Friends – a TCE FanFanFiction
Link half-grinned as he leaned against the doorpost to Marth's chamber, watching his comrade carefully pin a sapphire-studded clasp to his tunic. The Hylian pushed off the post with a heave and walked awkwardly to the mirror Marth stood before. He frowned at the way his lanky limbs swung; he still wasn't used to the stretching and growing of living through adolescence, rather than sleeping through it.
"I see you've finally decided to abandon your armor on casual occasions, huh?" His cheeks swelled like apples with the merry smirk he couldn't hold back. "Oh, shut up, Link," Marth managed to say through his tight-lipped scowl. "Finding that the armor gets...heavy, after a while?"
"Come on," Marth said, turning to stride past his younger friend, towards the door. "You know it's ceremonial; I finally inherited the set on my birthday, and was required to wear it at all times for at least a week, to honor the gift."
"Right, eighteen; it was a huge celebration, wasn't it? I heard about it all the way in Termina."
Marth nodded, pleased that the news had spread so far.
"Sure, they required you to wear it. But you can't deny it, you enjoyed every second, didn't you?"
The blue-haired prince chose to ignore that particular remark as he fingered the majestic Falchion Blade that lay in its sheathe beside his bed. But Link thought he caught a glimpse of a mirthful smile creeping into the corners of Marth's lips. Marth moved on from the Falchion, and instead picked up a weighty but plain training sword. "Come on," he said, pushing Link out the door with his fingertips.
"I want to get a good few rounds of sparring in before I'm called to council meetings."
Link smirked, laughing internally at how Marth managed to maintain a regal bearing even while pushing his buddies around. That was Marth's way, though; he never forgot that he was Crown Prince. Even when he spent time like this, just funning with some fifteen-year-old nobody with no history or family to speak of. He was a son of – well, who knew?
Link frowned again as he boarded this depressingly familiar train of thought. He had no idea who his mother and father are. Were. He couldn't even claim the Deku Tree as a parent, since he obviously was not the Kokiri he once believed himself to be. His ever-growing limbs were evidence enough of that. No, he had no family name to support him, no history that anyone would believe or understand. Just…himself.
He snapped back to the present when a gauntlet-covered arm crossed his vision.
"What?" he asked quickly, startled. Marth stopped waving in front of Link's face, but persisted in his concerned look.
"Link, are you all right? You just went away for a minute or two."
The blond teen smiled, but all too briefly. "I'm fine," he said. "Let's go."
But the despondency that had settled over Link would not lift. In silence the companions followed the corridor to a stairwell at its end.
"This stairwell didn't always have the door leading right outside at the bottom, you know," Marth said over his shoulder. "I spent so much time training with swords, though, that my father took note of it especially. When I was twelve, he hired on a group of traveling carpenters, led by a man named Mutoh, to add it on. Laziest group I've ever seen, but they got the job done – after about three months." He chuckled, but Link only responded with barely a grunt of laughter. Marth cleared his throat and continued. "It's been incredibly convenient to me to have easy access to the training yard growing up."
He hesitated before opening the door. Marth had been seeing more and more of this silent brooding from Link lately. He suspected that it had something to do with...well...whatever reason Link didn't stay in Hyrule, his home. Marth had no idea why that might be, except that his friend wandered by nature. But surely there was more to the young hero's story than that.
So young...just fifteen, and already a hero in more than one land. Including this one, Marth thought. He felt a swell of gratitude to Link that his sister had miraculously survived her time in Medeus' clutches. This epic feat, and so many others throughout Diem, could not have been done without this strange, lonely teen. Yet Link refused riches, refused honors, titles and awards, and still, refused to call any place home. Almost as if there was another home, one he could not have, but would not let go of.Time will change that, Marth told himself confidently. And perhaps -
Right on cue, the door slammed open, smashing Marth into the stone wall. Princess Elice, eyes bright from the fresh air and wearing a bow slung across her back, inattentively charged through the portal - and right into Link's arms. Link dropped his sword and jumped back, alarmed and embarrassed.
"Oh! I'm – I'm sorry –" Elice's cheeks flushed a brilliant ruby color. "Here, Sir Link –" she knelt to the ground and scrambled for Link's sword as an excuse to hide her face.
But he had joined her on his hands and knees, the great Hero Link, kneeling on the floor beside her.
"Let me," he said gently and grabbed for his blade. Their shoulders brushed, and another rush of warmth surged through Elice. She ducked her head to hide her radiating cheeks.
