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fuckit-hero-of-trains · 5 years ago

Text

Alone Together Ch 2

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22311754/chapters/53599858#workskin

Chapter Summary:

“What are they like?” Four asks, staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the images that must be dancing before Sky’s eyes. “The Loftwings, I mean.”

“They are…” a prolonged beat as Sky finds the words he is looking for, “a blessing. At least, that’s what we were told since we were children. It was said that the goddess Hylia created the Loftwings to protect us, to make our lives in the sky easier. Happier.”

Or: A series of fics focused on Four and his interactions, inside and out.

One second, Four is standing beside the others in one of the vibrant forest regions of Sky’s Hyrule. And in the next second, he is not.

The ground falls out from underneath Four’s feet, and yet, he doesn't fall. Gravity is not working properly. He does not fall, and yet he does not stand nor float nor fly either.

Some part of him would be more interested in this if not for the fact that he felt like death this is terrible Holy Hylia we promised we wouldn't throw up again.

He is being pulled and pushed and squeezed and battered, a sword pulled from the flames and beaten into the correct position. But there is no correct position. Not yet. Instead, the force continues to slam and push and prod, throwing him in all directions and yet ultimately gaining nothing from the effort. A net zero.

A dizziness pulses in his skull, making his eyes go half lidded at the pain, but something inside forces his eyes to stay open because we closed them last time we need to see what is happening, No we don’t No we don’t No we don’t .

Curiosity over this, unfortunately, repeated occurrence wins out, and his eyes remain stubbornly open, despite the increased dizziness it brings.

The green of the forest has melted away into a miasma of purple and blacks, fractals of light and other colors blooming and withering faster than Four can make sense of them. He thinks he sees flashes of locations; a beach, an island, lava, ice, stone, castles.

His eyes slam shut.

Different worlds Who cares Where are we When will this stop?

His brain tells him that he is turning circles and flying through summersaults, but his body remains still, the movement and momentum somehow separate from his skin and bones. His stomach is in his feet and in his throat at the same time and his heart has somehow become his entire body, raw and pounding.

He isn't screaming, but somehow there is no more air in his lungs. He can feel himself choking and coughing but there is no sound and he just needs to breathe in–really it's not that hard– but he can't do it .

Just breath! In for four! Haha, real funny. Shut up. Guys!

There is something solid beneath their feet. Ground. They hadn't even realized. Their eyes are still sealed shut as their knees give out beneath them.

“Everyone okay?” Older voice. Male. Time.

Can’t focus on that, focus on us. Shut up! We need to listen Where are we Concentrate

Their body curls up.

Different minds begin to sort through their sensations.

There are too many sensations.

They can feel gravel beneath their body, small rocks poking uncomfortably at their ribs. There is dirt on their face, thick, dusty, and flakey. Wherever they have landed, it smells like grass and moss and wet stones. It is cold here. The air is stagnant, dead.

Sounds echo around them. A cave? Stone on stone. Cloth on cloth. Groans of other voices. And a faint, but incessant whirring.

Focus, focus on what we share

“Everyone sound off.”

They throw hands over their ears. Voices. Voices to the right and left. Older younger higher lower. Inside voices, outside voices. Too many voices for them. Need less voices.

That’s it! What do we all need?

Quite!

We need to be we need to be we need to be…

we are...

“Four? Did you say something?”

Right.

Four forces his body to relax. His spine releases its rigid curve. Tight muscles unlock. The smallest hero lets himself sink into the dirt on the floor for a moment, reveling in the singularity of the experience. Even as more rocks poke into his ribs. And more dirt gets on his face.

Ow. Gross. Okay, enough of that.

“Four?”

“Sorry, sorry,” Four says, closing his eyes and shaking his head for a second, a pantomime of clearing his thoughts. Oh, if only. What a joke.

He looks up to see concern flash in Hyrule’s hazel eyes. The shorter boy offers a lopsided smile to his brunette friend, hoping to dispel any concern as he takes the traveling hero’s proffered hand up.

Once standing, he swipes his hands firmly down first the front and then the back of his tunic. Dust sputters off him in small clouds. “I guess I’m still not used to this whole, ‘falling through time and space’ thing.”

“Oh, you’re preaching to the choir,” Hyrule says with a sympathetic shake of his head. “At least you landed on your feet before falling over this time. I went face first into that moss pile over. I think I swallowed some on accident.” The other boy opens his mouth and bares his teeth at Four. “Do I have anymore stuck in my teeth?”

Four dons a serious expression, his lip quivering with the effort to keep a straight face as Hyrule pokes a tongue over his canines, checking for any offending foliage.

“Oh, no more than usual, I suppose, “ Four says, somehow able to keep his voice calm and conversational despite the laughter threatening to bubble up from his lungs.

