So sorry for the long wait, guys! There's been so much going on... I won't go into detail for fear of burdening you amazing readers, but my mental stability isn't the best at the moment due to family matters, nor is my physical stability. I have been missing a lot of school due to terrible migraines in which there is ringing in my ears, it becomes near impossible to focus, and my head feels like it will explode. The medicine I take knocks me on my butt for several hours and makes me incredibly loopy. So... Yay for that. I'm sorry if bits of this chapter don't make sense, I tried to write it while loopy before I go back to school tomorrow and get swarmed by homework and angry teachers...
Without further adieu, enjoy, my lovely readers! I love each and every one of you and am so glad to have your support.
-WingedIceWolf
DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN THE LEGEND OF ZELDA OR ANY OF ITS CHARACTERS!
DISCLAIMER 2: THIS IS NOT A LINK X LINK FANFICTION!
WARNING: ANGST COMING UP AHEAD!
Colin's eyes widened, shaking his head gently in disbelief. It was the exact same signing the Hero of Twilight had used when signing his own name, there was no mistaking it. He had seen it many times over throughout his childhood, engraved in his memory from the moment the Hero had taught Colin sign language.
The first gesticulation in the sequence was the letter L, easily done by creating an L with the index finger and thumb, all other fingers closed. The next letter, I, done by extending the pinky upright, all other fingers pressed against the palm, thumb crossed over them. N, equivalent to the gesture a mother would make when teasingly "taking" her child's "nose"; the thumb coming between the fingers in a closed fist. Lastly, K, index finger and middle finger upright, thumb upright below the two fingers.
"Link" was a title shared throughout millennia, the first to carry it being Hylia's Chosen Hero. It was a signature name that held the promise of impending doom for those who bore the title, but also declared the beginning of an era soon to be overruled by fear, as prophecy foretold again and again. It seemed like such an innocent name, but concurrently, many innocent had perished under that name, given their lives to defend that name, prayed for one with that name to save them.
Besides the common appearances and their fates written in stone, all those with the reincarnated spirit of Hylia's Chosen were dubbed, "Link", destined to time and time again purge Hyrule of the festering hatred of Demise, manifested as Ganondorf. Anyone with this title passed from Hero to Hero could merely dream of a peaceful life…
It was widely believed those with the spirit of Hylia's Chosen had an unbreakable spirit, as Hylia herself had declared. But Colin had seen someone he believed incapable of being broken shattered. As if he were glass. The light faded in those sapphire blue, violet tinted eyes of Link's. It was said the eyes were the window to the soul, and when those eyes scarcely met with Colin's own, he could clearly see there was nothing but attenuated threads binding the once confident, headstrong, and loving Hero together.
Seeing the hopelessness in the eyes of someone he held in such high regard, someone he idolized and loved as his own kin, made Colin himself feel empty. There was nothing he could do to repair the broken soul, despite his encouragement and undying love for the one he viewed as his elder brother, but occasionally sparking the faintest of a smile upon the crestfallen face of the Hero. Just as quickly as it had came, it left without a trace, and that small glimmer of hope the Hero would become his old self faded.
Time was the key to healing all wounds, was it not? However, as time progressed, the wounds left by Link's adventure only began to widen, drowned in his own agony that pierced his very core. He refused to eat, isolated himself, would burst into fits of rage. For what felt like eternity, the loving, sweet, patient young man they all had known him to be was gone.
If Colin learned one thing, it was that regret was like a poison. Slowly, it took over the mind of its victim, destroyed their will, ate away at the strength of their hearts until nothing remained but an empty shell ridden with grief, rage, self loathing. Even the strongest men had fallen victim to regret, gradually withering away. Some slipped into insanity…
What scared Colin more than anything, according to what Link had explained to him during the course of his adventure, was the knowledge that exactly that had become the fate of the Hero of Time… One instant, he was breathing, laughing, fighting valiantly in the war against the Gerudo. In an instant, the mere blink of an eye, he had been felled. And with the passing of three long, agonizing days, he finally succumbed to his injuries, dying with regrets that would plague him from beyond the veil.