"Here," he said, extending the princess a hand. She took it, and Link helped her to her feet. "And it's just Link."
Elice murmured an assent, finally raising her eyes shyly to meet his gaze. It seemed to be almost too much for her; with a quick curtsy, she fled up the now abandoned staircase.
Marth let out a "harrumph" of displeasure and straightened his fancy circlet.
"Well," he said, feigning displeasure, though his eyes sparkled. "If you've finished flirting with my sister, I think we can head out to the training court."
Link nearly jumped out of his boots.
"What? Flirting? I was just – just –" Link spluttered, not something he made a habit of. "Just being a gentleman!"
"Sure," Marth replied. He hoped that his uncharacteristic teasing would pull Link out of his melancholy. Unfortunately, as they jogged over the snow-covered field to gather some leather armor, Link slipped even further into that same pensive, saddening silence.
"Well," Marth said after fastening the sturdy breastplate to his chest, "Are you ready?"
Link finally smiled again, this time with some life in his eyes.
"Let's duel!"
As the clang of metal on metal floated across the grounds, a certain red-headed Lycian's ears perked up. Roy continued to lounge in the crook of a splitting tree branch for a few moments, lobbing another well-packed snowball or two at the unsuspecting workers' heads. Finally, he dumped the entire collection from his shirt onto the ground below.
"Ouch!"
"Oops," Roy said as he slung down from the tree's bare branches. "Sorry!"
"You little – " the gardener shoveling beneath the tree began to shake his fists, but Roy had already taken off running. He kept laughing as far as the disgruntled gardener could hear him.
By the time Roy reached the training field, Marth and Link had just finished their first round of sparring. Sweating, the two lugged their tired bodies to a table with water jugs, set beneath the shade of an oak tree. Roy already had his muddy boots up on the table. He beamed at his fellow swordsmen.
"Care for a drink?" he asked innocently.
"As a matter of fact, I would," Marth said overbearingly as he slumped onto a stool. Not-so-surreptitiously, he stretched his arms out, waving his fists obnoxiously in Roy's face.
"What a workout!" he groaned, resisting Roy's attempts to swat his arms away.
"It is a good way to warm up in this cold," Link mused as he dropped onto the opposite side of the table. February and still snowing...it's nothing like this in Hyrule.
Roy rolled his eyes. "You call this cold?" The sixteen-year-old snorted, then reached out to flick Link's pointed ear. "Try Lycia. Neither of you would last a day."
Marth smiled glassily. He'd heard this rant from Roy a hundred times before. Link didn't respond at first, except to twitch and grin a little when Roy flipped his ear.
"Hello!" Roy stretched the "o" exaggeratedly, for humor's sake. "You there?"
The younger boy shook his head vaguely.
"...Thinking of home, I guess."
Marth started at Roy's unusual perceptiveness, but again, Link simply sipped his water.
Home, he thought. I have no home...just like I have no family. All I have, really...is Zelda.
And even she was becoming more a memory than a friend. Because he couldn't truly go back, not really. He couldn't even go to see her without a guard blocking his way, or rotten fruit pelting his head. To them, to all of them, the name "Link" meant simply "scoundrel."
Link sighed softly and placed his clay cup gently on the table. He shivered. The sweat that had drenched his green tunic now froze the fabric, making it stiff, frigid, and uncomfortable.
"Do you miss it?"
Link looked up. "What?"
"Hyrule," Roy said. He clunked his boots onto the ground so he could lean toward the Hylian. "Do you miss it? Do you miss your friends?"
Link traced the rim of his mug, staring at some point beyond the two others' heads. "I don't really have friends there." Not anymore. Saria served as a sage now, and Zelda...well, she was barred to him.
The red-head didn't seem to know how to respond. With his easy mannerisms and fun way, he had probably never been in a place where he couldn't make friends.
Marth stood up. "You have us, Link."
For once, he didn't sound royal or presumptuous. The words hung in the air, simple and sincere.
Link mouthed wordlessly for a few seconds. "I – uh, thanks," he finally managed.
Roy stood there, looking at the two of them. His sixteen-year-old attention span and testosterone couldn't handle the awkward sentimentality any longer.
"Okay, let's go spar now!"
The two others verbally agreed, perhaps a little too quickly to than was natural. But as they picked up their swords once more, Link caught Roy's eye. The awkward smile he received was enough of a confirmation.
Friends, he thought. They're my friends.
The utter sincerity in Marth's face flashed before Link's eyes again.
Just maybe...friends for life.