“Hey!” Hyrule says, words coming out an octave higher with mock indignation as he gives Four’s shoulder a push. The two go back and forth pushing for a second, laughs bouncing between the two of them.

A warmth, like entering the heat of the forge on a cold winter’s day, spreads from Four’s chest to his face, spurring on his giggles. Oh . A part of him– warm and glowing red like the hearth–that part of him had missed this kind of easy friendship.

They eventually pull themselves together long enough for Four to actually check out their surroundings.

Well, at least they won't have to wonder who’s Hyrule they’re in for very long.

Glowing aquamarine in the center of the room stands one of Wild’s shrines, it’s luminescence painting the entire area in a flickering blue, like the sun shining down through a layer of ocean water.

They seem to be in a very tall room of sorts. In front of him, near the moss pile Hyrule had fallen into, is part of a wall meant to separate their room from others. The topmost part of it has crumbled away from the ceiling, leaving massive stones laying in fallen heaps on the ground and exposing more rooms beyond the one they seem to be occupying.

Four vagley notes that all the others seem to have recovered much faster than him. He wonders how long he had been curled on the floor mumbling to himself. He hopes, for his sake, it wasn't long.

Near the only way in or out of the room– a lone, stone arch way– Time, Wild, Warriors, and Twilight stand, heads bowed low in quite discussion. Wild is shaking his head emphatically as Warriors peaks his head around one side of the archway.

Several beams of red light flash onto the hero’s face and body before Wild and Twilight grab the scarfed hero’s shoulders and forcefully pull him back. The four resume speaking, Wild pulling out his Sheikah Slate and pointing at it as he explains something.

To the left of them, Legend and Wind sit together talking. Or, if Four is going to be more accurate, Legend is going through his bag, filing through its contents while Wind chats away at him, either unaffected or in spite of Legend’s glares and lack of response.

Hyrule seems to follow Four’s eyes and sighs at the sight of his predecessor’s hands becoming more rough a he sorts through his belongings, a sure sign of the pink haired hero’s quickly thinning patience.

“I’ll go over and save him,” Hyrule says, already stepping toward the duo.

“A true hero of courage,” Four calls to the brunet’s retreating back, which is met with a blank look that has Four snorting.

He knows Hyrule will be fine. Legend has a soft spot for the kid, even if he tries desperately to hide it behind heaps of sass and emotionally stunted, backhanded compliments.

Like someone else I know … Drifts through his open mind, cool as the stones around him.

Watch it. Fires back another, a rolling wave cascading onto a beach.

Get a room . Commanding, but with a fondness softening the edges of the words.

His thoughts swirl to a stop. Quite again. For now.

Four belatedly realizes that he had been mouthing along to the words and forces himself to stop. The smithy takes what he hopes is a casual glance around. No one seems to have been paying attention to him.

Good.

He heaves a sigh. It was difficult to break the habit of talking to himself. When he was alone, he would either separate–letting the parts of himself become the individuals they sometimes craved to be– or let the words of the others flow freely from his lips, a running commentary that both comforted and amused him.

Having to keep all of, well, him to himself was a full time job. However, it was one that Four would gladly bear if it granted him the companionship he hadn't even known he was missing.

The short hero turns away from the newly formed group, resuming his examination of what he is beginning to think is a temple– and not one with a stupid amount of needless traps and puzzles and with a giant monster at the end of it– but an actual place of worship.

Four runs a hand down one of the nearest pillars. It is craggly, the gritty nature only broken up by soft, spongy patches of moss.

Though most of Wild’s Hyrule is demolished ruins, there is something about this place that makes the short hero think this temple is older than the other structural remains they had found.

Parts of it seem reinforced with bricks where the stones have fallen away, an attempt to restore what had been lost. Not only moss but vines and roots cling to every surface and burst out from between stone. If he squints real hard at the ceiling, Four can see cracks in the rock where water has leaked through, small stalactites naturally honing themselves into stone daggers above their heads.

It’s the kind of natural reclamation that takes more than a hundred years. Maybe more than a thousand.

Much older, his mind lands on as he idly brushes his fingertips across the carved stone. An ancient temple, crumbling long before the land it sat in ever felt a touch of The Calamity as Wild called it.

Old. Older than the decay around it. A fossil: hard stone, weather beaten and hidden yet undeniably present.

Four can’t help but feel awed.

Looking up a bit higher than he can reach, the smith can see some kind of image carved into the stone of the pillar he is touching. He thinks he can make out large, circular looking eyes and a sharp, downward V shaped mouth. A beak, perhaps?

He turns around, finding the exact hero he was looking for.

“Hey, Sky, can you…” he trails off as the chosen hero does not turn at his words. “Sky,” he tries again. Yet, the man remains static, back to the small hero and deaf to his voice.

