess Returns: A Call to Remember

Warning: None

Summary: In the twilight's embrace, Link, the Hero of Twilight, stands at the Eldin province's edge, haunted by the absence of Midna, the Twilight Princess. As darkness encroaches, he hears her voice calling him back from the shadows. When she materializes, radiant yet foreboding, she reminds him that the twilight—and their connection—are far from over. With her final words urging him to remember and fight, Link realizes his battle is just beginning, and he must confront the shadows of his past to protect Hyrule and reclaim what was lost.

[candy8448]

Pinkie Fic

New longfic!!!

Prologue and Chapter 1 of Act 1 is out!

This is a fic to challenge myself to write longer things and actually finish an LU longfic for once.

A deaged legend fic

A child locked in a box in the depths of an old cave is something Wild had never expected to come across, but a child with strawberry pink hair is just what he finds in there. The unexpected kid is an addition to their party and what can the Links do but continue where their quest takes them? After all, they can use this time to help recover Pinkie's identity and how xe ended up in that box in the first place.

Chapter 1: The chain figure out what to do with the kid and Wild has a dream

=====

Prologue:

Wild hopped down another ledge into the cave, sword in hand. Something was calling him further in and Wild was very, very curious. He walked past soaked floor and into an opening in the cave.

It was an open space, smoothed and rounded out. Water covered the ground but only covering his feet and there was a mound of moss and dirt that looked very deliberately placed to hide something. Wild crept up to it, sweeping off everything with his arms until what stood before him was a big, square wooden box. Unlike most chests that were unlocked, this one had a massive lock on it and was incredibly airtight. The champion brought his blade to the lock breaking it open and it took some effort to snap the lid off until it swung open.

Wild stiffled a gasp.

Inside the box there was a child, the body of a child. They seemed very young. The child was curled in on themselves in a foetal position and their mouth was agape and still, half submerged in water. Wild could see bruising and massive scars all along the tiny body. Their fingers were bloody with torn off skin and nails as if they had been clawing at something, they were also barefooted and skin on the feet were sore. They were dressed in a red dress with a dark green belt that was torn up and they had pastel pink hair. The child, the dead child, had tears along their face, paralised in fear. Wild wanted to weep, why was this child trapped down here in a half flooded box in the depths of a freezing and dangerous cave? His thoughts ran while he figured out what to do, but that was decided when the child suddenly started to tense and their eyes flew open, darting around until they focused on him and wimpered in fear. Though they tried to scramble away, their arms and legs weren't co-opperating and the box was too small to move anywhere.

Wild threw his hands up, "hey hey there, calm down, it's alright, i won't hurt you," The child's breaths started to slow down, "my name is Wild, let me get you out of here." He reached down and scooped the child up, careful not to injure them further. They were small and malnurished and shivering in his arms, clothes and hair waterlogged and heavy, "hey kid, it's alright, ill get you somewhere safe. Could you tell me your name?"

The child's eyes closed as they went limp in his arms, "im.... so cold..." they whispered, Wild's heart broke. The child's heartbeat was practically non-existent, Wild almost couldn't feel it when he placed his fingers to their neck. He had to get them to the others.

[callmehiri]

Raid

By @secretlysheikah

An entry for whumptober! I didn’t necessarily follow a prompt but I wanted my blorbo to shine. So I made this. Whump is below the cut.

She didn’t know what she was going to do with him. Her hands opened and closed as she looked at the vase full of fresh picked violets. The blooms swayed gently in the warm spring air, wafting a sweet scent over to her. A bright green bow decorated the glistening glass with a small card attached. She didn’t need to read it to know they were from Colin. The thought made little sparks warm her chest even as her mind screamed about the potential danger of it all.

She un-stuck her feet from the floor and strode over to her dresser. She plucked up the little card, her fingers trembling as she turned it over and read it. Her brows rose before she snorted and shoved the note into her pocket. In a second she swung herself up on the dresser and then out the window behind it.

The sounds of men yelling and laughing as they trained filled the air as she walked around the edge of the outpost. The distant thunk of arrows accented the air, through the swaying grass her eyes landed on Colin swinging a claymore above his head to bring down on a training dummy. Straw and broken pieces of wood fell around his feet as he battered it, his eyes never leaving his target.

Colin’s hair stuck to his forehead and he held the look of deep concentration on his brow. His shirt stuck to his skin and for a moment she forgot why she had stormed outside in the first place. He sliced through the straw dummy, leaving nothing but a stump as he expertly stepped back from the mess of straw. He brought the claymore back to his starting position as he breathed hard. She shifted and felt the card poke at her thigh and shook herself. This had to end. It should end before it became dangerous.

She started over to him, leapt over the shoddy wood and stone fence before coming to a stop with her best annoyed look. Colin glanced her way, his blue eyes holding a question in them as she knocked the blade of the claymore to the side before he could start another set.

