Once upon a time, there was a small fine house up a hill, in which generations of families had lived.
There was a man from a long line of knights, and he married the woman living there. She came from a far away bastard branch of the royal bloodline, but that didn't matter to the man. He loved her and the tiny, useless wings that came with being part of her bloodline, even when watered down. Their children and posterity followed the man's footsteps into becoming knights, and those that didn't became farmers. They planted beautiful apple trees in the large orchard and took care of them gladly.
Generations passed silently, the wings becoming smaller and smaller until it was too much a hassle to leave them out of the clothes.
And then, the hero fell to Ganon. That monster sought to hunt down and erase every single drop of Hylia's bloodline that existed in Hyrule.
In the middle of a civil war, two babies were left at the old house up the hill where two brothers were in hiding from the hordes of Ganon. The brothers' father had been a knight and had taught them to fight, but he left and never returned. Their mother had died long ago.
Neither of the brothers knew how the children that had ended on their doorstep or where they had come from. However, Arn, the older brother, recognized the handwriting on the letter attached to the two babies.
It was of his one night fling about nine months ago. It had been one night of passion and distraction in the midth of years of terror.
Even if he hadn't recognized the handwriting, there was no doubt these babies were his, by the wings attached to them.
The brothers were only born with tiny nubs, as their royal blood had been watered down so much, and they were extremely easy to hide.
Even easier to remove.
This raised several alarming questions as to why these babies had fully developed - well, as developed as a baby bird's - wings like the royals from the main line had.
Wings, with which they surely would be able to fly with once they were old enough.
They knew that anyone seeing these babies would know their status, because they had no good way of hiding these wings. Considering that monsters could also track these wings down, the brothers had to flee their home and find refuge in a cave for a while.
And it was there the brothers made the fateful decision to save the children's lives from Ganon's hordes by protecting their identity. And there was only one true way to do such: by removing the limbs.
It was seen as sacrilege and an insult to Hylia to do such, as it meant taking the goddess blessing away. But if it would ensure the children's survival, they would do it.
The boy - Link, the younger of the two as the letter revealed - was first and he wailed and cried and fought. Between one adult holding him down, and the other cutting at the limbs, it was over quickly, bleeding stopped with a potion and bandages, just enough to scar and not enough to regrow. It was cruel and bloody to do such to a child who never got to choose, but maybe it was mercy that he'd be too young to remember, too young to have ever tasted flight or other comforts his wings would have offered.
They planned to do the same with the girl, but monsters stormed the cave and so the brothers fled once again, now separated, Arn with the girl - Zelda - and Alfon with Link.
When the brothers found each other again, Ganon had finally been sealed by the sacrifice of the wise men, one of which had been their father, as they later learned.
Furthermore, only the brothers and the children were left of the entire royal bloodline, including every single bastard line there was.
Thus, Arn, as the older brother, was recognized as king with his daughter as the princess and his heir. Her wings were seen as a sign of the goddesses that things would be okay and return to normal, their size and beauty praised all over the country.
Alfon returned to their house to raise Link, the spare, in safety and hiding.
Should Ganon return, they would need to protect the last of Hylia's bloodline from him and the castle had never been as safe as it had been claimed.
Such separation was also to hide the truth of his loss. No mirror found its way into the house. Not even as his shoulders grow sore with unplaceable aches. Alfon had only ever had stumps and although his own back ached from their loss sometimes, he knew that it could never compare. He taught the boy about stretching and scar care, anything to relieve the pain.
And so Link grew up.
Link was a sweet child. Courageous, kind, helpful and lively, he gladly aided his uncle on the apple tree orchard even on the days when his back and shoulders ache in ways he couldn't understand or bear.
Often he would be desperate to climb to great heights and feel the wind in his hair. To see the ground far away, wondering if there would be true freedom when he jumped. At times Alfon would catch his nephew and feel deep regret as he could almost see phantoms of the boy's wings in the sunlight. Unused muscles and tendons would twitch under thick scar tissue, the remaining bone rooted deep in joints in his back jerked around by them, as if ready for flight.