The smithy steps over a fallen rock to stand next to the taller hero, peering up at his face. The normally relaxed Link is staring forward and up, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed. Like he’s seen a ghost.

“What are you…” Four begins, following Sky’s eyes.

And then he sees it.

Or rather, her.

“Oh,” he says.

How in the Four Elements did they miss that?

If he didn't know any better –or have Sky standing right next to him for scale– Four might have thought he had accidentally stumbled onto a portal.

But he does have Sky standing next to him and he does know better; there are no portals in Wild’s Hyrule as far as he knows. He’s checked every time they have landed here to no avail.

Regardless, even without being the size of a minish, she is massive.

Standing silent and stalwart in the back of the temple towers the largest statue of the goddess Hylia Four has ever seen. She looms over the back room, the crown of her head almost touching the ceiling. A sort of indentation has been carved out in the wall behind her, a semi-circle of terraced stone creating a halo around her head.

Though clearly touched by time like the rest of the temple, her face remains free of significant erosion; her eyes clearly downturned in thought while her lips pull upward in a gentle smile.

The blue, flickering glow from the shrine catches in the folds of her dress and the ridges of her feathered wings, giving the appearance of movement despite the rigidity of the stone.

Words flood over the banks of his consciousness unbidden.

She’s beautiful Incredible craftsmanship How did they even get her in here The temple was built around it.

The last comment sticks in Four’s mind.

Looking at the statue again, he can’t help but agree. There are no drag marks on her sides that he can observe. Obviously he cannot see her back from here, but moving such a large piece of stone would create a significant change in its shape. If she was dragged here on her back, it would flatten out that part of the statue, but he can see no change in her curvature. She looks perfectly cylindrical.

It’s like she just dropped out of the sky or something

Four turns to Sky intent on asking the older hero what he knows about it, seeing as he seems to have some sort of connection to it based on his reaction, but is interrupted by a sharp whistle from the front of the room.

Sky jolts next to him, coming out of his revere. The two turn to see Wild beckoning them over.

The two heroes stride over, joining the group already gathered near the entrance to the shrine. Four slides into the semicircle next to Hyrule while Sky merely stands behind Wind, able to see over the boy’s head easily.

“Anyone up for a rousing game of ‘Good News, Bad News?’” Legend whispers none to quietly from the other side of Hyrule. The traveling hero shushes him, but Four can see a slight upturn to his lips.

Four could say a lot of things about the veteran hero, but at least the older man helps Hyrule to come out of his shell every once in a while.

Although, Four muses, he may be a bad influence on the traveling hero. They don't need two pessimistic little shits with too much magic on their hands in the group. One is enough.

“So we have good news and bad news,” Warriors says. Four hears Legend snort and watches as Hyrule’s shoulders fight to remain still under his stifled laughs.

See. Bad influence.

“Good news is that we know where we are,” Warriors continues, though he eyes Hyrule then narrows his eyes at Legend as he speaks. Without even having to look, Four is sure that Lgened is shooting the Captain a smug grin. Typical.

“Bad news is that there is almost no way of getting out of here safely,” Warriors finishes.

“So, where are we exactly?” Wind pipes up, head tilted to the left and eyebrows furrowed. “Like, yeah, we’re in Wild’s Hyrule, but what makes here so dangerous?”

Warriors looks back at Wild in question and then waves the long haired hero forward as he steps backward to rejoin the semi-circle of heroes. Wild takes his place, pulling his Sheikah Slate from his belt as he does so. He taps on it for a second before flipping it around for the rest of them to see.

“We are here,” he says, finger tip indicating a small yellow arrow on the screen. The five heroes not already in the know lean in to get a better look. Four can see that their arrow seems to be next to a darker, jagged seam cut into brown of the map. A ravine.

“This place doesn't really have a name,” Wild continues, looking a little sheepish at the lack of concrete information, “but I call it The Forgotten Temple. It is a historical excavation site dug into the side of this canyon. We found 100 years ago while we were searching for the Divine Beasts.”

Clear blue eyes cloud over for a second. Twilight places a hand on the younger hero’s shoulder.

“Anyway,” Wild shakes his head, long hair flying behind him, dispeling whatever images had entered the young hero’s mind. “We are in the back room of the temple. So, the only way out is through the front.”

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say there is a reason we can't just do that,” Legend says, voice flat with wearied humor.

Wild nods grimly, lips pressed into a thin line. “There are about thirty Decayed Guardians in the next few rooms. And all of the rest of the passageways between rooms have been destroyed so the only way to get out is using a paraglider.”

“Do I even want to know how you got back here to activate the shrine in the first place?” Legend asks, one hand rubbing at his left temple.