“What are you doing?” She hissed as Colin panted and raised an eyebrow. He leaned to the side and looked behind her with a thoughtful hum before looking back at her.

“Working with a claymore? I thought the giant blade would have been a good hint towards that, Mouse,” he said, pulling her glare into a deeper glower.

“Not that, smart ass. This,” she snapped as she dug the card out of her pocket and flipped it open “they are almost as lovely as you,” she read out loud and gave him a flat look, “Colin,” she snorted and checked to see if they were being watched by curious eyes.

“You, we can’t do this. Isn’t it against some sort of rule or something?” She asked, making Colin’s eyebrow creep up and a smile dance at the corners of his mouth. The irritating fool only shrugged and offered her a sniff, wiping off a speck of dirt from his sleeve.

“Against what? Giving you flowers with a nice note?” He answered leaving Sheikah to grimace and twirl the card around in her fingers. The stupid twinkle of amusement in his eye was enough to make her want to slap him.

“Don’t give me that look, I know it isn’t just a nice note. Colin,” she huffed and shoved the card back down into her pocket. Colin hummed, resting the blade into the hard ground at his feet as he leaned against the claymore. That stupid smile on his lips threatened to break the surface even as his eyes sparkled more.

“So I can’t give you flowers and a note? I mean, there’s no declarations of love in there,” he argued as he caught his breath and finally gave her the lopsided grin that had been growing since she confronted him. Sheikah’s glare could cut through glass, though he didn’t seem to mind one bit as he brushed some of his sweat dampened hair out of his face.

“Unless, that’s what you saw? Mouse?” He asked innocently and had the nerve to flutter his eyelashes at her. Heat rose up her neck and colored her cheeks as her brain scrambled to pick an appropriate dismissal. The card sat heavily in her pocket as she huffed and scrubbed at her face, her shoulders hunching as he snickered at her. Oh she hated him and his stupid smug face. Hated that maybe he was just a little right… attachment was dangerous, both for him and herself. The need to find her brother nagged away at the back of her mind but she couldn't deny that she liked Colin… maybe even a little more than like at this point if his words and the stupid note were making her feel giddy and stupid.

“I didn’t say that, you’re putting words in my mouth,” she said finally as her hands fell away leaving her only the sight of a chuckling Colin. He leaned closer, his eyebrows wiggling before dropping her a wink.

“Have I flustered the mighty Mouse? The secrets in the shadows? My pretty little flower?” He teased, laughing hard as she swiped at him only to miss as he leaned away.

“Oh I’ll show you flustered,” she hissed and batted at him again “I’m going to rip your arm off and beat you about the head with it!” She threatened only to jump as a cacophony of bells and a shout made the outpost freeze.

“RAID!” The soldier in the tower called. The bells still rang as enemy arrows whizzed past Sheikah’s head. Colin cursed as men went running for weapons and all hell broke lose. Monsters, a hoard of them swarmed the outpost. Screeching as the clash of swords meeting shields filled the air. She rushed to grab a blade, quickly losing sight of Colin as the crowd surged, swelled and dissolved into chaos.

She had no clue where they came from. Normally there were tells. The reek of monsters for one but also the way the world tended to go silent around a marching hoard. This time however it was a blink and then they were a slew of them. It was a thought she had to put aside for later. For now monsters screeched as the soldiers around Sheikah sliced and killed them. The clang of metal and thunk of arrows in flesh mixed with cries of pain made a hellish symphony that had her stomach roil. Sweat beaded her brow and monster ichor splashed her clothes, coated her sword and almost made her slip as she danced between fighting men and monsters.

“On your left!” Ford yelled as he burst from a crowd of monsters behind her, his massive claymore severing squealing beasts. She breathed hard, pausing just long enough to catch her breath and look around. The hoard was thankfully thinning but not without wounded on their side who were pulled away from the fray to be replaced with fresh fighters. Fresh fighters… her mind jumped to Colin again, Colin who had been training. Who had been working with a claymore for who knew how long before the attack.

She whirled around looking for him just in time to see a break in the battle. Colin, his face splattered with red and black and clothes torn with fresh blood dying his shirt. He was flagging, struggling to keep up with the chaotic flail of the bokoblin that battered at his chipped and breaking sword. She was already running when he skewered the beast. Was only a few feet from him as a moblin broke through Ford, sending him crashing to the ground and raised its club. Colin only had a moment to look over, lift his good arm up to cover his head before the weapon slammed into him.

It was like the earth below her shattered like ice, plunging her into a rage so cold and cruel that the very shadows around her darkened and twisted. A screech ripped at her throat, a song of bloodlust that burned her tongue as it left her; so savage that man and monster alike seemed to freeze, even if for a moment. The shadows continued to writhe and sharpen as she ran, all fatigue gone.

