#also LOOOOOOK IT'S THE ONE THAT DUMB WIP WITH LIKE 400 NOTES IS FROM

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 29: "What happened to me?"

Continuation to day 22 and 25 :)

Day 22

Day 25

Read on ao3

Warnings: mostly the same as the other ones, blood, injury, some violence, possession, a little creepy vibes

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Warriors is not one to hesitate.

As Time leaps forward to attack the demon (the boy?) and tentacles of pure darkness shoot out from the mask, Warriors is instantly in full battle mode, and begins shouting out orders.

The others snap out of their horrified dazes and go to help Time, dodging shadowy tentacles as thunder booms nearby. The rain begins to come down harder, and visibility grows more difficult, the only truly clear sights Warriors gets of the battle happening when lightning scatters across the sky.

But he doesn’t let it stop him, and Warriors finally locates his first target, grabbing Legend’s shoulder to catch his attention.

“You need to go see if you can find Ravio,” he says a bit breathlessly, dodging a tentacle that comes their way. “He must still be inside, Sheerow wouldn’t have led us here otherwise.”

Legend scowls. “Captain, I’m not going to leave—”

“He may be in trouble, and we don’t know if he has time for us to finish this battle,” Warriors says grimly. “Go find him, Vet. We can handle things for now.”

Legend hesitates, then nods, Sheerow appearing at his shoulder like he’d heard them talking. Legend turns and runs off, and Warriors watches him until he disappears with the little bird into the Eastern Palace.

Then he turns back to the battle, and joins the others in fighting the mask.

Time is fighting the body itself, and while the rest of them are trying to help him, the mask is surprisingly good at multitasking. It picked up a sword somewhere, and while it swings viciously at Time, dark tentacles sweep at the rest of them, keeping them away from the fight.

Time is in no condition to be fighting a demon, Warriors knows that for certain. Between the sleepless nights that have sapped him of energy, and the nightmares and revelations he’s had dropped on him, it’s a wonder he’s even standing.

But there’s strength in desperation. Warriors knows that well.

Wild jumps back from the fight and along with Four, begins firing arrows into the fray. Warriors is glad for the the cover as he dodges another attack. They’re starting to figure out the movements of the battle now, the different attacks up their enemy’s sleeve, and with the archers’ support, begin closing in on Time and the demon.

An arrow flies past Warriors’ shoulder, and someone suddenly screams, piercing and familiar. Warriors is already looking around for who got struck, but when he finally sees where the arrow landed, his brow furrows in confusion.

It’s sprouting from the shoulder of their enemy, but he could have sworn the voice that had screamed was—

“Don’t hurts the person behind the mask!”

At Twilight’s frantic cry, everything Warriors had been wondering and suspected falls neatly into place, and he stares at the body that’s wearing the mask, a cold feeling in his chest. The figure is taller then what he remembers, but the outfit is familiar, even through all the blood and shadows covering it.

Somehow, impossibly, there’s a version of Time under that mask.

The demon seems to have recovered quickly from the arrow in its arm, and it rips it out with a small cry. Then it cackles as it thrusts a tentacle of darkness at Time, nearly throwing him to the ground before he scrambles to dodge it.

“How are we supposed to fight him but not hit him?!” Wild shouts, and Twilight’s reply is drowned out by another roll of thunder.

“How do we know if he’s even alive under there?” Hyrule asks worriedly, swinging at a tentacle nearby, and Warriors looks back at Majora, a tight feeling in his chest.

How indeed.

“We need to get the mask off,” he says as he dodges an attack, “then we’ll... we’ll know. In the meantime, try not to hurt him.”

“Easier said then done,” Sky grunts nearby. “I don’t think he has the same qualms.”

Majora must hear them, for after they have the exchange it grows harder to fight, tentacles lashing, cries ringing out as several of them are knocked to the ground. It begins tearing up bricks from the ground and throwing them as well, and between the projectiles and their reluctance to hit him, the battle begins to turn back in the demon’s favor.