Wild’s face absolutely lights up. “Well I took this pot lid an–”

Twilight uses his hold on the younger hero’s shoulder to pull him out of the middle of the group. “Not now, Cub,” he says, shaking his head, exasperation coloring his words. Four gets a feeling Twilight knows the story already and hates the idea of reliving it now or –even worse– Wild giving a demonstration of what happened.

“No, no, let him speak!” Wind calls, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes wide as he stares at Wild. “You used a pot lid to do what?”

Time steps forward, silencing the group with a single well placed glare before they have a chance to devolve any further. Part of Four greatly respects the man’s ability to bring together and command a group as rowdy as this one.

But then, another part of him hates being told what to do on principle, so, eh, it evens out.

“We’ve decided that the best course of action is to use Wild’s Sheikah Slate to teleport to Rito Village,” the Old Man says.

The room erupts into groans of disapproval that Four can’t help but agree with. He had once watched Wild use the slate, the ragged teen disappearing into ribbons of dissolving icy-blue light. Just the thought of disassembling one place and reassembling somewhere else makes him feel queasy.

Well, that sounds a little familiar. Maybe if we think about it that way, it's won't be so bad! Blossoms into his brain, warm and hopeful.

You know for damn sure that's not what it's gonna be like. A hiss.

It doesn't hurt to be optimistic. Harsh wind, a reprimand.

“Maybe we should all shut up and listen to what he has to say before arguing about it.” Stone cold and pointed, like an icicle inches from falling.

Wait...

The groans stop. Several heads turn to Four with wide eyes. The ice from his unintentional words drips down, over his ribs and into his stomach.

Oh shit we just said that out loud Dammit It’s not that bad I’m… sorry I didn't mean…

Time recovers the fastest from the very out of character outburst from the smallest hero and inclines his head slightly to Four. “Thank you.”

“As I was saying,” Time continues, and as the other heroes turn their attention back to their leader Four feels himself unwind. Lucky break. “Rito Village is the closest settlement to this location. Once we all regroup there, we can begin to ask around for information on monster attacks in the area.”

“I can carry up to two people with me when I teleport,” Wild says, picking up where Time left off. He quickly turns around for a second, the tapping and chirping of his Slate the only sound for a moment, before he turns back to the rest of the group, a handful of what appears to be wheat stalks in the teen’s hand. He grins as he holds out the grain. “We’ll pull wheat to see who goes when. Longest first, shortest last.”

They go around the circle, starting from Wild’s left and working their way around. Four doesn't really pay attention to the other’s or how long their stalks are– in fact he pointedly ignored Warriors and Legend’s absolutely asinine comparison of lengths, the children that they are– instead only tuning back in long enough to grab his own.

He pinches the top of the stalk, pulling it from WIld’s hand and...

It’s tiny, only an inch of stem beneath the spike containing the grain, a pitiful looking leaf hanging from the cut off end.

Legend, drawn from his squabble with the scarfed hero for the moment, laughs derisively in Four’s direction.

“Aww,” he says, words dripping with false sugar. “It suits you!”

Hyrule elbows the legendary hero in the side, sending Four an apologetic look. Four simply rolls his eyes in response, not dignifying the comment with a response.

Well, at least not externally.

One of these days, I’m gonna punch that smug prick so hard, the pink comes out of his hair!

Those in pot filled homes should not throw stones.

Right?! He’s barely taller than us!

Aw, come on guys, you know he's just joking. It’s his way of showing affection!

My foot is about to show that pantless dick’s shins some affection!

Four lets the dialogue play out in his head, taking care to school his face into a neutral mask even as some of the funnier comments threaten to make him laugh aloud. Soon the rest of the heroes take their turns, cementing the order.

First to leave would be Time and Wind, followed by Warriors and Legend– and wasn’t that great, their stalks were actually the same length– then Hyrule and Twilight, and last would be Four and Sky.

The first three gather together, Wind linking arms with Wild while Time sets a hand on the Champion’s shoulders.

“See you soon!” Wild says, and with a soft chime, the three disappear into flowing blue ribbons of light.

The six remaining Links glance around, unsure what to do with themselves in the interim between trips. The soft whirring from the Decayed Guardians the next room dominates the area for a moment.

A cough.

“So,” Legend says, going through his bag again. He pulls out a small, square paper envelope with a pair of purple bunny ears painted on the side. “Anyone wanna play cards?”

…

Sky immediately and graciously bows out of the card game, citing the need to take a nap for his absence.

As the others begin debating what game to play, Four watches as the chosen hero walks away, the brunette already pulling on the edges of his beloved sailcloth, wrapping himself up even before he sits. The man treads slowly, almost reverently, up the altar, before sitting down and leaning back against the statue, head thrown back against the stone in preparation for sleep.