This Sheikah, her but other, tore through any lesser monsters like they were tissue paper. Her fingers blackened as she burned through magic like a forge. Even as she sent peices of beasts flying, she never remembered being able to use shadows like this. But there was always a first for everything she supposed, letting the thought drift away in a haze as she reached the moblin and swung up on the beast’s blood soaked club. It roared at her only to choke as shadows poured into its throat, tore at its insides. Her hands ached on the handle of her borrowed sword as she reared back and hacked away at the beast, only stopping when the thing stopped twitching. She looked up, a snarl on her face as her red eyes blazed and more shadows ricocheted away, spearing any monster foolish enough to not have turned tail and run.

“Mouse?” A garbled question. Confused and frightened. She turned and the shadows splashed into the blood soaked ground. Colin looked at her with glazed eyes, a broken form as soldiers stood back, too scared to approach him lest they get skewered… by her.

Her magic almost seemed to vanish as exhaustion slammed into her and awareness slapped her like a splash of water. She stepped away, her sword falling to the ground. The monsters were almost gone. There was only one left now and she could see it reflected in the eyes of the men that stared back at her. She took a step back, then another before she turned and walked away through the trampled grass with the stunned murmurs of terrified men drifting after her as they took care of their wounded.

[lattewritesthings]

Febuwhump day 8 - "Why won't it stop?"

Fandom: Linked Universe

Characters: Four, Legend

Summary:

Four didn't even remember being bit. At the time, he had brushed it off as just another bug bite - inconvenient, mildly annoying, and entirely unremarkable. Throughout the day, he scratched idly at the bite on his leg even though he knew that it would make it worse. He'd been bitten by plenty of bugs in his life, and the discomfort barely registered. He could handle a little itch.

[ordon-shield]

Febuwhump Day 11 (Fever): The Boy Without a Family

ao3 link here

Link woke up on the morning of the second day he’d spent in Termina for the fifth time with a sore throat. Pulling himself up from the sofa he’d been sleeping on, he shook off a sudden bout of dizziness. He had no time to be feeling unwell. In the last loop, he’d finally managed to figure out how to get up to Snowhead Temple, but with only half a day left, he’d chosen to wait for the next one to actually tackle it. The day before he’d managed to get through a good bit of the temple, before having to stop and take a break, leaving him hopeful that he’d manage to finish it off the next day.

After using the Song of Soaring to return to Clock Town, he’d remembered the robbery he’d been told about by the old woman at the bomb shop in a previous loop. Rushing up to North Clock Town, he’d managed to get there not long before the thief had approached her, and as thanks, she offered to let him stay at the shop once he mentioned not having anywhere to sleep. That wasn’t exactly true, but he didn’t think she’d react well to him telling her he’d planned to sleep on the bench by the laundry pool in the south of the town.

He went to thank her again, only to wince as she fretted over him, checking his temperature with her hand and declaring him sick. He didn’t have time to be sick with a Giant to free, and anyway, he actually felt colder than usual, shivering despite the warmth of the shop, so maybe she just got it wrong. Assuring her that he was alright, he headed out and over to North Clock Town, wanting to get out of sight before using the Song of Soaring, the time it took to explain it to anyone who saw him too long for him to waste.

Stepping up to the gate, he expected to just walk through like usual, only for the guard to stand in his way. He glared up at the armoured man.

“I have a sword you know.”

The guard frowned down at him, concern visible in his eyes, even shadowed as they were by his helmet.

“Look kid, a sword might mean you can usually defend yourself, but you’re clearly not well. If it’s really urgent, we can send someone out to get whatever you need, or find someone heading the same direction, alright?”

Link groaned in frustration. He needed to get back to Snowhead, the more he was delayed, the longer it would take to free the Giant there, and if this kept up, he’d have to start the cycle all over again, his progress wasted. Even worse, he felt a headache coming on. Stomping away from the guard, he considered finding a quiet corner to play his ocarina and warp to the mountains.

He didn’t get far before he heard the sound of metal clanking behind him, as the guard jogged to catch up to him.

“W-wait a second kid!”

Link ignored him.

“Do you even have a place to stay? Or someone looking after you?”

Link froze.

“I don’t need help from anyone!”

Panting and clutching his chest, the guard slid to a halt in front of him.

“I can’t in good conscience leave you alone like this!”

Link opened his mouth to tell the over-eager guard exactly what he thought of him, only to be overcome with a fit of coughing. Giving up, he decided to go along with the now-recovered guard. Maybe a shop around town had a potion he didn’t know about that could help him feel better, good enough to take on the temple. He knew he couldn’t do it like this, not when a single mistake could lead to his death.