Sometimes he was in so much pain he swore he could feel limbs sprout from the scars on his back — scars that he received supposedly from burns as a baby. His uncle would sit for hours to massage his back and shoulder with potions, creams and lotions, trying to soothe him to sleep.
Most times carrying anything on his back was a painful nightmare, so his uncle bought him an expensive enchanted bag, a satchel to be attached to one's belt so he wouldn't need to burden himself.
Link could never understand why such a simple burn could torture him for years…until shortly after his ninth birthday, he rescued the princess out of the dungeons and saw his own face mirrored back at himself. His uncle's dying words "Zelda is your…" haunted him as he saw her beautiful gold, white and blue wings flutter in her anxiety, the princess probably just as unnerved by his appearance, the greatest difference between them being the color of the hair that framed their faces.
He eyed her wings and his own phantom wings ached in a ferocity he never felt before, leaving him doubled over and scratching in agony at the scars of the wings that were desperate to flutter just like that, to have that taste of existence they never got to have.
When Link held the goddesses power, the Triforce, golden, white and pink feathers bloomed from his back. He gasped in awe at their beauty, a hand reaching out to feel his phantom wings, visible and tangible for once. He shivered as he received comfort from these limbs for the first time in his life as nerves normally only alight in pain if ever active actually related a soft soothing tingle. He felt right. He felt at home in his own body.
It was like a siren call, "You can have this if you just wish for it."The Triforce seemed to whisper as his normally purple-blueish eyes were golden with its power, tears of happiness beading at their edges at the feeling ofrightnessfilling him. It was a selfish wish, and yet—
Link found himself aching for its fulfillment.
So he had the chance to wish for their return, the young hero drew his wings close to himself in a makeshift hug to self soothe, just feeling them, however selfishly, for a moment more.
Then he offered them as a sacrifice. To stay nonexistent if the goddesses would undo the terror wrought onto this cursed land, if they brought those who lost their lives back.
And so it happened.
Link returned home, back aching, a wish burning in his soul he could finally place.
There was his uncle, alive and well. The young boy embraced him.
Link, safe and sound and finally home, cried for hours, allowing himself to finally break.
He was still the spare. The king and the princess invited Link and his uncle into the castle to live with their closest kin, now that Ganon was dead. They wanted to celebrate the Hero of Legend and their prince.
Link didn't want to be seen as a prince. He didn't want to be anywhere close to the knights that hunted him so ferociously for something he didn't do, some of whom he had to kill in self defense.
Most of all, he thinks that if he had to see the princess' wings — his sister's wings — every single day, he'd go insane.
And so the nine year old declined the invitation and moved on with his life as the nephew of a simple apple farmer. After all, he once promised his uncle that his back wouldn't stop him from becoming the world's best apple farmer.
Link was fourteen and already had three adventures under his belt when lightning struck him the second time while on a boat and travelling back to Hyrule.
Link should've known it was too good to be true when he awoke on Koholint and saw the beautiful golden, white and pink feathers sprout from majestic wings on his back, and for once, they didn't ache. He touched them and moved them and learned to use them and got a taste of flying, of beingfree.
Marin, the girl who stole his heart, adored being taken onto flights and his wings and she helped fix stray feathers to make him comfortable. Her hands felt like heaven carding through feathers and her voice was that of an angel's.
They would spend many hours together and she confessed that she had always dreamed of having wings like these herself. She wanted to be a seagull, to be able to fly away and explore the world.
Marin was Link's first kiss.
When Link learned about the truth of Koholint, he took her flying out over the ocean, farther and farther yet never far enough, until his wings couldn't carry them a moment longer. Marin didn't say much, just gently humming the Ballad of the Wind Fish and helping with Link's cramped wings as the result of his actions and the soreness as the result of his grief.
He would try again a few days later, this time by boat, rowing until his hands were bleeding. And once again Marin took care of him, massaging soreness and pain away and being too wonderful to be real.
When Link woke up in the middle of the ocean, his back ached like never before. His scarring was thick, swollen and seemingly fresh again, and for once he was almost grateful for the pain as it distracted him, just the slightest bit from his shattered heart.