He seems sad.

However, before he can do anything else, the others settle on BS, a game that appears to transcend the bounds of Time and Space because apparently everyone loves lying to their loved ones, and Four is quickly pulled in.

The game only lasts five rounds– five rounds of Warriors accusing Legend of cheating, Legend not actually cheating because it’s freaking BS, Hyrule’s terrible poker face, Twilight’s incredible poker face, and Four counting cards because he plays to win. Five very entertaining and loud rounds of BS before Wild returns to pick up the next batch of heroes.

And then there were four. Well, three if you didn't count the sleeping Sky.

With their game taken away, Twilight, Hyrule, and Four sit themselves on the edge of the shrine and start to chat. Their conversation roams from their home town– or equivalent home area, cave thing for Hyrule– to their favorite activities to do in their down time to their favorite foods.

Twilight is just wrapping up a fascinating tale of the best soup he ever had while in the company of some yetis when the soft whoosh of Wild’s returning form cuts him off.

“Looks like that’s our queue,” Twilight says, offering a hand up to Hyrule, which the other hero takes.

The two quickly approach Wild, but the teen waves them away for a second, instead striding up to Four with a question in his eyes.

“Hey,” he starts, eyes flicking away from Four’s face for a second before flashing back again. A nervous tick. “Some of the others are getting a bit antsy for dinner. Is it okay if I cook something up really quick and then come grab you two?”

Four raises a hand in a placating motion and offers Wild a small smile.

“That sounds fine to me. I know how some of them can get when hungry. All things considered, this is a pretty interesting to be stuck in. Besides,” and here the shorter hero throws a thumb over one shoulder toward the statue, “I don't really have the heart to wake him up just yet.”

A relieved smile flits onto Wilds face. “Okay, cool.”

“You sure you’re okay with waiting that long by yourself?” Hyrule asks, earnest concern in his words. “I can stay and you can go if you want. I’m used to the quiet.”

Four shakes his head, a wry grin on his face. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m good at keeping myself entertained.”

Hardy hardy har.

Oh come on, that was a good one!

“Well, if you're sure…” Hyrule trails off. Four nods one more time and sends the group off with a wave. Hyrule waves back, until he too dissolves into nothing but streams of light evaporating into the night air.

As the light from the transportation fades, Four takes in a deep breath, holds it and then lets it hiss from between his teeth. He relaxes his mind and tension he didn't know he was holding bleeds from his shoulders.

And then there were five.

“Now what do we do?” his voice asks, a slight grumble to the words.

“I say we get a better look at that statue,” he replies to the open air.

“Seconded.” “Me too!” spills from his lips and Four nods. Good. They’re all in agreement.

He meanders around the shrine, running a hand over the gnarled stone, the smoothness of the glowing glass.

It truly is a marvel, he thinks. Last time they were here, Wild had showed them the almost mystical qualities to the Sheikah weaponry that the Champion used during his travels. Apparently, the way to make such weapons had been all but lost to the Sheikah people during their period of persecution. However, Wild had told Four that one researcher was able to find and repair an ancient Sheika blacksmith automaton capable of recreating the weapons. So far, none of their travels to Wild’s Hyrule had ever spat them out close enough to the research facility for Four to warrant a visit, but he held out hope that they would be able to go at some point.

The small hero comes to a stop in front of the altar, head tipped back to stare up at the statue.

“It really is beautiful,” he breaths. “I wonder how old it is?”

“Ancient. Older than the concept of Hyrule itself.”

Four feels something inside him tense up once more. His head reels as he pulls himself together, dizziness blooming behind his eyes. His sight fills with black and white spots, the back of his skull pounding and heavy.

Despite his clouded vision, the smithy’s gaze flashes toward the voice and finds Sky. He is evidently not asleep, and based on the exhausted look on the older man’s face, he never was.

He is leaned back against the statue, head lolling back as he stares unseeing at the stone that looms over him. His sailcloth is pulled over his shoulders like a shield, with the corners of the fabric held in clenched fists crossed over his chest.

“What?” Four asks, confusion and pain melting together into a disoriented tone.

“It’s from my time” Sky reiterates. “It was from Skyloft.”

Four nods his head slowly, letting the information sink in.

Sky had told their group about his home among the clouds; an idyllic floating society above the world that had been ravaged by the war between the goddess and a demon known as Demise. From Sky’s description, the place seemed wonderful; a location that Four would love to visit if given the chance.

A small, fond smile pulled at Sky’s lips.

“It used to be sort of the centerpiece of the city. Everything happened there.”

“It must have been magnificent,” Four assures the older man, unsure what else to say.

Silence stretches out between them, thick and awkward.