He let the guard lead him through the streets, ending up somewhere unexpected— a smallish building in South Castle Town, with a plaque on the door proclaiming it the guard barracks of the town. The moment he stepped in, he found himself persuaded into a comfortable armchair by a dimming fire, the guard who brought him there throwing on some more firewood before heading over to the other guard in the room, presumably to explain.

Link couldn’t deny it, he was pretty comfortable, if a bit warm now. Gazing into the slowly rising fire sleepily, he caught a few words of the conversation the guards were having, some of which made him frown a bit. Sure, he didn’t have family but he was perfectly capable of handling himself, so he didn’t need one. He was used to sleeping rough as well, though he supposed people like them who’d likely never left their town probably wouldn’t understand that.

At some point as he dozed off, he felt someone tuck a blanket over his body, and managed to mumble a thanks. The guard was nice enough, he supposed. It was a pity that the next time he played the Song of Time and set back time all of this would be forgotten. Maybe it was worth it if it meant they’d all survive in the end, but some selfish part of him wished he could just stay here, comfortable and warm and cared for.

@febuwhump

[occasionallyprosie]

A Thousand Ways

Chapter 4: "Mind Leaps"

Legend prevents an assassination, beats up some knights, and learns some things!

First | <<Previous | Next>>

Event Masterlist

Read On AO3

Warnings: panic attacks, cursing

Over the next couple days, his magic was coming back but was still rather dismal.

He still followed Zelda almost unceasingly, he'd gotten a dream that night—not one unlike the one that began his first adventure— about the other heroes in battle, they were fine at the end of it, nothing seemed off except how they mentioned they had no idea where he was, they didn't even seem in danger.

That was it, and a voice that he knew to be Farore's telling him to rest, they'd come to him.

As much as he disliked it, he did as told. He was enjoying it with Zelda and her kids, even if the guards made him want to crawl into a hole and hide all day.

During some meeting in the throne room, Legend sort of off to the side and just kind of watching everything play out as the army general, the court mage, and a few other important figures were discussing with Zelda about the safety of the kingdom.

He saw a tapestry bend and curl in the wind, he nearly dismissed it before he realized: there was no wind.

The carpet flattened.

Legend darted forward. He dove in front of the queen, ignoring outraged cries and swords being unsheathed.

A throwing knife cut into his hand as he caught it out of the air. With far less strength than he was used to, so using far more energy than he would prefer to make up for it.

The advisors, queen, and guards froze.

He didn't hesitate, he tackled the invisible person with ease, found their neck, and held the blade there.

"Drop the illusion," he snarled. "Or taste your own blade."

In an instant, he met the hazel eyes of a young mage of some kind, an assassin obviously.

"Guards!" The queen called.

Legend got up quickly as the guards rushed them. He hoped desperately they didn't grab him, and tried not to flinch when one bumped him. They seized the assassin.

"You bastard!" The assassin yelled. "You--devil! Nobody could see through that spell! Blessed by the hatred god, you are! The queen employs demons!"

Legend scoffed. If only they realized he'd wielded the Triforce three times over.

With a barked command from Zelda, the assassin was dragged away. Legend spun the knife in his hand, he had full intentions of keeping it. That was his policy, if someone attacks him with a knife and doesn't kill him, he keeps the knife. They'd have to take it back to get it back.

"Link," Zelda called and he turned to her. She gave him a soft smile. "Thank you. Well done."

A surge of warmth hit him. He ducked his head and gave an awkward half bow, hoping his ears weren't as pink as they were warm. He slipped back to his corner, but not out of awareness as the advisors and guards were far more aware of him.

He was far more aware too, senses as far as he could push them without magic. He wasn't letting anyone hurt Zelda, she was a friend to one of the other heroes at the least, and at most she was Fable's ancestor or descendant, that was plenty reason.

He leaned against the wall and spun his new knife, watching everything closely for the slightest, wrong move.

Rumor spread quickly throughout Hyrule Castle, Legend was well aware of that and he was unsurprised that that fact held true in this era.

At breakfast, Alphon suggested Legend join him for the day and they could see where his fighting skills were at.

Legend hated that idea, but he kept his mouth shut as Zelda agreed on the condition that Legend was fine with it.

Though he'd much rather be with the almost-assassinated queen, he knew that there would be many more guards around her and he wasn't sure he wanted to deal with that the whole day.

So he compromised and agreed to go with Alphon for the morning and rejoin Zelda after lunch.

In the training grounds, Alphon got Legend a sword and had him spar with him. He won within a couple minutes, it was a remarkably hard spar, not exactly challenging but it was harder than he expected.

However, that cued basically the whole grounds of knights to try and one up each other by fighting him. He didn't know whose Hyrule this was yet, but their guards' skills were abysmal and disappointing.

They gradually got more and more angry, most calling him kid, boy, lad, or some other child term. Legend knew he didn't look all that old, he frankly wasn't that old at all, and that definitely infuriated the guards as he won again and again, only breaking a sweat after some dozen spars.