After Koholint broke him and he returned to an empty house because his uncle had passed away to sickness during his absence, the Hero of Legend had two more adventures.
Meeting Ravio was odd. The beautiful silver, black and purple wings on his back told Link more than he ever wanted to know about the merchant.
He didn't comment on it.
Mercifully, Ravio also didn't comment on Link'slackof them, or the way he seemed to be in pain most days. Instead he offered him creams and potions from Lorule and even helped to massage his back. In return, he stopped complaining as much about the ridiculous prices for the weapons Ravio sold.
Then everything had been revealed and Link and Zelda stood in the sacred realm before the Triforce, ready for a wish. Link wasted not a moment to touch it, knowing the bittersweet illusion that was to appear.
He just didn't expect Zelda to see it too. She gasped, taking in the sight of the gold, white and pink of his phantom wings, so identical to her own with the exception of the color.
"Your wings," She had whispered in awe. "They are beautiful."
His phantom wings poofed up a little in response and pride at her compliment before he drew them close yet again. His sister frowned and hesitantly reached out to touch them before stopping herself. "May I?"
He nodded, throat tight, making him feel like he was choking on the breathlessrightnessthe mere presence of his wings was giving him. Zelda's hands on his feathers made him dizzy with sensation he could never feel in reality, but couldn't bring himself to mind.
He felt alive.
At last the princess let go and moved to touch the Triforce right beside him.
"Your eyes are golden" Link quietly noted the difference.
"So are yours" Zelda responded, almost amused despite the severity of the situation.
His wings fluttering in surprise at that answer, and it made the small sliver of lightheartedness disappear, the heavy solemness returning.
"You could've wished for their return" the princess noted softly. If not the first time, then at latest now. It went unspoken between them.
"Not at the price of lives" the hero responded detachedly, his phantom wings a solid barrier between himself and the cruelty of reality.
His sister nodded: "Then we both know what to wish for."
Once again Link traded the existence of his wings for a miracle. A new Triforce shone upon Lorule with their wish fulfilled.
Link went home once again, still wingless, collapsing in his bed in his empty home - his uncle having passed away from a sickness that had plagued Hyrule while Link wasout. He screamed in agony, in frustration, in jealousy and regret and everything he felt at that bitter moment, into his pillows as his scars ached withwrongness.
Travelling to Hytopia was supposed to be a vacation. He had taken along the sword he had found in a palace of darkness too long ago and purified from the corruption of the dark world. Its spirit(s) were grateful for the change of scenery.
He had never expected needing to use it to save another country. Three were needed and the fourth decided to take the well deserved vacation and avoid the insanity that followed.
After Link returned to his home, he hung the sword onto his wall where the sword spirit could either rest or do whatever the fuck else he wanted to do with his time. He certainly made a nice enough roommate, even with Ravio's return some time later. The sword spirit was great at stopping the merchant from taking over his house again even as his words of warning that there was one more adventure coming that left Link upset and annoyed. Because Link definitely was done adventuring, dammit.
He would happily be an apple farmer for the rest of his days and ignore the ache of his phantom wings.
And yet the goddesses had other plans.
So when the sixteen-year-old sat around camp and the other heroes of ages long passed and of the future, talking about their scars, Link, now named Legend, remained silent, the scars on his back burning as a reminder of the existence of his phantom wings.
What good after all would it do to tell about the plagues that made waking up every morning a chore? Why should he reveal himself as kin to royalty when some other Links seemed to consider their Zelda a potential partner for romance?
It was none of their business. Legend didn't need them tolookat him, by telling them about his aches and loss. Like he was broken and pitiful and—
He already did that plenty himself.
There was a reason that even years after his uncle's second passing not a single mirror had found its way into his home.
Because every single time he caught sight of his reflection, his scarsburned.
Reflected at him was the picture of a thousand feathers blooming from his phantom wings like a bitter reminder or a masochistic protest.
But Legend was fine.
He was fine.
No other hero ever had wings.