Four is at a bit of a loss. The shorter hero had never seen Sky look like this. The man was usually bright and sunny, offering kind words or constructive ideas to any interaction he was a part of. He had an easy smile and was even easier to talk to, regardless of what the topic of conversation was.

Sure, the brunette often had his head in the clouds – you’re still not funny– but never had Four seen him so out of it.

The chosen hero looks… lost. His face seems to be unable to settle on an expression, turning from nostalgic, to worried, to down right sad and then right back again. If Four wasn't the way he was, he would probably be impressed with how many emotions Sky was jumping through so quickly.

“Had you ever heard of Loftwings before I told you about them?” Sky asks, eyes suddenly locked onto Four. There is something in the look, something intense. Something desperate.

Four shakes his head.

Sky sighs and leans his head back against the statue once more. His eyes trace the stone above him in small circles and figure eights, tracking something that Four can’t see.

This isn’t going well. Forms in Four’s mind, concern dripping from the thought.

Really? What gave it away? Snappish, but with an undercurrent of emotion.

What a helpful addition. Truly, where would we be without your input? Sarcastic but frustrated. No answers.

You guys are terrible at this. Fond.

Four gently lowers himself next to the sitting hero, setting his back against the statue and stretching his legs out in front of him. He brushes his shoulder against Sky’s own and when the other doesn't pull away, leans fully into his side.

It isn't exactly comfortable–the stone is harsh against his spine– but at least it’s warm.

“What are they like?” Four asks, staring up at the ceiling, trying to imagine the images that must be dancing before Sky’s eyes. “The Loftwings, I mean.”

Four nods his head against Sky’s shoulder so the older hero knows he is listening.

“Everyone had one. Every few years on a special day called Meeting Day, the kids who had come of age would gather under the statue– this statue– to greet their partner. Their other half.”

A chuckle pushes its way past Sky’s lips.

“I was late for my Meeting Day. I overslept on accident.”

“You oversleeping? I never would have guessed,” Four snickers, nudging Sky lightly, eliciting another laugh from the older hero.

“Not much has changed I guess,” Sky admits. “Zelda though, Zelda was so mad at me. Told me I wasn't taking my life seriously enough. It was brutal.”

“I think she was mad because it was her Meeting Day too,” he continues. “She wanted everything to go perfectly.”

“But it was a complete mess,” he says, nostalgia apparent in his words. “There were actually three of us having our Meeting Day that year. Me, Zelda, and another guy. He didn't even wait for the ceremony to finish before he was whistling for his bird. Dumb thing nearly knocked Headmaster Gaepora off the statue.”

Four watches as Sky shakes his head in fondness at the memory and wonders if the other boy and Sky eventually became friends, even with their rocky start. He imagines they did. Who could hate someone like Sky, afterall?

The older hero sobers a bit then, smile falling from his face.

“And then it was our turn to go. We whistled at the exact same time. Zelda wanted us to take our first flight together. We had been talking about it for years.”

He sighs. “Her Loftwing landed before we were even finished whistling.”

“And yours?” Four asks before he can stop himself, a pit in his stomach already telling him where this story was going.

Sky smiles ruefully, glancing down at Four’s face before returning his gaze to the ceiling.

“I whistled over and over again, but nothing happened. Eventually, they went through with the rest of the ceremony without me.” A breath in. A breath out. “I had to watch Zelda fly for the first time with my feet stuck firmly on the ground.”

The older hero sighs. “I don't blame them. No one knew what to do with me. No one had ever failed to call a Loftwing before.”

Four stares at Sky’s face, watching as his expression grows more grim, his frown and the furrow between his eyebrows growing more pronounced.

“I kept trying for hours. By Noon, most people had left. Better things to do, I guess,” he laughs without humor. “By sunset, Zelda was forced to go home by her father. But I stayed there. I stayed beneath the statue, whistling and whistling and whistling all night.”

“I must have fallen asleep at some point because when I woke up,” Sky says, finally regaining some light, “there he was. I thought it was the sunrise playing a trick on me, but he was actually there. A real Crimson Loftwing.”

A smile, warm as the sun. “He was mine and I was his.”

And then suddenly, the sun is gone. This is it, Four thinks as whirlwind of dark, heavy emotion blots out the sky that is the older heroes eyes. The storm that had been brewing since the other hero had laid eyes on the stone edifice.

“But they’re all gone now.” Sky says, voice empty. He gently pushes Four away from his side and then turns to more fully look at the smaller hero. The smith is suddenly hit with how cold it is here without Sky’s warmth.

The brunette stares intently at Four, cornflower blue eyes locked onto whatever muddled, chaotic shade has overtaken his own. Four is trapped under the other’s intent gaze, a leaf in a tornado, unable to escape.