Sure, his magic may have been low, but he was physically fine. He knew perfectly well how to fight without any magical items, despite what Warriors may say. This was his first adventure without having to start over from scratch concerning equipment.

He stumbled over roots and weaved past the great trees all around him, running rapidly through the forest, adrenaline pumping through his veins as angered yells and roars of fury followed him, rabid barks echoed and sharp teeth gnashed at his heels.

He ran. Fear took hold as he tore through the forest, thunder booming overhead and rain pouring around him. His tunic was soaked, his boots couldn't get true traction on the ground, tree branches smacked him in the face or cut up his hands as he shoved them away.

"GET HIM!" A gruff, angry voice roared with the thunder.

Teeth knashed at his back and Link ran.

He had to get away. He couldn't—He couldn't let them catch him. They catch him and he's dead. Agahnim would have him killed in the blink of an eye.

"DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!"

Arrows flew past his head and Link's throat tried to close up as fear replaced the blood pumping through him. He tripped over a root and fell to the ground.

A boot landed on his wrist and he tried to hold back a scream, the stone floor of his cell was wet and soaked his back. The boot crushed and twisted and he screamed.

Laughter echoed above him, faces filled with glee were blurred by painful tears.

"Please," he begged. "Please don't—" his voice was cut off by another scream of pain as the same treatment given to his wrist was applied to his ankle. He could feel each bone shatter and twist and break. His voice gave out and he tried to get free.

He was slammed into the wall, shackles holding him up and he slumped limply. His head was dragged up by his hair and he whimpered pitifully.

"No--don't--I'm sorry. I'm sorry--please, please don't--"

"Sorry ain't gonna save you," the familiar voice chuckled lowly. He twisted against the bonds.

His wrists were held fast while senseless begging fell from his lips. Pain still flared through him, a blade driven into his stomach, just off-center, and twisted.

A strained, quiet sob was ripped from him just as the blade was, his body sagged and he gave up.

Nobody could survive the wounds he had. He was dead. Killed in a cell, tortured to death by soldiers.

A soft song overcame the laughter and angered threats and taunting jeers. Quiet humming and the chains around him tightened.

He sobbed, trying desperately to escape, he didn't want to die.

"I don't—please, no, I don't want to die—" he begged.

"You deserve to die!" Marin stood in front of him as he fell to his knees. "You killed us!" She cried, tears streaming down her face. "All of us!"

Behind her stood the people of Koholint.

"No!" he sobbed. "No, please—I didn't—I-I—Don’t do this. Please--"

"Face it. If ya had just stayed in bed li'e I told ya to, everythin' would've been fine," Uncle said bluntly, that disappointed face glaring down at him.

"Uncle please—I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"You're sorry?" Wind demanded angrily. "You left us, Vet! You left us!"

"And to think I looked up to you," Hyrule recoiled.

He screamed, senselessly apologizing and begging.

He needed it to stop. He needed all of it to just stop.

The song grew a bit louder, a bit more real, and the chains grew warm.

He fought against them, fearing for heated metal against his skin, it wouldn't be the first time. He sobbed and tried to escape, but the chains were wound tighter and the soft humming became a bit more prominent and then—he recognized it.

It wasn't the song Fi used to sing to him, hers was the slightest bit different. The Song of the Hero, she had called it.

This was one that he remembered far deeper, from a time he had no memory of, he shouldn't know this song but it was there and it brought peace, warmth, and safety.

The yelling faded, the screaming and the pain, it all slowly faded. Thunder still boomed and he still choked on a sob from it, an ocean trying to rise around him, but the soft song held it back, held him at peace.

It all faded, all of it.

Legend startled, registering that he was wrapped up in someone's arms. They were warm and something about them made his magic coo safe.

He slumped further into them, memories of his nightmares causing him to shake.

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay," they whispered into his hair, his mind too muddled and their voice too muffled for him to place their voice or presence. "I got you. It's alright, dear heart."

He choked on a sob, clinging to their front and trembling badly. He couldn't care for who it was, just that they were safe.

"I know," they murmured. "It's okay. Just breathe, you're alright."

It took a long time before he properly come to his senses. He realized it was Zelda who held and soothed him. He jerked away once he realized that, stared at her and her soft, concerned face, then buried his blazing face into his hands and muffled a whine of embarrassment.

She had the audacity to laugh at him, drawing a hand through his hair.

"It is no shame to need comfort." She kissed the top of his head and he went rigid. "Alphon said he told you our thoughts. You may say what you like about blood, but be as it may, magic does not lie and yours is that of my son's. So long as the goddesses will it, I will always be here for you."

Legend shuddered and slumped back into her. She easily hugged him close.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out. "I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry—"

"Shh, none of that," she chided. "You have done nothing wrong."