A tentacle lashes forward, and a cry rings out, Warriors turning just in time to see Hyrule hit the ground, hard.

He hears several cries, but can’t get to the traveler through all of the tentacles and projectiles thrown his way. Someone does finally get to Hyrule’s side, Warriors unable to tell who through the rain, and he slices at another tentacle as another shout rings out.

It’s Time’s voice again, but this time it’s not Majora who’s hurt.

Warriors watches as Time grabs at his side, a flash of red visible through the rain as he reels backwards. His heart speeds up, and he tries to fight over to Time’s side, slipping on puddles and avoiding tentacles. Someone else cries out yet again, and Warriors feels ice begin to freeze up his chest.

They’re losing this fight.

He’s still much too far to be of any use to Time, and as he tries desperately to reach him and help, Majora dodging and leaping around, Warriors sees Time’s face harden into a look he knows well.

His heart shoots up into his throat as Time’s hand slips into his pouch, and a white mask is pulled out.

“Sprite don’t!” Warriors shouts across the battlefield, but Time either doesn’t hear him or ignores the words entirely as he slams the mask onto his face.

A tentacle tries to knock Warriors to the ground while he’s distracted, nearly doing the same to him as had been done to Hyrule. And by the time he’s dealt with it and turns back, Time is no longer there, a god fighting in his place.

A high-pitched laugh rings around the area, and Majora leaps around the Fierce Deity’s attacks, moving so fast it’s hard to watch. Lightning flashes, but it’s nothing compared to the way the Deity’s eyes flash as he fights Majora.

Warriors finally makes it within striking distance of the two, but they’re moving so fast he can’t help at all. He waits for an opening, wiping rain out of his eyes and nervously twirling his sword, and as he watches, Majora dodges just the slightest bit too slow.

The Fierce Deity doesn’t hesitate.

He swings his huge sword, glowing an almost electric blue, and strikes the mask right off the boy’s face.

A horrible scream rings around the area, a mixture of the mask and the one who’d been wearing it, and the body topples to the ground, bloody and broken. Majora’s mask flies into the air, bleeding darkness as it turns to the Fierce Deity with its tentacles lashing, and it roars in outrage.

“YOU NEVER PLAY FAIR!” the mask screams, and the fight resumes, the two attacking each other with an increased ferocity.

Warriors doesn’t hesitate in sprinting towards the fallen body, shadows and blood seeping off of him in nearly equal amounts. He drags him away (he’s so light) as far as he can from where the Deity is now fighting the mask with no holds barred, and Warriors carefully flips the boy over, a quiet hitching sound coming from him.

He realizes it’s crying at the same time his eyes settle on the boy’s face.

The features that have been freed look so similar to Mask’s that Warriors startles, nearly forgetting what he’s doing. The face is older, though not by a whole lot, and the blood and injuries and tentacle marks all over him certainly change things. But the shape is there, a mix between the man Warriors knows now and the boy he met during the war, and he feels like he’s been gutted.

He can’t be older then Wild.

The rain puddled beneath the younger Time begin to turn red, and the hitching noises turn to gurgles as the shadows holding him together fade. Warriors shoves his scrambled thoughts aside, and shushes the boy as he pulls out a fairy.

“Hold on kid, hold on,” he murmurs, and the fairy dances over the boy’s rapidly stilling form. Sparkles mix with the rain, and Warriors watches in silence as the most grievous of the boy’s injuries are healed.

Twilight and Wind run up to his side as the fairy finishes, and the hitching sound starts up again, Wind staring at the body in horror.

“Merciful Ordona,” Twilight breathes, and carefully lifts the boy partially onto his lap, shushing him when he makes a noise. “Shh, you’re alright, you’re safe.”

The boy shudders where he’s laying, and Twilight pulls him into a tighter hold, rubbing small circles onto his back. His injuries are by no means completely healed, but they can’t do much for him here, rain pouring on their heads, screams still ringing out.

Screams?