Clouds of pain and uncertainty darken the normally bright blue of the chosen hero’s eyes. Something lurks behind those clouds, Four thinks, like the presence of lightning unknown until the moment it strikes the ground.

Then, thunderous understanding rings through Four’s bones, rattling through his body, shaking him down to the fault lines of his mind.

Swarming in Sky’s eyes is a need to be seen. A need to be heard. A need to be recognised.

“They’re gone and no one’s ever heard of them. Or the Mogmas or Levias or Ghirahim or Skyloft or Demise,” he continues, words picking up speed as he does. There is something frantic about the list. A desire to have it all down, catalogued and out in the open air for all to hear. An auditory library of things lost to time.

“My whole life: everything I was, am, or will be is dust by the time you come along.”

The chosen hero suddenly deflates, leaving behind a lost looking Sky. He falls back against the statue.

Above them, the goddess does not move. Her eyes remain gentle, and her smile stays set in unmoving stone.

“Is it selfish of me to be afraid of being forgotten? Like I was never there to begin with?” Sky asks. “Is it selfish to wonder if this is it? If this all I leave behind?” he question, voice going softer and softer.

“Just a sword, a statue, and a curse?”

“No.”

Sky sits up at the tone of Four’s voice. Four pushes himself to his feet, fists clenched at his sides and for the first time in a long time, he feels tall as he stares down at Sky’s bewildered face

“No, I don't think it's selfish,” Four says, and he means it. By Hylia he means it, his chest brimming with some thing hot and cold and too much and too little.

Some part of him wants to punch Sky for thinking this way. Another part wants to hug him. All of him wants Sky to understand, to know that he is not alone.

“What could be scarier,” Four whispers, “than the idea of not existing?”

(he sees four boys: in forest green, ocean blue, flame red, and dusk purple. each one holds a sword above a single pedestal, ready to plunge the blade back in. back where it belongs. but something holds them back, each one barley gripping the pommel as their hands shake.

is this it? everything I did? it was all for this? where will I go? where will they go? where where where where?

am I going to die?

but they need to do it. Vaati had already taken so much from them. they couldn't leave him free. he needs to be sealed.

this is the only way.

together, they drive their blades into the ground and disappear in a flash of light.

a single boy emerges, tunic green but eyes a rainbow of color.

they hold themselves.

no, he holds himself.

no, they hold themselves. four times the amount of tears drip down one face and they smile and scream and laugh and sob)

“It’s not selfish to want to know that you exist somewhere, anywhere, when you're gone,” Four insists, conviction and strength in his words. The pulsing glow of the shrine illuminates his eyes in flashes of multicolored, unnatural fire.

“So no,” Four continues, “I don't think it's selfish. But I also think it's not something you have to worry about.”

The smallest hero reaches a hand down to Sky. The other glances back and forth between Four’s face and the offered hand before tentatively taking it. The smith, strong despite his size, pulls and the Chosen hero follows, stumbling to his feet.

“Look around!” Four says, letting go of Sky’s hand to splay his arms wide. The smith steps away from the alter, spinning on a heel as he does, wide arms indicating everything around them.

“Here we are, goddesses know when, in a kingdom you helped to create. A kingdom that survives through demon kings, and wind mages, and floods, and calamities. It survives.”

Four throws a gestures over Sky’s shoulder, indicating the green and purple pommel peeking out from behind his back. “You left a sword that has protected so many of us. A beautiful sword that cuts through darkness like a torch in the night.”

The smallest hero places a hand on his chest, feeling the familiar stitching marking the border between his blue and green tunic beneath his calloused palm.

“And most of all, you left us the spirit that unites us together. Without it, I never would have met any of you. I never would have found so many new friends.” Four leaves the ‘New brothers’ unsaid.

“Nothing is ever forgotten,” Four says as he points at the pillar he was examining earlier.

Circular eyes. V-shaped beak. Splayed feathers. Not just a bird, but a Loftwing, flying eternal in stone.

“Maybe just lost for a bit, but not forgotten. Never.”

Four turns back to the other hero. He can see a smile on Sky’s face, the silver lining finally emerging despite the rain that threatens to fall from the older’s eyes.

“And if it means anything,” Four continues as he comes to next to Sky once more, placing a hand on his elbow, “I know of at least eight people who won’t be forgetting you anytime soon.”

Sky nods, taking a second to rub his face– physically wiping away emotions that had been plaguing his mind– before turning his smile back to the smithy.

With one hand he takes the edge of his sail cloth and drapes it across Four’s opposite shoulder and then guides the two of them to be sitting back against the statue once more, now bundled together rather than apart.

Four is grateful for the warmth. He hadn't even noticed until that second that his breath was clouding around his face or that the trembling of his hands might have been from cold rather than sheer emotional force.