Thus, he was unable to rest peacefully until he sought out forgiveness in himself. Colin was told Link had gathered all this from a book found within Hyrule Castle, so by all means, it could be a fairy-tale meant to teach a lesson to its readers. After all, who would be able to tell if the Hero of Time's spirit had passed on or not? Maybe it was a fable. But Colin felt it was much more than that…
Link spoke so sadly about the situation, as if he himself had been there and conversed with the spirit of the Hero of Time. It was as if the very words he spoke were relayed from the fallen Hero himself. Not many knew much else of what truly happened to the Hero of Time, when Colin had asked. Rusl claimed he died in battle and that was that. Telma claimed she had heard he was wounded by one of his commanders who was jealous over his bond with Princess Zelda, though he had eyes for another woman. Renado's opinion differed from the both of them; he was certain the Hero's spirit still lingered in this world.
With all the variations of the truth, Colin didn't know what side to take. But he did have faith in what Link had told him, for the most part. He believed Link himself had somehow met with the Hero of Time, that reading it from a book was a lie. Whenever he had confronted Link, the Hero of Twilight denied it all, despite Colin's nagging.
If it was, in fact, true that the Hero of Time was unable to pass on, Colin feared more than anything that Link would tumble down that path as well, unable to rest due to his lingering regrets. After all he had done for Hyrule, all he had lost, he deserved a long, undisturbed rest.
Forgiving others is difficult, especially if they have hurt you time and time again with little remorse, but forgiving yourself is a trial in itself, like a labyrinth full of traps. Just when you believed you had finally let your mistakes lie in the past, reached the end, something would spring up and rekindle the regret within, tearing open old wounds and dragging you deeper into oblivion. Just as a snake hid in the grass to strike its unsuspecting prey, regret waited to make its move.
Perhaps, regret was not a poison, but rather, a serpent. An ice cold serpent who wrapped itself around you, tighter and tighter until you were rendered immobile, only able to breathe through small gasps, each attempt resulting in any air left in your lungs being choked out. Then, just when you believed matters could not become any worse, it sank its fangs into you and pumped your veins with its lethal venom.
The young man before him was, without a doubt, Chosen. Everything from his wild-blue eyes full of sorrow, to the scars he carried, including the faded burn that crept up his neck, crawling to his ear and stopping at his cheek, proved that. Colin's father had always told him to believe in the crazy, because it could, in fact, be true. That meant, however many years in the future this Chosen Hero existed, Hyrule had fallen to Demise's curse yet again.
"Colin, I said that's enough," the Hero of Twilight warned, giving the younger of the two an icy glare before going back to preparations. Perhaps he hadn't seen Wild sign his true name?
"But..." Colin began, curling up slightly. "He says his name is Link too…"
The Hero of Twilight's ears twitched twice, eyes meeting those of the Hero of The Wild's. "Your name is truly Link?"
The young man nodded slowly. The Ordonian sighed gently, carefully setting his things down, dusting his hands off on a rag and running one hand through his dirty blonde hair out of habit. He had had his suspicions about his guest, there was a lot that didn't quite add up, but this helped confirm those suspicions, what the Light Spirits refused to answer, though he wasn't very shocked by the matter. Wild was a Chosen Hero.
The Hero of Twilight's wolfish instincts could feel the tensity prickling in the air, radiating off the young man. His shoulders were rigid, small, curved knife clutched in the palm of his hand, prepared to use it as a weapon if need be. However, the Ordonian could sense a hesitation to pounce upon the two.
I don't want to hurt them… Wild thought to himself, rubbing his thumb against the wooden hilt of the knife. He had to be careful when he traveled along the road, often wearing a cloak to hide his long pointed ears and amber blonde hair. Many knew of his appearance, thanks to the whispers spread from village to village, inn to inn. It was not just the Yiga Clan who would pay a mighty price for even a drop of his blood.
However, there were seldom any in his current era with a name such as "Link" since his reawakening. Perhaps there had been a century ago, but now, none existed with the exception of him. Rumor had it that after the Appointed Knight had fallen to Calamity, the name "Link" was considered a curse. An ill omen, that even mentioning the name would bring destruction. And truly, it wasn't very far from the truth.
The Hero of The Wild was a running, breathing target. While many did not believe his claim to be the same Hero who fell so long ago, there were also many who believed in him. Many who wanted his head mounted on their wall. He had been ambushed before, even kidnapped, but being rather witty and feisty, he could usually untangle himself from the situation.
Perhaps this era was different. Perhaps he could be safe. The Hero of Twilight was his ancestor after all. What reason would he have to betray his descendant, after everything he'd done to keep him alive and well? If he had wanted him dead, he would have left him to die. He had no need for riches, for fame, for power. He was once a humble farm boy who desired more than anything to return to his normal life.