"You don't know that." You don't know me.

"I know that the boy who unhesitatingly threw himself between a flying knife and myself, and who I've been watching play house with two children, couldn't have done anything to deserve the fear you hold."

He didn't respond to that.

Legend found the library and hid in there for the whole day. He needed to be alone for a while.

He found the history books and went as far back as they had, then worked his way forward. He paced up and down the shelves, tracing lines in a book he could hardly read. He found a book that translated to ancient Hylian and managed to reverse it and learn the current Hylian. Sky had memorized whose Hylian's were which, Legend had not. Nonetheless, this one wasn't that far off from his own. Their ancient Hylian was the same, at least.

They had the Heroes of the Four Sword, the Hero of Men, even a book or two on the Hero of the Sky and the Founding of Hyrule. But the next hero was where it was different.

It spoke of the Hero of Time, a child who told the king of how the King of Thieves was a traitor to the crown and intended to kill them.

It spoke of this hero's journey, and Legend covered his mouth in slight horror.

The Fallen Hero was the one who faced the King of Thieves, it was the Fallen Hero who'd come from the forest and fought the Gerudo King as a young child and then again as a teenager.

Not this... Hero of Time--Wind called the Old Man the Hero of Time, oh!

Time had mentioned how the timeline must've split, that he'd left behind another timeline where his Ganondorf won for seven years until Time did defeat him and then went back in time to prevent it all. The timeline he left became Wind's time and then the one Time lived in would one day become Twilight's era.

But these books, the history and the dates—

Someway, somehow, Time was the Fallen Hero.

Legend had spent a few hours searching the library for every account on the Old Man, even learning the circumstances of his death, then he turned and searched for the next history book.

He needed to know whose world he was in. Twilight's? Warriors' maybe? Zelda didn't seem to be the warrior queen Warriors spoke of, nor Impa the war general. He hadn't met any time sorcerers so—

Books on the Twilight Realm, which Twilight himself had mentioned once but never elaborated on. It was Twilight's era then...

He found a book about recent history that was probably far more accurate and personal to Twilight's adventure than the ancient ones about Time.

Legend didn't read it.

The sun was setting.

He slipped unnoticed through the castle and managed to arrive somewhat on time for dinner like Zelda had asked him to.

He didn't quite escape the nightmares that night, but Zelda had been there and ushered them away with that hauntingly familiar song.

Legend shadowed Zelda the next day, this time with a book in his hands. It was in some odd language similar to Lorulean, Zelda hadn't questioned his reading choice nor even looked at it, but he was enjoying the puzzle that was deciphering the language.

It was some mix of Lorulean, Sheikah, and Gerudo. Close enough to the three that he was confident in his ability to decipher it. It was a magic book, definitely, spells he was certain weren't quite dark in nature, it was close to shadow magic, which he had absolutely no capability to use. He had tried once, when his Impa agreed to see if his aptitude for magic applied to it as well, but lo' and behold, he couldn't muster the slightest bit of even mildly dark magic.

He ended up having a new book the next day, and this one was far easier to read and on magic he could, theoretically, achieve.

Zelda had recognized the book, and so most of their day was spent discussing it and Zelda talking him through how to actually achieve it.

His magic was almost full, he didn't have any intentions to use it until it hit full. It tended to deplete slower when he let it fully replenish rather than drain it when it was almost full.

That night after dinner was when he felt it click, he sighed softly, tension rolling off his shoulders and relief hitting him as his magic finally finished replenishing.

That morning, he told Zelda what was going on.

The black blooded monsters, the time travel, that he needed to find his way back to the group, she had been quiet for a time.

"Let me teach you some offensive magic," she requested. "You can leave at first light tomorrow."

He stared at her. "Wait what?"

"We'll arm you to your liking and send you off with plenty of supplies, obviously, but let me teach you some magic in case you lose your equipment again."

He hadn't expected the easy agreement, the belief, or the offer.

He agreed.

They spent the day doing magic, careful not to use too much of Legend's too quickly. He got the hang of the teleportation spell pretty quickly as well as the spinning shield.

Zelda called the teleportation 'Farore's Wind' and the shield spell 'Nayru's Love', the third thing she was teaching was 'Din's Fire'.

Apparently they were spells only learnable by those who wielded the Triforce, any part of it, and she had learned it from the ghost of her ancestor who founded Hyrule. He wondered if Twilight had learned it and just chose not use it.

She had some servants get together a bag of supplies and said she'd have a sword ready for him by dawn. Legend hadn't expected that much help, but thanked her nonetheless.

To wind down, Legend spent the evening with the prince and princess. They ended up demanding another story after he told them as gently as he could that he'd be leaving soon.

He went to sleep, hoping for no more nightmares.