“You always seem to know just what to say,” Sky says as he pulls Four more effectively into his side. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re great at giving advice?”

Two ‘Yes’s and two ‘No’s collide in his skull.

Four merly smiles.

“I like to think I bring new perspectives to conversations,” he says

Hylia, it would be quicker if you just killed me.

You’re no fun.

“Because no one else has your vantage point on the problem?” Sky asks, cheekily.

Aaaand we’re back to short jokes.

Oh, it’s on, Bird Boy!

Wait, speaking of birds...

“I will let the joke slide just this once if you answer a question I meant to ask earlier. You mentioned specifically that your Loftwing was a Crimson Loftwing. Is that significant in some way?” Four asks.

Without looking up, Four can feel Sky nod from the way his shoulder gently shifts. “That’s because no one had seen a Crimson Loftwing for many, many years. They were assumed to have gone extinct.”

“So the fact that yous was Crimson would have been very important,” Four cataloges. And then, “What’s his name?”

Its goes silent for a moment.

“Well, uhhhh,” Sky says, floundering for a moment.

His voice drops into a defeated tone. “You have to understand, I was pretty young at the time. Children have their Meeting Day when they turn 8 and–”

“Sky,” Four cuts off the brunette’s rambling, a grin slowly growing on his face. “What did you name your Loftwing?”

The brunette pulls his half of the sailcloth closer, muffling his already mumbled words.

“Hmm? What was that?” Four asks, voice going high at the end of the question, ready to tease thevfirst holder of the Spirit of the Hero into oblivion.

“I named him Apple,” Sky says, the voice of man repentant of his crimes.

It’s like an explosion goes off in Four’s head; all four different parts of him howling with laughter.

“You–” Four cuts himself off to take a breath in, steadying his voice, “You named the last known member of an endangered species Apple?!”

“I was eight!” Sky hisses.

Four absolutely cackles.

“Oh come on,” Sky groans, “Like you never gave something a stupid name when you were younger?”

And that shuts up Four. Kind of.

He does have us there.

Oh fuck off, Violet.

I didn’t come up with names, Red did!

Four lets his mind turns into a battlefield but ignores it, instead relaying another question about the intricacies of riding Loftwings to Sky, who readily answers.

Pressed up against the other’s side, Four can feel the older hero's voice reverberate around him. He can feel the steady rise and fall of Sky’s chest and the heat radiating off him beneath the makeshift blanket.

Back in his time, Sky is long gone, lost to the ages. But here and now they sit together and wait, the ever shifting blue pulse of the shrine in front of them and the immovable stone of the goddess behind them.

…

The soft hiss and crackle of Sheika teleportation erupts in the silence of the room, the blue flecks coalescing into one frantic looking blonde teenager.

“Four, Sky! I’m so sorry, there was this whole thing with Wind and a weird pear that one of the Rito children ate and–”

“Shush!”

“What? Is something wro– Oh.”

Sky watches as the younger hero turns the corner of the shrine, catching sight of the pair of them.

They must make quite the sight if Wild’s hand twitching toward his Sheikah Slate is any indication.

Curled against his side, Four breaths deeply and evenly, mumbling every so often in his sleep. The smithy had grown quite a little while ago as his questions slowly petering off into silence.

“Sorry,” Wild whispered as he joins them on the altar. Sky isn't sure whether he is apologizing about his tardiness or almost waking up Four.

“It’s fine,” he assures, turning his head down to look at the small hero while trying to move his body as little as possible.

“Sometimes I forget how young he is. He always seems so,” and here Wild cuts off his whisper to smooth his face out into a flat, unimpressed look.

Sky nods forcing down his chuckles at the look.

“Don’t let him hear you say that.”

They sit in the quiet of the temple for a moment just looking at the small teen.

“We should wake him,” Wild decides. “He’ll want dinner when we get to the village.”

But Sky shakes his head. “We’ll wake him up when we get there. I don't have the heart to do it just yet.”

Slowly, Sky bundles Four more fully in the white cloth and then shifts the teen onto his back and stands. He gives Wild a thumbs up which the long haired teen returns with a shrug and a look that says ‘Your funeral, not mine’ before turning to step off the alter.

And as Wild turns around, Sky catches a glimpse of the shield strapped to the teen’s back. On the blue background, a crimson bird soars, cradling the triforce between outstretched wings.

A smile quirks at the corner of his lips.

Never forgotten, huh?

Well, wouldn't you know.

#alone together #lu alone together #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu sky #linked universe #chapter two baby #here it is #its a long boy #I only tagged characters with significant speaking parts but all the boys are in this one #oh wait #lu wild #there we go #he has enough lines to get a tag too #train writes

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