So far, his hosts had shown no hostility. But for the Hero of Twilight, he feared this very moment could change it all. One wrong move, one wrong step, one wrong gesture, it all could mean a knife in the throat. From what the Hero of Twilight had gathered, his guest was quick and could strike them down in an instant with the flick of his hand. All within the blink of an eye.
Stay calm… If you don't draw attention to him being Chosen, then he won't attack. Just because his name is Link, that doesn't mean he's Chosen. It could be a coincidence… Yeah. A coincidence.
"As you know, my name is Link as well. Coincidence, huh?" The Hero of Twilight began with a gentle smile, hoping to ease the tension in the young man. He took a step forward slowly, placing himself between Colin and Wild just in case push turned into shove. "It's a name that has been carried throughout the centuries. A name carried by those of Chosen blood. It's an honorable name, Link. A name I'm sure you live up to."
The young man's shoulders relaxed, his grip upon the knife loosened, letting out a shaky breath. For a mere few seconds, his eyes slid closed, feeling his heart drumming against his rib cage finally come to a slow, steady rhythm. Did they really believe his name was just mere coincidence? He was sure there were many named "Link" in honor of the Chosen Heroes. Maybe, just maybe, he could save the explanations for later.
He knew he would have to tell them the truth eventually. Just not now…
The Hero of Twilight placed a hand to his shoulder. "Remember, you can always explain where you came from and what happened when you are comfortable. None of us will press you. Just relax and enjoy yourself while you're here. We'll find a way to get you back to where you belong."
Wild's wild-blue eyes met with his, giving a gentle nod and a smile. Strangely, just hearing those words reassured him. He strongly felt he would not need to resort to violence, nor to defend himself. He was safe here… This was the closest thing he had to a home.
Thank you.
"Since you're both 'Link', how am I supposed to address you?" Colin piped in. The Hero of Twilight span around to face him, pausing. Indeed, they both were named Link, and that could definitely cause confusion.
"You have a point…" The Ordonian agreed, rubbing the back of his neck. What nickname could he give himself that didn't sound ridiculous? Immediately, his mind hopped to Midna, who had titled him with many names. "Wolfy", "Hero", "Farm boy", "Knight in shining armor", just to name a few. But there was one he would always be referred to by. "Idiot".
A small smile spread across his face, recalling the many times Midna had screamed at him and slapped him upside the head for something as simple as a small scrape to his cheek. In the beginning, she didn't seem to have a care in the world for when he was injured. It was only when the two of them came closer and closer to unraveling Zant's web of lies that she began to care.
"Well, you're the Hero of Twilight, Link! Why can't we just call you Twilight?" Colin asked, breaking the Hero of Twilight's train of thought.
"Hmm? Oh! Well, the name 'Twilight' is too much of a mouthful," he argued, straightening himself and gesturing to his guest. "But I think Wild should have a say in whether or not he wants to keep his nickname. It's his name after all."
Wild will do. It has a nice ring to it. Wild signed, signing his nickname in one fluid, flawless movement, waving the knife around as he gestured.
"I think it'd be a good idea to lower the knife, Wild," the Ordonian stated gently, taking the knife and setting it down on the table. It felt much more natural for him to refer to his guest as "Wild" than "Link". But perhaps that was because he had already become so accustomed to referring to him as "Wild".
"When someone says Link, you'll both turn your heads though, and we won't know which Link is really being addressed," Colin muttered. As if on cue, both did indeed turn their heads, like dogs waiting for their master's command. The Ordonian boy threw up his hands. "See! Just as I said."
"Alright, alright," the Hero of Twilight laughed. "Just refer to me as 'Twi' then."
Colin squinted, biting his lip and thinking it over before nodding, pointing to the Hero of Twilight, "So Twi for you-" then pointing at the Hero of The Wild. "And Wild for you?" Both nodded as Colin tested the nickname beneath his breath over and over.
"Alright, come on, we need to finish this pie before it gets too late," Twi declared, clapping twice. "Chop chop!"
In an instant, after all three had cleansed their hands, Wild, Colin, and Twi refocused on the task at hand. Wild finished peeling the apples with little to no effort, Colin finishing the dough. With both the dough and the apples finished, Twi began on the filling, taking a pot and setting it down, reaching up to take up more ingredients. However, Wild stepped forward, taking what he presumed to be the brown sugar off the shelf, then taking the butter, the apples, cinnamon, and salt, all gathering them together.