Next>>

[kikker-oma]

A gift for my dearest friend @skyloftian-nutcase ! I promised her I'd draw her a scene from her post " Malice's Stain" when she finished it ❤️

You're AMAZING Lofty! This au hurts me so so much but I love iittt😭😭😭😭

[adrift-in-thyme]

Febuwhump Day 8: "Why won't it stop?" (Wild)

Ao3

CW for blood and injury, vomiting, and a character acting possessive

----------------------------------

Wild is pretty sure the ground isn’t supposed to move beneath your feet. Well, maybe it should have the illusion of movement. But to actually blur and dip and streak backward as though it actively has it out for him…that’s something he doesn’t have much experience with.

Except for those times when he’d suffered such severe blood loss he had passed out on the side of the road. Yeah…except for those times.

He’s…mostly sure that blood loss isn’t the culprit this time. Mostly. Okay, fine, he’s pretty sure. 

To be honest, he hardly remembers how he got into this situation in the first place. Walking and walking down an eternal maze of twisting hallways, under an expanse of thick darkness, punctuated solely by a stray lantern here and there.

The ropes constricting his wrists burn. The delicate skin there is all but rubbed away at this point, and the area is raw and bloodied. His feet falter, catching on the sweeping woven threads bound tightly about his ankles. 

Around him, monsters cluster, chattering away. Their voices collide with his skull like thunderclaps shaking the ground. Incoherent, yet oh so painful.

He winces as a stray piece of stone nearly trips him up. It sends pain shooting through his body. A shudder follows in its aftermath, followed by another and another. They assault him like pelting raindrops, making his aching bones scream and his muscles turn to stone. 

His teeth have begun chattering now, he realizes, only after he succeeds in nearly biting off his own tongue. 

Wild lifts his hands, trying dazedly to wrap his arms around himself. But they fall back to rest upon his stomach, leaden and useless. 

How much longer? He wonders, with the clouded despair of someone who knows there will be no answer to their question. How much farther will he have to walk before they reach their destination?

What they’ll do to him there is another unpleasant mystery, one he doesn’t really care to puzzle out. Beat him up, more than likely. Or maybe eat him.

Wild frowns and his eyes tear up. 

Do these sorts of monsters even eat people? Kill them in horrible, agonizing ways, sure. But eat them? He isn’t so certain. He’ll have to test that at some point. 

Something sharp and hard connects with the backs of his knees and he jolts out of his feverish thoughts. He trips, tries to catch himself, and hits the hard stone floor. His chin connects with it and the taste of iron explodes in his mouth.

The pounding in his head picks up until his entire body is screaming with it. His vision goes a striking shade of star-speckled white, then crackling gray. A squealing whine fills his ears, set against a backdrop of static. Distantly, he registers himself gagging.

His captors hardly allow him time to collect himself before they drag him back to his feet. He sways and stumbles in their grip. Pain buffets him in the place of the wind that fails to blow. Cold bites at his insides, freezing muscle and bone. 

Wild coughs. A splatter of crimson brightens his gray vision. He stares down at it, uncomprehending. Until, failing limbs finally give way and then he is lying in it, though he can’t remember how he got there. Eagerly, his tunic soaks it up, turning wet and clammy beneath his blood and sweat. 

He shudders, curling in on himself. Feet and fists rain down upon him. The telltale grunts and squeals of his assailants seem so far away. Much farther than the shards of agony that puncture through his flesh.

“Stop,” he croaks, “p-please…”

They don’t listen to his plea. Claws fist in his hair and drag him up by it. Wild chokes on a cry, fumbling desperately to get his feet under him. But no sooner has he managed it than he collapses again, gritting his teeth against a scream.

Everything hurts. 

“Stop,” he begs again, voice catching in his throat. “L-let me go.”

He wishes this were all just another dream. Then, at least, he could awaken, safe in his brothers’ company, warm and content in Twilight’s embrace. 

But the pain, the panic as the monsters grab hold of his bindings and drag his arms up over his head — it is all so very real.

The beasts begin to pull him along, oblivious to the way his body scrapes against the worn ground. Every bump and jagged edge shreds his clothes and skin alike, drawing blood and sowing fire. 

He thinks that he tries to get up. He might scream too, as incessant, endless pain overtakes any other thought. Or perhaps, he is too weak for either action. Perhaps, he is already losing himself to the darkness.

Either way, when it comes, roaring in his ears and in his mind, he doesn’t try to fight it. And when it overtakes him, all he feels is relief.

….

He awakens to the sound of voices. Or rather, one voice, sneering and sharp.

“I gave you the task of providing me with a living hero. A living one!”

Heels beat harshly upon the floor. Wild bites back a wince. 

Would it kill them to be quiet?

But then fingers fist in his hair, yanking on his scalp as they hold him aloft, and he thinks that maybe he shouldn’t have complained. The pain the noise had caused was nothing compared to this.