Warriors turns, and sees the Fierce Deity with a foot on Majora’s mask, angry screams and jabbering coming from the demon. The Deity doesn’t hesitate, and plunges his glowing sword through the mask, one final scream ringing out.

Any tentacles left grow still, then fade away, darkness puddling on the ground much like the rain.

A louder hitching sound catches Warriors’ attention, and he turns back to the boy, his eyes flickering as Twilight holds him. He’s looking around with a terrified look in his eyes, tears smearing the blood on his face, and suddenly the Fierce Deity is kneeling beside him, a hand outstretched.

Warriors stiffens, a hand reaching for his sword.

But the Deity’s hand merely rests on the boy’s cheek, notably gently compared to the way he’d been fighting earlier. The younger Time whimpers, and turns into the hold, and Warriors releases his sword, though he keeps it in reach.

“Rest, little one,” the Deity says, surprisingly soft as a finger brushes some blood away. “Your part of this fight is done.”

The boy’s breath hitches again, but his eyes slip closed, and he stills as the Deity gently holds his cheek. Warriors frowns, but Twilight waves him off, gesturing to the boy’s chest going up and down. He’s merely unconscious.

The Deity waits a moment, still looking at the younger Time, then removes his hand and turns to face the three heroes around him.

“The demon is gone,” he says, rain pattering on his armor. “And the one who brought him back is not present. The danger has been eliminated.”

“Are you going to release Time now?” Warriors asks in a voice that’s more of a demand then a question.

The Deity tilts his head, then blinks, looking like he’s studying Warriors’ face.

“My role is finished. You need not worry for your leader.” His hand raises, but he pauses just before taking the mask off, and stares at Warriors with an intense gaze. “Watch out for him and the boy. The upcoming days will not be easy.”

Warriors blinks, but before he can reply, the Deity lifts off his face, and Time kneels where he once did.

He immediately flounders, and Warriors is there with an arm under his shoulder as he lowers him carefully to the ground. Time’s hand goes to his side, blood on his fingers, and Wind scoots over and hands him a potion.

The rain is steady, but the thunder is mostly past, rumbles coming from in the distance. The others slowly converge on where the rest of them kneel, Wild helping Hyrule walk over. One by one they turn to look at the bloodied teenager in Twilight’s lap, and Warriors looks uneasily at Time, the older hero rubbing his forehead.

He looks exhausted, even having drunk a potion, but his face is oddly emotionless as he looks at the younger version of himself. Warriors can feel him shaking where his arm is still slung over his shoulder, and he holds him a little tighter, just like he has been for the past month after he’d woken up screaming.

It was his death he was seeing after all, Warriors thinks as the rock in his stomach shifts. An alternate version, but...

“Is... is that really Time?” Wind asks him quietly, and Warriors looks at the older hero again.

Time doesn’t say anything, rain dripping off his hair.

“In a way,” Warriors says a bit uncertainly. “Do you remember what Legend was saying about Times nightmares, and the Fallen Hero?”

Wind looks confused, and then he pales, a quiet oh escaping his lips as he looks at the young Time again.

“This is him?” Hyrule says a little shakily, and Warriors swallows, nodding without a word. What can he even say?

Wind suddenly perks up, and looks behind them all, some of the light coming back to his eyes.

“Hey look, it’s Ravio!”

Warriors turns and sees Legend exiting the palace with Ravio’s arm slung over his shoulder, the merchant barely able to walk even with his assistance. Wind runs over to help, and Warriors worriedly takes in Ravio’s battered appearance as they approach, though the merchant gives them all a bleary smile.

“Can always count on Mr. Hero,” he says in a shaking voice. “N-never let me down yet.”

“You certainly don’t make it easy,” Legend mutters, though there’s a fondness in his voice. His eyes seem red as well, but nobody mentions it as they look back at the boy in Twilight’s arms.

Legend takes in the sight of him, an unreadable look in his eyes, and then he looks around at the rest of them, soaking wet, exhausted and injured.