He then went rummaging through the ingredients, pushing bottles aside, moving them back in place, and opening some to sniff them.
"Um… What are you looking for?" Twi asked, rather confused. "Am I to assume you've made apple pie before?"
Wild nodded twice, biting his lower lip and raising a small bottle up to Twi's face with a brown label, titled, "Nutmeg". He flipped his palms downward, then turned them upward, pointing at the small bottle. What is this?
"That's nutmeg," Twi replied opening the cork and letting Wild take a whiff of it before recapping it. "A very potent spice, so don't use a lot of it."
The Hero of The Wild smirked gently. He was quite the culinary master, seeing as he had dwelt in the wilderness for quite a while, and was ready to impress his ancestor with his craftsmanship. He could make practically anything and everything from scratch. Of course, he had picked up many things along his adventure, but out of everything in his adventure thus far, besides the sights he could enjoy and the thrill of the fight, he enjoyed cooking the most.
Then again, he just loved food in general. He was a true glutton for food, and he certainly wasn't ashamed!
"Well then, chef, take the lead. Teach this amateur cook how to properly make apple pie filling. So, my lord, what else do you need?" Twi questioned with a dramatic bow. Colin giggled and Wild gently smacked his ancestor atop the head. The Hero of Twilight grimaced, rubbing his head and pouting playfully.
Ground cloves. Wild signed. Twi retrieved him the bottle from his shelf of many spices and set it upon the table, waiting for his next command. Vanilla extract? Again, it was retrieved easily, this time being in a clear phial. Twi loved to cook, and would often cook meals for Midna to enjoy in his free time, but since she left, he lost the motivation to really do so.
"I'm guessing you require lemon juice next, am I right?" Twi questioned; he had made apple pie a handful of times in the past using a recipe he knew by heart. A recipe that had been passed down from generation to generation. Wild gave his ancestor a playful glare, as if to say, "I'm supposed to be the teacher here." but he nodded, his fluffy bangs bouncing. "Well, lucky you, I just happen to have lemon."
"That's good!" Colin chimed in. "They're not grown very much around here, seeing as we're more an apple, pumpkin, pear, apricot, blueberries, and peaches sort of village. They're grown farther down the grove. We have separate orchards for separate fruits, but the apple orchard is the largest. We usually get lemons when we go to Castle Town. They are picked around this Fall. After all, Fall is the Harvest season!"
"That's very right, Colin," Twi agreed. "Fall is the best time of the year, in my opinion. All the pumpkin sweets and delicacies to enjoy… You're going to love it here, Wild!"
We'll see about that… Wild thought a little sadly to himself. He feared he may become too close to his ancestor, become inseparable. He knew this was not the era he belonged in, and he knew very well that eventually, he must return to his era and answer his calling as Hero.
Hyrule needed him.
Zelda needed him.
With every passing moment, Zelda was trapped in the endless storm, battling Calamity, patiently waiting for her Hero to arrive. Never once had she lost hope. Now that he was no longer within the Era overcome by the wild, their connection seemingly severed, would she fall victim to Calamity's Malice, believing he had truly fallen?
The Hero of The Wild was so accustomed to hearing Zelda's soothing, gentle, voice drifting through his restless mind. Even in his darkest moments, when he had thrown everything aside, he could almost feel her warmth in the back of his mind each time she spoke. They were connected, undoubtedly, but now that he wandered aimlessly within this era, her presence was lost to him.
Would Hyrule perish without him as its Hero?
He was merely an army of one. An anxious, reckless, traumatized boy who, a century ago, was forced to follow in the footsteps of his father, leading him to become Zelda's appointed knight. While he may have been born with Chosen blood, there was still a chance he could have lived a normal life, right?
Now, he was free of the duties he carried back then. Free to breathe, free to go where he pleased when he pleased, free to take time to consider himself. His past self was forgotten, but he found it incredibly difficult to fathom that so long ago, the son to a captain of the royal guard who was rumored to have trained with a blade since age three, that same soldier who guarded Zelda and mirrored her every breath, was once him.
Impa herself had claimed there to be a significant difference between the Appointed Knight a century ago and the reawakened Hero that stood before her a century after Calamity had struck. She would often compliment him on how he was much more playful, much more talkative and gentle than his old self. If he remembered much of anything concerning his past self, maybe he would agree...