A feeble, wheezed groan splits his broken lips. His eyelids flutter, the need to see what is happening around him struggling against the near-irresistible draw of unconscious oblivion. The only thing he can make out, however, are the beady eyes of monsters. They flicker fearfully between him and the person holding him up like a piece of meat at the market. 

“This hero,” the voice continues, hissing like an angry lizalfos, “is hardly even breathing! The venom in his veins runs so thick his blood is green with it. How can I draw the life force from something speckled with wounds and drowning in bestial poison?”

The claws release him and Wild collapses back to the ground with a low whine. Through barely-open slits, he can make out the blurry outline of a gaudy high-heeled boot. 

“I need power! I need magic!” Every word is punctuated by a step and every step by an explosion of violet-red magic. “I need him! And I cannot get him if I am still in this paltry state! If that cursed Shadow had only granted me my full power instead of hoarding it for himself. And all so he could murder those precious heroes of his.”

The figure stills, suddenly, and turns back to him. At this distance, Wild can finally get a clearer view of them. White hair cut short, clothes that leave very little to the imagination, violet eyes and tanned skin, crackling power, and crimson markings. 

A frown dips his brows. He has never seen this woman before and yet, he has the faintest remembrance of a mention of her. 

The captain, sitting beside the fire, easy laughter spilling from his mouth as he drapes an arm over Wind.

“I never mentioned who started the war? Oh, that was Cia. Yeah, she was a sight, let me tell you.”

More laughter, but not quite as easy this time. 

“Why she attacked us? Well, she craved the same thing that they all do. Power.” The ghost of something dark and haunted speeds across his face like a breeze across Hyrule’s plains.

“...Control over things that weren’t meant to be hers.”

“Cia,” he chokes. 

She quirks one perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You know who I am? Link has spoken of me, then.” She stalks toward him, a ravenous grin splitting blood-red lips. “How he must miss me. How he must crave my presence by his side.”

Wild feels bile rise in his throat, and for once it has nothing to do with the wounds competing to do him in. 

“He doesn’t want an-anything like that,” he spits. The words burn his throat like molten lava, but stubbornly, he pushes on. “He doesn’t miss you at all. The only time…the only time he talked about you was to tell us you st-started a w-war.”

Cia’s expression darkens. She lowers herself down before him. Skewering his chin with one talon-like nail, she forces his head up. For a moment, she remains there, motionless, eyes searing into his skull. He meets her gaze with as fierce of a glare as he can manage. 

(Which, given his condition, is likely more like a miserable pout than anything else. But Wild decides to go with it. For Warriors’ sake.)

Then, right when he has begun to wonder if maybe she has decided to engage him in an excruciating staring contest, a slow smirk spreads across her face. She pulls back, dragging her nail against his skin as she does so.

“On second thought, I believe this hero will do nicely. He has life force left in him, yet.”

Wild hardly has time to comprehend her words. Turning away, Cia flicks a finger. 

And darkness swallows everything.

[tears-of-the-wild]

Whumpy Link Things (The Legend Of Zelda)

Content: Rescue, failed escape attempt, dehumanisation, missing and presumed dead, wounds/injuries, PTSD/trauma, blood.

Making him lick their shoes clean.

Smearing his own blood across his face.

Grabbing him by his hair and forcing him to make eye contact.

When he reaches a point where he has no fight left in him anymore. He's practically a ragdoll, with so little strength to stop anyone from doing what they like with him.

^^ following this, him becoming loyal to Ganon because he's got no other choice. They've practically beaten any form of defiance out of him and he's lost any hope of being rescued.

Tattooing their name on his body. Any time he writhes in an attempt to get away, it just makes the process last longer.

Him letting out a small, defeated sob upon feeling a hand grasp his leg during one of his many escape attempts. He's so desperate to escape, and yet someone manages to catch him every time. He's not sure he can manage another attempt, though he tries over and over again despite it.

Reminding him that even if he did escape, he's proven he's not strong enough to keep everyone safe. To keep Zelda safe. No one will be able to look at him the same, so why go back?

Either Zelda or Sidon finally finding him after months of nearly being presumed dead. Maybe he's hallucinated this exact scenario before and doesn't believe it's real until he feels them pulling his rigid body close.

Maybe they found him lost somewhere, no clothes or water or anything to keep him alive. He's so limp that they can't tell if he's alive or not.

Setting up a campfire and wrapping him in as many blankets as they can, trying to make sure he's warm. Shielding his face from the chill of the wind, reassuring him that he's safe when he wakes up thinking he's inevitably been caught again.

Link going from being so comfortable in his body to hiding it at any chance he gets. Wearing outfits that have long sleeves to hide his scars, refusing to take them off unless he's absolutely sure no one else is around. Not even Zelda knows the extent of his injuries.