He sighs.

“Come on. Let’s head back to my house.”

(...)

It’s more then two days before he wakes up.

They all head back to Legend’s house, wounded in tow, and once they arrive, everyone is properly fussed over. Potions are handed out, bandages wrapped, wet clothes peeled off and set to dry by the fire Legend gets going.

The younger Time is placed in his bed once they heal and bandage him as much as they can, and they carefully coax the story of what happened from Ravio, the merchant still shaky and pale.

He recounts the exact events of Time’s longer dream, Legend sitting beside him the entire time, and when he finishes, Time stands up and leaves the room.

Warriors doesn’t follow. Time needs time to process everything.

Warriors knows he does.

After they’ve all sufficiently rested from... everything, and while they wait for the younger Time to wake, they help Legend clean up his house. It’s something to do, but it doesn’t dispel the strange mood over them all.

There’s relief, that Ravio and everyone else is okay and that Time finally has an uninterrupted night’s sleep, but worry too, since barely anyone got out of the fight without at least a few scratches, and the implications of the enemy they’d fought, and the boy they saved that still hasn’t woken up.

Warriors watches him that first night, his bangs partially obscuring the marks they’d discovered after cleaning him up. They’re from Majora of course, but Warriors hopes they’ll fade, for the boy’s sake at least.

He deserves to not have a reminder of what happened on his face.

He isn’t the only one in the room after another day of cleaning, on the second night they’re there. Though most of the Links are asleep, either on the floor or in chairs, snores drifting across the room. Not everyone is asleep though, and Warriors tries not to stare at where Time is seated by the bed, not quite within arm’s reach.

Twilight is beside him, much closer to the bed, and they keep watch over the sleeping boy, still as ever.

The younger Time suddenly whimpers in his sleep, and before Warriors can move, Twilight runs a hand along his hair, carefully avoiding the bandages by his cheek. The boy stills, and Twilight leans back again, looking at his ancestor with an aching look in his eyes.

“Time,” he asks quietly, the words loud in the silence of the room. “How old is he?”

Time is silent for a long time, and Warriors almost wonders if he’s not going to answer the question.

“Physically... around sixteen,” he says finally, voice not more than a rasp. “Maybe seventeen. I’ve never known exactly how old I was.”

“...mentally?” Twilight asks.

Time closes his eye, and Warriors sees him swallow

“About nine,” he whispers.

Warriors feels like he’s been kicked in the chest, and Twilight looks the same, both of them turning to stare back at the boy lying on bed.

Nine.

Nine.

The boy lying next to them, that had fought Ganon and been killed, setting off Legend and Hyrule’s entire timeline, and then been brought back to life and possessed by Majora and nearly died again due to the Shadow’s meddling was nine years old.

Mask had been eleven.

“Nine?” Twilight chokes out, and Time looks away, shaking his head.

Neither of them know what to say, but Warriors sees how Time’s shoulders curl in, how his eyebrows lower, that same haunted look coming back into his eye. Warriors stands up, making them both look over, then walks over to Time and pulls him into his arms.

He’s not usually one to initiate hugs of all things, but it’s all he feels like he can do.

“I’m so sorry,” Warriors says in his shoulder, and Time seems like he doesn’t know what to do, arms held rigidly at his sides.

“It’s hardly your fault,” he says in a strained voice, and Warriors holds him tighter.

“I know. But I have a feeling you never got an apology.”

Time stares, and then he crumples in Warriors’ arms.

A shaking breath escapes him, and Twilight leans over to put an arm around him as well, Warriors sitting to better out his arms around him.

They hold him in silence as he begins to cry, then sob, and if any of the others wake up from the noise, they don’t say a word.

(...)

The younger Time finally wakes up the next day, when it’s just Warriors, Wind, and Legend in the room.

They’d brought a pile of maps in to sort out and reorganize, figure out which are still useable. One minute Warriors is wondering exactly how many dungeons Legend has gone through, and the next, Wind jumps, staring over at the bed.