He felt he belonged in the wilderness, not caged in within city walls, keeping his head up and speaking only when spoken to. Truth be told, he loved to speak, but only when he was comfortable and knew he could trust those around him. When he was out in the wild, he had not worry about who and who not to speak to, with the exception of the Yiga Clan.
He felt so at ease in the wild. So… at home. It was almost as if he could he let his worries slip away, close his eyes and rest his head on a soft patch of clovers and grass while bees buzzed and birds chirped. However, not all was as it seemed. There was an even heavier burden resting upon his shoulders than simply following a princess around all hours of the day.
The fate of Hyrule itself was a puppet in his hands, pulled by the strings of his actions and decisions. One wrong move and Hyrule would crumble into nonredeemable chaos. All because of him.
He'd already let them down, been taken captive by the Yiga Clan and tortured for days. There was very little the Hero could remember from those days, with the exception of the torture. His mind was unclear and his memories turned up nearly blank. But he needed to remember. Maybe there was something he was missing, something that could give him the answers he needed.
There was one thing he wanted to know more than anything: how did he get here?
He closed his eyes and reluctantly revisited those days, praying to the Gods that his memory would come back to him. With his fever having calmed, his strength mostly returned, it would be much easier to focus...
He could recognize a figure within his broken recollections, shrouded in darkness with a crimson cloak hiding his features, hear his feet drag against the stone floors as he approached to torment his victim. He would sometimes scrape his nails across the stone walls before entering the cell, as if declaring his presence.
The name of his tormentor was often whispered among the Yiga as they gave a slight bow in greeting to the strange figure. Unfortunately, among their mocking, harassment, and their cruel ways of torture, he could not recall the name of that vile being no matter how hard he racked his memory within that danged cell. The room would spin, his vision would darken and his ears would ring, never ceasing.
But, one thing he could never erase from his memory was the sickening laugh from that creature. A laugh that echoed in his ears and sent a shiver crawling down his spine each and every time he had the unfortunate opportunity to endure it. A deep, menacing laugh that taunted him as a sharp, biting pain blossomed in his arm, severing nerves and slicing through muscle.
He tried his absolute best to refrain from crying out, from screaming… Even if it meant a loud, pained whimper became tangled in the back of his throat, begging to be freed. Regrettably, there was more than one occasion in which a blood curdling scream escaped.
The pain that remained from this particular tormentor was much different than the other Yiga. The Hero would, in vain, attempt to swallow down tears and whimpers of fear as the figure approached. "Are you scared, brat?" he would hiss, flashing his dagger. He knew full well how uneasy he made his victim, and he used it to his advantage.
There was something so unsettling about him, so… inhuman. He would flash his fangs, lick every last drop of blood from his blade with the long, snake like tongue of his. While he was not the leader of the Yiga Clan, no one scared him more than that… thing.
Perhaps it was also the wounds he inflicted. No matter how many hours painfully dragged by after he had left his mark upon the Hero, it was unlike anything he had ever endured before. It was a pain that remained, worsening with each passing second; never once the same as an average blade entering his arm slower and slower, deeper and deeper. No. It felt much, much worse. Much more agonizing, as if a red hot blade was driven through him.
That was why he forgot. The trauma... The torture... his mind was trying to protect him.
A gentle voice snapped him out of his thoughts. "Wild…?"
His eyes fluttered opened, meeting with the worry-filled, amethyst-blue tinted eyes of the Hero of Twilight. The young man's chest heaved, biting his lower lip hard to refrain from breaking into tears. His heart yet again thundered in his chest, racing, pounding louder and louder. He was sure his ancestor could hear it by now. How couldn't he?
"Are you alright?" Twi asked, gently placing his hand to Wild's shoulder. The young man flinched, tensing, but the Hero of Twilight pulled him into a brief embrace before guiding him to the couch. "Here, lay down, take deep breaths… I'll get you a glass of cold water…"
Twi turned toward the kitchen, taking a glass and entering the bathroom to fill it with water.
"Th-" Wild almost whispered, but cut himself off. Twi's ears twitched, but he said nothing, returning with the glass of water and placing it in his guest's hands, wrapping one hand around the glass, then placing his own hand over the Hero of The Wild's.
"Relax. Take slow sips of that water… I'll help you."
Thank you… Wild signed with one hand, though it shook madly. He could barely hold the glass of water without the water sloshing out, hitting the sides of the glass and spilling into his lap.
Now that he was here, he was free of the Yiga, wasn't he? And that figure… They couldn't reach him here… Right?
Aaaand end!