Two blue eyes are staring at the three of them, wide and confused-looking.

“He’s awake!” Wind gasps, but Legend puts a hand on his arm, stopping him from running over.

Warriors calmly gets to his feet and goes to his bedside, the blue eyes following him the entire way. He sits down, and gives the boy a careful smile.

“Good morning, Link. We weren’t sure quite when you were going to wake up,” he says kindly.

Link stares at him still, and Warriors grabs the cup of water they’ve kept at the bedside table for this very moment.

“I’m sure you’re thirsty, would you like some water?” he asks gently, and Link nods, zeroing in on the cup with a hungry look. Legend and Wind finally come over, and they help him sit up, the borrowed tunic slipping over one of his shoulders.

Warriors hands him the cup, and though it takes him a few tries, Link manages to hold the cup and drink by himself, eagerly draining the entire thing.

“We’ll get Wild to make you some food too, I’m sure you’re hungry,” Wind says with a smile, and Link swallows, finishing the water.

“Where... what happened?” he asks, looking down at himself, eyes going wide at the bandages, and Warriors and Legend exchange looks.

“...Maybe you’d better see for yourself,” Legend says, and grabs a hand mirror from a table nearby. Warriors raises an eyebrow, and Legend rolls his eyes. “It’s not magic, it’s a regular mirror.”

That hadn’t been what Warriors was raising his brow at, though the assurance is nice.

Legend hands it over to Link, and he stares, taking in the bandages and pale color of his face, and especially the markings that are still visible on his skin. He raises a hand, and stares at that as well, looking at the bandages wrapped over his wrist.

“Wh... what happened to me?” he asks in a small voice, running a shaky hand along the lines on his face.

Something flashes across his face, and he sets down the mirror, pulling up his tunic with a shaking hand. Link stares at the bandages covering the worst of the injuries across his middle, and places a hand on his stomach.

He suddenly freezes, eyes going even wider, and Warriors immediately recognizes the look of someone remembering.

“I died,” he says in a small voice, and Warriors breathes out, then nods.

“You did,” he agrees quietly. “But you’re not dead anymore, Link. You’re safe.”

“I... I wasn’t,” Link continues, and puts his hand back on the marks on his face with a shaken look. “There was... was something in my head. I remember, I was fighting, I fought really hard but it wouldn’t let me go, and it hurt and I wanted to be dead again but...”

He looks at Warriors, face pale and eyes watering.

“Y-you all saved me.”

“We did,” Wind says confidently, and pats Link’s hand with a smile. “We got rid of Majora. Time split the mask in two while pieces, there’s no coming back from that.”

Link lets out a strange noise, his breathing speeding up, and Warriors takes his hands in his. He holds them steady, feeling the way they’re shaking, and waits until Link looks up and meets his eyes.

“He’s gone, Link. You’re safe, and you’re alive,” Warriors says softly.

Link’s lip trembles, and suddenly his face is pressed against Warriors’ shoulder, quiet cries coming from him. Warriors puts his arms around him, and runs a hand through his hair, suddenly seeing so many similarities to Mask and Time that it makes his heart feel like it’s going to break in two.

“Thank you,” Link chokes out, and Warriors holds him a little tighter as his breath hitches. “Th-thank you, I—”

His words break off into a hiccup, and Wind can’t take it anymore and jumps up to hug him as well. Legend puts a bracing hand on his shoulder, something heavy in his gaze, and Warriors realizes that the others have come into the room, likely brought by the sounds of Link’s cries.

They don’t intrude on the hug, but they stay close, and Warriors meets Time’s eye for a split second before he looks away.

“Shh, you’re okay Sprite,” Warriors says softly, and despite the fact that the boy he’s holding can’t have heard the nickname before, he relaxes slightly at it. “You’re safe.”

He holds him a little tighter, and doesn’t direct his next words solely at the boy in his arms, but rather the one he knows is also trying not to cry only a few feet away.

“It’ll be okay.”